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He was balancing on a palm, the other palm reached up to cup her jaw, and she twisted to bite down on the heel of his hand. He pulled it away.
She whimpered, “Tristttttannnnnn. Please.”
He chuckled, “I like it when you beg, princess, but biting me like a naughty minx while you beg? Tsk tsk.”
“Don’t make me beg,” she said, zero humour in her voice or on her face.
He threw his head back and laughed at her. She felt anger rising.
She tried to buck him off. His expression dropped and he pinned her harder.
“Ooh, we gonna fight? It’s been a while since we’ve done this.”
She slapped his shoulder, “Get off me.”
“Hey?”
“Grrr,” she growled, “Don’t tease. That’s not nice.”
“Easy…” he warned.
“Get off me.”
“Princess, calm down.”
“Fuck that!” She shot the dirtiest look she could muster.
“Kyla, chill out. We’re just playing. I want you to beg. Then I’ll give you what you want.” He leaned closer to kiss her.
But she was done.
“Get off!” she pushed and turned her head to the side, denying the kiss.
He chuckled a little, “Okay, settle down, gorgeous girl. Do you know how gorgeous your eyes are when you’re angry?”
“NO!” Cold shot up the veins in her arms and she shoved and knocked him back, “Don’t fucking tease!”
He went backwards, braced with his hand to catch himself but cracked his head on the headboard. She tried to scoot away, he grabbed her and threw her back down on the bed on her back and pinned her.
Underneath her anger she felt emotion coming from him. But it wasn’t anger. The only anger she was feeling was her own. From him she felt other emotions.
Concern.
Shock.
“Kyla! What the fuck?”
“Get off!” she ordered.
“No. Fuck that; chill out first.”
She started to struggle, wiggle out of his grasp. He held tight and pinned her wrists above her head.
“Get the fuck off me!” she spat, really fucking pissed off.
He stared into her eyes, teeth gritted, his jaw working.
She tried to squirm again.
He wasn’t budging.
She gave up the struggle but went into stare down with him, shooting daggers out of her eyes at him.
Seconds ticked by. Neither of them was relenting in the stare down.
Kyla’s chest was rising and falling fast with her anger. She couldn’t seem to reign it in.
Finally, he leaned forward, until his nose was about an inch from hers. He stared harder.
“Lemme go, Tristan,” she requested bitchily.
“You gonna be nice?”
He kept staring.
“Let. Me. Up.”
He hesitated but then he backed off her and as soon as she had the opportunity, she rolled off the bed and stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.
She was in front of the mirror, hands gripping the edge of the counter, white knuckled. She stared in the mirror at her reflection. Her hair was wild, her eyes were hard and angry. Her mouth was set in a tight line. She took a big breath and then her heart started to race and regret started to flood through every vein in her body.
What on earth was that all about?
She covered her eyes with her palms and then her shoulders started to shake at the same time as the tears started to flow. Hard.
What the fuck was that?
The door opened and she lifted her hands away and saw him in the reflection, behind her, his expression cold, mouth in a tight line, too.
She spun around and immediately did a face plant, buried her face in his chest and started sobbing. His body was 100% tense.
“What the hell was that? God, I’m so sorry. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I was like a fucking she-hulk
The tension in his muscles loosened and he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, and his hand massaged the back of her neck.
“Shhh,” he said and then dipped to grab her thighs hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and put her head on his shoulder. He carried her back to the bed and pulled the covers up over them both. They were on their sides, face to face, and her arm was thrown around him, his around her. Her face in his chest.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why…” she didn’t know how to finish.
“Shh, it’s okay. Here.” He leaned back and dropped his fangs, bit into his wrist and she latched on immediately, tears streaming as she sucked on his wrist. The blood flowed fast and she gulped it down, feeling relief surge through her at the same time as a rush of shame.
He rolled so he was on his back, her head on his chest, his other hand against the back of her head, stroking her hair while she continued to drink and cry.
“That’s enough, baby,” he whispered against her head with a kiss and she stopped.
“I don’t know what that was,” she said softly, licking her lips.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said but she could hear and feel his concern.
