FSE

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Filthy. The streets of London were filthy as the young wolf made his way down them, the metal work on the heels of his boots clinking with each step down the cobble stone street. Soft ivory colored fur covered his body, pure and clean. Smoke floated up towards the sky as he let out a slow breath, his hand moving up from his pocket and plucked the cigarette from his lips, a bit of ash floating down to the ground, hissing softly as it found a small puddle of dirty water in the gutter. A few months ago he would've been in a handsome cab, being escorted in like the son of a wealthy merchant he was, but that was a few months ago, before his father's business had started to go south. Before the drinking had begun. Before Brandon had run away.

The young wolf paused at a street corner, his sun gold eyes glinting in the torch light above him. The cigarette dropped to the ground, his heel coming down on it in a loud clink before the sound of metal grinding against stone was heard. When his father had begun to drink constantly he had already begun gathering what money he could and made plans to run away. His father had found out and cut off his funds completely, far before he was ready to leave, but there was little choice left to him. Taking a few clothes and what little money he had been able to save he fled from his homeland of Ireland. But things had not fared well for him beyond that point. His funds ran out far quicker than he had figured they would, but he had made it to London with only a piece of silver remaining, chances are it marked the last bit of money left to the Frost family.

He had negotiated a place to live in exchange for his work at a local blacksmith's shop, working as a runner for the aging bull he was given a small bed and two meals a day. It wasn't the kind of living the former aristocrat was used to, but it beat sleeping in the gutter. It was through delivering a sword that he had found out about a big party at the home of Richard Lestelivs, a well known shipping magistrate, and there was talk that he was planning on choosing an heir to his business from the people who attended the party, something Brandon had been thoroughly interested in, a way to secure his life finally.

Moving again he looked up at the huge mansion, some said it had been there before London had ever been built, that its owner was an ancient vampire, but those who had seen Richard said he barely looked a day over thirty, so strange that he was retirring so early on into his life, but that was none of the wolf's concern. He slowly approached the massive wrought iron gates, no guards flagging it, no one checking for invitations or vagabonds trying to rob the wealthy people inside. Brandon mearly shrugged, it wasn't his place to judge another person's kindness, nor was he going to turn down the chance to be filthy rich. Stepping slowly, the click of metal on stone following him up the path to the huge manor, the sounds of the party drifting out the open windows. The scent of good food, fine wine and greed drifting over him as he moved through the door way. His red thigh length overcoat being casually handed to a thin feline footservant who delicately took it to hang with the other coats. Smirking, he continued to move into the home, his charcoal double breasted suit blended him in perfectly with the crowd, the legs of his pants over the knee high black leather riding boots. An intricately knotted wine red silk tie was around his throat, making good his look as a wealthy person.

Shaking his head slightly, his shoulder length ebony hair fell across his left eye, hiding the golden hue as he moved into the party, his eyes sliding appraisingly over the crowd, rich people, and lots of them. "Great," he breathed softly, a hint of an Irish accent in his voice. His right hand dipped into a pocket, slidding a brushed black cigarette case out, his thumb pressing the button on the side. The lid flipped back, nine perfectly rolled cigarettes inside, his last nine at that, might as well enjoy them among a rich crowd. Selecting one at random, his fingers tugged it free and placed the end between his lips, the case clicking quietly as he shut and pocketed it. Digging a match out, he flicked his thumb nail across the head, the acrid scent of burning sulphur floating to his nose as he brought the flame to the end, drawing air through the tobacco until an ember formed, glowing slightly, a whispy trail of smoke raising from the end as he let the match fall away. His steps clicked softly as he moved through the crowd, seeking out Lestelivs, hoping to get in the tiger's good graces quickly. The crowd was of mixed species, furres of all shapes and sizes dancing, drinking and exchanging stories of their lives with one another in voices that were far louder than were required. His shoulder brushed against another wolf's as he continued to walk, his attention caught by the throaty voice growling, "Watch it."

Pausing in mid stride, he turned slightly, a smirk on his lips as he plucked the cigarette from them, "Watch what?" he growled in a sarcastic tone, his eyes widening slightly as they found the scar covering the wolf's left eye and the long sword sheathed across his back, "I'm doing alot more watching than you are." Even in the face of a potential ass whooping he was still as cocky as ever.

