by L. T. Kelly
Marc somehow managed to catch up with me, his strong arms snaked around my waist. He lifted me and spun me around, our entwined laughter bounced off the trees surrounding us in a perfect circle and echoed in my ears.
He stopped spinning and put me down, turning me so I faced him, his lips crushed down on mine. The urgency of the kiss bruised my lips and made them swell. I sensed in the vision I’d been a human.
Marc’s fingertips trailed down the valley of my spine, I shuddered from tingling sensation it provided. I wanted to tell him to take me, but my voice sounded gargled.
The vision flickered and flitted to the next scene as a dream might.
Fresh sweat coated us and made both of our bodies glisten in the sun. My skin was bronzed like his. His eyes pooled into mine, sending blazing hot jolts to my sex as he entered me. I arched my back, the breeze blew over my rosy nipples making then harden and my breasts prickle with goose pimples.
He dipped his head and traced his teasing tongue around my areola. I arched even more in response, dragging the back of my head through the soil, and pushed my breast into his mouth.
My slick walls encased his silky length in full. His mouth suckled at each of my breasts in turn, nipping, licking and sucking as I rocked my hips taking him deep inside. I sensed my orgasm growing nearer and wanted to gaze into his eyes as he took me over the edge, show him how he drove me crazy. I positioned my head so that it was flat back on the ground, but the man hovering over me, lapping at my buds wasn’t Marc. It was Bartholomew.
I reared my head back and scrambled away, feeling a grainy plastic drag over my bare thighs as I did. The alcohol induced confusion swept over me as I my eyelashes fluttered over my cheeks. “What the fuck? Where am I?” I said aloud.
The cab pulled over. I turned to the scrutiny of Marc’s wordless glare. He leaned forward and threw the cabbie some money before grabbing me tightly.
He wrenched me out of the cab by my wrists. The blood from his wounded hand spilled out and streaked along my raised forearm as he manhandled me from the curb to my house.
He banged furiously on the door after he’d secured me against it with the palm of his bleeding hand. His bronzed fingers were splayed and burning against my chest, trickling blood soaked my dress.
He shook with apparent rage. His eyes seemed so dark they were almost black and the muscles in his face ticked with fury. His lips were pulled back to reveal his pearly, clenched teeth.
The door flew open and I fell inside onto the tiled hallway floor.
“What the—” is all I heard from Thomas as I whooshed upstairs slamming into each wall with every corner I turned.
I flung myself on my bed bring my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I lay on top of the covers screaming and shouting every profanity that sprang into my head, words I wished I’d been able scream into his face. I stopped only to allow my throat to heal from the rawness for a few minutes in between.
Thomas didn’t come to me. I guessed he’d be livid with me for pursuing Marc, but I didn’t care. He could go fuck himself. Everyone could go fuck themselves.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I woke at the sound of Thomas and Alex’s voices outside my closed bedroom door. It was apparent they were having some sort of disagreement in hushed, angry tones. I failed to muster the urge to listen in to their conversation. My mind was too busy going through the events of the previous night.
I failed to comprehend what had gone through my mind. In a way, I understood why Marc had lost his temper with me. We couldn’t be together. The thought of not seeing him or being with him again sent a fresh wave of pain through the centre of my being.
Why on earth had Bartholomew replaced Marc in my vision? How would I ever be able to work that messed up shit out? I shuddered as I recalled the image.
It seemed so strange to experience pain like that when I didn’t suffer physical pain in the same way. In some ways, I wished I’d never met Marc. I’d been happy and carefree living the way I always had.
The ache from having to leave the people behind from my human life had taken fifty years to dissolve into the background. Thoughts of those people caused a pang every now and then, before I drove the memories out of my mind once more. I tried to imagine they’d had a wonderful long life and realised they were long dead and gone, hopefully from old age, and at peace in a better place.
This pain wasn’t the same. Back then I’d had things to learn about what I’d become. This time I’d lost him because of what I am.
The door slipped open slowly and Alex’s head popped through the gap. I still lay on top of the covers, wearing the black, blood soaked dress from the night before. I didn’t look at him. I only figured it was him by scent. My eyes remained firmly on the polished brass hinges the door hung from.
“Are you ok?” his voice whispered.
I didn’t answer, I couldn’t. I was empty, unable to move or speak, a mere shell.
I saw his movements out the corner of my eye and sensed him rest beside me on the bed.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. All of this was my own fault for drinking too much and then turning into a complete psycho. I wasn’t his problem. He owed me nothing. No one owed me anything. But, my vocal chords failed to spring into action.
“Thomas would really like to see you,” Alex continued after a long pause waiting for my response.
I closed my eyes. At least I’d managed that much. I wanted to be left alone to wallow in my own loathing and self-pity. I wished for the ability to cry, sob my heart out. I recalled crying as a human used to relieve some tension, improved my mood, but I wasn’t even capable of the emotion. I almost wanted to laugh at myself. Can’t cry, can’t make someone love me, can’t keep a man, can’t move and can’t speak.
