Author Topic: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)  (Read 333 times)

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Offline Janine

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[Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« on: Wed, Jun 30, 2010, 02:05 PM »
VX 2010 Vampire Fiction Contest -- Entered by Janine//not eligible for the voting


Author: Janine
Title: Drawn To Your Scent
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Gore, Murder
Disclaimer: The graveyard isn't mine, and neither are the phrases that had to be used for the story, but the rest is all mine.
Pairing: OMC/OFC
Feedback: Yes please.
Archive: Only at VX
Authors Notes: Thanks to my lovely beta Bitten for her support and catching my typos!

--

It's late at night, only a few hours away from dawn, and I'm headed back home to my bed. I work as a nurse, night shift most of the time and voluntarily. I've always been a night person and hate day shifts, so my best friend Linda and I almost always trick the duty roster by trading shifts when she's assigned to night shift and I am not. Our boss and the other nurses don't mind too much, especially since they can count on me to trade with them if necessary as long as I get to work past dusk. Sometimes I wonder if they think I'm crazy, but even if they do, I couldn't care less.

A chilly breeze brushes through the streets and I hug myself, snuggling into my jacket. It's only August, but the nights are longer already, and colder, too. I hear the sound of footsteps and laughter, unusual for this time of the night, and I stop in mid-stride, letting my gaze sweep over my surroundings, suddenly feeling insecure.

There's a block of houses to my left, and across the street lies the city's old graveyard, long-abandoned because legend has it that it's a home to ghosts, zombies, and worse. Generations of children have been frightened with the stories of old until, gradually, the fear had spread so wide that people started to abandon the houses in close proximity of the cemetery.


These days only the most reckless still live here, or those who are too poor to move somewhere else. I'm one of the very few who's neither poor nor particularly reckless, but I like the old graveyard with its weathered tombstones and wilted trees; there's something ethereal about this place and I don't feel afraid at all passing by or even living near it. That the rent is cheap in this district is just all the more incentive to stay.

I strain my ears again but there are no other sounds to be heard. Usually, this part of the city is a very deserted place, and you rarely meet other people. But for some days now I've had the feeling of someone following me, watching me from a distance. I talked to Linda about it but she keeps saying that I'm merely being paranoid.

A yawn escapes my mouth and I shrug the thoughts off; I'm probably just tired and imagining things, as Linda would say, so I resume my walk. Only a few more blocks and a hot shower to go, then I'm all ready to sleep through the day.

Just as I'm about to reach my house, a group of guys emerges from one of the backstreets, almost as if they'd been waiting there for me. "Maybe Linda is right about my alleged paranoia", I think, and keep my head down, lowering my gaze so as not to draw any attention, and putting just a little more speed to my walk. Somehow I know that if I start running now they'll come after me, but walking a little faster should get me back home safely, or so I guess.

Judging by their slurred talking, the men are drunk at best and stoned at worst. I'm not a particularly faithful woman, but I send a quick prayer to whatever god decides to listen before I pass the group, hoping to pass by unnoticed, but one of them decides to grab my arm.

"Hello beautiful," he drawls and lets his foul breath graze over my skin. I shudder and tentatively try to wiggle free from his grasp. "Where ya headed to?" he continues, and my stomach churns as I have to smell his mouth odor again. There's not just alcohol in there but also the stench of rotten teeth. In a way I'm glad that the street is only dimly lit and spares me the rest of his potentially pitiful sight. I see people like him at the hospital every day, I can very well picture the rest of him.

"Please, let me go," I say and slowly bring up my purse, offering the little money I carry to save myself from harm. Thankfully, I always carry my keys in my pants pocket; losing the money will be bad, losing my keys would be a disaster.

The man takes it from my hands and I seize the chance to take a quick look around to see if there's anyone around to help me, but there are only the seven men closing in around me, one smelling worse than the other. Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves and remain calm. Maybe they'll let me go if I don't start wailing like a little girl. I remember the feeling of being followed and can't help but wonder if it was them. And if it wasn't, I sure hope that the other person will come to my aid sometime soon.

The man to my right eyes me from tip to toe and I scold myself silently for picking the tight-fitting shirt hugging my ample breasts over the loose-fitting that morning. He comes closer, encircles me, lets his breath graze over the skin on the back of my neck. I feel goose bumps erupting all over my body as the others draw nearer as well, closing the circle around me.

