Blood & Juniper

We descend into the concrete tube, dipping beneath the fine layer of clouds. Boxy fixtures spread butterscotch colored spotlights a moderate distance apart down the long path. Each high watt bulb buzzes as the moths and flies flock around with busy wings.

It's a precarious path after sunset, I would never have ventured this walkway alone at night just a month ago.

A few of the lights are burnt out creating some sketchy blind spots. Well, they would have been dark areas, but as I am now, I can see just fine.

Our feet clack softly in the echoing tunnel. It's a muted sound, not able to be picked up by average ears.

We get half way through the underground walk when Sam suddenly asks, "Ashlen, what happened over the weekend?"

"Oh, uh… You know," I'm fl.u.s.tered from being put on the spot by the random inquiry, "Not much, spent some time with June and stuff."

"Bullshit."

"I did, honest! What else would I do? I fed and my maker decided to show me around."

"And then what?"

'Oh boy, and then what…'

"And then nothing… Jeez, Sam," I respond a tad too defensively. Sam's got enough on his plate, I don't want to burden him with all this extra crap. I quicken my pace walking ahead of him, "I did my thing. Does there have to be anything else?"

He grabs my wrist and redirects me in a smooth twirl that catches me by surprise. He guides me to him, cloaking us in the shade of concord wine, sharp and elegant as the tango. Each palm occupies the space next to my ears, pinning me against a wall without light. His eyes are illuminated in the dark.

I stare breathless at him, his gaze is intense and unintentionally seductive. His deep voice is a gentle command that makes me want to melt, "You're a really bad liar, Ash. Please, tell me what's bothering you."

"I…"

He waits patiently.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

I snort. He's usually not so pushy but he's also surprisingly cordial and convincing about all this, with so little effort, too. Cunning bastard. He's pretending to give me a choice, but I have a feeling he's going to keep at it until he gets it out of me.

Well, where to start and what if involving him makes him a target? I don't want to endanger Sam. I recall that vision of blood pouring from his face and stiffen.

"Okay, there were a few… Eventful occurrences," I glance up to see him c.o.c.k an eyebrow and I hurry to reassurance, "But it's over now! I'm just sorting through the little details."

"*Eventful Occurrences?*" he echoes, narrowing his eyes, "What are you, a politician, Ash? Give it to me straight. The longer you dance around the issue only raises my suspicion that it was not 'a nothing'."

"What's your deal? You're being so nosy! Like a cop grilling me about this shit," I duck under his arm to get away and want to slap myself. I can be so childish, I always put my foot in my mouth.

He catches my hand. I reluctantly turn to see regret riding him.

His head is lowered and solemn in his level tone, "I don't mean to pry into your personal life. You're right, it's none of my business. I want you to be safe. I make an effort to keep my promises when I can."

"Sam," I sigh, "I didn't mean it like that. You don't pry, you're just worrying when you don't have to. Besides, you've more than kept that promise. You've gotten me out of some tough spots, more than I'd like to admit. But I'm not expecting you to be my guardian or anything."

He goes very quiet but doesn't let go of my hand. Leaves rustle, scraping down the long underground passage, tumbling in the sharp breeze. He doesn't take his gaze from me, emerald orbs rich behind his black hair.

The words are slow and clear, slipping around his silver tongue. His eyes shine with acute sincerity, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

I gape at him. I can feel the impact from his words. I'm more than touched, he really cares for me. Could it be that he feels as strongly as I do for him?

"I don't want anything to happen to you… Either."

He tilts his head and his face softens from serious to questioning. A wry smile catches the corner of his mouth, "Are you trying to protect *me*, Ashlen?"

I pause. The words softly come forth without thinking, "I don't want to lose you."

I avoid his gaze, feeling rattled that I just said that out loud. I hope he didn't hear me.

I look back up. He's a vampire, of course he heard me.

His eyes are reeling me in with that entrancing green as they become all the more incandescent, "You won't."

"Promise?" I whisper.

He pulls me closer to him. My skin flares beneath his touch. He stares down at me and murmurs, "I promise."

I lose my breath. His hands are exploring up my arms. I feel drawn in, the spacing is shrinking around us. I want to press into him, to feel all of him.

That look is penetrating, his palms on my flesh are too much. Electric, unbearable, euphoric.

'I can't stand this any longer.'

