Falling to Pieces

by L. T. Kelly

I enjoyed the taste of his sweetness. The rush of the blood flowing through his arteries pounded against my fingers, still around his neck. I could have taken it too far, his blood tasted so pure and fresh in my mouth.

  The sensation of his erection against my stomach distracted me from my feed, reminding me that the boy had much to experience in life yet. I needed to stop. Now.

  No one happened to pass as I fed, but if they had they would’ve been too embarrassed to stare, seeing as how we looked like we were indulging in an intimate exchange. The British would be either too polite or too disgusted to interrupt.

  The young man stumbled away, confused after I explained he’d fainted while helping me gather up the things I’d dropped.

  Poor thing, he couldn’t wait to get away from me, his arousal causing his cheeks to redden as he bounced from one foot to the other in an attempt to hide the bulge straining against the denim.

  His young, untainted blood caressed my veins and my heart rate rose to a normal human-like rate. My preternatural senses were also restored.

  Fully energised, I walked to the bar in Mayfair, trying to keep my pace to a fast-walking human one. I felt anxious to be near Marc again. I wanted to take in his scent and have the powerful presence surrounding me.

  Nervous, I smoothed down the folds of my skirt as I approached the large glass doors of the bar. The burly man stood outside as he had the previous night. I nodded my thanks as he held the door open for me even as his beady eyes appreciated my dress.

  For a Saturday night the bar was exceptionally quiet. A few crowds mingled around tables that they’d pushed together.

  I smiled at the barman I’d met the night before, the one I suspected was gay. His lips twitched when he caught sight of me, and he raised a manicured eyebrow while rubbing his fingers over his black goatee beard. His light blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

  There was no sign of Marc. We hadn’t agreed on a time, but I still experienced a tug of disappointment.

  “Alright, love?” he smirked knowingly.

  “What are you fucking smirking at?” I asked through a toothy smile, as if I had said something pleasant to him. He nodded and folded his arms across his chest, revealing perfect white teeth, clearly impressed by my direct approach.

  “Nothing, love,” he shrugged. “You wanna’ glass a red wine?”

  He was obviously amused by something and I started to feel irritated, not only by his attitude but his thick cockney accent.

  “Yes, please,” I said in polite tone, wishing I could reveal my fangs— that would wipe the stupid grin off his face.

  He sauntered along the bar, his hips swinging in a perfect rhythm to the dance tune coming through the speakers. He returned with my wine after a couple of minutes and placed the glass down in front of me on the lit bar top.

  “So are ya’ ‘ere to see Marc then?” The smirk returned to his lips after he spoke. He rested his elbows on the bar top in front of me, settling in for a chat.

  “Oh, you know him?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He giggled at my question. He enjoyed playing cat and mouse with me, laughing at my lack of knowledge.

  “Glad I amuse you, err?” I cocked my head to the side gesturing my hand in his direction.

  “Ryan.”

  “Ahh, Ryan. He did tell me he comes in everyday, so that’s how you know him, huh?”

  He snorted. “He’s my bloody boss, darlin’. He owns this place. Well, this bar and a few other places.”

  I kept my face expressionless and nodded. This clearly guy enjoyed having information that I didn’t and I refused to allow him to see my surprise.

  “Cool, anything else I need to know?” I took advantage of the opportunity Ryan gave me. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that he delighted in gossiping, all but confirming my suspicion about his sexual orientation.

  He leaned his head closer to mine, his fake tanned face illuminated by the glowing counter. He looked around dramatically as though there could be a man in a tan raincoat, wearing sunglasses, watching and waiting for the information he was about to tell me.

  “His family, they’re, well, they’re a bit, you know—strange,” he whispered, glancing around again after he’d finished.

  “He’s bloody lovely though, mate, nice bloke. They’re just, so, well—” His voice had returned to a normal volume as he furrowed his brow, tapped his lower lip with his index finger and turned his eyeballs up to the ceiling searching for a word. “Italian,” he exclaimed taking his finger off his mouth pointing into the air. “They remind me of something out of the fuckin’ Godfather,” he said as if he needed to explain his comment further.

