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Anita couldn’t stop turning around in her bed sheets, incapable of falling back asleep. Every time she managed to relax, she suddenly felt frenzied to move, as if to erase her dream from her memories. But her body ached for it.
She could feel his gaze burning on her skin. Avoiding it was no longer a necessity for her independence, but rather for her sanity. She refused to admit it out loud, but exchanging looks with him had been necessary, and even saved them a couple of times from difficult situations. Besides, he had a way of understanding her that scared her. He denied him her eyes to not be read like a book, to not be seen.
Drowning in the Blue Nile
The problem was that his imposed presence –forced dating, help during investigations– had compelled her to realize that something in her wanted him, loved him even. She could no longer suppress her feelings and cage them deep down. She was tired of being in a perpetual fight against herself: she wanted to run as much as she wanted to feel him under her hands.
This cage was once just fine
Am I allowed to cry?
She had seen him that night for a brief consult on a police case she had been working on. They were alone in his office, and standing against the desk Jean-Claude formed an image of perfect stillness. Seated on a chair in front of him, she had felt stupid: her whole life she had hated vampires, considered them demons and soulless creatures. But the charm in his voice – not the vampiric kind, just the sweetness he coated the words with - and the way he held her hand proved her wrong: if he understood her so much, her desires and fears, how could he not have a soul?
Crashing into him tonight, he’s a paradox
He then had gotten close to her: he knelt with his hands on each side of the chair, very close but not touching her. Then why was she so flushed?
When he had slowly risen and met her gaze, a few inches from her lips, she had held her breath. Thoughts of all the possible outcomes had occurred to her: in none of them she pointed a gun at him.
I’m seeing visions, am I bad or mad or wise?
He had gotten up and she had begun breathing again. She had then thought she was safe from him as much as from her need. She had nothing to be afraid of as long as her desire stayed in her head – without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin? -, but the link they shared had allowed him to enter her dreams, and he came to her that night to finish what he started in the office. It had become their secret deal: dreams didn’t count. She gave in, and he showed her all that could’ve happened with open eyes too. What happened was just a small part, but it was much more than he’d originally hoped for.
There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk
Shame poured over Anita on the morning after. She always fought with shame the rush she got from him, as she was too scared to fully admit to herself that what she had dreamt on her own became reality for both of them, even if it nobody else could have seen it. Deep down she knew that being a dream didn’t mean it wasn’t real.
We’ve already done it in my head
When they were together, he used to taunt her about it. He asked if she had any nightmares, if she had slept well, and every time she promised that she would no longer fall for it, that from that night on she would’ve sent him away. They both knew it would not have happened.
If it’s make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?
In fact, every night he had something new stored for her. He always whispered to her about how much he had waited and how he wanted to have her in every possible way. Of course, that was always encountered with a certain resistance. Nevertheless, the times she got further from her moral compass were the most unforgettable ones.
My bed sheets are ablaze, I’ve screamed his name, building up like waves, crashing over my grave
The problem with shame, though, was that it would’ve surely been approved by others. She couldn’t force herself to speak about it to Catherine or Ronnie: they would’ve torn her a new one. But she wasn’t willing to discuss it, partly because she was afraid that they would’ve convinced her to give him up. She had fought so long to find a precarious sense of peace, and she wasn’t letting it go.
They’re gonna crucify me anyway
She knew it sounded cheesy even thinking about it, but he was different. Surely, it spoke volumes that a centuries-old vampire, who surrounded himself with death and horror, understood her, but it was still the truth.
What if the way you hold me it’s actually what’s holy?
Her haunted past and her life riddled with death had at least allowed her to find a man she fitted like a puzzle piece with. She liked to think that he recognized that way before her and pursued her for it. It made it seem even romantic.
They don’t know you’ve haunted me so stunningly
No, she couldn’t have shared that with anyone. Nobody would’ve taken her seriously, and if so, the more reasons to make her change her mind. She didn’t want anybody helping her with that, she managed well enough on her own. But even when she realized how blurry the lines between right and wrong were, she looked forward to meeting him.
How I long for our trysts
She forced herself to stop turning around in her sheets and take a deep breath. She would’ve solved all of it, but in the end it was still night and she knew she wouldn’t have left him until it was daylight.
Am I allowed to cry?