Falling to Pieces (8 page)

His fingers splayed out over my shoulders as the strength of his body pushed me back onto the white sheet. My feet were still flat on the wooden floor. Marc knelt down in front of me in between my legs. My breath caught in my throat from feeling so exposed. He caressed my knees with his fingertips and began to run his tongue along my inner thigh. I arched my back in a silent yearning for him to reach the sweet spot at the centre. I moaned loudly when he got there, lapping up my juices for a moment before standing and leaning until he hovered over me with one hand pushed into the mattress beside my head. He scooped me up with his free arm and dragged me into the centre of the bed. The tip of his manhood rested at my entrance. I pushed my hips up begging for more of him inside me but he drew back just keeping the head-tip inside.

“Do. You. Really. Want. This,” he said, his words spread out. I gasped at the gravity of what he was trying to say, as though he wasn’t asking me if I wanted sex. He was asking me if I wanted him.

“Please, give it to me,” my words whined out, strangled and thick with desire. Nothing else seemed to matter, who he was and even who I was. I fought back against the words, ‘I love you’, swallowing them down whole. I knew it was too soon but the emotion shot through me until the words found their way to my mouth. They remained unspoken.

He pushed in a little further as my breathing became erratic. “Oh, God,” gurgled from my chest as I crashed furiously against him taking him further inside me, stretching my channel to make him a perfect fit for me.

The sensation of fullness and desire flooded me as I brought my hips to meet his with every pump, driving my nails into his firm buttocks not wanting the feeling to end, yet begging for the relief to sweep over me at the same time.

My muscles began to contract and tense. Marc’s pace quickened, our breathing mirrored each other’s—heavy, ragged, desperate. The aroma of him overwhelmed me. Sweet, hot and musty droplets sprinkled onto my naked breasts in the form of manly sweat.

My fangs extended against my will. I couldn’t prevent them any longer. Nor could I stop myself from pulling Marc closer to me, to get the right angle. The animal inside me had taken over. I drove my sharp teeth into the space just above his erect nipple as I exploded around him.

My vision clouded. The earth seemed to shift. My mind appeared to be lost to anything apart from the pleasure pulsing through me. My core spasmed around his manhood buried within me, causing a throaty groan to escape him, in an unspoken warning that the tightness of my own pleasure was about to send him over the edge, too.

His rich, thick blood hit the roof of my mouth as he came deep inside me. I envisioned flying between a colourful fireworks display. His liquid cascaded down my throat flooding me with a serene ambience, the sensation of the warmth of the sun on my face. He tasted as good as he smelled—fruity, warm and wholesome.

There was no way the images flashing in front of my closed eyelids were caused by my orgasm alone.

It was his blood.

I couldn’t stop suckling at the entry points, lapping at the blood and drawing more out into my mouth, each drop I swallowed I needed more. The thirst consumed me as I continued to drink from him.

Marc seemed to realise I was biting as he come down off the high of his climax. Something somewhere in my brain willed me to stop but I couldn’t.

He flashed across the room until he was pressed against the section of wall next to the door; his escape seemed inhumanly fast, he moved almost as quickly as I could.

His breath rasped, making his chest rise and fall erratically. It glistened with a sweaty sheen and streaks of crimson liquid streamed lazily down from the entry points I’d made with my fangs. His glowing eyes bulged at me. I turned away from his scrutiny as shame washed over me. How had I failed to contain myself?

For a few moments we remained at opposite ends of the room, just looking at each other. My body shook as well as my voice.

“I’m—I’m—so sorry.” I hung my head.

“You’re—you’re a vampire?” he asked, his eyes now full of question, his brow furrowed. “How could you have kept that from me? I didn’t—I didn’t even know they were real,” he stuttered, looking to the ceiling as if all the answers would be provided there. He slumped against the wall at his back.

“Humans forget I bit them. You haven’t. That means you’re not human, either.” I kept my voice level and strong, trying to prove my point. I hadn’t freely admitted what I was but he hadn’t been forthcoming either. I shouldn’t be ashamed about what I had done. My instinct was to bite and drink blood. That is what nature had made me into.

A pattern formed as we glanced at each other before looking away again. I wished I could tell what he was thinking.

Marc cocked his head after a few minutes of awkward silence. “Can you go out in sunlight?”

“No, and it will be up in the next ten minutes.” My voice lowered with gloom. I was totally fucked.

