Bozena and Sveta (Neuripra) (5 page)

Slowly, deliberately, she unbuttons my shirt, marking each button opening with a kiss on my chest. Completing the motion, I shed the annoying garb, fisting hands in her hair and pulling her back into the lake of iridescent fabric.

It buoys, swallows, buries, it responds to my mind and changes temperature with my moods. It's an extension of myself, one that she will never comprehend.

Feeding on her mouth, listening to the cooing noises chaffing the back of her throat, I follow the vixen back into the pond of dreams.

Releasing her to the linen, it turns and curls her, holding her in a satin cradle, freeing me to lick the dark vein trailing down her neck into her collarbone.

I love it when she returns to her true state, soft and delicate, fragile and in need of another's strength.
My
strength.

She thinks being a femme fatale makes her sexy, but her
like this
, after the fire, when she's vulnerable and weak, this is when I find her irresistible.

A vampyre body is unlike any in creation. It morphs to fit its mate, and it cleaves my spirit in twain when she snuggles her spine into my torso and rests her head back, her eyes closed, cuddled into the vales of my chest and shoulder.

Arresting my attention, she owns my body, sliding ambrosia so sweet over my hard-on it stalls my image for a second.

I let the bed hold her captive, curling satin over her eyes so I can be naked. I can't let her see who I really am, and I can't pretend when she does this... I have to surrender or the craving will burn me worse than the pyre of suffering she endured at my hand.

“Zarak,” she croons, bubbling my blood with the husky love she infuses into her tone when she's all mine.

I have twenty-four hours... I won't waste a second of it.

Chapter 7

Bo
žena
:

I check my phone for messages out of numb fear, sitting at the window watching dawn burn its way into the darkness and tinge the sky with an angry smear of salmon light.

It's the first time since he saved me that he hasn't contacted me at all. If he can't visit, for whatever reason, he always sends a text.

Worrying my bottom lip, I look out the window again at the glaring sunrise. Birds have been taunting me with their cheerful twitter since four, and I can't stand the cacophony a second longer.

He's different. I feel it on a soul level... he just
gets
me.

But now, all the doubts are clawing at me, and it hurts. It hurts so much I don't know how to cope. Tears blur the view and I stare into my lap, letting them drip while I claw at my arm, digging fingernails into my skin to alleviate the emotional turmoil. I need to hurt to distract my heart from the spurs piercing through it.

Sniffing, desperation wins. With my heart breaking, I know all my fears are rising up and sneering at me. He's hot, hunky, sensitive, and perfect. His brother owns the Belgrade Pravus, so he's around hot chicks every single god damn night.

This day was coming. Someone gorgeous bopped her way through those doors tonight and blew him away, and he's lost in
her
now.

I'm not good enough. I'm ugly, and stupid, and don't deserve to be happy. It's like mama said, I'm ugly and stupid.

Remembering her slapping me and calling me a whore long before I lost my virginity rises up to flood my mind's eye, and the thread I am clinging to snaps. I break the bird chatter with a wail, bursting from my lookout to bury my head in the pillow, stifling my cries.

Crying is weak. Pathetic. Useless.

Crying lets people know they've won. It boldly announces what a fucking loser I am. Crying leads to punishment.

What was I thinking? I was so fucking stupid to let him into my heart, to trust him. I know better than that. I can't love anyone because no one will ever love me. It's just a doorway to pain and hurt and endless torment.

Wiping my nose on my sleeve, my mouth clenched in a bitter struggle, I'm shaking so bad. I just hurt.

I hurt. So deep.

So deep inside, no one can fix me. Not him... no one.

I'm broken where no one can see... where no one can reach.

There's no hug big enough, or man loyal enough, to fill the chasm in my soul.

Staggering to the bathroom I bang the door wide, sliding to my knees at the bath and gripping the only thing that will stop the agony. Unashamed I cradle my arm while my sobs echo and bounce hollowly at me.

I'm empty. There's nothing inside.

Nothing lasts.

Swallowing down the lump of mucous lodged in my throat, I hold still just long enough to slice the blade over my arm, experiencing immediate relief when blood swells up.

