Chapter 9 Sawyer
Sawyer
After Lucian randomly disappears and doesn’t immediately return—seriously, what the fuck?—I’m forced to trust he will return at some point, and after everything, this isn’t some weird ploy to abandon me.
My much-needed snack, combined with my pitiful attempt at track and field through the woods, drags my limbs down.
By the time I reach the bathroom, washing my face with my proper cleanser and brushing my teeth with my own things—courtesy of Lucian’s trip to my smashed car—are my only goals for the night.
Without changing out of his clothing, I slide into bed.
Sleep comes quickly, only being interrupted when a body—a very male body—slides in beside me. Awareness drags me halfway to the surface so I can check the time on my phone: four in the morning.
Lucian nudges me closest to the wall and presses into my back. I don’t fight as he tosses an arm over my hip and brings me tight against him.
Maybe it’s insane to feel comforted by a man—a being—I’ve only just met—my would-be murderer. A fucking vampire, which is still mind-blowing on its own. It also means sharp fangs and a strength I’d have no chance in hell against.
For every red flag he hoists in the air, he’s never harmed me, so I need to believe he won’t. Maybe I’m certifiably insane, but what do I really have to lose by trusting him?
Lucian buries his face in the curve of my neck. His cool breath along my nape drives any lingering anxiety away. “Back to sleep. I got you.”
No one’s ever had me before. But…I think Lucian just might.
For now, I pass back out, praying I’m not the stupidest human alive.
Because in this moment, I feel like the luckiest.
Without windows, my phone is the only indicator of time—but checking it would mean somehow climbing over Lucian, who, I realize, is probably awake. Because, as fiction claims and apparently got right, vampires don’t sleep.
Suddenly, the arm around my hip gets heavier, tighter, and I’m yanked right up to his body, exactly like how I fell asleep.
His low chuckle, followed by a groan, confirms he’s awake.
His hand drifts down, over my hip and beneath the edge of his hoodie, before slowly creeping back up until resting on the span of my stomach.
His other arm, which slid beneath the pillow overnight, curls around my neck, bringing me up against him so there isn’t a place we’re not touching. He inhales deeply, sighing into my hair.
He inhales a lot, but I assumed vampires don’t need to breathe. Maybe this is his strange way of complimenting me.
His palm traces slow, sensual circles across my stomach, while his sinful-as-fucking-hell lips skate up and down my neck. They entice the same sensations as his fangs on my arm did yesterday. A way that should have me running for the next mountain over instead of urging him to continue—to feed.
Surely, it’s ridiculous to be having this effect over someone so soon.
His fingers crawl up my stomach, hovering by the edges of my breasts, but don’t touch. My nipples are tight beneath my—his, technically—shirt, and my hips rock forward and back once, subtly, trying to urge him to move while avoiding outward proof of my desire.
Because there shouldn’t be any desire. I’m an idiot with a death wish, but apparently a horny one at that.
His teeth, no different than mine at the moment, lightly nip the space beneath my ear. His chuckle knots my insides as tightly as his caresses do. “Ready to stop feigning sleep?”
“Not if you don’t stop touching me.”
Did I just admit that?
Based on the low rumble—followed by a “That’s my girl,” ground out between his teeth—I think I did. “What if I make a vow to never stop touching you?”
In theory, that sounds amazing. In practicality, it can’t happen.
I swore, when starting this journey, to make this a holiday worth celebrating. It may not be with the tree and snacks and large window envisioned, but it’s still capable of being something worth remembering.
Which is why I turn my head farther into the pillow, baring more of my neck. He takes the invitation with a press of his lips to my pulse, followed by a lick as his fingers caress the bottoms of my breasts.
“When did you last eat?” I find myself asking, but not in distress.
“A few days ago.”
Being fed on seems like it’d be an experience. I’m slightly curious to know if the initial act of his teeth sliding into my skin would sting. Some movies depict it being pleasurable, and maybe they got their information from the actual source at some point in history.
It’s one thing to believe Lucian’s safe—to curl up beside him in bed and trust that the vampire I’ve known for a day won’t harm me. It’s another thing entirely to offer myself up as his snack. Learning Santa was real would have been easier to process.
Lucian’s lips travel to my ear. “Your thoughts are loud. Careful, little human.” It’s a warning and an invitation all rolled into one. I can’t help but roll over to face him and edge closer to that danger.
It’s now impossible to ignore. I’m willingly lying in his man’s arms, close enough to spot the individual flecks of red that flare within his midnight eyes. His touch slides from my stomach to my back and all the way up until reaching the base of my neck. I’m completely at his mercy.
“Then what am I thinking?” I challenge, arching into him.
“What it’s like to be bitten.”
His two incisor fangs grow, sliding from his gums until lightly prodding his bottom lip, which he parts to make room for.
My hand, previously lying limp, comes up between us but pauses near my own mouth instead of his. I want to touch him again, but the more I do, the less likely it is I’ll be able to stop myself from begging to feel him in other ways.
“Does it hurt?”
