I felt like I was sucking life out of him, energy, happiness, peace, everything good and beautiful and wonderful, and I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to stop when he put his hands on my shoulders and held on, like he was falling and needed me to hold onto. I soaked in his warmth until his lips moved against mine, sending a different kind of shock through me. His lips were so soft against mine, soft and insistent until our mouths met, my head tilting to the side as he leaned forward over me, his hands sliding around my shoulders, pulling me closer while he kissed me. Something hard and horrible inside my chest loosened up and melted away as I tasted him, my chocolate man. Mine.
His hands pulled me closer, warm hands that infused me with pleasure and relief. Everything was so cold, so exhausting, but kissing him was like soaking up the sun, or a fire on a bleak midwinter’s evening. I slid my hands around his neck, drinking in his live, hot chocolate until he bit my lip, the pressure of his teeth making me gasp and pull away.
He hadn’t broken the skin, but it was enough to break the spell, for a moment anyway. I stared at him, my fingers on my lips where they still throbbed, aching to once more taste him. I wanted him more in that moment than I’d ever wanted anything. I would have done anything, said anything to erase the rest of the world permanently, and drown in hot chocolate and pleasure.
He inhaled, shuddering before he turned to me with a smile that didn’t meet the desire in his eyes. I could read in his eyes what he wanted, and it was me. A rush of something dangerous, something addictive went through me. I wanted him to want me almost as much as I wanted him. I wanted him to need me, to be lost without me so that I could keep him. Mine.
He swallowed hard and broke eye contact with me. “This isn’t the best place.” He gestured at the parking lot and I managed to look around instead of staring at him.
A girl was walking by with a bright blush on her cheeks, possibly from watching my unhinged consumption of my chocolate man.
Orion turned on the car and put it in gear without saying another word. The brisk wind ruffled his hair, streaming like black ribbons around his face. I buckled my seatbelt before I reached out far enough that I could feel the hair crashing against my palm, strands of darkness that gleamed in the afternoon sunshine. Trees and houses passed by, a blur of green and brown behind him before he pulled into a driveway, iron-wrought fence on either side then shifting down, we headed up a twisting, narrow drive.
When I looked back, I saw the gate close behind us. “Where are we?” I didn’t want to ask, but someone had to say something. I felt like I was caught in an avalanche down a mountain. I was going to be buried at the bottom, but had no way to stop my fall once I’d tasted his skin.
“A private park,” he said glancing at me with a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “It’s very private. It belongs to someone I know.”
“That sounds ominous.” It did, but I knew him enough that I didn’t worry, instead, I trusted him and watched the leaves swirl up from our passing, scarlet and gold on the black asphalt. I felt like those leaves, swirling and rising higher and higher, euphoria that had everything to do with tasting sweetness and warmth from Orion’s lips laced with ecstasy. It was like drinking heroin. Like I knew.
I felt a shiver ripple up my spine as I gripped the car door. He turned and pulled off in front of a bank above a pond, the dappled sun playing on the ripples of water. He turned off the engine and leaned back, stretching his long limbs, one arm behind my head.
“Is this close to the place where you bury the bodies?” I asked, glancing up at him then away, trying to focus on the serenity instead of the chaotic emotions inside of myself and the pull towards him that was nearly stronger than my need to breathe.
“Of course. Does your brother know where you are?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I gasped and shook my head. I’d forgotten that I’d supposedly gone to the museum to see Bas. “I’m sure he’ll survive. He doesn’t like contact with me. I mean, he probably does, it’s just that sometimes it really feels like he’s from a different world than I am, instead of hatched from the same egg. My mother used to say that. That we were hatched from the same egg, I mean. I’m sorry about that back there, at the museum. I mean, you don’t think that I…” I stared at him and then away as I wondered what kind of a girl he thought I was, exactly. I mean, we were somewhere private, somewhere no one would know how far things went. How far did I want things to go? I’d never thought past kissing him, well, touching him and dancing and maybe wrestling a little bit, but this was dangerous, serious, real, terrifying danger. He’d kissed me and I hadn’t even thought about saying no until he bit me.
I put my hand on my lips as I stared at him, feeling like a gazelle facing off a lion. I couldn’t stay there any longer in the car, with him not talking and me basically hyperventilating. I held my breath for one moment before I moved. I vaulted over the side of the car, shocked that I’d been capable of moving away from him, and jogged to the edge of the water. I stood there, trying to breathe, to stop feeling the craving for chocolate, to think and plan and regain my self-control.
“Violetta, be careful!”
I turned quickly and felt the bank crumble beneath my feet. I sighed as I realized that my sweater was going to smell like pond water before I hit the icy liquid and all my rational thoughts evaporated. Cold. Not just cold, bone-wrenchingly cold that sucked the air from my lungs and the marrow from my bones.
When I came up gasping there were two things made very clear. The water was much deeper than the pond in the park by the school, and October was not a good time to fall in.
The only good thing about it was that it got me away from whatever would have happened in Orion’s roomy, leather seats. I swam along the side until I could feel oozing mud beneath my really cute pink flats. Something nibbled on my bare calf that I hoped was just a fish as I slodged towards the shallower shore. Orion stood at the edge of the water, concern on his face as I walked up to him, dripping.
