One thousand and I didn't look a day over twenty-five. No wrinkles, no gray hairs. Just a few scars from a life long-passed. They were faded reminders of battles fought and won. Well, most of them had been won. The last? It was what put me here, on the road to eternal life. And eternal loneliness.

In a thousand years, I've had countless lovers: peasants, nobles, stableboys, whores, even two kings. But none of them filled the void within me. Something was always missing, something vital that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

By the year 2005, I had all but given up. Sitting in a dark windowseat, of an even darker house, I was contemplating suicide. My home was quiet enough for such introspection. There's a distinct advantage to people believing your home is haunted; an even bigger advantage when the city officials are too terrified to tear it down.

Needing to feed only once a month left me plenty of time to think. And to play. My amusement of choice came in the form of fucking with the kids, the ones who dared each other to come close enough to look into the front bay window of the rotting, haunted Magnolia House. A fleeting glimpse of...something...would send them off. I could hear their screams two blocks away, and many times, I laughed until I hurt.

The first time I realized I wasn't alone, I didn't know what to think. I felt the pull--an irresistible need to find out who--or what--had stumbled into my hunting grounds. Atlanta was mine and I wasn't interested in sharing.

The first night I saw my new visitor, I was hunting. Body and hunger sated, I was making my way back home when I noticed movement in a shadowed corner where two derelict warehouses met. Curiosity got the better of me and I moved closer. That was my first mistake. Fingernails sharp as broken glass sliced through the sleeves of my coat as my attacker slammed me back against a wall. Full moon overhead? I knew what had me.

My second mistake? Finding a dangerous sort of beauty in the yellow eyes staring back at me. I should have run, but I couldn't. Couldn't look away from him. But he was hungry; I knew that look as well. Before I had a chance to react, he struck.

My head slammed back against the wall of the warehouse as his teeth sank into my throat. When I tried to fight back, a hand shot up, pinning me with a death grip. His body, muscular and hard as steel, ground into mine, like he was determined to fuck me through the wall. And there was no doubt in my mind--I would have let him.

I wanted him. I wanted him so much that I would anything to get him.

My assailant jerked away from me so suddenly it left us both dazed. He stumbled backward; hunger, fear, confusion, all warring with each other in his eyes. Oh, he still looked like a man...to an extent. His body was certainly that of a man's, clothes shredded and hanging in rags from an imposing frame. Thick ebony fur covered his exposed chest, tapering off the lower it got. By the time my gaze reached the waist of what were once jeans, I could see the hair was sparse, and I couldn't help but wonder if those thick curls surrounded his cock.

Only when he growled