Enjoy! And tell me what you think ^_^
~ Nikkitosa
Snap
I wake up the next morning with a low whimper, caused by the numb pain in my limbs. Carefully stretching under the warm covers, I let my cold fingers trail across my skin, gently following the chains' pattern. The pinching makes my still dizzy brain jolt back to life and I blink my eyes open. Since I have covered my head with the blanket there's not much to see, so I stretch my hands forward for an unknown reason. Yet there's no obstacle in their way and they are soon dangling from the other side of the bed. The same side that was supposed to be occupied by Dyson. 'Maybe I have rolled over in his side he has taken the other one?' to check if my assumption has some truth to it, my right leg stretches backwards, yet once again there's nothing there. And both sides are cold, indicating that no one has been sleeping there recently.
With a single swift motion I throw the covers aside and push my body up, only to yelp out of pain and fall back down face first, cursing and groaning.
"That seemed painful." a deep male voice comments from somewhere far away and I lift my head, still lying flat of my stomach in the middle of the bed, only to spot Dyson seating behind the counter with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
His hair is rather messy, more than usual, and there's that sleepy expression on his face, indicating he has just risen up.
With a groan I elbow my way towards the side of the bed, crawling like an animal, and look at the floor. True to my fear, he had spent the night sleeping on the cold and hard-looking floor in a sleeping bag that looks ridiculously small for his tall frame.
"When did you return?" I groan against the mattress before I once again gather my strength and push myself up, this time slower and with less jerky movements.
"Around four." his simple answer makes me look at him from under the white curtain my hair provides.
Pushing the messy strands away and pulling them in a bun, I rub my eyes and nod towards the sleeping bag.
"You should have pushed me to the side. That looks uncomfortable even for me."
He chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee.
Dropping my feet from the side of the bed I push myself up and with dread realise that I feel weaker than yesterday morning. A lot weaker even. Narrowing my eyes I try to fake a casual walk as much as possible, yet my whole body feels heavy and uncooperative.
"I didn't want to risk tugging at the chains. You looked in a lot of pain already." his remark makes me jolt and look at him.
"Then wake me up!" I would have snapped, but once again my voice almost disappears, leaving a pitiful shadow of a wheezing. "Dammit!" I curse and rub gently at my throat as much as the clamp allows me.
Dyson doesn't say a thing and continues to read the morning newspaper and sip at his coffee. Yet as I move towards the bathroom I can feel his eyes trained on my back, following each and every move I make, analysing it. That makes cold shivers run up and down my spine and my skin starts to tingle. Either way I ignore this strange reaction and lock myself in the bathroom. Only then, after I have successfully washed my face and put my long hair in some kind of order, do I realise I left a huge puddle of blood on the floor last night, completely forgetting to wash it away. And now, as I look around, I notice it's gone.
The realisation is followed by a wave of both anger at myself that I so stupidly forgot to notice the puddle of my own blood, and shame that it was Dyson who had to clean it after he returned home from work, all tired. Not to mention that he was shooed away from his own bed and on the floor by my humble self. If there was any blood left in my body, it would have gone straight to my face, making me blush with shame. Despite my vampire nature, leaving a blood trail behind for someone else to clean is not only a manifestation of negligence but also a sign of really poor manners. Leaving it for your host to clean makes things even worse. And when said host is a shifter…
"Shitiness just reached a whole new level…" I whisper under my nose while mentally cursing at my growing weakness.
Eventually, after pushing away my wounded pride and shame, I exit the bathroom and head to the kitchen island, in desperate need of coffee. Dyson, being the gentlemen he obviously is, has made me a big steaming cup of the precious liquid. After once again winning the battle with the chair I wrap my cold hands around the cup and bring it to my lips. The low purr vibrates in my chest, the delight making me wanna kiss him for his perspicacity.
"You know you are a gift to the womankind, right?" I say in a somewhat normal voice after putting the cup down.
Dyson just smirks in a rather amused manner and looks at me from behind his cup.
"Is that so?" his low timber, for God knows which time, makes my skin go all tingly and my stomach makes a flip.
"Yeah. I mean you take strange women under your roof; let them occupy the whole bed without whining about it and even clean their blood off the floor. And let's not forget the wonderful cup of coffee. What can a girl want more?"
His laughter, deep and vibrant, makes me giggle and then, after than strange sound startles both of us, we burst out in full-blown laughter. Discomfort appears soon enough, but I push it aside, enjoying the light atmosphere and bathing in Dyson's laugh.
Yet the pain is a bitch and soon makes its presence known by rudely interrupting my laugh, making me cringle. The spikes that are still somewhat digging in my skin make me come short of breath, even though I don't actually need it. Either way I place a hand over the throbbing area and close my eyes, fighting with the instinct to rip the chains away and free myself.