It's calming.

When blood wells up to cry for me, the destruction inside shows on the outside, and seeing it always makes me feel a little saner.

I'm gonna be okay. I don't need him.

I don't need anyone.

Keening, rocking, crying, my throat so tight it feels frozen, I wait for the heartache to subside, for my heart to stop banging accusation in my chest, for the loathing to abate...

I want to die.

I don't want to feel anymore.

I don't want to feel
this
any longer. I can't keep living in this eternal hell.

*

Sveta
:

Pulling up at her door, the lack of movement strips my last nerve.

Diving off the Fury, I sprint, trying the door handle before banging the wood, “Zena!”

Something's wrong. I can feel it.

She always waits for me, and right now she's nowhere to be seen. Bolting for the window, I cover my eyes and peer inside, watching her long slender fingers grip the bathroom door, and her terrified peek around the frame.

“It's me! Let me in!” I yell to her.

She ducks back, but not before I catch her wiping frantically at her eyes.

Fuck!

Vaulting over the geranium bushes back to the front door, I ram my shoulder into it, again and again, until wood starts to splinter.

The bolt sliding pauses me for half a second, and when I shunt my shoulder against it again, it flies wide, hurtling her back against the passage wall.

In an instant I take in the tears, the swollen eyes, the red nose, the blood.

Jesus!

Diving in, lifting her, holding her up against the wall, I paw the hair off her face to kiss her.

“I'm sorry,” I promise, swear, curse.

Sobs crack through and she shudders, trembling her face against my neck

Kicking the door shut with the heel of my boot, I wedge her against it, raining kisses on her skin, wishing I could climb inside her and kiss away the welts left on her heart and mind.

I wish that woman was still alive so I could kill her with my bare hands.

Rocking her, I shhhh, smoothing her hair and holding her so tight she can barely breathe. Crushing her with my strength, I know it makes her feel safe. I just squeeze, using my free hand to sculpt long black hair off her shoulder, letting her hot tears soak my neck.

When the sobbing slows, I grip her chin and force her to look at me, “I fucking love you. Nothing and no one can take that away.”

Her eyes fill with sad heartache and her bottom lip slants with grief. I move her, slamming her from wall to wall down the passage balanced in my arms, raping her mouth with the violence I need to express... With the passion I need her to feel.

Dropping with her onto her bed, I release her just long enough to get the padded leather jacket off, hurling it away and hearing something topple and smash.

I rip her lace underwear down her legs, knowing she finds the pain a balm rather than a hardship.

Kissing her, pinning her down with the force, I balance, unzipping and shoving inside her. The clamp of her legs, the way her heartbeat calms, the way her touch morphs from tentative to loving...

Thank god.

She's okay.

God damn it Zena.

You scare me to death.

Diving into her head, stroking in and out of her, my mouth on hers, my tongue against hers, I whisper my heart to her heart,
I love you.
I fucking love you.
If you die you have to take me with you because I don't want to live without you.

Nails claw into the back of my neck and it makes me laugh, changing polarity so I can bite her lip so we can both be covered in blood. I smear it over my face and hers while fucking her hard enough to cripple a normal woman.

Lifting, smiling back at her giggle, her relief, I tease, “If you want to bleed sweetheart, I can make you bleed. I promise if I do it will be way more fun.”

Soft palms stroke my face and deep eyes burn into my heart, “I love you too.”

Dire urgency and panic sedates, calms, and I relax, sagging onto my elbows to rest my forehead against hers.

Daring to close my eyes, I am so fucking relieved it wasn't worse. This is the very last time I let Venix get between me and the woman I love. She needs me more than all of them put together, and not a day goes by that I don't know it with every heartbeat. I'm so tuned to the passing of time I know instinctively the second I'm late, and how much it begins to destroy her.

“
What took you so long?” she wheedles hotly into my ear. It's laced with insecurity and fear.

I lift my forehead so I can stare into her worried eyes.

How do I undo this? How do I make you better?

“
I was in an accident. I lost control of the Harley on the highway and ended up breaking my leg, and dislocating my hip.”

