Endearment is not a gamble

Chapter - 9

Three weeks.

Three antagonizing, suspenseful weeks Clay had been gone. Equivalent to twenty one days. Five hundred and four hours without his irritating presence that never failed to anger me.

And yet, here I was, lying across my bed with his words still lingering, as if they were one of the dust notes floating around in the stream of sunlight I had been dodging throughout the day. Lingering and slowly, so slowly, swishing around my mind like the notes swishing around the room;

"Frankly princess, I don't want you to die..."

Silence washed over the house. My mother had been going to a daily counselling group these past three weeks about her smoking and drug addiction, and I made sure she attended. The day Clay ditched school, the last time I saw him, I had come home from college to see her bouncing around like a child on Christmas. Waving an A4 piece of paper in front of my face, I signed her up for it after making sure she was serious.

I had nothing left to rely on other than that, now.

I scrambled off the bed, and began pacing the room, absently waiting for sundown to approach the skies so I could go outside for a breath of fresh air. I felt like I was suffocating in these four walls. Glancing here and there, I risked a sneak peak outside; twilight was coating the horizon, slowly spreading across the skies like a plague. I smiled merrily to myself, desperate for air before I choked to death or something...

I glanced at my digital clock sat on my wooden bedside table just as the red numbers changed, and read 8:45pm. The irony of it being summer when you're a vampire (or... nearly, in my case) because the sunlight hours are longer. What I wouldn't give for it to be winter again...

I stretched, my bones clicking and muscles untwisting, before leaving my room. In the hallway, it was even more stuffy than my room, and there sure as hell were a lot more windows. Swiftly stepping around the patches of the final sunlight breaking through the windows, gradually fading, I headed downstairs.

"Your friend is nice!" My mother screeched as she exited the living room. I jumped ten foot in the air, almost tumbling down the last few stairs at her appearance.

"Mum, jeez don't do that," I breathed. "I didn't know you were home. How was your group session?"

She nodded with a huge smile. "Fabulous! I feel so relieved..." she trailed off, and began walking away, into the kitchen.

Wait a second. What friend?!

I jumped down the last couple of stairs, and pushed open the closed living room door, a frown descending on my face with curiosity. My eyes scanned the room, coming to a halt at the figure sitting comfortably in an armchair on the other side of the room.

His hair looked as dark as pitch, brushed across his face, his fringe flopping over the bright emerald eyes that were intent on the sunset outside. His lips were pressed together as if he be thinking, a slight frown in his forehead, too. His black suit trousers looked surprisingly smart, alongside his white button-up shirt that had the first three buttons undone, exposing the start of his pale white chest. A black tie sat undone around his shoulders, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and in his hand, his fingers were clasped around a glass of water.

"Clay." I said. My tone was shockingly cold, hard.

His eyes slid from the faded sunset, to me. Catching my own in his emerald eyes, I noticed the shadows underneath them, as though he had had a thousand sleepless nights. But I knew... I knew it was just a thousand troubled nights, never ending, never going away.

But the smile he gave me... though it was weak, it was as if he was relieved. It was enough to make any girl's knees turn to jelly, melt any girl's heart and make the butterflies flutter in her belly.

Any girl... except me.

"Amy," he replied, his voice deep, smooth, untouched by any of the troubles reflecting in his eyes. "I think we need to talk."

I nodded. "Yes, we do."

"Your mother's very decent," Clay noted. "She's clean, by the way. It is an improvement, is it not? You should be proud of her, Amy."

"I am," I sighed. "But this isn't about my mother, it's about you."

I gestured for him to follow me, and he did, keeping close behind. We exited the living room in time to see my mother pass by us, a smile intent on her lips. When she saw Clay and I walking up the stairs, she giggled.

"Use a condom!" she laughed.

I could hear Clay's snickers behind me, and I rolled my eyes, ignoring her and carrying on walking up the stairs. My mother's laugh began to fade, and all was quiet save for my footsteps and Clay's occasional chuckles to himself. I twisted the door handle on my bedroom door, and shoved it open, exposing the gently lit room.

I had turned on my bedside table lamp, and with the sun fully gone, the room was enlightened by a slight orange glow against the night creeping in from outside. I walked right in, glancing back at Clay, who was slowly, slowly walking in. He shut the door behind himself, and began glancing around, a faint smile on his lips as if he were proud of something...

I opened up my window, and almost instantly, a large gust of wind blew into my highly heated bedroom. The sky was already beginning to be painted with faint stars, the moon large and full ahead. I could see the town's lights, dots of different colours sprinkled across the horizon. Watching them for a little while, I sat on the windowsill and brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as if that'd somehow keep me in one piece.

"I didn't know you played," I heard Clay said quietly behind me. I turned to look at him, to see him run a finger across all six strings of my acoustic guitar.

"My dad taught me how to play," I replied.

He carried on sliding his eyes across the guitar, a slight smile on his lips. He slowly crouched down onto his knees, looking at my rack of CD's, nodding his head every now and then. He stood up straight, and walked in my direction.

