Dark Impulses
Chapter 6
Jerry's lips curled into a slow, wicked smile as he gazed down at Scarlet's limp, docile figure sprawled across the cool tile of her kitchen floor. With a tender motion, he eased her upper body into his lap, settling back on his heels, the leather of his boots creaking faintly. His clawed fingertips brushed through her wavy raven locks, smoothing them back from her pale face and slender neck, and he let out a low, rumbling purr at the feel of her skin - so soft, so smooth, like silk warmed by a flickering flame. Rolling her head gently to the side, he exposed the elegant curve of her neck to his hungry view, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips at the sight- smooth, unmarred flesh, pale as moonlight, pulsing with a strong, steady rhythm beneath, tantalizing and intoxicating in its quiet promise. Moving his face closer, he inhaled deeply, dragging his nose from the delicate dip of her collarbone up to the sensitive spot just below her ear, drinking in her scent - sweet, wild, a heady mix that made his head swim. "You, darling, are exquisite," he moaned, his voice a velvet growl, and he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, nuzzling her tenderly, the faintest scrape of his stubble against her skin sending a shiver through him. "I wonder if you taste as good as you smell," he whispered softly against her throat, his breath hot and teasing.
Pulling back just enough to catch the dim light, he let his fangs lengthen - sharp, glistening points that caught the shadows - his grip on her tightening, fingers digging into her arms with a possessive edge. Then he lunged forward, burying those fangs deep into the soft, yielding skin of her neck. Her hot blood gushed from the wound, a sudden rush that filled his mouth with its rich, coppery warmth - divine, ambrosial, a taste so potent that sweet nectar of the gods couldn't hold a candle to it. Groaning low in his chest, he nearly lost himself in her - the flavor was a symphony, layered with power that sang through his veins, a testament to her strong, ancient bloodline. But he had work to do; Jerry could savor her delightfully intoxicating, powerful blood at a later time when the moment wasn't so pressing. Pulling back long enough to bite his tongue - sharp, metallic taste mingling with hers - he plunged his fangs back down into her neck and began to force his blood into her body, searching for the seal that bound her to this fragile human form. Blood magic is a powerful thing, even for humans, coupled with his lineage, it practically guaranteed success, he thought, a flicker of pride curling his lips.
Growling when he found what he was looking for - the gentle, thrumming pulse of power that wove throughout her body like a hidden thread - he closed his eyes, brows knitting as he concentrated on it. Applying pressure to it, Jerry jerked suddenly when it sent a surge of pain to his very core, a white-hot stab that made his breath catch. Drawing his dark brows together tighter, he buried his fangs deeper into her flesh, the wet sound of her blood against his lips drowned out by another inhuman growl - a sound so primal, so fierce, it would have even the bravest of men running for their lives. Ignoring the surges of pain that followed the first, sharp and relentless, he began to force his will and essence onto the seal, warping and bending it with a relentless focus until finally it fractured with a silent, shattering snap. Every muscle in Scarlet's body seized, her slender frame arching hard against his as an inhuman scream tore from her throat - raw, piercing, echoing off the kitchen walls.
Pulling back from her throat, he cradled her cheek with one clawed hand, the other supporting her weight, and smiled in triumph as he looked into her eyes that had snapped open in shock. Slowly, her black pupils began to consume her emerald irises, swallowing them whole, leaving nothing but a thin, shimmering halo of green around the pools of darkness before her eyes rolled back in her head and her lids slipped shut once again, her body going limp in his arms like a puppet with its strings cut.
Resting his forehead against hers, Jerry exhaled slowly, the effort draining him - his breath ragged, his limbs heavy as if he'd fought a battle. He would have to feed again to regain his strength before she woke; he had a feeling she was going to be a handful. Watching her for the short time that he had, he could already tell she could be a little spitfire - sharp-tongued, quick to flare - so he could only imagine what she would be like now, coupled with the release of her true nature. But Jerry enjoyed a challenge, and the very thought of it excited him all the more, a dark thrill curling in his gut. "Just one more thing to look forward to," he mused to himself, his eyes growing darker with intent and excitement, twin pools of sable gleaming in the low light.
Gathering her body into his arms, Jerry stood in one swift, fluid motion, the motion effortless despite the fatigue tugging at him. Looking out her kitchen window and into the darkness beyond, he sighed - the sun wouldn't be up for many hours, but he doubted he would have time to rest or hunt for another meal to regain his strength. Not enough hours in the night, he thought with a frown creasing his handsome features. He would have to settle for something he already had, though the thought wasn't very appealing - the little human blood bag he currently had locked away was getting weak, her pulse thready, and would most likely start to turn soon, drawing his brows together in a deeper frown at the thought. He would have to take care of her to ensure that didn't happen - he wouldn't have time to train any new ghouls, not with Scarlet in the mix now.
