Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Eureka)

[Aaron Hunter]

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[Eureka]

A sly, plump smile spread Eureka’s lips as she watched Aaron partake of the feast that she had brought home for him. It was the first opportunity she had to pay any attention to her surroundings; to the apartment she found herself within. For a moment, she was barraged with the notion of becoming some kind of vampiric housewife; this was a meal that she had prepared, a table that she had set, waiting anxiously to see if her male companion enjoyed it.

It was a brief imagining. It didn’t last long. Eureka reminded herself that she did not care what anyone thought about her actions or her offerings. She was not a housewife, nor would she ever be. Instead, she was the wild cat who’d brought a half-dead animal to the feet of someone who needed it. Not as a gift, so much as a I know how to hunt and you don’t, so you better well learn.

Eureka didn’t deprive herself of food. Of their kind of food. She was glutton. If vampires could get fat, she’d be as large as a house. Instead, she looked healthy, almost thriving regardless of her state of disrepair. Her hair and her state of dress may make her look as if she were ill in health, but her skin glowed with blood consumed, her eyes bright and her body fit, smooth, toned. Whether or not constant hunting and movement helped to keep her body that way, she didn’t notice. Nor did she care.

As soon as Aaron suggested that she join him, Eureka did so with relish. She didn’t need the blood, but she wanted it. He might need more later, but they could go and get more later, couldn’t they? It didn’t register to Eureka that she was suddenly thinking of the rest of the night as theirs rather than hers.

Pulling up a chair, her fingers curled around their victim’s wrist, tugging the slender morsel toward her. Her lips pressed against the flesh, teeth tearing into the vein. She did her best to be neat about it, though she was distracted - watching Aaron, still, even as the warm blood gushed over her tongue and slid, so satisfying, down her waiting throat.

[Aaron Hunter]

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[Eureka]

Watching Aaron was like watching a toddler learning how to walk. It was like watching a blind man learning how to see for the first time. It was almost as if she could see the blood filling out his cheeks, adding colour to his skin. The brown of his eyes was not just brown, but a deep pool of caramel. Vampirism suited the man, Eureka decided. Whoever had turned him had done a good job. Had they picked him, or had it been an accident? Why hadn’t they taught him what he needed to know? Eureka, at least, had tried to do that much with her own. What they did with it was entirely up to them. All cubs had to leave the den at some point.

Most vampires probably took one look at Eureka and decided that her sire hadn’t done their job. For all intents and purposes, Chad had done all that he needed to, before he disappeared again. Eureka held no resentment toward the elder male. In fact, if he came back into her life now and tried to tell her what to do, she’d probably tell him to go jump off a cliff - regardless of his age or standing.

This guy, though. No. This guy looked at her as if she were the sun after a long night. He looked at her in a way she was not accustomed to being seen. It was so far contradictory to the disgust or fear that she was privy to. It was sweet, the way his wide gaze clung to her face, the blood smearing his features. There was a maternal instinct to close the distance and wipe the blood away. To fuss over this lost soul who’d just had his first meal. He looked so innocent, as naive as a virgin who’d just had their cherry popped. It was almost adorable, the way he had offered to get her clothes, but failed to make any step to do so.

Eureka was half preoccupied by the body on the table. Her head twitched ever so slightly to the left; the heartbeat had slowed to an excruciatingly slow pace. The girl would be dead within the minute. There could be no fear of her getting up off the table. Definitely no fear of her rushing out into the night, screaming bloody murder. Eureka did wonder how Aaron planned to get rid of the body. There was a vague notion that she’d go back out onto the roof to finish putting together her tent, before going about the usual business of her night.

Until Aaron told her to take it off.

The redhead’s attention snapped back to the male, blue eyes narrowing like blades of ice.

”**** you,” she said. Any flimsy notion of intimacy he might have harboured would be obliterated, just like that. Eureka was defensive. Her body was hers, and hers alone. It was not something some man could take from her. It was not an object to be used for another’s pleasure. Niklaus had learned the hard way that he should not touch her without her permission. Aaron hadn’t made any move to touch her, but she could see that look in his eye. Now, she didn’t feel admired. She felt coveted. And she would have none of it. None.

Her nose hit the air, nostrils flaring as she searched for his scent. She first backed away from him, before she turned and fled down the hallway, poking her head into rooms until she found Aaron’s. Once there, she slammed the door. Locked it, even.

”Your clothes will fit just fine!” she shouted through the locked door.

The vixen didn’t need new clothing. She didn’t want it. The suggestion rankled her. Metaphorical hackles stood on end. But she was in his room, now. She had access to his clothing. To his space. To everything that was his. Maybe he would know what it felt like to be violated. Maybe she was overreacting. Possibly. But… she was also curious. An avid, idle curiosity that led her to begin rifling through his drawers, pulling out his neatly folded clothing. Trying to find hidden objects. Or perhaps just trying to gauge the man according to his taste in fashion.

He only really had himself to blame. This was what happened when you let a wild animal in your home.

