Essence (Nectar 3)

“Mess on the floor,” she mumbled.

“Sorry, baby. That was my fault. I’ll go clean it. Sleep.”

That was certainly a somewhat lucid thing to notice. He looked at her eyes.

No. Still vacant.

She put her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. He pulled the blankets up over her and went back downstairs and cleaned up the glass, avoiding the almost overwhelming urge to taste the blood on his hands.

A while later he opened the bedroom door and found her, asleep. He’d felt drawn to her, couldn’t stop thinking about the scent of her blood and whether or not it’d been a mirage.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the blankets down.

She was wearing that red racerback tank top that’d brought them all the grief on their flight to Phoenix and black silky shorts that showed a lot of cheek under a short terrycloth robe that was gathered up around her waist. It was a white robe. He looked closer and spotted the white on white embroidered monogram from the hotel where she’d gotten attacked by Liam. He bared his teeth at that thought. Sam must’ve thrown it in with their bags. He wanted that off her.

Her mass of dark curls was fanned out over the pillow, her hands in prayer position under the cheek that was on the pillow.

He undid the sash and put the back of his hand against her and his knuckles trailed a path from her thigh up to her hip. Goosebumps rose on her leg and her arm. She shifted, still sleeping, and a lock of her hair fell over her cheek.

He reached for it and tucked it behind her ear. Emotion gripped his heart like a vice.

He leaned over and put his nose to her throat. She smelled like Kyla. She was warm like Kyla. He wanted to get lost in her.

But then he saw her eyelids flutter and then her eyes opened and the beauty of the moment completely fucking died.

She moistened her lips slowly with the tip of her tongue and blinked a few times at him.

“I miss you already,” he told her, “I miss you so much, sweet girl.”

She nodded robotically. Her lips parted like she was about to say something. But then after an eternity she sealed them again.

“Sit up and gimme that robe. I don’t want you wearing it.”

She obliged. He took the robe from her and threw it on the floor.

“Put your hand on my face. Touch my chin.” He closed his eyes and absorbed her touch. With his eyes closed, he could pretend. But not totally because although she’d followed his order, there was no emotion coming at him. And there was also that she’d started a habit of twirling her finger on the cleft on his chin when she touched his face. She didn’t do that now. He flicked the lamp off. Maybe in the dark it’d be easier to pretend that her eyes weren’t blank.

“I’m gonna kiss you. Respond. Kiss me back. Softly. Slowly. Okay?”

“Oh. Kay,” she answered dazedly.

He leaned forward and their lips touched. He felt hers part. His tongue dipped in and he tasted her. She tasted like his Kyla. The tip of her tongue touched his lower lip and he groaned and deepened the kiss.

He couldn’t help it, emotion gripped him and he tangled his fingers into her hair and his nose moved to the curve in her throat and he felt hope spark as he ran his nose along the soft warm skin, feeling her pulse against his cheek. She gasped and then went lax as if he’d bitten. But he didn’t bite. And his Kyla had never, not once before all this shit, gone lax at being bitten, anyway. She would tense, she would gasp, she would become aroused or bewildered or try to fight. She never just went limp like the others.

Her skin was so soft, so warm and smooth. He wanted her. He wanted her blood and he wanted inside her with a fierceness that made his own blood pump harder. He backed up and looked down at her, eyes adjusting and seeing her in the dark. She was on her back, looking up in his direction, but not really looking at him, not the way his Kyla did, she’d done it even in the dark before this. Her lips were parted.

He backed away, thinking he couldn’t look at her any longer, didn’t think he could stand the pain that had replaced desire.

He was about to leave her there and go back downstairs, where he’d been sleeping a few hours here and there, but exhaustion washed over him. He suddenly felt bone tired, exhausted, and the darkness, her scent, and the bed were too inviting to deny.

He was beyond exhausted, probably almost as exhausted as he was when he’d found her in that trailer park except that this time it was a broken exhausted, not a relieved exhausted where he felt like he could finally sleep.