"Maybe there's enough left for an early snack," he smirked a little at the thought, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Turning swiftly, Jerry made his way home, looking forward to having the woman he carried in his nest - though it was not yet complete, with its half-dug basement and bare walls, it would have to do for the moment, he thought as he shifted her in his arms enough to free a hand to open the garage door. Tapping the button on the wall as he passed with an elbow, Jerry exited the garage and crossed the street in a flash of shadowed movement, making it to his house on the other side with enough time to look back at her house and watch the garage door close with a soft rumble.
He would have to go back over within the next few hours and clean up the mess in the kitchen - Jerry couldn't afford to leave evidence behind, especially with noisy teenage brats poking about, their sneakers scuffing the pavement, their voices loud and careless. Because who knows what they might stumble across, he thought as he grumbled in annoyance, the sound a low rumble in his throat.
Kicking his garage door closed with his heel - the thud echoing faintly - Jerry made his way towards his study. Swiftly climbing the stairs silently, the old wood creaking under his boots, and rounding the corner, he gently pushed the cracked door open all the way with the toe of his boot. Placing his newest, most prized possession gently in the dark leather high-back chair, he was careful not to disturb her, her dark hair spilling over the armrest like ink.
Not wanting to leave her alone long, Jerry made his way towards his closet where his meal awaited him - the faint, stale scent of fear already teasing his nose. Pushing the hidden door in the back of his closet open with a soft click, he made his way towards the back of the small hallway, allowing his footsteps to become audible as he approached, each step a deliberate thud against the hardwood. He smirked when he heard the faint whimpering on the other side of one of the doors - fear made everything taste better, Jerry decided with a fanged smile, his sharp teeth catching the dim light. Taking an extra few seconds to unlock the door and turn the knob, he allowed the door to swing out slowly, savoring the effect - the creak of the hinges, the widening sliver of light. There she was - the once-pretty blonde huddled as far in the corner as she could be, trembling, her knees drawn up tight, her blonde hair tangled and dull, her eyes wide with terror. He drained her swiftly, her frail body slumping under his fangs, her pulse a weak stutter that faded to nothing against his lips.
Making his way back into his study, Jerry paused at the sight of his slumbering prize. Her raven locks framed her oval face perfectly, the stark contrast of dark hair and pale skin making her glow in the soft light of the lamp on a nearby desk - a delicate, ethereal beauty that tugged at something deep in his chest. Licking the blood from his fingers - the taste stale compared to hers - Jerry smiled softly to himself as one word dominated his thoughts at the sight: MINE, a possessive growl that echoed in his mind.
But alas, the moment of appraising her dark looks didn't last when his cell chose that moment to spring to life on the desk, vibrating softly on the polished surface with a faint buzz that grated his nerves. Quickly grabbing the small object, Jerry answered the call, all the while watching his prize - he didn't want to miss the moment when she awoke to her new life, to a world she didn't yet understand.
"Yes," he snapped quietly, somewhat annoyed that someone had chosen that exact moment to call, his voice a low hiss. There was a pause on the other end of the line before a man cleared his throat and began - Jerry could hear his heartbeat quicken on the other end, a rapid thump-thump that made the corners of his mouth turn up in a slight, predatory smile.
"Hello, is this Mr. Dandrige?"
Growling softly, Jerry replied with a curt, "Yes," the word clipped and sharp.
"Sorry for calling so late, but this is Walther and I have the information you requested," the man said, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke, steadying against the faint tremble Jerry could still hear.
Leaning against his desk - the edge digging into his hip - Jerry regarded Scarlet's sleeping form before him with a devious look, his eyes tracing the curve of her cheek, the faint rise and fall of her chest. "And that would be?" he inquired sharply, getting further annoyed, his patience thinning like a frayed thread.
"Yes, well, as it would turn out, she was adopted from overseas and her last name is not Lee - that's the name she was given when she was formally adopted here in the States," the man paused, and Jerry heard some paper rustle on the other end, a soft crinkle that grated against the silence, before he began again. "Her name was Scarlet Amelia Saint, now I couldn't find what country she…" His voice became background noise as Jerry smiled one of his signature panty-dropping smiles at his sleeping beauty - the kind that made hearts stutter and knees weak.
What an interesting turn, he inwardly purred, a dark thrill curling through him.
Pulling his focus back to the phone call, Jerry cut into the man's rambling - he had all the information he needed from the human, and the rest was just noise. "I'll pay you a visit in the next few nights to pay your fee," he said, his tone final, and with that, Jerry ended the phone call, the click sharp in the quiet room. His eyes dark as night as he regarded his prize before him, he whispered, "A Saint," a little awestruck at the new information, his voice barely audible, laced with a reverent edge. So my little Scarlet, you're not from just any line of purebloods, he thought, frowning slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight, his mind reeling with the implications.
