Author's note: This short story is part of a reimagined Twilight universe with a somewhat different timeline. The relevant differences here are that Rosalie doesn't come from a well to do family and had no interaction of any kind with Royce King. Also Emmett is Canadian, I guess.
Please note, most of the Cullens use various different names over the course of their history in this universe, so they are not referred to by their familiar names at this time in their lives. As a result there aren't a lot of names mentioned in this story, since they aren't really important. Apologies if this causes any confusion.
In terms of content warnings, there is some sexual content and a smidge of violence. Neither are graphic. Use your discretion.
Disclaimer: Twilight and associated characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. This story belongs to me.
Black Widow
Northern Canada
January 1953
Snow was falling on the Yukon.
On a quiet stretch of highway, a sleek black Cadillac juddered to a stop at the side of the road. A young looking woman got out and slammed the door, making the whole vehicle rock. She said a few words that weren't very polite and began pulling off her fur-lined coat.
It was very silent up there in the hills. The only sound apart from her movements was the soft rustle of the snow as it began to settle into drifts, and occasionally the distant barking grunt of caribou.
The woman took off her shoes and stockings carefully, and her pristine silk blouse, leaving them on the back seat. Clad only in her pencil skirt and bra, she slid underneath the car amid the slush and snow.
For a while there was no sound but the occasional creak of metal and snarl of frustration.
Finally the woman extracted herself gingerly, brushing the snow from her shoulders, and looked around.
The blizzard was getting heavy now. It caught in her long golden hair and on her eyelashes, clinging to her bare skin, unmelting.
There were no towns or cities for a hundred miles in any direction, she knew. Even at the nearest, there was little enough chance she'd find a brand new downdraft carburettor to fit this year's Sixty Special anywhere around. Her car was stranded.
It had been stupid to push it so far without a break. She'd been on the road for days, wandering aimlessly, just following the stars and the empty spaces. With no destination in mind and no need for rest, there was no reason to stop for anything but gas. Still, it seemed like the pressure had been too much this time. There must've been some kind of fault with the thing.
At least her dear 'relatives' weren't around to make snide remarks. She shuddered at the thought of them. She'd been going stir-crazy cooped up in the house for so long, with nobody but them for company. Carburettor or no carburettor, she was stubbornly glad to be out here rather than back there; at least alone in the snow there was no one to talk down to her.
They hadn't tried to stop her, though, she grudgingly had to give them that much. They seemed to almost trust her these days. The constant hovering had been wearing on her, a relentless reminder that she might 'make a mistake' or 'slip up', as they euphemistically referred to it, as if she didn't already know that. After a while she'd started to want to do it, just to shove it in their faces and see their shock and horror. But, well, not really. No matter how the idea satisfied her angry streak... Nothing was really worth that.
Maybe, since they had accepted her decision to go, she would be able to return eventually and talk to them again. Maybe. It was something to consider, anyway.
Sanctimonious, self-aggrandising hypocrites.
She was going to have to head back to the last town, she decided bitterly. If there were no parts there, then she would just go on to the next. The run might do her some good.
She put her blouse back on, and her coat, but she tucked her high heels and nylons into her deep pockets instead. They'd only be ruined if she tried to wear them.
Getting a firm grip under the body of the Cadillac, she hauled it carefully off the road and below a rise where it was relatively well disguised. It seemed wiser not to leave an expensive vehicle on the side of the road for anyone to see - not that she'd passed another soul since the last township. You never knew who might come along, and although it wasn't that far to run, nightfall came early here at this time of year and whatever store she managed to find might well not be open by the time she got there. It could be hours before she returned.
She set off, picking her way slowly at first, on tiptoe like a cat, trying to keep her feet clean. Soon, though, as the relief of movement began to sink into her bones, she started to run - slim, elegant feet darting through the snow and leaving a spray of disturbed flakes behind her, long legs carrying her in leaps and bounds over steep banks with her coat fluttering behind her as she flew. Her body was a battleground of hers, a point of contention in her own mind, but sometimes her inhuman nature was truly exhilarating.
All too soon she could smell the enticing reek of humans on the wind. She slowed as she glimpsed the faint glow of light over the hills, down to a speed that was almost mistakable for normal, and she entered the outskirts of town at a brisk but steady pace. Her gaze was darting this way and that, searching for any kind of store that might carry automotive parts, but there were few stores that looked like they carried much of anything anymore. Boarded up windows and the hollow sound of wind through the eaves were the most prominent features as she followed the road into town.
There were still people living here, of course. The scent of them was on every inch of the place, and the occasional lighted window cast its shadows across the street. It was dilapidated, but not entirely abandoned. As she traced the rough trails through the snow, she listened to the heartbeats and the voices, fighting the draw. She'd been on her own for too long. Should have taken a caribou before she'd come this close in.
There were no stores. None that had what she needed, anyway. She could tell that without having to ask; there was only one place in town that seemed to have anything to do with cars, and that was the gas station. It looked like it didn't get a lot of custom. With the heavy snowfall around the forecourt, the reason was somewhat self-explanatory. Or maybe it was just because of all the empty buildings. There was nobody much here to need it.
As she was wandering aimlessly, though, she did catch a smell that interested her. There was one particular building that was giving off a familiar odour of axle grease and steel and rubber. Unfortunately it was very obviously somebody's private garage.
She circled it, her conscience warring with her desire to get what she wanted. There was no guarantee that there would be anything in there to help with her carburettor problem, but it was the best lead she had in several hundred miles of empty hills and tundra, so she found herself glaring at the place. There was, of course, nobody home.
I could just go in and look around, she thought. But the disapproving faces of her relatives seemed to hover in her mind, tutting darkly at the idea. She growled and turned away.
There was a patch of warmth and light and noise a little down the street that she innately recognised. A bar. Telling herself that it was the human thing to do, the normal thing, she walked towards it. She would go in, she decided. Ask around. Nothing fancy. Just see if anyone could help her, not get angry, and if they couldn't she would move on. It would be simple. Easy.
And if I did make a 'mistake', like they keep expecting, well... This place is in the middle of nowhere. Who's going to notice, or even care?
She shuddered.
