A/N: Geez of Pete, how long has it been since I last updated? Forever? I need to apologize--first the end of the semester hit, then the holidays, then a CRIPPLING case of writer's block. But I powered through it, and banged out this chapter, which hopefully, you are will enjoy. To everyone who's read, favorited, or reviewed, you are all very very cool, and thanks for putting up with me.
Thank you to Esha Napoleon, Nastygrl25, wolfdemon22, and basicHBKnomics for reviewing the last chapter! You all ROCK! Love yas!
Chapter 6: Nobody's Hero
The taste of her blood was intoxicating.
Dave clamped his lips against Kelly's throat, sucking greedily at the vital essence flowing from the two puncture wounds he had created. The blood was the life, as they said, and right now, the fluid running through the blond girl's veins was sustaining HIS life. Dave knew that he should stop, that he was dangerously close to stealing Kelly's life along with her blood, but he couldn't help it; she tasted so SWEET...
It would be so easy to just drink until his thirst was sated, to drink from her until she was drained dry...
The horror of it all slammed into Dave like a bolt of electricity. That urge, that desire...it was the beast talking. Kelly wasn't a food depository--she was a human being, and if he didn't stop right now, he was going to kill her.
Panicked, the vampire tried to pull away--but found that he couldn't. His body refused to obey him; his arms remained locked around Kelly's slender frame, his fangs remained embedded in her throat. Horrified, Dave struggled harder, but to no avail. It was as though he was paralyzed, locked inside his own body, forcing to listen as Kelly's heartbeat slowed...then stopped altogether...while her blood, previously so sweet and tasty, suddenly turned as bitter and chalky as ash in his mouth--
With a low cry, Dave managed to tear his fangs free of the blond girl's throat, but he already knew with a dreadful certainty that he was too late, much too late. Kelly's pale blue eyes stared sightlessly ahead, while a thin ribbon of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. Dave could feel the warmth leaving her body, her skin becoming icy and clammy beneath his fingertips.
The vampire bowed his head, burying his face in the crook of Kelly's neck, where some measure of warmth still lingered. The soft scent of her skin had already evaporated, leaving in its place the inevitable aromas of death and decay.
He had killed her. Before this, the blond girl in his arms had been happy, vivacious, ALIVE. Now...she was nothing, just a lifeless hunk of meat sculpted in the shape of a human being.
You did this to me.
Dave's head shot up, his dark eyes growing wide. It was impossible, Kelly was DEAD, he was sure of it...and yet, somehow, he had still heard her voice, burbling up from within her chest to ring accusingly in his ears.
As he watched, the blond girl's head swiveled around to face him. Her movements were stiff and wooden; her eyes, when they met his, were still lifeless and dead. It was as though something was inside her, controlling her from within, manipulating her limbs like some kind of demonic puppeteer.
Kelly's mouth moved, spitting forth words in that same accusing tone of voice--words that, try as he might, he couldn't block out.
You killed me. I trusted you...and you killed me.
Dave slowly shook his head, as though by doing so, he could negate the validity of her statements. "No..." he whispered, shocked by how weak, how frightened his normally deep tone sounded. "No, Kelly, I didn't mean to--"
I was right about you.
Dave felt his heart stop. That voice... Even though it was still Kelly that he cradled in his arms, the voice emanating from her lips had been the low alto tone of Mickie James. Kelly's eyes shifted, met his--REALLY met his--and he could see that her irises had inexplicably changed from pale blue to brown.
The same shape and shade as Mickie's.
A monster did this to me--and that's what you are...a fucking MONSTER.
Dave tried to avert his gaze, run away, but found that he couldn't; once again, his body refused to obey him. He could only stand there, a horrified scream climbing up his throat, as the pristine features of Kelly transformed into the scarred countenance of Mickie James...
Dave sat straight up in bed, all the breath escaping from his lungs in one frantic gasp. For a heartbeat, all he could see was darkness, but then his vampiric senses kicked him, allowing him to study his surroundings with acute clarity.
