by Evie Byrne
I'm not scared. I'm reasonable. I know what I can do and can't do and it's not fair to let him hope.
But did she know? Was she sure? Could she send him packing tonight and not wonder about him the rest of her life? As much as it frightened her, the answer was no.
What I need is more data. Facts. Other sources.
Alex got up. "Would you like some coffee?"
"How would you make me into a vampire?"
He sat back down, carefully, like there were eggs on his chair. "Well, we'd share blood."
"I'd bite you?" A sudden image of him on the train, his neck thrown back, flashed before her eyes.
"At first you'd drink from cuts. Your blood changes mine, but mine changes yours more. Slowly you'd become like me." He grimaced in frustration. "I'm not describing it well. It's not so much about your body changing, it's about us becoming one. We see into one another, all our secrets, all our fears, and we accept one another despite all that. No, because of all that. Look, let's put it this way. My pop is a tough old SOB and the only time I've ever seen him tear up was when he told me about how he and Ma bonded."
"So you're saying all this mutual blood sucking is very romantic."
He nodded.
"And pleasurable."
"Hell yes."
"And just how do you feed from a lover?"
"Little bites. Tiny little bites on the pulse points."
She thrust her wrist at him. "Show me."
His eyes darted suspiciously between her face and her wrist. "You want me to feed from you?"
"Just show me how you do it. Just a little. So I get the idea."
Alex swallowed and nodded. "For it to feel right you have to be relaxed." He moved his chair next to hers and took her hand. "You're so stiff."
So are you, she thought. Both of them were tense as cats. "It's hard to relax when I know you're going to bite me."
"It won't be like in the basement. Not at all." He stroked her fingers one by one and massaged the webbing between them. As he worked, his hands softened and his movements fell into a soothing rhythm. "I'm so sorry that happened. You've seen the worst of me, over and over."
"Have I?"
"I don't have any more dark secrets if that's what you mean."
His strong hands traveled up her forearm, his thumbs methodically rubbing away all points of tension. He paused to roll her sleeve up high, and continued this slow assault until her entire arm went heavy and lax in his hands. Her eyelids drooped with wine and fullness.
Maybe it was okay to let go sometimes.
When she was close to sleep he kissed the knuckles of her hand, and then turned it over to kiss the palm. "You have beautiful fingers," he whispered as he kissed the tip of each one. All the while, his thumb circled her palm.
She grew warm between the legs, as if there were a line of communication between her palm and her clit. His mouth closed over the first joint of her little finger and he sucked hard. Helena gasped with pleasure. He moved to her ring finger. This one he circled with his rough tongue. She imagined it was her nipple. Her middle finger he licked like a piece of candy, drawing his tongue in spiraling circles up and down its length. Helena watched with hooded eyes, fascinated, intrigued. Alex was rapt. He savored her fingers as she'd savored his food.
Her forefinger he drew all the way into his mouth, fellating it. There was no other word for it, and she couldn't have imagined it could feel so good. Applying sucking pressure, he slid his hot mouth up and down its length. Her entire hand turned warm and tingly.
The slow slide of his lips made her want to slide her own lips over the broad, red head of his cock. She reached for his belt, but he clamped his free hand over hers, decisively lacing their fingers together. There'd be no reciprocation. He squeezed her hand.
And bit the tip of her engorged forefinger. The blood spurted out. She cried out in surprise—at the release, and the pleasure. He flicked his tongue over the bleeding tip, fast as flame, tickling, teasing, building pleasure. Not just in her finger, but everywhere. Her lips, her nipples, between her legs, down in her toes. With a gasp of surprise, she came. It was a funny, shuddery little orgasm. Not deep, but it rolled across her skin from head to toe.
"Alex!"
He paused to give her a knowing smile, then dragged his tongue over her palm. All the nerves in her hand were exquisitely sensitive. His mouth opened at the base of her palm and his teeth flashed in the candlelight, longer and sharper than she'd ever seen them. They closed on her upper wrist.
Her hand flew open and went rigid. The bite hurt, yes, but that wasn't the primary sensation. What she felt was a body-deep tug. At his call, all her capillaries and veins opened wide and her blood raced to his mouth. She watched Alex's face. His eyes were closed. He looked like he was praying and God was talking back.
Helena swayed. It was a rush. A head rush. A cunt rush. A full body rush. She nearly toppled out of her chair.
Alex raised his head from her wrist. A smear of blood stained the corner of his mouth. He looked as dazed as she felt, but he still held her other hand tight in his lap. They both breathed hard while he waited for her to say something.
