I did not end up rewriting this like I wanted...so here it is just like it started. I would have posted all of it, but there were thirteen thousand words and I only had the stamina to get through half. I will work on the rest tomorrow...I hope.
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Her hands were still in his. He was warmer than she thought he'd be. She assumed vampire like coldness, but instead it was the comforting warmth of a campfire on a chilly night. Everything went ice cold when she realized her hands were empty.
"Where is it?!" She cried out, pulling away from Damien who'd relaxed his grip when he saw her calm down. "I must have dropped it!" She was looking frantically around the plush snowy white floor while Damien watched her thoughtfully.
Unlike her he kept his presence of mind back there. Fear wasn't really something he had to deal with, but stupid wasn't an emotion. It was definitely stupid. Still, his thumb sliding across the rough surface of the soft metal reminded him of the unexpected reward. He drew out the charm on its worn leather strap, barely thicker than a piece of yarn. The dull gray of the object barely reflected the light in his bedroom. It wasn't made to look like anything. Actually it looked like the trash one might find in an empty smelter, but that wasn't the point. Pewter was pliant in more ways than just the physical. The language of names, when written correctly, imbued it with certain properties. As he turned the thing over he found one smooth spot in which was carved an oddly unfinished pentagram with exactly half a circle and only 3 of the star's points with an extra line thrown in there. He knew the mark. It and several others like it littered every door frame in his abode. There was no telling how old this thing was.
"You didn't drop it." Damien informed her as he held it up, the leather cord resting between his index and middle fingers.
Anger. That was the first feeling she should have had. She should have been fucking pissed. The damn thing was hers, it was obviously powerful, and he damn well needed to give it back to her. It wasn't anger though. Thank any god that might be listening he could not read her mind. Never mind the fact that she hadn't any luck with listening gods recently.
Damien smiled; a faraway look in his fascinating eyes.
"Give. It. Back." Annabel said with all the venom she could muster.
He palmed the piece of jewelry.
"No," he said shaking his head, "and drop the act." His voice was neutral however short the words were.
"Act?" Her eyes widened in genuine surprise as she started retreating from him. There was something different in Damien's eyes, or it was something different in her. She might be insane. Anyone else would be a ball of tears on the floor in the fetal position. That's where she fought not to be only five minutes ago, and now she was fighting...something else.
"Yes." He smiled gently and started matching her steps.
"I want my necklace back, Damien." She demanded, more breathless than she would have liked.
"I know, Annabel. What I'm curious about is why you need it so badly. Who, exactly, are you trying to protect yourself from?" He had his head cocked to the side, curiosity burning in the green embers that were his eyes.
Her back connected with the smooth cool wall behind her, and the distance between them began to close exponentially. A few seconds more and he would be only inches from her, like the night they first met when he was just another stranger. Her heart raced not for the first time tonight, but for a wholly different and equally overwhelming reason. Her little defense mechanism wasn't going to kick in. She was going to feel this...every unbelievable second of it.
"I," she stumbled, "you...obviously, and those like you. Why ask me a question like that?" She lifted her chin indignantly and tried to meet him eye to eye. As close as he was now it only made it easier for him to seal their fate anytime he wished. Black wraparound shades came to mind and the whisper of a question:
maybe you'll be that kind of girl for me.
"We could start from the beginning." His hands went to either side of her, caging her in. His scent wreaked havoc on her mutinous senses. Annabel scrambled for that cold place desperately trying to reign in her emotions. As much as she thought she wanted to feel more that numbness was her comfort zone and she was now way out of it.
"Don't, Annabel." He whispered in her ear.
"How are you doing this?" She asked, pressing herself against the wall; not quite escaping but not quite giving in.
"Doing what?" He held himself still just in front of her. Tension outlined his jaw and the muscles of his shoulder just under the hem of his short sleeve t-shirt as if he barely held himself in check. What was he waiting for?
"Making me want to fall so badly?"
He shook his head, his eyes searching her face and a smile tugging on the corner of his lips.
"I'm not doing a damn thing."
He was still, not even breathing.
Had he ever breathed?
The stray thought crossed her mind as her eyes drifted closed, and erased like it had never been the second his lips brushed hers.
A hint of warm sweet fire coursed through her as he kissed her so lightly she half wondered if she was dreaming. Damien still held back. She was relenting. Why wouldn't he just take what he wanted? He drew away from her after the feather light kiss leaving her alone with the sound of shaky breaths, the racing of her heart and the cool wall beneath her hands. She opened her eyes suddenly afraid he'd gone, but the green of his jeweled eyes greeted her from his unmoving form.
