Awake and Lost Ch. 04

"I do understand, you know," Riley says, trailing his fingers over the tight manacles on Erica's wrists. "I understand it so well, Erica." He straddles her waist and looks down at her.

They're in Riley's studio apartment. A bout of insanity and purpose lead Erica here, desperation and rejection- loneliness. For the second time in her long life, she was struck with a grief so visceral she just needed something, anything, to anchor herself.

Even if anything was this.

Erica writhes under Riley, her hands and feet are chained to the bedposts. Riley's settled back on her lap, smiling down at her in that deceptively sweet way of his. He cups her breasts through the material of her blouse, fingers squeezing. He laughs sharply when she gasps. "I've always appreciated that you were so well endowed, love," Riley says, and rakes his gaze over her hungrily with his sharp green eyes.

Erica narrows her eyes, giving him the barest of smirks, she says, "Too bad I can't say the same."

Riley's smile disappears and he starts tearing at her blouse. The buttons go flying and his fists clench around shreds of material. Shame, it was her favourite.

"You have a smart mouth," he sneers, looking down at her bare breasts. He cups them again, but this time with his full strength, and the bite of his too-sharp nails digging into her skin. "Tonight I don't think I'll give you the opportunity to use it."

Riley slides his hands up her chest, until his fingers are hovering at her collarbone. He's already shirtless. The exposed bulk of his beautifully muscled arms and chest would be desirable on anyone else. In another time she had felt that way, finding comfort in his strength. It was love, or something like, before she knew the truth. That feels like another world entirely. His hands wrap lightly around her neck.

"I've wanted to kill you so many times," Riley admits to her sweetly, hanging his head and smiling, like he's just confessed his love for her. "Yes, that. Didn't I ever say it? I could've sworn I did."

Erica snaps her gaze back to him.

"Surprised?" Riley's smile widens as he slides a knee in between her thighs and pushes it up between her legs. Erica shivers. "Don't look like that, I'm not a mind reader. I just know the way that pretty head of yours works."

Erica doesn't meet his eye, focusing instead on the hairline of his buzzed dark hair. Riley rolls his eyes.

"Humans are obsessed with love, you'd think that notion would die out once you, you know, die but that's just not the case. And besides, if I had to do it over," he leans down, whispers, "I'd take you again."

He pulls back until he's standing at the bed's edge, pulling off her jeans. "I think that's love, don't you?" Riley leans down, breathing against the light, coarse hair between her legs, "Anyway, I'd kill us a thousand times over before I ever let you be with him."

He dips his head and tongues at her, lips sealing over her clit. Erica lies stiffly, hands clenched in fists - it's hard to not cry out, to not push into it.

Riley looks up at her, his wet mouth making obscene sucking sounds all the while, his nose buried in the curls of hair. Erica gasps and shakes.

The memories are clearer when they're together like this, at least, his view of them. Links form so easily with sex, they last longer than a hand held over a person's heart. It's the physical connection of it, of being a part of someone. With each stroke of Riley's tongue he pours his memories into her like molten liquid.

When they first met, he was the dapper devil with an inviting smile. Her father always warned her about the young man with that cigarette between his teeth and his absence at the church on Sundays. Riley never once stepped a foot near that church, nor was he ever seen during the day - at the time the rumours about that were too crazy to believe.

"Come on," the devil says now. He's leaning back, leaving her wet and exposed to the cool air for a second before hurriedly thrusting two of his fingers into her. The thrust of them is sharp and possessive. The chains on her ankles clink as Erica strains away.

She's still getting flashes, glimpses of a time when he'd pulled her close and kissed her so sweetly. Some nights - and they only ever met at night - he snuck her into the local speakeasy and sat her on his lap.

People stared at them, they always did. The preacher's daughter with the town's nightly trouble maker. She would blush red and duck her head, and Riley would hold her tightly and hide a smile against her hair. The images flit through her mind like a photo album. She was so young and stupid.

"You're remembering. Good," Riley states, on the next thrust of his fingers he slips a third in.

"I remember," Erica whispers, and thinks of Harper uttering the same words.

Riley looks up at her beneath his long lashes, his smiling mouth pressed to the skin of her thigh as he watches his fingers fuck into her. "You remember that you loved me too?"

He's trying to push the good memories to the front of her mind, of course. But the whole picture is already there, has always been there at the back of her mind whenever she looks at him, clear as day. Erica remembers her father's church burning.

Riley pulls his fingers out roughly and slides up the bed, hovering his naked body over hers. "Erica," he snarls, baring his fangs.

Another memory comes through, this one of their first time. Well, hers at least. They were on her bed, Riley was above her, just as he is now, only he was kissing her neck softly and whispering "I love you"s into her skin. The house was empty save for them in her room, her father liked staying late at the church.

Riley had pushed inside for the first time and Erica remembers loving him so much in that moment. So foolishly. She remembers looking into his eyes and thinking "this is forever" as he sunk into her - just as his teeth sunk into the skin right over her heart the night the church burned.

Forever, she thinks bitterly now, is a long fucking time.

Riley's cock slips between her thighs now, hot and plump with blood that isn't his. Their tether is like an invisible string that ties around their hearts. A mockery of a true bond, since she never chose this.

They can't be too far apart for too long a time or the pull becomes viciously painful for Erica. She can't deny him this when he wants it, though she can dodge him for a while if she stays near enough. They can't kill one another without killing themselves; but they can make each other hurt.

