A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I cannot TELL you how bad the writer's block was writing this chapter; I would literally sit in front of the computer screen for hours, trying to put words together. I'm not one hundred percent happy with it, but generally I like it, and it is done, and I hope you enjoy it. Peace!

Thank you to Esha Napoleon, basicHBKnomics, nikki1335, Ashleymassarophan1, Hailey Egan and Nastygrl25 for reviewing the last chapter! Love yas!


Chapter 8: Beautiful

Cody dragged the damp cloth over the scratched wooden counter, wiping away the spilled beverages and cigarette ashes left by that evening's patrons. A few feet away, his coworker Ted was preoccupied with straightening the tables; returning them to their original configurations, upending the chairs and stacking them on top. Neither one of them so much as glanced at the register; it was pretty much an unspoken rule at the Viper's Pit that only Randy got to count up the daily take.

Cody looked down, his eyes focused on his menial task, but his mind elsewhere. For as long as he'd been working here--what was it, almost five years now?--it had always been just the three of them; Randy, Ted, and himself. He and Ted had been hired on the same day, in fact; he could still remember the interview Randy had held with them--if you could call that an interview.

The shadowy confines of the back room. The rickety chairs that squeaked every time he or Ted shifted uncomfortably. The cold stare of the Viper's Pit owner as he watched them from behind his desk, his blue eyes scrutinizing everything but betraying nothing. I've only got two rules...Randy had said. The first is that you don't talk about what you see in here...

Here, he'd paused, favoring his two potential employees with an icy glare that made the first seem almost welcoming by comparison. The second is that you don't question my decisions EVER...

Cody remembered sharing a puzzled look with Ted, thinking Is this guy for REAL?... But sure enough, both of them had accepted the position, and within a week, both of them came to understand what Randy had meant by his first rule. In his first month, Cody had witnessed things he thought only existed in horror films. It had bothered him, horrified him even, and during that first month, he had come dangerously close to losing his mind.

But the mind is a terrific adapter, able to inure us to the worse of life's atrocities, and gradually, Cody did adapt, regarding his boss's dealings with vampires not as a grotesque novelty, but as a normal aspect of his employment at the Viper's Pit. Just another chore to complete, another item on his checklist: sweep the floor, wash the glasses--store the packets of O Positive in the back of the fridge...

He'd thought he was finally immune to it...and then, one warm summer night, Mickie James had staggered in...

Cody's eyes slid from the counter to the patch of floor in front of the door. You couldn't see it now--the boards had since been repainted--but in his mind's eye, he could still make out the bloody footprints, the enormous irregular blotch where she'd collapsed and almost bled out. So much blood; its hot metallic scent had filled the air, almost suffocating him. There were some nights where he almost thought that he could still smell it. But what had terrified him even more than the sight of all that blood was the look in Mickie's brown eyes. They had the wet, terrified look of a wounded animal, but there had also been this awareness, this awful sense of understanding, as though she'd known even then that she was going to die...

She didn't die, of course. At least...not physically. But it was pretty clear whenever he looked into her eyes after that that Mickie James' soul was long dead; all that remained was a scarred outer shell, a hollow empty thing that walked and talked.

Cody didn't know what Randy's arrangement with her was--that fell under the heading of the second rule--but he understood his boss well enough to know that it wasn't out of affection or protectiveness...but control. To Randy, Mickie wasn't a person; merely another possession. Cody could see that in every one of their conversations that he had witnessed; could see his boss's utter contempt for her, and Mickie's absolute hatred toward him.

He owned her, and part of that ownership demanded her suffering. Because she was suffering; despite all of Mickie's defenses, it was impossible to miss the dull misery lurking in the depths of her brown irises. She was changing, moving toward a destiny that she clearly did not want, but was powerless to prevent. Whatever had happened to her that night had fractured her beyond repair; what Randy had done had broken her utterly.

Please...I don't want to die...That was what she had said that night, her voice a gurgling whisper, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth. Cody could still hear it in his head, could still feel the wet slickness of her skin as he pressed his hands to her wounded throat to stop the bleeding. At the time, he'd thought that he was saving her life; he had no idea that he'd merely been prolonging her pain. But now...every time that he saw her ruined face...every time that he walked into her apartment and saw her staring at the sun, as though trying to memorize its appearance...he found himself wishing that he'd pulled his hands away and allowed her life to bleed away. And he could tell, whenever Mickie looked at him, that she wished the same thing...

