Flawed

by Darci Darson

  They rushed downstairs and crossed the kitchen to leave through the back door. Imre stopped just before the doorway and turned towards Cherry who bumped against him and stepped back, swaying for an instant.

  “Why is your skin so hot?” Imre asked.”Are you still sick?”

  “I don’t know,” Cherry said. “Maybe I caught an unusual flu. Thank you for the flower, Imre.”

  “You are welcome,” he replied, his voice was harsh as if she had offended him with her gratitude. She had learnt another thing about him: he did not like her gratitude. He hated her care, but could not resist to hold her hand for some mysterious reason.

  Imre raised his other hand and pressed the back against her forehead. The cool, tingling sensation that his hand had given her made her feel like she was going insane. Everything slowed down and there was only her heartbeat and this awareness, delirium and desire; the purity of her basic instincts. She bent her neck back, exposing her throat and let out a groan. Catching his wrist, she led this hand of his down her cheek and neck, craving for this cool, addictive relief. Brushing her cleavage, she could hear Imre say to her, “Birdie, we have to go.” His voice sounded like it was coming from the far distance. She lifted her head and looked into Imre’s astonished eyes. Returning to the reality from this consuming disconnection, she first thought that she would die of embarrassment in the middle of Felicia’s kitchen. Every moment of shame so far was nothing compared to how she felt now. They remained motionless, with Cherry still pressing Imre’s hand against her cleavage and him holding hers.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cherry murmured, trying not to burst out into cry. She released Imre’s hand, but to her horror, he just turned it over and glided over her collarbone area once more, a slow gentle movement. His hand moved down and touched her breast.

  Cherry’s chest rose and fell and she sighed.

  “We have to go,” he repeated in a hoarse voice and pulled her behind him. Throwing her into the passenger seat, he had a tense expression like he was angry with her. Felicia who had been settled in the back seat, shook her head in disapproval, but did not reprimand them for being kept waiting in the car for so long.

  Cherry still desired death itself to come for her and release her from this ridiculous chain of events, but most of all, she just attempted to silence the consuming lust inside her. She wanted Imre to stop doing this to her. Her initial embarrassment transformed into anger. Imre played with her like a cat with a mouse. This was the only possible explanation of her indecent behaviour.

  The drive took half an hour. Imre drove. He was distant and unavailable and he did not say a single word.

  Felicia asked Cherry to stay close and pay attention to her commands. She then fell silent, occupied with checking her herbal mixtures in her bag.

  The last fifteen minutes of their journey passed in silence, like time spent in a graveyard.

  CHAPTER 8

  CHERRY SAT ON the low stone wall gently circling the sandy beach below, chest twisted, head tilted. She observed the black, glassy ocean floodlit by an alloy-silver disc of the moon, her ballerina pumps swinging in the air. A humid chill snuck under her cardigan and dress, but it was not unpleasant. It cooled her hot skin and relieved the strange flu symptoms she had, helping to clear her thoughts.

  Felicia and Imre stood on the path with their backs turned to a hotel across the deserted road with cars sleeping on one side. Felicia buttoned her grey, checked coat. The echoes of music from a nearby pub blended with the eternal whisper of water peacefully touching the shore. The cool smell of sand, seaweed and salty water comforted the senses.

  Cherry turned towards her companions. She lifted her eyes only to meet Imre’s glance that was both naughty and intense. Cherry held her lips tightly together, using her whole anger to divert her attention to something else than him. This was not the right moment to get distracted. She sent him a hostile look, but he just winked at her. She had this urge to kill him for that wink, but instead turned her head to the opposite direction.

  “He’s here,” Imre said, raising his arm and pointing to somebody in the distance.

  The women glanced at a two metres tall, slim figure approaching. Cherry stood up. Drasa's steps were slow and elegant as if he were floating in a waltz.

  “He looks like a tramp,” Felicia muttered with disgust, shaking her head.

  “Drasa lives among the homeless. He feeds on them,” Imre explained.

  Cherry took a rapid breath. She shuddered. The memory of the familiar, paralysing power crossed her mind. The scarlet, sparkling mist had followed Drasa.

