He Will Always Find You {Turning: Mora + Rain}

[Jacques (DELETED 6254)]

The world was bleak; colorless, flavorless. Everything was made of ash, only the remains of life left behind like the bleached bones of a long dead carcass in the sun. Sounds were flat, muffled. It was like his senses were on auto-pilot, only registering the universe out of instinct than genuine direction from his mind. His hands twisted into the fabric of his sleeves, occupying the long, strong digits with a distraction to spare the flesh of his hands. Already they were raw and bleeding from several crescent-shaped wounds that lined the meaty heels of his palms where his nails had bit savagely into the skin. The effort he was taking to push the images from his mind was remarkable. His brows were drawn, bunched tightly at the crease between his eyes as he stared intently into the bottle of beer the tender had slipped him several minutes ago.

The beer was warm, now. The label was soggy, its edges rolling away from the amber glass in swollen curls as condensation rolled down the smooth surface, collecting in a small ring of a puddle beneath the bottle. The little Latina tender all but flounced back to him, her thick, curvy figure tightly confined in the most ridiculous outfit he had ever seen. The bikini top was far too small, her brown breasts barely held in check by the thin fabric as the smooth, bare expanse of her soft abdomen rested against the bar when she pushed him another beer. The white denim shorts she wore were barely enough fabric to call bottoms at all. It was very clearly not made with her in mind. He hadn’t so much as uttered a word to the little Latina after asking for the cheapest house beer, but he could see in those soft, amber-brown eyes when he finally stole a glimpse of her face, that she could see the anguish he tried to hide beneath an empty expression.

He offered a small, shallow smile that was distorted somewhere along the delivery. Instead, his features twisted into a pained grimace as he took the new bottle and muttered his first word to her. “Thanks…?” he hadn’t caught the little chubby woman’s name when she’d offered it to him as he sat down. Her tan lips pulled into a genuine smile, pleased to finally have gathered someone’s authentic interest. For the most part, she was overlooked by the club’s patrons. Thin, unclad women claimed the stage, their nude forms captivating most of the eyes in the room. Some in drunken lechery, others in true awe of skill, and others still in envy. The muscle-bound blonde kept his back to the stage, the delights of the flesh that the club offered drawing little attention from him. The woman had a very classic sort of beauty that was easily overlooked when the eyes sought only the plastic bodies of the Barbiedoll figures on the stage.

Her lips parted as her tongue rolled gently over the glossy surface before she made to speak, just as a shout from across the bar demanded her attention. She offered a smile and turned to hurry to the raucous knot of customers. As she hurried by, a tall, thin boy only barely the age to be in the club, the same age as himself, leaned over the bar. His bony hand reached out, grabbing at her full *** with a whistle from one of his friends. “I guess it makes sense they keep the cow behind the bar.” the boy laughed louder at the stricken look on her face as she continued on her way. A wicked darkness clutched at his chest, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs as white-hot agony shot through his abdomen. His fist tightened again, this time from pain rather than from the rage that had clutched him so suddenly.

His head swam, making the memories harder to keep at bay. He had hoped to drink enough fast enough to lose the memory. He shook his head, the motion making him dizzy as he pushed against the memory as it bled into his mind, consuming his vision, his hands no longer desperately clutching at the fabric of his shirt but digging into the hard leather of his steering wheel.


Like that, the world around him flipped into that familiar, confined space in the console of his GT-R, the throaty gulp of the turbo as it gasped for air before shooting the broad, heavy body of his car forward. This was it. This was the moment. He could have stopped this. This didn’t have to happen.

Stop. Just stop. Beating her isn’t that important… she loves you, Jacques. She is already proud of you… stop, before you make the biggest mistake of your life.

It felt like such a small bump. Just a subtle swap of paint, the custom Midnight Violet of his mother’s Supra brushing along the nose of the Solid Red GT-R and it would have been over. She would correct, and shoot down the street like a rocket. She had the most insane correction of any driver he’d ever seen. He had never beaten her.

The dark flash of her car continued to broaden across his field of vision, the path of the little Japanese supercar was very wrong. In that instant, he knew something was wrong. Something very big was wrong.

Tires screamed as they finally bit into bare asphalt, the slick of black ice she had been sliding across finally ending. The Supra shot forward at an incredible speed, sending the front end splitting a light post in two. The front of the car’s frame nearly disintegrated, shards of the custom purple fiberglass scattered into the air with an eruption of sound. His heart leaped into his throat.

Fractions of seconds passed, but it felt like hours. He could see his mother’s head contact the windshield before her body was thrown through the glass, the seatbelt’s buckle malfunctioning. Her body contacted the light pole before sending her rolling through the street just as the GT-R slammed into the driver’s seat of the downed vehicle. The engine was shoved into the cab of the Supra, his mother narrowly missing being crushed by the block, only to be thrown through the street with a violence so intense he was sure she was dead.

