Bromley Mansion, Ground Floor, Hallway
Alison had seen him pissed. She'd seen him resort to moderate force and violence to restrain her. She'd also seen the compassionate side of him, if only in flashes every now and again. She wasn't exactly prepared for this reaction though. She hadn't been able to help her inner triumph at the news of his brother's conformation to the human resistance. She couldn't be sure it was truly like that and a miniature part of her feared it was all simply a set-up, a plan to seek out and drive the last of those that had made it through alive until now, into the deadly trap.
She didn't know Edward Dalton as a person and she couldn't guarantee herself that he was not a spy. There were plenty of fake sympathizers out there who didn't mean one word they babbled about but more and more humans fell for their extended offers of shelter and safety out of sheer desperation.
However, the aggression in the soldier's movements as he paused on the opposite side of the hallway could not be overseen. The information had triggered something inside him. Whether shame humiliation, abandonment or worry, whatever it truly was, it emerged out of his vampire body as trembling fury that possessed his entire form. She could actually see the tremors run across his skin.
She half-wished that she was the reason behind this reaction; that she could actually cause this man to revert to his darker, primal version due to anger she evoked in him. That she held some shred of power over him. Reality was that this dangerous state of mind was surely a result of his brother's flight and their sibling connection. She didn't know much about him as of yet but Frankie appeared to her a loyal soul, unfortunately loyal to her father, and therefore it made absolute sense for him to be beyond furious at his brother's 'betrayal'.
Nonetheless, the smug smile stayed on her face and hard as she might have tried, she couldn't have wiped it away even if she wanted to. There was just too much irony in the situation. The perfect soldier's closest relative detaching himself and joining the other side. What a classic. Almost the same kind of scandal that she'd bestowed upon her father with her resistance when she'd still been human.
Her focus slipped back to Frankie though when he uttered a snarl that would have had her shaking in her clothes had the situation been different. Had she still been sitting in that cell right now, human and very much vulnerable, she would have shrunken away from this person involuntarily. Now, she simply watched in fascinating as he instinctively lowered his upper body and jutted out his head that had changed into a grimace of death. The canines were extended past their normal length.
There was no reflex to recoil and flee anymore. She stayed right where she stood, the smirk melting away as her teeth lengthened instinctively. She was an equal now. Maybe not in size and strength to a man but she was just as undead as him and she refused to be intimidated anymore. If he wanted to take out his anger on her, and from the look of things he probably would any second now, he should go ahead, but expect to receive back as good as he gave.
Their eyes were locked and Alison observed him intently. She wasn't going to make the first move but if he charged now, she wanted to be able to counter. Before, she preferred being armed since her hand-to-hand combat was barely adequate. Things had changed though. She was equipped with natural weapons of the best sort now and instincts that guided her reactions when experience failed. The issue of blood thirst aside, this new form enabled her to protect herself twice as well as before. She felt the complete control she possessed as adrenalin pulsed along her muscles.
Frankie was facing her straight on now. Anger was written all over his features but she found only glee in the fact that he was about to explode on her. Some part of her wanted this fight that had long been building within her, for various reasons. She'd been repressed and commandeered around for too long; all this contained frustration needed an outlet. If the soldier was willing to give that to her, he was only too welcome. She hissed, egging him on. "What? Not pleased to realize that not even your brother wants to be on your side?"
She hit a nerve there. His last threads of restraint visibly snapped away and then he sprung forward, clashing with her immediately. Her head was thrown back against the wall with the impact but the dizziness lasted barely a breath before she surged right back, using her entire weight to push him backwards, into the opposite wall. It was a mass of snarls, shouts and shaking walls as the two struggled for the upper hand in a fight that both of them knew would lead nowhere but were not in the least prepared to break off. Frankie wrestled his arm out of her grip and the free hand enclosed her throat as she twisted around to strike again. She choked, stumbled backwards with the momentum and they smashed straight through the glass table that stood at the mouth of the corridor. Shards flew and were crushed as the bodies smothered them in their grapple.
This wasn't a comparatively basic exchange of blows that a fighting human couple would tend to deliver in an argument. No slapping or kicking, no resorting to screaming out lungs with a barrage of brutal words and insults that defied all logic. These were two riled up vampires who feared neither the consequences of what would happen if they tore each other to pieces but battled just to prove an undefined point to the other. This outcome wouldn't remain a couple of bruises and emotional scarring; this would go down to flesh, starting from the second that glass scraped against Alison's skin and drew first blood.
