Chapter Text
“What are you doing?”
Clarke stared at the young woman currently hunched over the elaborate flower wreath laying against the tombstone. The stranger delicately touched each petal before quickly moving on to the next. Her mouth was barely moving, and she didn’t even look up at Clarke as she answered her question.
“Counting.”
Clarke rolled her eyes at the answer, which was, honestly, a useless gesture as the other woman still hadn’t even glanced her direction. “I can see that. Why?”
“I need to.”
The woman continued to touch the petals, moving on to the inner row, as Clarke tilted her head, absolutely fascinated by the utterly unusual scene in front of her. “You need to count every petal on all these flowers?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Clarke took a cautious step towards the woman, desperate to see if the mental picture she crafted in her brain was anything like the actual face of this odd woman. The stranger instantly froze at her approach, sucking in a sharp breath of air. Her back bristled, and her muscles tensed. Clarke stopped dead in her tracks, slightly terrified at the drastic change in demeanor.
The other woman’s voice was cold as she answered, but still, she never turned. “I don’t know. I just need to. Now, will you kindly silence your repetitive questions, so I don’t have to start over again?”
Clarke swallowed her curiosity in her throat while taking a huge step backwards. “Okay,” was all she muttered as she turned to leave the curious woman to her counting.
***
“Now what are you doing?”
Clarke tried to stay away. She really did. But when she glanced to her left and saw the same intriguing woman hunched over in the same part of the cemetery, well she couldn’t resist.
“Counting.”
Clarke sighed silently to herself at the same answer she received the night before. “The grains of rice?”
“Yes.”
Clarke nodded with a shrug of her shoulders and sat down on the bench closest to the woman. Her bag dropped with a loud thump on the hard earth, and she pulled her leather coat tighter around herself as a stiff breeze chilled her bones. The leather groaned with the movement, but Clarke merely stared at the woman tediously placing every single tiny grain of rice into a pile. She tilted her head as she studied the sharp jawline in front of her. Her eyes traced along the stranger’s face, and Clarke couldn’t help but admire the raw beauty of the woman.
She was unceremoniously pulled from her thoughts when a cold yet curious voice echoed into the still night.
“You’re not going to ask why?”
Clarke shook her head, clearing her mind from her thoughts, and raised a playful eyebrow. “Is your answer going to be different from last night?”
The woman paused for a moment. Her fingers frozen in the air as she reached for another grain of rice. “No,” she reluctantly admitted.
Clarke let out a breathy sort of chuckle and shook her head. “Then no, I’m not going to ask.”
“So if you’re not going to pester me with questions, what are you doing here?”
The stranger finally lifted her head, and for the first time in two days, Clarke was rewarded with a full view of her captivating features. If she thought the woman was beautiful in profile, it was nothing compared to what stood before her now. Clarke had just enough wherewithal to not be flustered or awkward and actually responded in an appropriate amount of time, surprising herself in the process.
“I’m bored. The cemetery is on my way home. And you’re absolutely stunning.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on the corner of the mystery woman’s mouth, but it was gone before Clarke could fully appreciate it. The stranger sighed heavily, and set her jaw, pursing her lips slightly in the process. “It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”
“What’s not a good id-” Clarke started to question, but suddenly stopped with a start. “Wait, how do you know my name?”
The woman casually lifted her arm and pointed toward the ground. “Your ID tag.”
“My what?” Clarke’s gaze followed those perfectly elegant fingers and landed on her bag, her hospital ID badge clipped to the strap. She furrowed her eyebrows, staring at the utterly tiny print underneath her picture. “How can you see that from way over there?”
“I have good eyesight,” the woman shrugged, turning her back to Clarke once again.
“Good eyesight?” Clarke guffawed. “You’d have to have a damn telescope to see that tiny print from where you’re standing.”
***
“You’re still counting the rice?”
Clarke took the same seat she occupied last night, her body slumping into the hard stone bench, exhausted after her full day at the hospital. The mysterious woman paused her movements and actually looked up at Clarke before answering. “Yes.”
Clarke smiled as she stared into brilliant green eyes, content that the woman was finally engaging with her. “But you counted it last night.”