“Teagan, I—“ He squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his huge hands over his face. “I can’t even believe this is happening. I can’t believe vampires are real. Fuck!” He shook his head as his hands dropped away from his face.

He peered back over with his wide eyes and his jaw slack. I noticed he’d started to quiver. Maybe he was scared? The thought that he may actually fear me coated me with lead. My limbs gave the impression of becoming heavy with the burden that I may never experience what I just had with him ever again.

“I won’t hurt you,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to—“

I stopped talking as he walked timidly towards me and offered me his hand, the shaking now stilled. I placed my palm on his, still getting the sting of electricity from his touch. He pulled me up and slung his arm around my shoulders to hold me close as he guided me into the hallway.

He kissed the top of my head as we stepped into a room at the end of the corridor.

“I nearly didn’t buy this place because of this room. As you can tell from upstairs and my room, I like light.” He chuckled.

My eyes scanned the room and fell on a tiny square window resting in the corner. He took his arm from around me and walked over to the thick hand-crafted oak wardrobe next to the window and lifted it as though it were as light as glass of wine.

There was no chance of him being human. Everything so far had proved the theory to be right. So what was he? He still hadn’t told me. He placed it securely over the window, checking around the back to make sure the wood lay flat against the wall and blocked the window completely.

My eyes flickered to the double bed, fighting to stay open. I’d never been awake so close to sunrise.

He pulled back the plum bedspread and gestured for me to get in. I lay down immediately. Relief washed over me as he crawled in beside me and placed his arm around me, his fingers splayed over my naked abdomen.

“You’re really not bothered that I’m a vampire?” My speech slurred with exhaustion.

“You haven’t seen what I am yet,” was the last thing I heard before falling to sleep.

I sniffed the air, a lazy smile spread over my lips. I kept my eyes closed. The aroma of freshly cut grass on a warm summer day curled around my nostrils deliciously. Marc’s scent.

My eyes flickered open to inspect the sparse room. Unlike the rest of the house, the white washed walls held no artwork. The only pieces of furniture in the room were the solid oak wardrobe moved from the usual place to block out the sunlight and the bed I lay on. The room seemed forgotten in comparison to the rest of the house.

The scent radiated from the sheets and I’d only realised that when I hadn’t sensed the heat from Marc’s body.

I lay still for a while mulling over the events from the night before, and my sex lurched at the recollection of making love.

Being captured and drugged by Thomas and Victoria had seemed like years ago.

I stroked my throat with my fingertips recalling the taste of Marc’s blood, or rather the effect. The taste was slightly different, heavy and juicier, like the fattest most succulent peach you’d just picked off the tree. The hallucination as well as my inability to stop had confused me. I shook my head and put it down to the explosive orgasm I’d experienced at the time of the feed. Maybe that’s what happened? It had been the first orgasm I’d had with another person in decades, so it was entirely possible.

I jumped out of bed with a newly found energy, an energy and sense of purpose I never remembered possessing before. I stepped into the hallway, stilling to listen out for Marc’s heartbeat and gentle breathing entwined with a Coldplay track playing in the background upstairs. I put full power on my speed and stood beside him in a split second.

He jumped back away from the bubbling pan on the stove. “Shit!”

“Boo,” I whispered a little too late. Although I knew he was something more than human, I was still surprised at his quick reaction.

“Bloody hell, Teagan. You scared the shit outta’ me,” he said chuckling and placing his palm over his pounding heart.

I giggled. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” His smile grew as he walked towards me and pulled me into his arms. I placed my face against the cool cotton of his black t-shirt. He ran his fingers down my back gasping at the realisation I was still completely naked.

“Sorry,” I said again, then rolled my eyes at the repetition of my apologies. “I don’t have any clothes.” I giggled again, rather pleased at the effect my nakedness had on him, as evidenced by his stiffness pressed against me. My favourite dress lay soaked with blood. I could never hope to get the stains out of the pale fabric.

“Well, this is your lucky day, Miss—” he screwed his face up and cocked his head when he appeared to realise he didn’t have a clue what my surname was.

My laughter echoed around the curved ceiling of the room.

A crackling and sizzling noise filled the air as Marc stepped closer to the stove and took the pot, now over spilling with boiling water away from the electric blue flame.

“Well?” he asked, his face smooth again.