"Hey! Look at me! Allice!" Dyson's shout makes me snap my eyes open.
It turns out unknowingly I had begun to pull at the chains, making them tighten their grip around my body. Now the wolf is in front of me, his tall and slender frame between my spread legs and his hands are gripping mine, pulling them away.
His hot body is suddenly too close. The sound around us vanishes, as if we are closed in a little bubble, and I clearly hear his heart thudding in his ribcage, making blood circulate all around his body. At the sheer image of the thick red liquid, my nose picks at Dyson's scent and places it no longer as a wet dog, like in the beginning, but as warm earthy undertone, now overpowered by the alluring odour of blood. Warm. Flowing.
I gulp and realise that my fangs have jumped out of their hiding places. They nip at my bottom lip, making the skin break and a drop of blood rolls down. And just then, right before I'm about to lose myself and jump at him, a burning sensation spreads from my fingers up my hand, through my shoulder, and right into the wounds; and just like that the bubble bursts, making me crash back down in reality.
A low hiss skips past my lips and I shove Dyson away. He stumbles back a few steps, but that's enough for me to jump down from the chair and run to the other end of the room, pushing my body hard against the cold wall, making the chains dig deeper into the skin. The pain, so fierce, allows me to clear my head and push away the hunger.
Panting out of rage and fear rather than tiredness after the little sprint, I slump down the wall, whimpering as the silver burns my skin, yet thriving from the pain, as it allows me to pull myself together and push away the bloodlust.
"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" I mumble under my breath and I finally sit down and pull my legs up to my chest, once again making pain travel around my body.
"Allice-" Dyson once again comes near and I growl at him, my eyes throwing daggers his way.
"Stay back! Dammit, Dyson! Goddammit!" I shout and once again hide my head with my hands.
As if not understanding the hint, the shifter takes another step forward.
"Don't fucking come any closer!" I growl as his alluring scent once again makes me want to sink my teeth deep into his neck and quench my burning thirst.
"Let me help." his calmness and imperturbability only anger me further, showing me just how pitiful and weak I am next to him right now.
"Stay. Away." my voice has dropped so low it no longer holds anything human in it.
"Look at me." he seems unmoved by the evident threat and kneels in front of me, at least not intimidating me by looming over.
I once again pull at the chains, as his odour irks my whole being to act, to push him down and bite him, to claim not only his blood but also his body. Soon many fantasies start appearing in my mind, each and every single one of them making my control slip. Pain once again saves me as I tug at the silver; the hiss that skips past my lips is so low and animalistic that it resembles the one of a wild animal, cornered and hurt.
"Look at me." his intransigence and sternness suddenly make the vampire in me grow rather self-consciously, as if just now realising that Dyson is a wolf.
I feel the veins around my eyes becoming more evident, acquiring that black hue that gives away my unmasked self – the bloodthirsty beast with long and sharp canines, whose ferocity can only be matched only with the one of the werewolf. And deep in me I know I don't want him to see me like this – weak and yielding under the pressure of my dark side.
Yet when he stretches his hands and pulls mine away, I snap. My movements, despite the weakness, are still fast and precise and before Dyson can move away, I push him down and straddle him, my hands pinning him down. This time I hoover over him, my hair once again turning into a white curtain, creating a bubble of our own. One pretty electrified bubble none the less.
"I told you to back away, Dyson!" I growl and let my nails dig into his wrist, yet not breaking the skin. "There's a goddam good reason Trick told you to keep your distance!"
Either due to my tone or to the sudden and obviously unexpected attack, but Dyson suddenly changes, his eyes going black, with yellow irises. His growl makes me tense, and he uses that as leverage, spinning us around. With him being currently stronger than me, and above me none the less, I end up even more agitated. The pain from the chains is no longer a mean to stop me and with a single kick to the side I throw him off of me. Rolling around and taking a crouching position, somewhat mimicking his kneeling one, we just stand there, waiting for the other to attack. As I am about to snap and jump, the ring on my finger sends a wave of pain and fire that hits me like a tsunami. I only manage to whimper before the magic knocks me out.
Waking up under the warm and soft covers of the bed with an awful headache is so not the way to start the new day. As I stretch my hands out and manage to garb my phone, I quickly hide it back in my dark cave and hit a button, making the screen lighten up, almost blinding me.
"Christ's pants!" I hiss and close my eyes.
A second or two later I finally blink against the brightness and manage to see the hour. And then I see the date. For a second I just stand there and wonder why I feel like something's awfully wrong with those digits. Then I do a double take at the date and my eyes widen.