The taller wolf slapped his thigh as he laughed for a minute, his face losing that soul chilling look it had held a moment ago, "And here I was thinking I was the only person here with a sense of humor. Vincent Curtis," he chuckled as he extended a gauntlet covered paw, the soft sound of chain mail armor rustling beneath the long sleeved black tunic he wore.

"Brandon," he said as he gripped the wolf's paw, wincing slightly as he felt the powerful grip close on his hand, "Brandon Frost."

Shaking his head slightly he released the white canine's hand, "I was about to get a drink, care to join me?" Curtis asked as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards a massive bar along one wall, several party goers clustered around it.

"Sure," Brandon said as he dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel, "Sounds like it'll be fun."

Several minutes and 3 shots of whiskey each they were laughing at an older stallion attempting to court a female lapine who couldn't be anything more than 20, and that was a stretch. "You know what's really sad Brandon," Vincent laughed as he slid back another shot, "That's not a woman he's talking to."

His eyes closed as he shook his head, "Wha..." He looked closely, a laugh leaving him a beat later, attracting the attention of several ursines near by. "So why are you here Vincent?"

"My friend and former lover invited me here," he said softly as he picked up the burbon on the rocks he had ordered a moment ago, "She's a great friend and fantastic in the bed to boot, but she's not meant for me, anything that happens between us from here on in would only make life harder for the both of us." He let his eye slide across the crowd, picking out Veronica easily, she stood apart from the rest of the crowd, talking in a bored manner with a sweaty palmed youth, sexual intent in the lapine's dirt brown eyes. He caught her moon hued orbs, his cobalt blue eye boring into hers as they exchanged a few private mental words before he broke the connection.

"Wish I knew how that was," Frost said as he brought another shot to his lips, the amber liquid burning as it slid down his throat, a warm fuzzy feeling begining to wrap around his brain.

"You'll find yourself one eventually, don't worry about that." Vincent shifted slightly on the leather covered stool he occupied. He brought a jet black cigarette to his lips, a servant striking a match the second he saw the tobacco and held it out. After his smoke was lit, he slid off his seat, "Have a look around the party, try hanging out around the western wall, thats the best place to find one. I'm sure we'll meet again, Frost." With that, the black wolf was gone, only a thin cloud of smoke remaining.

********

The party had lasted for hours, the high society of London had all turned out to the gala event that Richard Lestelivs had put on, but Veronica could care less. She was sick and tired of being told what to do by the man whom all vampires considered to be the father of their kind. She did not have a father, she was among one of the six remaining ancients, neither did her twin Victoria, they were both souls that heaven and hell had rejected. They had appeared on earth a little over 10,000 years ago, and by that time Richard had already been well into his existence, he had been born of an angel and a demon's love affair and cursed with the task of keeping all other vampires in check as long as they existed.

Her long black and plum gown flowing around her with each step, matching her pure black fur cut with lavender marking, her stilletto heels clicking each time them met the polished marble, eyes turning each time she neared someone, mortals disgusted her, all big talk and no action. She turned her beautiful face towards a disturbance in the crowd, her silver eyes widening as she saw smoke rising from the corner of the room everyone was fleeing from, "Lex," she growled

Veronica moved through the crowd to the corner that people were avoiding like it was on fire. Though in all actuality it was. Veronica tapped it out with her foot and took the candle from the crazed looking wolfess, "Look I said don't kill people, Amelia. But I didn't say start Richard's bloody house on fire!" She growled, blowing the candle out and chucking it into the crowd, pleased that she hit someone, judging by the exclaimation of anger. She cocked her head at the beautiful female rocking back and forth in the corner. She'd known Amelia Lex for just under 500 years and by this point she was getting ridiculous. She was black furred but her eyes, markings, and hair were a fierce glowing cobalt. A pity such a brilliantly gorgeous female was absolutely insane. She was fueled on hate and revenge, ever since the night she got raped and murdered by a group of 12 or so really angry lesbians. Sounds hilarious, when said that way, but she had been sodomized and vaginally raped with a broken whiskey bottle. After she died she was sent to hell and given a choice, get sent to heaven and live happily ever after or be turned into a shadow demon and seek revenge on any and all that she thought deserved a violent death. Obviously she went with the second and now 500 or so years later she was just short of going crazy and murdering every single thing she came across. Veronica shook her head softly, just then coming to the end of her wits with the female as she looked up desperately.

