2.

I woke up long before it was time for me to dress for my night out. My body was accustomed to running off little sleep these days, so I always found myself waking up when my body thought I'd had enough sleep. I walked across my room, turning on a light at my desk. I sat before the piles of paper jeering from my desk. I had to finish grading the children's tests, not to mention I needed to look over some paperwork from these recent murders.

I was so involved in organizing the cluttered mess before me that I didn't know that someone was standing in my doorway until I heard a bottle top pop. "I see you found your missing beer." I said to Logan without turning to look at him. I could imagine him in my door, bottle to lips, looking dangerously sexy as usual. I wonder what brought him to up my domicile.

"Actually, I had to go out and buy more to replace the other that mysteriously disappeared." He quipped, and I turned slowly too look at him. He ran his hand through his damp locks. I watched him mesmerized brought the cool liquid to his lips. I always found it sensual the way his lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Then, as if enjoying some forbidden fruit, he pulled the bottle away from his mouth and licked his lips lazily. My knees quivered a little. Thank goodness I was sitting down. I had to stop thinking about him like that.

He walked into the room without being invited, causing the faint scent of Zest to waft through the air. I tried to keep my eyes locked on his face, but that was a hard task when the man made it a habit to walk around shirtless.

He was a distraction, and I was still trying to decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Was there something you needed?" I asked, watching him walk around my room and pick up various trinkets I had decorating my room. When he didn't answer, I turned back to my work. I knew that if Logan wanted to talk, he would eventually speak.

I know he was bothered by this impending marriage between Jean and Scott. Logan and I had talked about that a lot in recent weeks. In fact, we've talked about many things besides Jean and Scott. I think that's why our friendship worked so well. He would complain, and I would listen. I would complain, and he would listen. Sometimes, we would just sit together in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but rather soothing like warm milk before bed.

I wasn't sentient of him again until he was standing right beside my desk. He moved with amazing quietness for a man his size. I chalked it up to his inexplicable background.

His fingers brushed against mine as he picked up an article about the murders in the District. I shivered involuntarily, moving my hand quickly. I could my face getting warm at the thought of him being so near. I was acting like a smitten child. This coming from the woman who earlier claim to have no personal feelings (other than the friendly kind) for Logan. Maybe, I had lied to myself just a little about that. Okay, maybe, I had lied a lot. "This the case you workin' on?" He asked, scrutinizing the article.

"Yeah." I answered, trying to keep my mind focused on these tests. It wasn't working.

I wondered if he knew. I mean, I know he can't read minds or anything like that, but didn't his acute senses allow him to detect fear and desire (among other things)? If he did, he hadn't mentioned it, and for that, I was grateful. I was, however, becoming increasing uncomfortable with his presence. Thoughts of me sweeping the papers off my desk and telling him, "Take me now," teased my thoughts. I know I would never have the nerve to do anything so libidinous, but that didn't mean I didn't think about it. They were called fantasies for a reason.

Finally, when the thought of being drenched in cold showers didn't work, I quickly found something to talk about. "I sometimes wonder if they fit into the Professor's creed for coexistence." I said, trying to push the licentious thoughts out of my mind.

"You know how the Professor is. He believes that everyone can get along if we push our differences aside. I think that would include vampires and all those other night creatures. They're hated just like we are, and the Professor doesn't know any boundaries in kindness when it comes to freaks. He would say that if you looked at the big picture, we really ain't all that different."

That's exactly what I thought he would say, and I had to agree. The Professor believed in compromise. He would not take extreme actions until they were his last resort. I hadn't really talked with the Professor on his thoughts about vampires, werewolves, zombies, etc, but I was sure that he would say something to the effect of what Logan just said. He would point out that our struggle was the same and in some sense could be viewed as mutants. They hadn't been born that way, but something had changed them and made them into something…well… different.

That still didn't quell my dislike for them, and that made me feel somewhat troubled. My dislike for them, especially vampires, was like people's hatred for us. It was wrong, dark, and malicious, and I wondered if this how people felt when they regarded us. Or was it just a congenital hatred for anyone different. I actually had my reasons for disliking vampires, but what was everyone else's reason for hating us?

