* I SPY / A CORPSE!

frankie’s breath hitched as ardan’s fingers slipped from her wrists, the sudden loss of contact making a soft whine escape her throat even though she knew he was only stopping her from tugging at his pants. they watched, half‑dazed, as he flicked open his belt, the zipper sighing down, and his boxers fell in a swift motion that revealed the thick length of his cock already slick with arousal. a flush crept up her chest, and she let her hands fall to the sheets, feeling the cool fabric contrast with the heat pooling between her thighs. it’d been ages since an immortal had made them feel this ALIVE, and the thought that they’d been spending most of their nights with women only made the intensity of ardan’s presence sting sharper. she could already feel the old boredom of men (well, mortal men) melting away, replaced by a hungry, almost desperate NEED to be taken apart by him. they smirked, lips parting just enough to whisper, “come on, baby, don’t make me beg for it.”

when ardan pulled off her shirt and bra, the cool air kissed her exposed nipples, making them peak instantly, and she could see the faint trail of blood from his earlier bites tracing dark lines down her neck and over the swell of her breasts. he lifted them, his arm braced under their waist, and set them back onto the mattress with a possessive GENTLENESS that made their heart hammer against their ribs. he hovered above her, his eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the promise of his thrust in how his hips tilted. the moment his cock pressed against their entrance, a loud, shuddering whimper tore from their lips as they felt the stretch, their nails digging crescents into his back, and they gasped, “fuck… yes, ardan, make me feel every inch.”

ardan’s jaws clamped onto her neck again, the bite sharp enough to draw FRESH blood that welled and trickled down her collarbone, and frankie met his kiss with a fierce, hungry press of her own lips, her tongue darting out to lap the coppery taste as she moaned into his skin. they bucked against him, their walls clamping around his length, and whispered between gasps, “you’re the first immortal who’s ever made me forget how GOOD it feels to be fucked… don’t stop, you fucking brute.” her voice was raw, mouthy, and dripping with the filthy confidence that only came when she was utterly, deliciously undone.

Ardan felt himself salivate as he took in the heavy swells of Frankie's breasts. His hips snapped, disconnected in his moment of distraction, before recovering shortly after. Must've been the oversized tee she was wearing before; it had hidden them well. The demon hissed, his nerves alight as Frankie's nails raked down his skin. His back went rigid, blood pooling downwards, and the pain pulled a deep, angry thrust out of his hips.

Their lips tangled together in another kiss, coppery tang of their blood sliding down his throat while his tongue swiped underneath their lower lip. His fangs followed soon after, digging into the skin before giving their lip a playful nip. "Fuck... ya take me so well, Frankie." The sentence rumbled from his chest, vibrating against their skin as his teeth dragged lazily down the skin of their neck. A wake of thin, red welts blistered moments after.

Like a piston, Ardan's hips jutted in an efficient, vicious rhythm. He was thrusting deeper, and the friction of Frankie's muscles clenching around him was already making him see stars. He had to hold on longer, and he steeled himself as his head meandered down to their chest. Peppering kisses on the soft skin, his lips grazed closer towards her nipple. His tongue circled the peaked skin before enveloping it and sucking greedily. A monstrous growl slipped from his lips as he listened to Frankie's filthy mouth. Moving to her opposite breast, he left sharp, little bites against its curve before swallowing her other nipple.

His obsidian glaze flickered up to Frankie, teeth teasing their flesh as they challenged him. Ardan shivered, drinking in their breathless laughter as his rhythm slowed. He took this moment to kiss up Frankie's neck, biting at her pulse point. Stretching his arm up, he pressed the fingers he fucked them with into their mouth. "Suck," he commanded, and he watched hungrily as the siren's cheeks hollowed, tongue slipping between his wet digits. Once he was satisfied, he removed his fingers, only to place them back against Frankie's clit. He stroked incessantly with an unnatural ability to keep a firm pace. His hips followed soon after, thrusting deep and brutal, just how Ardan knew she wanted it.

Eleanora didn't realize just how much she needed to give physical touch like that until she pulled away from Hana. She had slotted herself so perfectly around her, as if she belonged between her arms. Now, she felt utterly incomplete. Her body was hollow, still humming with the warmth she borrowed from Hana. She couldn't remember the last time she felt something other than the bitter cold that bit her skin.