"Veronica, can I please kill someone?"

Veronica shook her head, "No!"

Amelia writhed helplessly, letting out demonic mewling noises, "Please! Just one! I need to smell blood, need to taste it, to bathe in it!" She growled, sounding aroused.

Veronica hissed in anger and a violent sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed from the empty corner, "KNOCK IT OFF!" She growled, hefting the lovely girl off the floor, carrying her like something filthy to the door, people jumping out of her way. As they passed through the very brightly lit foyer Amelia screamed in pain, kicking and jerking, trying to get free. Veronica slapped her across the face again, "KNOCK IT OFF, Lex!" She snarled, tossing the girl a good 70 or so yards from Richard's home, "Go get a drink and so help me if I sense you killing someone I will beat you within a fucking INCH of your life, woman!" she slammed the door, hissing at the people staring at her, all of the scurrying away in heart stopping fear. She stormed back into the ballroom, her gown swishing angrily around her. She stopped at the bar, taking several shots of her 'fathers' most expensive whiskey before she turned around, feeling much better just then. She moved off, after a moment of deep even breathing, to locate Vincent, she needed someone who could chill her out, and her lover had always been good for that.

********

Vincent moved to the balcony like a shadow, his clothing of muted black and gray helped him with this, the long sword strapped to his back drawing attention from time to time. He leaned heavily against the stone railing, looking out over London with a bit of a sigh, a thin trail of smoke leaving his lips as he brought the cigarette away. After two millenia life had become boring, he had seen and done everything most mortals only dreamed about, and then some. He had seen the rise and fall of so many empires, been apart of thousands of important lives, but the past was exactly that, nothing but a memory for him now, people grew old and died, and he remained as he was. Taking another slow drag from the cigarette he sighed again, the smoke leaving his lips like an excorcised wraith, fading away into the cool night air.

He looked up when he heard screaming and a commotion coming from the ball room, his hand half way to his sword before everything quited down, things returning to normal quickly. Returning to his wandering thoughts he let his gaurd down, the armor covered shoulders slumping a bit as he stared out into the night, seeking the strength to continue his existence. He didn't hear the click of the stilleto heels, or the angered grumblings of his lover Veronica as she slumped against the railing next to him. "Daydreaming again Curtis," she breathed, and when he continued to stare into the night she drew back her leg and kicked him in the thigh, the pointed heel slipping between the links of the chain mail over his legs and dug deep into the muscle.

Vincent was torn from his musings by the jolt of pain, a snarl leaving him as he turned, his sword out in a flash of hand forged steel, nearly being swung in a vicious slash before he recognized who had kicked him, "That really fucking hurts Vern," he growled as he sheathed his sword and brought a fresh cigarette out of his tunic, dragging on it for a moment before a cherry formed out of no where.

The stunning wolfess laughed for a moment, her head thrown back before Vincent pushed the cigarette between her lips, the sudden flood of smoke to her lungs shutting her up as she took a thankful drag from the hand rolled cigarette, "Ah, I needed that Vince," she said as she plucked the black cigarette from her lips.

"Of course you did," he said as he lit a fresh cigarette, drawing the slightly minty smoke deep into his lungs, feeling that tingle that it brought with it before it left him in a wispy trail, "So how do you find the high society of London this time around?"

"I am sick of sweaty palmed virgin's who are big talk and no action, Vincent. I think I am turning to lesbianism," she purred sexually before pausing for a slow drag, "It is frowned upon these days, but I enjoy the feel of a woman's mouth on my tits."

The wolf nearly coughed up a lung as he heard the second part of her statement, holding his stomach as he laughed for a moment, "Give it one last chance Veronica, surely there's got to be at least one man in this world for you," he chuckled as he took a drag, "And don't say its me, the sex was good Veronica, but thats all we have to give each other, just alot of blood and carnal lust."

Veronica looked at him with a soft smile before taking a final drag and tossing the cigarette away, "I know kitten," she cooed before leaning over and caressed his cheek a gentle kiss, "I swear I'm going to beat Richard's ass if he doesn't stop trying to control me, he should focus more on my sister, not me."

"Listen to him just this once Vern," Vincent said as he brought the cigarette to his lips and left it hanging there, "He only wants the best for our kind. Humor him this one time, and if you don't find your mate like he predicted, he'll probably give you his blessing to go have a blood orgy with every woman here." He knew that Richard's predictions had never been wrong before, especially when it came to something like this.

