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Awake and Lost Ch. 03

By: dreamalone



Harper pushes in eagerly, the thick head of his cock nudging in. Erica is so wet, so ready. She can't remember ever wanting anything more than this; his naked body above her, inside of her. She shuts her eyes against the tide of want.

His fists tangle in the sheets beside her head, clenching his fingers as he pants hotly against her lips.

"God, do it," she pleads, opening her eyes to stare up at him. 

There's a pause, and Harper's breath hitches. He's still a bit sluggish from when Erica hazed his mind earlier. Later he'll believe this to just be a dream. He wobbles and nearly slips out, so Erica slides her leg up and shoves her hips forward, forcing him to completely penetrate her at last.

Harper moans, one hand coming down to grip her thigh while the other squeezes her breast. His hips stutter against hers, short hard thrusts that have Erica keening and gushing around his cock and writhes with shocks of uncontrollable pleasure.

"You're so tight dream girl," Harper murmurs, eyes closed and thumbing at her nipple, "so wet and tight."

"Shut up," Erica tells him, focusing on the pleasure of him touching her, moving inside of her. "Shut up, shut up."

It's never been like this with Riley, and Erica wouldn't want it to be. She only ever wants to feel like this with Harper. Feel everything. She took a life before she came here for that reason alone; she's as good as alive thanks to that guy lurking in the park. Well, sort of.

It can't last long, not with Harper hazed and so ready. He thrusts erratically into Erica, grunting with the effort of fucking her into the bed. She comes again, crying out as she rocks her hips up into his.

As Harper pounds faster, spurting deep inside, she rolls them over and pins his wrists above his head.

"That's the last time you take me like that," Erica says, and grinds her hips down until his orgasm passes and his hips stop spasming, until his dick starts to go soft inside of her.

"Stop," he whines, head thrashing, "too much."

Erica kisses him one last time before pulling away. "Good boy," she whispers and bends down to stroke his messy dark hair affectionately. 

She hazes Harper until he falls asleep. Pliant from his orgasm as he is, he's more vulnerable to the suggestion, so it doesn't take much power.

"One day I'll tie you up to this bed and just fucking use you."

*

Riley glares down at the boy, blissed out and deeply asleep. He's going to kill him someday, there's no doubt about it.

Nick smiles, flipping through Harper's tattered music book. Riley stands stiffly off to the side, furious that they got here moments after Erica fled. "Kid's got talent though," Nick says, "I've been dead two-hundred and fifteen years and even I'm impressed."

Riley scowls and slaps the book out of his hand.

Nick sighs. "Lighten up, Riles. She's tethered to you." He glances around, sniffing a little. The smell of sex is palpable. Riley must be going nuts, it makes Nick grin. "She's yours, what's she gonna do, kill you and run off with the kid?" He scoffs. Riley clenches his jaw and doesn't answer.

"You know," Nick goes on, "if you wanted her all to yourself you should've just chained her up like I suggested in the first place."

Riley ignores him. "What's the word on Marcus's death?"

Nick was waiting for him to mention it. "You'll be happy to know that the Contingent believes Ehren tried to break the tether. The boy was newly turned, so it's likely he wouldn't have known he'd be killing himself by murdering Marcus."

"Thank you," Riley says, turning around. "It's still hard to believe you're a part of the Contingent, Nicholas."

"For you and me both, Ryland," Nick agrees. "You're just lucky it wasn't a stretch, and that you have friends in high places."

Morning's not far off now. Nick will let Riley sulk a few moments more, then they have to get the hell out of here.

"I'll kill him," Riley states resolutely, staring at the bed like he can still see her in it with the boy.

Nick rolls his eyes. "Familial loyalty is dead."

*

Harper writes for days. He writes so much music he worries he'll run out of space in his book.

Of course, he also doesn't leave the apartment in all that time. But he's hit on something here, has felt it ever since that dream he had the other night. Harper shakes his head and scribbles faster. He's so focused on getting the words and music out and written that he almost misses the phone ringing.

"Yeah?" He answers on the fifth ring.

"I hope that's not how you're answering the phone these days," his mother reprimands on the line. "What if a job comes through? What if it's someone important?"

