It's true, Noah and I have only shared fleeting moments together in the past two weeks, and we haven't even made up for our wedding night yet. Since we've been back in San Francisco, aside from a few cuddles and kisses we haven't been intimate. I'm missing the time with him indescribably, but in the end I did have to be there for my brother. Airas was there for me my whole life, and I don't even want to think about what would have become of me if it weren't for him.
There is a knock at the door and Wilson comes in with a tray of tea and cakes. He places it on the little table next to the Chesterfield sofa.
“Mr. Daniels called. He wants you to call him back, Miss Álvarez,” he tells me and turns to Airas. “Are we still leaving at ten tonight? If that's the case, I'd like to go now so I can pack my things and have a little lie down so I'm well rested for the night drive.”
“Yes, we're still leaving at ten Wilson. I was about to tell my sister about our planned departure, how I really want to arrive in La Jolla Bay in the early morning. It's the most beautiful time there.” He smiles, and the gleam in his eyes doesn't escape me. Maybe it's not such a bad idea as I initially thought. Maybe he instinctively senses what will do him good.
“Thank you, Wilson. See you this evening,” he dismisses our loyal companion, who leaves the room again.
“So you're leaving tonight already?”
“Yes,” he nods and sits back down at the piano.
I know I can't do anything but hope and trust everything will be fine. I have to trust him. It isn't easy, because I know the power of our second nature only too well.
“Will you play my favorite piece?”
“Inception?”
“What else?” I grin at him. He knows just how crazy I am about this composition. As soon as I heard this piano piece by Michael Ortega for the first time a few years back, I felt that the sound of its melody touched me in an unusual way. As if something within me found itself in the music. Just like now, as Airas begins playing the first notes and I feel each tone within me. I lay my right hand on his left shoulder and feel the need to capture this moment like a Polaroid photo in my heart. Happiness is a damned fragile construct.
30
Amkaya
I'm surprised when I enter my bedroom, because there are no lights on; instead, candles are lit all over the place. At least two dozen of them are spread around the room and cast a warm light over it.
“Are they gone?” With only a towel wrapped around his hips, Noah comes out of the bathroom and kisses me tenderly on the mouth.
“Yes, we've got the whole house to ourselves.”
“How tempting. Do you want some wine? I opened a bottle for us.” He lays his hand on my waist and I notice the tingling of anticipation in my body pushing aside the weariness and making room for itself.
“You're tired,” he observes, and I nod. With Airas's departure, the whole pressure of the past little while has suddenly fallen like a weight off my shoulders and only now do I realize the extent of my exhaustion.
“How about you lie down in bed and I'll read to you till you fall asleep?”
“What are you going to read me? Poetry?” I tease him with a glance at the towel, which is the one and only thing covering his naked body.
“Only if you expressly wish it.” His eyes sparkle in the candlelight.
“Don't tempt me.”
“Too late,” he grins, “I think I already have. So you'll have to stay strong and resist.”
“I'm quite strong,” I answer, although the whole time I can feel how weak the scent of his skin is making me once more. It's so intense, the vanilla and patchouli aroma of my shower gel which he has obviously just used is drowned out by it.
“I know,” he winks and heads for the chest of drawers which has a few books lying on it, and picks one up. “How about Shakespeare? Romeo and Juliet? You do love Shakespeare.”
“Among other things,” I smirk and sit down on the bed. Book in hand, he comes back and sits next to me. He gazes at me with a knowing smile and I wonder how he always manages to touch me with his looks alone, so it's like a physical caress.
“Do you know why I like candlelight so much? Because it's so natural,” I explain and let my gaze wander around the room again to keep myself from continually staring at him and his naked torso. But how can a man have such beautiful, flawless skin? Knowing how good it feels to touch doesn't make it any easier. How can I lie down and sleep now, after he has lit me like a fuse and is shamelessly watching me burn?
“Yes, and it makes what I originally had in mind so obvious.” An irresistible grin spreads over his features once more.
