The Monster's Love

The night was too quiet. Not peaceful—never peaceful. Just… empty. Snow fell in slow silence, covering the streets in a soft white illusion, as if it could hide what truly existed beneath the dark. And in that darkness— He fed. A strangled gasp broke against the cold air. A trembling body pinned against the wall. A pulse—fragile, frantic—beating beneath his lips. His fingers tightened around the man’s throat, not enough to kill… just enough to control. “Don’t move,” he murmured, his voice low, almost bored. The man whimpered. It was always the same. Fear. Pleading. Regret. Too late for all of it. His fangs sank into skin. Warmth flooded his mouth. Life. For a moment—just a moment—everything inside him went quiet. No past. No pain. No memories. Just hunger… and the silence it brought. Until— Something shifted. A sound. Soft. Uneven footsteps crunching through snow. He stilled. Annoyance flickered across his face. “Stay quiet,” he muttered, tightening his grip. But his senses had already moved. Locked onto something else. Someone else. Another heartbeat. Slower. Weaker. …Fragile. His jaw clenched. 'Ignore it'. He forced himself back to the man in his arms, lowering his head again. This was easier. Simpler. Safer. But the sound came again. A stumble. A breath that didn’t quite hold. His hand froze. “…What is wrong with you?” he muttered under his breath. He pulled back slightly, blood still warm against his lips. And then— He looked. Across the dim, snow-covered street… She walked alone. Unsteady. Her coat too thin for the cold. One hand pressed weakly against her side, as if she was trying to hold herself together. His gaze hardened instantly. Human. Nothing more. Nothing— She stumbled. Nearly fell. Caught herself against a pole with a quiet, broken breath. Something in his chest tightened. Small. Sharp. Unwelcome. “No,” he whispered. His grip on the man tightened again. “You don’t get distracted.” The man whimpered weakly. Good. Focus. Feed. Forget. That was what he did. That was what he was. A monster doesn’t hesitate. A monster doesn’t care. A monster— “Hey… sweetheart…” His eyes snapped back. Two men. Drunk. Stumbling toward her. Laughing. Circling. “Well, look at this,” one of them smirked. “All alone tonight?” She stepped back. Her voice came out soft, shaking. “Please… I just want to go home.” The other laughed. “Oh, we’ll take care of you.” Her breath hitched. “Don’t touch me—” His jaw tightened. Something cold stirred beneath his ribs. 'Not your problem' He turned away. Forced his gaze back to the man in his grip. Lowered his head. 'Finish it'. But her voice— “Please…” It cut through him. Sharp. Unwanted. His fangs hovered just above skin. His breathing slowed. Then stopped. “…Why are you still listening?” he whispered. His fingers curled slightly. Control slipping. “You don’t care,” he muttered. “You’ve seen worse.” And he had. So much worse. So why— A sharp sound broke through his thoughts. Fabric pulling. A weak gasp. His head turned again. Too fast. The men were closer now. One of them had grabbed her wrist. The other leaning in too close. She struggled. Weak. Her body trembling—not just from fear, but from something deeper. Fever. Exhaustion. She wasn’t even strong enough to fight. Completely, painfully human. Something inside him twisted. Harder this time. Violent. And this time— He didn’t look away. “…Pathetic,” he muttered. But he wasn’t sure who he meant anymore. The man in his arms had gone completely still. Unconscious. Useless. He let him fall. The body hit the ground with a dull sound. His eyes remained fixed ahead. Unblinking. Cold. Calculating. 'Walk away'. His body didn’t move. 'This is not your concern'. Still—nothing. His jaw tightened. “You are not her savior.” The words felt wrong. Like they didn’t belong to him. A humorless breath left him. “Savior,” he murmured. “Since when do monsters save anyone?” Across the street— She stumbled again. Her knees nearly giving out. “…please…” Barely a whisper. Barely there. And something inside him— Cracked. Not loudly. Not suddenly. But enough. Enough to make him still completely. Enough to make the silence feel heavier. More dangerous. His gaze darkened. Locked on her. On the way she tried to pull back. On the way she was losing. Slowly. Inevitably. His fingers curled at his sides. A decision forming— Fighting— Breaking— His voice dropped to something quieter. Colder. More dangerous. “…Walk away,” he told himself. But his feet— Didn’t move. The snow kept falling. Soft. Endless. And across the street— Her voice broke again. “Please… don’t…” His eyes closed slowly. A long pause. Heavy. Tense. Unforgiving. Then— They opened. Dark. Decided. Dangerous. And the last thought that crossed his mind before anything could change— Before he could stop himself— Before he could pretend this meant nothing— Was— This is a mistake....