The Difference Between You and Me - Chapter 17

This chapter is dedicated to Rebby, for making me smile, and to Flore, who also made me smile, and of course I will comment on your story when it comes out. I wish you the best of luck writing it. =)
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I don’t know how long I sat there, just staring at the wall, my face blank, devoid of all emotions. When I had first found out the possibility that I could have been pregnant with Vincent’s baby, I had felt ecstatic, pleased beyond belief, thinking that me Vincent, and the unborn baby - if there was a baby - could live as a family. Together. But now all I could feel was…dread. I had found out that I was definitely pregnant, and yet I wasn’t with Vincent, as I should be. No, I was stuck in God knows where, kidnapped by some maniac who had this delusional idea that I was his. I was most definitely not Zane’s, and that was that. I was Vincent’s - I belonged to him, and gladly, too.

And then I was filled with a white hot fury, that took over my senses and my rational being, consuming me with its power. How dare Zane kidnap me? How dare he assume that I would accept being his without a fight? I would never be his. I hated him.

I had never been a violent person - I believed that words could do more damage then a slap across the face any day - but I had the sudden urge to thrust my knee into a certain part of Zane that would give me the satisfaction that there might be a possibility that he would be unable to have children. And then, before I knew it I had plunged my fist into the deep red wall that I had been previously moping against, leaving a small but visible dent. I probably would have been more satisfied with this if I hadn’t known that I wouldn’t have even been able to leave a mark had I not been a vampire with intensified strength.

The door suddenly opened, the creaking giving itself away, and Zane stepped through, that trademark smirk and cocked eyebrow plastered onto his face. I wanted to slap it off him so badly. ‘Well, well,’ he drawled. ‘Looks like someone’s got a temper,’

I clenched my fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. Zane’s nostrils flared, and I guessed that he could smell the essence of my life on my hands.

In one, quick movement, he was standing in front of me, his equally beautiful and intimidating presence preventing me from seeing anything beyond him. He grabbed my hand, and I tried to pull it back from him with all my strength, but much to my displeasure, Zane was stronger and more powerful then me, and hardly seemed to notice my struggles. He brought my bloodied hand up to his face, and his green eyes momentarily darkened to the color of spring leaves. Then he flicked out his tongue, and licked the blood sensually off of my palm. He closed his eyes, and proceeded to do the same with my other hand.

As I’ve already said, the blood of a vampire doesn’t have any effect whatsoever on another vampire if it is drank. You could drink as much as you want off another vampire, but it does nothing for your hunger, it only tasted good, depending on whether the vampire likes your scent or not. And Zane obviously liked my scent.

When he had finished with my hands, his grip on my wrists loosened, and I hurriedly took my hands away from him, wiping my palms on the things of my jeans. I glared up at him, putting as much of the hatred and disgust I felt for him into that one look.

Zane tutted. ‘Now, now, Colie, don’t look at me like that. It doesn’t suit your pretty face,’

Another flash of Déjà vu struck me, and I remembered that Dean had said almost the exact same thing when Vincent had kidnapped me and taken me to his mansion. With a start, I realized that I had been kidnapped twice within the space of two weeks. Why’d I have to be so unlucky?

‘Get out,’ I said from between a clenched jaw.

He laughed - laughed. ‘I don’t think you have any right on telling me what to do in my own house,’

My curiosity overtook my fury. ‘So this is your house?’

He shrugged. ‘House - headquarters - place of mine - whatever you want to call it,’

‘Well, I don’t like it,’ I said defiantly, then cursed myself at such a terrible insult.

He only laughed again. ‘Ooh, touchy,’

‘I want to go home,’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘And where is your home, my dearest Colie? With Vincent? I think not,’

My fists clenched at my sides for the second time, and I forced myself not to press my nails into my palm; I didn’t want a repeat on what had happened just minutes previously. ‘Don’t tell me what is and isn’t – I have a better understanding of right and wrong then you ever could any day,’

He bowed his head respectively. ‘Of course, my dearest Colie. But what is the use of knowing right and wrong when we all have different definitions?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Let’s say there was a priest, and then a gunman came into the church he was praying in and was about to shoot him,’ his voice took on a sardonic, mocking lilt. ‘Do you think that, just because that priest prays to a Higher Power he believes in, has done good all his life, and prays four times a day, do you think that means that the gunman will just turn around and sacrifice his life to The Holy One? Do you?’

