I felt a tear slowly track its way down my cheek and I angrily swiped it aside. I could do this. I had to do this. I
was
doing this.
Still my feet stayed rooted to the spot and my hand didn't push that damn door. Fuck!
Come to me, ma douce.
If I thought my world was tilting before, it was nothing to what I felt now. An onslaught of memories slammed into me and made me crumple to my knees on the floor. I held on to my head and stifled a cry, tears coursing down my face as I rocked back and forth. So much love, so much care, so much emotion. It filled me up and threatened to split me apart. I couldn't take it, I knew it would knock me out cold before too much longer. How could someone love another so much?
I barely noticed the door opening, or the vampire who knelt down in front of me, slightly swaying, as if he couldn't quite get his balance. I barely noticed his hands on my arms, his soft voice in my ear as he pulled me to him. I didn't resist, I just went with the pull; his arms, this connection, whatever it was, it didn't matter, I just let it happen. When his lips brushed my cheek and his arms crushed around me, my body sighed, it damn near gave up the battle there and then. I relaxed against him, struggled to stop the white noise in my head, the images flashing like strobe lights in front of my eyes, but they were winning.
Before I could register what was happening he lifted me in his arms and took me back in the room, the door closing quietly behind us unaided. I felt the mattress dip beneath us, he almost lost his balance then, tipping sideways, but putting a hand out on the bed head in time to stop the fall. He lay me down gently and slid on to the bed next to me, wrapping me up in his arms again, making the duvet at the bottom of the bed fly up and drape over us somehow.
I felt his power brush my shields and for some reason it didn't scare me, it felt so familiar, so normal, I just lowered them enough for him to slip in. His healing touch washed over me, wiping away the pain and ache and lingering sluggish response of the drug and replacing it with warmth and happiness and love. It was as normal as existing, as familiar as the back of my hand, I didn't even realise I was doing it, until I felt the light flow around us, wrapping us, coating us, in a vibrantly bright glow.
Ah, ma douce, you have found your Light again. Ma petite lumière. Welcome home.
I fell asleep in my kindred's arms, my head on his chest, his heartbeat in my ears, his arms holding me so tenderly and I knew I was indeed home.
I wasn't sure if I could remember everything, but I could remember this, remember him. I held on tightly as sleep pulled me under and thanked my goddess Nut for bringing me back in one piece.
For bringing me back to Michel.
I woke up in exactly the same position I had fallen asleep in. Michel's arms wrapped around me, our bodies pressed close together, my head on his chest. He was breathing deeply and evenly, still sound asleep. I allowed myself a moment to take in the sensations of having him so close, letting the warmth wash through me, the smells embrace me, the feel of his big, strong, safe arms around me. It all felt so right, but there was still big gaps in my mind.
Not about him, I think. I had no urge to flee from his hold, but the gaps were there and they kept gnawing away at my psyche. I wanted to remember. I wanted to be me again, but all that kept going through my head was the past month. Those memories were the most vivid. They were the ones that occupied my mind, no matter how I tried to direct my thoughts to Michel, they kept going back to that house, to Jonathan, to those vampires outside Union Station and if I was honest, to Enrique, my saviour.
I didn't want to think of Enrique as my saviour, I wanted Michel to have that role, that's what felt right. Somehow thinking of Enrique seemed like I was cheating on my kindred, but as much as I tried to chastise myself for those thoughts, they still prevailed. Enrique pulled those vampires off me, he rescued me from a grim and painful death. He brought me home, he made me feel safe when all was lost, he delivered me to my kindred's arms alive.
No, I couldn't stop thinking about Enrique. I shifted slightly against Michel, trying to turn away and lie on a different side of my body. I wasn't sure how long we'd been asleep, but the shutters were down so daylight had come and it must have been a while, because the arm I was lying on had gone to sleep and now as I moved slightly, pins and needles had shot through the length of it making me cringe. But, as I tried to turn my body, Michel's arms tightened their hold. He didn't wake and I got the impression that this may have happened again and again while we had slept. Me shifting slightly, him tightening his hold and not letting me move away.
I paused and waited for him to relax then shifted a bit more. His arms tightened immediately and I actually realised I was smiling at his reaction. It was cute. He didn't want to let me go. I think I kind of liked that idea, but my arm was aching, I needed to roll over. So with small incremental movements, interspersed with him tightening his hold and then relaxing, I finally managed to turn right over, so he was now spooning me, his face in my hair at the back of my neck, his arms tightly wound around my stomach, pulling me close.