Panting for breath, Dave slid his gaze over the massive four-poster bed, the armchairs, the flat-screen TV in the corner, the heavy black drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling window dominating the far wall. Gradually, as reality reasserted itself, he recognized it as the bedroom he shared with Melina.
He was home, safe in bed, not committing atrocities in an alley behind the Viper's PIt. Kelly's murder, and the horrifying events that had followed it...had been nothing more than a bad dream.
The big man covered his face with his hands, still struggling to catch his breath. It had been a long time since he'd had nightmares of any kind, let alone ones that left him terrified and shaking. After a decade as a vampire, he'd assumed that nothing--save a team of Hunters--could scare him anymore.
Apparently, he was wrong.
There had been something different about this dream; it had felt so real, so actual. And unlike the usual illusory quality of dreams, this one refused to melt away into nothingness. Dave could still remember the sweet taste of Kelly's blood, the velvety softness of her skin--and he could still hear the cold accusation in her voice--no, Mickie's voice--as she spoke...
A monster did this to me...and that's what you are...
She was wrong, of course. He wasn't a monster. Sure, he drank blood, and sure, he had drank deeply from Kelly, but that had been purely for survival. He hadn't killed her--okay, maybe he had left her alone and unconscious in a dark alley, but he hadn't killed her. He wasn't a bad guy; he was just doing what he had to to survive.
He wasn't a monster...right?
Dave closed his eyes, sighing. This was an old argument, a familiar set of justifications that he had been telling himself even since Melina had turned him almost ten years ago. Normally, he was able to coax himself back into a state of guilty indifference, but tonight, his anxiety and his insecurities remained, refusing to be quelled.
For some reason, not one of his logical reasons for survival could dispel the memory of Mickie's scarred face...
Dave's ultra-sensitive hearing caught a faint noise, the soft step of bare feet on carpet, and quickly looked up. Melina stood in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the door frame. She wore a loose sheer black robe over her lacy black negligee, and her blond-streaked hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. Her dark eyes bore into his, her beautiful face fixed in an expression of amused curiosity.
Dave quickly wiped the perspiration from his face, making a fake show of yawning. "Is it night yet?"
His lover's countenance didn't change. "It's two in the afternoon." With the lithe, liquid movements of a snake, she moved into the room, her eyes still fastened on his. "What's up with you?"
Even though her expression betrayed nothing, Dave still caught the derision in her voice. It didn't bother him; if anything, he was used to it. After all, contempt formed more of a cornerstone of their relationship than any sort of love or affection.
For a second, he was tempted to lie, but just as rapidly decided against it. Melina might not be able to hear his thoughts, but she had an uncanny ability of discerning fact from fabrication. If he tried to lie to her, chances were very good that she would figure out he was doing so. And if that happened, she would hound him, pester him until he would have no choice but to reveal every secret thought or desire locked inside his brain.
Better to reveal a small secret so that bigger ones might stay buried. Better to speak the truth without elaborating on it.
Dave shrugged, making sure to keep his expression neutral. "Nothing...just a bad dream."
"Really?" A note of interest crept into Melina's voice, and she strode closer, the sheer fabric of her robe rippling with movement. The female vampire pressed her curvaceous body against one of the bed's posters, resting her cheek against the wood as she eyed her lover. "A nightmare? You?" She shook her head, as though disbelieving. "Do tell."
Dave shrugged again, as though the details were unimportant--which, as far as Melina was concerned, might as well be. "Nothing, really," he admitted after a few seconds. "Except..."
The vampire hesitated for a moment, lifting his gaze to study Melina's beautiful face. What he was about to ask...it was kind of a stupid question. He was pretty sure already of what Melina's answer was going to be. Nevertheless, he had to ask it. He had to ask it--or else go crazy from the pressure building inside his head.
Dave spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Do you...ever...wonder...about the ones that we leave behind? You know...the people that we--" His voice faltered ever-so-slightly. "--feed...off of?"