I looked at Logan who appeared to be deep in thought, and it occurred to me how well he had just articulated himself. I didn't think Logan was a dumb man, but he didn't verbally express himself often. "If I didn't know better, Logan, I'd say you actually do think." I teased.

"Very funny, 'Ro. You should take your act on the road." He said and then tousled my hair like I was one of the kids. I wondered how Logan felt about me. Funny thought, right? He had some sort of feelings for Jean, and here I was wondering how he felt about me. It was obvious how he felt. He saw me as a friend – a confidant. Well, one thing was for sure, he gave me much to think about.

We chatted idly for a few more minutes, and then he left without another word. Strange. I was sure he had something to say, but then again, you never knew what to expect with Logan.

After Logan left, I stretched and made my way toward my bathroom. I dressed in a simple, v-cut white shirt with billowing sleeves, black pants that flared slightly when I emerged from the shower. I pulled my hair up in an uncomplicated upsweep. High maintenance just wasn't my style. In my purse, a 9mm complete with silver-plated bullets was tucked away. Better safe than sorry.

Jean didn't need a babysitter, and she knew that I knew that. She was one of the most levelheaded people I knew, and I know she didn't need me following her around like a mother. She was responsible enough to know when fun was pushing along the borderline of being stupid. She would never admit it, but the real reason Jean wanted me to tag along was because she thought I spent too much time working. She said it worried her to see me throwing myself into work.

"You're going to work yourself into an early grave," she often chided. She was probably right. Most of my time was devoted to the school and to the X-Men, sometimes I worked with the police on paranormal cases, and every other weekend (or however often I was needed) I worked at Animators, Inc raising the dead. Any spare time I had was divided between my plants, my friends, and myself.

I appreciated Jean's concerned, but after a long night of work, I really just wanted to relax in the tub with a good book. Of course, I couldn't say no to my soon-to-be-married best friend. I would endure whatever her friend Carmen Pierce had in mind for us. I really didn't trust Carmen. I couldn't really place my finger on what I didn't like about her.

It could be the fact that she wasn't a mutant, and she didn't know that we were. On the other hand, maybe it was the fact that she was a little too perfect. She was always groomed to perfection. Her makeup and blonde hair was always perfect. Her normally creamy skin was always perfectly tanned. Even her smile was too perfect, and she was one of the capricious people I knew. It could be both reason and then some, but Jean liked her, and I couldn't be too hard on her for Jean's sake.

I walked into the rec room where Jean and Scott sat on the couch. A couple of the children argued over who was going to play what on the Playstation 2, Bobby and Rogue sat in a corner, talking in hushed whispers, and Logan stood nearby pretending to watch Kitty and Jubilee play table tennis, but he was actually watching Jean.

I wasn't jealous of Jean, but I was somewhat envious of all the attention she received. I could count the number of dates I had in the past year on one hand. I guess it was my own doing. After all, I was immersing myself in various projects; I just didn't have time to think about romance. If love was in the stars, it would come.

I sat in a chair not too far from the sofa. "What kind of trouble are you ladies looking to get into?" Scott asked chuckling, but I could hear the underlying apprehension. Scott was a worrier by nature, especially when it came to his fiancée.

"Don't know yet. Carmen just said it was a surprise." Jean said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Scott looked to me, and I only offered him a shrug. I had no idea where we were going either, but I knew I didn't like surprises much, and I had a feeling Carmen was going to give me another reason to be wary of her.

Carmen arrived promptly at 8pm, looking perfect as usual, causing all the guys old enough to care about women to appreciate her assets. "Hello everyone," she said happily. I greeted her with a curt nod. After exchanging pleasantries, Carmen announced we had to get going because it was going to be a long night. I winced at the words "long night".

Carmen and Jean walked ahead of me, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls. "Look out for Jean. I just don't trust Carmen." Scott whispered in my ear before I exited after them. I wanted to tell him that made two of us. I glanced at Logan who nodded at me as if he seconded Scott's thought. They didn't have anything to worry about. Jean was capable of handling herself, and if she wasn't, they knew I would be by her side.

