Wildwood (22 page)

‘I know.’ His lips were so close to my ear that I felt his voice as a vibration. ‘Avril. Avril, listen to me. It’s not real. The stag is not a real stag. The hunters are not real people. You can’t interfere.’

For a moment I set my shoulders, resisting him. My eyes were wide, but the apple trees blurred and slipped as they filled with tears of frustration. ‘Not real?’

‘It’s Lughnasadh, Avril. This night the Summer King dies, like he does every year. He’s not really a stag, and they’re not really hunters. They’re not even human, that’s just the way they look tonight. It’s their idea of a joke. It’s just a glamour.’

‘Not human?’ It had suddenly dawned upon me that even when I could hear the voices of the hunters I couldn’t make out any of the words.

‘They’re fay. And they don’t tolerate humans interfering with their rites, Avril. This is really dangerous here. We shouldn’t even be watching.’ Ash let go of my throat and wrapped his hand around mine, mashing all the phone keys at once.

‘Fay?’ I only seemed capable of the dumbest questions. ‘How do you know?’ That was another, and I didn’t wait for Ash to answer it. ‘The stag …?’

‘Dies tonight. He’ll reappear on May Day, having been reborn at midwinter.’ As I went limp Ash’s grip slackened very slightly, but he didn’t withdraw his arms. ‘Just leave them to it. There’s nothing to be done.’

I fell quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘What’s that noise?’ The voices had dropped to a murmur, accompanied by an indefinable snuffling.

‘Ah … They’re eating him. He’s the first fruits of the harvest.’

‘Oh Jesus.’ I thought of lions I’d seen on wildlife programmes – their faces, as they lifted them from the belly of a felled wildebeest, painted red.

‘Are you OK now?’

I didn’t answer. I’d become acutely aware that my T-shirt was still rucked up exposing my tits, and Ash’s forearm was tight beneath them. His body was hard against my back and both of us were still breathing raggedly. I had no idea how to define our relationship, or whether we could be said to have a relationship at all. All I knew as I stood pinned against him was that there was nothing in the least platonic about it. Our rough struggle had left my blood burning.

With a hiss of pain or annoyance Ash let go of my phone and turned his palm up so that he could examine the damage I’d done to him. The bloody imprint of my teeth was clearly visible on the heel of his hand. Without a word I reached out and took the injured hand and placed it onto my right breast. I heard his breath catch. For a moment he cupped the orb, weighing its softness. His skin was a little cooler than mine and my nipple tightened dramatically against his palm and, as he felt this, he groaned out loud. Then he took his hand away and turned me to shove my back against the tree.

‘Avril, you …’

I dropped my phone, my heart beating wildly. He pressed into me hard, his hands heavy on my upper arms, his face hovering over mine until I could taste the promise of his kiss.

Then yet again that kiss was withheld, and I wanted to scream.

‘Please,’ I whispered, but in response Ash put his fingers over my mouth, very carefully this time. In this light it was impossible to read his distraught expression properly; it might have
been
rage or despair or desire, or all three. All I knew for sure was the hardness of his body as it pinned mine to the tree, so I parted my legs and he thrust one thigh between mine, pressing against my pubic mound. I couldn’t speak with my lips held captive like that, so I pushed my tongue out and ran it across his fingers, feeling the calluses. Ash’s eyes widened. He pushed harder against my pelvis, grinding his thigh from side to side, and I saw stars. I moaned against his hand.

My own hands were still free. I slid them down his torso to his groin where our legs meshed and my right found the bulge of his cock, ascertaining at once that beneath those baggy army trousers he wasn’t wearing any underpants. I stroked him through the thick soft fabric and he clenched his teeth and retaliated, flexing the hard muscles of his thigh. I squirmed upon him and worked my mouth open and licked his fingers until he shook.

‘Oh Christ,’ he groaned. ‘Give me a chance will you, Avril.’

No. No chance.

‘I can’t …’ he said, but what he couldn’t do was buried by what he could do, what he had to do, right now, with desire riding him like a demon. As my palm eagerly massaged the hidden length of his cock he bit my ear and surged against me.