Sneering and cajoling they push me from one pair of arms into the other. I feel hands all over my head and body, tugging on my shirt, fumbling my breasts, stroking my hair. Disgust ties my stomach into a knot but the feeling is soon replaced by an indescribable feeling of horror as I come to realize that my situation is hopeless. Time seems to stand still, everything merely happens in slow motion. I'm aghast and frozen, unable to move, unable to defend myself and struggling to accept what is inevitably lying ahead of me.

And at that moment the first one falls. Out of the corner of my eye I see a dark shadow flitting behind him and a split second later, the thug falls to the ground, blood splattering violently from a deep cut in his throat. He makes sickening gargling noises as he bleeds to death at my feet, his blood pooling under his body and slowly oozing away into the nearest drain. I should be terrified at the sight, but it gives me an oddly satisfied feeling instead to see his life pour from his veins in a scarlet stream.

Horrified, the thugs stare at their dying companion and as they do, the shadow takes out two more. Two cracking sounds echo loudly in the dark and the men drop down, heads twisted in an unnatural angle, and I know their necks are broken. In the darkness of the alley I'm not able to see more than the shadow flitting by; he blends in with the pitch black of our surroundings as if he is a creature of the night, or a ghost, not once making even the tiniest sound.

The remaining gang members squeal in terror and run for their lives as fast as their legs are able to carry them. I take another glimpse at the corpses at my feet and then, at last, feel the icy chill of terror creep up my spine as the adrenaline flow slowly ebbs. Dropping to my knees first, I pass out right then and there.

When I open my eyes again I see an angelic, yet clearly male face with a concerned expression hovering over mine. It vanishes out of sight again and I feel that I'm being lifted up from the ground and carried away. I close my eyes and bury my face in the chest of this stranger so as not to look back on the scene we're leaving behind.

He enters the graveyard, lays me down on the ground between two tombstones and then sits perched on a grave beside me, watching me attentively. I catch the gaze of his pale blue eyes, a color that almost bleeds to gray in the dim light of the nearby lamp post. Judging by his crouched position he's only a tiny bit taller than I am, an inch or two at most, and he has a slender yet muscular figure hidden under his clothes. How he was able to carry me so effortlessly is beyond me, seeing that I'm not exactly a slender girl myself.

"Who are you?" I ask, curiously, keeping my voice low, the dead men suddenly forgotten at the sight of him.

"My name is Ryan," he answers, his eyes still lingering on me.

"Thank you for saving me," I smile at him and he returns it. For a moment I just stare at him, unabashed, and still digesting what has happened only a couple of moments ago. He merely sits there, still as a statue, and gives me all the time I need to study his face.

His hair is cropped short and even in the faint light it's still too dark to be blond. The eyebrows are rather thick but well-trimmed and neat, not bushy and unkempt as you'd expect. His nose fits the oval shape of his face perfectly and his mouth is one of the most luscious that I've ever seen. Most men have thin upper lips, some have fuller ones, but this man's lips are the epitome of full and sensual, lips so beautifully curved that many women would either die or undergo plastic surgery to have them. Kissable, desirable.

A faint blush creeps up my cheeks as I realize what I'm thinking and I lower my gaze for the sake of my own comfort. I feel like thanking this stranger, Ryan, once more and meet his eyes again when suddenly I can't help but ask myself why he was there to help me so quickly in the first place. I have never before seen him in our street, nor have I seen anyone else besides the gang. He shifts into a more comfortable position while I'm thinking, his eyes still not leaving me.

"Are you new in town?" I ask and he tilts his head slightly to the side as if he is trying to understand my question.

He continues to smile at me, "no, I'm not."

"Then how come I haven't seen you before? Since when do you live on our street?"

"I don't," he says, the smile fading a little around the edges, and I have the sinking feeling that I know who he is.

"You are the one who's been following me, aren't you?" I state matter-of-factly, and the smile leaks from his face entirely. He looks caught now, neither confirms nor denies, and I know that I'm right.

"Why?"

Ryan gives a small shrug, and says, almost apologetically, "I was drawn to your scent."

