It felt like a release when her words left her lips, a unique relief that washed over the vampire with the warmth of melted metal that he had not felt for years during the absence of her. He had forgotten what it felt like. It was so easy to forget when she was not present, so easy to disregard everything that he had felt for her as nothing more than a necessary means to an end and yet now it felt like heâd found his soul again and it came rushing in.Â
What space had been created between them, the vampire now moved to close it, the soles of his shoes tapped in the slick puddle of sticky blood, sinking weight and softly squelching, his hand wrapped over her own that had rested a bloodied index fingers to the center of his frozen heart, keeping it in place as he angled his head down to press the cool skin of his forehead against her own and trained pale blue eyes to her own flooded black gaze. He shut his eyelids softly, a flickering of dark brown lashes and when he opened his eyes had dropped the stolen glamour that made his left eye appear natural and looked into her with his half black and half blue sights. âI have every intention of apologizing to you,â he moved his opposing hand not resting over hers held to his chest to wrap around her waist and bring her closer in a firm embrace, âthoroughly, until you are sufficiently satisfied and can no longer question my devotion..âÂ
A turn of his head and he littered the side of her face with affection, lips leaving a sticky damp trail of lips, drying blood caused each kiss to stick to skin briefly before he drew them away and planted them again in a fresh location that wanted to be touched, he would leave no space behind without first giving it the attention it deserved. He kissed over her eyelids and in the corner of her eyes, her temples, the side of her nose, the plane of her cheeks, he did not relent, his hands simultaneously traveled up the length of her arm on one side and down the side of her body with the other, pushing forward with his weight and pressure so the tableâs edge would be pressed behind her. A display of affection was what she desired then it was what she would get. âMy beautiful Belle,â he spoke against the torn up wound that was at the side of her neck, kissing softly against slowly healing muscle. âI believe now it is time for your surprise,â lips coated in fresh blood trailed along the rounded slope of her shoulder. "It is upstairs," he spoke intermittently, with lips moving against her skin, "in my private chambers," and he felt quite certain she would enjoy it.
â Bella felt coarse fingers curl around her own hand and his forehead lower until she felt his skin press against her own, the close proximity making her feel softer again, less concerned by the fact he had raised her from the table prematurely. Any lingering displeasure at the movement of her, and the statement implying a lack of awareness for what had upset her about him dancing with Ophelia faded the second he blinked and she was no longer staring at matching blue eyes but instead was gifted with the rare sight of the endless pit of blackness that was now one of his eyes. Cruel perhaps to enjoy the sight of the replacement he had needed to make after her actions but it made her feel like the black gaze she had was no longer solely hers.
â His words, of course, made the young woman flush. Not in a way that could be seen in any sort of rising hue to her cheeks, without a living partner she couldn't show a faux display of life, but in the way her cheeks swelled, in the way the edges of her lips pulled into them, and in the way she had to look away from his eyes for a moment or be overwhelmed by him. Not that looking away allowed her any true reprieve as his lips laid bloody affections to her, touching at her cheek and pulling away like separating the dried pages of a book left out in the rain, and doing the same with each gently affectionate placement. Her hand went to wrap around his own, to hold their hands between one another's hearts, but his determined gesture sought her arms and so instead she flattened her hand out on him once more, a soft moan escaping from swollen lips when the firmness of his hips pressed to her own, hands at her sides holding his partner in place. It cause her bones to ache while he spoke, kisses left on Bella's exposed wound tickling slightly, her cheek falling against his head as she smiled a little.
â The notion of a surprise though did just that though - surprised her. It had not been in the requested plans and so the idea alone was one that made Bella believe him, that he cared about working on things between them, on understanding she had been hurt and felt like she was taking a risk. Bella knew the press of his hips implied a physical way of proving his devotion, of making her satisfied, but Bella felt there was more to it, a reflection of the cold unbeating heart in his mostly hollow chest. He got hard tearing at her cunt with his teeth, swallowing flesh and blood, and could probably get hard doing the same to any willing participate but softer affections had always seemed not to interest him, at least with anyone other than her. Maybe she was a fool but the gentleness of his touch on her, of the physical without the violent, reminded her how much he did when it came to his affections for her, how different he could be.
â The notion his chambers were private amused her still, when he knew she had explored them, wondering in a fleeting moment if the flowers she had asked Eilonwy to place would be ready but it was too soon, she doubted it. The pause in her features from thought was barely noticeable, she assumed, instead thinking of what might be hidden up there for her. The space was relatively empty, her mind running wild with what might fill it - a custom dress, a soft pink pillow just for her, a pile of fashion magazines replacing the empty bedside table opposite the one covered in his books - but also what she knew was already there - the products she knew Rosita had helped him find, the bath strategically placed for a keen observer. Fingers that had been left at his chest crawled up slowly to caress one side of his throat. "Whatever it is," she promised him, fingers forcing his eyes back to her own with a nudging from her thumb and index finger. "Thank you, for thinking of me, my Fionnan," she whispered, allowing the blacks of her eyes to fade finally, revealing the liquid gold irises she typically wore, fingers still at his throat, caressing his jaw. "And can we bring the cookies?"