Forced to Jump

Written for the 100 Theme Romance Challenge (link in my profile)

Theme # 84: Seduction

I paused in the hallway and watched my brother sneak behind Sara. When she turned, he pushed her against the door, kissing her deeply. She returned the kiss. I watched Chris’ hand scrambling for the knob. She helped him and they tumbled inside. The door closed on mumbled words that I didn’t catch. Somehow I knew that Chris had to be having a relationship with someone overseas during the years he was missing but, somehow, the way she had so easily led him on made me jealous.

I entered my room and, if I listened closely, could hear soft moans and shallow, gasping breaths. They were going about it slowly. I put a hand over my eyes and sighed in disgust as I heard the mattress creak under the weight of two bodies. Why did they have to choose a room so close and with a bad mattress to boot? I covered my ears as the mattress creaked more. I did not want to know about my brother’s business with his lover, let alone the ways they made love to each other. I sat on the bed waiting, glaring at the floor. When that got boring, I sat by the fireplace, waiting. Uncovering my ears, I was relieved to know that at least the noise had stopped. I rolled my eyes and closed my eyes. My breathing was quiet, calm.

I had a vision of Nicolas storming in, demanding why I left. But I wouldn’t be able to explain. I’d be holding back the hateful words, my mouth longing to spill out my devotion instead. I also had the choice to say nothing at all. The gown was still on, I hadn’t taken it off. I remember how his hands had traced along my spine, how my body had become flushed when he was so near. Was I waiting for him to take it off again? I blushed again at the thought. In my lap was his gray jacket. I pulled it to my face and breathed in deeply. His scent filled me. Bittersweet, memorable. A remedy. I clutched his jacket closer. I poked the fading embers and watched them flash and die like fallen stars. I placed a hand on the jacket and felt something crinkle. Curious, I dug into the pocket and found a folded piece of paper. In lovely, curling script it was addressed to me. I opened the letter:

Susan.

It seems we’ve reached a peak in which we will be forced to jump, or die cornered by the beast. At least that’s how I feel about my decision to write this letter. My head wants one thing but my body wants another. Excuse the analogy.

To place you as a second priority, as it seems I’ve been trying to do would be the death of both of us. I see that you cannot resist me, even as I am thirsting for your blood. But I cannot resist your innocence. It is your innocence that draws me to you, because it seems that I have none left. In all my 105 years, I have never felt so…human. You have brought the humanity out, which was buried so long under the vampire instincts. Eagle commented on a hunt that he has never met such a silly human as you. He means well. I, on the other hand, have never felt so beloved, so treasured by your species. You are strong and, though I have to carry you up the stairs, I feel that you want to climb the stairs yourself but you’re too weak and know it. I’ll carry you close anytime, my love, even if it’s just to hear your heartbeat. Don’t laugh at me; it’s true.

If I have never shown you this kind of love, it is only because it is so new. You are so stubborn and I may be traveling down the wrong road with you. If I am, burn this letter. If not then, somehow, I want you to show me.

- Your Admirer.

My heart was in my throat as I folded the letter and placed it back in his pocket. I stood and placed his jacket over the bedpost, straightening the sheets. I remembered the gift that Nicolas wanted to give me tonight—immortality—and imagined consummating a marriage of two souls in eternal companionship on these sheets. A strange desire flowed viciously through every vein and I felt a strange tingling between my thighs.

Banishing these immoral thoughts, I concentrated on untying the laces of the gown. Slender, artistic hands pulled at the laces instead. Their cold temperature made shivers run down my spine as they explored the arc of skin over my shoulder blades, the shape of my spine. Cool breath that smelled of strawberry wine blurred my thoughts. I felt familiar lips at my ear. “You don’t always have to hide, Susan. I know your brother took you away and I respect his worries.” He chuckled, “You’re his sister, after all…” I tried to focus on his words, but the alluring scent of him was affecting the palpitations of my heart.

