Chapter 4 - Anson
4
ANSON
“Anson?”
Ameera’s soft voice pulls me out of the listless stupor I’ve been drifting in. Her gentle touch lands on my shoulder and pulls me even further back to a reality I want nothing to do with.
“Go away,” I mutter, refusing to roll over to look at her. I know I’m supposed to be angry at her, even if I can’t feel anything at all right now.
“No,” she replies with a hard edge to her voice. “We need to work on your control.”
“What’s the point?” I say, my tone devoid of any emotion as I continue staring at the wall.
“The point?” she says, sounding angry now. “The point is so you can stop attacking every human who comes close to you, like you did with Dre just now. Or do you want to attack your sister or your father like a crazed animal when you see them again? The point is so you can function without having a continuous mental breakdown. Or do you enjoy feeling like this all the time?”
The detached haze I’ve been floating in clears away at her words, and I’m overwhelmed by an instant deluge of emotion as she removes her glamour from my mind. I pull in a shuddering breath and curl into the fetal position under the onslaught of grief and rage and terror.
She continues, undaunted by my reaction. “Surely, your training as a mage included learning control. This is no different and just as necessary for your survival.”
Those words are enough to keep me from shutting down again as my rage rises to the forefront, suppressing all my other emotions. I hold on to it with all my might, relieved I’m able to think past the chaos in my head. I roll onto my back and sit up, glaring at Ameera. “Who said I wanted to survive? I didn’t ask for this.”
She lifts her chin. “I did what was best for you.”
“Really?” I ask with a sneer. “Or were you only thinking of yourself when you turned me into this… this thing?”
“I did what I had to do to save you.”
“Save me?” I ask, my voice breaking. “For what? I have nothing left to be saved for now. You should’ve let me die.”
Tears well up in Ameera’s honey-brown eyes. “I… I panicked,” she says. “I didn’t know what else to do. You died in mere moments and I couldn’t let you go. Not like that. Not after only having you for such short a time.” She lets out a broken sob. “You have every right to hate me now. I expected as much.” Her face crumples as she sobs again, then turns and takes a few steps away. “I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
Her reaction tempers some of my anger, but that only gives all the other emotions threatening my sanity a chance to rise again. They threaten to overwhelm me all over again, so I latch on to the anger even harder, desperate to keep this momentary reprieve as long as I can.
I rise from the bed and follow her. “Good,” I say as I stop just behind her, my voice a low snarl. “It’s far less than you deserve.”
She whirls, anger and hurt written all over her face, her gorgeous lower lip trembling and her big eyes welling with more tears that tumble down her cheeks. It pulls at my heart, and I clench my jaw as I cling to my anger with everything I am, but it’s fading fast as I stare at Ameera’s distraught expression.
I know I should apologize for my harsh words. I know I should tell her I don’t hate her and never could, but I’m not sure if that’s true since a dark, petty part of me wants to make her pay for what she’s done to me. It doesn’t matter that I know what she did was a desperate act of love. I’m pissed off and hurting inside over everything I’ve lost, especially my magic, and I want her to feel that way, too.
My now heightened vision focuses in on her face, wanting to study and savor every nuance of her misery. But all I can do is notice how much the attraction I felt for her when I was human is still there, still inexorably pulling me in. Hell, it’s even stronger now and doesn’t care about the resentment and rage I feel toward her right now. It just wants our passion to collide, regardless of the cause. I can’t resist and let my gaze travel up and down the length of her body and the luscious curves sheathed in the vivid red silk of her short formfitting dress. She’s never looked more alluring to me, her pale olive skin luminous and her floral scent intoxicating. And since lust seems to be just as successful at keeping my riotous emotions in check, I embrace it with everything I have.
“Ameera,” I murmur, staring at her mouth as I grip one of her hips and pull her closer. It presses my already hard cock against her belly, the cool silk rubbing against me in a way that makes me ache with need.
Her lips part and she tilts her chin up toward me, and I take it for the permission it is, and press my lips to hers. I pour everything I’m feeling into a brutal, searing kiss, as if I can purge myself of it all: the rage, the fear, the sorrow. And if that doesn’t work, then at least it will be one hell of a distraction, even if it’s only temporary. I’ll take whatever I can get if it lets me function for a time. It’s better than constantly being crippled by my emotions or glamoured into oblivion by Ameera.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer, plastering myself against her as I devour her mouth with deep, penetrating kisses. Our tongues tangle together in a wild, erotic dance as pleasure shoots through every nerve in my body, stronger and more intense than any of the kisses we shared when I was still human. I kiss her harder, deeper, eventually tasting blood when one of my now extended fangs nicks Ameera’s lip. And holy fuck, her blood tastes good. It only heightens my lust for her, my stomach knotting with bloodlust as my dick throbs. I don’t know what I want more, Ameera’s blood on my tongue or my cock buried deep inside her. Fuck me, I want both and I’m too lost to my desire to be horrified by that fact.
I break the kiss and Ameera’s mouth follows mine with her eyes pitch black and her fangs extended beneath her kiss-swollen lips. It tells me she wants this as much as I do. Good. Because I fear I’ll become a screaming, blubbering mess on the floor all over again if I don’t have her right now. I reach up and grip the front of her silk dress, then tear it from her body in one swift motion as if it were made of tissue paper. I blink for a moment, astounded by my own strength, before focusing on the glorious naked woman standing in front of me now. No matter the resentment and anger I feel for Ameera, I still want her with every fiber of my being and suspect I always will. Even dying and rising again couldn’t stop it.
