by A. L. Singer
After a bit, my head finally turned fuzzy, my body lightened, and the tears slowed. I smelled sandalwood and let myself drift away.
Chapter 11
I must have fallen asleep, because when my eyes opened, I was looking at the family room wall. I blinked and started to stir.
“Slowly, Mia.” Sorin’s voice purred above me.
“How long did I sleep?” I asked, groggy.
“Just over two hours. …. Your body needed to rest.” He slowly lifted me from his lap.
“I feel like all I do is sleep. … But all I want to do is sleep.” I brushed some loose hairs back from my face and sat up.
His beautiful ice-blue eyes looked into mine as he raised my chin. “A little better?” he asked. “I know it was a lot to hear. … I am sorry.” He let go of my chin. “Should we retire for the night? … I will carry you to bed if you wish.”
His voice had lost some of its effect. I couldn’t imagine any more deep conversation tonight. I nodded, and in a single fluid movement I was in his arms. In the next instant we were ascending the stairs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. I hardly felt each step under us. He turned the light on once in the bedroom and sat me on the edge of the bed. “I am going to the kitchen for you. … How about an apple?” he asked.
I frowned and waved him away. I looked down at myself and crossed to my bathroom. While brushing my teeth I decided a shower would feel good. But I realized that my shampoo and body wash were still in the guest bathroom downstairs. Kayla had retrieved them for me, along with the black dress and heels. I wondered how good Sorin’s hearing actually was. “Could you bring me the bottles from the guest room shower down there, please?” I didn’t whisper this time, but I didn’t raise my voice either. I pulled some deep-teal satin pajama bottoms from my dresser and a fresh tank top. I was taking my clothes to the bathroom when Sorin walked through my bedroom door. I stopped and turned toward him. I wasn’t surprised to see a crisp green apple and a bottle of water in one hand, and my shampoo and body wash in the other. I lightly smiled, holding out my free hand. He passed the toiletries to me and then turned toward the nightstand beside my bed.
I took a long shower, enjoying the water falling on me. I quickly dried off, dressed, and shut off the bathroom light. Starting toward the bed, I halted at the sight before me. Sorin was under the comforter on the side closest to the door. Pillows piled under his head propped him up at an angle. He looked relaxed, one arm bent and tucked under the back of his head. On my nightstand were an apple, a bottle of water, and a small vase of roses from the garden. I looked back at Sorin. This should have made me uncomfortable. A man whom I’d met just a few short days ago was now lying in my bed. But he was more than a man; he was a vampire. And that was what really bothered me inside. As absurd as this moment and scene before me was, I was about to crawl into bed next to him. My response to his existence was abnormal. I should have felt something. Been apprehensive, nervous—or, at the very least, afraid for my life.
And yet, standing there looking at him, not one of those emotions ran through my body. I realized how truly numb I had become. Besides the waves of pain and grief I allowed myself to feel occasionally I had become indifferent toward life. I really did not fear the thought of Sorin draining my blood and my not waking to see tomorrow. The more I stood there and thought about it—envisioned it—the more a part of me welcomed the possibility.
But he had stopped me from taking the pills the other night. Yelled at me earlier during the storm to leave the kitchen, feeling it was for my safety. He didn’t want me dead or hurt. Sorin’s words earlier had described that my pain would be his to endure. My hopes of not waking up in the morning were fleeting.
Sorin raised his head slightly from the pillow and looked at me, eyes narrowing. “This is new.” He said it more to himself than me.
On instinct I started to look down at the clothes I wore but then understood his meaning. I frowned, trying to show my annoyance for his repetitive observations.
“What is it?” he pondered, curious.
I straightened my back and crossed my arms. “I don’t know, Sorin.” I complained. “What does it look like to you?” I was gradually feeling more irritated by the minute.
His expression faded, and he lay his head back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling above him. His voice was quiet, empty. “Anything other than shades of black and gray is new on you. Anything different, even for only a moment, gives me hope.”