"Scent?" I echo the last word and can only barely swallow a laugh. "Why would you be drawn to my scent? I'm a nurse, I smell of disinfectant, blood and, on bad days, death. Not the best perfume out there on the market."

He just gives me an indifferent look and then I realize I'm still lying on the ground, on my back, probably looking as silly as a flipped over bug. Propping myself on my elbows I try to sit up, but a sharp pain in my left arm makes me gasp and falter. In one swift movement, Ryan is by my side, looking concerned and grabbing my arm to keep me from falling backwards and helping me sit up. As soon as I'm steady he lets go of me and withdraws his hands, but I can see that one of them is stained with something dark.

I bring my own hand to my left arm, feel the shredded fabric of my jacket just above the wrist and something warm and thick underneath. I probably hurt my arm fainting and now it's bleeding.

"Shit," I mumble and try to take the weight off my arm. Funny how the pain mostly only sets in once you realize you're hurt. Very carefully, I push the sleeve up my lower arm to inspect the damage and even in the dim light I can clearly see the gash that is now freely oozing blood.

"That will need stitches," I think, and try to remember if one of the gang members actually hit me with a knife, for the wound doesn't look like something you'd get from a fall. But then again, I've seen more mysterious injuries in all my years as a nurse and this is one that will heal alright if tended well. I decide that it's probably best to go back the hospital and have it taken care of before I catch an infection.

When I look back up at Ryan to ask if he could help me stand, the words suddenly die in my throat. Ryan is cradling his bloody hand in his other, licking the fingers clean, seemingly oblivious to the world.

"What are you doing?" I gasp in shock, and it pulls him out of this little world he has fled to.

"I'm hungry," he says quietly, a silent apology in his eyes as he looks at me. "I haven't fed tonight." And as he speaks I notice that his cuspids are elongated and pointy now; they weren't before.

"What are you?" I ask, and it's more a rhetorical question than anything else. The pieces start falling into place; his being attracted to my scent, the inhuman speed, his strength to carry me all the way to the graveyard. I can't help but wonder if he lives here, but I don't dare ask. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if maybe I have smashed my head badly and am now dreaming or hallucinating. The stinging pain in my arm feels very real though.

"I think you know what I am," he tilts his head to the side and watches me with great interest.

My heartbeat accelerates slightly as my brain puts two and two together. Considering all the facts it comes to the conclusion that Ryan must be a vampire and I know, deep down inside, that this is either one very surreal dream because everything is happening just too damn fast, or the perfect moment to get the hell out of this place.

Instead I just look at him as he studies my reactions and I just cannot bring myself to feel any fear. I was more afraid of what the thugs would do to me only a couple of minutes ago than I'm now afraid of this man harming me. "He's saved my life", I think, and conclude that I should at least be grateful enough to offer him some kind of reward.

Slowly, I raise my left arm and hold my wrist out to him. He looks at me, surprised, and shakes his head no.

"No. I can't do this." Ryan brings up his hand and caresses my face, talking to me in a voice that is only barely above a whisper, "run from me. Please."

I can see hunger burning in his eyes, but there is also a forlornness in them that doesn't let me reconsider, and now it is my turn to shake my head. I swallow hard before I can say, "drink. It's the least I can do for you after you've saved my life."

His eyes seek mine and I extend my arm a little more. "I mean it, Ryan," I state and he finally takes my hand in his, bringing it up to his wonderful lips only to place a chaste kiss on its back. Ryan's gaze is still locked on me and for a brief instant I wonder if he will keep me alive. But I brush the doubts aside and nod encouragingly, giving him once more permission to take what he wants.

I see his fangs reflecting the light of the street lamp before he sinks them into my flesh. It stings a little, but it's not half as bad as I had thought it would be. I can see his jaw line working as he sucks on the wound and it doesn't take long for me to feel lightheaded and dizzy. A strange noise emerges from my throat and Ryan immediately lets go of my hand, turning his full attention back to me.

"Are you alright?" he asks, and I can't help but notice the little smear of blood in the corner of his mouth. I brush it away with my thumb and manage to smile at him weakly. "I'm fine, just a little dizzy," I say and he cradles me close to his chest, whispering, "I'm sorry."