"Holy bananas!" I shriek and throw the covers away, letting the cold air hit me and wake me up.
Looking around frantically, I see that there's no one in the room. Dyson's scent is rather weak, which means he hasn't been here for a while. And by what the numbers on my phone tell me he is most probably already at work. Rubbing me eyes and chasing the last remainings of dizziness away, I lie back down and stare at the high ceiling. Images of yesterday's events flash in front of my eyes. And after it all comes back to me, up to the point where the little golden ring knocked me out, I want the ground to open and swallow me whole.
"I can't believe I attacked Dyson!" I whisper.
"God, I fucking pushed him down!" my voice gains volumes as my eyes widen even more.
"I was going to bite him!" the downfall is brutal, as the exclamation comes out as the squeak of a dying squirrel.
Hiding my face with my hands, I just lie there, in the middle of the bed, and pounder at how to act now. My behaviour from yesterday is inexcusable and I see no way to compensate it to Dyson enough so that he could forgive me. 'He probably thinks I'm a monster. A lunatic that somehow always manages to slip past death's grip completely by chance.'
Eventually I get out of bed, determined to do something for Dyson. I'll clean and cook and even repaint the walls if that'll get him to forgive me. All my motives are driven by that single desire – to regain his favour. That thought itself is uncommon for me, as I have never even wanted someone's favour in the first place, let alone fight for it. Yet the sheer thought that he'll never forgive me, that the next time he looks at me he'll see a monster and I'll see disgust in his eyes terrifies me to a point where I'll do anything for him. 'Better get on with it!'
It's a hard thing to clean when you can hardly bend and collect your own things from the floor, so it's no surprise that the pace with which things are being checked out of my mental list is rather slow. Yet that doesn't discourage me since I pretty much have the whole day. After I leave his clothes in the washing machine I change the sheets of the bed, hide the cursed sleeping bag so that he wouldn't find it, and go to the fridge with the clear intention to cook something up. Unfortunately there are no ingredients that I can use, and so, with a sigh, I change my clothes, grab my wallet, phone and the key he left me and go grocery shopping.
Since his flat is pretty far away from any big supermarket, I decide the local market will do. However I still enter the suspiciously looking corner shop with a certain degree of distrust. To my utter amazement though, I see there are not only fresh vegetables and fruits but also a fine selection of meat. Thanks to my nose I easily pick up the best ingredients and pay at the counter. The man there looks at me with unhidden suspicion, probably having noticed how selectively and precisely I grabbed the best of his goods. The only indication I give him that his staring is pissing me off is a slight tilt of my head after which he quickly pushes the bag my way and takes the money.
My next stop is further away from the safety of the outskirts and deeper into the city, yet I know I must do it. As I stride down the street, the smell of the city slowly but surely overpowers the one of blood, which makes me smile. 'Good. I'm doing good!'
No more than ten minutes later I spot the shop I've been looking for. Entering it with a confident step I nod at the girl behind the counter and tell her to call Sid. At first she looks at me as if I had grown a second head but after realising I'm dead serious she goes into the back room. Seconds later a man in his late fifties comes out, followed by the girl. Upon seeing me, Sid gives me that beaming smile of his and offers me his hand. I take it and shake it warmly. His sympathetic smile, though, makes me frown a little and pull away.
"Don't hate me, love, but those are not your type of jewellery." he nods at me, referring to the chains he senses under my clothes.
Sid, just like me, is a vampire who has been leaving peacefully with the humans ever since he decided to make and sell wine. He has a vast selection of bottles from different harvests and always gives me the best.
"I'm managing, thank you. Now, how about a nice bottle or two of wine?"
His booming laugher echoes in the room, making the blonde girl jump, startled. I smirk and tilt my head.
"Aye, aye. Straight to the point as usual. What shall be this time, love? 'Bloody' or 'Rosy'?"
Sid knows that my knowledge of wines is vast and my taste is rather hard to please, but when it comes to names, I'm a complete disaster. Never really getting into learning all the different wine pairings, he got used to my own labelling. 'Bloody' is a rather heavy wine with a nice deep bloody red colour, from which originates its nickname. 'Rosy' is definitely lighter, more afternoon like wine which is perfect for an official meeting on which you mustn't get drunk. Its mealy taste makes the buds on the tongue tingle, similar to champagne.
"Two of 'Bloody' and one 'Rosy'. I'm shooting in the dark, so better be cautious." I tell him before he disappears back into the back room.
Seconds later he's back with a paper back in hand. Handing it to me with a smile, Sid pats me on the shoulder gently.
"It's on the house. Get well soon."
I nod in appreciation and leave, finally heading back to Dyson's place.
