.:I:.

The Lair

This is not how things usually come to be. It is unethical, for my kind, to be rescuing the life of the enemy. A life I seem to care for beyond my own understanding. It began as an innocent curiosity, and somehow developed into something…more.

I slammed the door shut, firearm in hand as I inspected the vampire quarters with precise scrutiny. A relief, no sign of life, or much rather death anywhere.

"Where are we?" His gentle masculine voice caught me off guard as he approached me, feeling a comfortable closeness I found much too difficult to bear. I stuck the pistol into its holster, keeping my gaze stark cold and alarmed, as I slowly began to circle the room in search of anything odd. A rare guise I normally never had to assume before I met the human, soon to be Lycan.

"You're in a vampire safe house. As business with humans continues to expand, we've been granted establishments in every major city." I continued to keep my distance, eyes focused on surgical equipment that was never used for healing purposes at all. He stood beside me, the heat of his body exuding from his skin causing warmth that caressed my frigid epidermis instantly. He was seductive, without even knowing it. His steady melodic breathing found its way to my neck, causing even the coldest of vampires to shiver.

"What's all this?" He picked up a scalpel and examined it briefly before setting it down again, dry blood stains fastened at the tip.

"Lycans are allergic to silver. We have to remove the bullets or else they die in the middle of questioning." I walked towards the only window in the quarter which was shielded with thick venetian blinds.

It was the birth of the afternoon and the sky was menacing. Dark blue and grey hues hung over the skyscrapers heavily, leaving much to the imagination of how tall they stood. I tapped on the sensory panel beside the windowsill, which caused the blinds to vanish in quick motion. I examined the vacant streets of Craiova, Romania. Stolid, in a sense, as rain began to matriculate on the ashen coble stone of the province.

"Selene." He called for me, as though he were trying to get my attention for some time now, my thoughts preoccupying me otherwise. Lost in thought, I didn't realize how close he'd gotten…again. Flecks of blue shined through his profound eyes, nearly incapacitating me with a blink. It was unlike me, to ever possess such feelings of yearning or affection. A word wasn't needed to respond as I flashed a dry, impassive look at him, another guise I felt I must assume. As I waited for his reply, he instead filled the moment with silence. His lean, sculpted body was an indomitable presence that seemed to keep throwing me off each time he approached me, so unyielding and powerful. His disheveled, dirty blonde hair lay restlessly over his eyes and within that moment, I noticed how beautiful he was. His skin took on the color of life, while mine only found the absence of it. It amazed me how interested he appeared, studying the angles of my face, the very structure of my jaw line to the ends of my tousled shoulder length hair. I stood in wonder as this beautiful creature studied me, gently placing a hand on the small of my back while I, surprisingly, placed mine on his cheek. Like two creatures different in comparison but the same in curiosity, there we stood undeniably drawn to one another. I was indeed interested in the mysteries this man had within him, yet as a death dealer I was also set on my ways. I thought of my dearly loved dark father, Viktor. He'd surely consider my behavior as treachery, and I couldn't even begin to fathom the betrayal he'd feel on my doing. I took a step back, breaking the firm hold he began to forge on my back. As comforting as it was, it was also wrong. Very wrong, in fact. I took a few more steps back, confused by my poor behavior and lack of backbone in the matter.

"What's wrong?" The question in his voice was filled with concern, a tone I'd much rather not listen to under the circumstance. I didn't want to know if he was caring or sincere, or if he was an idiot for possessing these two qualities towards an assassin such as me. I glanced at the bite mark on his neck, still fresh with blood and hemorrhaging scar tissue. It was the mark that determined his fate. The consumption into the Lycan world had already taken a toll on him, festering within his thoughts incoherently. It was an inevitable misfortune for the ancestor of Alexander Corvenus, and it would only be a matter of time before he was recruited as a soldier for the never-ending blood feud.
"I must go." I finally looked away, urgency in my voice as I approached the double doors from whence we entered.

"I'm going with you." Determination rang strong in his voice as he ran a hand through his hair, closely following behind.

"No you are not." I was a bit startled of the tenacity within me, as I turned to face him with my mind already made up. His arms found the small of my back once more, tenderly holding me with a desire burning in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. He then placed his hand on my face, caressing his thumb on my cheek so sweetly, I was feeling inoperative again. His entire body gently pressed against mine, creating an undeniable urgency at the pit of my stomach I was unaware I even had.

"I want to be with you." Affirmation in his words, he gazed intently at me, as if looking within my soul, if I had one. So sure of himself, his warm lips found mine, savoring each tender moment as if it were the last. The passion within him only grew stronger, drawing me in, further into his world. A world between human and Lycan, a world much too complex for my own understanding. He sucked and pulled at my lower lip as I then realized my hands were performing unusual movements at my dismay. I was pulling him towards me, enveloping them around him in an act of longing I've never been familiar with. I adored it, him holding me closely while his lips greeted mine with the utmost warmth and desire. Shocked by such an endearing act, my mind told me to pull away, but it was outnumbered by my lips, arms and need to have him. His lips trailed off lightly on my cheeks and neck, causing my knees to buckle, a feeling of weakness that resounded throughout my extremities. It was as if he gained complete control over me, as I wanted nothing more than to devour him at that very moment.

