Shifters Vignettes: Ian and Jeanne

by Vivian Wood

  “I just wanted to say that I have enjoyed myself more this week than the last twenty years of my life. I know I came on pretty strong, demanding that you let me transform you. I know now that I can wait for you, and that I would be willing to wait even after I change you,” he said.

  Ian had taken one look at Jeanne’s slack-jawed speechlessness and simply patted her hand before getting up and leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  That was the moment Jeanne had decided to go through with the transformation. Her plan was to start with a little bit of kissing and seduction, and then spring the news on him. With any luck, she could start her new life immediately.

  Jeanne summoned the energy to push the covers back from the bed and swing her legs down to the floor. She struggled for breath from just that little movement, coughing weakly into her fist. Pulling her hand away, she found it covered with a fine spray of blood droplets.

  Her pulse began to race, and suddenly drawing each breath was increasingly difficult. Jeanne felt a strange distance from her failing body, hearing her own wheezing as if from a distance. She felt herself wretch, and smelled the iron tang of blood. With each successive breath, she fell away from herself a little more. Her vision swam with points of light, so strong that she hardly noticed when Ian entered the room. She felt his warmth for a fleeting second, tried desperately to cling to that sensation. But it was getting darker, and she was so tired…

  Maybe she could just rest for a moment here in Ian’s warm arms.

  4

  Chapter Four

  Ian was sitting in the living room, contemplating how he was going to tell Jeanne the truth. Three simple words, but they were stuck in his craw every time he saw his lovely human. He would open his mouth to tell her, and then she’d look at him with those emerald eyes, run a hand through her chestnut locks… and all Ian could think was that he couldn’t scare her off. He’d be wrecked if she turned him away at this point.

  The last week had been the sweetest torture imaginable. Little pieces of Jeanne’s personality fell into place every time she spoke, and his sense of certainty about her had grown each day they’d spent together.

  The way she would turn to him, eyes sparkling with humor, every time she found something amusing. The softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, even the measured sounds of her quiet breathing; Ian could never have imagined those things in all his years of patient waiting. She was like a drug to him, and he was jonesing for her like no other.

  From the first night of his stay, he’d crept into her room at night and simply watched her sleep. When she was awake he was careful to hide his concern over her health, just as she had tried to hide the pile of blood-spotted tissues, the coughing that indicated her illness’ growing traction.

  Last night had been the worst, listening her struggling to breathe as she slept. Then again, it had also been the best because she’d mumbled his name several times in her sleep. He was getting through to her, he told himself, he just needed a little more time. He reigned in his compulsion to give up and just change her already. Ian knew that her incredible stubbornness would ruin their chances if he were to simply make the choice for her, so he’d waited.

  Today, the seventh day, had dragged by slowly. Jeanne showed signs of exhaustion despite sleeping over twelve hours the night before, a sure sign that her illness was invading her body. He’d scrounged for every scrap of information he could find on Tzenger’s Syndrome and one of the worst symptoms was the gradual inability to absorb oxygen into one’s blood stream; essentially Jeanne would asphyxiate, but ever so slowly.

  Ian nearly wished he hadn’t read how Tzenger’s patients died, often with their lungs filling with blood. This, coupled with the lack of oxygen, caused them to drown from the inside. It was an unacceptable fate for the woman he loved.

  For the first time since he’d been transformed, the idea of that much blood terrified him. No matter that it was what he subsisted on. Her blood needed to stay right where it was, keeping her alive.

  Standing and pulling on a tee shirt, Ian nervously brushed off his pajamas. He’d taken off the shirt earlier to tease her and remind her of his ‘benefits”, as he’d called them, but now he needed to be serious. It was time to tell Jeanne that he loved her.

  And if that didn’t work, he was going to beg her, seduce her, trick her… he’d do anything to make sure she didn’t die just because she was stubborn and he made a poor suit for himself. Ian had to admit to himself that if she said no again, he’d transform her anyway. Her survival was worth the risk of her anger later.

