Page 73 of Thirst

“Bite me,” I demand, turning my head to give him access.

“What?” he says, slowing down, which makes me furious.

“No! Don't you dare stop. Keep going and bite me,” I bellow shamelessly.

Amari doesn't need to be told again. He picks the pace back up, beating my G-spot into oblivion and sending me over the edge. My stomach clenches as every one of my nerve endings shoots off like a case of fireworks all being lit at the same time, and at the perfect moment, as my eyes are squeezed shut, I'm rocked by the sharp pain of two teeth burying into my flesh.

I scream in a combination of agony, terror, and incomparable euphoria as pain dances with pleasure. Tears pour from my eyes as I lose both my breath and my voice, and I stay there with an open mouth like I've been put on mute—silently screaming.

The earth shatters all around me as he stays clamped onto my neck, sucking my blood as the orgasm tears through my soul. I hear him take one or two gulps, then lightheadedness gives me tunnel vision and I don't know which way is up. My muscles constrict and my head goes back as I feel like I'm being lifted off the bed … no … I am being lifted. Through the blackness of my vision I can see the room lowering as we go up.

We … are … floating.

Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to ascend to heaven? I expect to break through the ceiling and see the stars above us—to feel the breeze on my flesh as we rise above all of Philadelphia. But we don't break through the ceiling. Gravity slowly returns and we lower. I feel the moment I come in contact with the bed again, and I manage to breathe before I pass out, and my voice returns only to let out soft whimpers as I quiver uncontrollably. Amari pulls out and I turn onto my side, curling up in the fetal position as I convulse. It takes a few minutes before I'm able to focus on anything at all, and when I finally roll over, I see Amari on his knees next to me.

“Are you okay?” he asks with genuine concern.

My breath shudders. “I don't know. I've never felt this weak in my life. That was … unreal. It felt like we were flying.”

He smirks. “Not flying, just floating. I don't know why, but your blood does something to me I can't explain. It’s like I can only have so much or things start to go haywire.”

“I didn't know you could defy gravity.”

“That’s the point. I can't. Your body might be going through a bit of shock, both from the orgasm and the bite. You're bleeding quite a bit. I need to heal you so that you can recover.”

“Oh,” I whisper, already wishing to slip into unconsciousness until the sun comes up. “I don't even know. I can't think straight.”

“Don't think,” he says. “Just let me take care of you.”

I nod to him as my eyes struggle to stay open, but I see enough to recognize when he lifts his right wrist to his mouth. He bites his arm, pulling away a mouthful of dark red, thick blood and a dripping wrist. He uses his left hand to rub the blood onto his fingers, then gently massages the wounds on my neck. My skin immediately warms, then there's a bit of pain as I feel my flesh stitch itself back together, then it’s over and I feel nothing.

My energy returns much quicker now, and I watch the wound on Amari’s wrist heal itself right in front of me. I'm in awe as he grins, then lowers himself to my side and pulls me into his arms. I place my head on his chest as he covers us with blankets, and for the moment, we do nothing but embrace the silence.

AMARI

Forty-Four

The penthouse is quiet, but my thoughts are roaring. Aaliyah lays on my chest, her index finger performing figure eights on my pecs while I hold her close. I hear her breathing, and feel a sense of contentment I've never felt before. I'm satisfied, like I've just finished a long race and finally get to rest. She came back, and now she's mine.

I was beyond shocked when I received her text message asking to come to the penthouse. For a while, I actually believed that it wouldn't happen. She's a human, and hearing all of this stuff about vampires and fate just doesn't do what a book may say it does. In real life, being confronted with all of that would be just as overwhelming as what I witnessed Aaliyah go through the day I saved her from Stanley and told her everything. It was too much to be processed in a short amount of time, but in the end, she worked through it and decided on her own. She made her choice, and she chose me. That’s a million times better than Influencing her. There is still so much we have to work out, but I don't care. She's all that matters, and I’ll answer questions for her until my mouth dries out and I can no longer speak. Whatever she wishes to know, she will know. I won't lie to her anymore.

“Tell me about Shawn,” she says out of the blue, catching me off guard. “Is the story he told me about how you two met actually true? He said something in the elevator tonight that had me confused, and it feels like your relationship is deeper than what it seems.”

I adjust my body a bit, but I’m not pressed about telling her the truth. I simply let out a satisfied sigh and prepare to give her what she wants.

“My relationship with Shawn is unique,” I begin. “It’s true that we met after he was jumped outside of a club by men who aimed to beat him to death. The ringleader was pissed that Shawn had slept with his wife, so they tracked him down via social media, pulled up to the club he was at, saw him leaving, and proceeded to beat the hell out of him while wearing brass knuckles. As luck would have it, I just so happened to walk by the alley where it was taking place. With one glance, I knew I couldn't just stand there and let them kill him. So I intervened.”

“You intervened? He told me they ran off once they saw you coming.”

“I know. That’s the story we stick to. But they didn't run off. They didn't have time to.”

Her eyes widen and I hear her heartbeat quicken. “Oh. Then what really happened to them?”

“I was born in 1870, Aaliyah. I've seen more instances of Black men being beaten to death by lynch mobs than you would believe. When I saw what was happening to Shawn, it reminded me of all those other times—reconstruction, the Black codes, Jim Crow, the KKK, the civil rights movement and all of the violence that came with them. It was obviously a different time, but it felt the same as all the others. I didn't know Shawn, but all Black Americans are connected like roots of the same tree. So I felt his pain, and I made sure they felt it, too.”

“You killed them?”

“Not all of them,” I reply. “Only the ringleader died, because he was the one who wanted to see Shawn die. I only hurt the others the way they hurt Shawn—a few broken arms, legs, clavicles, jaws, and teeth. Then I Influenced them all to forget both Shawn and me and left them in the alley to be discovered the next morning, battered and disoriented. I liked the idea that they would wake up broken into pieces without remembering how it happened.