Disclaimer: I own none of the RK characters.

Author's Notes: This is quite possibly one of the most different RK fics I've ever written. The style is more adult, or so I'd like to think LOL. I've always been fascinated by vampire stories, and I wanted to try my hand at making them as human as possible. Like Anne Rice, I believe them to be very passionate creatures but capable of more than just raw sexuality. I wanted to evoke a sense of history and richness as well.

In the first chapter, I've drawn heavily upon the Interview with a Vampire movie featuring the very yummy Brad Pitt. In my usual style, I've chosen to let characters remain nameless, though I think you can figure out who every one is. For those expecting a usual K&K fic from me, I assure you it is NOT. The pairing will occur but it won't be the norm from me. Instead, it'll feature a more unusual couple, one I've been somewhat fascinated by and could not find the proper storyline until now.

Anyway, I do hope you enjoy. It's quite a change from my usual stuff, and I've been trying to figure out how to end this fic. Give me feedback if you'd like to see this one finished. ^_^

**********

"Tell me all the things I wasn't
Could have made this big a difference
To all the things you are" - Grapes of Wrath "All the Things I Wasn't"

Chapter 1

It was becoming more difficult to resist with each passing moment when temptation was put forth in the form of such beauty and grace. He found he couldn't deny the need any longer. How often had he found himself thinking about her? Aching with a longing that surpassed any other need that he ever had? She stood there in front of him, a vision in a white nightgown, and her hair floated around her like a dark halo. Her dark blue eyes shone with unspoken pain and unshed tears. He couldn't. How could he possibly do that to an innocent?

She was young, barely at the threshold of adulthood. He was ancient by comparison, though his looks belied his actual age. Her innocence had been tampered by a cruel family and a heartless fiancé. She had come to him in a time of need. As her hands found their way around his neck, she pressed herself closer to him, as if needing to reassure herself that she was alive.

That she was indeed. Every beating, throbbing nuance her was so vibrantly alive.

Yet he resisted. He had pushed her away with such force that it had shocked her. Her eyes wide with pain that he had caused, he turned away, knowing full well that if he met them, he would lose the battle. The passion he had for her still had his body thrumming from the brief instance that their bodies had collided. Clenching his fists tightly, he yearned to stop those long dead urges. He couldn't. He simply couldn't.

The soft whimper she uttered broke everything in him. It was a sound of devastation and rejection. She sounded broken, and he had done that to her.

Whirling around, he felt even more tormented. The lights had captured a crystalline tear trickling down a pale cheek.

"Please..."

He fought to regain control, the same iron will that had kept him alive for this many years. Yet she had the power to tear them all down. But for her sake, he had to stay away. He had to.

"Don't leave me alone, please... " Her voice trailed off, broken by a series of sobs. She fell to her knees helplessly and the soft curls obstructed his view of her. He could see from the trembling shoulders that she was crying. The sounds were tearing at him. Her soul was aching. He could sense that. And he could put her out of her misery. But he wouldn't.

His voice was husky as he spoke. "I won't leave you alone... ever."

In two steps, his body had moved as if of its own accord and his arms had wrapped themselves tightly around her slim form. Feeling the shudders wrack through her body, he wanted to comfort her so badly. It would only lead to disaster. But as he felt her leaning against him as if absorbing his strength, the smell of her silky hair enveloping his powerful senses, he knew he was a lost cause.

Eyes shimmering brightly, she whispered, "You promise?"

In answer to her question, he lifted her chin up and kissed her fiercely. The hunger in him was demanding to be assuaged. The soft moan sent his desires raging even further. She began to tilt her head, and he knew where she wanted to be kissed. His hand, slightly callused, traced down her graceful neck and tilted it with sureness.

It was so wrong, but he couldn't fight it any longer.

His lips worshipped the graceful column of her neck, and his teeth gently nipped the tender skin before reaching its destination. She shuddered against him and the hands that had wound up around his neck moved upwards to play with his legendary locks that had marked him for a long time.

Closing his eyes, he begged silently for forgiveness that would never arrive. As his fangs sank into her neck, he damned them both to hell.

***********

He could still recall the very moment her blood coursed through his veins, making him feel alive for the first time in ages. He had repressed his thirst for blood for so long, nearly killing himself in the process. When he had met her, he had known that she would be the one to take away his vow to never kill. He had known that the desire for her would override any humanity he had left in him. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he couldn't stop it even if he had wanted to.

