Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
The world grew dark and hazy, and then with a shock, I felt his lips against mine, his breath, and then his blood on my tongue. Sweet burning. It was mine. All of him was mine.
I rolled over on him, aware of the stickiness of my blood smearing between us.
I shouldn’t get him so disgusting. Most people didn’t want to be rolling around in blood, but when I tried to pull away, he grasped the back of my head and held me against the inside of his elbow, where my fangs were attached.
“Drink, my sweet love. Drink, or you will die.”
Angel blood would also kill me, but it would be a sweet death. And sweet love? Why would he call me that? Someone else must be watching. I should drink him for our cover. Or because otherwise I’d die. Our cover was a worthier cause.
He held me tight, but I was losing too much blood.
I couldn’t heal fast enough, not when my heart was still burning, bleeding.
I drank and drank until I lost consciousness, and didn’t wake up for a long time.
It wasn’t hibernation; it was general unconsciousness from my body’s need to regenerate. Hibernation was from too much blood.
I opened my eyes and there was my angel, bent over me, eyes bloodshot, scowl terrifying. His pulse beat erratically in his throat. How many days had it been? His beard had started to grow in, so it had been some time.
“Why did you let them almost kill you?” he asked, voice even, but there was rage in his eyes.
I raised a hand and touched his beautiful face. “Did the cake get crushed?”
He turned his head, kissed my palm and then returned to scowling, only even more dark and foreboding. “What cake is so important to protect? Is it more important than your life?”
I stroked his cheek, then his mouth where his bottom lip was so silky and beautiful. “I’ve never made a cake before. It’s for your birthday.”
He stared at me, death and darkness shifting in his eyes. “You made me a cake for my birthday? Happy birthday to me, you almost died?”
“Happy birthday to you I made you a cake. I didn’t almost die. It was fine.”
He leaned close enough that our noses touched. “No, it wasn’t fine, Louisa. You can’t fight off a dozen men while holding a cake.”
For a moment I just stared into the reaper’s eyes. He’d called me Louisa, like I was a human, like I was alive, and that I mattered.
I cleared my throat. “It’s not the best situation, but I was worried that someone would step on it. Kesti’s cake box isn’t as sturdy as it could be.”
“Kesti? Who is Kesti?”
“The fairy girl who taught me how to make cake. Did it get crushed?”
He hesitated and then sighed and left me to retrieve the round, blue-and-white striped box. “Here is your cake.” He knelt beside the bed. “But I don’t think you should have cake. I think you need blood.”
I nodded and tried to sit up. He held me down with one hand on my chest, scowling at me again.
“What are you doing?”
“I was going to get a blood bag.”
“You are going to drink from my other arm. I don’t want to get lopsided. I thought you would take at least as much as last time, but you drank hardly any blood at all.”
“Your blood is angelic.”
“And goblin. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to take more of your blood. I already did that once.”
He leaned over me and kissed me, slow, sweet, irresistible. When he pulled away, his eyes were intent, impossible to resist. “You’re going to drink my blood while we snuggle in bed.”
He was too sweet, and I was too weak. I didn’t have any negative consequences after the last time, and this time I wouldn’t take as much. Just a bit to make him feel better about this situation, his partner getting injured again. But…
“I’m still covered in blood. So are you.” I winced when I saw how much of my blood was on him, particularly his face.
“Do you want to drink from my arm or my neck?”
“Neither. Get me a blood bag if you don’t want me to get up.”
“You need warmth as well as blood. You’re getting it from me. That’s what I want from you for my birthday, for you to drink my blood and recover quickly. Please, Ruby.”
“You don’t want my cake?” My heart trembled with misery before he grabbed my hand and pressed a hard kiss to the back of it.
“I want your cake. I’ll eat the cake while you drink my blood. It’ll be perfectly perfect.”
“Is it your birthday?” My whole body was aching weirdly. Numb and tingling, like it wasn’t sure if it was dead or alive.
“It passed while you were unconscious. Please. Let me hold you while you drink from me.” His eyes were so sincere and beautiful.
I wrapped my arms around him and then carefully bit his neck, making sure not to tear any of his precious skin.