The brunette lurched forward, head butting the soldier in a wild attempt to break free of his weight on her. Blood ran hot across his lips as it dripped from his nose and he snarled in her face, tightening his fingers in retaliation. It hurt. Her eyes were narrow, golden slits of deadly intent even though the stabbing pain of a constricted throat was clawing at her. Her knees came up; one catching him in the gut as he moved to block it and the hand finally fell away from her. She reared up, managing to catch a hold of the hair in the nape of his neck with one hand. She jerked it back, ignoring the way he delivered a blow to her ribcage as she did so, then dug her fangs into his jugular with all the vigor she had in her.
The resounding scream rang in her ears and the indefinable taste penetrated her head. She'd experienced this before but reliving the moment of vampire blood flowing into her while she wasn't headed for suicide was different. It was an unexplainable mixture of pleasure at delivering pain, at bathing in somebody else's power, and disgust at the alien sensation, at turning on the same species. She didn't swallow the liquid life that coated her tongue but bit deeper, deeper until her own pain overshadowed the act. She couldn't tell if it was weapon or his hand that was tearing into her ribs but she didn't succeed in withstanding the pain and drew away. She hid her cry of anguish as she coughed out his blood, spitting it on the littered carpet while she fell back.
Through blurry eyes she saw Frankie pull back too, hand immediately covering the torn throat that was already undergoing intensive healing. She touched a hand to her own torso, feeling the wound ignite under her fingertips. The flesh was bleeding profusely. Miraculously, it did nothing to dampen her heated temper though. As soon as she could stand without cringing over, she advanced again. His throat still gleamed wetly, the tender skin inflamed but no longer pouring as much blood. He uttered a deep growl as she approached, side-stepping the mess on the ground to avoid slipping. Alison followed every movement with her gaze, one hand on the tapestry to keep her balance but not letting her guard down.
He insisted on being on the offense, not giving her a second to dive into the fray properly. The moment her right knee gave out a fraction as pain slashed through her side again, he was on the move, striking the leg with an accurate kick. She went down on all fours, agony lancing not only through her chest but the entire right side of her body. Her nerves seemed to go from numb to a sequence of fireworks setting her insides aflame. Her instinct to lash out at the aggressor peaked. Too bad for him that she knew about his weakest area.
With effort, she rose up on her knees again, reaching out simultaneously to grasp hold of the vampire's previously injured arm. Though the metal of the cuffs obstructed her, her nails dug right through the jacket into the still sensitive flesh beneath and she jerked, feeling the material scrape roughly against the limb. He was good at keeping a poker face but at that his eyes clearly watered with pain and his mouth tightened to the point where they turned white. He jerked backwards immediately but she refused to let up, instead letting herself be dragged to her feet as he tried to gain distance.
They were face to face again and although his one arm was caught in her vice grip, he was the one that twisted it despite the pain to pin her against the wall. Alison gritted her teeth at the impact, feeling it vibrate up her spine. She felt the stinging need to scratch at those hawk eyes, set her own violent mark on his skin so he would finally release the restraint over her. She wanted free use of her arms to tear through him just as she had tried with her teeth. She couldn't explain why these thoughts were rising inside her. It must have been the taste of him in her mouth. Knowing she had been able to go that far. Digging her fangs into the most exposed area. These sick desires didn't even faze her now as they passed through her head.
Before she got to transform them into reality though, she was thrown to the side with the force of the blow that thundered against her face. She could have sworn she felt her cheekbone crack and the wetness that immediately shot into her eyes threatened to spill over the edges. Then came the unforgiving fingers that dug into the smarting flesh and turned her face back towards him. She squinted against the sensation. Gold was all she could see and it took her while before she realized that it must be his eyes boring into hers. His heated breath hit her and even as her dazed brain registered that he was much too close, that her control was slipping on the situation, twin pains erupted on her throat.
Her nails must have penetrated his skin then. The agony that tore her apart had her muscles clenching and the resulting flinch from him did nothing to unhook her fingers. His skin was burning up under her touch and it seemed that all her senses grew even sharper as he violated her as she had. Every trickle of blood leaving her body, every millimeter that his fangs ripped into further, every movement of his mouth against her skin. They were both receiving and giving injury, waiting for the other to cave in. Somehow, rationally, deep in her core, she knew it would be her. She hadn't been trained to handle this sort of assault as he had. Now it was her scream that cut through the empty rooms.
