MODERN AU / DARK REYLO / VAMP+WEREWOLF

SUMMARY: It was a simple task, a simple hunt. Track down the girl from the subway, the one who – by some bizarre stroke of luck – had ended up with the object. Kylo Ren was a master of his talent and loyal to his cause. Nothing could shake that loyalty, nor the trust he held in his supreme leader. Nothing.

STORY AESTHETIC INSPIRATIONS: Victoria Frances, The Crow, Type O Negative, Luis Royo, Underworld, Queen of the Damned & Sisters of Mercy

CHAPTER SONG INSPIRATION: Golgotha Tenement Blues - Machines of Loving Grace

WARNINGS: blood, gore, language, blood kink, rough kink, sexual content (rating will be upgraded in future chapters)

A/N: I had to do this. I'm... sorry? ; o ; I love vamp/werewolf stories. Check my tumblr for progress: reyloisblessed. Look under the tag 'her killing moon.' Updates will be sporadic depending on my RL schedule!

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"What hath night to do with sleep?"

- John Milton

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HER KILLING MOON

CHAPTER I: DARK MOTHER METROPOLIS

- o -

Night winds ruffle his wet hair, the stars above scarcely visible through the thick veil of city smog, and goose-flesh rises on his nude skin in response. He sighs, heavy eyes drifting closed as the scents of the city waft up from the streets below, dank alleyways, car pollution, manhole covers belching vaporous filth through their open seams.

He hates the city. A fetid nest overgrown with countless hungry mouths open and screaming.

Still, addictions of the base animal call to him in those secret moments and he finds, in a bleak and twisted way—a way he'll never admit to openly—he can appreciate the cravings. Women strolling the lamp-lit streets with legs that go on forever, smooth red lips and smoky eyes, hollow eyes. Vagabonds lingering in the trash littered alcoves with their sleeves rolled back, nasty needle bites tattooing their skin. Over zealous hands stuffing food down a crowded gullet, the separation between hunger and hunger only a blur, the actions an endless cycle of reflex.

No matter how many times you feed it—that creeping, ravenous wolf grinning behind quiet your eyes—it's never enough.

Nothing fills that emptiness.

He pads back into his apartment, bare feet warm despite the chilly floor. His bed remains untouched, perfectly made, the lamp on his nightstand illuminating a handwritten note. 'Subway' it reads. No time. No date. No further information. Though, the handwriting is unmistakable. Kaydel Ko Connix.

A knock abruptly sounds at his door, sharp and loathe to be ignored.

He ignores it, tongue rolling along his teeth behind his lips, thinking.

Another knock, harder.

Perhaps he should have visited his supreme leader sooner, spoken to him openly about... his thoughts. But the idea of revealing those weaknesses to anyone, let alone his master, unsettles him. To entertain such childish notions is unbecoming of what he is now, how far he has come. He halts the current train of thought with a disgusted exhale, his lips curling with a bitter snarl.

The past is a dead thing.

And he doesn't need guidance on crushing his weaknesses. He has perfect control. Perfect control.

A third knock.

"What!" he snaps.

"Open the door, Ren." Demands a stiff voice.

Armitage Hux, General Hux as he prefers to be called. A man driven by simple needs, useful as he may be. He runs his hands through his hair, annoyance boiling his blood. Never has he understood why Snoke keeps such a vile creature in a seat of power. Hux delights in power alone. He desires no other purpose but to dominate. There is nothing principled about his motives. Nothing worthy of his seat.

Ren takes his time finding fresh clothes. A cable-knit turtle neck, leather gloves, comfortable trousers, boots and a double-breasted leather trench coat. All in varying shades of black.

"I don't have time—

He strides to the door and abruptly rips it open, meeting Hux's gaze with swirling night eyes. "I take it there's a good reason you're pestering me." His fingers dig into the door frame.

"I will not be addressed in such a manner." the man lips peel back over perfect white teeth. "You will—

"Get to the point." Ren drawls. "Why are you here?"

A dramatic pause, blue eyes burning at him like licks of azure fire. Then, Hux's mouth twists in a derisive smile. "Snoke wants to see you. Now."

Ren's face remains blank. "The supreme leader is sending you out as his errand boy? Should I be questioning your proficiency as a military leader, general? Your skills have proven disappointing as of late."

Hux's face blisters red with rage, but he swallows his retort. "You know as well as I that he does not like to be kept waiting."

"I don't follow orders from you." Kylo says smoothly, leaning into Hux's space.

Hux arches a cruel eyebrow. "A dog's only talent is following orders."

Before Kylo has a chance to reply, Hux sweeps around and saunters down the hall to the elevator. He lopes after him, shoulders heaving with murderous breaths.

The elevator ride down to the parking garage is infinitely more suffocating with Kylo deliberately standing in Hux's space again, watching his reflection in the elevator doors. Hux does much the same, his eyes pretending to be everywhere but Kylo's imposing shadow.

