Grinding against her, I relish her breathless gasps of pleasure and the needy mewls vibrating in her throat that buzz against my lips. Drunk on her blood, I care less and less what is real. What is her and what is the bite. As long as she stays here with me, nothing else matters.
Her fingers skim my lower back, perfectly following the line of my waistband, stealing every inch of skin that is exposed by my pants falling further down my hips. I want to tell her to go for it. To take what she wants. But to do so would mean I have to stop feeding. And when I stop, it’s over. Because we’re friends. Because this isn’t real.
The painful truth worms its way to where my conscience lives. Carefully, I retract my fangs from her flesh, sealing my mouth over the wound and sucking hard, extracting every last drop before my saliva heals it. I’m not a saint, after all, and her blood tastes like the divine.
I take my time licking her clean and breathing in her scent, which is now mixed with desire. Her touch turns to long strokes up and down my spine, soft and sweet, and my grip tightens around her body. I want to sink into this feeling. This quiet moment that feels like more than just the simple exchange of needs.
One of her hands lazily threads through my hair before trailing down my neck, and tingling shivers follow in its wake. A happy hum plays in her throat, suggesting she is seemingly just as content as long as we’re touching. That’s new for me. The bite usually leaves its victim wanting, hungry for more, so that they’ll keep coming back until they’re sated.
Leaning up on my elbows, I look down at her face, searching for clues to what she’s feeling. Her face is flushed, her pupils dilated, and her lips are slightly swollen. She bit her lip to keep from calling out.
“Are you okay?” I ask at the same time she murmurs, “Did you get enough?”
We laugh, our faces are so close I can feel her breath against my skin.
Sighing, I press my forehead to hers. “Yeah, I—”
“What the fuck?” a voice shouts from the only person who can sneak up on me. Someone who doesn’t have a heartbeat.
“Felix!” I cry, springing away from Callie just in time to witness the crushed look on his face before he slips through the floor.
Quickly, I scramble upright and barrel after him, jumping over the banister halfway down the stairs.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I yell, which sounds just as guilty as I feel.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” comes from my office, and I follow the sound of Felix’s voice. “I mean, why wouldn’t she go for you? You’re you.”
His words are like shards of piercing glass through my chest, hurting me as much as the wounded tone surrounding them.
“She didn’t ‘go for me.’ It’s not like that,” I assure him, as I walk through the doorway. “She’s just helping me...” I take a deep breath, lifting my gaze to his, and confess, “By feeding me.”
“So much better,” he scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Nothing going on with sexy venom in the mix.”
I’d like to argue, but all the blood has drained from my head. Behind my best friend, shining blindingly bright, is his door to the afterlife. My eyes burn as I realize my last moments with the person that knows me the best, the person that’s always been by my side, are going to be soured by arguing over a girl.
Dropping to my knees, I beg, “Please believe me. Nothing is going on between Callie and me. We’re just friends, I promise. You’re my best friend. I would never do that to you.”
Felix freezes mid-motion, his head tilting to the side, and his expression clouded with confusion. “Alright, I believe you. Damn dude, I know I was upset, but you look like…”
His gaze follows mine to the light behind him, and instead of the expected reaction—awe, surprise, maybe even a little sadness—he looks annoyed.
“Screw you, door,” he growls, stomping over to what is normally the entrance to the bathroom, but now shines with the bright light of the world beyond. “I get a little insecure, and it’s all, ‘hey, why don’t you move on?’ Well, I’m not that easy to get rid of, so you just mind your own damn business.”
Then he slams the door closed. The door to the afterlife. His ticket to heaven.
Stumbling to my feet, I race over, twist the knob, and after swinging the door open, all that sits behind it is the familiar scene of the small half bath tucked under the stairs.
“What the…” I breathe, my fingers digging into the doorframe.
“Is everything okay?” Callie murmurs from just outside the office. Glancing over my shoulder, I notice she’s pale with a light sheen of sweat.
Shit. I just fed from her, and she walked down those damn stairs. Too many stressors on the body.
“We’re okay,” I answer, at the same time Felix chimes in, “Misunderstanding. Sorry, pretty girl.”
He rubs at the back of his neck with an expression somewhere between guilty and embarrassed.
Not knowing how to handle Felix at the moment, I stride over to Callie, and after wrapping an arm around her waist, I lead her to sit down on the black leather couch in the den. Gingerly, she sinks into the cushions, her hands curled into tight fists—fighting the urge to reach out to me. She might not understand the depth of Felix’s feelings for her, but I’m thinking after this, she’s no longer oblivious to them either.