His blood wasn’t as sweet. No, it was sweet, but his feelings were part of what I was feeding on, and feeding on blind love was much sweeter than miserable desperation.
It reminded me of the way I’d felt when David got sick, when the doctor said he wasn’t going to make it, running out into the cold night to find a way around death.
Was Gavriel really playing his part so well? No. You couldn’t fake emotions that you transferred to your blood, your life essence. Was he actually becoming attached to me, like I was fixated on him?
He wrapped his arms around me and held me so tenderly, pressing kisses to my hair, feeding me his warmth, his life, through his sheer will. But I wasn’t alive. Why wasn’t I alive?
I drowned in his blood, in his misery, feeling it echo inside of me, feelings that I thought I’d dealt with a century ago. Apparently, ignoring emotions and going numb were not the same as actually processing them.
I lay in his strong arms, feeding slowly until the weirdness of my body was healed by his blood. It seemed like his will was involved, but I couldn’t tell.
I woke up from another hibernation, but this time, he wasn’t ironing my shirt. He was still wrapped around me, dried blood sticking him to me.
I was so happy.
I was also incredibly miserable. He actually had feelings for me. I’d drunk his misery, and he was still holding onto me, past the point anyone would need to do for a cover.
“You lied,” I said.
He tightened his grip on me, the scent of nerves and relief heavy on his skin. “In the bed. Is that a problem? You wanted to feed standing upright? I’m afraid your blood leaked out of you more in that position.”
“About eating the cake while I fed. Was it crushed?”
He pulled away, but we weren’t stuck as much as I’d expected. Probably because he moved even when he was sleeping. Because he was alive, and I was not.
“The cake is fine. It’s in the refrigerator in the box, which is spelled to maintain freshness.”
“I need to return her cake box,” I murmured, but I was looking into his glorious eyes, feeling things too strong to bear.
I needed to protect him, but I also wanted him to protect me.
I wanted him to love me and adore me with every beat of his heart and every bone in his body.
I wanted to make him the axis of my world upon which I spun, always turning towards him.
And he had feelings for me. Why did he have feelings for me? I was a murderous vampire, and he liked angelic musicians.
He touched my face, my lips, brushing his thumb against a fang.
Oh. I’d fed on him twice. That’s where his attachment was coming from. Feeding on angels was addictive, and being fed on by vampires was addictive. We were in the middle of a truly unhealthy relationship.
“We’ll return the cake box together.” His growl sent a shiver down my spine. Other than that one shiver, I was mostly warm, comfortable soaking in his love and soul. I was feeding on his love like I’d fed on his blood. I couldn’t do that, or I’d be a real monster.
He needed to give me distance, and that meant that I had to destroy his love before it destroyed him. I swallowed hard. “His name was David.”
His forehead wrinkled. “The men who attacked you? You knew them?”
I shook my head and felt so sick. “When I was alive, I worked at a bookstore, my mother’s, but she died and it went to the bank, was bought by another…
I still worked there, and it was a good position for a woman of that time.
David came into the shop looking for a book of poetry.
I don’t remember if it was Keats or Longfellow.
But we talked for an hour. He came to the bookstore more and more often until he asked me to go to dinner with him. ”
“Why are you telling me this? It hurts you. You don’t have to—”
I covered his soft mouth with my hand and shook my head.
“We were so in love, at least, I thought it was both of us. He was my first love, my only love. That love burned brighter and brighter with each passing day until I was on fire with it. He was the only thing I wanted, and he seemed to want me too, but then he got sick.”
I swallowed hard, and he kissed my hand, eyes communicating concern I wouldn’t let him speak. He cared about me. Why would he be so foolish? No, I understood foolish attachment better than anyone.
“I’d heard about the demon that lived in the old, crumbling mansion outside of town.
I’d even seen him a few times. He’d seemed polite, didn’t cause trouble, at least nothing anyone could really pin on him.
I went to see him after the last doctor visit, where he told me that I needed to say my goodbyes.
Instead, I got my coat and scarf. It was a blue coat, the color of the sky in spring.
My scarf was pink. David gave me my scarf. ”