by Prince, DD
She was both shocked and relieved that he knew not to pursue sex with her right now. She wasn’t sure she could take it and was glad that he didn’t push the issue. If he’d tried to force it with her, she was pretty sure she’d shatter into a million pieces and wasn’t sure she’d be able to be put back together again.
She stripped and put on a pair of shorts and tank top with a built-in sports bra and turned the treadmill on. She ran and ran hard for 48 minutes with music blaring in her ears. Tristan had a great playlist and she ran like her life depended on it, like she’d somehow wind up finding the answers she needed on that treadmill. But as hard and as fast as she ran of course it didn’t take her anywhere.
As she was walking through the final minute of the cool-off period she yanked the ear buds out of her ears and reached for her water and that was when heard a vacuum cleaner behind her. She was filled with panic as she glanced over her shoulder and saw the woman dressed in a white blouse and gray skirt with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun. It was Esther; she was in the bedroom vacuuming the carpet, her back to Kyla at that moment as she was going in the other direction. Kyla felt like a zillion pine needles were trying to bore their way out of her skin. She almost fell off the treadmill from the shock. She didn’t know what to do so she trotted quickly into the bathroom. She leaned against the closed bathroom door and tried to catch her breath. She twisted the lock.
A moment later the vacuum cleaner switched off and there was a knock at the door.
“Yeah?” Kyla was frantic but tried not to sound it.
“Sorry, Miss. I had knocked on the door several times but your earphones… they must have blocked the sound. I’m just going to change the bedding and I’ll be done.”
“Okay, thank you,” Kyla called out. She knew her voice must have been about 3 octaves higher than usual. She jumped into the shower and took the longest shower she had taken in eons, or maybe ever, hoping that by the time she was done, the woman would be gone. Kyla had no idea how to behave in front of Esther. Wait, maybe I am in a functional trance? She pushed the thought away.
Esther had already done the bathroom while Kyla was running, oblivious to her presence. A new stack of plush red and black towels were on a shelf and a bouquet of fresh roses was on the vanity in a tall black vase. Kyla’s gaze lingered on it, thinking back to her first day here. It was almost identical, in style, to the vase she had thumped Joe with.
She started to towel dry her hair and then the doorknob jiggled but didn’t budge as she’d locked it. Then she heard the lock click and the door swung open, hard. She gasped. But it was Tristan.
He was heaving, out of breath, and sweat-drenched. He looked like he had been running, too. His eyes didn’t meet hers. His jaw was tight. He stripped out of grey jersey shorts then turned the shower back on and then she felt his eyes land on her. There was an intensity emanating from him that made her anxiety levels spike.
She looked at the floor, not wanting to meet his gaze. Was he running because he was upset and frustrated, too? She took one step toward the door to vacate but he took a side step and blocked the door, then grabbed the hair towel from her hand and threw it on the vanity, still heaving. She stood still and squeezed her eyes shut and chewed her bottom lip. She could feel his eyes burning into her but didn’t want to look at them.
He reached for the towel she had around herself and snatched it off and then pulled her into the shower, under the stream, and against himself.
“Tristan…” she muttered, annoyed.
He let out a little growl as she slammed into him and then started to nibble on the side of her jaw, “Never,” he breathed, “Never ever tell me no like that again.” He caught her mouth with his and started to hungrily kiss her. He pushed her against the tiled wall and his hands slid up her sides. He pinned her and within an instant, he was inside of her. She gasped. There had been no foreplay so of course she was bone dry down there. He moaned and pushed deeper. She winced and pushed hard against his chest to get away but he had a firm hold of her.
He pierced her throat with his teeth and began drinking. As soon as he did that she let out a gasp and was instantly lubricated with a gush down below and suddenly the rawness inside of her was replaced by hot and fluid sensation. She felt his emotions surge forward as he drank. She felt urgency, anxiety, arousal; they all rushed at her at once and it was so intense it almost knocked her over.
