Sinning Again

by Heidi Lowe

  "I, erm, we, uh went swimming in the lake the other day."

  This was perhaps the hardest thing to hear. Not only had they spent time together doing normal, couply things, they'd done so during the day. Something she could never do with Lissa. To know that a Were could enjoy her girlfriend the way she couldn't was soul destroying. But who would she blame for that? Lissa, the werewolf, or herself? Was anyone to blame?

  "I don't want you to see her again, do you hear me? Whatever you think you have with her, it isn't real. She must have known you were mine, hence why she pursued you."

  Lissa stopped wiping the tears from her face – the blackened tears, darkened by mascara – and shot her a look. "You can't stop me from seeing anyone," she said, defiantly.

  Jean should have known ordering her recalcitrant girlfriend to stop doing something would yield no results. But anger and a sense that she was losing control of everything had made her reckless in how she dealt with her. Trying to catch bears with acid rather than honey. And because of Lissa's stubbornness, it only made her more determined, more vexed.

  "I know you're still trying to punish me, but you've gone too far now. You will not see that animal anymore. Do I make myself clear?" Raising her voice was new to her, and she didn't like the sound of it, especially not when speaking to Lissa.

  It came as no surprise when Lissa threw her purse to the floor in a fit of rage. "Who the hell do you think you are? I can see whoever I want, when I want, and do whatever I want with them."

  "Not while you're under my roof."

  "Well, it's a good thing I'm moving out!"

  That stance that she'd willed herself to hold, that tougher, firmer position Robyn had insisted she take in order to not let Lissa walk all over her, went right out the window when those words reached her ears.

  "What?" she said, her voice back to its normal tone and volume, her face crestfallen. No, no, no, this was not supposed to happen. They were supposed to fight, Lissa was supposed to say a hurtful thing or two, then they would have deep, meaningful make up sex, tell each other how much they loved each other, and live happily ever after.

  "You heard me. I signed the contract this morning." And with that, Lissa took off up the stairs, having delivered the fatal blow.

  It had to be a joke. A lie designed to get to her. There was no contract, no new house. There couldn't be.

  "Lissa," she called as she hurried after her, desperation in every step.

  The bedroom door slammed shut in front of her, but she wasn't deterred. She yanked it open.

  "Leave me alone."

  "Lissa, please tell me this is a joke," she said, voice shaky, breathing even more so.

  "It's not. I found an apartment in my price range, and I signed the lease already. It's happening."

  "I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of that. This is your home. I, I lost my temper, honey. I won't do that again. Just please, don't do this." Her pleas sounded as pathetic, as powerless as she was in that moment. But none of that mattered to her. Her life was coming apart before her very eyes.

  Lissa looked away, unable to watch the destruction that her news had caused. She'd lost her temper too, and in doing so had blurted out something sensitive in the heat of the moment. However, it would have stung just as badly no matter how or when she told her.

  "If this is about the weregirl–"

  "It's not, it's about me. I need to do this." Her voice had softened, so too had her eyes. There was no longer animosity in them, just sadness.

  "Why? Why do you need to do this?" Jean demanded.

  "Because I need to stand on my own two feet. I need to grow, and I need to heal. I can't do that under you."

  "Or with me, obviously." She wasn't just leaving the house, she was leaving her. Leaving them.

  "Jean, this isn't personal, I promise."

  "How can it not be? We've slept in separate beds since we moved here, and that was hard enough. Now you're moving out. How can I not take that personally?"

  "Because..." Lissa took both hands in hers, made Jean look at her. "I forgive you. I really do. And I've been horrible to live with, and it's hurt me just as much, if not more, than it's hurt you. But I've been unable to stop myself. I need to work on me, to get back to a place where I can love you again without trying to hurt you. And...I can't keep living out of my girlfriends' pockets." She gave a little laugh as a couple of teardrops fell.

  "I'm not just any girlfriend..." Jean's tears had far less inhibitions, and tumbled down her face at breakneck speed, red against pale white. The concern was that she, indeed, was just any girlfriend. Just another name on a list of Lissa's mistakes as she found herself, grew into the woman she'd always wanted to be, and prepared herself for the true love of her life. Jean had known all of Lissa's past girlfriends. They'd all been wrong for her in so many ways, and she'd had to watch her go from one to the other, never settling properly. Back then she'd held out hope that the right woman would come along for her. Eventually, she'd become that woman. At least, that had been her thought. Now, she feared she was wrong.

  "I know. And this isn't the end for us."

  "So why does it feel like it is?"

  "Because you refuse to see it from my perspective. I have to do this," Lissa said with more emphasis. "Please understand."

  She couldn't. She couldn't see past her own loneliness, past the feeling of being deserted, however irrational that was. Was it because of the werebitch? She didn't know. Her presence in Lissa's life certainly wasn't helping matters.

  But...that look in Lissa's eye, that begged for her approval, begged for her understanding, she couldn't deny her that. You were supposed to let them make their own mistakes. If this was one, Jean would have to stand back and watch from the sidelines until Lissa was ready to come back to her. If she was ever ready...

  She nodded reluctantly, forced a smile. "I don't want you to go. I never wanted that. I never will want that. But I know you have to do this."

