In 2011, I was in a Ravy mood. This weekend I discovered this One Shot on my harddrive. I don't think I did Ivy justice, but hey, this is fanfiction. Personally, I've never read any of the Harrison shorts from Ivy's point of view, but from what I've read in her rather short appearances she tends to be self-loathing especially in the first few books.
The dialogue is the SAME as the book. Considering this is about their first encounter (you all know the infamous scene in book 1), I tried to put as much of that in it as possible. PLEASE REVIEW!
P.S.
What the heck do they call the people who like to give their blood to vamps because they're addicted? I forgot and I was too lazy to search the book.
Also, how long was Ivy sober? I kept saying 2 years…..Hopefully I'm not wrong.
NO BETA.
DON'T OWN HOLLOWS.
PLEASE REVIEW!
COMING ONTO THE WITCH
(Nourishes and Destroys)
"You do have a crucifix don't you?"
We had just finished talking about my mother. The Undead. And there she was right across from me dripping in fear. A normal reaction would have been to be repulsed. I could smell her anxiety, that she was frightened of me, but she didn't want to show it. Instead she raised her arm and jingled those god forsaken charms in my face.
"Right here," She said with a bright smile and a tight voice. Her smile was faked and the look in her eyes was a dead giveaway.
Dead.
When she held up her arm the only thing I could see was the color of her milky white skin under the folds of my grey silk robe. The way the fabric fell from her wrist and down to her elbow it was almost as if it was caressing her. By now the scent of her fear mingled with my own natural scent on my robe. It was no longer a separate entity. It was ours.
I slammed my feet onto the floor and she relaxed. Her arm was still outstretched and I took it into my hand, this caused her to freeze. I leaned in closer examining the charm, it was wood inlaid metal and because it was on her skin, it smelt heavily of redwood. Her redwood.
"Is it blessed?"
She'd never know how hard it was for me to say that. Smelling her so close to me, it was so fucking good. She nodded and with that I knew it was time to let go.
I let go of the charm and leaned back into the chair trying to cool down.
Rachel swallowed. I could see her throat bobbing, her jugular pulsating just beneath her chin. The tiny, almost microscopic, beads of perspiration coming to the surface and leaving an erotic sheen. What it'll feel like to sink my teeth into that flesh and pull her into me.
Don't think about that.
A voice in my mind warned me, I drug myself away. I've been clean for how long now? Two years? I'm not going to fall off the wagon. Especially not for this witch.
"Mine, too."
I showed her my cross to calm her down.
Bad move.
The witch sat down her plate and scooted towards me. In a very distant place a voice inside my head told me to pull away, I disobeyed. She naively reached her hand forward, begging to touch my cross. Humoring her, I leaned forward and handed it to her. As she examined the cross, I examined her.
Her eyes riveted as she took in the etched runes and blessings that covered the ancient metal. Her breath came out in gentle puffs under my chin, and I could hear her heart. Not that I can't normally, but then and there she was so close, it was all I could hear. The flow of her blood pumping in and out, in and out, in and out, in and….
Suddenly she pulled away from me. She sat back against her side of the couch. The look on her face was frightening.
My eyes are black aren't they?
For the longest second she held her breathe. I watched as her eyes went from my own to the cross, then to a spot on my chest. Her pulse shot up and she seemed confused.
"Here," She gruffly said as she held the cross towards me. "Take it."
I took it.
Unwittingly, though maybe it was on purpose, my fingers brushed against hers. She didn't pull away. But she didn't reciprocate. Instead, after I had took the cross back, she scooted back onto the couch and pulled my robe closer to her slender frame, and smoothed her hands across her long sexy legs.
Naughty, naughty witch.
I took off my cross, slowly, putting on a show.
Her breath caught for the briefest of moments as the silver chain caught against my hair and I pulled it free. The chime of her exhalation as my hair fell back against the nape of my neck and caught the light, was akin to hearing an angels praise.
Giving her a sly grin, I sat the cross on the table between us. Showing her the ball was in her court.
Her eyes never once left mine.
I sat back and curled my feet onto the seat. She followed my every movement without blinking. It was a full minute before even she seemed to understand what she was doing to me. Once she did however, it was amazing. Her emotions shifted so fast, it was like being hit by a train. One moment she was calm and the next bordering on the edge of terror and excitement. Now her heartbeat is erratic and she's panicking.
It was intoxicating. Breathtaking. And more wild then a hit of street grade brimstone.
She squirmed in her seat as she tried to think her way out of my clutches. The more she moved the more our scents mingled and the more my own thoughts became cloudy with the shades of blood and eroticism. Her jaw clenched and her face reddened. As strange as it was, it flattered her as it added onto the red of her hair.
"Um…Ivy," She started and stopped. Her eyes flickered down to the cross then shyly back towards my spot on the couch. Maybe she needed a little coaxing? It was then that my mouth decided it needed to work.
