Chapter 11 – Lilith
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LILITH
Two nights. Two nights since I told Silas I was glad he was here. He didn’t respond; he didn’t say anything the morning after. He just went about his business as usual.
I toss and turn, trying and failing to sleep.
In frustration, I kick my legs out as I flip onto my back.
“God damn it,” I mutter, rubbing my face.
My mind won’t switch off. I look over at my clock; it’s only five in the morning.
I decide to go for a run, burn off some energy before the sun comes up.
I move quickly and quietly, not bothering to change, just pulling on my sneakers.
As I make my way to the door, my hand stills on the handle, and I glance over at Silas, facing away from me, a sheet low on his hip, his broad back on display.
Those scars on his chest are also scattered across his back, some thicker and angrier than others.
My brow furrows. We heal. Questions swarm my mind, questions and concerns.
I leave the bar and run through the forest, the one place that feels like home.
The only place that feels free, the only place I can think.
The sound of twigs snapping behind me catches my attention.
My head whirls around as I spot Silas coming up beside me, still shirtless.
The moonlight breaking through the trees highlights each one of his scars.
My gaze flashes to his, a playful challenge flickering in his eyes.
I fight the urge to grin as I duck under a low-hanging branch and swerve to the left.
I chance a look; he swerves and follows, quick, keeping up with me and chasing me.
I leap over a fallen tree, but I miscalculate my landing.
Catching my foot on a rock, I tumble, rolling forward at speed.
Branches and bushes hit me as I go, until I eventually crash into the trunk of a large tree. “Shit,” I curse.
Silas skids to a halt beside me, kneeling, his worried gaze roaming over me.
“Are you okay?” he breathes. His finger caresses my face, searching for any cuts or wounds.
I hold his gaze, a laugh bubbling up from within me.
Silas smiles, his grin deepening, revealing a dimple on his right cheek.
Without a thought, I reach up, running my fingertips over it.
He stills at my touch. The mood shifts suddenly, from carefree laughter to intense longing.
I shift up on my elbows, my hand now cupping his cheek, my eyes flicking to his lips.
My body—my actions—say what my mouth refuses.
He leans in closer, threading his fingers through my hair at the back of my head.
He pauses, his lips a fraction from mine as if waiting; giving me a chance to back out, to stop this.
I don’t. Slowly, teasingly, I run my tongue along my bottom lip.
He doesn’t just close that final distance; he devours it, his lips colliding with mine with such force, such passion, I nearly fall back.
The kiss is animalistic, ravenous; kissing me like he’s been starved for eternity.
The feel of him, his scent, invades all my senses, igniting something I thought had died long ago.
His tongue strokes across mine, commanding, tasting me.
A kiss has never felt so right. Our mouths may be connected, but I can feel him everywhere.
Somewhere, somehow, my mind clicks; the realization, the reality of what I’m doing, who I’m doing, hits me like a thunderbolt.
I immediately break the kiss, pulling back slightly.
His black eyes burn with desire. My hand falls from his cheek, and he lets go of me.
I run my fingers through my hair. “Shit. I—” I pause, looking anywhere but at him.
“It was the chase,” he cuts in. I look up into his eyes.
Disappointment and a flash of pain dance across them.
“The hunt, the chase, it can cause…” He pauses as if trying to gain control or convince himself of the lie coming from his lips.
“Desires,” he rasps, his voice choking as he swallows.
He stands, creating a distance between us that somehow feels as big as a canyon.
He holds his hand out to me. Still avoiding his gaze, I place my hand in his as I stand.
His thumb strokes over my hand in a feather-light caress before letting go.
The silence between us is awkward. I shift on my feet, clearing my throat.
“It’s been a really long time,” I blurt, the urge to fill the silence consuming any rational thought.
“I’ve not been with anyone since Morbius,” I add.
I want to clap my hand over my mouth as soon as the words leave me.
If my cheeks could blush right now, they would be scarlet.
“Not that I’m desperate,” I continue. Stop talking!
I scream internally. “Not that I would only kiss you if I were desperate. I would kiss you anyway. You’re good-looking, and I do find you attractive.
” Jesus! Shut the fuck up! I berate myself, covering my face in mortification at my inability to stop my mouth.
Silas lets out a deep, low chuckle. “It’s okay, we can go back to you calling me an asshole.”
I slide my hands down my face, pausing to look through my fingers, his eyes soft and full of amusement. I let my hands fall and sigh with relief. “Thanks.” I pause. “Asshole,” I mutter, giving him a light punch to the arm.
He arches his brow. “I said you could call me an asshole, not hit me,” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “Stop moaning like a little bitch,” I quip.
As I look to the sky, the night is already a shade lighter.
“We’d better go before the sun is fully up,” I suggest. We don’t burn alive with the sun—we don’t sparkle—but it’s fucking painful.
I made that mistake early on, when I questioned it by placing my hand into the sunlight.
It felt like putting my hand directly on a burning hot stove.
Now, I only go out if I must, keeping covered, telling the local mortals I have a skin condition.
I do relish standing out in a storm in the middle of the day.
Something about the sound of heavy rain hitting the leaves in the forest settles me.
“Race you back?” He challenges. My lips curve, appreciative of the change of subject.
