Limerence (16 page)

I pull the car to a stop and stare out of the windshield. I can see his house in the distance—large and dominating. “Just like him,” I whisper, and make myself jump.

I can’t go over there; what would be the point? After last night, what would I even say? I’m not even sure if last night really happened. It doesn’t seem likely, but if it did, what would I say to him?

Hey Mr B, so you know last night when you molested me against the side of my car? Well erm, I’d like you to do it again, please.

The thought slips out before I even realise what I’m thinking. Is that what I want? Is that what I wanted last night? Him? I can feel his hands on my skin, rubbing and pulling at me, his mouth nibbling at my neck. I feel moist from wanting him; my breasts tingle and ache for his touch.

My eyes flit to the window.

She’s here; she’s finally come to me. I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face; I jump up and practically run to the window to look for her. I can sense her, out there, thinking of me; she’s thinking of last night, how she surrendered to me. I frown; it had very nearly destroyed me, but that doesn’t matter now. I shake my head and lick my lips in expectance.

A draft blows in through an open window. It drifts across my bare chest, leaving my open shirt flapping restlessly behind me like the wings of a seagull. I would have felt a chill, had it not been for the fact that I am eternally cold. Yes, she is here now; soon this will all be over.

I can feel her; she’s thinking of me. I can feel her thoughts, her mind, and her body, all yearning for me. Not long now, not long.

Come to me my, beautiful Mia. Come to me, baby.

“Oh Christ, what is happening to me?” I rub my hands over my face to wipe the images of him from my mind. He’s still there. He’s always there.

Oliver has only been gone a few days, and I’m considering cheating on him. I feel like an angst-ridden teenager swooning over some famous pop star. This is pathetic.
I am pathetic.
How has it come to this? How have I become this person?

I shake my head in disgust and put the car into reverse. I take one last yearning look at the mansion in my rear view mirror.

No, I will not do this. I will not become this person. I love Oliver, and he loves me. When he comes back I will be here waiting for him, my conscience intact and our relationship salvageable.

“No,” my words are barely a whisper.

“Sir?”

“No, no…come back.” I run from window to window, following her in my mind’s eye, watching her leave.
Choosing him over me again.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

I clasp a hand to my chest, pain shooting through it like I have just been stabbed in my cold, dead heart. I turn to look at Cleo, my face crumpled in anguish. I don’t know what to say.

She continues to look at me with those deep brown quizzical eyes. Watching me, following me. I know that she is the spy; I know that she is telling the Queen everything, but it’s all I can do to stop myself tearing my own eyes out when I feel the tears building in them.

I swallow. “Yes, Cleo. I’m fine. Leave me.” I turn from her, choking down a sob. She’s gone. That was it. She does not want me; I’m pretty sure she will never want me.

“Sir?”

“WHAT?” I yell at Cleo, but she isn’t frightened by me. “I’m sorry, Cleo, I…” My heart is racing. I freeze.

For a man with no beating heart, how the hell can it be racing?
My palms are sweaty, and I struggle to string a coherent sentence together. I think I’m going to pass out. I need to get out, to get away from Cleo and her questioning stare. I need air; I need to feel it on my face.

“I… I.” Yet my words won’t come together. All I can think about is that she has left me, not chosen me again. I feel hot tears brimming red behind my eyes. All the while Cleo is watching, judging, and making notes to tell the Queen.

Is this it? Is this how it all ends? Over two hundred years on this earth, and I’m going to be destroyed, lose it all, for a human woman? I turn and leave without answering Cleo’s calls. I need to get out now. I need to think. I need to make a decision.

I pass through the circular foyer, and think of him—Oliver—downstairs. I hate him so much. I was sure that with him out of the way she would choose me.

I’m going to make him suffer.

I spin on my heel and come face to face with Cleo, nearly stumbling over her. She smiles up at me.

“Cleo, I, err, I…what are you doing? Are you following me?” I feel myself coming back to my senses the further away Mia gets, my demeanour once more stern, cool, and calm.