Moving to Vegas was quickly becoming one of the single best ideas he had ever had in his many blood-soaked years of life - a gamble that had paid off in spades.
"Time for sleeping beauty to wake up," he thought to himself as he saw her eyelids begin to flutter, impressed at how quickly she was recovering - the faint twitch of her fingers, the shallow quickening of her breath. "I would expect nothing less from a Saint," he mused, his dark gaze locked on the woman before him, drinking in every detail like a man starved.
Groaning slightly, Scarlet slowly shifted her head, her dark brows drawing together as pain laced its way to the foreground of her mind and body - a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed through her stiff frame, like she had run a marathon through the desert heat and had promptly thereafter been hit by a truck, the kind with rusted bumpers and a roaring engine. Slowly opening her eyes took considerable effort and concentration to do even that simple task, her lids heavy as if weighed down by lead. The first thing that came into focus in the dim-lit room was a dark wood floor beneath her simple black flats - the grain of the wood worn smooth, scratched faintly in places. Shifting her gaze slightly further from her person, her eyes came to rest on a pair of well-worn black boots - she focused on them for a moment longer, making note of the small, dark, wet-looking stains on them, like small droplets had rained down, glistening faintly in the soft light. Said boots shifted slightly as if trying to call her attention to whoever was wearing them, the leather creaking with the motion. Moving her focus up to a pair of legs encased in black jeans held up by a simple black leather belt with a sturdy steel buckle - the metal dulled with age but solid - Scarlet's eyes dared travel further up, taking in oh-so-deliciously well-toned abs hidden beneath a simple dark gray t-shirt that clung to him in all the right places, the fabric stretching just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. Daring to gaze higher yet, her eyes finally fell on his face - his pale skin seemed to give off an unearthly glow, a stark contrast to the shadows pooling around him. Loose strands of dark hair cascaded around his impossibly dark, intense gaze, framed with thick dark eyebrows that were shaped into a deceivingly perfect arch that followed the slight curve of his eyes - eyes that seemed to pull her in, deep and endless. Smooth, red-stained lips showed off a sly, cocky smile, fitting his handsome face together perfectly, a face carved with sharp angles and a dangerous allure.
"Jerry,"
The words rushed from her mouth in a whisper, barely audible, a tremor in her voice as their last encounter flashed quickly through her mind - the kitchen, the cold tile, the sharp sting of his fangs, the coppery flood of blood and pain. Her heart jumped into high gear, adrenaline flooding her veins like wildfire, temporarily erasing the deep ache of her body, leaving only a buzzing urgency. Jerking back away from him in the chair caused it to teeter on two legs briefly - the wood groaning under her sudden movement - before it came crashing backwards, spilling Scarlet to the floor with a loud thud that echoed in the quiet room. Quickly scrambling away from him on her hands and knees, the rough grain of the wood scraping against her palms, Scarlet stumbled over a stack of books - old, leather-bound tomes that toppled with her, hitting the floor with a loud thunk, spilling puffs of dust into the air and filling the room with the musty, comforting smell of aged paper. Pulling herself back up and onto her butt, Scarlet continued to scoot further away, not stopping until she could go no further and her back pressed against the smooth, cold surface of the wall, the chill seeping through her shirt. Panting slightly from the exertion, her chest heaving, Scarlet eyed Jerry warily, her mind still trying to pull itself from the fog of sleep - a haze that clung like cobwebs, slowing her thoughts. Quickly sweeping her gaze around the room, she made note of the dark wood furniture that littered the walls of the room - shelves bowing slightly under the weight of their contents - and the numerous stacks of old-looking, leather-bound books, their spines cracked and faded, before her eyes came to rest back on the dark-clad figure before her once again, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud.
Jerry's smirk grew into a smile that made his white teeth catch the soft light of the lamp - a gleam that sent a shiver down her spine. Squatting to her eye level, Jerry placed his forearms on his knees, the denim of his jeans stretching taut, and gave her a seductive look - tempting and alluring, a predator's charm that radiated from him in waves. Had Scarlet not just seen how monstrous he could get - those fangs, that snarl, the blood - she would've fallen for it, swooning over his dreamy molasses eyes and seductive smile like some airheaded Twilight fan, her heart fluttering foolishly. No, now she knew better, and his tempting gaze, pale skin, and seductive smile only made her frown in anger and her body tense with unease, every muscle coiled tight as if ready to spring.
