"Why not?" he retorted, lifting an eyebrow. Ah, the age-old technique of
answering a question with a question.
"There are probably thousands of women in Dallas alone that would fall over
themselves for a chance to be with you, to give into your every whim and
desire."
"So?" His arms were still around my waist; his touch was distracting, muffled my
thoughts so I had to strain to remember my point.
"So you choose the most obstinate--" He cut me off, spun me around so his back
was to the door and mine was to the bed.
"I like that you fight." He grasped my hands with his, took a step back and pushed me off my balance so I was held at a 45-degree angle, suspended by his strength between standing and falling. I didn't flinch, didn't try to step back to regain my own balance. I looked up at him, arranged my facial features into a blank mask, and hoped he wouldn't drop me.
"I like this color on you," he complimented nodding at my black dress.
"It sets off your hair and eyes." He took a lock of said hair and wrapped it
around his finger.
"What's your natural hair color?"
I didn't speak right away because I was bewildered, taken aback by a simple question. It wasn't what he'd asked that had surprised me, more the significance behind it that had caught me. Eric, a man far older, wiser and more powerful than anyone I'd ever known, seemed genuinely interested in boring facts about me. It wasn't that I lacked self-confidence, but I understood that his age, all that he'd seen and done would make anything about me, a mortal, that much less interesting or important.
"Dark brown," I finally said. "Almost black." He let go of the hair and it fell back onto my chest. I barely noticed, too busy trying to figure out what exactly was going on between Eric and I.
"I like it. The auburn." He lowered me slowly until I felt the soft fabric of sheets and mattress underneath me.
"It's brighter in the sun." His lips pressed together again at my mention of the light. I watched as his eyes went dark almost imperceptibly, then met mine again. Something solidified in that second, clicked inside me, and an instinctual understanding filled me. His focus on me, the personal request for my presence. He wanted a distraction. Something had happened, something during the day, I surmised. Though vampires generally didn't like talking about the day, something that paralyzed, then killed them, they usually didn't have such a strong reaction to its mention. Especially someone who had known so many nights and seen so few days.
"You're not from around here," he said. I blinked, and he was closer to the bed. It reminded me of an alligator stalking its prey; take your eyes off it for a second, look back and suddenly it's right next to you. I sat up, pushed back against the soft foundation underneath me so I was leaning against the headboard. It was hard, uncomfortable to my back, but I wanted to gain some height, wanted to show Eric he had no dominance over me.
"Neither are you." I thought of his voice, those quick, slippery syllables.
"Where are you from?" He stuck his knee out, knelt on the bed and kicked off his shoes in an easy, gymnastic motion that carried more grace than I'd ever had. He caught my stare, noticed the wonder in my eyes.
"You're unnerved by me?"
"No," I answered honestly. "You move like you're underwater."
"Underwater?" His eyes softened, and his lip quirked. An almost smile.
"The air supports you, like you're working against gravity."
"And that doesn't bother you?" He pushed his hair back against his head. It stayed for a moment before falling back neatly to the sides. He supported his head with his hand and just looked at me, so we were face to face. "It doesn't scare you that I break the laws of your world, the very basis of scientific fact?"
"No," I shook my head, tilted it and raised my eyes to the ceiling. "It just means we haven't got everything figured out yet. Besides, bumblebees break the rules, too."
"Bumblebees?"
"Yeah," I thought back to my undergrad science class. "According to physics, they shouldn't be able to fly. But they do."
"We feed off humans, hunt you, live off you." His eyes became slits, bored into mine, almost pleading. "We can kill you so easily. Your fragility is almost laughable compared to my strength."
"Yeah, but without us, you wouldn't exist. And humans kill to eat all the time." I wrinkled my nose; I'd been a vegetarian since I was 12. "At least, on basic principle. you spill blood because you need to. We don't. But we still have suicide bombers, murder, rape, and war." I looked back at Eric, who was staring at me intently. I felt like I could see the gears turning behind his eyes. "So humans don't really have the morality thing cornered, either. You exist, and so do we, for whatever reason. Why fight it?"
"You," his voice was soft. He paused, cleared his throat and began again, his tone much more firm. "You never answered my question."
"What?" My hands went up to my hair, twisted it into a bun, but I had no tie, so I let it drop down my neck, across my back.
"Where are you from?" His eyes were on my bare neck, then my hands. He blinked, the only motion on his otherwise still body.
"Up north." I didn't get into specifics.
"Not exactly forthcoming, are you?" He knitted his brow at me.
