Dark Impulses
Chapter 10
Groaning softly, Scarlet burrowed deeper into the soft warmth cradling her head, cheek nuzzling against what she thought was her pillow. A deep breath filled her nose with copper, a faint, metallic tease, and her eyes fluttered open, blinking sluggish as the world sharpened. Dark fabric glowed under the TV's ambient flicker, a laugh track jarring her awake. Frowning, she tilted her head up, neck twinging sharp with pain, and glared through tangled bangs at the shifting mass beneath her.
Well, shit, her fogged mind muttered as Jerry's face swam into focus, smug and watching.
He glanced down, mid-swig of beer, cold bottle glinting, his free hand brushing her hair from her forehead, gentle yet possessive, the other balancing his bottle on her bare knee.
Blinking up, Scarlet's frown deepened, thoughts sluggish, gears grinding slow. She was sprawled across his lap, legs dangling over the chair's arm, feet bare and bruised, shoulders cradled against his torso, head lolling on his shoulder. Jerking away, instinct kicking in, pain flared white-hot in her neck, a brutal reminder of his fangs. Settling back with a wince, a small yawn slipped free, exhaustion tugging hard.
God, I'm tired, she thought, sinking against him despite herself.
Fighting him got her nowhere, just deeper under his thumb, she realized, resting her head back. Ignoring her Jerry-pillow predicament, she clawed her thoughts into order. Blood loss, lack of sleep, no food, she was weak, drained, but not done.
This nightmare had an end, and she'd damn well walk away from it. Licking her dry lips, tongue scraping the roof of her mouth, she met his gaze, the weight of her mess slamming home. Cheeks flushed, she flinched under his stare, TV forgotten, his dark eyes locked on her, intent and unyielding.
"Sleep well, Scar?" he cooed, a soft chuckle rumbling his chest against her ear. Tugging the oversized shirt, her flimsy shield, down her thighs, she bit her lip, unease prickling. How do you wake up in a stranger's lap, shorts, his tee, nothing else, when that stranger's a kidnapping vampire?
World, karma, fate, whatever, sucks, her snarky brain snapped.
Good point, she shot back, grimacing.
No guidebook existed for this, no Idiot's Guide to Vampires with a chapter on waking up with a hot, bite-happy bastard. Shaking off the weird spiral, crazy wouldn't help, she huffed, focusing.
Sitting up, she shifted, nearly tipping his beer off her knee. Fuck him, I'm not a coaster, she hissed inwardly, bladder screaming with sudden urgency. Could she get up? Testing, she pulled away, freezing as his arm tightened around her shoulders, a steel band. Biting her lip harder, teeth sinking in, she dared a glance, avoiding his eyes.
Eye contact turned him feral, a trigger for dominance she'd learned the hard way. Options flashed, relax and risk wetting herself, or swallow pride and ask.
Pride lost in milliseconds, bathroom need trumped all.
Cheeks blazing, redder than her blood-stained past, she bowed her head, whispering, "Can I get up?"
No answer.
Swallowing embarrassment, she added, "I have to pee," barely audible. Neck throbbing, resolve fraying, she braced for a freakout, fangs in flesh did that to a girl. Relief stung her eyes as his arm slackened, slipping to the chair. Breath whooshed out, unnoticed 'til then, and she slid off, feet twinging under her weight, cuts and bruises protesting. Steadying herself, she shuffled to the stairs, glancing back, Jerry lounged, beer in hand, TV blaring, a normal drunk to any clueless soul.
Disturbed, she hurried up, body aching, to the master bathroom, locking the door with a shaky click.
Breathing deep, she wrestled her scattered thoughts, too frequent a task lately. Normally sharp, now she was a mess, vampire feeding i'll do that. Washing her hands, cold water shocking, she caught her reflection, pale as death, green eyes deeper, darker, circles shadowing them, lips faded. The twin fang marks on her neck, red, raw, nearly broke her.
Too much to adapt without cracking.
Steeling herself, this won't break me, she splashed water on her face, rubbing tears away.
No crying over looks, she'd stand tall, make Jerry bow. Drying off, resolve firm, she felt a flicker of herself, padding back down the hall. Options loomed, rejoin him on the couch, risk lap-duty again?
Screw that, she snapped.
Hot or not, she wanted nothing from him, kisses be damned, just wiring, she insisted to herself. Rounding the banister, she froze, Jerry leaned against the wall below, eyes glittering dark, arms crossed, hair mussed. Tantalizing, dangerous, edible, yet her flight instinct screamed.
Fuck, she thought, heart racing.
Submissive wasn't what Jerry expected when she woke, not her style, and it sparked suspicion and amusement in equal measure. What trick was she brewing? Meekness wasn't her first play, but he let her slip off with a whispered excuse.
