by Sara K
Michael pressed a kiss to her temple, she looked so fragile, so innocent, yet her short life had been filled with atrocious pain, and suffering, he was helpless in taking away her agony; her mind was a very sad book, which leaked of memories and fear. It was turmoil, yet it never stopped him from entering. It never stopped him from invading her privacy and lingering at the back of her mind.
Clara felt numb, her sore arms refused to move and she didn’t bother with movement, there was still a lot of fog brewing in her mind. She blinked to clear her hazy vision; a beautiful face came into her view and she recoiled in horror of what had happened. He was angry with her, she waited anxiously for him to shout at her or tell her off. Of course, he was furious, she saw the emotions in his eyes, his lips were pressed together, his eyes compassionate and concerned, but his face was set hard as if he wanted to lash out at her. Beneath it all, she saw his sheer beauty and power. Power that frightened her.
Clara held her breath waiting for him to yell at her for breaking the mirror, for disobeying him. He sat still and she wished he would hurry up with the interrogation. She felt like a corpse, she could hardly move her body and was very frail and weak with the blood loss. Her body stung and hurt, instead of crying out she bit her lower lip. Clara gave up waiting and started to close her eyes, guilty for her hurting him, for causing him pain. If she had simply gone, she wouldn’t have to face him.
His fingers touched her skin and a bolt of heat entered her bloodstream, she trembled under his stare as his fingers moved over her wounds and along her neck, she took in a deep breath and released it ever so slowly. Even breathing had started to hurt.
"I could never hurt you, sweetheart or shout at you." Michael said softly, struggling to control his feelings. How could she think he would yell at her, or abuse her? She was so used to people mistreating her that she had the misconception he would do the same. He shook his head, letting his hands stroke over her bare skin. “I love you more than my life. What you did angers me, Clara." Pausing a little, his eyes skimmed over her face.” Desperately he took her face in his hands, lowering his mouth to hers to kiss her softly. With one deep kiss, he poured his love and tenderness. His passion and desire. He pulled back, knowing she was uncomfortable. Clara felt an urge to touch his face, but her arms still hurt and she wanted to sleep forever, to dream of successful conclusions.
Michael smiled sadly. "We will dream together, sweetheart. We can dream of our life together. Anything you want. Your happiness is very important to me."
"I don’t know how to be happy, Michael." She confessed sadly. "I don’t know how to live with you." She attempted to get up but his strong arms stopped her.
"You need to heal; it would take a while before the herbs heal you completely." He said "You are still very weak." Michael laid her head back on the pillow and lowered his mouth to her cheek, his lips trailed along her jaw. "Do not do this again, Clara I cannot take it." He whispered huskily. "I love you. Remember that."
Clara licked her dry lips and struggled to breathe, he was crowding her space, making her feel uncomfortable. She felt his scent that made her dizzy again, alarmingly she noticed the sheet that covered her body slipping lower and lower. His mouth did wonders to her as his lips licked along her jaw down her neck. She cried out faintly self-conscious of her naked form, beneath him; his hands were warm and tender. She wondered if anyone could be so tender and loving.
Michael ignored her protests, showing her just how much he wanted her; she withered beneath him, trying once again to get away. His tongue lapped at her throat, dipping lower, her scent was tempting and he cupped her breasts over the material of the sheets. She flinched at his touch. “I can't do this, please, Michael. I can't… get… intimate with you." The sobs tore from her throat, rocking her body. The tears flowed freely and he wiped them away with his fingers.
"Sshh." He placed his finger on her trembling lips. "Only when you are ready." Her mind protested every time he kissed her; even now, he felt her reluctance to what he was doing to her. It did not stop him from running his hands down the front part of her body, the sheet slipped down revealing her soft, round breasts. He felt her gasp, as the cool air touched her flesh. His possessive eyes devoured her soft curves, her breasts that tipped upwards invitingly, he watched closely as her nipples tightened and hardened, their peaks pointing towards him. He lowered his mouth, greedily wanting to suck each nipple in his mouth. She shuddered, feeling exposed to his glare, he watched the rise and fall of her chest and her breasts juggled a little as she moved on the bed to get away. Michael closed his eyes in ecstasy; his lips were just inches away from her tightened nipple, she quivered again. His eyes drifted to her haunted face, his dark eyes flashing with intense passion. Before he could stop her, she rolled over with the sheets wrapped around her body and landed on the floor with a thud.