"Don't worry," I reassured, biting my lip. "I'm like this with everyone." He opened his mouth, and I knew there would be more questions about my back-story, more probes into my life. So without thinking, I silenced him with my lips, pressed into him, dragged my nails up the back of his neck until I reached his hair. I kissed hard, passionately, an honest physical expression of what my body wanted; I needed him to forget what he was asking me, forget whatever had been bothering him. His fangs lengthened as his tongue massaged its way into my mouth. I kissed around them, then allowed my own tongue to slide under one of the points so it pricked me lightly. My blood was in his mouth and he lapped at it fiercely, drawing it in with a pressure that made my toes curl. He slowed down, though, so every movement stirred a thousand nerve endings. My mind disintegrated, leaving only the ID, which craved this pleasure, gave into it. I pushed him, forcefully so he lay down on his back and I followed, aligning my body on top of his. His hand went to the clasp of my dress, behind my neck; it fell free a second later and he had it pulled down to my waist before I could stop him.
"Hey," I said, gathering my frazzled mind. I grasped his shoulders, noticing how broad, and strong, they were under my fingers. "Not yet." I pulled the dress up, but he gripped my wrists, halting me as I slid the silk past my ribs. He'd spotted my tattoo, an ornate skeleton key, barely as long as my pinky. He ran his fingers over it and I twitched, the feel of him against me igniting desire of my own.
"What's this for?" His fingers were still on the black ink, but he looked at me questioning.
"Though my language is dead/Still the shapes fill my head."
His eyes registered shock, widening, but the rest of his face remained still. "Do you always speak in riddles?" He released my hands, allowing me to reach back and fasten it securely around my neck.
"Do you always act in them?"
"You frustrate me, Elliot." He sat up, taking me with him so I was still millimeters away from his chest. I glanced down, saw the strain in his pants and bit back a smile.
"In more ways than one." It came out a purr. His chest, and mine, echoed with laughter. He put his hand on my leg, when we'd both finished laughing. A little too far up.
"I can't," I said, taking his hand. "Not here."
"Why?" He asked, frowning.
"Because I work here, and I'd feel too much like a prostitute. You're paying me to be here." He was silent. I looked back up at this face; it was beautiful, as I remembered. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, licked his bottom lip, and then the shy pink retreated back from where it had emerged.
"I understand." He said, then looked at me with an electrified expression; it changed his whole face, and I imagined what he would have looked like as a child, begging to play for just a bit longer.
"I have an idea." His words were loaded, filled with an emotion I couldn't quite identify. An idea. Apprehension crawled down my spine as I thought of what he might have in store for me.
"It involves being on the roof." His eyes sparkled as I felt my stomach drop and get acquainted with my feet.
"The roof."
He nodded, serious. "But first, I want to give you a token of my appreciation."
I felt my eyebrows rise as my lip curled into a sneer, showing my teeth. "You've known me for less than five hours. What could you possibly appreciate about me?"
"You've surprised me." He touched my neck lightly, slid his hand down so it rested on my sternum. He stayed there like that, and in the silence I could feel my heartbeat pounding under my skin, against his. "Few do, anymore."
With that, he brought his wrist to his mouth and bit, deliberately. He held the wrist out to me, and I watched as the blood flowed down his arm, unsure of what to do. He hadn't given me time to think, hadn't really given me a choice, but I bowed my head, licked the falling blood and made my way up to the would, mostly because I didn't want to make a mess of the bedspread. Stupid? Yes. But I'd acted without any real reason, and my thoughts dissipated anyway, as the thick, hot streams made their way down my throat. I drank deeply, my only concern hinging on consuming more, as much as I could.
It flowed through me, fast, mingling with my own blood, waking it up, making it sing with satisfaction. Whatever vampires were, whatever it was that kept them animated, was incredible. My hair stood on end, and I felt the molecules of air as they brushed against me every time I made the slightest of movements. Every part of me just felt alive, joyful in a way I'd never experienced before. Eric took his arm away from me and I was left gasping, my heart staggering to keep up with the infusion of power I'd been given. I opened my eyes, not realizing I'd shut them, and was bombarded by details I'd not noticed before; the curve of Eric's eyelashes against the space around him, the subtle shine to his skin and the depth of color to his eyes--what I'd seen as grey was actually a speckled steel blue, made up of shades that weaved one solid color. I crossed my arms, gripped myself at my elbows and shivered at the intensely long reaction I had to the touch. Eric was looking at me, taking in the details of his blood's effect.
"I," my voice was louder to me, clearer than usual. "I feel like I'm high." I said, wondering if my pupils were enlarged. I turned away from Eric, slid off the bed and went to the mirror that was attached to the bureau, by the door. The light was low, my pupils were small. Eric came up next to me, laughing good-naturedly.
"Everything alright?" He asked, the smirk transferring to his words.
"Great. Really." I looked up at him, put my hands on his chest and marveled at the feel of the fabric underneath my fingers. Eric placed his hand over mind, slid it up to his lips and placed a kiss on the palm. I closed my eyes, allowed the sensations shooting down my arm to caress the rest of my body.
