Tears of the Broken

by A. M. Hudson

  My breath shuddered. “Surely that’s not right—for me to be turned on by you doing dangerous things to me?”

  “Of course it is—what’s not right is taking pleasure in taunting me when I’m about to kill you.”

  “Is it—” I chewed the inside of my lip. “Is it wrong for me to want—” Gah! I huffed the rest of my words out in one gust. Forget it. I can’t finish this sentence without feeling like a fool. I wish my mouth had never opened.

  “Ara?” David stepped even closer, towering over me a little, with eyes of concern. “S’il vous plaît, mon amour? What is it?”

  “I—I want you to—”

  “Ara,” Vicki called before she walked through the doorway. “It’s late, time you were getting to bed.”

  Oh the frustration. My shoulders dropped. “Sure, Vicki.”

  Come back? I looked up at David. When she’s gone to bed?

  David nodded and his lukewarm breath brushed my brow. “Goodnight, Ara.” He kissed my hand, then backed away, releasing it only once the distance was too great to hold on. “Goodnight, Mrs. Thompson, and thank you for a lovely meal.” He smiled with all the charm and sincerity of an eighteenth-century prince—Vicki totally fell for it.

  “Well, you’re welcome, David. Any time. Maybe next time I’ll cook something a little more interesting.”

  “To be perfectly honest—” David smiled, “—I’ve not had a meal that delicious in a long time.”

  Vicki’s chest puffed up, and the smile on her face spread so wide my mind pictured her as a big feathery chicken that just laid an egg.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved as he walked away.

  “Until then,” he bowed his head, “tu es dans toutes mes pensées.”

  Vicki gushed. Sucker.

  But as the door closed, my heart fluttered and a pathetic girlie giggle shook my chest. I don’t even know what he said, but I’ll bet it was romantic. All I know, from growing up with Mike saying stuff like that all the time, is that S’il vous plaît is please and mon amour is my love—not that Mike ever said that to me, but I heard him groaning it to other girls when I slept over his house.

  Shaking off the shiver that David made my entire body feel, I turned to Vicki, said goodnight and toddled upstairs to meet David. He never stays past nine o’clock—he must really want to know what I was going to say. Hm, perhaps I can use that to my advantage in the future.

  “David?” I whispered into the dark of my room, and my smile dropped when no one replied. Guess he’ll wait ‘til my parents are in bed before he comes back.

  The night moved slowly. I took a shower, washed my hair and slipped into my nice pyjamas—the ones that actually match—then jumped into bed to keep warm in the cooling air. I could close my window, but I don’t want David to think I went to sleep while waiting.

  The cold turned to frost and my tired eyes felt sandy by the time Dad and Vicki finally shut their door. Then, with a stealthy silence that even the cat on the end of my bed didn’t hear, David slipped through my window, lifted the covers on my bed and snuggled down beside me, pulling me onto his chest.

  “Hello,” I whispered.

  “Hello.”

  Mmm, he smells even sweeter now than he did before—like a concentrated version of his scent. I breathed in deep through my nose and thought of those yummy candy-covered chocolate baubles I eat at the cinema. “What’ve you been doing? You’re all hot, and you smell so nice.”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Were you…hunting?”

  “Would it bother you if I was?”

  A minute’s silence passed in a second. “I’m not sure.”

  “Just don’t think about it, sweetheart.” His strong, long fingers swept my hair back over my forehead, leaving behind a warm sensation under the tingling cool.

  “So, that smell—it’s the blood you just had?”

  He laughed a little. “Kind of. It’s how my body interprets the blood. It’s unique for every vampire.”

  “I like it.”

  “That’s because you like me.”

  “So, it’s also why you’re so warm all of a sudden, then?”

  “Yes.”

  I guess that explains the warm and cold all the time. “So, why are your hands cold when the rest of you is so warm?” I traced a line over his index finger.

  “Because it’s cold outside. I’ve been waiting for your dad to go to bed.”

  “Why? He wouldn’t’ve known you were in here.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain about that, my love.”

  “I like it when you call me that.” I smiled and snuck my fingertips under David’s shirt, resting them on his belly. “I like it even more in French.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “How do you know?” I’ve never had any thoughts that might lead to that conclusion.

  “Your body temperature changes when I speak French.”

  “Hm.” My eyes narrowed with a disapproving grin. “I’m not sure I like that.”

  “Don’t fall in love with a vampire, then.” He kissed the top of my head.

  “So, what did you say when you were leaving tonight—when you said ‘Until then,’ and added a whole string of words I doubt were in English?”

  He laughed once and combed his fingertips gently through the front of my hair. “Until then, you are in all my thoughts.”

  “And then you went hunting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think of me…when you hunt?”

  “Sometimes.” He let the word hang for a minute then added, “But not in the way you think.”

  “In what way?”

  “I imagine you with me, enjoying the uh…the life of a vampire.” He paused and lifted his head off the pillow a little to look at me. “Does that bother you?”

  Hm, does it? “Not in the way you think?”

  “In what way, then?”

