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Perfect Shade of Lipstick

Summary:
"Do you know what makes the best shade of lipstick?" Has nothing to do with the Cullens. 1204741731_red-spangle-lips.jpg picture by Babe7777 Banner made by the wonderfully amazing Emmett_Lover (!) UNDER RECONSTRUCTION! I've been re-working a LOt of it, in my head, so I will be changing things, some major some not so much. I reccomend re-reading once I re post the chapters. (Chapter 1 is new)


Notes:


7. Chapter 7

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1141   Review this Chapter

Owed

“Okay, new rule. Warn me before you blink. This is going to make me sick,” Nick says while trying his damndest not to vomit on Moira’s shoes. That would end up very bad for him and she keeps a keen eye on him. No one ever ruins her shoes.

Entering the crime scene together, Nick swats away several under paid cops who are stationed at the front. Two of them staring a little too intently at Moira. Nick is about to tell them off for staring at a lady (attempting to cover up his jealousy), when suddenly both of their faces pale and turn away, Nick looks at Moira just catching a glimpse of her fangs before they retract back to their normal length. Moira catches his eye and smile beatifically, Nick rolls his eyes. What? You were going to do something similar, she whispers into his mind. Shrugging, Nick answers back through his thoughts (something he finds a little bit strange but wants to try), I wasn’t going to make them fear for their lives. Making a face, Moira hurries along to see the victim.

Everything is going normal with the investigation. Nothing is different besides Moira’s always watchful eyes. Eye’s that Nick can’t help but glance at every few seconds. There is something about this woman that makes him gravitate towards her. He can’t stop himself, even though he wants too. She has been silent the entire time they have been inside the building where the crime had occurred until a loud hiss echoes around the room. While every officer looks around startled Nick looks to Moira. Her face is twisting with fury and an emotion similar to what disbelief looks like.

Get your humans out of here. He’s here. Right now! Get them out! Moira sends screaming into Nicks head. God dammit! The bastard is here, she thinks angrily to herself as Nick is attempting to get everyone else out of the building.

“Alright everyone get out! I need it empty in here so I can think! Get out of here NOW or you’ll all find pink slips on your desks when you get back to them! OUT!” Nick is yells at everyone. It’s the only way he could think of to get them out of here and away from whoever is still in this room. He hopes everyone will forget about his tirade. They all know he is a tiny bit paranoid, but they know better than to try and disobey an order. Detective Nick Rogers knows how to be scary.

Once the room is without any one except Moira, Nick, and whoever is waiting for them, Nick bucks up the courage to ask, “Mo-Majes, who is here?”

Pyotr,” she hisses as she begins circling the room. “Come out, come out wherever you are? Come out and play Pyotr. Or are you still too afraid!?” By the end Moira is screaming. Her face contorting into a look that proves she is a vampire, and a ferocious one at that. Her hat and perfectly placed hair pins fly out of her hair as her anger becomes tangible. Rage is vibrating the molecules surrounding Nick as well as everything else. He’s afraid that the elaborate chandelier may fall and shatter into a billion miniscule shards.

Moira’s hair begins to lift, starting to resemble Medusa’s. The luscious tendrils twisting like snakes. She looks stunning and absolutely terrifying all at the same time. The muscles in her neck a straining, the tendons sticking out sickeningly. The blush and charred eyeliner she had added to her appearance earlier disappears. She no longer cares to look like the human she is pretending to be for Nick. She knows he must be looking at her in fear, but right now her need for retribution is stronger than the want to impress Nick.

“Moira, Moira, Moira. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Did you learn nothing from me? Control your temper. Otherwise it will make you loose any battle, no matter how weak your opponent appears to be,” says an average voice with a slightly Russian accent that sounds like a scolding uncle. Pyotr steps forward and appears to both Nick and Moira. With black, round eyes and an angular face, Nick thinks he is majorly intimidating. “Don’t you remember what happened with Andrew? He was hardly strong, yet he still won. You were humiliated. I do believe that loss cost you your rank—,” Pyotr’s voice cuts off as Moira grabs onto his surging mental power with her own.

She can’t listen to this anymore. She does not owe him anything. She had made sure of that several centuries previous. She is superior. She can feel it in her bones.

Like brushing dust from his shoulder, Pyotr pushes Moira’s advance off. “Now, now, Moira. Aren’t we forgetting our manners? Who is your little human?” What are you using this one for? Sex? Blood? Jolly amusement? What happened to your last little friend? Connor or something?, he continues taunting her with his thoughts. When Moira refuses to answer Pyotr grabs Nick with is mind and lifts him by the neck off the floor several feet. As if trying to remove strangling hands Nick scratches at his neck. His squirming only makes Pyotr smile. Well, this turned out to be more fun than I thought it would be, he thinks gaily. Moira, hating to see Nick struggle answers Pyotr’s question.

“His name is Nick Rogers. He is a detective with the state’s human police. Now let him down,” her words come out smooth. If she spoke in anger he would have just choked Nick harder. Again, she finds herself giving into his demands. Just like before, she has no choice but to obey him. Dammit!

“There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it,” Pyotr directs his next words to Nick. “Very well Nick Rogers, detective of the state police, I pity you your lack of judgment in making friends. I do believe Moira is detrimental to your health. But I can’t make you do anything; she has already sunk her teeth into you. I can’t touch you. Much.” Pyotr releases the mental tourniquet he has wrapped around Nicks tempting throat. Falling to the expertly tiled floor Nick catches his breath and tries to slow his heart beat. His attempt is futile when he discovers he has fallen directly next the man who had been killed last night. With a nearly inaudible shriek he backs himself into the wall. From this angle he can see everything. There are no blind spots in his view of the fighting vampires before him.