Melina blinked, and Dave wished that he had a camera at hand to capture her expression; he had never seen her look so astonished. Eventually, the shock dissipated, and the corner of her mouth turned upward in a scornful little smile. "Of course I do," the female vampire drawled. "I send them all a thank-you card every week."
Dave felt no disappointment; only the dull pain of emotional disconnect. After all, he'd known all along that this was how Melina was going to react. His lover tilted her head back, letting out a soft throaty chuckle. "Come on, Dave," she drawled derisively. "Don't tell me that after ten years, you've still got a conscience? That you actually care about those ants scurrying around below us? So we feed off of human blood. So what?" The female vampire shrugged. "That's survival of the fittest, baby. That's Darwin. You and me--" Melina let go of the bed post, climbing onto the king-sized bed. Moving on hands and knees, she crawled over to Dave, swinging one leg over his body and straddling his waist. She wasn't wearing any underwear; Dave could feel her moist heat against his skin.
His lover went on. "--you and me, we're gods, Dave. We do whatever we want, whenever we want, and no one can ever stop us."
Dave chuckled bitterly. "Some people can."
Melina scoffed. "Who? Hunters?" She leaned forward, planting both hands against his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. Dave couldn't help but stare at her ample breasts, practically spilling out of the negligee's low-cut bodice. The female vampire continued. "How many times have they come after us--and how many times have we fought them off?" Melina shook her head, tossing her black-and-blond hair over one shoulder. "They can't stop us, baby. No one can."
Normally, Dave would have been inclined to disagree with her, but right now, all he could focus on was how fucking sexy Melina looked at this moment. He was hard, and getting harder by the second, and very soon, nothing else would matter except the sensation of being inside her, of feeling her surrounding him.
Contempt and lust--those were the two halves that made up the circle of their relationship. It was the contempt that would always drive them apart--but it was always the lust that inevitably drew them back together.
Melina, fully aware by now that she was the one in control, allowed her small scornful smile to ease into a smirk. "Poor Dave," she cooed. "Even after everything we've done, everything we've seen, you still think of yourself as human." Leaning forward, she draped her body over Dave's, like a cat basking in the sunshine. With the tip of one manicured fingernail, she lazily traced the curve of his pectoral. "But you're not, Dave. You're better. More than that..."
Melina pulled herself up until her mouth was hovering just over Dave's. "You're mine." the female vampire finished.
With a low growl of need, Dave grabbed her face in his hands, pulling her down into a passionate kiss. Melina returned the kiss, her tongue tangling briefly with his, but then pulled away, sliding her lips down to his throat. Using her mouth and tongue, she worked a slow tantalizing trail down his neck, his chest, his abdomen. She paused at his groin, and Dave was unable to bite back a loud groan of pleasure as she took his erect member in her mouth.
The vampire arched his back off the bed, moaning. Melina was very very good at what she did--it was one instance where she had learned to use her fangs to their most pleasurable advantage. Just when he thought he couldn't hold back anymore, that he was going to explode right then and there--she stopped.
Dave stared up at her in disbelief, panting for breath. "Shit, Mel," he managed to gasp out. "I mean, come on--"
Melina placed a finger against his lips, shushing him. Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of her negligee with both hands, lifting it up and stripping it off. Dave felt his breath catch in his throat. Even in total darkness, she was still magnificent.
"Remember, Dave," Dave barely heard Melina's voice; he was too focused on her hands, guiding him into her, until he was firmly sheathed in her moist hot core. "You belong to me. No matter what happens...you'll always belong to me."
With that, she begin to move, slow at first, then harder and harder. Dave reached out, gripped her ass, pushing himself deeper as he thrust up into her. The sensation was not lost on Melina; with each savage thrust, her moans grew louder and louder. Their frantic cries of passion rose, mingled, until neither one of them could withstand the feeling anymore and they climaxed together.
