That Which I Desire

Chapter Twelve - Tension

"Who?" she whispered, drawing a finger over the land lines.

She was not familiar enough with this particular map to picture where the marked off area was. It gave no locations of towns and very few lines showed roads. For the most part, this was a simple geographical map; giving hints as to where the land rose and fell, and where small bodies of water might be. Regardless of her lack of cartographic skill, she understood what his mark meant.

"I do not know the scent," Sage answered. "I can only tell that it is male."

Genevieve handed the folded map back to him, her eyes only lifting from it once she made a good guess as to where her house might lie. The mark fell too close for her comfort, and obviously it was too close for his as well.

"Can you tell if he's still here?" she asked, stupidly. If the other vampire were still within Sage's territory, Sage would not be with her right then. When he gave her a wry glance, she pursed her lips before speaking. "Alright, but can you tell how long he stayed?"

He shook his head. His hair was haphazardly pulled into a tail, as Damien so often kept his. Sage's shoes were worn and dirty, but most pairs never did make it through a run in tact. Still, he always at least bathed before coming to see her. That he was involving her in his own worry made it clear that this was not something to be taken lightly.

"He has crossed into and out of my land several times over the past few weeks," Sage explained, pacing silently. "Always in the same area, and always having just eaten."

Gen swallowed and turned her chair to face him, knowing her mind would not be on writing for some time.

"You can tell that?" she asked.

He nodded once.

"Why would he do that?" she asked.

Sage shook his head, pacing. His eyes darted back and forth as he thought, took three long strides and turned again.

"He is not hunting here," Sage mumbled. "He has not openly challenged me. If he meant to try for the land, he would have stayed. That he is using only that area as a gate seems to mean that he is attempting to remain unnoticed."

"So he comes in, sniffs around, and leaves," Gen offered, shrugging. "Rinse, repeat."

"What piqued his interest to a point where he feels the sudden need to act in such a way?" Sage asked aloud.

"That's not normal, then," Gen said, picking up a notepad and a pen.

"No."

"I thought you said Damien would bring in dangerous adversaries?" she asked as she wrote down quick notes.

"Only if they had a reason to be here to begin with," he explained, slightly exasperated. "If one was looking to challenge my for my land, he might enter, catch Damien's scent, and be drawn to it's uniqueness. There has been no challenge, and therefore no reason for his curiosity to be piqued."

"Nothing to make him want to investigate so carefully..." Gen mused aloud, staring blankly at the wall while Sage passed in front of her as he paced.

"Damien has been nowhere out of his normal radius?" Sage asked, pausing mid-step.

Gen shook her head. "Savannah's place is not far from here. He's been there, to school, and here."

"No reason for his scent to have carried, then. Or mine," he answered, resuming his steps.

Gen's mind worked at a fast pace, using her own knowledge of Sage's kind to try and fathom what the other vampire was thinking. When he mentioned scent, her thoughts wandered to a drifting scent, carried on a breeze or a high wind.

....high wind....

"Oh god," she said, staring at the map in his hands before she stood and grabbed it.

Sage stopped, asking her what was wrong as she unfolded it and laid it out on her bed. It showed the general outline of most of the state, and she flattened her hand out over the coastline where land met ocean.

"The hurricane," she whispered, drawing her hand up the path that the storm had taken.

Years ago, she would have laughed at such a thought; that a vampire could pick up another's scent on a storm-wind. However, she had had several conversations with 'her' vampire, and at least one of them had involved scent. Vampiric senses were heightened, but their sense of smell was especially good.

Gen remembered that she had once laughed and compared him to a Bloodhound, and he had simply watched her with a smirk. Apparently, the dogs were not called Bloodhounds only because rich folk had claimed them. Their breed's ancestors (who had apparently looked much more fierce than their current kin) were the first and only canines that had ever been domesticated by vampires. She found it hard to imagine a vampiric dog, but Sage had explained that it was an all but extinct process. His kind were only able to share their 'gift' a few times during their lives, and only once they were well into their maturity. Not many would waste their gift on a dog anymore.

According to Sage, his entire territory reeked of him to any other vampire. Their sense of smell was especially attuned to the scents of their kin, as well as the blood-laden scent that humans gave off. All different, of course, but all very obviously hunger-inducing. Now that Damien had come of age and chosen a human to feed from, his scent would be mingling with his father's; a strange mix of food and kin.

Knowing that their sense of smell was just that extraordinary, both Sage and Gen stared at the map with horror as she drew her hand over it. The hurricane's path had taken it directly over the line where Sage's mark had been made.

"The storm. They smelled him on the winds," she whispered.

There was silence until he finally stood up straight and moved to the window. She could practically feel the anger emanating off of him, as he curled his hands into fists.

"That's new, Sage," she warned, her eyes moving to the window.

He sighed aloud, but shoved either fist into his pocket.

"Bring him home," Sage ordered.

"I will not have the two of you fighting-"

"I will not fight my son," Sage barked, turning on his heel to glare at her.