“Originally?” I take his hand, lay it on my naked thigh and push it slowly higher beneath my dress before going on. “I had no idea you were so lacking in ambition and determination.”
The quiet growl which now escapes his throat and the firm grip of his hand under my dress tell me I've lit something in him too.
The next thing I know, he spreads my legs, pushes the skirt up to my hips and shows me how insistent his tongue can be even without words.
It's still dark when I awaken, and most of the candles in the room are still flickering. Covered in a thin quilt, I'm lying sprawled out on the bed and I realize I'm still wearing my dress.
I must have fallen asleep after the tremendous climax Noah gave me.
“You're awake.” His dark voice comes from over by the window, and now I see him there too, sitting on the windowsill and looking over at me. I automatically have to smile, and hop out of bed to go to him. He meets me half way and we embrace. Instead of a towel he's now wearing tight boxer shorts.
“I'm sorry I fell asleep. What's the time?”
He kisses me on the forehead and tells me, “It's almost four o'clock, and you don't have to be sorry. Sooner or later I'll end up finishing off what I planned to do with you.” We grin at one another.
“Oh right, you were going to read me Shakespeare,” I wink.
“That too,” he answers, also with a wink.
“Let me just jump in the shower quickly, and then we'll see whether we can't catch up on what we missed.”
After I've had a quick wash and brushed my teeth, I pull on a figure-hugging tank top which goes down past my butt, and tame my wild hair. Whatever he has in store for me, or I him, I'm definitely ready.
When I enter the bedroom again and Noah sees me, it's as if candles light up behind his eyes too, the blue in them shines so brightly at the sight of me, and it makes me extremely aware of my femininity and also what power I can exert over him, not only he over me.
“Do you want some wine too?”
Noah shakes his head. I'm thirsty, and I pour myself some wine from the previous evening's bottle into one of the crystal glasses, and drink it down in a single gulp. From the tangy-sweet flavor on my tongue I can tell he picked a good wine, but after all, he knows my taste in wine, among other things, pretty well by now.
I grab Romeo and Juliet, throw myself on the bed and hold the book out to him. “Here, you can start now.”
“You little rascal,” he says and takes the book from my hand, lays it carelessly aside and kisses me. He lowers his body onto me slowly, and I enjoy the feeling of his weight on me.
“I hate it when you leave me behind all alone,” he confesses. “Even if I know you're coming back,” he adds.
“Don't be ungrateful. After all, you don't lose me. The curse might not really be broken, but we've gotten around it. What we have is totally okay by me.”
“You're right, but it's not okay by me, what we have - it's indescribable.”
“Well, now that you mention it,” I tease.
“I missed you.”
“I know I neglected you. How can I make it up to you?” I ask, acting all innocent and grabbing his perfectly shaped butt with my hands.
“That's a good start. We can work something out.”
One second I'm still smiling at our flirty, little dialogue, the next I can hardly even
think straight, because this rogue knows by now exactly which buttons to press to take my arousal from zero to one hundred, and he has no scruples about using this knowledge.
We've long since realized that the curse doesn't take effect if we avoid the act itself and fall back on other forms of love play. We've become true masters of finding ways to drive each other crazy, over and over. But for some unknown reason we can't help ourselves and almost always wind up culminating in union, even when we firmly resolve that we won't.
By now we don't even bother with this resolution anymore, since we've realized this only stokes the urge even further. The longing to meld with one another seems to be like an undertow, a strong current we simply can't escape. A current which carries me off particularly quickly and unyieldingly today, because I know even after only a short time that I want him in me. No, that I need him in me. I want him to fill my body and my soul simultaneously, so I'm no longer capable of saying what is him and what is me.
His body language reveals he's feeling the same way, but I can see in his face that he also enjoys keeping me hanging. He plays his little game, almost entering me but then pulling back, for so long that I'm trembling with excitement. I feel like I'm losing control in my adrenalin high and my fingers grip the sheets, searching for something to hold on to. As if electrified, the tension in my body is almost unbearable; even my fangs shoot forth.
