“She shouldn’t worry about me. And you shouldn’t come by for a while. It’s going to be rough around here.”
“Well aren’t you Mr. Cryptic,” Jason huffed.
“You have been hanging around Willow entirely too much.” Seth had to fight the surge of jealousy he felt at the thought of his Willow being with some other man.
“Wow, you rented movies, too. What did you get?” Before Seth could stop him, Jason grabbed the DVDs and frowned. “You got Nightmare on Elm Street? Only you could go into a video store and get a movie that has been around forever. Why didn’t you get something newer?”
“I want to see this one,” Seth told him simply, taking the movie from his hand.
“And just what made you have this sudden burning desire to watch this movie? You always refused to let me watch it when it was on cable. You said something about television and movies being nothing but a waste of time and told me to go read a book.” Jason sulked. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to listen to you talk about the days when there was no television? How people were excited if they learned how to read, or could find a book—any book—to read? More times than any man should have to, I’ll tell you that. Damn. Did my history teachers love it when I had to spend time with you.”
“That was different. You were a child and your parents trusted me to keep you safe. And I wish to watch it now.”
“Why?” Jason wouldn’t seem to let the subject drop, he seemed determined to get an answer.
“I want to hear a rhyme. Does it matter?”
“Wow, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You’d think after waking up with a beautiful woman nak*d and lying across you, your temper would improve,” Jason grumbled. “But no, you have to go and act worse than you did when she avoided you.”
“That was different.” Just how many times would he be allowed to get away with using that phrase in this conversation? “And how did you know she was lying across me?”
“I looked in on you two—just to make sure you were both in one piece. How is it different now?” Jason returned to the previous subject.
“It just is. Look, just take her home. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come around me again.” His heart broke as he lied to his friend, knowing it was perhaps the last time he would ever see him.
“Fine. I’ll go. But there are two things I won’t be doing.” He grabbed the jacket he’d kept in Seth’s closet for emergencies and began to put it on. “First, I won’t be waiting by the phone for your call.” Jason walked over to the elevator. “And second, I won’t be taking her anywhere. You want her gone, you tell her. She damn well deserves to hear this from you after what happened last night. To quote what you always tell me, ‘It’s your mess. You clean it up’.”
Climbing into the elevator, Jason shook his head as the doors closed.
Seth was left standing in the middle of the hall.
Now what am I supposed to do? He was tired after his ordeal the night before. Who knew feeling human sickness could be so tiring?
Looking over at the couch, he knew he couldn’t leave Willow there. The way she was sleeping would give her one hell of a neck cramp.
With a sigh, he picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom. In her sleep she moaned slightly and tried to snuggle closer to him.
I wonder what she’s dreaming of. What, or who, can put that sweet smile on her face in sleep? Lovingly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he laid her down, Seth felt another surge of jealousy.
Gods, I need to get myself under control. Situating her into his bed, he watched, curious when she pouted and whimpered when he pulled away.
Returning to the kitchen, he grabbed the DVDs. After making sure all the curtains were pulled tightly shut and the doors locked, Seth settled down on the couch and began watching the first movie.
* * *
Where am I? What’s going on? Willow woke up disoriented. She could remember going to the bar, helping Seth and calling her sister. How did I end up in a bed?
Seth must have come back. Either that or Jason took pity on me. Of course if he moved me, I won’t hear the end of it. Did Seth ever come back? Shaking her head she decided to simply be thankful she was still fully dressed.
Groggily, she climbed out of the bed and walked toward the living room, her bare feet carrying her through the apartment soundlessly.
When she saw Seth sitting on the couch watching a movie, she could only stop and stare. The dim light didn’t conceal how handsome he was. Her body ached to go to him, to feel his arms around her again. Looking at the screen of the television, she tried to see what had him completely engrossed, what had him spellbound to the point he hadn’t heard her approach.
After a few moments she recognized the movie. The horribly burned face would be almost impossible to not recognize.
She walked up behind him and stared in fascination at how absorbed he was in the story.
“Seth?” She called his name quietly, careful not to touch him. After all, she hated it when people snuck up on her while she was watching a horror movie and scared the bejeezus out of her.
He jumped up and jerked back as though the monster from the screen had come to life.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Why are you watching Nightmare on Elm Street?”
He didn’t answer her immediately. Turning, he watched the screen for a few moments as the villain gave an evil laugh. “I wanted to hear the rhyme,” he answered without looking at her.
“Rhyme?” Willow asked confused.
