Shane Collins, a Lykae, is outraged to find that the soul mate he has waited centuries for, is a vampire. Michael Glass, a new born vampire, is his mate. Possessive/dark Shane!
No Rest For The Wicked
Michael Glass stared out of the open window. It had been a month since he'd been turned by Amelie. And so far, he didn't regret it. For the first time in a year he could feel the wind on his face, hear the gravel crunch under his footsteps and taste the freshness of the air. But most of all, he could see everything. No longer was he held captive by the house's boundaries. No, he could go anywhere he wanted. And no one would stop him.
"Hey! Michael! Have you seen this?" That was Eve Rosser; one of his only friends that had stayed by his side since high school. Today she had her hair in pigtails (was that the only hairstyle she knew?) with a mix of black and purple with the odd skull dotted on her outfit. Goth to the max, that was how she rolled.
Barely holding back a sigh, Michael pulled himself away from the darkening window. Eve was sat on the couch watching the TV and gesturing to the images on the screen. It showed a mutated body covered in blood. Gruesome. Even by vampire standards.
The reporter was droning on with a fake sadness laced into his voice. Apparently it was the fifth attack in two weeks and the police thought there was a serial killer on the loose.
"Do you think it could be vampires?" Eve asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend Michael in anyway.
Michael shook his head. "I don't think so. It's too messy to be a vampire."
"Human then? Or maybe it's a Lykae just for the laugh. You never know what can turn up in this town," she murmured sarcastically before switching off the TV. "How you doing?"
For some reason this had become their daily question. Either Eve or Claire would ask him. Maybe it was their way of being good friends? Either way, Michael would just answer them in the same way and change the subject. That question quickly became boring after the first few days. But today was different.
"Yeah, I'm doing alright. But I need to go out, I've got things to do…" he trailed off, not wanting to give Eve the details.
She nodded in understanding and said, "I'll get Claire to leave you some tacos in the microwave for when you get back."
No Rest For The Wicked
He hadn't made it to the Blood Bank. Instead he'd ended up draining a deer instead. The thick blood slid down his throat. It wasn't like human blood. This was like syrup and it had an earthy taste to it. All in all, it was a last resort. But it was better than chewing someone's neck open for it…
Behind him a twig snapped. Immediately Michael's head snapped up. Wiping away the blood on his chin, he surveyed the scene around him. There was nothing there but the dead deer at his feet. Slowly he stood. If he was going to be attacked, he didn't want to be on the floor in the first move.
Around him the darkness seemed to thicken. It clogged his vision and made it hard to see. Which shouldn't be happening. It was like something was stealing his strength. He knew, as a new born vampire, that he wouldn't have much more ability than a human. The speed, agility and powers would all come with time. But at the moment, it was all better than being trapped in the house.
Then a heartbeat, quicker than any animal, broke the silence. Michael snapped his attention back to where it was coming from. It was dull but quick. Whoever it was, wasn't human and certainly wasn't an animal. For a moment, Michael stood still, head cocked to one side, as he waited for the stranger to show themself.
And then they did. A tall towering man broke through the trees. His brown hair was a shaggy mess and strewn with broken twigs and leaves. Dark eyes were clouded with lust, anger and determination. Under the man's gaze, Michael found himself struggling to breathe. Somehow, this man demanded attention. He demanded people to look at him. And that was what Michael did.
"You," the stranger growled lowly.
Stupidly, Michael looked behind him to see if anyone else was there. No. It was just him. This wild man, neither animal nor human, was talking to him. What did he want?
With measured, precise steps the man began to walk towards Michael. "It's you."
"Who are you?" Michael asked; part of him unnerved by the stranger. "W-who are you? I've never met you…" He muttered weakly underneath the man's steely, angered, gaze. As the man began to walk towards him, Michael began to take small steps back. There was something about him that Michael didn't trust.
At Michael's movement, the stranger snarled loudly. "Don't walk away from me."
When Michael continued to back away from him, the man jumped.
And Michael ran. He felt the stranger's hand graze his back but he still ran. Fuelled from the fresh blood and adrenaline, Michael pushed himself past the barriers. His clothing snagged on tree branches and he stumbled often. His feet pounded the ground loudly and his breathing was ragged.
Behind him, he could hear the snarls of outrage as the man gave chase. Heavy breathing broke through the silence and trees snapped easily under the man's strength.
Michael could almost feel his eyes turning red from fear. Around him the forest turned into a canvas of green and brown blurs. Behind him, he could feel the man gaining on him. He would hear the woosh of his breath as he narrowly missed being caught. Many times pieces of wood scraped his skin, opening up shallow wounds that healed in seconds. Despite that, they slowed him down. They sapped what little strength he had and consequently, his speed. Up ahead he could see the house –
Michael stumbled.
He fell face first and rolled down the muddy banking. All Michael could focus on was the growls that surrounded him. This was it. There was no way he could escape now. But he could try… Rushing to his feet, Michael turned in an attempt to flee…
A sharp pain in his ankle made him cry out in pain. Again he fell to the forest floor in a daze of fear, panic and pain. He lashed out with his left foot but he never found purchase on the man. Instead his movements seemed enrage the man even more. Sharp claws sunk into his left leg and his eyes rolled back in pain.