Now! Now, he finally ends his game and every extra inch of him inside me brings relief, yet still holds me captive in my arousal which has only changed, not dissipated. Somehow it's different today. My sensory perceptions seem totally excessive, like an overdose. I'm extremely high and in a euphoric state like never before, which seems to intensify with the scent of Noah's skin. The bad feeling that comes over me doesn't have a chance, because I can't find the brakes within me to stop this whole thing, and I don't even want to. With each of his movements and each of mine I come closer to release. And I need release. I absolutely must have it. It's close enough to touch.
His hands grab my hair passionately and I hear him panting out my name and words in Enochian, and I realize that he too can hardly hold himself back. Finally, it is his groaning and dynamic movements that carry me over the edge and rhythmically bring me release.
Only slowly, eyes closed and breathing heavily, do I come to. I must have lost consciousness for a moment, but I don't feel dead and something is tickling my shoulder. I hear a gentle rustling which envelopes me soothingly.
“Amy?” The tone of Noah's voice above me doesn't sound good. I open my eyes and seek out his gaze, but what I see cuts off my airway with horror. I gasp, because I feel like my heart has stopped.
Face distorted in pain, he presses his palm to his neck, but blood runs down his body under his hand and through his fingers, and two drops of blood fall onto my breast just beneath my collar bone. It was his blood that was tickling me.
And something else takes my breath away too - I'm able to see his wings. The huge wings with many striking feathers, whose color runs from white, through countless gray tones all the way down to a luminous black, and which I have seen once before, when I was between life and death in the limbo Noah told me about. But now I'm most definitely alive.
“Noah! Oh my God, Noah.” Upset and confused, I try to slip carefully out from beneath him. He helps me by rolling his body to the side, then sits on the edge of the bed with a suppressed groan. Lips pressed tightly together, he reaches for my top which lies at the foot of the bed, and tries to stop the bleeding with it.
“Shit,” he mutters. In complete turmoil, I run to the bathroom, grab a clean towel and stand motionless for a moment because I discover my reflection in the mirror as I cast a fleeting glance around the room. The traces of blood in the corner of my mouth hammer the unthinkable mercilessly into my awareness. I did this to him. Didn't I only recently believe I was no danger to him? I gulp, and now I can taste the blood on my tongue too, which I didn't even notice before. A familiar taste, yet so different too. Damn it, what have I done? With the back of my hand I wipe away the blood and want to hurry back to Noah, but he comes toward me with the sheets in his hand, pushes past me to the large bathtub and throws them in.
“Clean yourself up, and rinse your mouth out thoroughly. You can't leave any of my blood on you,” he orders me and leaves the room again, only to return seconds later with one of the still burning candles, which he uses to light the sheets in the tub. The yellow-white flames immediately begin eating into the silk and it smells like burned hair.
“Let me see first,” I say, trying to get him to take his hand off his neck and show me what I've done. The bite wound looks nasty. A lot of blood is still streaming out of one of the two larger holes. The sight of it causes images of Morton to come flooding back into my memory, and guilt lays her hands around my neck and squeezes. I take the blood-soaked top off the wound, press the clean towel onto it, and try to get the words out. He tears the top from my hand, throws it into the tub with the sheets, which are still burning, and presses the towel onto the wound again himself now.
“I'm so sorry. I'm so infinitely sorry. I don't even know how. . . I didn't mean to. . .” I stammer and can't look him in the eye. The smoke gradually filling the room makes me cough and gasp for air.
He grabs my upper arm with his free hand almost brutally, pulls me to the hand basin and rips the handle of the mixer up with a violent jerk.
“Okay, Amy, I know that. But look at me: We have another problem right now. I have to get out of here and leave you alone before the watchers track me down. You're going to die and I can't stay with you. I'm sorry, but every second longer I stay puts us both in extreme danger. I can only hope they can't locate my blood inside you. But before I go, we have to get rid of my blood. Wash it off you!”
