Runner

This is just something that got stuck in my head. It is a stand alone story but...if you enjoy it and want more, I could make it longer. Let me know. Danielle

* * *

By the dim light of the moon, he hunted. His strange but enigmatic eyes searched every shadow for sign of his quarry. She was smart, this one, but he knew he would have her in the end. He had each of them, in the end.

A twig snapped and he turned, surprised to find her there, a rock in her hand. He had time to take quick note of her appearance before she hit him in the temple, knocking him to the ground. One more sharp blow and his eyes closed, pitching him forward and into darkness.

* * *

When he woke, he found himself tied, his hands bound behind his back with the rope he'd brought to use on her. She'd somehow dragged him into a small cave, using vines and branches to close the opening. His head throbbed when he turned it, searching for her.

Margaret Kathleen McGee sat huddled in front of a roaring fire, her brilliant green eyes drooping with fatigue. The tee shirt he'd given her to wear was stretched over her knees, tugged down so that she could hold it over her cold feet. She refused to look at him, refused to do anything but stare into the flames.

"Maggie?" he croaked, his throat dry. He watched as she jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes darting over to him and then just as quickly away. "Maggie, my head hurts," he said.

"It's what you deserve," she said shortly. "I should have killed you."

"Why didn't you?" he asked curiously. The answer didn't matter that much to him; his own death was nothing that frightened him. Living was what was difficult, and living with his curse was even worse.

"Because I don't know where I am. I don't know where you brought me. So you're going to take me home as soon as the sun sets. Then you're going to change me back before I take you to the cops, understand?"

"In what deluded universe do you live in that makes you think you can force me to do anything?" he said with a bark of laughter that hurt his head as much as it made her jump.

She pulled his hunting knife from the pack he'd been carrying. With a huge growl of rage, she leapt to her feet, rushing to where he lay, grabbing a hank of his long dark hair. She dragged his head back, pushing the lethally sharp blade against his skin. It bit, leaving a line of blood to drip beneath the blade.

"I'll do it," she growled, her eyes drawn to the line of blood. The thirst that had plagued her all night roared into being and she barely kept herself from lapping at his throat, reveling in the metallic taste of his blood. "What did you do to me?" she whispered in horror.

"I made you into one of me," he said, staring defiantly up at her. "I turned you into a soulless, dead creature. A blood sucking, narcissistic night walker just like I am. How does it feel?" he said with a laugh, causing more blood to spill down his neck and seep into the ground under him.

"You bastard!" she screamed, standing and jerking the knife away from his throat. "I thought you were one of the good guys. You helped me! You listened to me and all I'd been through and you helped me."

"I listened to you whine and cry about being dumped. It was rather boring, actually. You couldn't even get him to fuck you, all he wanted was your money." He wriggled his way into a sitting position, ignoring the sting from where the knife had cut into his throat. "Of course, I can see his reasons, look at you. Your hair is a mess, and what color is that, Pumpkin Orange? Those freckles are so thick you can barely see your nose. Did you parents ever take you to an orthodontist? I'm surprised that your fangs are even straight."

Maggie stared at the psychiatrist that had been recommended to her. Her eyes narrowed as his words shot arrows of pain into her heart. Doctor Chance Steeple had been her parents last ditch effort to help her. At first, going to his office had sent her into a tizzy of lustful cravings. Doctor Chance was a gorgeous specimen of manhood with long dark hair that he kept clubbed back into a tail. His silver eyes seemed to see into her soul and his smile...oh his smile had kept her floating for days.

Even better, he listened to her. He heard what she was saying, unlike the last shrink she'd seem. He'd been willing to let her talk while he took her parents' money and gave her drugs to keep her medically zoned. It hadn't helped her any when she'd grown addicted to the drugs and had to be detoxed because of an accidental overdose.

But Doctor Chance, he listened and asked questions. He showed concern for her feelings and emotions. He smiled at her jokes and made her feel great just walking into his office.

Who'd have thought that this wonder doctor was nothing more than a blood sucking vampire, using his practice to find the little girls with the worst problems? He'd take them on a retreat, one at a time or in a group. Who cared if they didn't come back?

Her parents would. They knew where she was, they would be concerned if she didn't return or call to let them know where she was.