Dinner was actually nice, and Carmen made sure to take us to the most lavish, expensive place in town. "I've got a surprised for you, Jeannie. You're going to love it." She said after her second glass of wine. A Cheshire grin covered her face, and that proverbial feeling of dread balled in the pit of my stomach.

After dinner, I found myself walking with them toward the District. Most people knew it as the playground of our newly liberated vampires. I knew it as trouble, but I bit back my ominous words and continued to follow walk with the two. "I bet you don't know what's right around this corner." Carmen said with a knowing tone.

"Vermillion Nights." I said on cue.

Jean looked from me to Carmen. "What's Vermillion Nights?" She asked with all the innocence of a blushing virgin. I tried not to roll my eyes as Carmen held up a hand to keep me from speaking.

"It's your surprise." Carmen answered.

Just as I thought, I didn't like this surprise. We walked around the corner where a large, neon sign proclaimed we had arrived at our destination. There was a line of anxious women nearly backed to the corner we just rounded. I started to feel a little better when I realized that we might not even get in the place. I started to make my way toward the end of the line. Carmen grabbed my arm, smiling that same disgustingly perfect smile.

"What are you doing? I don't wait in lines." Carmen laughed, putting a hand to her chest.

Jean and I followed her to the front of the line where a bouncer nodded us in. "Have fun, Carmen," he said with a nod. I looked at Carmen incredulously. Vermillion Nights was a pretty hot ticket in this town. Most people didn't just get to waltz into the club, and they could forget about being on a first name basis with the bouncer. What made Carmen any different?

I walked into the club ignoring the sign that announced all weapons holy or not should be left outside the club. There was no way I was about to ditch my gun in a club filled with vampires. It just wasn't happening. Music blared through the speakers, the beat seemingly thumping to my now quickened pulse. I wanted to get Jean out of here before she could be exposed to this type of lifestyle.

"Ororo, what a pleasant surprise to see you here. You just couldn't keep away, could you?" The familiar, harmonious voice washed over me. Vega—the club owner and resident head vamp—stood before us. I tired not to look at him, but even without looking, I could conjure up his face well. I could see long, blonde hair framing an angular face, spilling over his shoulders, the tips of his hair curling a bit. I could envision pouty lips upturned in a mischievous grin.

However, his most astonishing feature had to be his eyes. Hypnotic, seductive, and outlined by lush lashes, I could only describe the color as antifreeze green. He'd once almost captured me with those eyes. Yes, Vega was a handsome man. Tall, lithe, and beautiful beyond comparison, he was the model vampire – if there was such a thing. And he knew it, and I think it was part of what fueled his air of narcissism.

He could also be quite deadly if he chose to be. I'd say he's been roaming the earth at least five centuries. I could tell by the way he moved – or rather didn't move. He possessed that ethereal finesse that younger vampires hadn't yet acquired. I'd even heard rumors that he was around during the Spanish Inquisition, which dated back to 1478 (even earlier).

I looked around his club distastefully. "Vega, you flatter yourself. You obviously don't know me very well if you think I'd actually come to this place by choice."

Carmen raised her eyebrow with obvious interest. "Do you two know each other?" She asked.

"I've been working cases with the police in this area." I explained quickly.

"A vampire expert, I believe they call you." The words rolled off his tongue like warmed honey, his notably Spanish accent adding a certain sensuality to them.

Jean was staring at Vega transfixed, and I elbowed her slightly. "Never look a vampire in the eyes." I said, knowing there was no point in whispering. He would've heard me anyway. Jean ripped her eyes away from his, looking at me with a hint of fear in her eyes.

"I'm hurt to know to know that you think I would hurt someone so beautiful." He said with mock offense in his voice. He grasped Jean's hand between his long, slender fingers, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. I might've gagged if I thought I could get away with it. Jean blushed. He repeated the process with Carmen, and she giggled. I pulled away from him, not wanting him to touch me.