The stranger sighed, placing another single grain of rice into a pile. “It’s still here. No one cleaned it up.”
Clarke nodded as if that was enough of an answer. She leaned forward, an elbow on her knee, supporting her chin in her hand. “How many grains are in each pile?”
“500.”
Clarke’s eyes widened dramatically with that information. “500?” She scanned the ground and easily counted 23 piles in front of her. “I can’t believe you have the patience to count all this.”
“It’s not about patience.”
“What’s it about?”
“Compulsion?” The woman shrugged. She sighed loudly, moving a few more grains into a new pile. “I don’t know, really.”
Clarke leaned back again, releasing a long drawn out breath. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the cold stone bench, completely happy to just bask in the stranger’s calming presence. She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that when her trance was broken by a quiet disheartened voice.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Clarke opened her eyes finally to find the woman standing above her. Behind her sat at least a dozen more perfectly shaped piles of rice, all accounted for, all organized. The stranger must have finished her inventory as Clarke zoned out. She forced her gaze from the oddly satisfying rice organization and back to the woman above her. She swallowed thickly at the sight.
The woman towered over her, her eyes a fiery green, at least what was left of her irises. The mysterious woman’s eyes were dilated almost completely, and that dark gaze was currently boring right through Clarke’s flesh and into her soul.
Clarke composed herself, doing her best to contain the shiver down her back and mask the strangely arousing intimidation racing through her entire body. With a voice much calmer than she expected, Clarke gulped, “You still haven’t told me your name.”
The other woman never faltered in her gaze as she answered. “You haven’t asked.”
“What’s your name?” Clarke challenged, meeting the stranger’s gaze. She inhaled deeply and stood from her bench, rising to meet the woman at eye level. Neither one backed down, and Clarke worried the stranger could hear the beat of her heart increase as the seconds ticked by. The heat pulsing through her body was overwhelming, and Clarke couldn’t help her gaze as it quickly drifted from those predatory eyes down to those perfectly formed lips. She whipped her eyes back up to meet green and found them strangely soft.
The stranger took a stiff step backwards before sighing a completely defeated, “It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”
***
“So what are you doing in a cemetery every night anyway?”
Clarke slumped down in her now usual seat, pulling out an apple from her bag before dropping it to the beautifully manicured grass beneath her. She smirked as the green-eyed beauty glanced up at her.
“What are you doing here?” The stranger asked coyly, raising an eyebrow in question.
“I told you,” Clarke shrugged, waving her bitten apple for emphasis. “It’s on my way home.”
The woman narrowed her eyes disapprovingly and tucked her head down, returning to her counting. “It’s late and dangerous. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
The woman froze and glared up at Clarke before admonishing her. “Clarke…”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Clarke interrupted, taking another bite of her apple. “What are you doing in a cemetery?”
“It’s a long story,” the woman relented. She sighed and continued to murmur her count under her breath.
“I’ve got time,” Clarke smiled. “And if that ring of salt is anything to go by, you’ve got plenty of time to talk while you count. How about I start with simple questions, and we’ll go from there?”
Clarke waited on baited breath, clutching her apple tightly in one hand, not even daring to distract the woman from making the decision she was dying for her to make.
“Okay,” the woman mumbled, and Clarke nearly fell off the bench.
Masking her stumble with an unnecessarily loud response, Clarke grimaced as she heard her overeager voice shout, “Great!” She quickly cleared her throat, desperate to recover from the embarrassing previous few seconds. Relatively composed, Clarke smiled, “What’s your name?”
The woman glanced up at her, tilted her head to the side, and Clarke would have sworn that she was trying to read her mind or figure out if her intentions were honest. Clarke shifted uneasily against the stiff bench and took another bite from her apple to distract herself.
“Alexandria,” the stranger offered suddenly, and Clarke, caught off guard yet again, had to wipe away a bit of juice that dribbled from the much too large bite of apple.
“Alexandria what?” Clarke pressed, using her index finger to swipe the remaining drop of juice from the corner of her mouth.
“Woods.”