"Your parents will be shown your dead body, a terrible accident in the woods, even after I told you not to go into the woods after dark. You feel down a gorge and it took us forever to find you. That will explain all the bruises that I plan to put on you, Maggie, as well as the blood loss. I can hardly wait to rip open your throat and drain you dry."

"You fucking bastard," she hissed. "I was falling in love with you, with your lies and your falseness. I believed every word you told me."

"More's the pity," Chance said with a huge smile, showing his long fangs that he'd kept hidden from his patients and their families. "Of course, if you come over here and untie me, maybe I can force myself to fuck you once before I rip your fucking head off. Betrayal's a bitch, ain't it?" He grinned again, meeting her green gaze with his silver one.

"That's it, Maggie. Look deep. You're lost in my eyes, lost in my eyes," he said quietly. "Come to me, Maggie mine."

"Yes," she whimpered, taking the first tentative step toward him, his knife dropping from her hand and bouncing on a rock out of her reach. "Yes."

"You want to untie me," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"I want to untie you," she repeated, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to fight his control. But it was no use. She was a fledgling to a master, he had her and there was nothing she could do. She knelt beside him, grabbing the ropes and fumbling with the knots she'd made. It took twice as long as he wanted it to, but he kept up his control. When his hands came free, he rubbed his wrists then lifted her to her feet. "Take off that shirt."

"M-My shirt?" she asked even as her hands went to the hem. She began to slowly lift it above her head, exposing more and more of her soft creamy skin. Chance had lied when he said he didn't find her attractive. He found her entirely too attractive. More attractive than any of the others he'd brought out here to his retreat and killed.

He'd turned them all, laughing as they fought the thirst, fought the things that he wanted to do to them. Why should she be any different?

But she was. As he watched her pull the dirty once white tee shirt over her head, he felt his body stiffen with need. Suddenly the ground beneath him seemed too hard, too rough for her delicate skin. He couldn't take her here in this cave. "Very good, Maggie," he said softly in his 'how does that make you feel' voice. "Now, untie my feet."

She knelt naked before him, her hands reaching for the ropes that she'd tied around his ankles. Her fingers worked the stubborn knots, ripping a nail in the process. Blood dripped from her injured finger, blood that brought his head up, his nostrils flaring at the scent. Her blood was spicy, tied to his by her siring.

Chance took her hand in his, staring down at the injured finger. He pulled the nail the rest of the way off, starting a fresh onslaught of bleeding. Lifting the soft digit to his lips, he wrapped his tongue around it, drawing it in. Her blood blossomed on his tongue, tasting better than even the most expensive wine. He could taste the slightly too sweet taste of it from her liver and the acrid taste of her fear. It was a heady combination, and suddenly he wondered who was in control of whom.

"I want you," he breathed around her finger, suckling gently as he waited for her answer.

Maggie stared down at the head bent over her hand. She could feel herself seeping back in around the cold edges of control he'd held on her. Her eyes widened, bright green, the pupils mere pin points. Slowly, her head began to shake, her body trembling with cold and fear. "No," she whispered.

Before he could lift his head again, capture her gaze in the silver light of his own, she grabbed the rock she'd hit him with before, bringing it down on his head once more.

Chance groaned, the pain amazing and rich. It was almost pleasure to the evil that lived inside of him. He fell to his hands and knees, reaching up just in time to grab her arm and stop her from hitting him again. "Enough," he growled, yanking her down next to him. "Once was bad enough."

"No," Maggie said with a fierce bravado. "It didn't kill you so once wasn't enough. Maybe I should open the door and let the sunlight in."

"Maybe you should," Chance said, rubbing his hand against the huge bump on the back of his head. "It's better than you trying to batter me to death with this little rock." He grabbed her hand, pulling open her fingers and tossing the rock away. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he jerked her down beneath him, flattening himself on top of her to keep her still.

"No!" she cried, struggling under him. "Stop it. You disgust me!"

One hand slid up her legs, forcing them apart until he reached the tender skin between her thighs. His fingers slid into wetness and heat, making him grin even as she turned her head away. "You can't look at me, Maggie?" he rumbled, his deep voice vibrating in his chest and against her breasts. "After all these months, we've been almost as intimate as two people can be. You've shared your thoughts, your secrets, your dreams with me. Now you're going to share your body."