I think I could have fallen asleep again like that, I was still quite exhausted, but suddenly I realised Michel was awake. He stiffened slightly, realised maybe who he was holding, how close we were and then the inevitable early morning response kicked in and I felt him harden against the back of me. I held my breath waiting to see what he would do. Part of me wanted him to pull away, it was too soon, too much after what I had been through. But part of me longed for that connection again with him, someone I knew, without a doubt, was important to me.
I think he was having a hard time deciding what to do too, because it was a good minute before he shifted against me, allowing his hard length rub between my thighs, his face began to nuzzle my neck and although I had thought it was too soon, I rubbed myself back against him anyway, encouraging him further, making his breath come out in a short hot shot against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Perhaps if we had just continued like that for a while longer it would have been OK, I wasn't thinking of anything other than the feel of him against me, the warmth radiating out from between my legs to my finger tips, to my toes, but, Michel - maybe because he couldn't help it, maybe because it was just a normal thing to do when with me - took it one step further and burst my bubble.
His fangs came down and I felt them scrape against the sensitive skin at the side of my neck, pausing above my pulse point, pressing ever so slightly, denting the skin. And making me scream in fright in my head and shoot right out of the bed and slam into the wall between the shuttered windows, panting and crouched down, my arms around my body and my eyes never leaving him in the bed.
It took a moment for me to realise how bad he looked. Not only terrified at what he had done, but also so pale, so gaunt, so weak. Shit. Erika had been right and I hadn't even noticed last night, but now in the dim glow of the room I could see how very, very sick Michel must have become. If nothing else, that made me forget about what had just happened and returned me to me.
“You don't look well.” It was all I could think of to say.
He smiled slightly, still a little petrified at scaring me I think. “I have been better,
ma douce
, but with you here, I can already tell I am returning to my former self.” His smile turned a little bitter then. “I am so sorry.”
Those four words were said with such emotion, such clear regret, that it was enough for me to go to him. He wouldn't hurt me, no matter what, he wouldn't hurt me.
I crawled back onto the bed, his eyes going a little wide and stopped just in front of him. He was sitting half up resting on his arm, I don't think he was capable of moving anywhere, he was trapped staring at me, unable to look away. His breath was coming in short rapid bursts, his eyes, so very familiar, were swirling an indigo, violet and amethyst maelstrom of colours, it took my breath away just to look at them.
I knew he wouldn't make a move towards me. I knew if anything were to happen, it would be entirely started from my end. He was almost a statue, save for his uneven breathing, he wasn't even blinking. I think for him, time had stopped, it felt a little that way for me too, but I was in control, in complete control of what happened next.
Maybe it was that thought, the fact that I was in control again, that made me do it. I could have just sat there and talked. I could have just sat there and looked at him. I could have even just got up off the bed and had a shower, he wouldn't have stopped me, but the thought that I was in control made me feel more like me than I had ever felt before. I suddenly didn't want my recent memories to be what kept my mind so active. I suddenly wanted something of my doing, something beautiful for me and I wanted it to be with Michel.
I lay myself down in the crook of his body, resting my head on his upper arm, where it had been holding his own head up. It meant he was practically above me, looking down at me now. His lips were slightly parted and he had a puzzled look on his face.
I wanted to say something witty, something to lighten the mood, it felt so very heavy, filled with monumental importance, maybe that was because it was. Instead I just reached up and traced the lines of his face, allowing myself to remember each curve, the sensation of his perfect skin beneath my fingers. He had an obvious stubble on his jaw, a little thicker than he would normally allow. I liked it and my attention seemed to be caught there for quite a while. He smiled slowly, but didn't make a move to touch me, just let me find my own way.
After a while I moved on to his eyes and just let myself get drawn into their depths. Michel can't glaze me any more, not since we joined and even if he could, I knew instinctively that he wouldn't, not now, not in this moment. They were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, so deeply blue, so big and round, infinitely wonderful. Magical even. I shook my head at the sight of them. His smile widened a fraction more.
Then I found his hair. I'd always had a little thing for his hair. It's down past his shoulders, dark brown, almost black and so thick and luxurious, absolutely stunning and when you run your fingers through it, it's like running strands of silk through your hands. I must have laid there and run my fingers through his hair about a dozen times, maybe more, before I realised what I was doing. All the time he had just let me, not moving, not making a sound, just watching me with a look of wonder on his face, so open, so innocent, so pure.
I swallowed slowly at that look, but kept going with my discovery of the man before me. My hands made their way down to his neck, across his broad shoulders and then back to his pulse point, so obvious with the blood pumping through it rapidly now, also so sensitive to my touch. His eyes did close when I stopped there, his mouth parting slightly, his breathing hitched and now uneven. I licked my lips, watching his response, feeling a demanding one course through me. But, I couldn't get past his pulse.
Before I even realised what I was saying, it was out.
