Blood Sugar

by Kat Turner

  “What do they represent?” The dual, vertical rows slashed down each half of his pelvis like cat scratches. The full picture resembled the ones she’d formed in her mind, in her fantasies.

  “They’re latitudinal lines.” He spoke in a low voice rough with excitement. Still fingering the marks, Eve looked up into Jonnie’s face. He’d changed, his features had sharpened and darkened to the mask of the dream. Through his parted lips, fang points peeked out.

  She leaned forward and kissed his shaft, trailing her lips down to his high, tight balls. His intimate scent of soap and musk sent another jolt of desire into her sex. “Of where?”

  “Um.” A clipped laugh. “You’re really going to force me to use my brain cells right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She licked the rigid seam dividing his sac. Perhaps part of her wanted to gain the upper hand on him sexually as some sort of payback for snaring her in his twisted web of a life.

  She’d flown in willingly, a curious little fly, but still. In the moment she held a measure of power, the ability to make him a servant to the pleasure she rationed out. To the leverage she wielded.

  With a slow hand, he petted her hair. “If you look closely—but I doubt you can see them in this light—you’ll see numbers. Coordinates. They’re locations. Each one represents somewhere our tour stopped, a place that was important to me. Brian and I each got our own versions of a tattoo designed to turn our bodies into journals.”

  Jonnie’s gentle touch, how he stroked her locks like they were made of the finest silks, stirred a new ingredient into the simmering stew of her feelings. A soft, yielding, gentle element.

  They were just two lonely, strange people, moving together under cover of night. Somehow, his touch registered that. Acknowledged that. Perhaps she was merely projecting more tender feelings onto him, maybe they were just fucking. But in her heart, she knew that the crudest explanation wasn’t true.

  The brush of his fingertips against her scalp, the meticulous exploration of her corkscrew curls like they were strands of DNA holding secrets to the universe, were not the touches of a man who just wanted to get off, wanted his dick sucked.

  Eve laid off her kisses and rose, kicking aside her shorts in the process. She stood before him naked. His face hadn’t changed back. Features still bore the serpentine slope of a brow, the catlike eyes and cheekbones fiercer than any found on a normal human.

  “Can you control it?” She crawled back into the cramped twin bed, her naked body pressed against his. She swept her index finger over his eyebrow, admiring the cut of his striking bones.

  Jonnie shook his head. “Not really.” His expression was neutral, hard to read. Resigned, or wistful.

  Heart heavy and limbs fluid, Eve returned to straddle Jonnie. She pressed her palms into his chest, feeling the rigid spear of his cock beneath the dampness of her lust.

  Hovering there, staring into his chilling, uncanny face, she appreciated him. The effect was like staring into some esoteric window, into a portal to an ancient forest, a place where all manner of druids and fairies and grumpkins ran wild.

  But she stared into her own brain stem, too, into something buried and latent. For an instant, clouds parted, delivering a fast flash of moonlight through their bunk. It revealed a miniscule crisscross of lines networking the tops of his hands. Like faint scales. As the light stole across his angular face, a brief gleam flashed in his green irises. It drew attention to the vertical black slits of his pupils.

  A chill raced down her spine at the same time molten heat melted her sex. He was a monster. And she should have been horrified or alarmed, but she was too damn busy being wildly aroused by the dangerous, novel impossibility.

  “I’ve had my tubes tied.” She’d steeled her commitment to remain childfree by choice awhile ago. Kids didn’t belong in her world. Simple as that.

  He licked his lips, chest rising and falling with accelerated breath. “Good. I’m clean.”

  “Same.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” A tantalizing smirk graced his stunning face.

  She grabbed the base of his hard penis and slid down, impaling herself with his length. The fullness of penetration made her moan, tingle, thrust. He clamped his hands on her hips and urged her, repeating the back and forth motion he’d used earlier. She moved, undulating, in tune with some unseen force pulsing and chanting beyond the trees.