Clara screamed with agony as pain shot through her wrists, regardless she tightened the sheets closer around herself and crawled on the floor crying uncontrollably. She wanted to get away. Michael caught her gently, careful of her arm.
"I would never have forced myself, Clara, Do you understand? I can sense you are not ready." He turned her face to him, holding her still. His eyes fixed on her teary ones and he took her weeping form into his arms. Clara rested her head against his chest, and cried sorrowfully. When would she ever stop? When would her pain ever stop? In a way she found comfort against him, she buried her face in his shirt breathing in his scent. His hands rubbed down her back and it soothed her, relieved her of some pain. Her eyes started to burn again and she struggled to compose herself, she could not risk another accident.
Michael carried her back to the bed and rocked her back and forth, whispering calming words in her ear. He feared putting her down, it gave him a sense of relieve holding her in his arms, next to his heart where she belonged. After some time passed and her tears dried, Clara raised her head from his chest, her nose touching his chin. She felt safe cuddled in his arms; she never wanted him to go. She wanted those strong arms to hold her forever.
Chapter 11: The Ambivalence
The next evening, the sun slipped slowly down amongst the orange and red sky. Dusk fell across the town and the scent of dusk awakened Michael from his bedchamber. With one quick movement he awakened, his mind filled with images of Clara. He sniffed the air, closed his eyes, and saw her sleeping on her bed.
Raw hunger over took him suddenly, Michael leaned against the wall to support his balance. He would need to feed long and deep tonight as he could feel his powers weakening. Besides, he did not want to go to Clara hungry and lustful. Moments later, he materialised at a nightclub fifty miles away where a lone woman in high stilettos caught his attention. Michael hypnotised her before sinking his fangs into her pulse and drinking long and deep. After he had fed, he wiped her memory clean and realised her. He hunted for another prey, a middle-aged lawyer in a suit and tie who had opened his brief case on the sidewalk to take out some paperwork. After the deed was done and the hunger inside him subsided, he eagerly headed home to see Clara.
Clara opened her eyes warily and noticed the aches in her arms and the lightness in her head. Carefully she pushed aside the sheets and quickly looked around the room. She was alone. Yet she had felt something buzz in her head. She was certain she heard voices - or a male's voice. She brushed away the strands of her hair and headed for the bathroom. She stood under a hot shower, wincing every time droplets of water skid down her sore arm. Wrapping a towel around herself she entered the bedroom and froze. Her fingers dug into her flesh from holding the towel close to her chest. Michael stood against the huge window, one shoulder leaning against the frame. He looked sensual, powerful his dark eyes roamed over her body possessively and Clara felt his heated eyes touch her bare skin.
Avoiding eye contact, she swallowed hard and threw open the closet door. She felt him move behind her.
"Hi." The sound of his voice made her hands tremble and her heart pound.
"Hi. What are you doing here?" Clara swallowed again, opened a chest of drawers, and took out some underwear. She felt slightly embarrassed of him being in the same room as her. She would not give him the satisfaction of watching her put on her clothes.
Michael noticed her nervousness nevertheless; he kept his distance as not to frighten her. His gaze lingered on her back, visualising her nakedness underneath the cotton towel. His body hardened in response and he swore softly under his breath. She was too much of a temptation. He needed to touch her. To feel her against him. It was sheer torture to watch her but cannot have her. He moved closer to her, his footsteps silent as a jungle cat. Clara kept her head down when his hands turned her around. He was so close, their bodies almost touching. Nervously she glanced away. His eyes were lethal and she could almost get lost in them if she wasn’t careful. The fact that she stood with only a towel wrapped around her made her extremely uncomfortable. She started to turn away but his grip on her shoulders increased a mixture of tenderness and possession.
