Original Sin (22 page)

Just because Zeff claims to not mean me any harm, doesn’t mean I’m any safer than I was yesterday. Isaiah is still looking for me, and now I have the added bonus of Elijah searching for me too.

I guess I just want to feel safe. And here is the only place I feel safe. Nathan is the only place I feel safe.

But even still, I shouldn’t be here. I know this.

I’m just so confused. I haven’t had a straight or coherent thought since I found out about Zeff being an Original. And I can’t even bring myself to think about that properly, yet.

The only thing I am clear on, is that my head is pulling me in one direction, my heart another.

It’s my heart that’s lead me to this point I now find myself at. It’s just whether I let it take me the rest of the way is the burning question.

I’m sure Nathan will be sleeping right now. It’s late, or early, depending on how you look at it. I don’t want to wake him. But then again, he might not even be here. He could be away somewhere. Maybe.

Nathan could be in there right now with another woman and he’d have every right to be. Just because I’ve been stuck in the past for the last six months doesn’t mean he has.

And now I have this gnarly feeling in the pit of my stomach, running into my veins, turning my blood grey.

He might not want to see me. His life could have moved onto better things. Just like I wanted for him. And me coming back here would only dredge up things for him that he left behind a long time ago.

I turn to leave. Then I stop.

So, I leave and then what? Never know.

I came all this way for a reason. Maybe I need to lay my own ghosts to rest. I left way too much hanging up in the air with Nathan, and if he rejects my return, rejects me, then it’s just the way it was meant to be, but at least I’ll know.

At least I’ll be able to settle the demons in my mind. And currently finding out Nathan has someone else or doesn’t want me anywhere in his vicinity is a better prospect than continuing on with the guilt, grief, and longing I’ve been torturing myself with ever since I left.

I’ve
done the not seeing him for the last six months and it’s been agony. Complete and utter agony. And look where it’s got me. Found by an Original, and now, right back here.

And if I’m being honest, I never left. Not really.

I see now, that whatever I thought I was feeling for Zeff, was just my way of trying to fill the deep gaping hole Nathan left in my life. The only person I will truly ever want is Nathan.

I’m unequivocally in love with him. It
will
always be him. And that I can’t, and don’t, want to be away from him for a moment longer. Or ever again. Nathan is everything and all I will ever want.

He looks so different, yet exactly the same. He cut his hair short. It looks like it was shaved off and it’s in re-growth. He’d look military if it wasn’t for the fact his stubble is something more resembling a beard. He looks leaner than before, like he’s lost a bit of weight, and he’s wearing his ripped jeans hanging off his hips. His dog tags are around his neck and his feet and chest are bare. And even though he looks tired, his eyes are alert and just as striking as I remember them to be, and they are fixed solely on me.

I’ve imagined this scenario so many times in my head. What I’d do when I saw him again? What would I say? For that matter, what would he say?

I open my mouth but nothing happens. I can’t seem to locate my brain or myatt voice to find one single word to speak. After everything I rehearsed on my way here, and now I’ve got nothing.

We haven’t taken our eyes off one another, and neither of us has moved. It feels like we’ve been stood this way for an eternity.

Mentally, I probably have been.

Then propelled forward by sheer longing, I step onto the road and walk toward him, holding my breath the whole way. I can feel myself unravelling inside. I’m so nervous I’m pretty sure I might throw up.

When I reach the other side, I stop a foot away from him.

He still hasn’t moved his eyes from mine. He hasn’t moved at all. It’s unnerving. I need him to do something, say something. And the need to touch him is suddenly so overwhelming, I’m not sure what to do.

The sound of my voice seems to do something to him, awaken him in some way, and I watch as his eyes rake over me, almost like he’s looking for clues as to where I’ve been for the last six months.

Then wordlessly, he takes a step closer, erasing the gap between us. Lifting a hand slowly to my face, he strokes his thumb across my cheek, barely touching. I feel the hint of his calloused skin on mine. And that one single touch is all it takes to unravel the last thread holding me together. Now all that remains are slippery emotions.

Hot tears, tumble sore, down my cold cheeks. And in this moment I wonder how I ever had the strength to leave him.

Then he grabs my face with both his hands, and kisses me hard. The passion burns up my lips, searing its way down my body. I open up my mouth and he slips his tongue inside, and I just lose all control.

I throw myself into him, letting him fill the empty hollow places being away from him created. I can’t get close enough to him. I’m already wrapped around him, but I push myself closer.

He tightens his hold on me. Honestly, if I could fit myself into his skin and rest in-between his bones, right now, I would. I’ve never needed to be as close to someone as I do him, now. I just need to feel him inside me.

My feelings for him, the ones I’ve tried so hard to bury for the last six months, are now bursting out of me in a lustful rage.

And it seems so are his. He kisses me harder and hard momener, his beard rubbing rough against my face, but I don’t care. He could be covered in sandpaper and I’d still want him. It’s Nathan.

With his hands spanning my hips and my bum, he lifts me up, with no effort whatsoever. I wrap my legs around his waist, with my dress now up and around mine.

Without moving his mouth from mine, he carries me down the driveway, in the house, up the stairs, and in his bedroom within a matter of seconds.

