10/10/05
THOSE WHO HUNT THE NIGHT
Chapter 4
Back at the Crime Lab, Pretty Archie and I contacted my cell phone provider and had them dump my most recent calls. They determined that Vero's call came from another, pre-paid, cell phone. In order for them to track it, that phone needed to be on, which it currently wasn't. They agreed to monitor my phone and trace Vero's phone if it became active again. So, basically, I had to wait to see if Vero called me again.
For the rest of the afternoon, I sat in on a meeting with Brass, someone from the State Police, and another FBI agent from the local field office, a complete, pompous ass by the name of Rick Culpepper. If this was the same agent Grissom had mentioned earlier, I could understand his animosity toward the feds.
During this meeting, we hashed out our game plan for the evening. If Jimmy held to his pattern, he would kill again tonight. We wanted to make certain that his most likely haunts would be well covered. And we wanted ample back-up available, should the need for it arise.
It was late when we finally broke up and everyone left to brief their respective teams. As I had no team to command, I was officially relegated to the sidelines, in an 'advisory' capacity.
"Why don't you go on back to your hotel and take a load off," Brass had condescendingly suggested. "We'll call you and let you know when we've caught him."
"You know, I just might do that," I had said with my sweetest smile.
I, of course, had absolutely no intention of doing that. If anyone was going to be finding Vero, it would be me. Glancing at my watch, I figured it was late enough that Nick might have come in and I headed back to the Crime Lab.
Inside the lab I wandered around the maze of nearly identical, glass-walled labs, looking for some familiar landmark. Finally deciding that I was lost, I stopped the first technician I found and asked where I might find Nick Stokes. I was directed to the break room. As I was approaching this room, the sound of my own name, made me pause and listen. The room in question was still a few feet ahead of me and I couldn't see who all was present, but the door was open and I could clearly hear the conversation going on inside.
"So, I saw you leaving with Mercy, earlier today." I recognized Warrick's low voice speaking. "What's up with that?"
"She bought me lunch, not that it's any of your damn business," I heard Nick's playful response.
"Yeah, I suppose that's the least she could do after she got you removed from the case."
"I can't believe you went out with her after what she did to you." That sounded like the grumpy brunette I had briefly met earlier. I couldn't remember her name.
"What do you mean, 'went out'? Who said it was a date? And since when does everyone take such an interest in my personal life?" Nick asked, sounding slightly defensive.
"Since you started going out with federal agents," Brunette said. "Just be careful, Nick, the feds have their own agendas."
"Yeah, and you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Sara?"
That was it, Sara!
"Alright, yes, I do know about that. I'm speaking from experience. Look, I'll be honest. I don't like her. I get a bad vibe from her."
"What? Sara, you barely even spoke to her."
"I know, but there's something about her that's not right. I don't know what it is, but she gives me the creeps."
"Really? I think she's kind of hot," said a youthful voice that took me a moment to identify... Blondie, I mean, Greg. "I mean, if a nice-looking woman wants to drag me out on a dance floor, rip my shirt off and make out with me in front of a few hundred complete strangers and a couple of my co-workers, I'm good with it."
"Shut up, Greg, you're not helping!" Nick snapped.
"Ooh, someone's feeling a little defensive."
Without even being in the room, I could almost see the glare I was sure Nick was aiming at his younger colleague.
"Oh, lighten up, Nick, we're just trying to look out for you." I didn't recognize this female voice at all. It apparently belonged to someone I had not yet been introduced to.
"Yeah, I know, Cath," he said, his tone much more moderate this time, "but did it ever occur to any of you, that I don't need to be looked after? I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, we know, but you're going to get mothered, whether you like it or not, for the next few months, at least. You may as well accept it, Nick," the unknown woman said, her tone matching her words.