Blood loss was hitting her now, reactions dulled, recovery lagging. She'd need to feed soon, he thought, smile creeping, eyes bleeding black with glee. He'd need a snack too, her antics had emptied his cells. Sipping his beer, he tracked her shuffle upstairs, water running, soft clinks.
TV blared, a boob-job reveal pulling a cocked-head nod, but curiosity tugged harder. Setting his bottle down, he rose, drifting to the staircase's base. Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall, ears tuned to her shuffle down the hall, wood creaking faintly. Her scent hit as she rounded the top, wild, sweet, and a slow smirk curled his lips.
Run, I dare you, he thought, excitement flaring as her eyes met his pupils dilating, pulse spiking.
She was a thrill, pushing, fighting, proving he'd chosen right to claim her, no matter the chaos she wrought.
This isn't good, Scarlet thought, fighting the urge to bolt, heart thundering, chest tight. Every fiber screamed run, except one logical thread bellowing, Don't, whatever you do, DON'T RUN.
Swallowing a sticky lump, she gripped the banister, knuckles white, and stepped down. Jerry's face flickered, disappointment?, and she caught it, he wanted the chase. Anger surged, steadying her fear, fueling another step down toward tall, dark, and deadly.
Biting her lip, hiding the tremble, she descended, his confusion a brief win.
Good, her inner devil smirked, smug at tipping his balance. Nearing the bottom, butterflies rioted, acid-laced, and she sidestepped, aiming for the living room's awkward safety. His arm snapped around her waist, panic flaring, but she stilled, letting him pull her close, his nose grazing her crown. Both hands settled on her hips, firm, unyielding, her eyes fixed on a blood-like stain on his shirt, avoiding his gaze.
His hand slid from her waist to her chin, tilting up, meeting no fight.
"Better," he purred, voice husky. She kept her eyes down, freakouts and fighting meant pain with him.
"Hungry, Scar?" he added, tone deepening. Jaw clenched, she resisted looking, his tongue clicked against fangs, goosebumps cascading.
How'd he shift, flat teeth to shark jaws?
Taking at her silence, he cupped her cheek, tilting further, seeking her eyes.
Lips quivered, she wanted her bed, her covers, ignorance of night's monsters. Giving in, she lifted her gaze, timid, fluttering, his black voids sucking her in. Something purred deep inside as his other hand cupped her face, his mind brushing hers, soothing fear into hunger.
Her mouth watered, panic fading, his raw need seeping in, burning her gut, parching her throat.
Jerry plunged into her mind, channeling hunger, feeding it to her. He purred as her emerald eyes darkened, black swallowing green.
"Hungry," she whispered, tongue swiping her lips, panting soft, sweet breaths signaling readiness.
Smirking, smug as hell, he released a cheek, biting his wrist, blood welling, thick and dark. It'd feed her, unravel the remnants of the seal further. Her eyes drooped, half-lidded, as the scent hit, black consuming her gaze save for thin green halos. Mouth watering, her inner darkness brushed his control, urging him. Moving his wrist to her lips, blood dripping, she flicked to his eyes, then latched on, hot, wet, drawing deep.
Four centuries barely held him together, her mouth on his skin, mind dancing against his, nearly undid him. Moaning against his flesh, small fangs scraping, he hissed, stopping her.
Eyes closed, she leaned into him, he slid behind, lifting her to his chest, settling back in the chair. Legs stretched, he cradled her, half-curled, not daring to interrupt this step to his goal.
Starvation and manipulation worked, satisfaction bloomed.
She pulled off as the wound sealed, licking it clean, head resting on his chest, panting, blissful, lips crimson-stained. Eyes opened, green reclaiming black, shifting to straddle him. Hands roamed his shirt, teasing fabric, his control easing back, her darkness strengthening.
Her gaze lingered on his lips, hunger undimmed, small fangs peeking as she bit hers. Longing flared, he snaked a hand to her back, fisting her hair with the other, her fingers tangling in his.
Crushing her lips to his, tongue seeking blood, she licked his chin clean, raking fangs along his jaw. Growling, warning, he yanked her down, off her knees, hair tight. Meekly, her eyes dropped, her beast submitting to his dominance. Releasing her, pleased with her stillness, he chuckled at her soft, "Hungry," slurred by tongue clicking fangs. Forehead to hers, he rumbled, "Enough," amused by her pout, nose wrinkling, lips tempting.
Guiding her to rest, head on his chest, he commanded sleep, pulling his mind free. Her breathing evened out cold. Control worked now, her weakness a lever, but her Saint blood, deep, potent, would soon resist. Smoothing her raven locks, blue-tinged in the TV's glow, he tamed the waves, claws gliding through. Chuckling, he savored holding her, anticipating her next reaction, a thrill to come.