The vampire found herself smiling back, chuckling in agreement with Hana. Eleanora had been called plenty of things in her lifetime: a beast, a monster, an animal. They were facts at this point, ones that she branded on her heart to keep from forgetting. But the way Hana looked at her challenged every preconceived notion she had of herself. For the first time in a long time, she felt vulnerable.

pathetic as it was, charlie still dreamed of how eleanora's lips felt against her neck. back then, the only physical touch charlotte knew was a result of gabriel's violent streak. and it came in all forms. hurtful words, threats, bruises. she'd completely forgotten what it felt like to be handled with care, to be properly cherished. so, even if that night had meant absolutely nothing to eleanora, even if it was just two people using each other to have fun—charlie had internalized every second of it. locked the memory away, hoarding it over the years to pull out and use as comfort.

eleanora hadn't misread anything. in fact, she'd seen right through her. it wasn't her fault charlie was hiding an inner tumoil so deep that even to this day, she could't accept what she truly was. maybe if she'd been able to contact her dear friend, things would be different. but gabriel's final beating had happened too soon after her last encounter with eleanora. her phone was gone, either shattered or lost. she couldn't remember. and by the time charlie got a new number months later, she'd figured eleanora had most likely forgotten her.

Anyone who said that they were okay in the same tone and cadence as Charlie did was definitely not okay. Eleanora lived too many lifetimes to be convinced of a lie so blatant. What had happened between now and then that Charlie couldn't open up about? The silence was deafening, and the blonde would not fill it with idle conversation.

But it wasn't until the brunette offered a morsel of what really had been going on that Eleanora perked up. Things happened. It couldn't have been any good because if they were, Charlie would have been babbling about them all, mouth moving a mile a minute with her pretty little smile on display. She had missed that about her; Eleanora had missed everything about her.

Eleanora offered a gentle curve of her lips at the request, exhaling a quiet laugh. What was there to say? The years bled by quick, but her feelings always remained. There was a strain in Charlie's voice as she spoke, throat constricting in the same way it would if someone was holding back the urge to cry. Eleanora's face softened, squeezing her hand to offer unspoken comfort.

So when he heard the man mention that he was looking for Wick, that caught Jud off guard.

The Monsignor's dead? Well, that part was certainly missing from Ardan's memo. That would have explained the sudden handoff between holymen and the quick haste he was ushered to upstate New York with. Death was tragic—not to him, of course—and he anticipated more of a clamor about this news in this town. A year was a decent amount of time for a human, so it must have been old news by now.

"Killed?" The demon made no attempt to hide his surprise, brows pulling up while his voice ticked up at the end. This seemed less like a hand-off and more like an usurpation. The way Ardan saw it, that might work in his favor. A question itched on his tongue so intensely that he couldn't stop himself from asking: "Who killed him?"

frankie’s breath hitched as ardan’s pointer finger slipped alongside the other two, the sudden stretch sending a sharp, whimpering gasp from her lips that quickly melted into a shudder of pleasure she couldn’t deny. they felt the slick walls of their cunt clench around the intrusion, each knuckle pressing deeper and igniting a FIRE that coiled tighter in their belly, and a rush of heat flooded their veins as they realized how utterly turned on they were. her pride was fraying at the edges, replaced by a desperate craving for more of his savage control. his low, teasing laugh vibrated against their ear, and they giggled breathlessly, the sound raw and unrestrained, before they whispered something filthy, “i want your cock pounding me while you bite my neck,” her voice trembling with both shame and fierce NEED.

ardan’s arm shifted, guiding them down onto the mattress with a firm, possessive grip, and the moment his mouth returned to their clit they lost ALL coherent thought, their back arching as a guttural moan tore from their throat. his tongue swirled and sucked with relentless precision while his fingers continued their vicious pump, dragging her toward another peak that crashed over her in waves of white‑hot bliss. frankie’s nails dug into his shoulders, then tangled in his hair as they clung to him, crying out his name, each thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue sending them spiraling deeper until they shattered and gushed all over his fingers, their body trembling and slick with their own release.

Frankie's giggle made his stomach churn with a sweet heat, only for the dam to shatter completely when they whispered their request. Ardan reflexively blinked the shock off his face, his fingers slowing, briefly. Then, he sneered and violently continued meeting Frankie's weak thrusts against his wrist. He wouldn't torture her anymore, wouldn't ask her to beg or plead for theatrics sake. She had done plenty tonight, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to fuck her. Ardan bobbed his head in the affirmative, refusing to move his mouth from her clit until she came for... he had lost count by now.