I hadn’t tried this in years, this frantic, furtive groping through layers of clothing that could not come off, not since I was a teenager. When it was no longer possible for him to deny that this was what was happening, that he was humping me on his leg and I was masturbating him through his trousers, then he let his hand fall from my mouth to my breast, capturing my nipple and rolling it cruelly. Cheek to cheek we panted, biting back our groans for fear of being overheard. He kissed my neck and licked at my throat. I felt like I was so open he’d be able to get his knee inside me, but as he started to come it was his hand he forced between his leg and my crotch, rubbing
me
off with his strong fingers as he went over the edge, so that I fell into the void after him.

It seemed to me as I came that in the gloom beyond his shoulder there were wicked red eyes leering at us and the glint of moonlight on needle teeth, but I was so surrendered to my pleasure that I paid them no mind.

When we came to we were alone. I mean, really alone. The sounds of the sacrificial rite behind me had gone. For a moment I rested against Ash’s shoulder, my lips on his throat, feeling his pulse. He stroked the hair back behind my ears, wordless. When he released me and stumbled away into the night I turned to look, but there was no sign of any slaughter having taken place under the old orchard trees, not even a circle of trampled grass. Not even the remains of a dead stag. Where the body had lain was only a spill of early windfall apples, already rotting and perfuming the air with the reek of cider.

8: Running with the Fox

MICHAEL RANG FROM
the motorway. ‘I’ll be with you in about an hour or so. Wear something nice, and a coat – we’ll go to the coast.’

Even the sound of his voice made a shiver run down my spine and my nipples tighten. I stared out at the night pressing in on the window. I’d dreaded and raged against and fantasised about this call. I’d lain awake in the dark begging for it. Now my throat seemed filled with glue. ‘I’ve got a better idea. Let’s try something really unusual.’

‘Such as?’

‘How about you come over and spend the night?’ There was no chance of Ash showing up this evening; I hadn’t seen him since the Lughnasadh hunt, having pissed him off once too often, perhaps. Both men had marooned me, and only throwing myself into my work had kept me from going crazy with frustration. ‘No tricks, no audience, no nasty surprises.’ No one ending up in the hospital emergency ward, I might have added, but my mind refused to bring Mr Dunster into focus. ‘Just sex, all night.’

‘Sounds kinky. I’ll try anything once.’ But when he arrived on my doorstep an hour later there was a woman with him. At least, it looked like a woman at first.

‘Who’s this?’ I demanded.

Michael leant casually against the door so that she could slip past me. She was short – only up to my shoulder – and slight, with long black hair that looked like it had just come
out
of a swimming pool. ‘This is … Jenny. You can call her that.’ He stalked into the hallway. ‘I found her by the pond.’

‘What are you playing at?’ I was wearing only a light silk dressing gown, which I wrapped around me self-consciously as I followed them back into the house. ‘Did you hear a single bloody word I said?’

‘Oh, I heard.’ Michael stood in the middle of my living-room floor. Jenny had climbed onto one end of the sofa and was watching us from under hooded lids. She was wearing a dark-green slip dress which seemed to be wringing wet even though I was certain it wasn’t raining out there. ‘You are extremely clear about the things you want. You’d like nice, fun, discreet sex with someone you like, who’ll treat you with respect and never
ever
interfere with the rest of your life. Am I right?’

My jaw sagged. ‘So why do you go out of your way to do just the opposite?’

Michael gave an infuriating smirk. ‘Do I?’

‘You know you do.’

‘And do you enjoy that bad sex with me?’

‘I hate it.’ My voice didn’t carry much conviction.

‘So much that you can’t wait for the next time. So much that you’d get on your hands and knees and beg for it if I told you to. You’re wet right now, and all I’ve done is walk into the house.’ He walked around me, hands in his pockets, and I couldn’t refute him. ‘What does that tell you about what you really want, Avril? What does that tell you about your rules?’

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t look him in the eye.

‘The barriers are all in your mind, Avril. You don’t need to fear what’s on the other side. All I’m doing is helping you break out.’

‘Right. They used to have a word for that.’

‘Liberation?’

‘Corruption.’

He laughed appreciatively. ‘Look on the bright side: a few centuries back I’d have been getting you to kiss a goat’s arse.’

No shit, I thought. And I’ve bet you’ve done it. ‘I’d rather stick to my comfort zone,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s comfortable. That’s the point.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better if you felt at home anywhere in the world? If you could do anything, without guilt or fear?’