Melina collapsed onto Dave, her olive skin shining with perspiration. With some effort, she brought her arm up, hugging his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Her voice was soft and still husky with pleasure. "We belong together, baby," the female vampire murmured. "That's why you always come back...because we belong together..." Her voice trailed off, fading away into silence as she drifted off to sleep.
Do we?...Dave thought to himself.
For some reason...he wasn't so sure anymore.
A day passed, and then another--and Dave tried to forget.
He avoided the Viper's Pit, seeking out other dives, other places where the lighting was dim and the bartenders didn't ask too many questions. He found other girls, other beauties willing to step out into a dark alley with a stranger. He fucked Melina, he fought with Miz and Morrison, and above all, he kept a sharp lookout for the first telltale signs that Hunters had arrived in town. In other words...he tried to return to normal, to the life he had once had.
But it was no use. His brief encounters with Mickie James had sent vibrations across the entire web of his existence. He couldn't stop thinking about her; in fact, the harder Dave tried to push her from his mind, the more firmly fixed in his consciousness she became. More and more, it was Mickie's damaged face that he saw instead of Melina's flawless one, Mickie's harsh accusations rather than Melina's sultry purr.
The first time they had met, Mickie had told him to stay out of her head. Now...Dave wanted to tell her the same thing.
A week passed. Then two.
It was sometime during the middle of the third week that something inside Dave gave way. He wasn't exactly sure what it was or why it had chosen to do so; all he knew was that one moment, he was chatting up a hot Asian chick named Savannah--and the next, he was walking out the door, all interest in Savannah gone.
Savannah didn't matter. In fact, none of them mattered. The only one that mattered was a certain brunette, a mysterious young woman with a scarred face and a soul screaming in agony...
Once his feet connected with the sidewalk, they instantly took control, but this time, Dave let them.
He knew where they were taking him.
It was almost one in the morning when he arrived at the Viper's Pit, and business was in full swing. The bar was packed, the crush of bodies actually spilling out onto the sidewalk. Inside, Guns 'N Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle" was blasting at top volume, accompanied by a drunken chorus of voices.
Dave passed by the bar without so much as a sidelong glance. The place was crowded, much too crowded for his liking--besides, he was pretty sure he wouldn't find Mickie in there.
She wants to hide, to disappear...and she can't do that with a face that looks like that. All she wants to do is forget--but they cursed her. They marked her so that she never will...
Dave stopped in mid-step, frowning. Where had that come from? It hadn't been an observation so much as a flash of insight. It had felt like the flickers of stray thoughts he sometimes picked up from the people around him, like someone had whispered into his ear. But where had it come from?
Dave looked over to his left. A dark alley yawned beside him, and the vampire could see that it led around to the other side of the building. Slowly--not really knowing why, only that he had to--Dave walked down the narrow corridor, maneuvering deftly around trash bags and heaps of refuse.
Ahead of him, he could see a doorway leading into the building, a single yellow light bulb burning above it. His ears picked up the patter of footsteps on stairs, and the big man had just enough time to slip back into the shadows before a diminutive figure burst out of the doorway, colliding with the opposite wall.
Mickie hit the brick surface with such force that Dave was certain someone had to have pushed her. But after a few seconds had elapsed and the brunette remained where she was, hands and face pressed to the wall, he realized that she had been the one doing the pushing. Whatever had happened inside that building, it had been bad enough to make Mickie expel herself like a bullet exiting a gun. He didn't dare try and read her mind, but he didn't really need to; he could feel the shame and anguish emanating from her in waves.
The vampire remained motionless, not even daring to breathe. Even in this dim light, he knew that his chances of being seen were still fairly high. But he couldn't help himself. It had been almost three weeks since he had last laid eyes on Mickie James, and even the threat she had made on his life was not enough to prevent him from using every available second to study her.
Mickie was dressed the same as before--in all black, with very little exposed skin. There was something different about her this time, however, and it took Dave a few moments to comprehend what it was. Instead of on her head, Mickie's black cadet cap was crumpled up in one of her clenched fists, and her golden-brown hair spilled down past her shoulders, nearly halfway down her back.
