dead love.

9. drink

I LOVED MAKING her nervous.

Camille's leg bounced rythmically as she bit down on her bottom lip. I'm sure she didn't mean for it to seem seductive, but all I could think about right now was pinning her to my matress and ravishing every piece of her. I wanted to run my fingers over her lips as she breathed in at my touch and⎯

"T-They were just dreams," she stuttered, interrupting my dark thoughts.

Camille leaned her head over the curve of the couch, spreading her bare legs over the rest of the couch. Her thighs had a slight shake, twitching whenever I gazed in her direction. Her pulse was high, the pheromones oozing from her skin making my mouth water. 

Fucking hell.

I kept my stare fixed on hers, unable to look away from her coffee-colored orbs. I crawled over her small, frail figure and placed two hands beside her head on the edge of the couch.

My knees slowly pushed apart her legs and I heard her inhale sharply. I slowly skimmed the back of my hand along the bone of her cheek, feeling it warm as I rivered down the base of her throat.

"Was I touching you like this?" I breathed against the hollow of her neck. My lips were hovering over her veins, brushing against her burning skin. My entire body tingled, aching to touch her.

STOP

I froze.

My movements were stiff as I removed myself from her, untangling our limbs.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." I sounded robotic, my voice hard and cold. It was the voice I used on everyone but her and the ghostly look on her face told me she recognized it quite well.

I stood over her trembling body on the couch, digging my fists in my pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her.

Camille looked like she was in shock, her flushed cheeks now several shades paler than usual. I had grown used to her heightened pulse and pressure, knowing it was because of me. My presence influenced her body in ways she was unable to understand.

Just as her instincts told her to run, mine told me to ruin. To take every living creature's last breath and take my lover.

"I hope she survives for your sake."

I couldn't take her.

Not like this.

"Si je n'étais pas déjà mort, tes lèvres m'aurait tué." I scowled.

If I wasn't dead already, your lips would have killed me.

I drank in her body in a final heated stare before turning to leave.

"I'll be back before midnight," I told her in a softer, clearer tone.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

"Where is she?" I asked Sébastien, his tall dark frame leaning over the door.

He smirked, his full pink lips spreading over his sharp canines.

"She's been waiting for you. Said you'd need her eventually," he informed before closing the door behind me.

The hanging chandelier glistened under the warm light, the tear-like diamonds shaking and reflecting as we entered. There were multiple renessaince paintings hung on the beige walls, the polished dark floor leading to the curve of the staircase. It smelled faintly of sage and vanilla, a comforting yet somehow vintage fragrance.

Olivia.

The wall I had Sébastien pinned to had been repaired, although the door beside it had been completely split. Chunks of splintered wood littered the floor as he led me into the bedroom.