Rated M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

HFF07 # 3: A pumpkin and a princess

The Dawn and The One

Chapter Three

Fairy tales were something she had believed in as a child. The beautiful heroine who longed for the handsome prince to ride in on his white horse and rescue her from the malvelolent witch. After a fight of epic proportions and the ultimate triumph of good over evil, they would ride into the sunset to live happily ever after.

That was a nice dream for an eight year old.

When confronted with the reality of something that smelled like something out of a mental patients imaginings, well it was enough to drive the sanest woman to seek professional help. She was seriously considering it. The night had started with her dressing in her beautiful gown for dinner with her very own Prince, if not in actuality at least in reputation. Somewhere along the line she had drifted into a nightmare.

The Prince was either a homicidal maniac or a monster, and she couldn't tell if there was a difference between the two. She had been recused, alright but by a dark stranger who had killed the two demons chasing her, barely said more than seven sentences to her before sweeping her up into his very powerful embrace and carrying her off to his motorcycle.

Now that black and sliver gleam of steel and machine was not turning back into a pumpkin at midnight and judging from the throbbing agony in her ankle, she wasn't donning glass slippers anytime soon.

She should be afraid. She was off with a man who clearly had no qualms about throwing off killer intent that would frighten small children and animals. Not to mention she had barely seen his face. The moonlight coupled with the dark hood over his head had reduced his visage to planes and angles and a sense of urgency twisting in her stomach that could only spell trouble.

"Where are we?"

They were the only words she'd dared after her hesitant thank you for saving her life. He had placed her on the motorcycle and climbed on behind her enveloping her in his masuline scent of rain, leather and sandalwood. She had ridden in silence, resisting the urge to glance back over her shoulder to see his face. That need had warred with an intimacy his nearness had inspired leaving her confused and vulnerable.

Her rescuer had driven away from the Cassadine Estate back into the city with the wind in their faces and the rain soaking through to their skin. She didn't need him to give voice to the threat of Nikolas and those beasts following but she hadn't expected to be taken across town into the seedier section of the city.

They turned onto one way street, driving until the end of the block and arrived at a lone dilapidated brownstone that looked more suited for demolition than occupancy. A garage door lifted and he drove inside parking the bike beside a black muscle car that looked like it ran on testosterone instead of gas. After cutting the motor she found the courage to ask the question again.

"Where are we?"

"My place," he answered, dropping the kickstand to brace the machine before snagging the keys and pocketing them. "We should get inside, we can't stay here for long."

In all the time they'd been together, she hadn't taken the opportunity to actually look at him but now that he was insisting she go inside his house the magnitude of her circumstances finally hit her.

This man was huge, not just in height though he had to be drifting over six feet, but in stature he was more than enough to intimidate the hell out of her. Clad in all black, she watched in silent awe as he slipped easily off the bike with a feral grace to extend a hand to her in assistance.

Her gaze roved boldly over his masculine frame, from the heavy boots to the wet black pants that emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips. The black leather vest did nothing to hide the muscles rippling through his chest and shoulders, and the black leather arm bracers he wore along with the gloves only added a hint of danger to his aura. Beneath the vest was a sleeveless black hoodie that still conceal his face and on his back were those deadly blades that she spent most of the ride thinking about.

"No," but unfortunately the word didn't carry any of the determination she had intended. "I'm not going anywhere else with you until I get some answers."

Nothing in his stance revealed anything but somehow she just knew that he was irritated with her defiance. "Elizabeth, I've already told you I wouldn't hurt you. I would think you would trust that, since I've saved your life once tonight already."

"And that's another thing," she frowned, "I know I've never met you before, so how do you know my name? Who are you? What the hell do you want with me!"

"Calm down," he held up both hands in entreaty.

"Don't you tell me to calm down! I killed a man tonight. Or at least I should have killed a man tonight. I always figured when you shove a knife into someone's neck they would probably die. Not pull it out and laugh at you." Her wide eyes flicked around the dim garage in growing panic as the events began to unfold in her mind.

"Then I was chased through the woods by some," she paused, expressive hands clenching in front of her face, "Things, that were probably going to kill me. And eat me," she muttered as an after thought, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't need to think about that. And then you come along with the blades of fury, sweep me up into your arms and we race off on your bike. I think I have a right to not calm down. I don't want to calm down. I want to know what the hell is going on!"

Cool leather clamped over her arms halting her rising hysteria, giving a slight jerk, forcing her to look up and into the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Eyes that were a startling Celtic blue, as blue as a warm summer sky that seemed as if they could see straight to her very soul. In that instant of silence something vaguely sensuous passed between them. It wasn't expected and was probably the worst thing that could happen but there it was.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her heart fluttering under the intensity of his gaze.

"My name is Jason."

"Jason," she echoed, as the very air thickened around them.

"Yes," he murmured, and she could feel his thumbs slowly caress her skin, probably meant to soothe but was sending dizzy currents of awareness through her blood. "Jason Morgan. I was sent to protect you."

"From who? I'm nobody. What do I need protection from? Who would want to hurt me?"

The same eyes that had been so very warm and tender, darkened dangerously and she knew with complete certainty that he believed everything he was telling her to be true. "The Cassadines."

"You're here to protect me from Nikolas Cassadine?"

"Not just the prince, but the whole damned clan. They're dangerous, as you witnessed tonight."

"But why would they want to kill me?"

Whatever intensity that had overcome him in those moments, drifted away as fatigue seemed to engulf him. How could she be so stupid? Of course he was tired, not only had he killed those things tonight, but he carried her a good half mile and drove them both back into the city. He must be exhausted.

"I will try to explain everything to you Elizabeth. I know it's asking you a lot to trust me after everything you've been through tonight. I'm a stranger, I'm heavily armed and you would be right to want answers before going anywhere with me."

"I trust you," she said softly, eyes narrowing as she realized the words were true. When Nikolas had come to her, all kinds of warning bells had sounded in her head. It was her fault that she had pushed them aside in her desperation to prove something to her family. With this man, every instinct she had was murmuring the same thing.

Safe.

Warmth.

"For now," she hedged, "I know you won't hurt me, you had plenty of time to do that. Or you could have simply left me for those things back there."

"Lycanthropes," he interrupted.

"Lycanthropes?" She blinked in confusion as the familiar word rang through her head until finally it's meaning hit her. "Werewolves? Are you trying to tell me that Nikolas Cassadine is a Werewolf?"

"If only it were that simple," his face became almost somber. "The Cassadines are something much worse. If you'll come inside, I'll try to explain things. Who I am, who sent me and why the Cassadines are after you."

"I'll come. On one condition." He nodded his agreement, and she took the opportunity that had been given to her and did the one thing her fingers had itched to do all along. When she lifted her hands, his flinch was barely perceptable and she would have missed it if she hadn't been staring at him so intently. As she slid the damp woolen material away, she couldn't control the gasp at what greeted her eyes.

"You're beautiful."