First Fruits

by Amanda Carney

  Turning, he waited in the doorway as she took a step toward him. “What is it?”

  “My plant.” She seemed almost embarrassed. “I have a potted plant. It’s on the front step of my apartment.”

  “The beet plant,” he said after a moment, amused. She wanted her beet plant.

  She nodded, cringing a little. “It’s . . . kind of a pet.”

  He fought a smile. “I’ll make sure he brings it back.”

  “Good.” She let out a relieved breath.

  Before he could laugh, he started to leave once more.

  “Jesse, wait,” she said again. “I want to thank you.”

  He stilled but didn’t turn around. “For what?”

  “For this.” She indicated the room behind her. “For risking your life to save me.”

  He closed his eyes. “Don’t ever thank me, Parsley.”

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t.”

  “Jesse. Look at me.”

  With a sigh, he turned around, meeting her gaze.

  “You’ve done bad things. But this?” She entwined her fingers with his. It was a tentative gesture, as if she wasn’t sure where they stood. “This is a good thing.”

  He stared at her for the longest time, the minutes ticking by in silence.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said finally. And he wasn’t talking about the delicate curve of her nose or the pale pink of her lips. It was her trust that made her shine like a diamond.

  To him, it was all there was.

  ***

  Our gazes held. He was close enough that I could feel his body heat and smell his shampoo. Sage. It smelled like sage, just like it always did. I smiled a little. He used sage-scented shampoo and did laundry.

  “Parsley,” he said in a low voice full of sweet warning. My breath caught as he smoothed the smile from the corners of my mouth with his thumbs. I wondered if he would kiss me—finally kiss me—but all he said was, “I’ll be in the living room. Take your time.”

  I stared after him as he left, swallowing my disappointment and wrapping my arms around myself. Leaning into the doorjamb, I glanced down the hallway to the kitchen gleaming beneath its overhead lights. I could see the living room too, with its warm ambiance. I watched him walk over to the fireplace and lean against the mantel, slipping his phone out of his pocket.

  With a quiet sigh, I turned away and looked around the bedroom again. It was without a doubt the nicest I’d ever stayed in and I felt like a fish out of water as I walked over to the desk, pausing at the neatly folded stack of clothes in the middle. I smiled, picking up the top piece. It was a crisp, pale-blue button-down, which I promptly brought to my nose and sniffed. The clean, fresh scent conjured an image of Jesse dutifully washing, drying, and steaming away wrinkles in his laundry room. Still smiling, I took the shirt, along with a pair of sweatpants, and headed for the shower.

  Under the scalding spray, I stood quietly, letting it flatten my hair. It felt like washing away my old life along with the dirt. Again. The sensation was not a new one. I’d long ago lost count of the small towns, small jobs, and small apartments I’d ended up in. The temporary interludes. As they said, there really was no rest for the weary. But this time, on some level, I knew it was finally over. One way or another. With Patrick’s shadow looming over me, the ghosts of my past no longer seemed so terrifying. And oddly, there was peace in that.

  I stayed longer than necessary, washing my hair with a glorious thoroughness. Then I took my time with the bar of soap. When I finally stepped out, my skin was pink and warm, and steam billowed out of the glass enclosure behind me. After drying off with a towel that was bright-white and smelled like expensive fabric softener, it took a good thirty minutes to dry my hair. When I finally began brushing it out, I had the faint urge to cry. For a moment, I was just a girl. I couldn’t read people’s minds. I couldn’t move objects with my own. I didn’t have special blood. I wasn’t thinking of rent or bills or putting food on my table. I was just me.

  And it was good.

  After putting on Jesse’s clothes, I walked back into the bedroom with bare feet, hugging my arms to my chest. I eyed the bed with longing, its pristine white comforter calling my name. The sedative had long since worn off, but residual fatigue lingered. I probed the faint needle mark on my throat with my fingertips, vaguely recalling the moment he’d sedated me. The barest hint of soreness remained.

