His way: Closed Thread

The last rays of the sun kissed along the grounds of the mansion outside of town, slowly giving way to the shadow and gloom of night. Deep inside the home, in his master bedroom, under the basement, the ancient slept. Slowly as that last ray of sunlight faded the body shrouded by a thin quilt stirred. Golden brown eyes snapped open and he rose from the deathly sleep of his kind.

Andre could feel the first stirrings of hunger gnawing at him, now that he was awake. He couldn’t help the involuntary glance to the other side of the large bed. It of course was still empty. It had been weeks since she had left. His Marina. The name as it filled his mind drew a picture of her. Tall, slender, willowy, if he were to allow himself a bit of whimsy with his descriptors. She had intense blue eyes, and enough curve to satisfy his every desire. She was talented in bed, and more over accepted who he was. Well, she had.

Thoughts of her also brought the anger, as it often did now. How dare she judge him so. He did what he had had to. He could not go back to the days where he was hunted. Kyle had put his very existence at risk. So maybe he shouldn’t have choked the life out of him at a formal Christmas party for his staff, but he needed his death to be an example. The rest of the staff, both for the home, and his businesses needed to understand that such behavior would not be tolerated on any level.

Andre was very old school. Rumors had it that the Sentinels and that infernal Blackstone council that ran vampire society were thinking about taking the vampire race into public, exposing them to mankind. Very few things made Andre thrilled to not be in mainstream vampire society than such ridiculous notions. Vladimir the chief sentinel as well as who ever sat on that bloody council should know better. Nothing good could come of widespread exposure.

That being said, with the advent of new technologies like vlogs and YouTube, it was growing more and more difficult to keep their kind a secret. Andre planned to cling to his anonymity as long as possible, even if it meant killing that pipsqueak in cold blood. He did not realize that Marina’s bleeding-heart would cause her to judge him so harshly for his actions. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain, though he suspected that it would not have mattered. She couldn’t understand the level of practicality an ancient like he possessed.

It was no matter, he would get her back, no matter what it took. However, for now, he needed a meal. Tying back the long black hair Andre put on his suit and headed into the city. His silent glide took him unconsciously to the piano bar where he had met Marina all those months ago. Wouldn’t it be ironic to meet her replacement in the same place? But no, he was not seeking a replacement for her, he would have her back, no matter what it took. She would not be allowed to so easily walk out of his life. He would have her back, after all things always went his way.

Marina jerked awake the moment the sun went down. Her breast burned with the memory of teeth and tongue upon it, making her want to scream. It took her a few shaky breaths to realize she was at home, safe, in her own bed. Her night shirt clung to her, damp with cold sweat, as her fingers immediately went to the cross she now wore around her neck. Her broken sleep had been filled with nightmares again, as they had every night since she had fled from Andre.

Tears filled with shame and remorse came unbidden to her eyes, but she did not allow them to fall. Instead, she unlocked her phone and pulled up the picture she had of Kyle from Andre's mansion. He had been so full of life, all blonde hair and roguish charm. And now he was dead - murdered in cold blood - because of her.

She set the phone aside and covered her face. It had been all her own fault. Her friend Claire had jokingly asked her a month or so ago if it was true. "If what's true?" Marina had replied, utterly clueless as to what the other woman meant.

"That Andre is a vampire," Claire had giggled.

She had felt sick even as she feigned ignorance. But then Claire pulled up a video clip someone had sent her of Andre casting no reflection before a mirror as he fed from Marina. "Right, I'm totally living with a vampire," she said with a forced laugh. She made up some story about him using it in his Halloween party, spending some good money on a videographer, and Claire had believed her.

She knew Andre protected his secret tightly, and that he disapproved of his people's politicians moving towards publicly acknowledging their own existence. But he seemed so calm when she showed him the video that she hadn't thought to warn Kyle of the danger he was in.

With a shudder, she forced herself out of bed and into the shower. God, she hated that she was still so attuned to that monster's schedule. But she had lived with him for nearly a year after working nights for a few years before that. She had been trying to find more time in the daylight, and her complexion had turned back to its more natural tan. But she still felt wary in the night.

By the time she got dressed, her roommate Samantha had already left for her shift at the hospital. She and the nurse had barely had a day together to get to know one another in the five weeks that she had lived here, but that was okay. Marina didn't feel social anymore.

Unfortunately, what she was feeling was hungry. She needed to do some grocery shopping, but she hated going anywhere alone at night. Although she had sworn long ago to never reveal his secret, she feared Andre might think she would tell someone. And after she had fled from him as soon as she could, she couldn't imagine his ire with her was any less than it had been with Kyle.

That fear finally stoked a different emotion in her: anger. Marina despised being cooped up in this old flat. It would be painful and frightening, but she would go at least eat a meal in public, vampires be damned. Still, she kept her cross on and rubbed some holy oil along her neck and face, just in case. Then she grabbed her purse and tumbled down the three flights of stairs to hit the street. Her stomach thanked her at the prospect of dinner.

