Chapter 12
"Waffles?"
"Apple cinnamon, hope you still like them." Bella is sleepy-headed and adorable as she peers around me to see I've pulled her waffle maker out.
"I didn't think I had the ingredients."
"You didn't, I've been out and about while you got your beauty sleep, not that you need it." Smiling, I take a chance and lean down for a kiss, which she tips her head up for like it's second nature. "Here, fresh OJ. Head outside on the back deck, it's a beautiful morning."
She does as I say and I finish plating her breakfast, presenting it to her on the little bistro table that overlooks the small, overgrown yard choked with purple wildflowers. Pouring her a cup of coffee from the French press I uncovered in her pantry, I automatically add her cream and sugar before settling back with my own mug.
"You should be careful, I could get used to this kind of treatment. Although I feel weird eating when you're not. Unless you already…"
Holding up my mug, "This is all I need."
"So, if I were to ask you to try a piece of waffle to please me?" She holds the fork out, waving it around like a parent using the old airplane game on a toddler. I lean forward, making an exaggerated face of disgust as I take the piece and chew. It's actually pretty good, but I should've heated the syrup.
"Can I ask some more questions?" Bella polishes off one waffle and moves to the second.
"Ask away."
"How does it work, exactly, the eating thing? Like, you need blood, but you also need food-food?"
"I need both to survive. I don't need as much blood as a full vampire or as often. Same with human food. My body uses the fuel more efficiently. When my need solely for blood takes over, my need for food ceases and it will become unappetizing."
"Sounds like an envious diet. You should market that."
"I'll call Jenny Craig immediately."
Bella pushes the last piece of waffle around with a pensive look on her face. Hopefully she's weighing what to ask next and not hesitating because she's starting to get creeped out. "Where do you get the blood if you don't get it the old fashioned, horror movie way?"
"I have a donor."
"A donor," she deadpans.
"Yes."
"A female?"
"Yes, but that's the extent of our relationship."
"I see."
Kicking her foot under the table, I can't help but tease her. "Bella, are you jealous?"
"Moving on," she deflects. "How did she come to be your donor?" There's a bit of a snarl on her last word there, enough to make me feel a bit smug.
"Well, there's a syndicate of willing donors, that's how Emmett met his wife."
"I'm picturing a big room full of candles with buxom naked women wearing masks, trying to make themselves appealing so they get chosen."
"It's less Stanley Kubrick and more like sperm donation. All very clinical and anonymous. I chose her out of a book."
"On what basis?"
Shrugging, I finish the last of my coffee and pour us both more. "Her blood type, age, health."
"So she what, delivers it to you?" There's still a covetous bite to her questioning, something I'm enjoying immensely. I could talk it up, really make her show her colors, but if I want her to even consider this in the future, I should play nice.
"It gets delivered; I've never met her past the initial meeting."
"So she's like, hooked up to a machine or something?"
"It's a clinic, like when you donate blood to Red Cross."
Bella fidgets in her chair, a blush starting to form in the V of her shirt, making me curious as to what she's thinking. "Um, your brother, he bites his wife or does she go to a clinic?"
"He feeds off of her directly." My eyes narrow as I watch her squirm, and if I was a betting man, I'd say she's not asking because she wants to write a book.
"And that's something she, ah, likes?" The blush that's moved from her chest to her face screams Bingo!
I put my coffee down and slide my chair closer to hers. Placing my hand on her arm above the bandage, I slowly move it up, fingering the sleeve of her shirt as it passes to rest gently on her shoulder. "It's something she likes very much."
My hand on her shoulder brushes her hair away from her neck while the other begins to stroke her uninjured wrist, slowly in circles, tracing and feeling the vein there. "It's a very powerful connection they share."
My fingers massage the base of her skull, simultaneously increasing pressure on both her head and wrist, making goosebumps rise on her arms. I lean in a bit more, so my thigh touches hers, my foot winding around her leg so she's captured. "It's seductive."
I tip her head slightly with the fingers that are continuing to stroke, something she allows easily, her eyes starting to close as her breathing picks up. I dip my head down, my nose skimming her arm, her shoulder, and landing on her neck, letting my breath fan out over her exposed skin. "It's foreplay."
Against every half-human instinct not to do so, my mouth is watering, I want to dive into her so badly, to bite her creamy skin so unhurriedly that her blood oozes out and teases me. Never have I had this intense an urge to feed this way, never so much desire to drink it fresh from the source. I feel it in my stomach, my head, my heart and my cock. It's taking all the willpower I have not to tear into her right here and now. Instead, my mouth gently touches down on the pulsing vein in her neck, and I kiss her slowly, letting my tongue travel a bit to taste her before beginning to suck.