Pushing open the door a little too roughly, careless with temper, it slammed against the wall, clattering the bottles behind the bar. Everyone looked up at her in shock.
With more precision, she closed the door behind her and glanced around, her nose wrinkling in distaste. The room was small and stuffy, with perhaps a couple of dozen patrons sitting around with drinks or at the pool table. There was an old man with a guitar sitting by the fire, his hands frozen as he watched the newcomer along with the rest of the crowd. Nobody was saying a word.
There was a smell that drew her instantly. Grease and car parts - someone who had been into the garage. It came from a man sitting at a table with a small group of companions, surrounded by empty glasses.
She stalked towards them and tossed a few bills down in front of him.
'You. You handle cars?'
He was big. Tall, even lounging in his chair, with shoulders about twice her width. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his arm lay on the table like a slab of steel cable; he looked like he worked for a living, and probably at something more than mechanical repair. But he was clearly young, too, no more than twenty-something.
He stared up at her with the kind of brazen amazement of the naturally rude or the alcohol-infused.
'Where'd you come from?' he said, a touch of laughter in his voice. He had a thick accent that she'd never heard before - northern, she assumed.
'Your dreams, little boy,' she sneered. 'Answer the question.'
Annoyance crossed his face and he sat up a little straighter. ''Scuse me? 'You just call me?'
She snapped her fingers sharply in his face. 'Focus. I need car parts. I will pay you. You're a mechanic, aren't you?'
Some of his friends were chuckling, and his expression was growing more irate.
'Look, lady, I ain't seen you around these parts before,' he said flatly. 'You from outta town?'
'I'm from somewhere, which is more than you can say,' she snapped. 'If you'd rather I break down your door and take what I want, that would frankly be so much easier, so by all means keep talking.'
He laughed uproariously. 'Lady, you're pretty funny,' he observed. 'I ain't selling parts, anyways. Just do repairs for folks I know. Not strangers turnin' up outta the blue.'
'Repairs I can handle. I just need enough of a functioning carburettor to mend mine. That's all I'm asking for,' she said flatly. She dropped another folded wad of bills in front of him. 'This should cover it.'
The other patrons of the bar had begun to murmur among themselves again. There was a distinct mutter of interest at the sight of the increasing quantity of cash. One of the other men at the table whistled.
The mechanic snorted. 'You wanna repair a carburettor. From parts.'
She smiled humourlessly. 'If this place wasn't such a worthless hellhole I'd just buy a replacement, but I'll make do with what I can get.'
'Hey missus, you don't just go around insultin' a man's hometown like that,' one of the friends grumbled.
'Don't I?' She didn't bother to glance his way.
'You know what?' the mechanic said darkly, rising from his seat. He kept on rising for a lot longer than seemed natural, getting taller and taller as his legs seemed to go on and on. 'I don't think I like you, ma'am. You'd better get outta here before I throw you out, lady or not. I ain't that much of a gentleman.'
She laughed, the fire in her throat seeming almost irrelevant next to the flames of her anger. 'Oh, it's sweet that you think you're so funny. You're not capable of throwing me out, boy.'
It was his turn to chuckle. 'I could lift you with one hand tied behind my back, missy.'
'Only if I let you,' she said sweetly, not backing up an inch as he towered over her.
'Let me?' His brows furrowed with irritation. 'You got a lotta nerve coming into a place like this, I'll give you that. Not a lot of smarts, though, from the way you're talkin'.'
They'd been pushing at her for so long, pushing so hard. The familiar frustration and rage bubbled as she stared coldly into his eyes. She was so far past caring what they wanted from her. Maybe now was as good a time as any to practise some of that 'doing what I want' she'd been telling herself about ever since she had left the others in Calgary.
Her lips curled into a broad, unsettling smile.
'No, if anyone's doing anything stupid right now, it's you,' she said, shifting just a fraction too close for comfort. 'You don't know me well, honey, but if you did you'd realise that arguing with me is a very bad idea. I have very little patience, and frankly I'm quite vindictive. So why don't you just give me the keys to your shop so I don't have to break anything you hold dear, and then you'll never have to see me again.'
'Tell you what,' he said, baring his teeth and leaning a little closer to her in a way that might have intimidated her once, but now seemed completely unimportant. 'Tell you what... Why don't you leave, and I won't break anythin' of yours. Then everybody's happy.'
She tapped her chin with her fingertip for a moment, assessing the situation. Certainly she could take what she wanted without any difficulty, but that wasn't the point. The others were always trying to impress upon her the importance of diplomacy, politeness, giving people positive incentives. It was all about selectively giving people what they wanted, or so she had concluded.
From the shade of his irritation, what this young man wanted was to save face in front of his friends. That was a harmless enough goal, depending on how you applied it. Still... It made a wicked little choice seem particularly attractive all of a sudden.
'I have a better idea,' she said sweetly. 'I'll make you a bet.'
'A bet.'
'Yes. If you win, I'll leave and I won't touch your property. If I win, I can look through your shed and take the part I need. Either way, I'll be out of your hair very soon, and you can keep the money.'
He considered for a moment. 'What's the bet?'
'You look like a strong man,' she said innocently, making no effort to hide the remaining human streak that made her gaze admiringly at the way his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. 'How about we arm-wrestle?'
He and his friends laughed loudly. She gave them a minute, examining her nails while he slapped his knee and wheezed with amusement. As the moments passed, though, they all faded back into awkward, suspicious silence.
'You're kidding,' he said sharply.
It was probably wrong to bare her teeth, but she did it anyway, painted lips pulling back in something between a smile and a snarl. 'No.'
'Wouldn't want to hurt your pretty little hand, missy,' he said, shrugging casually.
She laughed. 'Oh, well, I suppose if you're not sure you can win...'
'Say what?' He snorted. 'You're tryin' to wind me up, eh? I don't get it. I ain't got no pride on the line about sayin' I won't fight a lady.'
'You keep calling me that,' she said mildly. 'It's an easy mistake to make, I know, but believe me... It's not the word I'd use. And I'm not asking you to fight me, that wouldn't be fair at all, I'm just offering you... a little challenge.'
His eyes narrowed as they flickered across her face, trying to figure out her game. His friends were still chuckling and nudging one another, although they were clearly equally confused.