“Depends how I bite. If I sink them in and drink fast, yes.” His head jerks down until a fang abruptly slides against my finger.
Any harder and the skin would have broken, and based on his expression, that’s what he was going for.
“If I slide in slowly, gently breaking the skin and giving you time to adjust, then no more than the initial prick.” He dips again, this time slowly sliding his teeth along my finger.
“They’re really cool.”
He tilts his head back. “Cool?”
“Interesting. Seeing your teeth grow is something humans obviously don’t do, so yeah, cool. Intriguing. Interesting.”
His mouth stretches into a grin as he flips me onto my back and kneels between my thighs, slowly inching down my body. My nipples tighten in response. “Are you scared?”
Even as my heart races against his own, I shake my head. “I trust you.”
“That’s a very dangerous thing. How do you know this isn’t some ploy?”
“I don’t. I’m hoping it’s not. If you wanted to hurt me, you’d have already done it. If you were going to feed without permission, you’d have done that, too.”
A throaty chuckle fills the room before he lifts his head, revealing the brightest crimson eyes I’ve yet to see on him. “Believe me,” he grates, “it isn’t without difficulty.”
His cockiness, his tone, his eyes make it believable.
“What do I smell like?”
His nose drags along the base of the hoodie, where it rests on my thighs. His face perilously close to the heat between my legs—and the scent he’s surely catching. “Everything I want. Everything I crave. Everything I desire to make mine.”
That wasn’t a proper answer. Yet, it doesn’t stop a full-body shiver from consuming me—much to his own amusement as he tilts his head again. Red and black mingle like a dark version of Christmas as he inches his way back up my body, his hands dragging the sweater up to my hips.
“You smell like a temptation I won’t hold back from for much longer.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
His tongue drags over the strip of skin he’s revealed. My hips, on their own accord, arch off the bed, chasing the high. The drugged sensation that is his tongue lapping back and forth, his sharp inhale chilling the same area before his exhale warms it, forever keeping me on edge.
I should push him away. It’s ridiculous to be letting a mythical creature touch me this intimately.
Until his teeth nip, proving his touch is anything but mythical.
After another groan, he tugs the sweater back down and lifts onto his arms, coming over top of me. His bangs fall forward, revealing bright eyes and a smirk bred straight from the demons he claims to be his ancestors.
“It’s a promise,” he continues in a low murmur, “to spend eternity between your legs.”
Visions of him keeping that promise consume me until the only thing I see, the only thing on my mind, is him.
When my attention drops to the curve of his mouth, it’s with another kind of intrigue that has my elbows shifting me upright. Would it be ridiculous to kiss after so few days of knowing him? Especially considering how many times his mouth has already been on my skin.
His arms lock to keep him rigid. Neither of us breathe. Him out of his immortality, and me because my lungs have decided to take a holiday elsewhere.
What if all this is a trick? Some majorly fucked-up psychological warfare game meant to destroy my defenses? He’s capable of easily overpowering me, so there’d be no need for the bizarre trust exercise he’s putting me through.
Given all the possibilities, I turn my head towards the side table, checking the time while pretending the moment has passed. Except it hasn’t. Not according to my arousal that’s cursing me out for not kissing him back, for not letting him bite me.
“Noon,” I state aloud. “I’ve been sleeping in so long.”
“You’re still healing. It’s natural.” His voice now comes from the end of the bed, the warmth his proximity created fading into the chill of the cabin air as he climbs off me.
“Makes sense.” Eyes averted, I roll out of bed and escape to the bathroom to drown myself in ice-cold water.
We spend the day inside the cabin because there’s literally nowhere else to go. It’s slightly warmer today, but negative thirty isn’t actually warm by any stretch. Besides, with it being daylight, Lucian’s stuck inside.
He inquiries about everything and anything, and I mean everything.
He has me describe an average day, all the good and bad moments from childhood, what activities I enjoy—except hobbies are a rich person’s luxury, so mine is checking all the local sights out—and my list of dream vacations: places I’d love to visit but likely never will.
In between, I attempt asking questions about him.
Some regarding being a vampire, but mostly him.
His human life, and how he spends his free time, which he has an endless amount of.
What decade has been his favourite so far, and which music and clothing style he adapted to the quickest and which he misses the most. Since he asked me my favourite colour, I snuck the same question in.
He answers everything, but constantly shifts the conversation back to me, resulting in a battle of the wills he wins nearly every time.
The time on my phone reads five p.m. when I note, “A few hours until Christmas Eve.”
This is when the sun is set and my evening should involve a book in front of the fireplace, or simply staring at the outdoors. For once, not working but just being. Still and present and happy.
When’s the last time I felt happy? Truly content?
Today.
Although I’m not spending my break how intended, being with Lucian has been fun. Without the hatred Mom so often provokes, and the exhaustion work brings, Lucian—like me—is content to simply exist. I’ve smiled more during our conversation from opposite sides of the room than I have in months.
Lucian’s next question steals me from my wandering thoughts, demanding I tell him about any holiday traditions had growing up. None, because Mom sucked, but I detail the ones I fantasized about.
And then, night falls.