Clocksworth

How long had it been since Belmont packed his bags and left? I'd lost count, but the days felt like weeks, and the months stretched into years. I'd tried to ignore the feeling of hopelessness eating me alive from the inside, but eventually, I couldn't anymore. I needed him. 

I would beg him on my knees if I had to, tell him everything, explain why I did what I did—if only he'd listen to me. My feet moved swiftly across the rooftops. I'd heard he was in some remote town far away from New York. What the hell he was doing there was beyond me, but something told me it might have to do with his blood addiction, and the thought gnawed at me.

 Nightmares haunted me, visions of finding him hunched over a bloody corpse. Or worse, that his addiction had gone so far that his body had started to change. The idea of finding Belmont as some twisted, grotesque monster was the worst thought of all, and I prayed that Anthony's and my warnings had been enough to keep his cravings in check. 

 After days of searching, I finally caught a trail. A fleeting whiff of his scent was all I needed. My heart flipped when I saw him, tall and slender as always, with that dark, flowing hair cascading over his shoulders. He was so damn beautiful. A pang hit my chest as I realized he looked happy—happier than I'd seen him in a long time. Still, I followed him obsessively from roof to roof as he moved through the small town, pushing aside the wave of emotions that washed over me when I caught the other scent lingering around him like a fog. 

I knew what it was—the scent of another man. As much as I hated how pathetic I'd become, I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop following him. I crouched behind a ventilation duct as my love stopped outside an old brick building and perched himself on the backrest of a worn, out-of-place bench that had probably been dragged there from a much nicer location. I studied his serious eyes as they flicked down to the screen in his hands. His thumb swiped across the phone, and it looked like he was waiting for someone. 

 Should I go down? Was this my chance? I hesitated, and before I could decide, a rusty old junker pulled up, and a two-meter-tall wolf stepped out of the passenger seat. My pulse quickened as the wind shifted. It was him. 

 The wolf leaned against the car roof, seeming to exchange a few words with the driver before tapping the roof with his palm, sending the car driving off. Belmont looked up at the guy with a broad smile—a smile that made my resolve waver. Damn it, he'd moved on. I'd waited too long.  

My hands clenched into fists as I watched the man reach out and help Belmont up from the bench. The gesture was firm yet affectionate, and they stood annoyingly close to each other. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but their body language was clear. They only had eyes for each other, even if they weren't trying to show it openly. 

 I couldn't blame them. The place reminded me of my Paris, full of magical beings and mixed company, and if the wolf belonged to a pack, I suspected they wouldn't like him hanging around someone like Bel. 

A thumb brushed against Belmont's cheek, and I wished I could hear their conversation when the vampire smiled and shrugged. I was just about to step forward when the wind shifted again, and I saw Belmont's body stiffen. A pair of eyes immediately darted up to the rooftop where I sat, soon joined by the wolf's scrutinizing gaze. I stayed put, Belmont's eyes locking onto mine, and my heart pounded in my chest. I saw him struggle with himself. His chin dropped to his chest, and he was about to take a step forward, but then he changed his mind. A slim, pale hand slipped into a much larger one, and the cheek I'd kissed so many times leaned against an arm that wasn't mine. He said something, and the guy beside him nodded without taking his eyes off me. 

 Eventually, they turned and walked down the street, hand in hand, and my heart shattered. Before they rounded a corner, the giant turned his head and looked back at me. His eyes narrowed as if trying to see if I was still there. Instinctively, I stood up and walked toward the edge. I wanted the wolf to see me, to understand who I was, and I was certain he could at least smell my scent. He stopped, studying me from head to toe, but I didn't move an inch. I wasn't afraid of him. His size was no match for me, but I wasn't going to start anything. Belmont wasn't mine anymore; he'd made that painfully clear. 

I saw the small hand tighten its grip on his, the pleading eyes begging him to keep walking. He wanted to leave me and the old memories behind. I let out a heavy sigh and nodded as I took a step back. He deserved a better future than the one I could offer him. Here, he was free from debts and vendettas. Here, maybe he could start over. 

 I hope you love him, I thought as my eyes locked with the wolf's. He needs someone strong to ground him; he gets stuck in negative thoughts so easily. 

The eye contact broke. He said something to Bel, who nodded a few times, avoiding looking up at me. He was struggling—I could see it in him. Then they disappeared around the corner, leaving the street empty. Just like the gaping hole in my heart.

Belmont

"Who is he?" I had been expecting the question and had spent some time deciding how much to reveal.

