He'd made sure I knew exactly what I was getting into. First, it had just been more of a game to him, bringing me along. He'd show me all that he could do, how fast he was, how strong. He'd try to get some rise out of me, showing off all the superhuman abilities he had. I'd watch him snap a woman's neck, completely unconcerned. If he had thought that I was worried or scared, that I felt any sympathy, I hadn't given him any reason too. It was quick and clean for them. Not like, that, no, he didn't make it quick, but they never had any lingering, failing ordinary life. It was a few minutes of overwhelming brilliance, overpowering terror and beauty, or in a few seconds of incomprehension. Some of them begged me, as if they thought that I really could have stopped him, as they thought I really would have stopped him.

He'd gotten more affectionate as time went on. First I was just carried roughly, another fun part of the game, an appreciative, captive audience. But he softened. I remember the first time he waited for me. I'd gone to the bathroom when we were at a pub, searching for his pray for the night. He'd settled on a couple, utterly wrapped up in each other as they ate and drank. They'd walked out after I had left. That wasn't a huge surprise, it was always a risk I ran. He knew where to find me if we got separated. He always knew.

But this time, when I came out, our game was gone, and he was still there waiting.

"Why are you still here?" I'd asked, surprised, and a little angry that he would let them off so easily.

"They're not important," James had said to me.

"Every game is important," I'd snapped back. He'd smiled at this.

We found that couple, a few blocks away. With James running, it had been so easy to catch them. With him tracking, escape had been impossible. I killed this couple though. The first I time I was more than a bystander in the game. I was still human, but surprise is a great weapon, and I didn't need to fear any harm at their hands. Not with James there to protect me.

He'd told me of the thirst, how it burned, how when you were first turned you would do anything to stop the fire burning through your throat, burning right out of your neck into every inch of you so that you couldn't move except to that delicious tempting smell that would bring relief, that would quench your agony, even for a second. He'd even turned one for me, a child, so that he would be easy to control, easy to kill afterward. I watched him screaming there on the floor of the forest, watched as that diamond strength and sparkle spread over his skin, making it go cold. It moved through, like an expanding tide, moving out form his core, along arteries and out into his hands and feet. I saw those bright red eyes, where before had been blue. I'd seen them open and him lunge at me. I don't even know if he had realized that James had a hold of him, as he struggled there, his voice higher and sweeter as he shrieked and tried to get at me. I wonder if he even realized the danger as James popped his head off, then tore the other limbs from the body faster than I could even see. He had them all in a pile by the time I could even turn toward the direction the head had gone flying in. The smoke was purplish, and it didn't make me cough. It actually made me think of a open air market, or a fair, smelling the frying foods and the sugar from cotton candy makers.

"Are you sure about this?" he'd asked, holding me, after I'd seen everything, every beautiful terrifying facet of his existence. It was the first time I'd seen him nervous, the first time I'd seen him anything but strong and sure.

"Of course," I'd responded without hesitation. I wanted this. The power and beauty. The immortality, eternity with my king, my glorious fairy tale. To gain this glorious free existence forever.

He kissed me. The first kiss we had ever shared. His lips were cold, and completely unyielding against mine. But he had done it so tenderly I almost hadn't recognized it, even after spending hours studying those lips. I'd smelled him before, but this was so much more intense. Strong, sweet, yet so masculine. Power, made scent, and it had seemed to fill every inch of existence. I heard him growl, more felt it as a purr in his chest, as his tongue had forced it self between my lips. He tasted just like he smelled. Like strength. Like the freedom of absolute power. Freedom from time and fear and abysmal normal life and death.

He'd trailed down my chin, down my neck. The sensation was so overwhelming as his cold lips dragged over my skin I was near to the point of passing out. Complete sensory overload as those hard lips pressed against me, as those strong arms held me. I felt him stop right over my racing pulse in my neck, felt his lips pressing gently against it, his tongue dancing on it slightly. Then it was gone.

I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. "Why?" I asked breathlessly. "Why did you stop?"

"You're sure about this? About everything?" he asked me again, worried for me, worried that somehow after everything he had shown me, everything he had taught me, I somehow might not want this. Might not want him.

"I want this. I want you," I'd whispered back. "Forever."

Author's note: Show of hands, who's shocked that this story is having any activity on it? Mine's up. I love this story idea, but not as much, for example, as I liked writing Sunshine when I was writing that, or as much as I like writing the Eye of the Storm, which is my main project right now. But the Eye of the Storm has periods of inactivity, as I wait for responses from all my coauthors (who are awesome, and link's to whose profiles you will soon find on my profile). That has given me time to write more on my other, long neglected stories.

I now also ask questions for answering in reviews. You get a rather frivolous question on this one: Who are your favorite authors on fanfiction? How about in the real world?