Night Lover

by Rosanna Leo

  I led Claudia toward the bed and lay her down on the mattress.

  “Hugh,” she whispered. “We are unmarried. This is a sin.”

  “Nothing between us is a sin, my love. Let me hold you as I long to hold you. Let me worship you.”

  I will never forget the look of her. The warmth of her breath, and the scent of her skin. How she reached for me. She opened to me again and again, and gave me what she had never given another. For the first time in my life, I felt like a god.

  We were there all night. As we waited for the rain to stop, I caressed her and marveled at the sweetness of her body. When the rays of the early morning sun began to penetrate the grimy window, I kissed Claudia awake and my body awakened next to hers.

  When she finally opened her eyes, Claudia still looked hesitant. “Hugh, I do not want you to regret your decision.”

  “Not marrying you would be my greatest regret.” I gave her a kiss on each of her eyelids and she smiled at me. “Claudia, we shall have the finest wedding there ever was.”

  “I only want you. I have no need for finery.”

  Giving into temptation once more, I kissed the length of her neck until I could taste her tremors. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. I want to stay.”

  “People will talk.”

  “Let them. I can’t leave you alone after what Malanotte did. I beg of you, don’t send me away.” I put my cheek next to hers. “You should be in my bed, every night for the rest of our lives.”

  “Oh, Hugh. I cannot refuse you.”

  Overcome with joy, driven by desire, I succumbed to my need. As she clutched at me, her lips at my neck, I never felt better, stronger. More alive. I wanted her, endlessly, it seemed. Even after exhausting myself in the pursuit of her pleasure earlier, I found myself consumed with the need to give her even more. We tore at the bedclothes. Our bodies came together. Our mouths came together. I tasted every inch of her and knew, with each precious swallow, she was mine and always would be. And when she once again offered me her most sacred treasure, I almost wept out of raging hunger.

  She slept in my arms all morning. I finally closed my eyes as well, her scent lulling me to sleep.

  When I awoke, sometime in the afternoon, it was with a start. She was gone. She left a note on her pillow, letting me know she’d woken in a panic, realizing she would be late for her next performance at the opera house. She asked me to join her there afterward.

  My head pounding from lack of sleep, I dressed myself and headed for the theater.

  Aug. 31, 1820

  May God preserve me! She has disappeared.

  Let me collect my thoughts, as scattered as they are.

  When I arrived at the opera house, I could not find her. She was not on stage. She was not in her dressing room. Of course, my train of thought turned morbid and I worried Malanotte had accosted her again. However, in questioning several people at the theater, I learned she had never arrived.

  Never arrived.

  I saw Signora Giorgio mending some costumes, a worried look on her face. As soon as our eyes met, she dropped her work and hobbled over to meet me. I asked her in Italian if she’d seen Claudia but she answered in the negative.

  A horrible feeling slithered under my skin. Where could she be? After waiting at the theater for a time, I scoured Shanley. I searched everywhere. The church. The coffee house. I even went back to Dawlish Manor in case she’d come looking for me.

  It was as if she faded out of sight, like a cloud retreating into a darkened sky.

  Claudia, my love. Where did you go?

  »»•««

  “I can’t believe Hugh is evil.”

  Finn and Margaret stared at me, and I wasn’t sure which of them appeared more skeptical. Between his frown and her piercing gaze, I might have shriveled in my chair, but I sat up straight. Since we met Margaret in her office, the two of them had done nothing but try to convince me my incubus sought my destruction.

  Granted, most sane people would likely agree with them. However, despite Hugh’s randy antics, I couldn’t believe he would try to hurt me. I wasn’t even convinced he could. Something drove him to this. Something made him do things he would never have done in life.

  Malanotte was the one who turned my dreams into nightmares. He’d hounded Claudia and had even put his hands around my throat. If he was capable of such evil in life, it seemed possible he could pollute the soul of another man.