I didn't catch his response to this statement, as I noticed Grissom walking down the hall, headed toward me. He was looking at a file folder in his hand and hadn't seen me yet. Quickly reaching into the pocket of my suit jacket, I pulled out my cell phone and pretended to be absorbed in reading some text messages. From the corner of my eye, I saw the supervisor disappear into the break room. Continuing with my phone ruse, I resumed eavesdropping on the assembled CSIs.
"Warrick, why are you still here?" I heard Grissom ask. "I thought I sent you home a half hour ago?"
"Yeah, but I haven't summoned up the energy to face the drive home yet," the younger man responded.
"Well, you better hurry. After all, you don't want to keep the little woman waiting." This came from the unknown female. Hmmm, did I detect a note of bitterness buried under all that forced cheerfulness?
"Okay," Grissom said, taking charge, "assignments for the evening. Warrick's going home. Nick, you've got a breaking and entering over at McKinley High School."
"A B&E?" Nick asked. "Come on, Gris, can't Greg take this?"
"No, because Greg and Sara have a DB, found in the courtyard of the Saturn Arms Apartment complex. Besides, the person who broke into the high school stole some things from the chemistry lab, specifically magnesium and silver nitrate."
"A potentially volatile combination..." Nick said.
"Exactly, LVPD is taking this very seriously."
"Alright, I'm on it."
"Catherine, you and I get to hang out and see if we might be needed to deal with anything that comes up the Vero Case."
"Great and in the meantime, let me guess... paperwork?" the as-yet-unseen Catherine asked.
"You got it!"
The sounds of chairs scraping on the tile floor and shuffling feet, warned me that the meeting was adjourned. Glancing up, I saw the group filing out of the room. I smiled as I saw Nick heading toward me.
"Hey," he said, returning my smile and stopping in front of me. "So, I take it that you're not mad at me for kicking you out earlier?"
"No, I'm not mad. In fact, I was rather hoping we could go get breakfast later."
"Well, it'll have to be quite a bit later. But aren't you going to be out with the cops looking for Vero?"
"I've been given the night off," I said tactfully.
"Ah. So, what, you're just going to hang out here?"
"No," I said with a smile. "I'm going to head out and do some looking on my own."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Don't worry, I'll call for back-up if I spot him," I lied.
"So, do you think Vero will kill again tonight?"
"Well, if he sticks to his pattern, he'll try. Hopefully, there'll be someone around to stop him," I said.
"I've heard Grissom say that signature killers always know who their next victim is. Do you think Vero's already picked out his victim for tonight?"
"Oh, I know he has."
"And what happens if he is caught tonight? You'll be leaving after that?" he asked, not meeting my eyes.
"Well, assuming that we do catch him tonight, there'll be a lot of paperwork, processing, interrogations. That kind of thing could take a few days. And agents like me, who work special cases, we can sort of set our own hours, call our own shots..." I let my voice trail off as I realized that I was simply babbling.
What the hell? Since when do I care about trying to connect with these Breathers? It's usually just screw 'em, bite 'em, and move on. What the hell was happening to me? This entire hunt was getting way out of hand. I needed to find Vero, kill him and get the hell out of Dodge. And the sooner, the better.
"Okay, well then I'll see you later and maybe we could try that whole going-back-to-my-place thing again," Nick said, completely derailing my previous train of thought.
"Yeah? Are you sure about that?" I asked, glancing up into those incredible, soft, dark eyes.
"Yeah."
Reaching out, I grabbed onto his belt with both hands and pulled him closer. Oh, yeah, I really needed to get the hell out of Las Vegas... in a couple of days. I was just contemplating kissing him, when we were both startled by a voice coming from behind us.
"Nick, that crime scene isn't going to process itself."
We both jumped slightly and turned to see Grissom standing, watching us with a disapproving eye. Nick nodded and gave me a quick smile, before dutifully heading off to his assignment. I turned back to Grissom, who simply walked away.
I headed out to the parking lot as well and climbed into my little rented Honda. I drove back to my hotel to change into some comfortable, 'working' clothes. I threw on a pair of loose, black workout pants and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt. I slipped on a pair of Birkenstocks and headed out the door.
