Possession of Souls (9 page)

Vance swallowed thickly, before giving a slight nod, stepping toward me.

Damien offered his arm to Krista as if he were the greatest gentleman in the world.  She took it, allowing him to lead her out.

Vance and I stood there for several moments, staring after them, before he glanced at me.

“I guess we should pack,” he said, before brushing past me.

I gave a dejected sigh.  Apparently he was still angry with me.

Following him into the closet area, I walked over to my side to look through some of the hideous clothing Damien had chosen for me.  I carefully selected a few outfits I could call fairly modest, and folded them into a small pile on the table, before gathering night clothing, delicates, and some beauty supplies together.

Vance didn’t speak a word as he went through his things, though I heard him grumbling under his breath, and I knew he was frustrated with his choices as well.

When I was finished, I walked past Vance out into the main area of the cave.  I found the table was still there, but had been cleared of the breakfast items.  There was one large suitcase, and one carry-on bag sitting on it waiting for us.

I grabbed the luggage and took it back into the closet.

Vance briefly looked at me as I entered, his gaze traveling to the luggage before he turned away from me once more.

I packed up my belongings and left the suitcase open on the table so he could pack his, before grabbing some other clothing and going into the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day.

Vance emerged from the closet a shortly after, laying clothes for himself on the counter before leaving the room, abandoning me there to finish my routine.

When I came out later, it was to find him lying stretched out on the bed with his hands folded beneath his head.  He looked up when I entered and walked over.

“Vance,” I began, but he sat up abruptly cutting me off.

“Save it, Portia,” he said sharply, getting off the bed to go into the room I just vacated, closing the door behind him.

I stood staring—trying to tell my heart not to be hurt, but I couldn’t help it.  He had seemed so close to me.  This mood swing of his was shifting all of the balances again, and I didn’t like it.

I crawled into the center of the bed and curled up in a ball, feeling like everything in the world was starting to work against me.

Not wanting to be mad at Vance, I tried to figure out what I could do to fix things between us.  I could see right away one of the major problems was he needed more blood.  I wondered if I could convince him to at least take a little from me, just to take the edge off.

Of course, getting him to talk to me again would probably help too.  He didn’t seem to be interested in what I had to say though, and I knew he would only grow even more hot headed until I could get him to feed.

I climbed off the bed, determined I wasn’t going to take this attitude from him anymore.  I could sit here, mope, and be a victim, or I could go do something about it.  I intended to show him I wasn’t going to let him bully me around.  Two could play at this game.

I glanced down at my clothing.  I was wearing a hideous spandex outfit that clung to my every curve.  I paired it with a loose, wide necked, shirt that slipped over my bare shoulders, leaving only the tank top straps of the spandex in place.  The benefit of this disastrous outfit was it made my neck look long and I hoped tempting.

I brushed my long, silky, hair over on one shoulder to reveal my beating pulse better, and I went into the bathroom.

Pretending to ignore him, I walked past Vance, who was still in the deep tub, and into the closet to retrieve a hairbrush and hair band.  Then I returned, going to stand in front of the mirror over the sink.

I proceeded to comb my tresses out with long and luxurious strokes, before pulling it into a ponytail, twisting my neck this way and that while I looked in the mirror, acting as if I was worried over whether it looked just right.

The sounds from the tub stilled, and I knew he was watching me with avid interest.  It was all I could do to try not to let a smile dance around the corners of my mouth.  I could feel his hunger and desire for me.

I looked at him, my eyes meeting his enflamed ones.

He swallowed thickly.  “Get out,” he said harshly.

“W … what?” I stammered, his reaction throwing me completely off.

“I said get out.  I’m not drinking from you anymore.” His hard eyes glittered, daring me to defy him.

“No.” I lifted my chin stubbornly.  “I won’t leave.  You need me, and I’m not going to let you treat me like this!”

Vance sloshed up out of the tub, reaching for a towel, wrapping it around his waist before grabbing me roughly by the arm and pulling me from the room.

I winced in pain as his grip bit painfully into my skin.