  I turned away from the bed, curiosity overriding exhaustion.

  Making my way down the hall, I paused in the doorway to the living room. Jesse sat with his back to me, rubbing his thumb over the rim of a coffee cup and staring a hole into the wall.

  I cleared my throat. “I would read your thoughts but I’ve had my fill for the day.”

  He turned, a slight smile on his face. “Do you always spend two hours in the shower?”

  “Not always.” I walked over to sit across from him. The throw I’d used earlier was just as I’d left it, and I pulled it onto my lap, fingering the soft cashmere. “You told me to take my time.”

  He laughed quietly, eying the shirt I’d chosen. “That I did.”

  I glanced around the room, my gaze pausing on the formidable steel door. “So where are we?”

  “Morgan. About four hours from Floyd. We’re at the old house.” He leaned back. “Where I was born.”

  My eyes widened as I recalled the small cabin in Jesse’s memories. The one his family had been murdered in. “It doesn’t look the same.”

  “No. It wouldn’t.” He gestured toward the ceiling with his chin. “The cabin is still up there. Nobody knows what’s down here but me and Felix.”

  “And now me.”

  “Yes.”

  “But how?”

  “We needed a safe house,” he explained. “Somewhere only we knew about. Just in case.”

  I nodded. It made sense to me on a personal level.

  He gazed around. “We had the cabin temporarily moved, built this, then moved it back.”

  It was ingenious. A home hidden within a home. “How did you keep Patrick from finding out?”

  “Very carefully.”

  “When he realizes what you’ve done . . .” I looked down at my hands. “Won’t he look here?”

  Setting his mug on the side table, he glanced at me. “You want some coffee?” When I shook my head, he continued. “It’s the last place he’d think I’d go. To his knowledge, neither Felix nor I have set foot on this property since that night.”

  “Because it’s too painful.”

  He nodded. “It’s perfect.”

  “But isn’t it?” I asked softly. “Too painful?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s a reminder.”

  “Of what?” I couldn’t imagine him ever needing a reminder of what took place here.

  He seemed to consider the question. “Humanity, I guess.”

  I thought about it and realized I understood. When you’d done the things he’d done, you had to believe there was still something human in you. Something alive. Without that belief, going on was an impossibility.

  I played with the edge of the throw. “Why do I keep Patrick out of your head?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I’ve seen what you can do telepathically. It’s possible just being in your presence is enough to deflect him. Like a tree interfering with a satellite signal.” He opened his mouth to say more but stopped.

  “What?” I asked, leaning forward.

  “Maybe what I feel for you is bigger. More powerful. When I’m around you I . . .” He looked away with a mirthless laugh. “I can’t think of anything else.”

  My face warmed. “I know the feeling.”

  He glanced back and studied me for a moment. “I do know that when I’m away from you, he gets in and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

  It was true. I’d been in his head. Felt how powerless he was when it came to Patrick. And perhaps we would never know what it was about me that kept him at bay, but I was gla
d for it all the same.

  Raising my knees and resting my chin on them, I asked, “So what are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to wait. Until I can come up with a plan to hide you permanently.”

  “Hide us,” I corrected.

  His jaw clenched. “Us.”

  I hesitated and bit my lip, wondering how to ask what I wanted to ask. “Jesse . . . your teeth, are they,” I began. “I mean, do you have . . .”

  He looked amused. “Fangs?”

  I cleared my throat. I’d never noticed any, obviously, but he was a vampire. And I’d seen him take blood enough times in his memories to know there was biting involved. “Yes. Those.”

  “Not like in the movies.”

  “Oh.” I nodded.

  He stood up and walked over. I tightened my grip on the throw, looking up at him. Everything had changed between us and yet, as I sat there waiting to see what he would do, everything was the same. My heart still beat faster the nearer he got. My skin still heated. My breath still caught. And I feared it always would. It was terrifying to know someone could change you so irrevocably without even a single kiss.