  Hugh would never have harmed an innocent. How could a man who adored Claudia hurt another woman, potentially several? I realized my view of him might be clouded due to the lust he inspired in me, but I just couldn’t credit him with such malice. Frankly, I didn’t want to.

  “Renata, dear,” said Margaret. “Based on what I’ve seen…”

  “Margaret, forgive me, but you weren’t there when the other women dreamed of him. You weren’t there when they died. We have no proof Hugh would want to hurt all those sopranos or that he’d do the same to me.”

  “Lark, I heard his voice, too,” Finn reminded me.

  “Okay, I admit, he’s been haunting me and not just in my dreams. But would he hurt me? I refuse to believe it.” I put a hand on Finn’s arm. “I know you don’t want to hear this but he says he loves me.”

  The blood vessel at his temple throbbed.

  “Nonetheless,” Margaret said, “I am glad you’ve told your friends about the situation.” She turned to Finn. “She can’t be alone. Not even for a moment.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at the thought of Finn trailing me like a private eye. “You can’t watch me 24/7. You’re conducting a huge music festival. You have work to do, Finn, and so have I.” I put up preemptive hand. “And I’m sorry, but I pee alone.”

  He glared at me, as if ready to put me over his knee. If Margaret hadn’t been there watching our exchange, I might have asked him to follow through with his silent dare. Even with everything going on, I still wanted him with a force that shocked me.

  “Look,” he said, reaching for my hand. “I just want you to be okay. I don’t want you to be scared.”

  I squeezed his hand as the concern in his gaze made my heart thrill. “I know, but I can’t help thinking we’re missing something. Yes, Hugh has been a bit of a bad boy, but he keeps asking me to save him, too. Maybe he needs our help.”

  Finn shook his head. “I am not helping that bastard.”

  “But I think he might be…lost.”

  “And he can stay lost for all I care.”

  “Have you tried saying the prayers I gave you?” asked Margaret. “I’ve also heard reciting the Hail Mary can ward off an incubus.”

  “I think we might need stronger methods,” Finn offered, his fists clenching. “Next time the bugger shows his face…”

  “Finn,” Margaret replied. “Violence is not the answer. In fact, you can’t fight an incubus with your physical energy. I’ve heard these demons only grow excited by the physical expression of anger. You might hurt Renata in lashing out against Hugh.”

  “So I can only fight him off myself?”

  “I believe so, dear.”

  How? He’d already worn me down, zapping both my body’s and my mind’s capacities. To say nothing of the fact I didn’t really want to push him away half the time.

  No. He came between you and Finn. He marred the best moment you’ve had in years with his perversions. Perhaps he should try to save himself.

  Even still, his voice echoed in my head. Salva me.

  Finn checked his watch and then ran a hand over his face. When had he become so pale? “It’s getting late. I should get you back to the inn so you can rest.”

  “You look as if you need a break, too.” The lines of exhaustion around his mouth made my ribs hurt in guilt and sadness.

  Our gazes locked and his eyes seemed to grow brighter and darker all at once. The heat in his expression, so laced with concern, made me want to burrow in his arms and never leave my m
uscled sanctuary. We stood and he seemed to glean my need for close contact. Draping an arm around my shoulders, he pulled me against his body.

  “Don’t forget, Renata,” said Margaret as we stood. “There’s a reason for all this. A reason why the incubus came to you. He thinks you’re weak. Show him you’re strong.”

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “And until you figure it out, I’m afraid Hugh Dawlish will keep coming.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time we walked back to the Shanley Inn, my head was pounding. I felt as if I’d learned a lot about incubi, but so little about my incubus. Margaret kept telling me to be strong, to fight, but did I even have the resources? The knowledge?

  The will?

  As we walked into the inn, imagined darkness circled my head, making me fuzzy. He thinks you’re weak. Maybe I was. I could barely hold up my head. Perhaps this was my destiny. Maybe I’d been brought to Hugh’s ancestral home because I belonged with him in some way.

