Nectar: DD Prince (24 page)

Anger rose in her. He’d just taken the liberty of injecting birth control into her? She’d written off the injection as birth control a few years back due to the long list of potential side effects.

“So, before I go, not hungry or thirsty or anything?”

“No.” she snapped.

“Whoa, easy...”

She stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

He followed her.

“Get out! I need to use the bathroom.”

“Let me explain,” he said and walked toward her.

“Fuck that. I can’t even have a minute to go to the bathroom myself? You’re in my head, you take my blood, you give me drugs. What about the birth control already in my system? I could’ve kept taking my fucking pills if you’d given me my damn purse back, if I hadn’t been treated like a prisoner. What about my free will?” Rage was rising in her and she wanted to smash something, smash a million things.

“Okay, chill out. You’re overreacting,” his jaw tightened.

She didn’t care in the least.

“Get out!” she hollered at him, “Is it too much to ask that I be able to take a fucking pee in peace?”

Tristan rolled his eyes, “You don’t even have to pee. You’re just being pissy.”

“Oh, bite me!”

“Bite you, eh?” he crossed his arms and looked at her disapprovingly, like she was a petulant child.

Her face flushed crimson. She couldn’t speak.

“Fine. Pretend you have to pee to get me out. I’ll wait for you to come out so we can discuss this rationally. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll bite you. But only if you ask me again, nicely.” He winked at her.

She folded her arms and held her lips in a tight line. He left. She whipped the toothpaste at the door and let out a squeal of frustration. It bounced and did nothing to calm her down or make her feel like she’d gotten her frustrations out.

She paced, feeling her heart race. It bothered her that it was racing because she knew Tristan would know it. He was taking everything from her. He was in control. She hated feeling like this. Yeah, sure, he said he needed to protect her but what about all of the other stuff? He’d decided she was staying even before she knew she had feelings for him. Had he done things to force that bonding moment when she fell apart at the seams? Was all this part of his plan?

She stormed out of the room, “So what else are you controlling? Tell me, have you really had me in a trance all this time and you’re just playing a game with me to make me
think
I have feelings of my own?”

“What?” he spun around from the desk at the computer and looked at her with a bewildered look on his face.

“Have you had me in a trance this whole time just making me think I’m not? ‘Cuz I don’t understand how in less than a week I could go from being kidnapped and raped to thinking I have feelings for you. How could I not even think about birth control unless you erased that from my brain? What sort of voodoo bullshit --- and I’d like my fucking purse back!”

“Whoa. I’ve been honest with you, Kyla. And your feelings are real. Don’t joke about that. That’s hurtful. And watch that temper. There’s no telling what kind of results your temper tantrums could spark in me.”

“Don’t you threaten me. This so-called honesty is just a technicality, though, right? Only because you haven’t really said anything; you dodge my questions or offer limited information so I won’t ask you questions. You have me on a ‘need to know’ basis, right? Right?”

“Have your little tantrum if it makes you feel better but get over it and let’s move on because it’s done. I did it the day after I met you. I knew you were staying while I figured all this out so I wanted to make sure I couldn’t get you pregnant. Believe me when I tell you, you
don’t
want to go down
that
road. I didn’t see any birth control pills in your bag. If I had I wouldn’t have given you the shot. I sensed you would ovulate if I didn’t. A lot has transpired since then. It has all caught me by surprise and I’ve reacted at every turn. None of this was premeditated; this is all us, all now --- present tense.” He closed the distance between them and pulled her to him, “All you’re feeling for me, it’s you and me. Us. I haven’t planned any of this.”

She tensed up, still feeling anger oozing out of her pores, “Sex must’ve been premeditated, though. To give me birth control you knew you’d be having sex with me whether I wanted it or not. Let go.” She tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let her go.

“I won’t let go. Stop. Chill out. Listen to me. I’m sorry that you’re upset with me. I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a choice. I did what I thought I had to do. I’m sorry you’re upset. Okay?”

“Let go!”

“No, Kyla.” He pulled her tight against his chest. The anger turned into tears. She didn’t want to let the anger go but she couldn’t help it, she fought for another minute to get away and then when he wouldn’t relent melted with tears of frustration. He just stood and stroked her back and let her cry it out for a good few minutes. Finally, she pulled back and wiped her eyes with her fingertips.

“So tired of all this messy emotional shit. This isn’t me,” she wiped her hands on her thighs, “I don’t know how you’ve turned me into a blubbering mess. And what about when you figure the mystery out. What then? What happens if
my
blood suddenly tastes like dirty water to you?”

“All we can do is take one day at a time, baby, but I look into your eyes and I don’t see letting you go. Even if your blood suddenly starts to taste like sour milk.”

He gave her a loud kiss. That was a pretty bold statement and it jolted her. She wasn’t sure she believed it.

“Thank you for all the clothes and stuff,” she mumbled, finally, wiping her eyes with her fingertips again, “but it really wasn’t necessary. Other than the shoes. You owed me shoes.”

“You’re welcome. Just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“How did you know what to get? Experienced at this? ”

He looked horrified and put his hands up in a defensive posture, “Nnnooooo….don’t pick another fight with me, please!” She let out a little giggle and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I called a personal shopper. I told her to imagine everything she’d need for a long vacation if the airline lost her luggage. I got some sizes from your things. A little bird called Daisy told me you liked a little black dress in that boutique down the road from your apartment so that was the only inside info I had. Not experienced at this!”

She was silent, contemplative.

He kissed her forehead, “We okay?”

“Hmm.” she looked at him disapprovingly.