Maybe that was why he had agreed to pass on the note, had decided to make himself the messenger in a matter that was really none of his business--because when Mickie had asked him, it had been the first time he had seen something in her eyes that resembled hope...

Randy's voice cut across his thoughts, jarring him back to the present. "Ted, take out the trash." Cody looked up to see the Viper's Pit owner standing directly in front of him, his blue eyes focused not on him, but on his coworker.

Ted cast a look around the bar, his handsome features assuming an expression of mild irritation. "Couldn't it wait a sec?" the blond kid complained. "I'm almost done here; besides--" He pointed at Cody. "It's Cody's turn tonight--"

"I'm not asking Cody; I'm asking you." Randy's deep voice was light, casual--but so completely devoid of human emotion that it made Cody's blood run cold. The dark-haired young man shivered, grateful that he wasn't on the receiving end of the look Ted must be getting right now. "So do it." The Viper's Pit owner continued, and when Ted still didn't move, he uttered one final word, his tone barely above a whisper, but still ringing with the sound of absolute authority: "Now."

At this, the blond kid flinched, ducking his head so as to avoid Randy's gaze. "Sure thing, boss," he mumbled meekly, his shoulders slumping. Snatching the bulky plastic bag, stuffed full of refuse, off the floor, Ted headed for the back door. The Viper's Pit owner watched him depart, and at the sound of the rear exit door crashing open, he turned his attention to Cody.

As soon as Randy's eyes locked onto his, Cody gulped involuntarily. Nothing about this job, not even his occasional interactions with vampires, scared him more than dealing with his boss face-to-face. At least vamps remembered what it was like to be human, or knew how to fake it--after all, their survival depended on it.

Randy, on the other hand...it was as though he had never learned in the first place. His emotions always seemed forced, as though they were merely reflexes, automatic responses to cover the fact that nothing existed beneath his handsome facade. It was his eyes, in the end, that always gave him away. No matter what expression his face displayed, it never reached those azure irises; they always remained as empty and lifeless as those of a shark.

In some ways, Randy was as dead inside as Mickie. The only difference was that Mickie had had her soul ripped out of her...while Randy had never had one to begin with.

The Viper's Pit owner smiled, and Cody felt his core temperature drop several degrees. "So..." Randy drawled, his voice still pleasantly casual. "What did you and that guy talk about?"

Cody's stomach inverted itself, and the dark-haired young man quickly glanced down at the counter, drawing the wet cloth over the already-clean surface as he racked his brain for a suitable answer. "What guy?" Cody eventually stammered, after a few uncomfortable seconds had ticked by. "Lot of people in here tonight."

Randy chuckled, and the sound of it made Cody feel as though he had been stabbed in the ear with an icicle. "Oh, you know...big guy, built like a bouncer? Looked like he could tear your head off if he felt like it?" Randy paused for a moment, his voice taking on a note of almost-satisfaction as he added: "As I seem to recall, left without paying his tab?"

Cody cringed, his hand closing around the damp terrycloth of the towel. Crap. He used to wonder why Randy never bothered with security cameras; now he understood. Nothing, no matter how insignificant, ever escaped the Viper's Pit owner's notice. The dark-haired young man looked up, steeling himself against the inevitable lack of anything in his boss's eyes, hoping that his own voice didn't sound forced as he spoke. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that." Cody shrugged. "He ran out before I--"

"I'm really not interested in your shortcomings as a bartender," Randy interrupted shortly, his tone brusque and impatient. Cody snapped his mouth shut, swallowing hard. The Viper's Pit owner tilted his head to the side, studying his employee with detached interest. "What I am interested in is the note you gave him."

Cody felt a wave of cold slam into him; his skin broke out in goosebumps, and the hair on the back of his neck actually stood straight up. One of the things that unnerved him most about his boss was his ability to turn every conversation, no matter how innocuous, into an interrogation; the end result being that even if you hadn't done anything, you certainly felt as though you had. The dark-haired young man gripped the towel even more tightly, forcing himself to meet Randy's eyes, to bite back the urge to scream in terror. "What note?" he asked, trying to make his tone as casual as Randy's. Unfortunately, fear had already taken hold of him, clamping around his insides, and there was no masking the guilty comprehension in his voice.

