**Holy shit. This is what happens when I get out of a two years writer's block... It didn't take long, but just wow. I'm glad to have my old flare back. There's a sort of hidden meaning in this, I wonder if anyone will get it. What do you think it is as the reader?**
Hunting is in the nature of the wild, carnivorous beasts of the world. They hunt, tracking down their prey in silence, waiting for the moment when the prey's guard is down, making them utterly vulnerable, open for attack, and once that time comes, the beasts strike violently, tearing and clawing, taking in the freshly killed flesh and meat, mouth and teeth and claws stained with blood. The feast is too delectable to the beast, having worked so hard to obtain it, the beast will not share with any other beast that happens to come along, or it will turn out into all out war between the beasts. The blood stained beast already high and driven by the blood, the wanton need to taste more of that warm, palatable blood and flesh and meat. The beast will want more of the taboo meal, not caring if it kills its own kind in the process to get more, until it is fully sated.
Then there are those manipulative beasts, the ones who act like their prey, get on their preys side, following them, earning their trust, just to get their long-waited meal. They find their prey, and slowly, slowly gain their trust, hiding all beastly attributes, hiding the blood on their claws. Once they gain the full trust of their prey, having whispered sweet words, seducing and enticing words, they take them away, someplace where the others won't look, won't bother going to, someplace where it can be the beast and prey only, someplace away. There, that is where the beast will strike. The beast won't strike their prey from behind, oh no, but it will take it down as the prey trustfully, perhaps even lovingly, looks into the darkened eyes of the beast. The beast wants to see the pain on the preys face, the betrayal in their eyes, as it's claws attack, then it's teeth, ripping and tearing the flesh, getting to the blood, the meat. All the beast knows is striking down prey, blood, destruction.
He was no different. A man, a beast inside of a man. He had followed her every move, watched her during the nights as she slept, screaming and shaking from the nightmares that featured him. Oh, how he wanted to tear his claws into that pretty flesh of hers, rip at her skin, break her apart, just to get to the blood and meat that lay beneath the dark skin. The man, the beast, wanted to hear her screams, screams, her screams of agony, of pleading, of pure terror. This wait was too long for him, and each day he grew hungry, wanting nothing more than to sink his claws and teeth into her skin and hear those screams he longed, needed to hear piercing his ears, echoing in his head.
She was in his grasp once, the frightened prey. Shaking with fear, blue eyes widened and darkened with the horror of being face-to-face with her enemy, with the beast that chased her. He loved seeing her that way, needed to see her that way again. Needed to see her covered in blood, her own blood, hear her beautiful screams piercing through the blackened night.
When the moon was full, the night crisp, the ground stale with the autumn weather, he made his move, climbing through the window of her temporary room. He hid in the shadows, the very shadows he hid in every other night as he stalked her, preyed on her. She was too vulnerable in her sleep. He wouldn't see those eyes fill with horror, hear those precious ear-splitting screams. The mask of a man was shed, and he was in all of beast glory.
This is who he is.
This is how he is.
This is him, the beast.
He waited and waited, eyes never leaving that peaceful face of hers. He was so familiar now with her nightly routines. Any minute she'd begin to have a nightmare, of him, and she'd wake screaming. No one would come running in. They had all gotten use to her screaming at night that they knew nothing was wrong. So when he tore his claws into her flesh, caused those gorgeous screams to wretched themselves from her throat and mouth, no one would come running.
Whimpers sounded from his prey, leaving her pretty lips as the nightmare began, then full-fledged screams began erupting from her. His mouth watered.
A step forwards, out of the shadows, watching her body lurch awake.
Eyes dilated, chest heaving, sweat dripping from her forehead. Oh yes, she was ready.
Frantic blue eyes flicked all over the room, skipping over the beast just out of the shadows. She thought it was safe, thought it was okay to lay back down and close those windows on her face. She thought…
The beast barred his teeth at his prey, stalking over to the bed, readying his claws to strike.
Wide eyes flashed open, terror filling them. Arms flailed, legs kicked. Always, always she put up a fight, but this was a fight she was going to lose. She was his prey. She will lose.
The first scream wasn't as loud as he wanted it to be. He needed more. Just looming over her wasn't enough. It wasn't enough.
One claw dug into her, and the second scream tore from her lips, causing the moon to hide behind the clouds because of her guilt. The moon was suppose to protect her precious beings, her precious ones, but this was one precious one who had fallen in the hands of its predator, of the beast.
The prey's screams tore through the night, tore through the beast's ears, causing so much pleasure and hunger to rise in him.
She was stained with blood, his claws and teeth digging into every inch of dark skin on her body. Her screams never ceasing, never lowering in volume. They only drove the beast on in his ruthless, vicious attack on her.
The prey had fallen.
The body of the prey laid there, slowly slipping into unconsciousness, but she saw it all. The blood on his teeth. The blood on his claws. The beast inside this man… She heard him too, heard the sounds of approval at her state.
It was what he said to her just before she slipped under that caused the fear inside of her to spike… The smug, rough, seducing voice of the beast…
"You're safe with me."