He could hear the man whispering sweet nothings against his skin. Snapping his eyes open, Michael came face to face with a nightmare. The man's brown eyes were a luminous yellow and they glowed like two beacons of light. Slick black fur covered everywhere but his face. His face. It was chiselled and handsome and he had a strong jaw. Again the man growled lowly, and Michael whimpered pathetically.
The man snarled again before climbing up Michael's body, tearing away his shirt as he did. Michael saw the hungry glint that came into the man's eyes at the sight of his exposed chest. He wasn't going to…was he? At the thought, Michael struggled beneath him. In a vain attempt to scare the man, Michael flashed his fangs in warning.
Wrong move.
A strong hand gripped his jaw tightly, causing Michael to squeak in pain and attempt to pull away. With callous fingers, he brushed over Michael's upper lip, pulling it back to expose his fangs. Michael didn't miss the look of disgust. With an angered growl, the man withdrew his hand as if he had been burnt. But he didn't let Michael go.
Shane Collins snarled in anger. For centuries he had searched for his mate, and when he smelt him in the forest he was determined not to let him slip through his fingers. But this. This thing on front of him couldn't be his mate. It was a cold blooded, blood sucking demon. Not his mate. It couldn't be.
Large, terrified, red eyes looked up at him. They were swirling with emotions; the most dominant being fear. The boy peaked nervously up at him through a messy blonde fringe that covered his face and hide his snow coloured skin. He was lean and agile with a slight ripple of muscle underneath his shirt. And he had fangs.
Shane waited for the boy to say something, but instead, all the vampire did was shake beneath him. He could feel the emotions running through him. Shane didn't care. "What's your name?" he demanded, not yet moving from the boy. After centuries of searching he wasn't about to let him walk away.
At first the vampire didn't answer him. But when Shane pressed a claw to his throat in a threat, the vampire stuttered a reply. "M-M-Michael Glas-ss"
Michael continued to shake beneath the man. He wasn't sure what he was, perhaps a Lykae like Eve had suggested? Whatever he was, he was stronger than Michael. Cold splatters of rain slapped at his naked chest as the man began to paw at his exposed skin. The sharp claws opened up wounds and blood ran over his chest. Squirming at the pain, Michael whimpered pathetically again.
"Who are you?" Michael said hesitantly before looking fearfully at the man.
For a moment he thought he was going to answer the question. It was too good to be hoped for. "Don't question me," the man growled. He raised his hand high and the lightning struck around them.
What was he going to do? Strike him? Michael didn't know. But he did know that that one strike could kill him easily. It could easily take his head from his body. His breathing quickened at the thought. "Please…don't hurt me…"
The raised hand came down suddenly, but not to strike. Instead he swatted the remains of Michael's clothing over him. "Take me to your home, vampire." The man moved away from Michael, but a sharp snarl told him not to run. He wouldn't be able to. He'd be killed straight away.
But…Eve and Claire. Michael couldn't lead a madman back to the house. He could kill them all so easily. Instead, Michael lied. "I live here…" he whispered. He didn't meet the man's eyes.
"Your kind always lies." Michael was roughly pulled to his feet and his arm was twisted behind his back. "You don't live here. If you did your scent would be all over the forest." The man explained before pushing Michael forward. "Now, take me to your home otherwise I'll kill everybody you love."
Michael choked on his sobs. There was nothing he could do. So he led the stranger to the Glass House. Their walk was slow and Michael fell many times. The pain in both his ankles shot shooting pains up his legs. Tremors shook his body, and for the first time since his turning, Michael felt cold. The wind bit at his face and the rain lashed at his skin. Surprisingly, every time he fell strong arms would catch him before he hit the floor.
Was this man bipolar?
Too quickly for Michael's liking, the Glass House porch came into view. He staggered up the porch steps with the Lykae just behind him. Weakly he pushed the door open before falling into the house. He shuffled away from the door slowly until his back hit the wall. He watched, part of his amazed, as the man stepped over the threshold.
What had he done to the house? Michael hadn't invited him in. So he shouldn't be able to walk in… Shaking his head in defeat, Michael sagged against the wall. The pain in his ankles was excruciating, and being low on blood (deer blood wasn't the most nutritious) meant that his injuries wouldn't heal. And he wouldn't be able to fight the Lykae. But he didn't have to walk. Instead the man roughly threw him over his shoulder and strode down the hallway like he owned the house.
With every footstep the man took, the more Michael accepted his fate. At least Eve and Claire were out of the way, probably in bed by now.
Michael was dumped carefully on the bed. He didn't watch as the man continued to stride around the room. Instead he focused of trying to nurse his injured ankles. Were they broken? Or just sprained? Either way, he'd damaged them in some way. He tried focussing on the injury like Sam had shown him…nothing. It just made the pain worse.
Across the room the Lykae was pacing. He'd returned back to his more human form. But he still seemed angered by Michael's vampire status. Even so, his eyes would keep flickering between the walls of the room and Michael. He'd never let him out of his sight.