  “I’m not sure.” Maybe it bothers me that I don’t know how he hunts or what it looks like, so I can’t really picture him when he’s gone. I mean, if he were human, doing human things, I could picture him at home, on the couch, watching TV or eating dinner with his uncle, but no, my boyfriend has to go into dark alleyways and stalk my species. I bet he’s graceful, though. I bet he’s quick and light on his feet—like Skittles when he hunted the mouse.

  I wonder how he does it, how he makes the final move—goes in for the kill. Is it like a lion that tears his catch apart or like a spider that paralyses his prey, then kills it slowly?

  My heart picked up, watching his body in my thoughts, strong and fast, how he’d hold his victim with unyielding arms, leaning her across his body and tilting her head slightly before…

  “Ara. Stop it!”

  “What?”

  “I can see that. I can see what you’re thinking.”

  The blankets rustled under me as I sat up to look at David, blinking to focus in the dim light of the moon shining through my window. “Does it bother you? I mean, is it because I can picture it, or is it because I picture it wrong?”

  “Neither of the above.” He grinned.

  “Well, what then?”

  “It’s because you were picturing the girl—as you.”

  He’s right. Without even realising it, I had pictured myself in his arms—about to be bitten. And I liked it.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? What you were trying to tell me in the kitchen, tonight?” David sat up and grabbed my arm, squeezing it gently. “Ara? Is that what you were trying to say—you want me to drink your blood?” His eyes narrowed on the inner corners and his lip lifted over his teeth on one side.

  Without a word, I lowered my head and nodded, letting my drumbeat heart fill the empty silence that surrounded my awkwardness.

  “I’ll never do it.” He dropped my arm and sat back.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t look up. “Is it…is it bad of me to think that way?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh. The awkward silence g
rew fatter and shrunk in around me. “It’s just that—” How do I explain this? “It’s just that there’s this strange pull…urging me toward you in a different kind of way. I—I want to feel your teeth against my flesh, I—”

  “Ara, stop talking.”

  “But, why? I—”

  “Ara. I said stop talking.” David stiffened.

  It’s not fair. He never lets me finish my sentences. I know it’s wrong, and I feel really ashamed of myself, but at the same time…it excites me—the thought, the idea of giving him what’s mine—to know it’ll warm him and make him smell sweet, to know I’d truly be a part of him.

  “Stop it!” David jumped off the bed and flew across the room.

  My mouth hung open and warm liquid rushed up in the corners of my eyes. What did I do?

  “You can’t think like that around me, Ara, it’s dangerous.” He leaned against my dresser with his arms folded. “I will never do that with you, so get the idea out of your head.”

  The shame, humiliation and rejection tightened my chest muscles and made them shake as heat raced up from my stomach, spilling out over my cheeks as tears.

  “Ara, don’t cry.” David appeared on the bed and encased me in his arms. “Please, I’m sorry. I just—”

  “What’s wrong with me? Why wouldn’t you want to do that with me?”

  He took a deep breath and smoothed my tears from my cheeks. “It’s not that I don’t want to, mon amour—it’s…I hurt you already, and you won’t heal as fast as I,” his tone sung with reason. “I can’t bear to see another cut on you.”

  I stopped blubbering and looked up from his shoulder. “We could cut where no one would see?”

  “How will that be any different? I still have to cut you, and I can’t use my venom to numb the flesh.”

  “I don’t care. Something’s happened inside me, David. I feel confused about it all, like, it’s really gross when I think about it—the idea of drinking blood—but when I feel it—” I placed my hand in the centre of my chest. “It just feels so right. But I shouldn’t feel this way, should I?”

  “That’s the human in you,” he said, and his breath brushed my cheek, “funny enough, it’s the human in you that’s drawn to me—to my bite.”

  Beneath his smile, his white teeth gleamed; my eyes traced the sharp edges of his fangs and the straight lines of the teeth that caused the bruises on my neck. My body flooded with heat. Any other teeth wouldn’t do this to me—but these are David’s teeth. “It couldn’t hurt to try it—just once,” I said.

  After a long pause, David took a deep breath through his nose and let it out. “You really wanna do this?”

  “I know it seems strange, even more so for me—but yes, I kinda do.”

  “It’s not strange, Ara, it’s magical—beautiful.”

  “So, you’re not repulsed by the idea?”

  “Repulsed?” His jaw jutted forward. “No way. Ara, sharing blood with the one you love is one of the most intimate exchanges of passion. Lust and desire mean nothing in comparison to blood sharing. God knows I want to do that with you—I just never thought you would, though.”

  “Hang on.” My brow folded on one side. “Share blood? So—I could drink yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “But—I bit you.” I ran my finger over his neck. “My teeth wouldn’t break your skin. You didn’t bleed.”

  “I do bleed. It just takes a lot to damage vampire skin. Human teeth, nails and objects driven by their hands don’t wield enough strength—but vampire teeth and nails do.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must taste like.” My mouth filled with saliva. I swallowed it down and my cheeks burned.

  David laughed, a short, breathy laugh. “Well, I’ve been told it’s a little like milk with too much sugar.”

  Good thing I have a sweet tooth. “What do you mean by told?”

  “I’m pretty old, Ara. I have been with other—”

  “Wait!” I held my hand up. “Don’t go there.”

