Page 77 of Bite Me
I wanted him to love me. I needed him to love me.
Was I naive? Weak and pathetic, starved for genuine affection because my mother didn’t show me an ounce of it? And now I clung to a creature who saw me as food.
Did a chocolate chip muffin think it was love when I sniffed it before eating it? Since when did inanimate objects carry emotion?
What the hell was I thinking?
I huffed out a broken laugh. Russel cupped my cheek and lifted my face. His warm, copper eyes seemed to be looking into my skull, but I didn’t want him to see the ugly stuff in there.
“God, Eddie. How can I help?”
“It’s okay. It’ll pass.”
He kissed below my left eye, then my right, and leaned his forehead against mine.
“Whatever happened in there, you don’t deserve to feel like this.”
I inhaled, my chest expanding.
I didn’t deserve this. No. Even if she were right, I didn’t deserve her scorn and cruelty.
“Thank you.”
Another kiss, this time on my nose. “I’m grateful you let me come with you.”
I kissed him back. I tasted the salt from my own tears, but I didn’t care. What Russel was giving me in the prison parking lot did feel like love, and I basked in it for as long as I could.
When he drove back to the city, he held my hand. He took me back to his place, and I didn’t say a word of protest.
As soon as the door to his apartment closed behind us, I offered him my throat. He bit me, gulped down mouthfuls of my blood, and I soaked up every little sign of affection I got in return.
19
LOVE AND CUPIDITY
RUSSEL
On Sunday afternoon, I had to let Eddie go to his place. He said he wanted to get some work done in preparation for the next week and, of course, change clothes. I hated letting him out of my sight after what happened earlier that day.
The grief and pain I witnessed in him would haunt me.
“Let me drive you.”
“No. I’ll take a cab.” His tone allowed no arguments.
“When can I see you again?”
One corner of his lips lifted. “Tomorrow at work.”
“You know what I mean.”
Eddie slipped on his shoes and straightened, meeting my gaze with seriousness. “I need you to give me space at the office. We shouldn’t see each other outside work during the week. I think it would confuse me, and I need to focus.”
This would be torture, dammit. “I’ll keep my hands and mouth to myself, I swear. Monday to Friday, I’ll be strictly professional.”
He gave me a tiny smile. “Thanks.”
“Come to my place Friday night? For Saturday, I’ll book the hotel I told you about, and we could go see the exhibition.”