Satisfied that her chin was finally clean and clear, Clarke chanced a glance up at the woman. Alexandria’s gaze was as intense as ever, her eyes trained to a spot just below Clarke’s chin. Clarke quickly swiped her free hand across her neck, mortified that she must have missed some juice. “Alexandria Woods,” she repeated, trying to distract the other woman from her mess. “Beautiful name.”
Alexandria subtly shook her head, finally moving her gaze up to Clarke’s eyes and offered her a small smile. “You may call me Lexa.”
“Lexa? Even better,” Clarke grinned back. “So, Lexa, where are you from?”
“Here.”
“Here?” Clarke nearly choked on the last bite of her apple. “You grew up here?”
“Yes.”
“How? I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve never seen you before. It’s a small town. I know everybody.”
Lexa shifted uncomfortably and began counting the minuscule grains of salt again. “It’s not that small of a town.”
“Yes, it is,” Clarke scoffed. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before. You look my age. How old are you?”
“Older than I look,” Lexa grumbled, not meeting Clarke’s eye contact yet again.
“You know,” Clarke said, relaxing back into the bench. “You’re making this rather difficult.”
“What am I making difficult?”
“Getting to know you.”
Lexa looked up from her salt and shook her head. “I told you. It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”
***
“Okay, seriously,” Clarke exclaimed, gesturing towards the mess of uncooked rice dotting the ground. “Does someone come and put this shit out here on purpose for you to count?”
Lexa kept meticulously placing grain after grain into a small pile. “Maybe,” she finally offered. Clarke shrugged and placed her bag on the bench, opting to sit on the grass tonight, just that much closer to the stunning counting woman.
After a few minutes of mindlessly watching Lexa inventory the damned rice, Clarke cleared her throat. “I have more questions for you tonight.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“I did some research,” Clarke offered slowly, not wanting to make Lexa feel uncomfortable at the potential violation of privacy. When Lexa showed no signs of apprehension, Clarke continued. “Apparently, the Woods family was one of the first families to settle in this town. They owned nearly every business on Main Street.”
“I know,” Lexa answered without missing a beat.
“There was an Alexandria Woods, born in 1844. She died January twenty-”
“First, 1872,” Lexa finished for her. “I know.”
“How did you-” Clarke faltered, her eyes blinking rapidly. Lexa stood slowly and pointed just to her right. The ornate stone building loomed over them, and Clarke rolled her eyes as her gaze landed on the plaque just to the left of the metal door. There, in perfectly legible print, read:
Alexandria Margaret Woods
Born
September 30, 1844
Died
January 21, 1872
Aged 27 years
“Oh, right,” Clarke admitted sheepishly. “Any relation to you?”
“I hope so,” Lexa laughed.
“What?” Clarke puzzled. She stared at the woman in front of her, truly bewildered by that answer.
“Um, my parents… Named me after her,” Lexa trailed off questioningly. She suddenly shook her head and lowered her chin. Her body completely stiffened as her shoulders squared aggressively. “I shouldn’t be talking to you,” she bit out through clenched teeth.
“Why not?” Clarke argued, crossing her arms, alarmed by this complete 180.
“It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”
***
“I should really have a chat with the groundskeeper.”
“What?” Lexa perplexed as she looked up from her rather large pile of popcorn kernels.
Clarke waved her hand dramatically towards the mess of tiny kernels scattered about the crypt. “He’s clearly not doing his job if he allows someone to come in here and spread all this stuff around every day.”
“It’s not his fault,” Lexa admitted before dishearteningly placing another kernel into a pile.
“Is it yours then?”
“Yes.”
Clarke waited for Lexa to elaborate, to give her some other piece of this puzzling predicament, but nothing. Lexa kept her mouth shut and her fingers delicately counting the hundreds if not thousands of unpopped popcorn kernels into manageable piles.
After a few silent minutes, Clarke worked up the courage to speak again. “I, um, I found this,” Clarke mumbled as she approached the ever counting woman. “Had to dig through boxes and boxes full of old files in town hall.”
Lexa looked up from her most current pile to take the offered piece of paper. “What’s this?”
“A photograph,” Clarke states cautiously. “Of Alexandria Woods.”
“Clarke…”
Clarke ignored the admonishing tone coming from Lexa’s mouth and continued to stare at the curious woman next to her. She couldn’t help the words leaving her mouth. “You look a lot like your namesake. She was beautiful. Maybe a little sad though.”