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to rest for a bit, until the world stops spinning and I can stand again. Ryan supports me and walks me back home; the cut will have to wait until tomorrow since I'm not up to police investigation or explaining where the bite marks on my wrist came from.

At the door to my apartment I hesitate, considering to invite Ryan in, but he says that he needs to go, almost as if sensing my turmoil. I nod understandingly and he brings my hand up to his mouth again to place another kiss on it.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you." He graces me with a smile as he speaks and suddenly I don't want him to leave. I should be glad to see him leave, but I'm not; I find myself wishing that he would stay.

"You can come back tomorrow if you like," I hear myself saying, the words coming from my mouth before I even have the chance to think a conscious thought. Surprise clearly shows on his face and then his expression brightens even more.

"Very well," he nods. "I will pick you up at the hospital tomorrow night and make sure you arrive back home safely."

Now it is I who looks surprised; perhaps I had expected him to ask if he could feed on me again. I nod my agreement and with a slight bow of his head he turns and vanishes into the fading night.

As I enter my apartment I notice that dawn is only minutes away, and I can't help but wonder if Ryan will be safe, if he can be exposed to sunlight, but I guess that real vampires don't sparkle and need to hide from the sun or else they will burn. Tomorrow I may find out more.





Epilogue

Just as promised, Ryan kept his word and picked me up at the hospital the next day. Unlike my previous assumptions, my cut hadn't needed any stitches, it was healing surprisingly well on its own, and when I asked him about it he just gave me the most cryptic look and a mischievous grin.

The vampire has become a constant in my life ever since the night we first met. I've convinced my boss to permanently assign me to night shift and when I'm at work he always picks me up at the end of my shift, walking me home, keeping me safe just as he'd said he would. We spend the hours until dawn talking about everything and nothing, if I'm off work it can be the entire night. Time and again he spills a secret about his being a vampire, but he doesn't seem too comfortable sharing them yet and I don't push him.

Not once has he fed off my blood again, though I probably wouldn't have many objections if he just asked. He has saved my life after all and I think I still owe him, even though he might think of it differently.

Sometimes, Ryan strikes me as lonely and I think that what he needs more than food is a friend, somebody to talk to, to hang around with, to feel comfortable with. Perhaps that is why he doesn't see me as food on legs. Perhaps that is why I'm still alive.

Needless to say the girls at the hospital have already spotted him and are mercilessly taunting me about my new 'boyfriend'. Ryan had a hearty laugh over it when I told him, and there was a look in his eyes that I couldn't quite read.

We're not lovers, not yet at least, I'd be lying to say I'm not attracted to him. Maybe one day there will be more, maybe one day he will even ask if I want to be one of his kind. Truthfully, I don't know what I would answer if he asked. Spending eternity with this man by my side? Not the worst idea I've ever had. But there are downsides to immortality, too, and I'm happy to put the issue on a shelf for a while, enjoying the benefits of this very unique friendship until it's truly time to make a decision.

The End
« Last Edit: Mon, Aug 02, 2010, 10:56 AM by Janine »

Offline Pamela

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #1 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 11:03 AM »
Quote
but I like the old graveyard with its weathered tombstones and wilted trees; there's something ethereal about this place

 I like her. The lady has taste.

Quote
Sometimes, Ryan strikes me as lonely and I think that what he needs more than food is a friend, somebody to talk to, to hang around with, to feel comfortable with. Perhaps that is why he doesn't see me as food on legs. Perhaps that is why I'm still alive.

 I love this so much. Soft and beautiful. It should be creepy but isn't for some reason.

Very nice
pamela


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Offline Montgomery Burns 13

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #2 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 11:40 AM »
Nice story, well written.  And with a happy ending! :laughter

Ryan is a true gentleman, like you'd imagine them back in the days.  It's nice to have a friend like this, somebody to talk to, to spend a few hours with, who wants nothing in return.

Like Pamela said, soft and beautiful.  Somehow I like it. :rule
Who needs love when you've got a gun, who needs love to have some fun. Black Flag
Feelings are overrated. Dean Winchester



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Offline Janine

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #3 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 12:18 PM »
Nice story, well written.  And with a happy ending! :laughter

Don't telly anyone, but I love happy endings. I have no idea, though, where the softness came from.  I had something violent in mind but somehow Ryan got a life on his own and this is what became of it. :laughter

Thank you both! :) :hugs

Offline Montgomery Burns 13

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #4 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 12:50 PM »
Quote
I have no idea, though, where the softness came from.  I had something violent in mind [...]