"I was born a vampire,"
Whatever was about to come out of her pretty little mouth just then, stopped as she held her own breathe and gazed into the black of my eyes. Her fear was pumping into the air like a sweet scented nectar, its fragrance alluring and enticing while all the while forbidden. If she was trying to turn me on, she was pushing all the right buttons.
"Both of my parents are vampires. I was conceived and born before my mother became a true undead. Do you know what that means Rachel?"
I stopped talking; her eyes were framed to my lips. Though her pulse was racing I could see it on her face and in her eyes. Buried deep under the fear her own arousal was betraying her.
"No," The response came as a breathy whisper.
I tilted my head so that my hair fell in the way she obviously loved so much. Her eyes followed the motion and it held the same effect.
"The virus didn't have to wait until I was dead before shaping me, it molded me as I grew in my mother's womb, giving me a little of both worlds, the living and the dead."
I ended with a part of my lips, slipping her a view of my teeth.
The witch shuddered and broke into a sweat. I inhaled, pulling all of her rich scent through my nose and into me. The redwood was intense and almost earthy in fragrance. It wasn't something I normally vied for, but hers had a slight tinge to it. Something I'd never smelled on a witch before, well at least none I'd ever met, it seemed to be mixed with something else. Something I'd never tasted.
"It's easy to pull an aura,"
I exhaled her scent. Inside, I could feel my lungs tremble as if they were actually in need of its company.
"Actually, the trick is to keep it suppressed."
Ok. Enough of this.
I sat up on the couch and turned to face my witch. She let in a deep hissing breath, and I reached down and jerked off my boots.
"And although my reflexes and strength aren't as good as a true undead, they're better than yours," I continued.
The witch didn't move nor did she make any other sound. Instead her emerald green eyes watched me, the fear beating in her heart and the ebbs of adrenaline laced lust racing through her veins.
"What's more, I'm guaranteed to become an undead, even if I die alone in a field with every last drop of blood inside of me. No worries, Rachel. I'm eternal already. Death will only make me stronger."
My witch's heart pounded. I tasted her scent again.
"And you know the best part?"
Still keeping contact with my eyes, she shook her head tightly. It was as if she was afraid that if she broke contact with my eyes, that she'd shatter into pieces.
I crawled onto the coffee table, her eyes widened as my knee came across the table top. Her eyes darted as they took in my form, and drifted to the spot below the neck and in between my breast where the cross was kept.
"Living vamps can bespell people if they want to be," I whispered, so close to her face I could almost taste the sweat of her skin. Beneath me she shivered, though she never broke contact. Her eyes were forever locked onto mine, her green absorbing into the depths of my black.
"What good is it if it only works on those who let you?" She asked, her voice was harsh with lust and fear.
I gave her a slow smile, could my witch really be asking such a question?
"It makes for great sex, Rachel."
"Oh." Though uttered response was faint, inside I was climbing over walls.
"And I got my mother's taste for blood," I knelt on the table. "It's like some peoples craving for sugar. It's not a good comparison but it's the best I can do unless you try it."
The witch shuddered at the sound of my exhale. I watched as her eyes widened for a second in her own bewilderment then flecks of red appear on her cheeks at her final embarrassment. The desire was winning in its battle against her fear, and though she noticed it, it was as if she put up a wall internally. Stubbornly, she refused to give in to the thoughts of pleasure.
Smart witch.
I watched her, curious and amused. There was a flood of emotions as she battled with her desire for me. With each wave came a new injection into the air. Her pheromones shot into my own blood and kicked up my own arousal sending my own pheromones into hyper drive.
Did she know what she was doing to me?
I looked towards the spot below her chin towards her neck. Its pristine white flesh was unmarred by any other bites. There was the blood again; I could see it pumping more furiously than ever before. Now it was throbbing against its skin in search of its release, it was begging me to let it out. Begging to come inside of me.
"NO!"
The witch suddenly cried as she kicked out and jumped backwards on the couch. I don't know when I moved but I obviously did, for now I was on top of her. My hand twined into her hair and I had pinned her beneath me, her wrist held tight over her head.
"Ivy, NO!" She shrieked. She tore at my limbs with her free arm and tried to escape. Her body was thrusting beneath me while I was straddled atop of her. Unwittingly, she rubbed against my center, my arousal which was already flared, screamed on contact.
She took a deep breath of air and screamed. The blood curdling sound was pained and it drowned out any burning arousal that I may have had to begin.
It took everything in me to listen. I blinked my eyes and tried to refocus on the situation.
I am on top of her. Her limbs were pinned. And though she was screaming, these were not moans of bliss. The game is over, she is not happy.
This was not how I envisioned the turn of events.
"Rachel stop."
My body had cooled down and I attempted to rein my pheromones in.
