Ayumu watched the vampiress get down to feeding. There was a beauty in the carnality of it, there always had been, and that was why Ayumu enjoyed vampires so much. They were as close to animals as the other supernaturals species could be, something that Ayumu could relate to.
The spirit's gaze was transfixed on Gloria, but their animals senses meant that their ears were keeping track of the sounds around them just like a fox would. The sounds of the impending zombies still put them at a comfortable enough distance away, but what Ayumu had not anticipated (and they really should have) was hunters. Those bastards moved much to quietly that even their keener senses could not fully pick up.
This hunter, a single one, thank fuck, crept up on them and pounced as Gloria was still feeding, lunging straight for her and it was only through Ayumu's reflexes that they managed to draw their katana in the split second before it reached the vampire to slice the blade into its side, throwing it off course.
"Gloria!" Ayumu called out as the hunter tumbled to the side, but it made a swift enough recovery to land on it's feet, the sword not slowing it down one bit. "It's here for the human! Leave him!" Zombies were not attracted to vampires or spirits after all, and this still alive but just barely human was still drawing his last gasps of air.
Gloria didn’t hear her name. If the sound reached her at all, it arrived stripped of meaning, swallowed by the rush of blood flooding her mouth. The human’s pulse stuttered beneath her grip, erratic now, each beat weaker than the last, and she chased it instinctively, mouth sealed to his arm as if proximity alone could keep it going. The sharp ache of hunger she’d carried for days collapsed inward all at once, replaced by a dizzying warmth that left no room for thought.
Something slammed into the space beside her but it barely registered as more than a threat to her meal. The man convulsed weakly beneath her and she tightened her hold without thinking, pinning him harder against the concrete, a low, feral sound tore loose from her throat around the mouthful of blood she refused to relinquish.



















