18: They Tug and Tug and Tug

A bite. I can muster a bite. With shaky hands, I grab the fork, residue from dinner still on it, and stab it into the cake. A decent sized bite comes away on the utensil. I don’t think about what it means or signifies as I put the fork in my mouth and press my lips to it wiping it clean as it slides out.

The chocolate is rich and sweet, but there’s no way that I’m going to show any ounce of satisfaction from the bite. I toss the fork back down onto the table and it clinks against the plate. “I’m quite full. Thank you. And quite tired.”

“Gabriel can accompany you back to your quarters.” Phillip says in a cheery tone that doesn’t match the snarl on his face. A few steps away his voice brings me to a halt, “and Hazel,” as soon as my eyes meet his, he continues, “it’s going to be fun breaking you.”

His words are loud enough for the entire room to hear. Small giggles and nearly every pair of eyes land on me in speculation. All I am is his latest toy to taunt and torment in front of his minions who he calls family.

Gabriel’s arm gently touches my back, curving along my waist. A small amount of pressure forces me to walk and I couldn’t be more thankful. But as soon as we exit into the hall, the dining room doors shut, I wiggle out of his grasp and don’t speak a word as I follow him back through the halls.

“I’ve been here a day too long. I’m going home. Tonight.” I demand the second we get to my room. Ugh, my room. I didn’t want a room in Phillip’s manor and the sooner I get out of it the better.

“It’s too late. We’ll leave in the morning.”

“What? Too late? You guys are vampires, I didn’t think there was a ‘too late’. I mean, everyone’s still awake and eating at this very moment.” The words hiss from my mouth at his blatant lying to my face.

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t.” Gabriel teases. “But,” he pauses, “your phone has been going off constantly over the past few hours.” He pulls my phone out of his pocket and waves it lazily in the air.

He had it on him this entire time? I rush to it, hand extended, but instead of grasping the phone, Gabriel quickly switches the phone to his other hand and then grasps my wrist with the hand the phone had been in. “First, you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about your oath to Phillip.” He tugs me closer as he waits for my answer.

Instead of playing his games with this ‘I promise’ crap, I go to reach for the phone with my other hand, but he just raises it higher keeping it out of reach. He taunts me by lowering it a little bit and just before my fingers grasp it, brings it back up above my head.

Stupidly, I lean in closer, give a little jump and grasp his arm, but I’m still unsuccessful in reaching the phone as my hand barely touches his wrist. The thing it does succeed in is bringing me closer to him, my chest brushing against his. Frozen by our closeness, I lock eyes with him.

“Promise.” He whispers, his breath heating my skin as he says the words.

I let go of his arm and spring away from him, but only get so far as my arm that he’s still holding is nearly yanked out of the socket. He pulls me back in and as I slam into his chest my feet stumble underneath me. His hand wielding my phone quickly circles around my waist keeping me on my feet.

We stare at each other for a moment, speechless. His golden brown eyes staring upon my muted green ones. I become transfixed, putty in his hands. I don’t see it coming and if I do I don’t stop it. His mouth closes the gap between us, his lips gently press against mine. I don’t flinch. I don’t move. And apparently that gives him reason to continue.

His kiss deepens seconds before he crushes my body against his. The sheer strength of his hold forces the breath from my lungs. My phone becomes a distant memory and everything fades away only leaving Gabriel.

His vampire agility and towering size guide me as if I’m a ragdoll in his hands. The whoosh of air and a free falling sensation only last a second before I’m on my back on the bed with him hovering over me. His side swiped hair, a tangled mess that hangs in his face as he looks down at me.

I don’t care that it’s a mess of blonde hair and not brown. I don’t care that the body that rests between my legs is cold and not warm. My blood calls to him, demands him and my legs tighten around him in response.

His mouth goes to my neck, his lips caress my skin as he says, “promise Hazel.”

The word spills from my mouth and I don’t fully remember what I’m promising. All I care about is that his hands are touching me and his mouth is on me. His lips part and the graze of teeth rack down the length of my neck to my collarbone and everything comes to crashing halt.

My joints stiffen and my mind whirls. Vampire. Gabriel. Vampire. Vampire. Vampire. My hands pound at his chest as I struggle beneath him. “Stop. I can’t-this isn’t-stop.” Thankfully, it’s not too late that I realize that it isn’t my blood that calls to him, it’s his.

Gabriel takes a couple seconds to look at me before he crawls off me, bewilderment on his face. “I’m sorry, I thought.” His voice genuinely seems surprised and saddened about the sudden change of emotion.

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” I say ignoring his apology. Who’s fault is it really? His? Mine? Both of ours?

He picks my phone up off the floor and places it on the corner of the bed before leaving. I can’t meet his gaze because I’m embarrassed at my weakness. Can I really over power the lure that comes with a blood oath?

I stay in my room the rest of the night. An increasingly dull ache prevents me from getting a decent night's rest. An ache that longs for his touch, I can deal with. Stabbing pains from my flat out rejection of him, I can deal with.

It’s the pain I can handle. It’s the ecstasy that I can’t. That feeling of oblivion, of connectedness. It’s something more than just a feeling. Anyone can give you a feeling, but with Gabriel’s blood running through my veins, he can give me a wholeness that no one can.

*The surrounding woods are unfamiliar. It looks and feels like any other forest, but the paths that are before seem inviting. A path to my left is heavily lit by moonlight, the path is rough with low lying branches and tree roots gnarl the ground making for an uneven walk. At the end is a meadow fully immersed in moonlight.

The path to my right is dark except for a light that shines brightly at the end. The tunnel-like effect gives me a clear view of the same meadow. The path in the darkness is unknown, but the destination at the end is light and airy.

The path straight in front of me is just right. A neatly manicured path with no scratchy branches and obstacles to trip over. Perfectly lit in just the right amount of light that just before sunset glow. The same meadow resides at the end.

Three different choices, one destination. There’s no doubt in mind which to choose. There’s no mulling things over. The path straight ahead is the best choice. So I follow my gut and take the walk. And just as I expected, I don’t get snagged by branches, I don’t trip over roots, I can see what’s in front of me, what’s around me, but halfway through the feeling of ease shifts, changes into something else. Panic.

The sound of branches snapping comes from my left. The sound of a swift whoosh of a heavy breeze sounds from my right. Whispers of my name from two different voices come from each side. My steps become faster as I begin to run down the path to the meadow.

A relief washes over me as I finally exit the woods and stumble into the open meadow. It’s there in the beautiful open field that I see a wolf emerge from the path to my left. The beast quickly transforms into a man that I know all too well. Caleb. To my right a blur of a figure comes to stop mere inches from me. Caleb.

They each say my name with a heavy passion that I’m torn between. They each extend a hand waiting for me to take one, to choose. Caleb’s calls me by the lame nickname he gave me years ago, Haz. Gabriel calls me, little witch.

But something in me can’t choose and they can sense it, my anguish or my refusal and those open palms grab go from loving to possessive as they each grab ahold of my shoulder, their other hand coming to latch onto my forearm. They holler my name at first for attention and then again in aggression. Their chant becomes unison, a deep beat of a drum.

Hazel. Hazel. Hazel.

They tug and tug and tug until I feel a ripping burning sensation naw through me. They tug and tug and tug slowly tearing me apart.*

My scream of agony startles me awake. I huff in fear, in realisation of Monty’s damn magic cards. The torn lover.