  Jonnie dropped a hand between her legs, finding her bulging clit with his thumb. He rubbed, up and down, in a steady rhythm that soon had her writhing and gasping. She quickened her pace, rocking against him as the sweet pressure built, coiling tight and hot in her core until she could snap like a rubber band. But he just kept stroking, and she continued to soar as her pleasure built to bliss, to crazed and brutal need—

  At the moment of truth, she lurched forward, feral and out of her mind, and pinned his earlobe between her teeth.

  “Bite me,” she hissed, twisting one of his nipple rings between her fingers. All she wanted was the pain, the abject abandon of fiendish, inhuman fangs sinking into her neck. Sweet explosions wracked her, a series of pulsing shocks.

  Moaning as she came apart, she anticipated his bite, the thought enhancing her climax. Yes, yes, he would spill her blood, drink her blood, make her dizzy. Make her into a vampire. Make her into someone, something, different than who she was.

  “Eve, I…” His protest came out a grunt as his body tensed beneath her, his hips bouncing as he plunged in and out. He flicked her clit faster, wringing out every drop of the orgasm from her body.

  “Please, please,” she whined as the shocks rolled through, unhinging her soul from her body, splintering her world. Why couldn’t he give it to her? The one final piece to take her, make her, ruin her.

  “Not now,” he grunted out, muscles clenching. He sent his free hand to her butt and smacked twice, filling her ears with the obscene sound of wet skin slapping.

  She screamed in frustration and relief, riding out the end of the hard, angry orgasm.

  He squeezed her ass desperately as a long, tortured groan erupted from his throat. He bucked underneath her, pumping through his release as warm fluid soaked her insides.

  She wound down with a gradual tapering of bursts into aftershocks. He stopped moaning and slackened against her chest.

  Tears pricked her eyes, and a burning ache slammed her chest. She peeled her slick flesh from his with a wet suction pop.

  “Eve, wait,” Jonnie whispered, out of breath as he reached for her hand.

  His face had returned to normal, but his appearance had nothing to do with why she couldn’t look at him. She turned her face to the discarded clothes pile, picking them up and yanking them on with shaking hands.

  Nausea twisted her insides. He’d held back from her. Deemed her unworthy of exploring total abandon together. Rejected her at her most vulnerable, pushed her aside when she’d yearned to venture to new depths together. Served her right, she supposed. She couldn’t be trusted with souls, not always. Couldn’t be trusted with a risk. Stupid of her, to offer herself up in the most exposed of ways. He probably thought turning her would unleash some new evil on the world or embolden the demon. And maybe it would. There was a good chance she was being irresponsible here, reckless. But she wanted what she wanted and was okay with being a disaster as long as she had someone to fall with. Which, apparently, she didn’t.

  “Leave me alone.” Sticky perspiration coating her skin made tugging her clothes on a challenge. A seam on her shirt ripped, making her feel slovenly and gross. She saw red. Flames burst in her stomach. “Shit. Fuck.”

  “Eve. Let me explain. Let me talk to you. There are reasons.” He sat up in bed, pleading in a stern yet gentle way that only made her more upset. Of course, he had to be the voice of reason, too.

  “I said leave me alone, okay?” She strangled the small part of her that yearned to jump into his arms, seek comfort, and cry. Those things weren’t for her. Nobody refilled her well. That wa
sn’t how it worked.

  “Please don’t push me away like this. You don’t have to.”

  She stormed up the ladder, curled into a ball, and pulled the sheets over her head. An hour or so of tense, hateful insomnia later, Eve was twisted up inside a blanket and staring into the nascent beginnings of dawn, a scabby hue discoloring the space above the trees.

  A feminine shriek cut through dour, tepid stillness, stabbing a needle full of scuzzy adrenaline into Eve’s hardened heart.

  Ten

  Jonnie understood, he did. Eve hurt. She suffered from emotional undernourishment, hunger for care and comfort that she wasn’t sure how to ask for. Instead, she reached out then lashed out, in a cycle of advance and retreat.

  He formed a hunch that the pattern repeated as she struggled to figure out how to lean on others, set boundaries, and prioritize her own needs.

  His mum and sisters fought similar inner battles as Eve. They shouldered the guilt, the burden, the bone and soul-crushing physical and emotional labor that came with caring for Cara.