The relief that filled her shocked her. Annabel wanted a deeper taste, she wanted to feel his body against hers, and she wanted to feel his warmth against her skin. To hell with broken promises and crazy creatures that offered fates worse than death. She'd managed to feel fear to the very core of her being, and now Damien was an unspoken promise to feel desire in that same way, to chase away the terror and helplessness. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his.
He felt human enough; soft lips contrasted the sensation of his chest against hers. The muscles in his shoulders shifted as he came to life, pushing off the wall and embracing her. His hands slid down her back exploring the slight curve. It was electric, little sparks of pleasure weakening her knees, and she tightened her grip on him wanting more.
Damien kissed her hard, bruising need seeping through his control followed by the touch of tongue seeking entrance. Annabel parted her lips, sighing softly at the feel of his oddly warm hands against the bare skin of her back.
A moment later a jolt that started from his hands went through her like every cell in her body capable of responding to pleasure had come alive at the exact same time. Damien's hands went to the wall to either side of her and he swore under his breath as he broke contact completely. His eyes were half closed, lips parted slightly, like he'd just sampled the god's ambrosia.
"What..." She started with a breathless word, her hands up in front of her unsure whether to drop them or pull him back to her.
"Nothing, you're just...different." He didn't give her the chance to ask what he meant by that.
***
Damien took his time, savoring this moment. It wasn't exactly easy, but he was getting something he'd give up for lost. There was no way he was hurrying this. Her frustration was just a perk. The feel of smooth skin against his splayed hands and her eager kiss, or maybe it was his hunger, made things a little more difficult than he anticipated. He slipped, letting tendrils of his essence wrap around hers, tasting the storm of emotion he'd churned inside her. His plan was to actually be inside of her when he did that, to take her when they were as close as humanly possible, but fuck. The rush was incredible...powerful. He had to stop for a second just to reign himself in because there was no way this was ending now.
'Different' was an understatement.
He kissed her before they could go off on a tangent and her body melded into his without hesitation, her slender arms entwining his neck. There was a protocol here, generally. He meant to set his tongue between her thighs, to taste her, and indulge in the feel and sound of her climax...as many as he could get. He loved feeding when they were exhausted. The shock as the body responded to him when his prey was sure there was nothing left was enthralling, but that little taste changed things.
His teeth found her neck while his hands found the zipper on the side of the pretty black lace tank she wore. She whimpered, her nails digging into the t-shirt across his shoulders as he bit harder. When he moved away to strip the shirt off of her there was purple mark at the point where her shoulder sloped into the slender pale column of her neck that wouldn't be fading any time soon. A mark like she belonged to him. It inspired a very dark thought which he shrugged off for a later moment.
He easily gathered her into his arms, smiling when she gasped as he swept her off her feet, and headed toward the bed, its thick posts looming up darkly. He set her down at the foot and removed the copper dome that caged her hair on top of her head. It fell in inky black waves nearly to her knees, but he refrained from running his fingers through it. With a sense of urgency he finished undressing her, listening intently to the flurry of thoughts in her head. It turned her on, the power he had over her and the fear he inspired in her, making him smile against her mouth. It was either that or the stray thought about what his cock might look like; something about teeth.
Silly girl.
He did run his fingers through the silky strands once, moving the black fall of tresses in front of her before he pushed her up on the bed so she was sitting. He refrained from speaking and ruining this on the off chance it was a dream. It was possible. He'd had enough crazy thoughts of late. When he stripped off his own shirt she reached out to trace one of the dark marks on his torso.
"No." He said grabbing her wrist. "That may not end well."
"Ticklish?" She asked with an impish grin as she tried to touch him again.
"This language is not spoken, it is written, and it does more than inform." He smiled as he spoke, climbing over her and pinning her arms above her head once he pushed her on her back. He claimed her mouth again reveling in the feel of her struggle to kiss him back while he held her prone and the race of her pulse beneath the thin skin of her wrist. When he moved to press his knee between hers she stilled.
He swore to himself lifting up to look in her wide eyes.
"I remember you saying you would have given anything for a taste once." There was a tremor in her voice; still afraid of him and a little guilty.
Of course it was going to be a struggle. She was breaking a promise she'd kept for years. She also knew what he was. This wasn't some fantasy he'd gleaned from her so he could have her for a single night, but him.
The comment sparked the memory of the remnants of her scent at the book store and the stilted smell of newly bound books as she took her frustration out on them. He still wanted that, but he needed something else. And he did damn near give everything for it.
