As soon as her blood hit my tongue I locked down every urge I had to drain her dry. I was sure. Memories or no.
Nothing would or ever could compare to her taste.
Just like nothing could compare to having her in my arms.
But feeling her overwhelming exhaustion as well, I merely let her take whatever it was she wanted or needed from me. While I both wanted and needed her, I had already decided I would not be feeding on her tonight. Her body was still weak from her ordeal. Weakened even more by her long day and night.
I would not weaken her further by taking her blood.
Nor would I take advantage of her when fatigue made her so pliable.
And wantonly agreeable.
Hopefully I would be rewarded later on for my chivalry with her wantonly pliable and agreeable underneath me.
I knew she had meant it when she said nothing intimate could happen between us. I also knew her desire for me rivaled my own for her. So I knew it would not take much prodding from me to get her to succumb to both of our wishes.
But as she had claimed it would be a betrayal of sorts towards me to do so, I too felt I would be betraying her wishes if I pushed.
And so I would wait.
For now, at least.
However once she was well rested all bets were off. I would do everything in my power to convince her to be mine. But I would never take what wasn’t freely given. It would be her choice to be with me as I was now. I wouldn’t take that away from either one of us, so I had no choice but to allow her to come to me on her own. To see that both the Eric she knew and the one in front of her were one and the same. And that we both wanted her in any and every way.
I didn’t need my memories to know that to be the truth.
Her hands had long since fisted into my hair, but feeling her weariness slowly overtaking her libido I eventually took charge of our kiss.
I calmed our mouths and our bodies bit by bit. Her handhold and heart rate calmed with it. She didn’t fight against me. She didn’t have the strength to. Her lips and mood were both sluggish by the end when all that was left connecting us from the neck up were one set of lips pressed against the other’s.
Were it not for the pull of the impending sunrise I would have gladly remained that way. Her soft breaths expelled from her lungs and swept across my face, marking me even more as hers with not just her scent, but the sensation of breathing new life into me with them. Instead of breaking our connection completely, with my forehead still tipped against hers to hold it in place, I pulled only my lips away and smirked at her fish pouted mouth still slowly moving against the ghost of mine. Her eyes were closed and her breathing even, so I guessed her to be asleep. Not wanting to wake her, but wanting to be sure, I whispered, “Lover, are you sleeping?”
Her moaned response was titillating. If not puzzling.
Her unconscious and unrestrained crusade to make me cum in my pants was just cruel.
I enjoyed every second of it.
Tilting my head slowly allowed hers to drift down the side of my face and her head came to rest in the crook of my shoulder. My scarcely ascended fangs made an immediate reappearance when her lips parted against my neck and her tongue robbed me of my sanity with a simple swipe against my skin.
Yes, my languorous lover was cruel indeed.
Forcing my fangs back into my gums, I hugged her body to my own and carried her to bed.
I cared nothing for where she had dropped her bags. If she made an issue of it later, I would merely wait for her to fall asleep and drop down beside them if that’s what it took to remain beside her. She had already proven she could not move me unless I went willingly. It had been an amusing exercise.
Amusing because she didn’t seem to know she merely had to walk away and I would undoubtedly follow. Proven when my sudden appearance by her car startled her.
Thankfully, not in the way she had claimed.
She would definitely need a shower then.
Now however, she still smelled like everything that had brought me comfort in our first connection. Not wanting to disturb her further by breaking our current connection, I used the ability that came as naturally to me as walking to lift us into the air and set us down in the middle of the bed. Her only movement was to shift her body further into mine and with sunrise still a few minutes away, I replayed some of the events of the night while I waited for death to take me. There were many to choose from. She’d told me countless items I could spend hours pondering. Many questions still lingered for which we still had no answers. But even with the benefit of my blood in her veins, I still found it unimaginable she would want to help me in any way. My actions must have wounded her far more than her own omission could have harmed me. And yet she forgave me. She felt nothing but sincerity in her offer to help me regain my memories. Memories I didn’t care to recover if it meant I would no longer have her. But my mind settled on the one proclamation that bothered me the most. Bothered me because I knew it could not be true.
That I could possibly hate her.
She believed that to be true. I couldn’t refute her testimonial with my own take on what had transpired between us, but I knew. Deep down.
She was wrong.
Considerable wealth. Lifetime upon lifetime of memories. None of it would be worth anything without having her.
My first memory was the pull. Now that I’d had time to process my own feelings separate from hers, I knew it had nothing to do with feeling her fear. Nothing to do with feeling her sadness. While feeling either of those emotions from her would make me move mountains to reach her, I knew now it wasn’t the reason why I had gone to her. Why I had known immediately that she was mine.
It had all been me.
It had been the ache of an almost unbearable weight in my chest that did not dissipate until I laid eyes on her. Without even knowing her name, just seeing her made it all go away.
