Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight, but I don't make money with this story.

Rating: T

Fandom: Moonlight

Written from the point of view of Mick's blood.

She longed for me since she first saw him at that dreaded Hollywood party. I felt it deep inside how much she wanted me, and I trembled. He didn't know why he was so anxious about her, when clearly lust dominated his every thought while looking at her. He didn't know that I knew. I knew she would take me.

Whenever he reached out for her, frustrated, denied and defeated, crashing into her like waves to the pier, while she played him by withdrawing, enticing, insinuating, her blood sang to me. It sang of eternity, of communion, of passion. And part of me wanted it. And part of me hated myself for wanting it.

I knew she was a monster from the beginning, vile and base on the inside, powerful and gorgeous on the outside, but he never would have believed if I had told him. I tried once, and he drank himself into a stupor to hush me.

Then came the night she couldn't deny herself any longer. She had coupled with him a couple of times, but always held back. I could smell it in her blood that she never deployed the whole extend of her passion with him. She didn't dare.

Tonight was different. She didn't hold back any more. She wanted him for eternity, and now she thought she had him.

She attacked his lips, his body, ripped his shirt, and he didn't know what hit him. He was excited and aroused and thrilled by her antics, and then confused and repulsed, and then, when she bit down, terrified. He struggled a lot. That's why so much of me is now tainting the sheets, the pillow, his already healed neck, his shirt.

She hates herself now for wasting such a big part of me. She looks at me and remembers my taste and thrills in the feel of my texture, and regrets that there is no more. There will never be the untainted essence of Mick anymore, it is gone. Now he is tainted by her blood.

The bigger part of me is now part of her. I mingle with her vampire blood, and a fight is raging inside of her. Her blood tries to absorb me. I try to keep my dignity, my independence, my humanity.

Suddenly I realize that she is crying. Her blood tastes of regret and fury. She just noticed that I absorbed her, too. She cannot resist it. Mick's essence is filling her; his conscience, his kindness, his utter honesty and straightness is making her blood boil with repulsion. She didn't realize that a turning changes the sire, too. Irrevocably. And somehow, this, the eternal communion and damnation, will change them both, balancing their personalities in a way they both will hate.

I feel proud for doing this to her. It is the last vengeance there is for killing him.