"No ma', I got caller-ID, I knew it would be you," he lies.

He misses some of what she says, too distracted by the incessant buzz of inspiration. It's lucky he can answer her usual questions on auto-pilot. Yes, he's eating healthy, no he hasn't met anyone yet, yes he's still sure he wants to do the "music thing", no he hasn't been mugged, that news report was in a different area.

An hour goes by and Harper's dying to get off the phone. Not that he doesn't love the woman, but man she can be a chatterbox.

"I miss you sweetheart, I'm glad you're doing well up there." She sniffles. "I love you, be good, be safe," she tells him, heartfelt, and Harper suddenly feels like the biggest asshole.

"I know, you too ma', love you too," Harper says and hangs up. He really does miss her, chatterbox and mild paranoia and all. 

It's only been four months, but it feels like a lifetime. Being an only kid, his mother was always a bit overprotective. And she still hasn't forgiven him for not going to college, and then moving to the city of all places to become a musician.

But he'd persisted. "I'm twenty-two mom. I have money saved up to get me by, I'll be fine."

He was doing okay. He just missed home a little, a lot. He'd be fine.

Harper picks up his book and continues writing the song he's been fixated on; about a girl that stole him in dreams.

*

A week goes by and Riley still can't pin Erica. She's been on the move constantly since her night with Harper. Riley knows she's doing it to confuse his senses and strain the tether. As though he wasn't pissed as it was before; he hates when she plays hide and seek. It's not often that she does this, but it's fucking maddening when she does.

Riley plans to take Nick's advice, chain her to his bed, have her, make sure not to let her get away this time.

He's going to show her who she belongs to.

*

Harper has a gig at a small coffee shop called The Buzz Cafe. It pays more in free coffee than cash, but he loves it.

That night after he finishes his set, he spots a familiar face in the far back. Harper can't put his finger on who she is. He doesn't have a lot of friends in the city and the few he does have don't really care about his music. When he seeks her out again she's gone. Harper rubs his eyes and puts his guitar back in its case.

Mara, the barista that got him the gig here, calls him over to the bar. She's a sweet, round lady, and reminds him so much of his mother that he felt comfortable around her right away. "Nice set, new originals?"

"A few, mostly covers until I have more songs finished," Harper tells her.

Mara smiles, "I liked the one about the dream girl."

Harper ducks his head, feeling a little embarrassed about that one, personal as it is, when someone slides into the stool beside him.

Mara frowns, glances oddly between them and then walks away. Harper's heart races and he can't seem to bring himself to see who it is.

"I like your music," comes the soft voice from beside him. "You're very talented."

He swallows around the lump in his throat and replies with a tight, "Thank you." He still can't turn to look at her for some reason. The girl shifts closer though, leaning over to peer at his face.

"Who did you write that song for?" Her voice is a wisp of a thing, sweet and timid and wrong somehow.

A hand slides high up on his thigh, nails raking lightly over the material of his jeans. Harper feels his dick twitch at the contact. This is ridiculous.

"Do I know you?" He asks abruptly, forcing himself to turn and face her. Her hand falls away as she stares back at him in surprise. She's pretty, Harper notes, with her light brown hair and wide dark eyes. Her face is so familiar, like an ache in his chest, a fist curling around his heart. "Do I know you?" He repeats softly, wonderingly.

She stares at him a moment more before rising from her seat, biting her bottom lip nervously. "I have to go," she says, then rushes to the back exit.

"Wait!" Harper jumps up and follows after her, heart racing.

He bounds out the door, eyes searching frantically until he's pushed against the wall beside the exit. It's her, eyes glinting in the empty, shadowed alley. She pulls him up against the wall by his shirt until his feet are hardly touching the ground.

"What are you doing?" Harper starts, terrified and confused.

"I can't," she whispers, eyes wide. When she sucks in a breath Harper sees what looks like, but can't possibly be, the points of fangs. "I can't let you go, I can't." She dips her head close, grazing her teeth over his jaw and Harper freezes.

"Harper," she moans.

"How," Harper stops, gulps. "How do you know my name?"

The girl rubs a hand up his chest and holds it over his heart, suddenly, a flood of dreamy glimpses of skin, and eyes, and fangs wash over his mind. Harper gasps, shutting his eyes. "I remember."