“Me? No, Sir.”

I don’t believe her. I eye her warily; she knows too much.

“Leave me.” I push past her and go back down the hallway and into my study, shutting the door behind me.

Yes, I’m going to make him to suffer.
It’s time to take his pain to the next level.

My Mia, I sigh. Her long, dark hair flows out behind her, shiny and alluring, just begging to be touched. She lies curled in the crook of my arm, her face buried into the side of my body. I tip my mouth down and kiss the top of her head, smelling her strawberry shampoo, and pull her closer.

Our legs entwine together, her warm thighs pressing gently upon me. Murmuring as she begins to wake, she breathes out a heavy breath, not wanting to awaken into the cold October morning. I look down at her oval face, with its soft milky skin, and smile: this is what it feels like to be truly happy and in love. Her blue eyes open, glinting at the sight of me, a smile teasing at the corners of her full mouth. She wraps herself further around me, her lips kissing the side of my bare, muscled chest; an arm that had lain over me grips my side. Her nails dig in and she pulls herself up and on top so that she is straddling me. Running her fingers down my chest, stroking and teasing me with each sensation.

“Morning, Ollie.” She smiles with a small stretch and an arch of her back, aware of the effect she is having on me.

“Morning, Mia.” I smile back, placing a hand on each of her hips.

“So?” She raises an eyebrow at me and digs her nails in harder. I gasp from the pleasure and pain of it.

“So?” I caress her sides, repeating her question back to her, running my hands up and down her body. She’s so soft. So warm. I see goose pimples appear across her skin. Her bra strap falls off her shoulder and is replaced by her long, shiny hair, which she pulls to one side.

She leans down over me, her hands on the pillow on either side of my head, her breasts heavy upon my chest. Her lips touch mine, soft and welcoming. I clasp the back of her head, pulling her kisses in tighter to my mouth. Slipping my tongue inside, I feel the wetness of it as our mouths move together. Holding on to her hips, I pull her off me and we switch positions, with me laying her on the bed as my body hovers above her. I trail gentle kisses down her chin to her neck, tilting her face, and lick down her throat and over her collarbones.

I tease between the mounds of her breasts and then down her stomach to her navel. All the while, she gives off soft moans, her skin tingling under my touch. I reach for her panties and she raises her hips to me. I slip a finger underneath the hem of them and slide them down her silky thighs…

…I wake with a start. The coldness seems more severe than normal. My thoughts are bleaker, darker, and my brain is fizzing with probing fingers. I roll over, knowing my thoughts aren’t my own. Trying to shake the memory of her from my mind, her smell presses against my senses, begging me to return to sleep, caressing me. I can see her eyes, so blue and piercing, and that smile, that beautiful smile that I love so much. I can feel her soft, dark hair, running through my fingers like water. I feel my body begin to relax once more, pulling me back down to sleep . . .

…Her thighs part to me, wanting me within her, wanting to feel my heat and my touch on her flesh. She bites down on her lip as my weight leans over her, and I push myself inside her soft folds. She moans, throwing her head back against the pillow. I kiss her neck. Deep, hungry kisses, and thrust myself into her again and again.

Her soft legs wrap around my body, her hands claw at my back, and she begs for more of me. Her eyes gleam and I feel her tightening around me. I take her hands, grip the side of her head, and use my body weight to hold her in place.

I bite into her neck, drawing her sweet blood. It runs down between her breasts and I lap it up, plunging myself deeper and harder into her while she calls out my name, breathlessly looking up into my face.

Her eyes burn into mine. “Oh, Robert,” she breathes. “Oh yes, more, take me.” Her voice is soft and insistent, and I bite harder, suck harder, plunge harder staking my claim on her, making her mine. Her blood runs freely from my bites, bubbling out, and I rub it over her body, smearing her breasts and stomach with its warmth. We are entangled together, moving over each other. Her blood washes between us, and I bite, nip, suck, and lick every part of her delicious body covered in her sweet blood…

…“NO!” I sit upright. The buzzing and fizzing in my brain is stronger. It sounds like a hive of bees. Fingers are scratching at me, clawing at me to go back to sleep, trying to pull the strings of my mind. I can feel the urgency to lull me back under.

