A/N: So, I tried to make all of these segments standalones. COMPLETE failure. I think I've used the same OC in 3 out of 4 snippets. Damn. Anyway, the next few should be disconnected. I hope.

This one is a continuation of the last piece. That is why it does not get its own title. Also, I'd love for you to leave a suggestion for a theme (death, envy, escape, etc.) in a review or PM. I always need more inspiration, and when I use your suggestion the chapter will be dedicated to you! Yay!

...what do you mean that's not enough incentive?!

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"She could let go of his hand, get in her car, and drive back to Jason. Apologize. If she did, she knew, she would never come back. Never see Michel again. The turning point."

"Kerry?"

She blinked, startled. Michel tugged gently on her hand. She followed him down the street, barely sparing a glance for her old blue car as they passed it by.

"You'll need to drive me back tonight to get my car," she told him as they approached his sleek black sedan. He let go of her hand as they split around the car; she to the passenger seat, he to the driver's side.

He drove in silence for a while, letting her sit quietly with her thoughts. Really, all she was doing was her damndest not to think.

If she thought about what she was doing, she would recognize it was wrong. And then she would have to do something about it. But if she never acknowledged it…

No. Stop. She whirled to face Michel, careful to keep the desperate tone out of her voice as she asked,

"Where are we going?"

He shot her a sidelong glance, and she knew she hadn't done a very good job. "I have an apartment in Uptown."

She nodded and went back to staring out the windshield. The passion she had felt earlier was slowly ebbing, only to be replaced by doubts. She twisted the hem of her shirt between her hands, wringing it anxiously.

Unexpectedly, Michel reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling it away from her clothing. "Stop that."

His voice was harsh but his touch was gentle as he folded her hand around the armrest. She waited until he let go to clamp down on the leather, digging her fingers in until her knuckles whitened. He'd always been able to read her far too well.

This was ridiculous. She knew it was illogical and completely unreasonable to be having this much internal conflict over one night.

Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't done this sort of thing before.

Whore.

Kerry was really starting to hate her inner voices.

She fidgeted in the seat impatiently, as if by moving she could somehow silence her conscience, which seemed to be fixated on tormenting her.

And then they stopped. Michel eased the car into a permit only parking space, throwing an arm over the back of her seat and twisting around to get a better look. Kerry glanced over at him appreciatively, eyeing the way his t-shirt hiked up around his abdomen, giving her a good view of his muscled chest.

Michel was sitting back in his seat all too soon, smirking at her as he unlocked the doors. Caught. Kerry blushed, and quickly opened up her door and got out.

He was already there next to her, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her into the apartment complex. She almost ran smack into a trio of teenage boys coming out the same door she tried to go in.

One of them actually did smack into her and—purposefully, she suspected—used the opportunity to cop a feel. Then, as he passed by, he even had the audacity to wink at her. Michel's hand slid to her waist and he squeezed. Hard. He glared at the boy with narrowed eyes, his meaning clear as crystal.

Mine.

Kerry stumbled, caught herself, and stood straight. Michel opened the door for her, and didn't let go of her waist until they were inside. Then he removed his hand and pressed the button for the elevator.

While they waited, he turned to stare at her curiously. "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

With Jason? Why the sudden loss of resolve? The unspoken questions hung in the air.

"Ugh," Kerry groaned, "Don't kill the mood, please." Too late.

He fell silent, but continued to examine her as they got into the elevator. She met his gaze evenly. "What floor?"

"Thirteen."

She smiled playfully, attempting to regain some of the spark from earlier, "That's my lucky number."

He let out a startled laugh. "Its possible. If by luck, you meant bad luck."

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened into a quiet, austere hallway. Not really the type of place she'd pictured him living in, but then again, he'd never want to draw attention to himself in his own home.

Only in other people's, the voice inside her head muttered bitterly. She told it firmly to shut the hell up.

And then they were in Michel's rooms, and he was pushing her back against the door, kissing her fiercely. A tiny flame lit in her lower belly and spread heat as it traveled upward. She curved her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He tasted sweet, and his touch sent little thrills throughout her body. His hands moved to the buttons on her jeans, and his mouth slipped down to press kisses along her neck. She let out a breath and smiled, dropping her hands between them to caress his stomach. A tiny shudder went through him, and he tugged the zipper of her pants down impatiently.

Her heartbeat quickened as she reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, almost desperately. The energy in the room was nearly tangible. His blue eyes seemed to glow as he looked at her, baring pearly white teeth and fangs in a feral smile. Then she couldn't see anything because he was kissing her again.

Too long. It had been too long since they'd been together like this—

Kerry gasped and arched up involuntarily. He'd finished with the button on her jeans, and the other hand moved up to grab her waist, on the left side.

Ouch! She cried out again, but the sound had a different tenor to it. Gods that hurt. Michel paused, and looked at her.

"Kerry?"

She shook her head, still slightly dazed. Why had he stopped? But he was frowning at her in entirely the wrong way as he reached for the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up over her head. They both looked down.

There, on her side, was a massive purplish bruise extending from the bottom of her rib cage to her hip. Her head swam, and she felt queasy just looking at it. It must have happened when Jason…

Michel seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He was staring at her, expressionless, but she knew what he had to be thinking. "Kerry. Is he hitting you?"

Oh no. No, this was not what she wanted. But he was still waiting for her answer. There was no safe answer to a question like this. Kerry decided she would fumble through the truth—or at least, some semblance of truth.

She knew how she handled issues like these. Michel was the variable in this equation.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and said haltingly, "Sometimes. Only when he's been drinking, or I've been out too long. It was my fault. I made him angry."

She paused and shook her head, "I'm good at that, aren't I?"

Michel glared at her, furious. Point proven. She took an involuntary step backward. Those were predator's eyes, and she was smart enough to know that fragile human girls qualified as prey. He took a step forward, but all he did was toss her back the shirt he held clenched in his fist.

"You'll stay here tonight."

Kerry opened her mouth to protest, and shut it again with a snap at the expression on his face. There would be no arguing with the vampire tonight. That is, if he hung around long enough to argue with. She knew he hadn't fed yet this evening—he was always more prone to displays of violent emotion when hungry.

After he'd fed, expression was could be dragged more easily from a brick wall.

So she settled herself on the couch, careful to stay off her left hip. When she looked up again, Michel was gone.

"Possessive bastard," she muttered to the couch cushion. "He knows I don't belong to anyone. Especially him!"

The cushion remained unconvinced. And Kerry, well…she wasn't too sure yet, either.

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Three guesses as to where Michel has really gone. And the first two don't count. If you really have no idea, don't worry. You'll find out next time.

Done! Phew! So, you've made it through my fumbling attempts at romance. (-shudder-) Nice job. I felt a bit insecure in writing this chapter, because it involved so much emotion. Michel doesn't do emotion. Kerry, on the other hand, breezed right through.

Read and review, as always, and please leave a theme suggestion on the way out!

Happy holidays!