It didn't stop when he removed his head from the neck wound. The pain lasted, radiated out from the injury and cut through her ability to conjure up a decent strategy to win this fight. The smell of blood, the poisonous kind, infiltrated her nose and she gagged, just as he did, at the taste it left behind on the roof of her mouth. Not disgusting, just completely wrong. Vampire blood. It wasn't designed to be consumed by them.
In desperate anger, she removed her grip from his arm and raised her cuffed fists to ram them into his chest, thumping them against the area where his heart lay. Fruitlessly attempting to cause him harm as he had but her arms weren't up for the task anymore. He'd taken more from her than she from him. Alison tried to swallow, wincing at the ache that the action caused. Her eyes were open but so unfocused she failed to see Frankie spit out what he had almost swallowed, use his healthy arm to wipe the worst away from his mouth and set his attention back on her. She blinked rapidly, hoping to bring at least his face back into detail. She feared this blindness, this vulnerability.
Hands, burning hands, encircled her face again. Every single finger that splayed over her bloody skin held the power to crush her skull further if they desired. She lurched forward, intent on evading his grip but he slammed her back, none to gently. She wrenched her head to the side, gasping at the pressure this exerted on the injured cheekbone, and he still didn't remove them. His voice, rougher than usual and furiously low, despite his heavy breathing, murmured to her, "Want more?"
Despite her raspy, blood-clogged voice, her light answer was an open opposition to his threat, "What? You haven't had enough fun yet?"
He'd better take the hint that she wasn't backing down, no matter how far her broke her.
Her sight had finally cleared so she could see the dark red stains on his clothes, across his pale face, his throat. Grim satisfaction arose at the view. She could only imagine what she must look like. He appeared slightly light-headed, with the fraction of a smile on his face, although his hold on her didn't waver and she felt the tension in the muscles that pinned her to the vertical barrier.
He laughed at her retort but it died in his throat as a bout of coughing overtook him and more blood leaked from his lips. She looked at him, took in the whole picture since they clashed needlessly. The rush was ebbing away as they leaned there, intimately close like secret friends but their incentives without a shred of good intention. Logically, they were in a position that didn't suggest surrender. They were more or less taking a break from the violence and throwing word games at another, probing another to see who would back down. She knew she was drained and though the holes in her neck weren't wide, there was still blood running down her collarbone in little streams. She could only hope that his condition was the same.
It seemed that when he fought, he finally lost all etiquette concerning personal space. She couldn't recall him keeping such little distance to her before, not even when he had restrained and carried her back home. She found herself not minding this at all. It didn't appear important that they had just beaten another up or ripped another's throat open. She wasn't afraid or resentful. Her want for blood was still there but changing into something else…something more potent. She remained immobile where she was and just soaked in the heat from his body. Suddenly the ache of her body, the lightly thudding pain that his fingers caused on her bruising cheek, everything simply fit into the picture.
Frankie caught her gaze. Alison didn't look away as she raised her chin and challenged, "Are you going to break my jaw too?"
Lips curved upwards into a bloody smile.
"Convince me not to" he breathed back.
She could have played the not-man-enough-to-have-manners-around-a-girl card but after this little episode here that would be silly. It was follow the order he gave or more hurt. She had no doubt that once he had the upper hand again, she would come to experience some of the fancy torture tricks he probably had in store. Thoughts of what her father would think about this didn't even occur to her.
She contemplated her options, running out of reasonable ones fast. Unconsciously, her tongue ran over her lower lip, tasting bitter blood that must have been his. Raising her lids, she was confronted with those golden eyes, exploring hers whenever she dared to clash with them. She could see every tine line and shade in his iris. His pupils resembled black holes, which grew and grew until they filled her vision. Of course it meant he was filling any space possibly left between them. This time round, she was on the receiving end with no gap to squirm through and escape. She instinctively braced herself.
The heated skin of their lips met and what followed couldn't be seen as anything else but a pleasurable mess. His blood on her mouth, her own all over her body and vice versa. Her fractured ribs protested as his hands found their way over them down to her hips and pressed her deeper into the wall. Her own, limited as they were kept, were operating on their own accord, tearing away the buttons of his jacket to gain access to the layers below. Where the line between bloodlust and pure, physical lust had been overstepped, she didn't know, but there wasn't much difference when it came to the basics. They hadn't morphed into anything else, still acted like two wild beasts that grappled for dominance. They had just taken it to another level.
