[Ariyah – International District – Ariyah’s Haven > Fremont – Nectar Lounge – BoL – Fame 2 – A]
[Wake Roll: Fail | Hunger: 2 —> 3]
When Ariyah woke that night, the thirst was clawing insistently at her throat, and there was a hammering at the back of her mind.
It had been a bad idea to go bed hungry, but by the time she had shooed Jacob out of her apartment, it was too late for her to hunt. She could have fed on Jacob again, but she didn’t want to risk draining him.
That’s what you get for losing your head over being able to taste food again. Ariyah chided herself as she stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Seeing her wane reflection in the mirror, Ariyah reflexively pushed at her vitae to bring about a false semblance of life.
[BoL Rouse Check: Fail | Hunger 3 —> 4]
Almost immediately, her Beast roared up and the clamouring in her head intensified. The Toreador put a hand on the sink to steady herself from the sudden onslaught.
Just one fantastic decision after another, right? Ariyah glared at her reflection, brushing her teeth a little more vigorously. She might look more alive now, but she definitely felt worse.
Ariyah rushed through the rest of her morning routine. She combed her fingers through her hair to detangle the worse of her bed-head and put on whatever was lying around in her room; a pair of black jeans, a black t-shirt and a blue flannel shirt. There were paint splatters on the flannel shirt, but Ariyah didn’t care. She had to feed.
Grabbing her keys and her bag, Ariyah headed for her car in the underground carpark.
She would usually go back to her studio to feed on her herd, but in her current state, she might accidentally cause an accident. No, tonight she had to go somewhere where she was anonymous.
[Ariyah heads for the Nectar Lounge]
Ariyah wasn’t sure whether her getup would be acceptable at the Nectar – after all, grunge was a thing at one time, no? – but the Toreador didn’t have the patience to find out. She wrapped herself in her glamour, shrugged the flannel shirt so that it was off her shoulder and pooled around her waist in a half-worn fashion and walked past the bouncer as if she had no care in the world. [Awe Activated]
The first hurdle crossed, Ariyah scanned the room for a potential target. The music was pounding loudly through her body, and the Toreador was reminded again why this was not usually her preferred scene.
Ariyah made her way through the room, passing the bar to see if anyone caught her eye or vice versa.
There.
A brown-haired man with eyes that reminded Ariyah of her Sire’s. He was lounging in one of the couch seats, looking fashionably unimpressed by his surroundings, although his eyes were currently following Ariyah’s progress through the room.
Ariyah turned her attention to the man and gave him a small smirk before making her way up to the mezzanine. By the time she got to the set of couches in a secluded corner, the man had joined her.
The Toreador turned to maintain eye contact with the man as she sat down, the welcome evident in her eyes. The man grinned as he joined her on the couch.
Ariyah turned in her seat to drape her legs over his – she was half seated in his lap. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead, he put an arm around her waist to pull her closer.
“Is this my lucky night?” He murmured as he nuzzled her neck.
Ariyah half-closed her eyes, trying to get into character; to pretend to be interested in the man, as opposed to the red liquid flowing through his veins. She whispered in his ear, “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you do for a living,” Ariyah put a flirty, teasing tone in her voice, “I am very particular about who I have fun with, and tonight I’ve decided, no ad-man.”
The man gave a low chuckle, “Oh, I’m definitely no ad-man, in fact, I run a…”
Ariyah didn’t let him finish. Instead, she leaned over and kissed him; as long as his blood wasn’t tainted with the greasiness of the advertising industry, she didn’t care what he did for a living.
When Ariyah had first been turned, she had discovered that she was good at hunting at clubs. The anonymity, the flirting, the seduction, it all came naturally to her. But she never liked herself afterwards, it felt a little too much like she’d taken advantage of someone. It’s why she fed off her artists; they get introduced to clients and art galleries, and in return, she gets a bit of their blood.
But tonight, she had to return to what she was good at; flirting her way to a meal. She couldn’t risk her carefully cultivated group with her current hunger.
The brown-haired man was too busy being handsy to notice Ariyah positioning herself for better access to his neck. Angling her mouth, Ariyah extended her fangs and bit down. Her prey shuddered and made a low moan in his throat as Ariyah drank. In their current position, they would just look like two people passionately making out in the corner.
[Siren Hunting Check: Charisma + Persuasion + Awe: 4 successes vs Diff 4 – 2 Fame | Success | Intense Sanguine]
Ariyah had underestimated her thirst. When the blood hit the back of her throat, she nearly groaned. The man was hungry too, though for something different; there was a sensual simmer in his blood and it exploded when Ariyah gave him the Kiss.
So she fastened her mouth more firmly around the wound and drank deeply; the blood was good, and she was so hungry.
[Frenzy Check – tasting blood at hunger 4: 4 Successes vs Diff 3 | Success]
But she didn’t quite lose control. Instead, the man’s harsh breathing woke Ariyah from her delirium, and she slowed her feeding. She didn’t stop, not yet, but she monitored her intake and the man’s pulse racing just beneath her lips. The sensual pulse in the blood still infused her veins, but she managed to stay above it. When she judged that she had taken as much as she safely could, Ariyah retracted her fangs from the man’s neck and licked the wound closed.
She was still hungry, and most likely she’d have to feed again before the night was over, but at least for now, she was no longer on the brink of losing control.
[Hunger 4 —> 2]
Ariyah hadn’t taken a dangerous amount of blood, but the man was still woozy. He sat on the couch with his eyes half-closed and lethargy in his limbs. He didn’t even react when Ariyah scooted off his lap and straightened her clothes – he had been very handsy during the exchange – before standing up from the couch.
As had been the case in the past, the hot blood in her veins made her feel good. But she knew from experience that it wouldn’t last long. Soon, she would be filled with self-loathing for what she had done. Even now, the thought was tickling in the back of her mind.
Picking up her bag from the couch where she’d discarded it, Ariyah left the mezzanine, not even looking back at the man whom she was wrapped around earlier.
She needed to get out of the club and forget about the encounter. The quicker, the better.