Her tresses gleamed as bright as a beacon in the dim light, and Dave felt himself being drawn to her, like a moth pulled toward a flame. He couldn't quite describe the emotion churning inside him; the sensation that seemed to intensify the longer he stared at Mickie James. It wasn't really affection, or physical attraction; it was...what was it?
Protective. That was the word; he felt very...protective...of her. Even after all of the animosity she had shown him, he wanted to safeguard her, to shield her from life's cruelties, to prevent her damaged soul from fracturing any more than it already had.
Why? Why did he feel this way? He was a vampire, a creature feeding off the blood of others. He wasn't anyone's hero, anyone's knight in shining armor. What was it about Mickie that awoke this side of him?
What was it about Mickie that was so different?
His internal musings quickly ceased as Mickie drew in a long shuddering breath. Slowly, with obvious effort, she tilted her head up toward the barely visible patch of sky above them. As she did, her long hair fell back from her face. Even with her back almost to him, Dave could see that her cheeks were wet with tears.
Without thinking, the vampire took a step forward. His foot accidentally connected with an empty soda can, sending it clattering across the alley. Mickie whirled around in surprise. Her brown eyes immediately fastened on Dave, her breath escaping in a low gasp. "You!"
Dave couldn't move, couldn't even speak; he was just as shocked as she was. Part of him--the vampire part--was wary, afraid she would reach for the gun. But at the same time...he couldn't have fled even if he'd wanted to. This look of stunned surprise on Mickie's face was a far cry from either the icy control or the fiery rage she'd showed before. In this genuine moment of shock, she looked vulnerable, scared, alone.
And beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
Unfortunately, the moment was not destined to last, because in the next instant, Mickie's face had closed down again, her true emotions concealed behind that impassive facade. She swiped impatiently at the tears dampening her cheeks, her eyes never leaving Dave's. "I told you to stay away."
The vampire nodded cautiously, careful to keep his hands at his sides. "I know,"
Mickie took a small step to the side, not approaching Dave, but not backing away from him, either. "I said that if I saw you again, I'd kill you."
Dave nodded again. "Heard that too."
"So..." The brunette ground to a halt. Warily, without breaking eye contact, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you here, then?"
Dave allowed himself to smile, a small tentative one that touched the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I'm willing to risk it."
Mickie's lips twitched, curving up into a smile of their own. But it was bitter, without humor. "So...what?" the brunette remarked. "What's your obsession with me, anyway?" She tilted her head to one side, studying him. "You think that you'll have an easier time with me, just because I've been through it before?"
Dave felt his stomach lurch at the nonchalant way Mickie skipped over her ordeal, the ordeal that had clearly brought them both to this point. "No, I--" the vampire began, but Mickie interrupted him, fumbled at the buttons of her coat as she spoke.
"Go ahead--" With a single sudden motion, she ripped open the jacket, shrugging it off her shoulders and exposing the form-fitting corset top beneath. The illumination from the single light bulb was not flattering; it tinged her skin a washed-out, sickly color, while throwing the bite marks and scars on her shoulders and upper chest into harsh relief.
Dave didn't speak; he was too captivated by the account of torture tattooed on Mickie's skin. The brunette stared at him, her expression unreadable. "Go ahead--finish the job. Believe me, you'd be doing me a favor." Her lips pulled back from her teeth in another humorless smile. "Just make it quick."
Dave slowly slid his eyes from the scars back up to Mickie's face. He didn't know which sickened him more: the abuse etched on her body, or her total apathy toward it. The vampire swallowed hard, licking his lips as he tried to speak. "I..." He hesitated, trying to summon up words from a mouth that had gone bone dry. "I don't...want...your blood."
For a heartbeat, Mickie froze. Her smile fell, and Dave could see the disbelief written across her face. Eventually, her countenance closed down again, and she pulled the coat back up over her shoulders. She didn't bother to button it; the scars were still visible.
