Shadows of the Night

well, lookie what the cat dragged in. yes, people. that's right. i'm back. i know its been some time, but i promise i haven't forgotten this story. i do intend to finish it. i was just busy with so much other stuff, including real life, that i got behind. but i'm back now and hopefully, i can update this more regularly.

this is purely from my imagination, meaning i own it all. mine mine mine. i'm not stealing from anyone and i hope no one is stealing from me. this is my own sick, twisted little world and i can't imagine someone else wanting to live in it. visiting is fine, i've been told. but not living in it. so feel free to drop in from time to time. but don't plan on staying permanently. its scary in there, you know.

please feel free to leave me a review. let me know what you think. i'm a starving artist here. those reviews can feed me for months....

Chapter Eleven: Home Sweet Home
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The trail stops here. The big house is her prison. I know it. I can sense it. I can..... feel her in there. Why did the dead one take her from me? Why does he hide her away inside the brightly lit rooms of a pretty prison? Why doesn't she try to call to me? I know she can do it. She's the one. She's the right one. She can set my people free, give us a voice against those who would try to wipe us out. Why doesn't she come to me?

The dark shadow moved among the lesser shadows of the wall and trees, circling the large house as if searching for something. The shapeling lifted his nose to scent the air and could just pick up the faintest trace of her smell. She'd been outside earlier that day. His lip lifted and a growl rumbled up his throat. The shape changer had been with her. He could smell the heavy, woody musk of that one intertwined with the soft and delicate scent of the woman.

The dead one uses a shape changer to keep her from us. I have to find a way to take her. I have to have her. I have to show her..... I have to save my people. His clawed fingers dug into the stone wall in anger. It was so difficult to lead a people when said people were being hunted into extinction. All he wanted was the chance, the opportunity, to help save those who followed him. She was the key. He knew it, he could feel it.

He couldn't say what had drawn him to the big house behind the tall stone wall. Something had, though. And, when he'd stopped long enough to really think and explore the place, he'd found the scent of her on the wind. It teased him and taunted him, making him feel so many things at once. Anger. Fear. Desperation. Desire. Above all, desire. Even with the smallest bit of her unique smell blowing past him, he'd grown hard and hungry for her. He could recall a time when such a thing wouldn't have happened.

In his many years walking the earth, he'd seen so much happen. So much change. He could recall when humans had needed horses to travel great distances. He'd been there when the steel beast that followed the twin tracks began charging across the land. He had seen how the mechanical wagon had replaced the steel beast, how that same wagon had undergone so many different body styles and sizes. He'd been there when large, rigid birds took to the skies, their bellies full of the humans that wanted to go new places in faster ways. It had been a frightening and wondrous time. It was something he wished he could share with others.

For as long as he could remember, his kind hadn't been able to speak verbally the way humans could. The only noises they could make with their mouths were howls and screams. All other communication was done in their minds. Some of his kind were well able to do so. Some never learned how. Some of them ran wild like the animals of the forests. Some of them tried hard to act the same way the humans did, but were limited in their abilities. They knew to hide because people saw them and screamed in fear and disgust. They looked something like the humans, but there was still a look of wild beast to them that never changed.

There were no females of his kind. Only males. The instinct to mate was there, but there was nothing they could mate with that didn't die or bear a child that wasn't put to death almost immediately. He didn't know how many of his kind walked the lands, but he knew they were slowly dying out. This was why his people were risking the chance of being seen by seeking out human females. And this was why he was trying so hard to mate with her.

There had been a story passed down from the leaders of his people about a female who could end their silence. A female who could give them the place in the world that had been held from them for so long. They knew what the others thought of them. The dead ones and the shape changers hunted them and killed them. But this woman could change that. There was something special about her. He could smell it whenever he caught a whiff of her scent. She was human, but not. Every single member of the shapeling community knew of her and was looking for her. And he had found her.

One of the elders had told his group many years ago about a girl who was human but not. He had come across her scent in the forest, drawn by the sounds of her weeping. The girl had been small and filled with a deep sorrow that clung to her like a cloak. But there had also been a sense of otherworldliness about her that had attracted the elder. For some reason the elder couldn't explain, he'd felt compelled to stand guard over the child. As she'd slept, she'd shared with him visions of things that were in her head.

And he'd known.

She was the female the legends had told of. She was the female that could save the shapelings from complete destruction. He'd waited in the shadows, keeping watch on her so that other creatures of the forest wouldn't disturb her. After some time, a pair of male humans had shown up to claim the girl child. One had been normal, while the other had felt the same as she did. He had been human and more. And he had been the one to take up the girl and cradle her close. The elder had tasted his tears and smelled his sorrow on the wind. The two men had carried the girl away and the shapelings had lost track of her.

Until the night one of his own had torn the throat out of the human male's neck and then attacked the female. Others had been nearby and had witnessed the attack, had come back to tell of the human male and female, of how the mindless one had attacked them both. One for food and the other for his own pleasure. They'd told of the way the dead ones had shown up as if by magic and the male of the pair had killed the mindless one. His kind always made sure to check the area for the dead ones and shape changers. The dead ones simply hadn't been there at the start of the attack.

And now he'd found her. If only he could find some way to release her from her prison. He sent up a lonely howl that was similar to that of the wolf, but somehow a touch more human. There was an answering call, some wolf and some not. He saw the material that covered one of the rectangles of glass up high in the wall flick back and there she was, staring out into the night. Something painful washed over him, something he had no name for. He just knew it made him feel such deep need for her. Not just for what she could give him, but for so many other things he couldn't put into words.

There was a rustling on the wind, and a faint smell of dirt and death. Leaves, dried and dying, crackled with a crushing blow as feet trod upon them. He turned to find a dead one staring at him silently. He recognized the scent of this one as the one who kept her from him. A snarl lifted his lips and a growl trickled up out of his throat. The dead one simply stared at him, nothing on that pale face to give away anything he might be thinking or feeling. He snarled again, taking up a defensive stance.

"I do not know why your kind hunts Katya, but I will not allow you to have her," the dead one spoke in a frank voice.

