The human girl, the one who had nearly turned him into a vampire-kabob tonight; there was something…familiar about her. It was as if she belonged to a distant dream about a life he had never lived. She reminded him of false safety, broken hearts, and promises unfulfilled with happiness managing to still weave through everything despite the letdown she obviously was. The little red-haired bitch painted vague pictures of his life before the sweet pain, the never-ending hunger, Danica Talos, and his lover, who now laps at the healing wound on his bicep. Mostly she made him think of honey-bees, as odd as that was.

He looked to the monstrous man attending the all but non-existent wound on his upper arm, particularly interested in the clinical almost austere way the procedure was done. His lover didn't remind him of honey-bees. He reminded him of blood, which harked back to his hunger, and ignited a lust low in his gut. The man didn't paint pictures in his mind—though he did paint pictures on his body—and the man sure as hell didn't remind him of happiness. He would admit this was the closest he had been to gaining some sort of contentment, and that was as close to this fabled 'happiness' as he or any of his kind could ever be.

Yet part of him wondered what it could have been like. The dream land that the temptress painted in his head was deceitfully magnificent, warm, and most interestingly unknown. Everything he had here was painfully common. The building he was in, the bed he was on, the vampire working that dangerous mouth over his shoulder, he knew it all like a porn-mag he had read too many times back in his human days. It was like the movie Groundhog Day for him. When he woke he relived the same day over and over again. There was hardly any variation and there hadn't been since the day he was turned. The day his lover had stolen him from Danica had been the highlight of his short life as a vampire.

He wondered idly what would have become of him if he hadn't become a creature that he had once had nightmares about. Would his mother be alive? Would his brother? Would he have still lost his friends and family slowly to a bitch that got off on seeing him broken, in pain, yelling and chained to the floor as her brother, her bodyguard, a nameless person with no face broke into his body while she watched? Maybe he would have gone to college. Maybe he would have joined with the 'Nightstalkers' and the honey-bee witch who had captivated him with one determined glance that had nearly cost him his insignificant life.

Maybe he would be in a worse position that he was now. He had to admit, being the chosen mate of the father to his kind wasn't terrible. He was cared for, revered by all those who had used him not two years before, and best of all he was content. None of this was proven with this dream life that reminded him now of frosting-covered-shit. Here, though his life was monotonous, he had someone who cared for him as more than a toy, which was as close as his kind could get to love. He had someone who would kill for him, someone who had killed for him. He had someone who worshipped his body damn near every five hours, and god if that wasn't a glorious feeling.

A deep rumbling voice spoke in his ear sending echoes through his body and making him moan appreciatively, "You think too much…especially for a man receiving this much attention."



He turned his head to look into the changing eyes of his master and lover. It would be no use to lie. Drake could smell a lie on a human thirty miles away. Seeing as he was his mate, he would smell it before it was even passed his lips. "The Nightstalker startled me. It's been a while since I had a wound from a mortal's weapon," he said, though his voice was definitely husky from the said attention that Drake was still bestowing on his skin.

The First growled low in his throat and it took all of Hannibal's will-power not to let his eyes roll into his skull. The vampire had such a strong power over him with his vocals alone. "I should kill her for even coming near you," Drake snarled, his meaty hand reaching up to caress the high cheekbone of his smaller framed lover. "I told you, you should have stayed here tonight."

Hannibal gave him a droll stare, feeling his restlessness begin to stir even though they had arrived home less than an hour ago. "I hadn't left this building in a month, Drake," he said heatedly, making sure not to yell, but firmly enough to get his point across. "I need to go out every once in a while. I feel like a prisoner here!"

Drake's jaw muscle flexed irritably and the younger knew he was cursing the fact he had given free will to his mate. The Eldest Vampire had never once lifted his hand for Hannibal's impertinence, unlike Danica and her ilk. A year later, though Hannibal stumbled some times, especially after first waking up, he was mostly comfortable around his master and spoke his mind freely. It really irked his master some times. "I don't think it's necessarily needed that you go with us on hunts though. I'll take you out of this place, but I refuse to let you go on another raid."

"Do I really look that weak to you?" he asked with all seriousness. "Is it something about my face? Do I have that helpless doe glitter in my eye? It must be my high cheekbones…"

Drake cut him off sharply, grabbing the back of his head and forcing his tongue into the other's mouth to cut off any further rant that the child could have. Hannibal turned his body so that he was at a better angle and a more comfortable position, moaning into the elder's mouth as the pleasure that had died down in their short argument flared back to life. Pulling back for only a moment, Drake breathed out impatiently, "You do not look weak. You're just too valuable for me to lose."

Hannibal repressed a sigh as Drake continued his assault on his lips. He supposed that this life—or un-life as it were—was okay. The dream-land that red-haired temptress had put in his mind was only that…a dream-land. Wondering would only make him hate what he had, and what he had was definitely not worth hating.

A/N: I have a few more of these that I could write. Like have it be multi-one-shot format. I don't know. I just have some other ideas so if ya'll want I'll post more.

This is my first Blade fic, so I understand if it's not perfect, but if you could review anyway, that would be awesome.

InnocentGuilt