Here's your warning I have a huge crush on Hugh Jackman and this is where my story gets romantic cheesy. Nothing gross, I think it's kind of cute :D
The next night the two set up a camp fire in the woods. Van Helsing had used his influence to tell the mayor that everyone needed to stay inside tonight. Rossalyn had reaffirmed she didn't think that Everard would show up, but she didn't want to take chances. But she promised that if Everard did enter the woods and get near the town, she would know.
They picked a small clearing downwind of the small town, both ready to pull an all-nighter. She had tried to explain how it was easier to affirm a Werewolves presence when she was outside and failed miserably, while Van Helsing chuckled at her. Quote on quote 'It just does okay!?! Impossible man!'
They talked softly, about different things, all the while watching the stars. It was clear skies that night and a strong quarter moon gave enough light to see by.
Rossalyn shuddered violently despite the warm evening air. "You okay?" Van Helsing asked. She nodded a curious look on her face.
"You sure? You've been kind of out of it the whole night," he reported.
"Yeah something just feels kind of weird," she said still with a questioning look on her face.
"What do you mean, is he…" Rossalyn cut him off as he made a grab for his crossbow.
"No. I just feel weird." She rose, "I'm gonna go take a walk, clear my head."
Van Helsing shrugged, "okay, stay close."
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," she whispered with a grin on her face.
It had been about an hour since Rossalyn had left, Van Helsing was starting to get worried. Despite every instinct which promised, she'd know if Everard was close, she can hold her own against him anyways, you could hear their fighting a mile away. One outweighed them all her voice whispering, 'Everard tried to kill me'. He was staring at the fire, a little tired, watching the sparks fly off of the logs. He had just decided to go look for her when, he felt something dragging at his face.
He whipped around, she was back, dragging the red chiffon tie from her shirt across his face.
He was a little irritated, "don't sneak up on me like that, you're liable to get a dagger put through you."
"My apologies, you look so peaceful when you're sleeping." There was a strange note in her voice, a mysterious distant note, he rolled his eyes and stood, trying to walk out the kink in his neck.
"Where'd you go? I was about to come look for you," he tried not to sound as irritated as he felt.
"Couldn't help myself, the moon was so beautiful looking," she was almost prancing through the trees, walking on her toes, with an unmatched grace.
"Don't do it again, I don't want Everard catching up with you when I'm not around," he called over his shoulder; he was starting to get that strange feeling that something wasn't quite right.
She had snuck up right behind him, with her quiet ease, and he could feel the touch of her body against his, front to back. She whispered right into his ear her cheek so close to his. "Why Van Helsing, you do sound almost, dare I say it, worried," there was a playfully note in her voice. She danced away before he could reprimand her. He turned and stared after her in both confusion and annoyance.
"Rossalyn what's going on?" he asked with a hard perseverance in his tone.
She twirled underneath the moon starring up at it before turning to respond.
"Do have any idea how wonderful you smell?" she asked, with a brazen and shameless expression. There was something in her eyes, an excitement to replace the stoic feelings usually reflected there. Van Helsing had never been more confused.
She approached him directly, crossing her step one over the other as she approached. "I mean it, do you know how magnificent you smell?" she asked again, in all seriousness.
No response, besides a queer look. She threw herself against him, her back to his front, leaning against him. "It's like old leather, something industrial I can't put my finger on, the outdoors, all of it that ever has been, is, or will be, all rolled up into a single entity. But there is something else. Something I couldn't begin to describe."
Van Helsing was completely silent, unsure how to respond to her advances.
She turned around, so the fronts of their bodies touched. "It all sounds so impoetic when you put it into words." She gave him an appraising stare, which he diffused with a stoic and hard look. They were close enough he could see how pale and translucent her scar looked with the moonlight bouncing off her white skin.
"Do you get lonely doing what you do?" she asked soberly. "I mean, you must, never in one place long enough to do anything besides hunt whatever's there." A silence, how could she know that? "That's okay, I'm lonely too." She reached up one hand on his cheek, so gentle and pressed her lips against his. Ignoring the caution inside of himself as he had been every time he was around her, he kissed back.
Each kiss was longer and deeper than the last, like a draught of something hot on a cold night. And he could only respond, a hand slipping around her waist.
Some part of him knew this wasn't Rossalyn; that something wasn't right, but as each second passed he heard less and less of it.
Wherever their skin touched he could feel the heat of her body, against the slight chill of his own. Her lips were soft and delicate against his, and her skin was like velvet. Her hand on his cheek and the back of his head, pulling him even closer, while everything faded away, and his breath came a little raggedly.
His mind slowly stopped racing. Like his body was succumbing to something his mind was immune but slowly yielding to. Some rational part of him reached unconsciously for the dagger at his waist. But her hand met his, and wrapped around his clutch on the dagger, making even his hand quiver at her touch. She broke apart from him, her body still pressing against his, her eyebrows raised.
"Who are you and where's Rossalyn?" he asked, sounding surer than he felt, feeling a heat he knew had nothing to do with the cool evening air. His heart was pounding in his chest, but none of it reflected in the hard stare he gave her.
