AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If she wants me to leave, I will. It’d be best for the both of us.
“No,” she says, never looking away from me as she unwittingly damns herself. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”
I say nothing. I move to the couch and sink down on the opposite end, languidly laying my arm out over the top of it, crossing one ankle over my knee as I angle myself towards her. “Then I shall stay, Little Bird.”
Wren ducks her head quickly before prying open the blue tub of chocolate confectionary ice cream before twisting to reach behind her for something on the side table. A moment later, she’s aiming the remote towards her large television and glancing at me as she navigates the options. “Do you have a preference?”
Some vampires, or other long-lived creatures, feel the need to live up to a baseless image of intellectual superiority, which includes demeaning modern-day television. I, on the other hand, am confident enough in my superiority to appreciate what most call trash TV. But why ruin Wren’s view of me so soon?
“I’ll watch almost anything,” I answer instead. “So long as it’s not a history documentary, I’m fine with whatever you pick.”
She snorts, looking aside at me before back at the screen, navigating through the options with a determination suggesting she’s decided what we’ll watch. “I can only imagine how frustrating watching those can be, if you lived through the period or event.”
Relaxing a bit into the couch, I pay more attention to her than the show she’s selected—other than that it’s some cartoon. The best way to ensure someone allows you close enough to manipulate them to your own ends is to open up strategically yourself.
“For me, it is. For a peer of mine, Malachi, he enjoys making a mockery of it. He, Ashe, and Ashe’s demon-possessed mate will sometimes put one on simply to shout or laugh at the narrators. Then again, Malachi’s taste in television is somewhat questionable, as he adores reality television about dating or marriage. To my utter loathing, he, Deidre, and Eloise now have weekly viewing nights of a current show. Even my mother will watch with them some weeks.”
I send her a languorous grin to show that there’s little real heat behind the words. She’s studying me, as if she has no idea what to make of me.
“A peer? Not a friend?”
I dismiss her questions with a careless wave. “I don’t do friends.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. My chest constricts at the idea of upsetting her, and I quash the notion quickly. She snorts and shakes her head.
“I have so many questions and no energy to deal with it right now.” Wren indicates the screen with the remote, hitting play at the same time. “This is Gravity Falls. It’s a kids show, but I love it when I need something absurd but high quality. It’s about these twelve-year-old twins staying with their great-uncle in Oregon for summer break, and all the crazy supernatural phenomenon that happens and no one else seems to notice.”
I nod and do make a valiant effort in my opinion to focus on the show. Each time Wren moves in any way, my eyes are pulled to her, and I find my fangs tingling with desire to sink into the dewy flesh of her neck. To rip the spoon away from her mouth and replace it with my own. Her eyes glaze, the show’s reflection in her eyes, her hair haloed by the table lamp behind her, and I’m struck by how fascinated I’ve become with her. For the previous year, when I was only observing her from a distance, she intrigued me. Rarely does a mark draw me in as she has, though.
Never has a mark’s fear resonated within my own chest.
The primary distraction, however, is the growing scent of arousal. Warm and sweet, like winter honey, I’m surrounded by Wren’s scent. Not just her arousal, but the distinct smell of her, permeating throughout her apartment. I’m practically salivating, and my cock has been at half mass since I’d thought of hurting her. Now she sits within reach, and I find myself holding back from dragging her under me. Stripping off those ridiculous pajama pants. Finding the cut and bruise I gave her that pushed her into orgasm. I want to dig my thumb into it, renewing the bruise and ensuring my mark never leaves her. I want her to scream in pain and bliss, my cock buried in her.
As if sensing my thoughts, the tension thickens in the air between us. She keeps shifting, stealing looks at me while trying to remain unnoticed. Her cheeks are flushed, even in the lighting from the television and her arousal continues to grow.
When the credits begin to roll, below a gnome vomiting a rainbow, I grab the remote and turn the episode off.
“Wha-?” Wren asks, her eyes wide with confusion and pupils blown wide with desire.
After returning the remote to its place, I slide over to her. She presses back into the corner of the couch, retreating by instinct even as the scent of her lust spikes along with her heartbeat. I study her freckles, a map of constellations that with enough time promise to reveal the truth of her. Her breath hitches when I drag a knuckle down her cheek, and then lower, over the rapid fluttering of her pulse in her neck.
Meeting her eyes, I keep my face blank. “You want something, Little Bird.” My words making her jump. “So, ask.”
Wren rolls her lips, wetting them with her tongue as she gathers her courage to ask whatever has been heating her blood for the past twenty minutes. She breaks my gaze, staring at my mouth, her eyes wary yet full of fire, before dragging herself back to look at me.
“Would… would you feed from me?”she asks, and I find myself stunned. Every instinct is demanding I bury my hand in her hair and sink my fangs into her. She continues to speak, to ramble really, when she mistakes my silence for rejection. “It’s silly, forget I asked. I’ve just always been so curious and when I’ve seen it at Noir, it just looks so…” she breaks off with an envious sigh and drops her gaze to her hands.
“Go on.” My voice is as dark as an approaching storm. It should warn her to seek shelter anywhere except for with me.
She looks up again, the recognition that I’m taking her quite seriously sparking relief in her. I sense it in the way her shoulders lower from where she’d bunched them, how her hands don’t grip one another so tightly.
“It looks as if, for that moment at least, the human is the center of the vampire’s world. It looks so intimate and even romantic.” I want to snort at that but I don’t want her to stop talking. Instead, I move my hand to grip her nape before stroking my thumb along the line of her jugular, coaxing her to continue.“I’m not a virgin, despite what my father believes. But I’ve never felt a strong connection between the guys I dated. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.Maybe it’s because, for the first time tonight, when you defended me, I finally felt like I mattered to someone. That someone wanted to protect me.”
A miasma of emotions radiates from Wren as she spills her thoughts. How is it that this woman has never felt protected? Cherished? Has her father truly put so much pressure on her to leave her ripe for my tastes? For my control?
I smile, softening my natural smirk and Wren’s eyes brighten.It causes a strange ache in the cavity of my chest, an urge to make her always look so alive.To keep her aflame amidst my darkness.
Bringing up my other hand, I grip the arm of the couch behind her, leaning towards her to cage her in. There’s nowhere left for her to move as I rise up to bring a knee onto the couch, tightening my grip on her neck. Arousal is pouring off of her and her eyes flutter closed as I lower my lips to brush over the siren call of her pulse.
