Silver Bullets And Pretty Fangs. (WxW)

12. Fuck It I Need Days

  VIVIAN

I need to work on my game. I can't keep saying this and doing the total opposite. 

Right about now I'm in full panic mode and the fact that Anna is giving me that knowing—judgmental look doesn't help the matter. 

What the fuck was Pauline doing here? I asked her to go home.

“I–”  I start but that's not going anywhere, so, I leap to the living area. The scent of flowers hits me but it does nothing to blanket that masculine woody scent I picked from Eden. I just want to take a long shower and scrub it away.

Can I scrub her out of my head too?

"Is she okay?" I ask, my voice breaking. "I asked her to go home."

Anna stands next to me, both our gazes looming over Poppy lying on the couch and covered with a comforter.

"She will be," Anna assures me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I thought you'd be home so I stopped by, then I found her at the door. I think no one saw her there and we got lucky today but it's not always going to be like this."

She is unexpectedly so gentle with her words, I wonder why she is not screaming and raining hell over me right now. Deep down I know what she wants to say; why are you so sloppy Viv? You will get us in trouble or worse get us both killed.

I nod, jaw clenching.

 "I know. You're right." I turn to face her, plastering the most awful smile I can let on. "I'm glad you came, I will make sure she is okay, thank you."

Anna doesn't respond then, she walks back to the kitchen and I follow her silently. She rinses her glass and wipes it dry before turning to lay a small kiss on my cheeks and without any word, she leaves.

When the door closes behind her, I let myself breathe again. The gush of air I had been holding in all the while escapes my lungs but that brings zero relief. 

My head is still pounding and the dark bedroom, complete with its quieting neutral tones, seems to offer comfort like a fresh cup of warm blood. 

I tear off my clothes and throw myself in the shower. The water is turned to cold, hoping, praying it will freeze off the memory of Eden's delicious scent, her soft voice, her perfect mouth when she couldn't stop talking.

 How her tiny tits printed under that shirt when she made gestures with her arms. How her heat radiated to my legs under that silly small table. And how I just wanted to pull her in, kiss her a little, and dig my teeth into her neck.

I wince at the uncharitable thought, but I can't help myself —not when she was throwing herself at me like that.

 Did someone send her to temp and kill me? This is suspicious. 

I step out of the shower and change into a tank top and a pair of yoga pants, pour myself a glass of champagne, and settle next to a sleeping Poppy. I exhale as my body sinks into the cushions. 

For a moment I'm distracted by Poppy's soft breaths. I'm almost close to victory when the events of the day replay in my head, from Eden's horrified expression this morning when I tapped her shoulder to how she couldn't keep it together ever since. It was cute to watch but just as it was painful. 

Sitting there and holding back, with everything in me when I could have just lured her to a dark corner and tasted her. 

No one told me control is this hard. It's even annoying because this is the first time I'm getting a strong urge to drink from anyone else who isn't Poppy. I can't believe I thought I had it all. 

I need a minute.

Fuck it, I need days.

I push up the couch and head to the bedroom, the chest of drawers next to my bed holds the abomination Anna left the other night. I pull it out and take a moment to stare. The piece is a work of art with intriguing details of a fox head engraved into its sides.

I pull out my laptop, capture the damn thing and input it in my browser, but the search comes off either blank or switches to unhelpful things. I can't trace a bullet via the internet. Not many hunters like to put their stuff out there to be discovered unless they want people to believe it's all just myths and the supernatural world don't exist. 

My lungs fill up with what I can only identify as rage, taking over my entire body as I grab the laptop and throw it across the room. It hits something, a lamp stand I think but that's the least of my fucking problems. 

"I–is everything okay?" A low voice behind me jots me back to my senses.

I hesitate a moment, but finally let go of the bullet, color returning to my knuckles as I slid it back in the drawer. 

"You're awake." I turn to meet Poppy’s sleepy eyes. "I asked you to go home. What the hell were you thinking coming here?"

"I–"

"This won't work if you don't listen to me, Pauline," I mumble, somewhere in my head, I wonder if my compulsion was weak --- because what the fuck?

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"It's okay," I grumble, taking steady steps toward her. If she didn't remember the compulsion she might have a vivid picture of me eating her throat. I mean, I think she knows I suck her but maybe in the form of a dream or when she is really high, like the other night.

When I'm standing in front of her, I lift her chin with the tip of my forefinger. Her doe eyes look back at me all glassy. Something inside my tight chest loosens and I pull her into a hug.

"I'm glad you're okay baby," I whisper, my lips in her hair. 

In half an hour, we are cuddled up on my couch after eating the shrimp-tasting thing that Poppy made for dinner. I hate shrimp but I had to force it down my throat for her sake.

 The things I do to make this woman happy. 

She insisted on staying the night, but I called her a cab anyway. It's too dangerous for her to be with me for long hours considering what happened today at the library. I don't ever want to lose control over myself like that again.

"I had a weird dream when I slept,” she is the one to break the silence aside from the voices of the show playing on TV.

 "What happened?"

"It's this…it was like someone was biting my neck and it was so weird," she mumbles, shuddering at the thought.

My jaw clenches. "Nightmares, huh?"

"I guess." She shrugs and then parts her lips to say something else when there's a beep on my phone. "That's my ride?"

I nod and lay a soft kiss on her forehead. "I will see you tomorrow, be safe okay?"

As soon as she leaves, the silence and loneliness consume me like a raw demon. I turn to my phone, the bullet coming back to mind. I know there is only one person who can give me concrete answers about who and why.

But contacting him will put everything at risk, I'm not sure I'm ready to take that chance right now. So I shut it off and turn my eyes back to the TV.

Sooner or later, I will have to make that call.

But it doesn't have to be tonight.

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