Back at my car, I used my spiffy, government-issue, portable GPS unit to access directions to McKinley High School. Full darkness had long since settle over the city by the time I arrived at the large, two-story, brick building, which looked suspiciously like a prison to me. Driving around to the back parking lot, I found Nick's SUV, a patrol car, and a couple of non-descript, mid-size sedans. I parked at the rear of the lot, in the shadow of a large tree.
Exiting the vehicle, I popped the trunk. Inside, was a long, thin, canvas bag, with a long carrying strap. Pulling down the zipper, which ran the length of the bag, I opened it and removed the item housed within.
It was a bokken, a wooden practice sword used for centuries by the Samurai to learn and hone their sword-fighting skills without fear of injury. The 'sword' was 40 inches long, as was standard for a katana, and was shaped and weighted just like a katana. Now, in the case of my specially made bokken, the edge and point were sharpened. The 'blade' had then been blackened by fire, then sharpened again, thus hardening the wood and allowing it to retain its edge longer. The blade was now completely blackened, and not just from the fires, but from the blood that had soaked into the wood, as well.
You see, this was my killing sword, the Clementis Fata, as I called it, borrowing the name my friend had given to me. There are three ways to kill a vampire: burning, beheading, and the ever popular, wooden stake through the heart. But a stake is such a crude, rudimentary weapon, no style at all, and very difficult to fight with, if your opponent decides not to go quietly. But a sword made of wood is far more practical and provides a much more elegant death, don't you think? Okay, yes, we all have our little vanities and, well, I dig swords.
I had spent many years in Japan, studying with Master Kenshi, learning to use my unique weapon and I am quite adept at both Kendo and Iaido. Like a 'real' katana, my bokken had a silk cord-wrapped hilt and a steel guard, with the traditional 'wheel' design.
Slipping off my Birks and tossing them into the still –open trunk (I worked much better in bare feet); I tucked the sword under my arm and jogged across the parking lot to the building. As I had expected, the door Nick and the officer had entered, had automatically locked behind them. This reassured me that the building was at least somewhat secure. I wandered around the perimeter of the school, looking for some way up to the roof.
As I had told Nick, I knew that Jimmy had already chosen his next victim and I knew he had chosen Nick. So, while the rest of the FBI and LVPD were out running around the city, I planned to stay close to the target. I would be on hand when Jimmy made his move and this time, I would be ready, killing sword in hand.
Finding a metal ladder attached to the side of the building, I started up it. Since I preferred to hunt my vampire prey barefoot, my feet were heavily calloused and the ridged metal rungs of the ladder didn't bother me overly much. Once I had reached the flat, black-pitch roof, I began patrolling the perimeter, looking for any sign of Vero's presence. My superior, vampire night vision allowed me to see quite clearly in the dark and my superior vantage point would allow me to see him long before he saw me.
I paced the roof of the school for nearly three hours, without a hint of Vero. I felt no telltale tingle, indicating his presence, but I kept to my vigil. Finally, I heard movement below me and I moved to the rear of the building and looked down to see Nick emerge, along with a female uniformed officer and two men in suits. While I watched, the younger of the two suits walked with Nick to his SUV. I assumed this must be a detective. The other suit went to his car and climbed in. I presumed him to be the school's principal.
I waited until everyone had climbed into their respective vehicles and were leaving the parking lot before I left my post. I descended the ladder quickly and jogged over to my car. Returning the sword to the trunk, I climbed into the car and started back to the police station.
I stopped by my little, borrowed office, to check for any messages then headed for the Crime Lab, where Nick was already processing the evidence he had collected from the school. Seeing that Grissom was ensconced in his office with a pile of paperwork, I slipped past and went to join Nick in the lab where he was working.
"Did you find anything interesting?" I asked him.