If there was air to inhale around them, Alison couldn't spare it a moment. They were breathing as one, lips fused and tongues tangling in their haste. If she had been an observer, somebody uninvolved, she may have found the scene appalling, disturbing and brutal in the way that the two of them seemed to be ravaging rather than donating embraces. Worse even than the previous session that included tearing into another's flesh like rabid dogs. Perhaps she should be repulsed at the true vampire she embodied now because there was no mistaking the animalistic clawing of her fingers in his clothing or the hiss of pleasure as he pulled them away to pin them above her head. This was no more self-defense.
Frankie only dropped his hold once to shed his jacket but didn't quit kissing her. The first opportunity for her to break it off while he had his attention split. She didn't. Her hands stayed right on the wall and she didn't disrupt the contact. If anything, her eagerness increased as his body nestled back against hers. Any disgust, any prejudices and better judgment evaporated in the heat of the moment. One hand was tracing down her raised arms, the other crawling through the space between her sweater and stomach. Electric shocks seemed to pump through her as skin met skin under the clothing and mingled into a state of bliss with the pain that pulsed along the right of her chest.
She couldn't stand keeping still while he got to touch her all he wanted. She tugged her arms out of his grip, pulling away from those demanding lips for a second to loop them around his head and tug at the obstructing material that still covered his upper body. He allowed her to pull off the thin shirt before claiming her mouth again. She made herself a picture of his contours blindly by puzzling the glimpses she seen together in her memory, feeling her way up his tensed abdomen to the lightly defined stomach until she reached the neck. Her frustration at being bound returned full tilt as she found herself having to hesitate again because the metal dug into her wrists and this translated into her movements. She yearned for control. More than that, for freedom of her body.
"Take them off"
He paused in his caresses, she felt him grin against her as he followed suit and his touch slid down to her jeans. She groaned with the effort of pulling his head away to seek out his eyes. He didn't understand and she wanted to make him obey her. Just once.
"No. These," she held the metal contraption in front of his face. His fingers encircled her arms like he needed to hold on to resist dragging her clothes off immediately. His eyes slid from her face to the cuffs and gradually back. The anticipated unspoken answer hung in the air, suffocating her. He would refuse. A moment ago he would have thrown her to floor for even communicating the thought out loud. This was unstable ground she was treading on. Alison could see it coming like a tidal wave crashing over her. He didn't speak for an age.
Without warning, he released her and crouched, unzipping an inside compartment of the army jacket on the ground. She didn't breathe in her wonder. He didn't drop his gaze from her as he twisted the key in the tiny lock. Metal ground against metal with a sharp click that announced her release. Even though her mind was still whirling, she comprehended the meaning of this like he did.
He was placing trust in her.
He was following a direct demand of hers that involved trusting her to stay put. The realization of that bore the need to laugh at the irony of it all. This gesture coming from the man that had told her not too long ago that he would never ever trust. Especially not a person who was placed under his supervision as a prisoner. She raised them in front of her face, disbelieving that she was seriously unbound after five long days of constant restriction. He waited unexpectedly patient, gauging her next move in case he'd made the wrong choice.
Alison stepped forward, lightly pushing against his chest with her flat palms. He didn't budge from where he stood, right in the middle of the hallway, so she froze opposite him. Her hands travelled over his bare upper body, enjoying the capacity of movement she had now. They eventually came to rest behind his head, linked closely at the nape of his neck and she noticed his had eyes fallen shut with the sensation. The mood had shifted again and the previous feral urgency had left their bodies. Delicate desire had replaced it, mingled with the need to explore. That was exactly what she did. Her hands stopped their journey and she let her lips convey the rest of her intentions, trailing up his chest.
Judging from the shiver that ran through his body beneath her mouth, she wasn't doing too badly in her antics. She paused when she reached the top, hovering just inches away from the lips she'd experienced in multiple ways in just the last twenty minutes. Hell, what a day this was turning out to be. And who knew how it was going to end? If the strong hands running over her lower back and dropping further were any indication, it wouldn't be the worst day of her afterlife.
She sucked in a breath of air, burying her pride deep under her next words. "Thank you. Frankie"
A reply seemed halfway out of him when he changed his mind and only graced her with a fleeting almost-there smile. Fingers tangled in her chestnut strands and pulled her back to what they had disrupted. She didn't mind. There would be other opportunities to talk, to think. By the time her clothes joined his on the carpet, they were already past the need for words.