My shoulders fell, and I sighed, suddenly feeling impolite. Yet again, I felt not myself. “I was only trying to understand your colors, Mia. It is all I am ever trying to do. I am sorry if I was wrong to ask. …. I will try to refrain next time.” The more he spoke, the worse I felt.
When he talked about seeing a human’s emotions in colors I had thought it a beautiful sight. Now the thought that I wore my feelings with no control over expressing them made me lose the awe and wonder I’d initially had in response to his description. Maybe it was because I was the human currently being observed. Or perhaps being described as colorless somehow managed to depress me further. Whatever it was, my opinion had definitely changed on the subject.
“I’m sorry, Sorin.” My words sounded forced as he lifted his head and looked at me. “I was thinking how unrealistic this is.” I tried to think of how to describe it to him. “I’m guessing this whole situation is lost on you. But for me, this moment is absurd. This …” I made a horizontal circle in the air between us. “This is that scene in movies that always seems ridiculous. Where a man and a woman met only days before … and yet they act like they have known each other for years. Somehow there is this magical connection, and they each suddenly know what the other is thinking and feeling. It’s all late-night dinners followed by candlelight and soft music as they. …” My voice slowly became louder and more aggravated. “You don’t know me, Sorin. … I don’t know you. … And yet, I have welcomed you into my home. Right now you are even lying in my bed as if it is completely natural for you.” I crossed my arms, waiting for his response.
He sat up and pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of him. Sorin looked down at the bed and then up to me, his face taking on an innocent expression. “This is the only bed that I have laid in since arriving here.” It wasn’t a confession but an action he had repeated for days now without the slightest regard for my personal space or guest etiquette. He had seen nothing wrong with it.
My jaw went lax. “What?” I whispered in shock.
His expression turned to frustration, but I could see him try to hide it. Sorin leaned forward and patted the bed in front of him. “Come … here … Mia.” His voice was low and alluring. He was looking at me in a way that made me feel exposed, bare. His eyes did not move from mine. When I failed to advance, his eyes sparkled a little, and he repeated his words. “Come here.” His voice warmed my skin and made my body tingle.
I did as he asked. A part of me screamed how wrong it was with every step I took to his side. I paused at the foot of the bed, my head light. Reliving that all-too-familiar marionette sensation somewhere inside me. Sorin slowly lifted his hand from the bed in front of him and held it out for me to take. My body moved on its own. I reached out, taking his hand as he guided me to the empty place on the bed, near his legs. I tucked my feet to my side, against my body. His eyes finally drifted from mine, but only a few inches. I licked my lips, head still light and fuzzy. Sorin let go of my hand and gently cupped my chin. I blinked slowly and then swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. His face crept to mine, and my eyes closed. His cheek brushed mine, and his lips grazed my ear. “You are wrong, Mia,” he eventually offered.
My head swam, and I reminded myself to breath. His scent filled my nose, and I was completely hypnotized before him. “Does this really feel absurd to you?” He spoke slowly, letting each word dance in my ear. I could not speak. All I could do was shake my head no. “Do you feel as if you are next to a stranger?” I shook my
head again. I felt him softly smile against my cheek. “Do you know why that is?” I blinked, trying to concentrate, trying to think of more than a single-word response. “No” I said weakly, failing in my attempt. Sorin sat back and looked deep into my eyes. “Because you do know me. … You have known me your whole life.” His eyes held mine. “On that night I made a choice. … You will forever hold a part of me as a result of that choice.” A beautiful grin touched his lips, and his eyes smiled. “And I know you, Mia … I feel what you feel. My instinct is to be at your side. To protect you.”
His voice gradually eased back to normal. “We are part of one another. … We are not strangers. If you would only stop fighting it, you could feel everything I do.” The clouds were slowly lifting from my head. Sorin’s smile faded to a light frown. “All you are doing is fighting right now. The idea of what could be between us. … You fight the wonderful memories you have of your parents until they flood back and overwhelm you.” His frown deepened. “You have even fought the desire to live. I have felt this at its peak. As you cut the lemon in the kitchen.” The sadness in his voice cleared any lingering cobwebs. “Tell me you will try, Mia … Try to embrace me and all that I have to offer. Beginning with some real peace, not fleeting numbness.” Sorin’s hand left my face, and he sat back against the wall at the head of the bed.