  “I love you, Jeanne,” he whispered out loud, feeling foolish but needing to test the words aloud. They rang just as true as ever, and Ian headed for the stairs to her room.

  Ian was so distracted by his own thoughts that he was halfway up the stairs before the scent caught his attention. Blood. Fresh blood. A lot of fresh blood.

  Racing up the remaining stairs and sprinting into Jeanne’s room, he found her collapsed on the floor next to her bed. She was alternately gasping for air and retching weakly, blood spilling on the floor in a strangely perfect circle around her face. Her gaze flickered up toward him as he entered, but her eyes closed again just as quickly.

  Falling to his knees, Ian pulled Jeanne into his arms and felt for a pulse. It was faint and thready but it was still there.

  “Jeanne! Jeanne, love, please try to open your eyes. Can you look at me? Jeanne!” he said, shaking her less than gently.

  Her eyelids didn’t so much as flutter, and a cold weight settled in his heart. They’d waited too long, and now she was out of time. Ian would have to change her now before her pulse faded. He damned sure wasn’t going to let her die just because she didn’t love him back.

  He repositioned her in his lap, gently tipping her head back and her blood-smeared mouth away from his face. Without even willing them to do so, his fangs slid into place as he looked at her neck, at the pulse beating just below the skin. It made him feel guilty, somehow.

  Steeling himself, he leaned down and sunk his fangs deep into the perfect white column of her neck. Her blood gushed weakly into his mouth, making him groan and instantly go hard as a rock. She tasted sweet, like honeyed sunshine, but under her natural flavor Ian could taste the unnatural edge of Tzenger’s Syndrome.

  Blocking out the bitter taste of her illness, Ian drank his fill and more. He drank until she had less than half a pint left to give, effectively stopping her heart. He wasn’t exactly certain how much he needed to take, but his instincts told him to drain as much of her bad blood as possible.

  Only then did he release her throat and turn to slash his own wrist open with a fang. Holding her head up and mouth open, he pressed his wrist against her mouth and let his blood flow down her throat. A soft feeling of serenity fell over him as he gently massaged her throat, forcing her to swallow his blood. It was a sense of completion, the feeling of a circle coming to a close.

  He stayed that way for what seemed like ages, feeding her until he was weak from blood loss. She didn’t move, or show any sign of the transformation. Ian frowned, worried. Had he screwed it up somehow? There hadn’t exactly been a pamphlet of instructions to follow, just instinct.

  He stripped her clothes and cleaned her up as much as possible. Head swimming from lack of blood, he stood and gently laid her on her bed. He wrapped her in the thin blanket that had been pushed to the floor. Feeling a strong impulse to keep her warm, he gathered every blanket he could find in the living room and spare bedroom and laid those over her body until he could barely make out the shape of her body.

  Still no reaction from her. If Ian was going to be any further use, he’d have to hunt immediately. Luckily, he had a perfect target in mind.

  It took less than five minutes to enthrall the desperate housewife next door to Jeanne’s house; the cougar had been coming onto him since the day he moved in and almost seemed to know what he was about. After drinking just enough, he’d put her to sleep on her couch and r
eturned to Jeanne.

  No movement, although the punctures on her neck had healed over completely. That had to be a good sign, Ian told himself. Exhausted, he climbed into bed next to the mountain of blankets he’d piled over Jeanne. Double checking the blinds to make sure they wouldn’t roast in their sleep, he slung an arm around his female and allowed the darkness to overtake him.

  5

  Chapter Five

  Jeanne’s senses came back online all at once, as if no time had passed since she’d last been conscious. Her eyes snapped open and she clutched at her throat, unable to breathe. She was dying, asphyxiating. It was the strangest thing to know you were dying, and even stranger that her body didn’t seem to be panicking.

  Something was off, Jeanne realized. Sucking in a big lungful of air, she held her breath and waited for the usual sense of alarm to set in and cause her to let it out in a big whoosh.

  Nothing happened. What the hell was going on?