Nick continued, in a whisper. “But I’m sure he won’t mind if I steal you for a night, would he Susan?” He bent down and traced my neck with his nose and stopped to brush his lips against the beat of my throat. “My Susan.”

“No…I’m sure he wouldn’t.” I thought of Sara’s wink and that heated kiss and thought of how she must’ve felt, wrapped in Chris’ embrace as they danced. My voice was choked with something I couldn’t explain. Love? Overwhelming desire? He turned me around, felt my face, my smiling mouth, tracing the shape. My lips puckered in a gossamer kiss against his fingertips. He grinned.

I blushed crimson again. I was scantily clad and the gown was drooping off my body like a withered flower. I smiled and scurried away. Before I got too far, however, he caught my wrist. I hovered between letting him have his way and changing into a more sensible robe. He pulled me close again. The room was swarming with intangible emotion and I was focusing on his voice, trying to keep his face in my mind, his laugh, the strength of his body: it hurt to concentrate so hard but I smiled through the pain.

He made a noise in his throat and took my hand. “You’re so warm…” I smelled his scent and heard him breathe. I concentrated on the sound—inhale and exhale. My breath was quick, sporadic, while his was even.

His presence was intoxicating. I breathed in and myriad scents hit me. Each was mixing into the other, to blend into a bouquet that drew me away, yet pulled me closer like the bloodhound on a hunt. Made me hover, torn between my desire for contact and my boundaries.

“Nicolas…?” My voice seemed forced, choked with something I couldn’t explain.

He sighed. “Come closer.” His hands brushed back my hair. His thumb traced my lips again, felt the soft exhale and drew across my cheekbone, down along my jaw. The lines in my face lessened. “Would you want a man like me?” Nicolas asked, “Controlled by a lust for blood?”

My voice was sad. “Oh, Nicolas…” “Would I want you for a husband—if you asked—yes. Would I want my child’s father to be a hunter? If it meant unconditional love, yes,” I bent close. “I want you—I don’t care if you’re an immortal, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You see me the way other men don’t.” Warmth spread through me and I felt giddy. Something coursed though my veins and left my hands shaking, my lips burning. My breathing was heavy in my chest and I felt as if I was drowning.

“I’m glad.” His voice was filled with relief.

My fingers teased his thick hair and I laughed softly and pressed him against the bedpost. He grunted and moved so that we fell onto the crimson sheets. “I just made this bed, Nicolas!” I murmured against his lips.

He flipped me over so that he was hovering over me. He chuckled. “Well we’ll just have to unmake it again shall we?” I suddenly wondered how we would accomplish that and my mind called up the sound of two lovers lost to ecstasy: the sound of their soft moans, whispered words, clothes hitting the floor, a mattress creaking under the weight of two bodies finally becoming one flesh.

His cold body covered me, his scent overwhelmed. It surprised me how the silk shirt seamlessly flowed across his chest, as if it had become his skin.

I remembered how I would read poetry when other stories failed me. How it painted a picture of sensation and let me feel the sun and the cold. Let me hear the birds and pluck the thorny roses. It sent my heart racing.

Then I requited his letter, his confession. His lips were soft and moist. Burying my hands in his hair, I felt him stiffen but soon melt into the kiss. He cradled my neck and I felt my breathing quicken, our bodies press together. His hands moved down across my shoulders and arms, before resting on my hips. “Susan,” He breathed. “Oh, my dear Susan…” The words shaped themselves on his mouth, the feeling it brought was like the sensation of life, of breath being poured into the lungs of a drowned man allowing him to wake and open his eyes. I felt the breath, the words of a lover that spoke of sweet nothing. My name. He called it in breathless ways that tasted of wine and chocolate-covered strawberries, but I couldn’t bear to open my eyes for fear this all might be a dream.

I felt his lips part and he pulled away. “Things will change.” The words tickled my soul and I wondered what he meant, my mind too occupied with this single moment to notice anything but him. I stroked his hair and pulled him close again. He kissed me and tugged playfully at the lace sleeves.