Watching in amusement as she had tumbled over the back of the chair when she realized just who was before her - the clatter of wood against wood still ringing in his ears - Jerry frowned as he saw her expression change from fear to anger, a shift that darkened her features. It seemed she was already past his initial vampire charm, that easy pull he wielded so well. "I think we need to talk, darling," he drawled out, showing off a sly smile, his voice smooth as honey with a sharp edge beneath. The response he gained from her was not one he had expected when she replied with a simple, "Fuck you," her words bitten out, sharp and defiant, cutting through the air like a blade.
Growling slightly to himself, a low rumble in his chest, knowing she was going to make this harder than he had first planned, he inhaled deeply, testing her scent - she smelled hot with anger, a fiery tang that burned his nose, and wild like fear, a jagged edge that quickened his pulse. Yes, she was mad but also afraid, and that he could use to his advantage. Putting on his best I'm not to be fucked with look that made his eyes look darker (if that was possible) Jerry began again, this time his voice taking on a commanding tone that would make any human flinch, deep and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries. "I don't think you're in any position to be getting nasty," he paused, leaning forward onto the balls of his feet, letting his face fall into shadows for effect, the lamplight casting harsh angles across his features, before adding, "darling," the word dripping with menace and mockery.
Scarlet's eyes narrowed at his words and the way he leaned forward menacingly, his shadow looming over her like a storm about to break. He was trying to scare her, and she knew it - and worst of all, she had a feeling he knew it was working, could sense the tremor in her hands, the quickening of her breath. She knew what he was - a vampire, faster, stronger, most likely older, and beyond all doubt dangerous, a predator in every line of his frame. Biting her bottom lip - her teeth sinking into the tender flesh, a faint sting grounding her - Scarlet hesitated for a second, her eyes fluttering to the open door and back to Jerry as thoughts of escape flashed in her head, a desperate flicker of hope, before she replied with another oh-so-tactful, "Fuck you," her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.
Taking note of how her frightened eyes flashed briefly to the door and back - quick, darting, like a trapped animal - Jerry couldn't help but wonder what was going through that pretty little head of hers, those emerald eyes sparking with defiance and dread. Nothing that was productive to his goals, he was sure, a faint smirk tugging at his lips at the thought.
Sighing inwardly, Jerry suddenly felt his patience drawing thin, a thread stretched to snapping. He could be patient, cool, and calculating when the time called for it - centuries had taught him that much - but he preferred being straightforward, bold even, a I get what I want and take what I want, live in the moment kind of guy. So waiting for her to come around was becoming further and further from the realm of possibilities, his restraint fraying with every sharp word she threw. Why do some women have to be so damn stubborn, Jerry thought, irritation flaring hot in his chest. Not that he didn't like the way she resisted or how she chewed her bottom lip - leaving it red and swollen - or how she narrowed her eyes when she was thinking, a fierce glint that made her all the more enticing. Oh, the things he could do to those wonderfully full, pouty lips, and not to mention the things those lips could do for him - Jerry smirked at the thought, his fangs lengthening behind his lips, sharp and eager. "You can do this the easy way, calmly and obediently, or," Jerry smirked, flashing those fangs, their tips catching the light, "or I can make you obey… darling," he finished, his voice all but a purr, low and dangerous, his expression clearly showing which he preferred, a dark hunger glinting in his eyes.
He didn't even have to wait for her reply - her expression told all, in the way her eyes seemed to harden like chips of green ice and her dark, fine brows drew together slightly, or in how her lips drew together in a pouty frown, stubborn and unyielding. Maybe she needs another dose, he mused, enjoying the idea of getting closer to her, of tasting that defiance again. In an instant, he was before her - making her lips part in a gasp and her eyes grow wide with fear, the green swallowed by dilated pupils. Pausing for a moment to enjoy the way her heartbeat spiked in both fear and shock - thumping loud and fast, making her scent change to something sweet, a sugary edge that teased his senses - and deciding he liked the way she trembled before him, her breath hitching, Jerry smiled to himself, a slow, predatory curl of his lips. Quickly snaking one hand around her neck and grasping the hair at the base of her skull - his fingers tangling in the dark strands, tugging sharp - while with the other he flicked a claw across his thumb with another finger, drawing blood, a bead of red welling up bright against his pale skin, he smeared the small amount of blood across his lips and smashed his lips and exposed fangs to hers in a brutal, bloody kiss. His mouth invaded hers, demanding submission in both his actions and his blood - the coppery taste sharp and insistent. Closing his inky black eyes in concentration, Jerry could feel her fight both physically and mentally - her hands coming up to push against his chest in a vain attempt to dislodge him, her palms pressing hard against the solid wall of muscle, her legs kicking up slightly against his, a futile thrashing. But what he found when he tried to push into her mind was a dark swirl of power pushing back just as hard - a storm of resistance that made him growl slightly against her lips, the sound vibrating between them. Pulling back slightly, Jerry regarded Scarlet beneath him - her abused lips smeared with his blood, red and glistening, and the heated, dark look of fury in her eyes, burning bright despite the haze. She wasn't giving up without a fight, and though it angered him - stoking a flicker of frustration - it at the same time pleased him, a twisted satisfaction curling in his gut. With a dark smirk, Jerry violently lunged forward again, this time with all the strength, power, and lust of a four-hundred-year-old vampire, his lips and mind pressing hard against hers, demanding submission with a force that shook the air.