“What are you doing?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m just taking a walk.” My teeth were chattering as I struggled, my limbs becoming sluggish from the mud and cold.
“A walk?” He cocked his head, half frowning, half smiling while his eyes seemed to warm me even at that distance.
“I do that from time to time.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he grinned unexpectedly. “Your brother said something about you wandering around in the dark until you fell into pools.”
I would have blushed if I weren’t so cold. “Right. The two of you are friends. He can be pretty annoying.”
He shook his head. “No, I really enjoy his company. He’s an exceptional Baker. I dream about cream puffs regularly. Of course, you taste even better.”
I stared at him and forgot that I was shivering. My lips were probably turning blue, but they felt on fire when I remembered his lips on mine, the taste of him, dark, rich chocolate. He leaned forward on the bank, hand extended towards me. “I think you’d better come out now. That pond isn’t warm on the hottest days. It’s fed from a deep spring.”
“I’m n-n-not sure if that’s a good idea.”
When I hesitated, he walked into the pond, dropping two feet on the first step. He came towards me arm extended until his hand touched mine. When his fingers curled around my wrist, he twisted and pulled me against him.
I gasped while water splashed, but it wasn’t the water that shocked me but him, warm, hot, alive and incredibly delicious against my freezing cold layers. He wrapped his coat around my wet jacket while he turned and carried me to the shore. I rested my head on his chest and slid my hands around his warm, soft neck. He was so warm and beautiful, delicious like hot chocolate that I could almost taste.
He stepped up, out of the pond, bumping my body. I was trying to get ready to let go of him, but he kept carrying me, my wet clothes soaking into his. I tried to push away from him when I realized that I was getting him wet, but he didn’t seem
to notice and didn’t put me down until we had reached the trunk of the car.
“You’re going to have to take off all your clothes.” He grinned at me widely before he relaxed his grip, letting me slide down him to the ground and my mostly numb legs had to catch me.
His hands were still on my waist or I probably would have fallen. I blinked water out of my eyes, but he still had a shiny, beautiful glow around him.
“What did you say?”
I shivered hard as he let me go and turned to open up the trunk. He handed me a blanket and began rifling through the back, coming up with various clothing items while I stood there, shivering.
“I said that you’re going to have to get naked. I apologize for my candor, but I’d really rather you didn’t die from immersion in the pond of purity.”
“Pond of Purity? You bring girls to make out somewhere called the Pond of Purity? Is that ironic, or are you just sick?”
He laughed as he laid a pile of black clothing on the edge of the trunk and unzipped my jacket. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” His eyes were glowing at me while he pushed my jacket off my shoulders then without asking permission or saying anything else, he pulled my sweater up and over my head and had me wrapped in a shirt before I could say ‘blue satin bra’.
“I know that your fingers are numb, so I’m just having my way with you. It’s a pity that I couldn’t take my time stripping you of this delightful sweater, but the Pond of Purity is a serious danger, particularly to girls who seduce innocent men in art museums. How does your skirt unfasten? Quite complicated, isn’t it? Two hooks, and a side zipper. The shirt is covering up your lower body, but I’m not looking at that part of you anyway. I’m looking at your eyes, watching your pupils get larger and larger as you prepare to go into shock. Now I’m wrapping you in a blanket and then I’m going to carry you through the woods to a house that always has a fire going, even on the hottest days of summer.”
He picked me up, wrapped up in a scratchy wool blanket so thick that I could barely feel his warmth against me as he carried me through the trees.
I rested my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes and letting him carry me like I was a child, like it made sense to let a complete stranger undress me and carry me away. He was right, though. Everything was growing fuzzy around the edges while Orion became more solid, more real and tempting with every step. I probably was going into shock.
I turned my head and pressed my face against his skin, my lips against his neck. Fire threaded through me from that one taste, that one contact. I snuggled closer to him, sliding my hand around the back of his neck to tangle in his hair while I whispered in his ear.
“You are my chocolate man, hot, liquid chocolate trailing down my throat like fire, like blood, like lightning. I’m drowning in you and I don’t want to ever come up for air. I don’t want to think or breathe or hurt ever again. I just want to drown in you.”
His arms tightened around me before he broke into a run, speeding through the woods, every step a thump, thump that knocked me against him, into him, through him, like a heart beating, thump, thump, both of us one heart blood beating in, beating out, beating in, beating out.
Chapter 21
The Butcher
I turned on the car and drove, my heart pounding, my thoughts a tangle of confusion. I drove home. I didn’t know where else to go. The smell of blood never filled the air, but her eyes remained enormous, shocked the entire trip. Landry would feed me, tide me over so I could approach the brink without becoming the abyss.
I took the back drive, the long winding road that would lead to the pond and the burial ground for werewolves and other things that left a body when Butchers killed them. The pond was fed by a pure spring that made dead things stay dead as well as decompose at an accelerated rate. All interesting facts I had no intention of telling Violetta. She could barely cope with her own needs and desires. I knew what to expect from my nature, and I still struggled. She was so very brave, kind, reckless, but determined.