“I can understand why you don’t want to talk right now, ok. I’ll give you some space.”
That just made things worse than ever. Pity was the worst suffering bestowed on me from him. I didn’t deserve his pity. I’d led him into the lion’s den. I wondered whether he even knew, if he was aware we went to Marc’s bar last night. I didn’t suppose that mattered anymore.
He’d paused again, allowing me the opportunity to respond before he lifted his hand and patted my lower-leg. I heard him moving back towards the door and wanted to call him back, ask him to hold me for a while, but I still couldn’t. The door clicked shut behind him.
I drifted in and out of sleep. It’s unusual for a vampire to sleep when the sun is down but it wasn’t an unstoppable sleep like we endured during the day. I’d induced the sleep to try and wash away the excruciating pain I experienced whenever I awoke. It seemed like the only way to block the agony out. At the break of dawn, I’d been grateful for the fact I wouldn’t have to go through the hurt anymore. Well, at least until the sun plunged out of the sky and gave way to the moon and stars.
***
“Teagan.” Thomas stood over me as I awoke from my days rest.
“I let you be yesterday, but this simply cannot continue. This came for you today while we slept.” He placed an envelope with my name scrawled on it next to me. He continued to stand above me waiting for a reaction. No matter how depressed I felt, no matter how much I didn’t want to speak or move, I couldn’t ignore the mysterious hand delivered letter. But, I didn’t want to open it in front of him so I lay motionless, my expression remaining as blank as the night before, my eyes dull and unmoving, still fixed on the same brass hinges. I acted as though he wasn’t even in the room.
“Very well,” he snapped, whirling on his heel and exiting the room while calling over his shoulder, “At least get changed, Teagan. That blood is beginning to stink up the house.”
I reached for the envelope, curiously tearing it open as I rolled over on to my back.
Dear Teagan,
I’m so sorry…sorry for not telling you the truth from the beginning. I wish that I could have
known how I’d feel about you now, then.
I wish things had ended differently the other night, as well. I have a lot of wishes, I know.
The reason I lost my temper was because you were right, I do need to get some balls. I have spent so many years being the prodigal son that I’ve lost who I am. I can’t handle it, and now things have changed.
Everything I’ve done has always been for the good of my family, for the well-being and survival of the pack. I know nothing else.
That’s why this morning I’ve packed my bags. I’m going to find out who I am, and not what is wanted or expected of me.
I only hope you can forgive me for who I’ve appeared to be. Who I seemed to be last night.
I don’t love Gabriella, not like that anyway. There’s only ever been you…
I’m just trying to do what’s right. I hope you’ll understand. Don’t ever close your eyes to rest and think that I’ll ever be happy without you. I won’t. I’ll be falling to pieces, but I know this is what must be done.
I love you. I always will.
Marc
Trying to do what’s right—fuck. I leapt out of bed, pulling the dress off over my head as I went. I grabbed at the clothes in my closet, snatching on the first things that came into my hands—sweat pants and a t-shirt.
I smelled Alex on the lower floor in one of the spare bedrooms and I stood next to him within a minute.
“Hello, sleeping beauty,” he murmured. “Are you better now?” He seemed to be half asleep.
“No. I need your help. Now.”
“Er—please.” He smiled lazily, not picking up on the urgency in my voice.
“Please, Alex, please,” I begged.
“What do you need?” he asked, swiftly moving into an upright position and cocking his head.
“I need an address,” I told him. He moved to his laptop, set up on the dressing table. I gave him the details as he narrowed his eyes at me.
“He’s gone. I need to know—” My words choked me as I waved the letter in his face. He just nodded pursing his lips. I sensed his understanding, although he didn’t necessarily agree with my fact-finding mission. Opening up a webpage he typed fast.
He wrote down the address on a piece of notepaper lying next to the computer.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” He shot me a warning glare.
“Don’t you mean, anything more stupid?” I smiled reassuringly as I whooshed out of the house before Thomas or anyone else could stop me to question my motives.
I walked as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself. The sidewalk glowed orange from the streetlights as I headed towards the address a few streets away. I’d paid attention to the street map that came up when Alex had brought the details up on the screen.
The windows matching the address were shrouded with darkness.
“Fuck. No,” I breathed. I rushed to the front door and selected the buzzer that would get me someone in flat three. I held the button down until a voice I recognised crackled through the intercom.
“What? For fucks sake, who’s there?” Her voice cracked with sleepiness.
“Thank God,” I whispered. I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t taken her with him, but now that I was there I may as well find out what she’d been made aware of.
“Delivery for Miss Rigana,” I spoke, reaching back to find my old Irish accent as a disguise. I jolted at the sound of my voice. Haunting memories came flooding back. Not exactly the right time for reminiscing.
The door made a buzzing noise as I pushed against it. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of damp in the hallway as I climbed the stairway carpeted with a busy pattern.
She stood by the door of her apartment wearing a tartan cotton nightshirt. Her jaw dropped when she caught sight of me heading up the stairs and she rushed to shut the door but I’d been too fast in pre-empting her actions, knocking her flying back inside the apartment and closing the door behind me.
