Alpha
AUTHOR: Lucky
DISCLAIMER: Except for the creations of the author, all characters, characterizations, situations, and locations described in this unsolicited and not-for-profit work of fiction are the property of ABC Television, Capitol Cities, Inc., Steven Bochco Productions, Hallmark/Artisan Entertainment, the many talented people who created these characters and locations, and the actors who have brought those creations to life. The author would also like to extend her personal gratitude to Mr. Scott Cohen for his light, his vitality, his inspiration, and for being such a compelling muse. Thank you, sir.
FEEDBACK: To Lucky
Diane turned on her yellow Walkman and headed out on the jogging path. It still between the time for the early morning joggers and the midmorning joggers, so she found herself, comfortably enough, mostly alone.
Mostly alone. It was how she liked it now. It gave her time to think.
To remember.
And she wanted to remember, to remember him. He'd been so unhappy. All of his legs broken, foaming at the mouth, rats in his head, crazy and scared and begging.
She knew he was happy now.
She picked up her pace, feeling the spring morning catch in her lungs, blowing it back into the air as she operated her own vitality. Finally.
It had been a bad winter.
Just as she began to fall into rhythm with the song in her headphones, mouthing the words through her blooming breaths, everything was forced out of her at once as an unseen arm slung around her waist and dragged her aside into the thicket of trees, slamming her audibly into the ground. He whipped her Walkman off and threw it aside.
"Whatcha got, baby... huh?"
He was terrible. Reeking of booze and an apartment full of garbage. He grabbed at her sweatshirt, yanking it up until it almost covered her face.
"I'm a cop!" she shrieked, getting his slimy, salty hand in her mouth for her efforts.
"And I'm the goddamn Pope. Shut the fuck up, girl," he hissed, using his free hand to rip at her sweatpants and underwear.
Holding back her gag reflex, she punctured his hand with her teeth, spitting vilely as he pulled it away from her face with a yelp. He cracked her across the head hard enough to make her see stars.
"You take what's comin' to you, bitch!" he grunted, slapping her again when she started to scream for help.
Suddenly, from behind the nearest tree, an inhuman noise. Not a growl, but a snarl, like a big dog.
The man on top of her was bolted forcibly aside as the stranger lit into him, rolling him furiously, then dragging him to his feet, still breathing in a rippling, terrifying racket.
Diane's attacker began to kick out at the man with a yelp. "What the fuck, man?!"
The stranger grabbed his coat and slung him into the tree he had jumped from behind, then put the heel of his hand into the rapist's face, slamming the back of his head into the solid, living wood hard enough to knock him unconscious. As the filthy man fell in a heap, just starting to bleed from the mouth, the stranger stood over him in triumph, heaving with his own exertion.
Still prone on the ground, Diane spoke quietly to him, hearing her voice shake. "Thank you."
The stranger whipped around, dropping to the grass and glaring at her with a fresh growl, and Diane could have sworn she screamed.
But she couldn't breathe at all.
Harry... but... Bright ember eyes, slick fangs, red and pale in a blank, consumed rage. This man...
There was no way this was a man.
He crept forward carefully, displaying clearly that he could hurt her if he wanted to, and she was frozen by his burning eyes. He came close enough to touch and put his hand out, pulling it back in little halts. Diane closed her eyes.
Oh, I'm fucked... I am so fucked...
Then she felt the hem of her sweatshirt, still drawn up to her neck, pluck its way carefully back down to where it belonged, covering her.
She opened her eyes again, seeing the creature now leaning over her, watching her carefully with eyes of lit amber.
The eyes of an animal.
Not knowing why, just knowing that she had to, that it was all he would understand as gratitude, she lifted a hand into his hair, stroking it back from his face. His eyes fluttered and he turned his face against her pulse point, breathing deeply. Slowly, he lowered his head, sliding his jaw alongside hers, speaking into her ear with a low, warning purr.
"Go home. The forest is no place for little girls."
Before she could even process what was happening, he drew in another cupful of her scent and planted a gentle bite on her cheek.
And then he was gone in the tiniest rustle of grass and brush, leaving the way he came, disappearing into the trees.
Diane lay, still and silent, wondering exactly what had just occurred. Carefully, she touched the place where he had bitten her, but felt no bruise and no blood. He hadn't bitten her at all.
It was a kiss.
She was startled out of her epiphany by the sound of a now-distant howl and blinked a few times, suddenly becoming aware of what she was looking at through the trees, pale and wan, silver-gray and swimming in the morning blue sky.
A full moon.
The End.