"I found a lot of fingerprints. Luckily McKinley High participates in the program to have all students and faculty fingerprinted. Those prints are stored in the PD's database. Right now, I'm running the prints I collected against the prints on those files. If I don't get any hits, I'll run them through AFIS next. But my money is on a student. I also found this in the storage room where the chemicals were kept."
He slid a thick textbook across the table towards me. The title 'Advanced Chemistry' stood out in large, bold letters. Noting a sheet of paper sticking out of the book, I slipped on a pair of latex gloves and pulled the sheet out. It was some sort of a quiz. I immediately noted the large, red 'D' scrawled at the top of the page and the name Ellen Garvey written in the upper right corner.
"So, you think this Ellen Garvey might be your thief?" I asked.
"Looks like it. Det. Morris is heading out to her parents' house to bring her in for questioning. But you know, I think she might have a legitimate beef. She answered every question on that quiz correctly. So, I don't know how she ended up with a D."
I didn't comment on this as the computer beside us gave a soft beef, drawing Nick's attention. He turned to look at it.
"We got a match on one of the prints. Andrew Woods, the chemistry teacher. Well, that makes sense. Now, let's see if we can match some of the other prints."
He moved the mouse around and tapped on the keyboard for a few seconds. I had no idea what he was doing, I was simply enjoying watching him work. He got this intense look of concentration and you could almost see the thoughts in his head spinning like mad as he worked through his latest problem. Now, I have to say that intelligence can be an incredibly sexy quality. House it in an equally sexy body and you've got one devastating combination.
After several minutes, he looked up and caught me staring at him. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Don't mind me. I'm just enjoying the view."
It took him a few seconds to catch my meaning and when he did, I swear, he actually blushed slightly and smiled. He was spared from commenting as the computer gave another soft beep.
"Another match," he said, immediately all business again. "And what do you know? Ellen Garvey."
"Would she have a legitimate reason to be in this storage room? You know, was she some kind of a teacher's assistant?"
"Not according to the principal. He said the only people who were allowed to have access to the storage room were him, the custodian, and Mr. Woods, the chemistry teacher. It was school policy that no students were allowed to have access to the room."
"Hmm, well then, I'd say that Ms. Garvey has some explaining to do."
"Yes, she does."
Tapping out a few more commands on the keyboard, he printed out the incriminating fingerprint results. He continued to run prints through the computer, while I watched, for about a half hour, when his cell phone rang.
"Stokes," he said, answering it. "Yeah, okay, great. I'll be right over."
Ending the call, he turned to me and said, "That was Det. Morris, he's got Ellen Garvey and her father over at PD. I'm going to head over and sit in on the interview."
"Mind if I tag along?" I asked. "I don't really have anything else to do until I hear something about Vero."
"Okay, sure, if you want," he said with a shrug.
He grabbed the print results and slid them into a folder. Placing this on top of the chemistry textbook, he picked them both up and we headed over to PD. We met Det. Morris outside the interview room.
He informed Nick that the girl was eighteen and had declined having her father present for the interview. She had also declined legal counsel. While Nick and the detective entered the interview room, I stood outside and watched through the one-way glass.
Ellen Garvey sat alone at the small table. She had obviously been rousted out of bed as she was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and dark blue sweatshirt. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a loose, rumpled braid. She was a petite girl, with the prerequisite nerd's thick glasses, but the wire frames were quite flattering to her face and did not obscure the fact that she was quite a beauty. She sat nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
Det. Morris, a slightly-built, brown-haired, non-descript man, sat at the table opposite the girl and gave her a hard look. Nick remained standing and leaned against the back wall, his arms folded across his chest, apparently content to remain in the background for the time being.
Morris placed the heavy textbook on the table with a loud thump. The girl jumped noticeably at the sound. She glanced at the book guiltily.
"This is yours, isn't it?" the detective asked.
"No," Ellen squeaked softly.