She growled low, resisting the urge to go find the ancient and slug him, she was tired of being his little puppet, "I told him he had me until midnight, then he can continue to mold and watch Victoria's life fall apart," she hissed before turning, her heels clicking loudly on the stone floor back into the party.

"Try the western wall," he called after her, watching as her hand came up, middle finger extended, but he chuckled as he saw her begin moving towards the wall he had suggested. He turned back towards the city, his head tilted up a bit as he gazed at the moon, watching the clouds slide over the silver orb, blanketing the balcony in darkness. When they passed and the dim light returned he was gone, only the faint wisps of black smoke.

*******

"I hate crowds," Brandon muttered as he finally made it to the wall, slumping against it tiredly as he dug his cigarette case out, slidding a cigarette free he noted that he only had two left, "Fantastic," he growled as he struck a match against the stone wall, the red head of the match flaring up brightly before he brought the flame to his cigarette, drawing air through it until a bright red-orange ember formed. Waving the match out he blew a thin jet of smoke towards the crowd, his eyes searching the sea of faces for the host of the party, his eyes becoming sidetracked every once in a while as they passed over an alluring female. Shaking his head slowly he slid the silver coin out of his pocket, rolling it lazily across the back of his knuckles, watching the polished metal as it glinted in the torchlight. So odd that this was probably the last of the Frost family fortune.

The golden orbs narrowed as he suddenly sensed something, or someone rather. The coin was pocketed as he looked up, his eyes sweeping the crowd, searching for the source of the alien sensation. They were drawn towards the terrace as a stunning wolfess made her way back into the party, a rather sullen look upon her flawless face.

"Goddesses should be jealous of her," he murmured softly as he watched her curiously, uncertain of the feelings stirring in him. Her face turned towards him, her moon colored orbs locking with his, and the entire party seemed to fade away for the brief second that their gazes were locked. She broke the connection, leaving him dazed and confused as he leaned against the wall, his heart thundering in his chest. Who was she? By the time he had recovered and looked back, she was gone.

********

Veronica came back into the party in a better mood than she had left, but not much. Between Amelia's insatiable blood lust and then Vincent's jokes and slavish obedience to Richard, she was frustrated, both mentally and sexually. She paused in the midst of the crowd as she suddenly felt something hit her our of no where, her jaw going slack as she sucked in a breath, tasting something on the air, her fangs glinting.

Scanning the room quickly she paused as her eyes passed over a rather delicious looking mortal, the wolf's eyes connecting with hers, and she felt it again, arousal like she had never felt before slamming into her loins like an axe. She stared deep into his eyes, seducing him from the inside out, wondering why she felt such attraction to a mortal, although he was a handsome one, he was a mortal, probably another of the sweaty palmed youth, wanting nothing but to take advantage of a rich girl's dowery. "Foolish boy," she whispered before she broke their gaze, slowly cirling around the crowd even as he was left breathless as he leaned against the wall.

She was intrigued by him, the mortal who had stolen the breath from her without doing anything, could Richard have been right? She shook her head as she slowly walked along the wall, stopping a bit from him, leaving some space, curious to see if he would make the first move or not. She growled as a few people moved to the wall, talking loudly of the party, but she had seen his eyes flash to her just seconds before the party goers arrival.

"Quite a party, isn't it?" A voice called softly, not from the trio that had just arrived, but from beyond them, it was him, the youth.

Her mouth opened again as she sucked in a breath, tasting him on the air, her fangs glinting ominously as she licked her lips. Exquisite, that was the only word she could use to describe, like a child virgin's blood. The sweetest thing she had ever smelled, ever tasted. She bit her lower lip a moment, her skin going warm, heat; something she had not felt in nearly 5000 years. Her fur stood on end, her head pitching forward a bit. Something was happening to her, something Richard had used to describe his wife but she and her sister never thought to find. It was either an unquenchable lust or true love. But why was she feeling this for a mortal?

Her eyes glowed slightly before the people blocking him from her sight went half lidded and staggered away as she waved a hand, now able to see him perfectly. Her breath leaving her in a gasp as she took a step forward, taking in every single detail. Swallowing once, she put back on her serene reserve that she lost momentarily as she said, "My father likes to throw big parties for no reason." She whispered, an itallian accent hinting on her voice. She shook her head ever so slightly, realizing that she had just called Richard father without him prodding her to do so, "My name is Veronica Nightshade," She whispered as she dipped her head in a greeting, lowering on the spot in a fashionable curtsy.

