Out of the light and dimmed by shades, I saw the top of a man's head bent ahead. His hair was almost white under the intermittent lighting, but his skin was unlined.
Valleys and frames became features as he looked up and noticed me staring at him. His brows were distinctly greyer than his hair, which seemed to be pale blond.
Those eyes were murky as well, too intense for me to imagine a complexion. His cheekbones could have been inscribed from marble, and that flawless diamonds-and-cream skin gleamed from under his shirt neckband.
Bingo.
Pasting a false smile on my face, I sauntered over with the outrageous walk of someone drunk and flopped myself down on the opposite seat.
"Hello, handsome," I said in my most adorable voice.
"Not now."
His tone was clipped, with a diverse English pronunciation. I winked stupidly for some time, thinking maybe I had drunk too much and misinterpreted him.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm busy." He whistled eager and mildly disturbed.
Unrest stormed in me. Could I have been unfair? Just to be specific, I lunged out and rode a finger lightly over his hand. The ability almost jumped off his skin. Not mortal, all right.
"I was gazing, um…" Slipping over my words, I scanned for an enticing level.
Honestly, this had never transpired before. Usually, his kind was simple pickings. I didn't know how to rectify this as a real competent person would.
"Do you want to fuck?"
The words spurt out, and I was amazed at myself for saying them. I hardly utilized it to avoid slapping a hand over my mouth, never having used that word before.
He glanced back with a twist of amusement on his lips, having been turned away after his second refusal. Dark eyes raked me appraisingly.
"Bad timing, Love. Have to wait until later. Be a friendly bird and fly away, I will find you."
With a flick of his hand, he resisted me. Numbly I got up and strolled off, wiggling my head at the twirl of circumstances. Now how was I supposed to kill him?
In a haze, I went to the females' compartment to assess my image. My hair looked okay, albeit its normal startling crimson colour, and I wore my lucky top, which had led the last two guys to their doom.
Next, I exposed my teeth for my analysis. Nothing was clasped in them. Lastly, I raised my arm and sniffed near the furrow. No, I did not stink. What was it, then? A guess happened to me. Could he be gay?
Reflectively, I deemed it. Anything was possible—I was evidence of that. Maybe I could watch him. Follow him whenever he tried to grab someone up, male or female. Decision made, I headed out with renewed determination.
He was gone. The table he had been crouched over was vacant, and there was no indication of him in the atmosphere. With thriving momentum, I surveyed the surrounding courts, the dance floor, and the stalls again, Nothing. I must have dawdled too long in the restroom.
Condemning myself, I stalked back to the bar and requested for a new drink. Although alcohol did not numb my mind, having a drink was something to do, and I was feeling very inadequate.
"Beautiful ladies should never drink alone," a voice said next to me.
Swivelling to give a coldness, I halted short when I saw my admirer was as dead as Kelvin. Blond hair about four hues darker than the other one's, with turquoise-coloured eyes.
Hell's bells were my lucky night.
"I don't like drinking alone."
He giggled, showing lovely squared teeth. All the better to bite you with, my dear.
"Are you here alone?"
"Do you want me to be....?" shyly, I fluttered my lashes at him.
This one was not going to get away, by God.
"I very much want you to be."
His voice was lower now, his smile deeper. Lord, but they had tremendous intonation. Most of them could make twice as much as phone-sex operators.
"Well, then I was. Except now I am with you."
I let my head slant to the side in a flirtatious way that also exposed my neck. His eyes followed the movement, and he lapped his lips. Oh good, a hungry one.
"What's your name, lovely lady?"
"Jane Doe." An abbreviation of Janet, and the hair colour of the first man who tried to kill me. See? Sentimental.
His smile expanded. "Such a precious name."
His name was Pascal. He was twenty-seven and a designer, or so he claimed. Pascal was lately engaged, but his fiancee had dumped him and now he just wanted to find a nice girl and settle down.
Hearing this, I managed not to gulp on my drink in pleasure. What a burden of crap. Next, he had been taking out pictures of a house with a white picket side.
Of course, he could not let me call a taxi, and how unkind that my mythical friends left without me.
How good of him to drive me home, and oh, by the way, he had something to show me. Well, that made two of us.
Occurrences had taught me it was much simpler to dispose a car that had not been the scene of a killing.
Therefore, I tried to unlock the passenger door of his Volkswagen and run yelling out of it with simulated ugliness when he made his move.
He had picked a deserted locale, most of them did, so I did not worry about a Good Samaritan hearing my cries.
He followed me with rhythmic strides, fascinated with my messy staggering. Pretending to the trip, I cried for consequence as he trembled over me. His face had transformed to disclose his genuine individuality.
A sinister smile excavated upper fangs where none had been before, and his formerly blue eyes now glowed with a terrible green glow.
I scrabbled over, concealing my hand dipping into my pocket.
"Do not hurt me!" I shouted.
He knelt, clenching the back of my neck.
"It is only going to harm for a moment."
Just then, I attacked. My hand whisked out in a skilful action and the weapon it held lanced his heart.
I curled repeatedly until his mouth went limp and the dawn vanished from his eyes. With a last-wrenching shove, I shoved him off and rubbed my bloody hands on my pants.
"You were right."
I was out of breath from my undertakings.
"It only stings for a moment."