With a sigh, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. There was shift in the tone of silence from the little group as they watched her. Barely glancing at what she was doing, she caught the edge of the nearest unoccupied table and yanked it closer.
'I have a piece of advice for you, little boy, since you're so keen to be chivalrous: Don't keep a girl waiting.'
Pushing her silk sleeve up, she took a seat and leant on the table with her arm out invitingly.
He laughed halfheartedly, glancing at his friends and then back at her. There was something unsettling in the air as he tried to make up his mind. She was acting unnaturally, that was obvious. She could see his common sense warring with his instincts and his pride, all struggling for control. The others didn't seem to know what to make of the situation, either. They weren't prepared for something like this.
Clearing his throat, he pulled another chair closer and sat opposite her, squaring his shoulders. Rolling up his own sleeve methodically, he met her eye and raised an eyebrow. The muscles in his forearm rolled as he flexed his fingers.
'You sure about this?'
'Just agree to the bet, if you're going to,' she replied coolly.
'Fine. Sure. I'll take it,' he said with a shrug, and rested his elbow on the table. 'I ain't gonna hurt you, don't worry.'
'How sweet,' she said, smiling broadly. 'I can't make that promise, I'm afraid.'
The other people in the bar all seemed to be watching now, and a snigger ran around the room at her words.
He took her hand with exaggerated care, folding his fingers around hers and applying pressure slowly with each one. He was trying to make an impression. She smirked, still leaving her grasp loose and gentle.
'No need to try to impress me, honey,' she murmured, low enough that no one else could hear it. 'I already think you're cute.'
The slightly startled expression on his face was all she needed. She closed her grip firmly, taking care not to squeeze hard enough to crush anything, but letting it go just far enough to feel his knuckles straining and see the momentary shock of pain in his eyes.
'Ready?' she said lightly.
'Uh- Yes?'
'Then go.'
He was trying surreptitiously to shift his grip, struggling to change position and get comfortable again, but the steel bands of her fingers wrapping around his hand made that impossible. Gathering himself, she saw the decision to get it over with in his eyes and felt the pressure start.
She looked away, catching the stare of the man with the guitar on the other side of the room.
'Do you know how to play that thing, old man?' she snapped. 'Don't just sit there gawping.'
Fumbling to look busy, the old fellow started strumming aimlessly.
She glanced back at the man across the table from her. His shoulders were straining, the muscles bulging under his shirt, and his eyes were wide.
'What the-' he muttered under his breath, pushing harder.
'Really, I expected a little better,' she murmured. 'Is it all just looks, pretty boy? Do you have anything to show for it?'
'You-' he growled, putting all his weight into it. The feet of his chair scraped on the floor, squeaking in protest, and her arm still hadn't moved a fraction of an inch.
Sighing, she pulled the watch from her pocket and looked at the time. 'Well, I haven't got all night. I could have been half way to somewhere with a real auto store by now,' she murmured, almost to herself. 'This is just getting embarrassing, shall we wrap it up?'
There was a loud bang as his knuckles slammed into the table, and then a crash as the leg of his chair snapped and he sprawled onto the floor. A stream of curses rose into the rafters as he scrambled back to his feet, and there was an uproar of laughter and shouting and confusion.
Brushing the dust from her hand, she looked him in the eye as he glared at her.
'Great. I win the bet. The money is yours, now open your garage for me.'
'What in seven hells did you just do to me, lady?' he snarled, leaning close to her as he struggled for breath.
'I beat you, tough guy. Hasn't that ever happened before?'
'You're tiny! You can't beat me, you're- You-'
'Oh, you'd like to go again? Careful now, I'd hate for you to hurt yourself.'
He slammed his fists onto the table. 'What did you do?'
She stood up abruptly and he reared back, suddenly much more guarded. She reached out and grabbed his collar, pulling him inexorably towards her despite his efforts.
'I wasn't joking,' she breathed, a pleasant smile on her red lips. 'If you have what I want, I could just take it. But that wouldn't be very polite, would it? So I think I've asked you quite nicely, I gave you a choice, and you said you'd take the bet. Now I've won, so do what you said you'd do or I'll take it after all. If I have to do that I'll be quite annoyed. You've wasted quite a lot of my evening, and trust me, it hadn't been a good day before you started being such a pain.'
His breath was coming short, and she realised belatedly that she was holding his collar a little too tightly. She let him go with an exasperated sigh, and he coughed raggedly.
'Fine,' he growled, rubbing his throat. 'Sure. You can have whatever the hell you want, so long as you leave.'
'Finally!'
He grabbed his jacket and glowered at her. 'C'mon.'
Folding her coat over her arm, she followed him delicately to the door. Behind her she could hear the shocked whispers, and she found herself smiling with satisfaction. God, she missed being the centre of attention sometimes. Certainly this kind was a little different from being on stage, and fear wasn't quite the reaction she'd looked for in the old days, but this had a certain pleasure to it. Being powerful felt good.
The snow was even deeper when they got outside. Her companion shrugged his jacket on and stormed across the road towards his workshop, so she followed, picking her way lightly through the drifts.
Cursing under his breath and fighting with his keys, he unlocked the door and opened it with a creak of frozen wood and a shower of disturbed ice. He switched the flickering light on, the bare bulb in the ceiling casting swaying shadows across the messy garage.
'What part were you after?' he snapped.
'Carburettor. I'll take whatever you've got.'
He gave her a dirty look. 'I'm not a damn store. I've only got whatever folks give me when they need something fixed or they got spares lying around. I'll see what I can find.'
He started sifting through a couple of crates, shoving pieces this way and that in a crash and clatter of metal. She glanced around idly, taking the chance to breathe in some cleaner air. Though she'd been busy, the stuffy atmosphere of the bar had been getting to her, she now realised. The scent of so many humans, all jammed together in that small, warm space, had been making her mouth burn with hunger. That certainly hadn't been helping her temper. The freshness of new snow combined with the grease and metal contents of the garage made it easier, though the young man was still exuding heat and the fragrance of his body seemed to pull at her magnetically.
'What kinda car you need this thing for?' he asked abruptly, over the sounds of his search.
'It's a Cadillac Sixty-Special,' she replied, examining a rack of tools.