"Really? We found a quiz, with your name on it, inside and Mr. Carris, your principal, already confirmed that this book was issued to you. We found it inside the storage room where the missing chemicals were kept. Can you explain how it got there?"
The girl said nothing.
"We also found your fingerprints all over the shelves in the storage room and on the door handle. We know you took those chemicals. Why? And where are they?"
She still said nothing.
"Ellen, this isn't a joke. We know those chemicals can be used to make a bomb. You could be faced with some very serious charges, but if you cooperate with us, we might be able to help you out. We've already submitted a request for a warrant to search your father's house. We'll find the chemicals on our own, eventually. But it would look better for you, if you just told us where they were."
"It doesn't really matter anyway," Ellen said softly. "Thanks to Mr. Woods, I've probably already lost my scholarship to UCLA."
"Yeah, I looked at your quiz," Nick spoke up, stepping closer to the table and drawing the girl's attention. "You answered all the questions correctly, but he still gave you a D."
"Yeah, I know," she said flatly.
"Let me guess, there aren't very many girls in your Advanced Chemistry class, are there?"
"No, there are only seven of us."
"And I'm willing to bet that the other six girls aren't as pretty as you are."
Ellen said nothing, but she looked away from the investigator.
Nick moved closer and pulled out the other chair across from the girl. Sitting down, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.
"You know, when I was in high school, chemistry was my favorite subject," he said conversationally. "But I hated my teacher. You see, I also played on the football team and the baseball team. My Advanced Chem. teacher had this unshakable belief that all jocks were stupid and he never let me forget that. Any time I made a mistake, he always made sure the whole class knew about it."
"How did you deal with it?" the girl asked, looking up at him.
"Well, I didn't try to make a bomb... It just made me work that much harder. I was determined to prove to him that he was wrong. I figured my best revenge would be to get an A in Advanced Chem. and still excel in my sports."
"How did that work out for you?"
"Well, I got an A- and I made the Texas State All-Star Baseball Team."
"That's great," the girl said bitterly. "Your teacher played fair. I work my ass off in that class and, as you said yourself, I get the answers right, but he still gives me a Ds."
"Did you try to talk to someone about this? The principal?"
"I tried. He told me I must be doing something wrong. You see, Andrew Woods is considered something of an expert in his field. He's had several papers published. He's been offered teaching posts at several universities. The high school considers itself incredibly lucky to have him. They're not going to do anything that might upset him.
"I tried talking to my father, but he's a teacher, too, and as far as he's concerned, anytime there's a problem between a teacher and a student, it's always the student's fault. He thinks all teachers are infallible.
"What was I supposed to do? Because of my Chem. grades, I was in danger of losing my scholarship to UCLA. Even with financial aid, my father can't afford to pay the out-of-state tuition, not on a teacher's salary. I was completely screwed and all because Mr. Woods believes that because I'm pretty and blonde, I can't possibly have a brain.
"I never wanted to hurt him. I was just hoping to scare him. I guess, I thought if I could make a bomb, it would show him that I did know what I was doing. But I guess, that back-fired pretty badly. I couldn't even get away with stealing the chemicals. Just like the idiot, he thinks I am, I left my book behind."
"Ellen, tell all of this to the judge," Nick said. "Maybe he'll take this into account. You have some justification. And as Det. Morris said, it would help your case, if you told us where the chemicals are."
The girl sighed and slumped back in her chair. "They're in my father's garage."
"Thank you, Ellen," Nick said, reaching over and squeezing the girl's arm. "If it helps any, I think you've got pretty good grounds for a discrimination lawsuit against your teacher. That might get the school board's attention. Bring me the rest of your tests and quizzes. I'll go through them and see just how badly he's been grading them."
The girl looked up, wide-eyed. "You mean it? You'd do that for me?"
"Yeah, us dumb jocks and dumb blondes gottta stick together, right?" he said, giving her a wink.
After the girl had been read her rights and escorted from the room by a uniformed officer, Nick came to join me in the observation room.