I stayed in the middle, his words repeating themselves inside my head. Everything he had said was true. From the moment I first heard his voice and saw his face, a sense of peace touched me. I did feel comfortable near him, even in that moment sitting in my bed next to him. When I gave in, he could ease the pain I felt. Looking at him did make a part of me wonder what the next day would bring. I felt like I had lost myself. I looked in the mirror and wondered who I had become. Maybe what Sorin offered could help me find myself.
His eyes drifted past me briefly. “Are you tired?” he asked. I felt drained, exhausted. I always did after our conversations. The thought of lying in bed did appeal to me. I yawned, raising a hand to cover my mouth. He pulled back the covers, inviting me to join him.
I scoffed. “I cannot lie under that comforter, Sorin. I’m already a little warm.” Imagining myself waking up in a pool of sweat, I wrinkled my nose. He swung his legs over the edge and quickly fluttered to me at the foot of the bed. I spun around. It was still a little jarring to see him move so swiftly. He offered his hand. I took it and slipped off the bed, curious. He led me a few steps and then fluttered away again. There was a blur of satin, and the drapes on the edge of the bed stirred in response. Everything stilled before me. Sorin was back in bed, pillows propped up between him and the wall. The velvet-and-satin comforter peeked out from the black satin sheet that lay over the entire bed. He reached over and pulled the sheet back for me. I couldn’t help grinning as I joined him. I lay on top of the velvet comforter and turned on my side to face him.
Sorin lifted the smooth black sheet to my shoulder. “Better?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
I realized, in that moment, that the simple act of rearranging the bedding for my comfort meant so much to him. “A great improvement,” I offered, laying my head down. I had not noticed it before, but my pillow lightly smelled of sandalwood. “Sorin … have you really slept in my bed the past few days?” My stomach stirred a little at the thought.
“Lain … not slept,” he corrected me. “The bed smelled of you … it faded a bit more each day. However, now you are back in it.” A grin teased his lips. “Mia, I could not imagine being anywhere but at your side—or, at the very least, surrounded by your scent.” His eyes slowly closed, and he rested his head on the wall behind him. Taking a deep breath, his chest filled with air. “Orange blossoms … and honey,” he whispered to himself.
I lay there watching him. He was so calm and content. I felt jealous. He sat straight up suddenly, his eyes opening. I jumped at the sudden movement. He looked at me apologetically and squeezed my shoulder as a sorry. I sighed and tried to relax again.
Sorin opened the nightstand drawer and lifted out his phone. It was the first time I had seen him with it and wondered if something was wrong. He pressed so many numbers, I thought it too many, but I understood as soon as he spoke.
“Allo,” he said politely to the person answering on the other end. There was a pause. I could just make out a male’s voice on the other end. It was quiet and responded in French. Sorin spoke again. “Puis-je parle à Monique Veuillez … Sorin.” Another pause, and he smiled as he looked down at me. I scowled in confusion. I heard a woman’s voice after a minute, and their conversation began. He looked forward and smiled lightly. “Allo, Monique.”
I quickly wished I had remembered more of the French I had learned back in high school. I focused on his expression, the tone of his voice, and strained to hear the woman on the other end. She sounded excited, but then her voice took on a scolding tone. Sorin’s expression turned to light irritation, but he still smiled slightly. I guessed that they hadn’t talked in awhile and she was expressing her opinion on it. He agreed to whatever it was she had just said, but not wholeheartedly. Then he asked her something. … No it was a request. I recognized a few words. The color orange and maybe something about a few days. Then he gave my address, and I knew he was ordering something, possibly from Paris. He started thanking her but stopped.