- o -

o - o - o

- o -

The Supremacy, a sprawling estate in the rural mountainous range away from the writhing metropolis where few humans tend to frequent. Unless of course, they do so at their own peril. Kylo once questioned himself why, if he hates the city so, would he purchase an apartment at the very heart of it. Out here, the world is quiet, serene. But he had deduced that it was the distance—the noise, in fact, that drew him.

Breathing in the fresh mountain scents, his chest aches with the hunger for moist earth between his toes, his body chilled by the night air and his eyes sharp in the moonlight. He misses this place.

Still, the noise of the city lured him, like a flame.

And that's when the thoughts began. Traitorous things.

Inside, a sea of shining monsters part for them, eyes cutting down pale, arrogant noses as Kylo glares beyond of them, head held high. They know better than to utter a word in his presence. Better to utter it behind his back. Still ill-advised, but a safer route, nonetheless. Hux waves his hand dismissively to an approaching subordinate and continues through to a yawning corridor, and then on to a long descending flight of stairs.

Kylo remains close at his back, smirking as he sees the general's chin turn ever-so-slightly in his direction, eyes crawling over a rigid shoulder. Simple delights are a hard thing to come by in this life. Kylo makes damn sure to take them where he can.

There are three sub-levels below the mansion: a military level complete with barracks, showers, training rooms and weapons vaults, a prisoner level and the deepest level, the supreme leader's sepulcher. Only the most trusted are allowed to enter.

Kylo does not pause as they pass the prison cells, his nostrils flaring at the odor of blood. Werewolf blood.

"General Hux. Kylo Ren." Snoke intones as they enter the throne room, the heavy doors slamming shut behind them. "What news, general. I do hope you have something more productive to to tell me this time."

Hux flourishes his hand with a half bow. "Supreme leader, we have garnered recent information on the location where the exchange will take place."

"Where?" Snoke whispers, tendrils of his voice creeping over the walls.

"Hazel Street Station. Platform 3."

The supreme leader chuckles lowly, his arctic eyes probing into the only occupant of the room who has yet to speak. "Excellent, my good general. Well done. You may leave us."

Hux's sneer does not go unnoticed as he about-faces and disappears out the doors, allowing them to punctuate his exit with a thundering crack. Kylo ignores the flamboyant display of rivalry, bowing to his knees with his gaze fixed on the marble floor. The supreme leader watches him, posture inhumanly still, eerily long fingers curled over the throne's armrests. Kylo doesn't need to look up at him to know the ugly, exposed vein of his neck pulses with a patient anticipation, tendons gone rigid along his crooked jaw.

"The war is shifting. Have you felt it?"

Kylo answers without hesitation. "Yes."

Snoke rises from his throne, tall and ancient. "The mighty Kylo Ren. Such a curious creature you are, to hunt your own kind." He stops in front of Kylo, towering. "I've tried for generations to stamp out the werewolf menace, but when I found you, I knew you were special."

Silence weighs heavy in the air.

"The object we seek will be delivered tomorrow night." his finally continues, voice darkening with promise. "Make sure we do not suffer another loss."

"I would permit no such inadequacies." Kylo bows lower, leaning his shoulders forward.

Snoke considers his response for a long time, knife-like gaze penetrating his mind, delving deep, rooting out something hidden. "We shall see."

- o -

o - o - o

- o -

His knights greet him near the barracks before he ascends above ground. The Knights of Ren have been his companions for decades, centuries in some cases. One of the knights he even turned himself. Ruelle. She stands proudly with the others, small face pale except for the shock of thin rose lips and eyes dancing with excitement. Silas steps in front of her, nodding curtly. Silas has been with Kylo since the beginning, a cunning and formidable combatant.

"Master Ren." he addresses him.

"Caught your scent the second you stepped on the property." Ruelle pipes up, unable to contain herself. "Rumors are circulating. You went to see the supreme leader?"

Kylo looks over all of them, allowing the silence to be his answer. "We move tomorrow night."

"A hunt?" Ruelle pants.

Kylo glares at her and she averts her eyes, instantly dropping her head. The stiff quiet which follows sees that all his knights turn their faces away, each gaze respectfully on the floor.

"Meet me at Hazel Street Station." Kylo asserts crisply and departs.

Their eyes lift from the floor and follow him up the steps, their thoughts hot on his heels as he exits the mansion, the previous shiny monstrosities glowering at him from lavish balconies and festooned couches, glittering wine glasses of blood in their hands. He inhales a needed breath of fresh air the second the doors slip shut behind him and lingers beneath the ghostly crescent moon, angling his face to the stars unsure of why, in that particular moment, he seeks something.

They hadn't offered to drive him back. No need, he thinks. He'd rather walk, anyway.

- o -

o - o - o

- o -

Across the cityscape a young woman sits silently aboard a train, heart beating strongly as she grips her weathered coat to her body, hair pulled messily atop her head. She glances out at the blurry city line as the first morning light pierces through the haze, lips parting.

What hath night to do with sleep, she recites bitterly, lips moving with the words. Dry lips; she wets them. The lonely never sleep.

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