The Heart's Ashes
Page 26
The start of a face right behind me made the mug jump from my hands and smash, splattering coffee-stained milk all over the cabinets, my shoes and my pants. “Eric! Don’t do that. You scared me.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
Sighing, I bent down to pick up the glass—stacking the smaller pieces inside the biggest one. “I wish it really was true about vampires and thresholds.”
“Now what fun would that be?” Eric grinned, squatting down to help me.
“Fun wasn’t what I had in mind.”
We stood up, and he tilted his head, smiling softly. “I’m sorry—about this morning. That was rude of me.”
“Yes, it was. And invasive and creepy and—”
“I know.” He traced a circle on the floor with the tip of his toe, then, when he looked up, sincerity flooded his face. “I am really sorry.”
With a huff, I dropped the broken glass into the sink. “Okay. Fine. Apology accepted.”
“Here, let me take that.” Eric reached toward the puzzle of shards, then drew his hand back with a jerk. “Ouch!”
“What happened?” I leaned around his arm, gasping when I saw blood. “You cut yourself?”
He held his thumb up and watched the red liquid pool around the tip. “Just a little.”
“Wait, vampires don’t get cut by glass,” I said with wide eyes, taking a step back. “You did that deliberately.”
“Perhaps.” He grinned, squeezing the base of his finger. “You’ve tasted vampire blood before. It’s addictive, isn’t it?”
My breath shuddered, cold heat rising up to my cheeks. “David never warned me about that.”
“Well, he didn’t need to. He wasn’t counting on you making friends with a vampire.”
“Eric don’t. It was intimate with David—it took me a long time to stop craving his blood.”
“But I’m here now—you can have it whenever you want.”
“No. I don’t want it.”
“It’ll make you feel good.”
“I know, that’s why I don’t want it.”
When Eric stepped toward me and grabbed my face, my heart stopped in my chest. I wanted it so badly—wanted it for different reasons to what I wanted David’s. It was the lure of the warmth, the energy, the life force that flowed through me like a drink of ecstasy. But if I drank Eric’s blood and became compelled by the lust to make love to him, he’d do it. He wouldn’t stop out of respect for me, like David did. “Eric, I’m not doing this with you,” I said with zero resolve.
He licked his lips; the pupils of his eyes spread out over the whites, like black ink. “Just a little.”
“N—” I tried to turn my head as he jammed his thumb against my lips, forcing them apart. I scratched his arms, digging into his skin like a cat trying to remove a collar.
Get off—let me g…
But a rush of warmth eradicated the fight in me, giving rise to a thirst, an involuntary desperation for blood—his blood.
With each breath I drew, tension cuddled my chest, making my lungs expand the way they did only when I was running—pumped full of adrenaline. The sensation of calm saturated me at last and the splendour of his taste came into focus as my heart and soul suffered the elation of his life force, fighting only for the will to drink—to make this moment last forever.
I gripped his hand with mine, drawing at his flesh—swallowing his blood in the small gulps the tiny cut would allow. And I didn’t care that it was blood, that it was considered gross by human definition. I didn’t care that, as he moved his foot between my legs, I parted them, completely submitting to my humanistic desires. He was like my favourite meal, the one you have after being on a camp for four days eating nuggets and badly cooked eggs.
He slid his finger further into my mouth, and I bit the base of it with my teeth, pushing the blood out—moving it around with my tongue. He tasted so different to David—almost sweeter.
His mouth came up alongside mine, and I felt his cool breath on my upper lip, turning my head to invite him—to show him I wanted his touch. He slipped his other foot between my legs and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Amara?” his whisper was hesitant.
“Mm?”
“That’s enough.” His grip released and his thumb came away, leaving me cold where my lips searched the air for absent flesh.
“But I wasn’t ready,” I said.
“I know.”
When my eyes opened to his smiling face, instant regret flooded my sinking heart, like gravity dropping inside me. “Oh my God! What’ve I done?”
Eric lifted my face with his fingertips. “You liked that—don’t be ashamed.”
“Why? Why did you do that to me?” My eyes glassed.
“Your cheeks are all flushed. Don’t you feel good now?”
“I do, but I feel like I just—”
“Ara!”
Eric drew back; I jumped ten mile into the air, turning around, my breath stopping somewhere under the rise of my shoulders. “Mike!” How long was he standing there?
Eric walked confidently over to Mike and extended his hand. “Hey, I’m Eric.”
With his shirt soaked in a triangle of sweat from his run, Mike stood stiff, obviously holding his breath, his tight-lipped glare presenting all the facts I needed to know. “Nice to meet yo—” his voice trailed off to a grunt as he pulled Eric close with a jerk, flipped his arm over and looked at his wrist—then at me.
“Mike?” I pleaded, watching as the pink in his face became bright red and his shoulder rolled back, taking his elbow with it.
I had no time for any reaction other than to cover my face as he drove his fist forward, ploughing Eric, by the face, into the kitchen bench; crumbling the dent Eric’s body left when he struck again—missing the vampire.
“No!” I grabbed Mike by the sleeve, but he yanked loose, folding over to scrunch his probably broken hand against his chest.
“Get back here, you little shit,” Mike yelled. “I’m not finished with you.”
“What is your problem, man?” Eric held his arms out widely.
“You are my problem.”