She giggled as she pressed close. Getting her to come to him hadn’t even been a challenge. The blonde pressed herself close against his front in the formal dance he led her through. The sound of the piano and singer guiding his steps as he led her through the movements. The strumpet hadn’t exactly offered to join him in his bed yet, but she had made it quite obvious through her touches and actions that she would be more than willing.

He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. He was greeted by her giggle again. He found her honestly a little annoying. But he would mesmerize her, take what he needed, and leave her with a memory of either too much to drink, or sometimes a memory of a quicky in his car, it depended on his mood. Only one of late had known who he was and he hadn’t had to hide from. He of course had mesmerized her too so she would not feel the pain of his bite, but Marina had willingly let him, knowing exactly who he was.

Why must he continue to dwell on her. He was an ancient, why was he so concerned with this one human? There was something about her that called to him. Something in her, a passion that very few had ever shown him in a long time. She fed more hungers than just the one for blood. She was one of the few that allowed him to combine the two hungers. The ability to have fed at her breast while he buried himself deep inside her was an addictive feeling.

Andre shepherded the blond to a corner booth. He pulled her close, lips burying against her throat to feed, making it look very much like he was giving her a hickey right there in public. The woman, who had fallen victim to his gaze with almost no effort let her mouth open with a little o of pleasure as Andre fed. She stifled a moan while Andre continued to sweep the crowd with his eyes. He was taking a risk doing it here in public and not in a restroom or behind the bar, but he was impatient, the hunger beating at him. His eye watched the door especially. He imagined Marina walking through the door, eyes finding him. He imagined her jealousy to see him feeding on another woman, giving the blonde the pleasure that she Marina should be receiving.

As she shuffled down the street, Marina hugged her arms around herself. She hadn't anticipated it being so chilly tonight, and she wore only a pair of baggy jeans and a cable-knit sweater. No matter, she knew if she went back to her apartment for something warmer, she would just stay inside and eat crackers until dawn. That wasn't what she wanted or needed, so she did her best to ignore the cold in the air as she walked faster.

This part of town was full of restaurants, bars, and people. The crowd helped her relax some, letting herself be comforted by the foolish lie of safety in numbers. She remembered that first night she met Andre in a crowded, classy bar. She'd come for a bachelorette party, but the only thing she could see the moment she walked in where those eyes watching her from across the room. How Andre had laughed when she called them "wolf's eyes", and that laugh had been what made her leave with him that night.

Well, what a mistake that had been. Marina knew you could never truly tame a wolf. She should've known she could not tame a monster either. Worse, she would never know if what she had felt for him was genuine, or if it had been another one of his mind games. It left her crippled with self-doubt.

Lost in her thoughts, she walked right past that bar, unaware of the danger lurking inside. Rather, she was listening to her skepticism and her stomach. Each restaurant she saw had some memory of him attached to it. Once she had become his full-time lover and food source, Andre had insisted on foods that would "keep the blood strong". Marina had eaten so much red meat and seafood in the past year that just smelling them made her gag.

Frustrated and cold, she was about to give up and just grocery shop when she spied a new place across the street. It was small and squeezed in between two long-lined bars. It had an intricate art deco sign that read "The Root Cellar" on a deep orange background. She hurried her way over there to check out the menu posted on front of the door. Her tanned face split into a grin as she realized it was a vegetarian restaurant.

Marina opened the door with a sigh of pleasure at the scents that assailed her nose the moment she walked in. Perfect. As she took a seat and ordered some hot green tea, she almost felt normal again.

Of course, she did not come through the door. That was the dream of the fledgling. He as an ancient knew better. Pray did not just that easily drop into one’s lap. At least not the pray he truly wanted. Pray worth having needed hunted.

He left the blonde slumped in the booth an empty glass before her. Let her believe she had drunk too much. He was done with her. Thanks to his thoughts the meal was soured. She wasn’t what he wanted.

Rich beyond most human’s comprehension, that’s what centuries of investing throughout his long existence had gained him, and yet it wasn’t enough. He might live primarily on the interest of his wealth alone, but she had never liked him for his wealth. She had been as drawn to him as he was her at one time, but that was so long ago now. He would not become a romantic pansy and wish he hadn’t killed Kyle right in front of her. It was necessary. Though he regretted that he had lost her because of it. How dare she not be able to understand his need to protect himself.

There was anger in the honey brown eyes as he stepped from the bar. He started to walk, no specific destination in mind. Perhaps he would make his way to the office, was it a good day to crush some puny human’s dreams of getting rich? Would that make him feel better? Probably not, though it was enjoyable.

That’s when it happened. He caught a scent. The familiar combination of perfume, shampoo and her delectable blood. He found himself following the scent without conscious thought. The predator in him smelling what belonged to him. Though he had fed, the instinct was instantaneous.

Footsteps carried him to the door of a restaurant. His lip curled with disgust at what was listed on the menu. He could smell the stench of weak blood through the door. “Tree huggers,” he muttered before shoving open the door. He stood boldly in the doorway, he didn’t need to stalk here, there was no one here remotely a threat to him.