“Sad?” Lexa scoffed. She handed the photograph back to Clarke forcefully and squatted down to continue making her meticulously counted popcorn piles. “She looks uncomfortable to me. Having to stand still, not move at all, wearing that? Horrible.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Clarke joked. As the sound of her laugh fell on the empty cemetery, Lexa’s body bristled for what seemed like the hundredth time since they met. Clarke’s voice caught in her throat as those now familiar shoulders rose and fell in a silent defeat.
“I’m sorry, Clarke, but this-”
“Isn’t a good idea?” Clarke finished sadly for her. Lexa kept her back to Clarke, and she could just make out the slight shake of her head as the strange woman continued counting.
“It really isn’t.”
***
“What’s that?”
Clarke practically skipped towards the peculiar woman currently pointing at the bag swinging in Clarke’s excited grip. “The rice someone placed here.”
Lexa froze in her tracks, paralyzed as her eyes rapidly blinked in confusion. “You cleaned it up?”
Clarke smirked and waved the full burlap bag in front of her. “Before I went into work this afternoon, I came by and picked up every single grain.”
“Why?”
“So I could take you out for a drink.” Clarke bit her lip in an effort to hide her apprehension, knowing the small gesture would catch Lexa’s eye, but when it did, Clarke was nowhere near prepared for the reaction it got.
Lexa’s jaw tensed, her chin lowered, and her lips parted as she drew in a slow gradual breath of air. All of those things were to be expected with the flirtatious lip biting, but what had Clarke on edge was the wild almost predatory glint in those forest green eyes. Clarke held her stare as long as she could, fighting her own urge to shiver in desire or fright, she wasn’t sure.
“Clarke,” Lexa choked out as she squeezed her eyes shut. The look of utter anguish and distress plastered on that beautiful woman’s face had Clarke quickly dropping her suggestive gesture and eager to explain.
“I know, ‘It’s not a good idea.’ But just hear me out,” Clarke rambled quickly, taking a hesitant step towards Lexa. She grinned and continued as the woman finally opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto Clarke’s as she approached.
“I like you. You’re literally the most interesting person I’ve ever met, even with your very strange compulsion to count things. I know you sort of like me too. You actually started answering my questions. Plus, I’ve seen you staring at me,” Clarke added with a wink, intending it to be a joke.
She watched as Lexa inhaled sharply and take a defensive step backwards, and quickly held out her hands, reaching out futility into thin air, just wanting to stop the woman from retreating. “Which I don’t blame you for! It’s hard not to stare.”
“I...” Lexa shook her head, and Clarke could clearly see the internal war that was raging in Lexa’s mind.
“Just one drink. Please?”
“Fine.”
Clarke let out a breathy exhale and not giving a damn about how embarrassing it could potentially be, fist pumped the air. “Yes! I know the perfect place. It’s just down the road here.”
Clarke gestured grandly with her arm, inviting Lexa to lead the way out of the cemetery. Once on the street, she quickly matched Lexa’s pace, stepping in line with her. Though desperate to do so, Clarke carefully kept her body an appropriate distance from Lexa’s, preventing a swaying arm from brushing against the beautiful woman.
She yearned to know what Lexa’s skin felt like. It looked so soft and smooth. Would Lexa be the type of person to always have warm hands, even in the brisk autumn night, or would her hands need to be kept warm in a loving grasp that Clarke would be all too eager to provide? Would those perfectly formed lips be as supple as she imagined? Would they move and mold to her own? Would their bodies fit together as perfectly as she dreamed?
Clarke shook her head. In an effort to keep her wandering thoughts at bay, she stared directly ahead of her and concentrated on the constant click of Lexa’s boots on the sidewalk. Clarke froze in her tracks and whipped her head to the side, searching for Lexa as the sound of footsteps was suddenly absent.
“Polis Tavern still exists?” Lexa marveled, looking up at the sign hanging just above Clarke. “It looks so different.”
Clarke cocked her head to the side and studied Lexa’s confounded face as the other woman ran her hand along the old wood door. “You’re weird,” Clarke grinned. She stepped past Lexa and pushed the heavy wooden door open, waiting for her date to enter. “But I like it.”
