Don't own anything
She knows he wants it.
She knows he wants to bite her, that the intoxicating scent of her blood is overwhelming him, that he needs it – right now.
"Do it," she whispers, expecting pain and disgust at the fact she is openly letting a vampire bite her and she isn't even running away.
"I… I can't," he responds, even as his eyes turn crimson and his fangs extend. She is an easy target for him, but he could never hurt her. Even if it means hurting himself with the lack of blood, he can't hurt her. To do that would be giving in after months of pain and longing… would he even be able to stop? If the lust is so strong, the taste so perfect, then how would he have the self control to stop. "I could kill you! I can't let you let me do this," he continues, even as his fangs come further out of his mouth until they are fully extended.
She shakes her head and presses lips fingers to his cheeks softly. "I trust you. I know you won't kill me. You need it," she presses the matter, tracing the dark hollow circles under his eyes which betray the intense bloodlust he feels. He hasn't fed in so long, and if he doesn't, she could lose him.
"Are you sure?" he confirms with her, already moving his head to loiter over her neck. "Pull me off if I go too far. Please… don't let me hurt you," he pleads with her, hoping that she will be able to do this.
Then he digs into her neck, his fangs letting the blood spurt into his mouth and she tastes so good! It takes all of his concentration to make sure that he doesn't continue too long, that he doesn't let the vampire in him entirely take over. He cannot kill her – he just can't.
She expected to feel pain: when Claire told her about how it felt when Francois bit her, she was horrified at the evident agony she had suffered. But this was nothing like this – she felt almost happy that she was able to give him this life fortifying substance, that she was the one who was helping him, rather than the other way around as it usually was.
"Honey, that's enough," she whispers and pulls at his soft blonde hair to pull him off her as the strength gradually drains from her. He responds instantly, lifting his head to look at her, his bloodied mouth nothing compared to the pain evident in his eyes – he cannot believe that he did that to her. She may have wanted him to, but he should have been stronger and managed to resist the urge, the siren call of her blood.
"I am so sorry," he whispers as the fangs retract, leaving him looking as human as he did before he died – again.
He turns away from her ashamed, especially as she winces as she touches her neck.
"Nothing a necklace won't cover," she shrugs it off, pressing one of the tissues from the table to her neck to stop the bleeding. He shakes his head and stands up, unable to look at her when he has done such a horrendous thing to her.
So he walks out of the room and leaves her.