His hands and mouth are straight back on my body, frantically roaming. It’s like he doesn’t know which part of me to touch, kiss, first. His practised cool demeanour I know him so well for, gone. I want to tell him to slow down … and I don’t. I like that he’s so out of control over me. It’s doing all kinds of crazy things to me. And right now it’s almost like he’s never not been touching me.

With my heart pounding out of my chest, I reach down and undo his jeans. Rucking them and his boxer shorts off, I use my foot to shimmy them the rest of the way. Nathan kicks them off. Excitement ripples through me as I feel him against my skin. He slides my bra strap off my shoulder, kissing where it was, then reaches a hand behind me, unclasping my bra, he takes it off. Kissing me still, he reaches down and hooks his thumb under the waistband of my knickers and slides them off too.

It’s strange, almost dreamlike. We’ve not spoken. Done a whole lot of heavy breathing and moaning, but no actual words. It feels wrong, in the right kind of way.

But I want to speak to him.

Need to speak to him. I’m letting the moment carry me away. It’s just so hard to focus on anything when he’s kissing me this way. A way in which no one has ever kissed me before, or probably ever will again. With just complete and utter need.

Making every single part of me beg, plead, for more from him. I need to feel him inside me more than I’ve ever needed anything. And I will do anything to have him. I need my fix from him. Like the vampire in me that constantly needs feeding.

But, even still, I know through my cloudy mind, I have to say something, anything …

“Nathan, wait, I …”

He pauses, his mouth on my stomach. Lifting his head, he moves upward until his face before mine. He looks deep into my eyes and … I see nothing there. No real emotion. No questioning. No feelings. Nothing but his bright green reflective eyes staring down at me.

I feel like I’m looking into the depthless ocean. It’s almost like he’s switched himself off to everything … everything but the practicality of this moment.

Then I just feel lost. Confused. Needy. And now I can’t seem to remember just exactly what it was I wanted to say to him in the first place. It’s almost as if while I’ve laid here beneath him, allowing him to stare into my eyes, he’s reached in and stolen the words from right out of my head.

Keeping his empty eyes on me, he reaches over into the drawer in his nightstand, pulling something back out with him.

I hear the crackling of a condom wrapper as he rips it open.

I’m trying not to think why he’s got condoms in his nightstand. I want to think they’ve been in there a long time. That there’s been no one else since me. I can’t think anything else.

We hadn’t used a condom that one and only time we had sex. But then we hadn’t exactly been in the right frame of mind either. The last thing that can happen to me is to get pregnant. So if anything, it’s at least smart.

When Nathan is ready, he lifts his hands up to my neck, searing hot, his thumbs pressing into my throat, he tilts my head back and covers my mouth with his. Kissing me deeply, he pushes himself into me without reserve.

It’s painful and electric at the same time.

Releasing a moan way down in my throat, I dig my fingers into his hard back. Nathan growls a low guttural sound into my mouth. Excitement and need overtakes everything else. Nothing matters except for this. Nothing matters but him. Everything else can wait.

Taking hold of both my hands, entwining our fingers, he braces them against the mattress, either side of my head, and starts to move inside me, hard, fast, and ruthless.

There’s nothing gentle or tender about this. This is sex at its most basic. Animalistic. Nathan is marking me, pure and simple.

Chapter 22: Dawning

Waking, I reach my hand out for Nathan, but instead find a cold empty space where he should be.

Fear creeps over me. Did I dream it?

No, he’s here in the room with me. I can feel him, smell him, and his touch is still lingering on my skin too clearly for it to have been a dream.

I blink open my eyes to find him sat on the floor, across the room from me. He’s dressed in the same jeans we discarded to the floor, those few lust filled hours earlier. His back rests against the wall, legs bent up, arms resting loosely on his knees, fingers linked together, and his eyes are on me.

Distant eyes. On me, but not on me, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t look happy like I want him to. He doesn’t look anything, just kind of blank.

All in all, a clear sign something is wrong.

“Hey.” I smile lazily over at him.

Resting up on my elbow, I prop my cheek in my palm and desperately try to pretend I don’t see the dark shadow of his obvious mood.

He says nothing. Not even a smile. He just keeps those bright green steady eyes of his on me. Exactly as he did when he saw me for the first time earlier, and just right before we had sex.

There’s anger and resentment there. And a lot of it.

I let myself ignore it when I first got back, pretended it wasn’t there, covered ind t with unreal emotions. Now, in the harsh light of day it’s pretty hard to ignore.

His piercing stare is starting to make me feel empty and alone again. And those hollow places, the ones I naively let myself believe he’d filled to whole, are cracking back open.

It’s abundantly clear he’s not happy to have me back like I’d hoped he would be. I’m getting that loud and clear. The only other way he could make his feelings more clear, were if he screamed them at me.

Nathan’s body may have been doing an awful lot of things to me earlier which were telling me he was overjoyed I was back; really overjoyed in fact, it just seems his mind was elsewhere at that time.

There was an obvious disconnect between the two. A disconnect between the brain in his head and the one in his pants.

He thought with his dick, of course, he’s a guy. But now it seems since he’s got what he needed to get out of his system with me, the connection has clicked back in, and now all of him is shut off to me.