The Supra rolled, flying down the road, rolling over the prone figure of the woman lying in the street. She escaped being crushed a second time, the debris passing over her at a terrifying speed. The only thought in his mind was getting to the woman in the street. He pushed against the door, a bolt of white-hot agony radiating through his entire left side. The impact had slammed the car into the corner of the building just beyond the light post, nearly buckling the frame. The door had easily crushed several of his ribs. He gasped in pain as he lifted himself out of the seat and through the shattered window. He fell to the asphalt with a shout, pain blossoming through his entire form as he made his way to the broken figure in the street.

She lay on her stomach, her eyes staring down the street as her mouth opened and closed in silence, like a fish fighting to breath. “Oh… oh Dieu, Mère…” his voice was strained, his Quebec French thick as his hand reached out for her, afraid to touch her. He had to get her help. She couldn’t die here. He looked away from her and pulled his phone from his pocket. He couldn’t see her like that. So broken, vulnerable. The fear in her eyes was so real it caused his throat to close. He could barely breathe as he pulled the shattered phone free. He didn’t waste time getting to his feet. “Hold on… oh god, please hold on…” he ran back to his car, the pain in his chest forgotten as adrenaline pumped through his veins in full force, now. He rounded the corner, grabbing the rearview mirror that hung by a single wire from the car’s body before smashing it into the nearest shop window. A shrill, piercing alarm filled the night. Help would be there. They had to be there soon… god, she didn’t have time.

He turned, and ran back to the street, his eyes sweeping the debris.

She was gone.

He snapped to, the bottle empty in his hands as the curvy Latina tipped her head to the side, watching him. His face was wet.

He ran his sleeve across his cheek and muttered an apology to her before taking the fresh beer she offered him. He had implied wanting to know her name, and she was deftly being coy, cleverly using the surge of action around them to avoid the question for as long as she could. Now, however, she stood before him, frowning. She had finally stopped playing games with him. She settled against the bar as his phone vibrated again. The screen was bright, his ex’s pretty face hidden behind the translucent functions of the phone as it asked what he wished to do with the call. The pad of his forefinger pressed to the pale circle reading “Kim” and swiped it to ignore, sending her call to voicemail for the ninth time in the past hour. He sighed, and lifted the bottle to his lips as the phone gave another tone, alerting him to another new voicemail. He had only listened to one of them, the one from Butterfly asking him to lay low and keep the car somewhere safe.

She didn’t need to worry. He couldn’t even look at the car. Just the thought made his stomach lurch, the taste of bile in his mouth forcing another swig from the bottle. He was going to hell. Maybe, just maybe, if he drank just a little more, he could find a less painful way into oblivion.

Just as the thought occurred to him, Belle’s face lit up his phone. He was never going to be able to explain all of it to her… how could he? He wasn’t even sure what had happened, where she had gone. He shoved his hands through his short-cropped hair as he closed his eyes and took a slow, steady breath. Soon, the phone went quiet, the accusing face of his stepmother fading into black as she was finally sent to voicemail. He couldn’t avoid her forever. He took a deep breath and grit his teeth at the sting in his side, arm dropping to protect his ribs from the counter’s edge.

"Could I get another drink?" he asked, the little Latin girl already sliding him one. He gave a small, faded smile of his thanks, as she rested into the bar again, quietly asking his name. Rather than answer, he sat in silence, feeling the drink slowly seep its way to his bones, hoping it would be enough this time to carry him away from the nightmare his life had become.

[Rain (DELETED 5917)]

The chill of the air bit against her skin as she leaned against the club’s exterior walls, cigarette dangling haphazardly between her fingers. She could feel the brick vibrate against the bare skin of her back as the music played, the familiar beat mesmerizing as it pulsed through her veins. Using her thumbnail to tap flick the filter, she watched in a daze as the ember ash fell to the ground. It never made it. Instead, the wind chose that moment to pick up, causing the ash two twirl in the air before disappearing into the shadows at the end of the alley. For a moment she had been tempted to follow the path, her eyes never missing a single particle as they worked through the atmosphere. If it hadn’t been for the squeaking of the metal door as it flew open behind her, she would have given in to the temptation.

Instead, her gaze snapped from the alley’s mouth to the two blondes as they stumbled out, their laughter loud and their eyes too bright. The scent of alcohol wafted off of them in heavy waves, and she lifted her hand to cover her nose from the stench. A shadow appeared behind them, and she caught a familiar shock of blue hair as Simone tossed their bags into a puddle at their feet. “Get your slutty asses out of here and come back when you have real I.D.,” she sneered, her pale hand pressed to the metal of the door to keep it from swinging closed and knocking them on their asses. As the girls scrambled to grab their things, Simone turned her piercing blue gaze towards her and arched a brow. “The **** are you lurking out here for? Nichole is drowning in there!” The command was delivered with a soft smile and a wink, and it was that action alone that saved her friend from a sudden, violent death.