"Oh!" Bella shivers under my attention as her chest heaves and she cranes her neck to give me more access. I don't want to mark her (well, I do, but I won't) so I gently ease back, licking the sore spot and casually sliding back my chair until I'm sitting opposite her again.
Bella is stuck in position, gently swaying on her chair with her eyes still closed. It takes her a moment to come back to me, and I pat myself on the back for a job well done and for the sheer strength exerted by not clamping down on her despite the ungodly craving to do so.
"Wow."
"So to reiterate, yes, she likes it."
"Are you sure you haven't done that before?"
"I'm insulted. If you recall, I did that to you many, many times in the backseat of my car."
"That was entirely different." She still looks dazed, something I'm feeling fantastically pleased about. "You really have never fed that way?"
"No, I have not. I won't until I change."
"But it's so… erotic."
"It is." And I don't care to share that with anyone but you, I want to say, but I don't think she's ready to hear that.
"It would be like that for us all the time if…" Bella stops talking, seemingly a bit nervous at where her sentence was heading.
Or maybe she is ready.
My dick begins to tighten at the idea that this is something Bella might want. A foreign feeling of pure possession surfaces, and my whole body begins to tense like it wants to pounce on her. I know my features have shifted, showing her that darker side of me, the hunter and the demon that lives within. My hand slides up the inside of her thigh, and I look up at her from behind my wicked expression.
"I think it would be so good between us I'd be in danger of draining you dry."
Bella inhales sharply, and she presses her legs together, capturing my hand. "That shouldn't turn me on."
"But it does."
"It does because it's you."
"That's a very good thing. Because there's no way in hell I'd ever share you. You'd be all mine."
"I… have to shower. Work, this afternoon," she stutters, holding onto the table as she gets up, and I worry I've gone too far and scared her, so I back off.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"I think I'll be using every ounce of energy I have to stop myself from encouraging you to taste your first human tonight in my bedroom."
Nope, not scared.
I get up and take her head in my hands, placing a kiss against her lips. "As tempting as it would be to have you fail miserably at that, I have other plans. Bring a dress to change into; I'm taking you out tonight."
Back in my hotel room and turning on my computer, I try to punish myself for dropping the ball on the job I've been hired for, but fail miserably, as I realize spending the night and morning with Bella was so much more important than killing an imbecile. Does that make me a failure? Is my job becoming less important than (gasp) a personal life? Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and do some soul searching.
Nope. The urge to kill is still there, still something I'm looking forward to, so maybe I'm just really getting good at the dual lifestyle enjoyed by my arch nemesis. I smirk and do a small fist pump. Why did I ever doubt I wouldn't be able to do this? Ha!
Logging into my surveillance system, I see they're still in their room, eating in bed, and from what I can hear, watching porn, so I obviously haven't missed any prime opportunities.
Two things must be accomplished today before my big date with Bella. One, I have to return the keys I (begrudgingly) appreciate them lending me, and two, I need to figure out how to get Jazz McSpazz alone for at least five minutes, preferably off of hotel property, but even if I don't get the chance I need, studying him some more can only aid me in my quest.
I shower quickly and when I check on them again, they're in their swimsuits and talking about heading to the pool. Perfect. Grabbing their keys, I head down to meet them.
They're setting up under the shade of some palms and ordering cocktails, which makes me worry about their livers, but more importantly, I need to give the keys I have wrapped in my shirttail back without looking like a weirdo that's afraid of germs.
"Alice, Jazz, thank you so much for lending me the car yesterday." Smiling, I begin to pretend to fish the keys from my pocket, only to drop them at Alice's feet. "So sorry!" Slow to bend down on purpose, Alice beats me to it and scoops them up off the concrete deck of the pool.
"Not a problem! Is Bella okay?" Alice looks concerned, most likely at the idea Bella might need to take some time off due to her injury, cutting down her ogling time.
"She's fine, just a few stitches. She's back to work today." The relief on Alice's face is comical.
"I thought this drink tasted like one of hers." She closes her eyes as she takes another sip, which is super weird and makes me oddly possessive.
"Yes, well, thanks again." I begin to move away casually, banking on the fact that Alice will invite me to join them, which she does.