  “He is one of them! The Opyri,” she said hysterically." Did you know this, Imre?"

  “Don’t move, Birdie. And be quiet.”

  Cherry repressed her growing and overwhelming urge to flee. She waited tensely and prepared to fight for her life. She promised herself to kill Imre if they returned back to Westfad Manor alive. She would spare Felicia’s life, though, as the woman seemed as surprised as her.

  Drasa stopped about two metres in front of them, scanning Cherry with his burning, crimson eyes. The girl inhaled his scarlet, translucent mist. It was not rotten at all. It was the pure, cold breath of death yet hinted with a spicy and fruity, exciting danger. Drasa smelled like Imre, but his aura was ancient and powerful. His face resembled a human one, yet it was a bit longer. The expression emanated a charm of disturbing allure, awaking the emotions of something forbidden, beautiful, pristine. His unruly, dark hair fell down to his shoulders, untouched by a comb though shiny and thick. He could have been thirty years old as well as three thousand and was a mixture of contradictions. Sparkling blue flames like those of the candles started on his feet. They flickered, trying to survive in the slight wind.

  “I haven’t seen these animals since the Mesopotamian Empire,” he said. His words flowed like music, deep and not of this world. His voice was husky and very appealing. His eyes locked on Cherry. She realised that Drasa had called her an animal.

  “What do you want, Drasa?” Imre asked, clenching his fists. His voice stirred a little.

  “I like my life. I want things to stay as they are. Plenty of food, many broken souls to heal,” Drasa said and came closer to Imre, taking out a silver, antique flask from the pocket of his green military jacket. He handed the flask to Imre. The boy took two sips and extended his arm towards Cherry, aiming to pass the flask on to her.

  Cherry grabbed it with her shaky hand, nearly dropping it and took one small sip. She did not want to offend Drasa although the whole idea seemed to her to be very unhygienic. Not to mention that due to her mum’s problems, she despised alcohol in any form, drinking on rare occasions. Imre nudged the side of her chest with his folded elbow to rush her so she took another sip. The alcohol burned her throat. She then passed the flask on to Felicia.

  “No, thank you,” Felicia refused. “I will be driving back.”

  Cherry could nearly hear Felicia’s personality, obsessed with cleanliness, screaming. The girl returned the flask to its owner and Drasa took a long sip as well.

  A couple in their sixties approached and passed them, not aware of the peculiarity happening right in front their eyes. The couple was discussing their holiday plans. It seemed as though Cherry and her companions were in another dimension, hidden from the glances of normal people.

  “What do I want?” Drasa continued. “I want you, Boy, to dance with the Girl. Be happy. Enjoy life. Love... Boy, life without love is not worth living,” Drasa grinned widely. He met Imre’s gaze. His full, grey-blue lips looked grotesque. The blue flames, seizing his feet, grew bigger and bigger. “You are well prepared," he said with an unexpected and frivolous lightness.

  “You should have burnt by now,” Felicia said. Her words sounded like a mixture of strength and curiosity.

  “Love is not an empty word for me, Healer,” Drasa answered. “I am not like the beasts hunting you.”

  A group of shouting and laughing people poured out from the pub. Drasa vanished
. Five men passed Cherry and her companions, crossed the road and disappeared round the corner, entering the hotel. Their loud voices echoed for a few seconds. The area fell quiet. There was not a living soul around.

  “What is the meaning of all this?” Cherry asked. She still shook. Her heart hammered thunderously on like it had gone mad.

  “Let’s find out,” Imre said. “Will you dance with me, Cherry Devita?”

  Cherry shot him a venomous look.

  “No way, I can’t dance!” Cherry objected, shaking her head and stepping back with her arms crossed on her chest. “I’m a really horrible dancer. Believe me, you don’t want to try.”

  Imre did not listen, and instead, came towards her.

  She stepped back, saying her firm ‘no’ once more, her eyes pleading Felicia for her intervention. But the woman, still disturbed by the encounter, was not able to move. Cherry felt the ripple of air caused by Imre’s vampire movements. He smiled in his boyish way as he wrapped his strong arms around her slender waist and drew her closer to him. Cherry felt a rush of heat in her veins and her face flared. They left the ground and flowed like a rustling river whilst Felicia moaned in surprise and helplessness.

