So on the Jag: FanFiction facebook group I created a challenge: write a 2 chappie Halloween inspired fic. Here's part one of mine. Enjoy!
Vampire's Kiss - Chapter 1
It's almost impossible not to look at her.
The glass of bourbon in my hand stops just before it reaches my lips and I stand, a lovestruck fool that's been captivated by a woman he can't have.
She's a vision, a tempress, a goddess that wears a dark red dress with tiny straps that barely hold the garment together. It hugs her curves in all the right places, the satin clinging to her like I imagined my sheets would if I ever had the opportunity to love her.
I'm not her date tonight. The goddamned spook had reigned Mac in before I had a chance to throw my hat into the running. With a quick ruffle into his thoughts I am reminded that all of his attempts to pursue my partner had been vehemently ignored and I nearly laugh at the thoughts that run through Webb's mind: the hand she almost broke when he dared to touch her knee on the ride to the banquet. Or the flowers she refused because they were 'only friends.'
I can practically feel his frustration and while it's comical, the next thought that rolls through his mind makes me crush the glass in my hand. It's sexual, a fantasy of having her in his bed that forces me to the nearest bathroom. I clean my hand, pull shards of glass from my palm and watch the tiny cuts disappear as if they were never there.
"Easy, Hammer. Take it easy." My reflection speaks to me without words. Deep breaths calm my anger and after a few long moments I step out into the throngs of patrons. She's close, I can tell because the air around her is charged and pleasant. But rather than seek Mac out I find a table in the darkest part of the hall where I can see but not be seen.
I stand like a sentry, her unwanted private security that lurks in the wings while Mac dances with Webb. Unlike his mind, hers is impenetrable.
Whatever power she has over me stops the gift I was given when I made the turn. Human thoughts are all visible to a Vampire's mind and after four hundred years on this Earth, there was no one I couldn't read but one Sarah MacKenzie.
I'm not sure why that is and others of my kind I've asked consider it a mystery. Her eyes scan the banquet hall as if she's searching for something or someone and I just slink into a corner because I know I can't be just friends with her tonight.
For hours I watch her dance. Different partners, different music and that incredible dress swaying with each of her movements. Eventually the band stopped playing and the congratulatory speeches commenced with their vexing monotonous undertones. It's ass kissing at its finest that lasts forever and has little pull on any real struggles the Navy is facing.
That's when I see her leave by slipping through a double french door that leads to a darkened balcony. She doesn't return when the music starts and her date seems to have caught the interest of a congresswoman, a little mental push I gave when I knew I shouldn't.
I pass each patron, using my gift to cloak my movement as I follow out to the balcony and close the door behind us. There's a little light that filters through the window but Mac stands in the shadows.
One hand is resting against the cold concrete of the building, the other fiddles with a strap on one of her impossibly high heels. If she knows I'm there, she makes no sign and although every warning in my head tells me to run, the scent of her draws me like a moth to a flame.
"You look beautiful tonight." My voice is low, gravely and I see that my words have the desired effect. She shakes slightly, a small movement that only I can see through perpernatural vision.
She keeps her back to me even as foot comes back down on the ground. "Don't think I didn't see you sulking in the shadows. If you didn't want to dance you could have said so."
Oh, I want to dance but only between the sheets. It must be the bourbon in my veins or maybe the scent of her which carries me close, too close.
Like a moth to a flame, I'm drawn to her and out of my own volition, my traitorous body urges me forward and forward until I'm standing right behind her. The heat of Mac's body warms my soul as her body presses against mine. She sighs when and tilts her head in such a way that exposes her neck.
Her skin looks so soft, inviting and when I catch her pulse point drumming to life my resolve breaks like a dam. My lips touch her first, even before my body is pressed against her back, a series of soft kisses followed by the moans of a wanton woman when my teeth sink into her skin.
Lord help me.
I'm lost the moment her blood touches the tip of my tongue, a spicey, sweet taste finer than the most exquisite wine on Earth. I wrap an arm around her middle, pull her closer and feel her backside against my hardening member.
This fantasies had burned in my dreams time and time again, the sweet surrender that makes me want to indulge in both her body and blood. She moans again and I feel the vibration against my lips enhancing the pleasure for each of us. See, this kind of intimacy could be erotic as it could be painful. For Mac, I take the most care, slowly drinking, touching her with a lover's caress.
I push away my evil thoughts, the little voice who wishes I drink so much that her heart stops. I could turn her then, make her mine forever but this cursed life is not one I wish for her.
When her hand reaches for my hardness I take one final pull of her blood and then run my tongue over the bites to seal them. She's disappointed when I step away but a lover is not something we can be to one another and I've already gone too far.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." My words are as clipped as they are lame and before she can gather her thoughts, I rush through the French doors and leave the banquet.