Their orgasm came hot and fast; the walls of Frankie's cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. The demon's tongue slowed, keeping it flat so she could rub her clit for much-needed friction. Another groan ripped from Ardan's chest as he felt Frankie's nails dig into his shoulder blades. The pain mixed with the siren's primal moans of his name was a delicious cacophony of sounds that he desperately fought off to concentrate on his next task. His shirt was gone in the mix, and getting off his knees, he took a moment to marvel at the siren.

His eyes sparkled as Frankie went for his pants, fingers fumbling at the button. Even in her delirium, her one-track mind was hyper-focused on the task at hand. "Frankie, hun, let me." His slick stained fingers curled around her wrists, pulling them away without any bite before he dexterously undid his belt, button, and zipper. His pants and boxers came off with one quick motion, stepping out of the clothes and toeing his shoes off before he approached the foot of the bed. Frankie's shirt and bra were the next things to join the pool of clothing behind him, followed by her boots, and he settled onto the foot of the bed.

Ardan snaked his arm low around Frankie's waist, using the momentum of getting on the bed to toss them forward on their back. Hovering over them, his hands pushed her knees apart, splaying her swollen cunt. "Aye, there's somethin' someone told me tonight that feels appropriate now," he began, voice light and teasing as he sheathed himself inside her. The demon waited until he bottomed out inside Frankie before groaning, feeling every single muscle inside them clench around him. His eyes screwed shut as he exhaled, and he slowly began to thrust. He then lowered himself on top of them, his hips starting to snap faster. Without warning, his jaws clamped on Frankie's neck, hard enough to draw blood. The flat of his tongue cleaned most of the mess before pressing a rough, bloody kiss to her lips.

She wouldn't cry. No, she had spent so much of her youth sobbing blood tears over those who haunted her when she closed her eyes every morning. They were gone; Eleanora could not go back and pluck each one out of the jaws of death. What she could do was bury them deep within herself, so much so that she forgot where the mounds even were. But Hana found a way to unearth every single grave with something she appreciated most of all. The feelings would pass; they always did. But for now, Eleanora would allow herself to feel them.

Maybe it was selfish to hug Hana. But she felt that sometimes, a simple act spoke better than any words could. To be comforted by someone who empathized with your plight was a gift many people didn't receive, and Eleanora assumed the other woman lived for far too long without someone to lean on. She understood that emptiness too, wandering in a world that had abandoned you. It was gutting.

The hallway obscenely amplified the sound of Frankie's cunt squelching around his fingers. It drove Ardan to continue his brutal pace, his thumb finding its home, brushing against her clit. He resumed the slow, tight circles, watching the way Frankie broke down in front of him. Whatever was left at her stayed at the venue and was replaced by the primal, aching need on display for him here. With every pump of his fingers, more of her slick gushed out. His wrist was soaked, and he daringly weaseled his pointer finger into her hungry cunt. Curling slowly, Ardan felt the fleshy muscles accommodate him eagerly.

"If ya do this to my fingers, I wonder what ya do with my cock?" Breathless laughter followed soon after while his tongue lapped at the bite wound on Frankie's shoulder. Ardan was asking questions he already knew the goddamn answers to. Stepping forward, he nudged their bedroom door open with his foot. He shuffled inside, still maintaining the piston-like rhythm of his fingers pounding into their cunt. Moving to the foot of Frankie's bed, he used the arm holding them to slowly lower them onto the mattress. Sliding to his knees, he kept thrusting his fingers inside her. His free hand pressed down on her lower belly at the same time his fingers curled inside her.

Well, if her lack of etiquette had to result in something, at least it was the quarter smile Hana flashed her. Recovering quickly, Eleanora mirrored with a smile of her own. A hand slid across the bar countertop and, cautiously, slipped on top of the artist's. Sharp, chrome white nails gleamed under the lights as she squeezed gently. "My name's Eleanora." They stayed like that for a moment too long before the blonde retreated, folding her hands neatly in front of her again.

