Nightchild--The SeriesBook 1--Falling

Chapter 18

They sat over grilled fish and exchanged pleasantries, keeping the atmosphere light, enjoying the bottles of wine Nate had thoughtfully procured. Wax left long dripping trails down the candles as flames frolicked to and fro in the soft breeze and the heady scent of flowers about the room blended with those growing outside. The wide louvered doors stood open, allowing a view of the moonlit ocean. Breakers crashed against the shore providing their only music.

Blythe didn't understand why, but she felt closer to Nate after her outburst on the boat that afternoon. He had the unique and inexplicable ability to rile her but, even so, she couldn't stand the reproachful looks he sometimes gave her and often found herself inwardly craving his approval. She didn't resist when, after dinner, Nate took her hand in his and stroked it, commenting on how small and childlike it was and even allowed his arm to go possessively about her as he led her to the large hanging chair where she eagerly accepted a fresh glass of wine.

Blythe was content as Nate sat next to her and swung back and forth. There was a willingness about her and expectation. But as the night waxed on, Nate made no attempt to seduce her. Placated, she leaned back in the chair, her eyes closed, lost in the security of his companionship.

"Marry me, Blythe," he whispered, stunning her back to reality.

Incredulous, her eyes flew open and she watched dumbfounded as he left the chair, went to the dark wooden desk where he withdrew a hand-rolled joint, lit it and inhaled, its tip glowing red in the dimness. "Local color they call it," he said coming towards her, his arm extended.

"No thank you," she responded turning away.

"No thank you...you don't want any pot...or no thank you, you don't want to marry me?"

"Both!"

"Direct and to the point, aren't you, darlin'?"

"We've been over this before. I'm going to bed," she answered dismissing him as she headed for the stairs.

"Of course you are." Nate's voice was deceptively calm as he took another deep draw on the joint, his sardonic face lit eerily by its fiery end. Blythe had already reached the landing when he tossed it into an ashtray and lurched up the steps. Catching up, he blocked the way and jerked her to him, smothering her protests with fervid kisses until she returned them, her own lust unabashed.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he muttered, his lips against her ear, nibbling at her lobe then along her neck and back again. "Isn't it?" he persisted, secure in his sexual prowess over her, his voice a harsh caress.

Wrapping his fingers about her hair, he pulled her head back, forcing her passion filled eyes to meet his. "Answer me. Is this what you want?"

"Yes," she moaned, her trembling voice deep and raspy.

"Like this? Sheer animal sex...noncommittal, no promises...no tomorrows?"

She nodded and Nate pushed her away, disgust turning his face cruel. "I can get that on any street corner," he charged brutally and reaching behind him opened the door to her suite then strode purposely past her and down the stairs.

#

Nate sat on the beach for the better part of an hour brooding, seeing nothing but the sea lap at the sand, taking pieces away as it withdrew back into itself. He felt like the sand, losing bits of himself to Blythe each time they confronted each other.

Though he heard the soft scraping of leather soles against the grains and knew she was there, he continued to gaze straight ahead, unwilling to engage in another battle. Blythe dropped silently down beside him and held out one of the cups of espresso she'd brought with her.