II

Raiyne rolled around in her bed. The blue, silk sheets tangled around her legs as she twisted and turned. Beside her bed, the alarm clock continued its mechanical beeping.

"No...w-wait...no!" Raiyne's eyes flew open and she propped herself up. She searched the room but there was no use, she was back home. No longer was she waltzing about and rolling around with a vampyric hottie. Reality can really be a bitch sometimes. Running a hand through her silken hair, she surveyed her room. Moving out and living on your own sure did allow for a lot of independence. Her bed was a queen sized canopy bed. The comforter a blue silk, feather stuffed overpriced treasure of hers. Actually the whole silk set was overpriced. Her canopy was black lace and could be pulled back and tied around each of the four posts. She had a cherry wood amour and desk that sat in opposite corners. The trunk at the front of her bed was black, with gold locks. The blood red curtains hid the blazing sunlight. Usually New York was rainy and dreary, but then again, today really wasn't starting out well.

Raiyne wore a light, white cotton tank. Its loose fitting design helped to fight off whatever heat there may be in the middle of the night. The cotton pants she wore were black and drawstring. They were tied on loosely, surprising was the fact that they stayed on. With the dream still playing in her mind, Raiyne flopped backwards onto her pillow with a groan. "I need to get laid."

Raiyne rushed around her in apartment, searching every nook and cranny. She had only a few minutes before Tara would be here. The whole apartment has already been turned upside down and her shoes were no where to be found. Reaching out to grab a couch pillow, Raiyne froze. The dream she had last night, had faintly been playing in her head all day. But it was only a dream, nothing more...right? Taking a few shaky breaths, Raiyne kept reassuring herself, as she stared at the faint red dot on her wrist. While that held her attention, Raiyne didn't hear her front door open.

Tara opened the door slowly. Peeking her head in, she scanned the apartment for Raiyne. Blonde hair fell in silky waves to her shoulders. Its cut and style framed her face perfectly. Her almond shaped eyes tilted up at the corners, giving her an exotic look. Thick lashes and outlined eyes made their blue color stand out. her mouth was small and round, blood red in color. Noticing Raiyne standing at her couch, Tara stepped in the door and made her way towards her.

Tara wore a white, spaghetti strapped tank top. Printed on the shirt was a black rose, with blood running off the petals. A long sleeved, fish net shirt overlapped the tank. Hanging from her neck was a silver pentacle. Her long nails were painted a blood red, like her lips. A simple pair of light blue jeans, clung to long legs. Small black boots gave an extra inch or two to her short height. Standing beside Raiyne, she stared at her with a questioning look.

"Raiyne?" Tara called softly to her. Reaching out, she gently touched her shoulder. "Hey, what are you doing? We have to be at the theater in five minutes." Raiyne blinked her eyes and looked over at Tara.

"Oh, Tara." She raised a brow quizzically at her. "when did you get here?"

"Just now." Glancing down, Tara saw the small blemish on her wrist. Snatching Raiyne's wrist, Tara brought it closer to her face. She looked at it closely, then ran a finger over it. Raiyne flinched, surprised at its tenderness. Looking back up at her friend, Tara questioned the small mark. "Spider get you last night. Perhaps a bed bug." Smiling in a teasing manner, she released the hand.

"Yeah..." Raiyne rubbed her wrist and looked deep in thought. "...a bed bug." Reaching down, she grabbed the shoes that had been under the pillow.

"You're not going dressed like that are you?" Tara commented. Raiyne quickly looked down at her attire.

Her top was a black tank, modeled as a corset. A dark purple, vertical piece was on the front. The whole front beneath her chest was laced up. It smoothed her stomach and gave her probably more curves than she needed. A short, mid-thigh skirt hung off her waist. It flared out, made in a panel like pattern. Instead of nylons, she wore fishnets. The shoes she held were knee high, buckles up the sides, heeled boots.

"What?" Raiyne turned around once, then looked behind at herself. "I don't look that bad." she retorted. Tara only laughed. Using a mirror hanging on the wall, she checked over her make-up. The liquid eyes were outlined in an onyx black color. Smokey eyelids added an intoxicating touch to her face. Lips were painted a deep red, with a hint of black, color. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, long bangs hanging on either side of her face with a slight curl to them.