Down. Put her down.
She twitched and whimpered. The sound was pained and it reminded me of why I stopped once before.
"You're making things worse,"
I told her as she tried to wiggle free. My hand tightened around her wrist, my body still reacting on its own accord.
Take her.
"Let me go" She panted. I felt my own pupils contract at the sound of eroticism in her frightened voice. It's amazing how fear can sound so damn sexy.
"God, help me, Ivy. Let me go. Please. I don't want this." She pleaded. She was scared. The fear conquering any desire that was there.
"Stop," Her voice was strained. It was the sound of dying hope. She didn't expect to live.
God, oh god. What am I doing? I don't want to kill her.
"Rachel. I'm trying to let go of you but you have to stop. You're making things worse. You have to believe me."
At that she stopped moving and held her breathe. The lack of movement terrified me for a second; did I accidentally break her neck? I looked at her pulse, it was still beating as furious as before. The sight chilled me to my core as I tried to not bite into her neck. Dribbles of my own saliva fell onto her skin and I watched as it rolled against the flesh.
"God, no,"
She whispered and shuddered.
Ivy, be good. You don't want this.
Holding back my demons was so damn hard. Here she was beneath me, heart beating, blood pounding, and neck begging to be bit. Her pulse screaming for my teeth to penetrate and adulterate her pale virginal flesh. I wanted her so damn badly.
An ache formed at the base of my gums and tore down to the apex of my spine. My own neck began to hurt from the angle which I was holding myself still, the force of the temptation battling with the sheer will of my conscience.
Don't do it.
Do it.
Don't do it.
Another whimper came from her lips.
Think about the children.
I shivered. It was as if the ghosts of my past decided all at once to show up and visit. Their corporeal limbs pulled on my conscience while their cold dead eyes taunted me for being the cause of their deaths.
Don't go there. Do NOT go there.
My body began to tremble in both reversion and appeal. I did not want this to happen, but I needed it to. Every part of my body screamed at the welcome of the taste of the witch's blood. I hadn't had it in so very long. To be able to taste its sheer velvet against my tongue, to fill myself with its warmth, devour that which gave her life. I could take it into myself and feel whole again. Maybe it'll put away the darkness.
If I could just have a taste. Just a little taste. It'll all be-
Her cheek brushed against mine as she tried to wiggle free again. There was a warmth on my own neck as she let out a shivering exhale. The air ran in smooth tendrils that sent an electric tickle down my spine.
DON'T.
"Rachel, stop." I was faintly surprised to hear the panic in my own voice. Even I didn't think I could make it. Rachel panted against my shoulder as I couldn't take my eyes away from her neck.
"What do I do?" She whispered.
"Close your eyes," I wished I could've closed my own. "I need your help. I didn't know it was going to be this hard."
That was the truth. It was amazing, but I didn't think it would be this hard to not do it. I'd been sober for some time now, who would've known it would've taken more than a little effort to rein myself in? The will it had took to go cold turkey was helluva lot easier compared to what I was trying to not do just then.
"Don't move."
Beneath me, her entire body tensed.
Now let go.
I commanded myself. The animal barred its fangs and tried to relent. I pushed myself seemingly pushing out of my skin, to force myself free of it. Her red hair was caught tight in my clutches, I figured to start there.
Releasing the pressure in my enclosed fingers, I opened each digit one by one and slowly, and I let go of her hair. The animal howled as the first tendril of curly red hair escaped my palm. It grated inside my mind as I allowed more of the locks to join the released one by its side on the couch. Freeing my hand entirely, I willed myself and moved away, inch by painful inch.
My muscles were locked and tensed; if I wanted to be free of this, I had to get off of her. I placed my hand on the top of the couch for support and with a grimace I moved my first leg backwards. After edging a few centimeters, I had to pause.
If you move now, she's still yours for the taking.
I was still over her, yet not entirely on her. Her hair was free, everything else wasn't.
But she said no.
I pressed on, forcing the rest of my muscles to comply with the effort. Before I knew it, my knees were gone from around her body and I was no longer in her lap. My breath came in low exhale at the realization.
You're almost there.
The last thing I had to release of hers was her wrist.
Her hand was limp from the pressure of my hand and a large angry patch of red shone through my fingers. Following the same motion that I used for releasing her hair, I attempted working it out on her wrist.
This is yours, don't let it go.
The primal voice whispered its command.
I knew better than to listen.
Though it was tough at first, I finally got my fingers to loosen. The effort was draining. I watched with a peculiar sadness as the limb slipped from my palm and onto the couch by her leg. Though released the print of my hand was as visible as if it was still there. That would be bruised by tomorrow and I knew it.
Shamefully I brought my eyes to her face.