Erica is bound to him, and there are only two ways out.

"Why did you do it?" She asks as Riley pulls her knees up, he shakes his head.

"I didn't know," Riley tells her, his cock already slipping inside. "Back then, I had no idea of all that the tethering would entail. All I knew was that I loved you."

All those years ago, Riley had sealed his blood-filled mouth over hers, until Erica, hazed and unknowing of what would happen, parted her lips as well as her legs and accepted him. He vowed to never let her go, she vowed the same and woke up the next night, only to find her humanity, as well as her only link to life murdered by the man she thought she loved.

Erica thinks of Harper. Her want for him is an ache, a brutal clenching in her chest like their hearts were already bound. Finding him made her feel alive in a way she'd forgotten, painful and amazing and too much. There's nothing in the world she wants more than him. But, even wanting him so, even having taken so much from him already, Erica knows she couldn't do that to him. She wouldn't steal his life, his humanity, even if it were an option.

"That isn't love," she whispers, chains clink and her head clears, she's being fucked into the bed. "You don't love me, Riley. You're not capable of loving anything. You just take what you want."

Riley hums, hips thrusting lazily. "And how are you any different?"

Laughter bubbles out of her uncontrollably. "I'm no better than you are," she says, blinking tears out of her eyes. "But at least I have the decency to die."

Before Riley can react, Erica slips her wrist out of the manacle and grabs the dagger she'd placed under the pillow beforehand, driving it into Riley's chest.

*

"Nick, regardless of the circumstances, both you and Riley were in that boy's room. If the others catch wind--"

"But they won't," Nick bites out, staring the young vampire down, "will they, Conor?"

Conor huffs, his fists clenching at his sides. "I understand that you feel a...a responsibility to your sired, but you know the risk, Nick. Just. For once, wouldn't it be better to let him pay for his own actions?"

Nick turns away, scoffs. "He hardly did anything worthy of punishment."

"One must not seek out those of his bloodline," Conor recites, eyes glinting in the low firelight of the hallway, "in search of solace nor retribution, one must not make themselves known to--"

"Enough!" Nick shouts, whirling on him suddenly enough that Conor flinches back. "Don't insult me, I know the order. The situation has been dealt with! There was no contact, the boy is not aware."

Conor sets his jaw, pale green eyes narrowing. It's so unlike him that Nick almost laughs at him when he sneers, "But Riley is aware of the boy. That's bad enough, Nick. I know he wouldn't go sniffing around his bloodline for nothing."

The corner of Nick's mouth twitches up. "How are you so sure he's Riley's descendant? He could be mine."

"I've seen his line, and yours," Conor says, trying not to break his stern look, "needless to say that if he is your descendant, he's the wrong colour."

Nick stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, grabbing Conor by the shoulder. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Conor looks resolutely back at him, then ducks his head to hide a small smile. "Nick," he says exasperatedly, "you can't keep doing this. Someday he's going to get you killed."

Nick sighs and his hand falls. "I said the same thing to you about Marcus."

"It's different being sired, my existence was his," Conor says tersely. "Besides, I knew I was disposable. I'm glad someone killed the bastard."

"Hey, respect your Elder," Nick chuckles, shoving him. "He was almost a thousand years old, not one of us has lived to that age yet."

"I'm still glad for his death, I'm safer for it," Conor states, swiping shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes. "And you would be too if you would just let Riley--"

"It's not up for discussion," Nick cuts him off, letting his hand fall away. "Riley is better off at my side, I'll keep him out of further trouble."

Conor says nothing for a moment, lips pressed in a thin line as he searches Nick's face. "Alright," he says finally, still looking mullish. "If the Contingent finds out about any of this, it won't be from me."

"Good boy," Nick says, grinning as Conor scowls for being called "boy". They turn back to continue down the torch-lit path. "Now, I have a meeting to attend."

*

Harper can't bring himself to write anything or touch an instrument. It's not that he has no ideas, it's just that he can't get them out. He's still shaken up by everything, and half of him doesn't even believe it happened.

Though, the dreams haven't stopped.

Harper doesn't even know what to do with that, with any of it. And it's only more confusing when he tries to reconcile the dreams as actual memories. Sometimes he thinks too much about it, sometimes he thinks about the girl; Erica.

The thought of her strikes up all kinds of messed up emotions, from dismay, to anger, to arousal, to hatred, to another scary thing he has no name for. The nameless thing settles like a heavy weight in his chest, and whenever he thinks about her it becomes an ache.

Is it normal to miss someone you never really knew? Harper's pretty sure there are laws for the kind of thing she pulled, but they probably don't pertain to vampires. And vampires: fuck. Like it wasn't enough of a kick in the head that he was getting (not so)dream-laid, but then - oh hey, vampires exist! And his dream girl is a vampire with a thing for using him when he's at his most vulnerable.

Harper's jerked off about that particular revelation more times than he'll ever admit.

He's very seriously considering therapy, even if he has no clue what he would say about the whole thing.

Harper knows he'll pick up his tattered old book eventually. And if he's got half-composed songs in his head about finding her again, about submitting to her... Well. It's all in his head.

"Harper," Erica says, shocking Harper out of his reverie and tapping a bloodied knuckle to his window. All in his head. Yeah.

Or not.