  The moment the realization hit me, I felt the familiar restriction at my throat. As Finn unlocked the door to his room, his back to me, I clawed at my throat. Trying to snatch a breath, I opened my mouth but no sound emerged. It reminded me of a time, years ago, when I’d almost choked on a piece of popcorn at a movie theater. I remembered the sense of desperation, the frantic worry I might die at a freaking Bruce Willis pic. As invisible hands tightened on my throat, I reached out my own hand to Finn.

  Help me.

  He turned, and in the space of a second, the grip at my throat lessened and fell away. I sucked in a breath and held it, terrified it might escape.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  By degree, I let the breath whoosh out of me, relieved to see another followed. I smiled at Finn, grateful for air.

  I was then struck by my lover’s manly beauty. As if seeing Finn for the first time, really seeing him, his features claimed every bit of my attention. I wanted to drag my fingers through his fair hair, to tease my tongue all over his skin. I wanted to feel his muscles sliding over me, pinning me down, and to feel his cock pounding into me. Even more than my sometimes-elusive breaths, I wanted to drop to my knees, tear away his jeans and boxer briefs and take him right to the back of my throat.

  I wanted to consume him.

  “Lark?”

  “Get inside,” I said on a growl. “I need you to fuck me.”

  Finn’s eyes widened at the vehemence in my tone. No, the desperation. “Renata…”

  “Don’t call me Renata.” I shoved open the door and pushed him into the room, locking it behind us. “Call me Lark. I love it when you do. It makes me insane with desire.”

  His nervous laughter did nothing to quell my anticipation. Oh, God! Why was he moving so slowly? And why did he look scared? “Okay. I’ll call you Lark.”

  I pushed him onto the bed, not the least worried my touch might be less than gentle. My need overrode any concern about gentleness. I wanted him hard and fast and with violent passion. I needed Finn to piston into me with the force of a jack hammer, wanted him to fuck me through the wall. As he lay there, a little stunned, I pounced and straddled him. Holding down his shoulders, I kissed him.

  Yes! I almost cried out loud he tasted so good. Skin and salt and a late-afternoon coffee. I opened my mouth on his, forced my tongue into his mouth, and sucked like a ravenous child at its mother’s breast.

  Only Finn withdrew. He pulled away and touched my face, peering at me. “You’re different. I don’t like you like this.”

  “I don’t care. Just kiss me.” Aching to taste him again, wanting to assert my dominance over him, I bit his lip.

  “Fuck! That hurt.” Finn eased himself out from under me, stood up, and gawked at me, his hand over his mouth. From under his fingers, I saw a trickle of blood. He wiped at it and for the first time I noticed the gash in his lip. “What are you doing?”

  I’d hurt him.

  As I saw what I did, as I silently screamed at myself, the choking sensation came back. My throat closed, tighter than before. In almost comical slow motion, the walls of my trachea thickened and swelled. Once again, Hugh asserted his control in a way that made me rue my existence.

  Give me my breath back!

  I put my hands around my neck and rolled on the bed, begging Finn with my eyes. Please understand that wasn’t me.

  “Lark,” he cried, seeing my distress. He scrambled back onto the bed and pried my fingers away from my throat. “Look at me, love. Look at me.”

  I did, tears streaming from my sore eyes. I’m so sorry.

  “Nice and easy. You’re in control,” he cooed, gentling me with his touch. “It’s okay.”

  I’m okay.

  Salva me.

  As Hugh’s voice sounded in my ears, I squeezed my eyes shut. Save yourself, you fucking freak of nature. Get out of my head!

  I opened my eyes and gazed at Finn. Only then, did I realize the swelling in my throat had subsided. With each second, I began to see color again, and not Hugh’s horrifying darkness. I was breathing on my own. I took a few more tentative breaths, still worried Hugh might try to capture them again and take them forever.

  “You’re going to be okay, love. I won’t let him have you.”

  Sobbing now, I fell into his arms. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

  He ran a hand over my hair. “I know. I could see it in your eyes.”