Her control wavered for a moment when he bit into her lip - catching it with his fangs, drawing blood, a sharp sting that flooded her mouth with the taste of iron. The instant her control wavered, he swooped into both her mind and her mouth, taking control - wrapping around her mind, forcing her to relax with soothing strokes of his tongue against hers, slick and commanding but soft, his thoughts pressing in like a velvet weight. Soon her body began to relax against his, her tense muscles softening, and her mind settled against his strong suggestion, a reluctant surrender. Pulling away from her abused mouth when she whimpered against his lips - a small, broken sound that sent a jolt through him - Jerry inhaled her scent, finding it still fluctuating between anger and contentment, a warring mix of fire and calm that teased his senses. Not perfect but it will do, the vampire thought with a slight frown, his brows twitching downward.
Sitting back against the open closet door - the wood cool against his back - Jerry pulled her onto his lap and laid her head against his chest, her dark hair spilling over his arm as he began to stroke it, smoothing it back into order with slow, deliberate motions while he took a few moments to recover, his own breath steadying. His control still firm on her mind and his blood keeping her body docile for the moment - if he wanted to keep her like this for any length of time, she would need another dose in a few minutes, but for now, it would do, a fragile leash he could tighten later. Tilting her chin up with a gentle nudge of his fingers, Jerry peered down at her face - her bright eyes were dark and clouded over with his influence, a glassy sheen over the emerald, but under it all, he could still see and feel her powerful will simmering below the surface, a ember waiting to flare.
"You are quite the prize," Jerry mused, his voice low and musing, to which Scarlet frowned sorely, her lips pulling down, clearly not liking the statement or being thought of as a prize - her defiance even now etching lines in her face. Chuckling slightly at her frown - a soft, dark sound that rumbled in his chest - Jerry continued, "Yes, I am what you said I am," pausing slightly when a question bubbled against his control over her mind, a faint ripple of resistance that earned Scarlet one of Jerry's signature smiles, all sharp edges and charm, before he continued, his gaze still locked with hers for an instant, drinking in the fire beneath the fog. Breaking eye contact, Jerry shifted her body in his hold as he moved to stand - her weight obviously nothing in his arms, light as a feather despite her strength. Pushing aside the clothing in the closet - the fabric brushing against his knuckles with a soft rustle - Jerry pushed the hidden door in the back of the closet open with one foot and walked into the brightly lit corridor beyond, the fluorescent glare harsh against his eyes. Shifting her weight easily, Jerry opened one of the doors and placed Scarlet on the floor in the small room beyond - the linoleum cold and scuffed beneath her. Giving her one last dark, seductive glance - his eyes lingering on her parted lips, her tangled hair - Jerry closed the door and released her mind from his hold as he turned the key on the handle with a sharp click, locking his prize inside, the sound echoing faintly in the narrow space.
If he was going to attempt to keep her his, he needed to be at full strength, and that meant well-fed - his earlier snack far from cutting it now, a mere appetizer to her feast. Giving the door that barred her freedom one last glance - its white surface stark against the gray walls - Jerry left the bright corridor and his home in search of a meal, the night air cool against his skin as he stepped outside. She was feisty, and after her bloodline had been revealed to him, he knew he needed to be at full strength for their next encounter - anything less would be a risk he couldn't afford.
Driving down the dark stretch of highway - the asphalt a black ribbon cutting through the desert - Jerry began to reflect on what had just transpired, the hum of his truck's engine a steady backdrop to his thoughts. Though he didn't like the idea of leaving her alone - her stubbornness a wild card he couldn't quite predict - he didn't have a choice; this was something he needed to do in order to keep her within his grasp, to tighten the hold he'd only just begun to forge.
In the beginning, Jerry had had every intention of taking it slow and luring her into his waiting grasp - charming her step by step, a game of patience he'd played a hundred times before - but after finding she had broken his control over her after the first night, it had sent his inner beast into an uproar that had triggered tonight's events, a chain reaction he hadn't fully anticipated. And so it had left him ill-prepared to deal with the aftermath, his plans scrambled like a deck of cards tossed into the wind. Though after having that nice little chat on the phone with the PI - Walther's nervous voice still ringing in his ears - Jerry was glad tonight had happened; he knew it would make things harder in the beginning, but he couldn't risk her falling into the wrong hands, and in his opinion, anybody's hands but his were the wrong ones.