"No, not at all." Tara ran her fingers through her hair, as she looked into the mirror also. "I'm actually surprised you've lasted this long, without popping your Pringles and having some fun." Raiyne's jaw dropped and she turned on Tara. Tara just smiled devilishly.

"You whore!" Raiyne snapped and sat on the couch, pulling her boots on.

"What? It's a delicious experience." Tara licked her lips as Raiyne made a mock disgusted face. When she had finished buckling her boots up. Raiyne stood and attempted to pull her skirt down. Tara headed for the door, Raiyne close on her heels. Retrieving her black, messenger bag off its hook by the front door, Raiyne dropped her apartment keys in it. "You can pull that skirt down all you want hun. It ain't covering that big butt of yours any better." Raiyne growled and shoved a laughing Tara out her front door. Locking the door, she firmly shut it after her.

Leaves rustled around in the darkness. The gentle wind moving them to its will. White marble of the silent tomb glistened in the light of the full moon. Silent was the graveyard tonight. No hooligans and punks running amuck. It seemed as if everyone was aware that this night was special. That if one was to be present among the graves tonight, they would quickly be joining the silent dead. The solid, marble door was slightly ajar on the eerie tomb. Inside, placed accessibly in the middle, was a large stone coffin. The black marble was smooth and reflective. As it neared eleven o'clock, the wind howled and rats scattered into dark corners. With an echoing creak, the lid to the coffin began to slide to the side.

Pale hands with long, sharp nails were the first to appear. One pushing the lid off, the other holding onto the side edge. Slowly, as the lid crashed to the ground, D'Artagnan stood. His hair, still wavy and shining, fell neatly into place. The black, silk shirt was button up, only allowing a slight glimpse at his slim, defined chest. Stepping over the coffin's edge, he still wore the gripping leather pants. The boots making an echoing sound, when they touched the floor. He now also wore a calf-length, leather trench coat. Leaving it open, it flowed out behind him like a cape, as he left the tomb. It had been his grave for the last one hundred years. Now he was alive...and hungry.

Stepping outside, D'Artagnan turned his face upwards, closing his eyes against the cool night air. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times, the muscles rippling as he stretched. Standing there a moment, he surveyed the graveyard. A predatory gleam was in his shadowed eyes. Closing his eyes, he listened. The fading wind carried the sounds of nearby abandoned warehouses to him. When the voices reached his sensitive ears, he smiled and opened his eyes. As the full moon lit the way, D'Artagnan ventured from the graveyard and into his new domain.

D'Artagnan was alive again. The sounds and sights of the abandon buildings welcoming to him. He was on the prowl. One hundred years of sleep had put an enormous hole in him, waiting to be filled. The hunger inside, given to him, makes him who he is. Always it is calling, for the blood of man. Standing in the shadows up ahead was that man. It was evident that he was trying to avoid being seen. to most people, he would be invisible. But in D'Artagnan's keen eyes, he was already dead.

Moving slowly towards him, D'Artagnan was careful not to make it known to the man that he knew of his presence.

"Humans..." D'Artagnan chuckled at their stupidity. When he came nearer, the man stepped out from the shadows. Making his way towards D'Artagnan, he brought a knife from his pocket. D'Artagnan's eyes darted to the gleaming blade. As the man stepped into him, he raised the knife. Aiming to come in at an angle, the knife came down towards D'Artagnan's neck. In one swift motion and without the man noticing, D'Artagnan had him by the wrist of the hand that held the blade. Gripping it tightly, the sickening popping sound of breaking bones and bursting veins was heard. The man let the knife drip. Snaking one hand up D'Artagnan grabbed the man by the throat. He pushed him up against the nearest wall. The man struggled and tried once more to get the upper hand. But all his efforts were useless.