  When Lissa kissed her, it was bittersweet. She wanted to savor it in case it was the last of its kind. And when Lissa whispered, "Make love to me," Jean didn't think she was up to the task. At least, she didn't think she could perform without the aggression taking over.

  But she let the girl lead her to the bed, the single bed in the room that Lissa had chosen specifically to keep her out. Now Lissa wanted to let her in one last time.

  Driven by an intense desire to claim what was rightfully hers, Jean wrenched Lissa's blazer off, then proceeded to strip her naked. This wasn't going to be polite, gentle, or any of those things associated with their past love-making. If this was to be their last night together, she wasn't going down without a fight.

  As she tore the clothing from Lissa's body – literally ripping the fabric to shreds – Lissa gasped, eyes filled with anticipation and lust. She must have known what would become of her body when Jean was finished with it. A hunger so fierce she'd never seen in her before.

  Jean shoved her to the bed, straddled her, kissing and lightly biting at her neck, the vein tempting her. She pinned Lissa's arms above her head, and kissed and sucked at the soft flesh of her neck, teasing. Each time her teeth scraped across the vein, she felt Lissa's body shiver against hers.

  She needed flesh to flesh contact. They both did. She sat up, pulled her T-shirt off, tossed it behind her, then climbed out of her pants and panties as fast as she could. The bra was the last thing to go. She reclaimed Lissa's arms, pinning her down once more, and pressing her full weight, her full nakedness, against her while she snaked her tongue into the girl's mouth.

  Their nipples collided, sexes too. Two became one. They kissed and kissed until they ran out of breath, out of saliva. Until the tease of their sexes against each other was too much to bear; until they needed more.

  When Jean separated her lips from Lissa's, it became somewhat of a show as she brought two fingers to her mouth, sucked on them slowly while holding steady eye contact with her lover. Lissa knew exactly where those fingers wo
uld go, what power they had, and her body trembled with the anticipation. She was ready to accommodate. She'd been ready for a long time.

  Jean kept her eyes on hers as she drove those wet fingers deep into the moist cavern, watched the girl buck, heard her gasp. Then she kissed her and pounded, kissed and pounded, until both acts worked simultaneously.

  She loved to hear her moan like that, so virginal, pure. It was the highlight of their sex. She'd never felt more in control when Lissa was moaning. She'd never found a better place to be than inside her.

  She slowed down, let Lissa's lips loose, and turned her attentions on the supple, taut mounds instead. Each one received a generous helping of her tongue, as she fought to keep the nipples hard and wet. The sucking in conjunction with the pounding was a killer combination for Lissa especially, and it came as no surprise when the girl's murmurs and writhing reached fever pitch.

  She had her right where she wanted her. Sensitive everywhere. One flick of the tongue or finger in the right place would have sent her over the edge. So she stopped there, withdrew, released the teat, and let Lissa catch her breath again, let her recover a little.

  She sucked the residue off the offending fingers, truly savoring the taste, and let Lissa watch her do it. So delicious, so moreish. Her affliction had taken away her taste buds for food, but this she could still enjoy.

  "Are you finished with me?" Lissa asked, her voice more breathless and innocent than ever before.

  "No. Not even close."

  She'd always lived by a code: always ask, always get permission before biting. And she'd managed to stick by that rule for seventeen years.

  That night, she broke it. And with the last person she ever thought she would bite again.

  Lissa didn't know what was happening when Jean lowered herself between her legs, spread her wide, and took both thighs into her arms. Nor did she think anything of it when the kisses landed on her flesh. She'd been kissed there several times before.

  When the fangs pierced her skin and hit the vein, though, she became fully aware. There was no pain, there never was. But the feeling of euphoria was immediate. She felt the blood flowing from her, felt her body growing lighter.

  Groans of ecstasy and the creaking sound of the bed under her weight as she writhed filled the room.

  It wasn't the pleasant experience Jean wanted it to be, however. She'd pushed herself to do this again, knowing what Lissa's taste would do. The woman she loved would always taste like regret; her blood would always be a reminder. Not as strong, obviously, but enough similarity to make regularly feeding on her uncomfortable.

  She couldn't last long, a couple of minutes at most, and her fangs retracted. She wanted to give her everything, wanted to go on longer, but she physically couldn't.

  It was time for the finale.

  She slotted herself between Lissa's legs, missionary style, pinned her arms down again, until their sexes met. She rode and rode, their hands joining. Gliding and sliding, their bodies merged as one. They climaxed within seconds of each other.

  If it was to be their final night together, like this, at least they'd gone out in style.

  THIRTEEN

  Up until that night, the single bed had been a true source of annoyance for me. I'd tossed and turned and landed on the the floor more than once already. But tonight, it was a blessing.

  I lay on top of her, as naked as she was, and equally as exhausted, yet feeling more alive than ever before. This was the only way we could lie together in the cramped space. Or rather, this was the only way I wanted us to lie: in her tight embrace, cradled and protected, my head resting on her chest. It was hard to imagine that I was running away from this.

  Her fingers swam through my hair, which she'd pulled from its bun.

