AN: Just wanted to say that this story isn't finished until it says "completed" on the preview. Warning: TrishxDante!
And: parents disliking me "writing stuff" when I should be studying calculus. AARGH! So please be patient with the next chapter; I'm prepping for university...
I' m predicting...4 or 5 more left .
---------------------------------------------------------CHAPTER 15: Calm-------------------------------------------------------------------
Weak light crept across the bedroom floor, silent but steady. Sign of a new day.
Mmm, Trish hummed lazily, just as the light hit her eyelids. She tried to roll away.
And found she couldn't.
Irritation furrowed her eyebrows, and her lips parted in a sigh. Eyes slowly opened to reveal a blurry world. The light viciously attacked still-cloudy blue orbs, forcing Trish to blink rapidly several times, nose wrinkling up a bit.
The woman tensed her body, feeling something warm pressing against her chest, making it slightly hard to breathe, restricting her ability to move. Her eyes suddenly cleared, and she sucked in a large lungful of air. Her chest did not rise as freely. She craned her neck forwards a bit, and was rewarded with the sight of silver hair, with a glimpse of an ear on top.
Dante! Instantly all her senses were on full alert. She was unsure of what to do. Her breaths now came in tiny pants; his head was resting right on top of her breasts! A tinge of rouge blossomed on her cheeks as the observation dawned on her.
Dante's straight nose was nestled perfectly in the valley between her bosom. His steady, slow breathing tickled her bare skin, where her flimsy leather top didn't quite cover her. She could feel moisture gathering there, and her damp skin further warmed with...
With what? Embarrassment?
Trish slowly closed her eyes again, not wanting to move. Every detail seemed to burn through her mind:
The cool calmness of the morning. Crisp white sheets. Early, weak light illuminating her bed, illuminating them. The way Dante's soft breath caressed her sensitive skin, the discovery that his hair was oh so silky against her, the way his lips (no matter how unintentional) were barely brushing the top of her left breast, a ghost of a touch.
But then, other details started to demand equal attention. She noticed maroon and brown splatters of blood on the sheets. The same substance caked the sides of her mouth, tightening her skin whenever her face moved a bit. The coppery smell hung thick in her nose. And finally, the ache of Dante's shoulder bone jammed on top of her left arm, which was feeling horribly numb and bloated from the elbow down. She was amazed by the weight of head, as well.
Slowly, Trish propped herself up, and Dante's head slid down, drawing a startled gasp from her. Quickly, she stopped the descent with both hands, and turned his head to face her. She gently laid his head on her lap.
All of a sudden, she was overwhelmed by this man. She barely touched his right ear, fascinated by the fragile flesh. How easily she could nip it off! And yet here slept the strongest male she had ever encountered.
Next, she traced the strong jaw. She tilted her head a bit, inadvertently causing long, thin tresses of hair to brush Dante's skin. Her golden locks glowed pale in the watery morning light.
The lips. They were softer, fuller than she expected them to be. She supposed that his lips were often pressed together from that constant smirk on his face, hiding their sensuality.
The perfect Roman nose. If it were ever broken, she couldn't tell.
The closed eyes...framed with long lashes. She wondered what he was dreaming about. And slowly, she stroked his cheek, wondering what the hell she was doing, and why she felt so mesmerized by him.
She wished that this moment in time could last forever, with all its marvelous sensations. Just the two of them, on top of sun-kissed cool sheets, time running at a lazy pace, with a hint of fatigue just hovering around.
A slight stir. A feeble groan. Trish watched as Dante's eyes fluttered, and opened.
"Babe...?" He asked, his words thick with drowsiness. A limp smile. "Yew look o-kay," he slurred, as he wearily propped himself up with his hands.
"Thank you, Dante," Trish whispered.
"Happy birthday," The half demon replied. He vigorously shook his head, and seemed more alert. "Trish! How do you feel?"
"Fine. Except...What's this birthday thing?"
Dante grinned. "Hey there, human."
Trish froze. Human...?
Then: Human. Yes. How else could I have survived?
She smiled, and then suddenly winced. Something horrible was happening to her left arm! It felt as if a million tiny Shadows were impaling her arm, repetitively, simultaneously. "There's something happening to my arm!" she frantically cried, unable to bear the sudden burst of sensation. Itchy, tingling, burning, freezing, and something like, but not pain itself, all swirling furiously in her limb.
Dante looked alarmed. "What? I don't sense anything wrong with you."
Then his eyes narrowed, and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "Were there anything lying on your arm, or---?"
"Yea," Trish snarled, not giving him a chance to finish. "Your fat head!"
Dante tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Well then, babe. Like I said, happy birthday."
"What?" Trish stared at him in utter confusion. Rubbing her arm only made the sensation worse, but she could feel it slightly decreasing in strength.
He leapt up, and bowed. "My first birthday gift to you. 'Njoy. No worries; it'll pass." With that, he started out the door. "Man, I'm starving."
Trish shook her head. How many times had she looked at him, totally oblivious to what he was saying? Her stomach growled, and she decided to follow him, left arm hanging limply at her side.
They both left the calm of the room.