Leaning against her antique lamppost just a little way above her room ledge, Alexander watched her sleep, his heart beating more with worry than his mere inhumane thirst for her. He'd been watching her sleep all night, for nights actually, fascinated. Somehow Edna'd gotten wind of it and perpetually banned him from seeing her till they could probably get a grip on his situation but after a restless night tossing and turning and sleeping through dreams of hot naked and sweaty bodies, he's thrown on a jacket and ran his way up to her room. Watching her now, he knew why he'd been so restless all night. She was in danger. Not potential danger but still, she was deeply troubled and upset. and her dream'd left her terrified and shaken. Watching her scared made his heart bleed. He groaned, trying to coax her into sleep with the wind and a mimic of the nightingale, a bird he knew made her happy. It worked like magic and in no time she was settled in, purring softly and muttering in her sleep. Certain of the fact that she was fully asleep, he slipped in, crouching by her bed and watching the soft heaves of her chest. She sighed and blew tidbits of her hair into her face, murmuring something about dead cats. He chuckled softly, running his hand through the soft curve of her cheek. He stroked that smooth outline of her face and placing her hand in his, He squeezed that smooth firm flesh softly, holding back the burning thirst easing through his parched throat and bursting through every part of his skin that could feel. He gulped and let out a groan. By God the urge was too strong. He wanted her too much, too much to ever be with her. He couldn't try but he didn't. It'd be too risky, too unsafe. She was better off with out him.
But was he?