Angelus watched her from across the room. Darla was the picture of elegance that night, wearing a beautiful gown stolen from the last noblewoman they'd conned into giving them an invite. It brought a smirk to his lips that these people who had once looked down on her for what she was were now eating out of the palm of her hand. The men looked at her with lust openly in their eyes and the women with jealousy. And if you knew Darla you could see both the disgust and triumph in her own gaze. She revelled in her power over them but at the same time hated them for what they were. Beneath her.

It didn't take more than a few words spoken in a soft tone and the fluttering of her lashes to get the man she was speaking to to go off to get them drinks and with him gone Darla was quick to lead the woman away, probably under the guise of getting some fresh air, and Angelus wasn't far behind. By the time he got outside, Darla already had the girl pinned to the wall, a hand over her mouth to stifle her screams. She allowed him to take her place and he took a moment to study the girl. Dark hair, pale skin, and obviously innocent. Just his type. Her pale blue eyes were made all the more beautiful by the fear in them as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. He turned to give Darla a smile. His girl knew just what he liked. His only regret was that they didn't have time for this to be more than a quick feed since they were leaving town that night. So without further ado he shifted his face and sunk his teeth into the girl's throat.

Bliss. That was the only way he could describe it. He could feel the girl struggling weakly against him but he paid her no mind, sinking his teeth in deeper, much to her dismay. The struggled lessened and the cries got quieter before they stopped all together, her heartbeat soon following. Pulling back, he let the body drop to the ground without a second thought and turned to face his sire. Darla glanced down at the girl with distaste and nudged her away with her foot. Reaching out, she wiped some blood from the corner of his mouth with her thumb before sucking the digit into her own, a proud smile playing on her lips. He basked in it.

Before Darla, he'd been wasting his life. He'd been a drunk and a womanizer, happy to spend all his days at the pub. His father had hated him, his mother had pitied him, and he had killed them both because he could. Because he was above them now. Darla had made sure of that.

She was his lover, his savior, his god.