CHRISTINE

She felt as though she had been blessed, her mind blinded by the shining light of their auras. They were not evil, nothing as beautiful as this could be evil. They were simply misunderstood, that was all.

And though she had not heard the voice of the One in her mind for a while now, she knew that they were getting close. She could feel that bright mind in the distance like a silvery star glowing brighter and brighter in the night. They were close and it was strong, a music strumming inside of her, filling up her soul with the sound of laughter and tears, of a symphony composed of the greatest musicians the world had ever known, and it was inside of her.

Her body tingled, and even though they were high in the air and it was cold she felt as though a fire had been lit inside her. She felt like a candle glowing in a window, a candle lit for the hope of a safe return. She felt like a song never sung, like a poem never written, she felt like hope itself, ready to spring into action and make the world a beautiful place and change all of the monsters and evil things into kitty cats and puppy dogs and laughing children in the park.

This was what the world was meant for, not as a place to exist, but as a place for hope to stand on. A stepping stone for a higher level, somewhere to stand while waiting to reach the glory of heaven. And she was close.

Soon she would be with the One, and she would be fulfilled in ways she could only imagine.

There was a fullness inside her, a waiting to be complete. She knew that when she was in the presence of the One everything about her would explode in a light of ecstasy and glorious completion, an orgasm of the spirit and soul, an orgasm of her entire being.

She shuddered at the thought of that voice being inside of her at the place where all of her power stemmed from. She knew that just being touched by that voice would enhance her abilities tenfold, a hundredfold, incalculably.

The hard, cold hand clamped around her left hand tightened until she thought her bones would snap. She looked into that emotionless face and felt a chill. Why did something so beautiful and bright have to be so mean to her? She would have loved to have a new friend, but she doubted that she had one in the girl Dezi.

The boy, Chris, on the other hand, seemed rather friendly. He had been polite to her and even rather nice. There hadn’t been quite the same chill about him as around the girl, as if weren’t quite up to speed compared to her. It was strange, but Christine could see a faint blue cast to his aura, as if a remnant of what he had once been was still inside of him, glowing outward from his soul. It wasn’t very strong, but it was there. She wondered what kind of person he had once been. Did he like being a… what he was? Or did he wish that he could go back, maybe even rejoin his real family?

She couldn’t even think the word for what they were in her own mind, there was something so chilling about even the sound of the word. Perhaps it was because in some corner of her mind she knew what her fate was going to be, and the rest of her was trying to make her think she was just imagining things. Sometimes she worried that maybe she thought too much, then she realized that perhaps that was an asset.

Thinking was what kept people out of trouble. Thinking was a good thing. The only bad thing about thinking so much was when she knew she was going into a bad situation and did it anyway, then she would keep thinking about all the horrible things that were going to happen to her.

This time she was going into a situation with her eyes open and her mind shut. She didn’t want to know; all she wanted to do was bask in the glow of that wonderfully bright mind.

Even though Dezi was holding her hand almost painfully tight, Christine gripped the other girl’s hand harder, not even really feeling the pain. Her mind had retreated back into the fantasy world of that glorious mind. That touch that had ignited her entire being, flaring inside her with the light of a trillion stars.

DEZI

Gregor’s building was a real shit hole. The roof access was a small shack with a chain and padlocked door that was supposed to keep the riffraff out. Bird droppings were scattered everywhere; someone had thought it was funny to keep their pigeon cages on the roof and must have forgotten they were there, since they hadn’t bothered to feed the damn things in awhile and about half the birds had killed themselves trying to escape.

Dezi let go of both Chris and Christine’s hands and wandered over to the cages.

With a sad thrumming in her ears and feeling a pain in her heart, she opened the cage and let the birds out. There were only about six left alive; tough, scrawny little birds that had probably survived by eating their fellows. She didn’t blame them though; she remembered the Jewish concentration camp she had been locked in during World War II when a nice Polish family had offered her a place to stay.