“I said get out!” he snapped again, enunciating every word to me like I was a dumb child incapable of comprehending him.

“No!” I argued back, wrenching my arm free.

It was at precisely that moment the door to the cave opened.   Damien came in, followed by a young lady who was very beautiful, with long blond hair that curled naturally around her soft, rosy complexion.  Her full lips had a natural pout to them, and her wide blue eyes made her look innocent.

“Who is this?” Vance asked, displeased with the interruption.

“This is Sara,” Damien introduced.  “She’s volunteered to be your blood source.”

Vance looked over at me before a cocky grin spread across his face.  He strode across the room, still clad only in his towel, and grabbed the girl, hauling her to him as he sank his teeth into her flesh.

My heart felt as if it were being ripped from my chest as I listened to the moaning sounds the girl made while Vance held her so intimately.  She was clearly in to whatever he was doing to her.

The tears begin to swim in my eyes, and I looked at Damien, who was smirking in my direction.

“Some like it rough,” he said with a shrug, and I knew he was enjoying watching me suffer while Vance fed from a very real, very live, source.

“I hate you,” I mouthed, unable to get the sound of the words to travel past my choked throat.

“I know,” he mimed back, coming to my side.  “But you know what they say, don’t you?” He reached out like he was going to stroke my face but paused when I stiffened, as if he suddenly remembered his part of the bargain.

“What do they say?’ I asked in a whisper, not really wanting to know.

He smiled at me.  “They say love and hate are emotions that aren’t that far apart.”

I wanted to vomit as he laughed, but the sound of a hard thud drew my attention back to Vance.

He had dropped the girl carelessly to the floor, and he turned to face me.  He wiped off his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand as his demon features morphed back into his normal ones, except for the red eyes and a few telltale dark veins that were still receding.

“Take the girl and leave,” Vance said as he strode past Damien to grab me by the arm once again.  He led me away from his father.

I was surprised when Damien didn’t argue, instead going over to gather the unconscious girl into his arms and disappearing through the door.

Vance waited until he was gone before turning to me.

“Now, you and I have some unfinished business,” he said hotly, and his mouth descended into a crush upon mine.

I lay curled up on my side in a ball, Vance’s arms wrapped loosely around my form, listening to the sound of his deep breathing as he slept.

My heart hurt.

I couldn’t complain, really.  Vance was always attentive to me, even when he was feeling very aggressive, taking extreme care to make sure my physical needs were being met, and this time hadn’t been any different in that regard.  I hated what was making me hurt—hated facing it.

Jealousy.  I was jealous of the little blood wench he had fed from.  I felt like he’d violated something between us, some type of understanding we had with each other.

I let out a huge sigh, not wanting to admit the whole truth of the situation to myself.  I felt sick and depraved.

I liked it when he fed from me, I realized.  It was intoxicating, powerful and extremely intimate.  I loved that he needed me that way, and I’d grown used to being the only one to provide it for him.  To see him go so willingly to another source was almost bordering on some type of infidelity to me.

I knew I was being ridiculous.  After all it wasn’t as if he hadn’t fed from others before.  He’d done so on several occasions. 

With relish,
I added to myself. 
Even to the point of enjoying taunting me with it.

That was what this dig was.  He taunted me with his blood source, and he enjoyed it.  I hated him a little for it.  It felt abusive.

Tears came unbidden to my eyes and rolled silently down my cheeks, dripping to the sheets beneath me.

I didn’t think I was making any noise, but I felt his arms tighten around me, and his head slipped into the crook of my neck.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he whispered groggily.  “Why are you crying?”

When I didn’t answer, he sighed heavily and placed a kiss against my hair before rolling over.

“Listen,” he began.  “I’m sorry I’ve been so rough.  I let my feelings get the better of me and took them out on you.  That was inexcusable.”

I still didn’t speak.

He sat up, leaning so he could look at me better.

“I love you, baby.  I really do.” His gaze flitted over my face, and he moved like he was going to kiss me, but I turned my face away.

“Portia.”  He sighed again, with obvious irritation.  “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter, or do I have to sit here all night and guess?”

