Chapter Twenty-Three

Paranoia

Just before the storm arrived, the two made it to an inn. It was a tiny place on the outskirts of Forks, just by the river, marketed as the perfect spot for a weekend retreat. The air smelt of fish and mud, and was not at all pleasant.

Lena had no money, and suspected Alistair didn't either, but somehow he managed to book a room for the two of them. Whether he had stolen from someone on their way here, or convinced the hostess to let them stay the night for free, she wasn't sure. Knowing Alistair, it was probably the former.

The room was small and cosy, which made her think Alistair probably felt uneasy about it. There was only one bed, a dated floral quilt spread over it, and too many decorative pillows stacked on top. Two nightstands made of dark wood sat either side of the bed, each with a lamp - though only one of them worked. There was a small wardrobe for their clothes, but only a handful hangers. A single armchair was pulled up by the only window, where flashes of lightning were visible through the lace curtains.

"I don't see the point in this."

Lena looked at Alistair. He stood stiffly by the door, looking incredibly uncomfortable as his eyes swept over the room. She hardly understood him. How could he honestly wish he was outside now rather than in here?

But shelter was a comfort, not a necessity. And Lena knew Alistair was the practical type.

"The point is," she said, "we are out of the rain."

He looked at her. "Water won't kill us. Staying in one place for too long might."

Paranoia. It had been a while since she'd glimpsed it in him. It lurked, always, settling just on the edges. A dark shadow that never really left him alone, something which followed him from a past life filled with betrayal and anguish. Something had awoken it now, had dug it up from that place he kept it buried.

She narrowed her eyes and focused on his face. His eyes were dark, but nowhere near the shade of burgundy - or even black - she might have associated this behaviour with. This was just him, then. It had nothing to do with his thirst.

"Alis-"

"We're leaving in the morning," he said sharply.

"Don't talk to me like that."

His eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't have to, if you didn't insist on finding somewhere to rest. Did you forget you aren't human anymore? You don't need a bed. You can't sleep."

How had he gone from such a good mood to this in a matter of hours? She supposed it had something to do with their proximity to the Cullens, the notion of being in an enclosed space for a long time, and the number of people nearby.

That didn't mean any of this was warranted.

"Your clothes would be soaked if we were still out there, and I know you don't have any more."

He scoffed. Said nothing.

Thunder rumbled, and a flash of lightning momentarily lit up the dark room. Alistair looked particularly menacing under the harsh light, shadows carving out the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw, his skin shockingly white. The line etched between his brows seemed more severe than it did ordinarily. Then, as the light disappeared, his face melted back into a more muted sort of anger, no harsh contrasts between light and dark.

She didn't like this Alistair. She liked the Alistair who annoyed her with stupid remarks, and watched her with a quiet sort of pride when she did something wild. This Alistair was cruel, and unkind, and far more cynical than she liked him to be.

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"I think you wanted to stop because you're attached. You didn't think about the consequences to either of us."

"Do you really think I'm that selfish?"

He slinked towards her, boots scuffing the floor until he was in front of her. He dipped his chin to look her in the eyes, and sneered. "You are the most selfish woman I know."

She glared at him.

He stooped over, his face centimetres from her own. A flash of lightning lit up his expression. His teeth glistened with venom. "Everything you do is out of self-interest."

His pink lips wrapped around his words, paying each consonant and vowel particular attention. He put care into pronouncing them clearly, his strange accent pulling at the insult.

Lena couldn't help but think his mouth could be put to better uses.

He leaned closer and brought his lips to her ear. Stubble pricked her skin, and his cool breath stirred her baby hairs. She shivered.

"You take whatever you want," he murmured, "whenever you want it."

His hands were on her waist, his touch light and hesitant. He ducked his head, and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. If this was his apology, it was weak, steeped in pride.

His hands slipped under her shirt, and rested on her sides. His thumbs rubbed small circles into her skin. He pressed another kiss closer to her throat, to the sliver of skin just by the neckline of her shirt.

"You're awful," she said.

She felt him smile against her skin. He lifted his head and pulled away. "Only sometimes."

Lena grabbed him by the lapel of his coat and drew him towards her. Her gaze flickered between his amused eyes and his mouth. She lifted herself to the tips of her toes, seeing as Alistair was enjoying teasing her too much to help, and kissed him.

He gave easily enough, crumbled under her touch as he always did. He kissed her back, fingers tensing and pressing deeper into her skin, before relaxing.

Lena pushed his coat from his shoulders, and he removed his hands from her body. It slid off and dropped to the floor. In the next instant, he was touching her again, hands roaming her flesh. He kissed her deeper, more urgently.

Lena broke away. If she were human, she would be blushing, gasping. Her heart would be racing. Now, she managed to maintain an icy coolness she did not feel at all when she met his hazy gaze.

"Don't misunderstand," she said over the rain. "I'm still mad at you."

"Oh?" He glanced down at her hands working to remove his shirt. "I thought we were already past that."

Slowly and deliberately, Alistair rolled over. He laid next to Lena, his skin not hot and sweaty as she might have expected it to be, but cool and smooth when it touched hers. Rain pattered against the window and roof, the sound melodic enough that, if she were a human, her thrumming pulse might have slowed.

"And you said the bed was pointless," she said.

"We could have gone without." The mattress springs creaked, and Alistair rolled onto his side to face her. He propped himself up on his elbow, and looked over her face. "Was it good?"

Lena looked at him. "You know I don't give compliments."

"No, I mean, so I can do better next time," he said with a soft smile. "I'll take notes."

"Next time? That's a bit assuming, don't you think?"

"Don't tease me, Lena."

"It was fine."

He frowned. "I want better than that."

"I don't think it would be healthy for your ego," she said.

Alistair grumbled under his breath, and reached for her. He pulled her body closer to his, bare skin pressing against bare skin. "You're cruel."

She kissed his chest.

He was right, of course. Logically, she knew he didn't mean it as the Cullens did, but she couldn't help but think of them now, and think that maybe Alistair thought the same of her as they did. He cared for her - that much was painfully clear to her - but you could care for someone and still hate parts of them. It was, in a way, much easier than hating all of them.

A low rumble of thunder drew her attention. Lightning flashed, lighting up the pale skin of Alistair's chest. Immediately, she dismissed her previous thoughts, banished them from her mind. She refused to think about any of that while she was here with him.

She looked up at Alistair.

His head was angled down, and he was watching her with a soft gaze. Slowly, he leant forwards and kissed her forehead. His fingers trailed lazily along the bare skin of her arm.

For a moment, it seemed like time stopped entirely. There in their little room, huddled together in the middle of a storm, the world was still. Just for a moment, nothing existed beyond the four walls which encaged them.

But there was a part of her which knew this could not last.

"I'm sorry," Alistair whispered.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, too."

He shook his head. "Don't apologise. You didn't say anything that needs an apology."

"But I thought things. I might have even sworn."

He didn't so much as smile.

His hand slid up her arm and to her cheek. "I worry about you," he confessed. "I want to keep you safe."

"I am safe."

He smiled sadly. His eyes strayed from hers. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone.

"The world is just one big nightmare, Lena. You must remember that."

wow i hate it

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