It still filled her with grief, all the misery they had gone through. She hadn’t left that family, not even when the mother had been sent to the gas chamber. Dezi had been there holding the woman’s hand the entire time, listening to the mumbled prayers that had come from the huddled mass of people around her, hating how they had all been reduced to numbers, their humanity slowly stolen from them. She had slipped out before the bodies were cremated. To the family, it had seemed as though the woman had just gone out one day and disappeared forever, never to be seen again. The children had cried for days until they realized they were going to die themselves; that was when the tears had dried for them.

The saddest part was that the family wouldn’t leave, not even when Dezi had begged them, promised them that she could save them. They were there to help their people, and at first they had thought they would only be in there for only a little while before they would be rescued. Little did they know that it would go on for years, and even then they refused to leave. They would not run away when the rest of their people could not. They would suffer and die or suffer and live, a powerful message they would leave behind.

Moments before he had died, the father had ordered her to take the children with her and run, not knowing that his precious eight-year old son and six-year old daughter were already gone. They had made their own version of an escape. They had died soon after their mother, but he had not seen, did not remember. Still, she had grabbed his twelve-year old son and carried him away over the barbed wire fences and past the guards with their guns. But by then it was too late, the boy died before she could get him to a hospital. He had been beaten so badly there was internal damage and blood had been bubbling out from between his parted lips. She had held him until he had stopped trembling, his eyes going wide and empty like a doll’s.

After that she had been the "Angel of Mercy," as the Jews had called her. She would rescue people from the camps, help the resistance and come in the night to kill the Nazis. The only problem had been that there were so many of them and their numbers were growing everyday.

There was so much hate in the world that there was no real way to get rid of it. Death didn’t stop hate; the memory lingered on in the minds and hearts of the victims and in the rage they felt at their tormentors.

Perhaps pigeons didn’t have those sorts of emotions; perhaps they lived in the moment. But she had an image in her mind of a bunch of pigeons doing a strafing run on their owner, whoever he or she was. She pictured the person running like hell to get away from splattered pigeon droppings, white-gray blobs landing everywhere. Children screaming and running away from a figure covered head to toe in pigeon poop. It was a truly glorious image.

Her lips curved slightly in a cruel smile. Sometimes killing wasn’t the answer to every question. She would leave it up to the pigeons to either forgive and forget, or form together in vengeance.

She turned around to see Chris watching her in curiosity, a question unsaid on his lips and a quirk to his eyebrows. She shook her head and moved away from the pigeon coop toward the roof door.

The chain was about two inches thick, the lock a heavy-duty number that required a key to open. She smiled humorously as she broke the chain effortlessly; if she had used her full strength, she could have sent that chain flying clear across town, maybe all the way back to the city.

"After you," she said, holding the door open.

Chris brushed her lips with a kiss as he passed. "Why thank you, dear," he said, deep-voiced and funny.

Christine looked at her for a silent, immovable moment before she followed Chris down those treacherously steep stairs.

Dezi shook her head, talk about ungrateful. She slammed the door behind her and tramped her way down the stairs, trying to be as obnoxiously loud as a mortal fumbling her way along through life. Somehow she didn’t quite make it. She didn’t sound so much like a normal human as a dancer dismounting the stage, delicate and fragile, while shit-kicker tough at the same time.

She growled wordlessly to herself; she hadn’t been mortal for so long that she had lost her ability to play the part believably. Sure, she could fool mortals, who were about as dense as a block of wood, but she couldn’t fool other immortals. They could spot her from a hundred feet away and not just by her appearance. Sulkily she kicked out her foot, not even noticing that her other foot wasn’t on the step and that she just sort of stood on air; her body protecting itself from a potentially nasty fall.

She stamped the rest of the way down, angry that she couldn’t make herself anymore human than she was. Why couldn’t she be as klutzy and loud as a mortal? It wasn’t like she wanted to be that way all the time, just when she wanted to have a little fun. But no, she was graceful and stepped with a lightness and ease that no mortal could have without a lifetime of practice.

