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"Ariel, Ariel," Tyson shouted from above me. "Shut up and stop screaming. God damn it. What in the hell is the matter with you, girl?"
The figure above me, that I now knew was Tyson, moved away from me and towards the door. My screams cut off, and I sucked in much needed air. Over and over again I inhaled deeply, hoping I wouldn't pass out from lack of oxygen. I hadn't realized I hadn't been taking in air while I'd been stupidly screaming like a maniac. My chest rose and fell, expanding as far as I'd ever seen it expand before, as I sucked down air and blew it back out as fast as I could.
I feared I might have been on the verge of a sudden panic attack, not that I could ever remember having one before. Who knew, maybe I had had them, but I'd passed out from lack of oxygen to the brain and hadn't remembered having them in the first place. Stranger things were known to have happened to me.
The light above me blinked on as my breathing finally mellowed out and I didn't feel like I was going to lose consciousness. Yay for me. Not so much for Tyson, though; he was back to being on my shit list. Again.
I sat up straight, not realizing just how close I was to the edge of the bed, and my butt slid right off of the blanket. I landed hard on the rug that covered the wooden floor in front of my bed. I bit the inside of my cheek on landing, and immediately tasted the metallic copper taste that I always associated with blood. It pooled in the inside of my cheek, and I swallowed it down before I could gag at the taste of it. I could never be a vampire because blood didn't taste good to me. I knew there were some people who could cut the tip of their finger and then stick it in their mouth to slow down the bleeding or to help contain the mess, but I wasn't one of them. I had tried once before and almost thrown up because it had tasted so bad to me. Perhaps it was different after you'd become a vampire? Perhaps there was something about becoming a vampire that made blood just down right tasty to you? I didn't know and hoped I would never find out.
"Ow," I mumbled as I tongued the new wound inside my mouth. If I had thought Tyson was on my shit list before, hereallywas now. Not just because he'd scared the crap out of me and caused me to bleed. No, now my butt hurt on top of everything else.
I should probably consider myself lucky I hadn't bitten off a serious chunk of my tongue instead. That sounded like it could be pretty terrible, along with extremely painful. Not to mention, it would probably have given me a serious lisp. Scarred up face and missing the tip of her tongue. What more could any girl ask for? Yeah, no thanks. I didn't think there was anything wrong with having a lisp, I even found them to be quite adorable at times, but I had more than my share of things I had going on for me, and didn't need another.
Tyson was suddenly kneeling in front of me. His dark brown hair was down today and hanging around his face and shoulders in careless waves. His eyebrows were half way up his forehead and crawling higher by the second.
"Why are you on the floor?" he demanded to know quietly. "When I left, you were on the bed still. How did you make your way down here?"
I shook my head and started to laugh. I stopped laughing immediately when my new wound rubbed up against the corner of one of my teeth and sent a sharp pain through the side of my face.
"I hate you right now," I grumbled sullenly. I didn't mean a word of it, but I wanted him to sweat it out because I was in pain and felt he was the reason behind it. "My butt hurts now," I grumbled, this time giving him honesty instead of lies. Not that I felt he deserved it at the moment, but whatever.
"Why does your butt hurt?" He asked curiously.
"Why do you think?" I snapped and was super proud of myself when I didn't wince at the pain it caused inside my mouth. That was more like it, pain and I, we went way back, and she was my reigning bff. “I fell off the bed because of you, and landed on my butt on this stupid hard floor that this stupid rug does absolutely nothing to soften the blow when you take a tumble out of bed and land on it. I should know, this isn't my first time. At least this time I didn't land on my face."
A strange noise escaped him, and he quickly raised his hand to cover his mouth in a tight fist. The action hadn't fooled me, I knew he was covering his laughter. I didn't think anything was funny, and I blamed him for everything.
"This isn't funny," I growled at him. The inside of my mouth only stung a little. "And, it's all your fault."
It absolutely was his fault. Who in their right mind wakes a person up like that? I would never do such a thing to someone else. Why would he have done that to me? It was absurd.
He released his fist and spread his hand out across his mouth and cheeks. I imagined him smoothing out his smile, trying to hide it from me. His eyes widened as he lowered his hand to rest atop his knee. I think he widened his eyes in another effort to keep from either smiling or laughing at me and angering me again.
"How's it all my fault?" He asked and, I had to admit, he truly sounded like he didn't understand. I didn't know how he couldn't get it, though. I mean, really?
"Tyson," I said his name slowly, as if I was seeking patience, which is exactly what I was doing, and I wanted him to understand every single word I had to say to him. "You woke me up, in the complete darkness might I add, by grabbing ahold of my feet and forcefully dragging me down my bed. It freaked me out and I fell off of the bed and when I landed, I bit the inside of my cheek and hurt my butt. I wouldn't have fallen out of the bed if you hadn't dragged me down to the bottom of it like that. I mean, seriously, why would you do something like that? That’s not normal behavior, and I can’t understand why you did it."
At the end, I was whisper shouting at him because I wasn't sure who else was in the house to hear me. Which was stupid because no one else had come running when I'd screamed bloody murder because of him. If there had been anyone else in the cottage they would have coming running to my rescue minutes ago. And they would have likely hit Tyson for freaking me out and scaring me like that. Which is probably the only reason he felt safe enough or stupid enough (depended on how you looked at it) to do what he'd done.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," he told me earnestly. "I only wanted to get your attention. And part of it was because I was mad at you."
I sat back against the bed in a huff, resting my shoulders against it. Great, this was just great.
"Why ever in the world would you be mad at me? And why would you wake me up in such a way just because you were?" I asked in a quiet voice. I had to admit, I was bewildered and a little more than hurt by his actions and the fact that he didn't understand. He'd hurt me on accident because he'd been mad at me over something I didn't know.
He pressed both knees into the rug and crawled towards me on his knees. He pushed my legs further apart and kept coming at me from in between my legs. His knees hit the insides of my thighs and he spread his legs, spreading my thighs apart with them. When my legs were spread wide in a v, he dropped his ass to his heels and leaned forward, partially into me. His hands went under my thighs and he roughly shoved them back, reaching behind me. When his hands were underneath me he turned them over and cupped my butt. His fingers put pressure into my cheeks as he squeezed and lifted with his hands.
I let out another girly sound as he lifted me up, this one a quiet shriek, and I wasn't at all embarrassed by it. Only because I didn't have the time to be embarrassed. Tyson pushed his hard thighs underneath my soft, spread ones and he pulled my body closer to the heat of his. Our fronts pressed together. Chest to chest. Groin to groin. And I was suddenly a whole lot closer to him than I had ever been before.
"What are you doing?" I asked in a strangled voice.
I had forgotten that he'd scared the crap out of me and that the inside of my mouth and my bottom had been mildly injured and still hurt just a bit. I forgot everything but Tyson and his dark, dark eyes staring me in the face.
His fingers dug into my backside as he studied my face carefully.
"Did you do it?" He asked in a voice that held a soft thread of accusation. "Did you tell him about Annabell?"
I shook my head, confused, as I tried to clear my thoughts and tried to chase out the promise of the heat in his eyes that I had mistaken for something that I wanted it to be when it was something else entirely. Something I'd only experienced from Tyson the one time. There was anger in that heat, and it was all directed at me.
