He Hates Everyone But Me

Craving her: 2

Lyra froze. Her hand, which had been gently patting his back in an attempt to soothe him, now hovered uncertainly in midair. Her cheeks flared a deep crimson, and her heart skipped a beat as her mind scrambled to process his words.

Hold me? Seriously? What are we, starring in some romance drama? No. No way. She swallowed thickly. Then again... he's trembling like a leaf. Maybe this isn't about romance... or is it?

Before she could utter a single word, Vincent's arms swiftly wrapped around her waist and, with surprising ease, he pulled her onto his lap, positioning her so that she straddled his hips.

Her breath hitched audibly, and her body stiffened with disbelief as she found herself suddenly much closer than she had ever imagined being with him.

His strong arms locked around her protectively, and his face nuzzled into the curve of her neck, the warmth of his breath brushing against her skin. He inhaled slowly, deeply, like he was memorizing her scent.

Lyra's eyes widened, every muscle in her body going taut. What the hell? What is happening right now? This man really just made me into a weighted blanket. Her heart thumped erratically. This isn't happening. It is not happening. I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. I knew I shouldn't have skipped lunch.

"What are you doing, Vincent?" she finally managed, her voice barely a murmur.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he mumbled against her neck. "Please shut up and let me hold you."

His voice was muffled, low, and thick with something unfamiliar, vulnerability. It disarmed her more than anything else he could have said.

He's not being flirty this time... He's actually scared.

From beneath her, she felt him tense as thunder rumbled in the distance. The sound made his grip on her tighten instinctively, his breath catching.

Why does she smell so good? Vincent thought, his senses overwhelmed. It's not just her perfume, it's her. This scent... my parents were right.

Lyra shifted slightly, trying to make herself more comfortable in the awkward position. This was the first time anyone had held her like this: so intimately, so vulnerably.

It took her a moment to figure out where her hands should go. Eventually, her fingers found their way to the back of his neck, brushing through his thick dark hair. She buried her face into it softly, inhaling a clean scent of fresh rain and something uniquely him.

Why does this feel nice? This is bad. This is dangerous. And yet... I don't want to move.

As her fingertips stroked the back of his neck in slow, rhythmic motions, she felt a subtle shiver pass through his body. Vincent let out a low, restrained breath.

His eyes, once calm and amber, now shimmered with an unnatural glow, deep crimson. His fangs, usually hidden behind charming smiles, elongated beneath his lips. He held her closer, fighting the internal war that had begun to rage within him.

It's been days since I fed. Maybe weeks. I've been careful, but her scent... damn it. Her scent is driving me insane. He clenched his jaw. No. I can't. I won't. I don't want to hurt her.

But God, she smells way too good...

And now... I'm getting hard. Perfect.

Vincent shifted slightly, angling his hips away from her as subtly as possible, trying to ground himself with something other than the hunger rising like a storm inside him.

He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and held her tighter, not in desperation, but in restraint. The thunderstorm outside raged on, but the chaos inside the room was far more dangerous.

And neither of them seemed ready to let go.

.

.

Lyra pulled back slightly to look at Vincent, her brow furrowed in concern. That's when she noticed a thin bead of blood resting at the corner of his lower lip, contrasting starkly against the pale softness of his skin. His eyes were shut tightly, his lashes trembling ever so slightly like he was struggling to focus, to stay grounded.

Is he hurt? she wondered, instinctively reaching up but freezing halfway.

"Vincent?" she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Are you okay? Why are your eyes closed?"

He was fine just a second ago. Why does it feel like he's hiding something from me?

Vincent didn't lift his head. Instead, he pressed himself tighter against her, tucking his face once more into the crook of her neck like he was trying to escape reality. A fresh roll of thunder cracked through the air, and she felt his body tense under her.

"I'm okay, sweetie..." his voice was hoarse, almost strained. "Just... keep holding me."

His vulnerability startled her more than the thunder. Carefully, almost instinctively, she resumed stroking the back of his neck. Her fingers moved slowly, tenderly, tracing the warmth of his skin. He was so warm and trembling. Her thumb brushed a strand of hair at his nape.

Vincent kept his eyes shut, silently forcing his pupils to return to their natural color. His elongated fangs began to retract slowly as he battled the hunger twisting in his chest.

It's been days... maybe longer. I should've fed already, but I didn't. Not since... His breath hitched.

Fuck. She smells too good. Like vanilla and warmth. It's turning me on so much...

The hunger was bad, but the heat stirring in his body was worse.

Ahh... f**k. I can't calm my d**k.

He let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, brushing his lips close to her ear. His voice came out rough, thick with arousal and restraint. "Sweetie... look at me."

Lyra froze. Her hand stopped its gentle rhythm on his neck. Something about his voice, low and coaxing, made her pulse jump.

He's definitely up to something. I know that tone. That's the 'I'm about to do something crazy' tone. She swallowed hard, heart drumming in her ears.

God, why do I feel like I'm about to walk right into something dangerous and also stupidly hot?

Still, her eyes slowly lowered to meet his.

Vincent opened his now normal-colored eyes and met her gaze. Then, without giving her a moment more to second-guess herself, he reached up, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her in for a kiss.

His lips were warm, soft, and surprisingly gentle. Lyra gasped against his mouth, eyes wide, her entire body going rigid.

Is he really kissing me right now?!

Vincent kissed her slowly at first, like he was savoring the feel of her lips, memorizing every curve, every hesitation. His hand at the back of her head was tender but firm, keeping her close without being forceful.

Then he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured with a teasing edge,

"Be a good girl and open your mouth for me."

There was something sinfully sweet about the way he said it, more temptation than demand, a gentle coax that left her lips tingling.

Lyra hesitated, breathless, heart racing. This is insane. But I... I want to.

Her lips parted slowly in surrender, and the second she did, Vincent deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth with smooth confidence, exploring her gently at first, then more hungrily. His hand slid down from her back to rest on her lower waist, until it boldly cupped her ass, squeezing possessively.

Lyra gasped again, but the sound was swallowed by his mouth. Her hand instinctively pressed to his bare chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart and the heat rolling off him in waves.

She kissed him back, slowly at first, then with increasing need. Her lips moved with his in a rhythm that surprised her. Her other hand slid from his neck into his hair, gripping the strands tightly as his tongue tangled with hers.

Their kiss grew deeper, messier, charged with tension that had been simmering for days. Her hips shifted in his lap, and she felt his grip on her tighten as he let out a low groan into her mouth.

Vincent's hand in her hair held her steady, his other palm kneading the curve of her ass as if he couldn't help himself.

And Lyra... she didn't want to stop him.