A blast of cold wind blew in with him and he closed the door as several patrons glared at him for just standing there silhouetted in the doorway. He returned their dirty looks with barely a glance. Nay, his eyes were only for her. It did not take him long to locate her. The predator glided closer to her and finally spoke as he stood over her. It was surprising how calm and gentle the low rumble was. He did not grab her or manhandle her. He simply asked, as he pulled out the chair across from her, “Is this set taken?” his actions letting her know that the question was but a formality, that he would sit whether invited to or not.

For a moment, the world muted itself as the door banged open, and Marina knew. She just knew. The bright gaudy colors of the room faded. Conversations fell for a second. The steaming cup of tea in her hands no longer warmed her.

And then he was there, looming over her for a moment. "Is this seat taken?" the monster of her nightmares asked before folding himself gracefully into the chair. She could sense the impatience, the restraint, and the edged fury in his gaze, though she made a point of not meeting his eyes. No, she wasn't foolish enough to fall into that trap.

Hand trembling, Marina set the cup back down. Tea sloshed out against her fingers and she hissed at the spike of heat on her skin. She pressed the side of the finger to her lips, sucking the tea off and soothing the pain before forcing her hands into her lap. She had never felt more like a deer in the headlights than at this moment.

The waiter came to her rescue. "Is everything okay over here?"

Marina looked up into his concerned, bearded face as habit and instinct kicked in. She managed to pull a genuine smile out of nowhere and plastered it on her suddenly relaxed face. "We're good. The tea was just hotter than I expected." Before, when they would be in public somewhere, Marina enjoyed this little charade, helping Andre keep up the façade of humanity. Now it was pure self preservation that helped her exude a comfort with him she absolutely did not feel.

No one can ever know, Marina, he had told her in those days. She had thought it fun and romantic then. Now...well, now she knew exactly how seriously he took that notion.

Andre waived off the waiter and, once he left, crossed one leg over the other as he stared at her. The preternatural stillness of his body made her want to run, to hide. But she assumed her fear and putting up a chase would only inflame his hunter instincts. God knew the last thing she wanted was him chasing her through a crowd that he willed not to see anything.

Forcing herself to keep her voice steady, Marina finally spoke. "I don't want to see you anymore, Andre. You know that. Why are you here?"

Andre sat with the catlike grace common to his predator species. She was right there just in front of him, so close yet still so far away. There was a tension between them, one that was sensed by the waiter, who came over to inquire if all was well.

Brown eyes watched her suck the tea off her slender fingers. There was heat in the gaze, heat inside him, stirred by that action, an action that made him imagine her mouth on—he cut off that train of thought with an iron grip. This was not the time or place yet.

He tried not to smirk as she turned on her public charm. He couldn’t be bothered to remember what her profession was before she became his mistress, but he knew at some point she had been in customer service. She had that instant charm, the genuine pleasantness that came from someone who knew how to put on a public face and instantly. It was like habit took over and she assured the waiter that they were fine.

Andre waved the waiter off, the motion causing the sleave of his dark jacket to fall back exposing the crisp white dress shirt sleeve, with its golden cuff links, that probably cost more than that waiter made in a month. The gesture was simple and elegant, a lord dismissing a peasant.

Crossing his legs in a posture of supreme comfort he watched her, waiting almost daring her to speak. When she did finally speak, he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward to reach across the table. He caught her arm gently pulling it out from her lap. She did not fight him again not wanting to cause a scene.

He took her hand in both of his, tilting it to be sure she had not been injured by the hot tea, pads of his fingers stroking over the spot, as if assuring himself that she was uninjured.

“You are Mine Marina. You cannot continue to deny me so. I have let you have your little tantrum, and now it is time for you to come home. You know that I never let go of what is mine. You know my feelings for you, why would you deny me the pleasure of your company.”

She had almost forgotten how cold his touch was as his fingers slid along hers. That it soothed the burn there only served to annoy her, as did the realization that his skin told her that he'd already fed tonight. Conflicting emotions - relief, anger for his victim, jealousy of whoever she'd been - made her jaw clench as he proclaimed her his.

"It was not -" Marina spat, a touch too loudly as the guy at the table beside hers looked up. She composed herself for a moment, reining in her temper. She would not cause a scene here in public. Once she was able to moderate her tone, she went on. "It was not a tantrum. It was me waking up." She tried to pull her arm back from his, but his hidden, unnatural strength kept her leaning forward towards him. As she continued to tug on her arm, she kept her eyes firmly on his chin.

She licked her lips and forced herself to speak calmly. "Andre, I know you are used to doing and getting exactly what you want. I don't know why you want me when you know that I no longer want you. I...I can't. I -" She broke off as the waiter approached with her bowl of lentil soup. The vampire finally released her so she could eat, and she made sure that the waiter didn't notice the bluish tint to her skin where his icy fingers had gripped.

Her hunger had fled, replaced with the gripping anxiety that he wasn't going to leave her be. Instead, she pushed the soup around with a disinterested spoon. Then the hushed words burst from her in a forceful whisper. "How can you expect me to ever feel safe again? To wonder when you'll grow so displeased with me that you'll toss me away like a used napkin?" She was shaking again as anger flowed along her veins. "Please, Andre. Please just let me leave. You can make me forget about you if you want. I don't care. I just...I need it all to be over."