"Come," Eric said, taking my purse off the bed, where it had been forgotten. "You'll be needing this." He placed the strap over my arm, then took my hand and we left the room together. I felt excited, happy, though I wasn't quite sure why. Eric just looked down at me and shook his head as I staggered through the hall behind him, taking in everything around me.
"I feel," I started to say, as we got in the elevator, but stopped as he pushed the button for the top floor.
"Yes?" His voice was quiet, but it hummed with energy, with life; it sounded richer to me, his speech a flow of water I wanted to dive into.
"Nothing," I said, self-conscious. I didn't want to humiliate myself, to be drunk next to an obviously sober person.
"What you're feeling is normal," his hand moved to my lower back. "My blood has a very powerful effect on mortals."
Weird, I thought. It's almost like he knows what I'm feeling. I didn't focus on the oddity of his knowledge too deeply, though; we'd arrived at the top floor. Eric motioned me out of the elevator and down a hall that led to stairs. I began the climb, slightly unsteady in my heels, but he took me by the waist and walked up the stairs so fast I was dizzy when we made it to the roof.
"Oh," I blurted, as he put me down. The lights of the city were bright, and I spun around, taking in the view.
"Do you enjoy it, Elliot?"
I turned to look at him; a bit of homesickness washed through me. "It makes me miss New York." I was wistful.
"Come here." He sounded playful, and he opened his arms to me. I all but skipped over, now surprisingly comfortable in my shoes. He slipped off his leather jacket when I reached him and laid it across my shoulders. I put my arms through the sleeves and hugged it close, inhaling the mixture of soap, aftershave and shampoo. Eric stepped closer so the blade of a knife couldn't have fit between us, and held me tight. When a beat passed and he didn't let me go, I turned my head, which had been buried in his chest, and tried to ask him what was going on. Instead, I gasped and scrabbled closer to him. He chuckled into my hair.
We were twenty feet in the air, bobbing gently in the wind.
"Oh, my god." My voice was high, breathy. Thrill poured through me and I struggled to catch my breath. Eric saw this, loosed his grip and moved his hands down to my hips. He raised me so I was a few feet higher than his head, and took us higher, fast, so the wind whipped over me, through the jacket, and made my hair form a cloud behind my head. I laughed, gasping at the beauty of the night, the freedom of my body in the sky, the feeling of being weightless. I spread my arms and Eric flew us in a loop; I screamed, a choking laugh, and then we were horizontal, floating lazily among the clouds. I looked up at him with so much joy I thought I'd burst; he smiled down at me, and I told him I was right. Gravity had nothing on him. He bent over me, hid his face in my neck and paused, waiting for permission.
"Do it," I shouted. When he bit, I convulsed, attached myself to him as much as I could, and rode on the feeling of hands, moving all up and down my body, releasing stress, working every muscle gently.
"Ahhh," I sighed. When he lifted his head, my blood was blue black on his lips. He licked them, closed his eyes, savored me, then, when his mouth was clean, I moved forward, kissed his cold lips and felt a flutter of lust so powerful, I groaned into his mouth. My stomach rolled uneasily, though, and I broke our contact to see that we were descending. Soon enough, the smooth asphalt of the parking lot behind the hotel was under my feet.
"Thank you," I blurted, my voice thick with tears. Nothing so special had ever been done for me before. "Ever since I was young, I--just, thank you." Tears overpowered my eyes, coated my skin with wet warmth. I tried to brush them away, but Eric stopped me, cleaned them off my face with his long fingers, and then slid them into his own mouth.
"Where's your car?" he asked, keeping his eyes on my face.
"Uh, it's the blue Volvo, over there." I pointed to the left vaguely. "I think." He turned and I trotted a few steps so I walked with him. Sure enough, my car was where I thought I'd left it.
"Give me your keys," Eric ordered. I fished in my purse for them, but hesitated in handing them over.
"You're in no shape to drive," he explained, and I reluctantly let him take my keychain. He unlocked the car, and I went to the other side, feeling odd about being in the passenger's seat of my own car.
"Manual," Eric nodded at the shifter. "Not many women I know drive standard."
"That's me," I said. "Unusual." He nodded, agreeing, though I'd spoken sarcastically. He asked me where I lived and I directed him; the ride home was quiet, a comfortable silence that had an edge of something to it, a bit of tension in the air. I was practically humming with energy and expectation, though I didn't know why, or for what. I peeked at Eric's profile as he drove. His face was calm, unnervingly so. I smoothed my dress, straightening imaginary wrinkles.
When we finally pulled up to my place, Eric turned, cocked his head to me, and asked a question, four simple words that sent me into a spiral of options, each situation playing through my mind.
"Can I come in?"