Binding Kiss 4

"Ezra. Wake up." The voice is coming from the doorway to the room, far away from the bed. I can't find the courage to open my eyes. Not after last night. "Ezra." Sterner this time. Shame bubbles up in my gut as I do as I'm told. "We need to get you cleaned and changed. You're coming to dinner with me sunrise."

I shoot up from the bed the rest of the way, eyes now wide open. "What?"

"You heard me. You're who I feed off of, and as such you're expected to accompany me to dinner."

Suddenly I'm terrified. Amos I know. Amos I expect. "With the others? From the first night?"

"I'll start answering questions when you get out of bed." The distance that formed between us last night is palpable, especially as Amos crosses his arms and glowers at me. If I were his friend, I'd laugh at him for putting on airs. I'm his food, though, so I hold my tongue. There had already been a canyon. Amos was attempting to build a bridge. Last night, I had stolen his materials. He lit me on fire in retaliation.

Again I do as I'm told, shimmying out from under the covers and wincing when my bare feet my contact with the cold cobblestone floor. Amos steps closer. I flinch due to the desire his proximity to me causes. "I'm not here to feed on you."

The fact that I'm disappointed nauseates me. "Then what are you here for? I thought you agreed to treat me as what I am." I don't know why I'm trying to maintain even the illusion of confidence.

Something dark flickers across Amos's face. "I've already told you; I'm here to help prepare you for dinner. In what way is that not keeping my word?" A moment of tense silence passes between us. Then, "Strip."

"What?" My stomach drops. I take a step back.

"You heard me. Strip." When I go to take another step back I find that my fear has frozen me to the spot. "Oh, please. Don't look at me like that. You're the only one who got any sort of pleasure from last night. It was only food to me."

"Then why. . .?" The words come out in a cracking whisper.

"Food must be cleaned before it is served, no? Now strip, or I will do it for you."

Before rational thought kicks in, I snap, "Do it for me, then."

Amos makes his way over to me, expressionless. Faster than I can perceive, he rips the front of my nightshirt open with one strong hand. The garment falls to either side of me, and now I'm naked before him, save for the bandages and collar. He grabs me by my forearm and drags me to the bathroom, using his free hand to slam the door behind us. "Even after last night, this is still what you want from me? Why do you insist on me not treating you as a person?"

I wrench my arm away and stumble back in surprise when I actually come free of his grip. "Because I'm not. Not to you. Why do you insist on pretending that I am?"

"How I see you is not your choice to make, Ezra." Amos is struggling not to raise his voice at me.

"And what if I told you I don't want you to see me as a person? That all of this would be easier if you didn't?" Unlike him, I'm doing nothing to stifle my voice. Unfortunately that means that as I yell, I have to struggle to hold back tears.

Amos's face softens, and words abandon me when his gentle brown eyes land on my face. "Is that true?"

Why does he seem hopeful? Does he want it to be true? I don't want him to want to hurt me, I realize. I just want him to hurt me. Kill me, so that this can be over with. The momentum and weight of these thoughts slam into me all at once with such force that my knees buckle. I stumble forward, not bothering to stop myself from crying anymore.

Amos catches me in his arm. His hands on me feel like a safety net. Desire and repulsion continue to mix in my gut. "I knew that couldn't be true." I flinch when his touch leaves me.

I turn my face away from his pitying gaze so that my tears might fall in some semblance of privacy. "Can you go?" I whisper, turning my back to Amos and looking down into the tub. Steam is still rising from the water.

He sighs and I try to stifle the fearful jolt that runs through me. "I'll wait in the bedroom. If there's an issue with the bath, please come get me."

I don't get into the water until I hear the bathroom door click shut.

The water is warm, inviting, and despite everything, is the most comfortable I've been in my time here in hell. It's familiar to me, in a sense. Warmth brings back memories of when I was valued as a person and not as whatever I might be seen as now. Livestock? A pet?

My mind sticks on ‘valued’ and Amos’s face flashes before me. That can’t be right. If I’m anything to him, it’s a warm meal after a winter’s day. Nothing more sentimental than that. Something to be consumed and forgotten. If he valued me, he would let me go.

Is it that I want him to value me?

Maybe I think he’s the only person who’s capable of doing so right now. I dunk my head under the steaming water to stop the racing thoughts from going any further. For the briefest of moments, I consider trying to stay under. If I really want this to be over and done with, why shouldn’t I? Amos isn’t going to be any help in this regard.

And then I imagine Amos sensing something is wrong and getting the chance to save me. I don’t want him to have any more chances to prove he cares. Not one so grandiose, especially. I bring my head out of the water.

After I get clean and drain the tub, I look around for clothes in the bathroom. The only thing that’s there for me is a towel. I’m grateful that it's soft and revolted at how comforting I find it.

I peek my head out of the bathroom door to find Amos sitting on the bed.

“Can you bring me clothes?”

“No. Come out here, and I’ll help you get dressed.”

I don’t know why I even expected the possibility of a different outcome. “You? Why not another servant?” Worth a shot.

Amos quirks his brow at me. “Another?”