  Pausing in front of the couch, he asked, “Can I sit?”

  I nodded.

  “They’re designed to blend in,” he explained as he sat beside me. “Do you want to see?”

  My eyes grew wide. “Yes.”

  With his fingers, he pushed up his upper lip slowly as if worried he would frighten me. I leaned in. His canine tooth was indeed slightly longer than that of a normal person’s, and it had a distinct sharpness to it that you otherwise might not notice. Without thinking, I reached out, only to pull my hand back when I realized what I was doing. A vibrant blush spread into my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He grabbed my wrist, pulling my upturned fingers forward, bringing them to his mouth. “Touch.”

  With another gentle tug, he urged me, so I pressed the pad of my index finger to the hard point of a fang. A shiver tingled down my spine as I felt the heat of his breath and brush of his lips, which were surprisingly soft against my finger. I found myself staring at them instead of what I’d been bidden to touch. He didn’t so much as blink.

  “Jesse,” I said in a quiet voice, pulling my finger away and grazing his bottom lip as I went. He closed his eyes as I touched his jaw. He hadn’t shaved and his light stubble chafed my fingertips.

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. “What do you want, Parsley?”

  For a moment, his penetrating gaze robbed me of words and I looked down.

  “No,” he said. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

  I glanced back up at his beautiful, stern face. The man I’d met in the diner that day was different than the one before me now. Yet, he was the same. He was still my Jesse. He was still the one who’d made me smile. Who’d made me laugh. He was still the one who made my heart ache.

  I held his gaze this time. “I want you to kiss me.”

  In the moments before our lips met, I remembered all the times we’d almost kissed. All the times I’d held my breath. The tension between us. The weight of our gazes. How he’d always pulled away at the last minute. And how there was always a sense of loss when he did.

  But this time, looking into his dark, unblinking eyes, I knew it was because he’d been afraid. Not of the kiss itself, but of what it represented. Just as I knew that there was no going back now. For either of us.

  He took my face with both hands, his fingers tangling in my hair. He stared at my mouth. “I’ve wanted to taste this for so long.”

  “Then do it,” I whispered, gripping his wrist, every part of me ready.

  His eyes flicked to mine as he leaned in, his breath mingling with my own, and I realized he was trembling.

  I was too.

  When he spoke, his voice was reverent and his lips brushed mine with each syllable. “I didn’t know it then, but I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.”

  My heart stopped and I closed my eyes, tears inexplicably threatening. Those words. I’d wanted them. Dreamed about them. Yearned for them. To finally hear them was almost too much. But then his mouth was on mine and I forgot. There was only sensation. Warm lips. Hot breath. Hearts beating.

  I whimpered when his tongue entered my mouth, deep and intoxicating and tasting like coffee. My response was clumsy and inelegant, but he didn’t seem to notice and I was too caught up to care.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the kiss with a choked sound, his fingers digging into my hair, holding me tight. “I’m so damn sorry.”

  “Don’t,” I whispered, forcing him to kiss me again. “Not now.”

  He returned it despite himself. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “You do.” His mouth was everything I’d hoped it would be, and I was determined to kiss it until he let go of the guilt.

  After a third kiss and then a fourth, he smiled reluctantly against my lips. He spoke in a quiet voice. “You like kissing me.”

  “Yes,” I murmured with my eyes closed.

  His laugh was soft. “I like that you like it.” He pressed his lips to my cheek and then the base of my ear. “I like kissing you too.”

  “Good,” I sighed, tilting my head to give him access. I was distracting him from himself, and I realized that was part of the power a woman held over a man. It was a soft, yielding power, but it compelled nonetheless. It talked them down from their ledges.

  He made a sound of approval and there was a graze of teeth against my throat. It drew a gasp from me, and I felt him smile again. “You can,” I said, gripping his shoulders.

  He stilled but then shook his head. “No.”

