He caught her before her body hit the ground, but not in time to stop her head from hitting the gravestone. He let his legs buckle beneath him as he brought her warm, lifeless form to his chest. That was when the smell of her blood filled his nose, and his body reacted to it like an alcoholic to a broken bottle of wine. Pulling up, he saw his fingers on the side of her head coated with the red liquid. It ran thin from the rush of adrenaline she must have had when she saw him.
While the metallic smell of it made his mouth begin to water, it was the unique sweet scent like apples warm and beginning to rot on the ground which drew his fangs out and made his whole body tremble. She was pure of heart, compassionate and giving, her desires… the scent of her blood revealed all of these things about her, confirming what he already knew from years of observing her life. He hissed and growled, curling his fingers up against the cut. Pressure to make it stop.
“I swear to you Arthur, I will not hurt her. I shall fight the cravings to save her. I owe you as much.” With that proclamation made out loud to the grave marker, he used his clean hand to rustle through her bag to find anything to cover the wound.
A thin piece of material, a purple square of silk which caught the moon light, he pulled out and pushed against the wound. His rapid breathing did not help matters, the sugary scent moved through him as the blood on his fingers started to congeal. With a deep breath forced outward, he tucked the uninjured side of her head under his neck, stuffed her scattered ritual items into her bag, and took it and her to her home. Her car he could not worry about, as a vampire he moved fast enough on two legs. Plus, he knew the way, he had been walking it for over seventy years now.
Luckily, even with her in his arms, he had them there in minutes. All of his were muscles taut. He willed away his absolute need to feed only by letting himself experience in his mind all over again watching her grandfather die, thinking of the promises he had made the dying man that day. Letting the guilt of that moment in time choke him, he broke the knob on her back door making it unnecessary for him to find her keys.
Laying her on her bed, he checked the wound.
“Damn it all!” he exclaimed finding a slight trickle of blood to still be flowing. He threw his body back against the wall, his fingers splayed out in front of him as far away as he could get them from his mouth and nose. He looked up, took a long suck of air, and held his breath.
Moving at abnormal speed he washed his hands in the bathroom all the while lying to himself about what he was doing, what he needed. He gathered the items he could find in a split second, like lots of gauze, and rushed back to her bed.
Laying over her body, he did let himself think of where he was. Beside her in her bed, her thigh pressed hard up against his, was a place he had never dared go before. Never had he been so intimate with her. He took the blessed opportunity, one he did not actually deserve, to examine her face, her body. While he had made a study of her for years, never had he seen her this close.
Kiki Howell ~where love is a mystical thing~
Please visit http://www.kikihowell.com to see all available titles!