Set during/after episode 2. Sorry folks, I'm working on other stuff, so work is slow. Please stick it out with me.
He staggered across the hall, slamming into the door-frame as he fumbled his remote out of his pocket.
The door opened with a hiss, and he could smell it. The delicious scent of blood, still contained in the small plastic bags, calling to him with a siren's song.
He faltered, nearly falling over the table as he grabbed for the bags, desperately tearing at them, frantic with need.
"Mick?"
Oh God.
It was the only thought that would register.
He dimly heard the door hiss shut behind her. Great, he, an overly injured, half-starved vampire, had just been locked into his apartment, where no one could hear them, with an overly nosey reporter.
Great.
She was walking towards him.
No!
"Go away!" it sounded animalistic, even to his own ears, but it didn't stop her.
She materialized around the pillar, and he turned away, as quick as lightning.
He didn't want her to see him this way.
Oh, god no.
"Not until I get some answers." She said stubbornly.
She was moving around the pillar again, undeterred.
He didn't want her to see the fangs, the inhuman eyes. He couldn't answer her, he couldn't answer TO her.
"Mick?"
His head snapped around, and she gasped. The look on her face tore at his heart. There was fear in her eyes.
"What are you?" she asked, a hand to her mouth.
He was panting, pain throbbing through his whole body, his head foggy with hunger, with need.
"I'm a vampire." He said simply through the blood still in his mouth.
Her expression changed from one of shock to one of puzzlement.
Please, he begged her in his mind. Go away.
But she was suddenly in front of him, a hand slowly rising to touch his cheek.
He jerked away, his frantic eyes darting across her face. He was using all his willpower to keep himself from attacking her, to keep his eyes away from her neck.
Oh god.
"Mick," she said again, her eyes searching his face.
"Please," he was begging now, tears threatening to leak from his eyes.
She gently ran a thumb over his bottom lip, wiping away the blood.
"Beth, please!" he was frantic, desperate, he didn't want to…
"It's okay, Mick." She said.
"No," he gasped.
She smiled, and he lost it. Her body jerked as he sank his teeth into her neck, hands roaming roughly over her body, lips working desperately against her skin.
She gasped, head thrown back, eyes sliding closed. Her hands fisted in his hair, tightening when he clenched his teeth.
He released her slowly, blood still flowing sluggishly from the wound.
"Beth." He whispered against her neck.
He could smell her, far more acutely than ever before. He could smell her blood, her skin, her very essence.
"It's okay, Mick." She said, and he could hear the smile on her face.
"It's okay, Mick."
He suddenly pulled back, his eyes looking into hers.
Her inhuman eyes.
"Beth." He whispered her name.
"I'm sorry."