  Boundless, formless, endless routines involved triage staff and appointments and an ever-expanding cast of professional characters spouting jargon-filled advice and opinions. Their husbands and brothers, himself and his pop included, helped, but it wasn’t the same. Burdens of care fell upon women. And as soon as he had phone service again, he’d call and check on his family.

  But right now, he needed to tend to Eve. Help her cope, find her balance, ease her toil. But what had he done instead? Gone and fucked her, a woman whose feelings he cared about, like some meaningless conquest. You stupid, horny sod.

  He plastered a damp palm onto his warm forehead, guilt as sticky as the sweat on his brow. “I’m sorry, Evelyn.”

  Rustling sounds came from her top bunk. “You heard the scream.” She stated the fact in a tone as flat as the wooden slats above his eyes.

  He had, and he got it. Freaking out would accomplishing nothing. They needed to remain calm in the face of new madness.

  “Yes. But that could have been due to anything. We can’t worry about it until we know more. Can we please talk about what happened between us?” Jonnie cared more about Eve’s feelings than the sharp yell from far away. If it became a problem, they’d deal with it.

  Of course he’d wanted to bite her, but acting impulsively on his wants could backfire badly. What if he got hooked on her blood? Or couldn’t stop drinking and killed her by mistake?

  He’d been a vampire for a mere twenty years, and what he knew of his symptoms, his powers, continued to unfold in a disturbing rollout of surprise reveals. Why would he put her at risk for tragedy, accept her desire to put herself at said risk?

  Creaks and groans issued from the wood as she shifted her weight. “What’s there to talk about? I acted like some groupie with kitty litter for brains, and you screwed me like you’d screw any one of them. The end.”

  A distinct quiver of shame wobbled in her caustic tone, yet a vise clamped his chest. Anger flashed through him. She knew nothing about his sex life and had no right to judge anyone involved in said sex life. He sprung from bed and crawled up the ladder, finding her sulking on her mattress with her arms crossed. “You’re being cruel and unfair, Eve.”

  “Go away.” The lingering tremble in her voice neutralized an attempt at driving him off.

  “Eve. We had sex. Perhaps it was a mistake. But you have no right to lash out at me like this. I know you’re upset, but believe me when I tell you that by not biting you, I was trying to protect you.”

  She uncurled her arms and wiped an eye, back bowing and ribcage collapsing as her posture caved. “Ignore me. My head’s a wreck, and I can’t sleep.”

  What little remained of his aggravation tempered to concern. Of course he wouldn’t ignore her. Who could reasonably be expected to stay cool and collected amidst this madness? Lesser people would have cracked long ago.

  He touched her smooth upper arm. “I wasn’t using you for quick sex. I got swept up in the moment, but I didn’t bite you because I care about you. And because I care about you, I can’t bear to see you like this. Try to get some rest, okay? For me?” He tossed optimism into the universe like a dart thrown in a dark room.

  She blew a ragged exhale from her lungs. The beginnings of a smile twitched her lips. “Okay.”

  Jonnie smiled too, though his was bigger. He adored seeing signs of life animating her face.

  “I apologize for snapping at you. I’m going to try for a nap before Taylor gets here.” The word “try” fell from her mouth as a heavy stone of pessimism.

  “You can do it, love.” He leaned in and dropped a kiss to her shoulder, smelling himself on her and cherishing the trace remainder of their intimacy. Their supposed mistake.

  Eve laid a squeeze on his forearm before she pulled the sheet to her neck and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Jonnie climbed back down and rooted in his pack, excavating the mystery novel he’d brought. He struggled to concentrate for a few pages, admitting defeat after reading a paragraph three times. Fortunately, not too much time passed before a faint, horsey whinny broke through the jungle clutter of chirps and bird calls.

  He threw the paperback on the bed and tugged clean shorts and a tee shirt from his bag. Took out his phone and checked—still no signal bars. Sighing, he stuck the thing in his back pocket in case they had service in the village, and changed clothes.

  Taylor emerged on horseback, pregnant as ever in polyester athletic shorts and layered tank tops. He parted the mesh doorway and walked out to greet her, sweat beading on his forehead at the first direct lick of rainforest atmosphere.

