dropped open. “You are paying for that, ma douce .”
“Prove it.”
He smiled and flew through the air towards me, but I was ready and so 'in the zone'. I danced out of his reach, leaping into the air like a ballerina, twisting my body into a spin, bringing my arms in against my chest, crossing my legs as I flew and spinning away from where I had moments before been standing. I heard his body hit the wall behind where I had been and then the grunt of air escaping him. Spin fighting is still new to me, but it's something Nero has been making me practise for weeks now. When it works it's great, when it doesn't, it can cause more problems than it's worth. Tonight it worked, but I still hadn't been able to land my stake. For that, simply escaping Michel was not going to cut it, I would have to get close.
I carried my spin on around the room, ramping up the speed, so that when I was back near Michel, I was just a blur. Most vampires are in awe of this move, usually allowing a small window of opportunity to land the stake. Michel has seen this manoeuvre before, but every time he has stood stunned while I executed it, I had planned on that being the case again. But, maybe he wanted me to drive that damn car more than I had realised, because he came towards me, rather than standing stock still. And the resulting crash of our bodies against each other stole my breath and rattled my brain, so when he pinned me to the floor, my arms both held firmly above my head, by just one of his hands, I was seeing stars and unable to do a thing about it.
“You are amazing,” he breathed against me, his own chest rising and falling on top of me with such speed. I struggled, trying to buck free of his body on top of mine, I even tried to throw my head against him, but he held firm and just kept his face out of reach.
A simple twist of his hand and a soft thump of my wrists against the mat on the floor beneath us and my stake fell away. I was disarmed and unless I could move him and get to my stake this was over. His free hand came up and stroked my hair out of my face, I refused to look at him, to admit defeat. He knew I wouldn't concede, so he didn't ask. He just gripped my hair tightly, almost painfully and turned my head to the side, exposing my neck. I fought him, I pushed against his hold, almost as though he was my enemy and his intentions weren't carnal but murderous. I would not give up. I would not show fear. I would never give an inch.
I tried to wriggle my body beneath him, to get a leg free to maybe knee him in the groin, but he just growled and manoeuvred himself between my legs, pushing against me, flattening me, stilling me. He held me there for a full minute, my heart in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I don't know why they were there, I just guess I don't like losing.
When he sensed I had settled, he slowly lowered his mouth to my neck, softly kissing my pulse, licking over the top of its rapid beat, grazing his teeth against my skin. I wanted his bite, I wanted it with every fibre of my body, but this was a battle and I would not give in .
I twisted my arms and rolled my body at the same time, almost managing to upset him and throw him off me. I'm stronger than I used to be and I think I caught him momentarily off guard. For a second, just a split second, I thought I had him. His body weight shifted, I felt my back leave the floor and my foot gained purchase so I could use my leg to further push against his hold and then he rallied, growled, gripped my hair tightly, pulling me back to the ground and twisting me painfully on my side and his fangs pierced my skin.
The bite was excruciating. I don't think he realised he had not tempered it all. Usually the sting lasts only a split second, but this time he was too caught up in the fight to think and he let me feel the force of his dominance, the right of his win, through the pain at my neck. I whimpered, managing not to scream, although perhaps a scream would have
“Prove it.”
He smiled and flew through the air towards me, but I was ready and so 'in the zone'. I danced out of his reach, leaping into the air like a ballerina, twisting my body into a spin, bringing my arms in against my chest, crossing my legs as I flew and spinning away from where I had moments before been standing. I heard his body hit the wall behind where I had been and then the grunt of air escaping him. Spin fighting is still new to me, but it's something Nero has been making me practise for weeks now. When it works it's great, when it doesn't, it can cause more problems than it's worth. Tonight it worked, but I still hadn't been able to land my stake. For that, simply escaping Michel was not going to cut it, I would have to get close.
I carried my spin on around the room, ramping up the speed, so that when I was back near Michel, I was just a blur. Most vampires are in awe of this move, usually allowing a small window of opportunity to land the stake. Michel has seen this manoeuvre before, but every time he has stood stunned while I executed it, I had planned on that being the case again. But, maybe he wanted me to drive that damn car more than I had realised, because he came towards me, rather than standing stock still. And the resulting crash of our bodies against each other stole my breath and rattled my brain, so when he pinned me to the floor, my arms both held firmly above my head, by just one of his hands, I was seeing stars and unable to do a thing about it.
“You are amazing,” he breathed against me, his own chest rising and falling on top of me with such speed. I struggled, trying to buck free of his body on top of mine, I even tried to throw my head against him, but he held firm and just kept his face out of reach.
A simple twist of his hand and a soft thump of my wrists against the mat on the floor beneath us and my stake fell away. I was disarmed and unless I could move him and get to my stake this was over. His free hand came up and stroked my hair out of my face, I refused to look at him, to admit defeat. He knew I wouldn't concede, so he didn't ask. He just gripped my hair tightly, almost painfully and turned my head to the side, exposing my neck. I fought him, I pushed against his hold, almost as though he was my enemy and his intentions weren't carnal but murderous. I would not give up. I would not show fear. I would never give an inch.
I tried to wriggle my body beneath him, to get a leg free to maybe knee him in the groin, but he just growled and manoeuvred himself between my legs, pushing against me, flattening me, stilling me. He held me there for a full minute, my heart in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I don't know why they were there, I just guess I don't like losing.
When he sensed I had settled, he slowly lowered his mouth to my neck, softly kissing my pulse, licking over the top of its rapid beat, grazing his teeth against my skin. I wanted his bite, I wanted it with every fibre of my body, but this was a battle and I would not give in .
I twisted my arms and rolled my body at the same time, almost managing to upset him and throw him off me. I'm stronger than I used to be and I think I caught him momentarily off guard. For a second, just a split second, I thought I had him. His body weight shifted, I felt my back leave the floor and my foot gained purchase so I could use my leg to further push against his hold and then he rallied, growled, gripped my hair tightly, pulling me back to the ground and twisting me painfully on my side and his fangs pierced my skin.
The bite was excruciating. I don't think he realised he had not tempered it all. Usually the sting lasts only a split second, but this time he was too caught up in the fight to think and he let me feel the force of his dominance, the right of his win, through the pain at my neck. I whimpered, managing not to scream, although perhaps a scream would have
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