Her futile attempts to pull her hand free almost made him smirk. How—cute. One hand shackled around her wrist holding her still as the other drew small patterns across her palm, a sensuous movement. She steadfastly avoided his gaze as he did that as well. He found that amusing too, like that would stop him if he truly wanted to capture her with his eyes. He could only shake his head as she claimed it was not a tantrum. Of course, it had been—he thought to himself.

No longer wanted him she said. He released her with a flourish where he kissed her palm, his eyes moving to hers which caught his for a second startled by his action. However, he let her go and broke the eye contact so she could eat. He could feel it, she still wanted him, no matter what she said.

“Ah, but my dear I wash and take care of my napkins. I do not just toss them away,” he rumbled, continuing her own metaphor. “You are mine,” he repeated, sounding a bit irritated that he had to repeat himself. He frowned a little as she addressed the last thing she had mentioned. Now he sounded a bit like a parent reminding a child of something he had told her many times. “I have told you before that ability does not work on you. There is something in you that keeps me from removing your memories. We both know that this is why you still remember me, and what made me motivated to keep you after that first night. Now though, you know I am quite fond of you and will not let you just keep throwing your little tantrum and staying away from me. My bed is cold without you and I will have you back with me again.”

Her hand burned where he had touched it, kissed it. Marina knew there was a heat in her face, as well, which she tried to will away. She mistakenly glanced up and felt herself pinned by his eyes and found herself unable to look away.

It lasted but a moment before Andre relented and broke contact first. But in that moment, she felt him inside her, the way he made her cry out as he thrust his hips, how hard she climaxed when he bit her. She couldn't breathe in those brief seconds, horrified by how much her body missed him if not the rest of her. She felt soft and weak, and she hated him for it.

Flustered and embarrassed, Marina snapped, 'Your bed is cold because you are dead." Why oh why couldn't he just mist her mind like he had done to so many throughout the centuries? What strange witch's blood coursed through her veins that made her different? She didn't want to remember that he was the best lover she'd ever had, how special he had made her feel. She didn't want any of it.

She tried a spoonful of her supper and gagged it down. Eating while overcome by strong emotion had made her feel sick, even as a child. Maybe if she guzzled this down now, it would make her vomit all over his expensive suit and convince him to leave her be. So she tried, the spoon moving faster as she gulped mouthfuls of food she could no longer taste down her throat.

“Dead is it?” he said with a smirk. There were two types of vampires, those that were born and those that were converted after death. Andre was one of that latter type. ostensibly the only difference for one as powerful as he between a born and himself was his inability to mate and reproduce. That had never bothered him. However, though he had died, he was just as alive as she was, though life for him was a bit different for sure. His lips twitched. “All the more reason to have a vivacious woman like you in my bed to help keep me warm,” he said.

He watched her shoveling in her food like a machine. He did not deem to frown, but somehow the tilt of his head expressed his concern and displeasure. Fingers as strong as iron shackled her wrist, stilling her hand. “You must take better care of yourself. If you insist on eating this…rabbit food, at least eat it slowly.” His free hand came to take the spoon from her scooping a bite onto the spoon. One would not have known that he hadn’t eaten with such an instrument for centuries, he was as adept at it as she.

He lifted the bite towards her lips, a silent order to eat. He however had given her a moment between her last bite and this one he offered her.

She made the mistake of looking at his eyes again. The sudden grip of his hand holding the spoon to her mouth shocked her into it, and this time he did not let her mind go. His disappointment and disapproval poured into her, an assault against the rigid walls she'd placed around herself. Doubt and confusion bubbled inside her, and she froze.

But the spoon was implacable, and instinct took over for her. Marina opened her mouth as her face relaxed, attempting to make it appear that this was a romantic gesture, that they were a couple playing at dinner. It didn't matter that he was dressed in a suit that cost her three months rent. People saw what they wanted to see, and no one wanted to see a dangerous situation so they wouldn't feel obligated to get involved.

Andre fed her the remainder of the soup, the fingers of one hand still wrapped around hers, thumb tracing little intricacies against her skin. When she finished the last bite, she managed to wrench her gaze away from him. Her stomach ached but she knew the food would stay down. And now there was no superficial protection for what she knew was coming.

"Please," she begged, her voice a ragged whisper. "Please let me go."

So proper was she. Not wanting to make a scene, she played along, let him feed her. It wasn’t the first time he had done such a thing for her, but it was the first time when she was not more than willing to receive it. He had only pressured her to eat one other time, that same night that she had witnessed his justice.

He let his thumb trace back and forth over the pulse at her inner wrist. He slowed his own heartbeat, almost willing her to slow hers. She was nervous, frightened of him, clearly. How many times had he willed her to control her heartbeat, to find the rhythm of his and match it? The number of times he had laid her head against his chest, allowed her to feel the soothing rhythm of his steady heartbeat. Would she remember that now?

As her whisper reached his ears but no others his thumb stilled in its caressing circles. “Let you go? Why Marina, then I would be forced to hunt you right there in the open streets. Is that what you want? Do you want the chase? Do you wish to feel your heartbeat pound as those long legs eat up ground, not able to scream for you will need your breath for running? Yet, knowing that no matter how fast you ran, I would catch you? Is that truly what you want my dear?”

