by Sia Wales
“You seem worried. Look, it’s just the most sensible solution.”
I hesitate, suspicious, but curious. We eye each other cautiously. His eyes dance with malicious enjoyment.
I shake my head.
“No, it’s too embarrassing.”
“It must be frustrating, I know,” he says, his tension melting.
“No,” I snap back. “It must be frustrating for you having someone refuse to do what you want.”
He grins, bringing his mouth to my ear.
“You have to admit, I’ve done a lot of strange things to save your life in incredible circumstance one night not too long ago. Then I treated you like a puppet a few days later, controlling your emotions without ever explaining to you what, why I did these things. I know I should have. And to see that you push me away after everything that has happened between us only happened because I was controlling you in some way. Well, that is frustrating. And not being able now to read what you’re thinking. But I promised, and Vuk was right. If I hadn’t played dirty, you would have chosen him.”
“Why have you stopped controlling my emotions? You didn’t promise to do that.” I hope he won’t take my question for an invitation.
“I’m just trying to understand the person you are, Stella.” He raises his eyes to the sky. “Now please, get in.”
Infuriated, I refuse to budge. The rain is falling harder now, soaking my hair and back.
“I’m not controlling your emotions or reading your mind anymore, but I can still force you to do things without resorting to tricks.” He keeps staring at me, challengingly.
“Get in, or I’ll force you to,” he warns. “I’ve jumped through hoops to save your life, even risking breaking the truce for you. So I won’t let you risk your life by going home alone when you can’t even walk straight. Plus, friends don’t abandon their drunken buddies in the middle of the night.”
I decide that the silent treatment is the only way to go. I try to figure out if I can reach Jamie’s car before he can get to me. A slim chance, I must admit. Impossible, actually.
“I’ll catch you,” he threatens. Is he using his mind-reading powers, or am I just that transparent? Then he bursts into a giant laugh.
“Oh come on, you cowardly lion, get in the car.” With an encouraging flourish of his arm, he shows me the way in.
I tilt my head upward, trying to maintain an ounce of dignity. “Ok.”
I totter toward the door, doing my utmost not to stagger. He helps me settle in and gets in beside me, leaning my head against his shoulder.
The driver speeds off so fast that it takes my breath away. We’re separated by a darkened glass panel and he has in likelihood lost all patience before he’s even gotten to know me. I gurgle drunkenly, hoping my stomach will not regurgitate its remaining contents. It seems absurd, but I’m actually worried about messing up the pristine insides of this car. I’m feeling a little better though, so I hope my insides stay intact for the moment at least.
When Donn laughs now, he seems carefree and human, with no shadow of apprehension on his seraphic face. He lowers the window slightly, hoping some cool air will alleviate my nausea. Then he turns to me again.
It seems to be a different Donn to the one I first met; one of the many, one of the best, one who unveils his changeable and unpredictable sides, the infinite shades of gray which color his impenetrable mask. But it would be way too naïve of me to believe that he has let his mask slip altogether just for me. But it does increase my curiosity. He gracefully holds his hand out to me, which I accept with pleasure, forgetting for an instant my gloomy mood. His skin is, as usual, smooth and toned, and all it takes is one touch to send electrical currents racing through my body. He closes his hand on my fingers delicately, and then slips an arms around my shoulder with unexpected tenderness. I seek out his eyes, looking down on me. I’m still feeling too sick to actually talk. But I don’t feel like pushing him away either.
“What were you saying earlier? That I don’t behave like a gentleman?” he asks in a tone that seems to hark back to a distant era.
“I honestly can’t remember.”
He smiles, but I see a trace of embarrassment lurking there.
“I think we were talking about what stops you from being mine, apart from the obvious reason, that is.” He’s referring to Jason.
“Oh, right.”
“Well?”
When I look at him, I understand for the first time that this situation is as new to him as it is to me. Despite the uncountable years of experience that he surely must have, he seems to be struggling to deal with all this. This thought boosts my courage.
“I was scared because…”
A smile breaks out on his face, like the sunshine peeking out from a dark cloud.
“Do I scare you?” he asks jokingly, but his velvety voice betrays a hint of genuine curiosity.
I hesitate a second to understand if he’s really kidding me around or not. But he seems sincere enough.
“No more than usual.”
His white teeth almost glow in the darkened car.
“There’s really no need to be…”
I come in closer to him, slowly cautiously, feeling like a moth approaching a flame or a deer taking tentative steps toward a hunter. With my fingers I lightly trace the outline of his face, run them down his shoulders and across his rock-hard chest. I smell the sweet, irresistible scent of his skin. It confuses me, distracts me to the point of forgetting a vital detail––Donn’s neck and chest are out of bounds, they’re no-go areas. I only remember when he stiffens, as if a protective barrier has fallen sharply between us. I can feel him breathe. My hand trembles; I know this detail wouldn’t have escaped his notice.
“Oops, sorry, that bothers you.”
My involuntary slip of the tongue has let out more information that necessary, and I fear that it might enrage him. Pressing the wrong buttons with Donn can be a risky business. And I’m pretty sure that making reference to our past relationship is one of those buttons.
His silence doesn’t last long.