She said, "More."
He swept aside the cups and candlesticks and laid her out on the white tablecloth. It pleased him to see her like this. She could see it in his eyes. They seemed to grow larger as she watched, their black depths burning hot. Quiet as a phantom, precise as a surgeon, he circled her, choosing his points of attack with meticulous care. Her right ankle, the inside of her left thigh. The hollow behind her right ear. Each bite made her climax. Each bite left her more languorous. Each bite left her wanting another.
This must be what opium is like. This is how you die of pleasure.
He loosened the tie on her dress and spread it wide. He wasn't toying with her extremities anymore. He might bite her neck. He might lose control and kill her, like the elk.
His face taut with desire, he scanned her exposed skin. Her body ached for his touch. She twisted under his gaze, rolling from one hip to the other, her fear melting into raw desire. Touch me, please. Kill me if you want, but just touch me.
He covered her breasts with his hands, unclasping her bra as he did, like a magician. The bra fell away and her breasts gleamed like ivory in the candlelight, the tips pink and hard. Unspoiled.
Needing his mouth.
His teeth.
A little moan of anticipation escaped her.
"Helena," he murmured, and he crawled up on the table with her, bending low to suckle her breasts, first one and then the other, lashing the nipples with his tongue, then sucking the points into his mouth. He sucked until they were swollen and tender.
And finally, as she knew he would, he bit her breasts, incising four points around each nipple, pushing her further and further into the netherworld between pleasure and pain. But she never said no. She never wanted to.
Instead she held on tight to the table's edges, riding each bite like a dark wave. Thin rivulets of blood trickled their slow way down her belly, down her sides.
Alex gathered her into his lap, opening the cuts wider so they bled freely, laving her with long, steady strokes. His low, satisfied moan vibrated through her body.
"Beautiful. So beautiful."
It took her a while to realize that he wasn't speaking aloud.
But that was about the time he slid his hand down her panties.
He took a deep pull on one breast while he rubbed two fingers over her slick labia. It happened fast. Her toes curled. She took a deep breath. And another. And another. There wasn't enough air. All she could see was golden light.
"Come for me, Helena."
The golden light behind her eyes coalesced, contracting and then exploding outward like a sun. Alex took her throat while her climax shook her, and she knew he was feeding off the white hot light inside her.
The sun inside her.
When it was over, she opened her eyes to slits and saw his face above hers, streaked with
tears, his eyes glowing with adoration.
"Thank you, solnsta moyo. My sun. My only light."
An ear-splitting shriek pierced the peace between them.
Lacey stood in the doorway.
Chapter 11
Lacey turned and ran.
Helena opened her eyes, really opened them, and took a hard look at Alex. His mouth was smeared with blood and his bright tears. She was covered with blood. As was the tablecloth. And the front of his white shirt.
Lacey would call the cops.
Helena jumped off the table. Her legs, shaky from blood loss and orgasm, almost gave out on her. She stumbled to the door, Alex right behind her.
She gestured him back as she ran out the door, holding the front of her dress closed. The snow stung her bare feet. Lacey's truck was roaring in fast reverse down the drive.
"Lacey!" she screamed, waving one arm.
The truck came to a screeching halt and the passenger door flew open.
"Quick, quick, quick!" Lacey yelled, and Helena jumped into the warmth of the truck. Before she could say anything, Lacey gunned it.
Helena saw Alex on the porch, his face stark as he watched them race away.
"Are you all right? How'd you get away? I thought you were dead. I swear to God I thought he'd just killed you."
"No, I was fine."
"Honey, you've been hurt. You're in shock. I'm taking you to the hospital."
"No, I don't need the hospital. I need to go back. You need to meet Alex. He'll explain."
"I bet he would. With a chainsaw. I knew something was going on. I should have come over sooner. I should have called the cops. You've been alone with him for days."
"No! Well, yes. Sort of."
"When you didn't call about Milligan's, I called you, and your phone just rang and rang. I knew it was off the hook. And your cell went straight to message."
Helena swore to herself. She'd left her cell phone down in her office, and Alex had probably unplugged the house phone because he didn't want his gourmet extravaganza interrupted.
"Really, I was fine. What you saw looked bad, but it's not."
"That's called Stockholm Syndrome, honey. Identifying with your kidnapper."
Lacey fished her phone out of her jean jacket and started punching numbers with her thumb.
"Don't!" Helena grabbed the phone. Lacey fought to keep a grip on it, swerving all over the road as she did.
"Shit!" Lacey let go in order to avoid a truck. The screen read 911. Helena hit the disconnect button.