He stopped to give her a strange look. 'What the hell are you doing with one of those out here?'
'Travelling. I wasn't paying much attention to the destination.'
'What are you?'
His voice was intense, and he dropped all pretence of interest in the boxes of parts, turning back to stare at her. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, his eyes roaming her face and body in a mix of fascination, admiration and - though he clearly wanted to hide it - fear.
She smiled, tossing her hair theatrically and enjoying the way his heart pounded a little faster. 'You don't want to know the answer to that, little boy. Trust me, it wouldn't make you feel any better.'
'Stop that,' he ground through his teeth. 'Stop calling me that. You're no older than I am.'
She laughed. 'Aren't I?'
He hesitated, looking her up and down again, and then hissed with shock.
'Your feet!'
She glanced down and sighed. Careless. She'd been so distracted by trying to find what she wanted that she'd never thought to put her shoes back on before she'd gone into the bar. Not that her high heels would have looked much more reasonable around here. There was unmelted snow clinging to her bare skin.
'Focus, please. If you don't have what I want, forget it. You can keep the cash, I'll just go.'
'You ain't human, are you?' he said quietly, running a hand through his soft brown hair. He stared at her face, and she could smell the fear on his skin, but there was something else as well. Her extra senses were whispering to her, and she narrowed her eyes.
'You're not very bright, are you?' she murmured, taking a step closer to him and hearing his heart-rate spike. The whispers got louder. 'You're right. I'm not human. So you really shouldn't be thinking those things about me, should you?'
'Wha- I-'
She flashed closer to him, stopping only inches from his chest, leaning close to breathe in his scent. It was tantalising, torturous, and she knew she shouldn't do it, but the heady feeling of his confused desires made it all the more irresistible.
'Does your mother know you think about such terrible things?' she murmured, walking her fingers playfully up his chest and then stroking his cheek. 'You've been such a gentleman up to now.'
He looked stunned. 'I ain't- I didn't- I was just askin', I never...'
'After I nearly broke your arm just now, wouldn't it make more sense for you to be afraid of me?'
He just shrugged helplessly. That was probably the best he could manage, and privately she couldn't blame him. She could smell the cocktail of intense feelings pouring off of him - terror was among them, but tangled up with that was a lust that she could feel like a physical force. It was clear in his eyes that he had a deep, resentful kind of respect for her, maybe borne from the ache in his hand; but more than that, she could feel his admiration. She had impressed him, somehow, in the middle of making him furious and wounding his pride. Without the audience, he seemed far less inclined to make a show of it and only gazed at her in awe.
'Do you have what I want?' she asked mildly.
For a moment he seemed to be struggling to get back to reality.
'I dunno. What... do you want, exactly?'
She was about to say 'a carburettor, you idiot', and then she looked into his eyes and realised that he hadn't forgotten.
A dark smile flitted across her lips. 'Oh... Lots of things. From you, though? Stick to the car parts. It'd be better for your health.'
He fumbled on the bench beside him and pulled something across it with a scrape. 'This is all I've got,' he said, his breath short as he stared down at her, only inches away from his face.
She glanced at the thing and rolled her eyes. 'Wonderful. Then I've wasted my time here completely.'
'Sorry. Can I... make it up to you?'
She raised an eyebrow, smirking wryly. 'What could you possibly do for me, little boy?'
His face was practically glowing with heat and colour as she spoke, but he shrugged, putting a hand tentatively on her hip. She was very close to him, he barely had to reach for her.
'Whatever you want me to do, ma'am.'
For a moment she closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. Oh... It was tempting. So, so tempting. People wanted her all the time, she was more aware of that than most, but ordinarily it made her shudder. This was different. This time, she wanted; his fascination was just there to make it all the worse, apparently.
It wouldn't work. She told herself that forcefully, breathing in deeper so that the burn in her throat would remind her of why even the idea of it was a disaster. She hadn't eaten in a week. Being within a city block of a human was already needlessly irresponsible of her; going into a crowded room full of them had been extremely dangerous. This? This was... immoral.
And he was kissing her.
The warmth of his lips, soft against hers, tentative and uncertain, made her whole body shiver with yearning. Her mistake blared in her mind - closing her eyes like that, standing so close to him, of course he must have thought she was waiting for him to make a move... She told herself to pull away, to stop him immediately, as the wash of his hot breath on her skin made her throat burst into flames. But her fingers were outside of her control, curling around the back of his broad neck, knotting themselves in the soft curls of his dark hair.
Her whole body seemed drawn towards him, pressing against the broad, warm expanse of his chest. His heartbeat was like thunder between them, his arm softly circling her waist, his other hand stroking her hair with trembling delicacy. Seconds passed, a different kind of flame licking its way up her spine.
Pulling back a little, he looked into her eyes nervously, clearing his throat.
'Was... that alright, miss? I don't mean no disrespect.'
After a moment, she let out an unsettling little laugh. 'You... are an idiot.'
He looked like he was about to panic.
'Don't kiss me again,' she murmured, pulling a handkerchief out of her coat pocket and dabbing the red lipstick from his mouth. 'Not on the lips. That's not safe for you, believe me. But...'
The wind shook the garage walls, sending the light swinging wildly on the ceiling. Strange shadows danced across their faces, and for a moment she cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb across his warm, soft skin. So... human. It made her ache with envy.
'I've been alone for a long time,' she breathed. 'I don't want to hurt you, but... I'm selfish. You decide. If you think it's worth the risk... Take me to bed with you.'
The stunned look on his face lasted for several moments, and then he seemed to gather his wits. With no more word of discussion, he caught her by the hand and almost ran towards the door.
The house beside the garage was his, it seemed. It was small and cold, and without bothering to put the lights on, he led her down the narrow hallway to a little bedroom. As he hurriedly opened up the firebox and put on some more coal, she brushed the snow from her bare feet and began to unbutton her blouse. The smell of him was filling her head like a fog, as intoxicating as the memory of alcohol.
'You're serious, huh?' he asked, and she realised he was watching her, still crouched by the stove.
She let the blouse fall onto a nearby chair. 'I'm a very serious person, little boy. I don't do jokes.'
He stood, towering above her again, and brushed a few strands of her golden hair back from her bare shoulder, his touch gentle with wonder.