He smirked, “I’ll ply you with chocolate later. And more shoes if necessary. Believe me, I
needed
to get you on birth control. I’ll explain more later; I’ve gotta run. Lock both doors.” he kissed her swiftly on the lips with a flourish and then left, this time via the bedroom door. She immediately locked it and then locked the balcony door. She felt very uneasy and sat down on the sofa. This was all so surreal.

“Pinch me.” Kyla said aloud to no one.

~~~

That afternoon she ran 5km on his treadmill.  It wasn’t as good as being outside but it helped her in a number of ways. It passed the time and running helped her connect with herself, somehow. Where she usually used it to blank her mind when running outdoors being on the treadmill somehow allowed her time and space clear her head a little bit.

Despite knowing she had already developed very strong emotions for him and not knowing if it was just the magical blood bond thing or something more rudimentary, like physical attraction, or just plain old vampire voodoo, as if there was anything plain about vampire voodoo, she knew that there was a big addiction factor. It made things dangerous. Part of her wanted to accept his, ‘Don’t worry; I’ve got this!’ but a little voice told her to keep on her toes anyway.

Kyla resisted the urge to analyze it too deeply because it felt so good now that she wasn’t chained, he wasn’t angry, and neither of them was depriving the other of the physical stuff that neither could seem to get enough of.  She thought back to how she’d felt when he’d bared his teeth at Joe from the balcony. She’d felt safe and protected --- a foreign feeling to her after all she’d been through in her life so far. Should she embrace the protection? No one had ever protected her before. And the way he looked at her, the things he’d said about how she made him feel, seemed to be about more than her blood. When he fed, she could feel emotion coming from him, adoration. And not just when he fed, either, whenever he looked at her.

She’d had men interested in her plenty of times in the past and a few times she’d gone down the relationship path but she’d never felt like this. Not close. Never had butterflies like these. She’d had a few relationships, the last serious one ended quite painfully, so she’d shied away from guys since then, but nothing compared to how she felt when Tristan looked at her, touched her, fed from her. She thought back to the pang of pain she’d felt when she’d walked out of the balcony door the other night when she looked back at him sleeping.

Kyla was glad about the treadmill, it helped pass the time. She wasn’t accustomed to being cooped up and having nothing to do. Her life had been so hectic the past few years. Hectic all along, really.

While on the treadmill she let her mind wander back to her childhood a little bit. She had very few memories of her parents. They had been killed in a car accident when she was nearly 4 years old. After that she’d been bounced around from foster home to foster home, never feeling like anywhere was really home. 

Some of those places had people who were abusive. She’d run away more than once to get away from bad situations. No one ever seemed to look out for her back then. Maybe that’s why it was so odd that Tristan wanted to look out for her now. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why she was clinging to him.

She’d run away and then get found and taken somewhere new. Always moving forward, always avoiding looking back.

One older teen foster brother had tried to molest her when she was 12 and when she fought him off during a scuffle that started as a tickle fight but ended after he groped her between the legs. Her bloodying his nose meant that his parents shipped her off as a troublemaker.

A foster father had tried, one night while drunk, to French kiss her and got very handsy. His wife walked in and didn’t believe her side of the story and she ran away before the social worker arrived to pick her up. She’d been found and taken to a group home.

A few of the places she’d been had been okay but they were the short-term ones. Some of those places had other kids that made her life miserable. Most of them were as screwed up as she was but some even more so, making living in a group home difficult, distrustful. You had to watch your back at all times.

She firmly believed that experiences shaped who you were and wondered how
this
experience would change her. It had already dramatically changed who she was. She was acting totally out of character.

She’d never really believed in anything paranormal. Not ghosts, not fairies, not even angels. Never felt like she had a guardian angel. Never had visions of her dead parents after they’d died. She’d prayed a few times in a tight jam but wasn’t really sure what to believe in. She’d never really believed in anything before, just survival, and the fact that she couldn’t count on anyone for much. Now she questioned everything, especially the fact that until now she’d always imagined being alone in life, keeping everyone at arm’s length.

Even wanting friends and family and a pet –-- sure she wanted it but had never really seen it in her mind’s eye.  Now she could see someone else in her life. Tristan. But how realistic was it, really, given all the barriers that had already presented themselves?

It was getting late and Tristan hadn’t come back in yet. She was starting to feel rising anxiety about it, wondering when he’d be back. She flicked the TV on and climbed onto the couch and pulled a soft throw around herself, suddenly feeling a chill.

There was the sound of a key in the lock and doorknob suddenly turned and she sat up, ready to beam a smile at him.  When the door opened, though, it wasn’t Tristan. It was Sam. Panic rose in her and her smile evaporated. She was sure the color must have drained from her face. Sam had a tray and a look of wariness in his eyes.

“Tristan asked me to bring you some food, love. He’s delayed,” he brought the tray to the coffee table and put it down. Her heart was beating wildly. She knew she was doing a terrible job of hiding her anxiety.

He put the tray down and looked at her for a beat and then made the peace sign with his index and middle finger, “Shh.” He mouthed this, reversing the peace sign and then motioning with his v’d fingers drawing a line with them from his eyes toward her and then back again. She felt very scrutinized and shifted uncomfortably but then Joe moved into the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms folded across his chest so she froze and stared at Sam. He winked and then turned on his heel and they left the room. She waited for about 5 seconds and then she let a breath out finally.  Sam had to know, obviously, that she was lucid and clearly Joe was the enemy. She wished she could talk to Tristan to confirm it.

What was keeping him? She lifted the lid on the tray and there was a take-out container filled with chicken pad Thai, there were three bottles of water, and a sealed paper bag. She opened it cautiously. A gigantic chocolate fudge brownie wrapped with a red ribbon. She beamed at the brownie, thinking about their earlier conversation and his cooking talents. Then she felt sad for a second, remembering he’d tasted like chocolate fudge brownies just before she’d tried to leave him that night.