We confronted each other in a huge tunnel. The Ground underneath was rough, almost rocks upon rocks and dirt. I have clothed again, sans gloves, the stake, and my exceptional cross dagger in my hands.
He had chuckled also when I desired my clothes back, saying the jeans didn't have to give and they would cost me fluidity. Tartly I replied that, fluidity or not, I wasn't combatting him in my underclothes.
There were additional lights strung up around the region. How he had electricity in this hole was beyond me, but that was the tiniest of my concerns.
Below ground, as we were, I had no impression of what time it was. It could already be dawn, or nonetheless, be intense in the dusk. Shortly I marvelled if I'd ever glimpse the sun again.
He wore similar clothing as before, fluidity is not a problem for him. His eyes growled with determination as he broke down his knuckles and whirled his head around his shoulders.
My palms were sweaty with nervousness. Maybe the gloves would have been a nice idea after all.
"All right, Kitten. Because I'm a dude, I'll let you have the initial attempt. Come on. Let's do this."
Without additional encouragement I indicted him, striding as fast as I could with both weapons edged murderously.
He swivelled in a semicircle that quit me drifting past him, giggling infuriatingly as he did so.
"Going jogging, pet?"
Grabbing myself, I gazed at him over my shoulder. God was in heaven, but he was fast. His actions were virtually a haze to me. Summoning my enthusiasm, I feinted a wide overhead right swing.
When he lifted an arm to block, I pushed low with my left hand and chopped him before receiving a devastating kick to the belly in return. Doubled over, I saw him assess his coat with a minor glare.
"I loved this shirt. Now you've gone and slashed it."
I swivelled again, inhaling deliberately to withstand the discomfort in my abdomen.
Before I could wink, he came at me and hit the side of my head, complicated enough for me to see stars. In stupid guard, I kicked, jabbed, and stabbed at whatever was near me. The returning hits landed heavily and instantly.
My breathing was ragged and my vision swam as I lashed out with all of my stamina. The room abruptly spun as I was knocked behind, stones chopping into my membrane.
He stood approximately ten feet from where I was slumped. Plainly, in a hand-to-hand fight, I was outclassed. I felt like I'd been dropped off a cliff, and there were barely any marks on him.
With a rapid twinkle of motivation, I flung my cross. It flew with tremendous velocity and plunged into his chest but extremely high, extremely high.
"Bloody Hades, woman, that hurts!"
He growled in wonder, pulling it from his chest.
Blood streamed from the injury before ceasing suddenly as if a fixture had been turned off. Contrary to prominent assumptions, vampires did bleed red.
I was dismayed, being down to just one weapon and not even having hindered him. Clasping myself, I jumped to my feet, walking with enormous steps.
"Had enough?" He confronted me and sniffed the atmosphere, once. I winked in disturbance, never having beheld a vampire breath before. I was puffing furiously. Sweat was oozing off my brow.
"Not yet."
There was another mist of action, and then he was on me. I obstructed blast after blast and strived to achieve some of my own, but he was too sharp.
Fists settled on me with violent force. Desperately I pushed the stake into whatever was close, but it often skipped his heart.
After ten minutes or so that looked like infinity, I fell to the floor for the last time. Unfit to move, I stared at him through swollen eyelids.
I don't have to bother about his terms, I thought dully. I was perishing from my wounds.
He hovered over me. Everything was stained red and fading.
"Enough now?"
I couldn't talk, couldn't nod, couldn't imagine. As my reply, I blacked out. It was the sole action I was eligible for.
There was something soft underneath me. Drifting, I was hovering in a haze and enclosing myself with its wool. I excavated farther inside when it mumbled to me in uncomfortable expressions.
"If you are going to grab all the blankets, you can bloody well rest on the floor!"
Huh? Since when was a cloud both aggravated and English?
When I opened my sights, I saw with an eyesore that I was in a bed with the vampire. And yes, clearly I had the whole cloak rolled over me.
Throwing upward as though scorched, I immediately slammed my skull on the low ceiling.
"Owww…" Brushing the painful spot, I peeked around in rioted panic. How did I end up here? Why wasn't I in a coma from the beating? In fact, I felt…fine. Aside from the gentle bump I had just given myself.
I backed as far into a closet as I could manage. There didn't appear to be any noticeable departure to this tiny limestone compartment.
"Why am I not in a hospital?"
"I cured you," he answered blandly as if we were discussing tea.
Dull with anxiety, I examined my pulse. God, he hadn't turned me, had he? No, my heart mashed forcefully.
"How?"
"Blood, of course. How else?"
He crouched back on his corners, scanning me with eagerness and exhaustion. He had changed into a new shirt, from what I could see. I didn't even want to know what was under the blanket.
"Tell me what you did to me!"
With a twirl of his eyes at my hysteria, he fluffed his headrest and then squeezed it to him. It was such a human signal, it was strange. Who knew vampires minded if their pillows were fluffed?
"Gave you a few drops of my blood. Reckoned you wouldn't desire much, what with your being a half-breed.
You perhaps healed quickly naturally, but then you were banged up a little. Your own mistake, of course, having recommended that silly game.
Now, if you don't mind, it's daylight and I'm knackered. Didn't even earn a banquet out of all this.
"Vampire blood heals?"
He closed his eyes as he replied to me.
"You mean you didn't realize? Blimey, but you're unaware of your kind."
"Your type is not my type ."
He didn't actually flinch.
"Whatever you say, Kitten."
"Would too much blood turn me? How abundant is too much?"