"A Saint," Jerry mused aloud, his voice a low murmur as he pulled into the parking lot of one of the many not-so-nice strip clubs of Vegas - the neon sign flickering red and blue, casting garish shadows across the cracked pavement.
Eyeing two girls as they waved to the bouncer who had opened the door for them on their way out - their laughter sharp and brittle against the night - Dinner is served, Jerry smirked as he got out of his dark pickup truck, the door creaking faintly as he shut it, intent on following the two oblivious girls further away from the bright neon lights of the building and into the dim-lit street on the edge of the desert, where the shadows stretched long and hungry.
As the lock clicked on the door with a sharp, metallic snap, Scarlet felt Jerry release her mind from his grasp - a sudden, jarring freedom that made her head spin. Sagging back against the wall - the drywall cool and unyielding against her spine - she began to take stock of her surroundings, her eyes darting over every detail with a desperate focus. The room was small, not even big enough for her to lie down in - three plain gray drywall walls, rough and unfinished, a dingy linoleum floor scratched and peeling at the edges, bright fluorescent lights buzzing overhead with a harsh, flickering glare, and a sturdy white metal door in front of her, its surface scuffed but solid. Groaning slightly as feeling and control began to flood back into her limbs - a tingling rush that prickled her skin - and with that control came the ache that she had first felt when she had awoken, a deep, bone-weary pain that settled heavy in her joints. But the worst of the pain radiated from the left side of her neck and down into her shoulder - a throbbing, burning sting that pulsed with every heartbeat. Gingerly pulling a hand up to her shoulder - her fingers trembling faintly - Scarlet hissed between clenched teeth when she made contact with a particularly tender spot, the skin hot and swollen beneath her touch. Pulling her hand away when her sluggish brain registered the cool, sticky sensation on her fingertips as blood - dark red and glistening - and the harsh ache of her neck and shoulder as a bite, she stared at her stained fingers in silence, the sight a punch to her gut. Scarlet's abused lips pulled back in a fierce frown as her brows drew together as well, furrowing deep lines in her forehead. That's right, the fucker bit me, Scarlet silently raged, the thought a molten spark that ignited her anger, burning away the fog.
Pulling herself further up against the wall in an attempt to ease the tension on her spine - her muscles protesting with every shift - Scarlet further inspected the room, her mind a little clearer than a few moments ago.
"Come on, you're a smart girl, you can figure a way out of this," she whispered to herself, her voice a faint rasp in the sterile silence, sparing the metal door - she had heard it lock with that definitive click and, given it a quick once-over, decided that way was not going to be her way out, the handle cold and unyielding under her brief touch. Instead, she began to scrutinize the wall to her left, her eyes tracing its plain, gray surface. Knocking her knuckles against the wall, testing it - the sound a dull tap that reverberated faintly - Scarlet's frown deepened when a hollow thud met her ears, a promising echo that quickened her pulse.
Drywall, she hummed to herself, plain, unfinished drywall held up with screws, the realization settling in her mind with a flicker of hope.
Scarlet pouted - she didn't know much about walls except that they were a bitch to fix, and she only knew this after having dropped her laptop down from the top of her stairs while trying to carry too many things at once - a chaotic tumble of books, coffee mug, and tech - where the wall at the landing had stopped its descent with a sickening crunch. That had been a bad day for both her laptop and the wall - her poor laptop had been unsalvageable, a total loss of a good computer, its screen cracked and dark, and even better yet, she had to fix the hole in the wall that said laptop had created when the wall had stopped its descent of doom, a jagged gash in the plaster that mocked her clumsiness. That had been a fun trip to first the local computer store to see about data recovery - the clerk's pitying look still burned in her memory - and then an even better trip to the hardware store to get what she needed to fix said hole, the clerk there rattling off terms like "spackle" and "drywall patch" that she'd nodded along to with feigned confidence. But one thing had come of it - she had gained a little knowledge about walls, and specifically drywall, and how most walls were hollow, a fragile secret hidden behind their solid facade.
"Hollow," Scarlet whispered, her mind suddenly clear and in high gear, a surge of clarity cutting through the exhaustion. If her laptop could put a hole in a wall - leaving that fist-sized dent that left her cursing for days - then why couldn't she kick one in the wall big enough for her to fit through? That most certainly looked easier than trying to get through the door, its metal surface mocking her with its sturdiness. Shifting to the opposing wall and leaning against it - the chill seeping through her shirt, grounding her - Scarlet braced herself before she pulled her feet back towards her chest, the soles of her flats scraping the linoleum, and kicked with all her might, a sharp grunt escaping her lips.
