The hot coffee felt good in her hands, even if it wasn't very cold. The air was full of the scent of food and coffee. Even in the early morning, the streets were crowded with couples and suits speeding with a quick-stop bag of food and trays of coffee. It was morning, and morning everywhere was breakfast. Still, it was hard for her to ignore the smell of the overabundance of exhaust or the small hoards of stumbling singers in questionable attire. A nice place to visit, but she could never live here.
Anioa walked slowly down the wide streets, cars snapped by as she dodged bicycles. Large spectacular bridges seemed to open up the city, inviting the world to witness their busy world. She had to admit, the sun gleaming off the endless towers of glass through the scattered clouds was blindingly spectacular. She had heard people say that the city reflects your emotions, how you feel. It certainly looked that way. She walked slowly, aimlessly gazing up at the buildings blazing red, trying to ignore the looks and snickers, occasional shoves from passerby's. The look they were giving her, 'another tourist.'
The wind was trickling slowly through in brisk frigid streams. The mist was gone, but a light rain came in little spurts. She was surrounded by lights, electric rotating billboards, pavement and metal gleaming wet. Sweet confectionaries became a stronger and stronger smell, greasy smoking bacon as she came into what she could only assume was the main part of the city. Bright paint texturized the sidewalks and buildings with art and odd markings.
She could hear cars near her, but suddenly she realized none were passing her. Honking started, but not too close. She swivelled her head to see a long black car crawling slowly behind her. She stopped, the car stopped. Hmm. She continued to walk, she could hear the wheels crisp crunch once again on the concrete. She subdued the urge to run and simply took a sip of her coffee, taking a deep breath.
The car sped up and rolled onto the sidewalk a few yards ahead, cars meekly rolling by, seemingly quieting their anger at the sight of it. She couldn't see inside the tinted windows. 'Odd.' She continued walking forward as a door opened. . . . it was him. His eyes were wide with seeming excitement. Ainoa sped up, launching herself onto the hood and leaping down the other side, continuing on her way.
"Stop," she heard him call. She kept walking. "Stop there." She continued, not bothering to speed up, no matter how fast she could run, the car could always catch up. To her surprise, she could hear him walking up behind her. "Please", she heard him say softly, "stop." She hesitated, his voice sounded rich and warm. He grabbed her hand and she froze, it was hard but so warm. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking back.
"You sound familiar," she tried to keep walking, but his hand was firm.
"I should," he said, stepping closer. No one was passing them now but slow-moving cars, very slowly. Walkers and bikers crossed the street to the other sidewalk.
"Who are you exactly anyway?" she asked as he stepped in front of her. His eyes were dark, full of anticipation.
"I already told you."
"But that doesn't explain all of this." She looked around where four men had materialized, circling around them, watching everyone around them.
"You don't know me?"
"Alex something?"
"Where are you from?" he asked, squeezing her hand, causing her to fumble her coffee.
"Uh-h, um. What does that have to do with anything?"
"It would probably explain why you know nothing about me," he smiled, stepping close. 'He smells so good!'
"Lake Park, Iowa," she squirmed awkwardly. She couldn't breathe.
"What do you do there?" His hand ran through her hair, fingering her dirty blond curls.
"I-um, a local vocalist," she stammered. "and teach Kai Do San, Shotokan, and Wichi Karate part-time."
"Explains this morning."
"I was half asleep," she said defensively.
"That scar?" He fingered the arc over her eye, feeling the dip in her skin.
"Childhood accident." She shivered, trying not to tense, trying not to panic, but she felt completely trapped.
"Hmm," he buried his nose in a fist full of her hair. "It's been a while since I met a siren." Ainoa's gut twisted, she felt sick. "It took me a while to figure out just what I was sensing but," his other hand holding the second mass of hair firm, "I'm not wrong." Both he and she knew she could do nothing, not with his security there, not with so many people around. Who knew what precautions he took, or what his guards could do. "I could smell it."
"So," she gasped, "what are you?" He nestled his nose into her neck, ignoring her. He took her coffee from her, tossing it into the road, never pulling his mouth away, suckling her skin. His arm travelled back around her waist, squeezing her arms painfully tight to her body.
"I wonder what kind of siren you are, wings or fins," he grinned, biting her bottom lip. "Unless," he beamed, "you're a pureblood."
"I could make your head implode with a single note," she croaked, fighting tears back. She could scream, or maybe a simple hum would be better, she needed to getaway.
"Why don't you come with me?" he rasped, nibbling her jawline.
"I think I'll pass," she grimaced, trying to push away.
"I don't think you understand," he wheezed, suckling at her ear. "You're coming with me." She felt a pinch in her thigh, then a wave of warmth. His arms wrapped around her, lifting her legs up. He seemed to walk slowly, swaying her as if to romantic bedding, making her head swim. Her head felt heavy and heaved back, she could feel him soaking the base of her throat as he carried her into his black car.