"You have a shower, don't you?" The Lykae asked arrogantly. "Go clean up!" he ordered, dismissing Michael.
"But you – you –" Michael shut up at the lethal glare he got. Grimacing past the pain, Michael limped painfully to the door of the en suite bathroom. Behind him, he felt the warm presence of another body. Shaking his head in defeat, Michael sat down heavily on the toilet seat to rest his ankles.
"Get up!"
Forcing himself to his feet, Michael waited for what the man wanted.
"Strip, now." The man's hungry gaze was on him again. Even with tattered clothes on Michael felt naked beneath his gaze.
"What about privacy?" Michael asked, hoping he wouldn't lose his head for asking. In front, the man grumbled but turned his back to Michael.
He knew it would be the best he would get. Peeling the saturated clothing from his skin, Michael listened as it hit the tiled floor with a wet slap. When he was stood naked, trying in vain to cover himself up, he inspected his ankles. They weren't purple or blue; vampires didn't have blood so they never bruised. But they were slightly swollen, not much, but enough that he noticed it.
Turning on the hot spray, Michael gingerly stepped into the shower. He gasped in pain as the water powerfully pricked his aching, tense muscles and stabbed at his ankles. Rivers of brown ran from his body. He didn't bother to move. He just stood there, thinking.
Whichever way he looked at it, it still ended in the same way. He was stuck with this man.
"Why aren't you out yet?" Michael's eyes widened and he tried to push himself into the corner. Panic ran through him when the man stripped of his own clothing and made a move to join in him the shower. Michael's breathing spiked – not in a good way – and his words were lost in his throat. He couldn't move. He couldn't get away.
When the man joined him in the shower, Michael lost it. Every emotion he had tried to hold back broke down his walls. There was nothing to stop them. Angry tears slipped down his cheeks – partially hidden by the shower. But not enough.
The man roared again in disgust. "Blood? For tears?" It only served to make Michael feel worse. If this man hated him so badly, then why was he holding him captive in his own home.
"Please, let me go…" Michael choked out as the pain in his ankles increased. He needed to sit down, he needed to do something. He needed this man away from him.
The Lykae froze. "Why would I let you go? No matter what you are, I need you. I want you so badly. I need to be in you." As if to emphasise his point, large hands grasped Michael's waist and pulled the vampire towards him. He didn't seem to notice when Michael cried out in pain. Instead, he pressed his lips harshly to Michael's. When Michael froze and attempted to push him away, the Lykae said, "Kiss me like you want to live."
And so Michael did. He moved his mouth against the other man's and tried to picture someone else. He tried to picture himself in any other predicament. Nothing came to mind. Instead he felt his body responding to the harsh caresses. This shouldn't be happening! It couldn't be happening!
But it was. And the Lykae knew it. "You need me," he whispered as he grasped Michael. "You want me as much as I need you." At his words, Michael rocked against him. "You're so needy…" When Michael felt fingers at his entrance, he tensed and pushed the Lykae away. Surprisingly, the man allowed himself to be pushed away.
"Please, don't. I don't want this," he whispered.
"Fine, just get out of the shower."
Michael looked up at him with large eyes. He couldn't believe that the man had actually listened to him! He didn't hesitate in climbing out of the shower and drying himself off. Who knew how long it would last before the man decided to break his neck? Tying the towel around his waist, Michael walked out of the bathroom.
He took a few tentative steps across the room before his ankles gave out. With a small cry of pain, he collapsed onto all fours. Across the room the man turned quickly, saw Michael, and scooped him up like he weighed nothing. In his arms, Michael struggled. He didn't like being this close to a man that could so easily kill him.
Somehow, he flipped out of the man's embrace and landed painfully on his feet. He wobbled slightly but managed to stay upright. "Who are you?" he asked again, feeling more like himself now that there was some space between them.
"Shane Collins, leader of the Lykae clan."
Lykae. Michael felt his hopes plummet. Lykae were the most feared enemies of the vampire. There were only a few of them left in existence, fewer than the number of vampires. Maybe around fifty or so. Despite their numbers, they could easily kill a vampire if they wished. And now Michael had one in his house.
Fucking great!
"Why won't you leave me alone?"
"I've searched centuries for you, why would I let you leave?" Shane said gruffly, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "It's not my fault you suck the life from living beings."
"Why have you been searching for me for centuries? I'm only nineteen!" Michael turned his back to Shane and hobbled over to the bed.
"Why aren't you healing?" the Lykae skipped his question. Fine. If he could skip Michael's question, then he would skip his.
Once he reached the bed, Michael fell gracefully on top of the covers. Hissing when the sheets touched his ankle, Michael fidgeted before finding a comfortable position; on the floor, with the bed as a defence against the sunlight that would come in the morning. He didn't care to look up when he saw Shane walking towards him. He stayed curled up in the nest he'd made. With every foot fall from the Lykae, Michael found himself becoming hysterical.
What would he do when Shane reached him?
That night Michael cried himself to sleep in the arms of the Lykae, on top of the bed, waiting for the full glare of the suns morning rays.
Any good? Is it worth carrying on? Please review! Thanks for reading! :D