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His pupils dilated, and his senses stretched out to where Kate was, even as it looked like he was fully concentrating on the continuing fight. It was the tracksuit mafia, again. Or at least what was left of them. It had been a few weeks since the fight on the ice rink and they’d started recuperating themselves. Still though, he didn’t unleash his full strength on these mooks, it wasn’t like they were the supervillains of their time. They were just cannon fodder. Enemies he did not really have to worry about when they were in a volume of five or less. Maybe if there were one hundred of them he’d unleash his powers, like he did at the rink.
God that day had been glorious. It was the day Kate learnt he was a vampire. And it was the day Kate still accepted him for it. He’d been keeping it a secret from her and he’d thought it would have to stay that way.
“Clint,” her voice shouted. And he turned his whole body towards where he knew she was. A fist started its journey towards him and he simultaneously caught it and sent the tracksuit flying into a wall.
It was no holds barred when Kate was injured. When Kate was injured the beast came out as it were.
And she was injured.
She was bleeding.
And he wanted it.
He wanted her blood.
Clint knew it would be delicious.
No matter how much he willed his urges away, no matter how much he satiated himself on the blood of their enemies. Kate’s would be so much more fuller, and sweeter and full bodied, more like fine dining than those he was feasting on. The tracksuit mafia were the lowest on the food chain, his least preferred victims, maybe he’d even rather feed on a rat, then them.
He was over to her very quickly, effortlessly taking out the rest of the enemies, before grabbing the tracksuit mafia guy who’d made Kate fall to the ground. Clint actually killed this guy. He did it without mercy. And he did not look at his victims face before he was knelt next to Kate who had a nasty looking gash on her forearm. Whatever she’d been hit with, It had gone right through her suit.
“Katie-kat? Are you okay?” Clint said cupping her cheek with one hand and putting pressure on the wound with the other.
“I’m fine,” Kate said. “But the suit is not. I’m sorry.”
“You think I care about the freaking suit?” Clint double checked her wound, lifting up the edges of her suit and was rewarded with a grimace on Kates part. The gash was more of a scratch and nothing that couldn’t be patched up with tape and then fixed with a frozen strawberry daiquiri.
“Ah. So you do care about me. You just admitted it,” Kate said, a smile forming on her face and Clint looked up from the wound.
“Uh. I did not…I did not say that,” Clint did care. A lot. They both knew it. He just wasn’t very good at admitting it.
“It was in the words you didn’t say. Now help me up. But not with your super strength. I don’t want you ripping my arm off or throwing me against the other side of the wall of this alley.”
“I would never,” Clint replied, before carefully lifting Kate to stand, guiding her hand to put pressure on her wound as he took the bow from her hand to carry it for her. He meant it. He really would never hurt her. Not in any lifetime.
He glanced at the blood on his hand, and quickly wiped his hand on Kate’s suit much to her protestations. What, it needed repairing and washing anyway.
He would not feed on Kate, not unless she gave the all clear first. No matter how much she was bleeding. And he could feel his pupils dilate even more at the thought of her letting him have a taste.
Perhaps one day soon, she would let him.
Or maybe one day soon, he’d ask her.