First Impressions

Chapter Three
--------------

Mints and alcohol. He tasted dark and bitter, yet so dangerously addictive, inducing feelings within her like minute nerve explosions. She gasped quietly into his demanding lips, as his hands pulled her into him, his hips meshing into hers sensuously. When Anne felt the hardness throbbing against her soft stomach, she stiffened, suddenly morbidly afraid. Trying to shove his hands off her, the girl panicked when he only tightened his grasp on her, moaning softly into her lips. Tearing her mouth from his, Anne sobbed in fear, pushing him away with unbelievable force.

Danny stared at the girl who was cowering from him, a bit dizzy-headed from the kiss he'd just experienced. Kissing had been a greeting for him- impersonal and nothing special. Even during sexual activities, Danny disliked kissing, the awkwardness of the position and the squelching of lips. His scientific mind would not let him dismiss the fact that the human mouths were nothing more than germ-plantations and how food was absorbed into the body. He felt it was gross, and unnecessary. But something about this mysterious girl had drawn him to her, as though their two lips had been two opposite magnetic fields. And she had responded with an unlikely combination of innocence and passion that Danny found... addictive. He wanted to do it again. And again.

But the girl looked frightened, her eyes wide and the pupils nearly colorless. Something was very wrong here, and he intended to get to the bottom of it. "Why are you frightened?" he asked, annoyed.

She crept away from him, edging near the door. "Don't come any closer," Anne whispered, her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably. She had dropped the blankets onto the floor, but she didn't notice. Her back was flush against the door by now, her left hand resting uneasily on the intricate silver doorknob, ready to twist it, when Danny slowly walked up to her, very quietly so that she would not be afraid.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," Danny's voice was surprisingly kind, and he extended a hand towards her, standing about five feet from her. She stared at the offered hand, then looked up into his face. There was a slight frown between his brows, as if he had some ailment or concern. There was such loneliness in his eyes... etched permanently in the harsh lineaments of his starkly Russian face. She could relate to that loneliness. She could trust him- something in her told her so. Anne took it, hesitantly, and was almost startled at the easiness in which her small hand fit into his large one, how their flesh molded together like a puzzle piece, the warmth from each individual finger rushing through her blood, the feel of his hand forcing itself into the memory of her skin.

Their eyes met, one profound moment that seemed to last an eternity, before they heard a steady knock on the door.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

"I'm sure you can arrange it so that they will safely arrive in Russia?" Theodore Dostoyevsky finalized the conversation with his most trusted advisor, Erik Vondovich. At only twenty five years old, Erik Vondovich had an impressive record. Having attended one of the finest military schools in the world since the tender age of eight years old, he had quickly accumulated many admirable honors. The youngest student to ever graduate at the age of only sixteen years old, Erik could speak Russian, Italian, French, English, Chinese, and Japanese fluently. With a great strategical capacity and superior mental abilities, he was a brilliant fellow well deserving of the comparatively modest title he had as the underdog of Theodore Dostoyevsky.

Erik seemed like a son to Theodore, for he had personally seen the boy grow into a man, unlike hiw own natural-born son Daniel. Vincent Vondovich and his wife, the Dostoyevskys' closest friends, had been killed by protesters against the Russian government. As a result, Erik had been sent to military school as was Vincent's wishes, but always, the boy had spent the holidays at home with his wife and kids, before Daniel and Kayla had been sent off to America for their safety.

The young man lips quirked in a crooked formation of a smile, as if he did not know how to do it properly, due to lack of practice. It was a pity, how life had hardened the delicately beautiful features nature had given him. His mother and father were blended wonderfully in that one young face, Theodore mused, the sharp jawline reminiscent of Vincent, the rare arctic green eyes the same awe-inspiring hue as Serene's, though Erik's eyes were as unreadable as steel, while Serene's had been guileless and innocent. "You may trust in me entirely," Erik replied in English, his voice an oddly musical mixture of a light Italian cadence, French elegance, and an unapologetic Russian touch adding flavor to the tantalizing mix.

Theodore drew Erik into a hard embrace. "I already do, Erik. You are a son to me." Erik's eyes glassed over, emotion held back protectively. He had learned that showing his feelings were weakness, and Erik was not about to be let defenseless, as he had once been, so many years ago.


------------


Author's Note: I know, I know, short chapter. But I thought it was a good place to end! I will update soon. Thank you so much Sam for your amazing ideas, it brought me out of the momentary lull. You are wonderful, and thanks everyone for reading.