[Aaron Hunter]

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[Eureka]

Eureka had always been this way. Other girls got curious about sex, but Eureka had always kept her distance. The boys had never appealed to her; the men had always leered. When she worked at the grocery store, scanning items through one at a time, chewing on her gum and trying to ignore the world, they had leered. Maybe it was the tattoos. Maybe they thought she was daring. Maybe they thought she was easy. There were plenty of guys who could attest to red cheeks and aching jewels because they hadn’t listened to her when she’d said no. Most of her first experiences were with boys who didn’t accept it when she said no. Kicking through high school with her dark lipstick and her heavily shaded eyes, they soon learned to avoid her.

Vampirism had only exacerbated the animal within her.

Take it off, Aaron had said, and it had sounded like an order. In that moment, she had compared him to every other man who thought it was his right to give women orders. That women should bow down and do as they were told. Men who’d grown up in an atmosphere that taught them it was okay to be masculine. It was okay to treat a woman like an object. It was their fault, if they were taken advantage of. It could never be the man’s fault, no. Of course not.

Although she heard the light knock on the door and the pitiful search for forgiveness, Eureka continued to rifle through Aaron’s belongings until she found what she wanted. She discovered that she quite liked what she had to choose from. The clothes were clean and soft to the touch; he was larger than she was, so the shirts were just the right size. Heaving the dirty, baggy white thing from her body, she tossed it aside. Aaron might hear it, as the fabric whispered against the door and flumped to the floor.

Take it off, he had said. She had pelted it at the door only because she imagined wrapping the white-now-crimson fabric around his throat and strangling him with it. Pulling so tight that his eyes popped out of his skill, the veins thickened and red. But vampires did not breath, and so she could not strangle him. Which only frustrated her more.

”How do I know you’re not fuckin’ lying, eh? You just realised I’m not that kinda girl and now you’re backpedalling, like I’m gonna instantly believe you. What makes you think I’m that fuckin’ gullible?” she asked. She swore like a sailor – always had. Her mother had hated it. She said a woman shouldn’t swear – it was unbecoming. Eureka had sworn more, just to rebel. ****, she hated her mother and her prudish ways, and her boring clothes, and that ******* house with all its dull colours and the game shows always on the television. She didn’t miss them. Not one bit.

The shirt she finally selected was plain black. At least the blood wouldn’t show up quite as bright on this one. The sleeves were long and the fabric felt like a hug as it draped over her shoulders and hung low, gracing the top of her thighs. The sleeves were too long, but she could curl her fists up in the material. Which she quite liked. Dipping her chin toward her chest, she realised she could smell him on the fabric. Although the shirt had been washed, there was still that lingering scent. Everyone had one. A scent that was uniquely theirs.

There was blood still in her hair. There was blood still on her chin, smeared over her cheek, drying on her neck. Her legs were grubby, dirty from the campsite she’d stolen the tent from. But she had on a fresh shirt – thus, she figured she was clean. She padded over to the door and stood on the other side. Just stood there, waiting for Aaron’s explanation.

[Aaron Hunter]

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[Eureka]

The slam of the fist against the door had Eureka jolting in her spot. She wasn’t afraid – not of Aaron. Not really. She wasn’t afraid of any violence that he might threaten; she wasn’t afraid of the anger in his voice. She was no stranger to anger directed her way. The gleam of otherworldly violence had often danced in the eyes of her oppressors. One either grew up to be meek and mild, to suffer the onslaught of low self-esteem and constant fear, or one grew up to be strong and rebellious, to fight violence with violence. To snap, and break, and to become a murderous, animalistic *****.

It wasn’t the anger that Eureka was afraid of. Not that she would admit that she was afraid at all. In fact, she didn’t even know what she was feeling, except that she knew she didn’t want to be there anymore. Looking around, she saw the bed, the clothes, the closet; the relative cleanliness of a house, a home. It was a cleanliness that she had disrupted, but it didn’t matter if clothes were strewn across a floor, or even if pillows were torn to shreds. It didn’t matter if dead feathers floated through the air, or if glass smashed. In the end, this was still a box. A box built from bricks and mortar. A box that, to Eureka, felt like a cage.

In the muffled silence of the room following Aaron’s vehement shouts, Eureka took stock. The way that he had looked at her, the way that he had spoken to her. The things that he had offered, the things that he had suggested – it implied he thought she needed his help. To Eureka, he was another Chad. He was another Niklaus. He was someone who would seek to tame her. To make her live in a box. To become domesticated, against her will. Freedom was finally something that Eureka had attained, and boxes no longer appealed to her. That cookie cutter life just was not for her.

There was nothing to be afraid of, she told herself. Even as she backed away from the door, even as her freckled fingers clutched at the window frame to push and yank until the fresh city air hit her face. With his preternatural hearing, Aaron no doubt heard Eureka’s escape. He would know his own apartment better than anyone else; he would know its sounds. He would have opened this window on many occasions himself, no doubt. It was a window she was now climbing through; it didn’t matter how far up she was. Jumping was not a problem. She knew she could land with all the grace of a cat, no matter how far up she was – though she hadn’t been foolish enough to test it from a height that might kill her.

No – Eureka didn’t run because she feared Aaron would be able to tame her on his own. If she thought that was his intention, she’d have opened that door and screamed in his face. Without knowing what coiled in her chest, in her gut, Eureka ran. Her bare feet hit the grit of the path below; with a grunt and puff of air, she pushed off, took off at a sprint. She left Aaron behind in his apartment with his locked door and the dead body of his neighbour. She didn’t run from him. She ran from herself.