It all started with a stupid prank.

Your friends thought it’d be hilarious to slip a small bottle of whiskey into your jacket pocket while you were hanging out in the public square. You didn’t even notice until a flashlight beam hit you square in the face.

“Well, well… what do we have here?”

Officer Rachel Domínguez stepped forward with that arrogant smirk of hers, her brown skin glowing under the plaza lights. Her platinum-white hair, shaved on the sides, stood out sharply against the night. With a theatrical flourish she pulled the bottle from your pocket and held it right in front of your face.

“Drinking in public. Tsk tsk.” She laughed—a mocking, cruel laugh. “Could you be any more pathetic? Let me guess… ‘It’s not mine, officer.’” She mimicked your voice in a childish whine.

Behind her, her partner—a fat guy with a ridiculous mustache named Rodríguez—nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Totally, Rachel. These kids always have the same excuses.”

“To the car. Move it.”

Rachel shoved you toward the patrol car without any gentleness, still laughing. “Your mom’s gonna be thrilled when I call her from the station.”

---

Now you were handcuffed in the back seat of the cruiser, watching the dark, winding road snake up the hillside. Hundreds of meters of shadowy curves around the mountain before reaching the station. The engine purred as Rachel drove one-handed, the other tapping the steering wheel to some imaginary song.

“You know what’s the best part about night patrol?” she said without looking back, clearly enjoying her own monologue. “Nobody sees when I take my sweet time with arrests like this.”

Rodríguez gave a nervous chuckle from the passenger seat. “You’re the best, Rach.”

“I know.”

But then the headlights illuminated something in the middle of the road.

A figure.

Rachel slammed on the brakes. The cruiser screeched to a halt.

“What the hell…?” she muttered, squinting.

Right in the center of the dark road, lit only by the headlights and the pale moonlight, stood a woman.

Tall. Long, messy black hair cascading like a curtain over her shoulders down to her waist. She wore a tight, dirt-stained white t-shirt and torn black jeans ripped at the knees. Barefoot, her feet caked with dirt and grass.

Her eyes gleamed under the headlights—molten amber yellow, reflecting the light like a nocturnal cat’s.

She was… smoking. A cigarette dangled casually from her lips. Staring straight at the patrol car. Perfectly still. Curious.

Rachel honked the horn in irritation. “MOVE! YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!”

The woman took a long drag. Didn’t budge. Just exhaled the smoke slowly, a small, strange smile on her lips.

“Tch… freaking junkie.” Rachel flung the door open. “Rodríguez, get her out of the way.”

“Me?” The fat man swallowed hard, eyeing the figure nervously.

“Yes, YOU. Go on, prove you’re useful for something.” Rachel smacked his shoulder with barely concealed mockery.

Rodríguez puffed out his chest. He stepped out of the car clutching his baton, walking toward the woman with steps that tried to look confident but trembled slightly.

“Miss, I need you to clear the roadway immediately. You’re obstructing—”

The woman turned her head toward him.

Her yellow eyes flashed—a brief crimson glint, gone in an instant.

Rodríguez froze. His mouth fell open. His eyes glazed over.

“I… I…”

And then he just… dropped.

He collapsed backward like a sack of potatoes, hitting the asphalt with a dull thud. His baton rolled away from his limp hand. Completely unconscious.

The woman tilted her head at him. Took another drag.

“So fragile,” she murmured in a husky, almost amused voice.

---

“What the fuck…?” Rachel muttered from inside the car, hands still gripping the wheel. Her expression shifted from annoyance to genuine confusion.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out slowly, her hand resting on the holster of her tactical belt—ready.

“Hey!” she shouted with forced authority, approaching the figure. “What the hell did you do to my partner?”

The woman turned fully toward Rachel.

And smiled.

It was a beautiful smile, but completely wrong—too wide, revealing sharp fangs that glinted under the moonlight. Too interested. Too… hungry.

“Nothing permanent, officer.” Her voice was smooth, almost purring, but laced with mockery. “He just… needed a nap. Poor guy was working too hard.”

Rachel stopped a few meters away. Every instinct screamed that something was off.

“Are you high or what?” she asked in her usual rough tone, though a hint of nerves crept in now. “What are you doing standing in the middle of the road at this hour? Don’t you realize how dangerous that is?”

The woman took another long drag, studying Rachel from head to toe with those glowing yellow eyes.

“Oh, how sweet.” The sarcasm was thick, almost flirtatious. “Worried about me, officer? How… adorable.”