‘That’s your ambition. I’ve got no plans to be a magus.’

‘Really?’ He tilted his head. ‘That’s a pity, because I think you’ve got a certain potential.’

‘Bet you say that to all the girls.’

He laughed. I didn’t look at him. Jenny had my attention, and he noticed that. ‘Ever fucked a woman?’ he asked.

‘That’s not a woman.’ She had a delicate face that ran down to incongruously pouty lips, but the bone structure was just wrong. And her eyes, as green as pondweed, had no pupils; they were completely green. As she lifted her head they reflected the light like the eyes of cats in the dark. I suppressed a shiver. ‘That one’s not human.’

‘Close enough for our purposes. Just don’t let her kiss your face. Have you ever been into girls, Avril?’ He put his hand on the nape of my neck and drew his fingers all the way down my back.

‘Not really.’

‘Not … “really”?’ He clasped my bum cheek, squeezing gently. His touch seemed to draw the words from me.

‘There was this sleepover once. Like a pyjama party … without any pyjamas.’ It had been on Emma’s hen night, but I wasn’t telling him that. I’d split up from Scott the week before it took place. ‘We were really drunk; I don’t remember much. Four of us. There was a lot of giggling.’

‘That’s … a picture to savour. Well, tonight … the three of us. I want to remember every detail. I want to see you go down
on
her, Avril. Then I want to see the two of you sucking my cock and licking my cum off each other’s tits.’

‘No way.’

‘Is that jealousy speaking?’

I shook my head. ‘She creeps me out.’ Jenny smiled slowly, lips zipped together. ‘Get her out of here. I don’t want her in my house.’

Michael shrugged and stepped away. ‘Your call. We can go. You always have a choice, Avril.’

I swallowed hard, flustered. When Michael glanced back over his shoulder there was a wicked glint in his eye.

‘No?’

Bastard. He knew he had me. He knew that I was a junkie for the touch and the taste and the smell of him, for the way he looked at me, for the way he disturbed me. My mutinous glare meant so little compared to the weakness in my legs and the wetness between them. My whole body betrayed me. I couldn’t keep up the defiance and its collapse must have been visible in my expression though I said nothing, could say nothing. Michael was suddenly standing before me. With complete assurance, eyes locked on mine, he reached through the slit in my robe, cupping my mons and delving between my legs. I went rigid. He withdrew without hurry, holding his hand up for inspection and raising an eyebrow.

‘Hmm?’ His fingertips were slippery with my moisture.

I shook my head, wide eyed. Jenny smirked.

‘Taste it,’ he ordered, showing his teeth. ‘Taste it and tell me you’re not ready for me.’ He touched my lips. I licked my own sharp juices from his fingers, reluctantly at first, then thoroughly. My cheeks were aflame with shame. ‘I think that’s the answer I’ve been waiting for.’ Still watching me with that appraising glint, Michael removed his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. Then he sat down on the sofa, at the far
end
from Jenny, and patted his thigh. ‘Come on,’ he said softly.

Eyes downcast I came to him and sat in his lap. Every step was a surrender. I knew he could feel my trembling, the last vestiges of my inner struggle. He traced his fingers across the silk on my back and bum. His legs were hard slabs of muscle beneath mine. He kissed my cheek but when I turned my mouth to his, my lips already parted and yearning, he withheld his kiss, his smile lazily triumphant.

My dressing gown wouldn’t stay together over my bare legs.

Without fuss and without force he took my wrists round to the small of my back and held them there, crossed over. He only used one of his hands to pin me, and I could have broken the grip easily, but the very fact that he had to put so little physical effort into mastering me was a glaring demonstration of my submission. The posture thrust my tits out. With his free hand Michael played with the open edge of my garment, the line where silk and skin met. Then he glanced over at Jenny. Uncoiling from her perch on the far arm, she came down the sofa towards us. I could see now that her slick, plastic-looking dress was made of pondweed, the kind that lies in sheets under the surface. With her nails she slit it down the front and discarded it, revealing a palely green body beneath, slight except for the swell of her rounded breasts. Her nipples were large and, like her nails, black; they seemed to stare at me. I looked away, unable to meet their unblinking gaze.