A Touch Too Much

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A Touch Too Much Page 6

by Chris Lange


  “Liv, it’s so strong!”

  He looked like a golden god—a god of war, of wild passion, of eternal love. Sensing he couldn’t restrain his instinctive impulse any longer, she pushed her hair back to offer him her bare neck.

  “Do it. Do it now!”

  He lifted his face to the sky, and let out a feral cry. He then leant down to her in a wolf-like manner, mouth wide open. When she felt his fangs on her neck, she arched her back even more, in unison with his movements, coupling her body with his vigorous thrusts.

  He might turn her into a vampire. He might have to kill her. At that precise second she didn’t give a damn one way or the other. Because what she felt for him was now too complicated for words, so much more powerful than lust. She craved the feel of him inside her, the feel of his piercing fangs against her throat. Acting on her raw emotions, she brutally clamped her inner muscles around his stiff rod. He grunted. He shivered from head to toe.

  And it happened. The pain when he bit into her flesh. The wetness of her blood. The power of release jolted their whole bodies, shocked their beings, staggered their minds. A sensation so extreme, she felt it submerged them and united their souls in ecstatic agony. They climaxed together, their screams ripping the cloaked silence of the woods.

  Chapter Twelve

  They walked out of the forest without a word, for no words were needed. He had licked the blood on her neck, the deep punctures stinging hard. With a single bite he had marked her forever, and she rejoiced in it.

  Just by looking at him, she knew he feared for her. For tomorrow’s dawn. For his race chasing her. For each night apart. For each day he wouldn’t be able to protect her. Now she had to leave behind the places she enjoyed, the people she loved. Without looking back. Now she was on the run for her life.

  Holding hands, Rogan and Liv walked to her car. Although night still ruled their side of the universe, time was running out. As she opened the driver’s door Rogan pushed a lock of her hair back, and stroked her cheek. Then his features stiffened.

  “I can’t come with you.”

  Her throat tightening, Liv grabbed the hand lingering on her cheek. She squeezed the strong fingers before looking at her new lover, at the vampire who had blown her peaceful world to pieces.

  “Why not? You said I had no scent. If it’s true, how will they be able to track me?”

  “They won’t, but trackers will smell me.”

  He made sense. As much as she would have liked him to be wrong, he had thought this through. If they stuck together, his race would find her soon because of his own scent.

  Yet as logical as it sounded she buckled at the idea of being left alone, of moving about in dangerous territories on her own. Without him to protect her, she’d be unable to rely on his presence, strength and courage. Although she believed herself to be rather strong and resilient, she really didn’t want to face a horde of vicious vampires alone. Rogan felt confident they wouldn’t go after her. She didn’t.

  “Shit, Rogan, I don’t want to be alone. Please, don’t do that to me. What will I do? I can’t even go back home. Where will I go? Does it mean I’ll never see you again?”

  He placed a finger on her lips. Aware she was fighting off a rush of fear, he cupped her face, his gaze getting hold of hers with no option to slip away. She stood perfectly still, mesmerised by the brightness in his eyes. When he spoke, a chill ran down her arms.

  “I’ll find you anywhere.”

  The certainty of his words and the confidence oozing from his voice caused her to shiver.

  “How?”

  “Because I bit you and tasted your blood. Because you’re the Bringer of Death, yet you healed me. Or because…I love you.” Rogan pressed her hand against the hard muscles of his stomach. “I’m not sure why, but now I can feel you inside. Wherever you are, I’ll always know.”

  Lapping up everything he said, Liv inhaled loudly. Way too frightened of his imminent departure to perceive whatever he was feeling inside, she licked her bottom lip. But when her fingers bore down on what felt like a marble slab, she gazed at his sensual mouth and knew she wasn’t mistaking lust for love. Not anymore.

  Their lovemaking had changed everything. His biting her under the protective canopy of trees had called forth deeper feelings. His licking her blood and tasting her essence had bound them to one another. But holy shit, she loved a vampire!