“Mike!” I yelled, grabbing his arm as he stomped toward Eric again. “Mike stop.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
Sighing, I bent down to pick up the glass—stacking the smaller pieces inside the biggest one. “I wish it really was true about vampires and thresholds.”
“Now what fun would that be?” Eric grinned, squatting down to help me.
“Fun wasn’t what I had in mind.”
We stood up, and he tilted his head, smiling softly. “I’m sorry—about this morning. That was rude of me.”
“Yes, it was. And invasive and creepy and—”
“I know.” He traced a circle on the floor with the tip of his toe, then, when he looked up, sincerity flooded his face. “I am really sorry.”
With a huff, I dropped the broken glass into the sink. “Okay. Fine. Apology accepted.”
“Here, let me take that.” Eric reached toward the puzzle of shards, then drew his hand back with a jerk. “Ouch!”
“What happened?” I leaned around his arm, gasping when I saw blood. “You cut yourself?”
He held his thumb up and watched the red liquid pool around the tip. “Just a little.”
“Wait, vampires don’t get cut by glass,” I said with wide eyes, taking a step back. “You did that deliberately.”
“Perhaps.” He grinned, squeezing the base of his finger. “You’ve tasted vampire blood before. It’s addictive, isn’t it?”
My breath shuddered, cold heat rising up to my cheeks. “David never warned me about that.”
“Well, he didn’t need to. He wasn’t counting on you making friends with a vampire.”
“Eric don’t. It was intimate with David—it took me a long time to stop craving his blood.”
“But I’m here now—you can have it whenever you want.”
“No. I don’t want it.”
“It’ll make you feel good.”
“I know, that’s why I don’t want it.”
When Eric stepped toward me and grabbed my face, my heart stopped in my chest. I wanted it so badly—wanted it for different reasons to what I wanted David’s. It was the lure of the warmth, the energy, the life force that flowed through me like a drink of ecstasy. But if I drank Eric’s blood and became compelled by the lust to make love to him, he’d do it. He wouldn’t stop out of respect for me, like David did. “Eric, I’m not doing this with you,” I said with zero resolve.
He licked his lips; the pupils of his eyes spread out over the whites, like black ink. “Just a little.”
“N—” I tried to turn my head as he jammed his thumb against my lips, forcing them apart. I scratched his arms, digging into his skin like a cat trying to remove a collar.
Get off—let me g…
But a rush of warmth eradicated the fight in me, giving rise to a thirst, an involuntary desperation for blood—his blood.
With each breath I drew, tension cuddled my chest, making my lungs expand the way they did only when I was running—pumped full of adrenaline. The sensation of calm saturated me at last and the splendour of his taste came into focus as my heart and soul suffered the elation of his life force, fighting only for the will to drink—to make this moment last forever.
I gripped his hand with mine, drawing at his flesh—swallowing his blood in the small gulps the tiny cut would allow. And I didn’t care that it was blood, that it was considered gross by human definition. I didn’t care that, as he moved his foot between my legs, I parted them, completely submitting to my humanistic desires. He was like my favourite meal, the one you have after being on a camp for four days eating nuggets and badly cooked eggs.
He slid his finger further into my mouth, and I bit the base of it with my teeth, pushing the blood out—moving it around with my tongue. He tasted so different to David—almost sweeter.
His mouth came up alongside mine, and I felt his cool breath on my upper lip, turning my head to invite him—to show him I wanted his touch. He slipped his other foot between my legs and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Amara?” his whisper was hesitant.
“Mm?”
“That’s enough.” His grip released and his thumb came away, leaving me cold where my lips searched the air for absent flesh.
“But I wasn’t ready,” I said.
“I know.”
When my eyes opened to his smiling face, instant regret flooded my sinking heart, like gravity dropping inside me. “Oh my God! What’ve I done?”
Eric lifted my face with his fingertips. “You liked that—don’t be ashamed.”
“Why? Why did you do that to me?” My eyes glassed.
“Your cheeks are all flushed. Don’t you feel good now?”
“I do, but I feel like I just—”
“Ara!”
Eric drew back; I jumped ten mile into the air, turning around, my breath stopping somewhere under the rise of my shoulders. “Mike!” How long was he standing there?
Eric walked confidently over to Mike and extended his hand. “Hey, I’m Eric.”
With his shirt soaked in a triangle of sweat from his run, Mike stood stiff, obviously holding his breath, his tight-lipped glare presenting all the facts I needed to know. “Nice to meet yo—” his voice trailed off to a grunt as he pulled Eric close with a jerk, flipped his arm over and looked at his wrist—then at me.
“Mike?” I pleaded, watching as the pink in his face became bright red and his shoulder rolled back, taking his elbow with it.
I had no time for any reaction other than to cover my face as he drove his fist forward, ploughing Eric, by the face, into the kitchen bench; crumbling the dent Eric’s body left when he struck again—missing the vampire.
“No!” I grabbed Mike by the sleeve, but he yanked loose, folding over to scrunch his probably broken hand against his chest.
“Get back here, you little shit,” Mike yelled. “I’m not finished with you.”
“What is your problem, man?” Eric held his arms out widely.
“You are my problem.”
“Mike!” I yelled, grabbing his arm as he stomped toward Eric again. “Mike stop.”
