Chapter 33 #2
He groaned with pleasure as I sank slowly onto his shaft. When he dropped his head back and shut his eyes, I licked and then sucked his corded neck. My pleasure and thirst were all that I could see now. Everything else had faded to black.
“Can I take a bite?”
“Mmmhmm.”
I sank my teeth into his neck, and Tyrone groaned in ecstasy. All my senses filled with pleasure at once, everything I needed, and wanted.
For Christmas, I wanted Santa.
It wasn’t just pleasure; it was control and power. This strong, sexy man was between my thighs, his life in my hands, and I liked it.
I was myself, in my element, riding Tyrone, my pleasure escalating as I quenched a thirst that I hadn’t satisfied since I’d been in this state.
After living off of coconut water and No Fear Bloodshot, Tyrone’s blood was giving me life. Tyrone moving inside of me while I swallowed his blood in gulps. I couldn’t feel anything but pleasure, my failures and worries fading. Face to the wind, and flying high off of a proper diet, I was alive.
“I want you, Tyrone. I want to be together,” I said between gulps, blood running down my chin, my body throbbing around him with pleasure. I didn’t ever want to be alone again.
Just then, a knock sounded on the door, and a sweet voice said, “Hey, guys, you ready for me?”
I shut my eyes and groaned in quiet despair.
Tyrone cleared his throat. “Um, just a minute.” He mouthed, “Get your clothes on.”
“What are you guys…?” Jessica started to make a joke about us screwing in the exam room, but when she was met with dead silence, she exhaled. “Are you two serious?”
“One second!” I called. All the pleasure and anticipation of a moment ago evaporated in a split second. We scrambled to pull our clothes back on, and then I opened the door and smiled. With my haze of bloodlust gone, the exam room looked a lot more like a regular exam room, sterile and very unsexy.
“I’ll be back in one minute. For fuck’s sake, please fix your clothes by then.”
“Transformers, assemble,” I said in a goofy voice.
“What? Transformers?” My dumb reference officially broke the mood of panic, and Tyrone said, “You’re using that reference wrong.”
“Really?” I had been more focused on Chris Hemsworth than the plot. I laughed. “I can’t believe we did that!”
He laughed. “It was your idea.”
As promised, Jessica walked back into the room a moment later. She looked at us like we were naughty children. “I swear to God,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“It’s fine. But what’s that on your chin?” she asked, looking concerned. “Did you cut yourself?”
I wiped a trickle of blood away with my sleeve.
She gestured to the blood on Tyrone’s neck. It was beginning to stain the collar of his T-shirt. “Tiffany, I thought you were the one who needed help?”
“Oh, dear,” I said.
Jessica put her hands on her hips and looked back and forth between us. “What is going on here?”
There was nothing to be done. I had to glamour her, or at least try to. It’s not like I could make the situation any worse.
I stood to my full height, slightly shorter than Jessica, and took her hands in mine. With all my focus gathered into a pinpoint of energy, I looked into her eyes.
“Why are you holding my hands?” She looked down at our joined hands in confusion, then back up at us. It seemed like she was more weirded out by the spontaneous hand-holding than Tyrone’s bleeding neck. Typical ER nurse.
I smiled reassuringly and continued staring into her eyes, forging a connection.
In what I hoped was a hypnotic voice, I said, “Nothing happened. We were waiting for you.” To explain our state of dishabille, I said, “I was partway into a paper gown, and Tyrone—”
“What?” I could see her struggle with my explanation.
“Cut himself shaving earlier. While we were making out, the wound reopened.”
She looked at us, our clothes partially undone, Tyrone with blood dripping down his neck. The worry lines between her brows softened and she blurted out a laugh. “You guys are full of shit, but whatever.”
It definitely wasn’t a full glamour, but it was enough.
Tyrone angled his chin down to examine the trickle of blood, then looked to me with a question in his eyes.
Jessica cleaned Tyrone’s neck and examined two neat holes. “This is the second neck wound you’ve brought in this month, Tiffany.”
“Let’s hope it’s the last,” I said, with true feeling.
“So Tyrone said you passed out…” She swabbed his neck with a pad soaked in alcohol. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was very upset,” I said. I didn’t add that I was upset because at the time I had wanted to drain Tyrone.
“Were you scared? Tyrone mentioned that you were bothered by—”
Tyrone interrupted. “I killed a coyote in front of her. The one that attacked Mr. Jarvis.”
“Eww, Tyrone!” She glared at him. “What is the matter with you?”
“I’ll explain later,” he told her.
Jessica nodded and asked, “Is that what upset you?”