Her head was shaking before he finished speaking. "No," she whimpered, his hand in her wetness denying the word. "I don't want you, you bastard. The only thing I want is you dead."

"Then you should have killed me when I was unconscious." He leaned down, nibbling on her neck with his sharp teeth, teasing the small marks where he'd bitten her before, the changing marks. These marks proved she was his and the thrill that went through him was unlike anything he'd felt before. The dark thing inside of him seemed to almost howl its joy, the human cried out in pain for he knew he'd feel bereft when this was done.

He played with her cunt, stroking his fingers over the fragile skin delicately, treating her like porcelain until she was squirming and begging under him, wanting him, wanting more.

Chance held her just at the edge, denying her that peak, his talented fingers finding her fragile opening and the hymen that was still intact. "So you didn't lie. He hadn't fucked you."

"No," she cried, wincing when he pressed against the thin barrier. "Don't, that hurts."

"This is the least of your problems," he said with a grin. When she tried to hit him, he grabbed her wrist, then the other, taking the rope that she'd used on him and tying them above her head. "It's nice of you though, to point out this cave to me. I didn't know it existed." Grabbing her chin with his hand, he turned her to face him. "God, you're so beautiful," he whispered before dropping his head down to kiss her.

Maggie resisted him for a moment, but something inside of her, something dark and evil that hadn't been there before, craved what he was doing. Soon she was thrusting her tongue inside of his mouth, kissing him back with all the passion in her young body.

Chance lifted his head, his eyes flaming. "You young ones are always the same, always full of passion that you deny because your parents think you should remain chaste and pure. You should ask how many of them made it to their wedding night intact."

"My mother made a virginity pact," Maggie growled. "Her four best friends signed their names in blood and promised to remain pure until their wedding nights. She showed me the pact they signed and the rings they exchanged for their vows."

"Yeah, and I bet three out of those four were hopping in the back seat the next night," he grinned, holding her hands above her head with one hand while he let the other slide down the side of her face and then her neck, his long slender fingers circling it. She was thin and fragile under him, his fingers reaching most of the way around her throat.

Her eyes grew wide when he tightened that hand, her heels drummed into the ground as she tried to struggle. He was too strong for her, even undead, she couldn't get away. He laughed when he released her. "You are just like the others. You're already dead, Gidget, you can't suffocate because you don't breathe. I could squeeze forever and all it would do would be to raise bruises that I don't want to have to answer for."

Maggie's eyes darkened and she felt tears fill them. It was the last thing she wanted him to see. She refused to cry in front of him. She cried out, his hand, icy cold, was against her breast, his palm rubbing circles over her nipple that had already hardened for him.

"Ah yes, do you know how many times I turned on the air conditioner and made it cold in my office so I could watch these little beauties bead up against those silk and satin shirts you so loved to wear. It was such a contrast, that pearl necklace and then the satin shirt with your nipples so hard under them. I knew how uncomfortable it made you. But that was only at first. Then you began coming to your appointments without a bra on. I could tell just by the way you would move, your breasts swaying just a bit under that satin, rubbing your nipples on it. You'd get aroused and then you'd squirm on that couch."

"Shut up!" she cried, trying not to hear his words though they reminded her of just how it had felt. The first time she'd felt his eyes on her breasts when she'd turned to look at him had surprised her, embarrassed her but it had also turned her on beyond anything she'd ever known. She'd barely made it out of his office before she'd run down to the ladies room, her hand sliding into her panties before she'd gotten the door to the stall closed.

She could remember how hard she'd climaxed with the memory of his eyes upon her. After that, it had gotten into an every visit kind of thing, something that was for her and her alone. She'd fantasized that instead of waiting, she'd pulled up her sensible, knee length skirt. She'd wear something scandalous or maybe nothing at all. Then she'd part her legs, watch his eyes as they followed her hand down to her pussy. Maybe he'd just watch or maybe he'd get up, a huge bulge in the front of his expensive suit pants and then he'd take her in his arms and make her a woman. God, the fantasies she'd had about that.

