Binding Kiss 8

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that I am sitting up, but there is still motion outside the window I am seated by. It is a window I have never seen before. Scared now, I scan my surroundings in a frenzy, but only for a second. There’s a familiar figure across from me.

Hoping against hope, “Amos? Is that you?” is the only thing I can think to ask. He looks over at me, surprised. I can tell it’s him despite the dark hood that engulfs his face. The shining sun outside makes me think it’s more protective gear than for anonymity’s sake. “Amos, where are we? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What the hell am I doing?” He snaps in a harsh whisper. “What the hell were you doing, Ezra? You were fucking stupid, letting Cain get that close to you.”

Hot tears prick my eyes and fall before I can gather enough coherent thoughts to stop them. “I told you not to blame me for things like that.” That’s not what I want to say. I take a breath. “He was already on top of me when I said okay.” Saying it out loud feels like throwing up. “I just. . .I just wanted it to be over.”

Amos stiffens, his gaze going softer the longer he looks at me. “I’m sorry, Ezra. It’s over now.”

Through the tears I manage a dry laugh. “Over? You seem pretty sure of yourself. I’m still with you, Amos. Still your food and fucktoy.”

“After everything, that can’t be how you think I see you.”

“How could I not? What happened with Cain tells me you’re not the only one who enjoys playing with your food.” Images of who knows how long ago play through my mind in rapid succession. I lay my head down on the table separating us and close my eyes as tight as I can.

“Ezra.”

“What.”

“Can you look at me?”

Slowly, I do as he asks. Those big, brown eyes that have become such a comfort go shiny and soft when Amos sees that I haven’t stopped crying. “Cain was trying to kill you. Vampires don’t tend to fuck their providers unless they plan on making death as pleasurable as possible. It’s less of a struggle for us that way.”

Conflicting emotions bubble up in me and boil over as the words, “So the first time you-we-were you?” I hate how heartbroken and betrayed I sound.

“No. No, Ezra, I promise if that’s what it had been, you would be dead, and I wouldn’t have kept offering for so long.”

I nod, but there’s still a pit in my gut. It’s there because now I know for sure that in his own fucked up way, Amos does care about me. The softness he had poured time and time again into making love to me, who when aware of myself only ever pushed him away, flashes before me. “You love me.” I breathe it out. Deep in his hood, I see the color of Amos’s face change and the aversion of his eyes.

“I. . .I want you to get better. It’s my fault you’re sick. We’re going to an apartment my brothers don’t know about, and I’ve set up a way for you to get the aphrodisiac without me.” A pause. He peers at me. “I don’t have to go, though. I can stay, if you want. Whatever is safest for you.”

Despite myself, I know what I feel toward Amos could be described as love. Admitting that in the face of how we met, what he’s done, hurts. But he’s trying to do the right thing. He has always been drawn toward at least trying to do the right thing.

“You know, I can’t say why. But I think I’d feel safer if you stayed.”