Beauty and Her Vampire {Watty Awards}

BAHV (Part 10)

2012 © Sonia Bartlett

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Part Ten

     That was the first night she dreamed of him. He came to her softly, slowly at first. It was as if he feared she would disappear under his touch. With a light, feathering touch, his smoothly calloused fingertip brushed a lock of her tawny hair from her forehead, tucking it back.

     A warm cloud of breath softly teased the strands by her neck as, even in the pitch darkness of the night, she knew he was but inches away. He traced the arch of her brow, reveling in the softness of the fine strands. As she went to open her eyes, a pointless gesture, he made a soft shushing noise to sooth her as his fingertips ran over her eyelids and thick lashes.

     His fingers ran downwards, still barely a breath of a touch, tracing the high curve of her cheekbone, the soft satin of her earlobe and the slight dimple in her chin. At her mouth, he hesitated, wanting more than anything to touch, to learn, but afraid she would somehow shatter beneath him.

     At last he gave into temptation, memorizing the generous curve by texture, by sensation. When her mouth parted silently in appeal, he hesitated but a moment, replacing his fingertips with a seeking, exploratory kiss.

     His tongue learned the curve his fingers had coveted, and when her lips parted further in mute supplication, he denied her not, his touch sure but gentle. He made long and languorous love to her mouth, exploring each crevice with unhurried strokes.

     He lifted his head from hers slowly, and hers followed, unwilling to break contact. Gently he disengaged, kissing first to one side of her mouth and then the other. He trailed soft kisses down her cheek to her neck, nuzzling the satin-smooth skin there and burying his face in the flower-scented luxuriousness of her hair.

     For a moment they lay still like that, his face hidden in the think mahogany veil of her tumbling curls, his body warm, hovering over hers, but never quite touching. At last she could stand the sweet torture no longer and lifted her hands to his body.

    Before she could touch him, feel his warmth as she so longed to, his hands captured hers, lifting them above her head. Trailing his hands down her arms, he left sensations so deep she shivered beneath him.

     He let his hands wander where they wished as she gave herself up to sensation, caring of naught but what he could make her feel. He ran his hands down her sides, tracing, with an age-old knowledge, each of her prominent ribs.

     For a moment something changed in him. She sensed the wild variation in his mood as his body tensed in anger, contorted in fury. A soft mewl of protest tore him from his thoughts as she wriggled beneath him.

    The rage fled, replaced by deeper, softer feelings. His hands passed by her hips, admiring the full curve, and traced the line of her calf, memorizing the arch of her bare foot with as rapt attention as that of her lips.

     She turned toward him, seeking what had trailed away from her. He drifted upward, placing a soft kiss upon her forehead. She curled into him, seeking warmth and something more indefinable.

     She laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him, unconsciously seeking to hold him there with her. With his warm breath tickling her ear, he was sated. Her soft form was light, yet everywhere she touched him felt like a thousand nerve endings came alive. He wondered at the sensation, so foreign and yet so familiar.

     His body heat encompassed her and her restlessness stilled. For an infinitesimal moment before oblivion consumed her, she knew peace.

     When the rays of dawn pierced the blackness of the room, she unconsciously sought him, her hand roving over silk, searching for what had left her. Her form was cold from his loss and so she curled up into herself, unable to cope with the coldness.

   She knew not that he was close; that he was watching her with something akin to sorrow. But she felt it, on some undefinable level and it gave her peace of mind enough to allow herself to fall into a deep sleep.

     When she awoke once more it was mid-day. She did not remember all of her dream, but the cocoon of warmth and feeling of being protected was something she couldn’t forget. And as she reached for him once more, she was met not by the callous of skin, but by the coolness of silk.

     Reluctantly she opened her eyes to the mid-day light and met with the dark, solemn eyes of the creature they called a bat.

     The creature lay there beside her, curled into a corner of the blanket, looking for all as if he’d slept there the whole night long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So this is a little different. A little more emotional, a little more tender. A little more adult than the original version. I hadn't really wanted something this deep in BAHV but it seemed to write itself. I'm not sure what I think of it, so please give me feedback.

Sorry for the wait. The next chapter will have to be posted no earlier than next wednesday because of two exams - one friday and one tuesday. It's going to be difficult, so I'm sorry. Hope you like this chapter, please remember to vote!

~ Sonia