Maybe this wasn't such a brilliant plan, Scarlet began to ponder after what felt like the billionth time she kicked said wall - again, pain laced up her legs, sharp and electric, and settled at the base of her spine, a dull throb that made her grit her teeth. It felt like she was kicking a concrete wall - unyielding, mocking - and didn't seem to be getting her anywhere but in more pain and pulling her back down to feeling exhausted, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Tears stung the corners of her eyes - hot and bitter - as the idea of escape seemed to get further and further away, slipping through her fingers like sand.
Roughly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand - smearing the dampness across her cheek - Scarlet shook her head in determination and hissed out, "No, I won't give up, I won't let that scary, handsome fucker win!" her voice a fierce whisper, a vow to herself in the flickering light.
Jerry dusted his hands on his dark jeans - the denim rough against his palms - as he tossed the last body out of the back of his truck and onto the ground before him, the thud muffled by the desert sand. The two strippers had sated his hunger - their blood sharp with cheap perfume and adrenaline - and the bouncer who had come to investigate a scream had been the icing on the cake, his meaty frame yielding a thick, satisfying rush.
Right now, Jerry felt content, his hunger was not eating at him, a rare calm settling over his bones, and he was strangely excited to be heading back to the house, a pull he couldn't quite name tugging at him. Looking up into the lightening sky - the first faint streaks of gray bleeding into the black - Jerry inhaled the desert breeze, taking in the scent of sagebrush and earth, dry and crisp against his senses. Pausing, Jerry glanced at the horizon, taking note of its lightening appearance - he had enough time to make it home before dawn, the sun still a distant threat. Glancing down at the three bodies on the ground before him - their limbs splayed awkwardly, clothes torn and stained - Jerry frowned, his brows drawing together in a faint crease. Some small part of him wanted to take them back to his nest - a flicker of instinct urging him to build his pack - but another larger part was telling him he wouldn't have time to train or keep track of three new ghouls, not with Scarlet's fire burning in the mix. Turning away from them, Jerry got into his truck - the door creaking as he swung it shut - and began the drive back down the dirt road toward town and away from the bodies of his latest meal, confident that the quickly approaching dawn would take care of them, the sun's rays bleaching them to dust.
Taking a deep breath - her chest tight with effort - Scarlet cried out softly as her feet made contact with the wall once again, only this time her heels left a deep impression in the drywall - a jagged dent that sent a thrill through her. Crying out in success - a small, triumphant yelp - she began again, this time with renewed vigor and determination, her muscles screaming but her will unyielding. Putting her all into the next kicks - each one a jolt of pain and hope - she muffled a cheer of success when her feet passed through the wall and into the darkness beyond, the drywall crumbling under her persistence. Quickly scooting over to the hole - the edges rough against her hands - she began to pull the sheetrock with her fingers, pulling it away, making the hole bigger and exposing the backside of the opposing wall, a faint draft teasing her skin. Moving back to her previous spot, Scarlet began again, this time determined to make the wall bend to her will or crumble, whichever came first - her breath hitching with every strike.
After a few powerful and painful kicks - each one sending a shockwave up her legs - Scarlet was able to rip a hole big enough in the second wall for her to squeeze her body through, the drywall tearing with a satisfying crack. Taking a quick glance around and finding the room on the other side to be identical to the one she had just escaped - same gray walls, same scuffed floor - Scarlet scrambled to her feet, nearly falling when her legs almost gave out from under her, wobbly as a newborn foal. Clutching the door handle - its metal cool and slick with her sweat - she let out a silent prayer to the gods before she tried to turn the knob, Please, let this work, her mind whispered - tears welled up in her eyes, hot and stinging, when it turned and pushed open with a faint creak. Glancing around the door toward the end of the hall - the fluorescent light casting long, stark shadows - Scarlet said another silent prayer, Whoever you are or whatever god or gods that you may be, please see me out of here, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm in her chest.