He cocked his head, absorbing that small bit of information. She was called Katya. Somehow, the name suited her. He felt she was what one human had once described as an exotic beauty. The human male had been speaking of a female that he'd obviously found attractive, if the smells of lust and desire coming off his body were anything to go by. That was how he felt about this girl, this Katya. It was as if she had been made just for him. He felt as if there were some kind of bond holding them together. Waking moments were spent with thoughts of her flooding his mind. He knew the feel of her mind inside and out, despite his never having been inside of it. There was something very unique about her that made her different from all others. Even the humans she lived amongst. He couldn't put a name to what it was that made her that way. He only knew that it was something that could help him and his people. It was something that attracted him to her. It was something that made her special.

The things he was feeling were new. In some ways, the sensations running through his body were pleasant. For the most part, they scared him. Never before had he been exposed to such things and he didn't know what he was supposed to make of them. He was developing a tender spot for the woman, one that told him he didn't need to use her to save his people. One that told him he could keep her entirely for himself and learn more about what it was that he felt for her. He forced himself to push that thought away. He simply couldn't afford to allow such a luxury to himself. He had a dying race to consider. Their needs came before his. It was the way things had to be. He would make her his. But for the good of the shapelings' continuation. He would rid himself of her protectors and make her his own. And she would save his people.

"You cannot defeat me," the dead one added. "I am much older and much stronger. I will win this fight."

He growled his response, wishing so strongly that he could use words to communicate like the humans, the dead ones and the shape changers could. He didn't want to fight. He only wanted to explain. The ability wasn't open to him, leaving him to use the only means available. He crouched, waiting for the dead one to strike.

The other came in a blur and it was almost impossible to keep the dead one from striking him. He was fortunate in that he had enough speed to move at the last moment and avoided being thrown to the ground. Instead, he felt the dead one's hand graze his side. He felt a slight trickle of warmth and realized that the dead one had opened his skin. He howled in protest and turned to face his aggressor. The dead one was smiling slightly, his shoulders leaned back against the wall in an almost mocking way. "Give it up, shapeling. I will kill you. You will no longer be a threat to Katya. She is mine."

The dead one's words stirred his anger and he charged forward, mindless of the danger that stood before him. The one called Katya was his and his alone. The dead one would not have her. His arms reached out for the dead one's throat, to circle and crush it. But the dead one was faster and he neatly blocked the attack, his hands curling around one arm. There was a loud, sickening crack and the world went dull. Pain radiated from his upper arm, flowing out into the rest of his body like fast running wild fire. He fell back, cradling his shattered arm against his body while he cried out with his mouth at the overwhelming hurt and with his mind in hopes that one of his clan would come to his aide.

The answer came in the form of a gentle pressure at the back of his mind. Even through the burning that coursed through him from the snapped bones, he could feel it when it touched his thoughts as though uncertain. After a time, the touch grew and became more solid. It was soft and soothing, the touch of a female. His howls died down to whimpers, his eyes still locked on the dead one before him. 'What's the matter? Why are you calling to me?' the woman's voice asked. He could hear concern and confusion in it, as if the female didn't know if she should be talking to him.

'I am broken,' was his reply. He felt a moment's hesitation, then calming waves washed over him. He allowed it, basked in it even as he waited for the dead one's next attack. There was something vaguely familiar about the energy that filled him with peace in the face of his pain. He puzzled it over a moment or two, then realized what he was sensing. It was her. She had heard him and had reached out to him.

'You're hurt?' she asked, sounding as if she wasn't sure what he meant. He allowed the pain to fill his mind and he was sure he felt her physically stumble back from it. Then she returned to him, her presence once more soothing and gentle. He could tell she'd gathered herself together and now held his pain away from her. 'You should see a doctor. That feels bad,' she said gently.

He tried to puzzle out this word. Doctor. He didn't know what it was or meant. His confusion must have flowed through the connection to her, because she supplied him with a word he did understand. 'A doctor is a healer. Someone who makes the pain and hurt go away,' her voice was soft and full of something he had no name for. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, but part of him thought that she shouldn't be feeling that way. It was as if he were a sick pup and she were only noticing him because of that. As if she wouldn't have noticed him otherwise.

The confusion and desire melted away as his anger came back to him. He didn't want her to notice him only because he was hurt. He wanted her to notice him because he was himself. He cursed his lack of words. He snarled at her, driving her back from him. There was an answering growl, a feline sound, then the connection broke and he was left standing in the middle of the sidewalk, the dead one still watching him with nothing on his face. "She will never come to you, shapeling. She fears you and your kind. She watched one of your own kill someone dear to her. She will never be able to do anything but fear and loathe you."

He stared at the dead one, feeling more anger swell to the surface. His first inclination was to charge and hurt. But he beat the need to do damage down and let his mind work on the situation. If he charged into battle with anger clouding his judgement, he would die. He had already been wounded because of such a stupid action. He needed to be as clever as the dead one. Eyes still on the pale figure across from him, he tilted his nose up and sniffed the air. He could sense the shape changer, moving closer to them. That one was still in the house, but it was obvious he knew something was going on. And she was there, too, hidden behind her prison walls.

He caught a fleeting sense of hurt and sorrow, but he was forced to push it aside. He couldn't allow her to distract him while he was in the middle of a fight with the dead one. He'd already seen that distractions could be deadly while fighting with this particular dead one. All of his kind were strong and dangerous, but it was nothing compared with the abilities that had been gifted to the dead ones. And the older the dead one, the more dangerous they were. Snarling, he weighed his options. He could stay and fight, perhaps manage to leave a scratch or two on the dead one before he was torn limb from limb. Or he could leave, save his own hide and come back to fight another day.

He was no coward, but he was not so stupid that he couldn't see when he was beaten. It would have to be another day. Perhaps he could come back when there were more of his kind with him. He would love to see the dead one fall beneath their combined strength. That vision would be enough to sustain him for a time. Cradling his arm against his chest, he stared at the dead one for a while longer. 'I will return for you another time, Katya,' his thoughts were little more than a soft sound in the back of her mind. Then he howled and loped off into the darkness, leaving the dead one to stare after him.