Her eyes were squeezed so very tight, that the lashes seemed to disappear beneath the lids. Her jaw was clenched together and she was breathing harshly through her nose. I could see her ribcage shaking beneath my robe as every breath entered her lungs. The color was drained from her flesh, obviously from fright, and she took on an almost deathly pallor.
At least she isn't dead.
I had done it. I hadn't gone in for the kill. At least she was still here, alive. There were no congratulations though. Inside the maelstrom raged.
I needed blood and I needed it now.
I eased off the couch as gently as I could. Since I had already vamped out the motion was more than simple. She didn't feel as my weight shifted and though her eyes were still shut, it was as if I could still feel the terror that penetrated their depths.
MOVE NOW!
Before I could take her again, I turned towards the entry and-
Wait, your shoes
I grabbed my shoes off of the floor and slipped them on. It didn't matter if they were tied or not, I didn't even notice, all that mattered was that I got the hell out of there fast.
In less than a second I was in the hall and the door was flush with my palm. I pushed my way out to the side walk and flung my leg over my bike. There was no way in hell I was spending the rest of the night in there with her.
I rode without a helmet fast and furious. The wind whipped my hair into my eyes and my hands were tight around the handles. I couldn't see where I was going because soon after the tears began to form in my eyes.
2 years, Ivy. Two whole years. You were free of this Ivy, what the hell had gotten into you?
My own blood roared in my ears and screened the sounds of sirens and blaring horns as I ran several red lights.
What's wrong with you? Why did you give in to it?
I shook my head to get the tears out of my eyes, but they were coming in too quickly. After a few vain attempts I let it be and allowed them to bead and roll down my face. I didn't need to see, I knew where I was heading. The familiar corners popped up along with the sound of music, sights, and smells of nightlife came closer.
My bike came to a screeching halt inside the parking lot and before I could properly put my bike onto its stand, I had already stood on my feet. With long swift strides I came around side the pizza parlor and came full frontal with bodies.
Curious stupid humans and blood toys alike parted a path for me to enter its depths. It was as if they were a breathing beating red sea and I was their undying Messiah. The hum of their frantic heartbeats inside their frail chest along with the scent of their arousal drenched sweat sent a trill to my core and caused my own pulse to skyrocket.
The door opened and a blonde male vamp appeared, Kisten.
"Ivy,"
He breathed my name in that faked British accent of his. Even though we were supposedly on the same wavelength, his response to me was no different than the walking buffet before my eyes. Inside his voice, I heard that same pathetic tone of lust, fear, and most of all- reverence.
I didn't say a word to him and he pressed to the side of the wall and made way for my entrance. Inside the dimly lit restaurant, music blared as loud as ever though it did little to block the sound of the hearts. Bodies thumped against one another, their pulses erratic. Sweat dripped from brows as the scent of their meaning filled the air to a suffocating brim. I had to hold an arm to myself just to keep from charging in.
Though I could not see him, Piscary's presence greeted me from somewhere deep in the room. His brown eyes twinkled with their false kindness and a smug smirk was on his parted lips.
Welcome back, my Ivy girl.
Later that night, as my teeth sunk into the first neck that came my way. I hated myself so much. How could I have let this happen? Why?
For two years I had kept clean, and now here I am back at square one all over again.
But as the blood crossed my tongue and ran hot down my throat, the feeling of deep release, more gratifying then any sex or pleasure I'd ever had, soared from within my soul and reached out to the surface of my being. As the liquid filled me up, I felt stronger and better. It was as if the very thing that was causing me so much pain, was also turning around and soothing my wounds from the inside out. It tore me to shreds one by one, only to mend me up all over.
With each pull of the neck a satisfied moan seemed to battle with a petrified scream. I watched myself from the outside as I ravaged the bodies of man, woman, and whomever offered alike. As their bodies clashed against my own in a pleasure and blood frenzy, a silhouette of myself grimaced shame faced in the corner at my weakness and depravity.
A line ran inside my head as the final neck gave way beneath me. Its meaning seemingly bore from the fibers of my own sins.
What nourishes me destroys me.
That it does so, over and over again.
Back at the church, Rachel shivered against the arm of the couch. Though she could no longer feel the vamp lingering over her neck, she was too terrified to move for fear that the motion would be the cause of her death. Slowly pressing her eyes she spoke in a slow shivering voice,
"Can I open my eyes now?"
There was no response. The witch opened her eyes to discover she was all alone. The crucifix was still on the table, yet its owner nowhere to be found. There was a moisture on her neck, which she realized was the other woman's saliva, she rubbed it away with her palm. As it smeared against the flesh it left a slight chill along its surface.
The witch slowly blinked her eyes at the realization of her near death. For now only the scent of the vampires incense lingered in the air, and that was that. Apart from the cross on the table, and the now cold dinner plates. At a glance, she was a woman eating dinner by herself.
It was as if she was never there.
FIN