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Twisting to my side to face him, I pulled myself out of the memory and back into the present. He looked almost exactly the same as when we'd entered the bedroom last night. He was more rumpled, but nonetheless gorgeous. Unscathed. Lying on his back, he was lost in sleep, oblivious to the fact that we'd destroyed each other for hours in this very bed.
Moving my arms to smooth his hair, the tattered sheet fell away and my eyes were drawn to my own naked skin. There were faint bruises on my hips and breasts where he'd held me, already fading as I brazenly admired them. I adored them and wished irrationally that there were more sprinkled over my skin. This is why he'd chosen not to share his blood with me. He had wanted me to wear his marks, if only for a little while. Taking his blood would cause my mostly immortal body to heal faster and he wanted me to see them, to remember how every one came to be.
Gazing back at his sleeping form, even my silent observations of him made desire swirl angrily in the pit of my stomach. He had warned me that we would be like this: insatiable and all-consumed with one another.
That had been the understatement of the century.
Stretching, I padded into the adjoining bathroom and flicked on the light, instantly catching my reflection in the mirrored room. The woman staring back at me didn’t even look like me. I looked wild, feral. Turning from side to side, I memorized every pale purple finger tip, the pink outline of his hand across my ass, the fading bite marks that scattered a path from my neck to my stomach.
The only thing missing were the marks from his fangs. They’d already healed. The tiny bruises and marks were already vanishing and would be gone by afternoon. Watching them disappear would be almost as frustrating as my numerous attempts to brand him.
Once again, my mind flashed back to hours earlier as I relentlessly attempted to mark him. The scratches and bites I inflicted on him healed within seconds, leaving behind his flawless, perfect skin.
He'd sensed my frustration. He'd kissed me tenderly, following the line of my cheekbones with his fingertips and lips. "I would gladly wear your marks if you could inflict them on me."
And once again he caught me off guard under his sweet words.
Snapping out if my reverie, I blinked at myself and shook my head in frustration. Turning on the faucet, I splashed water on my face and quickly brushed my teeth. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and headed to the closet, grabbing a pair of faded jeans and a black cashmere sweater. I was dressing for comfort. Anna was still in the other room and I knew we wouldn't be leaving the apartment until she rose.
If she rose. I was becoming as hesitant as Stefan and Lukas, too afraid to assume she had survived her change.
Glancing back at the bed, I noticed Stefan had rolled to his side, clutching my pillow to his chest. His handsome face looked young and innocent in his sleep, all of his smug smiles and sexy sneers missing. Only his unguarded beauty was left behind. His soft lips were parted slightly and sandy-colored stubble darkened his chiseled cheeks.
Sitting down on the bed beside of him, I ran my fingers over his silky golden hair. Like a sleeping cat, he nudged into my hand, encouraging me to continue. Smiling softly, I obliged. It wasn't often anyone was able to see this side of Stefan. More than likely I was the only one he’d trusted enough to let this gentle side of him show. He was always on guard, always thinking 20 steps ahead of everyone. It had helped keep him alive for 1,000 years.
My cell phone chimed with a text alert from the bedside table. I reached for it, opening the incoming message. It was from my editor. Let me edit that: a text from my extremely agitated editor.
‘Josie, you need to call me. You missed your deadline. Call me!’
Before I could reply, another came through.
‘I mean it. CALL ME.’
Damn it! Since meeting Stefan, my life had become a whirlwind of drama. My book had been the last thing on my mind. It was ready to submit, I just needed to sign off on the cover design and the interior jacket before returning it to him.
In spite of myself, I giggled. The thought crossed my mind that I should change my biography, adding that I was currently mated to a sexy blond vampire with control issues...and that I was exploring my new found immortality. It was still amazing how different things were for me. My life had become a series of surreal moments and bizarre new realizations.
Leaning to press a kiss against Stefan's forehead, I silently left the room. I stopped in the doorway and looked back, smiling at the beautiful Adonis sleeping in the bed. It may be a surreal situation, but I counted my lucky stars every day.
Dialing my phone, I walked into the kitchen and started digging around for coffee. I was scooping it into the coffee maker when he picked up.
"Finally! Jesus, Josie!" Aidan said. He sounded harried and over-caffeinated. In other words, it was business as usual. The conversations I had with Aidan always left me emotionally exhausted and mentally drained from constantly shielding.
"Hey, Aidan. Nice to talk to you too." I turned on the machine, letting it do its magic and headed into the living room. I curled up into the chair, my eyes zeroing in on Anna's unmoving body.
"Where have you been? Your deadline was three days ago and I've been stalling for you."
Closing my eyes, I had a quick mental vision of myself telling Aidan about my adventures with murderous vampires and immortality. I chose the safer route. "I'm sorry, Aidan. I've been in the process of moving. I promise I'll have everything to you in the next hour."
There was silence on the line. "You were moving? Where are you this time?"
Snickering, I heard the coffee maker beep. Making my way back into the kitchen, I started opening cabinets until I found the mugs. "New York. Chelsea to be exact."
"You’re back in New York?!? We gotta meet for lunch. Or maybe dinner." Aidan sounded excited. I could almost hear the pistons of his mind firing up, making plans that would never come to fruition.
We'd attempted to date after I signed with Stimson & Schroeder. Aidan Peters was an attractive man with wavy, shoulder-length caramel hair and heavy, black rimmed glasses. I'd limited our contact to phone calls after a string of three horrible dates. When I moved to Bali, the 20 hour distance helped alleviate some of the awkwardness that came after a strained break-up. Now I was simply a cab ride away from him and his interest would more than likely have a renewed resurgence.
"I'm not sure, Aidan. I need to get settled and I'll have to check with my boyfriend to see what his schedule looks like. I'm sure he'd like to meet you."
