Black Blood

Chapter 4 - Scarlett

Scarlett

Sure, I could go on about how the dinner went and how we fell in love but I am almost certain you already know that.  So I’m skipping forward a year.  Scar Daniels, nineteen years old.  Still has that same hair, still works at the bookstore, part-time, doesn’t live with her parents anymore though, instead; living with Zayn Colton, twenty years old.  Still has that same hair; still has that stealing smile.  Still on and off jobs here in Lopus, or Lups as the locals call it.  But apparently has a rewarding job out of town as a salesman.  Which is good, I just don’t see him for, well, it could be a few days, a week, few weeks?

It’s not that I don’t get to see him so sad, need him by my side blah, blah.  It’s that I don’t know what he’s getting up to while I’m not there.  Not saying anything, it’s just that we’re not made out of money and those extra few days for golf or bets or whatever it is, can really make our account suffer.  Whoever said a relationship is made out of trust must have been a male who was also had to go out of town frequently.

“Scar!”

“What?” the book slammed shut the pen tumbled out of my fingers.

“The doctor is out, honey.  But just for a few days, like I promised.”  He stood by the door with his salesman suitcase, coated with his black jacket.  I never said it but he always took my breath away, every day.  It was horrible really, the way that after a year I could still be falling head over heels for him, as if every day was the day he first walked into the bookstore and showered me with a desire to be with him.

“Alright” I go to the door and reach my hands up to his shoulders, feeling them under his jacket, smoothing out the material.  They felt, broad and wide and bare under his clothes.  “As long as you’ll be back to give me a look over, doc” I bite my lip and kiss his cheek, rough stubble and musky cologne under my lips as the aromas burn like a blazing sun on my skin.

“I can do more than look” he playfully pinches my leg.  I laugh and slap away his hand, crouching back.  “Go on”.  I point to the door.

“Trying to get rid of me?” he smiles.  His arms shoots and pinches me in the stomach, and then in my arm and leg again softly before I could even react.

“Stop!  Stop, I’m serious go!”  Zayn was always too stubborn to listen though.  He slowly stepped in and wrapped his long arms around my waist tightly, squeezing the air out of my lungs.  He towered over me with great height, lowered his head until his chin rested in the mass of my hair and then kissed it slowly.

He always did it before he left.

“Be good” he said throatily.  I felt his words rumble from his chest to mine.  I could also feel his breaths as he let the air into his body and pushed it back out again; making his heart beat softly and comfortably deep inside him.

And then he left.