See?  That's why I was confused when I tried to guess the writer. :laughter
Who needs love when you've got a gun, who needs love to have some fun. Black Flag
Feelings are overrated. Dean Winchester



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Offline Janine

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #5 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 12:53 PM »
I might be getting soft in my old days. :laughter What a truly freaky thought! :shock

Offline Silsin

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #6 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 02:46 PM »
I love your soft side ;) Great story! :hugs

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #7 on: Tue, Jul 20, 2010, 03:48 PM »
funny how stories sometimes veer off on their own

a vampire BFF? sweet - and she has time to make her decision and some benefits in the meantime - why wouldn't he be attracted to a nurse who smells like blood - maybe she could raid the blood bank for him?

Offline paulmtk

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #8 on: Fri, Jul 23, 2010, 12:28 PM »
Interesting fic that fluctuated between the normal and surreal;
Quote
I'm one of the very few who's neither poor nor particularly reckless, but I like the old graveyard with its weathered tombstones and wilted trees

 First hint that she is not 'normal' in that she isn't someone easily scared by 'eerie things'.
 
Quote
Somehow I know that if I start running now they'll come after me, but walking a little faster should get me back home safely, or so I guess.

 Another note that she is not the 'typical' faint of heart female.  Most would have had a panic attack and done the flight thing, heck with walking!
 
Quote
Time seems to stand still, everything merely happens in slow motion.

 So true, captured perfectly
 
Quote
I smell of disinfectant, blood and, on bad days, death. Not the best perfume out there on the market

 Oooh, but for a vampire it's the best!!
 
Ryan is not the typical vampire, looking apologetic for licking her blood off his fingers and refusing her offer to 'feed him'.  Can go along with him being lonely and you set that up nicely in the epilogue.  :bow

Offline Janine

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #9 on: Sat, Jul 24, 2010, 02:42 AM »
  Another note that she is not the 'typical' faint of heart female.  Most would have had a panic attack and done the flight thing, heck with walking!

I think working as a nurse is not for the faint of heart, you see a lot of disgusting things during the day if you're lucky and nightmarish stuff if things go bad. I couldn't do the job for sure.
Quote
  Oooh, but for a vampire it's the best!!

The disinfectant probably not so much. :giggle *spots Ryan wrinkle his nose*
 
Quote
Ryan is not the typical vampire, looking apologetic for licking her blood off his fingers and refusing her offer to 'feed him'.  Can go along with him being lonely and you set that up nicely in the epilogue.  :bow

He seems to be more the Louis type of vampire, although he has no trouble feeding off of humans. Too bad we don't know about his backstory yet... :think

Thanks for the feedie, babe! :kiss

Offline Pamela

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #10 on: Sat, Jul 24, 2010, 04:17 AM »
Quote
Too bad we don't know about his backstory yet... :think

 Is that a tease? I wouldn't hurt my feeling any to read more about Ryan. [slips a bribe of cookies across the thread]

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Offline Janine

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #11 on: Sat, Jul 24, 2010, 04:25 AM »
You'll never know with me. If he but haunts me enough I might write more about him. ;)

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Re: [Original] Drawn To Your Scent [NC-17] [FIN] (by Janine)
« Reply #12 on: Sat, Aug 07, 2010, 01:32 PM »
I thought I already commented on this...I had so much to say. *lol*  Maybe I said it in beta. Anyway...I really like this, as you already know. The first-person point of view makes it more intimate and immediate. When the guys are about to attack her, it seems very real and scary. It is indeed satisfying when the thugs start dying.

Quote
A faint blush creeps up my cheeks as I realize what I'm thinking and I lower my gaze for the sake of my own comfort.


I like the way you wrote that. Throughout the story, it has a slow and poetic sense, and the phrasing seems soft and surreal.

Quote
You can come back tomorrow if you like,

Cool. It's fun that she's comfortable with him, and also that they are both so polite.

Quote
Ryan had a hearty laugh over it when I told him, and there was a look in his eyes that I couldn't quite read.

Aw, poor guy.

And I wonder what her final decision will be...