Deadly Embrace ch 1
I sighed and closed my eyes so the wind could trail itself over me. I loved this time of night: I could smell everything. The honey marinating in the trees, the dew on the grass that I soaked in, the ashes that wafted off my soon-to-be company. . .
My eyes snapped open and I bolted upright. I could sense, faintly, the rhythmic pounding of heavy footsteps that shuddered the ground beneath me. Then he appeared, ghostly against the shadowy trees, and eyed how I was spread-eagled on the grass.
"Enjoying the moonlight, Melody?" he drawled in that velvet voice of his that once made my knees wobble. Centuries of practice now made me immune to his burning gaze.
"I was," I retorted, staring at him coldly. He cocked an eyebrow. I sighed, "Go away, Christian."
"Now why would you want me to do that? I don't think you want me to," he whispered.
"In what world, you obnoxious, disgusting, arrogant fool!"
For a moment he disappeared, but I knew he wasn't gone. He was running too fast for even my eyes to see. Then he was on the ground beside me, gently cradling my face in his hands. I tried in vain to slap his hands away, but his hold on me was too tight.
"Tell me something, Melody," he breathed, and I choked on the stench of his breath. His fingers squeezed until I thought my chin would snap. "You could either marry me like your dear father so wishes, or you could be torn apart limb from limb, right"—he paused to pull me across his body so my face was inches from his—"now."
"I'll see you in hell first," I choked. The acrid stench of his breath, the mixture of smoke, alcohol, and mint, made my head spin. Christian growled and pushed me away.
"Stupid girl! Don't you see? I could give you everything you ever wanted. Instead you go play human at that stupid little school of yours while the rest of us are doing something with ourselves. You disgust me."
"Then leave me alone!"
"I can't, Melody," he continued, "you see, I'm terribly fond of you. I might just say I love you."
"You don't know the meaning of love," I spit at him.
He chuckled. A feral snarl ripped up my throat and I could feel my eyes burn crimson.
"Ooh, very impressive. Now you better run off to your little human life before we are all exposed."
He was right. I could see the orange tingeing the sky above the trees. I stood up, brushed myself off, and raced away.
"Oh Melody," Christian called suddenly at my retreating back, "if you ever change your mind, I'll be waiting."
"If you live that long," I growled under my breath as I left Christian and the forest behind me.
* * *
The monotonous day dragged on. I sat in the lunchroom and glared at the walls with distaste. The inane chatter and buzz that seemed so quiet to the humans vibrated off my eardrums and throbbed inside my head. I laid my head gently on the cool plastic tabletop and contemplated my misfortune.
Suddenly the heater blew the scent of human blood up my nose and it flowed into the core of my being. Tasha, a sweet girl whose brother had invited me to the Black and White Ball, flipped her long, thick tawny hair gracefully. The human's blood was as irresistible as it had been several hundred years ago when I became this horrible creature.
I wondered why that was. Wondered why I was so sensitive today. Why I imagined myself coming up behind these humans and sinking my teeth into the strong pulse under their jaw. Imagining how it would feel when their blood flowed through my mouth, warm and wet and delicious. Wondered why the light burned my pupils and the sounds hurt my too-sensitive ears. Why the monster that was buried deeply inside my stomach was stirring. And purring.
That's when I saw him. Well, smelled him really.
New, fresh blood.
Thirst ripped and burned up my throat and heated every particle of my body. My fingertips seared and my toes flared and my stomach twisted with longing. I regretted why I hadn't hunted, why I hadn't prepared, for I had no idea that I would smell blood this. . .new. Waiting to be consumed.
My body belonged to someone else as I got up and went to his side. When I flashed my teeth and he looked down at me and before he had time to think, I pounced. . .
I shook the fantasy from my mind and tightened my grip on the table. It's not that his blood was the most appealing in the room, simply that I had been sniffing the same blood for months when I was trapped in this purgatory. The strong scent of such fresh blood had knocked down my guard.
I sat straight up and discretely looked the new boy over. His face was only a shade darker than my pearly pallor, and his forehead was covered by a tangle of black-brown shag. I still couldn't see his eyes, so I silently willed him to turn around. Then, as if he'd head my internal calling, he pivoted and we made eye contact.
I felt my jaw drop and my eyes widen. I'd never seen eyes so blue, so deep, a gaze so intense. His eyes expanded in the same instant as he looked me over, too—taking in my otherworldly, aristocratic good looks: My bronze hair that hung in ringlets just over my chest, my perfectly pale, smooth, granite-like skin, and the swirling purple clouds that were my eyes.
The electricity quivered in the air between us, and I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, calling to me. The tremors rocked down my spine and I shivered with anticipation.
What was I anticipating? Killing him? I shuddered. I couldn't be allowed anywhere near this boy. Ever since I'd been changed, I've had almost no human contact. It was too dangerous, even if I did love him.
My jaw dropped again. The thought had slipped from my mind unconsciously, but even if I didn't want to admit it, even if I would be tortured and beaten and writhing in unbearable agony before anyone would know, I couldn't deny it.
As soon as I had laid eyes on him, I knew I loved him. The passion, the feeling that was rising inside me had been stowed away for centuries, but now it was here, and stronger. I knew that I loved him since the first breath I witnessed him taking, every beat of his heart pumped the affection and knowing deeper inside him.
How do I know this? Was it the sense that I knew him and felt him and that he was right, and only him? Was it how I longed to trace his full lips with my fingers, to lock my hands in his hair, to feel his lips crushed against mine. . .
No. I shuddered to imagine what it would be to have his pulse, his blood, his mortality so close to what lies behind my perfect mouth.
But I couldn't beat the feeling away. It twisted in my stomach and my mouth hung open and panting and I had to secure my arms around my stomach so it didn't try to escape. My silent heart longed to beat again, to pound against my rib cage and pump adrenaline deep inside my veins and so I could hear it beat again! How I yearned for that familiar pound in my arteries and to hear the pulse in my ears and. . .
Why was I feeling this way?
Was it because he had all these things that I couldn't, wouldn't? Was it because I could make him like me, so that I could stop longing for the warm weight of his lips against mine? The feel of his strong hands binding me to him?
So many questions go unanswered.
I groaned. Humans were so complicated. Maybe Christian was right. Maybe I should stick to my own kind.
I couldn't stay away from him. I would skulk in the shadows and follow his every move until he was mine. The affection flowed through me, warm and soft and delicious. I imagined life without him, and where my heart should be seared with pain and loss. Love, I thought bitterly. It was a spiraling black hole of no return.