  Seeming to experience the same emotion, he brought his lips down on hers, taking the breath out of her. As they joined, she moved both hands around his back while he embraced her, their bodies finding each other again, hungry with desire.

  Had she ever been kissed so intensely? Could it be called passion? Sure, she had read about this wild sensation in romance novels and she had watched lovers exchanging perfect kisses in movies, but that was make-believe. Not real. As for her ex-boyfriends, compared to this overwhelming feeling, they had merely been pissing into the wind.

  He crushed her against him until she believed her bones might snap, and made love to her with his tongue. Her instincts responded to his hard-on. Desire pushing her to moan, she clutched him even harder as if their bodies could penetrate each other.

  Liv almost toppled over when Rogan finally let her go. Eyes slightly elongated and burning bright, skin taut over his cheekbones, he looked halfway through transformation.

  “Hell, Liv, I can’t control myself around you!”

  As he cursed, his face shifted back to its human form. Soon only a fierce glow in his eyes still testified to his craving for her. A shiver went through him as he straightened up and took her hand.

  “The next couple of days will be harsh, and I wish I could be there for you. But I know you’re strong enough to make it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a vampire now. By tomorrow evening you’ll feel thirsty, your body yearning for blood. Try to hold it off as long as possible. I promise you I’ll do everything I can to be back before you have to…”

  His voice trailed off, his gaze leaving hers to stare into the night. For a second he seemed to have gone to a faraway place where darkness ruled. Watching his serious air, Liv realised his sinking his fangs into her flesh would have unavoidable consequences—already had.

  Holy mackerel, she had become a vampire! Fighting off a wave of nausea, she took a deep breath to clear her mind. If Rogan couldn’t speak the dreadful words, she’d say them for him.

  “Before I have to kill someone.”

  What she didn’t voice was the violent rush of fear twisting her guts, the unshakable sense of dread locking her lungs until all she could feel was the severe beat of her heart drumming at the base of her throat.

  A vampire. Because she had let her instincts and emotions take over, she was now a bloodsucker who would soon need to drink. Rogan had warned her it would come to this. He wouldn’t have acted without her consent, but she had asked for his bite. Hell, she had almost pleaded. She alone had made the decision and would now have to deal with it.

  Somehow shackling her panic to a metal ring in the back of her mind, she watched Rogan nod. When he looked at her again, he lightly stroked the palm of her hand with his fingers.

  “If the need to feed gets too strong, do what you must. Remember, you aren’t human anymore.”

  Focusing on the tender motion of his fingers, Liv suppressed a snigger. He might be right, but she had been solely human up to now and lifelong habits had the annoying tendency to stick in mind. She wasn’t yet prepared to snack off people and envision murder as her new spare-time activity.

  “Don’t worry, Rogan, I’ll manage until you come back. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I’m going back to my world, see if I can call a halt to the search and get them off your back. I need to talk to the council.”

  “What if they have you arrested?”

  A thin smile stretched his lips. Letting go of her hand, he placed a finger across her lips.

  “Hush, my sweet! The only
person you have to think of now is you. Keep yourself safe for twenty-four hours, and wait for me. Lie low, avoid people, but most of all stay out of the sun!”

  She blinked three times before his words of caution registered. The sun! Fearful of Rogan’s imminent departure and of her new condition, Liv hadn’t given any thought to the brilliant star that provided life to all creatures on Earth—except vampires. No more lazy afternoons on the beach for her. No more sipping cool drinks by the pool with a bunch of friends. Bye-bye daylight, hello gloom and darkness. Forever.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Liv forced out a smile. She’d be damned if she was going to let him see her sudden discomposure. What with Khord and a team of trackers hot on his heels, Rogan had enough on his plate. He certainly didn’t need a helpless, terrorised newborn vampire into the bargain. She must be strong for him now. She would be strong.

  “I know. I’ll be careful.”

  “Go now. Dawn is on its way.”

  He kissed her one more time before she got into the car. When she had inserted her key into the ignition, she saw him reach for the special watch on his wrist. Then he just disappeared.