Cooking, as I have always believed, proves to be either a pain in your ass or a pleasant journey in the lands of sweet deliciousness. No in-between. Thankfully today's my lucky day and the dished are coming out perfect. Throwing glances at the clock every few minutes, I also take a sip of the bottle on the counter. As usual, Sid gave me a little bit more than I had ordered. Along with the bottles of wine, he gave me two bottles of fresh blood he gets from donors. Since our taste in blood mostly overlaps, he sometimes shares his stocks with me. Now, after all the starving, it takes me all my self-control not to drink the whole thing in a single gulp. Instead I'm doing baby sips every five minutes. This way I can regain my strength without going all murderous on the bottle.
After letting the pasta boil and check if the wine is cooling nicely, I head to the bathroom, wanting to take a shower and make myself more presentable. Knowing that that'll be the biggest challenge for the day doesn't discourage me, as the thought itself that I'll stand all dirty before Dyson repulses me enough to pick pain over stench. With that I hop into the bathroom and close the door with a click.
My long snowy hair is still damp so I only pin away my side bangs, letting the rest of it fall down my back in nice waves. Since putting on a T-shirt proves to be less painful I opt for my prettiest one that won't make it uncomfortable to move. It's a nice beige colour and rather loose, but not making me formless. For a bottom I throw on a pair of skinny jeans that nicely shape my body. There were a few minutes in which I pondered whether or not to put on some shoes, but eventually decided against it. So now I'm barefooted, with my hair loose and currently setting the table. The other bottle of blood is hidden in the fridge so that I can have a sip if needed, without Dyson having to look at it whenever he decides to grab himself a beer.
Just as I'm stirring the sauce for the spaghetti I hear the front door being unlocked and pushed open.
Giving it one last good stir I turn around and step away from the stove.
Dyson is standing in the middle of the room, looking around his tidied apartment as if he can hardly recognise it. Then his eyes stop on the set table, making him raise an eyebrow its way, as if asking what the hell has happened to it. And then he looks me up and down, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.
"Did you do all of this on you own?" his voice is filled with amazement.
Under different circumstances I'd have gotten offended by him questioning my abilities to cook and clean, but now I just nod, hoping that all my efforts won't backfire at me.
"It smells good." he states and looks at what's on the stove.
'He doesn't dare come closer.' the realisation makes my heart clench, yet I gulp and smile.
"I cooked dinner, or at least tried. I hope you like pasta."
"I love it."
"You seem rather confused. Have I done something wrong?" for once my voice stays the same throughout the whole sentence and I mentally thank Sid for the bottles of blood.
"No. It's just… Why?"
I blink at him. He looks a little bit tired, worn out, as if he had a rough day, yet the life in his eyes shouts the opposite.
"I… I wanted to apologise… for yesterday." my confession is rather silent but I know he can hear me.
"I know some cleaning and a dinner can't excuse what I did, but-"
"What you did?" he looks puzzled and for a second I wonder if all that happened wasn't just a wild dream.
"I attacked you, Dyson. That's unforgivable after all that you did for me." my voice is low and filled with regret.
"Those were your instincts, Allice. You didn't attack me to hurt me but to protect yourself. "
Looking up at his blue orbs, I see he's serious and doesn't look mad or disgusted as I had been expecting. Yet that doesn't make me feel at ease.
"It wasn't just self-defence and you know it." my whisper resonates in the vast space.
Turning my back to him I busy myself with filling the plates with food.
"Will you join me for dinner?" I ask and look over my shoulder.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." he replies and graces me with one of his genuine smiles. "But I hope you won't mind me taking a shower?"
"Of course not. The food is not going anywhere." I reply and smile back.
No more than ten minutes later we are sitting at the table. Dyson's shower was so quick that by the time I put both our plates down he was already coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his torso. Upon seeing him I almost dropped the wine bottle. Before he managed to catch me ogling I successfully spun around and almost hit myself against a chair.
Now, with his hair still damp, but changed in pair of freshly washed clothes, he's looking at the pasta in his plate as if it's the first time he has seen such a dish.
"Something wrong?"
"No. They just smell and look wonderful." he looks at me and smirks, making me blush slightly.
"Well I hope they'll taste even better. "
Opening the bottle with one fluent motion, Dyson pours some whine in my glass before taking his.
"What are we drinking for?" he asks, his voice sounding like a pleasant rumble.
"For a new beginning?" I offer and watch as he thinks it through.
"I told you – I'm not mad at you." he's soothing voice is like ailment for my nerves; yet at the same time makes me feel rather hot and horny.
"Either ways, that's a good think to drink for." I state, not backing down.
"True." with that our glasses meet with a low ringing sound.