Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephenie Meyers... not mine. So don't sue me and all of that.
Author's Note:
So I wrote this up yesterday...
It's not exactly happy and holiday-like. And it is not the chapter I promised (that chap is about half way done and much, much longer) but hopefully, you'll appreciate this one as a dark little xmas present. It's pretty dark and erotic and well, it's starring our fave villain, so Merry Christmas and a happy new year. Yeah, so it's sort of lemon-like down below... Warning.
So, thank you all for showing the love. WaxC (I simply cannot write WC) is nominated at the Twilighted awards! yay—and all of that.
Oh, and this one used to be on my profile, but I still want to recommend it, because the author,"Princess Bertha," keeps updating Red Sky at Morning, sequel to Endless Daylight, which is a Leah-Jake story—which almost sends me into hysterics each time I read it—and I do reread it, especially if I'm angry like her Leah. Honestly, if you like my Ness, you'll probably like Leah, so go read it and go nominate her for an alt pairing at the Twilight awards—because that's what I did.
Chapter 30: Gardening
The humans were packed together like fetid sardines stuffed into a can. Bodies ground up against bodies, and the neon strobes from above revolved around the floor, catching a continuous flash of noses, ears, the upraised arm, or the shock of hair. Above all else, he smelled the blood—the sweet, succulent perfume that caused the back of his throat to sear with thirst. There were other smells, too. Sweat, body odor, and lust pervaded the air, but then his nostrils flared as he caught another scent—an anticipated scent—the dewy smell of water lily and a spike of something close to eucalyptus.
His first instinct was to move off the balcony and enter the crowd, but the water lily smell had moved—and been joined by another smell—blood—so he needn't waste his time in here.
He stole back out the window. He had to break the latch—an irritation.
He silently landed on the balls of his feet and graced his way around to the back of the stone building.
Ah, there she is.
She had the male pinned up against the wall, and her silver mane of her hair was shivering and shining ever so slightly in the moonlight as she pulled in the blood from a rip in the center of the neck. The sucking noise was dead silent, but when you were the undead—dead silent was what you heard.
He knew that she knew that he was here.
He was interrupting, and so he waited patiently.
When she was done, she let the body collapse in heap. He was rather sure that she'd throw it in the river before sunrise.
"Bon soir, mademoiselle. I must remark, you show such enthusiasm for your dinner."
She wiped a strip of blood off her chin.
"Mademoiselle!" she scoffed, clapping her hand over her forehead. "Baise-moué l'ail! I look to be twenty years your senior."
[AN: translation: Kiss my ass—or in Quebecois slang literally, kiss my garlic. And yes, I thought the garlic part was extra funny.]
"But you look so very girlish this evening, Bertie."
She crossed her arms, "And why do I have the pleasure of your fine company this evening, mon Olivier? Is your little flower not yet watered?"
"Oh, but Bertie," he smiled wickedly at her. "You must know how I adore gardening." He strode up to her and pressed her hips against the stone alley wall.
She frowned at him, but then she smiled. "So the answer is no?" she teased. She slid her hands on either side of his behind, and then she squeezed—hard.
"I was actually hoping that you might join me in a little hunt this evening—but since you've already eaten…" he leaned forward and licked a lingering drop of blood out of the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, and do tell, what is the strategy, First-Lieutenant Olivier?"
He ignored her tone. "The little orchid and her pretty little friend are coming to town to visit with the dog and the brother."
"And you need my help."
"You did promise me, and besides don't you want to be a grandma?"
Another snort. "You don't even know if that's possible."
"She smells like an orchid, and she is just so very lovely."
"And how does her little friend smell?"
"I haven't gotten close enough to know."
"But you said she had such extravagant eyes, and Olivier, you do have a thing for eyes."
"The honeyed one does have beautiful eyes, but I must confess a certain attachment to the mocha-colored pair on my little orchid—they have my heart, you see."
She raised her brow. "You know, you could just wait for the 'little friend' to leave and then track her. Then, you wouldn't have to deal with the other's family."
"Ah, but Bertie, where would the fun in that be?'
"Where, indeed?" she grumbled.
His hand began to crawl up her leg. Her eyes closed at his movement. "So you will help, won't you?" he importuned her.
"I suppose," she acceded. Her breath was accelerating, as he knew it would.
She did not look surprised when he grabbed the front panel of her pants and then easily shredded them off.
"You know, Olivier, I require pants so that I go unnoticed. There aren't many gray-haired women with legs like these."
"But of course, don't worry, Bertie. I was planning on fetching a morsel from inside in only a few minutes. I'll be sure to choose one in your size, since you've already found a male in mine."
He tore open the front of his own pants.
"A 'few minutes,' Olivier? Don't I get any foreplay?"
"But Bertie—you just hunted—and I know how the hunt makes your venom flow."
She smirked at him, and he moved towards her, pressing his bare half against hers, and he grabbed her thighs, angling her just so.
"And as I told you, Bertie. Now is not the time for play."
Another sinful grin, and he jerked forward, and she gasped, clutching onto him as he drove her against the stone wall.
"Because the real games start tonight," he growled into her ear.
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Author's blabbing:
Ah, I know. Dirty, dirty stuff, Pastich Pen.
But it's going to be soooo good.
I have another new story up "Sin and Incivility," but this one is shortish--like six chapters, and is for the most part completely written. It's AU-Human and a bloody fruit basket, and much closer to my actual writing style. The first chapter is up and it's dirty, dirty--kind of like the one above--except worse--yes, worse--because it's BellaxJames. There is an actual story, however, and the reason that Bella is with James is sort of heartbreaking. So if you like some intense drama and sour lemons, check it out.
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