Eleanora listened. She was good at that; back in her youth, strangers seemed to find comfort in sharing their woes with her. Their stories were shelved away in her mind, unclaimed by the centuries she'd walked the earth. As Hana spoke more, Eleanora realized just how alike they were. She watched as the Plague claimed the lives of those she loved, her home destroyed and rebuilt into something unfamiliar, and spoke her native tongue to herself at night alone, pretending that her father was still here with her.

frankie’s breath hitched as ardan’s voice slipped through the haze of her orgasm, his question hanging between them like a PROMISE. they could feel the throb of their own sex still echoing against his grip, each pulse a reminder of how completely he had unraveled their control, and a fierce, almost desperate hunger flared in their chest. she wanted more of his bite, more of his dominance, more of how he made her feel both shattered AND alive. “up the stairs,” they whispered, their voice raw and trembling, “my bedroom’s up there… i need you to keep taking me, ardan, i can’t get enough of you.”

she let him guide her legs down, feeling the cool metal of the door press against her back one last time before his arms lifted her, cradling her against his chest as they began the ascent. each step sent a fresh jolt of anticipation through their core, the memory of his teeth still burning on their thigh mingling with the slick heat between their legs. she could hear her own ragged breaths echoing in the stairwell, a frantic soundtrack to how her body clenched and released in anticipation of what WAITED above. frankie’s mind wrestled with pride and need, but the latter won, and they found themself pressing closer to him, their fingertips digging into his shoulders as they whispered, “don’t stop, please… i want to feel you EVERYWHERE.”

The complete one-eighty in Frankie's demeanor was a change Ardan wasn't anticipating. All night, she was jagged, confident, and just a little mean in the best possible way. But now? Completely shattered, shriveled into his chest, and she pulsated with hot need. He'd be lying if he said he didn't love this, loved that this side of them was reserved just for him. The plea went straight to his groin, and Ardan finally realized just how tight his pants were. "I know, Frankie," he coaxed, a hand smoothing down her wild red hair as a simple attempt to soothe her. "I'm goin' to make ya feel so fuckin' good," He turned to climb up the staircase, drinking in the frenzied way they breathed as he went up each step.

Ardan watched as Frankie shifted in his arms, twisting around so they could face them. His brows arched up curiously, and before he could ask what they were plotting, Frankie was already crushing their lips on his in a feverish kiss. His arms tightened around her middle, pulling them even closer into him. Fangs clicked against each other before his tongue flickered in their mouth. Frankie pulled away first to press kisses down his neck, and Ardan exhaled a satisfied sigh as his neck tilted the opposite way. The softness was soon replaced by a delicious wave of pain as their fangs sank into his neck. His blood crawled down his skin, dripping onto his collarbone, and he let out a sound, guttural and wanting.

Eleanora watched with quiet amusement, waiting for the slightest upticks in a smile or the furrow of the woman's brows. Perhaps she was doing too much. She had always been direct, much to her mother's chagrin. A lady was to be seen, not heard back then. But the directness got the blonde far in life, quite literally. Without that, she would have been buried six feet under back home under a gravestone so weathered it should have been uprooted. Now, a fierce determination gripped her; she needed to know everything the artist was willing to share with her. Eleanora watched the other woman's eyes and purposely met her gaze when she looked back up. Her smile was coquettish, and laughter bubbled from her throat like a response to an unspoken joke. The last thing she ever expected was to be called a mercy. "Thank you."

frankie’s breath hitched as ardan’s teeth sank into her thigh again, the sharp sting making her core clench involuntarily. they could feel the hot rush of blood, each pass sending a fresh wave of pleasure that threatened to shatter the fragile composure they’d clung to for centuries. it’d been ages (FAR too fucking long) since anyone had managed to pull her out of her usual commanding poise and reduce her to a trembling, whimpering mess. the fact that ardan’s savage dominance matched their own feral hunger left the redhead both astonished and achingly exposed, their back pressed hard against the cold metal of their apartment door while their legs remained splayed over his shoulders, vulnerable and utterly open.

a flash of irritation sparked behind her eyes at his taunt, how he smirked and called her a needy little whore while his fingers dug bruises into her ass. they wanted to snap back, to spit out a defiant retort that would remind him THEY were the one who usually commanded the room, not the other way around. instead, a choked moan escaped their lips as their nails dug deeper into his scalp, pulling him closer despite the sting of his bite. “fuck you, ardan,” she hissed, her voice raw and hoarse. they hated how his demand to beg made their pulse race even faster, even as their body betrayed them with a fresh gush of wetness that slicked their inner thighs and made their clit throb under his relentless attention.

Each clench of Frankie's cunt sent Ardan reeling. He seemingly drew power from their arousal, claiming every single reaction before devouring them whole. Their pleasure continued to compound, building into a roaring crescendo of trembling gasps and frantic sobs. How many times could he make Frankie cum tonight? The cruel, nagging voice in his head pushed for however many times he could take from them. Four, five, ten—Ardan just wanted to see just how much farther he could push them.