  They whirled gracefully up to the black, glittering firmament. Cherry put her arm around Imre's neck and clutched a piece of his hoody with her fingers. A sudden wave of panic inside her flapped like the wings of a startled bird. Imre held her other hand as they floated in a quiet and delicate movement. It was a lonely performance, and the stars twinkled an applause. Their hands united, sparkling and radiating warmth. A laser-blue, shimmering mist diffused from between their palms. It thickened and surrounded the fingers, then dispersed in every direction.

  “I’m afraid of heights,” Cherry whispered and laughed with sheer joy.

  Imre gazed at her, his eyes full of wild desire. He held her fully against him. It was frightening and tempting, intoxicating. His aura made her almost limp in his arms.

  Cherry closed her eyes and let her panic fly away. She melted into Imre, sheltered from all her concerns and dread, pulled by his magnetic attraction, unable to resist. Or having no intention to stop it. There was no future, no present, no past. She sensed the moment with all her being, having the impression of being somewhere else, floating, rising and falling down. Hoping that they would not plunge straight into the ocean. And Imre was just crushing her in his embrace.

  A particle of sensual warmth grew inside her. A spark turned into a flame. It consumed and destroyed and hurt. Her skin glowed like an eternal pearl. The flame exploded. Blood drained out through her nostrils.

  “It’s killing me,” she cried. Her voice was an excruciating pain. Her mind was blunt and hazy.

  She felt that she was falling down. They were falling down. They were like two shooting stars that hit the ground. Cherry pushed Imre and landed on the sand, supporting herself with her folded elbows. She started crawling as she wanted to find safety and hide; an instinct forced her to do so. Freezing waves washed gently over her limbs whilst the sand and stones scratched her forearms and legs. She faltered and a sound of breaking bones tore at the night silence. An inexplicable and horrendous pain surged through her body. It came like an earthquake, so unexpectedly. It was a powerful and devastating force touching her every organ, every tissue and every cell. A stabbing agony, mercilessly jabbing her with a thousand needles at the same time. She wailed as her skin glowed. It shimmered, illuminating the surroundings. Imre came closer but a satin, black force hit him and threw him a few metres further. He stood up and sped towards Cherry with his vampire agility. He stopped, kneeling beside her. He looked at her with sheer terror in his eyes.

  Cherry glanced at him, her blazing, hyacinth eyes suffused with pearly tears and innocent suffering. She was a fragile creature, subtle and vulnerable, exuding a pure and soothing light. She lay, shivering. Her wounds bled. A pair of black wings appeared from her back, her nails turned into sharp, short claws. The silky, black feathers of her wings covered her body instead of the torn clothes. She cried quietly.

  She was so shocked that she did not comprehend the whole experience. She was only able to focus on her fading pain. There were three aftershocks from the pain, every consecutive one weaker than the last and then it was gone. Her heartbeat and breath were irregular and arduous.

  The wings folded and vanished. The claws reverted into the bruised nails. Cherry’s glow diminished slowly. Imre took off his red hoody in order to save her dignity. His bare chest was still marked by his wounds, two of them, probably the worst, bandaged. His burns looked much better as if they were healing fast.

  “I’m closing my eyes,” he said, lifting Cherry’s head and helping her pull down the hoody. His fingers touched her skin and slid down her spine, his addictive coolness fighting her calming hotness.

  “Liar,” she whispered, her voice barely making a sound, her lips curved by a timid smile. Her mind drifted away and came back. She was too weak to be ashamed and relied on Imre entirely. She trusted him even though she felt his hand gliding over her right breast. Frowning, she sent him a warning glance, but he just smiled to her in his boyish, cheeky way.

  “You are a fallen angel, Birdie,” Imre said softly. He embraced her and raised her from the ground, her head rested on his shoulder. She could see in Imre’s eyes that the luscious charm of her flesh had hit and intoxicated him. It called and overwhelmed as he tilted his head, his expression indicating that his soul fought with his dark desires. The urges pulsated and invaded his will; Cherry could literally feel his struggle and lust.

