Edited 5/26/22.

A/N: This chapter contains mild swearing and mentions of blood.

***

"And then, right as the song hits its crescendo, we take center stage. You bend into your dip- exactly, just like that- and I hold your hand with my left while holding my arabesque position. Then we hold until the lights fade," Marshall explains to his dance partner, Brad.

Brad is a shy twenty-two year old from Europe; Spain to be exact. Most people wouldn't really guess that when they first look at him though, as years spent in Forks have left the man without his prior sun-kissed, tan complexion. Black curls and hazel eyes don't give way to his Spanish heritage either. Once he starts speaking, however, his thick accent comes out. It's still just as heavy as when he first arrived in the States.

The thing about Brad is that a lot of the time when people first meet him, all they see is a timid man who looks younger than he actually is. Because of his thinner frame and soft spoken voice, he's routinely underestimated by the other dancers and actors in the theater program. He doesn't really have many friends either.

At least, he didn't before he met Marshall.

The two have only known each other for three years, but they have the type of friendship that makes people think they've known each other their whole lives. Such trust has brought about today's unscheduled rehearsal.

Normally Brad wouldn't ask for help so out of the blue; but since he knew it'd just be them in the studio, he was more comfortable about actually doing so.

"Oh, okay, yeah. That makes a lot more sense." He smiles. "Just wish I knew how to breathe better in the dip position."

"That's just something that comes with practice. My best advice for that is to relax. I know holding a dip that low is a bitch-and-a-half. But your best bet is to keep your body relaxed- and to keep your breathing slow and even. It'll also keep you from shaking."

"Gotcha, gotcha." Brad lifts himself back into a standing position and lets go of Marshall's outstretched hand. "Hah- gotta say- I'm beat, dude."

"I hear that." Marshall laughs, stretching out his muscles. "You hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Then we'll call it for today. Don't want to keep you too long. Yasmine is scary when she thinks I'm not taking care of you."

"Her protective nature is partially why I'm dating her."

Brad snickers as both men replace their dance shoes with outdoor ones: black combat boots for the vampire, and baby blue Converse for the human. They grab their abandoned jackets, the garments being draped on differing body parts rather than being worn. They also take hold of their small duffel bags as well. Playful bumps and shoves are given on the way to the exit.

It's an opportune time to head out too; another group of dancers from the same production having arrived for their own practice. It's a mixture of men and women with long, thin, and lean bodies. Most of the women have their hair up in tight buns, while a few of them work it up into said hairstyle as they walk in.

A few people give halfhearted greetings to Brad by waving. Most of the dancers pay more attention to Marshall. He plays the role of kind, friendly-joe by waving as well. He doesn't offer any verbal greeting though. Instead, he continues making his way to the doors with his friend in tow.

"It's rather annoying that they try to pretend to keep the peace just because I'm here. They're so fake, I've seen dolls with more genuine expressions than them," the vampire mutters loud enough for Brad to hear, who laughs in return. "The way they treat you is bullshit if you ask me."

"I don't know, it doesn't really bother me anymore. Just can't be helped, I guess."

Brad's smile is soft. His face is downcast toward the ground. His heartbeat has slowed, but Marshall is able to hear its irregular rhythm. It's a tell of Brad's slight discomfort picking up from just being in the vicinity of so many people who don't really like him. The vampire purses his lips. He opens the door to the dance studio and allows for his friend to leave first.

They are greeted by the frigid, biting wind of late-October Forks. The sun is almost completely set in the distance. An orange hue from neighboring streetlights illuminates surrounding streets and sidewalks.

It's silent between the two dancers while they walk to the parking lot. Each step is met with the soft crunch of a fallen leaf being crushed underneath gentle footfalls. Multicolored trees ruffle around them. A pungent scent of rain sticks in the air even though it hasn't done so in hours.

The quiet, calming nature of serene autumn helps Marshall reel in the nasty comments he wants to make about the other dancers. Instead, he settles on bumping Brad's hip with his own.

"It's a shame that they don't give you more of a chance. They'd actually see how much of a gem you are if they did."

"Thanks, Marsh." Brad's forced smile shifts into a genuine one.

The vampire walks past his expensive car to Brad's quaint little vehicle; it's an Italian two door, two passenger electric car in a vibrant shade of blue with black and gray accents. Marshall opens and holds the door open as a means of assisting. The human climbs in with ease. His pine tree shaped air freshener sways from side to side in response to his slight movements.

Golden eyes watch as Brad places his duffel bag into the passenger seat of the car; he also turns the vehicle on and fiddles with the radio. A soft indie folk song is settled upon when Marshall decides to close the door.

"You get home safe, alright?"

"Will do. Thanks for today, Marsh. Really."