~*~*~*~*~

Kat met Mac at the door, her eyes wide with fear and something else. He sighed as he shut the wooden panel, immediately drawing her forward into his arms for a soft hug. She was shivering in his embrace, telling him that something had just happened that had been upsetting for her. Without comment, he turned her around and gently urged her toward the spacious living room. When he had her seated and had put a tumbler in her hand filled with a medicinal dose of brandy, he took a chair across from her and looked at her with concern in his eyes. "What has happened, Katya?" he asked her.

"That...... thing.... was in my head," she whispered, then lifted the glass and took a drink, her hand shaking all the way up to her mouth. "I could feel him, feel his need for me. It was like I could touch it. He told me he would come back for me. It was..." she trailed off, shaking her head as if she had no words for what she was trying to describe. Mac nodded, a deep frown marring the beauty of his face.

"He told you he would return?" he asked, already trying to puzzle the incident out. Never before had he had a shapeling wander so close to his home. And, until now, he hadn't been aware that they could communicate in any way. Not among themselves and certainly not among others. This was interesting news and it went a long way toward supporting the theories being whispered among the vampires and the shapeshifters about shapelings becoming more organized. This conversation between the shapeling and Katya was, for MacKenzie, evidence that they were working toward an ultimate goal. It gave credence to the idea that the shapeling who had attacked Katya had done so knowing what she was.

The idea that they were becoming more organized, that they were able to communicate amongst themselves, was a frightening one. This meant that Katya was in far more danger from the shapelings than he had first thought.

"I could feel his pain, could hear his words clearly in my head," she replied softly, the glass making another trip back up to her lips. MacKenzie watched as she titled her head and drained the contents. She set the glass down on the table before her and looked at him. Her eyes had gone wide and pale, the whites growing large enough to nearly swallow the gray of her irises. He could smell her confusion and fear as if she was wearing those feelings as a cologne. "It scared the hell out of me."

"It scares me as well," he told her. He watched as she lifted troubled eyes to his face, her cheeks pale and drawn.

"Mac?" she stared at him, her voice coming out in a hushed tone. He could tell she didn't really want him to answer her unspoken question. At the same time, though, she wanted to be informed. Knowing what was happening could very well save her life. He sighed and moved to kneel before her. He took her hands in his and held them loosely in his own, his eyes locked to her face.

"I do not wish to lie to you, Katya. But I am afraid that what I tell you will be harder for you to accept than the things that have come before this," he informed her, knowing that to lie to her was worse than telling her the truth. "The shapelings will not stop seeking you out now. They know who and what you are and you are important to them."

"But.... why?" she gasped, her eyes going wide.

"Your theory that they are hunting you is not far off the mark, Katya. They are hunting and they will not stop. Not until they can have you," his tone was gentle and kind, but he saw her shiver all the same. "For many years, the shapelings have been considered little more than mindless rabble. They attacked humans at random, for food and the occasional attempt at mating. All of those attempts ended in death for the hapless victim. I can name, perhaps, a handful of people who have survived the attack of a shapeling over the course of the last hundred years or so. You are one of these few. We have long thought that they were uncoordinated and incapable of little more than bringing death to their victims."

He stopped and drew a breath he didn't need, running one hand through his hair. This was hard for him to do. But Katya deserved this kind of honesty. She had to know what she was up against. And perhaps it would drive home to her the need to stay with either himself or Drummond. When he looked at her once more, he found that he had all of her attention. "Of late, we have noticed a change in their structure. The family and the spies we employ have seen the shapelings become more coordinated, more organized. They routinely manage to hide from our patrols and often times escape our searches. If tonight was any indication to go by, they are much more intelligent than we believed."

"But... why me?"

"I am not sure, Katya. But I believe it is to do with your unique ability. This could be why the shapeling attempted to mate with you."

She looked at him, her eyes full of incomprehension.

"What if you were correct? What if the shapeling that attacked you did manage to finish and you were impregnated? If that child had developed and managed to make it through the birth, what would it be capable of? If a child of yours was born with your talents, what could this do for the shapelings?"

"My... you mean the mental thing?" she blinked at him, then shook her head and frowned. "No, I wouldn't wish that on anyone else. Certainly not a child of mine. It makes me feel like a freak. I don't want my children to feel that way."

"Katya, I understand how you feel. Trust me. But think on this. If you passed that gift on to something like a shapeling," Mac stopped to draw another unnecessary breath. When he looked back at her, he could see that her fear had deepened and taken root. He didn't know if he should be relieved or upset. He went to speak, but she interrupted him, her voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

"There's no telling what it could do," she finished. He watched her face pale even further and wondered if this had been such a good idea. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in her hands. "I don't feel so well, Mac. I think I want to go to bed."

"Of course, Katya," he nodded and stood, then took her hands in his. She allowed him to help her to her feet, her body leaning thankfully against him when he slipped his arm around her shoulders. They climbed the stairs to the upper level in silence. Mac's thoughts were centered upon how he could keep Katya safe. Her's, he suspected, were carefully blanked out. She looked far too rough around the edges and he began to wonder if this ordeal was more than she could handle.

Her bedroom was silent when he helped her into it. He watched as she pulled away from him, moving to find something in the drawers that she could wear. She drew out a long t-shirt and changed into it, seemingly unconcerned that he watched her as she removed every article she wore except her underwear before slipping into the oversized shirt. When she was done, she turned to look at him and he could see that her expression was pinched. He frowned and moved closer to her. "Will you be alright, Katya?" he asked her gently. She shook her head, her face pressed against his chest.

"Stay with me?" she asked, her voice that of a little girl. He knew he shouldn't, that he should remain vigilant until dawn when Drum would take charge of the watch. But she looked so sad and pathetic, so frightened. He smiled at her and drew her back into his arms for a quick hug. Katya clung to him and he felt the faint shivers that shook her frame.

Setting her back from him, Mac did something he knew he shouldn't. But he couldn't help himself. He didn't like to see her so afraid. "Do not worry, Katya. Everything will be alright. I promise you. I will protect you."

