A Sip of Sin

AYA

^A DECADE AGO^

The world is a peculiar place. And the people in it, even more so.

Their customs, traditions, and religions—they all intertwine into a complex tapestry of history. Each generation mirrors the one before, yet they’re so distinct. It’s intriguing how they never seem to learn, yet they persist, and they flourish.

And then there’s me.

How much do I really differ from them? How much has the past hundred years truly transformed me?

Since the Pureblood Revolution four decades ago, I’ve observed humans evolve, adjust, and, inevitably, obliterate. Destruction seems to come naturally to them, almost instinctively. I believe they do it without even being aware of it.

We, however, do it intentionally—with a clear motive. I can’t determine which is more dreadful.

But I’ve existed long enough to admire their resilience. There’s something…captivating about their imperfect nature.

Berlin is my most cherished place on earth. A city of paradoxes, where chaos and culture clash in the streets, where lives are lived so vibrantly it’s almost overwhelming.

Yet here, amidst all the commotion, I find a serene spot where I feel like I finally fit in. Not because of the people, of course—I don’t belong here, or anywhere, for that matter. I have no friends in this city. No family anywhere.

I’m a specter, merely passing through. But Berlin’s vitality, its rhythm—it resonates with me. It’s the place where I’ve found that I can pretend, even if just for a moment, that I’m human again. And in that, I find comfort.

I ventured out into the balmy summer evening, the final rays of the sun sinking below the horizon. I’d been yearning to get out for hours. I hadn’t fed the previous night, and the thirst was becoming intolerable.

I exited the basement Airbnb room I had rented. The building was silent, the buzz of the city permeating through the walls. My blue dress swayed around my thighs as I stepped onto the streets, the color a striking contrast against my skin.

A soft, airy garment, not overly revealing but just enough. I had slipped into a pair of heels, then gathered my curly hair back with a simple silver clip. Scarab earrings chimed as I walked, their gentle sound somewhat calming.

The streets were bustling, teeming with humans—laughing, drinking, savoring the fleeting moments of a warm night. They moved in groups, some arm in arm, others alone but surrounded by friends.

Perfect hunting time.

I headed to a small club I adored. Dark, noisy, and brimming with life. The kind of place where people shed their inhibitions and let themselves be raw. The music—classic rock—pulsed through the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something else. Desire.

I smiled to myself. I had always been attracted to places like this. There’s something about witnessing people lower their guard, something genuine in that surrender.

I wondered, at times, if I was seeking something. A glimpse of what my life could have been, had I made different choices.

But I don’t dwell on it too much. Not tonight. Tonight, I need to concentrate on the hunt. Distractions could be perilous, not just for me.

The bar was crowded, the patrons loud and lively. I paused at the entrance for a moment, taking in the scene.

As a young girl, I never imagined a place like this could exist. My family had been very traditional and deeply religious. It was probably what drew me to such places in the first place—when they needed my assistance.

That had been the gravest mistake of my life. And yet, here I was, reveling in the party life again. Only this time, I wasn’t going to be a victim.

Now, I was the predator. The cruel irony wasn’t lost on me. I needed to feed, I savored the hunt, but I couldn’t help but worry for everyone’s safety.

I navigated through the mass of dancing human bodies. Their warm blood and the pounding of their hearts made my skin prickle with anticipation, my throat constricting. As I passed, I felt their stares on me—wide-eyed, mouths agape, hearts racing.

I won’t deny it. I reveled in the attention. I always have.

The bartender was easy to identify. Tall, broad-shouldered, with muscles that strained against the tight white shirt he wore tucked into black trousers. His suspenders accentuated everything just right. He looked like a man from a different era—an era I knew all too well.

As I moved closer, his eyes widened, locking onto me with a spark of interest. His heartbeat quickened, a familiar rhythm that I could feel as I brushed past him to the bar. I leaned in just a tad, enough to make him squirm. His body reacted before his mind could even process it.

I couldn’t help but grin.

“Give me a dry martini. Two olives,” I said in German, my voice soft.

His eyes traced the movement of my lips as I spoke, and I could feel him imagining the taste of them.

He smiled back. “Coming right up,” he managed, his voice slightly strained. His hand shook a little as he began to prepare my drink.

Behind me, I heard the scrape of a chair. A tall, skinny man spun it around to face me. He looked me over with a casual air, but his gaze lingered a bit too long. He had that look—the one that said he thought he was about to score. How many men had given me that same look?

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked, his voice a tad too eager.

I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. His blond hair was thinning, and his blue eyes, a bit too cloudy, didn’t seem to focus quite right. He had a faint smell of cigarettes—not exactly appetizing. But the bartender? Now he was a different story.

“What gave me away?” I asked, leaning casually against the bar, my hip cocked to the side.

He grinned, his heart rate quickening as I moved. I could feel his pulse in the air around me—a heady, intoxicating sensation. I blinked to regain my focus.

They always made it too easy, and I didn’t want to lose control. I focused on the conversation.

“You’re too beautiful,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. Really? That was the best he could come up with?

I turned away from him, smiling at the bartender who had been watching our exchange with a frown. When our eyes met, I saw his heart skip a beat. I grinned back.

“Your drink,” he said, sliding it over to me with a flourish. His fingers lingered on the glass.

“Thanks,” I replied, taking it from him. My fingers brushed his, just enough to feel the shiver run through him. A touch that made the burn in my throat flare—I almost shattered the glass.

I took a deep breath through my mouth. I took a sip. The drink was crisp, tangy, exactly what I wanted.

But even as I savored it, I longed for something more. The pull of his blood, the promise in his gaze. I would have to be patient.

Tonight was a test of my self-control. “It’s delicious,” I said, meeting his gaze again.

His eyes sparkled. “Where are you from?” he asked, leaning in a bit closer.

His voice dropped a little, like he was afraid to ask, but couldn’t resist. “I was born in Cairo,” I replied, without hesitation.

“Egyptian?” he said, his eyes widening. “Your German is wonderful.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I come to Berlin as often as I can. I love it here.”

“If you want, I can show you around sometime,” he said. His heart raced again.

I could almost hear it, feel it against my skin. “That sounds lovely,” I told him, my voice soft, but with a hint of playfulness.

“Great,” he grinned. “I’m Felix.”

“Aya,” I said, extending my hand across the bar. He took it eagerly, shaking it with a bit too much enthusiasm.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries, but I wasn’t really listening. I was watching him, studying the way his heart beat faster, the way his skin flushed.

It was intoxicating—his interest, his excitement. Humans never changed. “Are…are you here with anyone?” he asked, glancing nervously around.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “But I am looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone? Have you found them?”

I gave him my most dazzling smile. “I just might have.”

I set my glass down, watching Felix over the rim. He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the cocktail shaker.

His scent was maddening—warm, laced with anticipation, with the quiet thrill of possibility. I could take him now.

Lure him outside, press him against the cold brick wall of the alleyway, and drink my fill. But then—

A shift in the air. A presence. Someone was watching me.

A shiver ran down my spine, my senses suddenly on high alert. I let my gaze wander around the room, taking in the faces bathed in the soft, muted light.

The humans were lost in their own world, laughing and swaying, completely unaware. There was a shadow in the corner.

No, it was nothing. I brushed it off. It was just the remnants of a bad dream.

That chapter of my life was closed.