  “You want to.” I could sense it. I had no real knowledge of what a bite would be like but, in that moment, I would have offered him the sun and the moon. Any part of me.

  He hesitated over the vein behind my ear, his breath warming my skin. My heart rate increased, but he only pressed a soft kiss to the spot, repeating, “No.”

  A strange tingle of disappointment made me frown. “Why?”

  “Because you don’t know what you’re offering,” he said quietly, kissing my jaw and working his way back to my mouth. “I don’t need it. I don’t need anything but this.”

  Whatever protest I might have had died as I got lost in his lips again. He spoke between kisses. “Lie down.”

  My heart pounded as I obeyed, the leather creaking beneath me. When I lay there trembling, he didn’t follow. Instead, he just watched me.

  “You,” he said, his eyes roaming over me, lingering on my hair. “There is nothing else for me.”

  I could only stare up at him, my heart aching with all I felt. “Jesse—”

  “Don’t say anything.” There was a vulnerability in his voice I’d never heard before. “Please.”

  After a moment, I nodded.

  He climbed over me, dark hair hanging around his face. “Spread your legs.”

  I did.

  Watching me, he lowered himself between my thighs and hovered there. Unable to resist the closeness, I lifted my chin and kissed him. He returned it with a growl and pressed his erection against me. I gasped into his mouth. I wore no underwear beneath the cotton pants, so I felt every detail. The hard ridge of denim. The length of him. The heat. It both terrified and fascinated me, and I responded purely on instinct alone, rising up to meet him and gripping his back, my heart thrumming with nervous anticipation.

  “What you do to me,” he said in my ear as he pulled up my thigh, tight against his side. I arched my back, needing him to touch me where I knew he wanted to.

  “It’s okay,” I said, breathless. “I know I’m new—” I gasped as his tongue licked a path up my throat. “—At this, but you don’t have to be gentle. You won’t scare me.”

  He froze over me so suddenly I blinked from the lack of sensation.

  “What do you mean ‘new at this’?” he asked quietly.

  When I registered what had triggered his
reaction, embarrassment burned, and I said nothing.

  “Parsley,” he said more gently, pulling back so he could look at me. “What did you mean?”

  “I know I should have by now,” I said, feeling strangely shamed. “But it just never happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” As he continued staring, I couldn’t stop talking. “I’ve never really met anyone. There was never time—”

  He interrupted me. “You’ve never been with a man.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  His dark brows drew together. “And you want me? For the first time?”

  I realized then that his reaction had nothing to do with my virginity. I touched his lips. They were perfect. Just like the kisses he gave with them. “Of course I do.”

  The truth was, I’d spent my life running from monsters long before I ever heard of Patrick. Survival was all I knew. And I’d had no trust to give. Not until Jesse. I knew being an untouched twenty-five-year-old was abnormal. But perhaps it was the least abnormal thing about me.

  For what felt like an eternity, he just studied me as his breathing subsided. I didn’t dare read his thoughts for fear my assumption had been wrong. What if this changed things between us? What if he saw me differently now? Even as I thought it, he climbed off me and stood. I could only stare up at him, disheveled and horrified.

  He held his hand down to me. “Come.”

  I hesitated only a moment before taking it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. Without another word, he picked me up, and I threw my arms around his neck, letting out an excited breath.

  “I’m taking you to my bed,” was all he said.

  My heart thudded in response. “Oh.”

  As he carried me out of the room and down the hallway, I rested my head on his chest, smiling when I heard how fast his heartbeat was. He was nervous too.

  “I thought vampires didn’t have heartbeats,” I said, the thrum of it resonating in my ear.

  “We like to defy tradition.”

  I laughed, my own heart an effervescent bird behind my ribs.

  He paused by the door. “Tell me you’re sure.”

  I slid my hand up the back of his neck and into his hair without looking up at him. “I’m sure.”

  He exhaled. “When you touch me, I forget everything. All of it.”