'I'm... I ain't... much of a ladies' man,' he muttered nervously. 'I don't know...'
She caught his hand and trailed it across her skin to the silk of her bra, cupping it over her breast.
'You don't have to know,' she said, almost gently. 'I'm quite happy telling you what to do.'
The shock only lasted for a moment, and then amusement flickered in his eyes. 'I noticed that.'
'Get your clothes off, before I change my mind,' she retorted, rolling her eyes at him.
That certainly made him hurry up. In a flurry of haste, he yanked off his jacket and his shirt and then began unbuttoning his pants. But he paused again there, embarrassment colouring his cheeks.
'You ain't kiddin' me, are you?' he asked. 'I ain't never met a lady like you before. You... want me to...?'
With a sigh, she caught him by the shoulders and pushed him forcefully onto the bed. He sat down hard, startled, and she straddled his lap meaningfully, pressing her palms flat against his chest.
'Listen to me for a moment,' she said, taking another deep breath and trying not to drown in the perfume of his desire. 'This is a mistake. I should not be here. The longer you argue with me, the more time I have to come to my senses and remember that everything about this is a disaster and I should leave this hellhole right now and never return. But-' and she held up a finger to his lips, leaning very close so that her lips brushed her own knuckles, '-what I want is for you to make love to me right now, to make me feel human again. I'm so sick of everything. Please, for God's sake, make me forget what I am and just feel like a woman instead.'
Though he couldn't begin to understand, he put his arms around her wordlessly and pulled her with him onto the bed.
He was very gentle. That surprised her a little. She was used to more careless lovers, but the way this man touched her was puzzling at first. Then it struck her, as she watched his face in the red glow from the fire: He didn't quite believe she was real. Every brush of his fingertips against her skin was like he were trying to catch a soap-bubble without breaking it; the way he kissed her breasts was like a man dreaming of a goddess; the hitching of his breath as he ran his hands over her hips and thrust himself inside her, the soft groan that left him, the way he pressed his brow against her shoulder and his lips against her throat, were like a man falling in love. And she could feel that in his mind, too, as the anxiety and confusion faded, overwhelmed by awestruck desire.
She turned her face away as he made love to her, throwing her head back and letting herself cry out wordlessly, because it was safer to do that than to look at him. The weight of his body on hers made her feel almost human, but the heat of his flesh, the scent of him, the pounding of his blood and his heart so close against her, were all violent reminders inside her head that if she let her thoughts slip for even a moment then this would be over. His hands on the pillow beside her were too close, and she tipped her head back further, just trying to breathe in anything but him.
It was a maddening kind of relief when she felt him shudder, gasping and groaning against her cheek, and with another few fierce thrusts he was spent. She forced herself to unwind her legs from around his hips, her every movement careful as he rested his head against her shoulder to recover his breath.
She stroked her fingers through his hair lightly, distracting herself with the softness. He seemed so helpless like that, all his weight pressing down on her for a few moments as he seemed to lose control over his limbs. Breathless beneath him, she realised that for the first time in more than a decade, she actually felt warm.
Whispering that he was sorry, he struggled to free her and lay back beside her, rubbing his face with his hand.
'I... Hell. That... Was that... what you wanted?'
The nervousness had returned to his voice, and he caught her eye.
She took a shivering breath, trying to focus on the smoke and the scents of the building, but it was difficult. Everything here was infused with him, and she wondered if she would ever get the smell out of her head.
'Yes, it was.'
He was watching her face, worry creasing his brows. Strange, she thought, that less than an hour ago he had just been some brash idiot in a bar, and now he was here beside her, helpless and afraid, wishing he could fulfil her desires without even knowing what they were. That was her fault, of course. Stupid of her to ever go near this damn place. She'd never been good with people. Better if she'd just kept on running.
His warm hand reached out beneath the covers and ran across her belly tenderly. 'S'there somethin' I can do?' he asked. 'Y'don't look... happy.'
She closed her eyes. 'That's nothing to do with you. Don't take it personally.'
'No, I just... I wanna help.'
A smile tugged at her lips, despite her. 'You're sweet, for a lunkhead.'
'Yeah, well.'
His fingers stroked down among the curls and nestled between her thighs. They were strong, thick hands, and the heat seemed to sink into her bones, making her sigh comfortably.
''That feel nice for you?' he asked softly, curious.
'Mmmhm.'
'You ever touch yourself like this?'
She opened her eyes and gave him a mock-affronted look. 'What are you suggesting, young man?'
He snorted. 'I ain't that dumb. Why wouldn't you?'
Laughing quietly, she slipped her hand down to join his and adjusted his positioning. 'Mmm. Thumb goes... here. A little harder.' She gave him a baleful glance. 'And yes, I've had some practise.'
He shuffled a little closer, leaning over her again, that intoxicating closeness and aroma overpowering her senses for a moment so she had to turn her head away. His fingers moved with more confidence now, curling inside her and tucking in between her folds as he rubbed with firm, easy motions.
'God, you're the most beautiful thing I ever saw,' he murmured, pressing another kiss against her collarbone. 'Never knew there could be a woman like you.'
She laughed, short and bitter. 'You'll never meet another, and be thankful for that.'
'I know I won't.'
He stroked her hair, and suddenly she knew she had to leave, but the heat was building between her thighs and she was gasping a little, trying to control her breathing.
'Just- faster, you brat. If you're going to do it, do it harder,' she growled, grabbing at his free hand and shoving it under the covers to her chest. 'Don't be so gentle. You know how strong I am, I won't break.'
His calloused palm scraped over the peak of her breast, sending sparks through her skin. 'Alright, alright, whatever you like,' he said, chuckling, the hum of his voice buzzing against her flesh. His body pressed against her side and he shifted his grip, sinking two fingers deeper inside her.
The intensity shook her body. Her feet lifted her half off the mattress as she cried out, and only the strength of his arm around her shoulders seemed to be anchoring her to the ground. His rough hands made her skin burn, and she arched into his touch, fighting herself to keep from grabbing at him. When she came, her fists were tangled in the pillow to stop herself from clutching at his arm, but she had to snatch at something else for support, so she grabbed hold of the head of the bed. After a few more moments it splintered in her grasp, shattering like matchsticks.