I dart off the metal bed, the shabby bed covers tangling at my ankle and almost tripping me up. Mr Breckt laughs inside my mind.

“Please, no. Stop it!” my voice roars out, almost unrecognisable. The dream Mr Breckt has forced upon me slices me like daggers to my heart. I run to the sink in the corner and run the taps until the little sink is full, then plunge my head into its icy depths. I keep my face under until I can’t hold my breath any longer, the air burning my chest, begging for release. I throw back my head, the water splattering the walls and trailing down my body. A shiver runs through me. I wait to see if I can feel the fingers scratching at my brain. Waiting to feel the gentle tug of Mr Breckt when he tries to ease the nightmare on to me again.

Nothing.

Silence once more.

I pull my arms around myself, realising with a shiver how cold it has gotten. It’s late…or early, depending on how you look at it. Maybe I’m just too tired now—so worn down from the mental and physical battles of the past few days that my body simply can’t contain its warmth anymore. My body is tense with nerves, and I go over to the dusty mattress on the floor—the only piece of furniture other than the sink and a rusty old bed frame in the stone cell—and sit on it.

I’m so tired from it all. I know that I can’t carry on like this much longer, but I also can’t stop myself fighting against it.

Against him.

I can’t let him in.

If I let my guard down for even a moment, this is what happens: Mr Breckt finds the gap and pries his evil fingers in it, widening it long enough to get a grip on my thoughts. My memories.

And Mia. What am I going to do about Mia? Mr Breckt wants her so much. I can feel the urgency of his wanting, his desperation increasing every day. She obviously hasn’t given in to him yet, or I would be dead.

He knows that I will break eventually. Every dream or thought that Mr Breckt has forced me to share is just a constant reminder of what he wants and what he is going to take.

Mr Breckt has chosen to let me live for now. He’s keeping me alive for a reason. But what reason? To make me suffer more? What does he plan on doing with Mia? Shaming her with his filth and then damn her soul as his is damned so that he can keep her with him for eternity?

I drag a hand over my face and lie back down, drowning out my surroundings. No one can stop him. A sob escapes me before I can catch it. I manage to stop myself short of crying, swallowing down the rest of my tears. A chill runs through me, even when I wrap the filthy blanket around my shoulders. Silence echoes off the walls, bouncing around me until I can’t stand it any longer, and I begin to hum.

It’s our song.

The last one we sang together.

“Hmmm, hmm, hmmmm, hmmm,” I rock back and forth as I hum. Trying not to think of her but to think of just the sound my fingers make when they run over the strings of my guitar as I pluck them with my plectrum. Each chorus gives me strength.

Just the tune, not her, just the tune,
I think over and over.
Not her voice, just the guitar.
I breathe out a shaky breath.

“Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.” My fingers drum against my arm and I pick up the beat, staring straight ahead, seeing only the stone walls in front of me.

Not her face, do not see her,
I tell myself. Drumming my fingers, hearing only my own humming and the sound my guitar would make.

Rocking backwards, rocking forwards, rocking backwards, and rocking forwards.

The misery of not being able to think of her to give me comfort when I need it most trails down my face in the shape of hot, silent tears.

How much longer?
I wonder.
How much longer can I continue?
My answer comes almost too soon when I hear footsteps coming down the hall outside—long, heavy strides that stop outside my cell, outside my wooden door in the basement.

I hear the key in the door and turn to face the huge…vampire I’ve heard called Donovan. The door swings wide on its hinges, squeaking in protest. The vampires frame takes up too much space in the small room. My eyes widen in terror. Regardless I stand, dropping my blanket to the floor in a show of defiance even as Donovan comes towards me, his hands clenched into fists and his fangs drawn.