The male's eyes widened as he turned to see who had spoken to him, the cigarette falling from his lips as he swallowed nervously, apparently catching himself as his eyes roaming shamelessly over her figure. "And my name is Brandon Frost," he said as he made a rather clumsy looking bow, his hand slidding into his pocket as he straightened, apparently searching for words as he slid out as black case. She eyed the slightly battered case before he opened it, revealing two perfectly rolled cigarettes. "Would you like a cigarette?"

She reached out a delicate hand, gently plucking one from the case, bringing it to her lips she waited for him to take the final one and strike a match, lighting his before she stepped forward, pressing the end of her cigarette to the glowing ember, drawing deeply. A smile graced her lips as she saw his cheeks darken with a blush, his eyes looking embarassed as she took a step back, taking her new found heat with her. "Lovely to meet you, Brandon Frost," she cooed seductively. Letting out a low small stream of smoke she pulled the cigarette away, cocking her head to the side. "What brings you to this lovely little gathering?"

His eyes went to the left, 'Has to make something up, does he?' she thought, a smile on her lips. "My father Gregory Frost sent me here to make business connections for when I take over the London branch of his business." Not the best of lies, but she would humor him for the moment.

"Gregory Frost? Sounds familiar, but I have met so many people in my life," she said to herself as she took a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling away as she watched him lunge towards a couple that had been starring at them, the elderly lapine couple flinching before hurrying away, her ear twitching slightly as she heard the low mutters of disapproval. "People seem to fear you, have you ever thought of acting on that?" She was intrigued by him, a mere mortal who was weaving in her mind, making it hard to breath, her heart squeezing in her chest, as if trying to beat. Shaking her head slightly, as if trying to clear it, why should he be any different than the others?

"I have when I stand to gain from the situation," he chuckled, wisps of smoke floating away from him before he dropped the cigarette in a bowl of soup a servant was carrying high on a tray towards the cluster of tables. He laughed as the recipent saw the tobacco floating in his soup and hurled the bowl into the lapine's face in disgust.

"Try not to disrupt the party too much Brandon, their son is extremely handsom, and my father has been urging me to accept his proposal," she said cooly, watching as the white wolf bristled slightly. How cute, competing for her affection and he barely knew her, should she break her word with the ancient and lure this one away for her own amusement. She smiled wickedly as she turned, her shoulder on the wall, her face mere inches from his as she crushed the cigarette against the wall by his ear, "Good evening, Mr. Frost," she cooed, putting an almost sexual caress on his last name before she moved away, her heels clicking with each step, her tail swaying slightly with each click of her heels.

She moved through the crowd slowly, the trap baited and set, and she had to control herself not to drag him down, rape him and then drain him dry right there. The click of the metal at the heels of his boots let her know that he had taken the bait. Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly, she thought, a sly grin curling across her face as she led him slowly through the crowd in a wide circle before she moved out of the ballroom, into the private wing of the mansion, guests were not allowed to be there unless invited by Richard or a member of his family, but she knew this wolf was far to intrigued by her to even think about the rules.

The plush carpet on the stairs muffled her steps as she mounted the stairs, melting away into the darkness the higher she went, he was hesitating at the base of the stairs still, he did have a little bit of sense, that was good. As he came into her view again she crouched in a particularly dark corner, but the upstairs wing was so dark that no mortal could see, but her eyes saw him perfectly as he looked around dumbfoundedly, his hands half clenched as he heard her shifting a bit, but she gave him no chance to investigate, pouncing on him, shoving him roughly to the floor.

He cried out in surprise as her delicate looking hands curled around his wrists with a grip like iron shakles, his body arching slightly, but her legs moved to straddle him, her body exerting a ton's worth of pressure despite only weighing a little over 160 pounds, forcing him back down to the ground. One of her hands left a wrist before working itself deep into his hair, pulling his head back before her fangs sliced his neck open, just enough to taste him, but not so that if he tasted her blood he would turn. As the slightly copperish liquid touched her tongue a low, sexual moan left her. "A virgin," she gasped.

"No," he whimpered, fighting her all the more as her fangs sliced him again, her tongue catching every stray drop, tasting the fear in his blood, and a hint of betrayal there as well.