"Hey," she stood to face him, anger feeding from his. "Don't get pissy with me! You had him by the collar within minutes the last time you two were in the same room."

Gen waited long enough to see the annoyed smirk playing on his lips before moving back to her computer. She might as well save what she had written before things got bad. Rather, before things got worse than they already were.

"I need to speak with him," Sage amended, facing the window again. "It is time he learned something of his kind."

"I've taught him enough," she replied, turning and folding her arms.

"You've taught him as much as I have taught you," Sage answered in a dangerous voice, turning on his heel and approaching her with slow steps. "I have taught you as much as I would allow written into your books."

She must have given him one hell of a look, because his expression shifted, and his words came on a silken voice.

"If the vampire who is crossing my boundary has not challenged me, then it is possible that he works for someone much stronger. It is possible that he is gathering information for the vampire that will issue the challenge," he explained.

"You're saying there are two?" she asked, anger once again replaced by fear. Even as Sage slid an an arm around her waist in an act of apology, she could only focus on the sudden fear that gripped her.

"It is highly possible," he answered.

"He can't take on two," she whispered, her head laying easily against his chest as her hands gripped the edges of his shirt. He smelled like the outdoors, a mix of wind and trees and dirt.

"If there are two, Damien will not face them alone," Sage answered. "That is why I need you to bring him home."

Gen set her head back so that she could meet his eyes. She took in a breath, allowing her thoughts to catch up to the conversation, and finally nodded.

"No fighting," she ordered, peeling her hands away from his shirt and pulling her cell phone out of her pocket.

"I will try my best," Sage said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Genevieve glared at him as she typed in the text, wondering how he could be so careless and playful during such a dire situation. Then again, Sage had lived through plenty of dire situations.

She could only hope that Damien took after his father in that respect.

There was a vein that ran up the underside of the human arm, and that was the one he had latched onto. She seemed to enjoy the neck bites much more, but he did not like her having to wear band-aids and make up on her neck. He had been hesitant to try a new place at first, but Savannah was so caught up in what his hands were doing that he didn't think she would mind.

In fact, her scent, and the sound and feel of her was affecting him in such a way that he only took enough blood to sate his thirst. With a quick slip of the underside of his tongue, the blood flow slowed to a stop, clotting quickly as he pulled his mouth free and licked his lips.

"Don't stop," she said, her voice a whisper.

Damien swallowed again, and met her gaze before licking his lips. "I'm not," he replied, shifting his hands and dipping his head to draw his tongue over her chest in soft, teasing lines.

He noticed too late that there were light marks of red on her skin as he moved. Blood never cleaned up as easily as it did on TV. It took a glass of water to really cleanse the mouth of it. Regardless, the site did not stop him. Savannah was being very insistent. So insistent that her hands were pulling at the button and zipper of his jeans.

The two of them had been intimate, but not so intimate that they needed to worry about contraception or protection. That she had allowed him to drink her blood had been a huge step, and he had not wanted to push her any further. However, it seemed as though she would be the one pushing him. He lifted himself up, and watched with mild fascination as her fingers freed the button and slid the zipper down. Only when one of her hands lifted to draw a thumb across the side of his mouth did he meet her eyes.

She giggled, showing him her thumb (which had a smear of blood that he had obviously missed). The action proved to him that she was obviously not squeamish about it. She made it seem so normal that he found himself more turned on, (if that was even possible).

Damien leaned back over, taking her thumb into his mouth and running his tongue over it as he watched her eyes. He had just moved his hands to the waistband of his pants when he heard his cell phone vibrate, and then beep loudly from the table in the other room.

Savannah ignored it, but he did not. The beep was a back-up page that his mother only used when she needed to speak with him. Savannah pouted as he jerked his pants closed and moved away from her. Still, she apparently found his growl giggle-worthy, even as he stalked into the other room.

Damien ran his hand roughly through his hair as he called his mother. When she picked up, he fought to control his annoyance.

"You have excellent timing," he drawled, his tone laden with sarcasm.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked.

"I was..." he rolled his eyes, gesturing to the air as he tried to think of a way to put it. "I was otherwise occupied," he finished.

"Well, the timing-fairy must have visited both of us, because yours isn't too great either," Gen said. "I need you to come home."

"Why, what's wrong?" he asked, mirroring her tone from a moment before.

Savannah came to the doorway to her room, having pulled on what he guessed was the first piece of clothing she could find. His black T-shirt did not fit her as her own might have, but it covered her enough that he could barely keep his mind on the issue at hand.

"You father is here," Gen started, and Damien did not let her get far.

"Him? You want me there because of him? I should have known that the second I start to get too comfortable-"

"Damien!" Gen yelled for the third time. When he stopped, she picked up where she had been cut off. "There is a problem with another vampire crossing his territory line. We all need to talk about this."

Damien's eyes lifted to meet Savannah's again, and he stopped pacing. "Fine. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he said, and hung up the phone.

