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Even as I spoke to her, I could feel her magic-infused blood rushing through my dead veins. Even as I sat on the edge of the bed, having volunteered myself to watch over her small form as she slept, all knowing that I would never let anyone else near her, I could feel my heart beating, if not only in my imagination. As I stare at her pale face, her pink lips that seemed to be pouting even as she slept, her closed eyelids and softly rising chest, I could feel her very soul, the true essence of Buffy Summers and the primal Slayer power as they wove together on planes of existence I know I could never hope to fathom. My wound had healed the minute my tongue had become known with her powerful life. As I drank from her, all else had been lost as I, myself, lost all sense of being to her willing offer. The feeling of slipping my fangs into her sweet skin, such soft creamy skin that reminded me of the finest silk, that tasted of the finest wine, and running my tongue over the delicious wounds was enough to force my fabrics of muscle and skin to become one once more, closing over the gaping wound. As I drank from her, stole her hot blood from her compliant jugular and felt every second of it as it washed down my throat, I could feel the dangerous poison inside my blood being literally eviscerated as her power made it disappear into nothing. I have never felt as close, exposed, yet perilously possessive, as I did in that moment in time. I knew that this Slayer, one of the most powerful Slayers to ever walk the Earth, was mine forever and I would be damned if I let any of that change. I knew that I would not leave her. I knew that I would never leave her side in her fight against the evils of the world, her fight that I must work to make my own, by her side. I tore my gaze from her still face and looked at my hands where they shook. The power coursing through me is enough to make me want to jump up and kill everything and anything that would dare harm my mate. Mate, yes. No words spoken were ever true enough. She would be his forever, if the healing scar from his fangs were evidence enough. “Mate,” I whispered harshly in the dark, my vampiric eyes once again steadying on her face. She breaths softly and slowly, as if nothing can touch her. But I know better and I feel the incredible urge to jump up and shake the world free of anything that would harm her while she laid in my bed, completely relaxed while her friends and family walk around in turmoil in my great living room. I remember the fighting. I remember feeling the strongest sense of possession I had ever felt as I defended the rights to my mate. I wouldn’t let her out of my sight and I can still feel the gazes of hate and confusion burning into my back as I walk out of the hospital, her slight body laid gently in my arms after the blood transfusion. I knew how she hated hospitals and I wanted her to be comfortable. The upcoming fight will be tough. Especially for my tired Slayer. I can see the dark circles under her eyes and I know that I am mostly to blame. I wonder how my past self could have been so selfish even as I constantly watched her pain from a distance. How could I have ever thought that leaving her would help? The only steadfast knowledge in my heart is that if I left her, or she left me, I would die if I could not feel her wonderfully warm presence around me. I have just begun to realize that that is what keeps me going, keeps my head strong and my heart beating, if not physically. The force of the love that I feel for my Slayer comes up within me so strongly that I close my eyes and fight the urge to curl my body around hers. Only the knowledge that I may further injure her stops me. Reaching out a hand, I merely touch her cheek and resign myself to knowing that that will be enough, until she awakes. I can feel the people in the other room. I can feel their anxiety and their confusion and their growing animosity. Some try to understand, other’s hate me for my obvious claim. I could care less and as I rest the palm of my hand against the roundness of her cheek, a sure sign of her still youthfulness, I know that I will never care. For as long as my mate is with me, everything, no matter what the concern, will be all right. Then her eyelids flutter open and I can feel, rather than hear, her heartbeat increasing. It’s wonderful and music to my ears as I lean forward to see into her eyes, ignoring the darkness, knowing that she will find me. And find me she does as I see her softly smile. I swear to all the gods that my heart beat in that exact moment, my large body moving down to hug her, protect her from all the wrongness in the world. “My Angel,” she whispers against my ear and I shudder from the sheer pleasure her voice brings me. I wonder how I would have brought myself to leave the ecstasy I find in her arms, then decide not to dwell on the thought as I rest my lips against her ear. I never felt her arms winding around my body until she tugs, pulling me down with her onto the bed. I gently cradle her within my arms, turning her so I can press my chest against her silk-covered back. My arms wrap around her in such a possessive manner that I wonder why she doesn’t question, but merely accept before I do the same. “Mine,” I say harshly against the shell of her ear on instinct and her response is to bring my hand up to her mouth and kiss each of my fingers before once more drifting into sleep, my arms forever cradling her. Fin l be kind, rewind l back to top l
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