Til Death (Immortal Memories) by R. M. Webb

“This will heal the bite mark so you don’t have to try to hide it.”
    I want him to kiss me again. To bite me again. So many weeks of wanting this, of pent up fear and longing and so many different emotions and he’s here right now and all I want is him. Thomas. I hear his name in my head and smile. Thomas. My vampire.
    He’s studying me again, with his gray eyes like ice on the lake. “I can speed the healing of your injuries. Your physical ones at least. The emotional ones are beyond me. At least at this point in time.”
    What’s he saying? His words pulled my gaze back to his lips. I wrench my focus back up to take in his whole face. “What do you mean?”
    “My blood will heal you. If you want, you can feed from me and your bruises will fade. But the injuries to your spirit … those will take a different kind of healing.” Injury to my spirit?
    “Will it be like last time?”
    “Yes, you’ll feel different for a few days.” I mouth the words as he speaks them, my lips moving in time with his.
    His smile breaks serenely across his face as he recognizes his own trick. “I knew I liked you.”
    “Will I be … will you …” I take a breath and force the question into existence. “Will drinking your blood make me a vampire?”
    “No,” he says. “Not like this.” It’s clear he’s not going to say anymore, so I nod my acceptance to his offer. He bites into his wrist and I take it in my hands. Press it to my lips and close my eyes as I drink. Pain I didn’t know I was still feeling eases and I sigh, my shoulders dropping away from my ears, my thoughts line up all straight and clear for the first time in weeks. Way before I’m ready, he pulls his wrist from me. His touch is that electrifying combination of strong and gentle as he wipes a bit of blood from my chin and presses his finger past my lips. I suck on it, running my tongue across the pad, not willing to waste one drop.
    He lifts me off of him and helps me to stand before standing up himself. He’s leaving, and I don’t want him to. I turn and press against him, turning my face up to his. He kisses me one last time. Deep. Passionate. Wonderful. When he pulls away, I can’t help myself.
    “Will I see you again?” There’s a need in my voice that I don’t try to hide. Last time I asked the question, he disappeared without bothering to answer. This time, however, he smiles and sighs.
    “Yes, Rachel of the mahogany hair, mistress of cupcakes. Yes, you’ll see me again.” And with that, he’s gone. As if he vanished. As if I’d dreamed the whole thing.

Chapter 10
     
     
     
    I wake up ravenous. My stomach is growling and gurgling, reminding me that it’s been too long since I’ve had a real meal. I bound down the stairs, ready to pillage my kitchen, but stop halfway down. What about my face? The bruises? Thomas said they’d heal. I pause and sigh, leaning against the wall, loving the way it feels to know his name. To use it when I think of him.
    The light in the bathroom shows just how much grime I’ve let accumulate during the past few weeks. Not like me at all. I’ve got more than my fair share of projects ahead of me, getting things back in order. I peer into the mirror, my fingers tracing my perfectly healed cheek. The hand the man had left on my throat is gone and with it a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I release a breath I think I’ve been holding since my trip to Club Diablo and race back down the stairs to scour my kitchen for food.
    I don’t find much. Nothing appealing anyway. I want eggs. Bacon. Coffee, strong and black and bitter. I want toast. I have none of those things here. Looks like I’m going to have to make a trip to the store. My belly rumbles its agreement but then does a little flip flop of fear when I remember my dwindling bank accounts.
    Just then, two precise knocks sound on my door and excitement flares through my body, lighting up my extremities. I run through my apartment to the door -