"Don't worry. I am not going to touch you." Vega said promptly as if reading my mind. His voice remained calm and inviting. I almost wanted to look him in the face, in the eyes. "I do, however, have to make sure you're not carrying any weapons."

I grimaced, clutching my purse tightly. "I don't have anything."

"No crosses?"

"You know as well as I do that crosses have to be blessed and backed by faith, and my faith doesn't count." I didn't believe in the Christian God. Therefore, it was completely pointless for me to run around waving crosses in vampires' faces. Lucky them. If it wasn't for that small technicality, more than a few vampires would be in some trouble, including Vega…

"Ororo, is there something on your mind?" That damn voice was going to be the undoing of me. Vega was intrigued by me because unlike most people, I didn't fall for his vampire charms. Every time we ran into each other, he would put the old magic to work, and I would disregard him. So far, I had come out victorious every single time. Let's hope it stays that way.

"You never objected to me carrying anything before." I protested.

"That was business. This is pleasure. Do you really believe all your power resides in that detestable gun resting in your purse?"

I really wanted to hit him with a lightening bolt right then. It wouldn't kill him, but he sure wouldn't be happy while he was healing. I glared angrily at his chest and reached inside my purse, retrieving the gun. A human woman materialized at my side, taking the gun from me, and giving me a claim ticket. Now, let's see him get on my bad side; that gun would be the least of his worries.

I followed Carmen and Jean to a table; the club was seemingly packed wall to wall with women. There was just something about the existence of a vampire strip club that didn't settle well with me, but from the looks of the turnout for this place, I might be one of few. I looked around at the women with the wolfish grins and gleaming eyes, and I realized that I was probably the only woman here who didn't actually want to be here.

Yes, these women were excited about whatever it was that was about to happen here, but there was also that fear. It wasn't the kind of fear that made you want to run away and hide. It was the kind of fear that enchanted you, that made something forbidden desirable. That feeling was thick in the room, making it almost hard to breathe. Even Carmen's face reflected these tumultuous feeling, and poor Jean looked bewildered beyond belief.

What is this place? Jean asked me wordlessly. That was the good thing about being best friends with a telepath. Sometimes, you didn't even have to talk aloud. Maybe, I could convince Jean that we didn't need to be here.

It's a vampire strip club. I answered back, and Jean's head snapped toward me, her fiery locks blazing around her face. She searched for sincerity.

You have got to be kidding. She responded.

I'm afraid not. It's not too late to leave, Jean. We'd probably be better off leaving. I was trying to sound persuasive, but I didn't think it was working as the lights began to dim and soft music began to play.

No, I want to stick around for a while, and see what's going to happen. I wanted to blame the alcohol Jean had consumed with Carmen earlier. Perhaps, it had loosened her inhibitions. The alcohol had probably made Jean feel a little freer, but I knew the natural fascination with vampires was what made her want to stay.

Vega's mellow voice pierced the dimness of the room, promising a night we women would never forget. If an ordinary man had said those words, it would've been trite and corny, but when Vega said them, it was like listening to a hedonic prophecy. His voice had the ability to carry you way, to envision him and yourself dancing under the velvety sky, his lips against your neck… My heart thumped hard in my chest, unwittingly bringing me back to reality. I looked around again, noting the captivated look on the women's faces. Even Jean had given in to "the voice".

It almost seemed cultish in a sense, and I was ashamed I had been part of it for a few seconds.

Vega finally announced the first act an impish looking man by the name of Jean-Paul Beaubier sauntered onto the stage. He was dressed in the everyday jeans and t-shirt with a jacket. I analyzed the man carefully as he danced erotically around the stage. He was definitely a younger vampire. He still betrayed signs of living, but even before he'd been turn, this man would've been out of the ordinary.

He was attractive enough with his dark hair and innocent veneer. He seemed almost angelic in a dark way. What made him stand out were his eyebrows and ears – as peculiar as that sounds. His eyebrows had an unusual arch to them; they swept up and away from his eyes at the edges instead of arching up then back down. His ears were also very unusual. Small and pointy, most people would call them elfish. But elves didn't exist? Did they? I wouldn't be surprised if they did.

