My Sweet Blade

I could feel him coming, like an invisible wave of heat and longing. Our connection pulled low at my belly, languid and piercing. I sipped on the whiskey, feeling nothing but him. It was strange to me, being alone for so long, being so careful not to have any connections, to crave another so.

Before, I was... safe.

Lonely, perhaps, but I knew the rules.

I followed the rules.

The elevator opened silently as I stared out at the lit city, the night sky clear for once. The moon was only a quarter full, but still calling out its haunting song. He emptied his pockets, the coins and keys clinking on the dish on the entry table. I drained the alcohol, allowing my body to accept the liquid. I could almost taste the slight smokiness, almost. The only thing that I tasted these days was the sweet blush of blood, the sustainer of a Vampire’s life.

The next moment, tendrils of my hair moved in the silent wind as Jasper materialized behind me, his body a breath’s length from mine.

“Blade,” he sighed into my ear.

I wanted to ignore him. I imagined in my mind’s eye that I walked away, callously, the cold shroud intact, but my body betrayed me. It leaned back into his heat, his unique spicy scent wrapping around me, just like his arms, holding me into his warm embrace. He was tired, I knew. Tired of fighting with me, for me. I closed my eyes, easing into the moment of surrender. The monster purred inside.

Mine, she whispered in my mind, a contented sigh.

“I missed you, my sweet Blade,” he said. I didn’t say the words back but leaned my head on his shoulder as my response.

We stood there, at the window, pressed together, our bodies relaxing now that our flesh touched. I pulled away first. It was getting harder and harder. I had to breathe through the fear of feeling trapped, which was funny since my body didn’t require breath.

I walked over to refill my glass, pouring the amber liquid into the crystal glass. I poured a second one and turned around.

Jasper had taken off his suit jacket and tie, the top two buttons of his navy-blue shirt undone. His jet-black hair looked tossed, sexy. Sweet Mercy, he was so incredibly sexy. He was an Incubus after all, but it was more than that. Jasper exuded this magnetism that drew me into his orbit in a powerful forceful way. In an undeniable way.

We stared at each other, the hallway clock ticking away the seconds, almost hypnotic in the silence. I wanted to walk to him, but I’d already given in earlier and something held me back. I didn’t like this feeling of vulnerability. I didn’t want to feel anything at all. It was uncomfortable, it was painful. I looked down at my feet, almost willing them to move, but they wouldn’t, couldn’t.

For all that was unholy, cursing to myself, I could do better than this. I was the Blade.

But really in that moment, I was Lana.

My eyes looked up at Jasper and a flicker of recognition, and a hint of carefully masked compassion flashed in his beautiful green eyes, before he took mercy on me and made his way to the couch, meeting me halfway. A little tension released in my muscles and I moved slowly to him and handed him his glass.

“How was your day?” I asked, voice raspy, as if unused.

“It could have been better,” he said quietly.

He downed the generous amount I poured for him, licking his lips where some whisky had stayed. My body moved again, and I observed it, placing our glasses on the end table. I pressed my hand on the side of his face, my thumb tracing his beautifully sculpted lips. He waited patiently as I straddled his lap, our eyes connected.

“I hate you,” I whispered, the words almost torn from my lips. My hands framed his face while his rested on my hips, pulling me in.

“No, you don’t,” he finally said. I settled into him, my fingers sifting through his beautiful hair.

I loved his hair.

“I want to,” I confessed, our lips not quite touching.

One of his hands brushed a stray hair off my cheek tenderly, while his other arm wrapped around my lower back, holding me close.

“I know,” he murmured, power and tenacity shining our of his eye sockets.

I closed my eyes, knowing that he understood, and hating myself a little.

His breath smelled like home and alcohol, right before his lips pressed against mine and all tension leaked out of our bodies. He kissed me with quiet passion and tenderness. Like I wasn’t the only one who was out of their depth. Like I wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t know how not to be alone. But perhaps I'd learn.

The monster purred again, but this time it wasn’t quiet. It was ravenous, for him, the one who was ours. For the warmth of his skin, and the undeniable sense of home. And he gave back, with his mouth, his hands, his sweet words forcing themselves into my hardened heart. We burned together in the inferno of unbridled rapture, almost violent in our need for one another.

After, he held me close, as if our connection couldn't abide physical distance, even as my instincts pushed for my emotional walls to rebuild, brick by bloody brick.

"It's no use," he murmured into my hair, voice resolute. "Your heart beats for mine."

"I have no heart," I responded, as we both tasted the lie that passed through my lips.

It was no use. He was breaking through, piece by piece. And the unfettered truth was part of me desperately wanted to hate him for it. His knowing eyes, green orbs of sated passion, met mine as his lips lightly pressed where my dead heart beat, for him.

I kept silent, refusing to surrender any more of myself that night, desperate to hold on to my tattered soul.

"I could kill you," I told Jasper, words casual, almost conversational.

"You already are, my sweet Blade," he replied as his fingers painted caresses of ownership on my bare skin. "You already are."

This is a short piece of fiction out of one of my current WIPs. If you like it, please heart or share it. You can also check out my other works here.