Lexa ducked her head swiftly, but Clarke caught the shy smirk and flushed cheeks before Lexa could hide them. Suddenly full of confidence, Clarke led the way to the bar. “What would you like to drink? First round is on me.”
“I don’t drink.”
Clarke’s eyes might as well have bugged out of her head. “Oh, I’m sorry! We can go somewhere else. I just figured this would be the least awkward place for a first date. Not that this is a date. Is this a date? I kind of want it to be a date. No, not kind of, really. I really want this to be a date. But now if it is a date, I’ve definitely made it awkward. Would you like to go?”
Lexa waited patiently for Clarke to finish her impressive rant and tried to contain her smirk. “Maybe you should order yourself a drink, Clarke.”
“But you don’t drink.”
“I don’t drink alcohol,” Lexa clarified with a wave of her hand, and Clarke was caught just admiring the effortless grace the simple gesture possessed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be around someone who does. Order a drink. Relax.”
“Can I get you anything else? Water? Coffee? Tea?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
Clarke nodded and ordered herself a simple vodka tonic, taking at least three gulps larger than she should have when it was placed in front of her. She grimaced as the alcohol burned her throat.
“Did you know that there are 53 bottles of liquor behind the bar?” Lexa suddenly commented, breaking the awkward silence that had built in the last few minutes.
“You counted them?”
“Yes. 137 glasses, 279 of those tiny straws, 71 of the big ones, 16 lime wedges, 8 beer taps, 28 sets of silverware stacked over there, 9 round tables, 44 stools…” Lexa turned to face Clarke with the first genuine smile she had seen from the mysterious woman. Clarke couldn’t contain her own and matched that beautiful toothy grin in front of her.
“And you have a total of 7 laugh lines by the corners of your eyes when you smile.”
Caught off guard by that endearing observation, Clarke abruptly threw caution to the wind and leaned forward, capturing those lips she’d been dreaming about for the past week. Lexa tensed instantly, but not before long, was kissing Clarke back. Her long, elegant fingers gently traced Clarke’s jaw, slipping softly down the length of her neck and settling at her collarbone. Clarke shivered at the combination of soft lips on her own and the gentle thumb drawing small patterns on her overly sensitive flesh.
Lexa pulled away slowly, leaving a dazed Clarke fluttering her eyes in a haze. The beautiful woman smirked, and Clarke grinned dopily back. She dropped her hand and quickly found Lexa’s, curling her fingers around the ones that had just seconds ago caressed Clarke’s skin. Clarke chuckled to herself. Lexa’s hands were definitely the type that needed to be warmed by a loving embrace.
Lexa gave her hand a quick squeeze, and with a sadness that confused Clarke muttered, “This really isn’t a good idea, Clarke.”
“One of these nights, you’ll have to elaborate on that thought,” Clarke muttered as she leaned back in to kiss those lips once more.
***
“I haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” Clarke sighed as she finally caught a glimpse of the woman who had occupied her mind since their kiss.
Lexa stiffened at the sound of her voice and kept her back to Clarke as she counted the rice on the ground. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy avoiding me?”
Clarke saw those delicate shoulders rise and fall with an epic sigh and could have sworn she heard an almost feral growl escape those lungs before Lexa’s voice cut through the night. “I told you-”
“I don’t care if it’s not a good idea!” Clarke interrupted her and as she took a forceful step towards the woman in front of her, she was met, face to face, by wild green eyes. Clarke recoiled at her sudden appearance, more surprised than frightened. Lexa stood her ground, lowering her chin, and dared Clarke to continue.
“I stopped cleaning up the rice today,” was all Clarke was able to squeak out.
“I noticed,” Lexa deadpanned but didn’t move and didn’t break her gaze. After a moment, Lexa’s tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth and ran tantalizingly slow across her upper lip. Clarke struggled to maintain her breathing at the sight, and when she swallowed her arousal in her throat, she swore Lexa’s gaze followed the movement.
Another painful snarl broke the stillness of the night, and Lexa hastily turned and squatted down, continuing her curse of counting. Clarke relaxed at the sudden distance between them, taking a deep breath to calm her fear and strange attraction.
