Original Sin
Page 30
“He shouldn’t have been there so late.”
“What did you do?”
He looked her in the eye, giving her the absolute truth. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I was in a red haze. You were mine. Another man, reeking of lust, stood at your door.”
“Did you hurt him?”
“No, I sent him away. I would have made sure he never came to you again like that.”
“You’re sure you sent him away?”
“Yes. Because once I had you, he was gone.”
“Adam, if you hurt him...”
“I’m not that far gone!” Uncertainty resounded in his voice. “I’m not a murderer.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
Because he wasn’t. “Anna, I just wanted him to leave you alone. This territorial part of me... I don’t know how to shut it off when other men are around you.”
“Well, you’re going to have to figure out how to suck it up, Adam. I want you to come with me and there are men everywhere.”
“He was at your home.”
“I’m not arguing about this again. But you better hope to God that he’s in one piece when we get there.”
Her worry for the other man hit him like sickening sludge dredged up from the base of his stomach. His mind flashed. A blink of light. The taste of blood that was not Annalise’s. The heady flavor of testosterone spiked with adrenaline. The jolt of forcing a lesser male’s submission. The need to claim her.
“I drank from him.”
“What?” She glared at him with unexpected anger. No, not anger. Something else.
“My instincts were in control. It’s in my nature to take a dominant role in your life, that includes my rank among other men.”
She scoffed. “Oh, please. Don’t give me that alpha male crap. You bit my friend!”
“I was protecting you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Kyle isn’t dangerous.”
“To me he is. Anything or anyone that threatens my relationship with you is a threat to my life. I won’t apologize for chasing him away from your door.”
A prickle of satisfaction fizzed at his territorial claim, but something else still polluted the air between them. It held the same fiery energy of anger, but with a denser aura. The feminist inside of her couldn’t fathom how his caveman mentality could appeal to her, but on some level it did.
“Who else have you fed from? I deserve to know.”
There it was again. He’d never felt it from her before. But he’d felt it from others.
A slow grin pulled at his lips. “You’re jealous.”
“Oh, please—”
He laughed. “Lie all you want, ainsicht. I know what jealousy feels like and it’s radiating from you.”
Her jaw hardened and she scowled, but she gave up denying it.
“Does the thought of me feeding from others bother you?” He hoped so, because it certainly bothered him. “Only out of necessity would I chose a donor other than you, my love.”
She seemed irritated by his response. “Have you ever...” Her lips twisted. She glanced away, running her finger along the edge of the dresser. “Were there any women?”
His smile stretched as he approached her. He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her pulse. “Only you.” He playfully nipped her soft skin and her breath hitched. “Does that satisfy you?”
She tried to hide a smile and failed. She yanked her hand away. “Yes, as a matter of fact it does.”
He liked this side of her, liked that less secrets lived between them. The more they got to know each other, the more eager he was to start a life with her. Each glimpse he stole of her playful side, hinted at more than salvation. Together they might share a life, full of inside jokes and precious moments like this.
He caught her chin and kissed her. When his mouth left hers, she blinked up at him, as if asking what the kiss was for.
“Your jealousy flatters me. But it’s unnecessary. You’re all I want, Annalise. You’re everything I need.”
Her lashes lowered and she blushed. He also loved when her softer nature showed. As much as he enjoyed the feisty woman that challenged him at every turn, he saw the vulnerable girl who hid inside. He loved them both.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The perils of buggy travel didn’t truly register until it was too late to turn back. Bensalem was a little over a hundred miles from Adam’s home, and though they traveled at night, they still could only use back roads, which added an extra hundred miles of detours. Not to mention the hard bench seat that made every bump and divot feel like a spanking, combined with the occasional air freshener left by the horse.
Simply put, traveling by horse and carriage was only romantic in fairytales. In reality, it sucked.
Cruising at a rapid eight miles an hour, they only made it a quarter of the way by dawn. With the sun rising and the horse sweating, they had no choice but to stop.
Adam knew of a place on the way that also had stables. At first, it looked like another Amish property, but then she spotted wires.
“Oh, my God.” Her excitement to feel air conditioning on her skin and plop down in front of a television set, nearly had her sprinting out of the buggy.
Mennonites ran the establishment and Adam spoke to them in Pennsylvanian Dutch. There seemed no difference between the two at first, which confused her.
“Is he...?”
“No,” Adam answered, escorting her to their room.
When they entered the hotel room she sucked in a breath and practically squealed with euphoria. Rushing over to the dated television set sitting on the dresser, she wrapped her arms around it and sighed.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a television.” She pressed her cheek to the set and smiled, her gaze falling on the bathroom. “Oh, my God, plumbing!”
“We have plumbing.”
“You have a pump and well. It’s not even close.”
“We have plumbing, Annalise. My parents’ house is older. The newer homes connect to the sewer line and have copper coiled water heaters.”