"Humph," she groused to herself, flowing down the stairs like a dream.

CHRIS

Lianndra looked up from where he was sitting on the floor playing with little Daniel, who was in human form for the time being. "Well, did you guys have fun? Are you still Hungry?" His voice was filled with irony.

Dezi laughed a silky laugh and flowed across the room to plant a kiss on his cheek. It was the kiss that a daughter might offer to her father, which looked sort of incongruent when one saw the apparent differences in their ages and heights.

Curled up on the floor like that, Lianndra looked like a little elf, maybe even the elf king, what with the way Daniel was hanging around him. It was obvious that the vampire boy was dominant to the little boy/puppy.

Lianndra idly pet the boy’s head as he looked up at them all. "So, this is the girl? The witch?" His voice was slow and relaxed as he examined the girl from under thick, curled lashes.

The girl blushed almost as bright a red as her hair. Her green eyes seemed to fill up her entire face. They were a dark, evergreen color, not as vibrantly green as Felicienne’s had been, but attention catching nonetheless. She wasn’t exactly beautiful, just slightly pretty, like a rose that hasn’t reached full bloom and won’t for awhile yet.

There was a sort of half-finished look about her; she wasn’t ready to grow up just yet, no matter what she thought inside. Chris had known people like that before, people who looked and acted younger than they were, yet thought they were older and wiser than everyone around them. She thought she was prepared to go one-on-one with Lianndra, but it was obvious to an observer that there was no way she could ever match him. Still, she had to find that out for herself.

Chris flopped into a chair, careful to keep an eye on that weird guy, the blond one. He felt uncomfortable in the guy’s presence. There was something disturbing about him.

Like most good-looking guys living in the city, Chris had occasionally been propositioned by middle-aged men in expensive cars who wanted nothing so much as a hand job or a little more. Even though they had offered him at least twenty dollars to climb into their cars with them, he had never quite wanted anything bad enough to go with them. Maybe if he had really wanted something, he might have, but he had never been that desperate.

That was what the blond guy made him think of, the hungry eyes of the male prostitutes patrolling the streets, offering a good time for money. He looked as if he was one of those guys that would charge a hundred dollars a pop and earn it in any way possible. There was something about him that made Chris think of the S&M parlors and the guys hanging around out front dressed all in leather and offering to whip you for money. There was a hungry look about the man that made Chris think that perhaps he had a set of whips in the backroom and that he liked to practice on himself with them, licking up the blood with his tongue.

Chris shivered and turned away from him, glad that the man was clear across the room, lying on his back next to Lianndra.

Another thing that bothered him about that guy and the other two werewolves was the charged energy that crackled around them. It felt like a heat against his skin, only it was inside him at the same time, shivering and gyrating along his bones. It felt strange and a little frightening, but good at the same time. It made him wonder if their blood would be like pop-rocks, crackling all the way down his throat. He didn’t want to think things like that; he was happy not liking them and not being all that close to them. They were not good and that was that.

He pulled in on himself, glad that Dezi and Lianndra were here with him, glad that he was a vampire and it would take a lot to hurt him. Looking at Christine he had to feel sorry for her, trapped in a room filled with monsters and not even realizing it.

CHRISTINE

He looked at her for a silent moment, then smiled. "Hello, Christine, I am pleased to finally meet you," he said in welcome, as if he had known of her for years.

She smiled, glad that she was finally rid of her braces. She wanted to look her best for him. She wished that she was really dressed up, but she was also glad that she was at least wearing a nice dress and tights and not the pair of scruffy old jeans she had been planning to wear for tonight.

He beckoned to her and she went down to her knees next to him, not really seeing the little dark-haired boy that scampered off to go play with the handsome blond man lying nearby. Her entire attention was focused on the boy before her, the beautiful boy that was more than he seemed.

~come to me,~ he murmured, beckoning her closer.

She leaned forward until her face was only an inch away from his, marveling at the porcelain perfection of his complexion.

