Stepping into the shower, Alek's thoughts drifted to the girl currently cuffed to his bed. He had no valid explanation for anything he's done when it comes to her. Why did he make that challenge? He should have dragged her sexy ass back to Nicholas, not cheat his way into making her stay the weekend. It was only Friday evening, what the hell was he planning to do with her for the rest of the weekend? How the hell was he planning on resisting the urge to sink his already aching cock into the warm depths of her cunt, with her lying right beside him in his bed, tempting him to hell and back with that sweet scent of strawberries? And what the hell possessed him to reveal that not only is he a vampire but so is Nicholas? He knew that would not going to go over very well with the other vampire.
That knowledge had the potential to cost her life. He didn't like the idea of her dying, hell he didn't like the idea of her being hurt at all. He would fix this though, he was old enough to have mastered the art of compulsion. Once he was done having his fun with her he would simply compel her to forget everything about him and whatever would be discussed over the next few days. He would wipe clean her memory and make sure she doesn't come back to his house again, then he would find her sister and do the same. They could all move forward with their lives and pretend that this whole weekend never happened, and even Nicholas would never have to find out.
With his situation finally figured out, Aleks turned his focus to his throbbing manhood. It had been hard ever since he saw Verochelle in his basement the first time. Not even the twenty minutes it took to drive that annoying little blonde back to town was enough to settle it.
He took the thick stalk of his cock into his soapy hands and began stroking it slowly while thinking of the little temptress on his bed. Her hands were so small he wondered if she would be able to wrap them around his entire cock. What would those full lips feel like wrapped around him? In his mind's eye he pictured her on her knees with those big doe eyes staring up at him as her little pink tongue snaked out to lick the tip of his throbbing member. He growled at the image and his hand began to stoke his swollen shaft in earnest. As the head of his cock appeared and disappeared around his fist he made up his mind to know not only how her mouth would feel around his cock, but also to know what it would feel like to be submerged inside her warm core. With a low groan, he came harder than he had in months.
*****
Verochelle knew this alleyway, she knew exactly what was going to happen in it. She knew this dream well. She'd had it every night for the past eight years. And try as she might, she could never change the way it ended. No matter what she did, or how loud she would scream, it always ended the same way, she always woke up with a broken heart.
She watched helplessly as her brother dragged the pretty brunette behind the dumpsters by her hair.
"I'm sorry I have to do this," he would say to her. "He wants you to know you did this to yourself, I'm so sorry." Then he would beat her for what seemed like forever to Chella; until the girl's screams dulled down to nothing but pathetic little whimpers. Then he would start ripping her flimsy little blouse off.
And this is the part where the younger more naive Chella would step out from the shadows she was hiding behind. The fourteen year old who believed her brother could do no wrong; the one who practically idolised the man who had so viciously brutalised the pretty girl.
She had silently followed her brother when he left their apartment late that night. Unlike her sister, Chella was a light sleeper. She always followed him when he left the house, when he thought they were asleep. She wanted to know everything she could about him, she wanted to be just like him. Chella had watched him meet with a shady looking man dressed in a well-made suit. She thought that maybe it was someone who had a job for them to do, but something about him didn't seem right; and neither did Andre when he left their short encounter. She then followed him to a pretty shady part of town and watched as he stalked the girl who was presently bleeding beneath him.
Chella didn't understand what she was seeing. How could he be doing this? Her brother was a good man. This wasn't the same man who had raised her and her sister when both their parents died five years ago.
"We may be thieves, little Bunny, but we are good people at heart. We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have to."
She had believed him when he said that. But this wasn't what good people did. This wasn't part of their game of survival.
"Andre? What are you doing?" she would ask him.
"What I have to do, little Bunny. I'm so sorry. I have to do it, it's all my fault."
His voice would be filled with remorse and shame, but his eyes were cold. Not the same vibrant hazel brown eyes that all three of them shared as siblings, but dead cold eyes that sent a shiver down Chella's spine.
Then Chella would spot the shinny little revolver sticking out the girl's purse. She watched as the younger version of herself reached for the gun and pointed it at her brother. She could still remember the feel of the cold steel behind her fingers; as well as the weight of the pistol.
Some nights she would scream at herself, try to convince her young self to not pull the trigger, to find another way to stop what Andre was doing. But no matter how much she pleads, the same thing happens every night.
Two bullets to Andre's back. Then there would be blood everywhere. So much blood; and everything would go quiet.
That was not how it had happened in real life though. After the shots there were police and ambulance sirens, they were so loud. And the lights, they were everywhere on that night.
But not in her dream. In her dream she found herself in a white sterile room, with no other sounds except for the beeping machines keeping her brother alive, despite the two bullets she had lodged firmly in his back. They told her he would never wake up, that he was brain dead.
He looked like the Andre she knew when he slept like this. So peaceful, but all she wanted was to scream at him until he woke up, just like Zan did to him every morning at home. Chella knew her screaming wouldn't wake him though. His eyes would never open.
But just as she was about to walk away, differently from all her other dreams she'd had, Andre's eyes begin to flutter, so did Chella's heart. Her brother was waking up, she was finally going to be able to look into her brother's eyes, after eight years. She could finally tell him how sorry she was.
"Andre?"
Though as he opened his eyes something else was different. In the place of his hazels eyes were pools of black, so dark they almost seemed hallow.
"Oh God!" Chella woke with a jump. She would have jumped clear of the bed if one of her wrist were not cuffed to post of a large unfamiliar bed. Instead she hung precariously on the side of bed. Just as she lost her handle on the post and was about to make contact with the hard wood floor, strong arms gently enveloped her small frame.
She allowed herself only a moment of contentment as she stared into the brilliant green eyes of a man she knew was the reason for the drastic change in her dreams. It felt so safe being in his arms that she almost let herself enjoy the feeling.
But this man was not safe at all. He was a dangerous predator. Undeniably beautiful, but a predator nonetheless.
"You," she said accusingly. "You're a vampire."
Aleks shifted his little temptress back on to the bed and adjusted the towel that now hung insecurely around his waist.He enjoyed the look of discomfort he saw on her face when she finally realised he was naked beneath the towel.
"I am," he said arrogantly as though it were something to be proud of. If only his 'arrogant face' didn't look so much like his 'sexy as hell face'.
Chella moved as far from the side of the bed as her cuffed wrist would allow.