D'Artagnan held fast to the man's throat. The muscles in his arm and shoulder were tight. The strength he used though, was beginning to take effect. Finally the struggling began to cease. Unconscienceness had begun to take place. When D'Artagnan felt the man's arms drop. He leaned in hungrily towards the pulsing neck vein. Opening his mouth wide, he punctured the man's throat with his fangs. The warm liquid flowed from the wound and into his mouth. D'Artagnan drank deep and to the point of death for the man. Pulling away, D'Artagnan let the man fall to the ground.

Lifting his head to the sky, he breathed deep the cool air of the night. Not a drop of blood had been left on his pale face. He looked down at the man, his piercing eyes darkening to their original color. Walking down the street, he came to the edges of the city. Blue eyes stared up in awe at the tall buildings. It was then, when a familiar sound of sophisticated entertainment, drew him towards the nearby theater.

The theater was quite as the audience became hooked on the last scene. Raiyne and Tara had obtained seats in the balcony. What they had been watching was a recent play created and directed by a college student. Surprisingly it was entertaining and not childish. It had been about a vampire of old, who had come to find a bride. The idea was slightly original, but that didn't matter. Raiyne knew it was going to end up on Broadway. Tara had seemed to be quite into it. But for the sake of her friend, Raiyne pretended to be interested. In reality her mind was somewhere else. Where to be exact? Wandering around in an endless world of mist and smoke, not alone…but with a vampire. Least, from what she's read in books and seen it movies, it was a vampire. This whole day, she'd had that vampire on her mind. The dream would not cease and desist. Normally she wouldn't care about a dream this much. Looking down, she inspected the mark on her wrist again. Sense it had not gone away, she'd been worried. Course, like Tara said it could be some kind of bug bite. In the dream though, it had all been so real, and this seemed to prove it.

Before Raiyne knew it, the audience had exploded into applause. She stood, not wanting to look out of place, and clapped. "It wasn't all that great." She thought bitterly. As soon as the people began filing out, Raiyne found herself being dragged down to the ground floor. "Well, I suppose Tara will have a good night tonight." It was obvious that Tara was making a beeline for the director. "Tara, just what exactly are you trying to do."

"I'm going to get my kicks in," Tara replied, shoving her way past a person. "…while I'm still young enough to get them. I'm surprised you aren't as enthusiastic. You sure are dressed to impress to night." She cast a look over her shoulder. "Though you'll probably be more impressive undressed." Raiyne glared and stopped, swinging her bag at Tara.

"Slut." Tara only beamed with pride. "As much as I'd love to stay and romp around with the two of you, I have to open tomorrow." Raiyne and Tara owned a magic shop together. The number of Wicca practices in New York was unbelievable. The business was good and they enjoyed what they did. They had spell books, ingredients, potions, charms, whatever you need to perform your rituals and spells. There was a disappointed look on Tara's face when she turned around. "Sorry hun, but I've gotta get some sleep." Now Raiyne felt bad about leaving her. But she did not want to hang around. The whole day had been kind of stressful for her. All she needed now was a good night's sleep. After a quick hug, Raiyne weaved her way through the crowd and headed for the door. Stepping into the street, the cold air nipped at her bare shoulders and legs. The streets were far too crowded and Raiyne's hopes of getting home soon were crushed.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, her bag on her shoulder, Raiyne headed down the street. The soft thud of her boots blended in with the other city noises. As Raiyne passed by the mouth of an ally, strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist. Her scream was reduced to a muffled "Omph!", as a strong hand covered her mouth. Dragged into the ally and roughly shoved up against the wall, the hand left her mouth. "What the fuck." Her eyes darted to her…attackers? "Who the hell are you?" She tried stepping forward but was shoved back up against the wall. Two of the three men were on either side of her. Each one pinned an arm up against the brick wall. The third stepped in closer.

"Why, we're only here to keep a young, helpless thing like you in check. You sure seem like your quite a ways from your corner." His greasy black hair hung down past his shoulders. Beady brown eyes stared at her, lust filled as he took in her body. A loose shirt hung off his narrow shoulders, a jean jacket only making him look smaller. His pants were full of holes and tucked untidily into worker boots. Raiyne eyes flashed as he hinted to her being a whore.

"In your dreams…" She spat. A lonely hand rested on her stomach. The two henchmen beside her chuckled.