  Squirming, Jeanne realized two things: one, that she was somehow perfectly alright, and two, that she was under an enormous pile of blankets and part of a heavy body.

  Managing to roll to the side, Jeanne found herself staring at Ian’s gorgeous face. He was dead asleep, and his jawline was covered with an uncharacteristic amount of stubble.

  Jeanne pushed the blankets back and sat up, rolling Ian over onto his back. She gasped as she saw that he was covered in spatters of dried blood. There was so much of it that she could actually smell it in the air.

  “Ian! Ian, are you okay?” she asked, gently shaking him with one hand. His eyes opened and it was a long second before his gaze snapped to her. God, he was beautiful. It was as if Jeanne had never seen the color blue until she looked into his eyes. Coupled with this dark hair and brows, he could have played an angel or a devil with equal merit.

  “Jeanne?” he asked, and then he was running his hands all over her, checking for injuries.

  “What happened to you? You’re all bloody,” Jeanne asked as he continued his examination. Seeming satisfied, he pulled her into a tight hug.

  “Never, never do anything like that again. Promise me!” he demanded, his voice rough.

  “Do what?” she asked, pushing back to look up at him.

  “Die!” he scowled, looking as if he were about to start shaking her slender frame.

  “Wh-“ Jeanne started, then slowed. “Oh. I- um…”

  “Scared the hell out of me. I thought you’d passed the point of no return. Jesus, I should have just enthralled and turned you when I found those tissues soaked in blood,” he muttered.

  “Oh, you knew about those?” Jeanne asked, embarrassed.

  “You can’t hide blood from a vampire, Jeanne. I don’t know why you’d want to, either.”

  “I just wanted some more time,” she said, biting her lip. She hadn’t meant to distress him. She’d been enjoying his company and didn’t want things to move too fast. She was a dolt, in retrospect.

  “Well, now you’ve got an eternity to make up your damned mind. You might be transformed, but you still haven’t chosen to be with me,” Ian said, jaw clenched.

  “Ian…” Jeanne interrupted, but he held a hand up.

  “No. I gave you the time you asked for, and I know you enjoyed it. Nevertheless, I won’t force myself on you like some animal,” he spat angrily.

  “But Ian-“

  “I was going to tell you this anyway before you started retching blood, and there’s no time like the present. Right now I’m angry, but it won’t last long.”

  His gaze shifted to meet Jeanne’s directly, giving her a chill.

  “How could I ever stay angry with you?” he asked softly.

  Jeanne flushed from his compliment and direct gaze, but kept her mouth shut. Far be it for her to make him change his mind and decide to be angry forever.

  Ian reached out and cupped her jaw tenderly, his gaze searing her. Then he said the last thing she expected.

  “I love you, Jeanne.”

  “What?” she blurted out, confused.

  “I know you don’t feel the same yet, but I believe you will. And even though you didn’t choose this, I’m glad you’ve joined the ranks of the immortal. It means we have time to…” he trailed off, waving a hand.

  “I was going to ask you to do the transformation yesterday,” Jeanne said timidly.

  “You chose?” he asked, uncertain.

  “I chose you,” she replied with a wry smile.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

  “Apparently I was busy bleeding to death.”

  “Ah,” he said, rubbing his neck, “sorry about that.”

  “I meant the Tzenger’s Syndrome, not you. You’re the hero of the story, Ian.”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d done the change properly. How do you feel now?” he asked, giving her that surveying look of his.

  A sly smile crept to Jeanne’s face. Keeping her tone innocent, she fluttered her lashes a couple of times and leaned closer to Ian.

  “Well since you asked... I feel great, except one thing.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, looking tense.

  “I have this craving,” she said, trying to give Ian a sultry look. He blinked and his brow furrowed.

  “You just fed last night. You shouldn’t need blood again until…” he broke off, looking at the date on his watch.

  “It’s not blood that I’m craving,” Jeanne said simply, raising a brow.