“My name is Lewis.” I’d used Thomas’ surname since he’d turned me. Now wasn’t the time to explain much more.

“I’m such a man-whore. Sleeping with a woman without knowing her name,” he said in mock horror before slapping his palm to his forehead as his throat rumbled with laughter.

“As I was saying, Miss Lewis, I’ve been out and got you some things.”

My body tensed and I attempted to produce a smile. I didn’t want to come across as ungrateful but I couldn’t stand the idea of a man choosing what I wear. I wasn’t used to this. Thomas had spent many years being over-protective, but I always chose what I wore. He never bought me a stitch of clothing out of respect for my individuality.

I walked towards the paper bags he’d indicated with his hand with my lips pursed with disdain.

I recognised the buzzing of a cell-phone on vibrate as I got closer, hesitating as if a venomous snake would spring forth and grasp my throat, right out of the shopping bags.

“Hello.” He’d answered the call. I peered into the first bag and pulled out the contents. A smile spread across my lips and I glanced over at him, his face screwed up as he glared at the wall.

I turned my attention back to the bags. He’d brought me a pair of jeans and a green silk shirt, near enough an exact replica of what I’d been wearing the first night I’d met him. He hadn’t chosen for me, he’d copied me.

Marc started shouting in Italian into the cell’s mic.

The other bag looked bulky. Having gotten over my initial sulk, I was intrigued at what else I could need. I peered in at a pile of black leather and pulled it out—a black leather jacket that looked fitted, the arms curved into a shape instead of hanging straight. The smell of it filled the air. I turned the thick grainy leather over to inspect the back. ‘Harley’ in swirly writing was emblazoned across the leather. I furrowed my brow and glanced back at him, he shrugged his shoulders, moved the phone from his ear and placed a hand over the microphone. I could make out the voice on the line babbling loudly in Italian through the speaker.

“All will be explained. How quick can you be ready?” he said to me in a strangled voice.

“Five minutes,” I said, recognising his desperation. I gathered up the stuff and headed downstairs to the bathroom without checking out the rest of contents.

The shower seemed desperately lonely after the previous night. As I cleaned up, I wondered who’d made Marc so angry and why he’d been in such a hurry to get rid of me.

I somehow made myself presentable. I didn’t need makeup, but I like using it to bring out my eyes. That particular security blanket wasn’t available to me. I dried quickly and put on the clothes.

‘
Only one size to big…not bad
,’ I thought. At the bottom of the bag, he included a green silk bra and panties set making me laugh out loud. It appeared I didn’t mind being bought underwear. It’d never happened before, so I didn’t know how I’d take that particular gift. They happened to fit, along with the jacket. I found some clunky boots in the bottom of the bag the jacket had been in. The leather wrapped around my calf. The rubber soles appeared to be overly thick with a deep tread etched in them. I wrinkled my nose at them but I figured they’d serve the purpose for which they’d been purchased. Whatever that may be...

I pulled the zipper up on the jacket as Marc joined me in the bedroom. He’d also put on a leather jacket and boots and they made him look so fucking badass, so hot. My fangs slipped out and I made no attempt to cover them up.

“You ok?” he breathed, running his fevered gaze up and down with the same satisfaction I inspected him with.

“Yes, are you?” I asked. “What was that all about?” My fangs slid back in.

“Do you need to feed?” He ignored my previous question.

‘
No. But I’d like to. On you
.’ The thought remained unspoken as I shook my head in reply.

“I take it you don’t eat food?” I saw his throat contract into a gulp.

“No, where are you going?” I said, replacing one question with another.

“You mean where are
we
going?”

“You have a nasty habit of thinking I’ll go just anywhere without being asked first, huh?”

“Really, Teagan. Now isn’t—“

I held my hand up to quiet him. His screwed up features told me something was really amiss. It was inevitable I’d go with him anyway. Seemingly he made clear that now wasn’t the time to play games.

“Ok, ok Marc. I’ll let go of it this time.” I cocked my head and gave him a lop-sided smile.

A relieved smile appeared on his face. “Come on, let’s go,” he said.

The streets hummed with people as we hurried along them. We marched along in silence at a fast pace that made me thankful for being a vampire. No way could a five-foot-four woman like me could ever hope to keep up with the six-foot-three hulk of a man without some sort of supernatural ability. His eyes graced every dark corner, his face etched with concentration.