He smiled and leaned closer to her, his arms going around her, his left hand cupping the back of her head, his right holding her close. She felt the tickling sensation of breath on her neck and shivered, goose bumps moving deliciously across her skin.

She thought that perhaps he didn’t need to breathe, that he did it just for her, to make her more comfortable. She liked that, liked the fact that he cared about her and made her want to feel good.

His tongue flicked out across her skin, and she moaned. He laughed against her neck and she felt a shiver of pleasure along her spine. A wisp of his hair brushed against her cheek and she sighed, it was as soft as silk. She felt a delicate pressure on her neck and sighed again, glad that she was finally here.

His lips touched her neck, tracing a kiss on her skin. Then she felt that pressure again, this time it was stronger, more focused. She moaned as a good feeling welled up inside of her. This was better than magic, better than dancing, better than anything she had ever thought was good.

Her heart sped up and a heat flowed through her. He murmured something and held her closer, his arms surprisingly strong.

His mind touched hers and she sighed, opening herself to him. His gentle laughter filled her mind with light as he flowed into her, touching her and feeling her in her most private of places. He was inside of her, he was a part of her, they were one being, pulsing with life and with thought.

She saw him as a being of pure light, traveling through her memories, touching her past with delicate fingers, tracing those fingers along her mind. He was inside her head, and she was glad he was there with her, that finally she wasn’t alone.

She moaned, a pressure building up inside her as he flickered through all of her nighttime fantasies, enacting them for her inside her mind. Heat flowed though her, pulsing along her veins. All the good feelings he was giving her were focused on his mouth and her neck, the tension building inside of her until she thought she was going to explode.

He thrust himself through the barriers of her mind, touching and feeling her, bringing her neutrons to life with a flaring brightness. He laughed in her mind and it felt like velvet rubbing against the inside of her brain. He reached out fingers of light and touched her, and she came to him, shuddering in the glory of his light.

She gave a high and shuddering scream as she shattered into a million pieces to go spinning off into the dark. Her arms tightened around him and she burst apart, then was brought back together again by him, then shattered once more.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, feeling as though she had been cleansed from the inside out. Her underarms were soaked with sweat and she didn’t care. All that mattered was that her head was on his leg and his hand held hers tightly. She didn’t even mind that the room was filled with people, all looking at her like she was a specimen in a jar. All that mattered was the replete feeling that flowed throughout her entire being.

She looked up at Lianndra and smiled dreamily; he was everything she had ever wanted. He smiled back, his teeth flashing whitely under the light. His lips were tinged with red and there was a gently fulfilled look to his eyes and face. He licked his lips and stroked her hair with one lazy hand.

~that was good, was it not?~ his voice asked in her mind.

~yes,~ she said, too tired to even bother using her voice.

He sat with her for a long while, stroking her hair and her forehead, trailing his fingers across her face, tracing her features.

~i love you,~ she murmured. He smiled vaguely at her, his eyes focused off in the distance somewhere. She didn’t mind though, she was simply glad to be here. She was thankful that he had even deigned to notice her at all; amazed that such a special and beautiful being would spend time with a nobody and nothing like her.

She wondered if perhaps she would begin to yearn for him, but she knew that that was a stupid thought. Of course she would want him. She would have been happy to simply spend the rest of her life basking in his glow, bathing in the light of his aura. There was something about him, a goodness and light, something that made her think of a god.

He was her own personal god, a being to worship and love, to follow and obey. Even if he never touched her again for the rest of her life, she would be glad to simply hang around him, to walk where he had walked. That was the complete brightness that was him. He was so luminous that bits of him were soaked up by his surroundings, making the people around him better for knowing him.

Already this dirty and dingy apartment was taking on an aspect in her mind that made her think of him. The room was taking on a fuzzy beauty that made her want to simply stay in this spot where they were sitting and never leave. She could commune with him through the objects he had graced with his touch. That was how wonderful he was.

She sighed and cuddled close to him, knowing that this moment would have to end soon. Still, she was glad to have even this one small moment in time to be near him.