“That’s an understatement!”
It seems that his good mood hasn’t waned. I breathe a sigh of relief and snatch my hand quickly away from his chest, feeling a wave of sympathy for his discomfort.
“Can I ask…” I try to speak, but am not sure how to end the sentence.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask why just now … you stiffened, you turned to stone?”
His smile melts away.
“You know why.”
“No, I mean, what exactly did I do wrong?”
He smiles again.
“You did nothing wrong. It’s my fault, not yours.”
Confusion reigns in my head. I just sigh.
“But I’d like to help you, if I can. If I can make your life any easier, I mean. I have to learn what I can and can’t do, now that you’re my guarantor.” I pause for a second. “Like this, for example.” I raise my hand and delicately run my fingers down his cheek. “This is no problem, right?”
This makes him laugh.
“No, that’s no problem. It just took me by surprise.” He changes the subject. “Humans, by their very nature, are usually wary around us, our otherness scares them away. I wasn’t expecting you to touch me.” His eyes become surly, almost menacing. “Don’t do it again,” he cautions, searching my face to see if his warning has troubled me.
“You’re not as bad as you like to make out,” I reassure him. He seems to take some comfort in my words.
“Come here.” He squeezes my hands; they seem so fragile in his two ice-cold shackles. “I just don’t know how to be with you in this way, a way that doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m not used to feeling so … human. Do you understand what I mean if I say the flesh is weak?”
“Maybe I understand it more than you might think,” I nod. I can barely hold his gaze. “Was it difficult… before, I mean?”
“Not as hard as it used to be,” he says, somewhat
satisfied with himself. “Not nearly as hard…” But his voice gives him away. “Before today no one could get near me, touch me. You’re the only one.”
I turn red, my heart thumping in my ribcage.
“I want you to try to put my impulsive behavior out of your mind. The way I behaved a few days after the accident, in my office,” he confesses, his voice convincing, silky smooth. “That’s why I have stopped controlling your emotions.” His gaze gets lost on the horizon. When he turns back to me he seems surprisingly vulnerable. Human.
“That afternoon, you found an outlet in my pain. But in the end, as you were cleaning my blood, you had pangs of regret. Why?”
He pronounces every syllable of my name clearly.
“Stella May Whitely, you are now the most important thing there is for me. I would hate myself if I did anything to hurt you, to really hurt you. This may sound strange, but you can get pleasure in pain. I’d never cause you excessive pain, and you only felt the most pleasurable, passionate pain. Although I didn’t mean to…” he adds hurriedly.
“I took all the necessary precautions, including feeding more that usual before our encounter. I was sure I’d be strong enough to treat you as any human would. But my confidence got the better of me.”.
I exhale loudly, mulling over his words. I free one of my hands and run my fingers lightly along the perfectly-formed muscles of his lower arm, up the bluish veins leading up to his elbow. And there is his face again, just a couple of inches from mine. His godlike beauty never fails to astound me.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You think I’m drunk.”
“I think you’re inebriated by my presence,” he grins maliciously.
“And you’re not in the slightest bit affected by mine?”
His face softens, he crinkles his eyes tenderly. He tilts his head to one side, as if about to confess a secret, and brings his cold lips to my ear.
“I didn’t think you could read my mind.”
“I’m learning to.”
I can feel him smiling. His nose touches mine, we’re eye to eye, and he uses all the clout that those baby blues command.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he repeats. “What are you scared of? Why do you always want to run away from me?” His tone is serious as his hand delicately strokes my hair, my face.
“It’s not the fear that you mean, but that’s not something to be overlooked. I was scared because … well, I can’t be in your company for obvious reasons.”
“But I know that you’d like to be with me much, much more than you care to admit, baby girl.”
We stare at each other in silence, each trying to read the other’s face. Then I finally gather the courage to blurt out a somewhat detailed list of all the obstacles I can think of for us being in a relationship.
“A two-hundred year age difference, a mysterious past, a dubious family, a deceitful and alluring mask. These are just the first things that spring to mind. Not to mention that irritating detail that you actually get pleasure in causing me pain. That enough for you? Apart from the most obvious reason, that is.”
The boldness of my opening gradually wanes to the point where my voice comes out weak, feeble. He hushes me, bringing a finger to my lips. Tensely, nervously, I await a reaction, fearful that the fury I saw explode in him earlier would raise its head again. But he keeps his cool. And in answer, he just brings his lips to my chin and begins stroking them back and forth on it. I tremble.
“I’m sorry if I take pleasure in the most indescribable things.”
My eyes are firmly fixed on our entwined hands, but I can feel his boring into me. I raise my head slightly, to see a melancholic, tortured expression on his face. When he does speak, his words come out slowly, carefully selected.
“There’s no doubt that you have good reason to fear being with me. It’s anything but a favorable choice. But as I said to you, it’s the only way I know. And the little I have shown you… well, you’ve received a glimpse of my simplest, least obscure side.”
“I’m sorry! Can you explain that better?”
“I don’t think you can understand right now. One step at a time, Miss Whitely. But I note with pleasure that you still thirst, baby girl.”
“I thirst for knowledge, Mr. Brooks.”
