The Vampire King's Bride (boyXboy)

TWO

A/N: A few people really wanted this, and one of my friends is kind of addicted to it (though he got to read the unpublished stuff, so he can suck it up), so here's the next part!  Finally.  I know the chapters are short, but this is kind of just a side project to fanfiction.

~Saya

~*~

Two

                Blaise had been to Las Vegas once, when he was seven and his older sister was twelve.  He didn't really remember anything, but according to Alanis, they'd spent more of the time in a hotel room while their parents gambled.  Seeing it now, through the windows of a Ferrari, lit up like broad daylight while Ancelot hunched, uncomfortable, in the seat next to him, somehow felt like a special occasion.

                "I hate this place," the self-proclaimed vampire grumbled, his eyes darting back and forth, "The only place worse is The Strip itself."

                "The what?" Blaise asked, fascinated, "Vampires go to strip clubs?"

                "No, you idiot!" Ancelot hissed, blushing faintly, "The Strip is where all the casinos are!"

                "Oh," Blaise responded, disappointed.  There was a moment of silence, then, "If you hate it so much, why are we here?"

                "Several reasons," Ancelot began, "For one, it's easy hunting.  For another, two men aren't going to stand out too much, no matter what anyone thinks of us.  And, no one will think much of a Ferrari being returned to the rental shop--place--thingy."

                Blaise didn't comment on his word choice.  He was beginning to feel sick, though he wasn't sure whether it was from the idea of Ancelot being a killer or the insinuation that someone might see the two of them as a couple.  The churning in his stomach told him it was the latter.

                "You're crazy," he told his kidnapper faintly, "You know that, right?"

                Ancelot just shrugged, pulling into the driveway of a darkened house.  Up until they got to the door, Blaise thought he had proof that Ancelot had been jerking him around with the whole vampire business.

                "What are you doing?" he hissed.  Ancelot was prying at the edge of the door, his fingernails tucking into the space between the door and its frame.

                "Helping ourselves to accomodations," the man replied, as unconcerned as if he'd just noted the temperature of the October night.

                "You're crazy!" Blaise repeated, more fervently this time, "Don't break into somebody's house!"

                Ancelot turned and fixed those silver eyes on him with a cool, protest-halting look.  With one hand, he turned the front door handle again.  It opened with a soft click.

                "Sleep on the floor if you must," he told Blaise, "but I'm taking advantage of a decent bed."  He took Blaise's arm with his free hand, reminding the boy that he should've been running rather than telling this criminal how not to get caught, and headed into the dark interior of the house.  With one last look at the light bleeding into the sky, Blaise let himself be pulled along.

                Ancelot stopped suddenly in the living room, turning to look over Blaise with a critical eye.  Blaise stared back, bristling under the scrutiny.