A Dark Night With A Dark Stranger Ch 08 1

To all the people who are reading this- THANK YOU. I am so sorry this on has takn so long! The next few chapters will come allot faster now that I have a wonderful editor- Sheryl- who was able to waft through the grammar errors and mak sense of my madness. Thank you Sheryl- you are amazing! Please keep commenting and voting- I love that you all care enough about the story to let me know what you think should be happening in it!!!

Chapter 8... An alleyway confession

Bell opened her mouth in horror. A young girl, barely 20, was being forced against the brick wall that formed part of the alleyway. Her eyes were bulged and desperate, and Bell realised instantly that the man forcing himself on her was the same guy who had been buying her shots at the start of the night. The girl's mascara ran down her face, but she still looked beautiful and innocent. The grey dress that she wore was pulled up past her waist, and the man was brutishly shoving one hand in between her legs, while the other pinned her and covered her mouth. The alleyway that serviced the night club was deserted accept for the three of them. There were large dumpsters lining the walls with foul rubbish spilling from them. An alley cat sat perched on one of them, watching the events. It's brightly iridescent, yellow eyes reflected the only street light that shone down on the scene. Seeing Bell, the girl tried to scream for help, but the man hit her hard in the face and she fell quiet. Bell felt sick with sympathy and dread, as her own recent bondage and torment swept into her mind; paralysing her with fear. The brute had his back to Bell, and she raked the alleyway with her eyes, desperate to find something that she could use as a weapon against him. One startled yelp from the girl signified that the man had resumed playing with her, and Bell watched in horror as he fumbled to free his belt. In an instant he had strung it around the girl's neck and whispered, "Scream and you're dead."

The girl nodded, still sobbing silently and stopped struggling. She was completely defeated. The man realised this and smiled. After tearing her dress, he pulled at the remaining fragments of grey material to expose her chest. He smiled gleefully at her large breasts which now greeted him; she had not been wearing a bra. He leaned down with his mouth open, and took one of her nipples between his teeth and pulled. Seeing the girl struggle further at this, the man became hard and reached down to his pants, undoing the buttons as fast as he could.

Bell searched once again for a piece of wood or anything that she could swing at the bastard, but there was nothing. Moving without thinking she rounded on him, and threw her body onto his back, desperate to stop him from further violating the girl. Instantly the man relinquished his hold on his victim. Bell's attack had surprised him, and he swayed where he stood before slamming his back against the brick wall, knocking the air out of Bell who still clutched to his shoulders. She fell heavily to the ground, her head pounding from where skin had met stone and saw small bursts of stars cloud her sight.

"Bitch," the man said, taking Bell by the hair and throwing her once more against the wall.

This time Bell felt herself fall unconscious, but it was only for a moment. Before she had fully blacked out she came too. She stared up at the man in horror, and then darted her eyes around the alley, hoping to see if the girl was ok. Her eyes rested on a crumpled mass a few feet away. The belt was no longer tight around her neck, but she was paralysed as if it still were. Run, Bell thought desperately. The man, seeing Bell's face, traced her line of vision to the girl on the floor, and moved over to her quickly. In the few moments of distraction Bell tried to stand; to run, but she could not.

"Two for the price of one," the man said greedily, his hands wrapping around Bells throat, while simultaneously pulling on the belt still fastened loosely around the other girl's neck.

Bell tried to scream for help but it was too late. All she could do was writhe on the pavement as the man continued to strangle her; desperate to violate both his prizes. Removing his restraint from the now unconscious girl, he refocused his attentions on Bell. There was an insane huger in his eyes and in one wild moment, Bell realised just how helpless she was.