His golden eyes were that of a predator, not unlike those of the wolf’s eyes she had labeled them when they first met. He held her gaze. There was no hypnosis in his gaze now, only the mesmerization of his personality, the smolder of lust and the thrill of the hunt. “I will admit that could be fun. A new type of foreplay, perhaps?”

Jesus, he was scary. Marina wasn't used to him turning those words against her. When she'd been his lover, he teased her and coaxed her and wooed her. Even when she knew he would drink from her body, she never felt like prey. Yet here she sat, a rabbit caught with her leg in a snare, trembling with fear and - God help her - desire.

But the last thing she wanted to do was turn him on, or heighten his predatory nature. If he wanted more of a hunt, she would not give it to him tonight. "That's disgusting," she said, voice sounding petulant even to her own ears. "If you insist on my company, I know I can't outrun you." Tonight I can't, she mentally added.

When she tugged her arm this time, he let her go. As Marina dug around in her purse for her wallet, she prayed that holy oil she smeared on her neck would do some good if he bit her there. It was the easiest place to drink from, though not always his choice. She threw down her money with a sigh. "Fine, let's get this over with," she said, tongue laden with resignation. He could have her body, but he couldn’t touch her spirit.

Could he?

“Disgusting it may be to your proper ears, but the thought intrigues you, you cannot lie to me,” he stated firmly. “I can sense your emotions. What’s the famous quote…search your feelings, you know it to be true.” He smirked just a little. He liked doing such things, he would be completely proper and ancient and old worldly, then spout off a random pop culture reference just to remind the people around him that he was not completely disconnected from the here and now. Also, it seemed fitting to quote Darth Vader to her in this moment. “Surely some philosopher,” he added feigning ignorance.

Amused by himself he let her go when she pulled away this time. He let her pull out money to pay. He could have easily paid for her meal, but he had long ago told her it was her responsibility to pay for things that he did not approve of. This—rabbit food—counted as such. “You know Marina, I have always endeavored to make sure you are as happy and pleased as I could. I have been gentle and taken care of you. I think therefore you have forgotten who I am, and I don’t have to make things so pleasant on you. There is a part of me that would enjoy the taste of your fear just as much as the taste of your ecstasy.” He hoped his words would paint a picture for her. When he mentioned the taste of her fear, he imagined holding her trembling body, frightened and exhausted from running, as he drank the adrenalin laced blood. Then, when he mentioned tasting her extract, he remembered one of the many times that he had lapped at her as she screamed her pleasure into the stars. He had a fondness for stretching her out on the lakeshore behind his secluded home, and seeing how many orgasms he could give her before she begged him to fuck her. His lips twitched a bit at that image. He was getting distracted. Would she have those same pictures? Sometimes he could fill her mind with images, sometimes her innate abilities kept him out.

He stood gracefully and slid an arm around her, tucking her possessively under his shoulder in a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective. His fingertips stroked up and down her arm through the shirt she wore. He longed to feel her bare skin under the caressing pads of his fingertips, but that would come later.

Such was his influence and how good were his people that by the time he had navigated her out of the shop and up to the corner of the main street a long black Limousine had pulled up to the curb. With a bow the driver took off his hat as he opened the door for them. “Good evening lady Marina,” Manuel the driver offered.

Soon they were inside the limo and Manuel had closed the door. “Shall we go home, or do you care to do something else tonight, see a show, visit the children’s hospital,” Since he had met her Andre had given generously to many causes that Marina championed but the children’s hospital, had been a particularly soft spot for the both of them. Gruff though Andre seemed to most, the children seemed to love him. “It’s my understanding that you haven’t visited since you left.” Was that a touch of disapproval in his voice? “You may have grown to hate me, but how could you let the children down?” he asked sounding again a bit like a disappointed parent in that moment, the disapproval thickening as he went on.

Marina shook as he poured his disappointment over her. "The children? Really? Did it occur to you that maybe I didn't go because I didn't want to run into you there?" Which was true. She had avoided the hospital, and the theater (not that she could afford tickets now), the museums. Any place she had visited with him she stayed away from because she did not want to see Andre.

But where had that gotten her? Here she sat, once again in the back of his limo within arm's reach of the monster that stalked her nightmares. What good had leaving done her? It hadn't mattered how careful she had been; he still found her. Had come to collect her.

She scooted to the other side of the car and crossed her arms. And yet he continued to frown at her. With a shrug and slight shake of her head, she finally said, "No, I don't want to go anywhere." He relayed something to Manuel, and she stared out the window.

As the limo wound its way through the city streets, Marina wondered again why she was susceptible to some of his powers but not others. If she knew, she might be able to better fight him. As it was, he had managed to pull up a memory back in the restaurant that she couldn't shake. Her body ached for that sort of pleasure again, though her mind knew it wasn't worth the price she would pay for it. Still, she shifted in her seat as she recalled the velvety tease of his tongue as he....

"Stop it," she hissed, glaring over at him as he sat there, so impossibly still, a faint smirk telling her that he knew what was arousing her. She knew he could taste her desire in the air, that he only made it stronger to try and subdue her good sense.