Reality shifts, dreams, dreams that weren't dreams. He can't move, can't even think. And then he looks at her only to see her smiling.

"I remember," he snarls and starts to struggle in her hold.

She lets him go, pulls back as though struck. Harper stumbles, feeling off-kilter and utterly weak, and has to lean against the wall for support. "It was you," he says, his voice is a mixture of awe and anger, "the kisses, the sex, the dreams."

She stares at the ground; quiet like she's the one that's been wounded. Harper feels sick but he also has an insane urge to pull her closer. Fuck. "What did you do to me?" He demands, frantic. "Who are you? What are you?"

She lifts her head and takes a step towards him, stopping when Harper flinches away. "I'm Erica," she says, face kept carefully blank. "I'm a vampire."

Harper gawks. "You're insane." And he thinks he might be as well, because he believes her.

"Yeah," Erica laughs hollowly.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from me," Harper tells her, and his voice shakes, too many emotions rising up like bile. He still can't believe this is happening. "Get away from me, just, just leave me alone. Fuck."

She shakes her head, eyes desperate. "I can't. I can't."

"Please." Another rush of memories sweeps through him, naked bodies writhing together, details filling in of too many nights of stolen kisses. The song makes more sense, he thinks crazily. All the ways she's known him, and he never even knew it was happening till now. "Erica," he pleads. "Stay away."

At her name she whimpers, bowing her head and moving back into the shadows.

Harper slides down against the wall until he's sitting on the cement. The memories become clearer and clearer. He doesn't know how long he sits there, trying to process it all, all he knows is that he doesn't move until the sun rises.

Awake and Lost Ch. 04



"I do understand, you know," Riley says, trailing his fingers over the tight manacles on Erica's wrists. "I understand it so well, Erica." He straddles her waist and looks down at her.

They're in Riley's studio apartment. A bout of insanity and purpose lead Erica here, desperation and rejection- loneliness. For the second time in her long life, she was struck with a grief so visceral she just needed something, anything, to anchor herself.

Even if anything was this.

Erica writhes under Riley, her hands and feet are chained to the bedposts. Riley's settled back on her lap, smiling down at her in that deceptively sweet way of his. He cups her breasts through the material of her blouse, fingers squeezing. He laughs sharply when she gasps. "I've always appreciated that you were so well endowed, love," Riley says, and rakes his gaze over her hungrily with his sharp green eyes.

Erica narrows her eyes, giving him the barest of smirks, she says, "Too bad I can't say the same."

Riley's smile disappears and he starts tearing at her blouse. The buttons go flying and his fists clench around shreds of material. Shame, it was her favourite.

"You have a smart mouth," he sneers, looking down at her bare breasts. He cups them again, but this time with his full strength, and the bite of his too-sharp nails digging into her skin. "Tonight I don't think I'll give you the opportunity to use it."

Riley slides his hands up her chest, until his fingers are hovering at her collarbone. He's already shirtless. The exposed bulk of his beautifully muscled arms and chest would be desirable on anyone else. In another time she had felt that way, finding comfort in his strength. It was love, or something like, before she knew the truth. That feels like another world entirely. His hands wrap lightly around her neck.

"I've wanted to kill you so many times," Riley admits to her sweetly, hanging his head and smiling, like he's just confessed his love for her. "Yes, that. Didn't I ever say it? I could've sworn I did."

Erica snaps her gaze back to him.

"Surprised?" Riley's smile widens as he slides a knee in between her thighs and pushes it up between her legs. Erica shivers. "Don't look like that, I'm not a mind reader. I just know the way that pretty head of yours works."

Erica doesn't meet his eye, focusing instead on the hairline of his buzzed dark hair. Riley rolls his eyes.

"Humans are obsessed with love, you'd think that notion would die out once you, you know, die but that's just not the case. And besides, if I had to do it over," he leans down, whispers, "I'd take you again."

He pulls back until he's standing at the bed's edge, pulling off her jeans. "I think that's love, don't you?" Riley leans down, breathing against the light, coarse hair between her legs, "Anyway, I'd kill us a thousand times over before I ever let you be with him."