The brunette shook her head, her brown irises fastened on the big man in front of her. "No..." she whispered, and even the softness of her voice couldn't mask the misery coating her words. Then, a little bit louder: "Of course you do. You're a vamp, aren't you? That's all you fucking care about."
Dave almost winced at the sound of her voice. There was gaiety in there, and bitterness--but both of them were forced. Neither emotion could hide the utter denial in her tone, the inability that she wasn't even worthy of this. Dave wanted desperately to tell her that it wasn't like that, that she was more than a meal to him, that he was here because she meant something more than that.
But he couldn't. He didn't have the words, or the ability to say them--and as the silence stretched out between them, he could feel Mickie slipping away, drawing back inside herself.
The brunette wrapped the coat tight around her body, finally shielding the scars from his view. "Oh..." she remarked. "I get it." The hate in her voice was so palpable that Dave could feel every words digging into him like a blade. Mickie's brown eyes narrowed to small slits as she continued. "You want it--you just don't want the packaging that it comes in." Another few seconds of silence followed, then: "You fucking vamps. You tear someone's life apart, and then you don't even have the decency, the decency, to finish the job--"
"Stop!" Dave realized that he was shouting. He didn't want to argue with her, he knew that, after what Mickie had endured, he had no right to argue with her, but yet, he couldn't help himself. Without thinking, without wondering whether she would reach for the gun and shoot him in the head, the vampire took a step toward her. "It's not like that--"
"Then what is it like?" Mickie retorted. She was screaming now as well. "You're a bloodsucker, I'm a human! If I'm not food, and I'm not a fucking toy, then what the fuck am I to you?"
"I don't know!" Dave roared. Mickie flinched, but didn't retreat. The vampire wanted to stop, to calm down, but he couldn't anymore. The words were pouring out of him now, and he had no choice but to voice them and await the consequences. He moved toward Mickie, still talking. "I don't know what it is about you that keeps pulling me back here!"
Dave allowed a bitter smile of his own to touch his lips. "I don't know if you know this, but you're like a stereo blasting on full volume. Whatever's going on inside your head--it's loud enough to drive me out of my fucking mind, but I can't forget about it. I can't push it to the side or block it out; I have to feel it."
He wanted to reach out and grab her, but he forced himself not to. That would earn him a bullet to the brain for sure. Instead, Dave settled for looming over the diminutive brunette. When he spoke again, it was through gritted teeth. "Whether you want me to or not, I can feel your pain, and I want to know what caused it. More than that--" Dave stopped before he could utter the final part of that phrase, but it didn't matter; he could sense it hanging in the air between them.
I want to make it stop...
For several long seconds, neither one of them spoke. Then, gradually, a sound blurbed up from Mickie's throat. It took Dave a moment or two to recognize it as laughter. The brunette gazed up at him, her brown eyes flashing mockingly, her expression so much like that of Melina. But it was a derision born out of powerlessness, not power, and even her amusement couldn't conceal the desperation lurking behind her words.
"So you're going to fix me, then?" Mickie drawled, her tone cold and bitter. She ran one hand through her golden-brown locks, pushing them back from her damaged face. "You're going to save me from the demons in my head? Go on, then. Take a peek." She gestured at her forehead. "I'll give you this one for free." Noticing Dave's hesitation, she added: "I'm warning you, though--you might not like what you see in there."
Dave stared at her a moment longer, then closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind, allowing it to touch hers...
What he saw in there sent him reeling backward, almost falling over his own feet. Dave reached out with one shaking arm, grabbing onto the brick wall for support, fighting the urge to dry heave. Mickie eyed him scornfully. "Told you so."
Dave didn't answer; he could barely even breathe. What he had seen in there...her and Randy...together...and the things he had done to her... While he and Melina had done things that were far more debauched, the shame and self-loathing coating this particular set of memories made the very act infinitely worse. It had been like witnessing a rape.
Maybe that wasn't an understatement. Maybe that's what it was.
Mickie watched him without pity. Her words, when she spoke, were uttered in a terse whisper: "I don't expect you to understand." She turned to go, but stopped as the vampire spoke.