  I threw my head back and laughed.

  “Ooooh, Ryan! You ain’t ‘alf a gossip,” I said imitating his accent while flapping my hand down in his direction.

  The seriousness wiped off his face as he shared my laughter, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He did a catwalk style stroll down the bar to serve another customer without uttering another word.

  I sipped the wine, the warmth slid down my throat with ease, taking the edge off my nerves.

  An intoxicating, familiar scent flooded my nose. Raising my shoulders, I closed my eyes as a smile crossed my lips.

  He had arrived.

  Marc’s warm hand grasped my shoulder.

  “Hello,” he whispered in my ear, his breath cascading deep into my core. He stood behind me slipping his arms on either side of me and grasping the edge of the bar top, cocooning me between his body and the counter.

  “Hi,” I responded in a low voice, frozen to the spot, my muscles tense with anticipation.

  “I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure if you would.” he said quietly, craning his neck to my ear. His lips brushed against my lobe sending shivers down my spine.

  I caught a flash of colour in the reflective blocks behind the bar. The violet had taken over my irises once again leaving only a few blue speckles making me wonder what it meant. I’d only seen them look that way twice. Both times, I’d been with Marc.

  I turned my attention to his reflection. His face hovered above my head, etched with a serious expression and his cheekbones brushed with a dark pink flush. I melted into his velvety chocolate eyes, gazing into mine via the reflection.

  “Why wouldn’t I come?” I said, with my brow furrowed.

  He pressed his body against me, pressing me up against the counter. I gasped as he took my flowing hair in his hand and swept it over my right shoulder. He pressed his lips to the space where my neck met my shoulder. A fluttering started a dance within my belly, the effect turning to liquid in my panties. My question remained unanswered. I was confused why I’d even asked. What did I expect him to say? I wondered if he knew the woman had followed me last night.

  I could hear his heart pounding which brought me out of my thoughts of the woman. He ran his palms down my arms and stepped back leaving my back with icy cold abandonment now that it wasn’t in contact with his body. Marc spun me around to face him.

  “Are you ok?” he asked smiling, holding me away from him, both of his hands clasped around my arms. He seemed to have dismissed the spark of electricity that had just occurred between us. It was almost as if he had just greeted me for the first time since his arrival.

  “Ok, thanks, you?” I asked biting my lip. I wanted to brazenly ask him if he’d just felt what I had. The connection. The fire that burned between us.

  “All the better for seeing you.” He grinned revealing his perfect white teeth as he took his hands away and raked one though his dark hair, his eyes trailing all over me.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

  I was pleased that he’d also made a concerted effort, wearing a charcoal grey suit. The material had a shimmery effect. His snowy white shirt lay open at the collar, displaying bronzed skin on his upper chest. I turned back towards the counter as he let go of me, taking a sip of wine with a shaky hand. He moved
to stand beside me. I was so nervous, I struggled to recall the last time I’d felt this sensation in the presence of a man and couldn’t, probably because I never had.

  “Aren’t you having a drink?” I asked before taking another sip.

  “No, we’re not staying here.”

  “Oh? When were you going to ask me if I wanted to go?” I said, shooting him a sideways glace. I was momentarily aggravated by his calmness. He seemed so sure of himself, cocky even.

  “Oh—erm—oh—yes—um—sorry.”

  My laughter tinkled over his stumbling words. “Just kidding, Marc.” I said, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

  He nudged me playfully and shook his head as a grin spread over his face.

  “I’m sorry, Teagan. I didn’t intend to come over as being arrogant.” His tone sounded sincere.

  “It’s just,” he squeezed his eyes tight shut for a moment, showing faint lines fanning out from the corners. “Do you want to go out with me tonight?” he said, catching my eyes so they locked on his.

  “Yes,” I said breathily as my stomach clenched.