Her eyes widened, her knees weakened, and all she could do was hang on tight as he guzzled from her throat and drove repeatedly into her, slamming her against the wet tiled wall with every forward jerk of his hips. She groaned at the fullness of him inside of her and grabbed his shoulders and just held on tight, watching the water dribble down his wet skin.
For a fleeting moment she wondered if he was taking too much blood and the instant it crossed her mind he released her throat. He kept pounding into her, though. It went on for ages. She wished he’d find his release. She knew she couldn’t find her own; too much was in her head. Him, his emotions, her own emotions, the predicament she was smack dab in the midst of.
Abruptly he pulled her from the shower, pushed the bathroom door open and then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He held her eyes with his, all the way, looking so angry and so intense it rocked her to her very core. She didn’t know what to feel. She only knew she couldn’t look away.
As soon as her back hit the bed he lifted her legs up and balanced the backs of her calves across the front of his chest and slammed hard into her. She blinked hard and chewed her lip as he sank in deep. He held tight and thrust forward, grunting and still not releasing her eyes from his.
“Forget everything but this. Just focus on now, on us,” he demanded through gritted teeth.
He looked thoroughly pissed with her. It was like he was halfway between Tristan and the monster then --- it seemed like he was faltering on a tightrope, and his eyes, though not black, looked darker, almost stormy gray.
She gulped and her eyes started to fill with wet. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to see this anger, feel this anger, be treated like his fuck doll. She furrowed her brow at him and then covered her eyes. He took her ankles and then pulled her up to his lap to straddle him and grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her face, “Don’t ever tell me No again. Do you understand me? Do you have any idea how much self-control I’ve had to muster with you? How lucky you are that I feel the way I do about you?” his fangs protruded and he squeezed his eyes tight and pulled them back in. Kyla felt fear prickle her. She was afraid, very afraid.
He was becoming the monster and it seemed like he was fighting it, “Don’t think about it!” he demanded, “I can’t handle any fucking more of it! Ride me.” He flopped back on the bed, leaving her on top, “Hurry!” He was frantic. He thrust his hands through his hair and his fangs shot out again. He squeezed his eyes shut and then they vanished. He let out a hard shudder.
Panic rose to the brim in her. She pushed her dripping hair out of her eyes. How much could he hurt her right now?
“Now!” he growled and dug his fingers into her waist, trying to grind her into him.
“Stop. Let me go. You’re scaring me.” she tried to get off him but the scuffle resulted in her hitting her face off his head. Her jaw radiated pain. His fingers dug into her hips harder, not letting her move. He snarled at her like an animal. She slapped him hard across the face and instantly regretted it. Her heart sank as his fangs protruded again and his pupils began to grow bigger and his mouth curled into a snarl. The blue was vanishing, leaving black in its wake, “You don’t get to tell me to stop. You don’t get to make me deprive myself of my hunger, and you don’t get to make me feel guilty for what I am, do you hear me? Damn it, I can’t fucking do it all at once! Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?”
She wanted to run, she wanted far away from him. But she was in a very compromising position. He pulled her closer and caught her throat with his teeth.
“Please no, Tristan…” she pleaded. She gasped and braced herself, fearful that she’d feel hatred, snakes, spiders, and that the fury she saw shooting out of his eyes would race through her insides but instead she felt an overwhelming sadness flood through her at lightning speed.
Sorrow slammed into her like a tsunami. He let go of her, limply fell back against the pillows, and she saw his face; it was full of remorse and pain. He looked so lost. He looked at her with the saddest look she’d ever seen. His blood-covered fangs retracted and he closed his eyes and put his palms over his eyes. He let out a strangled-sounding sob.
She grabbed his face with both hands and held it and leaned forward and kissed his lips tenderly. He made another pained sound and buried his face into her chest, “So sorry, baby…” He made a move to pull away but she grabbed his shoulders and guided him back down to the pillows and, with him still hard and still inside her, she rubbed her hands up and down his chest and gyrated her hips, making love to him slowly, pushing everything out of her mind except him.