I asked about her brother. I shouldn’t have. It reminded her that she had to play a role, had to be a girl who was nothing like the boy I knew from school. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to look anywhere but at me, then she moved.
She’d said that she did gymnastics, but I didn’t expect a vault over the passenger door to the leaf strewn earth beyond. I hadn’t expected her to leave me, not here. I gripped the doorknob until my hand turned white, fighting the instinct I had to chase her down and drag her back like I would prey that was trying to escape. I fought the Butcher instincts bred into my family for countless generations.
When she neared the edge of the pond, I moved, but however fast I ran, I couldn’t reach her before the bank had crumbled and she fell in the pond. It wasn’t simply a pond, but a pond of holy, pure water that would dissolve the flesh off of anything infected, impure, like a werewolf or vampire. It wasn’t all that fabulous to Butchers, either.
She came up splashing, her eyes enormous from shock, her lips turning blue from the icy water as she struggled to find footing. I wanted to leap in after her, but she was already swimming, moving towards shore, and it wouldn’t help anyone if I were dying of hypothermia at the same time that she was. She got her footing and began struggling towards the shore, her thin jacket clinging to her skin while her skirt, now translucent clung to her thighs. Her skin was covered in goosebumps while she shivered, her steps slowing with every step.
I jumped into the shallow water and stalked towards her, ignoring the ice and spirit that tugged on my legs, pulled on my boots. Finally, I had her hand in mine, had her in my arms, my coat around her, her shivering body hard against my chest. I had to get her in dry clothes before she got hypothermia. Also, holding her so close, I could feel the ebbing of my energy while my Butcher’s hunger sharpened. I needed Landry’s drops, but I’d used most of them up in the past weeks, and this required more than that. A kiss from a Baker could knock a Butcher out, could kill him if she didn’t notice and stop.
I carried her to the car, my feet cold, wet, but not in danger of anything interesting. When I put her down, I moved as quickly as possible. She was too delicate, too sweet and soft. She needed to be tough and strong so that she didn’t get hurt.
When I turned back to her, I knew what I had to do. Her eyes, they weren’t focusing well, and she’d stopped shivering. Her fingers would be cold and stiff. I started talking as I undressed her quickly, as professional and efficient as possible, barely noticing the smooth, caramel skin before she was wrapped in black, my spare shirt almost down to her knees. It took too long for me to figure out how to take off her skirt, too long skimming her waist with my hands, feeling her skin before I had it off and could wrap her in the blanket and carry her to Landry.
There were other ways of warming someone, things like friction that I tried not to think about as I walked. When she started talking, delirious words that I tried not to let affect me, I started running. It seemed to take forever to make it to the Manor, the kitchen door that was the only thing keeping me from instincts that I didn’t fully understand, but knew they would lead to something irrevocable and probably obscenely stupid. She soaked up more of my energy. I was so hungry.
I held her against me, my weakness, her strength.
My boots squelched with every step. My boots would need cleaning along with her incredibly soft green sweater, the color of her eyes. The wool blanket around her didn’t smell like vampires or zombies however many times I’d put it over the body of a corpse. I kept it meticulously cleaned. I was a Butcher first, after all. Wasn’t I?
I looked down at Violetta, pale, wide-eyed and felt like she’d infected me with her softness, that my heart had become a fragile thing, easily broken from her invasion of it. I wrapped the blanket around her more tightly, trying to think clearly, to not waste any time or energy. She needed to warm up by the fire in Landry’s kitchen, through the woods in the monstrous house that was my legacy. Candlestick Manor.
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br /> The scent of her skin was vanilla, but the jasmine was stronger than usual. My mouth watered, my hands trembled as I forced them to stay around her, protecting her, carrying her to safety instead of…I was dangerous to her. I was a Butcher and I was losing control. I’d seen Butchers who went too long sharpening their hunger until they dissolved into madness and death.
We came to a rise and down below the trees I saw the dark roof of an enormous stone house rising up from the trees like a mountain of stone. Candlestick.
“We’re almost there,” I whispered against her ear. My lips brushed her skin and my steps slowed on their own volition. I couldn’t hold her in Landry’s kitchen. I couldn’t kiss her or touch her or say all the words I needed to say, but I would see her again, and again, and again. This was not the end. It couldn’t be. I was hungry, starved for satisfaction, the Butcher inside of me growling, but for all that, I’d never felt so light as with her in my arms.
Chapter 22
The Baker
Mr. Landry stood at the enormous white ceramic sink, the light from the large window throwing his golden hair into swirls of honey while he cut an apple, peels curling off his knife. I thought that he was an angel until he looked up at me. His eyes were so strange, so pale in his pale face when those eyes belonged in my brother’s dark skin and mine.
I vaguely noticed the rest of the room, the long wooden table, pots hanging on racks above and on every shelf loaves and pies, tarts and muffins with racks and racks of drying herbs dangling from the ceiling. At the end of the kitchen, a goose dangled from the rafters from its broken neck. Beneath, the body of a fluffy bunny with soft grey fur lay still and quiet on the table.
“Over here.” Landry led Orion to an ancient wood cook stove that was actually cooking something, bread by the smell of it.
Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Page 17