Bryson sat outside for a few minutes after his shift as he waited on his ride. Breathing in the crisp, night air was wonderful. Even in the city, he could still smell hints of nature from the forests a few miles away. But of course, he had a good nose. The city was muggy tonight, but it was thankfully cooler than usual. It felt so good that Bryson honestly wouldn't have minded running home. He wouldn't even have minded running farther than home.
He couldn't, though. As wonderful as a nighttime run through the forest would be, he wasn't about to risk it. He was smart enough to know that his usual trails would likely be occupied --either by werewolves looking for him, or by humans looking for him. By what he could tell, he was a topic of interest. Ah, he was more than that actually. In fact, it seemed to be the biggest story since those college kids had broken into and vandalized the old Helen Keller house nearby a little over three months ago.
Like hell he was going to be caught by the raving population. Bryson would have to stay at home and hope that no one showed up at his doorstep. Hope was the key word. In the forefront of his mind, he wished he'd been spotted more than a few miles away from his house.
And then, to save him from his thoughts, a shiny, black Honda pulled into the lot and parked right beside where he was sitting. He only took a second to stand and open the passenger door. Amelia sat in the driver's seat. The first scents that hit Bryson's nose were blood and hints of subtle, feminine perfume. Amelia wore a dress of deep red and her mouth was a painted red rose petal. Bryson raised a brow.
"Hunting?" he asked casually. It wasn't unnatural for a vampire to beautify him or herself in order to catch their prey easier. Humans tended to flock more to those who were fair in appearance --actually, that could be said for wolves too.
She chuckled. "No. I haven't fed yet. I was visiting with some of my brood-father's friends over in the city earlier. They were... well, nourishing themselves. And good God, don't call it hunting. I hate that. You make me sound like some rabid animal running wild in the forest and chewing madly on my game of choice."
Bryson raised a corner of his mouth along with an eyebrow. She seemed to catch what she'd said seconds after the words had left her mouth.
"Oh, I didn't mean that," she quickly countered. "There's nothing wrong with, well, being an animal."
"I take no offense," he said without a thought. "Relax. I'm pretty laid-back. Anyways, why didn't you feed with them? Can I call it that?"
"You may," she answered, "And because none of the ones brought in were very... well, appetizing. My, that makes me sound like a monster, doesn't it? I don't hurt people, I swear it." Her eyes were wide, and she seemed to take care not to look at Bryson at that moment in time.
He shook his head. "If I assumed otherwise, I would not be in your car. And it doesn't make you sound like a monster. I've heard worse, believe me. You'd do well to know that you're speaking to a guy that chews on animal carcasses on some nights. If you think you're the only one in this car who enjoys the taste of fresh blood, then you're wrong."
She only smiled and took what he'd said in stride. "Do you know why you're in my car?"
"Only if you tell me."
"Nothing sinister," she promised, "it's just... I believe we should be friends. Your aura is a kind and sensible one. That's rare around here."
Reading auras. That was one of the things a vampire could do. They could read people and werewolves like books in that way. They could judge who was susceptible to charm and persuasion. They could judge the fearful. It was one of the vampire's predatory talents, alongside the dangerous chemicals in their fangs. If that wasn't enough though, vampires were strong --stronger than humans and nearly as strong as the werewolves. It was an odd strength, though. It was one that was derived less from their muscles and more from the tireless endurance that came from being one of the undead.
They could throw their bodies at something for hours without growing sore or out of breath. They could take injury with outstanding grace and fight at one-hundred percent until the moment of their real death. It was something Bryson could never understand.
"I don't have any of those at present," he said, "Sure. We can try it."
She only smiled in response and confirmed the directions to his house. She found her way to his home easily, pulling up in his driveway and parking right at its edge. His car sat in the middle of it, looking very pitiful compared to the newer one he was currently riding in. She snorted at the sight of it, and he watched her smile as he climbed out of the passenger seat.
"Do you work tomorrow?" she asked before he could close the door behind him.
"Yeah, I do. Next shift is tomorrow night at five. It's a short one," he answered. After a moment, he added. "You should come in. You said you wanted to be friends. I could use one tonight... sure to be a hell of one. Believe me."
Amelia turned her eyes away from him. "As much as I'd like to, I cannot. I must go... feed. I am feeling rather weak."
"Don't worry about that," he waved it off. "I can cover that. Come in, if that's all that's stopping you."
She seemed dumbstruck for a minute. Still, Amelia followed his word and turned off her car without so much as another word. Bryson let her inside, inwardly thankful that his rather small and mundane home was clean for the most part. When she stepped in, she took a moment to look around at his kitchen.
"This is humble," she said with a smile. "I like homes like these. They tell a story."
"Eh, it's not fancy," Bryson admitted. "My dad used to live here, though. That's enough for me to stick around. I think he'd have rolled over in his grave if I'd sold it off once he'd died. I don't know why, it's certainly not the nicest place we've ever had, but he loved this house. Always said that it reminded him of my mother."
