The Hunter
Chapter 2: "The Kiss."
A/N: Beth is played by Shannon Sossamon. Her singing voice is played by the singer from Flyleaf. Also, my mom always told me that sex was a huge part of any successful relationship, so there's going to be lots of sex in this fic. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's definitely mature.
Beth emptied the trash and took it outside. It had been three days since the attack and the tiredness hadn't gone away. It had gotten better, but it hadn't gone away. She still couldn't wrap her head around what had happened. She'd been confused and numb since it had happened. She felt like she'd been raped. She felt molested and dirty, used. She couldn't believe that it had happened. She'd given sustenance to a monster, fed him, kept him alive. She'd done a lot of cutting over that.
"Your poetry is interesting," a voice said from behind her.
She whirled around and came face to face with the vampire of her nightmares. She opened her mouth to call for help but the words froze on her tongue and she was unable to utter a single syllable in defense. And then it didn't matter because he was in front of her, his finger to her lips.
"Shh," he whispered. "We wouldn't want to wake up your mother, now would we? Not when she's worked so hard to drink herself into oblivion."
She shoved his hand away angrily.
"Don't you dare talk about my mother, you monster!" she said fiercely.
"Or you'll do what?" he said with a derisive laugh. "Tell on me? You wouldn't dare. They'd think you were insane. And it's not like you can do anything else to me. I'm a vampire after all."
He sounded so cocky, so proud of the fact; it made her sick and angry. She glared at him furiously but said nothing.
"Cat got your tongue?" he said, circling her. "What, no angsty poetry about cutting? I thought that's what you did. Wrote crappy poetry about how bad your poor little life is and cut."
"You know nothing about me," she said darkly, her chest heaving with unspoken anger.
He smirked.
"Don't I though?" he said in her ear, his lips brushing her skin. "Beth Sanderson, seventeen. Your father works all the time and your mother drinks herself into oblivion before noon every day. You were recently in the hospital with severe depression because you were suicidal. You were released three weeks ago but you haven't been any better, not really. You still think your life is hell and you bleed, bleed, bleed when you want to be freed. Isn't that right, Beth?"
"You had no right to read that!" she said, horrified.
"Right? What right did you have to write it? What in your life is so bad that you can't bear to live without cutting yourself bloody every day? Did your pimply boyfriend break up with you?" he said with a snort of disgust.
"I've never had a boyfriend," she said irritably.
"Really?" he said, tilting his head curiously. "Now that's interesting. Why is that, Beth? Why have you never had a boyfriend? Did something happen to you? Someone hurt you, Beth? Come on, tell me. Inquiring minds want to know."
She blushed furiously and seethed.
"It's none of your business!" she said quietly.
"I'm making it my business," he said darkly, nipping at her neck.
He took a step back and walked around to face her, considering her. He looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking.
"I think I'll keep you," he finally said. "As a pet. Take you with me."
Her eyes widened in horror.
"You- You can't! I won't go!"
He grinned.
"You'll go or I'll kill your parents," he said.
Dear God, what could she do? She was helpless. She couldn't be responsible for her parents' deaths, not even her father's. No matter what he did to her at night.
"Fine!" she snapped. "Let me go get my stuff."
"Sure," he said with a triumphant grin. "Just don't take all day. And if you have any more poetry, grab it. It's interesting."
She scowled at him but went back into the house without saying a word.
She couldn't believe this was happening to her. She was being kidnapped and she was going along with it without a word of protest. Not that she had much of a choice.
She packed light, grabbing an extra shirt and jeans, stuffing them into her backpack along with some books, a couple of notebooks for writing and her diary. She had written about the vampire attack in it, how violated she felt, and how it compared with being touched by her father. It was all the same, people using her, hurting her. No one cared. She didn't know why she hadn't just killed herself already.
She packed a package of new razors. She'd no doubt need them on her little adventure with her new vampire friend.
She went into the living room where her mother was passed out on the couch. She watched her mother sleep for a long moment. She looked like her mother. Dark skin and hair, almond-shaped eyes, small, delicate lips, slender body. Her mother was Filipino. Beth had no idea how she'd ended up in Forks. Her mother had never said and she'd never asked.