"Real men don't dream, sweetheart." His breath was rank. Raiyne turned away from him, nose scrunched up.

"They don't bath much either." She was rewarded with a forceful backhand. He roughly began to force his hands up her shirt. Raiyne struggled at the sudden violation. The two buddies of the man had released her. She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away. "Get off! Stop!" With a swift knee to the groin, the man went down and Raiyne ran. In the wrong direction might I add. At the end of the alley there was a chain link fence. Trying to scale it in her boots would be impossible. "I'm not helpless, I'm not helpless…" Raiyne repeated over and over as she tried inevitably to scale it. Looking behind her she saw the three men advancing on her. Two of them each held a knife. Her eyes widened to the size of softballs. "I am helpless…I'm gonna DIE!" She shut her eyes tightly and screamed. Screamed like a horror movie bimbo, surely someone would hear. I mean, shouldn't glass windows be breaking? Raiyne stopped when she heard a blood chilling yell.

Opening her eyes she turned, her back to the fence, and looked into the alley. She could see a shadowed figure, hunched over bodies of the two henchman. The almost rapist, was backed against a wall. The figure advanced on him, hands tense at its sides. With a lightning fast reflexes, it had the man by the throat. It raised him above the ground, and with one quick move, snapped his neck. The man fell to the ground lifeless. Raiyne was paralyzed. She stared as she saw the figure turn on her. It walked towards her and Raiyne made herself flat against the fence. When it entered the stream of light, coming from a nearby window, she gasped. It was…was…him. The vampire from her dreams smiled at her, and Raiyne felt her knees get weak.

"Are you alright?" He inquired, smiling softly at her. Raiyne's tongue felt like dead weight in her mouth. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "How rude of me, not introducing myself to you." Stepping closer to him her took her left hand and turned it over, exposing the faint red mark. "I'm…" He leaned down and lightly kissed her wrist, instead of the back of her hand. "…D'Artagnan." When Raiyne felt his lips on her wrist, images from her dream started flying about in her head. An instant rage over took her and she glared at him. Pulling her hand away, she made a fist with her right hand and made to give him a right hook. But before she even got close to him, he grabbed her wrist, spun her around and pinned her against him. His arm across her chest, still holding her wrist.

"Let go. Now." Raiyne tried to sound convincing, but there was a slight pleasure in being close to him. D'Artagnan laughed.

"Or what? You'll hit me." Raiyne clenched her jaw, knowing she'd lost. He was right. What was she going to do? Beat up a vampire. Yeah, right. Though it was an inspiring though, she really was helpless. "You haven't told me your name. Not even said thank you after I saved your mortal ass." Raiyne struggled and was surprised when she was released. She turned on him to find him standing there, a cool demeanor about him.

"Raiyne," She said quietly, looking for a way around him. But she caught herself staring at him mostly. The smart aleck smile on his face only made him look that much better. "Oh goddess, I'm falling for a…vampire. I must be losing it." That's when Raiyne noticed she wasn't the only one staring. D'Artagnan was smiling now, his eyes moving up and down. Raiyne growled, but a chilling breeze ripped through the alley. She found herself shivering and her house was more than ten blocks away. D'Artagnan seemed to find this quite entertaining. He walked up to her, stripping off his leather trench.

"Come on, dying from stupidity would be quite embarrassing for a mortal like you." He commented, holding his coat open behind her. Raiyne snaked her arms into the sleeves.

"Stupidity! What's that suppose to mean?" She snapped, irritated at the teasing smile of his. But her insides flopped about and she looked away.
"Well, who leaves their house dressed like that." He observed. "Especially if they are going to be out in the middle of the night." Raiyne wrapped the coat around here, she turned to look at him. She was met with a piercing gaze. She melted for a moment, then regained her composure. "Shall we go madam." Staring at him opened mouthed, trying to find the right words, Raiyne glared.
"You know, I'm beginning not to like you." She turned around fast and headed for the alley mouth.

"Funny," D'Artagnan called, following her. "because I'm beginning to love you." Raiyne didn't have to look back, to know he had a smartass smile on his face. But as she walked down the street, she felt her face burning. Why her? Did she really look that attracting tonight?