Savannah's eyes cleared and she turned to enter the room before him. When he followed, he was distracted enough by the sight of her lifting off his shirt and slipping on her own clothes that he didn't say anything. Only when the black t-shirt hit him did he blink and speak to her.

"Wait-"

"I'm coming with you," she said simply, moving to pull her hair back into a ponytail.

He got a glimpse of the bite mark under her arm and scowled. "I don't think you should," he said, taking a guess at his father's reaction to seeing her again.

Savannah spun in place, a wicked light in her eyes. "Damien, if that phone call was important enough to cut us off where we stopped, I'm going with you."

He stood there in place, trying to take in everything that had happened within the past few hours. Savannah was ready within minutes, and moved past him to get to her shoes, running a hand lightly over his bare stomach.

"C'mon. Put your shirt on. What's going on anyway?" she asked.

"My father is at the house. Mom said there's another vamp in his digs, and he wants to talk to me about it," he explained, only a few words muffled as he pulled his shirt on. The lingering scent of Savannah's skin was almost enough to distract him again.

She hesitated. That, at least, was proof of her survival instinct. Despite that, he watched as her shoulder squared in direct relation to her resolve, and she finished tying her shoes.

"That's even more reason for me to go," she said, standing and looking him over as she shrugged into a hoodie. "C'mon! Socks, shoes, jacket!" she insisted. "We're down to ten minutes, and the last thing we need tonight is a speeding ticket."

"I'll drive," he said, giving up.

When they were halfway there, Damien rolled his eyes and groaned.

"What?" she asked, finishing off the last of a juice bottle and screwing the cap back on. She had been well stocked in juice and vitamins since she had begun reading his mother's books.

"You smell like blood," he mumbled, hoping the darkness hid his blush. It was his fault, but he wondered how she would feel about that.

"Oh," she said, and he saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye. A moment later, she looked at him, and said "Oh!" again, the word much more pronounced.

"You can use my shower if you want," he offered, still embarrassed that he had forgotten.

"It's alright. Doesn't bother me," she said offhandedly, staring at the dashboard of his car. "I hate this song, mind if I change it?"

It was obvious that she was trying very hard to make it clear just how much it did not bother her. For that, he was thankful.

What neither of them considered was how Sage might react.

To be honest, he had never seen much of her home. His usual haunt had been her bedroom, usually in an attempt to keep his distance from his son. Apparently, Genevieve had paid someone to clean up the damaged rooms after the storm, and they had done well. Everything smelled very new, and dry, which was a huge improvement over the soaked room he remembered.

It was late, and he sat comfortably in one of the chairs in her sitting room. Gen was drifting between looking tired and looking worried, absently flipping television channels as she waited. They had known each other long enough that the silence was not uncomfortable. One did not need to be of his kind to know how to navigate her moods after so long. The television kept her calm, and they both needed that right then.

The door opened, and he knew right away that Damien was not alone. His son's scent was stronger now, as he had apparently just fed. In fact, the girl reeked of her own blood, and he felt his own muscles tense in reaction.

"Sloppy," he grumbled, his eyes meeting Damien's.

The boy barely had his coat off before he was yelling, instinctively placing himself in front of the girl.

"Well, if you'd had better timing, maybe we'd have cleaned up real nice for ya. Perhaps brought a bottle of wine?"

Sage couldn't help but smirk at the mirrored view of his own ice blue eyes glaring back at him. He was forming a witty, but barbed reply when Gen stood and yelled over them all.

"Alright. Lets do this the right way, shall we? Damien, this is your father. Sage, this is your son. You know each other. Sage, this is Savannah, Damien's girlfriend," Gen leaned around Damien to pull the girl out by the arm. She was no doubt ignorant of the girl's blatant scent. What had he done, rubbed it on her? "Savannah, this is Sage, Damien's father."

"Sam?"

Sage rolled his eyes. That stupid name. He had only just allowed her to get by with using it, and that was only because he was still in the early stages of courtship at the time.

"Yes," Genevieve replied, color dancing over her cheeks as she glanced his way. "Yes, that is the name I gave in the book."

“It's uhm, very nice to meet you, sir,” the girl said.

When he nodded and smiled a bit too sweetly, Damien growled.

“You'll have to forgive me, Vladislav. You've practically basted her,” he said.

Genevieve and Savannah both caught Damien as he started forward.

"I'll just...shower," Savannah murmured, blushing to her hairline and sidling off toward the other room.

Damien moved to follow, only breaking his glare when he passed his mother.

"Give us a few minutes. This talk can wait that long, I'm sure,” with one last pointed look, Damien left the room.

Gen sat heavily on the couch, and the two remained in silence for another span of minutes before he finally set his eyes on her. One brow lifted over his eye as he did his best to show her his annoyance, rather than the tension that being so close to Damien brought to his muscles.

"I really do hate that name, you know."

“Probably as much as Damien hates his given name,” she responded with a playful smirk that he was sure she had learned from him. “Call him that again, and you'll be Sam for the rest of tonight.”

He promptly glared at her.