A/N: When I think of Nicolas and Alex, I think of a relationship that has a very slow build. I don't think Nicolas would really connect with romantic feelings right away and it would take him quite some time to even warm up to Alex in such a sense. That's why, even though I thought of Alex kissing Nicolas I didn't think it would really work or that Nicolas would respond the way she wants him to. So this is what I came up with for now. I hope you enjoy and you can let me know what you thought.

Killing machine. Bloodthirsty. Tagged. Fearsome monster. Demons. The litany of slurs was endless to what everyone thought of the Twilights. A cursed race. They should all be dead. Maybe that's why there was an uprising against them now. More of them were turning up as mutilated corpses and there was no remorse for them. All they left behind was a chain, engraved with a name and origin that no one cared to remember, with ranks that lost meaning the moment they died. Their existence was sad. And even though they were being massacred, did that stop the greater evil beyond them? Was it solving anything?

Alex didn't know about the others but the one lying here, on the ratted sofa, in the maskless face of sleep wasn't a monster. He was capable of being gentle and considerate. There were moments she had caught him watching her with a thoughtful gaze. There were times his lips quirked in a teasing yet encouraging smirk when she did a poor job of executing phrases and sentences in sign language.

She had seen him with Nina, how he played with her like a big brother would and those were the moments he seemed truly alive. Not when he was fighting and hacking away at the bad people he and Worick were assigned to get rid of. Sure there may have been a chilling glint to his dark and lethal gaze, a sinister and amused grin that shadowed his face when he faced other tags but that wasn't who Nicolas was. It was just one facet that made up his character. It wasn't his fault that he was the way he was.

Alex reached out, so engrossed in her thoughts that she truly forgot where she was. Before her fingers could even properly graze a lock of hair from Nicolas' brow, her wrist was grabbed and she was thrown on the floor with such harsh force that the wind knocked from her lungs.

Her vision blurred a moment and she squinted up and gasped against the pressure at her throat, pupils blown wide at the fist raised and at the ready to bludgeon her to death. She saw the killer instinct flare dangerously, chasing away whatever rosy remnants of sleep lingered about his eyes.

"Nic…" she gasped out and drug in a deep breath when the death grip around her neck fell away. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, panic and relief sending bursts of adrenaline throughout her shaking limbs.

He relaxed, regarding her with wary, inquisitive eyes as he sat back on his haunches above her, straddling her lap.

"I'm sorry," she wheezed, also signing the apology with trembling hands. She had forgotten that it wasn't wise to sneak up on him. He carried the look of a heavy sleeper but his heightened sense of awareness only allowed for light sleep.

"What were you doing?" he asked in that low congested baritone.

She shook her head and blinked up at him. What was she to say? That she was watching him sleep and thinking that Twilights weren't being given a fair chance in a world that only used them and discarded them when they no longer served a purpose? That the true monsters were really men and Twilights were made to suffer for their shortcomings? That she thought he was...really handsome and oddly endearing when he slept?

She was getting wrapped up in her thoughts again and with no response that made sense in her head, she moved up and slowly wrapped her hands around his waist, holding tight to his scarred and sinewy body. He was warm. Just like her. And though she still hardly knew much about him, shrouded so deep in mystery, she felt a heavy sadness at the thought of him ending up dead.

"Please don't die, Nicolas," she muttered against his chest, her voice husky with emotion.

Nicolas felt her lips move against his chest, the breathy words taking shape there and he pushed her away from him. He looked at her for a long while, his expression mostly nonchalant – as it most times was – yet pensive and Alex swallowed, her hands rested on his bare hips where his drawstring pants hung low. She waited expectantly, her heart thudding with slight anxiety.

"Don't sneak up on me again."

Her cheeks warmed with her embarrassment and a serrated sigh tumbled off her lips as she watched him rise to his feet and return to the sofa. She stood with a bit of struggle, suddenly feeling light on her feet and she quickly left the basement and pressed her back to the wall right by the door.

She slid to the floor, cradling her head in her hands on her knees. What else had she expected he would say or do? It wasn't as if he knew enough about responding in a way that would dispel all her worries. He wasn't the type to comfort. But his dismissal of what she said, which she knew he had an idea of, felt like a response with an uncanny, underlying sense of consolation.

She guessed that it was enough to know that Nicolas had no plans of dying. He would live. And she kept that as an unspoken promise.

O.o.O.o