He had gotten closer to her, saving her life in a near car accident. He remembered those wide blue eyes staring at him with such gratitude, and the sparkle of the ring that marked her left ring finger. Bitter jealousy rose in him and he fought the urge to destroy the bastard who dared to take her from him. She was his. She alone would banish the emptiness that resided in his soul.

Her sharp gasp of pain and shock drew him from his thoughts. Her blood still raged in him, mixing with his own. Everything hummed within him. His eyes transformed, and never had his senses been more aware of the environment. He could hear the low buzz of traffic outside, the arguments of her neighbours, and the slowing of her heart.

What the hell was he doing to her? He wrenched himself painfully away from her, and she fell back in a rasping wheeze that disturbed him. The horror rose in the form of bile within him, and he had to fight the urge to vomit the very life that he had taken. She was going to die.

The nightgown, the pillows, and the bedspread were all obscenely stained. Blood began trickling out slowly to pool on the bed sheet under her head. Her hands grabbed her neck in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood, but it was already too late. He could hear the end of life coming near. He could see the death that would rob him of her beauty and life.

"Why?" she managed to whisper hoarsely.

Long hair obscuring his face, he fought the demons that dwelled within him. For all that he knew it was wrong, he couldn't let her die. He had promised never to leave her alone, and he intended to keep his word.

In a blink of an eye, he was by her side. With a sharp prick of his fingernail, he managed to puncture a hole in his wrist. The blood dropped out of him slowly and the first couple of drips had caught her by surprise. Then she had shut her mouth and attempted to twist away. He grabbed her roughly, bruising the tender skin on her arms.

"You idiot," he hissed. "Do you really want to die?"

Forcing her jaw wide open, he pressed his wrist against her lips, and almost against her will, she began draining him. The supple lips were against his skin, drinking from him hungrily. His strength and essence were being absorbed, and in her, he would live in one form or another. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth, and he quickly squelched the guilt that had appeared. This was one form of salvation, he reassured himself. (This was the price one paid for giving in to temptation. It was regrettable that it had to be her soul.)

He felt himself getting weaker, and realized she was taking in far too much. He had awakened the hunger in her, the part of her that she had not been aware of. Too much, he thought weakly before wrenching his wrist away from her.

Sounds of absolute pain emerged from her throat. He knew from experience that she would be going through her death now. As he nursed his hand weakly, he could only gaze at her helplessly as she writhed around the bed in agony. The grotesque scene in front of him laden with blood and screams would remain forever etched in his memory. He could hear the heartbeat weakening before falling into absolute silence.

The Transformation was about to begin.

Her normally pale skin shone with eerie translucence. The blood that had once been all over her body mysteriously vanished. The signature fangs appeared, growing in length and sharpness. All in all, she appeared exactly the way she was before he had taken her, with the exception of one thing. Upon her neck, the two holes had transformed into tiny marks, signifying her Existence.

She was now one of the Cursed ones, and he had created her.

She sat up from her bed abruptly, and stared at him. She touched her neck absently, and she appeared confused. Then, the memories rushed back just as he had known it would. Even if he had all of his lifetime, he could not prepare himself for her reaction.

She ran her tongue along her teeth, and he saw her wince as she encountered her fangs. Her eyes turned to him in horror. "What have you done?"

Now was the time to use the mask that had kept him alive all these years. How could he explain why he had never erased his own miserable existence? How could he explain the thirst for blood that could bring him the only contentment and happiness he had otherwise known in his previous life? How could he explain that he had existed for so many centuries simply waiting for her arrival? How could he damn her the way he did?

Ignoring the pain in his unbeating heart, he announced coldly, "It was either that or die."

She laughed, the sound bitter and harsh even to his cynical ears. "I wish you'd given me the choice. Now you've left me as this... thing." She fairly spat the last word out. She began pacing around the room. He could feel her confusion, her anger, her pain, and the latent hunger that had begun building.

"You came to me," he pointed out.

She whirled around, eyes flashing with anger. She was magnificent in her rage. The passion that would normally colour her cheeks red had all been erased by him, simply because he could not resist temptation. "I did not know you for who you really were! I never dreamed for a moment that you would be... that you would hurt me like that. I thought... I thought you were my friend," she choked out.

