One of the perks, and curses in Sabastion's opinion, of being a vampire was a heightened sense of hearing. Despite the steady thumping of music emanating from Euphoria behind him, he was well aware of another presence in the area. Granted, that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the scent that lingered in the air. It was familiar, and a reminder of something he longed for. His heart ached with the familiarity and his eyes swept over the street and all the cars that lined up along it--there wasn't enough room in the massive parking area of Euphoria for all the people that came to the club.
That's when he saw her, slinking her way back toward what he guessed was her car. His tongue moved over his lips, anxiety blossoming in his chest and tightening it. He drew in a sharp, unnecessary breath and stepped after her. His movement was quicker than hers, and he caught up to her, extending a hand to grasp her shoulder and tug her back toward him. He wanted her to look at him; he needed to see her face. He needed it almost as much as he needed to taste her lips, to hold her in his arms once again.
"Victoria," he called softly as he attempted to turn her around. "Victoria, please." He didn't want to plead with her, and yet he didn't have much of a choice. Not with her desire to get away from him. He prayed she didn't turn on him violently.