Just then there was a crashing from nearby. Instantly Bell's eyes widened; it was Ragon. There was a wild, untamed look in his eyes, that she had seen when he had attacked her. Bell knew instinctively from the deep growl coming from his chest that he hadn't fed yet. Ironically it reminded her of how a person's stomach might growl if they were hungry. She watched mesmerised as he clamped his fingers around the struggling man's throat and lifted him into the air, so that he was dangling by his feet. The man clutched at Ragon's hand to no avail as his lips started to turn blue. Without hesitation Ragon, forced his neck to the side and reached into his pocket for something. Taking a small, gleaming, silver knife he expertly a deep cut incision into the man's throat. Instantly, thick red blood gushed from the wound, spraying across Ragon's face, and leaving a deep red stain on his skin. Many vampires carried such weapons for just such an occasion. These days it was considered somewhat taboo to just bite into a blood source. Slitting their throat and then drinking their blood reduced the risk of coroner's finding things like bite wounds. If every vampire in the world went around puncturing jugular veins with their fangs than it wouldn't be long before the authorities pieced together that mortals weren't alone in the world.

Bell shivered, watching the monster within take over. It took no more than a minute for Ragon to drain him. When he was finished, he threw the man aside as though he was garbage and rushed to Bell. He crouched beside her, his mad eyes focusing on the swollen bruise that had formed across her cheek from where she had been struck. He made to touch her cheek, but Bell moved away, unable to stop herself; the last memory of him feeding off her still fresh in her mind. Ragon blinked, afraid of what Bell now thought of him.

The two remained frozen for several more minutes. Ragon did not dare move for fear that Bell may be further traumatised. A small rustling nearby, alerted the pair to the girl's presence. Ragon quickly swept over to her, touched his icy fingers to her pulse and said, "She will be ok, thanks to you."

Bell looked once at semi-unconscious girl and then back to Ragon.

"Why?" Bell asked Ragon, unable to stop herself from asking the one question she had wanted to since she first met him.

"He was a bad man, he was hurting you-" Ragon began, but Bell cut him off.

"No, why me?" she asked and when Ragon looked puzzled she said, "Do you know how many girls are attacked every day? How many creeps there are out there, just waiting to prey on them?"

"I know," Ragon answered, a low growl lending a slight edge to his voice.

"No, that's not what I... Why me? You have probably saved a thousand women, you could have had them all; why did you choose me?" she asked flatly.

The alcohol had empowered her, portraying a sense of invulnerability that would not normally have been there. She had to know. Ragon was gorgeous, he was different and amazing, and her life was not the first he had saved; so why had he chosen to keep her? Why not disassociate her after her attack? The fear of not knowing fuelled her resolve to discover the truth, and she stared at Ragon waiting for him to answer her.

"I... I don't know," he lied instantly.

There was a reason however; a very personal and intimate reason; one that had been with him for a very long time. But he couldn't tell her, not now that he knew her, not now that he had risked everything to be with her.

"Well that makes two of us," Bell said, trying once again to stand but failing.

When Ragon offered to help her this time she did not flinch. She was frustrated by her situation. This is bullshit, she thought to herself as she allowed Ragon to grasp her hand and pull her up. Hadn't she been through enough? She didn't mean to act so cruel, but what the hell was going on? Ever since she had been rescued by Ragon it was one drama after the next. The least he could do was tell her why.

Ragon sensed her frustration and said, "I couldn't leave you. After I found you; I couldn't leave you."

This was partly true, and though it pained him to open himself up to Bell, he knew that if he didn't say something, he might lose her forever. He watched mesmerised as Bell's face lightened; her muscles relaxing with dawning comprehension. Reaching down to her dress, she tore at the soft fabric. Using the material like a face washer, she began cleaning the blood off of him. She had wiped most of it away when Ragon reached for her hand. He took it in his, gently intertwining their fingers together. He had seen her naked, watched as she was almost raped. Yet now, as he held her delicate hands within his, he felt closer to her than he had ever before.

"I had to." he whispered, bringing their hands to his cheek and letting her wonderfully soft human skin touch his face lightly.

Bell looked up at him hopefully. Her eyes were filled with wonder at his touch, invoking an urge in her that was so strong she felt her head sway as though the ground around her were rotating. Ragon leaned closer to her, as though an invisible force urged him and Bell responded, her own pull gravitating towards him. Instinctively her mouth parted, the soft pink of her lips easing open in preparation.

"There you two are," a voice came from behind them.