I had no idea what the priest and a gunman had to do with anything, but my confusion was answered when Zane leaned forward to me, uncomfortably close, and murmured into my ear, ‘Being an Angel gets you no where,’ I was hyperaware of his body pressing into mine, but this time I wasn’t being pushed into the wall. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him, the motion making a low thud. I tried to pull myself away from him by holding up my hands to his chest and pushing, but his grip on me was like steel, and he only purred when my hands came into contact with his chest - or rather, the thin vest top covering his chest. His hand knotted in my hair, and he leaned down and inhaled deeply. I could only stand there as he did it.

‘Stop,’ I whispered, ducking my head, trying to stop him from touching me any longer.

He only kissed the side of my neck, and I closed my end, willing everything to end.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked him, anguished, as he nibbled on the skin of my neck. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’

He stopped what he was doing for a moment, and said softly, ‘I am playing with what is rightfully mine. Is that so wrong?’

It is when I’m the toy, I said silently, shutting my eyes so I couldn’t see what he was doing to me, even though I could feel it.

Eventually he did stop ‘playing’ with me, but the kisses he had planted on my neck, my face, still remained, like a burning trail, reminding me of what he had done. But I was still trapped in his embrace. All he did was tighten his arms so I was even closer pressed into his body, and he just held me like that, and I had a sudden rising of homesickness, the need to be in Vincent’s arms, not this monster’s. ‘I hate you,’ I whispered, feeling miserable.

As my head was tucked into the crook of his neck, I couldn’t see him. But he brought down his lips to my ear. ‘No, you don’t.’

I stamped my foot; childish, I know, but I had very little dignity left. ‘I do,’

‘And you’re mine,’

‘Am not,’ I said stubbornly, my lips forming in a small pout.

‘Are too.’

‘Am not.’

‘Are too.’

‘Am not and I’ll always be able to beat you by a thousand words no matter what you say,’ I said quickly, brought back to my childhood when me and my sister would play that certain game ‘And I’ll always be able to beat you by a thousand words no matter what you say.’

Zane pulled back fro me slightly so I could see very clearly his raised eyebrow. ‘Ooh, very mature,’

I glared at him. ‘No one ever said that the winner was mature.’

‘Ah, yes, my dearest Colie, but you’re not the winner,’ He purred.

My glare deepened. ‘We’ll see. You just wait, by the end of the week, I’ll be gone from here,’

His face grew skeptical. ‘Oh really? Do you want to bet on that?’ His arms around me tightened.’

I nodded defiantly. ‘Yes. Because I am going to win.’

His face took on a thoughtful expression. ‘Really? Well, in that case, If I win the bet-‘

‘Which you won’t.’ I interrupted.

He held up a hands to silence me, but his grip on me did not wane, even though there was now only one arm snaked around my waist. ‘If I win, then you have to kiss me.’

I gawped. ‘No!’

He grinned. ‘Could it be that you are so reluctant to agree to my bet because you know you will never be gone from here?’

I scowled at him. ‘No,’ then, just to prove myself, I said, ‘Fine. If you win, which you will most definitely not, then I will…’ my voice faltered and my mouth twisted. ‘Then I will kiss you,’

‘For thirty seconds at the least,’ he added.

‘What makes you think I’d want to kiss you for more than thirty seconds?’ I asked my scowl deepening.

His green eyes burned into mine, and it was as if he knew something that I didn’t, and he was silently mocking me for not knowing whatever it was. ‘You may just surprise yourself,’ he murmured, and then he was moving his face closer and closer to mine, and it was only a split second before his lips would have touched mine that I jerked myself back, my breathing suddenly ragged and uneven.

‘O-okay,’ I said shakily, diverting my gaze away from his face and looking at the chest of drawers instead. ‘I-I’ll agree to your bet. But if I win, then-‘ I swallowed hard. ‘If I win, then I won’t be here, which will be enough.’

His eyes sparkled, and a slow, sensual smile curved his lips that were almost and exact replica of Vincent’s. ‘Right, so the bet is on. So if I win, you have to kiss me for at least thirty seconds. If you win, then you don’t get anything form me because you’ll be away from me. It’s a bet.’
I held out my hands for him to shake, to seal the deal, but instead he leaned down and kissed both of my cheeks softly, and I blushed from the look he gave me.

The bet was on.