DISCLAIMER: The Morganville series and anything you recognize from it within this fanfiction are not owned by me, but by Sarah Caine.
A/N: This is, as of now, a one shot. However, if people enjoy and want to see it turn into a real story (a romantic one with Brandon as something other than a jerk eventually) I will continue. Please review and enjoy!
MORGANVILLEVAMPIRESMORGANVILLEVAMPIRESMORGANVILLEVAMPIRES
She was a pretty little thing, Brandon decided as he watched her walk into the Common Grounds with her two friends. The other girls were average, Monica wannabes, wearing the cheap, not so modest clothes. But she, she was a pretty little thing. She wasn't short, but she certainly wasn't tall, and she was thin, easily breakable, in a cute way. Her face was round, and happy, her mostly green hazel eyes shining, portraying the smile she tried to hide.
She was a shy, modest girl, dressed in straight leg jeans, worn tennis shoes and a jacket over what he assumed was a tank top. Why she wore a jacket in Texas, he didn't know. But he liked her.
He liked the way her dark auburn curls bounced and brushed against her shoulders, her cheeks, her fair, untouched neck.
He liked her and he wanted her.
His icy blue eyes scanned the length of her body again, resting upon her bare wrists. No bracelet. No Protection. She must be a college student, he assumed. Perfect. No one would bother about her. A small smirk reached his lips, just barely.
Brandon leaned back in his little booth, the dark one in the corner that no one ever paid attention to. At least, no one who he was interested in dining on looked in that corner. Maybe Oliver, his stupid boss, checked every now and then, and a few locals were wary of him, but the stupid, free game college kids ignored his existence, at least until he had them caught in his trap.
His smirk grew as he watched her friends walk away. Silly girls. Ditching their poor little, doomed friend. Things were working out perfectly. She ordered three drinks, two of those watered down, sugar filled, hardly allowed to call them coffee, coffees, and one tea. He assumed the tea was for her. Good. He wouldn't be buzzed from caffeine after he finished with her.
The girl waited shyly at the end of the counter for her drinks, scanning the crowd for her friends. Soon, before she could find them, Eve handed her the drinks. That stupid Eve. Brandon hated her. The day she quit her job at Common Grounds, she was done. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, the girl smiled and thanked Eve politely for the three drinks, laughing a loud, open laugh at something one of them must have said. He was surprised to see her laugh so fully. Her head tilted back slightly when she did so, exposing more of her slender neck. He wanted to sink his teeth into the soft flesh.
She started to walk through the crowds, searching for the little sluts she called her friends and eventually found them at a table that seated four. It was full. Her friends were already trying to get laid by some bonehead guys who were certainly looking for an easy night. He rolled his eyes. Easy girls were rarely fun.
The girl was obviously confused as to what she should do after handing the two disgusting drinks to the disgusting girls. He couldn't grasp why she would be friends with them. After a moment, she started to leave the table, head tucked down as though ashamed, or embarrassed. He would be both if he was seen talking to people like them. She was passing by his table.
A sharp, startled gasp greeted his ears as his hand wrapped itself around her milky wrist. The girl looked down, eyes wide for a brief second, then she started laughing when she saw that it was him, Brandon, a vampire who could easily kill her. Was she stupid?
"You scared me," she laughed still, her tone amused and her delicate neck bare. She would have to stop teasing him so, or he'd have to expose vampires to the entire coffee shop right then.
"Would you like to have a seat?" he asked charmingly, "I've got plenty of room."
She smiled back at him, a polite, reserved smile.
"I suppose. My friends…forgot to save me a seat," she said and slid into the booth across from him. He didn't release her wrist.
"I'm Anna," she said in her sweet little voice.
"I'm Brandon," he smiled at her, holding back a true smirk when her heart started to race a little.
He bowed his head and pressed his lips softly against the skin on her hand. She blushed, the rush of blood to her cheeks making it so hard to resist his urges.
Brandon pulled his lips away and ran his thumb gently, mockingly, over the span of her hand. She cleared her throat nervously.
"So, I, uh, I'm attending TPU. Not my first choice, but it was the only one I could really afford," she rambled, trying to find an excuse to bring some distracting topic into play, "Do you go to TPU?"
"No," he said nonchalantly, eyes focused on the trace of his thumb.
She gulped.
"Really? Just living here? You seem old enough to go to TPU, so I just… I just thought…that… I'm sorry… I'm not really all that comfortable. May I have my hand back?" she asked.
"No," he shook his head, "I like it. It's soft. I can feel your blood rushing. Nervous?"
She nodded, hesitantly.
"You're not wearing a bracelet," he mentioned.
"Yes I am," she argued.
He looked at her with curious eyes.
She pulled up her sleeve, revealing a donor's bracelet. How cute. When she died, she wanted her organs donated to the dying.
Brandon laughed, honestly laughed. It was an odd sound, even to his own ears. He had little to laugh about.
"I like your laugh," Anna said with a small, shy smile. All amusement drained from his face. Her smile fell into a frown.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"That's not the bracelet you need," he said.
"Oh. You mean I need one of those silvery bracelets, don't you?" she said, fingering her donor one, "What are they for?"
"They decide whether you live or die," he said shortly, breaking his cool character.