"Don't be so dramatic, I am Rossalyn," she assured him, her voice alluring. She dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm just finally going after what I want." With her grasp still on his hold of the dagger, she pushed her lips against his again.
The brief respite was enough for him to gather some of his senses. He grabbed the knock out gas from his pocket, and broke away from her; before he wasn't sure he'd be able to. It was long enough to spray a puff in her face. Almost instantly she fell limp into his arms.
Whether he had done what he did to stop her because the work minded part of him needed to or because the more emotional part of him he wanted to, he wasn't sure. He set her against a tree, and for good measure, used a rope to loosely tie her there.
He took his place across the fire again, shaking his head trying to get the sound of her voice out of his mind, 'do you get lonely...That's okay, I'm lonely too', the feel of her skin against his.
He knew he hated the remark because it rang so true with him. He hated to use the word lonely, it sounded so pathetic. But it wasn't always exciting never getting to see an old face for long. For a moment his thoughts turned to Anna, he had been in love with her, he was sure of that. He felt guilt threaten to swallow him, so he thrust away his thoughts of her as he was so used to doing.
There had been women. He was human after all; there had been a few, nothing serious. He didn't even think he could recall their names, just nameless faces. Each one was an attempt to fill something inside him, never really reaching deep enough. Each doing less than the previous until the part of him that wanted someone just sort of faded.
He felt slightly betrayed by what Rossalyn had done, he was struggling enough with his own feelings, and the ease with her they had built up the past few days had disappeared. He wasn't at all sure how he felt about her anymore. Part of him was entirely angry and infuriated at her for throwing that at him, but part of him knew he had kissed her back.
He sat across from the fire listening for any threat, all the while whittling away at his own feelings, which sat in a confused mess. Trying to affirm to himself that at any rate Rossalyn didn't get to know he was feeling, telling himself that he had to be strong through everything.
If he could handle Werewolves, Vampires, and Spirits, then a girl who went through emotions faster than a horse at a derby, wouldn't be much of a problem. Whatever he was feeling, Rossalyn didn't need to know.
At length the knock out gas wore off, and Rossalyn woke up. He didn't look at her, trying to contain the angry part of himself. Her cheeks went from pale to scarlet so fast; he had never seen her blush so deeply. She remained at silent as he was. Eventually she spoke, "will you hand me a large rock," the embarrassment was reflected even in her voice.
Van Helsing finally looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. "I'd like to beat myself unconscious with it, now." His expression softened the slightest bit. He stood and loosened the knot of the rope tying her to the tree, partly because that meant he didn't have to look at her.
"Can I explain?" she asked after a moment.
"What's to explain?" he asked. He had been afraid they might have to have this little heart to heart.
"Van Helsing, you know…" she stuttered, "You know that wasn't me," she cleared her throat, "back then-I mean it was-but," she stopped stammering. "Van Helsing this has happened to me as long as I can remember!"
"You've been jumping unsuspecting men as long as you can remember?" he asked, as he finished untying the knot.
"No!" she snapped. He felt a little bad, but justified, that had been a low blow. "Van Helsing, it's not always like that. Everard experiences it too; it's part of being a Half Were."
"What is?" he asked, just to keep her talking, so he didn't have to sit in awkward silence.
"That!" She sulked, "You make things so difficult sometimes!" she accused.
"I make things difficult!?!" he snapped.
"Yes, you!" she huffed. She sighed forcefully. "As a Half Were we're connected to the moon in certain ways, Weres usually only experience when they have fully turned. Sometimes when the moon is full or at an important stage," she hesitated again. "It just toys with my emotions." She was losing the angry tone in her voice and was going back to shame and embarrassment. "I lose track of who I am, I lower my guard, and I can't keep a hold on myself. I am truly sorry," she sounded genuine but Van Helsing, didn't think he had forgiven her. His mouth felt dry and he said nothing.
"I'm sorry I really am!!" she shouted, finally turning to look at him. "I can't control myself when I get like that. You know what it's like when you turn into a full Were, I experience those feelings all the time, try to sympathize with me!" she urged, Van Helsing's face slackened, how did she know that he had turned into a Werewolf before?
"How did you know that?" he snapped.
"I told you, I can sense the presence of other Weres." At his panicked expression she elaborated. "You're not like normal Weres, there's just something lingering from whatever happened to you. I can sort of tell you've turned before. At any rate you know how it makes you feel!"
He did, he thought back to Dracula, and the night Anna had died. When he had turned into a Werewolf the feeling had been indescribable. He had felt powerful, and strong, and agile. Everything about the moment was pure ecstasy. Things smelled differently, and felt better, and sounded more intricate. It was an amazing high, he had thought back often to the moment.
A voice of mercy whispered, it would be confusing to feel that way all the time when you weren't prepared for it to come.
"I truly am sorry!" she said looking at him right in the eyes, a look of pleading on her face. There was no mistaking it, she was begging forgiveness.
Van Helsing sighed softly, "I forgive you."
She seemed only slightly appeased, "thank you." She knew he didn't mean it.