Chapter 12 - Anson
12
ANSON
I spend the next hour or so of my newfound freedom sitting at the small wrought-iron table on the back patio, staring off into the night. I take in everything with my heightened senses, attempting to focus on something good in my new life, however small that might be. The weather is clear tonight, the stars above glittering more brilliantly than I’ve ever seen before since my vision is more vivid than it’s ever been now. My keen hearing picks up even the tiniest scurrying of the small creatures moving through the nearby trees that wrap around the property. I’d be able to enjoy it more though, if I knew Ameera wasn’t still holed up in her study after the shitty way I treated her earlier, and that I wasn’t hiding out here to avoid facing her.
Dre’s tirade is still at the forefront of my mind, as is Samuel’s advice. Yes, my magic is gone and the loss still hurts, but was it enough reason to end my life? Last night I felt so certain that it was the only solution. But now? I don’t know. I’d talk to Dre about it, but he took off after tearing me a new one, and Samuel went out to see his girlfriend, Brianna. The only person left in this house to talk to, besides a couple of guards roaming around the first floor, is the one I’ve hurt the most, and I’m struggling with how to fix things between us when I’m not even sure I can. But I’m no coward, and sitting here doing nothing won’t solve a damn thing. So I force myself to stand and walk back into the house, then make my way to Ameera’s study. I’m not sure what I’ll do or say to her when I get there, but I’m determined to try anyway.
I reach the closed door and decide not to knock. I’m sure she’s aware I’m out here, and I’ll know I’m not welcome if the door is locked. I turn the knob and sigh in relief when it twists in my hand, then open the door and step into the quiet room. The chair behind the massive desk that sits in front of me is empty, as are the chairs set in front of it. I step farther into Ameera’s study and glance around to find her sitting in the cushioned window seat off to the far left side of the room with a book in her hands. She ignores me and keeps reading, her eyes scanning down each page in a matter of seconds before she turns to the next. Huh. Who knew speed reading was yet another vampiric power? The book I’d attempted to read the other day had only given me something to fixate on. I never got past the first few pages as I sat and examined the paper’s texture and the ink pressed into it. I enjoyed reading in my former life. I just never had the time. But I guess running out of time to read isn’t something I have to worry about anymore. Especially if I can plow through books at an insane pace like that. I glance at the book’s cover and notice she’s reading Wuthering Heights. I haven’t read the classic novel since high school, but I remember the tragic way the passionate yet destructive love between the two main characters ended. I grimace, wondering if it’s a bad sign that she’s reading it.
“Ameera-” I begin.
“If you’re here to be a cunt again,” she says, cutting me off without even looking up from her book, “then you can piss off.”
Ouch. But I deserved that. I’ve been treating her like shit for days. What else should she expect? I step closer and study her. Her dark hair is in tangles, and her silk suit is rumpled and water-stained. Her face is drawn and her expression one of sad resignation. I’ve never seen her look so disheveled and defeated. I think about what Dre told me, how Ameera risked her life to save me when I tried to end mine, and I have a sudden flash of memory, of pain and the scent of burning flesh, of Ameera’s broken sobs as she clung to me. She was willing to sacrifice everything to save me, her life early this morning and even our relationship when she turned me. Dre asked me what I would’ve done in her position? The answer is simple, now that I’m not blinded by my angry resentment. I would’ve done whatever it took to save her, moved heaven and earth to ensure she stayed alive, no matter the cost. Even if it meant she ended up hating me.
Fuck me. I really am a clueless and ungrateful asshole. I don’t even know where to begin to make it up to her, let alone apologize and convince her it’s sincere. Words don’t seem like they’ll be enough. I guess it’s time to show her with actions instead.
I walk up to her, then gently take the book from her and set it aside. “Come shower with me,” I say as I hold my hand out to her.
“I’m done letting you use sex as a weapon against me,” she says as she glares up at me.
The pain in her eyes makes me feel even worse about myself, even more so than her anger. I have so much to make up for, but I can’t if she won’t even give me the chance.
“That’s not what this is about,” I tell her as I hold her gaze.
My God, she’s so fucking beautiful, inside and out. How the hell did I allow my anger and resentment to blind me to my love for her? Before I was murdered and turned, I’d been so in love with her, so eager to start our life together. How did I lose sight of that so quickly? I want that feeling back.
“Let me take care of you,” I say.
I wait as she looks down at my hand and then back up at my face again, studying me for a long moment that seems to go on forever. Then, ever so slowly, the tension in her body eases and her eyes soften with an inkling of hope. She sighs, then reaches up to put her hand in mine. Then I pull her to her feet and lead her out of the room.
I revel in how perfect her hand feels in mine, how soft her skin is against my palm, as we make our way through the house. Instead of going downstairs, I take her upstairs to the room where everything between us began. Where we shared our bodies for the first time and then shared our painful pasts with each other. I already loved her then, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it just yet.