He seemed to sense it instantly and let out a long sigh. He kissed her tears and kissed her mouth and ran his hands up and down her back. She melted into him as she found sweet release soundlessly. Then she whispered his name into his ear as he exploded inside of her. Then he opened his eyes, which were her favourite shade of blue again, and whispered, “I love you, Kyla. Please forgive me.” He slid out of her as he went soft, finally spent, and they both slid instantly to sleep in one another’s arms.
~~~
When Kyla opened her eyes sometime later he was watching her.
“You are so beautiful when you sleep,” he whispered and caressed her cheek. But he was the beautiful one. As messed up as things were earlier it felt like they’d crossed some new threshold. He’d proven he wouldn’t hurt her, not really. He’d fought his inner rage and while it had been awful, in the end he had pushed it away; the sorrow that she’d felt from him changed things somehow, changed things again. She sensed his level of torment, pain, fear, and instead of cowering or fighting back and having a temper tantrum in the end she wanted to help him through it.
“It’s when I’m most agreeable, too,” she muttered and stretched. He flashed a dimpled smile and then pulled her close.
“Thank you,” he said,
“For what?” she asked, demurely.
“For understanding. For knowing what I needed,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head, “I was so screwed up. It’s the connection, feeling what you’re feeling while I deal with everything, it’s … it’s fucking with my head …” He sighed, “I’m sorry for scaring you. I am trying to focus on how I can best protect you but you said it yourself, who’ll protect you from me? I don’t want you to hate me. I wish I wasn’t who I am, I…you don’t know why I had to give that order. That situation…it…if you were me you’d have given it too, believe me---”
“I don’t wanna know. Don’t tell me, please. I just want to forget. And does it feel like I hate you?” she snuggled into him.
“No, but I feel what I’m doing to you and I hate myself for how I make you feel. I heard you loud and clear. You didn’t want me. You were disgusted with me. I wanted to tell you why I did it but it might’ve made things worse. Then you were so afraid of me. I felt guilty, then frustrated, and then I almost turned into a maniac and … I’m sorry. I’m trying, okay? Trying so fucking hard.”
She caressed his cheek and then kissed him softly on the forehead and eyelids, wanting him to feel the comfort she felt when he kissed her that way,
“Okay,” she said.
“The only time I don’t feel you is when you sleep,” he muttered, “It makes me crazy-protective when you’re scared. It kills me that I’m the one you’re the most scared of. I have so much to figure out right now.” He buried his face in her still damp hair and inhaled. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his strong back.
“I need to tell you why I gave that order,” he whispered, “He can’t seem to gain control of his impulses, his cravings.”
“Tristan, don’t. I don’t need to know.” She still felt the same about it but was trying to separate things so that she could cope. Tristan was playing a role, to keep them safe. She didn’t want to think about the guy who’d probably been killed by now because she couldn’t put him ahead of Tristan, ahead of herself.
He ignored her protest, “He killed someone today out of his thirst and this isn’t the first time. We’ve had to cover up his indiscretions in the past. I had to put a stop to it.”
“Okay.” Kyla whispered, hoarse.
“Kyla?”
“Uh huh?”
“It was a child. Not his first.”
Her breath caught and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
“I can’t have you thinking so little of me. Thinking I’m someone who would kill someone without a damned good reason. I may not be a good guy but I’m not that bad of a bad guy.”
They were silent for a few minutes then she said, “I’m sorry for jumping the gun. I’ll try to give you the benefit of the doubt. That’s not something I’m used to but I’ll, I’ll try.”
He’d asked her to be patient, he’d told her that things would be rough but she had no idea it’d be like this.
He gave her a squeeze. They were silent for a while. Finally, she nuzzled into him and closed her eyes again and then felt herself falling back to sleep after a fleeting thought; maybe that’s why she was sleeping so much these days, so she could give him a reprieve from her angst. Was their connection so deep and becoming so woven and symbiotic that her body was giving him what he needed most? A break from her?
