A/N: This is just a short story that came to me in its entirety as I was trying to go to sleep last night – bad plot bunnies! I think they got bored playing with the dust bunnies and decided to have some fun with me.
Everyone has demons and dark desires – I started thinking about what ones might have formed my OC, Magan, into the person she is while I was listening to a song – Undisclosed Desires by Muse. For more stories about Magan in the True Blood world, look on my profile and find my other stories.
FOR THE RECORD, I did not know that Muse had anything to do with Twilight when I started listening to them – actually, one of their songs came up as recommended when I downloaded Fresh Blood off of iTunes.
Anyways, there is dark content to this story so if you like light and fluffy it is not for you. If you do like it, or it strikes a cord with you, please use the review button.
As always, Alan Ball gets the credit for True Blood, while Muse gets credit for the lyrics.
Chapter 1: Demons
I know you've suffered, But I don't want you to hide.
It's cold and loveless, I won't let you be denied.
Soothing, I'll make you feel pure.
Trust me, You can be sure.
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart.
I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask.
I want to exorcise the demons from your past.
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.
Just another Saturday night at Fangtasia. Even with Magan seated next to me on the dais night after night the vermin – both female and male – preen in an effort to capture my attention. The smarter ones attempted to gain my mate's interest instead – they recognize she was unable to keep me fully fed and that more often than not she picks out my meals. It not as if I don't have any say in who she picked out - our unique telepathic bond, allows us to feel the same feelings and hear each others thoughts, keeping us attuned to each other. Yet either of us can close the connection if needed with intense concentration to shield from the other; well maybe not so intense concentration for her, after all she is the one who had brought this ability into our relationship.
- Drainer -
I looked up from my phone and followed Magan's gaze to see an older man seated at a small table with one of the younger vampires of my area. He wasn't our usual clientele; besides his age – which I placed as in his late 40s to early 50s – he was also dressed just a little too well, seemed just a little too … refined.
Without warning, I found myself assaulted by the sensation of ice flying in my face and a hint of recognition that meant nothing to me. Intense fear, of a type I had not felt since I was mortal, flooded me – freezing me temporarily in place. Only to have it burned away in a rush of white-hot anger such as I never dreamt Magan was capable of feeling.
Abruptly I felt nothing, but after the dizzying parade of emotions, it took me a moment to regain my equilibrium: and I realized Magan had shut down the link between us. The next moment I realized she was sinuously threading her way thru the crowd, swaying to the music in that practiced seductive walk of hers which seemed to drip with the promise of sex … and more. Her target – the drainer – stared at her, mesmerized and apparently forgetting about his intended vampire victim.
Concerned, I tried to communicate silently with her. – Lover … Magan … are you okay? –
Magan, however, was still operating with her shields firmly locked down; and I watched her lean over, giving the drainer a prime view of her cleavage as she whispered something in his ear – eliciting a wolfish smile from him. Magan looked back at me, her mate, a predator's gaze reflecting momentarily in her eyes before she blinked and it turned to the promise of seduction. – Erik –
Relieved, I answered, - Yes My Lover? –
- Meet your meal –
My mind whirled, searching for reasons to explain her unrecognizable behavior. Drainers are never meals; the situation is just unheard of – it's considered too dangerous. I tried to look into her mind – and again was repelled by her shields, yet around the edges of them, I tasted a brief flicker of … revenge? - Why Magan? –
Magan allowed the flicker to turn into a low glow and pleaded. – For me –
She never begs I thought to myself. Curious now about what demons she might have in her past which might compel her to ask me to break one of my few feeding rules, I rose from my throne and strode thru the door connecting the bar area to the hall lined with various back rooms. She soon followed, drainer in tow, to find me waiting on the other side of the door.
Huskily she introduced him, "Darling, this is James Marston." –I know him but he doesn't recognize me, yet – "Of course he's using an alias, his real name is Trent Fordham."
James/Trent played the unexpected introduction coolly; I only heard his heart speed up for a moment. "I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else." He said smoothly with just a hint of puzzlement.
Magan smiled ferally at the drainer, "'fraid not – You ... Are ... Sooo ... Screwed ... You are a drainer, and you've been caught in the local Sherriff's establishment. That's a death sentence. However, that's not the why you are getting the special treatment. Think back, maybe the words Danver Elementary School and Marrisa Nord will bring back some memories for you?"
I didn't recognize either name, however all of Magan's aliases used "Nord" as a prefix to a longer last name – and Magan had blocked me from her mind again. As I watched her prey, understanding dawned on Trent's face.
Trent stammered, "N-n-n-n-no. It can't be, you look like you've hardly aged since high school … "
Magan angrily interrupted him, "I remember all the taunts and teasing, the intimidation and persecution. And you, you always in the forefront – egging on your syphocants, you little tyrant, you enjoyed the bullying and torment you put me through … "