Arik
Chapter Eighteen
Istood in the dark hallway. My mind was a maelstrom of chaos and guilt, flickering like the light that attempted to illuminate the space around me.
Sam emerged from Claire’s room, and I could feel the frustration radiating off him as he closed the door gently with the click of the large metal lock sliding into place.
“I tried.” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper as he walked past me with nothing but an empty plastic bottle atop the tray.
At least she ate something and drank.
I did not respond to Sam as I watched him head up the stairs and toward the kitchen. My focus was entirely on Claire and the emotions seeping through the wooden door between us like sap.
After Claire’s fall, Sam had worked diligently to address her wounds.
I watched as his hands moved quickly to stop the bleeding, placing eighteen stitches in the gash right above her hairline on the left side of her face and another ten on the right, where her forehead had hit mine.
Sam assured me there was no fracture to her skull and that she would be fine.
Regardless, the sound of her head hitting the stone step echoed in my mind like pressing on a bruise.
I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, processing the whirlwind of Claire’s emotions that had surged through me over the past few minutes.
Fear, confusion, and a hint of defiance had all mingled in her.
I could still sense her anxiety as she sat on the bed, her fear slowly giving way to a deep confusion.
An hour passed. I heard her cross the room, her delicate steps pattering across the stone. My body refused to remain still as I paced down the hall every time she cried. And finally, I rested on the floor once more after she had calmed.
She was hurt. It was my fault. And there was nothing I could do.
Memories of the evening before crashed like waves in my mind. But just like every other time the hunger took over, the memories were engulfed in fog. All I could see was her face: shattered and terrified. The tears. Her head pulled back. Her body convulsing with fear against my bloodied hand.
Sam had pieced together the events for me.
He looked at his feet in disgust as he told me every awful thing I had done and said to her.
The first few hours she was unconscious, all I could do was pound my fists onto the cliffside as my screams filled the night air with anger—an anger that the crash of the waves could not muffle.
I rose from the floor with a deliberate slowness, every movement intentional as I approached Claire’s door.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and mentally steeled myself.
The door creaked softly as I opened it—slipping inside and closing it gently behind me.
The click of the doorknob echoed in the silent room, a stark reminder of the tension that hung between us.
Claire was still sitting on the bed, her eyes closed, her hand pressed against her forehead.
The sight of her vulnerable, exhausted, and confused pulled at me.
I knew I had to approach with care, but every step I took felt heavy, laden with the weight of what she had witnessed and the revelations I needed to share.
She spoke, her voiced laced with exhaustion and a tinge of irritation. “Sam, I thought you were going to let me rest?”
“I cannot,” I replied, my tone calm but resolute.
Her eyes snapped open, locking onto mine. Her body tensed, and I could feel her heart pounding faster. The fear in her gaze was palpable, and it tightened my chest.
I took a step forward, raising my hands above my shoulders in a gesture of peace as I moved toward the chair in the corner of the room. I scooted it as close to the far wall as I could, creating a safe space between us.
I spoke softly, hoping my words would bridge the gap. “I swear, I would never do anything to hurt you, Claire. I am so, so sorry.”
Claire remained motionless, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her mind was racing—trying to devise an escape plan, I was sure. I could sense her resolve wavering between fear and desperate hope.
I leaned forward in the chair, resting my elbows against my knees as my face fell into my palms. “I know you talked to Sam,” I began, trying to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding between us.
Her voice was tinged with sarcasm, but beneath it lay a raw vulnerability. “Yes, your manservant came in and talked you up very nicely.”
My eyes lifted to her as I spoke. “I know you do not understand yet, but there are things you do not know. I can tell you with confidence that you are supposed to be here, and we are meant to be together.”
Claire stared deeply into my eyes; her brows stitched together as her face twisted with sadness. “Do a lot of women not come through here? I’m confused as to how we’ve spent a few days together and you’re so convinced of all this?”
I stood up and took a step toward her, the distance between us shrinking as I spoke. “I can explain if you would like.”
Claire’s eyes were intense, fixed on the shrinking space between us as she sat silently.
“There’s a belief,” I said slowly, “that we only get one person.” I watched her, letting the silence settle before continuing.
“You know it is them because something in you just…recognizes it. The scent is overwhelming, like it was made for you. And when you look into their eyes, you see something no one else can.” I hesitated, then added softly, “Gold. Flecks of it, like light catching on water. But only for you.”
Claire’s eyebrow arched in skepticism, her tone questioning. “I don’t see gold flakes in your eyes.”
“You’re not a vampire,” I explained gently. “If you were, you would.”
Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned her head back, her body sinking into the bed.
“I caught your scent before you ever stepped into the hotel. I followed it. Found you. And when I saw your eyes…” I took a slow step closer, gaze locked on hers. “That was the moment everything changed. Since then, it is like something inside me woke up, and it only moves when you are near.”
My voice darkened as I spoke again. “This is not longing. It is a need. And when you are not close, it feels like being torn apart from the inside out.”
I took another step. Controlled. I did not blink. “You do not understand yet, but you will. You are mine.”
“This is crazy, you know that, right?” Claire’s laugh was hollow, laced with disbelief.
“Maybe for you. I have been waiting for this for hundreds of years. I thought the idea of a vampire finding their one true love was just a myth, a folk tale.” I allowed a smile to tug at my lips, shaking my head in wonder. “But that changed. I found out the truth about seven years ago.”
