Chapter 24 Desire
Chapter twenty-four
Desire
Adriana
The delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee stirred Adriana from her sleep.
She couldn't ignore the peaceful feeling that had grown over the last few days in Xander’s cottage.
Though she hated to admit it, she slept so much better wrapped in the sheets that smelled like him.
But she knew that at some point, whether today or tomorrow or in the weeks to come, she would have to go back to the real world, and all of this would feel like a dream.
And she wanted to keep it as a dream, she didn’t want to mix the serenity of life in the cottage with the cruelty of reality.
Realising her clothes were still in the washing machine in the kitchen, she decided to raid through Xander’s instead.
Searching through the top drawer, she found an old book, its leather cover battered and worn.
She had seen it before, she realised, years ago when she would watch Xander scribbling away before hiding it from her prying eyes.
She knew it was wrong to snoop, but curiosity got the better of her, as it often always had, and as she flicked through the pages, she was met with countless drawings of herself.
She recognised the style of his work, the similar shading and lines to the drawings in Striga’s Tales of Daemonium.
The drawings on the first few pages were almost lifelike, a perfect mirror of the person she had once been.
As she continued, she found more and more had been left unfinished.
It was impossible for Xander to forget her face, his Manipuli power meant he could never forget a single thing. He had chosen not to finish them.
Stuffing the book back in the drawer, Adriana fought back the tears that threatened to spill, refusing to ponder on what the unfinished drawings meant.
She opened another drawer and pulled out one of his shirts, biting her lip as she contemplated whether she should wear it.
With a huff she pulled it on; it fell to her mid thigh and she had to roll up the sleeves a few times, but it would have to do for the morning.
As she padded through the living room to the kitchen, her bare feet sinking into the soft rugs, she saw the sofa was still rumpled from where Xander had slept.
He had stayed on that uncomfortable sofa every single night, but she’d noticed he always kept the living room door open, even though she kept the bedroom’s closed.
They’d spent the last couple of days sitting on the porch of Xander’s cottage, talking through her experiences since her rebirth.
He hadn’t made her reach for her light, hadn't even mentioned it. Instead, he’d listened to her stories and only spoken when she’d struggled to continue.
But what had started as an unconscious glow in her fingertips had slowly begun to spread across her palms. Her light was there, she could feel it, but it was still too weak to be of use to anyone.
She felt like she was starting from rock bottom all over again, and often allowed herself to feel defeated before she’d even talk.
But Xander fought for her—just as he had all those years ago, he brought that fight out of her.
Only this time he didn’t decide to do so by royally pissing her off, something he had always been uniquely talented at, he just listened.
He still seemed to understand how to keep her balanced more than she did.
Even after all this time, he knew her, he knew what she needed.
Adriana knew he needed to help her for his own reasons, too.
He clearly hated himself for what he did, had never forgiven himself and likely never would, even though it wasn’t truly him.
She knew the toll it had taken on him. She could see it in the way she often found him staring at her, the mixed emotions of longing and heartbreak in his eyes, and sometimes the disbelief that she was really there.
She wanted to be there for him, but she couldn’t yet. Even if he would let her, she couldn’t take on the added weight of his despair, not while she was working tirelessly to come to terms with her own.
As Adriana rounded the corner to the kitchen, she found Xander dressed in a black t-shirt and joggers. He stood at the counter, his back to her as he poured two mugs of coffee.
“Good morning,” he called out. “Seems like we both slept in a little later than usual.”
His voice was raspy and thick with sleep, his words slow and deliberate, as if he savoured each and every one.
It was the same voice that had whispered sweet nothings in her ear for hours on end, the same voice that carried the weight of love and desire, the same huskiness that made Adriana’s toes curl.
Xander’s voice was still the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.
“What’s so funny?” she asked at the sound of his soft chuckle.