“I’m coming, sorry,” she muttered as she took one last drag from her cigarette and flicked it away from her, watching as the glowing orange dimmed into nothing. “Yo, earth to Rain! I’m not kidding. She’s got her hands full and she’s been on her feet ten hours already, let’s go!” The voice broke her from her daze, and she quickly pushed from the wall and brushed past her, careful to hold her breath as their bodies touched. It only lasted a second, but it had felt like a lifetime before she was on the other side of the door, allowing the music to drown out her own thoughts. Shrugging from her jacket, she tossed it in the box at the end of the counter before pressing her hands to the edge of the bar and leaping over it. She landed in a crouch directly in front of the other bartender, her storm colored eyes dancing with amusement as Nichole jumped back a step, hand clutching her chest. The sound of her heart pounding against her ribs caused her to chuckle, even as the Latina began to scream at her in Spanish.

“Calm down, girl. You’re acting like I was out to kill you,” she chided with a smirk as she leaned over to snatch the rag from her hand. Though she was dressed similar to the woman, they couldn’t have been more different. Where the Latina was curved with a little baby fat, Rain had the body made for dancing. She watched from the corner of her eye as Nichole turned to gaze a young group of men, and as her ears adjusted to the sounds around her, she could easily make out their insults. Before the woman could say another word, she moved past her and leaned over the bar, her lips curving into a deadly smile. “The only farm animal in here is you fucks. You want to be served, you’ll treat my girl right, or I’ll shove my heel into your small dicks until you scream for mommy. We clear?” Her voice was sugar sweet, though the barely constrained rage in her eyes had their skin paling. Whatever they were going to say died on their tongues and as they stumbled to a table further away, she turned back to the other tender.

“Thanks,” Nichole whispered, and the blonde waved her hand as she pulled her lipstick from her bag. Uncapping it, she quickly applied a shock of brilliant red before smoothing it out with the tip of her pinky. “You know better, girl. Go on, get out. You can’t keep that boy of yours waiting,” she chuckled, her eyes searching the bar as she mentally counted the customers she’d have to deal with. She knew she was taking a risk in being there, and if Mora found out… there would be no where she could hide. Shaking the trepidation from her mind, she turned back towards Nichole as she handed over the keys to the liquor cabinet. “The regulars are in, but there’s a guy at the end of the bar. He looks like he’s been through some ****, and I know we’re not supposed to…” The Latina worried on her lower lip as she quickly looked around to make sure they were alone before dipping her voice to a whisper, ‘… but I’ve been giving him Utopias instead of that cheap **** he’s been ordering.” The distress in her voice was evident, and shock slowly seeped into the vampire’s bones. She had known Nichole to take risks for her customers before, but it had never been something so dangerous.

“Girl, you know Roger is going to flip his **** if he finds out,” she hissed as she roughly shoved her hands through her hair. Thinking of their boss caused her stomach to tighten in knots, though instead of the fear she usually felt, blind fury rose like a fire through her chest. She spun quickly and began to busy herself with straightening the bottles as Nichole tied her sweatshirt around her waist and sighed. “I know. I’ll handle it, just… look out for him. He looks like a SR,” she whispered, her words causing Rain to follow her gaze to the muscular blonde as he picked at the label of his beer. “Yeah, yeah. I got him,” she sighed, a small smile forming as Nichole kissed her cheek and quickly made her way for the exit. With a quick glance from the end of the bar up, she made a mental stock of who was low and who was good to go before heading for Nichole’s newest charity case.

As she neared him, her body began to tighten. She couldn’t explain the feeling that took her over, and she stumbled for a second, red heels slipping on the smooth floor. Her hand quickly shot out, fingers gripping the edge of the counter for balance. She felt the marble crack under the strain, and she quickly smoothed out any signs of fingerprints. Get a grip, mija. Are you trying to alert everyone? The voice came quietly from behind her, and from her peripheral, she saw Megan’s familiar silhouette. She had grown accustomed to the apparition, even going as far as to accept her backhanded advice when it was offered. Even now, she managed to help her find her inner strength as she grabbed the backroom keys from the hook. The closer she got to the man, the more evident the cause for her reaction became.

Blood.

