Five
1026 Words
The storm didn’t fade so much as the exhaust itself. By the time the rain slackened, the world outside the cave was washed pale by a weak grey dawn. Water still dripped from the leaves, each drop landing with soft, deliberate rhythm. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and something sharper, metallic, that she couldn’t place at first.
It was coming from him.
Nali was sitting at the mouth of the cave now, parting the vines just enough to watch the forest beyond. His shoulders were still, but there was a tension in the set of his back like a string pulled taut.
She knew without asking, he hadn’t slept.
Her legs were stiff from staying curled up against the wall. She shifted carefully, brushing damp hair from her face. That’s when she noticed the way he exhaled, slow, almost deliberate and the faint crease between his brows.
“You’re hurt,” she said quietly.
“I’ve been hurt since before I met you,” he replied without looking back.
“That’s not what I mean.”
The bandage around his midsection was darker now, the faint pattern of the fabric blurred with a fresh, seeping stain. She remembered the knife wound, the way he’d pulled the blade from his own body without hesitation. He hadn’t said a word about it since.
“You’re bleeding again.”
Finally, he glanced at her. His eyes were steady, but there was something behind them, fatigue, maybe. Or hunger.
“It will heal,” he said.
She frowned. “You’re pale.”
A beat of silence passed. His gaze didn’t waver from hers. Then, without a word, he let the vines fall back into place and crossed the cave in three steps.
She felt the shift in the air before she felt his presence, the sudden weight of him standing close enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the way the dim light caught in his eyes.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I am.”
The realization hit her a moment too late.
“This is about—” She broke off when his hand came up, fingers brushing the damp hair back from her neck.
Her pulse leapt, loud in her ears. “No.”
His expression didn’t change, but his voice was lower now, a shade rougher. “You think I would take without asking?”
She wanted to say yes. Wanted to remind him of the forest, the tree, the way his hand had clamped over her mouth before his fangs tore into her. But the truth caught in her throat. Because this time, he wasn’t forcing her against the ground. He wasn’t holding her down.
He was… waiting.
And that was somehow worse.
“Why?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.
“Because I need to,” he said simply. “And because I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her breath shivered in her chest. The idea that someone who had killed without hesitation could say something like that and it made her head feel light, her thoughts unsteady.
She should refuse. She should push him away. But instead, she heard herself whisper, “If I say yes… will you stop if I tell you to?”
His eyes searched hers for a moment, and she thought she saw something flicker there, something almost human. “Yes.”
The space between them seemed to collapse. His other hand came to rest against her jaw, tilting her head gently to the side. The calloused pads of his fingers were warm against her skin, grounding her even as her pulse skittered wildly.
When his mouth lowered to her neck, she braced herself for the sharp, brutal puncture she remembered.
It didn’t come.
Instead, his lips brushed her skin first, it feels so light, almost careful as though mapping the curve of her throat. She felt the warm drag of his breath, the faintest scrape of fangs that didn’t pierce. Not yet. Then, slowly, deliberately, he sank them in.
The pain was there, yes. But it was muted, softened, swallowed almost instantly by a rush of heat flooding through her veins. It spread outward from the point of contact, coiling low in her belly, blooming in her chest until she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound.
Her hand, unthinking, rose to his shoulder. Not to push him away though she told herself that’s what she should do but to anchor herself against the dizzying warmth that was pulling her under.
Each pull of his mouth drew another wave through her, heavy and strange and almost unbearably intimate. It wasn’t the draining, hollowing sensation from before. It felt… full. Alive.
Her heart hammered so fast she thought it might burst, and she realized dimly that he could feel it, hear it, taste it.
She didn’t know how long it lasted. Seconds, minutes, but when he finally withdrew, his lips lingered a moment longer against her skin. Not biting. Not drinking. Just resting there.
When he pulled back, she saw the faint smear of red at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, dark before, seemed deeper now. Sated, but still sharp.
“You’re warm again,” he murmured.
She realized he was right. The chill from the storm was gone, replaced by a heat that had nothing to do with the cave.
Her breath was uneven. “What… was that?”
He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “Not just feeding.”
She hated the way her body reacted to the words, a flicker of awareness that had nothing to do with fear.
“You should rest,” he said, stepping back at last. “We’ll need to move soon.”
She watched him return to the mouth of the cave, his shoulders still tense despite the calm in his voice.
Outside, the forest dripped quietly in the dawn light. Inside, the echo of his mouth on her skin refused to fade.
TO BE CONTINUED...
- Writer