He dips his head and tongues at her, lips sealing over her clit. Erica lies stiffly, hands clenched in fists - it's hard to not cry out, to not push into it.

Riley looks up at her, his wet mouth making obscene sucking sounds all the while, his nose buried in the curls of hair. Erica gasps and shakes.

The memories are clearer when they're together like this, at least, his view of them. Links form so easily with sex, they last longer than a hand held over a person's heart. It's the physical connection of it, of being a part of someone. With each stroke of Riley's tongue he pours his memories into her like molten liquid.

When they first met, he was the dapper devil with an inviting smile. Her father always warned her about the young man with that cigarette between his teeth and his absence at the church on Sundays. Riley never once stepped a foot near that church, nor was he ever seen during the day - at the time the rumours about that were too crazy to believe.

"Come on," the devil says now. He's leaning back, leaving her wet and exposed to the cool air for a second before hurriedly thrusting two of his fingers into her. The thrust of them is sharp and possessive. The chains on her ankles clink as Erica strains away.

She's still getting flashes, glimpses of a time when he'd pulled her close and kissed her so sweetly. Some nights - and they only ever met at night - he snuck her into the local speakeasy and sat her on his lap.

People stared at them, they always did. The preacher's daughter with the town's nightly trouble maker. She would blush red and duck her head, and Riley would hold her tightly and hide a smile against her hair. The images flit through her mind like a photo album. She was so young and stupid.

"You're remembering. Good," Riley states, on the next thrust of his fingers he slips a third in.

"I remember," Erica whispers, and thinks of Harper uttering the same words.

Riley looks up at her beneath his long lashes, his smiling mouth pressed to the skin of her thigh as he watches his fingers fuck into her. "You remember that you loved me too?"

He's trying to push the good memories to the front of her mind, of course. But the whole picture is already there, has always been there at the back of her mind whenever she looks at him, clear as day. Erica remembers her father's church burning.

Riley pulls his fingers out roughly and slides up the bed, hovering his naked body over hers. "Erica," he snarls, baring his fangs.

Another memory comes through, this one of their first time. Well, hers at least. They were on her bed, Riley was above her, just as he is now, only he was kissing her neck softly and whispering "I love you"s into her skin. The house was empty save for them in her room, her father liked staying late at the church.

Riley had pushed inside for the first time and Erica remembers loving him so much in that moment. So foolishly. She remembers looking into his eyes and thinking "this is forever" as he sunk into her - just as his teeth sunk into the skin right over her heart the night the church burned. 

Forever, she thinks bitterly now, is a long fucking time.

Riley's cock slips between her thighs now, hot and plump with blood that isn't his. Their tether is like an invisible string that ties around their hearts. A mockery of a true bond, since she never chose this.

They can't be too far apart for too long a time or the pull becomes viciously painful for Erica. She can't deny him this when he wants it, though she can dodge him for a while if she stays near enough. They can't kill one another without killing themselves; but they can make each other hurt. 

Erica is bound to him, and there are only two ways out.

"Why did you do it?" She asks as Riley pulls her knees up, he shakes his head.

"I didn't know," Riley tells her, his cock already slipping inside. "Back then, I had no idea of all that the tethering would entail. All I knew was that I loved you."

All those years ago, Riley had sealed his blood-filled mouth over hers, until Erica, hazed and unknowing of what would happen, parted her lips as well as her legs and accepted him. He vowed to never let her go, she vowed the same and woke up the next night, only to find her humanity, as well as her only link to life murdered by the man she thought she loved.

Erica thinks of Harper. Her want for him is an ache, a brutal clenching in her chest like their hearts were already bound. Finding him made her feel alive in a way she'd forgotten, painful and amazing and too much. There's nothing in the world she wants more than him. But, even wanting him so, even having taken so much from him already, Erica knows she couldn't do that to him. She wouldn't steal his life, his humanity, even if it were an option.

"That isn't love," she whispers, chains clink and her head clears, she's being fucked into the bed. "You don't love me, Riley. You're not capable of loving anything. You just take what you want." 

Riley hums, hips thrusting lazily. "And how are you any different?"