As he went past me, he nodded, his eyes on mine as he said, "You have a good taste in music... for a half-mortal."

I just rolled my eyes. After walking past me, his hand unmistakably brushing my waist, he moved to my dresser table, glancing at the pictures that sat atop it. He picked up a picture of my father and I on holiday in France, taken by my mother while we drank coffee.

"Is this him?" Clay asked.

"Yep."

"You have his eyes, you know." He looked up at me and nodded. "Definitely."

I smiled. "I'll take that as an open compliment, then."

He put the picture back where he found it, and went to my wall of memories. On which, lay tickets to all the gigs I'd ever been to, photos of my friends and I, pictures from my prom and all sorts. A bit of everything.

I sat on the windowsill watching Clay as he scanned them, his lips pulling up in a half-hearted smile. Eventually, however, it faded as he leaned against the wall on his shoulder facing me, his emerald eyes showing no emotion once more.

"Where have you been these past three weeks?" I mumbled cautiously.

"I had things to do," he said back coldly, blankly. "People to sort out."

"Is that the only explanation I'm going to get?" I asked, slightly annoyed. "You leave for three weeks without an explanation, expecting me to be okay about it all the while. And now you come back and tell me you 'had things to do' and you had 'people to sort out'. That's not an explanation, that's an excuse you should use on your girlfriend when you just spent the night with somebody else!" I growled. "Not that you should cheat on her anyway... But that's besides the god damn point!"

He c****d his head to the side, leaning it against the wall, watching me. The glow coming from my lamp made his eyes seem ablaze, and his hair seem somewhat darker, and the shadows under his eyes stand out.

"You were not okay with my absence?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Answer my question first." I shot back, my tone acidic.

He pondered that for a moment, and briefly getting closer until his cold icy breath tingled my nose, his eyes never left mine. So bright, so emerald, so alluring. It was silent between us as he weighed his answers, all the while his eyes grazing over my form sat on the windowsill.

"I was trying to keep the rogues away from here," he finally said. "Away from you. You don't know the things they want to do to you, princess. I had to do what I had to do, which included telling you not to follow me. I didn't do what I went out to do. In fact, I did the complete opposite. It's not over, Amy. It's never going to be over. They won't stop until they get you, and they're never going to get you. Not under my watch."

"What do they want with me? WHY do they want me?"

"They want to kill you. And as for why... I can't tell you. Not yet. One day, I swear I will tell you... just not today."

"Why the hell do you care so much?" I muttered. As soon as I'd said it, I wish I hadn't. I didn't really want to hear the answer, but I got one anyway.

"I never said I cared," he replied hesitantly. "But you have a job to do for me. Remember? I need you around to help us put a stop to the rogues."

"Is that the stupid favour you wanted me to do?"

"No." he smirked at me. "That favour's something completely different. And no, I won't tell you that either. Not yet."

"So I'm just bait for your plan so YOU can be happy?" I said quietly, mockingly, emphasising the 'you' in my sentence - this was for his own happiness. What would happen to me when this was over? Would he leave me to fend for myself once I've been 'trained'?

I turned my head away from him so he wouldn't see my eyes water with tears I should never shed. Not over something as stupid as being used for a vampire. But that was how this started out, wasn't it? Being used for a vampire's needs?

I got no reply. Letting my tears fall silently without sobs, I watched as rain began to fall across Southampton, shattering the hard silence between Clay and I. Finally, I brought my head up after subtly wiping away what was left of the tears, to see Clay lying on my bed staring up at my white-wash ceiling, scowling. I didn't know how long he'd been lying there, but he was frozen, not moving a single inch.

I got off of the windowsill, and stared at him. I began to walk around my bed, but was stopped. I jumped when I stumbled straight into his chest, and when I looked up at him, there was something about his eyes seemed menacing, his smirk evil and twisted. My instincts screamed at me to move away from him, but before I knew it, my back collided with the wall and a rippling pain shot up my spine.

Groaning, I was about to move away, but he was there, his chest against mine, his eyes on mine, his hands on either side of my head. I couldn't move, because he was everywhere I looked. He was all I could hear in the deathly silence, his breathing, his whispers, his hands tapping the wall by my head. I didn't know if I was breathing, because for a minute, I didn't know how to.

He certainly wasn't breathing.

His hands moved to my cheeks, the tips of his fingers slowly moving up so he could press his index and middle finger gently to my temples. I stared up at him as he leaned down, pressing his forehead on mine again, his nose touching mine. A sudden shock of pain ran through my body, forcing me to close my eyes. But when I did so, I could see it - barbed wire connecting mine and Clay's minds together, weaving through our heads, our memories, painfully scarring each and every thought in our heads until they became one.

His mind in mine, and mine elsewhere, I could see it all. His memories, all of those seductive whispers he'd ever said to girls, all the feelings it felt to withdraw blood from exposed throats.

Every thought he'd ever had... mine.

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