I throw myself on tiptoes in uncontrollable passion, kissing him. I need him.

He's hesitant with a second of surprise before giving in, deepening the kiss. He clutches me with power, handling me with strong fingers.

His hand curls in my hair, sealing me to his mouth. His lips are warm from the recent meal and so soft. It's like I'm floating off the ground as if the pull begins where our lips connect, like it's the center of gravity itself. The world could crumble beneath me and I wouldn't mind as long as I'm here kissing him.

We part for a moment and stare into each other's eyes, astonished and breathless. I'm trying to think. Is he able to think, cause I'm not.

There is no time for thinking, we compulsively go in for a second kiss. I'm failing to hold myself back from smothering him in my affection. It's not enough, I need more. I can feel his need for me rising.

Our lips become aggressive as if this is our first and very last kiss. His hands are massaging every inch, memorizing me and mine are tearing at him, frantic.

Our passion verges on violence, chaotic but so beautifully harmonious. Our mouths are insatiable, kissing over and over. The pent up deprivation bursting and boiling over, hot.

I need more of him.

I'm practically tearing off his T-shirt, thrusting my palms over his abdomen, tight and slick as polished stone.

He growls approvingly, backing me into the purple shade of the cavern walls and slamming me rough against it.

His hand is cupped in possession of my jaw, keeping it firmly mounted to plant his feverish kisses. His mouth is working on mine. Sam's taste is impossible, his breath is cool. Our lips press, striving for more and our tongues dance in ambrosia.

A hand is kneading from shoulder to collar bone to neck, pressing some magic combination with his skilled fingers like a thief in the night, gripping at me, sliding inch by inch down the curve of one b.r.e.a.s.t. His big palm gathers a greedy handful, claiming ownership. I gasp as it sends me over.

My hands want it all, one is weaving through his thick hair, yanking him harder into my mouth, tongue blindly tracing the rounded line, gathering in his flavor.

He groans in manic filled l.u.s.t, tightening his fantastic fingers and pressing himself hard against me. My h.i.p.s respond, rolling into him, closing any feasible space.

I'm burning up, we're panting. I'm ripping at his jacket and he's wrestling to throw it off, latching his palms to my n.a.k.e.d flesh as the sleeves peel and free his arms.

Our arms are tangling in longing and passion as we kiss harder, deprived from the brief separation.

My fingers are running up the bend of his arms, a toned incredible shape of firm curves, flexing as they push up the fabric of my midriff. Fingers knead the small of my waist.

Stitches snap at the seams of my three quarter blouse, straining as his hand balls it up in silent debate of tearing it off. More seams pop, my hands appear to have a mind of their own, doing the same to his.

The c.h.e.s.ty sound is more than arousing. I dig into his back on the second go, this time lifting the shirt over his head. I freeze, struck by his athletic build, his intimating, lean perfection.

I gawk as he slips mine off effortlessly. My cheeks flare as he takes me in. His lips part as he worsh.i.p.s and thirsts after every contour, eyes scaling the curves and slopes. His sparkling gemstones are drenching me in admiration and remarkable hunger.

I watch the rhythm of his calculated breaths with the rise and fall of his c.h.e.s.t, he tries to slow his breathing without much success and it's turning me on. I'm not breathing right either.

I'm starving for him.

I reach out for his b.a.r.e c.h.e.s.t, the contact makes me inhale sharp almost like I'd been zapped, his incredible scent attacks my rationality.

It's too much, he's too much. He lifts me by my t.h.i.g.h as if I weigh nothing, propping me against the wall.

His fingers twist at the nape and pull my head back to receive the power of his lips as they descend. They collide, I see stars behind my eyes.

I can't think, I can't breathe. He's rubbing at my hip and pulling at my hair, guiding my head back further and burying his face in my neck. My c.h.e.s.t is on fire, I'm going to burst. I cry out.

I'm touching him everywhere, digging my fingers into him as he growls. He's mashing his body against mine. He lifts his face and forcefully reclaims my mouth with his again. The weight of him, the dominance is unreal, limitless and I'm going mad. My brain is going to explode.

I'm crazy, I'm really insane. I can't take it, I need him in me. Every piece, every inch, every molecule melding and becoming one. Mine.

I'm delirious. I don't even feel my fangs, sharp and lengthy as I pierce his bottom lip. My mind goes blank with the unbelievable taste, I want to drown in him.