By the time they pulled up to the front of his tasteful mansion, Marina was both so aroused and frightened at how easily he kept her on edge that the second the vehicle stopped, she threw open the door and sprinted down the driveway toward the road.

“That’s no excuse. They have all asked about you,” he said, before she scooted away and they lapsed into silence. Disapproval transformed to a slightly smug satisfaction as he became aware of where her mind was, the thoughts she was having. The images, the memories he had evoked in her. Andre made a mental note to follow up on her. He had abandoned the quest to learn about what made her so unique because she was his. Now that that was in doubt, he again wanted answers to the mystery of why his powers worked on her some of the time, but not others. What type of psychic was in her family tree?

They were headed to his home, and as they drove, he reflected that he wished he hadn’t gone with the limo approach. Now he wished he had flown her home, wrapped her in his arms so he could feel her every curve pressed to him, as she would have to clutch her arms around his neck for fear of falling. It would have been so much more intimate than this awkward silence, punctuated only by the salacious thoughts he had evoked in her.



As they pulled up the mile-long driveway, wending their way through the hills and into sight of the house, he could feel his heartrate increase with anticipation. He consciously slowed it. Control was the name of the game. He wanted this to be perfect. He just knew the levels of pleasure he could drive her to would make him irresistible to her. His eyes watched her every move, the rise and fall of her chest with her breathing, the slight flutter at her neck of her pulse. His eyes missed no single detail.

His gaze must have made her even more nervous for as the car pulled to a stop, she had sprung across to the door, shoving free and beginning to run. From stillness to sudden movement the predator sprang into action. His Marina was trying to escape. Foolish woman. She already knew that she could not outrun him. Did she then truly wish the thrill of the chase, then? Those thoughts went through his head in but an instant as he loped after her. Long legs allowed him to eat up distance with almost no effort. How foolish was she? She could never outlast his stamina.

He closed on her rapidly, too rapidly. He did not want to catch her before she made it to the path. He just knew she would cut left into the woods, expecting him to think she was headed for the road. She thought herself so smart, but he knew. He was content to let her think she had fooled him. He would wait for her to stop to rest, then he would have her. He could have simply run her down right then and there, pinned her down and made her want him, but this would be more fun, much more psychologically damaging. She was not overly outdoorsy. She would never be able to find her way through the paths in the woods. He slowed his pace just enough to let her make the turn off. Made sure that his footsteps made no sound so she wouldn’t know he still pursued her. She was already caught; she just didn’t know it yet.

Run.

Fueled by instinct and adrenaline, Marina's legs pumped hard, faster than she’d ever pushed them. He was behind her, pursuing her, urging her body to perform feats it had never been asked to perform. She heard nothing but the rushing of her own blood and the desperate gasps of her lungs as they struggled to keep up.

Run.

There! A side path that she could only just make out in the darkness. Her ankle complained as she careened to the left. Her feet found themselves now pounding on fallen leaves, crunching and kicking up dust behind her. She prayed to every deity she could remember that he believed she'd run towards the road.

Run.

The woods, though, concealed the stars and waning moon, her only light sources. She tripped once, twice, managing to keep her balance but forcing her to slow her pace. Pain lanced through her side and her lungs burned from the frosty night air, and eventually she stumbled to a halt.

Looking around herself, Marina realized she had no idea where she was, or how to get back. The sweat from her exertion set her muscles from quivering to shivering in mere seconds. She didn't know how to get back to the manor, nor out to the street. Maybe, if she were lucky, she could find a hole and bury herself in enough leaves to not freeze.

A desperate, forlorn laugh bubbled up from her aching chest, accompanied by tears. Death by hypothermia wasn't how she pictured her life ending, but at least it would be on her own terms. A little fuck you to Andre on her way out. Yeah. Yeah that could work. Maybe she could stop feeling so guilty about Kyle then.

Exhausted, she crumbled to the ground as she shook with laughter and tears and cold. In a way, it would be a relief to be done with this fear. She rocked for a bit, head on her knees, when she paused. Did she hear something?

Run!

Before she could even look, hands grabbed her and she screamed.

He pursued her, always staying silently behind her. He watched the fatigue set in, watched her slow. Then she laughed at herself. Was she just realizing the predicament she had placed herself in?

Just as she became aware of his presence there standing over her where she lay quivering on the ground and rose to run, he caught her in his arms. He had enjoyed the chase but he was not in the mood to have her so worn out that she could not perform. As it was, he would need to bathe her before the real fun could begin.

His hands caught her against his chest, surprisingly gentle, though implacable, with no give, velvet encased iron.

He held her head to his chest, a silent order to calm herself. His heartbeat so steady under her ear. His fingertips stroked down her long hair. “Are you through with your petulant tantrum little one?” he asked finally.

His left arm locked around her waist as his left continued to stroke her hair. Without warning he used his ability to fly to lift them up through the trees, and head back towards the house. He felt her new blast of fear as her arms instinctively wound around him. He pressed her head against his chest. “Do not fear, I will not drop you,” he told her with supreme confidence.

Marina wanted to struggle, but also knew there was no point. She could not escape. No matter where she went, no matter how long she was gone, he found her. She had no choice but to return with him.