STOP.
NOT. YET.
I glanced down at the three feet separating us, the distance feeling insurmountable yet necessary. “May I?” I asked, my voice soft.
Claire’s brow furrowed as she stared at me in silence, her uncertainty evident.
I gently began to sit on the bed, continuing, “I’ve had literally hundreds of opportunities to do whatever I wanted with you, and you’re still alive.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “For now. Barely.”
I closed my eyes, nodding my head in acceptance of her anger—acceptance that she was not entirely wrong. I whispered, “Claire, when the hunger takes over. I am…I am a beast. I accept that.”
I paused, pressing my hand to my forehead and taking a breath before continuing, “I know it makes absolutely no difference, but I do not remember last night. Sam told me everything. I cannot imagine how you felt.”
Claire quipped, “Like I was going to die.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You broke me, Arik. You broke us.”
Her words cut through me like a knife as I struggled to breathe.
“I know I did. And I will spend as much time as it takes to make it right.” I stopped, then looked deep into her tear-filled eyes, my voice calm.
“But let me make myself perfectly clear. In no world would my hunger have overpowered me enough to kill you. That would be the equivalent of my clawing my heart from my chest.”
Claire sat still as her tears began to dry, a statue of apprehension and curiosity.
I reached out, brushing my thumb gently across her hairline. “Does it hurt?”
Her eyes closed at my touch, her response weak. “Yes. Very much so.”
I felt a pang of regret.
“You…looked so angry,” she stammered, her voice trembling slightly.
As Claire closed her eyes again, I slid closer, my body pressed against hers. I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her gently but firmly toward me. Claire gasped, startled by my strength on full display. Her eyes locked with mine as my hand stroked her back with a tender touch.
“I just want this,” I murmured.
Claire spoke, her voice soft, edged with resignation as she stared into the distance. “All those times you asked me to stay here—I never had a choice, did I?”
“I wanted you to make the decision on your own. I still do,” I replied, my voice earnest.
I looked at her hairline, still stained with blood, and rose from the bed. I could feel her nerves rising as I made my way to the en-suite bathroom. The lights came on with a hum as I flipped the switch, illuminating the stark white room.
Claire called, “Arik, what are you doing?” as my hands adjusted the knobs of the bathtub slowly until the perfect temperature was reached.
My voice carried over the sound of the water filling the porcelain tub. “You have blood in your hair. You need a bath.”
I stood up and made my way back to the bedside, feeling her nerves crash as she pulled her knees to her chest. I kept my voice low and soothing as I brushed her arm.
“I understand how you feel. If you would like, I can come in after you have entered the bath—but I would prefer you did not try to wash your hair yourself, given the stitches.”
Claire pressed her fingers to her head again, wincing as she nodded.
I took a few steps away from the bed to give her space and watched as she entered the bathroom, gently closing the door behind her. Minutes later, she called for me, “You can come in now, Arik.”
Claire’s knees were pulled against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them as I entered the steamy bathroom. I grimaced as she looked at me, her eyes wide with fear and helplessness as she struggled not to look away.
“Now,” I said as I looked toward the wall, positioning my body to look at her back for her privacy, “you are the boss. I am here to serve you.”
Claire nodded as I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, followed by the legs of my pants.
I took a step into the tub and settled on the ledge behind her.
I grabbed the hand-held nozzle, turning the water on slowly and testing the temperature against the skin of my arm.
Water rolled down her hair as she lifted her chin to the ceiling.
Every ounce of my being wanted to lift her chin myself, but I was desperately trying to keep her calm and feeling safe.
Blood spread across the water like ink as I rinsed her hairline, trying my best to shield her stitches with my available hand. I took my time working in shampoo, massaging her scalp in slow circles before moving my thumbs to long pulling strokes at the nape of her neck.
Claire moaned, her back straightening as she abruptly stopped herself.
I chuckled. “It is okay if you enjoy that. It just means I am doing a good job, and I am not opposed to a little praise right now.”
Claire’s voice came out low. “You don’t deserve any praise right now.” She paused. “But you are doing a good job.” A stretch of silence followed before she whispered, “Thank you.”
Warmth filled my chest as I looked to the ceiling, smiling to the heavens as if I was thanking God.
I methodically rinsed her hair and worked in the conditioner, massaging her again.
This time, my hands wandered to her shoulders until she let out a gasp.
Her once-relaxed body was now tense as I moved the hair that covered her back, revealing purple and blue streaks the stone steps of the stairs had left across her pale skin.
I breathed out, “Fuck.”
Claire tensed as she spoke. “Is it that bad?”
I paused, moving her hair back, unable to stomach the sight. I returned my fingers to her scalp, moving in slow circles again as I attempted to calm her. “I am so sorry, Claire.”
She moved her hand to my calf as she rested her cheek against her knee, her tears coming once more.
I could not stop myself as I slid my body into the tub behind her.
Water sloshed over the edges and onto the cold floor below as the water drenched my clothing.
I wrapped my arms around Claire, pulling her into my torso.
Just as I was expecting her body to stiffen and fight me, she relaxed against my chest, the back of her head resting against my collarbone as her forehead pressed against my jaw.
Her arms wrapped around mine as I pressed a soft kiss against her head and whispered, “I love you, Claire.”
Claire nodded and let out an exhale, closing her eyes. And then she fell asleep, there in my arms, in the bath.
Mine.