DEZI

Lianndra was busy with the girl, but they didn’t say much, simply sat and rested. Dezi thought that if she squinted her eyes, she could see a shimmering light around them--a Feeding afterglow.

"It’s time to go to Sleep now," Dezi said, watching Chris try to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully.

Lianndra nodded and gently disengaged himself from the girl, giving her fine, red hair one final stroke. She might not have known it, but Dezi had seen him pet cats and dogs in the same manner, with that same absentmindedly gentle stroke. Still, she figured that if the girl was happy, it wasn’t her place to tell her otherwise.

Gregor was sitting at the table set up in what could loosely be termed the dining area. He was wearing a blue terrycloth bathrobe and sipping, sleepy eyed, from a cup of coffee. His cheeks bristled with whiskers he hadn’t bothered to shave.

Lianndra gave him a hug and a kiss. "You’ll keep watch, right?"

"Always," Gregor said, with a huge yawn and a bracing gulp of coffee.

Dezi, Chris and Christine’s clattering arrival had woken him before he was ready. He didn’t really mind though; he had to get up anyway. Sleeping vampires had to be protected during the day, otherwise they might Wake up, and in the half-conscious state they would be in accidents could happen. Gregor knew that as well as any of them did, since he had actually seen Lianndra kill someone before he was even truly Awake. It had been terrifying in that the vampire boy’s eyes had still been closed, but he had moved faster than the eye could follow. One moment the man had been alive, the next he was falling to the floor, his heart clutched in Lianndra’s hand like some kind of toy rubber ball, the organ half-crushed in Lianndra’s fist as he instinctively squeezed.

"Well, good night, or rather, good morning," Gregor said, shooing them off to the bedroom and the privacy it offered.

Lianndra led the other two into the darkened bedroom. The windows were shielded by heavy blankets Gregor had tacked up just for them as a protection against the sun. Dezi herded Chris in front of herself, always careful that her lover and student was taken care of. He was so young that remnants of his mortal life still hung off of him, a psychic stink that was hard to ignore. He was so new Made that she knew she had to protect him from his own stupidity; right now he could be killed easier than at any other time in his immortal life.

She watched as both boys stripped out of their clothes and curled up on the bed. She followed suit and crawled onto the bed, wiggling her way in-between them.

Her hand slid out and met Chris’ seeking hand. They held hands as the light rose up in the sky and their minds went dark. Her last thought was that she was happy, then the world was empty and Sleep covered her and the world over.

She Awoke what seemed to be only seconds after she had closed her eyes. She lay in the bed for awhile, her eyes closed as she listened to the rustling of sheets and clothes as Lianndra and Chris made their way quietly from the room, trying not to disturb her. Which was actually rather sweet.

They had probably seen her go into the more normal sleep that came just before a vampire Awoke for real. While she was Asleep her body was stiff and chilly to the touch, more like a dead body than at any other time, then, moments before she would finally Awaken, her body would go limp and mortal seeming.

She waited until they were gone to finally open her eyes and sit up. It was seldom that she ever had a bed all to herself, and when she did she had to make the best of it for as long as it lasted.

Finally, unable to sit in the bed by herself any longer, Dezi stood and moved to her luggage, trying to think of what she wanted to wear.

She decided to wear a pair of white pants and a white and red striped shirt. It was while she was pulling on her socks that she realized that these clothes didn’t feel right. There had to be something else, something better for her to wear today, but what?

She was going into a dangerous situation, so it had to be something that spoke of her preparedness to not give up, something that would give her courage if she needed it. Something that made people think and wonder, something tough and strong.

Her mind flicked through everything she had packed and landed on something she had carried around with her for over thirty years, but hadn’t worn for awhile. It was something she carried along as a memory, not wearing it because she didn’t really feel like the person she had once been. But this night she had awoken with a rebellious desire to at least try it on, for a little while. For luck, if nothing else.