Comfortable enough to start the conversation she was actually there for, Clarke cleared her throat and stared into the chestnut hair in front of her. “I did some more research.”
“About what?”
“You,” Clarke answered slowly. Lexa didn’t even bother responding. The only indication that she even heard Clarke was the slight pause she gave as she placed another grain of rice into a pile. “You suffer from arithmomania.”
Still no reaction, so Clarke squared her shoulders, strengthening her pose to give her the courage to say the most insane thing to ever come from her mouth. “And I think you’re a vampire.”
Lexa’s whole body froze. “Pardon?”
Clarke didn’t repeat herself. She merely raised her chin slightly as Lexa finally rose from her squatted position. The beautiful woman straightened her back and turned slowly to face Clarke. Her whole body tense, her muscles bristling with every small step she took towards Clarke.
Clarke’s mind battled against her body’s instinct to cower at the approaching threat, and she was delighted when her mind won out. She was less than delighted when her voice quivered with her words. “I only see you at night, you look exactly like that woman from the picture (a woman who died nearly 150 years ago), you have crazy good eyesight, you’re as pale as a ghost, I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything, and you suffer from arithmomania.”
Lexa laughed and the sudden sound had Clarke rooted to the spot. “How does compulsively counting make me a vampire?”
Bewildered, Clarke smiled for it was the only thing she could possibly do at the moment as Lexa’s whole body language changed instantly. Her threatening pose was gone and replaced with an almost timid one. Clarke shrugged her shoulders and decided to answer Lexa’s question.
“It’s an old myth. Often forgotten in today’s pop culture vampire stories. I did my research, remember?” Clarke threw in a little wink for good measure, completely at ease once again.
“You sound insane,” Lexa said with a subtle shake of her head. She chuckled to herself before turning and continuing her counting.
***
“Talk to me,” Clarke begged as Lexa walked stiffly away from her.
“No.”
“Lexa, please. Is this about the other night? What I said? I just…” Clarke wrapped her hand around Lexa’s firm bicep and attempted to halt her retreat.
Lexa just shrugged and effortlessly rid Clarke of her iron grip on her. “It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”
***
“Why won’t you talk to me?” Clarke shouted down the dark street, running as fast as her tired legs would allow her. Her bag swayed heavily against her hip as the added weight of a full bag of rice shifted awkwardly with her hasty movements.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lexa muttered, keeping her eyes ahead of her, as Clarke finally caught up.
“What if I want you to?” Clarke offered desperately.
Lexa came to an abrupt stop, and Clarke used all of her strength to not bump into the suddenly stationary body in front of her. “You can’t say that, Clarke,” Lexa whispered with more melancholy than she had ever heard from the woman. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Clarke scoffed at the statement, fed up with Lexa’s constant avoidance. “It’s not for lack of effort on my part.”
“I’m sorry,” Lexa shook her head and spared a glance over to Clarke. Her eyes were a brilliant green and hid a deep sadness behind them. Just as Clarke was about to reach up and touch that sharp jawline, to press their lips together in a way Clarke had been dreaming about for nearly a month now, she saw those eyes shift into something dangerous.
These constant changes in demeanor were giving Clarke whiplash, but before she could comment on it, Lexa bit out a sharp, “It’s just not a good idea,” before turning and walking briskly into the night.
***
“God damn it, Lexa! What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?” Clarke roared at the woman currently walking away from her again.
Clarke took a few bold steps forward and placed her body directly in Lexa’s path, shifting left and right, mirroring Lexa’s every movement. Lexa huffed an irritated laugh and shook her head. She placed two alarmingly strong hands on Clarke’s shoulders, and with unprecedented ease, moved Clarke out of her way.
Before Lexa could make her way out of the cemetery, Clarke hastily rummaged through her shoulder bag and pulled out the heavy burlap sack. With a wickedly smug grin, Clarke tossed the bag just in front of Lexa and mentally did a happy dance as the bag exploded on the ground, sending thousands of tiny grains of rice scattering on the manicured lawn.
The satisfaction she felt in that moment was well worth a hundred of the severely predatory glares Lexa was throwing her.