It clung to him like a second skin, and as her eyes scanned him from head to toe, she realized that not a single drop was wasted on him. Yet, the scent was powerful, nearly knocking her from her feet. How had she not smelled it the moment she came into the bar? The way it hit her now, it was as if he had driven a truck straight into her chest. Her fangs pressed against her gums, and as she fought the urge to vamp-out, she turned towards the nearest waitress. “I need you to cover the bar,” she snapped, her tone a near growl. The girl narrowed her eyes, and she could see her lips part to fire back a retort, but before she managed, Rain’s fingers gripped her bicep. “Look, you’re new here. You don’t get it. You either do what the **** I say, or I tell Roger you’re stealing from the register.” As fear slipped over the redhead’s face, she knew she had her. Turning on her heel, she made her way for the man and grabbed the back of his shirt. Leaning down, she fought against the beastly urge to sink her fangs into his artery as she pressed her lips to his ear. “Put the drink down and come with me. Now. You don’t have time to argue,” she growled, her hand trembling as she moved it to curl her fingers around his wrist. With inhuman strength, she pulled him from his seat and dragged down the hall.

“****, ****, ****. You can’t, Rain. You can’t.” The words were whispered beneath her breath as she pulled the key from her pocket and twisted it in the lock, the backroom door swinging open. Once inside, she slammed it shut behind her and fell onto a beanbag chair, her head falling into her hands. Her body trembled with the need to pin him to the wall and feed on him until there was nothing left. She could hear his pulse as it pumped beneath his delectable skin, taste his blood as it poured from some unknown origin inside of his body. Death clung to him, the scent so familiar that it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. “You’re dying. You’re ******* dying, and you’re drinking like a moron.” She had yet to give him a chance to react, and as she saw him reach for the handle to the door, she leaped from the chair and grabbed his biceps, twisting to shove him onto the couch. “Sit still, I need to get you help.”

And I need to get the **** out of here.

Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she brought up her sire’s number and pressed the message button. She knew she would get it as soon as it was sent, and as she typed out her text, she kept a close eye on the man. She could see the confusion in his clouded eyes, and as he fought to sit back up, it became clearer that he only had minutes left. The alcohol had worked quickly through his system, his skin as pale as a ghost. “****, stay with me, Babyboy. Stay with me,” she pleaded as she finished her message [come to Starlit quick someone’s dying and I cant control myself black door in the alley I unlocked it] and pressed enter. Tossing her phone onto the table behind her, she grabbed a rag and a bottle of water and handed it to him. “Put it on your forehead,” she demanded, before stumbling back a step as another violent pain stabbed at her chest.

Please hurry, Mora. I really don’t want to kill him…

[Mora]

It had been an average night for Mora. Waking up next to Judas. Kissing his sleeping face – as she tiptoed out of bed and got dressed – not before immersing herself in the steam of the hot shower. The water danced over her naked skin as she enjoyed the heat. It kissed her skin, cleaning her. She stepped out of the shower a moment later – wrapping a lilac towel around her slim form as she made her way over to the wardrobe. She needed to check the businesses today, she would have to look formal. Yet her fingers found themselves curling around a long white dress. She had a few white dresses but this one was different from the rest. The material was soft – the straps were made of silver. It felt nice against her skin. She dropped the dress over herself letting the silk kiss her skin as she moved to the other side of the room and slipped on white sandals. It revealed her silver toenails she had spent five minutes painting the night before.

Mora was proud of her childer. Each were getting stronger. Jameson was talkative, even Olive had shown her face once or twice. She vanished a lot. Mora worried – she tried to worry less and less, she was a grown woman. She could look after herself. Even the latest addition; Rain. She was fitting in nicely. She grappled with her blonde locks and pulled it up into a ponytail. A few loose strands caressed her cheekbones as she sighed. She was ready to leave the Crypt. Making sure she grab her phone she left through the fadeportal. She landed just outside the library. She would check the market first.

Her phone buzzed then, the cellular device vibrating inside her hand as she loosened her grip only to look upon the text. She sighed. Pinching the bridge of her nose. Rain was a trouble maker. She knew this, she liked to push her limits. She would have to put off her businesses for now. It seemed her night would be spent helping Rain not to feed off humans. She didn’t bother to reply to the text. Her body was already shimmering out of existence with a soft pop. Only to find her body re-emerge outside Starlit. She made her way into the dark alleyway, slightly annoyed that her lovely white dress was either going to get dirty from the muck that was in this alleyway – or blood from the person who was dying inside. She took a moment, her hand resting against the door handle before she pushed it open and slipped inside.

Mora came up behind Rain who was handing a man a bottle of water and a rag. Demanding he puts it onto his head. Her hand came up to grip her shoulder. “Breathe.” She said into her ear. Her lips barely moving. She came out from behind Rain then to look at the male. Her fingertips could his chin and pulled his face up to look at her. He looked positively drunk. Her eyes looked down at the blood, she could smell death all over him. Her eyes looked to Rain, saddened.

