Tombstone ( Completed )

Unmade....

Arthit's POV--------

The sun seems to set from the sky and, too soon, HE withdraws his hands, his heat, his heartbeat. I no longer count seconds, just those  thrumming contractions which, though faint, still hammer against my eardrums. The night creeps by, and I wonder if he will return.

Singto never did..... Not after he shared his dreams with me. But this song is louder than his. He came closer than he did, Singto never touched my Tombstone....... I don’t know what it signifies, but he felt my presence. I know he did.

I fight against hope. I tell myself to expect nothing. I stubbornly turn my inner vision back to my beloved, but I can no longer do that. Instead the images throb to the sound of a human heart, shivering and shaking and falling apart. Over and over I try, but fail. As dawn breaks, I moan in frustration and admit my defeat.

I follow the song as it slips further away, until it is nothing more than a whisper soft hum that tickles the space behind my eyes.

Yesterday he came to my prison late in the day. I cannot help how eagerly I await that hour, pleading with God to bring him back to me. He must know that I cannot be alone any longer.

Now he must return to me.

I deserve that much, do I not ??

There is a vacuum in my soul, and only he can fill it. He must fill this void. After all I have endured, surely God will grant me this gift.

Unless he is the opposite of salvation. Perhaps he was sent to make me suffer more..... He is here to take revenge for HIS cruel death in the past. He is here to punish the monster that I am..... after all I am nothing more than a bood sucking monster.

The day drags on, rain sifting down between the branches to splatter against my stone prison. I try to turn my head, to better listen for his approach, but the pain is too much. I give up, exhausted, trembling against my bonds. My body shakes the stone beneath my feet, and the vibration of the iron post sends an eerie hum through the interior of the Tombstone, a bass note that somehow amplifies my mate’s heartbeat.

No. I am mistaken. It is truly getting louder.

He is actually coming closer.

Closer.......

His steps quicken, his heart races, and he is rushing toward me. My whole body flexes with the hunger, the need to burst out and claim him, I am beyond all reason. There is no trace of humanity within me. All that remains is the thirst, and the absolute certainty that I must have him, or else…

He stops.

I rein in my thoughts and focus, trying to discern what he is doing, what he is thinking, but all I can see is my prison..... The white marble Tombstone. For several moments there is no change. I am shaking with the effort to cast my will beyond these walls when I sense a quickening of his pulse.

Yes… He is moving again.

My throat clenches, my fingers curl. He approaches me at a fast walk, coming steadily closer every second. I hear the rustle of branches, a swish of fabric and a dull thud, then his hands are finally pressed against the stone, and he is laughing.

That sound, it fills me with delight. It transforms the solitary note into a symphony, and I forget what it means to be thirsty. What it means to hunger. That sound floods my senses with an euphoric feeling.

His blood is so close, but I want it to be closer. I want to pull him through this very stone and into my arms. I want to embrace the heat and the life that emanates from him with every breath. I tug against my chains, eager to be even a centimeter closer to him.