The demon tutted at Frankie's choice of words for him, but the delivery of them scratched a primal itch in the back of his mind. "Oh, but you love it, Frankie. Ya body can't lie to me." And he was all smiles, dark eyes unnaturally bright as he waited for her to submit to him. Ardan felt the near-permanent pulse of her clit thump against his flesh, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until—

And then they said it. Begged for it. Pleaded with those wide, watercolor eyes and chapped, trembling lips. They begged the same way humans did at the first sign of trouble, rolling on their backs to allow for the inevitable. Ardan practically snarled in delight, the sound muffled by Frankie's thighs, and he bit them again and again until he could no longer decipher between blood, cum, and spit.

Eleanora didn't show it, but the accusation of not viewing the artwork maimed her. To be compared to a sea of mortality who will never see mass death, republic-wide starvation, and the true horrors of civilization upset her. But that was what art was supposed to do; it was supposed to make you feel emotions that sometimes, you just couldn't handle. The blonde frowned, placing her hands on the bar countertop. "It disturbed me greatly," she admitted, her sharp gaze staring through the woman across from her. "So much so that I needed to come here and tell you that."

Her eyes searched the other woman's face for a moment, all sharp and rough, before her lips broke into a sweet smile. "You, however, are very beautiful." Eleanora didn't shy away from the statement. She presented neatly in front of her, just like the curation of each installation behind her. It was a fact, and maybe it would help break the ice.

frankie felt ardan’s hot, ragged breath fan over her soaked cunt, each exhale a shudder that made her hips jerk involuntarily. his mouth returned to her clit, sucking hard and fast, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure straight up their spine. she threw her head back, a broken moan tearing from her throat as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, craving the brutal INTENSITY of his touch. the slick sound of his tongue lapping at their folds mingled with their own whimpers, and they could feel the coil in their belly tightening, each lap bringing them closer to the edge they’d been teasing all night.

when his lips strayed to the meat of her inner thigh, she gasped, anticipating something else, but then his teeth sank in, breaking the skin just enough to bead CRIMSON that smeared across his chin. the sting was a flash of white-hot pain that instantly melted into a deep, throbbing pleasure, making them arch off the door and cry out his name. she tugged harder at his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and gasped, “i’m close, ardan. don’t stop, bite me harder, i NEED it.” the metallic tang of their blood mixed with their arousal, heightening every sensation and pushing them toward the precipice they’d been craving.

his tongue dove back into her with a relentless rhythm, with firm, dragging licks up her slit followed by vicious, sucking pulls on her clit that left her seeing STARS. each stroke felt like a wave crashing over them, and they bucked against his grip, their thighs trembling as they tried to ride the pleasure he was forcing upon them. she could feel her own juices coating his tongue, making his movements slick and urgent, and she moaned louder, her voice raw and desperate, “fuck, yes. keep biting, i’m gonna cum… i’m gonna cum all over your face.” they pulled his hair so hard, but they didn’t care; the pain, the pressure, the sheer domination were driving them mad with need.

Frankie’s death grip on his hair only edgged Ardan on. He saw red as they writhed and flailed from the chomp of his teeth. It was exactly what they needed. He could feel their pulse racing, throbbing incessantly as he rubbed tight circles around their clit with his tongue. They were at the precipice of her pleasure, and he had to see this through. The space was starting to tighten around him underneath their skirt, but Ardan wasn’t going to stop. Instead, he focused on his own staccato breaths, matching them to a steady rhythm of dragging small circles around their clit.

He didn’t like taking orders from anyone other than his maker, but Ardan knew he had to make the exception tonight. Immediately, his lips pulled away from her cunt, traveling to her other thigh before biting down hard. Iron stained his tongue, and even he couldn’t help the breathless moan that climbed out of his throat. “Fuck,” he groaned, fingers digging back into the flesh of her ass. Frankie was delicious, and he greedily swallowed the bloody mess he made. Sloppily kisses crawled their way back up to her cunt, and his tongue sank back into their previous familiarity.

The announcement that Frankie was going to come made Ardan moan between her swollen lips. The frazzled, unhinged promise she made came to fruition, and he felt as she gushed into his expecting mouth. Her nails in his scalp and the brutal tugging locked him in place, grinding against her heat. It was her scream that finally made his signature smirk reappear. Screaming his name had him satisfied like a cat with the cream, and she could have ripped his scalp clean off without him caring.