“He will not make the night. He will die from this wound.” She spoke about the male as if he wasn’t in the room. “If you want I can make it quick and painless for him – so he doesn’t have to suffer anymore.” There was a pause. A thought. “Or….” She trailed it off. Rain would know what she implied, she knew what she could give him – what could potentially save him.

[Jacques (DELETED 6254)]

He wasn’t sure when it happened. The short, flouncy little Latina had suddenly blossomed into one of the thinner, more traditionally curvy blondes of the club. He finished the bottle in his hand as he watched her, moving across the bar from him to set a fresh bottle on the counter. He smirked blearily, the faint curve of his lips only mild as he held himself steady on the bar. The little chubby one had been pretty. She had a certain life about her that Jacques had admired. This girl… she was beautiful. Stunning. Her very structure was attractive, the way she moved with a predator’s grace. He would swear that she wasn’t natural. She was, for lack of better phrasing, too good to be true.

He kept her lazily in his field of vision as she commandeered the scrawny redhead for bar duty. He hadn’t caught her words, but he could see how effective they had been, the pale girl turning a ghostly white before she obeyed like a whipped puppy. He laughed, the sound awkward and foreign. When she had descended upon him, he couldn’t resist her will. Had he been sober, he might have put up a front. He could feel her strength in her grip of his wrist, the powerful pull of his arm. He even felt compelled to move his feet with her, to resist his instinct to stand his ground. He attributed that to her unnatural beauty. She pulled him into the room behind the bar. When she slammed the door behind him, he slumped against the wall, watching as she moved to fall into the beanbag, her long, slender frame draped lazily across the chair as she visibly struggled with herself.

Her words elicited a laugh. “Dying? Chérie, I am hardly dying.” he muttered, his stomach turning as he said the words. He coughed into his hand, the sound wet and his lungs wheezing as he did. He felt sick. Likely from the cold, walking around in the night for hours in nothing but the hooded vest he wore. His hand was wet. When he pulled it away, blood coated the ghastly pale flesh and he frowned, confused. He wasn’t injured, just the sharp pain in his side. He paused again, and frowned. The pain had faded as well, his entire body numb as a cold shiver shot down his spine. “Well, maybe.” he sighed, just as the slender woman had leaped from her seat and threw him to the couch. She tossed him like he was weightless, his frame hitting the cushion just as he felt his balance give. He would have toppled regardless. Perhaps she had been right. He had no idea how she could have possibly known.

As breathing became more and more difficult, she shoved a rag and bottle of water in his direction. His eyes fell on the objects, seriously unsure of how these things were supposed to help him when he was suddenly aware of a third body in the room. He hadn’t heard the second woman enter, his groggy gaze watching as she stepped behind the first, whispering into her ear as she watched him. He felt like he was being left out of some kind of discussion as he did what he had been told, sliding the rag across his forehead. It felt ridiculous. He coughed again and the wet heaving of his lungs ached as he shook his head, lifting the bottle of water to his mouth to drink. He wasn’t so sure that was what she had intended, but he was so thirsty.

When she stepped around the first woman’s slight frame, he could see the newcomer better. He suddenly felt very aware of his state, his wrist lifting to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. He could handle the gaze of a single stunningly beautiful woman, but when two of the creatures stood over him, looking at him with those pitying eyes, he felt ashamed. His pride had taken a blow just from the merciful display by the Latina ‘tender, shoving him the expensive beer in place of his order, much less from the most stunningly painfully beautiful creature he had ever seen. And now, to make the humiliation complete, she had brought another of those unnatural creatures down upon him, to look down on him in his pitiful moment of weakness. This had to be a nightmare.

He pulled himself up, leaning against the arm of the couch as he sat. He heard her words and his eyes snapped to the newcomer, finally torn from the face of the angel. His brows lifted, one hand clutching his burning side. “I think I’d rather you not.” he said with a faint cough at the end of his sentence. He could taste the blood on his tongue, but it didn’t spill from his lips this time, at the least. “I appreciate the gesture, mes amies, but I would rather you both spare yourselves the trouble.” he waved his hand at them, then. If he was going to die, he could do it on his own, without getting either of them into trouble. The pain was agonizing, and he could feel himself slowly drowning on his own blood, but he wouldn’t ask that they do anything.

He placed another smile on his face, grinning weakly up at them. He would put on that face until he was gone if he had to. He lifted a hand and placed it over his brow, not sure if the swimming in his skull was from the drink, the loss of blood, or both. He shook his head and curled his fingers into his hair as his eyes moved again to the new woman. It was getting harder to focus.

“Or…?”

