Deceptions of an Immortal

Introduction;

Let's face it, when a six foot four tall man walks down the street, most people stop, turn and stare. Maybe even burst out with squeals of 'Oh my gosh. He looks soo hot," or, "He looks like Taylor Lautner!"

So how is it that this particular fellow can strut down the busy streets of New York while his gold-hazel eyes search the crowd, while a hungry look grows stronger with every passing moment?
The answer, lies within the man himself.

He's over 120 years old but looks as if he isn't a day over 23. And no body can mistake the three, bright red marks down his right forearm for a simple kitchen mishap. This man's appearance is screaming for attention.

But what is he?

A Deserted Back Alley In Downtown New York, Around 2 A.M In The Morning.

"Oh screw it," Spark Liekos muttered irritably as she threw out her tan arms in a frustrated manner. She had tried many times to flag down a taxi but it just wasn't as simple as she thought.

"I missed my first flight here via England, I don't know anybody in this city, I have no freaking clue where my hotel is and I absolutely-," Spark's rage stopped suddenly as her own yelling and grumbling was drowned out by the deep voices in a heated discussion about 30 feet behind her.

She squinted her blue eyes to appear as just a human curious to see what was going on. But in all reality, she did not need to do so. Her low-light vision allows her to see just as well in the dark, moonlit night as in the day.

Then a silver knife flew towards Spark and she hastily flattened herself against the brick wall of the nearest building. Now, Spark thought deviously, this is personal.
Pushing back her curly blond hair, Spark rolled up the sleeves of her blood red sweater and sneakily made her way toward the group of fighting males.

"Well what do we have here?" Spark spoke out loud and immediately winced slightly as her British accent broke through.
"None of your damned business woman," one of them growled, and something seemed to snap inside Spark's mind. They're not human.

"I'm pretty sure it is," she laughed and carefully drew back her a few strands of her satiny hair to reveal the small, colored tattoo just below her ear. At first glance, it looks like a circle with letters inside. But those letters are not what they seem to be. If you were to look closer, you would see the tiny drawings that represent a natural born lycanthrope.

Then a little girl's voice was heard in the form of a loud gasp. Soon, a hushed whisper went through the crowd just as one of the males tried to escape.
"Hold it right there," Spark's alpha voice rang out, and everyone froze.

"I'm going to ask you again, what do we have here?" Spark said softly but made sure her alpha voice was still crystal clear.
A man around Spark's five foot eight build hurriedly stepped out and grabbed the fleeting man by the collar, dragging him until he was kneeling before Spark.

Spark met this man's gold-hazel eyes and was instantly distracted by the flecks of moss green and chocolate brown in his eyes.
But then she shook her head vigorously and demanded to know this man's story.

"These men here," he pointed toward the man who had dragged him toward her and the others behind him, "they had turned me into a werewolf over 120 years ago. I'm simply here to," the man's lips curled up in an evil way as he smiled, "return the favour."