Brave (Healer) (8 page)

             
‘Yeah! They are extremely adorable, like myself, and spend most of their time fucking, don’t they?’ he laughs.

             
‘Fair point,’ I reply. God, I wish he hadn’t mentioned that. I had done a good job at keeping things friendly today. I had succeeding in ignoring the obvious but the mention of sex makes my palms sweaty. Who knew it was possible to make being a bunny rabbit seem sexual? Apparently Oliver can. ‘Not a wolf?’

             
There is a short silence while Oliver contemplates my question then he says, ‘No, I don’t think I’d like to be a wolf. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.’

             
‘Don’t you like it?’

             
‘Not so much,’ he says.

             
‘Why? It’s who you are,’ I can’t understand why someone like Oliver would have reason to dislike a part of himself but, then again, it’s probably hypocritical of me to think that when I know that everyone has dark elements to them. I’m sure most people would assume being a Healer is great and that I must love never having to worry about pains, aches or illnesses yet being a Healer is brought me infinite pain. I just wish Oliver would open up to me about why he hates being a werewolf. It seems to be the only thing he keeps locked away, out of my sight.

             
‘It’s my turn to ask questions now,’ is all he says. He has been so open with me up until now but I am so curious. Does he think he is a monster? I shudder. He is the furthest thing from monstrous.

             
‘What was your first kiss like?’ he asks.

             
I groan, ‘Can we not talk about it?’

             
I don’t want to talk about it. Not because my first kiss was awkward or gross or embarrassing or all of the above but because my first kiss was shared with a villainous vampire. It was with the same man who now wants me and everyone I love dead. That special moment was given to the person who has ruined my life entirely. Everything bad in my life is because of him and I gave him my first kiss
and
my virginity. I turn cold just thinking about it.

             
‘That bad?’ Oliver raises an eyebrow.

             
‘
That
bad.’

             
‘Okay, you get a free pass,’ he licks his lips. Why did he have to start talking about kissing? Is that kiss of our’s still playing in his mind? I know that I can’t help but think about it every night when his arms are wrapped around me before I fall asleep. Yes, our touches are friendly now but they are charged with something more, something that that kiss ignited.

             
‘What about yours?’ I ask. I shouldn’t be encouraging this conversation when I want to feel his lips all over my skin. I should get back to talking about worms. I think I might even prefer the bunny conversation to hearing Oliver talk about his past romantic experiences.

             
‘I was twelve and I really liked this girl in my class so I asked if she’d like to go a walk. She said yes and we spent the whole day getting lost and at the end she said she had a great time. I hugged her and I was too nervous to kiss her but when she walked away, I just plucked up the courage, ran back to her and did it,’ he explains. ‘Romantic, eh?’

             
His sweetness is making functioning like a normal human being next to him a challenging task. All I want to is to climb on top of him and smother him in my kisses. I want to heal the pain that I know he is hiding. I want to make him feel my appreciation for how much he has saved me these past few days.

             
‘Very,’ I smile. My breathing is quickening.

             
‘Okay so if you won’t tell me about your first kiss, what about the best one?’ he says. ‘I won’t be offended if you don’t say ours. It was very brief.’

             
I laugh. I know I shouldn’t talk about Gabe when it upsets me so much but something compels me to. ‘My best kiss was about six months ago with a boy I was, am, very in love with. I have never felt more
me
or more alive in my life. It was wonderful.’

             
I am surprised by how composed I remain and how much I enjoy revealing such a great moment, the best moment, in my life. By talking about Gabe in such a fond way I feel like he is with me. I feel his light radiating on me but it’s bittersweet.

             
‘Sounds beautiful,’ Oliver says distantly.

             
‘Back at you. Best kiss you’ve ever had and trust me I
will
be offended if you don’t say mine no matter how brief it was,’ I tease.

             
Oliver laughs heartily. ‘Honestly I don’t think I’ve had any spectacular kisses.’

             
‘That’s sad.’

             
‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who makes me feel like me like that yet. I would like to. I would like to fall in love I mean,’ Oliver’s voice is dreamy and far away.

             
Oliver has never been in love. I don’t know whether to pity him. Love is spectacular, I learned that in the very brief time that I experienced it. It makes you more aware of yourself. It’s amazing to look at a person and feel so intensely connected to them. Loving Gabe has been a blessing but it has been a burden too. Having such a passionate relationship with someone can be torture especially if the love is not reciprocated. I feel sad that Oliver has never felt the highs of love but I can’t feel sorry for him when he has never had to feel the lows.

             
‘You’re supposed to kiss me now,’ he says with a cheeky smile and I am taken aback. We have been avoiding this for days! Even when we laid together on that cramped single bed in the cabin out the back we managed to keep it innocent. Why is he ruining this now?

             
‘What?’

             
‘I’m kidding, Cassie!’ he chortles.

             
‘Not funny!’ I slap his chest playfully. My heartbeat has tripled in speed and I feel like it’s working so hard that it might be able to burst through the thick membrane of my body and start beating rapidly on the bed. I press my hand against my chest to keep my heart in place. Wow, I really am regretting that kiss now.

             
‘Don’t look so serious,’ he says. It’s easy for him to say. He’s not in love and never has been. To him, this is harmless but every time he flirts with me, licks his lips, looks at me with those hungry eyes, whenever I think of ravishing that amazing sculpted body of his, I am being dragged in all directions. My heart is being tugged by a magnetic force towards Gabe wherever he is in the world and it kills me to know that I am capable of feeling the way I do about Oliver. His smile fades as he realises my genuine frustration. This isn’t a game anymore.