  Liv stared at the empty spot where Rogan had stood. Lit by the full moon, it only showed dust and footprints. In the oppressive hours before daylight, she was alone. Alone and scared. What should she do? Where to go now that she had become a mortal danger to people? Gripping the steering wheel, she drove out of the parking lot.

  An hour later and forty miles farther along the interstate highway, she had discarded all thoughts of finding a cave buried in the mountains, a hidey-hole in the heart of the forest, or a refuge far away from civilisation. The sky had migrated from black to dark blue, a pinkish line streaking her horizon.

  She checked into a dingy motel. Beside hers, a single car was parked by the front entrance. With any luck the vehicle belonged to the owner, which meant she wouldn’t find many people around. Perfect! Although she didn’t yet feel any compulsion to bite, she couldn’t trust herself. After all, this was her first shot at being a vampire.

  Half asleep on duty, the clerk didn’t raise an eyebrow when Liv required a room at the back of the building. He appeared bored, tired, and more than willing to get rid of her, which suited her just fine. In a way the clerk looked just like this third-rate motel—cheap and dirty. Recalling spy movies, she parked the car right in front of her room. As unrealistic as it sounded, she might have to leave this newfound haven in a hurry. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

  Once safe in a depressingly drab bedroom, she realised she’d have to sleep with her clothes on. Although her first move was to discard her rumpled clothes, she didn’t have this luxury. Her belongings at this point consisted of her handbag and car. Had circumstances been different she’d have gone to the store in the morning to purchase a pair of jeans and clean underwear. Out of the question now, for how did a vampire move along streets flooded with sunshine?

  No energy to ponder yet another problem, Liv switched on the lights in the bathroom and pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She stood in front of the mirror for a while, her gaze drawn to the fang marks on the side of her neck. Two small red holes that had punctured her skin, reminders of the passionate way Rogan had made love to her. She probably should have worried about being unable to treat the deep wounds, yet there would be no infection of any kind. She wasn’t human anymore.

  Still unwilling to process the dreary thought, Liv let exhaustion catch up with her as the lighting fixture above her head began to blink. Eyelids heavy, she still had the presence of mind to draw the curtains shut in the bedroom. She wasn’t about to disregard Rogan’s warning this time.

  Outside an eastern glow already brightened the sky, and rays of sunshine would hit the window soon enough. As she came closer to the bed, she swatted a bug on the nightstand. Oh, God, and she had to sleep in this foul place! Yet there was nothing she could do but grin and bear it.

  Sleep called her. In spite of her weariness, Liv took a moment to stash her bag and jacket on the chair closer to the door in case she had to take off in a rush. Definitely too fond of spy movies! As she lay down on the none too clean bed, she thought she heard a soft, scratchy noise coming from the corner of the room. A good secret agent would have jumped to his feet to investigate the scraping. Instead she let sleep claim her.

  Against all odds, Liv felt good when she woke up. Good, and ravenous! As much as she wanted to linger, the full meaning of her sharp hunger jerked her out of bed. She needed to feed. She wouldn’t feed.

  She had pulled the drapes so tight last night that a deep gloom still ruled the place. Prompted by instinct, she put her shoes on, and carried her handbag to the bathroom. In the mirror, her reflection told her the transformation into a vampire hadn’t yet begun. Scary as it was, something else grabbed her attention. Her neck!

  Only two barely visible scars remained right where Rogan’s fangs had sunk in. Eyes widening, Liv held her breath as she prodded her throat with a cautious finger. Apart from a tiny dimple, her skin felt as soft as ever and completely healed. No pain there, no wound.

  Almost transfixed, she gazed at her neck. Seconds ticked away, suddenly broken by a recurrent sound—the scratchy noise she had heard before falling asleep. Irritated by this insistent grating Liv turned around. At the door, she peered into the bedroom. She spotted it at once, and all coherent thoughts fled like a flock of hunted birds.