Because I knew I was hers. I knew with her I was home.
I could not have possibly felt hate towards her. Hurt, perhaps, but not hate.
It had not taken long for me to find the hidden latch to gain access to the underground level. My ingenious lover’s suggestion made it a simple discovery. Behind a false book lay another concave pad, identical to the one on the front door. Mimicking my earlier actions mimicked its earlier reaction, allowing the lock to disengage, but it was the scent that accompanied the door swinging open that had led my feet down the stairs.
It could be no one but my lover’s.
It was a much more pungent form of the naturally sweet aroma that exuded from her skin. Only the traces of our two scents could be found in the house. I had taken comfort in that fact as soon as we walked through the front door and the evidence of our previous presence only got stronger the farther I ventured downstairs.
I was certain no one but the two of us had been in the home.
I followed the trail to the very first room I came upon. In it was a simple bed. But it painted a not so simple picture.
Dried smears of her blood coated the bedding. Staining the linen like I could feel the pain she suffered that night still stained her heart. It was a corroboration of the events she had listed. Her face emotionless while her heart squeezed as she itemized each and every violation she’d suffered with all of the passion of reciting a shopping list.
The bloody bedding was a visual verification I could have done without.
From everything she had relayed to me her only memories of being in my home were fraught with sadness and despair. It angered me. That she had been injured. That she could not find solace in my home. In my presence. In my arms when she had needed it the most. So without thought I ripped the covers from the bed like I wished I could rip the memory of them from her mind.
I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to remember.
I didn’t want her to see or remember.
I didn’t want her to have to face the reminder of our last night together or reflect on how it had come to its appalling end. As far as I was concerned, we were given a chance to start anew.
And I was taking it.
I quickly located a fresh set of linens and went about remaking the bed. A process I apparently hadn’t forgotten, but in doing so it made me question how I came to lose some memories and not others. Considering who I had ended up with only further convinced me the theory my memory loss could very well have been my own doing was true.
Why else would I have had the fuckity fuck clear my schedule for a month if not to spend it convincing her to be mine?
Was I inadvertently lying to her once again?
Making myself vulnerable. Putting myself at her mercy. Using her kind heart in order to grant me forgiveness for something I had no right to be forgiven for?
I didn’t want to know or remember the answer to that either.
I’d felt her shock at learning that detail. Taking that amount of time away from my work must be unusual. I’d felt guilt, determination, and jealousy in her in the moments immediately afterward, but I surmised my actions had been unexpected.
But I didn’t care. For my job, my businesses, or my previous life. She was more determined than me to return me to my normal state, but I would happily spend the rest of our days just learning all there was to know about her.
And I had at least one month to convince her to agree.
I had just finished making the bed when I heard the sound of the front door opening. With it I felt her moving farther away. And like the storm blowing by outside, I blew out of the door after her afraid she was leaving.
As I had apparently left her.
Without a word.
I wouldn’t blame her for doing so. I would follow her, but I would not blame her. Instead I found her gathering her things to bring into my home.
Her sadness had lessened with every moment we’d spent together, but remnants of it still lingered. She was still unsure.
The old me.
While I had no doubts my lover would wear nearly anything well, melancholy wasn’t one of them. She emoted so greatly it would be a crime for her to feel anything but joy. Happiness. Pleasure and ecstasy.
Fuck my memories. That was my only mission now.
To make my lover happy.
Many things she said still gave me pause. Frustrated me on some level because I knew I should understand the cause when feeling her amusement or sarcasm accompanying her words.
Like bats in caves.
She thought that comical.
I thought it unsanitary.
But hearing her ask about zombies and feeling her playful mood despite her serious face brought with it not a memory, but a knowing. Tidbits of knowledge still stored somewhere in my mind sprang up unbidden that had not been removed.
It was what had given me the ability to parlay her question into the joke that earned me her first true lighthearted laugh of the night.
And she’d felt not a smidgeon of sadness.
Fictional zombies weren’t the only things I recalled and as the sun rose and took my consciousness with it, I snuggled against my lover’s side wondering if she knew werewolves and the like were real as well. But it made no difference, really.
All I wanted was all I knew. All I cared about was tucked safely in my arms at my side.
Right where she belonged.
I rose as I had died.
In bed with my lover.
Not only was there the telltale warmth of her body pressed against my side, but I could see her.
In the mirror she held suspended above our two heads, sharing the same pillow.
I happily surmised she had no issue with sharing a bed.
“I see you,” she smiled before letting her hand drop down and adding, “That’s one vampire myth busted.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but my own hand reached out and held her in place as I rolled over to keep her there.
I was hungry for everything Sookie.
I had yet to try it out on my tongue. Her name was just as foreign to me as my own. But I’d made note of it when she identified herself to the fuckity fuck who answered my phones when he wasn’t placing bets on ponies. To me, however, she was and would remain my lover.