He forced her ear against his chest, where his unnatural heart beat with someone else's blood. Its beat was smooth, implacable, utterly calm. Her body responded as her own heart beat slowed, allowing her to catch her breath. Aching muscles ceased cramping, though her ankle throbbed now that her adrenaline faded. She didn't want this, to feel soothed by his stoic presence, to be calmed by his gentle hand on her hair. She wanted to run and run and run, but she was too defeated this night to keep fighting.

The instant their bodies synched, their feet were off the ground. Another terrified shriek escaped her as she latched onto him like a lifeline. Andre had only flown her once before, shortly after they had met, and she had been so scared he hadn't done it again. She pressed her face against his chest, eyes squeezed so tight that she saw spots, as her fear of heights raged. Her body plastered against his, shivering as he offered her already-cold body little warmth even this close, and she held on for dear life.

It took her a moment or two to realize they were back at the mansion, standing on the balcony that overlooked the lake. Andre peeled her off of him and held her at arm's length. Marina grew so overwhelmed by the wild fluctuations in her emotions, the fire of her anger and the trembling ice of her fear, that she broke down into tears.

He set her on the balcony, pushing her out from him a little so he could look down on her, assure her she was safe. She reacted with a wave of emotions that battered at him. He gathered her right back into his arms, resuming stroking her hair. He was the implacable predator, but now that he had her he could afford to be gentle. “It’s ok,” he whispered.

Some of her trembling was from cold, he knew that, and he ushered her into the house. He stumbled with her for a few steps before he simply scooped her up in his arms, cradling her to his chest as one would carry a child. He thought nothing of her weight, it did not even phase him. The romance of him carrying her across the threshold was of course, lost on her at that moment. No matter.

He carried her through the house, down to his underground master bedroom. He carried her into the massive bathroom and perched her on the edge of the counter. “Wait there,” he ordered softly. Stepping away he began to run water into the large sunken tub, that could have doubled as a small swimming pool.

Before she could move, he was back in front of her. He squatted easily before her to begin removing her shoe and sock, strong fingers inspecting her ankle. “This will need healed,” he murmured, “Though I could leave you with the injury, a minor sprain, it might keep you from trying to flee again,” he said looking up at her. It was a silent question, would she prefer him use his powers to heal her, or would she prefer to continue to feel the pain. Though he was never afraid to take charge and make decisions for her, something like this where it affected him very little either way, he left it up to her. It would be more psychologically gratifying if she requested his help.

It made no sense to her how he could be so gentle when he chose to be. The way he enveloped her, stroked her as he carried her about like a puff of cotton, belied the hidden physical prowess beneath it all. Fingers that she watched crush a life before her eyes set her on the counter in his bathroom with care. "Wait here," he commanded, tone not as harsh as the words themselves.

When he left her to draw a bath, Marina's eyes couldn't help but follow him. His grace, his build, the caged strength...women threw themselves at him, and not a few men, but he wasted energy chasing her. A year ago, she had been flattered to have his attention. Now it felt more a burden. This building she'd called home was little more than a fancy cage.

Still, he remained tender as he removed the shoe and sock from her injured leg. She grit her teeth as he probed the ankle, the pain flaring under his fingers. He knelt there, amber-brown eyes studying her with infinite patience. He wouldn't force her to accept the healing, but she sensed he would find it foolish if she refused. And if it healed, then she might find a way out of here.

Finally, she nodded. "Go on then. Do your worst." She offered a hint of a smile that she didn't feel, but saw no reason to antagonize him further. His hands encircled her ankle and she tensed.

Brown eyes looked up at her, awaiting her response. Her emotions didn’t match the smile she gave him, but she tried. “I plan to do my worst,” he said with a smile that could only be described as wicked. “However, my healing will certainly not be a part of that.”

He closed his hands around her ankle, warmth seeping into her from his hands. The waves of his lifeforce worked over the sore muscle, urging it to knit together, cells to bind together. This was minor enough an injury that he had not needed to enter her mind, to compel her body to heal itself. This type of injury his own life force was enough to stimulate cell growth.

He could have healed it completely had he gone into her mind, but strangely enough he did not want to push her too far in one night. She was like a blade on the forge, sometimes you could not strike the hot metal one more time, or the blade would be ruined. He did not wish her to be ruined. Doing the healing this way meant it would be stronger, but he had just strengthened it until it could finish healing in a few days. Normal use would not be a problem, but it would be prone to reinjury, should she get ideas of running away again. He of course didn’t tell her that, let her find out on her own.

His eyes had fluttered closed during the healing process to better concentrate on the feel of his aura affecting hers. His actions completed he opened his eyes. Before he rose to his feet, he took off her other shoe and sock. Rising smoothly to his feet he reached for the top she wore. “Lift your arms or I’ll rip it off you,” he said calmly, as if such a thing were no big deal.

She seemed to consider her options before lifting her arms. “You must like that shirt,” he grunted, “You have generally not minded my tearing you’re clothing off you.”

As the shirt came away, he was presented with the sight of the crucifix around her neck. It did not contrary to popular Christian doctrine burst into holy fire. It glittered there in the hollow at the top of her cleavage, just where the perfect mounds of her breasts were lifted up by the bra she wore. “A cross,” he said looking up into her face, “How quaint.”