  "I don't want you to leave," she said.

  "I know. But I have to do this." So I claimed. But being held like that, caressed and loved, I wasn't so sure anymore. "I have to grow up, Jean. For me, and for you. I can't keep making the same mistakes."

  "I love you the way you are."

  She wanted me to reconsider. Even if it harmed us in the long run. It was so important for me to stay that she couldn't see this was better for both of us.

  I lifted my head from its comfortable spot between her bare breasts, and looked at her. "What are you afraid of?"

  "That you'll prefer your life without me in it, and never come back."

  Once upon a time I'd had a similar fear. In fact, most days I still did. That she would wake up and realize her love for me was merely a manifestation of her guilt, and that she would grow tired of me. People fell out of love with each other all the time – it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. And I couldn't promise her that it would never happen to us. But staying there was destroying us. Sure, we'd reconnected tonight, but how long would it be before I flipped out again?

  "If we're meant to be together, we'll find our way back to each other," was all I could give her. I knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, because it gave no assurances. "Don't be sad."

  She smiled sadly, pulled me into a kiss, and said nothing. Not being sad was a promise she couldn't make.

  I returned my head to her chest, resolved to remain this way for as long as she would let me, and make up for lost time. My body still tingled from the orgasm. I put that down to the bite. It had come as such a surprise when she sank her teeth in, something I thought she would never do again, since the first time had been a disaster. I wondered why she'd decided to go against her convictions, when doing so conjured up the worst memory from her past. When every sip of my blood tasted like my mother's. But I never asked. I simply appreciated being bitten again. The feeling: like a thousand orgasms all occurring at once.

  Instead I asked, "Why did you lose it like that at the restaurant?" Her reaction still sent a shiver down my spine now, even as she held me, far from being the monster I'd seen at the restaurant. Both terrifying and fascinating – I would never stop feeling that way about her.

  "It's a natural reaction when my kind come into contact with Weres. It's genetic. It doesn't affect them as much as it does us, but we're natural enemies. Like cats and dogs. Our most base instinct is to attack each other. Controlling that is the hard part." She lifted my head so I could look at her. "I didn't mean to frighten you, baby. I'm sorry."

  "I'm fine. But I don't think your business partner will get over that any time soon. She looked pretty spooked."

  Jean sighed. "Oh God, Nadine. I didn't even think about her in all of this. I'll have to sort it tomorrow evening. Hopefully we still have a business left."

  "Maybe you should call her now."

  "It can wait. This is the only thing I need to do tonight." And she kissed me. I was certain that this was her way of trying to convince me to stay.

  She came dangerously close to succeeding that night.

  No matter how many times I'd been through it, how used to it I was, I still held the illogical hope that I would wake up in the morning and see her fast asleep beside me. She would have been even more beautiful in the light of a new day. I'd dreamed of it before, though I'd never told her this.

  It wasn't Jean or Sandra who woke me the following morning, but the loud, enraged voice of my arch nemesis. She'd barged into my bedroom, unannounced, like a year's worth of periods had come all at once for her.

  She yanked the duvet off me and tossed it to the floor.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled, sitting up, wiping the grit from my eyes. "Why did you do that?" Robyn during the daytime was insufferable, a big bully playing the tough guy because the boss wasn't around to chastise her for it. She was like one of those kids who turned into a complete shit when their parents weren't around.

  "You wanna tell me what you were doing at the restaurant last night?"

  Ahh, of course. Nadine had filled her in on that debacle. Nothing got past Robyn; and if I was involved somehow, there was no way she would let it go.

  "Eating dinner. What else?"
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  "Listen, you little..." She stopped herself, took a deep breath. I could almost hear her inner voice placating her. Boy did this woman have the shortest fuse. Just a tall, well-dressed, statuesque figure filled with hatred, most of it for me. We'd only ever seen eye to eye once, when Jean was in trouble. But it was as though that had never happened.

  She spoke again, only slightly calmer than before. "Did you bring one of those changelings to the restaurant?"

  "I didn't know what she was at the time."

  "Bullshit!" she exploded all over again. "This is so typical of you. You probably put out an ad in search of one of those things, just to piss Jean off."

  I rolled my eyes at her. "Think whatever you like."

  She glowered at me with a hatred so strong I was sure I could feel my skin smoldering.

  "You know everyone is talking about it, don't you? The whole fucking town, talking about the vampire losing it while they were having dinner. And now I'm left to do damage control, all because my boss's bitch wanted to play silly little games."

  I sprung from the bed, squared up to her as best I could to someone who had at least four inches on me.

  "You can't talk to me like that."

  "You've caused her nothing but trouble. She never should have intervened when those boys attacked you."

  "Well, she did, when are you going to accept that?"

  She towered over me ominously. I felt so small standing in front of her.

  "Even now, you have no idea what you've done. Your antics could have cost her her business. Could have destroyed a restaurant that's been in a family for three generations. But none of that matters to you."

  Her insults were always cutting, though I'd learned to live with them. But these words were especially painful to hear. Because she wasn't insulting me; she was speaking the truth. Although my intention had never been to cause such a commotion, that was the outcome of my actions. It was all my fault.