"You hate him," Dave was having trouble talking; he was still trying to catch his breath. Nevertheless, he persisted. "For the things he does to you, for the way he makes you feel--if you had the chance, you'd start running and never stop." Mickie didn't move, didn't so much as turn her head to look in his direction. She didn't ask who he was talking about, however; it was as though she knew that he was referring to Randy.
The big man went on. "But you won't. You can't--because he has power over you. No matter how far you'd get, he'd always make you come crawling back." Where were these words coming from? From what he had glimpsed in her? Or from somewhere deep inside himself? "And because...deep down...he's the only one you can trust."
Mickie shivered a little at the sound of "trust." She turned her head a bit, looking at Dave without really looking at him. "How..." Her voice was cold but hesitant; Dave could feel her defenses faltering in the wake of this revelation. "How would you know anything about that?"
The vampire lifted his head, staring at the profile of Mickie's ruined face. "I know what it's like to feel powerless against somebody."
Mickie let out an involuntary snort of laughter. "Bullshit." But her voice sounded tentative, unsure.
Dave slowly rose to his feet, moving toward Mickie, taking care to remain within her line of sight. He could feel it, the tenuous connection between them, and the last thing he wanted to do at this point was shatter it by spooking her. "They didn't break you, you know that?" At this, Mickie flinched a little, but otherwise, gave no indication that she had heard.
Dave stepped closer, until he hovered over Mickie's right shoulder. His voice was soft, gentle. "They only scarred your face; they didn't touch what's inside here--" Without warning, he reached over her, sliding his hand beneath the open fold of her coat, resting his fingertips on the patch of skin just over her heart.
He was not prepared for the sudden wave of heat that rose up from Mickie's skin, as though her blood had turned to liquid fire. Or the sound of her heartbeat thundering in his ears, beating faster and faster.
Or the rush of desire that surged upward in him, threatening to take control. It wasn't her blood that he wanted, the vampire realized, it was her. He wanted Mickie, wanted to peel the clothes from her body, press his mouth to her skin, and make her cry out with the same need that was about to consume him. He wanted her more than he'd wanted any other woman--even more than Melina.
Dave went on, though he was finding it increasingly harder to talk; he was distracted by the intoxicating scent rising off of Mickie's skin. "You think...that everyone only sees the scars....but all I see...is how beautiful you are--"
With a sudden harsh cry, Mickie twisted free, backing away from him. "Just...just stop it!" she exclaimed. She pulled her long coat tighter around herself, glaring at the vampire. "Is this how you put your victims at ease?" She gestured at the space between them. "Sweet-talk them a little before draining their blood?" The brunette shook her head. "You should have just ripped my throat out--that, at least, I would have understood."
Mickie backed away another step. Her features were still fixed in a glare, but her brown eyes were brimming with tears, and when she spoke, there was the faintest note of pleading in her voice. "I'm damaged, don't you understand? I'm broken, and no one can fix me. Especially not you." Another step. "Do me a favor--do us both a favor and stay far away from me."
"Mickie, wait--" Dave tried to interject, but it was too late; the brunette was already sprinting out of the alley, turning a corner and disappearing from his sight. The vampire stared after her for a long moment, and then bowed his head, letting his breath out in a long sigh.
He had driven her away. He had pushed too hard and too fast, forced her to face things that she was emotionally and psychologically unable to. He would never see her again--in fact, he would be lucky if Mickie didn't track him down and shoot. They could never be together, and he had no right to demand something from her that she was unable to give.
Was he falling in love with her? How could he, when he barely knew her? And why would Fate play such a cruel trick on him, making him fall for the one woman who wanted nothing to do with him, who would always despise him for what he was.
And yet...how else to explain this need inside him, this desire to hold her, to protect her, to be with her? How else to explain this connection between them that even she had to be aware of?
Dave was so preoccupied in his own thoughts, he never noticed the small grimy window above him silently slide shut.