Bloodl.u.s.t

"You don't remember? Great… I won't have to compel you then." I can feel him smirking although my eyes are on my feet. The floor slips and I stumble but before I hit my b.u.t.t on the ground or worse my face, I feel iron clamps lock around my arms, holding me steady. I blink twice and realise they aren't clamps but hands of the same guy. I look up to examine his face and that's when the memories flood in…

Caleb. Shift at Malcolm's Den. Caleb. Drinks with a stranger. Scratch that. Drinks with a handsome stranger. Then what? Uh- I couldn't remember.

"Oh I remember. Somewhat…" I say and sit on the bed with a 'thump' realising I don't have the strength to stand. The guy lets go of his grip on my arms and I hear him mutter an 'oops'.

I glance at my wrist watch and it takes me a moment to figure out that it isn't ten minutes to eight but instead ten forty. In the morning. "Crap crap crap!"

I get up with a jolt only for my knees to buckle away and my b.u.t.t hits the bed with a dull 'thud'. "Okay I'm jobless. Again." I vaguely remember all the time I had been warned to not be late at work especially during the Sunday morning shifts. The last time I was warned was 2 days ago and that was indeed his last warning. But Malcolm is sweet and jolly! Maybe if I give him my usual puppy look and wipe off a few crocodile tears he'll hire me back!

The guy ignores whatever I'm thinking about at the moment and asks with a blank face, "How are you feeling?" His voice is cold and emotionless, unlike last night.

I groan and that only adds to the already existing pain from the continuous throbbing of my head. Now is the time I remember my friends mentioning the hangover which followed the next day after being drunk. "Ugh!" I clutch my head in my hands because holding it will lessen the pain? Ha-Ha.

"Humans shouldn't drink so much if their body can't handle." He says, his lips set in a thin line.

"Humans? What are you… greek god?" I blurt out not thinking twice before letting the words transfer from my brain to my mouth but then I look at him and realise I probably said the right thing!

I rub my temple trying to ease the pain when I see him fill a glass with water and lift it up towards me, "Drink this."

I do but that helps only quench the thirst I didn't realise I felt. A sane and active part of my mind tries to put the pieces together. Last night I was in the bar, drinking alcohol. Now it's morning and I'm in the bed of a cheap motel with the stranger who offered me to drink. What's missing is what happened between.

What could have- oh… no… oh my god…

My head snaps towards him and he's to say in the least- is taken by surprise. But then before I can say something I will regret I shut my mouth and drop my gaze to myself. Nope. Completely dressed. Nothing sore. Nope.

"Does your neck still hurt?" he says while I'm still struggling to believe nothing happened between us. At least I must have… I was drunk after all. And people tend to do things they want to but can't do if they're sober and I wasn't sober so uh… ugh!

I look at him and I see his eyes are fixed on my… relax it's my neck! His face is void of any expression.

Is this the same guy I spoke to last night or does he have a blank-faced doppelganger?

My fingers reach tentatively to where his eyes rest and for a moment I feel it's the pearls of a necklace I own but then my fingertips graze the skin and I realise there are two deep…holes?!

I draw my fingers in front of my face and see bits of dried… blood? OH!

"What the hell?!" but what's unusual- it doesn't hurt. At all.

"Sorry for that," he says with his finger motioning towards the digs on my neck, then with a slight pause shrugs and continues, "Actually I am not but anyways."

I watch him open mouthed. I've had hickeys before but nothing as uh… deep as this. Now that I've mentioned hickeys: Caleb.

I close my eyes when I feel a painful tug at my c.h.e.s.t. When I open them again I see him advancing towards me, an unfathomable expression in his eyes I can't quite read. Oh wait… there's nothing actually.

He takes a seat beside me and while raising his wrist to his mouth mutters something about 'healing the wound' but then something flashes across his eyes and this time I'm sure it's real. He stops and puts his hand down again. He shakes his head in denial of an argument probably occurring between his conscious and sub-conscious mind. He looks at me, his gaze is cold and calculating. I raise my high-arched eyebrow (I'm not sure why) and he looks away.

A muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks at me again. I realise we're sitting very close, just inches apart and then he leans forward…

Okay.