Lacey shot her an angry sideways glance. "Why are you protecting him? He's getting away while we fight."
Blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes, Helena said. "Take me to your house and I'll explain. Otherwise I'm jumping out of this car."
"A vampire." Lacey folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, very unimpressed. They were sitting in her kitchen with two mugs of tea and a bottle of Jack.
Helena spiked her tea with a generous splash of whiskey. It was going to be a long night. "They're real."
"You mean he's a guy with a blood kink."
"Um…" He had a blood kink, that was for sure. And now she did. "Um, no. He's not a wannabe. He's a genuine, honest to God vampire."
"Like, he turns into a bat and stuff?"
"No, I don't think he can do that." Helena frowned. Maybe he could. She didn't know enough about him. She brightened. "But he can kill an elk with his bare hands."
"Niiiice." Lacey popped a cookie in her mouth. "But if he was drinking your blood when I walked in. Shouldn't you have holes in your neck?"
Helena reached up under her jaw where he'd latched on. "You don't see any marks?"
"There's a red blotch."
Helena examined her fingers and her wrist, her ankle. All were unmarred. It left her a little lightheaded, the idea that such an intense experience should leave no trace. Yet he had bit her. It wasn't imaginary.
Lower, more concerned, Lacey said, "Where are you hurt, hon? Where's the blood from?"
Helena peeked down the neck of her dress. Dried blood glued the dress to eight tiny wounds. Proof positive. Whatever he'd done to make the other bites vanish, he hadn't done it to these when Lacey walked in. Anyone seeing her breasts would think him a sadist. They wouldn't know how each bite made her back arch with the purest, sharpest pleasure. She could still feel his tongue wrapping her nipples, the pressure of his teeth, the hot demand of his mouth. Her body would turn itself inside out to answer him.
"Hello?"
Helena blinked. "I'm okay."
"No, you're not. But you don't seem to be bleeding to death, so we'll come back to what he did to you. Look, you're the most rational person I know, and you're telling me that vampires exist.
Let's leave off whether I believe you or not. The Helena I know would have a stack of research and a hypothesis as to why this is perfectly explainable."
"I'm working on that. There is a good explanation for it, I just don't know all the facts yet. But I kind of like being surprised along the way."
"You hate surprises."
Helena laughed. "I do. It's true."
"And, my dear, you know I love you, but you are a bit of a maniac about keeping a nice house. So how am I going to believe that you consented to get up on your folk's antique dining-room table for a kinky little blood interlude, permanently staining what was—if I ID'd it correctly while peeing my pants—your grandma's best tablecloth?"
Helena started to laugh and couldn't stop. She almost slid off her chair. "It was! I did that! Oh, poor tablecloth."
"Are you high?"
"Yes. I'm free!" She blurted it before she even knew what she was saying, and then thought about it. "Lacey, I don't have to control things anymore. Sometimes things stain. Sometimes things break. Some things we never understand. It's okay."
"Of course."
"And sometimes you have to do things that frighten you. Because they frighten you. If you don't take risks, you don't know what you're missing."
Lacey tapped her long fingernails on the table. "Haven't I been telling you that for years, girlfriend? But you don't listen to me. Oh no. You listen to the vampire."
"He didn't tell me, he showed me. I trust him. He could have done anything he wanted to me from the beginning, and he didn't. He makes me feel safe, even when he's asking a lot from me. And just before you walked in, the most amazing thing happened—"
"What happened, solntsa moyo?"
Alex appeared just behind Lacey's chair, blood stained and tense enough to snap in two.
Helena heard him. Inside. Her head lifted and her pupils dilated wide when she saw him. And then she smiled. He let go of the breath he'd been holding since she'd run out into the snow, since they'd fought in the car, since he'd first tasted her, first seen her, first heard her name.
"I think I saw love in his eyes, Lace. I think somehow he really loves me even though I'm a wreck."
Lacey followed the direction of Helena's gaze and gasped.
Alex walked around her chair and knelt in front of Helena. He bent to kiss each of her knees, then kissed her palms. More of her stories lived in him now. Her bruised heart was infinitely precious to him.
"And the thing is, I think I love him too."
As soon as she said it, her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes went wide, as if the thought shocked her, but in just a couple of heartbeats they overflowed with tears. She took a deep breath and lowered her hand. Then she smiled at him again. This smile he'd remember for the rest of his life. "I really think I do."
FB2 document info
Document ID: 11138235-0dd5-424c-abc1-5bcdb791d699
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 22 June 2009
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