"I know," she whispered, her eyes caught in his. He felt bad for telling her things he had no right to say, but the fact that she'd stopped shaking and was now simply standing in his arms made the lie worth while. He'd do anything to keep her happy and alive. To him, lying seemed to be the lesser of all evils. He caught her sigh, a soundless exhalation of breath, just a moment before she leaned into him once more. Mac lowered his head and met her halfway.

Her lips were warm against his own, as velvety soft as the petals on a rose and as ripe as the sweetest grape. Her arms slid up around his neck while his own wrapped around her waist. Her entire body was molded against his own, her breasts pressed shamelessly against his chest. The feel of them was something he'd never thought to feel again. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to even consider taking a woman. It was so hard to take and not be able to give anything back. But Katya was different. He wanted her like he hadn't wanted a woman. Not since she'd died.

Mac knew that he should push Katya away. It would be for her own good. If he allowed himself to get caught up in the desire he knew she felt for him, that he felt for her, he wouldn't be able to stop the hunger from rising inside of him. When the hunger rose, he'd have to sate it. Being inside of her body wouldn't be enough. He'd have to take her blood. And she'd suffered so much already. He should be a gentleman and tenderly set her aside, explain to her why he shouldn't attempt to make love to her. He knew it was what she wanted, could sense the need building in her, even if she didn't know or hadn't admitted it. He should explain to her that she didn't want to do this.

But he just couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to leave the sweet embrace of her arms. It was heaven for him there and heaven wasn't something he'd ever thought to see in his life. No matter what problems it would bring, Mac knew he didn't want to leave Katya's arms. She was offering this to him willingly, even though she knew what he was. She wanted to give him something that meant more to him than she could ever understand. He wanted to find that little bit of heaven she had to offer him, even if it brought more trouble down upon her shoulders. But she had a right to know what to expect. He pulled back from her mouth and stared down at her.

Those amazing eyes of hers, so like a lion's, looked up at him in wonder and confusion. He smiled at her, his expression gentle and as friendly as he could make it. "Katya, you must understand what will happen if we go further than a mere kiss."

"You're going to need blood," she said, the words coming out as simply as if she were discussing the weather with him. When he remained silent, the confusion came back. "Right?"

"Yes, I will need blood. And I can make it painless for you. But I will still be taking without giving in return."

"You've given me more than you'll ever know," she replied softly, still looking up at him. The light in her eyes hadn't changed. If anything, the desire in them had gotten deeper and more intense. He couldn't think. "Mac, please. I don't mind. I want you. Whatever that means has to happen, I'll take it."

"Katya," he sighed. She wasn't making this easy. "You say that now, but you do not understand. The taking of your blood could have dire effects upon you. I..."

"Mac," she whispered his name, bringing his words to a halt. She stepped up against him and smiled up at him. "My life is already out of my control. Ever since the attack, I've been losing my mind. My life. You are one of the only things that makes sense. I want you. I don't care what that want brings. I just want you. I'll be your blood mate if that's what you want. Just don't push me away."

"Katya, you do not understand what it is you are offering me," he protested, but barely. She was wearing him down with her earnest, open expression and the sincerity ringing in her words.

"You're lonely. I can feel it. It weighs so heavily on you that it makes me sad. I know that you've lost someone dear to you. I know exactly what I'm offering you. Me. My body. Someone to hold and love and kiss, even if its only for a short time. I'm serious. If you want me to be your blood mate, I will. Whatever you need of me, I'll give it," she told him gently.

"Do you know what a blood mate is?" he asked her softly, his eyes holding her own so that he could be sure she knew what she was asking. He was glad to see that she gave the question great through, her lips pursed enticingly while he considered his words.

"Its kind of like a wife or husband. No other vampire is allowed to touch someone's blood mate. That's asking for death. Permanent death. The bloodmate donates blood to their chosen partner. They have sex with them. They feed every need the vampire could have," she told him, her words coming out softly to hide her uncertainty. "They're there to comfort and please. They automatically become a member of their partner's family without argument or complaint from any one in the family."

Mac smiled at her, impressed with her answer. He wondered who'd coached her, then decided that it didn't matter. Instead, he merely stood there and watched her a moment longer. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve having her in his life, but he planned on making the most of it for as long as he could. He knew that he shouldn't allow this, that he couldn't allow himself to grow any closer to her than he had. He knew her fate and knew he couldn't suffer through the pain of loosing her. And still, she was everything he wanted or needed. He simply couldn't pass that up. Not when he'd been so alone for so long.

"I know we haven't known each other that long. This shouldn't be happening. But it is. I feel something so.... right for you. About you. I feel safe with you. I don't know why, but I do. And I want you," she finished her statement in a soft voice and he understood what this was costing her. She was afraid he'd reject her, even though she didn't show it. The last person she'd been close to had died a horrible death before her eyes. She was taking a chance by telling him all of this. It made him feel a touch better to know that she had the same concerns and fears as he did.

"You are..." he began, only to stop when he realized that he had nothing to say that he felt was relevant. Gently, he pulled her into his embrace once more and set his lips against hers. The sigh she gave shook him to his very core and he determined then and there that he would remain at her side, no matter what came to them. Pulling back from her, he looked her in the eye and smiled again. "Then we are blood mates, Katya. From now on, you are mine and I am yours. Any who tries to come between us will surely face our wrath."

Kat smiled up at Mac and studied him. He was tall, towering over her as she stood before him. His eyes were locked to hers, full of tenderness and emotion. They were a hazel-green color, like those of a kitty cat, though they were more of an emerald green right now with his passions. When he'd been angry, she'd seen them go to a golden-brown. When he was neutral or hiding his emotions, they were this amazing golden-green with hints of brown to them that gave them a very striking appearance. The fact that they shifted from one shade to another with his mood fascinated her intensely. His face was oval shaped, with high cheekbones and a thin, aristocratic nose that gave him a kind of regal look. A smile curved up his lips, a mix of thick and thin that gave her the impression that, when he really kissed her, he'd be damned good at it.