She sits up so fast she almost decapitates my dick with her muscles clamping into me. “What? Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!”

“I'm fine,” I say, shoving her back down and burying a perfect boob in my palm, squeezing until it bites her skin.

I know this chick better than she knows herself. I'll never tell her, but I was there in her darkest pain and was shocked at how she didn't complain once.

She believes she deserves to be punished. She believes no one could possibly want to love her of their own free will. She was so familiar with torment she just accepted it as something destined for her.

Now, I know that pain is a release for internal suffering, and she only relaxes when she's on the edge of agony.

I squeeze harder, hurting her, close to shooting my load and needing her to be there with me.

Her breathing is a dead giveaway, and the way her eyes half close, her chin lifting when she arches her neck. Slipping back into her head I read her body language, synchronizing us.

When she's right there, I slide my hand up, gripping her throat and clenching until her veins bulge and her face turns red.

It gives her an insane orgasm. I won't pretend to understand. What I do know is there's nothing I won't do to relax her and make her feel the love. If it's what she wants, it's what she'll get.

It doesn't take concentration because I'm tensing too.

Fuck! I want this every morning for the rest of my life. Do you get that? I can't always be with you, but I'll always come back... to you.

“You feel amazing,” I whisper, fucking her mouth with fingers and then my tongue.

It makes her gush again, milking me with the weird way her body ripples around my hard-on.

Jesus Christ, why can't you be just that little less damaged? You'd be perfect.
Perfect!

A random thought runs through her head and it ices my blood, making me freeze and tense in anger.

She was beaten by a teacher and didn't dare tell her mother. But she withdrew, becoming introverted, emotional, in so much pain just sitting down hurt. Covered in purple bruises from her chest down, she hid the harm; her mother ripped her out of bed and began slapping and hitting, demanding her to explain what the hell was wrong with her.

So close to tears, she bit them back, looking the brutal bitch in the eyes, knowing no matter what she did, she'd pay.

After compounding the damage, left with no escape, she simply said, “Maybe I grew up a little.”

That was understood by the deranged woman as having turned into the village slut. Scorned, slapped, her mother destroyed her mentally, increasing the brutality she suffered by attacking her emotionally, physically, and psychologically.

I'm inside her head relieving a memory in an instant. The revelation and understanding is a constant drip of enlightenment. Every time I'm in her head I witness these images that encroach on every happy moment of safety she has. They're always there, just lurking, ready to grab her back into the black hole of damage.

I need to read up on psycho disorders because I know this isn't normal.

I keep moving, maintaining the rhythm, examining the information I just downloaded, holding her that little bit tighter and wishing to god she could climb into my heart and see I'm sincere, true. I won't give her safety just to rip it from her when she's vulnerable.

She had no safe place in the whole world. Not even in her own bed. She was a virgin, but couldn't defend herself because her mother had made her mind up. She also couldn't physically defend herself because it would send her mother into a flying rage, which would turn into hours of vicious assault.

I despise the woman.

My heart's breaking and I can't show it. I can't reveal it. She'll think I'm judging her, and she's already so fucking sensitive to misunderstandings.

Instead I rest my head to hide my eyes, caressing her skin and kissing her neck. “I love you, Zena. I promise to protect you. I promise.”

Her answer is to squeeze for all she's worth, snuggling closer.

She doesn't have to say anything. I can feel her emotions while I share her mind and plyx. She loves me so much it hurts. It scares her shitless too.

Rolling, I hold her, knowing she'll fall asleep while I'm around. I stay here, on guard for an hour every morning, holding her so she can rest, then I slip out, heading home, and we make new arrangements to meet up every evening when the sun goes down.

It was a promise we made after the hell we went through. We own the night. It's ours.

With her head resting on my chest, she falls asleep listening to my heartbeat, while I listen to the world wake and get noisy. How she sleeps through the pandemonium I'll never know.

I wait the alloted time and then carefully disengage, covering her with the duvet and tucking her in. Kissing her again, softly, I leave my t-shirt next to her pillow.

It's the silent promise that I'll come back again tonight.