With deadly speed, Randy's hand shot out, latching onto Cody's wrist. His fingers dug into the dark-haired kid's skin, and this time, Cody almost did scream. He could feel the strength in his boss's grip, and looking into his eyes, saw once again the emptiness, the detachment. He realized at that moment that Randy could break his arm if he chose and truly not give a damn.

The Viper's Pit owner was speaking, his voice like the harsh sinister echo of a snake's rattle. "You disappoint me, Cody. I would have thought, after all this time, that you would have at least become a better liar." Randy leaned over the counter, his tone dropping to a low murmur. "There's only one reason, one, why he would be in here tonight--and I hate to break it to you, Coddles, but it's not to stare at your pretty face." Randy reached up with his free hand, grabbing Cody's chin in a sign of mock affection. His fingers dug even deeper into the dark-haired kid's wrist, compressing the joint, and Cody bit back a cry of pain.

A tiny amused smile touched the Viper's Pit owner's mouth as he regarded his employee. "I know you're covering for her." His smile grew even broader as Cody's eyes widened. "How noble of you. Stupid--but noble. And while I'm sure Mickie appreciates your show of chivalry...she's not the one who signs your paychecks." Randy paused for emphasis. "I am." His blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "So why don't you be a good boy and tell me what that note said?"

Retorts flew to Cody's lips; that it was none of Randy's damn business, that he had promised Mickie--and then one glance at his boss's dead blue irises told him that it was useless. Because Randy always won. It didn't matter how much Cody struggled, how eloquently he lied or argued...in the end, Randy always won. Even Mickie had to understand that fact.

Maybe she already did--and even more so than him.

The dark-haired kid let out a low sigh, offering a silent apology. Sorry, Mick... Randy listened intently as Cody rattled off the note's contents; the terse message and the address scribbled beneath. For a moment, the Viper's Pit owner stood there, frozen, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Finally, as though remembering that he still had ahold of Cody, he released his employee, murmuring "Interesting..." under his breath and turning away from the counter.

As he did so, Cody couldn't prevent himself from blurting out a question of his own. "What's the big deal, anyway?" the dark-haired kid asked, massaging his bruised wrist gingerly. He knew that he was venturing into dangerous territory--potential termination of employment territory--but in spite of that, he pressed on. "Why's it any of our business what she--"

"Because that guy's not human, Cody," Randy interrupted brusquely without looking back. He strolled across the floor to the front door, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's a vamp."

At this, Cody almost choked, sound escaping from his mouth in a series of incoherent noises. Unconsciously, he snatched the towel off the counter, twisting it between his hands in what had become a nervous habit for him over the years. "Are you serious?" the dark-haired kid hissed, when he finally regained his voice. He frowned, his expression creasing with confusion and concern. "But...but why? After what happened...why would Mick want anything to do with a vampire?"

Randy pressed his forearm against the glass, staring impassively out at the dark street. "That's what I want to know..." the Viper's Pit owner eventually replied, more to himself than to Cody.


Dave paused, resting one hand on the scarred surface of the kitchen table, as he took in his surroundings. The apartment was dark, almost pitch black--not that that particular factor mattered much to a vampire, though. His superhuman senses were still able to pick out the varying shapes of doorways and furniture with ease--as well as the despair coating every surface, as though Mickie's suffering had actually seeped into the apartment's pores.

This was her lair, her sanctuary, the one place--perhaps the only place--where she felt safe. And she had brought him here--not the monster, but a monster; a being from the same species that had caused her anguish in the first place. For not the first time, Dave found himself wondering not only why he was here, but why she had chosen to trust him--since, by her own admission, she didn't trust anyone. He wondered what it was about him that was so different...and then realized that Mickie was probably thinking the same thing.

He heard a click behind him, and tensed briefly, before realizing that it was only the sound of the lock sliding into place. A second later, he felt Mickie's warm presence at his side, her hand grazing the fabric of his sleeve. "You're soaked," the brunette remarked.

Dave glanced down at his clothes. He was soaked; both of them were. Mickie's apartment wasn't too far from the Viper's Pit, but the rain hadn't let up once during their walk here. He looked back up at Mickie. "Guess I better take these off, then," he replied, feeling desire flicker through him as he caught the double meaning of that phrase. The brunette didn't answer, merely stood there, staring back at him. Hesitantly, Dave reached up, touching her face, cupping her cheek in his hand.