Unable to stop myself from acknowledging her as such, I asked, “How was your day, lover?” while denying my fangs’ want to snap down and sink into her flesh. She was more than just a meal. First she would be cherished. Then, if I was lucky, she would agree to nourish me.
And I couldn’t help but smile when she didn’t protest the moniker I continued to bestow upon her.
“Enlightening,” she said coyly and arched her body into my own.
She truly made it difficult to remain chivalrous, but for her I would do it.
“Enlighten me,” I whispered into her ear and watched the goose bumps rise up on her skin in conjunction with the feather light kisses I rained down on her neck.
Everything about her was exquisite.
She shimmied an arm and then a leg underneath my body, so she could wrap all four around me and test my willpower to not fuck her through our clothes. Especially when she gripped me tightly only to release me just as quickly, leaving behind a stinging smack on my ass as she admonished, “Lethargic my ass!”
My arms had looped under hers with my hands gripping her shoulders from behind. Holding her in place my hips thrust into hers as my fangs thrust through my gums, while I promised in a heated voice, “Lover, I assure you. My ass is feeling anything but lethargic right now.”
She was wide awake now.
All bets were officially off.
“Fuuck…I’ll say,” she agreed and matched my thrust with one of her own.
My lips missed hers, so I rectified that problem by placing mine over her own, informing her, “That’s all it will take. You say and I’ll fuck.”
I’d felt her resolve to stop our romp had already been building, but my lips took hers before she could protest. And my crude words had her feeling something else as well.
I felt it just as much.
I also felt confident in the fact her clit and my cock were in a dead heat for who wanted out of our respective pants the most.
Her hands reacquainted themselves with my hair while my own got reacquainted with her ass and for a while we each took turns slowly killing each other’s resolve.
Hers to remain true to her plan to not betray me…with me.
And mine to willingly go along with her ridiculous ideals until I could convince her otherwise.
Perhaps I could convince her to fuck me normal?
The idea had merit and deserved serious consideration. Especially when we rolled over and she ended up on top of me, pulling back to breathe and allowing me to see the feral look in her eyes.
I didn’t need a mirror to know we were identical in that respect as well.
While she caught her breath, she took my hand and placed it over her heart. I rejoiced while it thumped wildly in her chest and in my ears and under my palm.
My other hand moved of its own accord towards her clit to see if it thumped there as well.
Giving her ample time to bat it away.
Which she did.
“Feel that?” she asked.
I assumed she spoke of her heart, so I nodded and thrust my hips up into hers, parroting, “Feel that?”
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, so I waited for their return and her corresponding nod. Poking just below where her belly button was hidden away with my finger, I asked, “Do you want to feel it in there? You’ll enjoy it a lot more. We both will.”
I already knew she would deny me. Deny herself. But it was in the way her cheeks flushed and her inability to look anything but wantonly amused that made it worth it. Her eyes positively sparkled as she declared, “I’m asserting my constitutional right to a Mulligan. An unauthorized conversation conversion took place.”
My hand had strayed a bit lower than her heart to cup one of her many assets, so her eyebrow rose up while she stared down at me and returned it to its previous spot as she repeated, “Feel that?”
“If you are referring to your heartbeat, I’ll have you know I could feel that,” and let my eyes fall to where our hips were still joined, adding, “in there.”
“Keep it up and you’ll never feel that there,” she grinned.
It went unsaid, but we both knew it to be a lie. And I doubted she even realized she spoke as though it was going to happen.
Because it was going to happen.
Possibly in the next few minutes.
At least her subconscious knew it was inevitable.
“It is up,” I smirked. I found joking with her to be easier now. Especially with the incentive of getting her worked up, so I reached for the button on my pants and asked, “Would you like to see for yourself?”
A flurry of hands slapped at my own as she burst out laughing, with the top half of her body falling to the side as she cackled, “You might not remember, but you’re just as entertainingly perverted as I remember. You should look into getting your own TV gig. You could star in your own soap opera. You’ve already got the amnesia thing going which is huge on Gran’s stories and you’re way prettier than any actor I’ve ever seen. Instead of ‘The Young and the Restless’ you could call it ‘The Immortal and Immoral!’ Oooh! And if you put it on HBO there’s a whole slew of wicked ways you can show what really goes bump in the night.”
Her eyebrows waggled at me from where her head was resting on its side with her ear pressed against my arm. Even snorting giggle fits were sexy when coming from her.
Her heart sang.
Her spirit soared to new heights.
I felt every bit of it and consumed it like a drug.
I might not have been able to remember any part of my previous life.
And she might not have been ready to hear the truth of how I felt.
But I knew.
Without a doubt.
In that moment.
I loved her.