The Knight Of The Rose (7 page)

but, yes?”

“Um…” God, I feel so stupid doing this.

“You can’t take me wit h you when the winter

comes—” I placed the cloth in David’s palm, and he closed his fingers around it, “—but you can take

a part of me. It has my scen t on it.” I reached back into my pocket. “But…it isn’t just my scent I

want you to have…”

“Okay?” David’s brow arched with confusion; my shoulders lifted as I clamped my index

finger onto the pin in my pocket, then drew my hand back and watched a crimson droplet pool on the

tip. “Ara!”

“This is my perfume,” I said quickl y, before he could get mad, then dropped a dollop of

blood onto the hanky; Da vid’s fingers tightened around mine for a moment. “It’s the best way I

could think of to give you a part of myself.”

“You silly, sweet girl.” He shook his head, smiling.

Ouch. “I must’ve pricked it pretty deep.” I pulled my finger back and squeezed the base. “It’s

still bleeding.”

“Don’t squeeze it—you’ll make it worse.” He placed the handkerchief in his pocket and took

my hand, then, with a soft smile, slid my fingertip onto his tongue and closed his lips tightly around

it.

The smoothness of his tongue felt cool, yet warm—like a tepid bath—soothing against t he

pulsing wound. I wat ched his face; he closed his eyes, his shoulders lift ing with each breath. A

strange pulling and a mild stinging sensation forced me to inhale as his tongue ran over my fingertip,

pressing my nail firmly to the roof of his mouth.

More than ever befor e, my pounding hear t pleaded, begging him to take me—to bite me,

drink from me...make love to me.

He opened his eyes as he s lid my finger past his lips again and kissed it. “Ara....you taste

amazing—like a creamy dessert wine. Sweet and yet so powerfully intoxicating,” he whispered as

his eyes changed colour , just like they did in th e storage closet at school; how the green became

darker, encircling the pupil that almost entirely consumed the whites of his eyes. “I can’t keep doing

this.” I stared up at him, blinking each time his warm breath touched my lashes. “Doing what?”

“Telling myself not to touch you, not to...to do inappropriate things with you.”

“Let’s do it then.”

“It?”

“Yes. Blood. I…I want you to drink my blood.”

With an accusatory glare, his jaw stif fened, but the look washed away quickly as he ran his

tongue over his lips one last time and the history of my blood clearly fell against it.

The vampire surfaced within his eyes, and his hand cupped the side of my neck, his body

inches from mine, his breath suddenly weighted and fast. “Not with your clothes on.”

I looked down at my jeans, then back up at the vampire. “Huh?”

“Vampires like skin—we need skin. If we do this with clothes on—” he looked away for a

second, “—when I get carried away, I might rip them off you. I don’t wish to explain to your father

why I’m bringing you home naked.”

“Oh.” I laughed, but a sudden sinking feeling, like a hot blast of toxic, adrenaline-inducing

drugs, shot through my arms.

“It’s okay.” He p laced his hand on my chest—over the place where my heart tapped my

ribs—trying to break free. “I won’t do anything to hurt you. You have my word.”

“I know.” I nodded. “It’ s just—” swallowing, I unravelled my fingers from their ball-grip.

“It’s just that no one’s ever seen me…
naked
before.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“I’m…I’m afraid…that you might be...disappointed.”

I tensed, waiting for him to laugh, but he only glided the backs of his fingertips along my

cheekbone and stared deeply into my eyes, reaching down to take my wrist with his other hand.

“What if I were to undress, and suddenly you decided I was not as...hot as you thought?”

“What?” I smiled. “Impossible. You’re totally hot…and besides, as if I’d care. I love you.”

He smiled down at me. “Precisely.”

My breath shuddered. David released my wrist and fingered the base of my single t top,

revealing first, the strip of white skin above my jeans, then watching intently as he drew it up over

my belly button and my ribs. I stiffened all over. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know.” I nodded, swallowing nerves.
I want you to do it, David—I just wish I’d worn

pretty underwear
.