All of this was framed by long, straight, sandy blonde hair that had so many different colored highlights in it. She could see gold and copper mingled with red and pale brown. She knew from experience that his hair was soft and silky and thick, a true pleasure to run her fingers through. It hung down past his shoulders, loose and wild, to end somewhere in the middle of his back. She suspected that he was much like his hair, though she felt it might have been some time since he'd allowed that wild side to show through. So far, she hadn't ever seen him wear it tied back. Not that she minded. She rather liked it as it was. It added to the air of dangerous predator, giving him a bad boy image that likely drew women to him like flies.

While he wasn't the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on, there was no doubt he was very good looking. What attracted her most was the feeling of security he gave her, the sense that she knew him like she would never know another living soul. He was the absolute epitome of everything she'd ever wanted in a man even though she'd never known it until now. He was, to her, simply perfect.

She leaned into him and, once more, his mouth took hers. She sighed and melted against him, her arms climbing up to wrap around his shoulders. His lips were cool against hers, but so soft and gentle. He pressed hers lightly, his mouth moving slowly over her own as he tasted and savored her. They were pressed tightly together, his body hard, muscled plains beneath her soft curves. She loved that feeling and wished that there were no clothes between them. She wanted him like she'd never wanted another man in her life. The thought pulsed in her brain thickly. Then his hands climbed up her back, his fingers twining in her hair to hold her against him. Her brain shut off and she allowed her body to simply feel.

A whirlwind of feelings tore through her body, bringing each and every sense alive. Tingles shot to her fingers and toes while a low, steady throb beat in time with her heart low in her body. His mouth was like magic on her own, his hands cool against the back of her skull. She was on fire, hungering for him. He was the only one who could quench her thirst, fill her need and make her completely whole. She didn't think kissing him could get any better. And then his tongue slipped in past her lips.

Her head spun and, had his arms not been around her to hold her up, she would have slithered to the ground in a puddle of mush. Her knees shook with the tenderness of his kiss while her body tightened down even further. She wanted to hold him like this forever. His tongue slipped in and out of her mouth, each time dipping a little deeper before drawing back to take the essence of her into him. Finally, his tongue delved as deeply as possible, exploring every inch of her moist mouth. His actions drew a groan from her, the sound vibrating deep in her throat. She felt an answering groan from him, the sound thrilling her as she realized vaguely in the dim corners of her mind that she had brought that sound of satisfaction from deep within him.

Kat sighed and tilted her head to the side, the position giving Mac access to her neck. Her hands drifted lower until her hands clutched at his shoulders tightly. Slowly, his lips slid away from hers, following the curve of her cheek back toward her ear. Then he moved downward, kissing a hungry path over her jawline before transitioning to the taut column of her throat. A soft moan escaped her, falling from between her open lips to fill the room with the sound of her pleasure. Fine shivers chased up and down her spine while goose bumps rose up on her skin when he gently dragged his sharp, pointed teeth over the pulsing vein in her throat. The action sent a river of heat pouring into her, a flood of passion filling her with anticipation. She wanted him so badly, she was on fire with need.

The heat was gone in a sudden flash, drowned by a cold darkness that was frightening and complete. Kat could no longer feel or sense MacKenzie. Panic roared to life as suddenly as if someone had put a match to dry kindling. Looking around her, she could see unfamiliar stone walls surrounding her. The dank, musty smell of decay tickled her nose and the night air was thick and close around her, full of a heavy humidity that promised rain soon. The sounds of feet hitting the pavement reached her from the end of the close alley, mingled with creaking wood and the clip-clop noise of horse's hooves hitting the cobblestoned street. It was cool, not cold, but some evil permeated the area and she couldn't stop the shudder that took her.

Before she could consider her surroundings and how she had deduced the things she knew about them, a pair of people began to take shape in the shadows. A man and a woman seemingly melted out of the darkness, both of them moving toward her in a slow, easy gate that spoke to some kind of common knowledge or purpose. Even though it was mostly dark, she could clearly see the two of them. The woman was not very tall, just a little over five feet, with dark hair, eyes and skin. She had a black bonnet hanging down her back from her neck and her clothing, which Kat realized were rather old fashioned, where of dark colors. She was wearing a longish kind of coat over full skirts and boots.

The man with her was nondescript, with plain features. He seemed to be of middle age and she saw a mustache of dark hair above his lip. He had dark clothes on as well, and was obviously of a higher class than the woman. When they were far enough away from the shadows, he backed the woman up to the wall opposite where Kat stood and proceeded to fumble at his trousers. The woman was busy lifting her skirts.

Kat watched them with a sort of detached fascination. It wasn't that she was a voyeur as much as it was she found she wanted to better understand the mentality of the people around her. She knew, had known since looking around her only a few moments before, that somehow she was not in her own time. She didn't know where she was, but she knew it was somewhere in the past. How that could be, she didn't understand. But it had to be true. Between the clothing the couple wore, the sounds reaching her from the other end of the alley and the stench of trash and dirty flesh that clogged the air, she knew that this wasn't anywhere near her own time.

"Right, me man," the woman smiled up at him, her skirts held up around her waist. Kat saw a flash of pale thighs. "`Ow do you want this, then?"

"As you are will do," the man replied in an unremarkable kind of voice. She knew the accent, knew they were British by their speech, and she puzzled over how she could have gotten here. The man was obviously educated, of at least the upper middle class while the woman had been given something of a lesser education. Her speech was more coarse than his own, but there was a knowing look in those eyes that told Kat the woman was intelligent in her own manner. The woman smiled again and Kat took an instant liking to her. Despite the chill of something foul and dangerous in the air, she was genuinely interested in what was about to happen. There was a sense of anticipation in her that she'd never quite felt before.

"If you'll pay me my money, then," the woman said agreeably, shifting her legs further apart. For a brief, frightening moment, Kat thought she could smell the woman from where she was standing. Even scarier, she felt the stirrings of lust deep inside of her. The man nodded and reached for his pocket, dipping his hand in to fetch out her pay. In a moment, Kat heard the distinct sound of coins clanking together in the woman's palm. She tucked the money into a pocket. "Now, then. I'm all yours, dearie."