[Rain (DELETED 5917)]

She had never felt an addiction so powerful, so all consuming. It curled its claws into her chest and pulled taut, refusing to release her until she gave in. Just a taste. That was all she would need, right? Just a single hit, just a little taste and she’d never ask for another thing. As if the very thought compelled her, she began to take a step forward, her muscles tense and her gums aching as the fangs began to slice through them. Her tongue slowly moved over one, her eyes holding a predatory glare as she lowered her gaze to the vein in his throat. She watched as it pulsed weakly beneath his skin, the sound of his blood trudging through as his body fought the infection causing her to tremble. Just as her mouth began to water, she felt the familiar presence of her sire. Her body pulled up short, as if the woman had put up an invisible wall that she simply couldn’t get past.

Lifting her arms, she crossed them beneath her breasts and slammed her fists into her ribcage as she cut her glare towards the second blonde. “If I breathe, I’ll kill him.” The words were delivered with a biting edge, and she knew that her friend could see the chaos in her eyes. The entire room was filled with his delectable scent, and she swore she had never smelled something so exquisite in her entire life. His cologne mended together with his natural scent, both of which were overpowered by the sweet temptation of his blood. As she watched him sway from side to side, she wondered why she had called her sire. Now that she saw how weak he was, how close to Death’s door he had become, she could have easily had killed him and no one would have been the wise—“No,” she hissed, and forced her body back a lurching step, putting distance between her and the dying man.

She was surprised by how much it hurt.

With the distance between them, however, her mind began to clear. Her storm colored eyes focused on him as he spoke, his accent thick with his suffering. She knew she had compassion somewhere inside of her, and she delved deep to pull it to the surface as her lips curved into a amused smirk. “Don’t worry about us, tough guy. We can handle more than you’ve ever imagined,” she practically purred, and she knew it was the beast inside of her threatening to take over. Tipping her head back, she rolled her neck to stretch the tendon as she drummed her fingers against her bared ribs. You have to get through this, Casen. You don’t have a choice. Come on, you overcame Jaeden. You can do anything. The soft voice of her guardian angel soothed her mind, and she slowly re-opened her eyes and pressed a hand to Mora’s shoulder. Her fingers curled over the satin skin before she dropped the touch and stepped to her side once more.

The scent was still as strong as before, but yet she was slowly finding herself able to fight the temptation. “Or she can give you eternal life,” she responded, her voice back to normal as she took another slow step towards him. The closer she got, the stronger the hunger became, but she fought it with a inner strength she had forgotten she possessed. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees in front of him and lifted the rag to brush it across his lips. “You have to save him,” she whispered, though she never took her eyes from his. She couldn’t explain the need to see him survive, she just knew that the thought of him dying when they could save his life nearly tore her apart inside.

[Mora]

She didn’t look at the male, her attention was fully focused on Rain, and what she wanted to do. It was essentially down to her. Yet the male spoke up and she turned her forest green hues upon him. Raising an eyebrow – before turning back to look at Rain as she came to rest a hand upon her own shoulder giving it a light squeeze. She didn’t speak directly to the male, she didn’t know him. She wouldn’t want to give someone eternal life – unless she saw something within them. Something she could relate yet – yet as the male spoke to Rain more than anyone else – he spoke within a soft French tone. Telling them he would be fine.

Mora found herself laughing – her laugh was like wind chimes clanging together in a light summer’s breeze. She took a step forward, then another inspecting the male over and over again. She was almost tempted to inspect the abdomen herself but left him alone. Rain came in front of her fighting through the urge to feed – she knew it was hard at first, and she was doing so well already.

Rain’s words cut through the silence. As she knelt down in front of the male and began to dab at his bloodied lips she watched the way she tenderly cared for the male and found herself blinking. Rain seemed to care, and then she told her she wanted Mora to save him – no, she had to save him. She looked at the male. “Do you want me to save you? You have to want to be saved.” It was her rule. She hated to force eternal life upon those who did not want it.

The male nodded his head. He looked at her and her at him. Lifting her wrist up to her mouth she bit into the flesh just near where the vein was with a soft crunch. Dark blood oozed from the wound and dripped onto the floor. She moved it towards his mouth gently moving Rain out of the way so she could kneel in front of him instead. “Drink from wrist. “ She commanded as he began to drink deeply from her wrist. He didn’t seem to question it. After five minutes she drew her wrist away from him – he was full of her blood. He would survive.

She lifted her hands to cup his head and twisted in one motion. Breaking his neck. It was the quickest death he could get, but he would come back shortly. She looked at Rain then as she dusted off her hands. Moving over towards her. “He will be fine. He had more than enough of my blood. His body will change and he will come back a vampire. You saved his life.” She kissed her cheek.

[Jacques (DELETED 6254)]

He watched in silence as the two women wove about one another, hushed tones exchanged between them as he fought to remain upright. His eyes moved to the first woman, and he gave a weak laugh at her words. “Chérie, I believe that the two of you could handle the world.” he said half-heartedly, his hand gripping the injured ribs as he chuckled, the wound wet as he rested into the arm of the couch. It was true. Just one of them was painful to look at, the two of them together could have commanded anything of the man. He breathed heavily as he tried to listen to them speak, his mind still spinning.

