chapter one
Emma smelt blood. Her mouth watered. She’d chanced across a village during the night, something quaint and peaceful and altogether. An easy hunt would be a good remedy for the blow she’d taken to her pride earlier.
Carefully, she traced the smell with a too-keen nose, walking elegantly through the darkness to a little cottage. She schooled her face into an easy smile, charming and a little seductive. Who wouldn’t let such a graceful, beautiful woman into their home in her time of need?
Emma knocked.
The door opened. A cautious face, framed by long red hair. Also, the face of a woman, to Emma’s chagrin. She almost exclusively drank men’s blood - she got more satisfaction from the deed, and from seeing them laying still and dead on the floor. But she was hungry and wasn’t feeling picky, so this unfortunate village woman would have to do.
“I’m so sorry, may I put you off a moment? I’m treating a wound.” The woman said with a smile. That explained that alluringly bloody scent.
“Oh, that’s quite alright.” Emma said smoothly, her voice sharp and sweet. “Do you mind if I step inside in the meantime? I’m frightened of the dark.”
“Yes, do go ahead,” the woman smiled, “I won’t keep you waiting out there.”
Emma stepped inside. It was almost too easy, getting into this house, with its well loved pots hanging from the wall, jars of spices on the shelves. A young boy sat on a kitchen chair, sniffling as he looked pointedly away from the shallow gouge across his shin. Emma had enough dignity to not feed on kids, so she curbed her appetite for the moment, ignoring the growing need as she made her way to the counter with a smile that hid her teeth.
The red-headed woman moved back to the boy in a rustle of cloth without a spare glance for the strange woman in her kitchen, picking up the needle and stitch where she’d left it. The boy stifled a yelp as she deftly threaded it through the edges of the cut, pulling the wound shut as the boy white knuckled the edges of his seat. He couldn’t be older than 12, and certainly wasn’t this woman’s child. They looked nothing alike - one was tall and willowy,with flame red hair and a resolute calmness. The other was short and round, with curly blond hair and an air of constant anxiety around him like a halo. He must’ve come here because this woman was some sort of village healer.
Oh, how truly and utterly exciting. The blood of a noble soul always tasted sweeter - that’s why Emma could never understand Scott and his idiotic pledge to only ever feed on those who had committed sin or crime. His wrong-headed righteousness.
They were vampires, for God’s sake.
The woman finished stitching the boy’s leg, said a few comforting words, patted his back and sent him out the door with a smile. Emma said nothing, waiting until the door was shut to move her gaze to the woman and her long, pale neck.
“I’m sorry about that. I’m Jean Grey. What brings you around here at this time of night? I don’t think we’ve met before.” The woman’s - Jean’s - smile never faltered. It was bright and clearly rather genuine. What a saintly bore.
“Mmm. Emma Frost.” Emma smiled, letting her teeth show this time. She wasn’t going to beat around the bush.
She was hungry.
Emma lunged before Jean could even register those two sharp fangs in her mouth, moving with a supernatural speed. She gripped Jean by the shoulders shoving her against the wall roughly, savoring that moment just before an excellent meal. Jean looked on in horror as Emma elegantly leaned down, parting her jaws eerily wide like a snake, prepared to bite down with enough force to break bones.
Emma bit down.
Nothing happened. No satisfying squish, no warm, sweet blood in her mouth. Her fangs were stopped just before this woman’s neck by some invisible force. She tried to bite down harder, but got nowhere. She kept trying, because what the fuck could stop her like this?
An ever-so-slight whimper sounded from Jean. Emma moved her head away, gaping at Jean, still holding her roughly against the wall.
“What the fuck are you?” Emma hissed.
“Get- get off of me.”
Emma tried again, this time from the other side. Nothing. Nothing but frustration. She hissed angrily, pushing Jean against the wall harder.
“How the hell are you stopping me?”
“I said, get off of me.”
Emma took her hands back, collecting herself carefully. Not a hair out of place, no wrinkles in her fashionable white dress. Nothing but the dull ache of an unbearable hunger in the pit of her stomach that should have been sated right about now.
Jean breathed in deeply through her nose, slumping away from the wall.
Then she fainted.
Emma caught her, holding her in strong arms. She sighed angrily, holding the limp woman up before carefully, slowly, moving her mouth to her neck again.