Clutching the towel to me as tight as I can, I take a step out of the bathroom. The towel is large and covers most of me, but I don’t feel like taking any chances. “What else would I be considered?” I ask.

He stands and takes a step toward me. I fight the urge to take a step back. “Because of your constant proximity to us, those like you are considered above a servant.”

“Considering my position, I’d hate to think how you treat them.”

Amos looks like he wants to attack me again. I ignore that I become aroused at the thought. However, he instead sighs, and walks over to a wardrobe near the bedroom door.

“What are you going to that for?” It’s a stupid question, but the silence is worse. He begins to shuffle through dresses I didn’t know I had.

“Dressing you for supper. You’re my provider, and as such, I want you to be presentable at the feast tonight. There’s going to be more than my brothers, and I don’t feel like having my provider being the reason we make any sort of bad impression.” He pulls out a small dress with a plunging neckline, a pristine white. My stomach flips at how much of me would be revealed were I to put that on. Something tells me not to argue too hard.

“Why do I need to look presentable if I’m just going to be your food?”

He motions for me to drop the towel and I’m sickened at how mindlessly I obey. “Because you’re not just my food. Those who live here will want to taste you, and maybe some of the other guests as well.”

I try to cover up that I’m pleasantly weak in the knees by asking, “And you’re okay with that?”

He hands me the dress, a puzzled look on his face. Frustration bubbles in me. How can he be the one who’s confused, but I’m the one feeling stupid?

“It’s common practice for vampires to allow their kin tastes of their providers.”

There’s a feeling churning in my stomach that I can’t quite place for a moment. The realization of that feeling clicks when the next words out of my mouth are, “Are you going to feed on someone else?”

Amos looks like he’s trying to suppress a smile when I say this and I know he caught wind of my jealousy. I’m going to be ill.

“No. I’ve never been too fond of these gatherings, actually. I’m not one for feeding off someone I’ll probably never interact with again, so don’t worry.”

I snatch the dress from his hands. “I wasn’t worried,” I mumble, sliding into the crisp linen.

“Then why did you ask? Here, turn so I can get the zipper.”

I do as he says, knowing that I’m enjoying the closeness and too tired to be angry about it. “A man can’t be curious about his. . .what are you to me, even?” The warmth of his hands near my back steals my thoughts away from me as I’m overcome with longing for Amos to bite me.

Longing for the aphrodisiac, I correct.

His hands have stilled halfway up the dress with the question. “What do you mean, Ezra?” One of his hands is now tense on my shoulder, but I could slip from his grasp if I wanted to. I don’t.

“You called me your provider. I know my role in this place. What’s your role here, Amos?” His name feels like fire on my tongue. I can’t say that it’s an unpleasant burning.

He zips up the dress the rest of the way, and then spins me to face him. There’s something intense in his face as his eyes search mine. “What do you want me to be?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice in a situation like this.” I avert my eyes, staring blankly at the floor. My stare is halted when Amos tips my chin upward so I’m meeting his eyes.

“Ezra. I’m trying to provide what little choice I can in a situation like ours. What do you want me to be?” I don’t feel frightened by him. His tone is warm, something I didn’t expect, and his dark brown eyes are full of gentle curiosity. Hope?

The fact that an aphrodisiac from his fangs flows through me hits my memory in full force. I break eye contact, pulling my face away from his hand. “You’re my keeper, Amos. I provide for you, you keep me here.”

“Like a caged canary.”

“Don’t expect me to do much singing.”

“How could I? I’ve clipped your wings. Even if you could escape the cage, I don’t sense there’ll be much freedom.”

“So we have an understanding, then.” Why am I disappointed? Did I want him to try harder? Try harder to do what?

“I think we do.” He sighs. “Come, we need to put your collar on.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“The others won’t. Besides, you need the protection for your neck.”

I cock my head, following him to the dresser. “Aren’t I meant to be fed on?”

“Yes, but only by those with permission to do so. I don’t want to risk a ravenous servant having access to you.” He fastens a thick leather collar around my neck. A silver ‘O’ dangles from the front, the only splash of brightness in the pitch of the collar. The humiliation doesn’t fully kick in until he clips a leash through it.

“Is that necessary?” I ask, stiff as Amos checks the security of the leather extension.

He looks at me, mischief glinting in his eyes. “If I am to be your keeper, then I would prefer to use methods that allow me to keep you close.” I roll my eyes. Amos drops the leash. “There’s nothing to be done about your hair, I suppose.”

Blushing, I bring my hand up to the uneven length. “Sorry. I did it myself.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What’re you apologizing for? I only meant those that fed on you would have to push it up because it’s too short to pull back. Some vampires prefer that.”

More blood rushes to my face. Realization dawns on me that Amos has been kinder to me than I have ever even been to myself. Another dawns when I shake myself. Here and now is not the place to become endeared to anyone, least of all Amos.

“Are we heading out, then?” The prospect of being a feast so soon makes my stomach do flips. I resent my body for the fact that the sensation isn’t unpleasant.

Amos grabs the leash again, and when he tugs, I easily take a step toward him. “You look ready enough to me.”