“I just wish you could understand how attractive I find you.”
I frown at him, certain that he’s making fun of me, but he shakes his head, exasperated, rolling his eyes.
“Every single day, the perfume of your skin, your breath. It hits me as hard as it did the first time I met you. Sometimes a slight movement brings that scent wafting back. This is just one of the reasons––a superficial one, I know––that makes me persist. I’m fascinated by you. You have no idea of the effect you have. You are unlike anyone I have every known. And then your rosy cheeks, your human warmth, the blood that floods your cheeks when you’re embarrassed, like right now. The way your eyes sparkle when you know I’m making fun of you or that I’m playing dirty. All these things thrill me. Your natural qualities are exceptionally beautiful. Perfect.”
Donn brings his lips to my ear, his cold breath tickling it. Of course, I blush an even deeper shade of red, and bring my knees up to my chest, hugging them tight, trying to alleviate this sensation of discomfort.
He bursts into laughter at my reaction, and runs a finger along the goose bumps that have appeared on my arms. He tries to decipher my expression.
“Are you still cold?” he asks tenderly. “Your hands are ice-cold.”
“So are yours,” I retort. “But you think I’m the one who has something wrong with me?”
His eyes darken, as if I have reminded him of a forgotten, terrible truth. He slides fluidly to the far corner of the seat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He sighs, a strange light now in his eyes. My heart is beating so fast now, I fear I might have a coronary. I wonder if he moved away from me just to protect me from his frozen body.
“It takes some effort to keep my distance from you,” he admits, expertly veering the subject off course. “Lie down, baby girl, you’ll feel better soon. And he turns his gaze toward the window, his eyes with that faraway look I now know so well.
I do as he says, lying down on the soft leather seats, my head leaning against the backrest. It’s certainly more comfortable than Donn’s icy, solid chest. But I know which I prefer.
“Don’t be absurd,” he says disapprovingly. He’s reading my mind again! “The cold is not an aspect of myself that I have never been able to control. And I’ve never wanted to quit as much as I do right now.”
“Stay here,” I reply dreamily, studying the splashes of violet that surround his aquamarine pupils.
“Are you sure you want me here?” he asks skeptically. I nod.
“You should drink some water,” he murmurs. “It’ll pass.” I know he’s referring to the nausea, to the nightmare of being in the bar just now, but so many other things spring to mind.
I can’t reply, so I just shake my head.
“You need to drink something!” he exclaims. “You never miss the chance to contradict me, do you?”
“Why did you kiss me earlier, even after I was sick?” The thought of it makes me cringe.
“You need to drink.”
“Tell me why.”
“Do you think that any part of you could disgust me? I love every inch of you, every breath, every gesture; they make you what you are. Now please do what I say, you need to get some liquids in you and build your strength.”
“I don’t want to drink. I’m not thirsty.” That’s a lie, my throat is as dry as a desert. But I don’t want him to budge an inch, not even to get me some water out of the minibar. A corner of his mouth turns up, as if he has read this thought and understood the reason for my refusal to drink. But he pays no heed. His white hand stretches out and takes out a small bottle of water, which he opens and hands to me.
“Just one sip.”<
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At this point, refusal seems pointless, so I take a couple of sips. He looks at me encouragingly, so I take a few gulps, ending up finishing the bottle. Not that my thirst has been sated, I try my best not to fall asleep.
We should be in Medford by now, but my sense of time may be skewed. I look out the window; we’re driving along the coastal road. The driver has taken the scenic route obviously.
My cell starts ringing from my jacket pocket; it’s my mother. Her timing is legendary. She must be doing some nighttime shoot. She knows this is the bar’s closing time, so she must have guessed I’d be awake.
Donn’s face is the picture of serenity. He presses a button to lower the glass that separates us from the driver, asking him to pull over as soon as he can. Then he lifts the glass again.
We stop in a little recess on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. There are a couple of telescopes there to watch the ships and the seagulls on the horizon. Donn gets out of the car first and offers his arm to help me out, probably justifiably afraid I’ll lose my balance. When I’m out and he’s pretty sure I can stand on my own two feet, he lets go. I answer the incoming call.
I hear Monica’s high-pitched voice over the wind, which whistles through the receiver as if we were on high seas.
“I wanted to surprise you. I’m in Cape Elizabeth with the crew,” she says. “We wanted to make a brief detour to Medford, but we were out of time. We’re on a fishing boat off Maine now.”
I’m relieved. Whatever caused the delay, I’ll be eternally grateful. If she had come to Medford now, with those two vampires hunting me down… Well, I don’t even wanna go there! I’m already worried enough about Jeff, Scott, and Tyler. My head would have overloaded.
“I’ll see you in New York, right?” When she was coming back from Anchorage, she promised that we’d meet up in the Big Apple.
“National Geographic asked me to head that amazing expedition to Vermont. You know the one I mentioned in my email? Where giant cougars had been spotted?”
My eyes widen in amazement. I had been so sleepy the evening after my party that I had totally forgotten about it. Too many other thoughts swimming round my head. Those animals that Tess and Seth had mentioned, and those two hikers in the bar too. Giant cougars, the size of bears.
