Unholy Love

Chapter One

I wake up in my bed all sluggish and dazed. I roll over to my side and pat on the bed to check for Damien, but the other side of my iron board bed was empty. Slowly opening my eyes, I see that its unoccupied and only then do I realise that I can hear the shower. It's still dark and my bedside lamp is on. I check for the time, its 7 am. The sun won't be rising for at least another half hour. The room is uncomfortably warm, though I am always surprisingly warm when I am around Damien.

I sit up in bed running my hand through my hair. I pull the covers off of my body. Sitting in my panties and my oversized white shirt I suddenly feel too exposed.

Damien then appears through the doorway of my bedroom. His hair all damp and a towel wrapped around his hips. I have a sudden urge to bite on my lip. He smiles down at me, lifting my chin up to kiss my morning swollen lips.

"Good Morning Annabelle," he says softly. His morning voice has my insides melting.

"Good Morning Damien," I say formally and watch as he runs his hand through his damp hair.

"How did you sleep?" he asks. The usual morning inquisition begins. I watch as he drops the towel to the floor, my eyes darting to his naked ass before quickly up to his eyes as he turns around pulling on a black wool sweater over his head, then his boxers and black jeans.

"I slept okay, with a very disturbing dream," I reply with a big sigh. My nightmares really need to stop. I don't think it's normal to be repeatedly dreaming about running away from something in the woods barefoot and finding a pile of dead bodies stacked on top of each other, my feet getting soaked in thick, hot, sticky blood. I make a disturbing face at the thought of it.

"I could've guessed, you were panting and sleep talking again," he says as he lays down in bed beside me. I flush before snuggling up to him, resting my head on his chest.

"What time was that at? And what was I saying?" I ask him while getting a good whiff of his smell. Fresh soap and a hint a cinnamon. His aphrodisiac scent is irresistible.

"Around 3 am," I hear him say as I groan wanting to nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck to really smell him.

I hear him chuckle as his fingers run through my hair.

"You really have some kind of sniffing addiction don't you," he jokes. I grunt again, displeased.

"You always just smell so good, it's intoxicating," I say taking in another whiff of the freshness of his skin.

Pulling away to look at him, I feel my cheeks coloured bright pink and my bed hair all messy with hair strands in all the wrong places.

"I know you don't like Hallowe'en," I begin pausing to lick my lips, "but my friends really want you to join us tonight."

"I'll see what I can do then," he says but there is a hint of apology in his tone of voice.

"You know, you still haven't told me why you dislike this day so much," I mention hesitantly. Afraid to look in his eyes, I'm anxious I've exasperated him with such questions this early in the morning.

"It's a day to celebrate the dead, a Christian holiday, I don't do Christianity."

"Are you sure you're not an atheist?" I ask and he chuckles at me.

"I'm sure," he says pulling my hair in order. "You should rest for a little while longer, when I come back, we can go and have some breakfast."

"Where are you going?" I ask desperate for him to stay. He lightly pushes me off of his body and stands before me. Staring down at me on my bed, so authoritatively, as if he was a Greek God of some sort.