“Who have you been feeding from?” Michel only ever fed from me, well since we had become a solid item that is. And the thought that he'd had to feed elsewhere while I was gone froze me. I tried not to think of him feeding from Amisi, she seemed the most obvious choice, here in the house, convenient, well known, a Nosferatin. Our blood is stronger than a human's, it has more
Vita Vis.
All these thoughts were rushing through my mind while I waited for his answer, I hadn't even realised I had called myself a Nosferatin, that I had recognised our powerful blood. That more of my memories had returned, without me even noticing. All I could see was Michel's eyes as he studied me and his reluctance to answer the question.
“Anonymous donors.” His voice was quiet, soft, downright scared, I should think, of my reaction to them. No doubt he thought I wouldn't have wanted to hear that, but in fact, it was the only answer that would have been acceptable to me. Humans he didn't know, plural. Not one, which could get attached to his bite.
“Why not Amisi, she would have made you stronger?”
He did look a little shocked at that. “She did not offer and I would never have considered it anyway.”
I smiled then and he visibly relaxed. Without realising it his eyes slid to my throat, to my pulse point, he licked his lips. As much as I wanted to offer him my vein, knowing it would strengthen him beyond measure, I couldn't. Not yet. What I could offer, was what I needed, my body. I needed him to claim me, to give me a memory that was true and right and us.
I took hold of his chin and brought his eyes back to me, registering the appalled look on his face at what he had been staring at.
“Soon,” I promised. He nodded slowly. “But first, you need to do something for me.”
His eyes widened. “Anything,” he whispered.
“Make love to me. Claim me. Give me a memory that I want.”
I don't think I could have shocked him more than if I had pulled a stake and thrust it through his heart.
“It is too soon,
ma douce
. I can wait.”
I shook my head. “Do you want the only memories I keep replaying in my head to be those of the last month? I can't stop them cycling through, even though I am remembering more and more of who I am, it's those memories that keep resurfacing. They're the strongest, they're the ones I can't banish. I need something new, something good. I need you.”
I stroked his face, all the while willing him to understand my need, to not say no.
“I am scared of hurting you,” he whispered.
“I'm not,” I breathed in return, then lifted my head off his arm and kissed him, putting as much of my need and hunger into that kiss as I could manage.
He only hesitated for a moment, then allowed himself to sink into the kiss, to deepen it even more, his hands beginning to find my body beneath him, a deep moan escaping the back of his throat. The sound so primal, so desperate, it made me arch against him, begging for more.
“Oh dear God, Lucinda,” he husked against me, his kisses interspersing his words, trailing a path down my cheek, trying his damnedest to stay away from my pulse point, instead heading down my throat. “I have missed you, my love.”
I wished I could offer the same sort of encouragement, but really, it would have been a lie. I hadn't remembered him until recently, I had felt something missing, something so very sacred and special to me. I even felt like there had been a hole in my heart, which was only now beginning to fill, but I couldn't say I had missed him too.
He must have realised and wanted to distract me, because his lips were back on mine making it impossible to utter a word at all, let alone the ones I wanted to say, but couldn't. His tongue began darting in and out, in and out. And that just did it for me. I grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way on top of my body, my only thoughts of the wonderful sensation of Michel on me, his hard, long body, his soft warm lips, his arousal pressed between us.
“Take me,” I managed to breath out between tongue thrusts. “Make me yours. Please. Now.”
He groaned and shifted his body weight, pulling himself into a kneeling position and moving a hand between us, in an instant his boxers were gone - I don't think I had even noticed he was wearing them - and so had my knickers. He pulled me slowly down the bed on my back towards him, taking one of my legs tenderly and lifting it high above his shoulder, the other leg he pressed gently wide, opening me up for his inspection, but he didn't pause long to take me in, he lifted my hips up off the bed and plunged so slowly, so reverently inside in one hard long thrust. A groan of ecstasy escaping his lips, a murmur of surprise from mine, which quickly turned into demands for
more
as his thrusts remained so controlled, so slow and gentle. Still scared of scaring me, hurting me, frightening me away.
I knew he was trying not to think it, trying not to let the words spill from him to me. I knew he wanted so desperately to utter them, but didn't want to alarm me. He was trying to keep things slow, to love my body and show me that love through his soft touch on my flesh. But, I could tell the claiming was still in full effect and as he had lost me and only just found me again, his vampire's need to claim would have been tremendous. Yet still he fought that urge to utter the words and more surprisingly he fought his body's response at not uttering them. His body wanting to claim me in ever more fervent ways, even if his words did not. But still he loved me so tenderly, so softly, so slowly. So beautifully. This was not a claiming, even though a part of me wanted it to be. This was a rediscovery, a delicious reminder of what we actually meant to one another.