Prompting him out of his hesitant pause, I lifted my arms above my head. A breath of a smile

swept across my lips as David dropped my top to the wet grass and stepped back, shaking his head.

“Ara, my love.” His eyes warmed his entire face. “You are incredibly perfect.”

Heat rushed into my cheeks and I covered my purple and pink candy-striped bra. “Even in a

bra that looks like I shop at the same boutique as Bozo the Clown?”

A burst of laughter shot through David’s lips. He reached out and took each of my hands, just

above the wrist, and pulled them away from my ribs. “This—” he nodded to my bra, “is just another

thing that makes you so damn sweet and cute. You’re seventeen. I didn’t expect black lace.”

“But, I look like a flamboyant zebra.”

“You look beautiful.”

I smiled, feeling, with the way his eyes traced my shoulders and ribs, truly beautiful for the

first time in my life.

Confidence returned, and without hesitation, I unbuttoned my jeans with one tug and watched

his eyes as, inch by inch, he saw my pink underwear, the top of my thigh and then my knees.

My heart skipped a beat. I never imagined a guy would look at me that way—a look I thought

was reserved for those girls who can look twenty in a bikini.

With less finesse than a drunkard, I kicked my ankles out of my jeans and stood expectantly

in front of him; ready to finally go that little bit further than we’d ever been before.

David, with a kind of cert ainty that would put male models to shame, unzipped his jeans and

slipped them to his ankles, then stepped out of them, rolling up to stand.

As if my gaze were a waterfall, it fell over his broad shoulders, the tight skin across his chest,

hugging his pecs like cling-wr ap, down the ripples of hi s abs an d over the thick band of his

underwear. A girly giggle twitched at my lips. “I always wondered if you were a boxers or briefs

guy.” David looked down, then shrugged. “These are kind of in between.”

“David?” I sai d as he clos ed the gap between us and s tood a breath away fr om my skin.

“We’re almost naked. Together…alone.”

“I know,” he br eathed the words out. “It’s taking everything in me not to want you ri ght

now.” I shook my head. “You can want me.”

His eyes flicked over my f ace, his lips parted to allow for his exultant breath, and his hand,

shaking, etched closer to my hip, but didn’t touch. Goose bumps r ose over my ski n in

anticipation. “Are you ready for this, mon amour?”

“For blood drinking?”

David nodded; his hand came clos e enough for the heat of his soul to mingle with mine. I

closed my eyes involuntarily and smiled. “I’m so ready.”

“Okay, then.” With his lips but a breath away from the side of my face, he whispered lowly in

my ear, “Lay down.”

Keeping my eyes closed to the white glow of the sun reflecting off the grey clouds, I bent my

knees and placed my hands on the sticky grass as I lowered myself onto my back. Nothing but an

empty breeze caressed my half naked body whi le I waited for the feel of his cool fingertips, but

nothing happened.

“David?” I said, wondering where he went.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked quietly from somewhere beside me.

I nodded and bit my lower lip.

Without a second more thought, both his hands cupped my face, then slid down my jaw and

over the curve of my neck, slipping the strap of my bra off my shoulder. “Just breathe, A ra,” he

whispered in my ear.

The air coming into my lungs felt shaky and unsteady. “Are you…are you going to take my

bra off?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

My eyes opened to his breath on my f ace, his lips right in front of me, his body immensely

close but not touching; wanting bu t not taking. His chest , his arms, his stomach, onl y inches away

from my hot, craving skin.

Every nerve in my brain called out to him; every part of my body, tingling hot—begging him

to press himself against me. But he didn’t move. He just smiled to himself, leaning on his elbow

beside me.

“I can feel the warmth coming off you—” David said, and his eyes narrowed as he studied

my bare waist. “It feels like standing outside on a summer’s day.”

“David, please?” I arched my spine a littl

e, pressing my ri b toward his hovering palm.

“You’re driving me crazy. Just touch me.”