 A kiss or two hardly made us close enough to share our deepest thoughts and sorrows. Yet, he hadn't hesitated to step between me and a much stronger vampire. Maybe he didn't know what Clocksworth was? I quickly dismissed the thought—of course, he knew. 

 I glanced thoughtfully at the guy walking beside me along the empty sidewalk. He must have one hell of a protective instinct. Or a death wish. His hand was still holding mine, and I instinctively gripped it a little tighter as I took a deep breath to steady myself before sharing selected pieces of my story. 

 "I'm not from around here," I began, my thick accent evident. His raised eyebrow was his only response. "We're from France, a country in Europe." 

 "I'm not completely clueless, Princess. I know where France is." 

 "Sorry," I replied apologetically, shrinking into the smallest version of myself. 

Suddenly, everything felt so hard. Life was overwhelming, and my emotions were too much to handle. Had Clock really come after me? Did he want me to come home? Had something happened? Or did he just want to see if I was okay? 

 A deep sigh came from above my head, and two firm hands settled on my shoulders, turning my body to face his. "I didn't mean to cut you off, okay? Just keep talking and get it out of your system." 

 My lowered gaze traveled up his worn jeans, past the belt, over the gray semi-tight T-shirt that hinted at the well-built body beneath, and finally settled on his eyes. They studied me impatiently, yet there was some form of understanding there too. 

 "He's the one who made me what I am now," I said, dodging a longer explanation. 

 "So, he's the one who bit you?" It was more of a statement than a question. 

 I nodded, nervously chewing my lower lip. "Something like that." 

 "What does he want?" 

 I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know." 

 He sighed again and placed his thumb under my chin, lifting it to make me meet his eyes. "If you're in deeper trouble than you can handle, sweetheart, then you need to spill the beans, because I don't want to get caught in the middle of some leech drama." 

 Maybe one day, I thought, I would tell him. But not now. He could have the light version, but nothing more. "I left to avoid all that shit," I mumbled quickly in response. "I hope he gets the hint and leaves me alone." 

 "Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 Damn, was I that transparent? But I nodded, answering firmly, "Absolutely." 

 I saw his doubt, even as emotions swirled inside me. I didn't know what I felt or what to believe. But he seemed to accept my answer for now, and at this moment, he was exactly what I needed. So I clung to whatever he was willing to give me, hoping he could make everything else fade away. 

 Our steps moved toward my apartment. We walked in silence, lost in our own deep thoughts, and when we arrived, he didn't need an invitation. Once inside the hallway, my hand instinctively slipped under the thin fabric of his shirt, my fingertips exploring the warm skin beneath. Something about the wolf drew me to him like a magnet. Outwardly, he was so damn strong and confident, but something told me that inside, he was probably as broken as I was. So what attracted me to him? That he was the complete opposite of Clock? Not really. They were alike in some ways but as far apart as two people could be. During my time in Noxwood, I'd learned a new word: Alpha. I suspected that was the similarity. The respect they commanded, the obedience they demanded. I guessed it was innate, something that just existed—a type of personality. 

 Marianne would laugh and say I was a classic bimbo falling for the first bad boy I stumbled across. Sure, I'd played that game before, and it usually ended with a painfully low sense of self-worth. But I wanted to believe that Conor was in a class of his own, that he belonged to another league entirely.

Fingers traced every groove and scar they encountered; he was so full of life in such a simple, black-and-white way. It drew me in. 

"You're so... alive," I whispered, a fascinated smile playing on my lips. 

 "Unlike you?" he teased, effortlessly pulling his shirt over his head. His curls tumbled over his shoulders as he lazily tossed the shirt toward the couch. 

 "We can discuss vampire anatomy another day," I sighed, stepping forward to let my lips brush against the warm, exposed skin. 

 His fingers combed through my long black hair, tracing it down to my waist before moving to the buttons of my jeans. "But you wish you were?" 

 I rolled my eyes, glancing up at his face. "Can we drop the deep conversations for the moment?" 

 A low growl rumbled in his chest as he tugged at my jeans, bending down to let his tongue trail along my neck, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. "You're the one who started it, Snow White, with your whole 'I think you can make me feel alive' speech," he murmured against my ear before his lips caught my earlobe. 

 My stomach flipped. He was toying with me—I knew that, but I didn't care why. I still couldn't believe he'd agreed to come home with me. Maybe it was because I'd thrown nervous glances over my shoulder with every step we took. Maybe he was tired of the cat-and-mouse game, or maybe he was just horny. Right now, I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that he didn't stop. Hell, I'd agree to anything. Feigning calm, I tilted my head back to lock eyes with him, wetting my lips. 