  “Come on then. I’ve got a fantastic idea of how I can show you the whole of London.” He winked at me and took my hand. A playful smile crossed his lips as led me out of the bar.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My heels clicked across the metal flooring of the loading dock before arriving in front of the rounded capsule made of glass with thin steel struts as support.

  “The full rotation takes thirty minutes, Mr. Romano,” said the guy at the entrance, with narrowed eyes and a hand on his hip as we stepped inside.

  The centre of the capsule boasted a polished lightwood, oval shaped bench. A pair of shiny long stemmed glasses and a beautifully presented box of truffles rested on a starched tablecloth. Next to them sat a silver bucket brimming with ice. A bottle poked out from between the cubes, the top encased with golden foil.

  I turned to watch him entering. “Wow! I didn’t realise The London Eye was open so late.

  “It’s not,” he said with a smug grin. “I have a friend at EDF. He owed me a favour.”

  “EDF?” I cocked my head.

  “Yeah, they sponsor The London Eye.”

  “Ahh. Good thing I showed up tonight then, right.” I narrowed my eyes in his direction. He knew damn straight that I’d come back to the bar tonight. I inwardly chastised myself for being so transparent.

  He dipped his head in what I took as a display of shame for being so sure of himself.

  The door to the glass capsule slid shut. All that could be heard inside was the whir of the huge wheel ascending and the sound of our breathing.

  Marc remained by the entrance with both his hands in the pockets of his pants, his feet planted apart.

  I stood next to the midsection of the bench where the champagne was, not quite comfortable with how to stand or what to say next. I must have appeared as awkward too, so I tried to relax.

  Marc stood silently and appeared to admire every inch of me, consuming me with his glossy gaze. I gulped, rapidly blinking whilst surveying his smouldering golden brown eyes. This was the first time we’d ever been alone, and this was an entirely different type of alone, it was impossible for us to be disturbed.

  “Impressive for a first date,” I muttered, keeping my expression blank and my voice even.

  I imagined myself walking over to him, tracing my palm down his solid chest, planting kisses down his neck.

  My gaze flicked to his throat in time with the vision in my head as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His expression and stance made him appear cool, calm and collected—this small detail provided me with the knowledge he wasn’t.

  He stepped towards me slowly, as if he feared startling me, his eyes glued to mine. I sucked a breath through my teeth, his glance moved towards the champagne in response—as if I’d told him I was off limits.

  Perhaps I’d overreacted to his self-assured actions? ‘Get over it, Teagan and just enjoy yourself,’ I scolded myself. He was stunning, why would anyone turn him down?

  “You want some?” he asked, cocking his head to one side as he lifted the bottle out of the ice.

  “Yes, please,” I said, still gritting my teeth against the image of sinking my fangs into his throat, smooth and sun-kissed.

  “Are you scared of heights?” His eyebrows squished together for a moment.

  I snorted. He’d noticed my tension and associated it with the ride. I was capable of smashing out of here and climbing down the structure before anyone even noticed. Being alone with him was the only thing causing my apprehension.

  “No, I love this. Thank you for thinking of it,” I said, smiling at him.

  He raised an eyebrow at me and a lopsided grin appeared as he popped the cork from the bottle not spilling a drop of liquid. A man after my own heart.

  The capsule held both of our scents. His was intoxicating, almost overpowering. I felt as though it was carrying me away to a place that was designed to possess so many elements of how he smelled—perhaps a kitchen in the countryside. Floral tones reminiscent of wildflower fields drifted in through an open window on rays of sunshine , flooding me with warmth that I hadn’t felt since being a child.

  He’d poured us both a glass of the golden tinged liquid and placed the stem of the champagne glass in my hand before raising his index finger to my eyebrow, brushing his finger over it. My lips parted at the contact, and I mirrored his furrowed brow. My insides squirmed and my skin buzzed as he traced his finger down my cheekbone and across my parted lips before cupping my chin.