"Anytime, Romero," he replies, the vampire falling into the habit of calling his friend by his last name. "Tell Yasmine I say hi."

"Course. I'll text you when I get home. Love you, man."

Marshall nods with a smile. He backs up and waves as Brad pulls out of his parking spot. The vampire stays in his place until he is no longer able to see the small car in the distance.

Once it disappears, his smile melts off of his handsome face. A snarl escapes him.

Now that no humans are around, Marshall is able to drop the happy-go-lucky persona he's had on all day. Nothing against Brad of course; it's just that the older male has been rather parched all day. If it weren't for his friend's need to go over choreo, Marshall would've been able to feed sooner.

Oh well. C'est la vie.

Instead of allowing his thirst to fester, the vampire tosses his duffel bag into his own car. He doesn't get in to drive off though. The door is shut, and the vehicle is locked. Marshall brings his attention to the forest line not too far from his position.

He closes his eyes and listens to the world around him. His already sensitive sense of smell heightens. Various fragrances and types of blood fill his nostrils; the stronger smells signaling larger creatures in his vicinity. A rather delightful, sweet scent is hidden beneath a strong stench of dog. Marshall shudders. Such a powerful stink is strong, but even still. The smell of the creature's blood is absolutely divine. He salivates. Blackening eyes reopen.

After surveying the area to make sure he really is alone, he runs into the forest for a meal.

Running with enhanced speed causes his black hair and leather jacket to bellow in the wind behind him. He's going so fast that the sound of metal chains clinking against fabric barely registers in his ears. He listens past the sound of wind and focuses on the forest around him.

An owl is barely able to flap its large wings once before the vampire passes by it. A spider's web is hardly disturbed as he zooms by. The web simply blows softly in the wind for a moment before returning to its original position. To his left, Marshall notices a few rays of light coming from the steadily rising moon which is peeking through the tops of forest trees. White light is faint, but it casts a rather ethereal glow onto certain sections of the forest. Albeit beautiful, he's more concerned about quenching his thirst.

Full attention is brought back in front of him, his mouth continuing to water. Other than the normal forest life, everything around the vampire is silent. It stays this way for a few minutes before the sound of flowing water comes into his ears. Marshall looks around at the foliage near him. He immediately recognizes where he is.

The divine scent of sweet blood has led him to the vampire/werewolf treaty line.

The handsome male skids to a stop at a rocky edge atop the calm river below. He looks around for a second.

The scent is on the other side of the river.

"Talk about a waste," Marshall mutters to himself, turning away.

Peaceful soundscapes of forest life are interrupted by a deep, menacing growl. The sound causes Marshall to still in his spot. The intrusive smell of dog invades his nostrils with no sign of reprieve. This can only mean one thing—

—A wolf is behind him.

Marshall looks over his shoulder and is met with just that. The creature snarls at the vampire as he turns around completely, a sneer on his own face and a hiss escaping him.

Although he is submerged in darkness because of the trees, the wolf is on full display thanks to a bright moon. The creature has a smoky silver type of fur. Its large stature easily rivals the vampire in terms of height. Its ears are pressed back and down on the wolf's head, signaling the creature's clear agitation.

Marshall feels his own agitation rise upon the realization that the sweet, alluring scent of blood is coming from his enemy.

The vampire takes a step forward. The wolf does the same in a challenging manner. Both parties freeze in their spots, however, when they finally make eye contact.

Piercing black meets rich dark brown. Marshall notices the wolf stiffening. He pays little mind to it. He chooses to focus on the strange sensation of warmth pooling in the center of his chest.

The sensation isn't necessarily unpleasant, it's just foreign. A feeling of warmth and fluttering is also swarming his stomach. One that's unlike hunger pangs. But, just like the sensation in his chest, this feeling is also not unpleasant. Just foreign—and somewhat confusing.

Throughout all of these revelations, the vampire's eyes never leave rich pools of dark brown; and vice versa. For a brief second, the wolf's entire frame relaxes. It also leans toward Marshall's direction. Additionally, there's the ever present sensation of being pulled into one another. This strange want to be in each other's vicinity is confusing to the vampire.

The wolf, on the other hand, knows exactly what this means.

Not even a moment later, it shakes its head. The gesture seems to bring both parties back to reality. Marshall doesn't have a chance to question these strange feelings because his enemy turns and runs away. The creature huffs in what appears to be anger. Or annoyance. The vampire isn't sure which.

He finds himself watching the receding form of the wolf. Before being completely lost by a mass of surrounding trees, the creature looks back at Marshall. As quickly as it does so, it runs off completely out of sight.

The sweet scent of blood leaves with the wolf. But the foreign sensation of warmth stays.