"You trusted a woman you just met? Foolish and naive. Hmm." She paused, lifting up and gazing down at his handsome face, "You are different Brandon Frost." She whispers before sealing her lips to his own, pooling everything into the kiss, feeling a charge run through her, her fur on end again as she felt her heart squeeze, the feeling of his lips fueling life into her, if only for a beat. She breathed in his whimper as he went limp, her arms now gently curling under him, a hand stroking his hair back.

"Veronica," a familiar sounding voice called her name rather seductively. She hissed as she lifted Brandon up as if he were a child. Her movements to the room at the end of the hall was a blur. Shutting the door quietly she locked it, letting out another hiss, "That fucker is gonna cause some serious problems in the future, I promise that to you, Brandon Frost. Sit." She ordered, pointing to the bed.

*******

Scared and tired, those were the main things Brandon was feeling at that moment, as well as an insatiable sense of arousal, like nothing he had ever felt. His movements were sluggish as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, the feather matress soft and comforting, but his nerves were still to far on the edge for him to even think of relaxing. The golden orbs watched her carefully as she moved to a large pair of double doors, opening them wide, revealing a private balcony overlooking the Thames. Moonlight spilled into the room, her figured silhouetted by the molten silver light.

"There is vintage scotch in that cabinet if you need something to calm you," she said softly, her head turned to the side, looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes glowing softly in the dim light, "And if its of any comfort, I have decided to not to kill you." She stepped forward after bending down to remove the stilletto heels, from his angle she was just a little shorter than he was.

Bracing a hand on the bed he pushed himself up, staggering slightly as he made his way to the indicated cabinet. His hands rested heavily on the knobs before he pulled the stained glass doors open, revealing several bottles of extremely expensive and rare liquors. Half lidded eyes slid over them for a moment before he reached in and withdrew a bottle of 42 year old scotch. Taking a slightly dusty glass off the shelf beneath the bottle he pulled the cork loose and poured himself a healthy amount of the amber liquid. The bottle thumped heavily on the shelf before he raised the glass to his lips and tipped it back. Gulping the scotch down, he hissed as he felt the liquor burn its way down his throat. "Why is that Veronica?" The glass was set aside before he slowly stepped towards the balcony, leaning heavily against the door frame.

She gazed at the sky, giving him a beautiful profile view as well as a good view of the lost expression on her face, "As you may have gathered I am vampiric. 5000 years or so to the ones born a vampire...they contemplate suicide. Ending it. When we are born so, and not changed, we get to feel everything, see colors, feel warmth. 5000 years into life we lose all of it. I have not seen a color in nearly half my life, not felt warmth, not felt a damn thing but blood lust. I have been cold and heartless and empty. I have thought about killing myself every day since then." Two tears made their way through her fur as her eyes shone, entirely silver as her pupils reflected the moon, "And then I met you, Brandon Frost." she whispers, slowly looking toward him. She grabbed the jeweled clip keeping her knee length plum curls up, jerking it free, hair falling like a silken waterfall, "I met you tonight and it all came back." She whispered, "I can taste again. See again." She turned, leaning agains the balcony, "I can feel again because of you." She breathed, "We vampires are much like wolves. We are meant for ONE being, mortal or immortal, only one is meant for us. I found my soul mate this evening." She murmured, unmoving now as she watches him, a wealth of emotion in the silver globes, her chest not breathing, holding it as she waited for his reaction, "If you do not wish an immortal life, if you do not wish power and endless strength, if you do not wish for eternal love, never ending pleasure and a faithful woman always there...turn away from me now and get back to the party because if you stay, Brandon. You will never leave again." She said, finally falling absolutely silent.

Tears rolled silently down his cheeks as she spoke, feeling her emotions vividly, his hand slowly slipping into his pocket, touching the coin slowly. He had come to this party seeking wealth, a way to fill the void that had always been in his life, but with each passing moment he found that she was what had drawn him to the party, not the wealth, but her. His mind was screaming for him to run, to get as far away from her as possible, to find a different way to live out his life but his heart spoke for the first time in his life, willing him to stay, to take this womans love and return it endlessly, to become one with her. "You are offering me everything that you are, I will give you everything that I am. My body, my heart, my love. Take me, I am yours."