Taking small steps toward the door - her flats scuffing softly against the linoleum - Scarlet let out an unsteady breath while she mentally tried to reassure herself, Okay, if Jerry didn't hear all that noise I was making from kicking a wall, then he's not here, right? she tried to reason, clinging to the fragile hope as she pulled the door open, revealing the inside of a closet, the scent of leather and dust hitting her nose. Pulling the dark clothing aside - the fabric brushing her fingers with a soft rustle - Scarlet poked her head out into the familiar room, the study's dim light a stark contrast to the hall's glare. Lightly stepping over overturned books - their pages splayed like fallen angels - and around the chair that still lay on its back, its leather creased and scuffed, Scarlet stepped on tender feet from the room and into an empty hallway, the silence pressing against her ears. Looking from one end to another and back - shadows pooling in the corners - she began to make her way toward the landing at the top of the stairs, each step a cautious shuffle. Ducking slightly to peer further into the rooms below - the living room's dim outlines barely visible - Scarlet let out a shaky breath, her left hand tightly grasping the banister with a trembling grip, the wood smooth and worn under her palm. Her nerves were far, far south of shot - frayed to threads - and her mental state could be under question at the moment, a jumble of fear and fury, but one thing was for sure - she would be damned if she didn't at least try to escape, her resolve a steel thread holding her together. Taking a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves - her chest tight with the effort - Scarlet began making her way down the flight of stairs, one hand clutching the hem of her ruined, blood-stained blouse, the fabric sticky against her fingers, and the other clutching the banister for dear, white-knuckled life. Pausing on the last step - her breath catching in her throat - Scarlet's heart nearly gave out as she heard the distinct slam of a car door, a sharp bang that shattered the silence. Darting her gaze from one side of the dim-lit living room to the other - the furniture looming like silent sentinels - until her eyes came to rest on the lone door to her left - the garage - panic began to settle in her gut, cold and heavy, as everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion. She watched the simple gold handle of the door slowly turn and swing towards her - the motion agonizingly deliberate - her heart stopped, and she felt like a deer caught in the headlights when her eyes came to rest on his face - for an instant, a look of shock passed over his features, wide eyes and parted lips, before it was quickly replaced with a dark look of determination, his jaw tightening. Scarlet's blood ran cold in her veins when his eyes turned black as coal - deep, endless pits that sucked the light from the room. Tearing her gaze from his, Scarlet did the only thing she could think of in that moment - she launched herself off the last step in a mad dash toward the only thing that could save her, the front door, her feet pounding the floor with desperate speed.
Not getting more than three steps before she felt strong, steel bands of arms wrap around her midsection and rip her off her feet, a cry of desperation broke from her lips,sharp and piercing, as she was pulled further from her salvation, the door's outline blurring in her vision. "No," she yelled, kicking her feet wildly, the soles of her flats smacking against his shins, and trying to pry his arms from around her stomach, her fingers clawing at his iron grip. "You can't do this, let me go!" she wailed, tears welling in her eyes - hot and blurring - as she watched the door that led to her freedom disappear from her sight as she was hauled back up the flight of stairs, the wood creaking under their combined weight. He was retracing her steps - up the stairs, down the empty hall, and back into the room through the dark closet and into the bright hallway lined with the cells she had just escaped - all the while she yelled, kicked, and struggled in his grasp, not yet willing to give up on freedom, her voice hoarse with fury and fear.
Jerry had come back to his nest to a none-too-pleasant surprise - a jolt that snapped his good mood like a brittle twig. After a successful hunt - the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue - he was in a relatively good mood and had even made it back to his nest before the sunrise, the sky still a deep gray as he pulled into the garage. But what he was greeted with when he opened his garage door had shocked him, if only for a moment - the sight of Scarlet mid-flight toward freedom - before dark and dangerous determination settled in, a cold resolve that hardened his features. And making matters worse, she had even tried to make a dash for the front door where he couldn't follow her as deadly rays of the morning sun were beginning to warm the front of his house, their faint glow a threat he couldn't cross. Moving in a dark blur - faster than the eye could track - Jerry had grabbed her around her waist and lifted her yelling and struggling form from the ground and away from her means of escape, her voice a wild cacophony in the quiet dawn.
Pushing the secret door open to the room holding the cells - the hinges squeaking faintly - Jerry paused briefly to peer in the open door to the cell next to the one he had placed her in, his eyes narrowing slightly. Smiling in amusement when his gaze landed on the hole in the wall that connected the two - a determined breach - Clever girl, he silently praised, a flicker of admiration curling in his chest despite himself.
Setting her on her feet, her weight shifting unsteadily, Jerry quickly spun her in his grasp, grasping her by her throat when she tried to bolt for the door again, her sudden lunge a desperate bid for freedom. Scarlet's hands flew to his hand around her throat—her fingers clawing at his grip, nails scraping his skin—she winced and hissed in pain as pressure was applied to the fang marks he had left on her throat, the skin raw and tender beneath his touch. Backing her to the other end of the hall and against the wall—the drywall cold and unyielding—Jerry smiled at Scarlet, flashing her his fangs as he did so, their sharp tips glinting in the fluorescent light, a silent promise of what he could do. Flinching away at the flash of them—her head jerking to the side—Scarlet whimpered softly in his grasp, a small, broken sound that sent a dark thrill through him. He was so much stronger than her—centuries of power coiled in his frame—she didn't stand a chance in hell against him, and they both knew it.