There was a reason why she was walking through the southern part of the park at dusk. There was a very, very good reason, but at this point in time she couldn't remember. Not when she felt her small frame pinned up against a trunk of a rather tall oak tree. She could not move herself out from the tree trunk, because there was a rather strong and large male pressing himself up against her, locking her in place. How she had gotten herself in this position she had no idea. She knew it was wrong all of this so very very wrong, and yet for some reason it actually felt right. Instead of moving to get away she remained still as her mind struggled to grab hold onto reason, or a logical thought, but it would seem that deep within the extremely meek and shy woman there was an actual libido that for the meantime was unlocked and had no intention whatsoever to be locked away again. The Werewolf had no idea her hormones were being used by the extremely handsome vampire that apparently had immensely exquisite arctic blue eyes.

As he pressed himself closer to her she watched him carefully, her body still torn at wanting to press herself against him and wanting to get away from him all together. It is true that she was not one that received such enamored or lustful desires from the opposite sex. Really and truly the looks she received were a mixture of disgust or sympathy. No, that wasn't true. There was a male, she remembered there was a male, dark almost black-like eyes held a sort of fondness to her. His eyes were capable of changing into a dark-golden hue that held so much affection for her. She knew those eyes, both of them, and they were not the eyes that were looking at her lustfully...or...was that hungrily? It was when his lips moved gently against her ear that for a moment a girlish giggle was released at the feeling of his whisper brush against her ear, her heart racing for a moment in sheer bliss. Though there was a familiar voice, it was masculine, whispering back quickly almost as if correcting the Bristish man with his incorrect moniker, Birdie...Birdie. Yes, that is right she thought, Birdie is my name not sweetheart, and it yet how could Raven overcome the sheer delight of hearing 'sweetheart' come from such a husky British voice. Name...he asked for a name...well quite frankly he could call her anything he wanted, and yet she could hear her true nickname echo faintly, reminding the girl what the answer was. As an afterthought she whispered softly to him, still a bit shy.

"oh...um...Raven."

As the space between them only grew smaller and smaller, the creature was debating fight or flight. Touch was so very...personal more so than for most people. Even with the vampire warping her hormones around she was still incapable of truly growing comfortable. As his nose gently brushed against her neck instinct alone allowed the girl to move her neck away providing him more access. As his tongue began to tease the flesh at the base of her neck she could recall another tongue doing the same thing, preparing the girl to be tamed. Her eyes would close as she inhaled absolutely ready for what would come next, his teeth, her deviant companion's teeth sinking into her flesh intending to provide her pleasure and him reaffirmation of his claim on her. Yet no fangs came...which was...odd. Her eyes would open for a moment as he whispered to her a compliment she had never heard from a male before, and another nickname that she knew wasn't correct. Once more that familiar masculine voice whispered back in an echo, Birdie, Birdie, Birdie. Yes, she thinks again, Birdie is correct not love. As his thumb caressed softly against her scarred cheek she felt his lips leave her neck, and as he tilts her chin upwards, she looks at him for a moment. Her mind slowly growing a bit hazy as a very small smile appeared on her lips, whispering softly.

"No...no...you lie."

It had to be a lie right? No male said such things and she never saw herself as beautiful before. No...no scars weren't pretty...if they were then why would she get the looks she always received from others? He was lying...yes...lying. After all, the man with dark-golden eyes never called her that nor did he say that when his eyes were a dark ebony. He said something else though...something far more important...something she had never heard before that meant so very much to her. It was...it was...as she tried to figure out what the man with those changing eyes said to her, she looked up at the arctic blues of the unfamiliar handsome man in front of her as his lips pressed against her own, and she remained in place against the tree, her thoughts suddenly stopping, as she heard the faint echo of Birdie and a strong sense of this being entirely wrong, even though it felt so very good.

Raven Clocksworth.