Temptation: -noun 1. To tempt, entice, or allure
Rashel sat heavily back in her lawn chair, her breathing shallow and dry. She stared at her Dasani water bottle, which sat in her right hand draped over the edge of the chair, mocking her. She was violently thirsty and the bottle was so inviting; it was fogged with chill and cool beads of condensation trickled down the sides.
After reluctantly turning her head away, she craned her neck to see the thermostat on the opposite side of her. It hung evilly on the wall, ever the nuisance. It read 98 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Ugh!" she groaned at the inanimate object.
She returned her attention back to her water and angrily squeezed the plastic so the freezing liquid overflowed onto her pale, slender fingers. She imagined how it would feel to lap it up, to quench her seemingly insatiable thirst. She could see herself closing her eyes and savoring the icy taste of it on her parched tongue.
Stop.
She bitterly threw the bottle against the thermostat, creating a loud commotion. Don't think like that, she scolded herself. Thoughts led to actions. And action was the opposite of what she wanted. She shook her head vigorously trying to clear the naughty thought from her brain and sat back again, focusing on her ragged breath.
Quinn was confused. He had been looking out the sliding glass doors leading to the porch for a good twenty minutes and still had no clue as to what Rashel was doing. He decided he'd watch with thin lips for a few more minutes, until she threw her drink at the wall. He strolled out onto the porch then, vaguely hoping that this wasn't one of her moods.
He squatted beside her seat and pushed her hair gently away from her face. She didn't react much; just gave measly push at his chest while huffing at him.
"You're not helping, Quinn." She leaned over herself and put her head in her own lap. Still trying to be amiable, he rubbed his hand in circles in her back, attempting to take off her insensible heavy black coat.
"You shouldn't be dressed this absurdly. Black keeps in the heat you know." He said lightly, and matter-of-factly, while chuckling.
She giggled a bit as well, a hint of a smile playing around her lips. Then she abruptly stopped, glaring at him.
"What? What did I do?" He questioned, surprised.
She didn't really want to tell him. He was only being kind to her, as usual, but that didn't mean she had to be comfortable with it. Her whole water bottle scene was just an experiment. Resisting temptation, you know? That wasn't exactly her forte at the moment, due to John Quinn, her soulmate.
She had never even been tempted before. Not by vampires, not by anyone. She was far too busy and far too strong to be bitten by the love bug. But this whole thing with Quinn, it was more than love at first sight or whatever. This… this was far beyond her will and control. She couldn't resist him at all. She and all she had stood for had been lost somewhere, and she wanted them back.
Not that she planned on giving up Quinn, of course, not over her or her lover's dead body. She'd just start from scratch, she supposed.
"Nothing, you did nothing. I'm sorry. It's just… I'm a bit dizzy, I guess. Can we go inside?" she lied through her teeth.
"Of course," he helped her out of the chair and carried her bridal style inside the large estate. "You shouldn't have worn that type of clothing."
"It's the only clothing I own, John." He looked at her skeptically at he ascended the stairs.
"John? I'm wondering if I should allow you to call me that. Most couples call each other by their pet names, not by their first name."
His chest rumbled as he laughed.
"I don't do cutesy pet names."
"Yes, yes, I know."
She settled into his chest, and let her eyes drift closed. Maybe it was okay to give in, if it was only just this once.
"Goodnight, kitten."
"Screw you, John." She added lightly as she fell asleep in his arms.