“What? Do you have any idea what that ice cold well water has done to me? I almost died, Adam.”
“The water’s not that cold.”
“It’s cold enough.” Flicking off her bonnet, she tossed it at his chest. “I’ll be in the shower for the next two hours if you need me.”
“You need to eat,” he called.
“After I use up all the hot water. Since you see nothing wrong with the cold, I’m sure you won’t mind.”
Bathing in the tiny shower, proved a divine experience. One would have thought she’d been at the Four Seasons for how luxurious she felt.
Pruned and wrapped in a towel, she emerged in a cloud of steam. “That was almost sexual it felt so good.”
“I noticed.” He arched a brow, reminding her how in tune he was to her emotions.
“Hey, you’re watching TV. Isn’t that a sin or something?”
“I needed a distraction.”
She frowned. “From what?”
His gaze trailed up her legs and lingered at her chest. “There’s a large, homemade breakfast in a few minutes. You need to eat.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Adam, if you’re hungry, I don’t mind...”
“I can tolerate the hunger. You, however, skipped supper and need to eat.”
But she wasn’t the one whose life was at stake. Climbing onto the bed, she crawled over his legs and straddled his lap. “I know you’re hungry.” She held out her wrist. “Here.”
He glanced at the offering and to her eyes. His pupils elongated, convincing her that he needed this from her.
“It’s okay. I sort of ... like it,” she confessed.
His nostrils flared as his hands closed around her hips, anchoring her closer. He yanked the towel open, exposing her front. Dragging his hands upwa
rd, he cupped her breasts.
The tip of his fangs showed as his lips parted. “Does it hurt when your teeth come out like that?” she asked, fascinated.
He shook his head. “No more than cracking a knuckle.”
She glanced at his clothes and pushed his suspenders away. His shirts never had more than three buttons and he never wore a collar. She considered if he’d object to her touching him. “May I?”
He lowered his hands back to her hips and nodded.
She loosened the buttons and tugged the fabric free of his pants. “Lift.” She pulled the material away, exposing his broad chest and rippling abs. Her fingers danced over each muscle. “I think I’m addicted to your body.”
“I could claim the same.”
She smiled, never thinking her body was anything special until he came along. “When you touch me,” she said softly, dragging her finger over the ridges of his six-pack. “I feel so much prettier than I actually am. No one’s ever made me feel that way before.”
His hands tightened. “You’re already pretty, Anna. The first time I saw you, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. If it’s me who makes you feel pretty, it’s only because I give you a clearer reflection of who you actually are.”
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his. “You’re sweet.”
He edged her back and tilted his head with a stern set of his eyes. “You’re hungry.”
“I’m hungry for more kisses.”
“Annalise,” he warned then frowned. “Why aren’t you eating?”
Closing the towel over her exposed front, she lifted a shoulder. “I’m not hungry.”
“But you are. I can feel it.”
Her stomach had been growling in the shower, but now... “I don’t feel like eating.”
His eyes searched her. “You’re feeling my lack of appetite.”
“Is that possible?”
“I’m unsure, but I know you’re hungry. I know what your hunger feels like.”
“I was hungry, but then...”
He lifted her off his lap and stood, pulling his shirt back over his head and tucking it in his pants. “Get dressed. Our emotions are too close, and you need to eat.”
“What about you?”
He arched a brow. “My needs come second. Where’s your dress?”
Disappointed he wouldn’t be eating first—Or was it drinking?—she dressed and followed him to the main room, where breakfast awaited. The tense set of Adam’s shoulders and his eyes gave away how much the rising sun bothered him.
When they returned to the room, his silence relayed irritability as much as his frustrated emotions vibrating between them.
“How come you can feel my hunger, but I can’t feel what the sun’s doing to you?”
He stood with his eyes closed and his hands against the bathroom door. “I don’t feel your hunger I feel the symptoms of it. Crankiness. Emptiness. Things I’ve come to recognize as hunger.”
She thought of his weariness. Her empathy for him weakened her, but she didn’t actually feel weary. She felt his frustration, his exhaustion, and his bone deep desire to rest.
Placing a hand at his back, she softly said, “Come lie down for a while, Adam.”
He nodded and followed her to the bed. They laid over the covers, her body spooning behind his. She didn’t bother to remove her dress. His exhaustion would allow nothing more than sleep right now.
Her hand rested on his arm, dragging slowly from his elbow to his shoulder. “Try to sleep for a little bit.”
He didn’t argue. And as he drifted off, the ache of his frustration eased to a dull tingle.
She silently rolled to her back and stared at the popcorn ceiling of the motel. How much longer would they go on like this? Maybe this trip was a mistake.
Either her ability to read him had greatly improved or his ability to hide his condition had taken a turn for the worse. It became unavoidably clear that he was not well.
Her brow creased as she glanced at his broad shoulders and still back. Measured breaths stretched the fabric. She kissed the pads of her fingers and pressed them to his spine.
