It didn’t take Bennett long to start nosing around once he’d gotten inside and relocked the door behind himself. Being of a naturally curious nature, he wanted to know more about her than what he already knew from roaming about her place while she was gone and stalking her through the city. Seeing someone in their natural habitat was different than seeing the habitat uninhibited.
He could hear her slow steady breaths from her bedroom, hear the sheets shuffling about her body as she turned or shifted while she slept. A sly smile curled along Bennett’s lips as he stood in her bedroom doorway and unbuttoned the front of his long black jacket, tossing it to the floor in a heap around his boots. His eyes darkened in the anticipation of the first taste of her.
Amalia tossed around in her bed, kicking sheets and thin blankets around at the foot of the bed, winding part of the sheet around her previously slashed wrist.. Scant moonlight beamed in through a small crack between the two sides of her curtains, giving her bed a blue illumination that made Bennett even more hungry for the blood that flowed freely within her small veins.
No, he thought. I can’t do it now. I should wait.
The memory of how her sweet blood had smelled when she had slashed her wrists permeated his thoughts and he could hardly contain himself. After all, it was her blood that he was after, not her good company nor any other of the fine attributes that he saw in her. Attributes be damned; she had an entire body full of blood, blood that he craved so heartily that the want nearly thwarted him from his original plans and almost pushed him into a feeding frenzy when she pushed her covers around one more time and pulled her hair away from her face and neck so that she could rest more comfortably.
Bennett felt his jaw tighten, his gums beginning to ache, and the familiar sweet sting of fangs pushing out to be seen and felt. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent again, daring to inch closer to her bed where he loomed over her, wantonly breathing her in even more before choosing to sit at the foot over wrinkled sheets.
A soft moan escaped Amalia’s throat, possibly the affect of some dream or other that she was having, but Bennett cared little what caused it. To him, it was sweet music. Would she make those sorts of sounds when his fangs ripped into her flesh or would she call out with half-feral surprise and clutch his shoulders to balance herself and her shock?
With the tip of his tongue, Bennett tested the tip of one fang, then the other as he moved closer, edging around the side of her mattress until he was sitting close enough to her upper body that he could nearly hear her calling out to him. She was practically inviting a small attack.
With the corners of his mouth tipping upward in his selfish grin, Bennett leaned over Amalia, ever so slightly, and pulled her upper body into his cold embrace. Her eyelids fluttered until the finally opened to reveal sleepy brown irises surrounded by long black lashes. He wasted no time in pulling her long, unruly dark hair to one side as he tipped her neck with it and sank his fangs deep into her.
As a reflex, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and released a guttural cry. Her instincts apparently told her not to try to force him away for fear of ripping his fangs through her skin, but this feeble attempt to balance herself and stay still only lasted a few seconds. Once he sank his fangs deeper, her soft, warm body thrashed against his hard, cold one. She raked her fingernails up his shoulder blades and he had to tighten his grip on her, his fingers digging into the fleshiest parts of her soft hips, daring to push two digits beneath the flimsy material of her silk shorts, but he kept them there rather than violating the girl further.
He did have morals and standards, after all.
Finally, leaning over one knee, he gently pushed her back against the mattress, his fangs still sank deep within her soft tissues. Amalia’s tear streaked face dampened the side of his face, her grip tightened against him even more, and then, surprisingly, she released him and closed her eyes.
Bennett lapped at her still and was only interrupted from his task when Amalia spoke through a weakened voice and ragged breaths.
“Is this how I die, then? Did you save me only to kill me yourself?” She sniffed, her breaths picking up pace a little more, then slowing again.
Bingo, he thought. “Of course not, my pet.” He grinned to himself. Chicks always dug it when he used phrases like “my love,” and “my pet.”
“But you’re a vampire, right? Isn’t that what vampires do?” She asked innocently, her big brown eyes giving her the look of a doe caught in the headlights.
Her innocence pushed his thoughts momentarily back to another day and time, another century, another girl. “Not always, my love.” Irritated with her ongoing dialogue, he sank his fangs a little bit deeper. Maybe that would shut her up.
“Owwww!” She wailed this time, squirming a bit beneath him. “Does it always hurt so bad?”
Oh my God, why doesn’t she just shut up and die already! Bennett sucked harder at her open wound. He didn’t answer her for fear that it may entice her to speak even more when all he really wanted was to continue to taste her. By far, she was the best thing he’d tasted in centuries.
Then, she did the unexpected. Amalia wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear, “I want to feel more.”
The taste of her was scintillating, arousing, fresh, and so much more than he’d expected that he could not deny this request. Choosing to look at it as her last request, he obliged, longingly.
With one swift movement, Bennet kicked his boots off and released his hold on her. She evidently wasn’t going to run away. She rested her head easier against the pillows, allowing him to creep on top of her and yank her hips closer to his. If nothing else, the impact of his silver skull belt buckle may just hurt the delicate skin beneath her silk shorts, but if it did, she didn’t say or do anything that would let him know. Other than another soft moan here and there, she didn’t make any noise at all for quite a while.
He scraped his fangs down the length of her leg, then back up again as he pushed one of her legs to one side, then bit her inner thigh to taste her there as well. Tomorrow she would hate him, he thought. Tomorrow, she would hurt so badly, from head to toe, that the next time he came to her, she would be terrified of him. After what he had planned for her for the rest of the night, she’d never want to see him again. But, of course, she would see him again. If he didn’t kill her, that is.