Michael allowed his fingers to stroke down her neck, his hand fastened around her throat; her pulse beat rapidly against his palm all the time his eyes remained fixed on her face. He curled his hand around the nape of her neck, tilted her head back and fastened his mouth on hers at the same time his hand circled her waist, drawing her to him. Heat exploded inside of her. His mouth fed on hers, his tongue tangling and stroking whilst his hands explored her satin skin. His hands moved over her warm soft flesh. Michael drew her to him, his hands stroking her back, he was tempted to strip the towel away and claim what was his.
Clara moaned in his mouth as his tongue created magic inside her. She felt the heat and the passion surrounding them. She trembled, brought her hand to press against his chest to push him away. It was too much. As his hands roamed over her body, her mind screamed at her to stop him before he claimed her, made her a part of him. His hands fastened on the towel and he began to release the knot Clara drew up her hand and caught his, stilling him from his action.
His lips traced down her neck, placing kisses and leaving a trail of fire and heat. He tilted her head exposing her throat to his hungry eyes. His tongue lapsed over her rapid pulse, teasing, licking, stroking. Her blood called to him, although he had fed, nothing could stop him from tasting her sweet blood. It beckoned to him, singing its song. Michael tore his mouth from hers reluctantly, sensing her discomfort. Glancing down, he saw her huge frightened eyes and cursed himself for hurting her but the need was too much. The darkness had taken over part of him, which reminded him to be gentle with her, too slowly make her his without rushing. Her sad eyes glanced up at him blankly; her lips trembled as if she were cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back.
Michael caught her hand, careful not to touch her injured wrist and arm. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers, the palm of her hand. His lips traced along the scars on her wrist, the wounds were not completely healed his tongue stroked up her arm to her elbow. All the time his eyes remained on her face.
Clara closed her eyes at the feel of his tongue on her skin. This wasn’t happening to her. The man was dangerous and not even human. Yet his kisses were addicting, his touches were unimaginable. She didn’t believe a man such as him existed, the way he looked at her frightened her but at the same time he made her feel protected. With a history such as hers, she didn’t think it was possible for someone to love her, to care for her. With Michael, she felt as though he put a spell on her. Feeling overwhelmed at the emotions pouring out of him, she made a distressed sound.
Michael's head instantly jerked up at the sound of her voice. He dropped her hand and wrapped her in his arms. "I am sorry, Clara. I cannot help without touching you." he kissed the top of her head, feeling her relax against his chest. He had scared her again. In her mind existed fear and loss, he wanted nothing but to love her and cherish her with his life. Michael rubbed his hands down her back her breasts rested against his chest. A sheet torture. He wanted to drag the towel off her, to take her to the bed and…
"Get dressed." The words came out as a growl as he gently pushed her away and turned his back.
Clara was alarmed with his sudden behaviour, something was disturbing him. She wanted to comfort him. It was probably a bad idea; the sudden change in him scared her. Taking a deep breath she turned to take out some clothes only to be stopped by him. She turned; saw him holding a dress in his hand. "What's that?" She asked with a little frown.
Michael held out the dress. "I want you to wear this dress this evening."
Surprised, Clara could only stare." It's ok; I think I'll be more comfortable in my own clothes."
Michael regarded her for a second. In all his existence, no woman had ever refused him. " I brought this for you to wear tonight. We will be going out tonight and I want you to look presentable." Michael held out the dress.
Several minutes later Clara emerged from the bathroom, she looked beautiful. The dress clung to her every curve; the black colour suited her, fitted perfectly with her creamy skin. Her jet black hair sprawled around her shoulders. The long sleeves hid her injuries; the bust squeezed her breasts together showing him a large amount of cleavage. Michael's mouth watered just watching her aroused him. He shifted painfully, his eyes roaming over her body several times, lingering in places only he could see.