She chuckled and then... silence. The moment turned awkward far quicker than Bryson had expected. He felt at ease, but the girl was tense. Bryson knew why too.
"Alright," he said, "come on. You gotta feed before you wilt. Let me get some water and then I'll sit down."
She just shook her head in amusement as he pulled a bottled water from his refrigerator. "Are you being serious?"
He just nodded as he chugged the bottle and motioned for her to follow him. Amelia joined him, and they both had a seat on the living room couch. Amelia found the room to be nice. It was small, sure, but it was more decorated than she'd expected it to be. A few pictures hung on the wall, and there were actually trinkets decorating the inn-tables.
"I know what you're thinking," he crumpled the bottle in his hand, "my dad fancied the place up as best he could. I can't design for shit."
"I noticed." She fingered a small glass bird that sat on the coffee-table's surface beside her.
"Anyways, do you have a preference of location? Neck, wrist, elbow?"
"Left ass cheek," she said with a glimmer of sly humor that made Bryson laugh. After they both sobered, she spoke again. "Neck will be fine. Nice and simple. Are you sure that you're alright with this? I mean... if I'm being honest, it's never been this carefree and I've never drank from a wolf. If you're anything like the humans, situations like these tend to get extreme --for better or worse. Especially with one I've only recently met."
Bryson turned on the television to alleviate her fears, staring without focusing on its picture. "Go ahead. I'm not making it weird if you don't. Just don't paralyze me and we're golden."
"It kind of hurts," she warned, "want me to use endorphins?"
"I'm a big boy, I can take the teeth," he answered. "And yeah, why not? Don't drug me too hard, though. I'd like to be aware of myself after it's done. And don't suck me dry. I assume you know how to do that though."
She nodded and raised a hand to move his brown hair from his throat. The movement was fluid and her touch was light. Another small hand pulled at the top button of his shirt until it came undone and then easily removed the white collar covering the base of his neck. He just sat quietly, flipping without much thought through the cable channels.
Soft lips met his neck, and then... teeth. Fuck. Two sharp points punctured his skin with relative ease. As soon as she was situated, though, the presence of them was irritating at worst. And then... it was nothing. Serum rushed through her teeth, and a sort of euphoric high flooded his senses. And then, Amelia's grip noticeably tightened around him and she seemed to melt too.
A slight rumble moved from the depth of her throat, and her waiflike body curled to his as she drank deep from his reserves. She seemed to take well to his blood --seemed to enjoy it without shame or thought. In fact, Amelia looked as if she were very close to getting lost in the scarlet that lapped at her tongue.
And that was just the thing about werewolves.
Bryson had neglected to mention that his blood was different than that of a human's. It was older --yes. More potent. According to the other vampires he'd met, blood aged just as a fine wine --and Bryson hardly doubted she'd drank from anyone older than thirty or forty. But the real thing about werewolf blood was the ingrained defense mechanism that came within it. Anything that a wolf felt would bond in his or her blood and the vampire would not only taste it, but feel it alongside the werewolf. Which meant, if Amelia had caused pain, fear, paralysis, or brought him too close to death's cusp... she was in for a shitstorm surprise. It was one of the things that stopped vampires from draining all the old blood from the weres --a last resort defense if one of his kind was overpowered.
But Amelia didn't dilute his senses with neurotoxins... she gave him feel-good chemicals. And now, she would get to share in their pleasure while drinking decently old blood. Must've been a damn good night for her.
She pulled her teeth out of him after a few minutes and ran a soft tongue over the puncture wounds. The enzymes in her saliva clotted the injury quickly and numbed the spot where she'd bitten him. Amelia moved away with wide eyes.
"What was that?"
Bryson only grinned. "Hopefully decent."
"Decent?" Her voice was higher than usual. "That was far better than decent. Your blood is brilliant. Can you release endorphins too? I felt... floaty. And happy. I can't explain it." She paused and met his eyes for a moment before backing away. "Sorry, perhaps I'm sounding strange."
"You are not," Bryson replied while buttoning his shirt back. "Side effect of wolf blood. You get to taste what I'm feeling and experience what you release. A gift and a curse to your kind, as it were. Take care to be nice with your bites."
"You knew this?"
"I did," Bryson answered, "figured I'd let you discover it on your own. First time taking from a wolf and all that. Probably first time taking from someone as old as I, as well. I didn't want to ruin the surprise. Also, you can drink more from me than that, if you need. I'm tougher than a human."
"I am full for now," she said as she offered a courteous nod, "thank you, Bryson."
"What are friends for?" he answered. "Thank you for the ride home. You're welcome to more so long as you're around. I don't mind."
"Well, shall we get to know more about the other?" she asked. "I haven't been on this Earth but thirty-three years, so I'm afraid my knowledge of wolves is far from extensive. I'd like to know more about the wolves --your kind-- than I do right now, if you don't care to answer some questions, that is."
He nodded, and readied himself for a barrage of curiosities.
"Ask away."