VII
Disdain
A distant discomfort at the back of my neck pulled me from sleep. It started as part of my dream, Viktor's nails biting into my skin as he and I tangled in the sheets. But it continued to build until I blinked away the sleep from my eyes.
"What the hell?" I sat up in bed, squinting at the curtains that I had forgotten to close. The sun was high in the sky, the thick, dark clouds telling me that it was going to be another cold day. I ran my fingers through my knotted hair, pushing it from my face as I threw my feet over the side of the bed. The floor was cold. I sucked air through my teeth as my soles made contact with the floorboards. There was a fluffy carpet at the end of the bed, and I glowered over at it, wondering why the room hadn't been decorated with the carpet under the bed instead.
I knew the pain I felt in my neck and shoulder was from the intense night I had and the fact that I had slept so well meant I had stayed in the same position all night. I tilted my head to the side, stretching the tight muscles, moaning at the painful pull. Ignoring the ache, I raced across the room, almost jumping on the toilet to avoid the cold floor. Thank God my uncle and aunt were rich enough to have bathrooms in all of the guest rooms.
I relieved myself, hissing at the burn. I had never spent so much time cumming before, so I didn't expect to feel like this the next morning. I was almost adamant about swearing off of sex, but then the thought of Viktor's hard body towering over me had me thinking again.
I washed my hands in the sink, refusing to look in the mirror because I knew how terrible I looked in the morning. But the insistent stinging ache in my neck caused me to do a double take. I turned my body at an awkward angle, trying to position myself to see where the hurt was coming from. My eyes narrowed at the mark. There, on the spot where my shoulder and neck met, were teeth marks.
"Motherfucker," I swore, moving closer to the mirror to get a better look.
The bite was large, all teeth, leaving bruises where they connected with my delicate skin. But on the upper and lower portions of the bite mark where the incisors would be, they had actually pierced my flesh. The wounds were perfectly formed, showing how sharp his teeth must be, to tear into my flesh so smoothly.
Fuck, Callie, I was not expecting that, he had said. "No shit!" I was not expecting it either. How the hell was I meant to leave my room with this huge ass bite mark on my neck? Normal tops wouldn't cover it, I didn't bring any turtlenecks, and most of the marks would still show above the neck of my sweaters. "Motherfucker," I repeated, storming to my suitcase. My clothes were strewn all over the floor, as I had never been the tidy person who packed the suitcase away when they went on vacation.
At the bottom of the suitcase, almost the only thing remaining inside was the only scarf I brought. It was an emergency scarf, as I didn't own any, and mom had forced me to bring her spare, just in case. The house was heated, and the fireplace was always lit, so there was no way I would need to wear a scarf inside. And here I was, wrapping the stupid, oversized, discolored-used-to-be-cream scarf around my neck.
"Callie, dear?"
I jumped at Mom's voice filtering through the closed door. "Yeah?"
I had just finished fastening the scarf around my neck in a way that would stop it from being removed, even in a wind storm, when she opened the door a crack, peeking inside.
"I haven't seen you all day," she stepped further in, looking around as if she would find something dangerous inside that had kept me from appearing downstairs. "I was getting worried."
I ran my hand over the length of the scarf, worried she would see the bite marks underneath. "I slept in."
"Until two o'clock?" She raised an eyebrow.
I raised my own eyebrows, not expecting to be that late. "If I hadn't been forced to go out the other night, then maybe I wouldn't have gotten so drunk that I needed the extra rest."
"You usually don't need an excuse to drink."
I flung my hand up to my chest, feigning pain. "Ouch, Mom."
She cracked a slight smile, shaking her head. "Don't act so dramatic." She tossed something at me. "Now, put this on and come down to the living room."
I caught it before it hit me in the face. Turning over the knitted fabric, I inspected the sweater. Looking back up at Mom, I held it before me in question.
"Ugly Christmas sweaters and hot cocoa," she shrugged. "We're reviving an old Christmas tradition your father and uncle did in their youth."
"If I'd known sooner, maybe I could have packed my own sweater."
"Don't worry," she winked, "I picked this one for you before we left home." And with that, she was gone.
I groaned but shoved my head into the sweater anyway. Pushing my arms into the sleeves, I took a deep breath and tried to convince myself to follow Mom down the hall.
Laughter met me before I stepped into the living room. I paused just inside the room, leaning against the doorway as I watched my family. My father sat beside his brother, shoving him as they laughed over something they had done in their childhood. I couldn't help smiling at the interaction, bittersweet, wondering why life had caused them to drift apart for so long.
"There's a spot here for you, dear." Aunt Olivia patted the seat beside her.
I hesitated for only a moment when I noticed the space beside her was between her and Viktor. I looked over at him, his eyes dropping to the scarf that hid the bite he had so rudely given me. I glowered at him. He looked away, his face hard, and he refused to meet my eyes.
Fine, two of us can play at that game. I dropped down beside him, ignoring the pull my body felt toward him.
"Nice sweater," Lucas said, pulling my attention. He stood beside the fireplace, a steaming mug of cocoa in his hands.
Mom handed me a mug. I smiled at her in thanks, then eyed my cousin. Laughter bubbled out from my throat at just how ridiculous he looked. His sweater was red and green striped, and in the center were three large, brightly colored Christmas gifts, all tied off with real tinsel. "I could say the same about yourself."
"At least mine doesn't have a nose," he grinned, coming forward and leaning down to squeeze the tinsel ball that was the nose of a reindeer adorning my sweater. When he squeezed it, the nose lit up a bright red. "Okay, I see your point." I swatted his hand away, then took a sip of my cocoa. I moaned at the rich chocolatey taste, forgetting just how much I loved the stuff. Why do I choose coffee over this?
A startled cough from my periphery drew my attention. I looked over at Viktor, his hot cocoa dripping down his face and onto his own Christmas sweater. My eyes followed the spill, landing on the horrible acrylic fabric that covered him just as I took a sip. Another burst of laughter tore from me, spitting hot cocoa all over Viktor.
"What the hell are you wearing ?"
He scratched himself through the rough fabric, his eyes narrowing. He looked away again, his mouth hard. The sweater was green and looked as though it was made from an old, plastic Christmas tree. The whole thing was covered in it, and ornaments were stuck all over it. It looked itchy and uncomfortable and I loved seeing him squirm. That's what you get for pretending nothing happened between us. Not even a hello.
I watched him for a few moments. He worked his jaw, his eyes on the fireplace. I turned away from him, pretending that I hadn't spat my drink all over him, or just dampened my panties thinking about the hard look in his eyes.
I spent the rest of the day pretending to listen to my family, nodding when needed, laughing where seemed appropriate, and speaking when I thought they were getting suspicious about my silence. It was a long, uncomfortable few hours with the straight-backed man sitting beside me. When it seemed okay to leave, I hightailed out of there, needing the cold snow to clear my head. I could do nothing to get him out of my head, or the fact that his ignoring me hurt me so much.
You are weak.
"Fuck this," I muttered to myself as I ran from the room, everyone's eyes following me, and let the cold outdoors envelop me.