He seemed to feel her peak, and then the shuddering waves of the aftershocks as she slowly sank back down, and he eased off very gently as she collapsed. With a final brush of his broad thumb, he drew his hand away and propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her in fascination.
'Was that...?' he began tentatively, and then broke off.
She lay silent for a few moments, her chest heaving.
'You okay?' he asked finally, more worry in his voice.
She nodded.
She felt him shift, and then his fingers brushed her hands where they were still flung up onto the pillow. He picked up a few shards of wood and looked at them silently.
The world seemed to come back into focus with a painful thud.
'Sorry,' she said, jerking her hands away and getting up. 'I didn't mean to- I'm sorry.'
'It's fine,' he said absentmindedly, looking up at her in a kind of solemn wonder. 'You're... I don't even know your name, do I, ma'am?'
She smiled bitterly, looking around for her things. 'No, you don't.'
'I'm sorry, I shoulda asked, I- You must think I'm some kinda pig, eh?'
'No,' she said, a twist of hopelessness bleeding into her voice. 'You're very sweet. Really. I'm sure you'll make some girl a very good husband one day.'
'Don't suppose you'd wanna stay in a place like this, would you?' he mused gloomily. 'It'd probably be insultin' for me to ask you.'
She glanced at him despite herself, taking in the gentleness of his sad expression, and she had to force herself to look away again. She half laughed, shuddering, pulling on her skirt.
'Oh, honey, you're adorable,' she murmured. 'You think you'd like to marry me?'
'Never thought much about it,' he admitted. 'Don't see as how I'll ever meet anyone more incredible, though, so... Yeah.'
She touched his cheek lightly, again berating herself internally for the carelessness. 'Well, I can tell you that I've never met a man quite like you, either. But believe me, any other woman in the world would make you a better wife than I would.' She smiled. 'I'm not a real woman, anyway. I'm not even human.'
'So what are you?' he asked intently, staring up at her. Fearless now, even with a bed full of the splinters she had made of his furniture. 'Some kinda angel?'
Laughing, she did up her blouse. 'No. Definitely not that.'
He stood as she was picking up her coat. 'You're just gonna go?' he said, an edge of frustration in his voice now. 'Just... Right now? It's the middle of the night.'
'Sleep it off,' she suggested, slipping her shoes on for the look of the thing. 'In the morning you'll probably swear you were dreaming.'
He caught her arm and she paused, although he was nowhere near strong enough to stop her.
'What's your name?' he asked.
She shrugged. 'I don't have one anymore.'
His brow wrinkled. 'That don't make sense. Everyone's got a name.'
'I have a dozen. None of them mean anything.'
'Why?'
She hesitated. It wasn't allowed, but... Was there any harm? It wasn't as if he'd ever know where to look.
'Ellen,' she said softly. 'I used to be called Ellen.'
'That's pretty.'
'Thanks.'
'I'm Owen.'
'Well, Owen... Thank you for making me feel more alive than I have in years,' she said lightly, and pressed a tender little kiss to his cheek.
He was still protesting as she pulled out of his grip, and she could hear him calling for her as she left the house, and all the way down the road. In the distance she glimpsed him running out into the street, his pants still unbuttoned, snow falling onto his bare shoulders - then she left the rooftop, telling herself it was her own stupid fault and that she had no right to feel anything about it. She'd known what she was doing. It had all been a distraction, and now she had to get back to the real world where she was a monster and her car was broken down in a snowfield of northern Canada, and she really had to find a damn carburettor and probably something to eat before she got so temperamental that she ripped the next poor sap's head off.
When she landed, she felt the heel of one of her shoes snap, and she swore furiously. Pulling it off, she flung it so hard at the nearest empty shack that it went through the wall. She threw the other after it, and then she ran on into the deep darkness of the winter hills.
The sound of the caribou echoed across the snowfields. The musky, earthen smell of their blood flowed on the breeze too, tugging at her senses as she lay under the car, trying to draw her out.
She'd eaten a day or two ago, on the way down to Whitehorse, but it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough. She did wonder sometimes if that was the difference between feeding on humans and feeding on anything else; maybe the people who didn't care about morality got to feel fully satisfied once in a while. It... probably still wasn't worth it.
The car was almost ready to run again. She'd been focussing on that, tearing her thoughts away from everything else that had happened lately. All she'd been doing had been making mistakes, it seemed like. Coming out this far, breaking her beautiful new car, playing stupid games with humans, not to even mention the idiocy of going to bed with one. When she got home, maybe she would ask the doctor to examine her and see if she'd completely lost her mind. If she went home.
With a little bit of effort the last bolts sank into place and she slipped out into the evening light, dropping the broken carburettor into the snow in disgust. She stretched, brushed the snow off her arms and let her senses reach out towards the animal smell to the south.
She would have to turn back. The whole trip had been a mistake, really. Her relatives would be waiting for her, preparing their 'I told you so's, and she would hate them for it, but they weren't wrong. Being on your own like this was dangerous, she could feel that. The natural selfishness and arrogance of being what they were seemed to gnaw at you all the time, and without any normalcy to keep it in check... Well, you ended up arm-wrestling idiots in bars just to rub your superiority in people's faces. If only she could keep that one to herself. Blasted psychics.
And fine, maybe she was arrogant and selfish to begin with, so it was even harder for her. They were all too polite to mention that, but she knew they were thinking it. It bothered them, the rough way she talked sometimes; they were all so nice and clean and pristine all the time. Never a dark thought in their heads. How could anyone live like that? If anything was going to drive her mad, it would be that, she was sure of it.
None of them even seemed to consider that maybe they were a little superior to humans these days. Sure, the moral aspect was pretty complicated, and she certainly didn't want to be a murderer, but it was worth at least examining the possibility that with their increased strength and experience and wisdom, they just had a greater capacity to bring value to society. It wasn't a magical 'be a better person' spell, but it was sure a head start on being the kind of person the history books cared about. Pity they had to spend all their time convincing the world that they didn't exist.