I cross the room and enter the bathroom, eying the large glass-enclosed shower. It’s not as large and luxurious as the one in our daytime resting place, but there’s more than enough room for the two of us. I release Ameera’s hand, noting her wary expression as I open the shower door and reach inside to turn on the water. Then I focus all my attention on the breathtaking woman standing in front of me.
“May I undress you?” I ask, despite my hands itching to rip her clothes from her body so I can touch her. This has to be about her, not what I need. If she doesn’t want this, then it’s not going to happen.
She presses her lips together, then nods despite the uncertainty in her eyes. I smile and push her ruined suit jacket off her shoulders and it slides down her arms to the floor. I unfasten her pants and let them fall to pool around her feet, then help her step out of them. She lets me pull off her sky high stiletto pumps. Then she just stands there in her dark purple silk camisole and matching panties, staring at the wall behind me with her arms wrapped around herself, as if she’s guarding herself from me. I hate it.
I move closer, then reach out to touch her chin and tilt her face up toward mine. Her eyes are turbulent as she meets my gaze, but at least she isn’t pushing me away. I glide my fingers along her jawline and cup her face in my hand, then slide my thumb across her decadent lips. Nothing has ever felt so soft, and the need to kiss her overwhelms me so much that I can’t resist it.
I press my lips to hers with tender care, not taking and plundering like I have been since I was turned. I want to show her I’m trying to move past my anger and resentment toward her. After a few moments of my gentle exploratory kisses, she finally responds, and I sigh in relief, then deepen the kiss. I sweep my tongue over her lips and she parts them to let me in. Her luscious taste hits my tongue and my control wavers. I drop my hands to her waist and slip them under her camisole, gliding them up her torso and stopping just shy of her breasts. I groan at how smooth her silky skin is to my touch. Her heart rate spikes right along with mine, the rhythmic throbbing in perfect sync as we kiss for several long, giddy moments. I pull away before I end up taking things too far too soon, and she looks as dazed as I feel.
Eager for the next part of my plan, I ease the rest of Ameera’s clothes from her lithe body and shuck mine off as quickly as I can. Then I open the shower door and lead her inside. I wet her hair under the warm spray of water, trying hard not to gawk at her naked body, for fear I’ll lose my focus, then switch places with her and reach for the shampoo. I wash her hair, massaging her scalp as I work the lather into the thick strands with my fingers. Her eyes drift closed, and she even moans in pleasure a few times. I rinse her hair and apply the conditioner with the same hands-on treatment until she’s moaning my name this time. Good. I rinse that out, grinning in satisfaction at her until she opens her eyes and scowls at me. This one isn’t as hostile as the last one she gave me, so I consider it progress.
Then I turn my attention to the rest of her body. I grab the bottle of body wash and squirt some out onto my hand, then lather it up between my palms. I take her right arm and soap up her skin, working my way from her shoulder down to her fingertips. I give her other arm the same treatment, noting that her scowl has faded away at my ministrations. Then I allow myself to look at her breasts. I stare at them for a long time with the bottle of body wash lax in my hand, caught up in every little detail of her taut nipples and how perfectly I know they’ll fit in my hands. My mouth waters at the thought of suckling them, of scraping my teeth against her nipples as she writhes in pleasure, of sinking my fangs into the soft underside of one breast and drinking my fill of her sweet blood.
Ameera clears her throat, breaking me out of my fascination, and draws my attention to her face. She smirks, knowing full well I was fixated on her body instead of the task at hand. “Your fangs are showing,” she murmurs with heat in her eyes.
I avert my gaze and close my mouth to hide them as I set the bottle of body wash back where I found it, feeling confused and ashamed by my reaction. I shouldn’t be lusting after her body while thirsting for her blood at the same time. It’s fucked up, isn’t it?
Her eyes soften. “It’s normal for the lines to blur between sexual desire and bloodlust.”
“But I can’t glamour you to make it feel good,” I say. “And I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve done enough of that already.”
She lifts a hand and presses it to my chest, just over my heart, her lips quirking into a warm smile. “You sound like your old self, zem?r.”
I consider her words, then blink in amazement when I realize she’s right. I do feel more like myself right now than I have since being turned, even with the bloodlust riding me. Maybe I haven’t lost as much as I thought, and it gives me hope. I smile at her. “Good.”
She nods. “And as for hurting me?” she says, as she runs the sharp tips of her nails down toward my belly. “Who says I don’t like a little pain with my pleasure?”
I groan and shiver as I snatch up her hand before she can reach my hard and aching dick. “You’re distracting me from my purpose.”
“Which is?”
“Convincing you to forgive me for being such an infuriating asshole.”
Her smile fades as my attempt at a joke falls flat right along with the smidgen of hope I had. Have I fucked things up so much that it’s too late for us? I’m not sure how I feel about my immortality yet, but I know I don’t want to spend it without her.
