by Noir, Mila
My underwear was gone in a moment and his mouth was on me, slipping around my bud. I arched, so sensitive, and then he slid a finger inside. I came, riding a wave of pleasure.
Then he was inside, full and hard. I clutched at him as he said my name over and over on a sigh. He took his time and I came again, eagerly, then again. I bit his neck as he thrust deep and cried out, bringing me with him.
I curled up in his arms in the car as he draped his jacket over us. I was tired and fell into a half waking doze.
“I will always protect you, Emma. Always,” Dimitri whispered.
It was going to be harder to leave than I thought.
To my surprise, Dimitri’s hotel room in Venice was a small, cozy affair set above a bakery. It smelled like cake, which I had a feeling would start off great and end up being kind of annoying. It was basically a bed and a bathroom for me, and then a separate room without windows I assumed was his version of a “lair.” From the windows in mine I could see down the canal for at least six blocks in one direction. It felt a little like being in a movie, even though it was well past 1 a.m.
But I knew I wouldn’t be able to do any of the romantic things I’d seen in films. I’d get to watch other people while I stayed “safe” in this room, locked away like the princess in a fairy tale. Only it wasn’t fun to be a damsel, it was torture. Which is what all the sanitized versions of fairytales don’t tell you.
Dimitri put his arms around me while I stood there.
“You look so serious. And beautiful,” he said.
“Don’t,” I said, not in the mood for compliments.
“What?” he asked, turning me around. I put my head on his chest, not wanting to look him in the eye.
“Just feeling overwhelmed,” I said, hedging. I was worried he’d somehow see in my face that I was planning on leaving. I inhaled his scent and tried to savor the feel of him. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to do that.
We went to bed and he made love to me again, slowly, tenderly, and when I came I shouted with passion and regret.
I woke the next morning alone in a beam of sunlight so bright it made my head hurt. There was a note on the pillow next to me.
Emma,
Robert would like to see you tonight. Take Solosha and be careful. I won’t be far but I have a delicate matter I need to take care of. Remember my promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.
Dimitri
I sighed and put the letter in my bag. Aside from a few clothes he’d bought me, it was the only thing of his I’d have once I left. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d get away from Solosha, of course. I mean, how does one escape the wind? But going to and from Robert’s was the perfect opportunity. I’d have to figure it out.
Packing was easier than I thought. I didn’t have much anymore. I opened my passport and looked at the smiling, naïve girl in the photo. It wasn’t a flattering pic, they never are, but I missed that person. I looked over the stamps I’d acquired from various airports. Amsterdam, London, Hamburg. Paris and Venice weren’t on it because we hadn’t gone through any of the regular airports. It was like I had never been there. Which felt surreal, much like everything else since that night in the alley.
I thought about Tasha for the thousandth time, how I hadn’t called her or texted her. She hadn’t either, though. She was very likely hooking up with some hot guy or girl, or three, and would be positively stoked about my current love triangle predicament. Sans the vampire part, probably. Or she might think it was pretty cool.
I typed in a text to her, something benign about being back home already…then deleted it. I did the same with a text to my mom. I didn’t want to lie to anyone or potentially get them caught up in any of this. So I wiped all the contacts from my phone and tossed it in the garbage. I immediately felt naked without it.
Waiting for evening was excruciating. I had to show up to Robert’s and pretend everything was going along fine for this to work. My only shot was the time between leaving his place and when I should be back at Dimitri’s, so no one would be looking for me for a little while and I could get away. It wasn’t a big window and there was still Solosha to somehow get around, but it was my chance.
What I was going to do after, I still hadn’t figured out. I couldn’t go home, but I couldn’t stay here. Maybe I’d become some kind of wandering nomad until it was safe again. Or maybe I’d get eaten. Who could say? One crisis at a time was all I could handle.
I sat and waited for night.
Anyone watching me as I walked to Robert’s house would have thought I was alone. But I could feel Solosha around me like a warm breeze and catch glimpses of her gray wrappings as she flitted about. Venice was alive with people, laughing and talking, hugging, drinking, and sightseeing on the boats on the canals. I longed to do such a mundane, touristy thing.
I also longed to just sit at a café and drink coffee like any other normal twenty-something would do, reading a properly pretentious book and people watching. That’s all I’d really wanted to do when I’d set out on my little European adventure. But as I’ve mentioned, things never really go the way I plan.
And then I decided, screw it.
I turned abruptly and walked into a little café, ordered a simple cup, and sat at a small table overlooking a canal.
“What are you doing? Robert is expecting you,” Solosha said, a breezy whisper in my ear. I looked around to make sure no one was looking.
“I know. This is for me. I need something normal and everyday for like twenty minutes. He can wait,” I said. I could feel the disapproval in the air (literally), and simply sipped and ignored it. I savored that coffee, enjoyed its earthy acidity, the smooth cream, the dark brown sugar with a hint of cinnamon. I took my time. I watched couples come and go, a man on a bicycle streaming bubbles behind him in an iridescent haze, and all sorts of locals and tourists alike. I tried to commit every face, every ordinary moment, to memory. It reminded me of my humanity and that, whatever else was going on with me, the world was going on just fine. This was weirdly comforting.
