Bloodlust: A Hannibal AU

Chapter Five

Trixie awoke to a fresh coating of snow on the ground and frost covered her window. She threw her coat over her nightgown and opened the door for Cujo to exit into the yard. She spied on the ground a letter. There was no return address, and the envelope only had her name scrawled in calligraphy across the front. She looked around and saw no one.

Opening the letter, it read in beautiful penmanship, 'Good morning, Miss Carver. It would be my pleasure to invite you and the Behavioral Science Unit to a dinner celebration at my home. Please join me this evening for dinner in your honor for catching the Date Night Slasher, as Freddie Lounds so graciously refers to him. I expect to see you there.'

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Beatrice found a green velvet dress that hugged against her curves. She paired it with black ankle boots and sparkling jewelry. She did her dark hair in a French twist that showcased its highlights. She stood outside Hannibal's door and knocked. That nervousness crept up inside her once again. Hannibal opened the door. He wore a gray suit, no jacket, and crisp white shirt. Over that, he had an apron stained with red and a large knife was in his hand. "Miss Carver," he greeted. "You're early."

"I have that habit." She giggled. Hannibal held onto her hand and kissed her cheek lightly. Still with his knife in hand, he grabbed onto the shoulders of her coat and took it off of her.

"You look ravishing." He placed the coat on his arm. "I'll put this in my bedroom for you." Beatrice nodded.

"Care for some help in the kitchen?" She asked. Hannibal smiled at her.

"I would love help." They entered the kitchen. Meat was already marinating in a large bowl on the counter next to the sink. Hannibal replaced the needle on the record player nearby. He then handed the knife to Trixie. "You can chop the vegetables."

"That makes me the sous chef, right?" She laughed as she began to chop. Hannibal made a tsk, tsk, sound with his tongue.

"Who taught you to hold a knife, Beatrice?" He stood himself behind her and placed his arms on either side of her. He moved her fingers around the knife handle properly, and he used his other hand to place hers on the end of the eggplant. He slowly moved to show her the correct technique. He pressed into her back with each movement. "Better?" Beatrice nodded. She couldn't utter a word.

She tried to hold the knife, but her frazzled mind wouldn't allow it. "Red or white?" Hannibal held up two wine bottles in front of her. She pointed to the bottle of red. "Excellent choice. I didn't take you for a red wine woman."

"What did you take me for?"

"Champagne. You have an elegance about you." Hannibal poured her glass. "You even go to bed like an old Hollywood actress." He let another smile slip through as he licked his bottom lip.

"That was so embarrassing."

"I found it quite the opposite." Hannibal took a step toward her. The knife slipped from her grasp, and in a moment a trickle of blood oozed from her fingertip.

"Shit." Beatrice groaned. "Guess I'm not that good of a sous chef after all." Hannibal rushed toward the sink and grabbed a towel from the rail. He blotted at the cut. He saw that drops of blood had fallen onto his thumb. He brought it to his lips and licked the blood away.

Beatrice froze and watched Hannibal. His face seemed to change as he tasted her. She recalled her inner thoughts. 'I wonder how he would taste.' Why had those words popped into her mind the first time? Did she on some subconscious level know about this...trait of Hannibal's? When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with an emotion she had never seen in a man before. It was lust, but something else too. He stepped toward her again, closing the distance between them. He grabbed onto her hand. Her fingers were so close to his mouth she could feel his breath on them.