He watched her, through her window. She was changing for bed, he noted with a wicked grin. He couldn't help the thought of simply changing her now. He'd been invited inside already, he knew he could do it. Clamber in through the window, all pretty and seductive, charm his way through lies about why he was there and then bite her.
But it was no fun that way, no. He had his plan, so for now he'd watch.
"Oh Killian~!" She sang as she moved through their crypt, stroking the walls and the other items that littered around that height for her.
He chuckled, looking up from the text he'd been studying.
"What is it love? You know you should be resting." His scolding was light as he stood, guiding her to sit atop a tomb. She laughed, a lilting, if slightly maniacal, sound and he pulled her into a violent kiss, all teeth and passion.
She arched into him, reacting the same way to him as she had for nearly a hundred years. He smirked against her, moving to place rough bites down the smooth column of her neck, pausing to re-open the one bite mark that had ever scarred. His first one to her. The one that had made her like him. Made her his.
He'd started with her younger brother. He was eight years old, ten years younger than she, and he'd been so sweet across his tongue as his fangs had sunk into his wrist, just draining the boy.
He'd been his first gift to her.
He laid the boy out on his bed, tucking him I as if he were merely sleeping. But he'd made sure his eyes were open, staring blankly at the doorway that she was bound to enter in.
And then he'd gone into her room, moved some of her stuff, just to put her on edge.
After all, he'd heard her.
"Neal stay out of my things!"
She'd go to yell at him again, he knew it. And then she'd see.
And see she did.
To anyone that didn't know them, the way he lay her down would have almost seemed sweet. But he was only being gentle with her because she still hadn't recovered her full strength. After a mob had attacked them in L.A. two months ago, she'd had a tough time regaining her health.
Once he had her down, her attacked her neck once more, the other side this time, and she scratched her fingers through his hair, pulling at it roughly, making him growl against her already blood soaked skin.
"Oooh! I love it when you get like this." She told him breathily. Which just made him growl harder, feeling his pants tighten.
Next had been her Father. He'd done this one different. Left scattered pieces of him around her room for her to find, leaving his head under her covers.
He'd listened to her scream from outside and he'd laughed.
She had such a pretty scream.
That was the first night he left a drawing on her pillow. In one of the five minutes she'd been asleep, he'd placed it next to her before leaving again.
He leant up to kiss her again, the two of them sharing her blood as he ripped the pretty dress he'd placed her in that evening, exposing her breasts and underwear to him.
He could smell how wet she was, which didn't help with the tightening of his pants as his hands found her breasts, gripping and squeezing, loving the way she bent her back towards him, the noises she made. The fact she kept eye contact with him, at all times.
The drawings became a nightly thing, he'd sit in her room and draw her while she slept and then leave it for her to find come morning.
He'd waited a good year for her Mother's death. He knew that her Mother was her favourite family member, the one she clung to like a frightened child if she woke up during the night.
He had to make it special!
It was her twentieth birthday. Her Mother had insisted on a party, and for that he was glad. It was easy to get in, there was no-one guarding the door, and it was a party.
He started small, dragging guests off, killing them silently, till only a handful, of people remained.
Then he went for the theatrics.
He snapped the neck of the boy standing right behind her, before moving through the rest of her guests, killing them all, blocking everyone's attempts to run with ease.
She'd begged him for her Mothers life, begged him to spare her, to take her own life and leave her Mother to live.
But of course he hadn't listened.
"No dancing tonight Love. I've plans." He told her with a smirk as he pulled down his pants, ripping her underwear as easily as he'd ripped her dress, if not more so.
He pocketed the material before sniffing the air with a groan.
Again she giggled and shifted so she rubbed herself against him with a purr.
"Come take your little girl." She urged him.
He'd met her eye as he'd sank his teeth into her mothers neck, listening to her scream, watching the horror overtake her face as he sucked the woman that had given her life dry.
"No! Please! Stop!" She begged him, though of course he continued.
He liked to believe that he could pinpoint the exact moment that she snapped, although he couldn't be sure.
He gripped his shaft, pushing her back down flat and lining himself up with her, teasing her by rubbing himself up and down her slit, his head brushing against her clit a few times, just to watch her jerk and moan.
But when she shot him that pout of hers, he couldn't resist any long and slid inside her, groaning at the feeling of her walls tight around his cock.
He stilled there for a moment, revelling in the feeling.
He would never tire of being close to her like this, and it was at these times that he was thankful they had forever.
He'd chased her down when she'd tried to run.
Her destination had been a convent and he had laughed as he bit her. The day she was due to take her holy vows, he sank his fangs into her for the first time and drained her of her mortal life, giving her an immortal one.
With him.
His hips moved after she let out an impatient whine and tried to move against him.
"Ah ah pet, patience." He'd urged as he began to thrust, gripping her hips with bruising force, had she still been bruisable, to bring them together faster, harder, taking her in the way he knew she loved.
Her back arched from the cold stone and she cried out as he pounded into her, feeling the way her walls clenched at him, begging him to stay sheathed within her.
One of his hands moved down to the little nub at the top of her sex, his forefinger pressing against it as he started to circle, still keeping up his rough, thrusting pace.
"Come for me, Love." He urged her, watching her climax build, able to feel it in her inner walls, able to see it on her face.
"Come for me." He commanded, grinning to himself as she did as she was told (as she always did), her walls gripping him tighter than before, although he didn't think that possible, and her body shook as he tipped over with her, spilling himself into her.
He rested his head upon her chest as they came down, their unneeded breathing ragged as she gripped at him.
"The stars are whispering..." She told him and he laughed to himself.
"They always seem to whisper to you, Emma."