She pressed her lips against Jean’s neck. She could do that. She opened her mouth, moving her teeth towards that smooth flesh - but they were stopped. She couldn’t bite her. She held up Jean’s wrist and tried to bite, but she simply couldn’t.
Emma Frost could not bite Jean Grey.
_ _ _
Jean came to laying on her own bed, with a very angry looking vampire sitting at the end of it. Emma didn’t fail to notice.
“Why can’t I bite you?” She said, sweetly now, all smiles and perfect expressions, her fangs only visible in brief glances.
Jean rolled over, away from her, to face the wall. She didn’t want to die and she certainly didn’t want to deal with a vampire.
The smile disappeared from Emma’s face as her expression soured. She grabbed Jean’s shoulder, rolling her back over roughly. “Why can’t I bite you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, I think you know.”
“Fine. Doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll go find that kid you were helping last night and drink him dry.”
Jean paled. Emma was bluffing. Jean didn’t know that.
“Ok. Ok, just don’t hurt anyone, and not that kid. Please.”
“I’m waiting,” Emma said coolly. “Pray tell.”
“God’s power protects me.”
Emma laughed out loud, a disbelieving laugh that still sounded like wind chimes on a breezy day. Jean worried at her lip with her teeth.
“You’re kidding. Or lying.”
“God’s power.” Jean repeated stubbornly.
“That kid would make an awfully sad corpse.”
Jean cringed. “Fine. Warding. God’s power can be channeled and directed towards protection or healing through certain methods - wards, tinctures, other holy applications.”
“So you’re a little saint.” Emma scowled, the expression out of place on her too-perfect face. “And you wouldn’t mind removing them, would you?”
It was Jean’s turn to laugh. “I’d mind.”
Emma switched back to smiling, sliding her hand onto Jean’s lower leg, pushing past the layers of skirts. “Please.”
“Don’t touch me. No. I couldn’t if I wanted to, anyway.”
Emma scowled again and moved off the bed. “I hate you. Why aren’t you more scared of me?”
“You can’t bite me.”
“I can kill you, though. I can beat you senseless and leave you dead. I’m stronger than you can even imagine.” Jean looked at Emma now, met her eyes, still lying on the bed. Emma was actually pouting.
“I’m… good company?”
“You’re the most irritating thing I’ve stumbled upon this century.” Emma hissed.
Jean sat up. “Are you going to leave?”
“Oh, no, it’s a lovely day out, which means I am stuck right here.” A savage, angry grin worked its way across Emma’s face, her normally collected manner coming apart at the seams. She paced back towards Jean, feelings from the events from the night before - before she’d even arrived in this town - seething beneath the surface of her skin. “So, oh holy woman, how holy are you to be able to apply God’s protection?”
Jean straightened. “Holy enough.”
“Don’t be a prude.” Emma rolled her eyes, sitting back down at the end of the bed. “I’m certainly not.”
“I’m not a prude.”
“Then why are you looking at me condemningly like I’m a common whore?”
“I’m looking at you condemningly because you’re a vampire.”
Another eye roll. “Like you’ve never wanted to have a vampire. We’re all famously beautiful.”
“I- I… I have, actually.”
Emma straightened like she’d been shocked. “What the hell do you mean, you have?”
“I’ve… I’ve had a vampire.”
“Who?”
Jean cleared her throat awkwardly. “I don’t know if I should tell you that.”
“Who?” Emma snarled, moving across the bed towards Jean menacingly.
“His- he said his name was Scott.”
The vampire leaned back, almost gaping at Jean. A hollow laugh escaped her throat. “That dirty fucking bastard.”
“You know him?”
Emma didn’t respond. Her eyes glinted as she moved slowly, deliberately, crawling up the bed until she was over top of Jean. Jean gasped, surprised, shocked, maybe a little scared, as Emma situated herself straddling Jean’s hips.
“Listen, Jean, how would you like to fuck another vampire…?” Emma leaned down, purring into Jean’s ear.
Jean looked up at the ice-cold, beautiful creature sat atop her. She blinked once, hard, then again.
She couldn’t really say no, not when those angry, angry eyes were looking at her like they wanted to devour her. Well, actually, Emma probably did. Scott hadn’t- Scott had wanted something pure and good and noble, but deep down maybe that wasn’t what Jean wanted. Maybe she liked that anger and that hunger and that danger. She couldn’t ignore it.
Jean Grey nodded.