I heard her voice. “Ahh … Sorin.” A realization of some sort, but then her voice became sultry and she continued slowly. I started to feel unnerved until Sorin’s face lost any of the amusement it had held a minute before. I listened more closely; she was speaking in a seductive voice, but there was a ring to it. I relaxed; she was teasing him. “Lourds enfin trouvé quelqu’un?” His eyes lowered to the foot of the bed, and his jaw flexed. “Oui,” he finally said, as if she had forced a confession.
Monique’s voice rose slightly, and she started speaking very quickly. Sorin shook his head and said no a few times. There was a pause on both ends. When she spoke again my blood heated. She sounded like she had a moment before, only no teasing this time. Her voice was pure female, feline; it purred. Sorin’s body lay back against the wall, his expression blank. Monique’s voice continued. “Est-elle là avec vous maintenant?”
On the last word I heard it was a question. I rose on an elbow, feeling cross, and the satin sheet slid down to my waist. Sorin finally whispered “oui” in response. She asked him another question, more slowly this time. “Prévoyez-vous d’enfin s’engager à quelqu’un?”
His eyes drifted from the foot of the bed to my feet. His head only turned half toward me, but his eyes continued. They inched their way up my body, lingering at my knees, then my hip. His face stayed blank, but my skin could feel his gaze, even through the fabric. My body relaxed, and my heart started to quicken in my chest. His eyes kept their course, pausing at my stomach and then my chest. My pulse increased even more, and I pulled the sheet to my breast, clinging to the fabric. Sorin’s eyes crept higher, resting on my neck. Once his gaze touched my bare skin, it heated, tingled. There was a spot just above my collarbone that quickly warmed. His gaze moved to my lips, and I could see his eyes more clearly. They burned into my lips. I couldn’t help but react by biting my lower lip. His eyes were glazed over, looking at me but taking in so much more. I bit my lip a little harder and tried to fight the pounding in my chest. Sorin’s eyes finally met mine, and time stopped. My head instantly lightened. I thought the room had moved, but my body had just returned to the bed below me, and I lay on my side. His eyes continued their torture, heated and hungry.
He finally broke the silence with a simple “oui”, only the single word made my head swim. His voice matched what his eyes were saying. He was in a haze but looked at me in a way I had never seen a man look at a woman. When he said yes it sounded so primal. My eyes closed as my heartbeat pounded in my head. I saw him in my mind, eyes burning into me. My body lay before him. The phone slipped from his hand and fell to the bed. Sorin reached out and grabbed a fistful of the satin sheet that lay between
us. His jaw tightened, and he slowly pulled the sheet to him. It slipped through my fingers, and a whimper escaped me. He repeated the action; each time, my heart jumped, and his eyes slowly grew more focused. The sheet no longer covered me—it had become a ball of fabric on his lap. Sorin then brushed it to the floor with a final movement of his hand. I eased from my side to my back and stared at the ceiling, my arms just lying at my sides. I felt the bed shift, and Sorin leaned over me. My whole body quivered below him. I felt like a sacrifice lying before him. I was still, anticipating his next movements.
Off in the distance I heard Monique’s sultry voice ask another question. “Quelle couleur serait allure sur elle?”
Sorin breathed quietly. “Quelque chose noir ou cramoisi.”
The Frenchwoman laughed, and my eyes shot open.
I had imagined it all, just as I had in the kitchen. In reality I was still lying on my side, holding the sheet to my chest. I looked at Sorin, confused. The haze slowly lifted from his face, and he blinked. Monique was still rambling away excitedly, her shrill voice the only current sound in the room. Sorin removed the phone from his ear and shook his head. His face twisted in disgust as he looked down at the phone he held. In a flash he was standing at the side of the bed, berating her in French.
I had followed the conversation pretty well at first, but now it had reached a point where I suspected she was asking him about me. Suddenly Sorin was pacing and scolding Monique. Words flew so fast, I couldn’t translate a single one. He paused and waited; for an apology, I assumed. I heard a quick quip on her end, and then the phone beeped as she ended the call. Sorin just looked at the phone in surprise. He opened the nightstand drawer, his phone in, and then slammed the drawer shut.