Almost immediately, he felt Mickie's skin infuse with heat, felt her lean into his touch as a soft sigh escaped her throat--and then, all of a sudden, she was pulling away from him, turning her back, striding across the room to rummage around inside a nearby closet. "Here," Dave saw something hurtling toward him, and shot his hands up to shield himself. A mass of soft fabric slammed into him, and he realized it was only a blanket. Dave gathered the folded coverlet in his arms, looking back at Mickie. The brunette shrugged. "It's all I have." She nodded over her shoulder. "Bathroom's back there; you can hang your stuff on the shower rod." She looked at him, and another long moment of silence elapsed as something unspoken passed between them. Once again, though, Mickie was the one to break it, averting her gaze and heading into the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

Dave stared at the closed door for a moment, and then walked back to the bathroom, not bothering to snap on the light. Swinging the door partially closed, he stripped off his drenched garments, obeying Mickie's directive and hanging them over the shower rod. That accomplished, he wrapped himself in the proffered blanket, draping it around his massive body almost like a toga.

The vampire paused for a moment, gazing at his reflection in the small spotted mirror above the sink. What are you doing?...a small voice inside him demanded. This could be a trap--you could walk out of this bathroom to find a gun aimed at your head. This is probably the stupidest thing that you've ever done--

Maybe...the big man answered. But it's also the only thing I've done in the past month that makes any sense...That, more than anything else, seemed to quell any remaining objections, and the inner voice fell silent.

Slowly, tensing his body for the worse, Dave pulled the door open--but the small hallway outside was empty. Up ahead, he could see a pool of weak golden light, spilling out from beneath the bedroom door. The vampire moved toward it, drawn to the illumination like a moth to a flame--the same way that he was drawn to her.

The door was ajar; Dave paused outside it, peering through the crack. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Mickie inside. She was naked, at least from the waist up, in the process of pulling a black robe up over her shoulders. The light from the nearby nightstand made her skin glow...but it also illustrated the abuse inflicted on her, the scratches and claw marks marring her back. Mickie paused, reaching back to massage her neck, her fingers running over the scars with a kind of absent familiarity.

Dave was suddenly seized by the insane urge to burst into the room, pull Mickie into his arms, and press his mouth against those lines of scar tissue decorating her skin...as though by doing so, he could somehow drain away her pain, her suffering; as though he could make the marks disappear and make her whole again. The big man shifted his weight, and the floor beneath him immediately protested with a loud CREAK. Mickie jumped at the sound, pulling her robe up and belting it hastily. She turned around, holding it closed at her neck, shielding as much of her body from view as possible. The startled look in her brown eyes quickly died away when she saw that it was him. "You scared me," she remarked after a moment or two.

Dave didn't speak at first; in his mind's eye, he could still see the curve of Mickie's bare back, the creamy luminescence of her skin in the light. "Sorry," he finally managed to say after a few seconds, trying to talk through a mouth that had suddenly gone dry.

Mickie regarded him for a moment or two, then shrugged, turning and taking a seat on the bed. She nodded at the space beside her, and Dave took that as his cue to join her. He moved into the room, easing his huge frame onto the tiny twin bed, taking care to leave some space between him and Mickie.

"So..." Mickie began, stretching the word out before growing quiet again.

"So..." Dave replied, echoing her sentiment. The silence between them stretched on and on, and the big man used it as an opportunity to study the brunette seated next to him. Her hair was loose, and still damp, tumbling down her back in dark golden-brown waves. The light hit her face in such a way that it illuminated her profile, accentuating the delicate precision of her features. In the soft golden glow of the lamp, the scars bisecting her face seemed less harsh, less disfiguring. Her eyes were downcast, her lids nearly shut. Dave's gaze traveled downward, along the line of her neck, pausing a moment at the dark ragged holes tattooed on her throat. Mickie held the robe closed, but he could still make out the curves of her body beneath the bulky garment. He could hear her heartbeat, pounding rapidly within her chest...and he could smell her desire, rising off her skin and mingling with her scent.

He wanted her, so bad that it hurt, and deep inside, he could hear the faint echo of the beast calling to him, urging him to take her. But Dave bit it back, forcing himself to remain where he was. Even the most intense desire couldn't eradicate the innate protectiveness he felt toward her, and he couldn't, wouldn't, force her to do anything that she didn't want to do.