Silently, the man once more reached for his trousers. Some kind of motion stirred inside of Kat that she didn't understand. Still, she watched the couple with ill-concealed anticipation. She wanted to see them fuck, wanted to watch him shove himself into the whore over and over again. For a brief moment, she wondered where such thoughts had come from. They weren't hers. But they were shoved aside, over ridden by a sudden predatory urge. The motion that she'd felt seemed even more energetic now, waiting for something with the same kind of anticipation she felt.

In a blinding moment of clarity, Kat understood what was about to happen. Thoughts not her own poured into her, feelings of need and want so deep that she felt a physical pang from them. Whatever she was tapping into seemed to be a part of her, in her, and it intended to take her along for the ride. She had to warn them. She had to tell them what was going to happen. She had to tell them that something evil lurked in the dark for them.

She opened her mouth to call out a warning. No sound came out of it. No cries of warning, no whimpers or sobs or moans. Nothing but a stillness that confounded her. She could sense something building within her, some tension growing. Her muscles cramped, the urge to pounce and attack bringing them to glorious life. Every pore of her body was screaming for action, demanding she take her prize and she take it now!

Kat tried to call out to them again. Still, nothing happened. Her frustration mounted while she watched the couple. The man was busy with a small amount of foreplay, his fingers moving with short, efficient strokes between the woman's thighs. There was a look on her face of anticipation and pleasure. One of her hands still held her skirts up, the plentiful material bunched up tightly in her fist. The other hand was boldly fondling her partner's cock through his trousers. If the look on her face was anything to go by, she planned on enjoying this.

NOW! a voice vibrated through her head, then she sensed movement. She tried to call to them one more time, to warn them what was coming, but still her voice was lost. She watched in horror as, before the couple could engage in their activity, a blur streaked past Kat. It moved around the man, who had stepped away from the woman still fully clothed and now stood in silence, to the woman. An arm shot out and caught her, shoved her roughly up against the wall. The woman didn't even have a chance to scream.

A pair of confused brown eyes opened in fright and shock while the figure's head, hidden under the heavy material of it's cloak's hood, bent to the whore's neck. Kat swore she could feel a pair of fangs her fangs, sink through the thin flesh of the woman's throat into the vein where blood pounded and pulsed rapidly. The taste of fear filled her with warmth and made her dizzy with need. The feel of a pair of fists thumped dully against her back for a moment or two, then simply slid away as the woman's life blood drained away.

Kat was intoxicated by the richness of her victim's blood, of the fear that filled it and made it heady. The taste was so sweet and so beautiful, she felt muscles clench up and an orgasm like she'd never had before ripped through her and left her weak. Left her hungry for more. She dug in further and kept drinking, kept pulling the thick, rich blood into her. Each swallow sent a wave of ecstasy jolting through her body so that she was shaken with tiny aftershocks of pleasure. But the blood ran out too soon, leaving her feeling disoriented and hungry for more.

In only a few moments, it was over and the limp body was dropped to the ground almost sadly. And then the sensations that had assaulted her seemingly melted away, leaving her once more suffering her own fear and confusion. Now, though, there was revulsion at what had just transpired, at the emotions that had just poured through her as if they were her own. They hadn't been. She understood that now, but it didn't make her feel any better at the way she'd reacted to the woman's death. Because she could still feel the after tingles of her climax as they skittered up and down her spine. Kat wanted to be sick, but found she couldn't. She was still watching the scene before her, still fascinated by what was unfolding before her.

They stood together, the man and the blur, watching over the victim. The blur was shorter than the man, wearing dark garments from head to toe. Kat couldn't see a face, but watched in horrified fascination as the dark figure knelt next to the woman's prone body. There was a brief flash of silver as the bent figure drew a long knife from a coat pocket. The blade lowered toward the woman's body with deadly intent. For a long moment, she found herself staring at the bent figure's arm as it moved with swift, determined precision.

After several long, tense moments, the hand set the knife aside and began reaching for something. It lifted a glistening, bloody lump up from the body and held it up in reverence. A low, wicked cackle rolled out of the bent figure, a sound full of malicious intent. Fear slammed through Kat like a freight train, seizing her heart in a tight grip. She found her voice in a sudden panic. A loud, harsh scream rose up out of her throat to fill the night air with sheer terror.

"Katya," a soft voice crooned in her ear, a voice she barely heard over the frantic screams that shredded her throat until it felt raw. A cool hand was touching her shoulder, soothing and calming despite the terror that ran through her. Slowly, she calmed and relaxed, her eyes searching her surroundings for any hint of a threat. "Katya, you were screaming. What happened?"

She looked up to find herself looking into Mac's eyes. They had gone golden with worry, his mouth drawn into a thin line. She found herself laying across his lap, her head propped up against his chest. His heart was beating in his chest, a slow and steady sound that left her feeling reassured. He was sitting on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. She blinked at him. "I don't know. I was here, with you. Then I wasn't."

"Tell me," he urged, his hands still stroking down her arms. She realized that her hands were clenched tight when his fingers twined with hers and gently worked them straight. A slight movement of her head indicated to him that she wanted to sit. His hands were there to help her up, then immediately pulled her back into his body. She snuggled against him wordlessly, her arms wrapping around him to hug him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head in encouragement.

"I was in an alley. I was in England somewhere. And there was this man and this woman. They were going to have sex. This figure came flying out of nowhere and it was a vampire and it took the woman's blood," she whispered, her eyes going wide as she recalled what she'd seen. Fine tremors began in her hands, moving slowly up her arms until her entire body shook with them. "There was a knife and...... It was awful."

He nodded silently, then frowned. "You were there? You are sure?"

"I think so," she nodded, her gaze seeking his out. He was lost in thought, his face blank as he considered her words. "I could smell the odors in the air and hear the sounds of people all around us. Did I leave here?"

"Your body remained," he told her, a slight smile curving his lips for a moment. "We were in the beginnings of an intimate encounter. I was teasing your neck. And then you simply went limp in my arms. You were unconscious for a few moments, then you woke screaming. I was frightened, because I felt you.... leave."