  “You are so beautiful, Teagan.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, unable to break the intense gaze between us. My stomach somersaulted and I wanted to glance down at his lips but I realised if I did I’d be unable to refrain from kissing him. I wanted him to kiss me first, call it womanly pride—I still had that, despite all my years of life.

  He dropped his hand away from my face and took a deep breath as if he were trying to hold back just like I was.

  “We’re going to miss the view,” he said.

  ‘I think the view I’ve got in here beats the one outside.’

  I smiled at my thought and turned to look out of the convex window. I bent over and rested my forearms on the cool metal railing that ran around the inside of the capsule, sipping my champagne and enjoying the bubbles popping in my mouth before swallowing.

  The Eye was lit up in blue that night, casting a magnificent reflection on the murky black waters of the Thames.

  Marc stood beside me, his thigh pressed against mine. My heartbeat throbbed in my throat as he started running his fingers up and down my exposed back. My fangs started to peek out, and I willed them back in as I concentrated on the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben’s glowing face as a distraction.

  As we reached the top, the dim light from inside blinked out making lit-up London seem that much brighter.

  I inhaled a deep noisy breath. I was in the darkness with the most exhilarating man I’d ever met in my long life, and he was touching me.

  My insides swirled, the only sounds were the thundering sound of my heartbeat and Marc’s ragged breathing.

  His fingers rested on my elbow, lightly tugging at me. I turned my head to meet his burning gaze. I placed the champagne flute on the floor.

  I missed the split second before he grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him. His lips found mine like he’d spent an eternity mapping out the route. His mouth tasted of the champagne, sweet and intoxicating. His excited tongue probed my mouth. My insides hummed and turned into dampness between my thighs. My entire body was a mass of wanton nerve endings begging to be touched, stroked and caressed. His soft full lips burned against mine, but all I could think about was them trailing over every inch of me.

  If he dared to take this kiss to second base, if his fingers dared to brush against my throbbing clit, I was certain I would have collapsed into a writhing, moaning heap on the floor. But his hands remained
buried deep in my hair, clutching it at the roots. My fingers were clasped at the back of his neck, pulling his kiss deeper and harder.

  The dim light flickered back on. Marc drew back from the kiss and relaxed his grasp on my hair. My palms slid over his neck, ran over his collarbone and stopped on his solid chest. The definition beneath my fingertips did nothing to stem my desire. We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. I studied his eyes, certain they appeared more golden than they had before.

  ‘What are you?’ I thought. Maybe I didn’t want that information?

  We both started giggling, which was a struggle for me because my fangs had extended more than they should have in pleasant company. I buried my head in his chest in a silent prayer they would soon retract fully.

  He took his hands from my hair resting one on my hip and smoothing my ruffled red locks with the other.

  “Sorry, I messed up your hair.” He’d lowered his head and whispered into my ear before landing a lingering kiss on my jaw. I smiled into his bright white shirt. We seemed to be erring on the side of behaving like teenagers.

  A thought sprang into my mind, catching me off guard. I knew nothing about Marc, not his age or where he lived or anything. The only information I did have was unsavoury to say the least. He had an over bearing family that had been described as ‘weird’ by one of his own staff members and a ‘family friend’ who followed any girl he paid an ounce of attention to.

  I stepped back, experiencing the sensation of emptiness without his body pressing against mine.

  “Are you ok?” His face crumpled.

  “Yeah,” I said in a high-pitched ‘why wouldn’t I be’ type of voice. “I just don’t want to miss out on the sights.” I lied waving my hand towards the window and flashing a smile, which seemed unnatural on my lips.

  I moved back to leaning on the rail as I had before. He leaned next to me with his arm resting against mine. The rest of the ride was spent in a surprising, comfortable silence considering this was a first date.

  I glanced over historical London, illuminated beautifully before me, but my mind continued to wonder what questions I should ask him and whether I honestly wanted the answers or if I just wanted him no matter what came with that.