He pushed her against the wall, harsh, her shirt riding up and scraping her
back against the bricks. Among dumpsters reminding her of death, she tilted
her head back as he licked the curve of her neck. She captured his lips
with hers again, opening his mouth for their tongues to battle. It was a
war for power, for the upper hand, like everything else between them. It
was about passion and fear and winning, the force behind their fights;
violently musical, sadistically artful, an exquisite form of foreplay. Her
hands ran down the hard plains of his chest, looping her fingers through
his belt loop, letting one thumb dip below the denim to feel the coldness
of his skin. His kiss left behind a faint, coppery taste in her mouth and
she knew without a doubt that he'd been feeding, that it was human blood.
His hands rose beneath her shirt, fondling her, and she bit back a gasp as
his nail flicked across her nipple. In the dark, they allowed themselves to
be lost, to be powerless. They gave up to their enemies what they kept from
their friends and their families. They shared the knowledge that they
couldn't harm each other like this and could let go without fear. It was
outside their hatred of each other, the morals and history shared between
them that had knocked them together like two oblivious trains. In their
path was wreckage for everyone, everything, their lives leading them
unstoppably towards death. Good and bad, heaven and hell; the eternal war
was fought through these two in the dark alleys that they found for
themselves. It was a spiral, inexplicable and inescapable, into sin.