She goggled at him, trying to make sense of his words. She hadn't left, but she had? What did that mean? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She'd been able to read minds, talk to others in their minds, for as long as she could remember, but she'd never simply left to slip into the past like that. She didn't even know if she had slipped into someone's past or if she'd been there. Was it a memory? Or was it something else? Something she had no name for and didn't understand. "You felt me leave?" she repeated his statement in a question.

"Yes," he nodded. "It was like your spirit left you for a moment. I felt it go. I was afraid that you had died," he whispered to her softly, his hands holding hers almost too tightly.

"I'm here," she assured him quietly, her words shaky in the face of his fears. He hugged her to him, his nose buried in her hair. She heard him inhale the scent of her shampoo as if to reaffirm what she'd told him.

"Of that, I am most glad," he replied. She smiled to hear the truth of his words in his voice. his solid presence was all she needed to relax against him. Slowly, the memory of the evening began to fade, his gentle touches and softly whispered words enough to calm her battered emotions.

They remained like that through the night, Mac's arms wrapped tightly around Kat, her own holding him close to her body. Her head rested against his chest, her eyes closed as she listened to the rhythm of his heart beating beneath her ear. No words passed between them. None were needed. Both were content to hold one another and allow their fears to fade. When dawn broke the horizon and chased away the darkness that clung to the world, so too did their fears drift away and both were able to retire for the day's sleep with no worry of what was to come.

~*~*~*~*~

The night club was packed with bodies, the throb of music drowning out the individual conversations so that people were forced to shout to be heard. A thick cloud of stale cigarette smoke hung heavy on the air, obscuring the darkest corners from view. It was the perfect place to hunt. Niki smiled as she wove her way through the crowded tables, her gaze landing on each face in search of possibilities. For tonight, she wanted something different and she'd know it when she saw it.

There was an empty spot awaiting her at the bar. She took it wordlessly, finding herself seated between two men. Both were, at present, oblivious to her presence. To her right sat a young man with a dark complexion and dark hair. The long, thin nose and pouting lips let her know that he was of Grecian decent. Niki frowned and gave a mental shake of her head. Greek food never satisfied her, nor did it appeal. She turned and gave her attention to the man on her left.

It was obvious he was older. Hair that she suspected had once been some shade of brown was now going gray, the spot at the back of his head thinning into a bald patch. He wore a plain white button down shirt with long sleeves. A beer sat before him, his gaze trained on the bartender as the woman deftly and rapidly filled orders. A spicy, subtle scent coated his skin, a hint of cologne that was nearly over powered by the smells of alcohol and burnt tobacco. Her smile returned and became something more. He was a much better choice.

"Another beer, lovey," he said, tapping his empty glass against the bar three times.

"Coming right up, honey," the woman behind the bar nodded, moving past to scoop up a fresh mug and take it to the tap. Niki glanced at the man with some surprise. It had been a long time since she'd heard a good Welsh accent. A look of extreme pleasure filled her eyes while a deep feeling of being home sick washed over her. It had been far too many years since she'd had good, solid English food.

He was perfect.

"What's your poison?" the bartender asked Niki when she stopped before the man to give him his refill.

"Oh, I'll have a bloody Mary," Niki replied, allowing a hint of her own accent to creep into her voice. As she'd hoped, it was enough to attract her neighbor's attention. He turned to look at her, the light of interest in his eyes. She smiled at him coyly, fishing a bill out of her purse to drop on the table for her drink. She barely acknowledged the woman that set the glass before her.

"You're a long way from home, aren't you, love?" he questioned, lifting his beer to take a drink of it. Niki nodded and shrugged as if it didn't really matter. "What part of England, then?"

"I grew up in the north, but spent my adult years in London," she told him easily, not afraid to tell him the truth.

"I thought I detected a trace of something in your accent," he nodded, as if confirming to himself that he were right. She offered him a smile and toyed with her drink. "You live here now?"

"For the moment. I move around alot," she lifted her shoulders non-commitally. She fell silent, as if thinking, then made her move. "Actually, I'm still rather new to the area. I was wondering, do you know the town well?"

"I've lived here for several years," he confirmed. She let her smile become something brilliant and leaned toward him.

"Oh, good. Perhaps you could help me. I'm looking for places of interest. You know, places to take pictures that I can send back to the family. That kind of thing."

"I'm certain I could manage that," he smiled at her, his gaze flicking appreciatively over her form. NIki allowed some more small talk to pass between the two of them. During that time, she pretended to sip her drink and pretended to get just a little tipsy. It was almost too easy to make him think she'd had too much to drink and that, when she was ready to leave, she needed a ride home. He was more than gracious to offer her a ride, which she happily accepted without batting an eyelash.

They rode for a short distance in silence. The entire time, Niki merely waited. She could almost smell the need on him and she was certain the wheels in his head were turning. She nearly laughed out loud when he broke the silence to ask her what she'd known had been coming from the beginning. They were stopped at a light and he turned to look at her, his features lit by the lights of the dash and the streetlights. "Come to my place," he insisted, his gaze intent upon her.

She played coy for a moment or two, giving a few giggles to hold off replying right away. The light changed and he turned his attention back to the road, his body tense while he waited for an answer. Finally, after making him wait a few minutes, Niki reached out and laid her hand on his thigh. "Why not?" she purred lightly. He flashed her a smile, his body relaxing with the prospect of getting what he wanted. Niki's smile was almost feral, her body thrumming with the excitement that came from knowing he was getting more than he'd ever bargained for.

His apartment was small and cramped, filled with books of all kinds, dvds, cds and Japanese styled art that seemed to fit. He let her into the small flat, then shut and locked the door behind him. She turned into his arms when he moved to her, dragging his head down to her own so that she could kiss him. His body was already begging for her and she thought he'd started responding the moment she'd agreed to come here. She pressed against him, to show him she wanted him, then allowed him to steer her toward his bedroom.

It was dark, but she didn't care. Instead, she began tugging at his clothes with eager hands. The buttons on his shirt popped and she soon had the garment on the floor. It was already forgotten, her fingers now trying to make short work of the zip on his trousers. He was just as busy, working at pulling her clothes from her body. Even without using her vampiric strength, she had him stripped down to nothing before he'd even managed to remove her blouse. "Anxious?" he asked her softly, his hands already moving to pull her jeans off.