Bell felt Ragon pull away; unwinding his fingers from hers in an instant; forcing her to once again sway on the spot, as she readjusted her centre of gravity without him. Looking around Bell saw Clyde. He was standing holding the door to the cub open, flanked by Sandra, Thomas, Larissa and Cambridge.

Both girls look horrified at what they had interrupted, but Clyde walked further into the alley and looking at the girl on the ground said, "That's not like you to take a chick."

Ragon eyes were full of daggers; he had completely forgotten the girl on the floor next to him, and glancing from her to the corpse of the man at his feet said, "While you were feasting on some whore, Bell was almost killed ... by a mortal!"

Both Larissa and Sandra exchanged worried looks and Sandra said, "She only left our sight for a minute-"

But Ragon cut her off, leaving the alleyway quickly and walking back into the club.

"Are you ok?" Clyde asked Bell after Ragon had left.

Her heart was still pounding and there was an unrequited longing in her. Was she alright? No. No she wasn't. For one fleeting moment, she had thought, she had hoped, but she was being stupid. How could Ragon possibly feel a connection with her? Still, she thought as she allowed Clyde to direct her back into the club, the way he had touched her; it was as if nothing else mattered. She felt whole in a way she had never felt. As if everything in her life had been leading up to that moment; and she had missed it.

***

"I found her like this," Ragon said to the security guard 2 minutes later, when he re-joined the rest of his coven outside in the alley way.

He was pointing to the girl who was now slumped against the brick wall. Her hand was pressed gingerly around her throat, trying to soothe the large welts which had appeared there. Ragon had already called the ambulance, but knowing that they had to leave before the police arrived, wanted to make sure that the girl was ok.

"And who's this?" the security guard asked, kicking the body in the alleyway over and revealing the man's face.

Bell looked down at the dead body. His eyes were fixed and dilated, open wide in horror and his mouth was still open, as though frozen in a silent scream. Though this was not the first person she had witnessed Ragon murder, there was something about the inevitability of death which shocked her now.

"Never seen him before," Ragon lied.

As soon as Ragon spoke there was something about his tone which caught Bell's attention. He was lying, she knew that, it had been he who had killed him and yet, something in his attitude instinctively told her he was being untruthful. She raked her brains, trying to recall a recent similar instance, but a loud wailing out the front of the club distracted her. She felt her hand jerk as Sandra pulled her towards the street. The police had arrived at the entrance of the club, and the 7 of them had to get away quickly.

"Hey where are you going?" the security guard asked to the group's retreating backs.

"Sorry we have a curfew; our parents worry," Clyde said mischievously, increasing his pace.

The coven slinked from the club's entrance; careful not to look guilty as the police began storming past them, hurrying to get to the murder scene. There was almost nothing worse than a vampire being imprisoned, accept maybe a vampire taking on a mortal as a pet and choosing not to disassociate them once they were done with them. No definite blood source while in jail and an absence of aging during incarceration would be sure to draw all the wrong attention. This was another of the vampire's laws; don't get caught. Vampires in prison didn't last long; not because they couldn't survive, but because the powers that be prevented it. It was a fair enough to decision to enforce and the law clearly started that all vampires sent to prison would be killed. If it wasn't the blood drinking that exposed their existence, then a pile of ashes in the cell following an unavoidable exposure to sunlight surely would.

The ride home was met with silence. What had started out as such a fun filled night had ended badly. Ragon's hands gripped the steering wheel furiously, and forced out the blood of his recent kill; leaving his knuckles white. A few times Bell had gone to say something, but seeing the stricken look on Sandra's face, had remained quiet. When finally both cars pulled into the driveway everyone hoped out quickly.

As soon as Bell was inside she raced to the kitchen. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, and the alcohol had left her desperate for something covered in grease. There had been no sign of Sameth, and the note which Ragon had left for him, still laid on the kitchen table unread.

"Need a hand?" Clyde asked, moving to sit on one of the stools that adorned the breakfast table.

"Yea, I will have a cheese and bacon omelette over easy and," she said touching her chin in consideration, "some French toast." When Clyde didn't respond, Bell smirked asking, "When was the last time you even cooked?"

She was digging in the fridge, searching for the eggs when Clyde replied, "good point."