"It was a gamble," I admitted. "I was hoping you'd take the bait." 

 A large hand cupped my jaw, and he leaned in until our lips were mere millimeters apart. "No teeth," he whispered, his gaze sending my heart racing. 

 "No teeth," I grinned back before letting him lift me to the couch. He sank down over my eager, aching body, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt utterly alive.  

I woke up tangled in wrinkled sheets in a bed that felt far too empty, the lingering scents pulling me back to the hours before—when I'd fallen asleep, exhausted and sweaty but utterly satisfied, in a mess of intertwined limbs. If it weren't for my sore muscles and the ache in more or less vague places, I might have thought last night was just another piece of the night's disjointed dreams.

With a low groan, I got out of bed, dragging my feet toward the bathroom. On the way, I grabbed clothes from the floor and threw them on in a random order. A shower wasn't on my mind; I had other things to do. Besides, I liked the way his scent clung to me.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I flipped the toilet lid up—my hair was a mess. Sighing, I ran my fingers through the tangles, trying to make sense of it, but the task felt overwhelming at the moment.

I needed a smoke, and I needed food. Preferably blood, but that would have to wait. I needed to find someone who could help with that, and it wasn't going to be easy. My thoughts drifted back to Clock. He could help. "Hell no," I muttered to myself. Stand on your own damn feet for once.

After a few minutes of struggle, I managed to slip my feet into my Converse. Shoving my hands deep into my pockets, I stepped out the front door.

The apartment had been empty when I woke up, but I hadn't expected anything else. He didn't seem like the type to stay for breakfast in bed and Netflix in the morning. Maybe one day, but definitely not after the first night together.

The street was livelier compared to last night. Families were out, people moving cheerfully in the late summer sun. My fingers got caught in the stubborn tangles in my hair again, and I sighed irritably as I approached the corner grocery store.

The little bell jingled as I opened the door, but no one inside reacted. I glanced toward the young cashier with pink hair and soot-black eyelids, but she seemed almost obsessively fixated on her phone, not giving a damn about me.

I wandered through the aisles, grabbing a soda, bread, ham, and conditioner before heading toward the register. My eyes flicked briefly toward the liquor shelf, but I shook my head. That wasn't my vice, and I wasn't about to start a new habit I couldn't break.

The cashier finally tore her eyes from her phone for a few seconds when I slammed my items onto the counter.

"Two packs of the cheapest," I muttered, nodding toward the cigarette shelf.

She looked up at me disinterestedly before turning around to grab two light blue packs from the rack, tossing them onto the counter.

"Bag?"

I nodded, pulling a hair tie from my pocket and tying my hair into a bird's nest-like bundle on top of my head while waiting for the total. As she rang up my items, I threw some bills and coins onto the counter, mumbling a "thanks."

With a cigarette between my lips, I fished my lighter out of my jeans pocket while the girl packed the rest into the bag.

"You should buy dry shampoo instead," she said, glancing at my bedhead.

"I'll try it next time," I replied with a shrug, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips as I lit the cigarette and took the bag from her. She gave me a pensive look for a moment before turning her full attention back to her phone.

With the bag in hand and my stomach growling, I headed toward the door. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I checked if anyone had messaged me. Just as I pushed the door open with my shoulder, I found myself face-to-face with two guys I'd run into far too many times in my life.

The wolves recognized me immediately, and I froze in the doorway, weighing my options. My eyes darted toward the back of the store as my pulse quickened. The two of them were massive, and my ribs instantly began to complain, reminding me of the kicks they'd endured before. Taking a long drag from my cigarette, I slid my phone back into my pocket.

No way was I calling him now. And the last thing I needed was for him to show up uninvited again. Instead, I waited, watching for their next move. Frowning, I saw the one at the back sniff the air before placing a hand on the other's shoulder and whispering something in his ear.

The one closest to me raised an eyebrow, tilting his head back as his nostrils flared, clearly trying to catch every scent. He studied me for a long moment before deciding to ignore me, brushing past my comparatively thin frame and stomping toward the dairy section.

I stepped back, letting the other one pass. He met my gaze curiously before following his friend into the aisles and food displays. Letting out a relieved sigh, I filled my lungs with smoke and stepped out into the sunlight again.

My legs carried me slowly back home toward my soft bed, ham sandwiches, and lukewarm soda. But my mind couldn't let go of what had just happened. What the hell was that about? I thought, glancing back toward the store. The street looked the same as when I'd arrived, but somehow, everything felt different.