A/N: Another chap up! Yay! There may be some random extra spaces in this one because the keyboard I'm using has a funky space bar...so forgive me. Haha. Review quickly and the next chap will be up!

Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.

Chapter 7: Seduction

When I get inside, I soak in a steaming, lavender-scented bath until the tips of my fingers are wrinkled and I am not shaking anymore. Then I pull on my favorite pajama pants--worn flannel that I've had since the beginning of college--and a t-shirt and crawl under the covers of my bed.

I feel like a mere child, one that is frightened and subdued because she'd found her closet door slowly creaking open after she'd already shut it firmly.

I thought I could be in love with Jager; I thought perhaps he wouldn't hurt me. Or frighten me...like all those other boys had.

I was wrong, I think as I lay under my quilt with my face buried in my pillow. I shut my eyes, really feeling like sobbing--but 21-year-olds don't do that.

Remember what I said.

His last words to me ring in my ears, and I shiver. No matter what I might think, I am not safe. Jager will come back, and get what he wants. I've only known him for two days, but already he's affected me, and not only by cruelly stealing my heart. For one, he's shown me the world in which vampires exist. I cringe to thin kwhat other creatures are also out there, even though, strangely, the concept of vampires doesn't scare me.

But Jager's also made me realize that I don't want to die. I'd rather stay in this world, absolutely alive...even if it means being beautiful.

I can't even imagine now being one of Jager's kind. Living in darkness, living on blood...it doesn't disgust me...it just isn't what I want. Isn't what I'd ever choose. I would choose real death over Jager's world in a hearbeat.

This thought calms me, and I let my eyes slide slowly shut.

-vVv-

I wake up early on Saturday morning, feeling suffocated in my room.

I stay in my flannel pants but switch the shirt for a tank top, and pull my long curls into a loose braid down my back. Then I quietly slip out the front door.

The gust of cool wind that rushes at me is relieving, and I breathe in the rain-scented air deeply, savoring it. I walk to the park at the end of my

street; the grass is dewy and soft under my bare feet. Just walking under the trees in the pre-dawn light is comforting, and I relax because I can concentrate on nature's beauty, not hiding my own. The park is deserted at this hour, and I like it this way; I make my way to a swing, brush it off, and sit down. There is a part of the ground beneath my feet that has worn away to dirt by years of children pushing against it, and my toes brush the dirt as I aimlessly swing back and forth...back and forth. I force myself to thin of nothing but the morning's air and how it will rain later. I love the rain.

Back and forth.

There is a sick feeling in my stomach that this will be the last time I sit here in this park.

Back and forth.

I push the feeling away, ignore it stubbornly. Something tells me that I shouldn't ignore it as I close my eyes and concentrate on the wind brushing my cheeks. "I thought I'd find you here."

My eyes snap open to meet with a pair of emerald ones. "Jager?" I look at him incredulously, more surprised that frightened. I almost expect him to jump up, yell, "Surprise!" and tell me that last night was all a joke.

He chuckles and moves behind me, where I follow him with my eyes, suspicious. But he only pushes my swing into motion. "Wondering why I am here?" he guesses.

"No." It isn't hard to figure out that he was looking for me. "You knew I'd be here. It's one of my favorite places, and isn't that something you could find out on your own?" My voice is sharper than I intend it to be, and Jager catches the chains of the swing easily in his hands, bringing it to an abrupt stop and spinning me around to face him.

"About last night," he whispers, his face close to mine. "I'm not one to say sorry, but I'm apologizing, okay? Emmie, I want you to understand: in my world--the vampiric world--I get what I want, because I am strong. I am old, and respected, and feared. And when I want to change a human, there is a point at which the human has no more choice in the matter. It happens. Not often, but it does. And I'm fond of you, like I said yesterday. Very fond. I want to make you one of my kind. So you can be with me."

I blink, speechless with some emotion I can't explain. Beyond fury at his arrogance, but flattered, too. And then my stomach betrays me with that flutter...

"However," he continues, and his arms are on either side of my shoulders so I couldn't move even if I wanted to, "to be honest, you confuse me. We've passed the moment in which I should have taken control. Yet you still refuse me. Still evade my wishes." Wishes that will soon become orders. I narrow my eyes angrily.

"Get out of my head," I order through clenched teeth, and to my surprise, feel him withdraw from my mind.

We are silent for a long moment. I swing my legs less than halfheartedly and bring my head up to meet his piercing gaze. "What is so good about me?" I want to know. "You only met me two days ago. What could you possibly have become fond of?"

"Your vulnerability and your failure to be frightened of the unknown," he replies bluntly. I'm taken aback by his honesty.

All I can think of to say is, "The unknown?"

"Death. The vampiric world. Yourself."

Myself? I think. I am terrified of myself; that is why I'm not afraid to die. But my anger at Jager has drained away, and suddenly I remember how I feel about him. This is so complicated, I admit to myself. Yet even as I think this, I find myself leaning forward and pressing my lips against the vampire's. I kiss him, and my arms wrap around his muscled torso, and I don't draw away. His hands slide to my waist and I feel him smile into the kiss.

I'm so caught up in the fire that burns my skin each time we touch that I don't realize he's taken hold of my mind. Don't notice the pressure until he puts on me until I buckle under the mental weight and he has to catch me as I fall off the swing. And I all do is moan when his lips leave mine to travel down my cheek to my throat. I want him to kiss my lips again, to never frighten me again.

His breath on the skin of my neck is strangely warm.

"It won't hurt," he whispers. "Not at all."