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Acknowledgements:
I would first like to take the time to acknowledge everyone who’s contributed to this story. To my closets friends, thank you for helping me brainstorm and steal some of your best qualities to show the kind of girlfriends every girl needs to have. Thank you to my family for pushing me repeatedly in this direction, and inspiring me to write. And thank you to God, for blessing me with the talent, time, and support that I’ve needed.
Disclaimer:
According to trusted sources, my story is somewhat similar to a series by Laurell K. Hamiliton (?), and to ease the minds of anyone, i have not read the series, however, if this is similar, it is coincidence. my storyline will be different than what she has written. thank you ahead of time...great minds must think alike in this case. ANITA BLAKE is credited to her, Jezebel Bones is different.
“Could I smoke in here?”
I glanced around the plain white office with the poster “I Want To Believe In Something More”, an oil painting I did years ago, and the large closed window. The air-conditioner was broken, and the office was hot—even with the overhead fan; it circulated the hot air. I wanted to take off my jacket, but didn’t. Elijah would take it as me relaxing in his presence. “Hell yeah, I mind.” I finally said.
“Shit, man, a smoke can make all this easier.”
I leaned back cautiously in my chair. The fan squeaked loudly and after a while, I couldn’t hear it. I studied him while he chose to concentrate on the outside window—and I know he let me stare at him. Take in the “new” him for the first time. Tan skin still blessedly smooth, except for the ragged fang marks on the right side of his neck. He was still sexy, even as he purposely shrugged out of his jacket to allow me a better look. Ripe bulging muscles, just enough to compliment his frame, moved like easy liquid under his beautiful skin. On his arm, branded a “tattoo” from his master, criss-crossing bones, crosses, and vines. I stopped my study as they landed on his fingers, perfectly perched on his inner thigh. I couldn’t believe that someone would turn him into…into—
“Mmm, baby, you done looking, and want to taste instead?” I licked my lips. I didn’t mean it as an invitation, just a nervous gesture, but he took it. His gaze drew to my mouth, and I parted it—maybe to mock him with the memories of what we had, and what all I could do with it. He was dripping with raw sexuality.
“You’re here for a reason; what is it?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute.” He leaned forward in the chair, hands clasping together like he was in prayer. He looked intently at me, and I returned my gaze to the file. “Come on, baby, look at me—stare into my eyes.” Could he have been anymore original with that Count Dracula line? I looked for a second, and he began the drawing wordlessly. I slid my gaze coolly over his until it trailed to his lips instead. The skin jumped. Maybe from amusement, irritation. Or for me not letting him smoke.
“I need a smoke.” He repeated, emphasizing the sentence as if giving me an ultimatum.
“Thought you gave up smoking?”
His lips peeled back into a smile. “I’m a vampire now,” a flash of fangs, his tongue brushed over it, seductively, “ I did it for my health. Now…” he shrugged and his movements were jerky. Yeah, he definitely hadn’t had a cigarette in a bit. “Come on, baby, let me have a fag.”
I shook my head, and shot him a glare. “No. I said it and I mean it.”
He growled low and threatening. I think I should’ve taken that into account and made a move to stop him, to stop myself, when I realized that it sent a shock through me. “Fine, then.” He stood and appeared behind me.
I sat perfectly still, unsure of what he was planning. So I took deep even breaths, trying to calm my heart, and keep the lust from rising up in me. Could he smell it? “Why you gotta make this so hard? We got history together, you know, I know you inside and out, baby. You know that literally.” His hands grasped my shoulders and he kept me pinned to the spot. “Those times we had it so bad? I started speaking Spanglish up in your ear when I took some long, deep thrusts in you? Gentle pulling on your hair?” His lips brushed my neck. “Do you miss it?”
“Elijah—”
He hushed me with a slash to the environment. The fan stopped for a moment, and the heat seemed choking, before it continued to spin. He turned me in the chair, crouched low and stared me in the eyes. I felt the pull of his mind—though small, and if he wanted to, he could make me his. I wanted to fight, but he was my first love, honest. I still kinda had it bad for him—why I never seriously dated now. “Come back with me now.”
“No, I can’t.”
“You mean, you won’t.”
“I’m at work, Eli. I’m not going to be fornicating with a client in my office. Technically, it’s not mine right now. It’s Lionel’s now since I’m off the clock.”
He licked his lips; perfect pink lips for kissing, perfect tongue for—mmm. “See, you said you’re off the clock.” I started to object. “Listen, I’ll break off before he comes, baby.” He stopped again. “I promise not to draw you in too deep. Just—”
I didn’t stand a chance in hell as the pull became too strong against my lowered defenses. At the last moment, I erected a mental shield to keep my memories and thoughts back, to keep him at bay, but he yanked me to him, and completely shattered my defenses.
“Remember those nights in your bed?”
Elijah took me back to the night he “died”, when he came by the house. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He whispered to me when I opened the door in over-sized T-shirt and jeans. I stared at him, wondering why he had suddenly decided to drop by. For three weeks, he insisted that he needed his own space, that he thought that we should take some time off, and here he stood on my doorstep, hair wet, and freezing cold.