She exhaled slowly—a cloud of smoke that drifted between them like something alive.

Rachel coughed lightly, waving the smoke away. “Cut the bullshit. Answer the question. What are you doing here?”

“Walking.” The answer was simple, accompanied by a shrug. “Is walking illegal now?”

“In the middle of a highway, at midnight, smoking and…” Rachel narrowed her eyes, “…barefoot? Yeah, that’s like five violations right there.”

The woman laughed—a low, guttural sound, almost a purr.

“What a restrictive world you modern humans have.”

“‘You humans’?” Rachel echoed mockingly. “What are you, an alien or something?”

The yellow eyes sparkled with genuine amusement.

“Something like that.”

Rachel snorted. “Alright, enough games.” She took a step forward. “You’re under arrest for obstructing a public roadway, apparent intoxication, and…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze involuntarily dropped.

The bulge.

Under the tight black jeans, it was impossible to miss—thick, long, running down the woman’s left thigh. Unmistakable.

Rachel froze completely.

Her breath caught for a full second.

“…What… the hell are you packing…?” The words came out choked, breathless. Her eyes were glued to the impossible bulge.

The woman followed her gaze. Her smile widened.

“This?” She casually pressed her hand against the fabric, tracing the obscene outline. “Exactly what it looks like, officer.”

Rachel’s face flushed dark even in the dim light. Her chest started rising and falling faster.

“Is there… vaseline in the trunk?” she muttered aloud—almost as if talking to you in the back seat, but clearly not thinking straight.

The woman let out a louder laugh this time, genuinely entertained.

“Oh wow. Not even buying me coffee first, officer?” Her tone was pure teasing now, openly flirtatious. “So forward.”

Rachel shook her head violently, like trying to snap out of a trance.

“NO! What the—! What am I even saying!” She bit her lower lip hard. “You… get in the car. NOW.”

“Are you arresting me?” The woman took one last drag and flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her bare foot. “For having something that clearly… interests you?”

“SHUT UP AND WALK!” Rachel finally snapped into action—police training kicking in. She grabbed the woman’s arm and twisted it behind her back with practiced force.

But when she touched her…

The skin was ice-cold. Like marble.

Rachel hesitated for a split second, her grip loosening instinctively.

The woman seized the moment. She spun with unnatural fluidity and suddenly faced Rachel—so close their chests nearly touched.

“Your heart’s racing, officer.” Those yellow eyes glowed, pupils narrowing vertically. “Is it fear… or something else?”

Rachel swallowed audibly. But pride wouldn’t let her back down.

“To… the car…” Her voice came out huskier than intended.

“As you wish.”

---

Rachel practically dragged the woman to the cruiser—or at least tried to make it look that way. Her movements were clumsy. Too slow. Her body trembled slightly.

When they reached the side of the car, Rachel yanked open the back door where you were sitting.

The interior light flicked on.

She shoved—nearly threw—the woman inside.

The woman landed in the seat beside you with feline grace. She settled in slowly, crossing her legs, then turned to look at you.

Those glowing yellow eyes studied you from head to toe.

She smiled—flashing those sharp fangs again.

“Hey there, cutie,” she purred, voice soft and almost sensual. Like she’d just sat down at a bar instead of inside a police cruiser.

She tilted her head curiously, sniffing the air near you.

“Mmm… you smell… interesting.”

---

Outside, Rachel slammed the back door shut.

She stood there for a moment, hands braced against the car, breathing heavily. Her head hung low.

“Shit… shit… what the fuck just happened…” she muttered to herself.

Then she forced herself to move. She walked over to where Rodríguez lay unconscious on the asphalt.

“Get up, you useless lump…” she growled, grabbing him under the arms.

She dragged him—with considerable effort—back to the car. She managed to shove him into the passenger seat, where he slumped against the window.

Finally she dropped into the driver’s seat.

She slammed her door.

Her hands were shaking as they gripped the wheel.

She glanced into the rear-view mirror.

The woman in the back was staring straight at her—with that small, predatory smile. Her yellow eyes glowed in the darkness of the car.

And the bulge in her jeans was even more obvious in the confined space.

Rachel bit her lip so hard it nearly bled.

She started the engine with a violent twist.

The car lurched forward into the dark road.

But her eyes kept flicking back to the rear-view mirror.

Again and again.

The woman noticed. Of course she noticed.

And her smile only grew wider.