"Well, aren't you just the great guy?" I said as he entered.
He gave me a self-conscious smile and said, "What? She was in a bad situation. She handled it badly, but she doesn't deserve to go to jail. She never actually hurt anyone."
"Of course, the fact that she was pretty and blonde didn't have anything to do with your altruism, did it?"
He gave me a sincerely confused look. "No, it didn't."
Well, well, I thought, realizing that I believed him, there are actually true gentlemen left in the world, after all. Moving closer, I rested my hands on his hips and leaned into his body, kissing him. After several, long minutes, he gently pushed me away.
"Uh, I am still working..." he pointed out.
"Oh, yeah... damn."
We headed back to the Crime Lab, to Grissom's office. The supervisor was still buried under a pile of paperwork. He glanced up as we entered.
"You're still here, Agent Trudeau?" he said coolly. "I thought you'd headed back to your hotel hours ago?"
"I couldn't sleep, so, I thought I'd stop in and see if there'd been any word about the manhunt."
"No, there've been no sightings of Vero. No dead bodies with their throats ripped out have been reported either, so that's good, at least. Maybe he's already left town."
"Maybe," I said.
"How's your case coming, Nick?" Grissom asked.
"Closed. We got a confession and Morris is processing the suspect now."
"Very good, that was fast."
"It was a softball case, really. Greg could've handled it. Speaking of whom, do you want me to go help Sara and Greg with the evidence from their DB case?"
"No, they've got it under control. You've worked a couple of doubles this past week and you're almost tapped out on overtime. It's been a pretty quiet night, why don't you just head home. I can always call you back in, if something comes up."
"Yeah, right," Nick said, with a smile. "Thanks, Gris, see you later tonight."
I started to follow Nick out of the office, but Grissom's voice stopped me.
"Agent Trudeau?"
"Yes?" I said, turning back to the supervisor.
"Aren't you going to stay here and wait for word on the Vero Case?" he asked pointedly.
"No, it doesn't look like Jimmy's going to come out and play tonight after all. I think I'll just head back to my hotel."
Grissom pursed his lips and fixed me with a suspicious glare, his eyes flicking briefly to Nick, who was still standing in the doorway, waiting for me. Grissom nodded grimly, but said nothing more.
"Good night, Mr. Grissom," I said sweetly as I turned and rejoined Nick.
"What was that all about?" he asked me as we headed down the hall toward the locker room.
"I don't think your boss likes me much."
"Oh, don't take it personally. He doesn't like feds in general."
"Yeah, I gathered that and having met Agent Culpepper earlier this evening, I can see why."
I waited in the hall while Nick went into the locker room. He rejoined me a few minutes later and I asked where we could go to get some breakfast. There were still a few hours to go before dawn.
"You know, breakfast isn't all that difficult to make," Nick said. "We could go back to my place. I'm sure I could manage to scramble a few eggs or something."
"Or something," I agreed.
Once again I followed him to his house, the route to which I was starting to become very familiar with. Inside, I resisted the urge to tear his clothes off and simply throw him down on the floor and forced myself to actually look around the small, neat house. I was determined to take things a little slower this time and hopefully not spook him.
"Uh, listen, do you mind if I take a quick shower?" he asked. "I'm feeling a little funky."
"No, no, please, feel free," I said.
"Great, I'll just be five minutes."
He disappeared down the hallway and I wandered around the small living room. There was a bookcase and I walked over to look at the titles shelves there. As I had expected there were several forensic textbooks and journals, as well as some chemistry and law textbooks. Unexpectedly, there was also a large reproduction of the rare Audubon's Birds of North America, several field guides for bird watchers, and a couple of Texas A&M University yearbooks.