“Pretty little boy, aren’t you? Not for long though.” He laughs loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.

“Something to look forward to, I guess,” I reply dryly.

Donovan laughs again and then uses the back of his hand to send me flying into the wall. I hit it with a thud, the air gushing out of my lungs.

“I’ll give you something to look forward to, you pathetic little…”

“What, like Christmas?” I stand up again, clutching the wall for support, and try to catch my breath. Blood pours from my nose, trickling down over my lips until it drips off my chin.

A roar erupts from Donovan and he throws himself at me, slamming us both back into the wall this time. It crumbles under the impact, dust and fragments landing around us. I cry out loudly when I feel something break within me.

“Yeah, just like Christmas, but a whole lot more painful. And guess what? You won’t be getting any presents this year.” Donovan clutches his stomach and reels back, laughing again, red tears brimming in his eyes.

I stay down on the floor this time, curled up in a ball. The fight has left me as quickly as it came, and I watch Donovan stand back up. I should have known better than to fight him.

I’m struggling to get air into my lungs, my breaths short and restricted. I can feel blood running from the back of my head where it has smashed into the wall. I think my skull has cracked open.

Donovan sniffs the air. His tongue runs over his lips at the scent of my blood. He takes two steps forward, bending down and grips me by my T-shirt, lifting me up in front of him. I groan out; the pain spasms through my body. Before Donovan can sink his teeth into me, the freak enters, her petite frame almost hidden behind Donovan.

“Not yet,” she states quietly. Donovan stops and turns to see her, dropping me to the ground. I cry out again as the pain shoots through me. Lights go off behind my eyes like an eruption of fireworks.

“Why?”

“Master has other plans for this human.”

“Since when?” Donovan looks at me and I think I hear his stomach rumbling. Perhaps I’m hallucinating though.

“Since now.” She smiles down at me. “We have a gift for you.”

The two vampires look to each other, sharing something without speaking. Donovan erupts angrily.

“No, he can’t!” he replies to the silent message the freak has delivered to him.

“Believe me he can, and he is doing.” Her voice is calm. She’s obviously used to dealing with Donovan’s anger.

“When?”

I’m watching each vampire, knowing that I’m missing something very important, but in too much agony to consider what they could be talking about. What could be more painful or torturous than this?

The small vampire looks down to me again with a gentle smile. “Now.” She looks back to the Donovan, the one I hate the most—apart from Mr Breckt. “Master has just given me the special honour of this task.”

Donovan screams with infuriation. The sound is deafening. “What? Why you? Why not me?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Because you have no self-restraint.” She steps away from Donovan and comes towards me. “Now get out.”

She doesn’t turn around to look at him, doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to, I realise. Donovan grumbles and leaves, and she crouches down next to me.

“Now then, look what he’s done, you poor thing.” She pulls me until I’m sitting up, my back against the crumbling wall. I watch her warily, my arm wrapped around my rib cage.

She eyes me. “Does it hurt?”

I hesitate and then nod.

“Would you like me to fix that? Fix you?” She pulls my arm away and feels the broken bones under my skin, pressing on them hard enough for me to call out, tears springing to my eyes. “Oops.”

She smiles again and looks at her fingers which are tinged with red with my blood. She takes a finger into her mouth and sucks upon it. Her cheeks flush with pleasure. The action makes me feel sick and I look away.

She looks at me. “Master wants me to punish you, Oliver. You’re not following his plan like he wants, so now I have to do something very important. I have a gift to give to you. Would you like it now?” Her voice is soft and sing-songy, but I feel more terror now than I have ever felt before. I shake my head, unable to find the words to speak.

“Tut-tut, it’s a nice gift. I don’t think it’s meant as a nice gift though,” she looks uncertain. “However, I sense you don’t have much time left so it’s probably best if I give it to you now, even if you won’t have it for long.” A small frown forms on her face.