The alcohol hadn't always been Mrs. Sanderson's god. There was a time when she was like every other mother. Then she'd found out that her husband was cheating on her and it had all gone downhill from there.
Beth bent down and kissed her mother's forehead, then straightened and stared at her. This would very likely be the last time she would ever see her mother. The vampire would no doubt kill her once he got bored with her, which she was sure wouldn't be long.
"Hurry up," she heard the vampire say right behind her.
She jumped, startled, and turned around to find him watching her intently, his head tilted to the side as it often was.
He grinned.
"Did I scare you?" he said with his predator smile.
"No," she snapped.
His grin widened, showing his teeth.
"Liar," he said teasingly, brushing some of her short hair out of her eyes.
She jerked back.
"Don't touch me!" she said.
His arm was out in a flash, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him, his face inches from hers.
"I do what I want, little girl," he said dangerously, closing the distance between them, kissing her.
She froze, then moaned and leaned against him, pressing her lips back against his. He stilled, obviously surprised, but she didn't notice. She was too wrapped up in the feel of his lips against hers, and she couldn't think about anything else.
He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body flush against his, pushing his tongue into her mouth, ravaging her. His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth, mimicking a dance as old as time. She pushed her tongue against his and their tongues tangled, mating. She didn't even notice that her mother was right there in the room with them.
And then he wasn't there anymore, holding her up, and she fell backwards, landing on her ass. It hurt enough to jar her back into reality.
He was standing by the back door, his chest heaving with his breathing, watching her, his eyes almost black. There was silence for a long time.
"This is an interesting development," he finally said, his breath evening out, his eyes full of curiosity and interest.
She couldn't believe she had kissed him. The reality of it just wouldn't sink in, wouldn't penetrate her mind. How could she have kissed him? She hated everything he stood for. She hated him. How could this be happening to her? How could he pull that kind of knee-jerk reaction out of her body with the touch of his lips? Her father had been trying for years and all he'd gotten was a cold, dead stare.
He was watching her like she was candy, his favorite kind. Like she was some kind of delicious treat. She supposed to him she was.
The thought of dying didn't disturb her, not the way kissing him had, the feel of his lips burning a fire through her veins. She wanted him, even as she hated him. She hated herself for that.
"You liked that," he said curiously. "You practically jumped me. Fascinating for a girl who's never had a boyfriend."
"I- I didn't mean to- I-"
She couldn't even speak properly. His beauty was distracting her, the way his toned muscles showed through his jacket, the way his hair shined in the dim light, the way his eyes danced with interest and mirth.
"Of course you didn't," he said with a grin. "You hate me. That's what makes this so interesting. I think I want to keep you now more than ever, just to see how far you'll go if I push you. Fascinating. This is a completely different kind of hunt."
"I'm not a toy for you to play with," she said, trying to sound angry. It didn't come across quite as convincing as she would have liked.
His grin widened and it was obvious to her that he was greatly amused by her dilemma.
"Come on," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's go meet Laurent and Victoria."
"Who?" she said irritably.
"You'll see," he said, still grinning.
She got up and grabbed her backpack, ignoring his extended hand as she passed him. He grabbed her arm hard, his grip like a vice, forcing her to look at him.
"When I want you to hold my hand, you'll hold it," he said dangerously, his grin and all amusement gone. "If I want to kiss you, you'll be kissed. If I want to fuck you, you'll be fucked. Are you beginning to get the pattern here? You belong to me now. I own you. You're my pet and if I want you to hold my hand while we walk, you'll do it without hesitation or I'll break your fucking hand. Do we understand each other, Beth?"
She looked at him hatefully, biting her lip until it bled to keep in the anger. She wasn't confused anymore, just angry and full of despair. Tears of anger and frustration at her helplessness filled her eyes but she blinked them back.
He gripped her arm tighter until she knew there'd be finger-shaped bruises where he gripped her later.
"I said, do we understand each other?" he said, nuzzling her cheek.
"Yes," she muttered darkly, not looking at him but not pulling away either. She knew better now. He'd hurt her without hesitation if she stepped so much as a toe out of line. She couldn't believe she'd kissed him.
"Good," he said with a triumphant smile. "Then let's go."
He released her arm but took her hand tightly in his. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it made the point that if she tried to pull away he'd hurt her. She didn't try.