“Alright, let’s go,” I said to no one and ignored the strange looks I got from a few passersby. I set off at a brisk pace and with a straight back. As we walked I took my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out. I was feeling lighter all of a sudden.
Robert’s house was, like Dimitri’s flat, surprisingly simple in comparison to his huge estate. It was only two stories and in a simple pale blue. I was let in by a pale older man in a suit who didn’t speak and shown into a small drawing room. Robert was sitting by a fire, reading a book and looking quite a lot like someone about to introduce a movie on Masterpiece Theater. I half-expected him to produce a pipe and a smoking jacket.
Instead he got up and came over to me with a smile.
“It’s been too long,” he said, kissing my cheek.
“Just one day,” I said, blushing. He was looking at me so intensely I felt uncomfortable.
“Yes, much too long. I like your hair,” he said and put his hands up to it, letting it fall between his fingers. Then he kissed me, full and warm until I was breathless.
“I should show you the surprise I have ready or we’ll never get to it,” he said, voice rich with passion. I felt a bit weak in the knees. Steady, Emma, I thought.
He led me down a small hallway and out the back to a small patio behind the house. It was sparkling with lights and a wide-paneled floor. There was music playing from somewhere that sounded live but couldn’t have been. It was lilting, a little sad, but growing in intensity.
“May I have this dance?” Robert said, holding out his hand and smiling. I took it and was led out onto the floor.
“I can’t really dance, you know. Not formally,” I said, looking at my feet.
“I’ll lead, don’t worry,” Robert said, then swept me along. It was exhilarating, letting him lead. I felt light and didn’t step on his toes at all. I don’t know what we were dancing; it could have been the waltz or something else entirely.
All I know is that I was swept along in his strong arms, and when I looked up into his intense blue eyes, I felt the heat between us as we moved. Our bodies were in sync and I let myself pretend this moment could last forever.
He spun and twirled me as though I were a lady in a fine ballgown rather than jeans and a t-shirt. He looked at me as though I were the only woman in the world he wanted to see. His hand around my waist was firm, the other that held my own warm as he lightly stroked my palm with his thumb.
It was a Cinderella kind of evening, even though I’ve always hated that story. Girl gets rewarded for being a floor mat, what a great message. Still, I’d be lying if I said I’d never fantasized about getting into a ballgown and having some intensely romantic night. Sans singing, though. I have a stunning skill at being perpetually off-key.
The music changed; it became epic and exhilarating, a lot of strings. We spun faster and faster and I realized I wasn’t quite touching the floor anymore. Robert was moving us so quickly it was almost like we were hovering. My loose hair floated around us in a cloud.
“I know I haven’t known you very long, Emma,” Robert said, swirling me around, “but I feel drawn to you. Like I’ve known you forever.”
“You would know more about that than I would,” I said, trying to make light. I wasn’t up for yet another intense conversation. Dimitri’s promise to protect me had already made me feel guilty.
“You’re very good at deflecting,” he said, a little reproachfully. I shrugged.
“This entire situation is causing too much trouble for too many people. I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt. Not because of me.”
“You’re worth it,” Robert said.
“You’re the second man to say that to me in two days. I don’t like it. It’s too dramatic. I don’t want it coming to anyone having to…I don’t know. Get hurt. Make difficult choices,” I said, unable to say the word “sacrifice” even though I was thinking it. I just didn’t want to.
“We have the right to defend whoever we need to, however we need to do it. You should think more highly of yourself,” he said.
“That’s nice and full of machismo and everything but it’s not about my worth, really. I don’t want to die or get eaten. And I don’t want anyone doing that for me, either. It’s like some horrible novel.” I was trying to sound tough but mostly I was currently feeling tired. And guilty that I was planning on ditching two guys who had just, independently, vowed to protect me with their undead lives. I had a feeling they really would, too. And the idea that I was currently embroiled in something that might actually come to that was appalling.
I pulled away from the dance, stumbling. Robert caught me but I pushed him away.
I sat down on the floor, put my head in my hands, and cried.
I’m not sure how long I sat there, weeping in an ugly, heart-sore, tired, heap. My hands were gently pried away from my face by a kneeling Robert, who kissed the wet palms, then picked me up. I didn’t protest. I was too worn out.
He carried me up some stairs into a bedroom. He lay me down on the bed and undressed me slowly, kissing each spot of my skin as it was revealed. I went from exhausted to warm, flushed, then clutching at him as his lips trailed over my belly.
We didn’t speak.
I let myself give into sensation. My skin was tingling, supremely sensitive to every touch of his hand or mouth. He kissed down my wrists to my palms, then made his way back up to my neck. His teeth grazed the skin but did not bite, and I shuddered, feeling a shock of pleasure.
He stroked my breasts, fingers trailing over their fullness, circling my nipples until they peaked, then putting warm lips to skin and sucking. I felt it lower down, an ache that I knew would build and build.
Robert took his time with my breasts, adoring each one. He cupped them, stroked them. I watched him, staying still, letting each touch torture me as it would. I let myself be loved.