"Michael…" I found myself addressing him by name, and it possessed a sound of sweet perfection. Michael, I thought, it rang through my head as I tried to recover, but still found myself in his protective grasp as he was only a few mere inches away from my lips, ready to take another dive. His eyes, they were amazing. How easily did they pull me in before, and how beautifully did they beseech for my intimacy yet again. Stunning, striking – I couldn't even surmise how these words did him little justice in inconceivable beauty. I was lured, and oh I wanted to be so. His angelic features reminded me of a peace and a love I have never experienced, although I envied all who did. He kissed me once more, quick without thought or even much care to think of it. It was what he wanted – what I wanted. We both knew this, yet we always tried the latter. Kiss, two, three, four more times. I must've been induced with the love drug, as I fit perfectly into his embrace, needing each next kiss more than the last.

"I ache for you, Michael…" It was infatuated banter, as I whispered these words out of fervent poetry. He laid gentle kisses on the cleft of my neck, sending an enigmatic blood rush running rampantly through my veins. As seductive as it all was, it was also lethal. I'd been so caught up in the blood quarrel amongst our breeds that I hadn't even fed in days. Much of that can explain my easily swayed state as I continued to allow Michael to have his way. I then felt it come over me. The sensation, the desire to have and need. It felt savage of me, yet completely natural. They began to tear through me, a slow painful ripping that was only so wretched because of how much I tried preventing it from happening. It boiled from within, the urge to wrap myself around the one thing that empowered me to remain undead. The need to feed. The tips of my incisors showed their treacherous form, instantly cutting my tongue as I tried to hide them from view. The taste of my own blood was quite repulsive, and didn't hold the same distinctive flavor of succulent copper as that of a human. With much force, I pushed him off of me and watched his body slam against the wall opposite me.

"I'm sorry… I –" I stammered and paused through midsentence. I didn't know why I felt so ashamed, and this only further stimulated the anger that writhed within me. My incisors were completely exposed now, within full view and Michael was front and center. If he was frightened, I couldn't tell, fear did not sweep over him like it did with every human I encountered. Why did I hold him in such high regard, as if I had to apologize for something so organic, so normal yet so vile? There was such seriousness in his eyes as he pushed himself off the wall and back towards my direction. He wasn't backing down.

"You're so beautiful." He pushed the hair away from my face as I stood in my vampirical glory, fangs resting on my lower lip as my eyes pierced his in hunger.

"I haven't fed. I'm weakening; I shouldn't even be doing this. If Viktor finds out – "

"Then he won't, " he replied unbelievably resolute. His hands rubbed my arms as if to provide some sort of heat, and incredibly it did.

"You don't understand, Michael. I don't want the responsibility of ending your life." I shook off his embrace and headed towards the door again.

"Why not?" He firmly questioned me. "If you're so determined to end my life, why haven't you done it already?" He challenged, calling me out in such a way that I couldn't find the words.

"Because I –," I paused, knowing the truth. I refused to say it, to admit I developed some sort of feelings for him. I never even believed I was capable of such a thing, but after such a terrible performance anyone who witnessed it would know. I was supposed to detest his kind, and yet didn't have the spine to do so. I violently pulled my gun out from its holster, pointing it directly at his chest. I pressed its cool metal surface against him, forcing him to sit at the nearest chair. I caught a glimpse of myself on the metal wall in front of me, and couldn't be more disgusted with my appearance. My fangs perpetuated death as razor blades did after just being sharpened for their victim. My eyes captivated such a silver blue color, that it even made me cringe just gazing into them. I was a monster for needing to kill him, but a renegade for refusing. No matter how many times I heard Viktor's words in my thoughts, I couldn't bring myself to off him. I was supposed to be this viscous assassin, especially towards what he was about to become, but after all was said and done, I couldn't bear it. As I continued to press the gun firmly to his chest, Michael sat there, taking it all in. He was prepared for his fate, a fate I wasn't going to promise him, at least not by my doing.

"Listen you filthy Lycan," I sneered at him, "once you turn, you are going to rip apart the first human you see." I vigorously chained his arms to the chair, paying little mind to the pain it may have caused as the chain ripped apart some skin at his wrists.

"I cannot leave you to do as you please." I had to be convincing enough, and this seemed to be the only way. He stared into my eyes, with no hint of fear or disconcert. Reading him had become a task difficult to achieve.

"Then do what you have to do." He replied, ever so calmly, gazing at me intently. It was as if he understood my behavior, or worse, he could see past the act. In frustration, I put the gun to his head, finger slightly pulling at the trigger. I heard him take a deep breath, and as I took a look at his face, his eyes were closed, peacefully. I knew what I had to do.

"I will not be responsible for ending your life." I whispered, and with that, I slammed the pistol against his skull, causing him to fall unconscious. Instead of holstering the pistol, I lay it on his lap, for when the time came, surely he will need it.

.:II:.