Off came the jacket. He tossed it to a table where a group of women literally tore at each other's throats to get hands on it. Squeals of delight filled the room as he ripped the shirt from his body, revealing washboard abs. I rolled my eyes when I saw that he was coming down into the audience. I guess it was time to work that vampire charm. He went from table to table gyrating his slender hips for the ladies, even letting many of them touch his chest, arms, abs… whatever they desired.

I crossed my arms when the man approached our table. Carmen stuffed money down the man's pants, eagerly. She hopped from her chair, throwing her arms around him, bringing her lips to his, running her fingers through his dark unruly locks. I had to admit that woman had nerve. When Carmen finally let him go, he turned to Jean and me. Jean started inspecting her nails. If he thought I was going put my hands down his pants, he had another thought coming.

He reached out to touch me and I pushed my chair back quickly, too quickly, just as I had done with Mortimer the night before. A collective gasp rose from the women, and even though I couldn't see Jean-Paul's face, I could tell from his stance that he was surprised. "If you value your existence, I suggest you move along."

Vega materialized at my side, whispering in my ear, "Ororo, what's wrong? Are you not having fun, mi belleza?" His voice rolled over my skin, warming it slightly. Those thoughts about dancing under the star-speckled sky filled my head again, but I fought them valiantly.

"You tell your employees," I strained the word employees for his benefit, "not to touch me, or so help me Goddess, they'll never see another twilight."

"Such harsh words from such a beautiful woman." His lips were close to my ear, the cool breath exuding from his words tickling my lobe like fine mist. "Surely, you cannot mean that. We can fulfill any physical desire you have, and yet, you still hate us."

"Get away from me," my voice didn't sound too commanding, and I'm sure he picked up on the uncertainty in it. He let out a throaty chuckle and disappeared into the shadows.

Jean-Paul was now at the far end of the club, still collecting money from the willing patrons. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Turning my head slowly, I saw another vampire, moving stealthily across the room toward Jean-Paul. Still fairly young, maybe not even a century old, but still skilled in the art of covertness.

Most of the women didn't notice him until he floated by their table. He made his way to Jean-Paul confidently, standing behind the younger vampire, who still wasn't aware of him. Slowly, Jean-Paul turned to face this other vampire, looking into his eyes. This other vampire beckoned Jean-Paul to follow him back to the stage, and he complied. Once on the stage, Jean-Paul stood on the stage seemingly in a trance as the other vampire walked around him, treating him as his prey.

I swallowed hard as the air filled with a sort of urgency, watching this other vampire stand in front of Jean-Paul. He tilted Jean-Paul's face toward him, pressing his body close to Jean-Paul's, bringing his lips close enough to kiss, but instead he spoke to him. I couldn't hear what was being said, and I was guessing it really wasn't too important. Suddenly, the vampire forced Jean-Paul's head back. Fear for what I knew he was about to do washed over me.

I sat there afraid, unmoving, as the older vamp brought his lips to Jean-Paul's throat. "No…" I whispered, watching as he violently latched himself to Jean-Paul. I did not want to see this. It was revolting and sadistic, but these women delighted in it. It was nothing like the dark seduction you always heard about. This was something crueler, and yet, they still reveled in it. This brought to my mind the theory behind sex and violence, how it was supposed to be appealing to our animalistic core.

I ripped my eyes away from the scene before me. This was nothing more than an elaborate game, but all the same, I had been affected by it. I had feared for Jean-Paul; I had gotten caught up in the moment. However, I was only human, and even I wasn't immune to every ruse in the vampire book.

I felt an intense gaze, inspecting me, causing the fine hairs on my neck to stand. I turned around quickly to find Vega standing in the doorway. He tipped a champagne glass—filled with his own brand of red wine—knowingly at me. The bastard had been in my head. If I knew it wouldn't land me on the nightly news, I swear I'd rip this place apart with a tornado.

Vibrating on my hip brought me out of my malevolent thoughts. The police station was paging me. You don't know how pleased I was.