The Hatchling

Will You...

Beck acted as if I'd drawn the air from his lungs. He reeled his head back and stared at me like I'd grown another set of eyes.

"I'm sorry," I sputtered, embarrassed with myself.

He didn't want it. He didn't like it. I'm the worst kisser on the planet. He's going to hate me.

Thoughts fired off in my head like a gun till Beck spoke up. "Why'd you do that?" He hissed, more shocked than angry.

"I don't know?" I stuttered, barely able to formulate the right sounds in my mouth. "It seemed like the right thing to do!" I waved my arms around madly and began to get up to leave. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have."

Beck slammed the door to the bathroom shut and blocked it himself. Steam from the shower started to pool in the air as it got trapped in the room.

"You wanted to?" He drilled me, eyes wide and critical of my answer.

"Well I did it, didn't I?" I snapped back at him.

Beck's lips pulled into a crooked grin. "You're playing a dangerous game Emira. You're lucky you're wounded right now. Just shower and clear your head, okay?"

He slipped out of the room and I hit my head on the wall, convinced I was an idiot on epic proportions.

The burning feeling on my mouth cemented in my action further. I had kissed him. I had wanted to kiss him. What did that mean? That I was physically compelled by a sociopath?

Eager to get the moment out of my head, I stripped myself and walked into the shower. The water felt nice as it cleansed my skin. As the red ran off my flesh and down the drain, I could see the wounds scattered my left side. Big punctures, small punctures, scrapes, scratches, and bruises littered my left while my right side was remotely untouched. One could easily tell what side I used to defend myself.

As soon as I felt clean enough, I stepped out of the shower and tied a grey cotton towel around myself. My head felt light, and I didn't know if it was Beck or the shower steam causing it.

He was sitting on a wooden chest drinking a glass of brandy at the foot of the bed when I walked out. Golden eyes followed me from the edge of the crystal as he took another sip. I began to rummage in the wardrobe for comfy clothes before Beck interjected.

"We need to clean your wounds first."

My jaw tightened as I looked at him. He was acting as if nothing happened, a gesture I appreciated. My feet pattered on the floor and my hair left small droplets of water behind me as I walked to him. He set his glass down when I stopped in front of him.

"You got hit on your left side quite a bit. Let me see," he grumbled as he chewed on a piece of ice.

I slowly untied my towel and only revealed a minimal amount of my side. His eyes traced me up and down, looking at each wound carefully and quizzically.

Beck let his fingers trace around a less serious wound on my thigh in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

"Is that really necessary?" I growled.

His hand snaked between my two legs and pulled me to him. "I wanted to. Isn't that what you said?"

"Beck!" I hissed at him, pulling against the iron grip he had on the flesh right above my knee.

Beck snatched my hand and pulled me down on him, in his lap.

I opened my mouth to protest against him again, but his was pressed against mine. His fingers clawed my lower back and I had a death grip on my towel covering what I could.