Fangs of a Butterfly

CHAPTER 35

I had put on the black dress, and upon seeing me Uriel said he wanted to do a sketch so I let him. I sat in the parlor room divan and the hours ticked by without neither of us speaking, reminiscent of the past. He used a charcoal to draw my profile in his sketchbook multiple times. Finally, I insisted he show me and saw it.

It didn't capture my beauty at all.

"I've been thinking for a while, and as reluctant as I am to say it, you might be good at drawing everything but people."

Uriel looked hurt.

"My eyes aren't good. Sometimes it blurs."

"Then come closer," I demanded. He came closer.

"Oh, it's beautiful. It's just like your profile."

I scrutinized the face once more, the angular cuts in the note and chin, the softer lines for my rounded brow and lips. My hair was put up as the ladies in the town had by Veronique, of course. I tilted my head to one side and looked at his art again, unable to see how exactly it resembled me.

"I'll keep on trying," he said as he pulled his sketchbook away, determined.

"Come here," I whispered.

The drawing room was empty, Veronique had brought the girls somewhere upstairs and Laurel was most likely preparing for dinner.

"Do you want to drink blood?"

"No—just come."

He walked to me and looked confused for a brief moment before I pulled him down, arms wrapped around his warm neck, then traced them to his face.

I loved holding his head in my hands, and he drew closer.

"Uriel. What if I wanted to drink again?" I whispered the words into his ear.

"I'd refuse. My arm still hurts a lot," Uriel said plainly, "and you're not in need. You're just playing with me."

"Uriel," I said his name. I loved the familiarity of it as it escaped my mouth. "Uriel. Foolish Uriel."

"Foolish?"

"What if I wanted to kiss you?"

"Then kiss me."

First Love makes you stupid, I heard Agnes say. How could you lower your standards to a man like him?

I pulled back the hair tie on his silky yellow hair, and it fell to his shoulders now, in waves and curls. I threaded my fingers through it before I finally felt his scalp.

"I'm going to kiss you."

I pulled his head down from the scalp, and by the time our mouths opened and tongues touched, like butterflies in my mouth, he was resting a knee on the couch next to my lap. His mouth reacted and his hand also raised slowly to touch my cheek.

We parted after a long time, both out of breath but aroused.

"Don't you want to sleep with me?" I asked.

"Not here." The words he breathed were on my bare shoulder, and I craved for more.

"I don't mind. I want to love you."

"No. People might hear."

"It doesn't matter! I want you!" I hissed. "You're my property now."

I bit my lower lip and my head was dizzy from the refusal and the embarrassment of me asking for him. Men always asked for me.

Uriel picked up his head from my shoulder and smiled. His hair around him in his patterned black waistcoat looked sharp. I touched the rim of his glasses, tilted from our kissing, but then I let go and he stood there with his sketchbook.