  Her mind ablaze with panic, she bolted towards the exit, threw the door wide open, and burst out into the sunlight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Instantly struck by hot, golden rays, Liv froze. Her mind went blank, and for a minute she couldn’t remember the reason she wasn’t supposed to stand outside. Heart pounding, eyes riveted to the bedroom door, she willed herself to cool down, to recapture a semblance of rationality. But the sight of the monster inside was branded in her mind, and the simple act of breathing had mutated into an insuperable obstacle.

  Bathed in mid-afternoon summer sunshine, Liv began to sweat. Poised to flee, still looking at the door, her panic attack on the verge of wearing off, she kept on drawing air in and out of her lungs. Nothing moved. Finally the silence surrounding the motel reminded her of the current situation, and she felt a wild urge to run to cover. Too late, though!

  Freaked out by the mouse, rat, or whatever gigantic rodent was in there, she had been standing in the sun for at least a minute. How long did it take to fry up on the spot? How long could a vampire withstand such a treatment before bursting into flames?

  Liv licked her dry lips. Startled by this new development, she raised her head to squint at the fiery ball glowing bright in a cloudless sky. Stretching her arms out, she offered herself to the hot caress, taking new pleasure in the warming sensation that should have been forbidden to her.

  As wonderful as the sun on her skin felt, she had other fish to fry—number one being the huge rodent in the room. Holy mackerel, she had slept right beside the hateful creature for hours! Could life get any grosser?

  As though basking in sunshine gave her unexpected strength, Liv made her mind up. Her first act as a non-burning vampire would be to overcome her fear by dealing with the hairy monster. Resolve hardening her muscles, she took the few steps separating her from the entrance.

  The room hadn’t been pitch-dark in the first place, but with the door wide open Liv easily saw the grungy contents—the unmade bed, the stained carpet, the chair where she had left her jacket, the lit bathroom to her left, and, in the farthest corner, watching her, the rat.

  Gooseflesh rising over the surface of her body, her determination melting like heated wax, Liv didn’t stop to think. She rushed to the chair, grabbed her jacket, retreated to the bathroom in the face of her enemy, retrieved her bag with shaky hands, and got the hell out of the motel where Alfred Hitchcock had no doubt shot Psycho.

  So much for overcoming her phobia. Disappointing, yes, but she figured a non-burning vampire couldn’t be expected to act as ru
thlessly as a true vampire. With this questionable excuse in mind, she hurried to her car. As her tyres screeched on the gravelly driveway, she turned right onto the main road.

  Mindful of the speed limit, Liv reached the outskirts of the small town of Bentham by late afternoon. Hungry, thirsty, and needing time to ponder recent events, she pulled over by a strip mall.

  She strode to the nearest restaurant, bag in hand. Four or five tables had been set out front for patrons to enjoy the warm weather—no way would she pass on this golden opportunity. Without a single glance around, she wolfed down three cheese and ham sandwiches, a plate of home-made chips, two big chocolate cookies, and a glass of orange juice.

  The sense of relief that washed over her when she pushed her plate back had her grinning. She was able to sit in the sun, see her reflection in the restaurant window, and look at shoppers like they were people, not bloody food on legs. Without stretching it too far, she felt positive she could chew mountains of garlic. What a glorious day!

  But how? Rogan might know the answer. He had only been gone for a few hours, yet the vacant spot in her heart had his name on it. What was he doing? Would he ever come back to her?

  A stray dog came sniffing around, its tongue lolling, its brown eyes holding hope of a different kind. When Liv offered it the last fries, the dog licked its chops before grabbing the chips with great care. Then it padded away, tail wagging, on the lookout for a new adventure.

  Unlike her new furry friend, Liv sought quiet and peace. The past forty-eight hours had been a whirling mass sucking her in, a complicated vortex she had fallen into willingly. She could have ditched Rogan and his vampire universe anytime, but she hadn’t. Instead she’d seen to it that Khord’s silver bullet didn’t kill him. What was more, when she’d tried her so-called power on the warrior in the warehouse it hadn’t affected him in the least. Come to think of it, she might well have treated him for smallpox.

 

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