             
I turn away from his face now because I am suddenly aware of how overtly intimate it is that we are lying on his bed together. I’m intensely conscious of our fingertips which are almost touching and I’m scared to look into his eyes again because I know one more gaze could make or break this thing.

             
‘You don’t have to be so scared around me, Cassie, you can be yourself...’ He says it quietly as if he is trying to disguise the hidden meaning of his words. He knows what I am afraid of, how can he tell me not to be scared? Everybody I love is in grave danger because of me and all I can think about is a night of passion with this, albeit crazily good looking, sweet and funny, guy. That is terrifying. I am being consumed by this lust and the last time I let that animalistic desire in my gut get the better of me, well, that’s how I ended up here in the first place.

             
The awkward silence and my obvious avoidance of him perturbs Oliver. He nudges me again and even the simple action of his knuckles skimming my back makes me shiver. Sometimes you want someone so badly you can feel it all over your body, even in your elbows and right now I can feel it in my elbows
a lot.

             
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ he says.

             
I don’t reply. I curl up tightly, putting my knees under my chin, and am glad I’m facing away so he can’t see my face and, in turn, the lone tear trickle down my cheek. I am
so
done with crying. Is it really that bad that I want some relief from all this pain? Is feeling Oliver’s lips on my skin really such a horrible thing to want when I have been to Hell and back this year?

             
‘Hey you,’ he nudges my back. ‘Come on, what’s up?’

             
‘Drop it Oliver,’ my voice is muffled. I want him desperately to curb the growling appetite I have, to stop the tears and the pain, and that same desire makes me want to run to my own bed where I can shove my face into my pillow and scream like I always do when life gets too much to bear. It is a vicious cycle of lust then guilt and I need it to end somehow.

             
He tugs at my shoulder and uses his effortless strength to flip me over so our noses are touching again. ‘Hey,’ he says with intense eyes. His breath is warm against my face. I drop my gaze to avoid his burning eyes but find myself more distracted by the small strip of bare flesh showing where his shirt rides up. I lick my lips as I take in the russet tones of his skin and the pleasant trail of hair above the zip of his jeans. My mind is elsewhere but Oliver remains firmly in reality, ‘Would you stop stressing out so much and talk to me, Cassie? Is it the Gabe thing?’

             
Guilt hits me so hard I feel like I can’t breathe. I
should
be thinking about ‘the Gabe thing’ but I’m not. I’m thinking about how I would like to trace every line of Oliver’s well-sculpted body with my fingertips and then with my tongue. I’m thinking about the steamy bath I had the first morning here and how much I would love to recreate the scene only with Oliver as an additional character. I should be worrying about Gabe, my family, Rose... Most of the time I
am
preoccupied with those things but, right now, no, I’m not thinking about ‘the Gabe thing.’ I’m sick of crying and feeling like life is too unfair to be bearable. I’m sick of being sad; now all I want to feel is Oliver. The guilt starts to ebb away again.

             
I flip my body over and raise my eyes to meet his. Oliver wipes away the stray tears with his thumbs then rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘Talk to me, Cassie,’ he says but I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to succumb to the desire which rises with every breath I take.

             
I clasp the neckline of his shirt and give him a knowing look. I am done with words. I am ready to taste his lips again. He shoots me a confused expression. He asks me if this is what I want with his eyes; I run my fingers along his collarbone and slide my teeth across my bottom lip as confirmation. I watch him gulp and it makes me smile to know how nervous I am making him. The vulnerable look in his brown eyes only makes me want him more. I push my face closer to his but pause, teasing, to let the warmth of our mingling breaths entice him. It works. He moves his hand from my shoulder down my arm and rests it on my hip then he lets out a shaky breath of anticipation. I grin at him then press my lips against his.

             
At first our lips move in perfect unison. It’s gentle, not passionate like kissing Maurice, not hungry and hopeless like kissing Gabe. It is sensually slow as if we have all the time in the world. His hand moves from the safe position on my hip and starts to explore my upper thigh. The jeans I am wearing feel constricting. I want them off and I want to feel his fingertips electrify my bare skin.

             
My hands wander underneath his shirt and they glide across his solid body. The kissing builds as his tongue and mine meet. My temperature rises. There is no way he is teasing me then letting me go this time. I won’t allow it.

             
Quickly, I tug off his jeans and throw them off the bed. He pulls mine off with ease. His legs are stalky and I squeeze a brilliantly muscular thigh. I love the way he feels underneath my fingers. His fingers are slipping underneath the elastic waistband of my pants. My lips stray from his mouth and onto his neck. I am overcome with longing. It has been months since I have felt the heat of a man and the intensity is doubled as I know it is
real
this time. Every fiery look and every shudder down my spine is my own emotions and not manipulated like it had been with Maurice.

             
His hands move away from the waistband. Tease, I think scornfully. They make their way underneath my top and his fingertips make small circles on my fleshy stomach and up to my breasts where they linger. I would normally feel nervous at someone feeling the bits I’m most insecure about so intimately but I am too lost in the moment to care and I get the impression that he likes these bits I hate. He grunts with pleasure.

             
There is a small pause between my kissing and his touching while he adjusts himself. His body moves even closer to mine. He is hanging over me like a cage and I can feel his desire pulsating against my body and suddenly I feel sick.