  Ian looked up at her and caught her expression, a slow smile spreading over his face. He reached out to cup her jaw again, brushing his thumb over her lower lip. Her mouth felt oddly cramped for a moment. Jeanne reached up a hand and touched her teeth gingerly, almost moaning when she rubbed across her right canine.

  “I have fangs!” she yelped, shocked.

  Ian let out a deep rumble of laughter and pulled her close to press his lips firmly against hers. Jeanne yielded to the relentless passion of his kiss, her lips parting to give him access. His tongue slid against hers, moving in a sweet rhythm that had her thinking of his tongue’s other talents.

  Just then he slid his tongue up her left fang, causing shivers of pleasure to wrack her entire form. He did it again, a slow swipe up and back down and Jeanne was shocked to realize that she was half done-in.

  She really wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to keep going or to stop, and his tongue wasn’t exactly engendering clear thinking. She pulled back, giving Ian a pleading look.

  He laughed again, dropping a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth.

  “I told you it was quite pleasurable, didn’t I?”

  “It feels… dirty. But really amazing at the same time,” she confessed with a laugh.

  Ian smiled and pushed all the blankets away from Jeanne’s body, exposing her completely to his appraising gaze. She blushed, but her self-consciousness was quickly forgotten as he ran an admiring hand along her bare flank. His hand slid up to cup her hip, long thumb caressing the dip below her hip bone. Jeanne sucked in a breath and bit her lip, unbearably excited.

  Still Ian took his sweet time exploring and admiring her form, tracing his fingertips up over each rib and brushing just beside her breasts. Jeanne couldn’t help but slide the tip of her tongue against her fangs, gasping at the combination of sensations. Heat pooled at her breasts and the juncture of her thighs, warming her whole body.

  Ian’s hands slowly came up to cup her breasts gently, making her squirm with impatience. She thrust forward into his grasp, eliciting a growl of pleasure from him. Leaning down, he grazed his lips against one nipple. The rasp of his unshaven cheek against her breast sent fissions down the right side of her body.

  Moving his attentions to her other breast, Ian nipped at the sensitive skin all around the taut peak of her nipple. Anticipation built, spreading like fire and threatening to engulf Jeanne completely.

  She reached out and tugged his shirt up and over his head, exposing his incredibly sculpted chest. His pale skin somehow enha
nced his musculature, and Jeanne itched to explore his perfection with her tongue. When she ran her thumb over one of his flat nipples his body tensed. She thought she might like to do that all damned day, if only to watch the ripple of his firm abs in reaction.

  Her face must have shown her delight in his physical perfection, because he looked down at her face and chuckled. Pulling her close, he kissed her deeply. Jeanne placed her hands on his lower back and slid them upward admiringly before thrusting her fingers into his thick black hair.

  With a rumble of approval, Ian smoothly rolled himself to cover her body. Jeanne didn’t even hesitate, her legs parting instinctively to accommodate the weight of his form. His erection pressed against her intimately, reminding Jeanne that Ian wanted her just as badly as she did him.

  She ran a hand back down the toned muscles of his chest, seeking out his hip. Trying out one of his own tricks, she dropped her thumb into the dip just below his hip bone and squeezed gently. Ian growled fiercely, claiming her lips with a reckless passion.

  Jeanne slid two fingers under the band of his flannel pajama pants, tugging suggestively. Ian quickly lifted up and divested himself of the last of his clothes, giving Jeanne a view of him au naturel. Powerful thighs, a delectable ass, and his manhood as long and thick as a steel rod.

  “See something you like, Jeanne?” he teased, lying down next to her. He lay on his back, shamelessly meeting her gaze. She leaned down to kiss him again and he dragged her across his lap to straddle him fully. Jeanne gasped at the sensation of her softness pressing against the rigidity of his cock. She twitched her hips, seeking more, anything really.

  She was aroused enough to slide against his length easily, causing Ian to mutter a curse that sounded more like a compliment. Biting her lip, Jeanne reached down and positioned him to rest just outside her entrance. Surprisingly, Ian remained motionless though the strain on his face was evident. He was putting the ball in Jeanne’s court, giving her the power.