Author's Note: This is another one of my stories that I wrote for my college writing club. The prompt that week was "Valentine's Day." Being someone who has long nursed a burning resentment for Valentine's Day, I wrote this as a response.

This was also written as a response to all the "Twilight"-style vampire romances I see littering the shelves in the bookstores lately. I don't know about any of you guys, but if a vampire bit my neck, I doubt I'd find it very romantic. So this is also a sort of return to more "traditional" vampire legends for me.

Yes, this is another Fic where I didn't name the characters.

Every Valentine's Day he went to the club and looked for a girl to bring home to bed. It wasn't out of any desire for love or commitment or some twisted wish to celebrate the holiday. He was just sick of seeing his lovesick friends with perfect bottle blondes and curvy brunettes hanging off their arms. The girls would be giggling in that annoying, high-pitched way that girls tend to giggle in, begging their boyfriends for a kiss or a hug or a trip to the mall. And his friends would say "yeah, of course babe," to anything the girls asked, gazing down at them with puppy-dog eyes and drooling tongues, complete and total slaves to the objects of their desire. It made him almost physically sick to watch, yet strangely desperate for a release…the kind you could only obtain through sex.

He hated women like that. He was starting to get a feeling that he hated women in general, but he slept with them all the same. He wasn't picky either; he'd had all kinds. The preppies with multicolored hair down to their waists, wearing little more than bras and lacy thongs. The "nice girl" types, who'd been dragged reluctantly out by more adventurous friends, wearing glasses of some sort, with masses of curly hair, long skirts, and fancy, demure blouses. The goth and punk girls, with short, spiky dark hair and enough makeup to pass as clowns, pierced and tattooed to the point to the point of not having a bare inch of skin left, always in torn getups that included chains somewhere on them. No matter what, he was always able to find a girl to screw in a cheap hotel somewhere, and then he'd be gone by early morning, while the girl was still sleeping. He was always tired and had a bad taste in his mouth, but was happy at having found some relief.

Tonight, though, he didn't seem to be having any luck at all. All the girls he saw were either so close to other boys he half-wondered if someone had grabbed some Velcro strips and attached them together by force, or were phenomenally ugly and desperate. He'd been at the bar for the past half-hour nursing a fruity glass of shit and trying to avoid a particularly fat one who kept trying to flirt badly with him, thinking they had some sort of a "connection…"

Then he spotted a girl off in the corner, staring at him. A very pretty one, too. Straight dark hair cut in a razor-straight line at her shoulders, a thin body with just the right amount of curve. She dressed rather plainly, in dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt that said, "Love is a blind whore with a mental disease and no sense of humor," on it in purple cursive, and black boots with no heels. She wore no jewelry and very little makeup, which was unusual for this club, especially for a girl as pale as she was…he wondered if she was anemic or something. Not that he cared, she was still hot.

Her eyes were really what drew him in, though. They were such an unusual shade of blue he thought she might be wearing contacts to enhance them-it wasn't unheard of, especially in places like this. Her eyes had a rather exotic slant to them as well, seeming to draw him in and hypnotize him, until all he could concentrate on were those lightning-bright irises…

He shook himself slightly. What was he thinking? Must be the booze. This club was good for picking up girls, but always mixed shitty drinks. Nevertheless, he downed the rest of his drink and gave the girl a flirty wink. Surprisingly, instead of giggling and blushing furiously like most girls did when he winked at them, this one jerked her head once at the door, then got up and walked out. It was a clear signal for him to follow her outside.

He smirked inwardly. So she wanted to play around in the parking lot before they got to a more private location, did she? Well, that was fine with him. It was about damn time he got someone, honestly. He must have been here for hours already. Besides, no one was ever out in the parking lot at this time of night.

He went outside and found her waiting for him in a completely deserted corner of the lot near some brush filled with broken beer bottles, heroin needles, and other forms of litter.

"Hey baby," he murmured, making his voice low and sultry just like all the girls, no matter what type, seemed to like it. He moved forward, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt wonderfully soft, if a bit cold. "So, how about we take this somewhere a little quieter…?"

"I don't want sex," the girl says quietly. Still, she snuggles closer to him and buries her face in his neck, inhaling the smell of his cologne. "I'm just hungry."

"Hungry?" He's confused now. This is the weirdest foreplay he's ever had to date, including that girl who was into S + M. "Well, we can maybe swing by McDonald's real quick…"

"I hate McDonald's," the girl says. She opens her mouth and gives him a brief glimpse of unusually long, unusually white canine teeth. Canines that are much too sharp.

Then comes the pain. Sharp and far more agonizing than anything he's ever felt before, physically or emotionally. The girl's teeth are in his neck, and the veins there are quickly punctured, and hot red blood is spilling out all over his skin. He can taste bitter iron in his throat, and can't find the strength to scream or run through the pain and shock of it all. The girl covers the wound with her lips and sucks, hard, her tongue lapping up the droplets of blood she misses the first time around. He feels her swallowing against his cheek.

"What…the fuck…" he chokes out. He already feels lightheaded, and colored lights are dancing before his eyes. He slumps down onto the pavement, hard asphalt pebbles digging into his knees. The girl follows him down, still drinking.

"Don't be stupid," she whispers, pressing a bloody kiss to his temple. "You know what I am."

And he finds that he does. Perhaps a part of him always did, from the very moment he laid eyes on this strange girl who's too cold and pale to be human, to even be alive. And like the silly deer and rabbits in old movies about the forest, he's fallen right into the hunter's trap.

His vision is going black now, and the whole world is spinning, as if he just got off that killer roller coaster at the state fair with its three upside-down loop-de-loops. The girl sucks, once, twice, three more times, hard, before rising and wiping the remnants of his blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Thanks," she says, before disappearing into the shadows of the brush behind the parking lot. "I didn't get a chance to eat yet tonight, and I was starving. You're such a gentleman, having a girl like me to dinner."

The last thing he thinks before his eyes close and everything goes black is that he thinks he's in love with this girl, who's eaten him and left him to die on a Valentine's Day. And he doesn't even know her name.

Author's Note: Again, reviews are lovely. ^_^