I've Fallen For A Guy With Fangs... [[Why Does Cupid Hate Me?]] The Story Of Arielle Danes ~ {30}

"Jonas!" I hissed. "You scared the living shit out of me!"
He chuckled and took his hand off my mouth.
"Well, it's true. So keep quiet."
Jonas had just opened the door to Satan's personal office. He said that was where all the Contracts were kept.
When I'd asked him how he'd gotten in, he said that Satan had no locks, he was confident that nobody would ever try to defy him. And when I'd asked him why he was so confident, Jonas told me that nobody who defied the Devil has ever lived.
"S-So... where are the Contracts?" I asked, feeling a slight chill trip down my spine.
"In one of these cabinets," he replied, gesturing to the labeled filing drawers that lined the walls.
They were alphabetized, I guessed, by the last name of the vampire whose Contract was contained in the specific drawer.
"So, what are you waiting for?" I asked, growing excited. "Let's find your Contract and get the hell out of here!"
Jonas paused, and grabbed my wrist.
"Love?"
"Yes?"
"You do realize that we might not come out of this alive, right?"
"Yup."
"Good. Now that we know that, can you do me a little favor?"
"Sure... What is it?"
"Don't ask me any questions about what I'm about to do."
I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Do you promise to not ask a single question?" he pressed.
"Well, it depends on what you're about to do..."
"Just say that you'll keep quiet!"
"Okaaay... I promise not to ask you any questions about what you're-"
I was cut off when Jonas snatched the back of my head, and kissed me full on in the mouth. I made a yelping noise, and pushed him back.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You promised not to ask any questions!" he pointed out, and slid his hands up through my hair, pulling me into another kiss.
I opened my eyes wide, and, once again, pushed him away.
"In case you didn't hear the last time: What the hell?!" I hissed.
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, this wouldn't be quite so annoying if I didn't know for a fact that you wanted to kiss me too."
He had a point. "Well, yes, but-"
"Yes?" he smirked. "You want to kiss me too?"
"No!"
"No?"
"Yes."
"Yes? Okay!"
He stepped towards me again, but I ducked out of his reach.
"Oh, so you think that I've forgotten what you told me last night?" I asked acidly.
"What?"
"You said you didn't like me in that way!" I pointed out. "In case you haven't noticed, this whole kissing business is completely contradictory to what you said!"
He sighed. "See, this is why I didn't want you to ask questions."
"But... But, I-"
He placed his hands softly on my waist, and stepped really close. Our noses touched, and our breath mingled when he hissed angrily, "Why can't you just accept that, in this moment, I want to kiss you?"
"Why can't you just accept that I'm confused?" I hissed back.
"Because you're always confused!"
"Oh, great way to butter me up, smooth guy!"
"Well, it's true! And I'm tired of waiting for you to make up your mind about how you feel!" he said, angrily jabbing a finger in my face.
"So you decide that you're going to have me, whether I like it or not?" I demanded.
"Uh... Yeah. Pretty much."
"Well how incredibly sweet of you," I scoffed sarcastically.
"Would you quit being so uptight?" he shot at me.
"Would you quit being so selfish?" I spat back.
"Sure. As soon as you kiss me."
"Well... You're a... a... big baby!"
"Oooh! I'm so depressed! That cut deep, Love. Real deep." He clutched his heart, pretending to be hurt.
"Oh! Great! That's mature!" I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, just like you! Up on your high horse!"
"Well, you're self-centered!"
"And you're naive!"
"Bitter, un-loved jerk!" I yelled in his face.
"Stupid, careless ditz!" He yelled back.
"Jackass!"
"Prat!"
"Moron!"
"Airhead!"
"Well... I DON'T WANT TO KISS YOU!" I screamed, completely disregarding the fact that my life depended on being quiet.
"AND I DON'T WANT TO KISS YOU EITHER!"
"ASS!"
"BUH..." Jonas trailed off.
"Buh-What?" I spat. "Blockhead? Bozo? Birdbrain? Bitch? Come on, Jonas! If you can't even think of one good insult starting with the letter B..." I trailed off as well.