  After cuddling with him for a few minutes, willing composure into my limbs, I looked at him. “Your lip. It’s still bleeding.”

  “It’ll heal.”

  I pulled away and raced to the washroom and moistened a washcloth. Returning to him, I dabbed as gently as I could at the wound I inflicted. As I tended the spot I’d torn with my own teeth, my tears flowed again. I continued to wipe at his lip and he wiped my tears. “Finn, I think he was in me.”

  “You weren’t yourself, that’s for sure. Don’t get me wrong. You can jump my bones any day, but I’d prefer you were conscious when you did it.”

  “How can I fight him when he can get under my skin? When he can take my breath at will?”

  “How did you stop him this time?”

  “I told him to fuck off.”

  He let out a hearty laugh, still underscored with nervousness. “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m not making excuses for him, but I think he wanted me to understand his hunger. It’s horrible. The ache, the desperation. He can’t be appeased. He’s been dying of hunger for over two hundred years.”

  “I wish he’d finally finish the job.”

  We rolled together onto the bed and lay in each other’s arms. Exhausted as I was, I couldn’t seem to close my eyes. I just lay there, listening to Finn’s steady breathing pattern, loving its regularity, loving how it never seemed to stop and start like mine. After a while, I thought he’d fallen asleep. However, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me, running his thumb over my cheek.

  “I want you to sleep, but I don’t. I’m worried of what will happen if you sleep.”

  “I don’t think it matters anymore. He can come to me even when I’m awake.”

  With a huge sigh, Finn leaned in and kissed me, broken lip and all. His sweet caress, full of consideration and ardor, filled me with hope, just as much as Hugh’s violent attentions filled me with fear. Hugh had the power to kill me. It had been so easy, even comforting, to believe he wouldn’t really hurt me, but for the first time I realized it was possible.

  All of a sudden, I didn’t want Hugh’s kisses. I wanted Finn’s, only Finn’s. His embrace, with its soft urgency, was the one I knew I’d revisit in my dreams this time.

  He lay back down, pulled me into his embrace, and we slept.

  »»•««

  “Lacrimosa dies illa.”

  As the chorus practiced the Lacrimosa movement of Requiem, easily the most haunting part of the work, I sat quietly at the back of the music room. Finn had given me the day off, but I’d come to practice,
not wanting to be alone. The Lacrimosa always made me sad. It was acknowledged to be one of the sections Mozart never completed before his death. Another composer, Franz Süssmayr, had finished it for him and based it on Mozart’s initial eight bars. Different composer notwithstanding, it proved just as eerily sultry as any other part of the work. As I listened to the music, my favorite section of the masterpiece, the English translation echoed in my head.

  That day of tears and mourning, when from the ashes shall rise the guilty man, to be judged.

  Was this my day of mourning? My judgment day?

  As the choristers sang, their voices blooming in a seductive crescendo, I looked over at Finn. He caught my gaze and smiled, his body still moving as he conducted. The power of his crinkly eyes threw me for a loop and for a moment, my breath caught in my throat again, but in the most pleasing of ways.

  I think I love him. All over again.

  I waited for the voice in my head, Hugh’s, the one that alternately threatened ownership of me and then begged me to save him. However, this time it didn’t come. He hadn’t visited me in my dreams the previous evening either. Perhaps he’d taken pity on me after using my body, after possessing me.

  Was I possessed?

  As a shiver danced up my spine, I fingered the pages on my lap. I’d brought Hugh’s journal with me and had intended to finish reading it while the chorus practiced, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to crack the spine yet again. Instead, I swayed to Mozart’s music, lulled by the lilting, almost danceable rhythm.

  “Huic ergo parce, Deus, pie Jesu Domine, dona eis requiem. Amen.”

  “Spare us by your mercy, Lord, merciful Lord Jesus. Grant them eternal rest. Amen.”

  Eternal rest. Did such a thing exist? Or did we molder in limbo, unforgiven and unheard, as humanity ceased to acknowledge us?