Veronica remained silent for a long moment before she reached behind her and unlaced her gown, letting the wealth of cloth pool around her feet, black silk underthings revealed. Staring at him with her emotion filled eyes she whispered, "You will be worked beyond you limit. You will be broken from your cocky youth into a man. Into an adult vampire. Your bones will break, your muscles will tear and you will bleed like you never have before. Think hard before you decide to let me do this." She whispered as she stepped from the gown, gliding toward him, her eyes never leaving his.

Brandon instantly dropped down onto one knee, his head bowed low, the ebony hair spilling around his face. His future was right there before him, all he had to do was take it. I would rather spend the rest of eternity as your underling than alone for the rest of my short life not knowing your touch at all," he breathed, "Take everything that is me."

He heard the soft sound of her feet stepping towards him, her hand gently touching his shoulder, "Your fate is sealed." His head tilting up to look at her as her eyes took on a sultury look, beckoning him to follow her. By the time he was on his feet she was already into the darkness again, the moon light barely enough for him to see her strip away the black silk. "I will take you as my lover before my pupil, Brandon. Strip." Her fingers snapped, the doors swinging closed behind him.

He jumped slightly as the doors shut, but his hands instantly went to the buttons of his jacket, slidding them free before he let the jacket fall away, his shirt and tie joining it on the floor quickly. Taking a seat in a chair against the wall he fumbled with the buckles on his boots for a long moment before he took a shuddering breath, urging his hands to stop shaking before he continued, slipping the boots off before he stood, stripping his pants off.

His arms were out before him, blindly waving through the air as he moved forward, searching for her, "I can not see, Veronica," he whispered.

"I know," her voice sounded from somewhere in front of him before one of her hands gripped his wrists and pulled him forward. He gasped as he fell against her, his hands instantly going out to brace his fall. One of his palms landed against the bed, the other landing against something that was just as soft, but did not have the same texture as the silk sheets, still just as smooth, but warm. His hand squeezed ever so slightly, still curious as to what his hand was on. When she moaned softly he instantly fell back, his face flushing as a nervous chuckle leaving him.

"I....I uh....I don't know what to do," he stuttered out, his face growing hotter and hotter with each passing second of silence, absolutely positive that she was going to tell him to get out of her room, that she did not want a silly little virgin.

"That innocent?" Her voice cooed from the darkness below him, her body rolling up into his, curling her arms around him, lips at his throat. "How cute." A beat later she rolled with him, putting his back to the bed.

*******

Veronica looked down at him in the darkness as she straddled his waist, her body aching for him, something she'd never experienced in her life. Sure she'd experienced lust and yes she'd sated it hundreds of times, but for once she wanted him and him alone, nothing more. Her moon hued orbs glowed faintly in the pitch black room, which caused one of his eye brows to go up. "Have you ever done anything with a woman Brandon?" she cooed softly as she leaned down, her lips very near his, brushing his gently as she waited for his response, her hands resting on his shoulders.

The male looked sheepishly to the side, still completely blind in the dark, apparently unaware that she could see him. "No," he said, sounding embarassed and ashamed, "Nothing."

"Good," she purred softly before sealing their lips, feeling that charge run through her body again, every single inch of her fur felt like it was end, a soft moan being breathed into the kiss as the male's hands came to rest on her hips, shaking violently as if he was unsure of what to do, which seemed likely. "Means I won't have to break any bad habits."

She broke the kiss, her lips at his throat, tongue parting the fur before she sucked firmly on a spot, breaking blood vessles and leaving a mark, obviously claiming a spot as her kisses continued to go lower, caressing his chest as he arched up slightly, sucking in a hissing breath as her hands slid up his thighs, a smile on her lips as she found that he was already throbbing with need. Oh this poor, poor virgin, his first time would be absolutely mind blowing. Her hand slowly curled around 'him', quickly finding that he was well endowed. At least your ego isn't in vain, she thought as she began to stroke him, instantly rewarded with a loud moan as her thumb slowly rolled back the extra bit of skin that covered his sensitive head, her tongue bathing over it causing him to bow up slightly, moaning loudly as his hands gripped tightly at the sheets, her name being whispered from his lips.