“Is that what you think of me? Do you see me as some monster who will invade your dreams and terrorize you?”
He sounded hurt, so lost. The conversation they had at the bar came flooding back to her. “Oh…” She didn’t know what to say. Now that she’d gotten a decent night’s sleep, she was thinking much clearer. She walked around the couch and sat on the opposite side of him. “Seth, I—I’m not sure what to think.” She reached over and grabbed the remote, cutting the television off and forcing him to look at her. “What am I supposed to think of you? You are a complete contradiction. You give me the best sex of my life and make me think that you are at least part god, but then I find out you’ve been drinking my blood. Just taking something from me…”
“Would you have given me permission? Do you think you would have said ‘No, I don’t mind, drink all you want’?”
Willow shook her head. “I don’t know what I would have said because I was never given the chance. I don’t know, maybe I would have said ‘go for it,’ thinking it was some weird fetish, or you were just a freak. Maybe I would have said ‘no way, no how,’ and walked away. Maybe someday I’ll be queen of the universe and all will bow before my glory. The point is you didn’t have any right to make the decision for me.”
“You’re right, and it was wrong of me. But I’m not exactly accustomed to just telling everyone I know—women that I pick up in a bar—that I’m a vampire.”
“I don’t care what you do with everyone else!” She certainly didn’t like hearing about him picking up other women. “I can forgive—hell, I can ignore the first time you did it. You didn’t know me from Eve. I understand you wouldn’t want your secret out. But after that, after you invited me to stay here with you, I had a right to know.”
“What do you want me to say? You’re right. And ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t begin to cover how I feel.”
“But would you feel the same way if I hadn’t found out your secret?” She stood and started to pace across the room. “Would you still be sitting here telling me how sorry you are if I hadn’t run out of here?”
“I was planning on telling you. I was going to tell you the night you found out.” He looked away from her.
“What happened?” she asked curiously, stepping closer.
“I was afraid you would run from me. That you would freak-out and run screaming from my apartment wearing nothing but what you had on at the time. I just wanted one more taste.” He turned to look into her eyes. “I just needed one more taste of you, in case you decided to leave.”
She was speechless. What could she say? She had reacted exactly as he believed she would when she found out the truth.
“I didn’t know vampires’ stomachs growled,” she changed the subject.
“They don’t.”
“Then how…why… Now I’m confused.” She sat back down on the couch, facing him.
Seth gave a bitter laugh. “Join the club, swe…Willow.”
“You never answered my question earlier. Did you feed after I left?”
“Every night. More than once on some nights.” He watched her as he spoke. Was he trying to gauge her reaction?
Willow felt an instant surge of anger rush up from his answer. She clenched her jaw to prevent herself from spitting an insult at him, reminding herself it was none of her business whom he “ate”.
“But it didn’t seem to matter,” he continued. “No one satisfied me. No one was able to ease my thirst, my pain. No one, until you did last night.”
“I don’t care if they ‘satisfied’ you. It’s none of my business what happened between you and your donors. It’s not like I want every little detail,” she replied cattily, trying to sound as if she didn’t care about his answer.
Seth chuckled. “Feeding isn’t something sexual unless I make it that way.”
Willow sniffed in disbelief, her hand automatically covering the sore spot above her thigh. “You expect me to believe that you don’t have sex with your donors? What, did I get ‘stupid’ tattooed across my forehead while I was asleep?”
“I didn’t say that. Sex does make the blood sweeter. Compare it to a milkshake. The excess adrenaline is the ice cream—sweet and creamy. The orgasm acts like the whipped cream and together they slide down your throat, refreshing you, making you glad you indulged. The more powerful the orgasm, the more intoxicating the blood is.”
“I really did not feel the need—or the desire—to know that. But thanks for sharing,” she spit out sarcastically. “I’m gonna be really mad if I can’t enjoy one of my favorite drinks anymore now that you’ve compared it to blood.”
“Yes, I have drank from women after pleasuring them in bed. It was a give-take relationship. I gave them pleasure, and they gave me their blood.”
“You mean you took their blood. Giving implies consent.”
“Fine, I took their blood. The only side effect was they felt as though they had donated blood, which they had done, even if they didn’t know about it. And I happen to believe my…method is more pleasant than someone jabbing your arm with a needle then just handing you a cookie and some juice.”
“What exactly is the point here?” Willow asked irritably. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of him with all those other women, the way he dismissed hav**g s*x with countless other women, made her want to slap him. Hard. Possibly repeating the gesture until her hand hurt.