There were a few dusty knickknacks on the shelves as well, a model of a WWI biplane, a signature-covered baseball in an acrylic case, a child's plaster handprint with the name Brendan painted at the top, and several framed photographs. I picked up one of the photos, which showed a group of nine smiling adults gathered in an outdoor setting. I spotted a very young Nick, sitting on the ground in the front of the group. Noting the strong, general family resemblance of the group, I figured this must be his family. My, but they were a handsome, wholesome-looking lot.
"You looking at the picture of the Stokes clan?" I heard Nick ask from behind me. "That was taken at my parents' 35th anniversary party, about ten years ago."
I turned to face him. "Oh, yeah, that's nice..." I mumbled, so not caring about the photo at the moment.
He was standing there, in his living room, wearing only a towel around his waist. His hair was wet and clinging slightly to his forehead. His skin was still somewhat damp. In fact, my eyes were drawn to a single drop of moisture that was slowly working its way down his chest, in that little groove that ran between his pectoral muscles and I had an incredible urge to lick it away.
"So, are you still hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah, but not for food," I said, without thinking.
He smiled and said, "Well, we could just skip breakfast."
"What a fabulous idea," I said, depositing the photo on the nearest, handy surface. I stepped up to stand in front of him and grasping the towel, I started to lead him toward the bedroom.
In the bedroom, between the two of us, we made short work of removing my clothes and in no time at all, I was as naked as he was. I pulled him close again, enjoying the residual heat his skin was still radiating from the shower. My hands slid over the muscles of his back as we kissed; while his hand came up to gently cup my jaw.
Feeling the baby-soft skin of his face against mine, I knew that he had also shaved while he'd been in the bathroom. I found this little extra effort quite endearing and further proof that he was serious about going through with this. Sliding my hands back down to his waist, I gently eased the towel out from between our bodies. Now there was nothing but skin on skin and I could tell that he wanted this as much as I did. By unspoken, mutual consent, we both moved to the bed and pulling the covers down, we climbed in.
Still not wishing to spook this potentially skittish lover, I let Nick take the lead in our lovemaking, something I would not do any other time. Control freak? Me? Hell, yes, but this time I eased up on the control. I reclined back into the pillows and welcomed him into my embrace. And I must admit, this position did have one advantage, it gave me better access to that lovely, round ass of his and I exploited this advantage fully.
Enjoying the feel of his warm breath against my shoulder, I dug my fingers into his backside, spurring him on. As I noted the gradual increase in that breathing, I knew he was nearing his release. Dawn was still about an hour off and I hadn't lied about my hunger. If these things were timed just right, a good time could be had by all.
Using my superior strength, I leveraged the two of us up and over, reversing our positions. Acting quickly, not giving him the chance to balk at this abrupt change, I grasped his wrists and pinned them above his head. Never stopping with the movements of my hips, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his neck. Feeling with my tongue, I found his pulse, which was deliciously strong and rapid. He was ready. My teeth penetrated the flesh of his neck at the same moment of his release and the feel of his body stiffening beneath mine and the sound of his soft gasp, were more than enough for me.
I continued to drink even after I felt his body go slack beneath me, his mind overwhelmed by the sensory overload. With my body and my thirst at last sated, I rolled away from him and lay panting, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, I turned to look at him. He was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. There was a slight smile playing about his lips, so I don't think he'd minded my bite too much.
Propping myself up, I leaned over to look at his neck. A thin trickle of blood was weeping from the twin puncture marks. Gently cradling his head in my hand, I leaned across his chest and licked the blood away, blurring his memories slightly at the same time. By morning his neck would be impressively bruised, which would help to hide the puncture marks. He would remember that I had bitten him, just not how deeply I had bitten him. Pulling the covers up over both of us, I snuggled down against his chest and drifted off.
To be continued...
Author's note: Sorry I took so long to get this out, but I decided to rewrite a big chunk of the middle and that took a while. Also, hockey season's back on (yeah, hockey's back! Go Red Wings!) and that does tend to put a crimp in my writing time. Don't worry, I will finish the story, it just might take a little longer. Thank you for your patience and the great reviews.