“I don’t think either of us is ready for forgiveness just yet,” she says with a somber expression that scares the hell out of me. Then she glances down at our still clasped hands and threads her fingers with mine, reigniting my flagging hope before she meets my eyes again. “But we have all the time in the world to get there.”
She’s right. I may have compartmentalized them like she taught me to, but my anger and resentment are still there, even if they’re not overshadowing my love for her at the moment. How can I expect her to forgive me when I’m not ready to forgive her yet?
I nod and lift her hand to my lips and press them to her knuckles. “I’d still like to take care of you tonight.”
She smiles again. “I’d be a bloody fool not to let you.”
I pull her into my arms and kiss her again, and this time, neither of us eases into it. It turns hungry and desperate in an instant, our tongues delving deep and our bodies writhing together. Her soft wet skin feels incredible rubbing against mine and her taste so exquisite that a massive surge of lust hits me, battering my control over my emotions. I pull away from the kiss, panting as I shove them back behind the mental shields inside my psyche before they overwhelm me. Then I grin in triumph at Ameera while pride gleams in her eyes just before I kiss her yet again.
This time, when the lust ignites inside me, it doesn’t even come close to getting the best of me, and I embrace it. I let my hands roam over her body, unable to get enough of her as I touch every inch of skin that I can reach. When that’s not enough, I step forward, pushing Ameera backwards until she reaches the tiled wall. Then I grab her hips and lift her, ending our kiss as I slide her upwards as if she weighs nothing until her thighs are on my shoulders and her pussy is right in front of my face. I look up at her, grinning as she grips my hair for support, then I bury my mouth in her sweetness.
When I was human, I thought the taste of Ameera’s pussy was the best I ever had. But this right here? Damn. Nothing comes close to how sweet and intoxicating her flavor is to me now, except for maybe the taste of blood. I lick and suck every inch of her, drinking in her wetness like a desperate, starving man. I delve deep with my tongue, coaxing more and more of her honey from her body, unable to get enough. Then I focus in on her clit and drive her to a brutal climax that has her calling out my name and her body convulsing above me as a fresh burst of her wetness coats my chin and neck, and I drink it down. I think I could spend the rest of the night with my face between her thighs and be happy, but my poor, aching dick has been neglected long enough.
I slide her limp body back down the wall, then kiss her deeply as she wraps her legs around my waist. I use one hand to hold her up, then notch my cock at her entrance with the other. I ease myself inside her; the head parting her soaked lips and sliding into her body, both of us moaning at how good it feels. I take my time, closing my eyes and enjoying each exquisite inch as I fill her up until eventually my pelvis touches hers and we’re one.
“Anson,” she says, her voice slurred with lust.
I open my eyes to meet hers, and suspect mine are just as blacked out and glazed over as hers are right now.
“Ameera,” I reply, and yes, I sound drunk too.
I step away from the wall and lift Ameera until only the head of my dick is still inside her. Then I bring her back down in another slow glide that feels so good it has her eyes rolling back in her head and my entire body shuddering. I do it again and again, awed by the vampiric strength that allows me to lift Ameera repeatedly like this, as if she weighs nothing.
Ameera sinks her fingers into my hair and pulls, the bite of pain only adding to my pleasure. I pick up the pace, eager for her to fall apart in my arms before I follow after her. She cries out every time I plunge into her over and over again. Her body tenses as she approaches her release, and I thrust harder, deeper, battling my own threatening orgasm. She will come first, damn it. And then finally, she throws her head back and shouts my name as she orgasms in my arms, her channel clenching tight around me. I keep fucking her, driving her pleasure higher, wanting to give her everything I can to make this good for her.
Her hands move to my shoulders, and she claws at my skin. The bright spark of pain is all it takes to topple my control. I thrust into her body one last time and my release crashes into me. I pull her against me, pleasure coursing through me in waves as I empty myself into her. Along with the pleasure comes a surge of bloodlust that I can’t resist. Without a conscious thought, I burrow my face against her neck and sink my fangs into her soft skin.
Ameera’s pussy clamps down on me and she lets out a wail that echoes around the room as she shudders against me. I drink deeply from her throat, and her taste is utter perfection and makes me come even harder. It goes on and on until I’m spent, staggering forward until I’m using the wall to hold us both up. I pull my fangs from her throat and lick the small wounds as she shivers with aftershocks until they heal over. Then I lean back and look at her face, grinning at her dazed and satisfied expression, feeling downright giddy myself in my post blood/orgasm haze. Our gazes lock and she smiles back at me as warm affection floods my mind, and I can’t contain it.
“I love you,” I tell her, our bodies still joined. “That hasn’t changed.”
“I love you too,” she replies, and then I kiss her with every ounce of passion I can muster. No matter what I’ve lost, I’m grateful I still have Ameera.
By the time we break the kiss, I’m already hard and ready to go again, a feat I never would’ve managed if I was still human. Huh. I guess I’ll add that to my growing list of reasons that being a vampire might not be so bad after all.