She ate her omelette quickly after she had made it; the greasy bacon relieving her empty stomach in a way that only saturated fats could. Clyde sat a few chairs away watching her.

When she was onto her last portion she asked, "Want some?"

Clyde smiled up at her in response saying, "No I couldn't possibly," then, rubbing his stomach added, "I'm full."

Though the food had done wonders at reversing her intoxication, she still retained enough boldness to ask, "What does it feel like to drink someone's blood?"

Clyde stopped looking at Bell's plate and stared at her. He felt something; something that he hadn't felt since as long as he could recall. Ragon was right. Bell was special. She was the first mortal to invoke a feeling in him in a very long time.

"Chicken, just like chicken," he replied sarcastically, fighting with the desire to connect with someone.

"You know," Bell said, "I get that you put on this tough facade to keep people at bay, but it wouldn't kill you to open up once in a while."

"Kill me? Off course it won't kill me; I'm already dead," he replied smiling widely.

Bell paused with the last of her omelette impaled on her fork. Obviously a late night deep and meaningful wasn't going to crack Clyde's shell. Still, she thought, forcing the last of the omelette into her open mouth, there was a look in Clyde's eyes that she hadn't seen before, as if he had comprehended something.

***

Almost immediately after arriving home, but not until Bell was out of earshot, Ragon rounded on Sandra.

"You were supposed to keep her safe," he said accusatorily.

Sandra returned a sheepish look, than glanced down at the floor.

"I could expect this from Clyde, but you?" he asked, now pacing so quickly around his library that he was a blur.

"I know honey," she cooed, "I'm sorry. I never expected her to be at risk from mortals."

"I told you in the letter; I told you that there was something about her, she is in more danger than I think you or I realise," he stated boldly.

Sandra looked at him, her head tilted to one side saying, "you know more than you have told me, this isn't just about Kiara is it?"

Ragon avoided her eye contact glancing out the window and seeing the characteristic palling of the stars, and realised how late in the morning it was. The sun would rise soon.

"How am I supposed to watch over her when I don't know the full story?" she asked.

Ragon paused. He didn't know the full story himself, and what he did know he didn't want to share.

"I don't know much, hell I don't even really know anything," Ragon explained, "I have told you almost everything, she is different; special, and she needs our protection."

Sandra continued to look suspiciously at Ragon. One thing was for sure. There was more going on than what he was letting on.

***

That night Bell's dreams were fuelled with fear. Oddly the vampires, or that was what she guessed they must have been, in her dreams were unknown to her. There were two men and a woman. All of them reeked of decay, as if their flesh had long since lost any trace of life, yet their features were perfect; even beautiful. They were sitting on large moss strewn thrones discussing someone; someone that they feared. In the dream Bell was only an observer; part of the walls and ceiling but not entirely there. She watched as though from a distance, mesmerised by the scene, but unable to join it. The room was large and formed of pale sandstone, with two very small windows allowing only the faintest of moonlight to streak through. For a moment Bell had tried to get close, desperate to know what the people before her discussed; but she could not. It was as if she were no more than a piece of furniture adorning the room, unable to move and frozen in time and place. The faces of the vampires were hidden from her; shadow's dancing across their hidden bodies, with the moon occasionally throwing into light ominous features. On the damp floor an elderly lady was crouched low, and it was to her they were talking. Bell looked at the obviously human woman and gasped. Her eyes were white, and looked as if they were rolling into the back of her head. Bell could tell by the way the woman stoppered that she was afraid. She was quivering slightly, her back bent almost unnaturally as she tried to avoid eye contact with the people seated at the throne before her.

"I have told you all I know," the woman begged,

her white eyes wide with terror.

The ancient creatures considered her words for only a moment. Both men seemed satisfied but the woman shook her head in disbelief. In that instant, the woman who was more terrible and beautiful than anyone Bell had ever beheld, locked eyes on the couching mortal. Instantly the elderly lady began writhing in pain; screeching like a banshee as her body thrashed on the floor as though she were being tortured. Bell knew instinctively that she was dying and searched from her vantage point for a way to help. Then suddenly the old women stared up at Bell as if suddenly realising she were there.