A/N: I'm very happy right now 'cause I did well in day 3 of my swim meet, so I decided to post chapter 3! A couple things: one of my darling reviewers corrected me on Jager's description--mainly, his eyes. So I changed it in chap 2, and you might wanna check back there. ...Enough of my rambling. Here's the chap.

thanks to my few reviewers. you know you're awesome.

3Dusk

Disclaimer: It's AAR's (but Emmie's mine).

The headache comes on slowly, so slowly that I don't even catch it until it's almost a full-blown migraine.

I groan and my fingers fly to my head, massaging my temples in an attempt to push the headache away. It doesn't work, of course. My appetite leaves me suddenly as a wave of nausea threatens to swamp me.

I'm hating the flourescent lights of this diner I came to before work to eat breakfast. They're harsh; they hum noisily and only add to the aching of my head.

Calling over the waitress, I order a mug of hot tea and search my purse for the bottle of Advil. After swallowing the small pills and convincing myself that the migraine can't get any worse, I pull out my cell phone to call my boss.

Irene, the head of the small publishing company I work for, answers the call with her usual impatient air. "Yes?" Her voice is clipped, sharp, and I can see her walking down the hallway in my mind's eye, a stack of papers under one arm, a coffee mug clutched in her hand. She would be holding her phone between shoulder and ear.

"Irene, it's Emmie," I begin. My head is pounding and I have to stop speaking, take a breath. "I just got this terrible migraine and I'm going to have to come in late, okay?" I know my voice sounds raspy; terrible. "I'll be there as soon as I don't feel like I'm going to puke if I move my head."

Irene laughs; one thing she does have is a sense of humor. "Take your time; it's slow today. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," I say. "'Bye." She hangs up. Irene doesn't believe in wasting time.

I sit in the booth for a moment, my head in my hands, breathing slowly and deeply.

"Oh, hello, Emmie," someone says in a smooth voice. Then it changes, and I can sense the speaker's concern. "What's wrong?"

I look up and see Jager standing in front of my booth, looking irresistable in a black shirt that hugs his chest and shows taut muscles. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, and his hair is ruffled as if by the wind. I blink, confused. When did I start thinking of him as irresistable?

I take all of this in quickly, then attempt a smile and fail. "Headache," I explain. "Sit down." I motion to the seat across from me.

He falls gracefully into the seat, looking intently at me. His gaze is every bit as intense as I remember from the night before, and I shift uncomfortably, cross my arms over my chest again.

I'm curious as to why he's here. "What's up?" I ask, and take a sip of my tea. Relief surges through me at the realization that my headache is receding.

"I saw you walking here and thought I'd stop in to say hello," Jager replies. This is true; the diner is within walking distance from my house, so sometimes I walk here and take the bus to work.

I smile at his thoughtfulness. "I was on my way to work, but I'm going in late, now. Stupid headache."

He rewards me with a grin and a shiver of delight courses down my spine. "Do you want a ride home?"

There's something very different about Jager, I think a few minutes later as we pull out of the parking lot in his car. He's frightening but compelling at the same time...

I look over and suddenly take note of how much paler he looks than the night before. Yet I don't say anything; maybe I'm just imagining it.

The ride is quiet and ends too soon. But I don't get out of the car immediately.

"Do you want to do something tonight?" Jager inquires, and I'm suddenly uncomfortable again. "Maybe go to a bar or something?"

"I...don't know," I say slowly. And it's true when I say it. But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I do want to go out with him tonight. I want to get to know him, to spend more than just a car ride with him. So I smile uncertainly. "Actually, yes, I do."

"Good," Jager answers. "I'll pick you up at eight."

He is silent for a moment, then moves closer, reaching out a hand to touch my hair again. It takes serious concentration not to shrink away from him. "Your hair is so beautiful," he comments softly, and bends his head towards mine. He's staring into my eyes--dazzling me with their color and clarity--and something keeps me from moving, from cringing.

He kisses me.

It's soft, unhurried, but deep. Shivers surge up and down my spine because I've never kissed anyone that made me feel like this before. I don't object when his lips leave mine and travel down to my throat, nor when he cups a hand around the back of my neck.

At first he is only kissing me, but then I feel a sharp sting on the side of my neck and panic--is he biting me?

Relax, I hear, and his voice in my mind startles me so much that I try to pull away. But Jager wraps an arm around my waist and I can't move. It won't hurt, he murmurs.

He is right; it doesn't hurt, whatever he's doing. It starts with a tingling sensation at my neck, and I can feel his lips warm against my skin. His presence doesn't leave my mind, but I'm suddenly no longer aware of that. No longer aware of anything. I'm floating, all sensations of the world around me have disappeared, and I am only aware of my heart pounding away in my chest. Then that is gone, too, and I feel my body collapse against the car's leather seats, only Jager's arm around my waist holds me up.

Finally, he draws away from me, and I smell--or imagine?--the irony scent of blood, but my eyes have closed, and I remember nothing else...

A/N: Make me even happier by pushing that button down there and reviewing!

;-D