She nodded, contemplative. Then, slowly, she brought her cool gaze up to his. He was surprised when he found no fear in her eyes.
"So… you're going to kill me, right? How? Why?"
"Vampire," he responded coldly. It answered her questions.
"Why me?" she asked.
"Because you're a pretty little thing," he said and she laughed her deep musical laugh again.
"That's a silly reason to pick a girl. But, alright. Do you mind if I finish my tea first? Since it'll be like my last meal, my last request as well, it would only be fair," she asked.
He glared at her.
"No," was his answer.
"Please? I paid good money for it. It's not poison, I swear," she teased.
With a bit of a huff, Brandon acquiesced.
"So, how do you usually go about getting a bite to eat?" she asked curiously as she took a sip of her green tea.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked.
"Just curious is all. I'd let to get to know a bit about the person who's ending my life before it's all over. That's all. Do you usually scam a girl into your table, get her all flustered enough to force her into a dark alley and bite her out there?"
"Something like that," he admitted. Why was he answering her?! It was infuriating. She took another sip.
"Good tea," she smiled peacefully, "Would you like a sip?"
"No," he glared. She shrugged her pretty little shoulders.
"More for me," she said, then sighed, "Is it going to hurt?"
A small bit of worry crossed her face. He grinned.
"Yes."
"I was afraid of that," she responded, "Oh well. No pain no gain, right? Though I guess I don't really gain anything…"
"No. You don't."
"What happens after I die?" she asks.
"I'm not god, if there is one. How would I know?"
"No, I mean, what happens to my body after I'm gone? Will you leave my body somewhere on the ground? Or will I be buried? Do you have some incinerator, like the Nazis did? No, that would be too obvious…"
"You'll be taken to a building, identified, then sent to your family with some excuse for your death. Car accident or something," he explained before she could keep talking.
"Oh," she nodded, "That makes sense. It all seemed planned out, with those bracelets and everything. Well, my name is Anna Stephanie Christianson. I'm eighteen years old. My social security number i-"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm identifying myself."
"I don't care. Not my job."
"Oh… well… at least know not to look up anybody by the last name Christianson. I was living with my adoptive family, Emily and Daniel Porter. Really nice people. Lost their only son in a car crash. Can you make sure that I "died" in a different way? I don't like to think they'd have to go through that again. Maybe I can die of AIDS. That'd be a good story. My real parents mighta had it. I don't know. Maybe I really do have AIDS… If I did, would you get it from eating me?"
"Will you just shut up?" he strained to say quietly. He wanted to throw her out of the window.
"Sorry," she muttered, then sipped the rest of her tea in silence.
Twenty minutes later, Brandon was more than annoyed.
"Are you done yet?" he questioned.
"Sorry," she muttered, "I guess I really just don't want to die."
She gave him a weak, sad smile, then downed the rest of her tea.
"But, I have to be ready," she forced out, her voice wavering slightly. Anna stood and started to walk towards the exit. She tossed her tea away and stepped out of the door, into the cool night air. Goosebumps raced up her arms. A cold body brushed against her back.
"Where?" she whispered, fear started to fill her eyes. He grinned. Good. It was time for her life to end.
"There," he pointed around the corner, to his car.
Anna nodded and slowly walked towards it. Her steps were light and short. She was making every footfall count as she though. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. She looked up at him, bits of confusion treading softly across her face.
"So you don't run away," he assured her. The fear was there in her pretty little greeny gold eyes. He enjoyed it. It made him feel powerful. Made him feel good.
Anna's breath came in shallow gasps. Then suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes slid closed and her breathing quit. Brandon turned to her with a glare, about to snarl out some threat, when her eyes snapped open.
She had a sparkle there again.
A small smile stretched across her thin, rosy lips.
"Any way I can change you mind?" she asked.
He looked at her with disbelief.
"No," he responded coldly after a pause. She nodded.
"I thought so."
They stopped in front his dark car.
She hesitated as he opened the back.
"Hurry it along," he growled.
"Sorry. Just want to say goodbye. This is the last outside I'll ever see," she looked up at the night sky, "At least I get to see the stars."
She committed the sight to memory and stepped into the dark abyss. Seconds later, the door slammed shut. She jumped at the noise. His cruel laugh echoed in the car. Anna took a deep breath and prayed only that she'd lived a good enough life for whatever came after her death.
An arm snaked around her waist and her trembling fingers rested against it. A cold hand grabbed her soft hair and yanked it to one side, tilting her head, exposing the tender flesh of her throat.
Anna's breathing was even, controlled, deep and calming. Her nerves were jumping. Her mind screamed for escape. Her heart knew it was the end. And her heart was okay with it.
His teeth scraped teasingly along her neck. Her pulse jumped at the touch, and he gave into his desire. Fangs sank into flesh. No cries of pain. No whimpers. No begs for mercy. It wasn't as enjoyable as it should have been. But, her blood, her crimson life, was the most delectable thing he'd ever tasted.
"Brandon," Anna gasped out.
He grinned as he drank. Here comes the begging. He was sure.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He stopped drinking.
His lips pealed away from her neck.
"What are you sorry for?" he hissed.
She didn't respond.
He shook her.
But it was too late. He'd lost her to the darkness.
Why she was sorry, he didn't understand.
Maybe she'd been more than just a pretty little thing…