Without hesitation, I do what he says, washing the dried up blood stains off under the running water. I spontaneously remember how my brother also ordered me to clean myself up, that time by the lake, to protect me. I quickly rinse out my mouth too, and then turn to Noah.
I want to tell him I might not even die this time, because I feel so alive and I can see his stunning wings, but I can't get a single word out and instead only stroke the feathers of his right wing tenderly. More than only seeing them, I can even touch them. He closes his eyes in surprise and inhales deeply. In spite of his pain, his face reflects an expression of wellbeing for a short moment.
“You see them,” he says as he opens his eyes and I nod. Whether his blood in my circulation is what makes this situation possible, I can only guess. It probably is, but I'm too ashamed to give voice to my thoughts.
“Come on,” he says and I go past him, back into the bedroom. He closes the door behind us and comes over to me.
“I have to get somewhere cold. I really have to go now,” he tells me once more with urgency, but I'm suddenly dizzy and his voice echoes in my head. I instinctively cling on to the bedpost beside me and try my best to stay on my feet.
“Go!” I tell him, but the emerging fatigue paralyzes me and I'm not able to say anything more. Slowly I slide down the pole and Noah can only break my fall with his free left arm, but not stop it.
I was so sure I wasn't going to die today, but I must have been mistaken.
Kneeling on one knee beside me, he strokes my hair tenderly as I lie on the ground watching his sapphire blue eyes start to turn emerald. And then I want to scream in horror, because as the veil I know so well slowly settles over my eyes, I suddenly see a dark figure appear behind Noah, a figure with large, black wings which open menacingly and whose rustling resounds in my ears. A thought pops into my head - A dark watcher - and in my helplessness, my heart races with fear.
Noah must have heard him too, or maybe my panicked look warned him, because he turns around in a flash and his wings unfold to their full glory. No, I can't die now! This simply can't happen. With all my might, I battle the fatigue and the veil which lie ever heavier upon me. For a moment my vision even clears a bit, and
I manage to move my hands at first and then my arms too. In desperation I try to pull myself up on the bed, while I can only look on as the dark watcher hurls bright bolts of lightning at Noah, although shortly after he sinks to his knees, face distorted in pain, and falls to the floor. I'm about to start cheering inside, because Noah managed to defeat his enemy in spite of his injury, when horror smashes into my head like a billiard ball. Noah's wings are on fire! They're both burning brightly, and an unbearable smell spreads through the room, nothing like the smell of the fire Noah started in the bathtub.
My lungs burn as I inhale the air, but I can't cough. Only a hoarse groan escapes me. He turns his head quickly and looks at me, stricken. The smoke in my eyes burns. Using what little energy I have left, I squeeze them tightly shut a moment so I can see him better, but when I open them again he has vanished and the first light of day is falling through the blinds into the room. The body of the watcher has vanished too. I want to cry, and I'm so infinitely tired. Exhausted, I let go of the wooden post of the bed and sink back to the floor. Drowsiness immediately trickles back into my head and the last thing I see before I drift off is the bright glow of an angel with snow white wings, moving slowly toward me.
31
Amkaya
“Amkaya, wake up! Kaya, can you hear me?” A frantic voice penetrates my slumber, but I can't manage to open my eyes. I know this voice. Yes, I know this voice from somewhere, but the search engine in my head cuts off before it gets any results. Instead, other questions fill my mind. Am I in limbo? If so, then why can't I see anything around me this time? Closed eyelids shouldn't make a difference in limbo.
I feel someone lifting me up and, shortly after, laying me on a softer surface. The fatigue still has me captive, and all I want is to sleep on, but I'm being shaken and hit. And then I feel something on my mouth. Soft and cool, lips are pressing onto mine and opening my mouth. No, it shouldn't feel good, but it does. Incredibly good. A pleasant feeling spreads through my whole body, which I still can't move. But then it isn't a tongue that forces its way into my mouth, rather warm air, which is being pushed into my lungs. Over and over again, until it stops all of a sudden and I'm being struck on my ribs again.
The Night Within Us: Dark Vampire Romance Page 21