  “Well, anyway.” He laughed. “In my world, sharing blood is as intimate as making love—which usually follows.”

  Okay, brush that thought away and store it in the worry-about-it-later bin. “Has any one ever done it with a human?”

  “Some. It doesn’t end well, though. We instinctively use our teeth with each other—which ends badly for a human.”

  “Are you afraid you might bite me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He stared thoughtfully into the darkness of my room.

  “Are you picturing it?” I asked playfully.

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “Why don’t we just try it, like, maybe a small cut at first—just to test?”

  “I want to, Ara. I really want to, but I can’t.”

  “Can’t—or won’t?”

  “Look. Stop it, okay. I’m not going to hurt you like that. I really love you too much. I can’t bear the thought of you being in pain—especially not to please me.”

  “I don’t care about a little pain. I wanna know what it feels like to have you drink from me.”

  “You want to cut yourself open?” he asked with a sarcastic edge to his tone. “Hurt yourself so your vampire boyfriend can drink from you?”

  “It isn’t as simple as that. I want to be a part of you—I want my blood to flow through your veins.”

  “You know,” he took a breath and looked away, “it’s really hard to refuse you when you keep picturing it in your mind like that.”

  Like this? Long, warm arms with skin of gold, cradling my silk-wrapped torso; my neck exposed, my head rolled to one side, and your lips brushing the skin softly at first—building the desire—your hands caressing my face, my shoulders, and travelling over my breasts until…

  “Okay, now you’ve done it.” He smirked and spun me into his lap on the bed, my back against his chest, and his lips running smoothly along my shoulder—ignoring the strap of my singlet top. “I don’t know what this will do to you.” His voice came out lower than a whisper. “If I take your blood, it could make you sick.”

  “What if I take yours?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m willing to go that far just yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you, okay? I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I don’t even want to do this.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No. I don’t. I mean, I want to drink your blood, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then I’ll do it myself.” I jumped off the bed and ran to my desk drawer.

  “What are you doing?” David grabbed my arm as I pulled out the scissors.

  “I’m gonna do it myself. Then you don’t have to hurt me.”

  “Ara, you’ve lost it. You’ve actually gone crazy—give me those.” He snatched the scissors from my hand and threw them back in the drawer—slamming it shut.

  “You’re right.” With wide eyes I sat down in my desk chair. “I have gone crazy.” Maybe all this has been too much for me. Maybe finding out about David was the last straw. Vicki warned me that when people go through trauma their grief could manifest in unusual ways—ways you might not recognise. But she was talking about things like promiscuity and drug use. This is different, right? This is love, longing—a manifestation of thoughts and cravings over a period of time that have grown into desire. When he did those things with me in the closet at school, I felt so alive, so loved, so in tune with him. I want that again.

  David ran his hands through his hair and down the back of his neck, then held his hand out to me; I looked up at him. “Come on,” he said.

  “Where’re we going?”

  He smiled to himself and swept me off the ground. My hands flailed, grabbing the collar of his shirt as he steadied me close to his body. “We both need some fresh air.”

  “Fresh air?” My voice quivered as he stood by my window, grabbed his jacket off my desk and placed it in my lap. “Where exactly are we going to get that from—and
how are you going to get there?”

  He smiled, squeezed me close and rested his chin on my forehead. “You may want to cover your eyes.”

  Without asking why, I rolled my face into his chest and rested my fingers over the sides of my face. If David says don’t look—I’m not going to look.

  A cool breeze whipped across my arms and legs, and a heart-stopping jolt sent my stomach into my chest.

  “You okay?” he asked, pressing his lips to my hair.

  I think so.

  David set my bare feet down, and my toes curled over to grip the cold, slanted surface. A chilly breeze blew over my ankles, and the feeling of too much space made me cling tighter to David’s shirt. “Are we up high?”

  The kidnapper wrapped his arm around my waist and whispered in my ear, “Open your eyes. See for yourself.”

  “Do I have to?” I shut them tighter.

  “You’re not afraid of heights, are you, Ara?” He chuckled lightly.

  “I’m going to kill you for this, David Knight. I hate yo—” A breath of awe escaped my lips as my eyes inched open and I saw the endless skyline, trailing off to a dark-blue horizon, which lit the stars up from underneath. “David, it’s so beautiful up here.”

  “I come here all the time.” With a cheeky grin, he took my shaking hand and helped me to sit with my legs dangling over the slant of my dad’s roof.

  “Is this where you spent the summer? Spying on me?” I snuggled into him and rested my head on his shoulder.

  “I was worried about you,” he said smoothly. “I was afraid your parents might have been right about your suicidal tendencies.”

  “And what do you think now?”

  “Well,” he laughed the word out, “You may not be depressed anymore, but you’re still suicidal.”

  I slapped his chest with the back of my hand. “Wanting to share blood with you is not suicidal.”

  “Oh boy.” He shook his head, still laughing. “If you only knew the truth of what you do to me with your thoughts, my girl. You have no idea how close you’ve come to death, do you?”

  A cold shiver raced down my spine and sent my heart back into my chest with a jump. But even after the eerie feeling subsided, the shaking remained and my teeth chattered together.