I need his blood.

He shoots up, moving fast as light. His irises are blurring hellfire as he pulls his lips back into snarl, pinning me by the throat.

He's hunched and it looks hostile, eyes showering me with an intense mix leaving me completely stunned. Aggression, carnality and fear in its purest form pouring from his sockets. A warning growl vibrates in his c.h.e.s.t, his hand tightens around my neck.

I gasp and my whole body flashes hot and cold. I'm aroused and a little frightened by him and completely shocked by my own act of aggression. 'I just bit him hard enough to draw blood!'

I gape at him, wide eyed. I can't believe I just did that! Why did I do that?

Fear over takes his features as he realizes what he's doing. He released my neck, looking at me horrified and confused. His fingers go to his lips as he dabs the blood swelling from the incision.

"I-I'm sorry! I-"

"It's not your fault," he interjects, staring at the red coating his fingertips, blinking in a daze, "I… Did I hurt you?"

"I'm the one who bit you! I don't know what came over me!"

His hands reach out but stops, hovering at my collarbone like he's forbidden from contact, worry lines crease his face, "No, no, that's normal… I… the way I reacted… I lost control," he pauses in his stupor to think, blinking away the disorientation. He then breathes out frustrated, turning his head away.

He chastises himself harshly, "I'm a selfish idiot. I'm sorry."

"Sam…"

He shakes his head and hands my shirt back to me. Hurriedly throwing his back on and his jacket next.

I pull the shirt over my head, my brain is cloudy with all emotions good and bad. My stomach is in knots.

I catch a glimmer of distress in his rigid stance, almost panic before he smooths it over immediately, stone cold. This is my fault.

I yank my shirt back down, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bite you."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Ash," he's staring blankly at my neck, mindlessly pushing a strand of hair out of my eyes, a feather-like touch as if he's afraid to. His wistfulness becomes hard as he turns his face away again and drops his hand, knuckles crack as he squeezes it into a fist.

"Come on, let's get out of this tunnel."

He starts ahead of me and I just stand there dumbfounded. What just happened?

"Hey, wait up a second," I shake it off and chase after him.

I watch him pat down his pockets then curse under his breath. Was he looking for that pack of cigarettes I destroyed?

"What is it, Ashlen?" His tone is mild and he continues staring straight ahead, walking at a perfectly even pace. It's auto piloted, nearly mechanical.

"Can you stop and talk to me for a second."

"I messed up, there's nothing more to say."

I dart in front of him, cutting him off, "What are you talking about? Look, I'm sorry I hurt you, but please don't leave me in the dark on this."

He stops and glances at my neck, his voice is even and emotionless, "You didn't hurt me, like I said, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why are you acting this way? Is it because you choked me, because I don't care about that, I'm fine."

'A part of me liked it,' I add in my head.

"It's a wake-up call. I shouldn't be doing this. I *can't* be doing this."

"Doing what?"

"I can't be doing this with you."

Outrage storms out of my lungs, "Why!"

He just shakes his head and I want to *shake* him.

"What the hell, Sam! I'll admit it," I bite my lip, I'm nervous about admitting it, "I feel something between us… I don't know what that is exactly but I'm pretty sure that's not one-sided. And if that's the case, why are you always pushing away and denying it? I can only assume I did something to upset you."

"There can't be anything between us," I sense sadness in the words.

"...So, I did do something wrong."

"You didn't, you're not the problem here-"

"Oh," I roll my eyes and lay on the sarcasm, "*It's not you, it's me* bullshit, right?"

He narrows his eyes, looking thoroughly unamused by my snark.

His tone is grave, "I'm not the person you think I am."

"Then show me! Tell me who you are. I want to know you."

He stares at me, looking vaguely gloomy and agitated. 'Oh he's upset, huh? Well, same here!'

He lets out a deep long breath assuring to maintain his calm.

He enunciates slowly, "This stops here."

I glare at him, grinding my teeth for a couple seconds, "You want to be like this? Fine!" I throw my hands up, "I'm used to this. You vampires are all the same, ambiguous and complicated as hell!"

I'm beyond irritated now and this is obviously going nowhere. I spin on heels and pretty much stomp ahead of him.

I think I'm hurt, but I don't want to acknowledge that. I can't really decipher how I feel, so it comes out as anger.

Childish, but you know what, he can be childish too.