Ok, so there've been over 1,000 hits at this point; can we get to 100 reviews? I know we'll hit that eventually, as I've got enough chapters to go with the current amount of reviews per chapter, but it'd be awesome if you guys really stepped up and got there sooner than I expect.... Hint hint.... Thanks to the wonderful folks who keep letting me know they're reading :)
The door to the room swung open just as Buttercup was exchanging her freedom for Westley's life, and I jerked out of my slumped position on the bed as James walked in. He was carrying two plastic bags, and his eyes were reddish-brown. Normal. For him.
"Here," he said, tossing me one bag and dropping the other by the TV. His eyes were not on my face, and after a moment I realized that he was staring at his jacket on my torso. I plucked at it automatically, clearing my throat.
"I, um," I said, embarrassed. "It was cold."
"You're still here," he said, not sounding surprised, exactly, but just sort of… I couldn't name it. I opened my mouth, but what explanation could I possibly give?
"Yeah, I mean, I almost had sex with you and it turned out that I really kind of enjoyed it, so I didn't want to leave just yet."
"Oh, you know, you're not so bad for a psycho bloodsucker, and I'm having this complete and total mental breakdown at the moment, so…"
"I didn't have any clothes," is what I ended up saying, because that was a good answer. "And my hand…" I trailed off, wondering if it would be bad to say it was bleeding through the bandage. Which it wasn't, exactly, but the thought remained. James dropped his gaze to my wrapped palm.
"Get dressed," he said, nostrils flaring. His eyes snapped up with the breath, once again fixing somewhere around my collarbone. His coat. My skin. For the first time, I realized that maybe mixing our scents like this wasn't the best of plans. I got up fast, taking the bag, and promptly sat back down. Head rush. James cocked his head at me, gaze hungry but not coming any closer, and I ignored the continued burn of embarrassment as I got up again and managed not to trip on my rushed way to the bathroom.
Once the door was shut, I leaned against it and let out a breath. Shit. That was awkward. That was weird. That was… not actually frightening. Intimidating and confusing and strange, but… he hadn't actually scared me in those moments. I couldn't decide if that was good or bad.
The clothes James had bought (or, I presumed he'd bought them; they were in a plastic bag…) were simple. A pair of sweatpants, black, made for a woman two inches taller than me. I rolled the waistband a few times, feeling frumpy. The shirt, once I unfolded it, turned out to be two shirts. A tight gray one with long sleeves, and a green t-shirt with a picture of a globe on the chest. I shrugged out of James's jacket and put it on the sink, pulling on both shirts. I had no bra, but my chest was small enough for it not to be too obvious. In fact, as I inspected my reflection, the two shirts actually looked… kind of good. The green contrasted well with my fair skin and dark hair. I rolled my eyes and picked up the jacket.
James was sitting on the edge of the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees, watching The Princess Bride. Outside, through the window, it was dark. I glanced at the electric alarm clock on the bedside table. 10:23 PM. He didn't look up when I quietly closed the bathroom door behind me, but held out a hand. Swallowing, I gave him the jacket. Soundlessly, James lifted it to his face and breathed in deeply.
"Hm," he said, tossing it onto the desk beside the TV. "Do they fit?"
"The clothes?" He turned, finally, and looked at me. Yes, that look said. You idiot. I looked down, right hand awkwardly smoothing over my stomach.
"Yeah. I mean, the pants are a little big, but…" He had already turned back to Westley in the Zoo of Death. Well. That was new. I'd seen him furious with me, lustful, hungry, amused, contemptuous, deadly… but he'd yet to actually ignore me. Annoyed, and even more annoyed by my annoyance, I sat down at the headboard and drew my knees up to my chest. James stood, reaching for the second bag he'd brought back with him. He entered the bathroom without a word, and came back in a new pair of jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned over a white athlete's undershirt. We sat in silence for a while, and then I couldn't take it anymore.
"So did you have a good time?" I asked, strained, trying very hard not to sound put out. "You know, not being here?" James twisted around and looked at me.
"You're upset?" he asked, incredulous. "Would you rather not have a throat?" And I exploded.
"No, I wouldn't rather not have a throat, I'd just, I don't know, like to be treated like a person instead of your little sex toy! You can't just do that and then leave without a word and come back and not even mention it and expect me to be just fine, damn it!" He hit me. One moment he was at the end of the bed, watching me yell, and the next he'd cuffed me in the cheek. I toppled sideways, catching myself on my elbow, and stared at him.
"I can do whatever I want, little girl," he snapped, standing over me beside the bed. "To you, with you, whatever!"
"I think that's pretty obvious," I snapped right back, reckless, the sexual frustration and the anger and my torn mental state combusting in the face of his arrogance. "But that's the last time it's easy!" He laughed darkly, reaching down to fling the half-empty pizza box onto the floor on the other side of the bed. With it out of the way, James leaned over and grabbed me by the shoulders, lifting me clear off the mattress.
"Oh, it'll be easy," he promised, turning to shove me against the room wall. "You wanted me then, and you want me now. You think I don't know? You think I can't tell?"
"You bastard," I hissed, fists clenched at my side. My cut palm stung sharply. I ignored it. "Don't you dare."
"Are you threatening me?" he asked, sneering, and I glared.
"If you even try it, I'll bite off your tongue." James laughed out loud, angry, delighted, I couldn't tell which. He tilted his face towards mine and I snapped at him, my teeth clicking together inches away from his mouth. He did it again, eyes darkening, and this time I nearly got his lower lip. Fury and desire warred within me, raging atop embarrassment and fear, insecurity and pain. The third time James moved, his mouth caught mine in a hard kiss that I responded to like the alternative was death. Where Edward had flung himself away seconds after a kiss like this, James pulled me closer. I could feel the vibrations in the air as his bloodlust rose, knew that he was being just as reckless as I, sensed the struggle for control that simmered beneath his cool, smooth skin.
When we broke the kiss, neither of us tried to take it further. We simply stood, inches apart, his arms around my waist and my hands clamped around his elbows. I was panting.
"This," he said, "is harder than I thought."
"What?" I asked, aware of nothing but his eyes on mine. "Not killing me?" He didn't answer, and after a moment let me go.
"Go to sleep," James ordered, suddenly across the room by the desk. "We're moving in the morning." I walked to the bed, wondering if he'd allow me to sleep in the bathroom. Doubtful. Slowly, trying not to think about what had just happened, my hand and the stinging bruise that was probably appearing on my face forgotten, I crawled under the covers. The television cut off, and a second later the lights did as well. I turned on my side, curling up as close to the edge of the bed as possible, and tried to close my eyes.
It was about fifteen minutes before James settled onto the bed beside me, not collapsing like before, but just lowering himself down. Vampires, I knew, didn't actually sleep, but could they rest? Edward hadn't really been clear on that. Maybe they just went into a sort of zen state, all systems off. Or maybe James would lie on his back all night, staring at the ceiling. For both our sakes, I hoped for the former.
It was hard going, trying to get myself to go to bed with him right next to me. We weren't touching, but I could feel his presence invading my personal bubble, could feel his weight shifting on the mattress. It wasn't until he stopped moving that I made myself relax, and after a long, long stillness, I finally did fall asleep.