“I mean, you can.” I pause. “But I’m not sure what those mortals will think about it.” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder. He turns his attention behind us, and while he’s looking the other way, I take off laughing. “See you later, sucker!” I cackle.
I hear him hot on my heels as we approach the bar. I crash through the door and up the stairs, jumping around in victory like Rocky as he comes up behind me just a couple of seconds later. “Silas, you just got your ass handed to you,” I gloat, laughing.
His grin deepens as he shakes his head. “You’re right. The better person won,” he relents. “I’m going to try and get some more sleep.” He gestures to the couch. “Unless you need me out of the way?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, no. I’m going to go back to bed.” I gesture to my room awkwardly.
He nods and slowly makes his way over to the couch. Before I can stop myself, the question slips out. “Silas?” I call out. He turns to look at me, his black hair hanging over his eyes. “The scars? How, what... what are they?” I stutter.
The light that was in his eyes dims. “They’re a reminder,” he answers before walking out of sight.
The next few days, we seem to settle into a kind of routine.
He helps set up the bar and even serves when it gets busy.
Cleaning up is taking half the amount of time it normally would.
Dare I say that I’m liking having him around.
The hospital pouches are now gone, and both of our thirsts are growing.
As I wipe down the last Table, Silas walks over, snatches the cloth from my hand, and discards it onto the bar.
“You need to feed. I need to feed,” he points out.
I swallow, the craving clawing its way through me, making it harder to ignore. I give him a brief nod. He holds out his hand; I place mine in his, ignoring how it makes my stomach flip. “Want to make it interesting?” he challenges,
I arch my brow. “Go on,” I encourage.
“First one to get the prey gets the first bite,” his eyes flash with amusement.
I smirk, dropping his hand and taking a step back.
I tilt my head to the side, my eyes assessing him.
“You’re on; just remember not to get distracted,” I rush out, grabbing the hem of my black tank top and lifting it, exposing bare breasts.
His onyx eyes immediately darken, if that’s even possible.
I throw my head back and laugh, taking off in a sprint out of the bar.
“Men are so fucking easy!” I yell over my shoulder as I make my way through the forest. I can hear him behind me, fast approaching.
I can’t contain the laughter as I run. The laughter soon dies when I pick up a scent.
I turn right and sprint, the desire, the bloodthirst building and burning, fueling me to run faster, harder.
I spot a small orange tent in the distance, just on the edge of the ridge.
I inhale, the scent growing stronger. I slow to a creep as I circle the tent.
Silas comes up beside me. All amusement drains from his face.
In its place is a ravenous hunger, the predatory gaze searing from his onyx eyes.
The predator is about to get his prey. I slowly and silently unzip the tent.
Lying there on his back, sound asleep, is a male hiker.
A slow, evil grin spreads across my face.
“Jackpot,” I whisper. The guy startles and sits up, his eyes wide.
“What? What are you doing?” he yells, half asleep.
I mask my face, blinking rapidly as though I’ve been crying. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been wandering for hours. I lost my friends. I’m so scared,” I say in a soft, helpless whimper.
He rubs his face and sits up. “It’s okay, I can help you,” he says, offering, his eyes roaming over my body, lingering on my bare breasts.
Pervert. He shifts aside to let me climb into his tent.
I give him a soft smile and crawl in beside him.
“You’re young to be out here on your own,” he points out, his eyes still lingering on my chest. Seriously, I don’t feel bad for taking his life now.
He hasn’t even offered a top to cover myself with.
This guy is a sexual predator. I might rip his dick off for the fun of it.
“Would you like to warm up in my sleeping bag?” I roll my eyes at the fact that he thinks I’d be dumb enough to fall for that shit.
I move, taking him by surprise, and straddle his lap, looking down on him seductively.
He’s stunned, and from what I think I can feel, aroused.
Eww. Although it’s small, it could just be his keys.
A low growl radiates from behind me. The guy sits up, startled. What was that? I roll my eyes. “Just another vampire; he’s just waiting for his turn,” I quip.
“Wha—” His words die as I sink my teeth into his neck. The warm blood pumping into my mouth fills me with euphoria. A low moan escapes my throat as I continue to drink, his body slowly going limp beneath me.
I feel Silas at my side, lifting the guy’s arm to his mouth, keeping his black eyes on me as he sinks his teeth into the flesh.
A deep, low groan rumbles from his chest as he drinks.
His eyes never leave mine as blood coats our mouths.
His gaze is full of desire, hunger, and want.
Heat coils in my stomach; arousal pools between my legs.
His eyes flare, scenting me. I stop feeding, blood dripping down my chin, along my neck to my chest. Silas’s eyes follow the droplet.
Releasing his mouth, he pauses, waiting for my next move.
The air between us is electric; one touch from him and I think I might combust. I don’t look away as I reach between my breasts with my forefinger, swiping it through the droplet of blood before placing it in my mouth and sucking it clean.
His restraint is hanging by a thread; a slow smile plays on my lips.
“Give in to the desire. Fuck me, Silas,” I whisper.
For a moment, I think he’s going to fight it, until he launches at me.
He moves, rolling me onto my back, pinning me beneath him. “I’ve been waiting over twenty-seven fucking years for you to say that. Prepare yourself, because once I’m buried inside you, I don’t think I will be able to stop,” he growls. A promise, a threat, I welcome.