There was a moment of nothing, and in the next second Arciel was standing against Ethan, his collar bunched in his fist, her wide brown eyes peering into the eye holes of his mask with fierce conviction. She had moved so quickly that her motion was imperceptible. She smelled like floral perfume, light and almost childish, and styling products. Up close her skin was porcelain white and tinged with death: there was no way a human's flesh could be so colorless. She tried to cover it up with makeup, but the night had worn it away and even in her rage her cheeks had no color.<br/><br/>"You don't know what you're getting into," she hissed, her breath hitting his mask. It had no heat, no different than the night air around them. "Stop now. I ought to deal with you right now, but I'm not like you. I don't kill indiscriminately just because you aren't like me."<br/><br/>She could smell his blood, feel it moving through his veins. Her hand trembled where it gripped his shirt, and all she wanted was to close the distance and pierce his skin. She needed to feed, and the Hunger was almost irresistibly strong.<br/><br/>Arciel hissed, her fangs exposed, and she let Ethan go. She was going to lose control like this, she knew, and she turned away so that her back was exposed to him. Her mind wasn't functioning right, she wasn't thinking clearly, and she knew it. If she had been, she'd have knocked him upside the head and dropped him off for the police to deal with. They were in the Prince's pocket anyway. All she knew at the moment was that if she looked at him much longer, she was going to bite him.<br/><br/>Nobody wanted that. Well, she did, but...<br/><br/>Not from him.