With a sigh at her own foolishness, she began to dig through her luggage until she found her old black leather jacket. It was a jacket with an attitude, that was for sure, from her name scripted in silky red letters above the left breast, to the silver zippers and studs.

She held it against her chest and smelled the scent of well cared for leather. It made her think of the sixties and traveling around the countryside with her friend Laine Macintosh, a real hell raiser if there ever was one.

She remembered her old Harley, which she had sold to a collector; a man that never rode it, just polished it and looked at it in wonder. It had been specially made for her, her name scripted in red along the side. He had kept her biker boots as well, but she had said no to giving up her leather jacket. A leather was sacred.

Dezi looked at the jacket for a silent moment wrought with memory, then stood up, tossing it on the bed as she stripped off her clothes. She slid the leather over her bare skin and breathed deeply, feeling as though she was finding herself, the person she had once been.

The smell of leather filled her nostrils and she breathed it in until she felt as though she would float away. The leather creaked as she moved, twirling around the room like a ballerina.

The spirit of the old Dezi filled her; she was a lean, mean, ass-kicking machine. A real bitch with an attitude, hunting the night on the back of her motorcycle, riding her victims down or swooping them up as she passed by.

Her bare legs flashed as she moved, leaping in the air, pouncing like a hunting cat, a dramatic snarl twisting her lips. This was what she had once been, a real she-cat. A hunter of the night. A motorcycle bitch moving along with the pack.

Names flowed through her mind as memory: Laine, Kat, Baby-Face, Little Ray, Cheetah, Tori and Jacie. Her old pals, the vampire motorcycle gang, chicks on bikes with attitudes, not to mention fangs and a dangerous Hunger.

She threw herself backward on the bed and thought of old times with her friends; people she hadn’t seen for awhile, but who she had heard rumors about in years past. Most of all, she wondered where Laine was right now, what she was doing and where.

Sometimes Dezi wished that she could go back to that forgotten life, reclaim her rebellious youth, rejoin the past and hold it tightly to her and never let go. But she knew that she couldn’t. She had changed, had become a civilized hunter, not the wild creature she had once been. Lianndra had slowly changed her into a normal person, into a classy dame, as some might once have called her. It was sad, but it had taken him over a hundred years to do it, so she had at least had her time of freedom, and it had to be enough.

Besides, she had Chris now, and she supposed he was worth all the changes life had wrought in her. Still, it would have been nice to be able to ride with the old gang one more time. To feel the wind whipping her hair around her face, to smell the scents of the night as she rode the highways at blinding speeds. To duck into truck stops and bars, picking up big, strong men who never knew what they were getting into until it was too late. To absorb the odors of hamburgers and French fries and beer that had soaked into their skin and flowed out along with their breath. To taste the sweetness of freedom, to Feed on the blood of those wild men that thought they were beyond the reach of the law. That would have been wonderful, to once again taste that wonder and feel that freedom as she chased the moon across the sky, a thrumming, roaring machine clamped between her legs as she rode like a Valkyrie on her precious steed, taking fallen warriors to Valhalla and paradise.

That would have been wonderful.

CHRIS

Chris felt his eyes pop in his head as he drank her in. She looked way different. His mouth opened and his lower lip twitched on things that he couldn’t say, on words that wouldn’t form in his mouth.

Her hair was wild and ragged about her head; she had cut it with a pair of scissors she had found somewhere. It barely reached her chin now, where just an hour ago it had hung down her back. Her midnight eyes were encircled by black kohl and blue eye shadow made her eyes seem brighter than they already were. They seemed to be lit within by some maniacal gleam or fire. Her pale rose lips were covered with black lipstick that gleamed when she moved her head. Her already pale skin seemed whiter in contrast to her makeup, which made her seem like one of those gothic people that walked the streets of New York and Seattle looking for trouble.

She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a formfitting black tee shirt. Her feet were covered by a pair of black combat boots; the boots were heavy looking and dangerous. Over everything, she wore a black leather jacket with her name on the front. It was a genuine leather, a real biker’s leather, not some sissy fake that kids wear to make themselves look cool.