***
Lexa crossed her arms in front of her, her jaw moving in slight annoyance as Clarke approached her slowly. “Are you going to throw rice again?”
Clarke smirked at the memory but quickly dropped the gesture. “Will it get you to talk to me?”
“No.”
“Lexa.”
“Clarke.”
Clarke threw her hands in the air in frustration, completely fed up the with the stubborn woman. She tried staying away, but the truth of the matter was that nothing could rid her of thoughts of Lexa. That woman was everywhere.
Clarke thought of her as she passed the cemetery on her way to and from work. She thought of her as she ate stir fry with her mother, the damned rice mocking her every bite. She thought of her as she walked past the flower shop and Polis Tavern. She thought of her sitting at the movies and reaching the unpopped kernels in the bottom of the bag. There was no escaping Lexa, and Clarke had come to the inevitable realization that she didn’t want to escape her any longer.
“I’m not going to stop coming out here.”
“Why?” Lexa sighed, running her hands frustratingly up and down her face. “Why do you feel like you need to be here? What about me makes you so reckless?”
“Reckless?” Clarke repeated, taking a bold step forward. “What are you talking about?”
Lexa lowered her chin, and that now-familiar predatory gaze overtook her beautiful features. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Clarke.”
She did. There was really no denying it any further. Every assumption she made all those weeks ago had to be true. The simplest explanation was the best explanation. Vampire. But Clarke’s mind wouldn’t completely accept that answer unless she had her undeniable proof, so she placed her hands fervently on her hips and stated, “I don’t actually.”
Lexa’s gaze smoldered even hotter, and Clarke felt her body begin to react appropriately. “You want confirmation?” Lexa growled. “Fine. Here!”
Lexa’s body moved faster than Clarke could comprehend. In an instant, a cold hand was pressed against Clarke’s hip, holding her impossibly tight. Fingers wrapped in her blonde hair and tugged down, exposing Clarke’s vulnerable throat.
“Is this what you want?” Lexa whispered, keeping her mouth slightly parted as she bored into Clarke’s blue eyes with a fire that burned somewhere between desire and hunger.
“Lexa…” Clarke whimpered under her entrancing gaze.
“Do you have any idea how amazing the human body is?” Lexa purred, her eyes fluttering rapidly in pleasure.
“Right now,” she hummed. “Your brain is releasing norepinephrine causing your heart rate to increase.”
Lexa moved ever closer to Clarke. She tilted her head to the side just enough for her nose to brush slightly against Clarke’s heated flesh.
“Your blood is pumping faster and faster through your body, and I can hear it. It’s a beautiful sound, Clarke. Like a river raging downstream.”
Lexa slowly dragged her lips up the length of Clarke’s neck, stopping just below her ear.
“Your arteries are now constricting, increasing your blood pressure. Your pupils are dilating due to the hormone, and your body is burning more and more calories as I speak causing your temperature to rise,” she whispered, and Clarke did everything in her rapidly fleeting power to not buckle at the knees.
“Your starting to sweat; your body’s attempt to regulate its temperature, and in that you’re releasing your pheromones, Clarke. It’s positively intoxicating.” Lexa’s tongue licked lightly at the crook of her neck, sending waves of pleasure and desire coursing through Clarke’s already aroused body.
“It wasn’t a good idea because I’m not sure how much longer I can control myself.”
Lexa pressed a small kiss to Clarke’s upper neck.
“It wasn’t a good idea because I don’t want to control myself.”
Lexa scraped her sharp teeth along Clarke’s exposed flesh and placed another lingering kiss slightly lower on her neck.
“So don’t,” Clarke stuttered out.
“Clarke,” Lexa choked as she pulled back almost imperceptibly. Her pupils were completely blown, and she looked as lust drunk and hungry as Clarke felt. The intensity of her gaze was enough to embolden Clarke to make her next reckless decision.
“Lose control,” Clarke commanded. “Please, Lexa, I-” Clarke’s words were cut off as Lexa growled and swiftly leaned in, her head tilted, providing her with an impeccable angle.
Clarke gasped as perfectly sharp teeth punctured her soft flesh and supple lips wrapped gently around the new wounds.