“Not really. It probably doesn’t make any sense, but when I saw the blood, I got so scared that I was going to lose Tyrone.” Essentially that was true. I just didn’t say I was worried that I would be the one to hurt him.
“Oh, Tiff.” She made a sympathetic face and put her hand on mine before continuing with Tyrone’s bandage.
Carefully, she cut a square of medical gauze and applied it to Tyrone’s neck. It was unnecessary. A vampire bite closes and heals quickly, but there was no use explaining that to her.
After we talked a bit more, she said, “I think you might have had a panic attack.”
A vampire shouldn’t have panic attacks. That was…it went against the order of things.
“But…I want to rule out a couple of other things,” Jessica said.
“Like what?” I asked with trepidation.
“Today you passed out. Last time I saw you, you were nauseous.” She let the implication of the combined symptoms hang in the air. “You know what I’m going to suggest.” Before I could answer she said, “Have you had unprotected sex recently?”
Tyrone choked a little, but I shook my head. “Jessica, I swear I’m not pregnant.”
“Fainting and nausea are two classic symptoms. Just pee in a cup and you can be certain.”
“No, I’m sure I’m not pregnant.”
“I also want to check your blood sugar.”
I shook my head again. “I hate needles,” I said.
“At the very least, we should check your vitals, blood pressure, temperature, et cetera.”
No and no to those suggestions. When she pulled out a blood pressure cuff, I backed up. What had I been thinking, coming to a hospital? I had been too hazy with thirst to think.
“I’m so sorry, but I don’t want any exams.”
“But…you came in. You asked for help.” She seemed rightfully confused.
Tyrone put his hand on my forearm. “Tiff, let her check you out. Jessica’s a great nurse.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Tiffany,” she said, in an I’m-about-to-give-you-a-lecture tone. “You’re refusing a blood pressure check, a temperature check, a blood draw, and a urine sample? Do I have that right?”
I nodded.
“That is literally the entire exam. Are you always like this about medical stuff?”
I nodded yes.
“Tiffany, have you ever talked to anyone about your anxiety?”
“No.” As a vampire I was supposed to give people anxiety, not have it myself. “I have a therapist, though. Dr. Rosetti.”
She nodded. “That’s good. If you don’t want me to do anything, you should go talk to her. I can’t say for sure without ruling out any other potential causes, but I think you had a panic attack. She’s actually a psychiatrist, so she might be able to prescribe something.”
“Like what?”
“You’ll have to talk to her, but an antidepressant might help.”
“What, like Prozac?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Prozac for vampires. That seemed…
She must have seen the look on my face. “Are you worried about the side effects?”
“What are the side effects?”
“Umm, they’re variable, but some people complain of things like reduced appetite and low libido.”
My jaw dropped. Why hadn’t anyone told me about this miracle drug before? A little pill to deaden my desires and quench my thirst? Yes, please!
I texted Dr. Rosetti on the spot.
Me: had a panic attack. can i come in tomorrow?
Eleanor: Tomorrow, 6 pm?
Me: thank u
Dang, this woman responded to every text immediately, no matter what time of day. No wonder she was so popular.
I couldn’t get those drugs fast enough.
With a wave goodbye, Tyrone and I followed the exit signs out of the hospital. The automatic doors opened to the parking lot with a robotic, calming whoosh and we stepped into the Hallmark movie gone wrong that was my life.
Tyrone opened the passenger side door to his Christmas tree truck. He gave me a hand up into the passenger seat and waited to make sure I was buckled in. His neck bandage was bright white against his dark skin.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, I knew Jessica would argue if I didn’t let her clean me up.” He traced the edge of the bandage with his index finger, the same one he’d touched me with so intimately just moments ago. I shut my eyes, my emotions warring between desire and guilt. I shouldn’t have bitten him.
After he’d sat in the driver’s seat, he turned to me. “Want to go back to my place?”
Half an hour ago I would have screamed yes, consumed by passion and thirst, not just for Tyrone but for the vision I’d had of our life together.
Now, everything was off-kilter. The mark I’d left on Tyrone should have been sacred.
Instead, it was under a perfect square of white gauze, a little picket fence of medical tape holding it down.
My mark wasn’t acceptable, and neither was I.
When we got back to his house, he helped me out of the truck. “You sure you want to go home?”
I nodded. “I think I need some sleep.”
“Okay, babe. Call me if you need anything.”
He wrapped me in a warm embrace, resting his hand possessively on the small of my back, grazing the top of my ass.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?” he asked. His hardness was pressed into me and I realized I was leaving the poor man with the worst case of blue balls ever.
“Yes. I should go home.”
I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my face against his neck, letting my eyelids drift shut. He might not have been a saint, but I had to avoid him like one or else I’d drain him dry.