A low moan startled her and she quickly brought her thoughts back to the present. "Leave me alone," she whimpered.

"Now, now," he said. "You really don't want me to do that. What I'd like to know is what was little Maggie thinking about just a few moments ago. Were you remembering what it felt like to know my eyes were on your nipples while you were whining about how unfair life is? No," he said after a moment of staring into her eyes. "Let me in."

Maggie tried to deny him but his powers over her were too strong. In seconds, she was inside one of those fantasies and he was there too. "Now this is hot," he whispered, leaning back in his chair and watching as her long fingers yanked up her skirt as she lay on his leather couch.

Her pretty red silk thong came into view, the front dipped into a vee, a small lace inset hiding her mons from his eyes. She turned and stared at him, her hand hesitating at the waist band of that thong.

"Don't stop on my account," he said with a lascivious grin. "Psychiatrist love role play. Whose hand is touching you, Maggie?"

She felt his hand down there, his fingers moving in her wetness again. "Yours, Doctor Steeple."

When she looked down though, she was surprised to see her own hand, her thong gone. "God, this is so embarrassing." Her face flushed and she turned her head away from him but she couldn't remove her hand. She was too far gone, needing to come.

"How does it feel?" he asked softly, turning in his chair to get a better view of her wet, pink flesh.

"So good," she groaned. "I'm so hot, Dr. Steeple."

"Unbutton your blouse," he ordered her, letting his pen and pad of paper fall onto the table as his other hand came up and started rubbing at the bulge of his cock. He watched as she did as he ordered, opening his pants to let his aching cock free. "Fuck girl," he growled, "fuck that's hot."

Her fingers quickly brought her to the edge of a peak, but she couldn't go any further. She turned desperate eyes toward him, only to find him gone, the office dissolving around her. Before she could wonder about it, a sharp pain stole away her breath and she looked up to see Chance above her, his cock pushing through the barrier of her virginity. The pain stole her pleasure, the feel of dirt and rocks beneath her bringing her back from that place in her mind.

She tried to stop him, but once more, her hands were tied above her head. Her legs were parted wide and she tried to use them to flip his body off of hers, but again, he was too strong, too determined to have his way. "Stop! Don't! I don't want this!" she cried.

Chance heard her words but didn't care. She was hot and tight around him, her virgin blood lubricating his cock. He thrust deep, hearing her screams. It was like a potent aphrodisiac, those screams, and he moved quicker, his mouth coming down on hers, biting at her lips.

Her blood pooled into his mouth and he opened his lips over hers, forcing her to drink some of her own blood, hearing her cry of disgust. "How does it feel?" he asked again, hearing her moans of pain as she scraped over the rocks. When she opened her eyes, he caught them in his gaze, pushing her back to the fantasy. He wanted her to come, it was so much more satisfying when they did.

He loved the look of hurt, the pain of betrayal in their eyes when they realized that their own bodies had betrayed them. With Maggie it would be even more special. She'd loved him, he realized now. "You'd have come to me if I'd have asked you too, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, I love you."

The human in him cringed at hearing those three little words. It wanted to pull out, to haul her into his arms and keep her with him forever. How long had it been since he'd heard those three words so freely given? Too long, the human in him decided.

The monster sneered. She was just nineteen, what did she know of love? He'd been around for millennia; he'd seen the birth of the King born from the lowly. He'd seen the crucifixion and had danced in glee at the pain he'd witnessed. This little girl knew nothing of love or any other emotion, but he'd teach her fear. He was a master at fear.

"What you know about love could fill a thimble," he growled. "You're just a naïve, pathetic little girl. No one will have you, you're lucky I was even able to get it up."

"Stop!" she cried, turning her face and hiding it against her shoulder. Her hips moved under his, she was still aroused despite his hurtful words.

"You're going to do it," he gasped, thrusting hard and rubbing up against her clit. "You're actually going to come." He pushed her harder, feeling her tense under him and the convulsions of her pussy around his cock. She screamed and he found her neck with his teeth, digging into her throat over the pounding of her pulse. Her blood squirted into his mouth with almost the same ferocity that his come splashed into her waiting cunt. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the evil that taunted him to rip and tear at her.