Xander shook his head, picking up the mugs and turning round to her, “Nothing, it’s just nice to know that…”
He stopped as his eyes drank in her appearance. Adriana noticed his grip on the mugs tightened as he stared at her from across the kitchen.
He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as he replaced his shock with his usual mask of calmness and handed her one of the mugs of coffee.
She thanked him and took a sip, humming at the bitterness on her tongue as she sat on the sofa and tucked her legs to the side.
It seemed to help subside the burn in her throat, but she knew it was only a matter of time until her bloodlust would appear.
They had run out of bottles two days ago, but it wasn't the bottled blood she wanted. She needed to feed. Properly.
“Didn’t feel like wearing your own clothes today?”
Adriana looked up to see Xander leaning back against the counter, one hand gripping onto the side as if he was struggling to hold himself up or, most likely, to hold himself back. His eyes continued to roam her body as he brought his mug to his lips.
She smirked to herself, listening to the sound of Xander’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “I wanted something a bit more comfortable. I didn’t think you’d complain.”
“Believe me, I’m not.”
They sat in silence for a while, just staring at one another.
She noticed his clothes were crumpled, his curly hair was messy with sleep, his feet bare as one of them tapped on the stone slabs of the kitchen floor.
His eyes had brightened over the last few days, he didn’t look as tired, despite how uncomfortable the sofa looked to sleep on and the fact she hadn’t seen him drink anywhere near as much blood as she had.
He’d shaved a couple of times since they’d arrived, but his beard was longer than usual again.
He looked relaxed, at ease, and, rather reluctantly, she thought he looked gorgeous.
“If only you could read my mind,” he murmured, as he drank his coffee.
Adriana stiffened. No, he hadn’t given her that gift, he’d only given her his darkness.
She stared at the woods outside the kitchen window that faced away from the lake. She knew the stable barn had been behind those trees, the same barn that she had frequently visited to see Jonathon before it had become her hiding spot with Xander.
She had never forgotten him, she couldn’t. Not just because they’d been friends throughout their childhood, but because he was her first kill. Jonathon’s was the first blood she had tasted as a Lamia. His was the first life she had stolen.
There weren’t many lives on her conscience, she’d always managed to have impeccable control when she fed from people.
In fact, other than Jonathon, the only people she’d ever killed were those who wanted to hurt her, or to hurt Divina’s descendents, and she didn’t mourn their lives when she took them.
But she mourned Jonathon, she could never forgive herself for that.
“I should have been there,” Xander whispered in reply to her unspoken thoughts. “I should have been the one to help you. I could have helped you through your first frenzy. I could have stopped you from hurting him. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for anything.”
Adriana placed her mug on the coffee table, swinging her legs round so her feet were flat on the floor in an attempt to ground herself, to keep her from breaking down.
She usually hated the feeling of him inside her head, but she was glad for it now, glad she didn’t need to voice any of her racing thoughts out loud.
“If I had known you were alive, if I’d known any of it, I would have done everything I could to help you, Adriana. I would have burnt the entire fucking world down for you, and anyone who ever hurt you with it.”
“What if that included you?” Adriana asked quietly, her hands scratching at the edges of the sofa as her legs shook.
Xander slowly walked over and knelt down in front of her.
His warm hands stroked up her calves before coming to rest on her knees, gently stopping her restless shaking legs.
She froze at his touch, at his closeness.
This was the most contact they’d had outside of training, previously only touching hands or brushing past one another in the kitchen when they cooked in the evenings.
His eyes bore into hers as he spoke, “Then I would gladly burn for you, my Lux.”
Adriana’s breath hitched in her throat as he reached a hand slowly towards her and wiped the tear from her face. His fingers lingered on the small scar on her cheek, before they trailed down to her neck and stroked the large silver bite mark.
Xander’s brows furrowed, his eyes wandering to the other scars she’d left on display. This was the first time she had ever allowed him to really see the marks she bore from his attack. And she could feel a strange warmth bloom beneath every scar as his eyes met it.