As I mentioned in my previous entry, a novel has come to life in my head. A vampire romance, but meh. I like what I like. Here is the first bit I wrote up, but timelinewise it is at least a third of the way into the book. :) Checked for spelling etc. but not beta'd.



I was trembling. Okay, Dee, I told myself. Just calm down. I tried to rationalise it. He needed blood, now, or else... well, something would happen. If he needed CPR, I could do it. No problems. But he didn't need CPR. He needed a blood transfusion.

Well, wasn't I a donor? I had the card in my wallet right now. Was it really that different? Instead of having a needle shoved into my arm (several times – damn deep veins) and having my blood given to someone I didn't know, I could help someone right in front of me, someone I actually liked. I considered myself to be a good person, and I was certainly the type to do good deeds. This was just another good deed. I was going to save someone's life.

I could do that, I told myself.

I could do that.

I sat down on the bed, still trembling from head to toe. For a brief second I saw the scene as it could have been, if the vampire aspect were somehow removed. I was a virgin, scared and yet just a little excited, sitting on a man's bed. This was going to be new territory for me, and I could never go back to what I was. I would be different, changed, once he had accepted the offering of my body.

No wonder so many people equated vampires (and feeding) with sex. There was a sense of intimacy about it all. I was willingly submitting to Daniel, allowing him to get closer than anyone else had been before. His fangs were going to, to... penetrate ... me, my skin, and he was going to take something from me and never give it back. He was going to know me as no one else had before. He was going to have something of mine, something precious, some part of me forever.

No wonder so many saw vampire feeding as a sexual act.

“Daniel,” I said after a moment. I had to force myself to speak, because I had no idea how long he had left, and he was in so much pain already any delay would simply cause him more. “When I say so, you have to stop. Understand?” His groans of pains stopped, and he appeared to be trying to listen. “The moment I say the safeword, you have to stop.” Was that motion a nod? Was that groan a yes?

“The safeword is kittens. When I say that word, you have to stop. The safeword is-”
I never got to repeat the safeword, as he was on me in an instant. Daniel leaped on me like a man possessed, knocking me on my back so fast the air went rushing out of my lungs. He had me pinned before I could even blink, and I winced as, in his haste to expose enough skin, he tore my t-shirt.

The last thing that occurred to me was that I was glad it was not my favourite t-shirt. How silly.

And then he bit down.

Not on my neck, as I would have expected, but on my shoulder. Either way, it still hurt. The scream I tried to swallow down managed to make its way out as a whimper, and I shut my eyes. In a way, that made it worse. They say losing one sense heightens the others, and without seeing anything all I could focus on was everything else. The sucking, slurping sounds. The cold, heavy feeling of his lips, the wet roughness of his tongue as it lapped up a stray droplet of blood.

It was not like in all the books I had read, or heard about. There was nothing sexy or romantic about it at all. My heart was pounding, not out of desire or sexual excitement, but out of fear. His embrace, if it could be called that, was simply to make sure that I stayed still. Daniel's weight on top of me, his grip that would most likely cause bruises on my arm and waist was to make sure his prey did not escape.

For that's all it was. I was his prey. He was simply eating.

“Ow,” I said finally, scrunching my eyes up even tighter. It was a lame cry of pain, but it was all I could do. “Owowowow, stop, Daniel, please. Please.” But even though my intentions were clear, that wasn't the safeword. Of course, in his starving state, Daniel had possibly not agreed to my condition of a safeword, just made a sound that I took to mean as an agreement.

If that was the case, then I was in big trouble.

“Delia.” It was a whisper made in the half-second of him lifting his mouth from my shoulder. Nothing else, and he went back to feeding.

I started to cry. I knew, from having a brother as a vampire, how strong a vampire could be. I was no match for Charlie, not now, not ever. I also knew that, generally, the older the vampire, the stronger he or she was. At three-years-bitten, Charlie was a baby compared to Daniel, who had been born, killed and turned during the Georgian Era.

If Daniel could not stop himself, I stood no chance. I was going to die - here, now – in the basement of my family's inn. In my own home. Under the desperate, ravenous body and feeding mouth of someone I thought was a decent guy.

His hand moved from my arm to my hair, gripping the brown strands as he pulled me closer. I gasped, wondering if this was the prelude to the actual second of my death. If it was, it was also what pushed me to finally say the safeword. “Kittens!”

Looking back at it, it must look awful silly of me for panicking about it when all I had to do was say the safeword. What was that line from that CSI episode? The submissive has all the power. They are the one who says stop? I probably have the line all wrong, but the sense was still there. So long as the rules were in place, I would be fine.

The moment I said the word, he stopped. Well, not entirely – he had a few last licks to clean up his mess - but the drinking was over. My body felt like jelly, and I went limp and sank into the soft mattress. When I finally opened my eyes and they adjusted, I saw Daniel looking at me with guilt and concern written all over his face. And more than a smattering of satisfaction, too. I suspect that was the reason for at least part of the guilt; had he not stopped he could have killed me, and from what I knew of him the fact that part of him felt really good for being full would have ruined the meal. He looked all the better for it though. Perfectly fine.

At least one of us was.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, shifting on the bed so he was looking over me. I closed my eyes again, so I felt rather than saw his fingers reach out and touch my cheek. They were cold, as always, but felt even colder now. I suppose that could most likely be put down to the fact that I was down a fair bit of blood, and shivering like crazy. “Delia?”

So was I all right? I always hated that question. Someone gets hit in the head with a ball. Did that hurt? Fall out of a tree. Are you okay? Just got bit and drained by a starving vampire. Are you all right? Idiots, all of them. Daniel included. How did he think I was feeling? Only seconds ago he had had me pinned underneath him and was munching away on my shoulder like, I don't know, a big steak dinner. Had he not stopped, he could have sucked me dry.

So how was I feeling?

My shoulder hurt, but that was to be expected. Somehow the bleeding had stopped, but the throbbing pain was still there. I felt tired, weak; sitting up would not be an option for me right then. I felt like I did after donating blood at the twice-annual drive, only a whole lot worse. That had to mean – my head felt fuzzy and I had to take a moment to breathe – that meant...

“How...” I said finally. My voice sounded somewhere between a whisper and a croak. “How much?” I was trying to ask how much blood did he take, but even those three words were a challenge to me. I just wanted to sleep. I was tired. So tired.

“More than I should have.” His fingers moved up to my forehead, now slick with sweat. Oh yeah, I'd been panicking all right. Daniel pushed my hair back, tentative in his movements just in case I suddenly was able to push him away or something. But I was as weak as a kitten compared to him, even when I was running on a full blood supply. “I'm sorry.”

He scooped me up then, and my eyes shot open with surprise as he hugged me. “I'm sorry,” he said again, repeating the words over and over like a prayer, like that would somehow make everything all better. Like words could really give me back all the blood he had taken. Like words could... oh who cared.

Daniel shifted then, and I found myself a fraction closer to his face. And that was when it struck me. This horrible disgusting smell, a combination of spit and the perfume he thought didn't suit me, plus a third element I couldn't quite determine straight off. It took me a moment to realise what the copper smell really was, and the moment I did, my stomach began to protest. That was when the full weight of what had just happened hit me like a runaway truck. He really had taken my blood.

I could smell it on his breath.

“Let go, Daniel,” I whispered, hoping that the urgency of my plea would get through the cloud of guilt that seemed to have consumed him. I really needed him to let go. Fortunately he did, and faster than I would have guessed my half-dead body could have moved, I leaned over the side of the bed and threw up the contents of my stomach all over the floor.