"Friend?" he snorted, the sound almost unelegant. "You came to me fully aware of what you wanted. You wanted me to end your pain. You wanted me to feed that hunger that existed in you."

Hurt appeared on her face before her temper reasserted itself. "You know damn well I wasn't expecting that!"

"What did you want? Carnal pleasures? Love made the human way? There are other ways to feed it, and you now know of the choices you have available."

It was killing him. Words were coming out before he even knew what was going on. In the Circle, he was well known for his calm and almost lethal coldness. She was the only one who could stir such powerful emotions within him. In the years that he had existed, he had learned a long time ago to kill any remaining humanity. As an immortal damned, he would exist forever. Where most vampires were known for being passionate, he chose the path less trodden. He retreated into a shell of darkness, existing only to feed and wait. He knew of the Prophecy, and that she would be the one to save him.
"How dare you? How dare you make those decisions for me? Did it ever occur to you to ask? I trusted you. I trusted you with everything and you... you betrayed me. I never want to see you again!" she screamed.

Then, with a graceful spin of her body, she was running out the door. "I hate you," she whispered as a parting shot.

Sometimes, having senses that aware were the most damnable things.

**********

She moved faster than she ever had her whole entire life. She somehow knew that he wouldn't be following her. The short breaths that would normally accompany her racing down the streets like that would never rasp out again. The pounding heartbeat that reminded her of how oxygen-deprived her lungs were would never sound out again. She would never need to take a breath of air for she was now dead.

She had vague memories of her Death, and the physical pain that consumed her as her Transformation took place. But in place of the hurt that had remained in her was the vivid reminder of his betrayal. A deep sense of shame overcame her as she remembered his words.

"What did you want? Carnal pleasures? Love made the human way? There are other ways to feed it, and you now know of the choices you have available."

He had been so right.

She would've given up anything for one night with him - the feel of his arms wrapping around her body, heating her already fevered blood and making her ache with something she hadn't even realized she wanted, his lips pressing hot kisses everywhere on her body. She wanted him to take away all the pain that had been in her.

He had done as he said he would in a strange way.

Yet, it still hurt like hell. The life she had once known, the friends she had once had, they would all be gone from her now. She couldn't possibly.

Her feet thundered upon the pavement, and she continued moving. The sights and sounds of the night filled her senses, and she had never been this aware of the Night. This was her element. This was to be her Time.

A hand out of nowhere snaked out, and dragged her into the alleyway. She jerked back, and spun around to find eyes gleaming at her.

"Where you goin' pretty lady?"

She could smell him. The stench created by one not having showering in ages, mingled with the nauseating scent of drugs nearly sent her mind reeling. Fighting to control her thoughts, her eyes narrowed, and though she didn't know, it had turned into an icy shade of blue, circled by a rim of silver.

Her body glowing unearthly against the moonlight, and her figure outlined through her thin nightgown, the man in front of her grinned. "I think you and me are gonna have some fun."

Something came over her at that moment. She didn't know what it was. It could be her hurt from what he had done. It could be the scent of blood from a cut on her attacker's leg wafting up to her nose. Or it could be the full moon. All she became aware of was one thing.

Her teeth shining lethally in the dark, she said silkily, "Oh we will, I promise."

All that sounded from that alleyway that night was a man's screams of horror.

***********

She retched for the thousandth time by the docks far away from the scene. She tasted the faintly metallic tang of blood coming from within. She hadn't realized how quickly that man's blood would be absorbed into her own body, or how it had felt like a shot of pure ecstasy to her veins. She had nearly fainted from the sheer pleasure it gave her as the blood sang in her body. Never had she experienced emotions as powerful as this.

Then, his dying gurgles had hit her ears, and she had pulled away from him. But it had been too late for that man. She left him sprawled in the alleyway, drained of any life.

He hadn't been an innocent man, yet he didn't deserve the fate she had delivered to him. She was the Devil's own, evil personified. She had no right to do what she had just done. But the Hunger had come unexpectedly, and fulfilling it had brought her a feeling that was nearly orgasmic in nature.

Lifting her head up, she stared blindly at the moon, whose beams seemed to taunt her with its purity. I'm no longer like you, she thought bitterly. He has destroyed everything good in me.

She had the faintest tingling of awareness before a puff of smoke rose lazily above her half-crouching form.

"Newbies," he snorted derisively. His voice was low, husky in nature, yet undeniably sexual.