  She tied off her horse and turned to Jonnie, planting her hands on her slim hips as she did.

  “Morning,” Jonnie said, wincing on the inside as he registered Taylor’s severe countenance. His grandma Priyanka used to claim that foul moods in the morning brought bad tidings for the rest of the day, and all signs so far pointed them in a negative direction.

  “What does she know about poltergeists and exorcisms?” Taylor’s stern, low tone and the scowl knitting her brow made it clear small talk would fall by the wayside.

  “Hazarding a wild guess that whatever triggered that scream earlier relates to exorcisms and poltergeists.”

  With a single, tense nod, Taylor marched up the lumber steps and breached the tent’s triangular doorway. “Wait until you see what poor Kathleen found on her morning walk.”

  “Eve’s sleeping.” Beside Jonnie, the horse vocalized, as if laughing at the idea that Taylor would back off her onslaught.

  Taylor barked, “Hey. Wake up. You didn’t say anything about a haunting or a familiar or whatever it is you’ve got tailing you.” From inside the big tent, groans and movement came as Taylor tugged on Eve’s covers.

  A moaning yawn begged for more rest. “You said you vetted me. Can I please lie down for a minute? I haven’t slept in—”

  “Yeah, well, we clearly missed something. Talk. Spill. Now, or I send you both up the river before the sun rises the rest of the way.”

  Jonnie bounded up the steps, hastening to Eve’s bedside. Taylor tapped a foot, her hands grafted to a spot below her bulging pregnancy.

  Face drawn with exhaustion, Eve gave Taylor the gist. Lacey, the cult parents, her history with the zombie rodent. The gestalt of the story, in all its insanity, broke Jonnie’s heart. From the bite of quiet shame and hurt in Eve’s voice, Jonnie drew sad conclusions. The whole ordeal had ground her spirit into dust.

  Taylor scoffed as she threw up her hands, bringing them to rest on the front of her belly. “How could you keep this from us? Do you have any idea what you inflicted upon our home? I don’t know what you’re mixed up in, but it’s put us all at risk. Our babies. And if you knew what we suffered through last fall, you’d understand why I can’t have evil near us. Never again.”

  Eve hung her head, mop of hair blocking her face from Taylor’s gaze. “I understand.”

  “It
isn’t Eve’s fault,” Jonnie interjected. He turned to Taylor. “She needs help. We need help. All she does is give and give, trying to help people in this life and beyond. Something went awry, but she didn’t mean for it to happen. Give her a break and help us figure out how to lift this bloody curse.”

  Taylor’s jaw clenched. “Bloody curse is right, Mr. Brit. Get out.” She pointed at the door.

  “It wants me.” Eve spoke in a tone pummeled into the flat affect of resigned defeat. “Bring me to it.”

  “Oh, no way in hell are you setting foot anywhere near our encampment.”

  Of course he could glamour Taylor, though Jonnie refused to use coercion or deceit to insist his way into their Peruvians’ territory. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t argue with Taylor’s logic.

  Taylor narrowed her eyes at him. “I can see the gears in your head turning. I’m well acquainted with vampires. The part about needing to be invited in is real. And as a water divinatory, I’m immune to your tricks in the first place. Ditch any notions of mind control like you’d kick a smoking habit.”

  Eve sat up straighter and cocked her head. “What’s a water divinatory?”

  “None of your business, Morticia.”

  “What a fine hostess we have here.” Though Eve spackled on the sarcasm, watery hurt liquefied her eyes. Her profession was a sore spot that Taylor, in her anger, couldn’t help herself from striking.

  With the Peru excursion circling the drain, Jonnie put up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. But he didn’t give up. “Taylor, love, you have grounds for being upset. Pissed off, in fact. And you have every right to protect your home and family. But we’re here because we’re desperate. My niece is dying, my condition’s worsening, and I’m losing faith. Eve provides a valuable service to her community, and she is in desperate need of some spiritual and psychic peace right now. We’re good people. We’re trying our best. This is the last stop on the line for us.”

  His heart poured out of his chest alongside his confession. Hope hung in the air, one remaining pearl suspended by a flimsy thread.