I looked away from the mirror still smiling and wandered into the bedroom. Today was the end of our long, romantic interlude. He had an important meeting to attend that morning. To spend time with me, he’d postponed it twice which, he told me, was two times too many. However, he assured me, once it was done, he’d be back.
Therefore, I was a little surprised when I hit the bedroom that he was still in bed since I knew he needed to leave soon. But there he was. The covers down to his waist, chest exposed, arms lifted, his head resting on his hands and he was staring at the ceiling.
The urge came over me and I didn’t even try to suppress it. I had memories to make.
So I took off running across the large room. I saw his head come up and I launched myself on the bed, my body landing full-length on his large one.
He grunted, his body cocking at the hips but his arms locking around me as we bounced.
“Jesus, Leah,” he muttered when we settled, his lips twitching.
I planted my hands on his shoulders and smiled into his beautiful face.
“Right, so, something to take with you to your meeting that we’ll celebrate when you get back with fillet mignon smothered in homemade béarnaise sauce,” I started. His lip twitch became a grin and my smile got bigger before I did what I needed to do to make one, huge, beautiful fucking memory and without further ado announced, “I’m in love with you, Mighty Vampire Lucien.”
His grin died instantly even as his arms spasmed around me.
I felt my stomach clench.
Oh God.
“Leah,” he whispered, his deep voice sounding funny, rough, tortured. Exactly like it did the morning after the first time he fed when he nearly killed me.
Oh God!
I thought he felt the same or, if not the same, then something. He had to. With how hard he worked to get it, everything we shared, he had to.
But looking at his face I knew he didn’t.
Oh God!
He didn’t.
I didn’t expect this. I never dreamed he didn’t feel the same as me. I could rejoice in the time we had, albeit short, if he returned my feelings.
I couldn’t bear it if he did not.
I didn’t know what to do.
But my body knew what to do and it prepared for escape.
Lucien felt it and in a nanosecond I was on my back with Lucien on top of me.
I knew I had no shot at getting away from him so I did the only thing I could do. I turned my head away and closed my eyes tight.
God. God.
My vampire didn’t love me.
“Sweetling, look at me,” Lucien urged softly.
“Please, get off me,” I whispered and my voice sounded funny too. Rough. Tortured.
His big hand slid between my cheek and the pillow and he whispered, “Leah, sweetheart, please, look at me.”
I didn’t look at him but I said quietly, “I shouldn’t have said it. Forget I said it.”
“Look at me.”
“It didn’t happen. Just wipe it from your mind. Go to your meeting. We’ll both forget it and everything will be okay,” I whispered desperately.
“Leah, please look at me.”
It was then it occurred to me that his hand was cupping my face but he wasn’t forcing me to do what he wished. And it was then I opened my eyes, turned my head and looked at him.
I shouldn’t have done it. His handsome face was gentle and God, God, more beautiful than ever. His eyes were warm and openly troubled and that looked good on him too.
“I must attend this meeting,” he said gently. “It’s important or I wouldn’t leave you. Not now. Not when it’s essential we talk about a variety of things.”
I didn’t want to talk about a variety of things. I wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere and remind myself to stop being my… fucking… self. Doing stupid shit. Getting myself in trouble. Breaking my own fucking heart.
“Leah, did you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I’ll make this meeting short. I’ll get home as soon as I can and we’ll talk.”
“Okay,” I agreed knowing I’d take the time he was gone trying to figure out how I could get out of that talk even knowing I’d never get out of that talk.
“We should have talked before,” he told me, his thumb sweeping the apple of my cheek. “I knew that. We didn’t because I was enjoying you and I didn’t want that to interfere.”
He was enjoying me.
God, how could I forget? I was his meal. His fuck buddy. His pet.
God! How could I forget?
I should have remembered. I should never have fucking forgot.
It took everything I had, everything, but I fought back the sting of tears in my eyes and the ball of fire burning in my throat.
When I accomplished this herculean task, I whispered, “Go to your meeting. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Back home,” he returned immediately and I blinked.
“What?”
“When I get back home.”
I knew what he was saying and it felt like he’d plunged a knife in my gut.
Why did he persist in this? Expecting me to give everything while holding himself away.
“Yes, when you get back home,” I forced out.
His face dipped closer and I braced, every part of me. I knew he felt it. I knew he heard my heart stuttering, my breath coming uneven. I knew he felt my body tightening. I knew it because I knew he had those abilities. And I knew it when I saw his face get even gentler, his eyes warmer and more troubled.
God, why wouldn’t he just go away?
“I told you what we had would be beautiful,” he reminded me, twisting that knife he left in my gut, making me bleed. “And I knew even before you said what you said earlier that you finally understood what I was giving to you. Now, you must understand our future.”
He was wrong.
I already understood it. I always understood it.
I just chose to ignore it.
Stupidly, as usual. Stupid, stupid, stupidly.
“Okay,” I agreed quietly.
His eyes roamed over my face as his thumb moved over my cheek then he captured my gaze and whispered, “It will still be beautiful.”
Wrong again.
“I promise, Leah,” he continued softly.
Fucking liar.
“Okay,” I repeated.
His eyes again roamed my face before coming back to mine.
Then, in perfect Lucien style, he demanded, “Kiss your vampire before I go.”
His words sliced that knife up from my gut right through me, carving me open, laying me bare.
But I did what I was told. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I lifted my head the inch it needed to press my lips against his. His opened as did mine.
That was when I kissed him hard, wet, long, giving him everything I had, showing him exactly how I felt, offering him everything that was me. And I did it because that was how I’d been kissing him since this began, at first against my will then gleefully.
But that was the last.
He’d never get that from me again.
Never.
When he tore his mouth from mine, he immediately shoved his face in my neck. His arms again locked around me, his weight heavy on me and he growled, “Fuck, Leah,” against my skin.
He felt it, I knew it. Whether he understood that was the last he’d ever get from me I didn’t know. I also didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. Not anymore.
My life yawned before me. Years of being forced to live with a man I loved but didn’t love me back and I could never really have. Then years of bitter memories taunting me.
I knew this. From the beginning I knew this.