Invite Me In (Patreon)

if you could do a FxF of a vampire (who preferably is seen as a monster and rather cold) and human who could be absolutely terrified but tries to keep up a brave facade so she doesn't look weak. If the human got pinned up against a wall, I wouldn't complain. 

“You spiked the town’s blood supply. That’s a bold move, for a human.”

Liv whirled around – and instantly realised her mistake. She shouldn’t have wasted time turning. She should have sprinted for her front door, and hoped to get the keys in the lock and herself into the safe borders of her home before the vampire caught up with her. Maybe, just maybe, the vampire wouldn’t catch up with her if she hadn’t had a proper chance to feed.

A beat of silence passed between them, as she strained to get a good look at the creature standing in the shadows. The darkness made it impossible. There was only those bright eyes, glinting like a cat’s in the light, and that voice. They always had such lovely voices for such terrible beings.

“I spiked the hospital bags, yes.” Liv squared her shoulders and kept her voice level, seeing no point denying it if the vampire was certain enough to have come. To have revealed herself. “They’re needed by people other than you. They’re for emergency transfusions. You can’t just keep taking them.”

“I can’t?” It sounded less a question of ability or morality, and more a mocking haughty little thing. Because what, really, could Liv or any human do to stop a vampire unless they were a hunter? And most humans were not hunters. “Perhaps,” the vampire took a step closer, into the pooling light of Liv’s porch, “you would prefer I fed fresh?”

The vampire was, as vampires were prone to be, beautiful. Designed to entice their prey into getting closer, into dropping their guard, in staring too long. Liv still couldn’t take her eyes off her. She still felt her heart give a treacherous little skip.

She clamped down a shiver, but didn’t manage to keep from taking the smallest of steps back. Her hand dipped into her pocket as subtly as she could, curling around her keys. Not that having a set of keys between her knuckles would do her much good against a vampire.

“No,” the vampire mused, taking another slow, predatory step towards her in response. “You would rather my kind didn’t exist at all. You think us monsters.”

“You are monsters.”  Liv’s mouth felt unbearably dry, but she refused to feel bad about the statement, even as she took another step back. She was nearly at the door. “Everywhere you go, people die or they get hurt. Whether you intend to kill them or not.” She jutted her chin up. “I think you’ll have better luck hunting somewhere else. As long as I’m here, it won’t be worth your while to stay. I’ll make sure of it.”

It wasn’t that she was entirely unsympathetic to their plight, to a vampire’s absolute need to feed, only that sympathising with how difficult it was didn’t change the facts.

A vampire who didn’t feed on human blood quickly grew savage. It wasn’t the nature of their kind, or their curse, to be able to sustain themselves on animal blood alone. They would be unable to bear sunlight then, they wouldn’t be able to glamour someone as effectively, and they wouldn’t be able to switch forms. Eventually, inevitably, they would lash out for a taste of what they really wanted.

A vampire who only fed on unfresh blood, or who hadn’t fed in a while, was limited in their powers but not as greatly as one who never fed on human blood at all. It was considered the middle ground. Those vampires were stronger and faster than an average human, capable of weaker persuasions, but no real mind control. Still dangerous. And, as she’d pointed out, still disadvantaging the humans who did in fact very much need their blood.

A vampire who fed on regular fresh human blood was the most powerful. There were towns and cities, increasingly, ruled by such vampires. Alluring, deadly, unquestioned by the humans they kept as pets and servants. Liv had heard the stories. The ancient ones were the worst. The strongest. The least human in their unbeating hearts.

No way was Liv letting that happen to her town.

The vampire’s head tilted, her hair spilling silken over one shoulder. Her gaze stayed fixed, unblinking and hungry, on Liv’s face.

Liv’s stomach flipped. How old, though, was the vampire in front of her? How screwed was she? It was nearly impossible to tell before it was too late.

“Now,” she said, affecting the same calm as before as she drew her keys from her pocket. “If you’ll excuse me, I think we both—"

The vampire was on her in an instant, pinning her against the door. In mere moments, Liv’s wrists were trapped uselessly above her head, held fast by but one of the vampire’s hands.