'The needs of the many' seemed to be the family motto. She hated that. Why should she suffer for everyone else's sake? Most people were terrible, anyway. It baffled her that at least the psychic didn't agree with her on that. On the whole, she really despised most of humanity. Not that she wanted them to die, but she'd be quite happy never to have to deal with them ever again.
Her temper was flaring as she cleared the worst of the snow off the car, and she decided that hunting again really would be the best thing. It would take the edge off, at least.
She sprang down the bank and ran silently across the valley.
The herd was large. The smell of it was very strong as she approached, a warm fog of animal musk carrying on the air-currents. It was probably best if she picked something off the edge, though, she decided. There was no need to cause a stampede by frightening the whole group.
She wasn't the only thing interested in them, she noticed as she got closer. The smell was much less obvious, hidden by the wind direction and their careful movements, but there were wolves on the hills too. They were circling in the distance, assessing, looking for a weaker creature that would go down more easily. She gave them a wide berth. No need to disturb them. As fellow predators, she sympathised with their hunger; it was deep into winter here, and they probably hadn't eaten well for some time, either. Perhaps she would give them some time to finish their hunt before she herself disturbed the herd. It would be harder for them to catch anything once her presence had put fear into the air.
The night was falling faster now. Telling herself to be patient, she found herself a quiet spot on the hillside and lay down in the snow, letting the drifts cover her and watching the stars pick their way across the darkening sky. It still took her breath away, looking up into the heavens like that and feeling like the whole universe was staring back at her. It was so much bigger than she'd ever realised with her human eyes.
When the wolves' hunt began in earnest, she heard the sound of it rolling across the hills. Their voices echoed between the mountains, making the caribou stamp and shift nervously. Shifting from her hiding place, she crouched in the branches of a tree and listened closely, trying to follow their progress. It was strange, though. It didn't sound like their were running. More like circling something. Perhaps they had found some weak specimen that couldn't get away... But then surely they would have killed it by now. Why were they just waiting?
The answer was a gunshot. Clear and sharp, easy to make out at this distance even to human senses, it cut through the hush and echoed off the hills and the low clouds. The quieter sound of the bullet striking flesh made her flinch, though. There was the high scream of an animal in pain, stumbling and falling, and then the slowly rising thunder as the caribou began to panic and move away.
Somebody was in trouble.
She flung herself from her perch, darting through the snow. If nothing else, her presence might frighten off the wolf pack. It was probably a hapless hunter, out looking for food away from town. Not that it was her duty to protect anyone, no matter what her family liked to say, but...
In among the hoofbeats she could still hear the sounds of the scuffle. The wolves were snapping in defensive anger, darting through the snow. Then another gunshot, and a voice shouting. Howling and snarling. Footfalls. Stumbling. Teeth.
The wind changed, and suddenly she was snared.
A vibrant burst of fragrance, cutting through the frozen air so hard and fast it might as well have been a javelin right into her head. Blood.
Without even seeing the decision happen inside her head, she was flying across the trampled field in an infinitesimal fragment of a second. There were no more dilemmas, no more pitiful moral quandaries or objections. She was starving, and at her feet was the most enticing smell in the world: Fresh, hot, bubbling, human blood.
The wolves scattered as she approached, and their injured comrade scrambled to follow them, whining and whimpering as it dragged its wounded leg. The smell might have tempted her at any other time, but not now. Now there was something sweeter.
The man was cursing and choking for breath, clutching at his torn thigh. Red was pouring down his knee, staining the snow where he had fallen.
'You,' he choked as he looked up at her. 'You're- Please- Help me to, to stop the bleeding, I-'
The familiarity of his face seemed to smear across the inside of her head slowly as her body moved without her, crouching over him like a vulture in the snow. Her fist closed around his windpipe, shoving his head back into a drift, snatching his desperate hands away from the blood, and... Ahh, the red on his fingers.
Her teeth sank into his palm.
Oh.
Now she understood. Now she knew why her family were the exceptions. How could anyone resist this? Why didn't humans tear each other to pieces just for a taste? It wasn't the same, it wasn't even close, it was so unlike all those worthless animals that she wondered if she'd imagined it all this time. Maybe she'd never really had blood in her mouth before. Maybe it had all been a fantasy as she starved, maybe nothing had been real until this moment. Yes, she hadn't existed before now. Her life had been a dream. There was only this, this burning moment of heaven.
He was struggling, his nails scraping at her arm, her face, her hair, trying to get a grip and pull her off. His efforts to scream fought feebly against her iron grip around his throat, a wheezing, helpless sound escaping as he tried to shout. He was pleading with her, she knew distantly, begging for mercy, or if nothing else, for the pain to go away. The shuddering of his body was barely a distraction. She could feel the ebbing of his strength, the erratic pounding of his heart, and he was fading, fading...
I'm killing him.
The thought slashed across her mind, tearing through the blinding hunger. For a second it shocked her so much that she yanked her teeth away from his hand, gasping in a ragged breath of cold night air.
He was shaking, helpless now. The colour had drained from his cheeks and he was gazing at her silently, too weak or numb to speak anymore.
It was him. The memories of his face flooded her mind - his awe and admiration, his fear, his warmth, his kiss - and she found herself drowning, choking on the blood still in her throat.
Spitting and moaning in terror, she fumbled uselessly with his things. The blood was still pouring from his leg, but slower now - clotting with the cold, or because there was so little left in his veins? His hand looked strange, curled with pain around the half-moon of red where she had bitten him.
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this, I'm sorry...' Her voice was trembling, and the words poured out of her mindlessly as she tried to find something, anything to quell the bleeding.
'...You're... real.'
The whisper took her off guard, and she met his gaze again, confused. There was still a crease of pain between his brows, but as their eyes met he actually smiled. Dazed, stunned by impossible agony, he was looking at her like he was almost happy.
'You're dying,' she sobbed, putting a bloodstained hand over her mouth.
He didn't answer, another shudder shaking his body. A grimace crossed his face, though, and he pulled his hand a little closer to his chest, cradling it.
'...Fire...' he mumbled, through barely moving lips.
Fire.
Oh, yes, she could remember the fire.
Her eyes fell on the gun. It had rolled away into a drift, but the long barrel still hung in the air, crystals of snow stuck to the metal.