Ardan waited until Frankie settled down; they were a bundle of seared nerves and spasming muscles. Dare he thought it, but they were just beautiful like this. Completely ruined and all for him. All because of him. Slowly, he withdrew his head from between their legs, finally getting his first look at them. Mascara ran down their cheeks, scarlet lipstick smeared across her lips, and her red hair was wild from all their thrashing. Fucking hell. And now here she was, craned over his ear, whispering for more.

Eleanora loved an art exhibition. A curation of upcoming and established artists showcasing their works for the masses to enjoy; she couldn't have thought of a better way to enjoy her night. In her youth, Eleanora turned her nose up as her mother tried to instill ridiculous expectations placed upon her—embroidery, marriage prospects, courtly etiquette. But appreciation of the arts? It captured her attention so easily. Eleanora held a deep respect for the craft, so much so that she commissioned works from Giorgione before his popularity skyrocketed. Selfishly, she liked to think she contributed to his fame.

The blonde gave herself ample time at each installation, letting her eyes rake down each painting and statue presented to her. How beautiful they all were; each piece had a heart and soul poured into it. But what pulled her attention away from the twelfth oil painting of the evening was one of the artists retreating from her installation towards the bar in the back. Eleanora knew it was rude, but she bypassed the rest of them to examine what was abandoned. She stood firmly, craning her head forward to stare intently at the painting showcased. There was an innate sadness in the work she could pick up on, something so primal it made her back stiffen. Starvation, death, grief: Eleanora lived long enough to understand the emotions that embodied this piece. These were the emotions of someone with the privilege to live more than one lifetime.

Just like her.

Something something, poke the bear, right? Frankie would learn eventually, hopefully by the end of tonight. Ardan couldn't stop himself from sneering, cold and mean as he caught the melody of her broken cries. They, and the building scent of her arousal caused him to exhale heavy, labored breaths against her soaked cunt. A delicious shudder rippled down his spine, the pleasure rushing through his body in a warm wave.

Noting a particular way Frankie squirmed against him, Ardan sucked their clit again. He yearned to be able to see their reactions; to see their head thrown back and their eyes screwed shut would have done wonders for his ego. But alas, their skirt was a shield and perhaps the only dignity Ardan wanted to afford to them right now. The thought to rip it off came to him, but he dispelled it as quickly as it came.

He paused to swallow their slick, already built up on his tongue and dribbling down his chin. In his moment of hesitation, Ardan tilted his head to gain better access to the meat of her inner thigh. With one swift motion, he bit down on the flesh. Jagged teeth broke skin just enough, and crimson dripped from his lips. His tongue made quick work of his mess before diving back into Frankie's cunt.

she still remembered the last time she'd seen eleanora. the lingering, dallying touches that had left charlie's head spinning, dizzy and drunk. but it had ended too soon. too fast. all charlie's fault, obviously.

fear was a constant in her life, even back then. and with the suffocating threat of knowing gabriel was waiting for her at home, charlie had practically run away the second eleanora allowed her to breathe.

then everything happened.

years went by, dragging charlie through the mud until she became a whole other person. a fragile thing with frazzled nerves, too far removed from the girl eleanora once knew. but one thing hadn't changed. once charlie had the chance to gaze at the other again, she came to find out her heart still fluttered the same way.

It's been years. Granted, for Eleanora, that wasn't a lot of time. The blonde could blink, and five years would pass by without making a dent in her mind. But she knew years were a long time for Charlie. Too long it seemed. The emotions flooded back immediately as they locked eyes. The attempts at flirtation, stolen touches on the dancefloor, and one night, Eleanora's lips got too close to her neck—

And then Charlie was gone. Fled the scene as she wove between the crowd of people around them. She left Eleanora without so much as looking back, and an unfamiliar ache pulsed in her chest.

Did she misread the situation? Was Charlie just... not into women? Or not into her like that? She never knew, even after all the attempts at texting and calling. The messages remained unanswered, and after a while, Eleanora resigned herself to the fact that maybe no answer was the answer. For once in over six hundred years, she felt guilty.

But here Charlie was again. There was a sadness in the brunette's eyes, married with anxiety that was unlike anything Eleanora had ever seen from her. Like trying to herd a skittish deer, the blonde extended her hand, clasping it around Charlie's.