As though sensing the weight of his gaze on her, Mickie hunched her shoulders a little, pulling the robe tighter around herself. Reaching over, she abruptly switched off the light, casting the small space into darkness once more. The brunette bowed her head, a tendril of hair caressing her cheek. "Force of habit." she whispered. "I feel more...comfortable...in the dark." Mickie lifted her chin, staring straight ahead. For a moment, her jaw tightened, and Dave heard the dull roar of her inner pain rise up, wailing shrilly before descending back into silence. "I think you understand why."

Her gaze swung to him, and Dave felt something inside him clench as her brown eyes met his, as though her stare had somehow penetrated his soul. "Not that it makes any difference to you," she continued. "I can still see you staring at me." Mickie looked away, ducking her head once more. "It's strange, though..." Her tone, while still cautious, had become almost thoughtful. "You don't look at me the same way everyone else does. It's like...like you don't even see the scars."

"Mickie..." Tentatively, Dave reached out to touch her arm. Mickie flinched a little at the contact, but didn't pull away. "They aren't what I see when I look at you."

"And what do you see?" At this, Mickie glanced over at him, her voice now faintly challenging.

In spite of himself. Dave felt a smile touch his mouth. He slowly slid his hand up her arm, putting his finger under her chin and tilting her face up to meet his. "Your eyes." he answered simply. As he said it, he saw Mickie's expression go slack in shock. Dave slowly ran his fingers over her cheek, feeling the rough texture of scar tissue and the smoothness of unblemished skin. "The fire...the fire I see burning in them." He hesitated for a second. "You think that you're dead...but you're more alive than anyone I've ever known."

He saw Mickie begin to shake, and started to pull his hand away, but the brunette grabbed it before he could break contact, pressing it to her face with both of hers. Her voice, when she spoke, trembled, filled with unshed tears. "I want you to tell me something," Mickie whispered. "And I want it to be the truth." Her hands closed a little tighter over his. "I don't care if everything you tell me after this is a lie--but I want this to be the one thing that was true." She hesitated for a few seconds. "When you told me that I was beautiful..." Another pause. "...did you mean it?"

Dave didn't hesitate, didn't even stop to consider the consequences of what he was saying; all he heard was the word tumbling out of his mouth: "Yes."

Mickie froze, her mouth dropping open as a startled gasp escaped her throat. Tears pooled in her eyes, gathering at her lower lashes, spilling down her cheeks one by one. She swayed a little, sagged back down toward the bed, and Dave quickly gathered her into his arms, gripping the back of her neck, and capturing her mouth in a kiss. Just like before, there was a moment, an instant of hesitation from Mickie. But it was rapidly eclipsed as the brunette arched her body toward his, entwining her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. They fumbled briefly, trying to locate each other through the layers of fabric surrounding them, before Dave eventually succeeded in pulling Mickie onto his lap. Mickie straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist. The movement nestled her body more closely against his, and Mickie let out a soft gasp--she must have felt his arousal through the swathes of blanket.

Her hushed cries were enough to incite the vampire, and he pulled her down into another intense kiss. Moving slowly downward, he kissed her jaw, her throat, taking care to avoid the bite marks. Mickie gasped as his tongue trailed along her skin, reaching up blindly to grip his neck. Dave moved lower, kissing her collarbone, her chest. He paused at her breasts, pressing his face against the space in between them, and inhaling deeply, breathing in her scent. Taking hold of the edges of the robe, he pulled it open and off her shoulders, stripping her naked to the waist.

Mickie tensed, and Dave felt her pulling back from him, drawing her arms up over her body to cover herself. He gently took hold of her wrists, preventing her from doing so, bringing her arms back down to her sides. "Don't," he whispered. Mickie stared at him in surprise, but didn't struggle in his grasp. Leaning back a little, Dave swept his gaze over the length of her upper body, taking in her full breasts, the taut plane of her abdomen, the tiny circumference of her waist. It was just like looking at her face--once you looked past the scars, all you saw was perfection.

The brunette watched him, her expression anticipatory and fearful, as though already expecting the inevitable rejection. With effort, Dave tore his eyes from her body, bringing them up to meet hers once again. "Beautiful..." he murmured, reverence creeping into his tone. He rested his hands on her abdomen, running them slowly up the length of her torso, pausing at her breasts, cupping the warm soft mounds in his palms. "You're so beautiful..." Mickie gasped, arching her back as he pressed his mouth to her skin once more, taking one breast in his mouth, then the other. His hands were under her robe now, caressing her thighs, seeking out the source of pleasure between her legs...