“We’ll fix this.”
He didn’t respond. Looking back at the ceiling, she found herself silently categorizing her personal belongings as if taking an imaginary inventory of her home. What did she need? What could she live without? How would she say goodbye to everyone at Jimbo’s?
She couldn’t recall making the decision, only that the decision had been set. Sometime while he slept, her mind stopped thinking of this journey as a way to do damage control and put her life on pause and shifted to seeing it as a way to leave it all behind.
She wasn’t coming back. This would be the end of who she was, and the beginning of a life she barely knew.
Her decision wasn’t out of love. Or perhaps it was. She didn’t want Adam to die. She believed, if it had been her life at risk, he would have saved her without question. Saving him was the right thing to do.
She lay awake several hours, coming to terms with her decision. She didn’t necessarily want immortality. Life had never been so happy she couldn’t bear to lose it. It always seemed appropriately measured, like eighty to ninety years would be enough and anything over a hundred would definitely be too long. But she’d also never been in a place where she had someone to go through it with.
Her thoughts touched on her mother as they often did. Even her relationship with her mom, which was so much more than the typical mother daughter bond, didn’t touch what a marriage should be. They were friends. Marriage was a partnership.
Annalise wasn’t agreeing to marriage. Mainly because she didn’t believe a marriage to a man like Adam would be an equal partnership. He’d said the Amish didn’t believe in divorce. And eternity made for an extra long contract.
No. She could only marry someone if she truly believed they were right for her in every aspect of the word. So long as she still questioned his trustworthiness and fairness she’d keep marriage off the menu. This was about saving him—nothing more, nothing less.
It was the rational decision to make. She needed to protect herself and not go into this with rose-colored glasses. People didn’t get married after one week of knowing each other. It was wise to hold off on any more major decisions.
So why did she feel so wretched? It was as if part of her wanted the marriage.
She was torn. Already giving up so much, she shouldn’t have to surrender anything else. She saw how those women lived, always at the house, always in the kitchen. Adam said a lot about her schooling and possibly pursuing further education, but without a plan in place, she was afraid it would never happen.”
She only needed to save him. Then, once she got a handle on her new life, she could make a decision about her future. They might be Amish, but she wasn’t.
Again, a sharp stab burrowed in her chest.
He could come with her. They could figure it out together. She could teach him to drive and he could teach her all the immortal tricks. They could live anywhere in the world. Maybe travel.
Her mind clung to any idea that didn’t include losing him. That’s when she knew this was more than a selfless act. A very selfish part of her wanted to keep him. The question was, for how long?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Annalise laughed as Adam followed her into the women’s bathroom of the Walmart. She quickly turned and shoved him out. “Wait here.”
His eyes held an unspoken argument, but she needed a moment to herself.
“I’ll be right back.”
Once in a stall, she changed out of her prairie garb and into a newly purchased sundress and flip-flops. The boots she’d been wearing were Abilene’s and that was the only reason she didn’t toss them right in the trash.
She bagged up her Amish clothes and left the stall. No more pins and layers. But when she saw her reflection, something hit her as off.
Her shoulders were too ... exposed. Her cleavage too sexy. And her arms too bare.
She frowned. Why did she care if he found her clothes appropriate? There was nothing wrong with the dress. It was modest compared to what some girls wore. She was being ridiculous.
Adam hadn’t moved from outside the door and she nearly crashed into him when she exited the bathroom. “Stalk much?”
He fell into step beside her as they exited the store. “I don’t like leaving you in unfamiliar places.”
“It was a women’s bathroom.”
He didn’t comment.
They left the horse and carriage just outside of Bensalem at a small farm that had stables and taught riding lessons. From there, they’d called a cab, which Adam insisted wait for them while they shopped.
As they stepped through the automatic doors onto the sidewalk, it didn’t matter that it was almost ten at night. Walmart was as alive as ever and Adam always kept a protective hand on her.
“Adam, you can relax. We’re in my neighborhood.”
“I don’t trust these people. Some of their emotions aren’t welcoming or stable.”
The cab waited just where they left it, idling beyond a line of waiting shopping carts. Once inside, Annalise relayed her address and they were on their way.
Adam’s gaze dropped to her knee and she tugged at the hem of her dress. “Stare much?”
He leaned close and whispered, “Did they have a shorter dress?”
She already regretted the purchase. Now, she fidgeted uncomfortable. “Don’t be a jerk.”
He glanced at her cleavage. “I can see all of you.”
“Adam, I could wear this to church.”
His eyes gave the material a once over, from thigh to chest. He sat back and stared over the driver’s shoulder. She crossed her arms and glared out the window.
Fine. The dress was a little short and the straps could have been a little thicker. But it was August. This was what women wore.
She scoffed and shifted, irritated they were trapped in a car and she couldn’t get away from him. Her foot tapped on the floor and his hand settled over her bare knee, stilling the movement.