Clara gave a little twirl. "What do you think?" She asked in a little voice. She had never worn a dress before; neither did she have the luxury of buying perfect clothing. The dress was casual but sexy at the same time. The look on Michael's face was extreme, he looked hot, his eyes darkened with lust, she felt like dinner. Prey. Clara reached a hand behind her neck to straighten the halter neck strap.
"You look stunning." His eyes couldn’t leave her body. Reluctantly he focused on her face.
"Thank you, for the dress." Clara said shyly.
"You are more than welcome.” Michael said taking her into his embracing and holding her tight.
Clara raised her head from his chest. "I'm really nervous about tonight. I'm not really good with people." She gave him a sympathetic smile.
Michael stroked back her hair. "I’ll be there too. There is nothing to fear. Justin and Cassie are family. They have already welcomed you in their family."
"You've spoken to them about me!"
"Of course. They look forward to meeting you. You will like Cassie; she has a kind heart and could do with a friend right now.”
"Whatever, shouldn’t we be going?" Clara asked raising an eyebrow.
Michael took her hand, held it to his chest. He gazed deep into her eyes.
"Michael…"
His name of her lips sent heat surging through him. His body clenched in desire. Lifting his hand, he traced his fingers over the softness of her lips. "We will not be going on a car, sweetheart." He did not want to frighten her by telling her that at least eight large bats were circling his house flapping their wings at this moment hunting him.
Clara felt trapped in his eyes. "What then."
To make it easier for her, Michael gathered her in his arms. "Just relax against me, honey. Close your eyes."
Clara rested her head against his solid chest. His arms around her waist tightened. She was so small that she fit perfectly against his larger frame. As if created and shaped specifically for him. Protectively Michael cuddled her closer; one hand circled her waist the other settled around the nape of her neck.
Clara didn’t protest. Her heart told her that she trusted him with her life. He would never hurt her. The way he looked at her. The way he held her must mean something. If he wanted to harm her wouldn’t he have done so previously when he had first rescued her from herself?
Clara squeezed her eyes shut. Held her breath and suddenly she was falling into nothing. She was lifted off her feet, whizzed through the air and then her feet touched the ground and she swayed slightly. Michael caught her sensing her dizziness, holding her close he rubbed her back.
/> "Clara, are you alright."
She lifted her head, rubbed her temples, and glanced around with a little frown on her face.
"How did you do that?" She asked.
"We air travelled. It is easier and much faster."
"I can see that." They were outside the parking lot of a detached dinner with bright neon lights that lightened up the entire street.
Clara stared at the brightly coloured dinner. Several couple hand in hand, their faces filled with love and laughter hurried away oblivious to the rest of the world. Is that what love was from afar? She glanced at Michael and nodded. He looked so handsome. Like an angel. She could not believe noticing his maleness. If a man like him was able to zoom from place to place like superman, she wondered what else he was capable of accomplishing.
With a deep breath, Clara allowed Michael to lead her. Ambivalence, she thought was like the aftermath of unfortunate event that lingered for a long time.
Chapter 12: The Comfort
At a first glance, Clara thought Cassie was a gorgeous woman. Her long blonde hair resembled those of Amanda Seyfried; her lips were large and gorgeous. Her skin was clear and spotless not to mention those large grey eyes and the cracking smile. There was no doubt that Cassie was a charismatic person and for a split second, Clara envied her life and her beauty. Her husband Justin was tall and muscular, his smile was warm, and his eyes bright blue and deep like the ocean. She observed them whispering secretly like two lovers who have just commenced their lifelong time journey of commitment.
Clara couldn’t help feeling agitated, she reminded herself to stay calm, smile and inhale as much oxygen to calm her nerves. How embarrassing would it be if her calm composure slipped? Her gaze was so focused on the couple as she walked towards them that she had forgotten Michael at her side. When he touched her arm gently, she nearly shrieked and then muttered "Sorry."