When the first finally turned to him, he couldn’t help the burst of laughter at her words, pain wracking his body in retaliation to his indignant amusement. He coughed, and shook his head. “Eternal life. You’re insane.” he muttered, watching as she knelt next to him. He looked into her eyes, watching as she lifted her hand to him and he could see it in her face. She honestly believed what she told him. It was crystal clear the faith she had in the woman standing above her. His eyes finally moved to the other. From his enfeebled position, draped across the couch, she appeared gargantuan, towering over him. She was regal, her golden mane framing her soft face. He could see the intensity in her eyes, the way she looked down on him. He could feel power in that stare. When the woman at his side pleaded with the other, he lifted his hand to her cheek, without looking away from that powerful gaze.

“Don’t worry about me, amie.” He had neither woman’s name, but he was resting his life in either of their hands. She asked a simple question of him, and without so much as turning the decision over in his mind, he nodded his head. He could feel that she had been right. He was finished, and it was going to be quickly. He didn’t have the time to debate the question. He was confused, unsure of what exactly drove him to live. What part of life could possibly continue to pull him? He had so little left, with his mother gone. He had almost changed his mind, his eyes following the fierce woman as she moved to kneel beside him when he opened his lips to speak. As he did, her wrist found his lips, and without another thought to resistance, to refuting her gift, he drank as she instructed.

The sharp taste of her blood was unexpected, unnatural. For as long as she kept her thin wrist against his lips, he drank, only stopping when she removed the source. He sighed, taking a gulp of air before he fell back against the couch. His stomach turned again, and he lifted his eyes to the woman at his side. He wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen. He watched the woman carefully, his eyes seeking hers for answers. It was clear that she honestly believed in what she was doing, that the bartender had utmost faith in this powerful, imperial woman. The air about her seemed so confident, she practically oozed leadership and strength. As her hands lifted to his face, he quietly smiled into her eyes. The last thing he felt was the tightening of her fingers against his chin, before the world went dark around him.

The dark surrounded him, enveloped him with its liquescent embrace. The ichor of a goddess caressed him, he was certain of it. The void that engulfed his spirit seemed to writhe with life, rather than merely exist as a shade of the world around him. His hands passed through it, felt it as it washed over him. Somewhere close, he could hear her voice. She didn’t address him, but he could still feel her calling to him. With each motion toward her voice, every cell seemed to surge toward her, his entire body reaching out for her.

Strength flowed through his entire body, the muscles bound to his bones stirred and his eyes opened. He found himself staring into the fabric of the couch, his face buried into the cushion. He lie in silence, testing himself. He was certain that he was dead, that this was some cruel game, played upon him by the ancient and powerful goddesses he had stumbled into. His fingers moved when his mind commanded them, his eyes sliding over the wall of fabric in front of him until his head turned to face the two still standing at his side. The woman that had knelt over him moments before had her back turned to him, his eyes moving over her shoulders, catching a glimpse of her face as she turned to speak to the younger girl again.

His hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck before he sat up with next to no effort. Already, he could feel an immense change. Everything was clearer. Light, sound… he could even feel things that he couldn’t before. Each pass of a limb through the air sent a sensation of air passing over his flesh. It was so easy to miss something so small before. His hand went to his stomach, a sharp twinge of pain shooting through his abdomen. For a brief moment, he honestly felt that maybe it was all his imagination, that he was still just as injured as before, that nothing had really changed, when he realized that the ache was a deep, powerful stab of hunger. His features twisted into a frown as he looked from one golden-framed, angelic face to the other, seeking answers before he even spoke.

His hand remained over the tight knot of muscles in his abdomen as he leaned forward on his seat on the couch. “Je meurs de faim.” he muttered through the sharp ache, moving to stand, testing his legs. The body was new, powerful. Strong. He could feel it in the intensity of his drive to slake is thirst, the way every muscle in his body pushed him toward the door. He knew the bar had what he needed, that he could keep himself from this starving sensation if he could just get through that door. He was painfully unaware of the danger he posed, and of what, exactly, his body sought so desperately that it threatened to act without the direction of his consciousness.

[Rain (DELETED 5917)]

The sound of his neck shattering had the blonde gripping her stomach, disbelief etched on her features. As if knowing the tirade that was about to come, her Matriarch turned to face her, lips finding her cheek as she whispered her reassurance. “Yeah, but could you have… did you have to… god, that had to hurt,” she stammered, her mind racing as she studied his sleeping features. No, not sleeping. Dead. She had been surprised by his strength, his ability to quickly grasp that death was near. Even though he had thought them insane, he had easily given in to their promises of eternity. He was either a very brave man, or very stupid. She knew, though, that he had nothing to lose. He could have argued their point and died, or had taken the offer and had the chance to survive. As the seconds ticked by, she refused to take her eyes from his prone form.