They had all agreed that it was a mistake. She had told them how much she hated this, she had sworn that she would have been happier to die a natural death, to be left in the rubble. It had been wrong of them to do that to her. She still believed that.
But this was her fault.
He could have lived, maybe - the wolves had been a problem, but he hadn't been quite lost, he could have fought them off a little longer. Wolves were fickle creatures, if it got too hard they would go in search of easier prey. He could have won.
Now she had damned him. The choice lay between finishing what she had started, murdering this man, or... Worse.
Was it worse?
A second chance. That's how the doctor always talked about it, when he was trying to comfort himself. Another chance at existence. They all tried, at least, to make something worthwhile of their stolen time. But maybe that was the point. They'd had the chance to choose with her, and they had chosen wrong. Now she had the chance to fix that.
She picked up the rifle. It was empty, more cartridges scattered in the snow; she gathered some and loaded the mechanism methodically.
'I've already killed you,' she whispered as she worked. 'You'll be dead soon anyway. I can't... do this to you. I can't let you... I can't... let...'
Her voice trailed away as she caught his eye and her hands stilled again. They gazed at one another helplessly, both as trapped and uncertain in that moment.
Suddenly she snapped the barrel of the rifle in half and threw the pieces aside. On her feet in an instant, she lifted him up awkwardly, his height and bulk slipping in her arms as she tried to get a grip.
'I'll take you to the doctor,' she whispered as she pulled him close. 'I can't... He'll know what to do.'
The blood from his leg was running down her arm as she slung him over her shoulders, but it barely seemed to matter anymore. Her mouth was wet with venom and she was still ravening, but her stomach churned and every atom of thought in her head rejected it.
Then she was running. She could feel his heartbeat fluttering against her skin, hear his ragged breathing, and she knew she had to move faster, faster than she ever had before. The starlight marked her path across the mountains and she moved like a ghost through the forests and the hills, flickering past empty towns and across quiet snow-clad roads.
Every moment that passed with the miles, she was listening for the silence. Each time his heart stuttered or his slow breaths grew slower, she wondered if that was the end. But each time he kept on living. He was strong, much stronger than she'd realised.
The pain was worse. He didn't cry out much, but she could feel him shivering with it, his fingers clenching, grasping at her arm. Occasionally he would choke and sob, and sometimes there were words in among that, though they were garbled and knotted up with agony. There were curses and prayers, pleas for mercy, for this to be over. She knew as she ran that her decision had already been made, though she was pretending otherwise, but she kept on going.
Once, when his heartbeat seemed so close to fading, she caught his wrist and ran her mouth over the wound again, slicing open the scabbing skin, letting the venom flow. The taste of blood on her tongue brought her to the edge of stopping, almost made her fling him down and finish the job, but she resisted.
It wasn't a moral victory. Everything she was doing was so far removed from what she knew to be right that she couldn't even be sure of who she was anymore. But that didn't seem to matter. She had made her wrong choice, like they had before her, and now she knew that she couldn't do it alone.
The house in Calgary was quiet, and the street was still empty with night. She kicked the door open, shattering the lock, and was in the basement before the others had even left their rooms.
'What's happening?' the doctor asked as he joined her downstairs.
'Keep the others out. I don't want them here.'
'Yes, of course. What... Who is this? Has he...?'
'He was attacked by wolves. I... I wasn't... strong enough. I...'
'I understand.'
'Don't say that to me.'
'I do understand, my friend. I, too, was not... strong enough, when I did this the first time. You mustn't hate yourself for it.'
'I should kill him before it happens.'
'Should you?'
'I never wanted this! You did this to me, and I've hated every moment of it! How can I let myself force that on somebody else? How can I make him suffer like this?'
'None of us can know what is right except in the moment we decide. If you feel that you must stop the process, I... will not disagree with you.'
'Won't you? What about all of us? You thought it was right with us.'
'I was blinded in those cases. You have taught me that. It will not happen again. Perhaps it is not inherently evil, what we are, but no one should have their being destroyed and remade without their consent. Maybe it is better to have a natural end, or even perhaps an unnatural one, if the case demands it. But in this case it is not my decision. I do not know this young man or his situation, and I cannot guess if he would be happier dead or alive. You are responsible for him. You must make your choice. And quickly. The venom has already spread through his body by the smell of it, he has little time left before he passes on.'
'I brought him here so you could tell me. You're supposed to be wise, aren't you? You're supposed to know best.'
'We both know that isn't true. I've just had more time than you to make my mistakes.'
'I... don't know what to do.'
'Perhaps...'
An intruder knocked on the door.
'Go away!'
'I want to help.'
'You can't.'
'I can hear him.'
She hesitated. 'What is he thinking?'
'Mostly about the pain, but beneath that... He is afraid to die. He barely understands what we are saying, but he doesn't want to pass on, not even to escape the suffering. He... thought you were bringing him here to save him. Travelling for so long... so much pain... He thought it was all to save his life. He wants that. He... wants a future.'
'Get out. Go! Go to hell! Don't you dare say those things, he doesn't know what's going on, he doesn't understand! Go!'
'None of us could understand until it happened to us, dear heart. But maybe, since it is almost over... You could explain it to him, when he awakens. If he wishes it then, we can... end him, but if he wants to go on, to bear the burdens... We have room in our family for one more.'
'I hate you all. Get out. Let me alone.'
'Whatever you decide... I will support you.'
'Out.'
The cellar door clicked behind them.
Sitting in the dark, she held the young man's hand in hers, his blood wet on her skin, and listened to his laboured breathing.
'I don't want to kill you,' she whispered.
It took some time, but as the moments passed he seemed to shift and find some fragment of remaining strength.
'I... don't... want to... die...'
So she surrendered.
'Then I won't let that happen,' she promised.
Leaning over him, she bit deep into his throat, and all the building venom that had been torturing her for the past hours seemed to pour out of her and into his veins. The fire that had been burning him grew tenfold and he screamed, clutching at her hands, her arms, holding her to him like it might somehow help. Resting her head on his chest, she listened to the thunder of his strong heart and waited for the end.
When the stillness came, she lay in the dark at his side for the hours and hours of waiting and uncertainty, holding his broad, scarred hand in hers, and for the first time since she had been dragged down to hell, she prayed.
Thanks for reading.