She looked at him and Chris felt as though his insides had turned to water. She had somehow managed to counteract Lianndra’s spell; her hair had returned to its white-blond ethereal color and quality, her skin no longer even lightly tanned. She looked like someone that would kill people and laugh while she did it. There was true attitude and toughness there. This was not a princess of sweetness and light; this was a hard-assed bitch ready to rumble.

He swallowed hard as he looked at her. He felt like a normal guy confronted by a beautiful and dangerous girl. He had an erection the size of Manhattan pressing against the sudden roughness of his jeans. He felt as though he was seeing her for the very first time, his beautiful Dezi as she had once been and could easily be once again.

"Wow, what did you do to yourself?" Christine asked from where she was seated on the floor next to Lianndra’s chair. She probably didn’t even realize that she had taken a subservient pose, probably just thought that she was comfortable.

Dezi looked at her coldly for a second, then grinned, flashing her fangs. She tromped across the room to stand in front of Chris with her legs braced apart, her right hip aggressively outthrust. There was a toughness to her expression and movements that hadn’t been there before. She had been strong, but she hadn’t really shown it in such an obvious way. She had been hunting with modern vampiric weapons: glorious beauty and attraction. Now she was using the weapons that only a rebel can use: magnetism and a dangerous air.

She had about her the kind dangerousness that brought people running, begging to be a follower, a convert to her religion of adventure, danger and sex. She looked as if she knew what she wanted and how to get it; confidence and innate toughness--a rebel without a cause--all rolled into one leather-clad package.

"Well done, Dezi. It seems you haven’t buried your past as deeply as we all thought," Gregor drawled, looking her up and down from where he sat next to Ralph.

She looked at him and smiled. "The past is always with us, no matter what we might think, George."

He smirked on hearing her call him George, and even though Chris had no clue what the name meant to them he thought that perhaps it had to do with a shared history he didn’t really want to know about. He was better off not knowing, it was safer, not to mention the fact that he didn’t want to trouble his sleep.

All that mattered for the moment was the way Dezi looked, the raw attitude that gleamed in her eyes. She was beautiful and wild; there was something so unpredictable about her. He wondered what she was going to do.

He was answered when she stepped close to him and mounted him like someone sitting on a chair backwards. Her legs went around his and her chest pressed against his, her leather jacket rasping smoothly against the bare skin of his arms where his tee shirt ended.

Her arms went around his neck and her cheek pressed against his. The heady odors of leather and perfume filled his nostrils like a drug, his body straining out of his control. He wondered if she felt him pressing up against her, then knew that she did when she idly rubbed herself against him, a wicked gleam in the eye that he could see.

Her short hair fell forward, covering her face from his view as she bent further forward, pressing her face against his neck. A hot puff of breath burned against his skin, and for a second they were as two mortals bound together. Then he felt the prick of her fangs against his neck. She didn’t drink, simply broke the skin, marking him as an animal marks its territory. He could almost see what she had done to him, two small holes in his neck glistening with unspilt drops of blood, already healing, but the mental mark left on his mind, erotic.

He buried his face in her hair and breathed in the scent of her; that mixture of leather, shampoo, otherness and that something that was all Dezi, all girl. Her hair pressed against his face, silky soft, each strand glistening with a separate reflection of the overhead lights.

He held her close to him for a long while, the room around them disappearing from his mind, the people in it not even existing. There was only Dezi, she filled his entire universe, all that there was and ever would be.

Then he heard a throat clearing "sound" in his mind. ~i don’t want to ruin such a good moment, but we really need to plan and get down to business.~

Chris blushed to the roots of his hair, an excess of blood trailing across his cheeks like fire.

Dezi slowly shifted backward, but she didn’t leave his lap. Her hands moved down to settle feathery light against his shoulders. She didn’t turn her head to look at the room, her eyes locked with his, but she was at least listening.

Chris moved his hands down until they rested against her flat stomach, his ears open to anything anyone might have to say, his eyes open only to her.