I yank her back up against me, her soft bare skin feeling warmer than it’s ever felt before and so goddamn good. I ignore the fact that it’s probably because my body temperature has dropped to match hers, that I’m no more human than she is now. Those thoughts only lead to gibbering madness.
I grind my dick against her taut belly, my rough groping hands roaming over every inch of her body I can reach. She moans and writhes against me, eager for my touch. Fuck yes. I lift her with one hand under her glorious ass, her slight weight nothing to me now, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I turn toward the bed and lay her down on the blankets, following her down and pressing the underside of my cock against her wet folds.
“Anson, please,” she murmurs against my mouth, our breath mingling as her fingers tangle in my hair.
I pull away to look at her face, to see the stark need and tender affection in her black eyes. It pulls at my emotions, threatening to send them reeling out of control again as this strange amalgam of affection and angry resentment swirl around inside me. It’s too much and threatens the fleeting moment of sanity I’ve found. I can’t handle it without risking losing my mind again.
“Roll over,” I say as I rise onto my knees on the bed, my voice rough and demanding as I manhandle her onto her stomach. Maybe it will help if I can’t see her face.
I grab her hips and yank her up onto her knees, then press a hand between her shoulder blades until her cheek touches the mattress and her ass is in the air. I shudder as I breathe in the musky scent of her arousal and nothing has ever smelled better. Except for maybe my newfound obsession with the scent of blood, but I refuse to dwell on that disturbing thought. That’s a sure repeat trip to crazy-town.
I drag my fingers through her folds, marveling at how warm, soft, and wet she is. I search out her clit and swirl a fingertip over it, and I can hear her heart rate spike with arousal under my intimate touch. I work her until she’s moaning and wriggling on the verge of release, then back off, leaving her on the edge, wanting and unsatisfied.
She lets out a needy whine, but I ignore it, intent on getting some payback with orgasm denial. I find the opening to her core and thrust two fingers inside her, driving her toward another release with rough and brutal efficiency, only to stop once again when she’s about to come. I do it several more times in quick succession until she’s snarling and cursing at me in frustration, her fingers digging into the comforter. Then I grin at my handiwork with a dark satisfaction I would’ve found fucked up if I were still human.
I pull my fingers from her body and replace them with the head of my dick, swirling it through her wetness with a low groan. My need skyrockets, erasing all my intentions to continue tormenting her, and the next thing I know, I’m grabbing her hips and thrusting deep, deep inside her with a sudden snap of my hips. Ameera comes in the next instant, her pussy clenching like a fist around my cock, and the wave of ecstasy that sweeps through me is far beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. I haven’t even come yet and it’s too much for me, and I lose what little control I had over myself. My body takes over as I reel under the onslaught of pleasure, fucking into her fast and hard as she cries out with her continued release.
I’m nothing more than an animal after that, a mindless beast rutting into her again and again. My bloodlust rises with my need to come, and I pull Ameera up onto her knees as I continue driving into her with her back plastered to my front. I push her hair away from her neck with one hand, then open my mouth as my orgasm nears, ready to sink my fangs deep into her flesh and tear at her throat so I can drink every last drop of blood from her body as I come.
“Stop!” Ameera says, her rasping voice whip sharp.
Her command is irresistible, and I immediately still, despite the arousal and bloodlust driving me, with the tips of my aching fangs brushing her tender flesh and my entire body quaking with unquenched need. Frustration and rage ripple through me at being denied what I want, and I snarl in reply, unable to form words in the state I’m in.
“You can fuck me,” she continues. “But you will not feed from me until you’ve learned some control.”
I growl at her as I shove her upper body back down onto the mattress, then grip her hips and begin fucking her all over again. If I can’t feed my hunger for blood, then I’m sure as fuck going to feed the other lust driving me. I pound into her hard and fast and deep until the pleasure reaches its crest and my release pummels into me, flinging me into a mindless bliss that batters at my senses. I roar as it shudders through me, hurting as much as it feels good. Ameera follows on my heels, her pussy clenching around my dick and making it even more intense. So much so that my vision blackens around the edges and my consciousness wavers on the edge of oblivion. Nothing in all my life has ever felt so good and so overwhelming at the same damn time.
I’m not sure if I hate it or love it, and it mirrors how I feel about the woman beneath me.
I’m spent when my release wanes, and I collapse onto the bed next to Ameera’s sprawled body. I reach for her and pull her against me, spooning around her slight frame. I nuzzle my face into her hair, then slide my mouth down to the side of her neck and lick at her soft, fragrant skin. I can hear her blood pulsing beneath, but refrain from biting down only because of her earlier command not to feed on her. For now, my head feels like my own, but I can already feel the maelstrom of emotions gnawing at the edges of my temporary sanity. It won’t be long before I lose my shit again, and I fucking hate it.
“Does this mean you forgive me?” Ameera asks with an unmistakable hope. A hope that I can’t give her.
“No, it doesn’t,” I say, my voice flat and edged with a bitterness I don’t even try to hide as I cradle her in my arms. “And I don’t know if ever I can.”