The night was just like the others before it. The stars twinkled brightly, as though blowing kisses to the sleeping people on the earth below. The gusty wind of late morning and early afternoon had died down to a soft breeze, gently rustling the leaves in the trees and prompting the crickets to fill the night air with their songs. The air was clean and crisp, with the faint aroma of wildflowers scenting the town with its sweet scent. The cobblestone streets reflected the moonlight brilliantly, overpowering the quaint little street lights.
Alexander Lucard strolled down a small side street, the heels on his impeccably shined shoes clicking against the bricks. His cape swelled behind him as the breeze just lifted the hem from his feet and his black tuxedo with white vest and shirt yielded to his movements soundlessly. Alexander smiled softly as he walked the streets. He was alone an enjoying it. The night called out to him: he could feel her siren song in his blood and he had to answer it. In the end, the night was Alexander's mistress, his one true love. No one, mortal or otherwise, could possibly make him feel the way he did now -- completely content, sublimely happy, and utterly at peace with himself and the world. By day Alexander was at battle with other businessmen trying to either take money away from him or get rich off of his ventures. At night he usually was fighting off either Helsing & children and others of their ilk or ambitious and vengeful vampires. In all cases he was fighting for his life. But when he was alone, and preferably at night, he was free to simply be.
While he ventured out in full formal regatta, he decided at the last minute to leave his hair loose. He knew it would eventually spoil the look, but he didn't care tonight. And, once outside, he was grateful to be without the stylants. The feel of the breeze gently caressing his hair and face was divine.
Alexander took a deep breath and sighed. This was his true element. No daytime boardroom triumph could ever equal it. He doubted if anything ever could.
As he passed a large house he stopped. He tilted his blonde head to one side as he concentrated. Ah! There it was! He backed up a little and looked up. In the third floor window sat a young brunette, her beating heart a beacon for Alexander's heightened senses. He smiled. The one thing he loved better than night -- blood.
He glided effortlessly to her window, where she sat dazed. She had an almost expectant look on her face as he reached her eye level. His smile deepened as he got a good view of her. She was in the full bloom of her youth -- he estimated her to be about 23 years-old. Semi-short hair cut tastefully to emphasize her lovely face. Brown eyes and hair. A small smattering of freckles about her pert little nose, and a genuine Cupid's bow mouth. She sat on a small bench built into the bay window, and she was robed in a silk nightie of peach color. It was held up by spaghetti straps, and one strap had fallen off her shoulder and was in danger of revealing a well shaped breast.
Alexander hovered by the window for a moment, until the girl got up and held out her manicured hand. He took it and she pulled him into her room.
The room was small but well furnished. It had character, and Alexander would have commented on it had he an attentive audience. But the girl was still entranced as she continued to pull Alexander further into her room, to her bed. There she sat. Alexander bent to kiss her. Such sweet lips! She leaned forward to him and he pulled her against him. With one hand in the small of her back, he slipped the other into her hair, gently tilting her head.
She moaned as he broke into her jugular.
A few moments later Alexander was back on the street. He loved the night, the way it always provided for him. The way it empowered him. He was truly in his element when the sun went down. He walked slowly, savoring every second. Alexander had no where in particular to go and all the time in the world to get there.