Mickie moaned, and clung to him even tighter as his fingers found her, slid into her. She was warm and wet, her inner walls pulsating against his fingers. Dave tilted his head up, meeting Mickie's eyes in the darkness. "You want me..." he murmured, a note of wonder creeping into his voice.

The brunette nodded. Her brown irises were cloudy; she seemed to be having trouble focusing. "Yeah..." Her affirmative became another moan as Dave plunged his fingers even deeper into her.

The vampire wasn't entirely sure what happened during the next few moments; he had these vague sensations of pulling Mickie down onto the bed, of stripping her robe off, of unwrapping the blanket until it covered them both. The next thing he remembered with any clarity was lying on top of her, his body wedged between her legs, the tip of his erection touching her. Mickie lay beneath him, her hands stretched out on either side of her head, her hair a golden-brown cloud on the pillow. Dave wanted more than anything to be inside her right now, but he forced himself to take a moment, to stare into Mickie's eyes. There was uncertainty in them still, maybe even a little doubt--but it was almost eclipsed by the need, the desire that he could feel burning through her skin. Taking a deep breath, Dave grabbed onto Mickie's legs, using them for leverage as he thrust into her.

He was not prepared for the sensations that engulfed him--after all, this was the first time he had ever, as a vampire, made love to a woman who was human. He didn't know how to describe it--it was as though he had somehow become a part of her, one of the blood cells speeding through her veins, one of the nerves receiving sensation from her skin. He could feel everything that she was feeling: her pleasure, her pain. Her heart was pounding, louder and louder, until he almost felt as though he was inside the vessel itself. He was inside her, not just physically, but emotionally as well, and for a second, he almost thought that he could glimpse himself through her eyes, could see his massive frame positioned above hers.

Dave slid his hands up her thighs, gripping her ass as he pushed deeper into her. Mickie's gasps became moans as his rhythm increased, her arms snaking around his body, her fingernails digging into his back. The vampire wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the bed a little as he continued his ceaseless thrusts, burying his face in the crook of her neck. The combined sensations--Mickie's pleasure as well as his own--was almost too much for him to bear; he didn't know how much longer he could hold out. He could feel the sensation building up inside of both of them, rising and gaining momentum, like a bubble ready to burst...

It burst, and Dave came harder than he ever had in his life, his hoarse cries almost drowned out by Mickie's screams as she reached her climax as well. They fell back onto the bed, still wrapped in each other's arms, too enslaved by the feeling to do anything more than hold each other. Eventually, Dave lifted his head, staring into Mickie's eyes. Perspiration beaded her forehead, her hair clung to her skin in damp curls. Dave pushed the stray tendrils back, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "That was...unbelievable..." he whispered, still trying to catch his breath.

"I could feel you," Mickie's voice, dazed and barely audible, floated up into his ears. The vampire brought his head up, gazing down at her. The brunette was staring at a space beyond him in the ceiling above them, her lips barely moving as she spoke. She slowly disentangled one of her arms from around him, touching her forehead. "Here." Her eyes moved, locked onto his. "It was like...I was inside your head. I could feel--" She, like him, seemed to be having trouble breathing. "--what you were feeling, what it felt like for you."

Mickie turned her head to the side, burying her face partially in the pillow. Her lips were trembling. "This doesn't make any sense." She sounded like she was on the verge of tears again. "I don't understand this. I mean, I just fucked a vampire!" She shook her head, covering her face with her hands. Her voice, when she spoke again, was muffled. "I shouldn't trust you, I shouldn't have anything to do with you; I don't understand any of this--"

"Hey, hey!" Dave took ahold of Mickie's hands, gently prying them back from her face, entwining his fingers through hers. He stared into her eyes, bright and wet with tears and so very very vulnerable. The vampire raised her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers. "I don't understand this any more than you do," he admitted after a long moment. "And it scares the hell out of me--because all I can think about is you. All I want...is you. But I'll leave...if it's what you want." He pressed her hands to his mouth. "What do you want?"

There was a long pause, then: "I want you to stay."

Mickie swallowed hard, and Dave felt her fingers tighten around his. "I want you to hold me," the brunette whispered. "Hold me, please,"

And so he did.