Liv’s breath caught ragged in her throat. She thrashed, of course, struggling against the grip, but—

“Oh,” the vampire mused. “I was just passing through, actually. But I think you might be exactly a reason to stay.” She leaned in, her lips ghosting along Liv’s neck as she inhaled. “So fresh. So brave. So passionate. It’s been a while since I’ve come across a human with so much stupid fire still in them. It almost makes me feel warm again.”

Liv froze. She didn’t dare to swallow, to do anything that might bring more attention to her jugular, as if that might save her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” the vampire said, the honeyed purr abruptly gone from her voice, leaving it icy. There was nothing warm there. “And you are not excused, human. Invite me in.”

It was not a glamour; a true invitation couldn’t be compelled.

Liv allowed herself to squeeze her eyes shut, bracingly, just for a second while the vampire was too close to see her do it. When she spoke, her voice was, once again, casual.

“Now why would I ever do that?” she asked. “Because you’re a vampire, and I should thus bow to your immortal greatness?”

Ultimately, a vampire wanted an easy meal, right? So maybe if Liv made it hard enough…

The vampire’s teeth scraped her neck. Her grip tightened.

“Because,” she said. “Seeing as you ruined my plans, you can either invite me in and let me feed on you, like a good girl, and justify it to yourself that you’ve made some noble sacrifice saving the rest…or…” The vampire pulled back.

Liv snapped her eyes open and their gazes locked. Up close, the vampire’s was an abyssal black, as haunting as it was lovely and crap only the older vampires had eyes like that. Liv swallowed.

The vampire wet her lips, vivid red in the light, right before the porch light guttered out as its timer went off. They were left standing in the dark.

“Or,” the vampire continued. “I’ll cut through half the town for what you did and take the rest for my own until I get bored. Which would you prefer?”

She sounded bored, like the enslaving of an entire town (small and rural and out of the way as it may have been) was nothing.

“You might do that anyway,” Liv managed. “After you feed on me.”

“Your blood is not spiked,” the vampire replied. “I can smell it. Do you imagine you can stop me biting down, right here and now?”

“You’re not doing it yet.”

“Only because you’re currently being rather entertaining, and because I find it uncivilised to have you up against a wall. Make a choice before I find you less amusing to indulge with a deal.”

Liv could feel her heartbeat like a dull roar in her ears. Everything other than the vampire, her cold unyielding fingers and the sharp press of her fangs, felt distant and far away. She could well believe that, aside from blood, vampires were beings of hedonism. Especially if they lived long enough.

“Who knows, human.” The vampire turned her around, off the wall, so they were both facing the door with Liv’s hands still caught behind her back. She pressed her mouth to Liv’s throat once more, just under her ear, above her frantically racing pulse. “You might enjoy yourself. Lots of humans do. It takes a certain kind to antagonise mine, doesn’t it?” Her free hand finally rose, dragging the key’s edge up Liv’s chest. “They enjoy the rush.”

There was a rush, that was the worst part. Something giddy about facing off against something so terrifying and walking away from it. It made her feel alive. She had heard stories, too, about what being fed on could be like for a human. Why else would vampires have gained such entry into their worlds in the first place?

The porch light flickered on again with their movements, and Liv caught a glance of her own reflection alone in the glass of the door. Her eyes were wild, pupils blown with fear (and other things), her hair messy from their tousle.

No reflection. This was definitely an older vampire. The kind who wasn’t just bluffing about what they could do, right? Though that only raised a dozen more questions, none of which were currently the point.

Liv’s stomach swooped again.

The vampire tapped the metallic-edged key against Liv’s lower lip, in final repetition of the question. Tick tock.

Liv forced herself to plaster on a smile, like this was an ordinary social call, like she wasn’t so out of her depth that it was actually funny.

“Come in,” she said. “Let me offer you a drink.”

The vampire opened the door, and pushed Liv inside.

“Oh, it would be my pleasure.”

The door locked shut behind them.