  “Your scent, your skin...It’s burning,” he hissed. “And calming.”

  He bent his neck and gazed into Cherry’s surprised and scared eyes. She was afraid of the thirsty promise in his gaze, the promise of his demanding and dangerous, wild passion. He craved for the moist and sweet taste of her berry lips and the loving heat of her skin. He wanted her all. He wanted her soul and body, as well as her blood. His fangs lengthened, his face sharpened with a lust that sought fulfillment.

  Cherry was afraid -yet longing for his touch. She lifted her hand to stroke his cool cheek but her limp, numb fingers just slid down Imre's face. She wanted the kiss of his lips and much more. She wanted Imre to be entirely hers, with all the pleasant and dangerous consequences of this.

  Felicia approached suddenly, catching her breath with a rapid effort.

  “What have you done to her?” she yelled. “Don’t hurt her, Imre. Don’t hurt her…She is important for the whole of mankind.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her!” Imre shouted. His voice was full of anger and pain. “She is so calming…I only want to protect her.”

  “She is barely breathing. You've been completely irresponsible, Imre. The vampires are surrounding us. It’s not safe here. Quickly, get her to the car!” Felicia headed first towards the steps leading up to the road. “Children, you are both irresponsible. It’s not the right time... for love.”

  Cherry swayed from side to side as if she lay on a soft cloud when Imre carried her to the car, cradling her gently in his arms. She felt weightless as though she was floating somewhere between the lucidity of awareness and black oblivion. Her enervated brain had stopped analysing everything, her eyes fixed on Imre’s funny fangs.

  “Naughty boy,” she murmured and chuckled. “Felicia will tell you to do the dishes and clean your room as punishment.”

  “Be quiet, Woman,” Imre growled. “You are too weak to chat,” he added in a softer voice. He drew her even closer to him, nearly crushing her fragile body in his embrace as though he wanted to merge with her. His neck bent and his lips brushed her hair with a gentle kiss.

  Cherry chuckled again and coughed.

  “You are my angel,” Imre said with dark passion in his voice. His eyes flared wildly like the fire from the deepest abyss of Hell.

  Cherry froze. And suddenly her mind deserted her body and flowed into the timeless emptiness.

  She regained consciousness a few tim
es and each time it was like a flash apart from the last one... Imre was holding her in his arms and stroking her hair. Imre placed her on the bed and brushed her cheek with his lips. There was Felicia’s voice that sounded like through the soundproof fog, “I will stay with her, Imre.” And Imre’s growl, “No.” Then again, tired Felicia muttering, ”Have a rest, Imre. I won’t allow you to grope this exhausted girl’s breasts for the whole night.”

  “She is mine,” Imre growled once again.

  This last time, Cherry managed to open her eyes with an effort only to discover that it was still dark and Imre lay beside her with his arm thrown over her chest. The bedside lamp dispersed its yellow weak light.

  “Imre,” she whispered, having the impression of drifting in a dream.

  He elevated on his folded elbow and leaned over her.

  “I compelled Felicia to let me stay and she has gone to bed,” he said to her, probably feeling like he had owed her the explanation as she quivered. “She never listens to me, this stubborn woman.”

  “You are so naughty, Imre,” she murmured and chuckled. “And why am I wearing only my shorts, Imre?” Her words were more like shallow sighs. Her limbs made no movement, heavy like they were enslaved by chains. “And we are both under one duvet. That’s intriguing... Why are you... sleeping in my bed?” She was surprised, but in a playful mood, craving for his body against hers.

  “I thought that you would be more comfortable without the hoody on and your bra fell apart,” he explained in his rough and informative way.

  “And Felicia did not make sure that I would look decent?”

  “She wanted to give you an ugly night gown of hers.” It sounded like he himself believed that he had done her a favour.

  “And you saved my image?”

  Imre bent his neck and pressed his lips against hers. It was frightening, surprising and sweet. This delicious, tingly sensation that spread like an electric current to her chest and tummy. His kiss deepened and his body pressed against hers now. He wore only his shorts as well and it was even more dangerous and tantalizing.