Page 7 of To Love a Vampire
Sliding his hand from my neck down my arm, he jerks me against him as he walks us backward. “Your attacker may seem in control with how his build dominates over your own but always be aware of what he leaves open. The vulnerable space he’s allowing by holding his arms high to manipulate your body.”
My breathing hitches, and for just a moment my heart skips a beat, a shiver slipping over my skin from his touch. Abruptly, I realize how alone I’ve kept myself. It’s like I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be held by anyone. Even in the threatening way Declan is intending for this position to be, I can’t help but think how strong his chest and arms feel. How his arms are holding me against him, like a claim almost.
His breath feathers over my damp neck as he speaks. “Fallon, are you listening to me?” he asks, dropping his arms restlessly to his sides and leaning around me to look in my eyes, taking his warmth with him.
Emotions storm through me so fast I can’t keep up. A flush fills my face from how ridiculous my feelings just became. I pull farther away from him before he can see the strange thoughts that are probably written all over my red face. I take a couple deep breaths before walking away altogether and start buckling my sword back to my waist.
“Sorry,” I refuse to look at him, to raise my heat-filled face to him. “I forgot it’s my day to open the clinic. I can’t be late.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him raise his palms at my odd behavior but I still can’t look at him.
“Thanks for working with me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” A nervous smile twitches against my lips as I start to walk quickly toward the camp. “Same time?” I ask over my shoulder. I nod at him even though he’s still looking at me in confusion and I don’t give him enough time to answer my question before I’m hurrying away into the trees.
* * *
The Wanderer’s clinic is the only building in the community that isn’t hidden up high in the trees or deep in the forest. I spend every day here helping and working under Doctor Thierry, a witch in her mid-forties. She seems to appreciate herbal remedies more than magic, a fact that sets me at ease, finally something familiar that I excel at.
She reminds me of my mother for some reason. They have no resemblance really, just two women who are both doctors. I suppose I’m forcing my mother’s absence into physical form. But I can’t help it.
Doctor Thierry’s kind and everyone that walks into the unmarked building loves her. Me on the other hand, they seem wary of. A new face isn’t always welcome when people have been going to the same trusted doctor for all of their lives. But I’m a fast learner and Doctor Thierry always tells everyone how grateful she is to have such an experienced apprentice.
I’m just finishing wrapping an older fae’s leg that had been sliced open on the side of a cliff when Declan walks slowly into the clinic. He’s hesitantly looking around the one room building when his mystical eyes meet mine. I give my patient a small smile when he says thank you, taking the bag of medicine and additional gauze Dr. Thierry gave him. The patient gives Declan a scowl on his way out, a watchful glare thrown toward the hybrid.
In the quietest of growls the fae speaks as if spitting down on the hybrid as he passes. “Pike.”
I flinch, jarred from the impact of the simple but angry statement. Declan appears to overlook the hate slur, his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down in apparent thought. A heavy feeling presses into my chest as I swallow hard, blinking up at him.
The doctor is writing in her large charting book she carries with her and her pencil scratching softly against the paper is the only noise that can be heard in the quietness.
Declan looks out of place in the small white tiled room. His natural light complexion and black shirt and cargo jeans cast severely against the white walls. A dryness consumes my throat and I swallow harshly to clear it. I try to appear busy, cleaning up the old bandages and wiping down my table.
Dr. Thierry’s head slowly tilts up, seeming to feel the anxious silence all around us. A look passes from me to Declan, waiting to hear what he needs.
“Could I, um- Could I speak with you for a minute?” he asks, finally looking at me. He shifts his stance, finding his confidence again.
A nervousness fills my body, tensing my shoulders and limbs and settling into my sweating, unoccupied hands. I shouldn’t have overreacted about our training this morning. He was trying to help me and my mind went to a place it hasn’t wandered to in so long, I had forgotten it even existed at all.
I glance to Dr. Thierry and start to ask if I can take a five-minute break but a look crosses the women’s thin, smooth features. A strange, happy, knowing look. She looks Declan’s lean body up and down before standing abruptly from her desk, the legs of her chair scraping against the tile. “Fallon, I’m going to run out to our storage and see if I can’t find a few old files I’ve been meaning to update. I’ll put the board back over the door while I’m gone so no one comes in. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.” She says as she flitters through the room with a cheerful smile.
I’m left gawking at her from my seat. She gives Declan a pleasant smile when she passes, pushing her wire rim glasses up her pert nose and walks right out the door. The thud, as the board that covers the abandoned looking building falls into place behind her, is the final note in her bizarre performance.
“That was strange,” Declan says, his brow creased as he looks over his shoulder at the door.
A quietness settles over us again. I’m basically locked in a room with the last person I wanted to see again today and I have no idea what to say to him. He tilts his head and takes a look around the tiny space before his eyes settle back on me. At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what to say.
“I’ve never actually been in here,” he says nodding to himself. “It’s… cleaner than I expected.” His gaze appraises the shining floor and the small organized desk I sit at.
“It kind of has to be,” I say, trying to fill the void of silence “Risk of infection and all.”
He nods in agreement, with a little too much enthusiasm. I can’t think of a thing to say but I also can’t stop looking at him. The sharp angles of his face. His hair that constantly threatens to spill into his light eyes. The way his jeans hang loosely on his lean waist. I glance away at the last thought.
Why am I being so weird around him? Get ahold of yourself, Fallon.
He licks his lips and walks close to my table. The pen I’m holding falls to the floor with a small clicking sound. I don’t pick it up but the noise of the plastic hitting tile clings in the silent air.
“I – I wanted to talk about this morning.” He pauses, waiting for any recognition in my face but all I provide is a blank stare. Willing myself not to speak. “I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, or if I hurt you.” Again, he waits for me to respond and once again I offer nothing. “If I brought up old memories of how Luca found you. Of the night you got that scar. Of how we met…”
Concerned eyes search my face for confirmation, catching every detail of emotion I reveal. I open my mouth but say nothing. Instead, I cross my arms and secretly trace my fingers over the jagged line that etches over my ribs.