Laughter bubbles out of her uncontrollably. "I'm no better than you are," she says, blinking tears out of her eyes. "But at least I have the decency to die."

Before Riley can react, Erica slips her wrist out of the manacle and grabs the dagger she'd placed under the pillow beforehand, driving it into Riley's chest.

*

"Nick, regardless of the circumstances, both you and Riley were in that boy's room. If the others catch wind--"

"But they won't," Nick bites out, staring the young vampire down, "will they, Conor?"

Conor huffs, his fists clenching at his sides. "I understand that you feel a...a responsibility to your sired, but you know the risk, Nick. Just. For once, wouldn't it be better to let him pay for his own actions?"

Nick turns away, scoffs. "He hardly did anything worthy of punishment."

"One must not seek out those of his bloodline," Conor recites, eyes glinting in the low firelight of the hallway, "in search of solace nor retribution, one must not make themselves known to--"

"Enough!" Nick shouts, whirling on him suddenly enough that Conor flinches back. "Don't insult me, I know the order. The situation has been dealt with! There was no contact, the boy is not aware."

Conor sets his jaw, pale green eyes narrowing. It's so unlike him that Nick almost laughs at him when he sneers, "But Riley is aware of the boy. That's bad enough, Nick. I know he wouldn't go sniffing around his bloodline for nothing."

The corner of Nick's mouth twitches up. "How are you so sure he's Riley's descendant? He could be mine."

"I've seen his line, and yours," Conor says, trying not to break his stern look, "needless to say that if he is your descendant, he's the wrong colour."

Nick stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, grabbing Conor by the shoulder. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Conor looks resolutely back at him, then ducks his head to hide a small smile. "Nick," he says exasperatedly, "you can't keep doing this. Someday he's going to get you killed."

Nick sighs and his hand falls. "I said the same thing to you about Marcus."

"It's different being sired, my existence was his," Conor says tersely. "Besides, I knew I was disposable. I'm glad someone killed the bastard."

"Hey, respect your Elder," Nick chuckles, shoving him. "He was almost a thousand years old, not one of us has lived to that age yet."

"I'm still glad for his death, I'm safer for it," Conor states, swiping shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes. "And you would be too if you would just let Riley--"

"It's not up for discussion," Nick cuts him off, letting his hand fall away. "Riley is better off at my side, I'll keep him out of further trouble."

Conor says nothing for a moment, lips pressed in a thin line as he searches Nick's face. "Alright," he says finally, still looking mullish. "If the Contingent finds out about any of this, it won't be from me."

"Good boy," Nick says, grinning as Conor scowls for being called "boy". They turn back to continue down the torch-lit path. "Now, I have a meeting to attend."

*

Harper can't bring himself to write anything or touch an instrument. It's not that he has no ideas, it's just that he can't get them out. He's still shaken up by everything, and half of him doesn't even believe it happened.

Though, the dreams haven't stopped.

Harper doesn't even know what to do with that, with any of it. And it's only more confusing when he tries to reconcile the dreams as actual memories. Sometimes he thinks too much about it, sometimes he thinks about the girl; Erica.

The thought of her strikes up all kinds of messed up emotions, from dismay, to anger, to arousal, to hatred, to another scary thing he has no name for. The nameless thing settles like a heavy weight in his chest, and whenever he thinks about her it becomes an ache. 

Is it normal to miss someone you never really knew? Harper's pretty sure there are laws for the kind of thing she pulled, but they probably don't pertain to vampires. And vampires: fuck. Like it wasn't enough of a kick in the head that he was getting (not so)dream-laid, but then - oh hey, vampires exist! And his dream girl is a vampire with a thing for using him when he's at his most vulnerable.

Harper's jerked off about that particular revelation more times than he'll ever admit.

He's very seriously considering therapy, even if he has no clue what he would say about the whole thing.

Harper knows he'll pick up his tattered old book eventually. And if he's got half-composed songs in his head about finding her again, about submitting to her... Well. It's all in his head.

"Harper," Erica says, shocking Harper out of his reverie and tapping a bloodied knuckle to his window. All in his head. Yeah.

Or not.



Awake and Lost Ch. 05



I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed 
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
- Sylvia Plath