She gave him another few teasing licks, causing a few more moans and soft cries to leave him before she moved back up his body, straddling his waist, the belly of his shaft stroking against those slick and warm folds slicking him up even more, a soft moan leaving her. Oh wow, thats something new, she thought as her hand curled around his base, holding him as she rose up, his head nestled between the silken folds. "Do not hold anything back," she whispered softly in his ear, before she dropped her hips down, enveloping him in the raging liquid heat, a screaming moan leaving him as his body arched up slightly, pushing his hardness deeper inside her, causing a soft howl to leave her as pleasure rocketed through her body, arching back, hands braced behind her as she began to rise and fall on him, knowing full well that he wouldn't last long, the tempo and frequency of his moans spoke volumes of it.

The sensations she was getting were phenomonal, like it was her first time as well. As he began to come closer to that blissful peak she leaned forward, her hips now working him quickly, hoping to distract him from the pain he was about to feel. Her mouth opened wide, fangs lengthening as a soft hiss left her before she sunk them in quickly, piercing fur and flesh and muscle, his sweet innocent blood flooding her mouth as a scream left him, hands clawing at her back as he tried to cope with the pain, whimpers leaving him as she continued to work him, hoping to replace the pain with pleasure as she guzzled his life down.

After a long moment she slid her fangs free, piercing her palm before pressing it to his lips, feeling them weakly suckle at the wound before it all became too much for him, his body bowing slightly as his seed began to shoot from his member, filling her, thin trails begining to drip to sheets as he swallowed her blood as quickly as possible. She still ached for release, being left within reach of that peak, but there was little she could do as his head fell to the side, his body going completely limp as she slid off him, feeling that warmth he'd left inside her begin to slowly dribble out, eliciting a soft giggle from her as she crossed the room, a faint whimper leaving him as he tried to stop her, but found his strength had abandoned him.

She struck a match, lighting a candle, hearing him hiss in pain as the room was suddenly illuminated. It would be less stressful for him to wake to a lit room rather than darkness. "I.......I feel.......faint," he wheezed, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand reaching towards her a final time, the tiny movement was difficult, she knew, but he had to die before she could do anything for him. As his hand fell to the bed she watched his eyes roll back, tasting his final breath on the air. It wasn't painful for him, she was pretty sure at least. She'd never died, she was born dead. She gently eased into his mind, smiling at his final thought. 'So this is what dying feels like,' before he was gone completely.

A smile graced her lips again as she made her way back to the bed, sitting beside his limp body, smoothing fur she'd distrubed with her frenzied love making. Brushing the black locks back from his handsom face she watched him, so unused to the welling tenderness that had taken her. The training would be hard with him, as he was no docile humble male. Humble. She burst into beautiful lafter, holding her stomach with one hand, cutting short as she saw movement. His fist clenched before his body arched up, eyes flashing open as a cry tore itself from his throat, her eyes concerned as he spidered back, curling into a ball and trembling violently.

Her hand came forward slowly took one of his wrists, tugging a bit to get him out of his ball before both her hands took his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "Breathe," she ordered, "You are fine, you don't need to but it will help." Her gaze softened as he sucked down a shuddering breath, his eyes wincing as she shifted, the light from the candle now full on his face. She turned slowly, blowing at the candle, somehow putting it out from across the room. He sighed softly, his shoulders slumping before he winced again, a hand coming up to cup his mouth.

Instantly she ducked down a bit, her neck at his lips, "Bite it...hard. It will stop the pain," she said, another order, the first of many to come. As his fangs pierced her she shuddered hard, her eyes wide as the sensation rocketed through her. She felt a little light headed for the longest moment, not from blood loss but from the fact that he was drinking from her. After what felt like an eternity his fangs came from, his tongue bathing over the wound, the skin knitting itself back together slowly. She leaned back a bit, gazing at his pure white face before she pierced her thumb, dragging it across his cheek, staining the ivory fur with a long stripe of crimson before doing the same to the other side. "For each milestone you reach I will give you another pair," she whispered as she kissed his lips, the marks would never fade, no matter what, he'd carry them for eternity.

He leaned against her after a long moment, his gold eyes half lidded and exhausted. "Sleep Brandon," she cooed, "You will be weak till sun down tonight." His eyes dropped closed a beat later, his breathing becoming deep and even. She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his lips as she watched him sleep, silver eyes on his peaceful face as she whispered softly in his ear, "I love you Brandon," before she leaned back, her head on the soft pillows, his resting on her left breast, his arms curled around her body, a faint snore leaving him, which only made her laugh, he was cute when he was asleep.