I turned, lifting my hands to place them on either side of his head and opened my mind, linking it with his.  I let the things I couldn’t say flow freely into him.

His eyes widened in surprise as he received my message, complete with all my emotions, loud and clear.

“Oh,” he said, pulling from my grasp and sitting.  He leaned against the pillows behind him and let out a slightly nervous laugh.  “Well, I certainly botched things up, didn’t I?”

I couldn’t help myself, and I started crying in earnest now.

Vance looked at me in something akin to horror.  “No, no, no, baby,” he crooned as he gathered me into his arms.  “Don’t do that.  You’re killing me here.”

I covered my face, trying to find somewhere to hide from him, but he wasn’t going to let it go.

“She didn’t mean anything to me, Portia.  I was just thirsty.”

I sobbed harder.

He cursed under his breath, and I could feel the tension coursing through his body. He was angry with himself and more than a little part of me was glad.  I wanted him to hurt, like he’d hurt me, but that made me feel even worse about myself and only served to add to my distress.

I heard him groan next to me, and suddenly my back was pressed into the mattress.

He loomed over me. “You’re the only one for me.”  He stared down into my face intently.  “You want to know what it was like feeding from her?  It was tasteless, diluted, and completely unappealing.  The whole time I was thinking how I wished it was you in my arms, lying underneath me, while I feasted on everything you have to offer.  I crave you with every breath I take.  How selfish is that?  I would rather leave you weak and depleted, struggling to rebuild yourself while I’m full of your power and essence, drowning every cell in my body with the delicious taste that is you.”

His teeth lengthened, and he sunk them savagely into my neck causing me to cry out at the brutal abruptness of it.  He drank heavily for several pulls, before jerking from me as if he’d been burned.

“I can’t do this tonight,” he whispered hoarsely, my blood staining his lips, and he crawled off the bed.  “I need to stay away from you.”

“But why?” I cried out, sitting up and clutching the covers to my chest.  “I want you here with me.  I want you as much as you want me.”

He shook his head.  “And I want to know you’re at your best for whatever is coming our way.  If that means I have to keep myself from you, then so-be-it.”  He pulled a pillow and a blanket off the bed and wandered in the direction of the red upholstered sofa that was closer to the altar.

“Vance, please,” I called after him.

He turned to look at me.  “I’m sorry, Portia.  Don’t you see?  I can’t control myself when I’m around you. If I give in this time you’ll end up getting hurt even more than you are now, and I can’t live with that.”  He gave me a look of sorrow.

I watched him make up his bed and crawled inside—rolling so he was facing away from me.  After several long moments I flopped back against the pillows he had just vacated.

“I love you,” I called out softly, but he didn’t answer, and I cried myself to sleep.

I slept fitfully through the night.  Bad dreams plagued my mind featuring visions of Vance and all the ways I could lose him.  When I finally woke I felt bruised, beaten, and completely mentally exhausted.

Sitting up slowly, I pushed some of my thick hair out of my eyes and glanced toward the couch, but he wasn’t there.  I slid out of the bed and wandered to the bathroom.

I found him in the closet, putting some finishing touches to his sexy, messy, hairstyle I was so fond of.  He was dressed in a pair of black linen pants and a black skin tight t-shirt with a matching suit coat of the same color over the top.  There was a pair of dark sunglasses hanging from his collar, and when he was done with his hair, he lifted them, sliding them on.

“What do you think?” he asked, holding his arms out, searching for my approval.

I was dumbfounded.  He was gorgeous, like a mix between some young, high class, business man and someone from a movie about spies or something, all dark and mysterious. 

He took my hesitation for dislike.  “I know.  It’s too much, huh?”  He peered in the mirror again, slipping the sunglasses back into his shirt.  “Stupid Damien and his clothing styles.”

“Actually, I was thinking you looked good enough to eat,” I replied, lifting an eyebrow, and he turned to me with disbelief etched on his face.  “You cut quite the dashing picture,” I continued on.  “It’s very … powerful on you, sort of a man of mystery thing.” I let my eyes travel from the top of his head down to the black shoes on his feet and back up again.