~~~
“We’ve slept the whole day.”
His voice woke her. She sat up. The room was dim, it must’ve been dusk, and someone was knocking on the bedroom door while his phone was ringing.
“Shit,” he said, looking at the screen on his phone. He jumped out of bed, flicked on a lamp, pulled open a drawer and then got into a pair of boxers before opening the door a crack.
“Dinner is about to be served in the dining room, Sir.” It was Esther.
Kyla pulled the blankets up over her nakedness.
“Make my apologies to our guests and then send dinner for myself and Kyla up. Leave a cart in the hall for me and knock when it’s here and just leave it.”
Kyla went to the washroom. Her hair was a knotted mess after having fallen asleep with it wet. She tried to pull her fingers through it but caught sight of her throat and shoulder and both were marked up really good and they both stung. Her jawline looked slightly bruised. She put the brush down, found some antiseptic ointment in with the things that had been bought for her and dabbed antiseptic soaked cotton balls on the sores, wincing at the sting. Tristan came in and frowned when he saw what she was doing.
“Let me,” he said. He took a washcloth and gently rinsed the antiseptic off, “Here, this is better,” He put his lips to the bite on her shoulder and held it there for a moment and it started to lighten the burn. Then he did the same to her throat. The marks were still there but the pain was pretty much gone. He was right. That was better. The pain was gone and the feeling of his lips on her skin was so much better, the best Band-Aid ever.
He kissed the sores and her bruise gently, “Sorry, baby.”
“You weren’t supposed to drink from me for a few days,” she whispered, rubbing her jaw with one hand and running her other hand up his back.
“Yeah.” he looked sad. He looked in the mirror and quickly ran his fingers through his hair and then kissed her on the top of the head and then kissed her jaw again. They both walked into the closet. She put on a bra and underwear and then a t-shirt and some capri yoga pants. He got into a pair of jeans and went to the desk, still shirtless, and started clicking on the laptop. His washboard abs and big shoulders and arms were a sight to behold. Kyla walked over and kissed his shoulder and curled up to his back and just leaned on him, as he clicked through to his email. This fe
lt so natural to her. She felt so magnetized to him. There was a knock at the door. He ignored it. Someone knocked again.
“I heard!” he bit off loudly, “I’ll get it in a minute.”
“Sir?” It was a male voice.
Tristan strode quickly to the door and opened it an inch, “I need to talk to you.” It was Joe’s voice. Tristan motioned for her to sit before opening the door. She sat on the sofa and looked toward the window so she wouldn’t be face to face with Joe. Tristan let him in.
“Can we talk? You said she was finally in line so I thought we’d be okay to talk here.” He pushed in the dinner cart and leaned against the wall, “Sorry to disturb you.”
“I was just working,” Tristan motioned toward his desk, “What is it? Watch TV, Kyla,” he called over to Kyla. She looked around herself for the remote but didn’t see it. She quickly padded to the night table and fetched it and then resisted the urge to scurry back to the couch, careful not to look at Joe but trying to be casual, so he wouldn’t think she was purposely avoiding his face.
She flicked on the TV and Three’s Company was on. She stared at it, preparing to act like a laugh track at appropriate moments, remembering that Julia had laughed when the others laughed that day.
“There’s been an… incident, err accident,” said Joe.
“What accident?”
“Becca. She snapped the girl’s neck.”
Julia?
Kyla felt the blood drain out of her face and it felt like her heart plummeted down into her bowels. She resisted the urge to hold her breath and stared straight ahead at the TV.
Could this day get any better?
“By accident?” Tristan’s voice was laced with sarcasm.
“Hmpf, Yeah.” Joe muttered under his breath.
“What happened?” Tristan asked flatly. His voice sounded emotionless and Kyla’s heart, still down in the bottom of her gut, skipped a beat.
There was laughter on the TV. Kyla was trying too hard to not react to news of Julia to react the way she’d planned to the laughter on the TV.