“What are you?” I whispered.

“That’s what I’m going to show you,” he said, abruptly stopping outside a lock up. He took a key out of the leather jacket pocket and slid it into the lock pushing the door open to reveal the inside.

The halogen strip light blinked on making the contents inside the grey metal walls gleam proudly. Shelves were fixed onto the wall. They held a selection of helmets, but my eyes only glanced over them briefly because I was finding it difficult to keep my eyes off the beauty in front of me.

At the front, displayed side-on to a row of other cycles, sat a complicated mass of shimmering chrome pipes. The pitch back tyres encased gleaming silvery rims, the front tyre elegant in comparison to its meatier brother affixed to the back.

I couldn’t resist walking over and running my hand over the gas tank, painted in a two-tone inky blue; the colour and the shape reminded me of a dolphin’s head springing out of the ocean.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he said.

I jumped a little at the change in position his voice came from. He’d moved to the shelves while I’d been thoroughly involved with admiring the motorcycle. Though, referring to it as merely a motorcycle didn’t seem right. It was art, majestic even.

“Yes,” I breathed, continuing to stoke my hand down over the powerful grain of the leather seat and back up.

“The blurb that goes with the bike is ‘this brawny  beast is for performance enthusiasts who crave power and control with a dash of intimidation.’ It seemed fitting for me.” He laughed before taking in a sharp intake of breath between his teeth in response to me running my fingers over the shiny
Harley Davidson
badge.

My face suddenly screwed up as I snatched my fingers and eyes away from the beautiful beast. “Am I riding on this with you?”

“No, I bought you the motorbike jacket and boots for shits and giggles,” he said, rolling his eyes at me.

“I just wondered where I’m going to sit, smart ass.”

“Err, there.” He pointed to the small patch of leather raised behind the riders seat.

“You gotta’ be shittin’ me,” I said. My eyes flew wide with horror as I stared back down at the cycle.

“Teagan—” A question lingered in the way he said my name. His eyebrows squished together, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the same time. “I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to ask you this, but how old are you? I mean, how long have you been around?”

Heat invaded my cheeks, and I inwardly cursed myself for having so much strong blood the day before. Thomas’ and Marc’s allowed them to colour too easily.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“One hundred and seventy two and how old are you anyway?” I garbled my words out while searching for a clue in his face. A few small laughter lines added character to his face, though the rest was smooth, sun-kissed and gorgeous.

His throat produced a rumbling laugh. “I’m going out with an old bird. I love it. But honestly, you haven’t lived till you’ve been on one of these,” he stated, pointing at the Harley.

My head dropped down and kicked the new boots off each other. I clasped my hands together behind my back. One hundred-seventy two years old, doesn’t get injured but I never rode on a cycle. I must seem pathetic to him.

“Still doesn’t answer my question. As per usual,” I muttered through pouty lips.

“I’m thirty three, if you must know.”

I saw his boots appear in front of mine, felt his fingers cup my chin, he tilted my head back so my eyes met his glowing, golden pools of light, full of mystery and desire.

“You have to be the most sexy and beautiful one hundred and seventy two year old woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered and bent down to my lips and brushed their fullness over mine with a gentleness that made me squirm for more.

He stepped away from me briskly, as if he just remembered we were in a hurry. He started inspecting the helmets on the rack again and selected a matte black one and handed it to me.

“Here, try this on for size.”

“Marc, why are we in such a hurry?”

He let out a heavy sigh and slumped a little. “Because, you were followed to my house, my family knew I had someone with me. I think they’re somehow aware that you’re not human. Don’t ask me how, I don’t know.”

“That bitch,” I hissed, looking away from him, my grip tightening around the mouthpiece of the helmet.

“What bitch?” he asked with a puzzled expression.

“The first night I met you, in the bar. She’s been following me—well— us,” I rushed in a high-pitched voice.

“Ah, Gabriella. That explains a few things.” He nodded. “I want to show you something anyway, so just hurry up,” he said, gesturing with his hand and pulling his own helmet over his head to avoid anymore questions.

“Well, I’m glad that explains a few things for you,” I narrowed my eyes at him before complying with a helmet I didn’t actually need.

He tilted the midnight blue beast, kicked the stand up and wheeled it through the open lock up door. I followed, closing the wide metal door behind me and turning the key still dangling from the lock.