She jumped to her feet, her yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. She came at me again but I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit and I didn’t want to hurt her anymore than I had too. I outstretched my arm and held up my palm to face her, she rebounded off my hand, sending her flying backwards on to her ass, back to square one.
“Listen, Gabriella, I don’t want to fight you,” I said gently. “I just want to find out where he’s gone.”
“Who? What are you on about?” she spat, struggling to get back on her feet.
“Marc. He’s gone.” I hated the taste of the words in my mouth.
“No, no he isn’t, you fucking psycho. He doesn’t want you anymore. Why don’t you leave us alone. He’s marrying me.” Her voice came out sounding desperate and high-pitched. I imagined her silent prayer that I’d made a mistake.
I reached in my pocket and pulled the letter out and waved it around.
“Here, I have proof.” I’d been sort of glad she didn’t believe me. The written words would sting her but I thought she had a right to know the truth.
She took a step forward and peered down. I held the letter out to her so she could read the contents but I wouldn’t let go of the paper. I wanted to keep it and I couldn’t risk her ripping it up.
I watched her eyes sweep from side to side across the words. Her jaw had been clenched but it slackened with each word she digested. She took in a sharp breath, and her hands flew up to cover her face.
I folded the letter back up and put it back in my pocket as she turned away from me and dropped her hands from her face. She steadied herself on the arm of a battered old couch, bending slightly to reach it.
I stood still, not saying a word. I couldn’t pretend to comfort her, because I realised how much she’d be hurting to have read her fiancé loved me and not her, but I honestly didn’t care.
“Get out,” she breathed, her voice cracking and strained with emotion, unable or unwilling to face me.
I caught the side profile of her face in the mirror above the black cast iron fireplace; fat tears were silently sliding down her cheeks. A pang of jealousy flooded me because I wasn’t allowed the same release. From what I’d seen of Gabriella she was a proud woman. She wouldn’t cry in front of me and by the surprise plastered all over her expression as she’d read the letter, he hadn’t even granted her the knowledge he was going anywhere, let alone tell her he didn’t love her.
As much as I despised her, I thought she deserved better than the hand she’d been dealt.
Much to my own dismay, I left the apartment with genuine pity for her.
I wandered back home, taking my time to think things through.
A tall man passed me, looking back he flashed me a smile as he went. I searched his face for a similarity to Marc’s. He was tall and wiry, unlike Marc’s muscular frame. He did have dark brown hair but not as dark. I figured I’d never find anyone like Marc again.
Carelessly, I shoved the passerby against the nearest wall into a shadowy corner, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled for breath as I closed my eyes and put my mouth over his, trying to conjure up the memory of Marc’s sweet scent and imagine his lips kissed mine instead of the stranger’s. The man tried to push me away, his eyes wide with terror as I pulled my head back.
“I guess not, I’m stronger, faster, and you’re not floating my boat, honey.” I wasn’t sure if I was talking to my victim or myself.
I took a long sigh as I looked away from him. I turned my head and viciously bit into his skinny neck, stilling his futile attempts at an escape.
I left him slumped in the corner and walked away. I lacked the energy to check if he was still alive. I’d made a terrible mess of his neck so maybe it would be better if he weren’t. I was too busy drowning in my own sorrow to care.
Should I follow my head or my heart? Those were the only thoughts bounding around my brain at that moment.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I arrived back to find an empty house, relieved because time alone gave me a chance to gather me thoughts.
I didn’t know if I’d be willing to sit here and merely wait. I needed him; my body ached for his touch. I needed to discover if my love for him was associated to a craving for his blood or if it was honestly him that I wanted and needed in my life. I wasn’t going to find that out by sitting here.
I hadn’t discussed my visions with anyone. I’d felt embarrassed and baffled by them. I’d made up my mind that I’d been human in each vision I’d experienced, but I loved being a vampire, so why’d that happened? Every time—which had been a lot—I thought of having sex with Bartholomew it made my skin crawl. Perhaps I’d never come to understand why I envisioned what I did.
I’d promised Alex a trip. Perhaps that would be a good idea? If I’d allow myself to push Marc and the hallucinations to the back of my mind, travelling with Alex may provide me with the answer that my passion was a simple case of blood lust and not true love.
I shook my head with confusion. I did love him. I was certain of it.
That simple action made the clouds in my mind dissipate and I saw what I must do next with total clarity, like the plan seemed clear all along, I just needed to realise some things first to see it.
I whooshed up to Alex’s room, taking full advantage of him not being around, breathing a sigh of relief when I spotted his computer remained on the desk. I owned one myself but I hadn’t taken the time to find out where it had been put when we moved here. Plus, because of the amount of times I’d used the machine, I assumed it’d be slow and most definitely out of date. Alex’s seemed the faster and better option.
I started typing the information into a search engine. Images of a familiar face flashed up as soon as I clicked the search button. I suppose it should’ve been obvious that they’d look the same but the similarity shocked me enough to make me gasp.
