DRINK ME
She would not
let him die. She was the Slayer, he was the vampire--it was about
time he figured out who was in charge of this situation.
But he
could be so damned stubborn.
"Please
. . ." His eyes implored her, but the tears in them did nothing to
soften her resolve. She would not, could not let him die.
If he needed her blood, then he would get it. She would just
have to trust him not to kill her.
She hit
him once. He came up, his face still sheened with sweat.
For a split second she wondered if she would end up killing him herself,
but then she hit him again. It took him a little longer to straighten,
but when he did he was still Angel. One more time.
Third
time the charm. He was vampire.
She stared
into his yellow eyes and set her jaw. She grabbed him by the
hair and shoved his face against her throat.
A little
voice in her head--a voice that sounded oddly like Wesley--said this is not
what Slayers did. They did not offer their blood to vampires
no matter what the circumstances.
No other
choice.
He hesitated,
but only a moment. Then she heard his growl, and he took her.
She gasped.
Somehow she had never imagined it would hurt this much. Sure,
when the Master had bitten her it had hurt like hell, but he'd been evil.
He'd wanted to cause her as much pain as possible. This was Angel,
and Angel would never hurt her.
He hurt
her. His fangs sunk deep and hard into her flesh. Her head spun
at the awful pain and the tearing sounds as his teeth found firm purchase.
Her legs went out from under her and he fell forward with her.
As they hit the floor he clenched down harder, biting again, deeper.
God, it
hurt. She wanted to scream but there seemed to be no breath left in
her, as if he sucked it out of her with her blood. Surely those noises,
the awful animal sounds next to her ear, weren't him, weren't Angel.
Her vision went red and she pushed against him but he was anchored over her
and his teeth were so deep in her throat she thought they might never come
out. She drew her knees up against his hips. She
had held him this way with her body once before. He'd penetrated
her then, too, but not like this. She kicked out and her foot
hit something. Wood splintered.
His mouth
dragged at her. Her vision had gone splotchy, red and black and
useless. She was all touch and sound now, the press of his hard
chest against her breasts, the awful ache of his teeth in her throat, the
sucking, tearing sound of his feeding.
Did he
have any control at all? Had the human part of him been too sick,
too wounded, to counter the animal?
If not,
she was going to die. He would live and she would die.
I guess
it's fair, she thought vaguely, as her vision went completely black.
I killed you first.