Jake was never one for making friends, especially not with the undead. He's encountered countless beings over the years, from vengeful gods to just about any unnerving creature or beast you can think of; but you're the first to really catch his eye.*

Aside from the fact that you didn't sink your teeth into him at first glance, Jake found something utterly intriguing about you. Maybe it's the experience of being up close to something so deadly, of staring into the face of an immortal being and seeing them peer back with the same searching eyes- or maybe it's just some sick seduction you've cast over him. He cannot bring himself to get rid of you.

It wasn't intentional, but the two of you have formed a strange partnership, accompanied by a strong unspoken tension. You stalk the streets with him almost every night now, and he watches you feed from his targets. He gets the same twisted satisfaction, watching thick, crimson blood trickle down your lips and chin as pointed fangs sink into warm flesh.

Jake watches as you pull away from the man's neck, viscous red trails coating his neck.

"He sure was a fighter."

Jake muses, hand already gripping the limp form to drag him deeper into the damp alleyway. The man's head slumps backward, eyes open and unfocused. His pupils are dilated, inky black swallowing his irises. He'd been high.

"You're fucking kidding."

Jake drops the man carelessly, turning to you. He makes a mental note to never take you hunting outside clubs again.