“I know. They always change.” I replied, fixing it. I couldn’t trust myself if his hands touched my body. I would lose control; want him as Sara wanted Chris. Want to please him the way Chris wanted to please Sara. But I was still a virgin.

Nicolas stood up. “Come here.” He held out his hand. I hesitated, the welcoming shape of his hand suddenly made me imagine it on my hips or my chest. I turned away. That impossibly gentle voice crooned. “Are you embarrassed, Susan?” Nicolas’ voice clouded my thoughts again but I managed to nod. He smiled. “Honest to the bone.”

That wasn’t entirely true. “It’s late.” I said. Sighing, I turned away from him and turned to the wardrobe. He was beside me, his expression calculating. His eyes smoldered and he caught me as my knees fell away.

“Are you alright?” He asked. His hands were inches from the falling sleeves of the gown. I nodded and stood. I let it slip away and I stepped away from it. The warm air in the room was so different when I stood next to Nicolas—it was colder. He picked it up and placed it back in the wardrobe. He tossed me a blanket and I covered my lower body as he went behind to unlace the corset.

“Why I let you do this is beyond me!”

He laughed. “You are beautiful.” He kissed my shoulder and traced his fingers in the place between my shoulder blades. His fingers danced briefly along the skin, and I quickly changed into a nightgown and felt the soft material cling to my skin. As I climbed under the sheets my skin flushed pink as I thought of Sara and Christopher lying together, bodies unclothed and so close.

But my thoughts quickly disappeared as I felt his weight beside me, and his lips at my neck. “You know I’d promise you forever if I could.” A note of finality rang in his voice and I wrapped his arm around my waist. He pulled me to him. “I’d carry you up the stairs—to heaven, to hell—or just to this bed if that’s too much.”

I laughed. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes.” He smiled against my throat. I let his mouth travel down my throat, to my collarbone and back up. His voice was a husky growl. “My Susan…” He nuzzled his face into my neck and I sighed.

His breath was pleasant as he spoke into the place just below my earlobe. “I mean it, and I mean every word. I’ve got you right where I want you, little rabbit.” He growled softly. Seductively. His lips playfully nipped at my earlobe and I giggled.

“Stop that, Nick!”

He did stop. But, looking at me, his eyes filled with desire, his hands wandered my body—along my ribs and side—and, even though I was covered, I still felt very exposed. His touch was like lightening to my skin, each shock pleasurable and subtle, sending shivers down my entire body. My hands had a mind of their own as they reached under his shirt and explored the firm contour of his chest and stomach, feeling him shudder. He closed his eyes and sighed.

My hands stopped where his heart had once throbbed beneath the skin. I felt no heartbeat now but it didn’t scare me. “Nicolas?”

He opened his eyes. “Yes?”

Tracing patterns lazily across his stomach, to distract myself, I confessed in a pathetically soft voice the truth. “I’m a virgin.”

“Is that all?” He chuckled and shrugged. “Then that makes two of us.” He laughed, “I can just imagine a painting entitled…” He raised his dark eyebrows, waiting for me to answer.

“Two Virgins in a Bed.” I burst into giggles.

As our laughter subsided, he became serious. “Why? Are you ashamed?”

“No!” I replied a little too quickly. “I-I…” I was at a loss for words.

“You don’t want to seem inexperienced?” Nick offered.

I swallowed. “…Yes.”

He kissed me fiercely and sweetly and I felt myself melt into his embrace. I imagined myself as an immortal and saw through Nicolas’ eyes—even as a silly, virgin human I was beautiful to him. A fragile treasure. I broke the kiss and smiled. “I love you too.” Laying in comfortable silence, looking into sea-blue eyes, I thought, not for the first time, about how things would change if he were to, how it would be, to have him take me as his own. Not in desire, not out of necessity, but as his mate.

A cool hand on my cheek woke me from my thoughts. “Susan…?”

“Yes, Nicolas?” I focused on him and he smiled.

“Do you want me?” He whispered in a soft voice.

“Yes.”