Smiling happily, I perch on the chaise next to her. "So what do you newlyweds have planned for today?"
"Well, I'm going to take a spa day and get a massage; I'm not sure what Jazz has planned. Maybe you can keep him company?"
I look over at simpleton and he's looking at Alice like she's daft. "I thought I'd maybe hit a few balls around. I'm sure Edward has other things he'd like to do." The way he says 'hit a few balls' makes Alice's face shift.
"Oh right! I forgot, sorry! Jazz likes to concentrate when he does that, improves his… game."
"No problem, I was planning on visiting the Hemingway House." A complete fabrication. Just the thought of being surrounded by all of those five digit cats makes me twitchy. "Well, you two kids have a good day, apply sunscreen," I joke, haha, all buddy-buddy and like I'm not about to murder one of them.
Leaving the pool area, I fight the urge to go see Bella, as surely I'd end up sitting there all day watching her instead of doing my job, so I make myself go to my room and survey the floor below me watching for my neighbors return and eventual parting.
I spend the next two hours surfing the internet and catching up on my Guns & Ammo, then preparing my disguise to do further reconnaissance, and possible hit of The Jazzman.
Finally, they return to the room to change so I head down to the entrance of the hotel to wait, dressed in my disguise of an unassuming t-shirt, baseball cap, brown contacts to disguise my green eyes, and a very All-American Joe kind of mustache and goatee, the same dark shade as my slicked hair. I'd have rather donned a hairpiece, too, but Emmett didn't send me any, which gives me a good excuse to call him later and degrade him for his utter incompetence.
I grab a map and pretend to look at it until the couple comes down, kissing grotesquely at the door before parting ways.
As I'm of course prepared that surfer boy would be taking his car to his destination, I've ordered a taxi which is waiting for me on the other end of the parking lot, where I jog to after I see him head out to the rental.
Telling the driver to 'follow that car' feels as stupid as it sounds, but I can't worry about how sketchy it might make me appear and watch the blue car in front of us as it winds around the local foot traffic and towards the northern side of the island.
I've researched the directions to the closest driving range, but instead of continuing on Route 1 to get to the course, the blue car takes a right and winds its way back into the side streets just outside of town. I recall the look that passed between Alice and Jasper when he mentioned golfing, so I'm not surprised that's not where he's going.
My curiosity is piqued as my cabbie continues to follow at a safe distance (per my repeated orders, it's frustrating not to be doing this myself) for fifteen minutes or so. Curious about what they felt the need to lie about, I wonder if I'm possibly about to witness a hit he's taken on. I didn't see him take any weapons from his hole in the wall, and I'd be awfully surprised if he had one on him that I didn't know about.
I tell the driver to stop when I see the blue car pulling into a lot ahead of us. Looking at the building while waiting for him to exit the vehicle, I'm momentarily appalled when I see what's gotten the Jazzercize to leave his wife's side for an afternoon, and my mouth drops open in disgust.
Key West Paintball Field.
Is this how this pinhead practices shooting? No wonder he's as much of an amateur as he is if he's running around a fake battlefield with teenagers wearing war paint on their faces like they're starring in a remake of Red Dawn.
Sighing, I pay my cab driver when I see the wannabe Wolverine entering the building with a huge, asshat smile on his face.
He's looking at a map of the course and talking to some pimply-faced kid about waiting for an opponent, so I take it upon myself to snatch some camo overalls and hat with a neck covering flap that hides my hair. Looking like someone from a bad Vietnam movie, I show a fake ID, pay the fee for an hour's worth of play and tell the girl behind the desk that I'm in need of a playmate.
Putting my goggles on and grabbing the gun she holds out like I'm just too eager to start, the girl calls to Pimply and within ten minutes, I'm out on the fake desert-style playing field, crouching behind a paint-splattered fabricated concrete wall and waiting for the enemy to slip up and make himself known.
In the distance, I can hear the muted pow pow of guns going off, and quickly watch a few other players as they come close enough so I can see how the gun kicks when disengaged, how fast a paintball moves, and what the impact appears to be when it hits its intended target.
Confident that's all I need to know, I move close to the ground to better my viewing angle and see the ankle of Jasper's rented boot as he slides behind a large wood barricade. Moving stealthily, I crawl military style to a wall close by and wait for any signs of movement.
After a few moments, there's a scraping sound and I hear shuffling off to my left, so I peek around the wall and see Jasper's gotten about fifty feet away, now crouched behind a bush and surveying the land, looking for the guy that just so happened to need a partner at the same time (I can't believe his would-be hitman vibes assumed nothing fishy about that).