"You have no idea," she returned, her voice breathless in anticipation. He chuckled softly, then finished removing her clothing. When she was naked, he dropped his head to her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth to tease it with lips, tongue and teeth. Niki shuddered and clung to him, her nails digging into his back.

"I'm not into pain, love. Calm down and I'll give you what you want," he assured her, his head lifting to stare down into her eyes.

"Its been too long," she rasped out, her hand reaching down to tug lightly on his erection. He grinned at her, allowing her to pull him over to the bed by his hardened shaft. Then he fell on her, driving her to the bed beneath him. His lips claimed hers again, one hand sliding between them to grasp himself. He guided his cock to her swollen pussy lips, then shoved in. Niki groaned long and loud beneath him before her body began rocking up into his.

"Slow down, sweetheart. We have plenty of time," he coaxed, his hips taking up her rhythm. She said nothing, merely wrapped her arms and legs around him so that she could hold him close. Their joining was frenzied, their motions wild and almost animalistic in nature. It was over all too soon for her liking, his body slumping down onto hers when he came. She stared up at him, her eyes full of her disappointment.

"That was rather pathetic of me. Next time will be much better," he shook his head and rolled off of her. Without another word, he moved her up onto the bed properly, then lay next to her. Her mind was turning over ideas when she felt one of his hands sweep down over her body, stroking her skin with a light touch before his fingers slipped between her thighs. It had been a long time since she'd had anyone attempt to please her in such a manner. She was at a loss and simply lay there, allowing his caresses for the moment.

A pair of fingers slid in and out of her body easily, stroking a fire of need to life within her. As his fingers slid in and out, his mouth dropped down to suckle at her breast again. Niki moaned and arched beneath him, feeling for a moment as if she could lay here and allow him to do this to her for the rest of her days. His thumb settled on her clit, rubbing at it while he continued the ministrations of his hand and mouth.

One of her hands moved up to find his chest, her fingers idly tracing patters over his skin before they moved down to find his groin. She curled her hand over his shaft, pleased to note that it was already starting to firm up some. She smiled a wicked smile and began to work her hand up and down his length. Much as she was enjoying his ministrations, she was far too hungry to forget about feeding.

She stroked him lazily, moans still bubbling up out of her throat as his mouth worked her nipple and his fingers thrust in and out. His thumb pressed hard on her clit three times and she felt herself shatter into a small orgasm. Her eyes flew open to look at him and he lifted his head with a smile. "You liked that, didn't you?"

"Oh yes," she whispered in a husky voice. She gently nudged him over onto his back, her hand never leaving its prize. "And now, its time to pay you back for that."

"Oh? What did you have in mind?" he asked her curiously. She only smiled, then settled herself on his legs. Her eyes on his face, she leaned over until she could take his throbbing member into her mouth. She watched as his eyes rolled shut, a soft 'mmm' vibrating up his throat. Niki took her time, sliding her mouth up and down his length. The entire time, she kept her eyes on him and watched the pleasure move across her face.

The suction on his cock tightened. He made some noise, but didn't protest. She could feel the blood pulsing beneath her lips, thumping in time to his heart. Her body was tight again, anticipation thrumming in her veins. She shamelessly rubbed herself against his leg, working her body toward another release.

She felt him swell, signaling his impending release. She could feel her own body, poised right on the verge of her orgasm. She drew back far enough to let him slide from her mouth, her tongue lapping at his head. He glanced at her, a strained smile on his face. She could tell he wanted her to finish. Niki smiled at him a moment, then opened her mouth to let him see the fangs. "Feed me, lover," she whispered to him, then struck.

Blood poured into her mouth from his cock, the sounds of his strangled crying music to her ears. She drank deeply of him, the slightly peaty flavor of home filling her as she took his blood. She felt him shudder and the blood was suddenly tainted with something saltier. Her own body shattered in response, her orgasm slamming through her even while she worked at sucking the last of his life from him.

Niki loved this, loved the feel of him beneath her. She smiled around his cock, the delicious taste of him pouring into her from that part of him that was capable of giving so much pleasure. She could pick out pieces of her native land as his blood slid down her throat. There really was no place like home.

end chapter eleven.
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i would like to thank, as always, my usual crew of suspects. they're the ones who help keep me going and all that stuff. without them, i probably wouldn't get half as much written as i do. so you guys had best thank them, too. extra special thanks to my kitty cat and onyx for their support above and beyond the call of duty. i lurvs you guys lots and loads. couldn't do it without you.

if you stumble across a mistake, please don't shoot me or anything. its all my doing as i'm my own beta. only human and all that. my damn request to become a god still hasn't come through, so.... there ya go. and if you find that you do like this, again, feel free to leave me a review to tell me what you think.

and finally, a few more thanks.

to aquamum: i'm so glad you found my little offering enjoyable. i love to see that you're asking questions. and, trust me, you will get the answers. it'll be in my own good time. but you will get them. i know its been a long time since i've updated this, but things just kind of got in the way. sadly, i can't sit and write every day. i'd love to, believe me. but i can't. and that sucks. it makes me happy to see good reviews on this because this is so very personal to me. you make me smile. :)

to Jessi aka krillball: i hope you didn't die waiting for this. and i hope you like this one as much as the last. ...... and yes, they are awesome.

to Anon: i hope you're still reading. and i hope you like this chapter as much as the previous ones. i know it took me a while and i apologize. hopefully, i can get back on a schedule now. i like living in my own little world.

to Snowfall: your review is just so amazing, hon. you have to know that i admire you so much and to get a review like this from you is just.... wow, i'm blown away. hopefully, you were pleased with the description i put in of Mac. you were right in pointing out that i hadn't done it and that was bad of me. i'm sorry. forgive me? *bats eyelashes coquettishly*

to Mallie3: i hope this one works for you. i hope you're still reading this. i know its taken me so long to get this done and up. ugh, i'm sorry and i apologize.

to Polly: i know its been so long and i'm really sorry. hopefully, you're still willing to read and that you'll like this chapter. thanks again for reading and for your kind words.