Chapter 6: The Taste of Him

Amy

The door closes behind me, shutting out the man I wish I could be throwing myself at right now. I know I should be getting ready for college, but all I can do is lean against the door, still tasting Elias on my lips. My mind reels, trying to process everything that's happened over the last twelve hours.

Absentmindedly, I bring my fingers to my lips, as if I can hold onto that kiss and everything that preceded it.

Last night comes rushing back to me. I know I felt a connection with Elias that went beyond anything I've ever experienced before. The way his touch sent a fire racing through me. The way he held me so effortlessly, making me feel safe in his arms. The way he looked into my eyes like he'd known me all his life. 

And then, waking up next to him, lingering for as long as I could, watching him sleep, before I knew I had to get up. His eyes when he first saw me in the morning light, like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

I want nothing more than to see his house, to insert myself into his life as if I've always been there. I know how crazy that sounds, but as I lean against the door, still savoring the taste of him on my lips, I don't care.

For a second, I'm lost in the beauty of this unexpected connection, in the undeniable spark that flows between us, in the sudden inexplicable comfort I feel with him.

But then it hits me -- the icepick in my chest when I remember his father's steely eyes on me.

I overheard snippets of their conversation -- something about a pack that I still don't quite understand.

"That human hussy," he'd called me.

The words sting, and I'm left wondering what they mean.

One thing is clear: Elias's dad does not approve of me, and it seems like Elias is still under his father's influence. 

Finally peeling myself off the door, I head to the shower, intending to wash away the confusion and lingering hurt. As I undress though, my gaze falls upon a bruise on my neck -- a memento from where Elias bit me.

A sudden wave of pleasure courses through me at the memory of how he took me, the heat of his skin on mine, and the feeling of fullness when he entered me. A smile plays on my lips, a bittersweet reminder of the night before.

The warm water of the shower washes away the physical remnants of the night, but the mix of emotions remains. Dressed and composed, I make my way to college, struggling to push away the confusion that still clouds my mind.

Soon though, my portfolio class comes around, and I realize I haven't even looked at my photos from last night. As other students flick through portraits and landscapes, I plug my memory card into my laptop and await the results.

A huge smile crosses my face as I inspect my photos. The moon shots turned out great, capturing the ethereal beauty of the night. The orb is perfectly focused, almost full but for a slight sliver of shadow on its left edge. I'm momentarily distracted from my musings about Elias as plans for Incomplete take shape in my mind.

However, as I flick through more photos, I suddenly stop. The very last shot on my card is half-obscured by a shape, and as I peer at it closer, my heart skips a beat.

The shot is dark, but I can just make out the contours of Elias' face against the moonlit backdrop. Where before the dark side of the waxing moon was met by the night sky, it's now edged with the sharp angle of Elias' jawline, the curve of his brow, the soft drape of his hair. My heart flutters and a yearning takes root within me. A yearning I can't shake.

After class, I make the impulsive decision to go back to Elias's house. The uncertainty of our connection and the disapproval from Elias's father linger in my thoughts, but I can't shake the desire to see him again.

As I approach Elias's house, I find myself caught between trepidation and anticipation. The doorbell echoes through the quiet surroundings, and moments later, Elias opens the door. Surprise flickers across his face, but just for a second, before he breaks out in a wide smile.

For a second we just stare at each other, neither of us knowing what to say, but it turns out, we don't have to say anything.

As if drawn by an invisible force, our lips meet in an impassioned kiss. It feels like we're two lovers pulled apart for years, rather than mere hours, but I know there's no way to rationalize it. I want this man, and I can tell he wants me. The rest we'll just have to figure out.