She glared at him as fiercely and with as much dignity as she could given her current situation. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he drawled in a tone of voice that could only be described as rude.

It couldn't be possible that this man knew of what she had become. Yet he felt different from the man she had consumed earlier. A slight shiver went up her spine at his words.

Moving to stand next to her, he stared out blindly across the lake. "I should've guessed that he would've chosen someone so inappropriate. Someone who can't even handle the kill."

She gaped at him. "You're like me?"

White teeth gleamed as his lips curled with devilish amusement. "We're nothing alike. You're just a hatchling."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. Temporarily forgetting the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach over the blood she had drunk, she rose from her position. She stood up with her back straight, with a dignity of a person far taller than she actually was. "Hatchling?" she repeated indignantly. She stepped around him to stare straight at his chest. Blinking, she forced herself to look up given his considerable height. His response was to quirk a brow at her. She had the impression that he was laughing at her. Damn bastard.

She couldn't help herself. She poked him straight in the chest, encountering nothing but hard muscle beneath her fingertips. She took a deep gulp as awareness flooded her once again. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're damn rude!"

As if her existence didn't even register with him, he took one last puff of his cigarette, and sent the cancer-inducing stick flickering through the air before the soft fizzle hit their ears.

"Why is it you newbies are so damn transparent?" he growled in disgust. Yet her senses told her of something else that lay underneath it.

Then it hit her. It was desire. It was so obvious though he had obviously had training in keeping it away from his tone of voice. To her own surprise, she found a need growing in her as if in answer to what she had sensed from him.

She moved to step away from him, her finger still in the vicinity of his chest when he reached to grab her hand. The coolness of his skin against her own reminded her of her own entry into the world of the non-living. Tears flooded her eyes unexpectedly, and he snorted in disgust once again.

"Hell, and you're emotional too."

Wrenching her hand away from his, she turned around to hide the tears that were threatening to spill.

"I'm sorry! It's not every day that a girl gets turned into a freak of nature. What the hell am I now? I'm the walking dead. Here I am, moving around the city with no heartbeat, no urges, no desires except this overwhelming feeling in me to feed whenever the hunger comes upon me."

She felt his amusement more than she heard it from the nearly monotone voice. "No desires whatsoever?"

Like icy fingers tickling her spine, she fought to suppress the delicious sensation that shot within her at those words. "None," she repeated firmly.

"You're an interesting one, I'll give you that."

She turned around to find a thoughtful look upon his face. For the first time, she got a good look at him. Dressed in a black suit, his lean muscular build carried it off wonderfully. His face was made up of strong cheekbones, and nearly inverted brows. The sternness of his expression should've thrown her off but she found herself intrigued by it. His eyes were gleamed an unholy golden, reminding her too much of someone else. Her gaze fell to his lips, pressed in a thin line, and she could sense the inner turmoil churning within him. Just as abruptly, her mind became a complete blank when it came to him.

"And apparently a natural with the Gifts too," he muttered to himself. He turned around abruptly to leave, catching her offguard.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Don't follow me, hatchling," he commanded.

With an unexpected smile upon her face, she did exactly the opposite, just as he had known she would.

***********

The waves crashed gently against the pier as he stood there. Wind swept through his fabled locks, and he stared at the moon, just like another man had earlier. He inhaled deeply, not really needing the air, but needing the reassurance that she had been here. Her scent still lingered, stirring his senses powerfully. Another scent smelling entirely too familiar joined it, and he fought the fierce jealousy that rose within. It was his own damn fault. He had cursed her, and in turn, done the same to himself.

He should've never given in to temptation. He should've staked himself centuries ago, but the very thought of seeing her had been his sole purpose for going on. He wanted to see her, be with her, make love to her as he had a thousand times in his all too vivid dreams. His need for her was so powerful that he sometimes shook with it. With the Curse came senses that amplified every sensation.

When he had surrendered to his desires, he had ultimately destroyed anything that could exist with him. But somehow, he knew that it wasn't as simple as that. As her Maker, he had created a bond that surpassed anything that any other being could have with her. Including my Maker, he snorted, sounding too much like the man who had just left with the woman who had stolen his heart.

Someday, somehow, he would get her back again. One of the perks about being the immortally damned was that you got to live a long time to regain a second chance, or exist in misery waiting for it. It just depended on how you viewed things.

Most days though, the glass was half empty.