He reached out to take it between finger and thumb, gently rubbing his thumb against the engraving on the metal, the backs of his fingers ever so softly brushing her breasts. “Seemingly well made, but you deserve better. Remind me to buy you one. My lady deserves better.”

With that he let it go and paid it no more mind. “I was never Christian as a human myself,” he commented as his hands slid around her to begin unfastening her bra. “Too old for that. “It was rare for Andre to speak of his human life. In the year that she’d known him he had only ever mentioned it a few times.

His eyes were on her breasts as they slowly came into view and Andre Licked his lips unconsciously. He had always loved her breasts, just a bit more than most men’s handful, all natural, he could spend hours admiring them, making her feel good just with what he could do to them alone. His eyes flicked up into her eyes. “No matter how many times I am gifted with the sight of your body, I am never disappointed.” He said softly, almost in a far away tone.

For a moment, as Andre manipulated her ankle, she felt...something. It was hard to put a finger on, but it was as if she sensed him in a way she never had before. Not that it helped her understand him better. In fact, it had the opposite effect. He felt more unknowable than ever, as an ant might if she poured a little of herself into it.

When he finished, she twisted her foot a few times to test it out. The strange heat dissipated as she did, but so did the pain. She wouldn't be running any marathons soon, but that was par for the course. Marina was not, nor would she ever be, an athlete.

Andre slid off her other boot and sock before turning his eyes back to hers. He held her gaze as he rose, hands sliding up to the edge of her sweater. "Lift your arms or I'll rip it off you." Not a threat, but a mere statement of fact. Memories assaulted her again of him shredding away fancy dresses he procured for her before falling on her with his ravenous hunger. No, there had been enough of predator Andre tonight. She lifted her arms, blushing at his admonition.

When her necklace tumbled out, she gasped slightly, having forgotten for the moment about it. Then, of course, he shattered her illusions about its protection. His fingers ran along the silver length with ease, no hint of discomfort. But when he suggested buying her a new, she objected. "No, my grandmother gave me this one when I was chrismated." It seemed so wrong to talk of her sweet Russian baba as a vampire caressed the cross and, in doing so, sliding his fingers across her breasts.

He pressed himself close to her as his arms encircled her chest to unhook her bra. But it was the hint of his age that froze her. Too old for Christianity? Her skin prickled at the implication of what that meant. No, being an ant to his human was a grossly unfair comparison. She was more like an amoeba.

And yet, he stood there, this pale god with luscious dark hair and lupine eyes, admiring her form. Was that all it took to impress a vampire who had seen millennia - great breasts and a penchant for danger? She didn't know, but the hungry look he gave her tightened her nipples with desire and dread.

Thinking back to his comment about doing his worst, she couldn't help but shiver. "I'm afraid, Andre." Even though her fear had been apparent all night, it was the first time she had voiced it. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, making it hard to breathe. "Are you going to hurt me?"

He reached for her hands, letting his thumbs play softly over the backs of her hands as he let his eyes meet hers. “Have I ever Hurt you in a way that you did not desire AnghelE mou?” he asked the Greek term for my angel slipping from his lips without thought. A slip, perhaps, after speaking of his human life. Not that the words he used would have been the same in his native ancient Greek, but the use of the modernization might have given her a clue if she were looking for it. He of course had called her that before, though it had been a while. “I have never desired to hurt you. You make me be harsh to you, you test my patience and push me. I do not know why you deny me, push me to such extremes, rather than just letting me love you.” His tone was a mixture, there was disapproval buried somewhere in there but over all he sounded completely reasonable, as if this were the unfettered truth as he saw it.

“You are cold,” he stated as he lifted her off the counter and to her feet, his hands lowering to the button and zipper of the pants she wore. “The bath will be warm. You will be pleased,” His hands pushed her pants down slowly, again crouching to tug them all the way down to her ankles. He then lifted first one foot and then the other, helping her to step from the pants.

His eyes slid up to her panty covered sex which was almost on eye level where he crouched, right at the apex of her long shapely legs. “Purple satin is becoming on you,” he said softly as his hands slid slowly up the outsides of her legs, making the long journey up towards the panties. “You act like you don’t want me, yet you wear things that you know I will enjoy. Why is that angel?” he asked as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the panties and began to ease them down inch by inch.

He was close, his breath almost brushing her skin through the fabric. His smile was self-satisfied as her pussy came into view, and it took more control than he expected not to bury his face against her body right then. The hunger to do so was clearly evident in his eyes as he rolled them up to look her in the eye.

His hands were at the level of her ankles then and he again lifted first one and then another of her feet to help her step from them. Resisting the urge to steal even one lick he got back to his feet.

He slid his arm around her back, pulling her naked body against his, still fully clothed. He leaned down as he pulled her close, and it became very quickly evident that he intended to kiss her. The question would be, would she allow it, would she kiss him back. The arm that had locked around her waist to hold her to him slid up into the long hair and tugged sharply, forcing her to look up to meet his kiss. Nothing he did was rough; it was however very firm.