Spotting a few players in the distance leaving the perfect perch yards behind where Jasper has housed himself, I silently make my way across the fake terrain (I swear some of these plants are plastic) and duck behind a dead tree making a Y formation. From this vantage point, Jasper is facing the opposite direction, looking like a groundhog checking to see if it's spring yet.
Smiling behind my goatee, I brace my gun on a dry branch and take the briefest of seconds to aim before pulling the trigger.
A large purple pellet hits Jasper squarely on the ass as a warning, making him jump and squeal like a girl.
This might be kind of fun, after all.
Moving out of view before he can turn and see me, I quickly vacate my spot and make my way behind a barricade of rotting wood to watch him between broken slats as he scrambles to get to a large rock, but not before I land another beautiful purple mark nicely on his thigh.
The referees are obviously not paying attention, and from what I just observed about paintball, as soon as you're hit, you're done. But I'm not about to complain about more opportunity to shoot at the fool.
Leaving my spot, I inch closer to where he's holed up, and see his searching eyes, then his gun as he holds it over the rock, aiming it towards me. I'm too quick, of course, and his blue paint lands squarely on a pile of wood shavings four feet to my right.
Wholly amused, I'm not surprised in the slightest that I am good at this game, and that he is not.
Hearing him shuffle behind the rock, I quickly and soundlessly sprint to a gathering of dry, brittle bushes, the brown of the dead bark hiding my camo outfit well. Watching him as he crouches low, thinking he's got me pinned, I hold in a laugh as he looks around, defeated and stupid.
I follow his path a while as he ducks behind the same wood I was near earlier, a few clumps of boulders, and some concrete, until he finally settles into a small foxhole dug into the ground behind some bramble.
Smiling and checking my aim, I creep across the field with my gun raised at eye level, ready to pounce and end this already. I briefly consider pulling out my hidden knife out of my thigh pocket and do this motherfucker in for real, but there are too many people and a sign-in sheet that I'd rather not have called into question.
Encroaching silently towards the turned back of The Jackass-man, it's almost too easy. In quick succession, I fire my weapon and leave big, beautiful, purple explosions from five feet away (damn safety rules) all over his dirt-covered coveralls.
He turns in the foxhole onto his assaulted back, but I don't stop firing, paint landing on his stomach, pelvis, shoulders, everywhere that's acceptable in game play.
"Hey! You're not allowed…" BAM BAM BAM, three more land on his chest. "I'm hit! What the fuck is the matter with you, buddy?" He scrambles up and out of the hole, plowing into a bush and getting one shot off that lands on my forearm before turning and running towards a neutral zone, yelling for the referee.
Before the official can make it over to him, I slip out the playing field entrance, ditch my unpaid for clothing and leave the rental gun on the counter, walking out the door calmly before the girl can check me out properly or return my equipment rental fee.
I might not have accomplished what I set out to do at the beginning of my day, but if the amusement I got from hitting that ignoramus with paint all afternoon is any indication, killing him is going to be hilarious.
He appears back on the street ten minutes later, and from where I'm sitting on the fence across the road, it's obvious he's angry, and looking for me. Instead of getting in his car to head back to the hotel, he starts walking through the crowds of the busy street.
I keep my distance, and consider taking off the mustache and goatee so I can 'bump' into him as myself, but also because the beard is starting to irritate me and I have a hot date tonight. The last thing I need is for Bella to cancel because my face is red and I'll have to lie that I've developed some sort of allergy to shellfish.
Excited and thinking about our date tonight, I'm on autopilot as I turn down a quieter side street Jasper took ahead of me. Replaying the conversation with Bella this morning, I relive the look on her face when I pulled away from her neck. There's no question the girl was turned on and interested. Tonight should be another step closer to happily ever after, and most definitely blue-ball inducing.
Coming back to reality just a moment too late, the hair on my neck bristles when I realize that Jasper is not within my sight. A sudden, uneasy feeling precedes a flash of movement to my left, as a blur of bad, frizzy blond hair comes out of the shadows towards me and slams me into the wall before running down the alley.
It's with my mouth agape in shock that he was one step ahead of me when I register a sharp, stinging sensation in my hand.
Watching him turn a corner and raising my smarting hand, I'm stunned when I finally look to see my own blood dripping down my arm and a broken, purple speckled goggle lens lying at my feet.
Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.
And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.