A powerful shock, like electricity or energy or something that made my skin quiver all over,

shot through my spine when he finally placed his cool fingertips to my skin; one hand ar ound the

small curve of my lower ba ck and the other over the side of my neck—his thumb under my jaw,

holding my face close to his. “It’s time,” he whispered against my cheek, and I buried my spine into

the moist, sticky grass, feeling safe and guarded under the brightly coloured canopy of seclusion.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Slowly, I raised my arm and hel d my trembling wrist to David’s lips.
I’m ready. More than

ready.

“You
will
feel this.” He rolled his head forward into his gaze, his eyes questioning.

Argh! Just do it, already!

“Okay. No turning back, now.” David, using his fingernail, traced a small line over the skin

on my wrist, and after a second, the perfect white skin became red and wet as blood pooled out fr om

the tiny slit.

Though I felt his nail pierce through—there was no pain—just a slight stinging when his lips

hovered, leaving only his breath brushing across my wrist.

I squirmed a littl e, feeling the anticipation rise up, making me want to scream with

frustration. Then, he inched closer, moving with the speed of a balloon on a soft breeze, but the look

of intent in his eyes lasted only long enough to erase the huma n from the green befor e his lips

enclosed the gash.

The pattering of rain on the canopy of trees swallowed the sound of his moist lips drawing

the warmth from inside me.

Gripping my hair with my ot her hand, I rolled my face to the image above; the leaves of the

trees swirled around and blended together—a hazy palette of euphoric colour becoming a flat

canvas. As my breath filled my lungs with humid air, a soft, dizzying silence fell upon my ears.

There was no life—only the drawing sensation of his tight lips around my broken skin. His

teeth pushed down on the out er edges of the wound, openi ng it further while hi s tongue lapped t he

blood from within, and my fingers tightened and curled.

Then, as if I slipped into a parallel universe of alternate consciousness, the world echoed out

in a soft, high-pitched r ing; like being lost in a perfectly tuned note of song I’d never heard. As if

floating, an alluring, anaesthet ic sensation detached me from reality and immersed me in Davi d’s

touch; the feel of his fingers on my hand the only thing linking me to this world.

He’s drinking from me, feeding from me. I’m inside him, touching his heart, running through

his veins, warming everything I will never physically be able to touch.

With a deep breath guiding my soul back, the haunting echo of enchantment faded to the cool

breeze. Slowly, he drew his lips away—leaving a moist, cool patch in their wake, and smiled down at

me. A stain of crimson love bled from his lips in two rivulets, seeping out over his perfect smile.

My chest and shoulders lifted with each deep breath.

“Are you okay, my love?”

I nodded.
Let me have your blood?

David studied me for a second, then touched his fingers to the cav ernous split of skin on my

wrist; it pulsed hotter under his touch, the heat rushing down my le gs, encircling my hips. “Are you

sure about this, Ara?”

My arms f elt weak and heavy, but the stillness flooding my limbs shif ted away with the

possible fulfilment of long refused desires.

Wordless and shaking slightly, I nodded.

“Very well.” He turned his h ead to the ar m propping him up, and reached down with his

fingernail; I watched the black pupils disappear behind his tightly closed eyes for a second before he

lifted his wrist and revealed the blotted rush of colour to my lips.

Without hesitation, I took his wrist in my hand and pressed it to my tongue, closing my eyes

as the warmth of sweet orange-chocolate flooded my mouth like liquid poured in unexpectedly.

“Describe it to me,” he whispered into my hair. “In your thoughts.”

I swirled the warm liquid around with my tongue and let it slide down my throat, into my

stomach—like the first hot cocoa of winter, but smooth and rich, warm—like his voice.
You taste

like...like...

Everything in my body drew as hard as it could against David’s skin, and his blood flowed

past my lips until, at last, a powerfully tranquil feeling came over me, like falling backward through

the air. My lips fell away from his wrist, followed by my hands—my head rolled into the crook of his