Fingertips on my belly, almost tickling, then kneading. He ran the back of them over the soft swell in a gentle waving motion. Back and forth, back and forth. I wanted them lower but made no attempt to move. I was reveling in being teased like this, the anticipation growing, the heat swelling. Passion is a heady thing, and Robert was stoking it into a roaring flame.
I would never have expected my knees to be sensitive, erotic places, but when Robert touched them with his lips, nipping gently up my thighs, I found a new appreciation for them. He rubbed the back of his hands up my inner thighs, then followed with his mouth, coming just shy of where I most wanted him to kiss.
He pushed my legs apart and I watched his face as he just looked at me, running his fingers along my lower, outer lips. He used light touches, stroking and skipping his fingers along the cleft. I sighed and closed my eyes, letting my legs fall open wide. He made a sound like a low groan and then his mouth was on me.
I was so sensitive that when his tongue darted over my bud I arched, climaxing hard. It was like a dart of pleasure shot through me, peaking, then leaving me shaking and wanting more. And he obliged.
He held my hips and lifted me, keeping his mouth on me, circling slowly with his tongue. The pleasure built again, more slowly this time, and he slipped a finger inside me and gently stroked. He patiently brought me to orgasm again, my body suffused with drowning pleasure.
He parted me and slid himself inside, going slow, letting my body adjust. It wanted him badly, and I bucked my hips to bring him deeper. He rocked into me, pressing deep, and I clutched at his hips. He held me up, angled so that the pressure inside me was intense and concentrated. It held me on the edge until he brought his fingers to my clit again and I yelled, convulsing.
Robert brought me up to face him, still inside me, and we rocked together, fingers touching and exploring. I worked my hips against him, coming again, and then again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and then put my head on his shoulder. I bit it gently as another orgasm hit.
I felt him tense, thrust harder, and I held on as he came, shaking and shuddering himself. He said my name very softly in my ear.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. He stroked my hair, then my face. He kissed me with profound tenderness.
“I could love you, Emma,” he said and I buried my face in his chest. I wasn’t ready to hear that. Or feel it. I didn’t want the responsibility of his love.
He fell asleep soon after that, and I lay there in his arms feeling torn. Torn between him and Dimitri. Torn about my decision to leave them both.
I lay there until my arm was numb and my heart felt cold and sick. Then I got up, slowly, and got dressed. I looked down at Robert, the strong lines and panes of his face. The arched nose, the dark hair, the lashes that were thick and soft with his intense eyes closed. His mouth was sweet in sleep, fuller, and I saw that the lines of care and responsibility around his eyes and mouth had softened. I reached out to touch his cheek, then stopped myself. That would just end with me crawling back into bed and chickening out from doing what I knew I had to do.
As I left the room I looked back one more time, committing to memory the sight of his broad, smooth chest, his strong, serious face, and the gentle look on it while he slept.
I went downstairs to the sitting room and waited for the dawn.
***
I woke with a start as early daylight filtered in. There were no sounds in the house, and my neck was stiff from sitting up and sleeping. I didn’t feel particularly rested.
Now came the tricky part: getting away without Solosha picking up on it. I hadn’t seen her since she’d escorted me the night before, and I was hoping that everyone had gotten complacent, assuming I’d just be where I was supposed to be. She wouldn’t expect me up or about at this hour.
I collected my things and left, hearing no one stir. The streets were quiet; it was too early for most everyone in the world, it seemed. I didn’t sense Solosha anywhere, but I moved faster anyway, putting as much distance between myself and the house as possible. I chose a direction that wasn’t near
either Dimitri’s or Robert’s and headed towards the train station. The sooner I was out of Venice and on my way anywhere else, the better. I hadn’t decided on a location yet; I thought it would be better to decide once I was at the station. I hoped that would make whatever I did less predictable.
My nerves were pretty heightened at that point. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to see a gray shape coming up behind me every time. Yet I didn’t. Somehow I had managed to slip away from vampires and a sylph. It didn’t occur to me until it was too late that this was awfully convenient.
I walked fast, nearly running, as an increasing sense of something being wrong took over. I couldn’t see or hear anyone, but it just felt as though something was off. It made me feel better to be moving, swiftly, and on my own. Whatever happened from here on out would be my responsibility.
I passed a few people on the streets. No one made eye contact at that hour, too busy sipping large coffees or trying to shake off the remnants of hangovers. No one took any notice of me as I practically ran down streets and through alleys, picking directions at random because I’d once read that it would throw off anyone following you.
And yet the further from Robert’s I went, the stronger the creeping sense of dread became. The more intense the feeling of unease, the more the hairs on the back of my neck seemed to stand up with fear.
Eventually I had to catch my breath, and I stopped at a corner looking out to a street that was just starting to pick up with traffic. It was still quite a bit before 8 a.m. and the lack of sleep was catching up with me in spite of the adrenaline. My heart was pounding and I felt a little dizzy. Cars zipped past and pedestrians strolled along, most looking more put together than those I’d seen earlier, clearly on their way to work. I wondered what it felt like to be doing something totally normal and mundane, something that held no hint of the supernatural or horrific.