It wasn’t until his lashes fluttered, that she allowed herself to relax. Carefully, she lifted a hand to brush a shock of blonde from his forehead before he was fully conscious. She didn't understand the reason behind her actions, and a quick glance over her shoulder hopefully silenced anything her friend had to say. She couldn't begin to explain anything about the evening. She didn't know the man, she had never seen him before, and yet she felt compelled to take care of him, to allow him to live in their world. She was even willing to share him with her Matriarch, and that alone was a feat on itself. Ever since she had been killed, she'd hardly allowed the woman out of her sight. She had the strong need to be attached to her at every turn, and when she was too far away, she feared something would happen to her. The realization that she had accepted the fate of sharing her with this man caused her to laugh, and she quickly shook her head as she moved back a step. As his muscles tensed, she let her gaze draw to them.

She didn't have to imagine what he was feeling, she knew it. She remembered the sensation of first waking, the way her entire form felt... different. The power that coursed through her veins had become addicting, and she knew without meeting his eyes what he would feel next. As if on cue, his eyes flicked to the door, and the beastly hunger flashed in his eyes. She watched as his face contorted, muscles coiling to propel him from his seat and towards the exit. She was tempted to allow him what he wanted, to allow him to let loose and satisfy the blood lust, but before the thought could fully form, guilt followed quickly on its heels. She couldn't allow him to suffer alongside her.

“No you don’t,” she whispered, uneasily moving to her feet as she curled her hand around his bicep. Her fingers barely reached around the muscle, but she used her strength to pull him back a step. She only had a few days on him, but it was enough to pin him in place as she stepped around to block his path. “This is a family bar. You really don’t want to go out there and hurt my friends, or the customers of one of our own.” Her voice was quiet, confidant, as she turned her gaze from him to their sire. “He needs to eat, and I don’t think I can be around when he does. I haven’t eaten in days. I don’t know if I can control myself,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor as she pressed her fingers to her chest to ease the ache. “I promise, I’ll take care of him – after this.” She knew she made him out to sound like he was nothing more than a puppy, but she had to distance herself as she took another step away.

The temptation to sink her fangs into his throat had passed the second his life had faded, but it still caused her discomfort to be so close to him. Her hand fell back from his body as if he had burned her, and she quickly ran her fingers through her hair as she glanced around the room, searching for a strategy to get them both what they needed. She knew she should have left Mora to handle it herself, but she had asked this of her. She had practically begged her to save a remote stranger and she had no idea why. With a quiet growl of unease, she looked past the man to focus completely on her Matriarch.

“A few blocks from here, there’s an alley. It has some homeless men. I… that’s where I hunt. You can go there.” The strain caused her voice to shake, and her hand dropped from where it had be subconsciously massaging the wound. It was evident, the skin puckered and torn from where the bullet had cut dangerously close to her heart. A feeling of shame coursed through her, and she quickly grabbed her black hoodie from the floor and zipped it up as she waited for the other woman’s verdict.

[Mora]

Did it hurt? Possible. “He is dead darling. He does not feel pain, not right now at least. The change is swelling deep within his stomach. He will be a vampire soon enough.” Mora couldn’t say anything more than that. She had taken the male’s life for Rain. She had wanted to see him live so she gave him the gift of eternal life. It was proof that Mora would do anything she could that was within her power to please her childer. There was sound from behind her as she turned her head around, a mane of golden hair followed her as she now looked at the male fully changed from human to vampire and a smile crept up on her lips and an eyebrow rose.

“You live.” The telepath said as she saw him getting up from where he was slumped not a moment before. Rain was already looking at him with curious eyes. She found herself looking between the two, wondering if something was there. She made no comment but let it sit there at the top on her mind as she smirked. That was when Rain admitted to not feeding for days. The woman tore her stare from the male to glare at Rain. A snarl ripped through her fangs. “You what?” Oh, Mora was mad now.

“You have to feed to keep up your strength. I told you this.” She shook her head. Growling. She surged forward grabbing each of her childer by their shoulders and teleported them from this small back room – to the alleyway in which she spoke. She let them go pushing them forward. Mora was usually so gentle, so timid now she looked as if she could set a building on fire with simply one look.

She turned to the male first. “Grab a homeless man. Bite into his neck. Feed on the blood – do not kill him. I will be nearby. Listen to the heartbeat. “ She turned her attention onto Rain next. Folding her arms over her chest. “Feed.” She uttered the word. Motioning to the homeless men. Rain knew despite Mora’s anger at Rain neglecting to feed she would not let her lose control.