This story was originally written to be a sequel to "A Ghost of a Chance", but as I wrote it, I created it in a way that it should stand alone just fine. As with most of my stories, we have a couple disclaimers. The first is that my this is not a piece of porn, its an erotic short story, emphasis on the word "story". You want quick porn, seek elsewhere. Second disclaimer is that this has elements of fantasy in it, its my style and my passion. Should these things be something you're interested in, have fun and enjoy! I certainly loved writing it, I hope you love reading it!
Molly ran nervous fingers through her wispy blond hair, glancing over her shoulder as the feeling of being watched intensified. This had to stop. She'd asked her boss numerous times not to keep her until after the busses stopped running, but out of some vindictive cruelty he'd continued to schedule her until midnight every weeknight. Never mind that she had a two year old and an eight year old at home, waiting for her. If she didn't need the money, she'd have told Rick to shove his midnights up his ass and walked away. But as it was, she could barely afford childcare.
A shadow passed overhead, causing Molly to glance up towards the roof of the building. Nope, nothing there, but she could have sworn something was following her from rooftop to rooftop.
Please, Molly! Use your logic girl; if some one was following you I'm sure they'd be doing it from the ground and not atop the rooftops like some damned vampires. I need to lay off those books, bad Anne Rice, bad!
She thought softly, adjusting her coat and picking up the pace. She was only four blocks from her home, she could make it quickly if she stopped dawdling with her thoughts.
The misting had just turned into a steady drizzle when something caught Molly's attention. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow, some figment of reality that had flashed then disappeared a blink of an eye. Her heart began to hammer against her chest. Some one
was
out here with her. She clutched her little purse in a white knuckled grip, fighting the urge to run. There was a lighted intersection just half a block up, if only she could make it.
That, however, didn't seem to be in the cards for Miss Molly. As she neared the intersection, something hit her full force from behind, sending her sprawling out upon the wet pavement.
She screamed, only to have the sound cut short by a bony hand clasping brutally over her mouth. Molly struggled, but to no avail, the man was much stronger then she was, there was just no way could she get free of his utterly unbreakable grip. Fear took over, and she began to squirm and breathe heavily as the steady weight of her captor pinned her to the ground.
Baby blue eyes gazed into the gaunt face of the man who held Molly down, his dull muddy brown eyes locked on her tear streaked cheeks. "Hello, mamma." He hissed, his fetid breath bringing a fresh bought of tears and a whole new round of struggles. He only laughed.
Not again, not again! I can't be raped again, I'd rather he kill me!
Molly thought frantically as the man grinned, showing a set of jagged and broken teeth. He barely looked human, he was so grotesque, so utterly frightening.
"Aren't you just a tasty little morsel?" he hissed, coming in closer to her face, using one knee to force her legs apart, one gnarled hand moving to push her skirt up her thigh. Molly bit down on the bony hand covering her mouth, tasting blood and drawing a curse from her tormentor. "Bitch!"
"I'd get off the lady, if I were you." A soft clear voice sounded behind the struggling couple. The man atop her turned his head, his lank greasy hair falling into her eyes and making her want to gag all over again.
"Mind your own damned business." He growled, his voice a series of rough gravely sounds meshed together into something resembling a human voice. "This ones mine!"
Molly still couldn't see the man who tried to come to her rescue, but she couldn't wait to lay eyes on someone brave enough to do what he was doing. She tried to calm herself, if she was quiet, if she was still, he'd forget about her a moment and at the right second he'd distract the asshole for her savior.
"Hardly." Came the droll reply, "She'd probably rather shoot herself then have your filthy hands on her. Now, I ask you once more. Get off the lady, or we'll have to see which one of us is really the better man, hrm?" Molly couldn't believe it! That low, sensual voice sounded... yes, it sounded amused!
"I've killed so many of your kind; one more shouldn't pose much of a problem." Now, that confused Molly. What kind? Who? What? Huh? Well, she'd see soon enough, and she really didn't care what kind of anything her savior was, so long as he got her out of this predicament.
"Heh, I'm going to look forward to proving you wrong." That voice, he sounded like some supremely masculine angel. Molly's heart quickened in spite herself, please, let him save her, she dared to hope. There was a moment of silence, and then it was as if the very wind about them clapped and there was a flurry of leather on flesh. She felt a pressure on her body, and then suddenly the man atop her was ripped from his perch, leaving long fingernail marks along her inner thigh.
Molly scrambled back immediately, drawing in her frightened panted breaths. She turned, looking for the two men who fought over her, fought over her safety, and what she saw stunned her into stillness when she really should be standing and running towards her home.
The man who'd tackled her stood, hunched over as if he couldn't quite get his back to behave properly. His hands were out in front of him, long bony fingers tapering off into a set of wicked looking claws, one simply couldn't call them fingernails. His long hair was grayish brown and matted to a skull which appeared sunken and dead. But it wasn't her captor that stole her breath away, it was her savior.
Long blonde hair bleached platinum by the moonlight hung about his broad shoulders, his incredibly sensual mouth was pulled into a perpetual smile, even as the wicked man struck out at him with his claws and again and again. Her savior sidestepped so quickly her eyes could barely follow him, his ankle-length white leather trench coat swirling in a very al-la-Matrix manner. Green eyes flashed with fury as her savior raised one hand to pull something from his back, and with the sweet swishing sound that comes with drawing a blade he danced away from his opponent flashing steel.
"You will no longer feed off the innocent." Came the soft words, and for a moment Molly thought his eyes appeared sad, distraught and yet full of certainty. She held her breath, what would come next... she had a feeling she'd never forget what she saw tonight, as if the very image of this white clad man would be burned into her brain for the rest of her life.
He leapt so suddenly, his opponent gasped and tried to sidestep, almost as quickly as her savior had moved before, but not quick enough. Never quick enough. The blade arched downward in an avenging flash of silver. Molly wanted to cover her eyes, to turn away from the gruesome sight, and yet she couldn't force herself to. She watched as her savior sliced the man from shoulder to hip, and all without a sound. She saw the man begin to separate, each half of his body slipping away from the other with a sickeningly wet sound, and then at the last moment he burst into a puff of dark mist, fluttering almost peacefully to the cold wet pavement.
With a sigh, her savior drew out a cloth from inside his coat, wiping his blade clean as he turned to her and re-sheathed his sword. She realized, belatedly, that she should be afraid of this man who just saved her life, or at least her virtue but she couldn't make herself afraid, she couldn't summon up the energy it took to run from him, so instead she sat there on the cold pavement as he knelt down, taking one of her small shaking hands.
"Molly... Shhh..." he whispered, surprising her by the use of her name. "Look here, look at me." He said, and she obeyed him without question, gazing into his incredible green eyes. Eyes that looked like new leaves in spring, so bright and vibrant.
"Who are you?" she whispered softly, her voice wavering with all that she'd seen, all that she'd just been through.
"My name is Tristan..." he replied softly, "but you can think of me as your guardian Angel." He said, and then smiled. A real, knock your socks off make ya faint, heart fluttery smile.
There was a flash.