We were standing centimeters apart, breathing heavily from the force of our insults.
I never found out what Jonas was going to call me, because at that moment, we both grabbed each other and slammed our lips together like a pair of cymbals. Jonas dug his fingers into my back and responded with a force that I could tell he had been holding back.
He pushed me up against the wall, the may bookshelves shaking from the force. I ran my fingers through his gelled hair, and, for some reason, I had this dire need to see his tattoo. I was able to run my hands down his arms, causing his smart black jacket to slide off, but the crisp white button down shirt he was wearing proved to be more difficult.
I couldn't undo the buttons and kiss at the same time, so I broke away, and fumbled with the tiny white things.
"Love," Jonas asked with a smile in his voice. "What are you doing?"
"Unbuttoning. Shut up and keep kissing."
He snorted in laughter, and leaned in towards my lips. I was taken aback by how fireworks seemed to explode in my head when he kissed me.
"No! Not my lips, idiot!" I cried. "When you kiss my lips, I can't see the buttons of your shirt!"
"Sorry," he mumbled, not really paying attention, and began kissing my neck.
It surprised me how good that felt, and I was having trouble concentrating on unbuttoning.
Finally, I got the buttons undone. Jonas was wearing a plain white shirt underneath. I sighed in frustration.
"Why did you have to wear so many layers?"
"Sorry, I wasn't aware that you'd be undressing me tonight. Trust me, if I had known earlier, I would have worn snap-off pants."
Off came the plain white shirt.
"And we would definitely be somewhere more romantic than Satan's personal office."
"It's nice to know that you've got an eye for the sentimental stuff."
"It's nice to know that you appreciate that," he said and winked.
I laughed. And there he was. Standing in the middle of the room, half naked.
I ran my hands over his chest and stomach, causing him to shiver.
"My God, Love," he smirked. "You are one in a million."
"Thank you," I replied with a smile, and placed a finger on the place where his tattoo was hidden. It seared upon his flesh, and I was reminded of what it meant.
During a solar eclipse, he would cease to exist. I almost cried at the thought of it.
"I know I've got the body of a God..." Jonas began. "But... was there any other reason for taking my shirt off? I mean, we could take this somewhere else if you wanted. I don't mind. We've got the whole night to find my Contract. I happen to know of some empty rooms upstairs-"
"Down boy," I interrupted. "I just wanted to do this..."
I quickly kissed the tattoo, and raised my eyes to meet his.
They looked... happy.
"Arielle, I just wanted to... Well, erm..." he reached into his pocket for something, but we heard footsteps echo off the walls in the corridor outside the office.
I sucked in my breath.
Jonas gathered his various shirts and jacket, and hissed, "RUN!"
I grabbed the handle, and drew back.
"What? What is it?" Jonas demanded, putting his shirt back on.
"The handle... The handle won't turn!" I whisper-shouted, horrified.
Jonas' jaw dropped.
We were trapped.
Hey everyone! Well, I was going back and reading a few of the past chapters of this story, and I noticed something...
Way back, in the results of chapter 4, I promised you a surprise if I made it to the Highest Rated list! And I did! So here's the surprise...

Jonas is based off of a real person!
Eek! I know, nobody could possibly be as confident and sexy as Jonas... right?
WRONG!
And the killer:
HE'S BRITISH!
Okay, so there's this (amazingly beautiful) boy in my Spanish class named Slater (how cool is that name?) and he lived in London until he was eleven, and then moved to the States. He's still got his bea-utiful accent, and he fails all the pronounciation tests because he speaks Spanish with a British accent
lol
So... the best part is... I'm going to go see Lars and the Real Girl with him tomorrow... :D
I just might have to threaten him if he doesn't refer to me, at all times, as "Love."

As always:
Love,
(A very excited) Ms. Marauder