“Come in,” I foolishly said, and pressed myself to him, held his face in my hands inspecting him, and the purple bags under his eyes. His skin was ice-cold to the touch, and it worried me. “Why are you so cold, baby?” The light in the hallway was shit, I couldn’t see anything. Especially not how dug out Elijah looked—that would’ve been another clue.
He took a deep, ragged breath. Like he hadn’t had a smoke in a while. He was jerky and irritated, and still he held me in his arms, and embraced me hard. His face rested in the crook of my neck, his cheek cold against mine. The sharp contrast made me shudder, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel him against me again—and it seemed that he needed the same thing. “It’s cold outside,” he mumbled quietly, like he didn’t want me to hear. Maybe he didn’t. I don’t know.
“Let’s get you warmed up. You want some hot chocolate or something?” I tried to pull from him. But he held me still, closed the door, and buried his face in my neck. His lips nipped against my pulse, like razors, and regardless, I leaned in. I pushed the jacket from him, and it whispered as if fell to the floor. “Get on the couch, baby, and I’ll make you something, ok?”
“Mmm, wait, wait,” he mumbled, slamming the door closed and dragging me to the couch with him. “Don’t leave me yet. I need you—you can be my hot chocolate.” I straddled him, and he pulled me closer to him, cupping the sides of our faces in my each other’s hands, our lips slanting over one another.
“Elijah, you’re so cold.”
“I know, I know, baby, I’m sorry.” His fingers curled under the helm of my shirt and jerked it up and over my head. His fingers gripped at my lower back, massaging it—his eyes took on dark, longing look. “There’s something I should tell you—”
“Can it wait?”
“Yes, but if I wait, you might hate me.”
My lips slanted over his, and he pushed me back, pressed himself on top of me. For the first time, I got a real good look him. Besides the purple bags under his eyes, he looked mal-nutrition, pale, his lips were quivering, and he was shaking. No, definitely not something from just quitting smoking. There was something else. His hair seemed to have lost color, as his eyes.
“ Hey,” I said, lifting myself on my elbows. “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t look good, you look sick as hell.” I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down, with three fingers. It should’ve taken a helluva lot more than that to push me back down, but he did. I stared at him intensely now, taking in everything.
Pale, icy skin, malnutritioned, jerky-movements, lost color… I gasped and pushed from him, my hand curling into a fist to punch him, when he completely stilled me. His hands gripped me by the wrist, and I bucked my hips up, trying to throw him off of me. He pressed his body weight on my legs. I was completely trapped by him.
“Calm, down, wait a minute.” He mumbled, angrily, his voice smoother than it had been he was alive. “You’re making me want you more, if it gets too bad, I might not be able to control myself.”
“No, get off of me! You can here to seduce me and then what? Get easy blood?”
“Naw, baby, it ain’t like that.” He looked like he was pleading. “I needed to see you again—leave you with a memory of what we were. I wanted to leave you with something that you’d remember. That you won’t hate me for.”
“Like what?”
“Driving you away. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. If I hadn’t then…everything would be normal…. I got into something bad and now…look at me. I’m everything we both despise, and yet, I’m about to break both my kind’s,” he said the word like an illness, “code and my promise to myself. I came here tonight, because I couldn’t just leave without telling you good-bye.”
“You’ve said your good-byes, now get off and leave me.” I cried, stopping my struggles. Maybe if I tried to be docile, then he’d see…that I was hurt…and scared…
“So you do hate me?” His tone sounded resolved, dry, and astringent—as was the look in his eyes.
“Yes,” I hissed through clenched teeth, glaring. “I hate what you’ve become.”
He stared at me hard a moment, willing me to look him in the eyes. I could feel it in the air. Thick…as was his palpable desire. Finally, he breathed, dared to move, and in that, he looked like he resolved what inner-turmoil was working inside himself. His lifted his weight, so he wasn’t pressed on me, and his power receded like the tide. Good, maybe he decided to get out of my life now.
“I will not leave like this.”
“You rather leave with my foot in your ass?” I yelled, ready to cry. It was time for him to go—before I begged him to stay.
“No, I not going to leave without one more night with you.”
“You certainly got your night, didn’t you?”
“Yes…I want more nights like that.”
“It’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not—there are human and vampire spouses. We can do it—we can make it this time. I could change you.”
I roughly pushed Elijah from my mind, glaring at him. I dared not look him in the eye again—so the threat wasn’t as effective. He got the message. “Baby, why? Why can’t we try?”
“We are two different—beings. Too different people, we’ll never work. In my world, I’m to destroy you, and in your world…I’m just prey. Human cattle.” I snipped, letting the loose ends of my hair fall in front of my face to keep him from seeing the tears. “I don’t want to try…it’ll only be a waste of time. It’ll only…it won’t work, okay?”
His hands gripped my shoulders, his lips brushed over mine, gently, passing. “We can try.” He repeated firmly, his eyes boring into mine—and he didn’t try to draw me in. I flickered my gaze away from his. Under the lightning, I could almost see something kin to hurt in them. “I’ll be watching,” he murmured and left me.