I lay down and placed his other hand on my right breast. My only breast. I am here. I need you. I love you, my cloudy eyes relayed.
He dropped his head as a tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek to the circular line of blood droplets on his jaw. Without words, he crawled over and lay beside me. I pressed my body against him as he rolled toward me, face-to-face. I felt heat as he ran his hand up my back. It was difficult to focus on the things I used to think about when we were lying together like this. I felt his hardness as he pulled my leg up over his. He squeezed my bottom and buried his face in my neck. His kisses felt warm and moist. I wanted him still, as I used to. I thought of our many romantic moments and many nights making love in this very bed, our bed.
As his musky scent floated up into my face again, I found my thoughts drifting from making love to…to eating? My mouth filled with saliva as my arousal took on a different meaning. I wanted to eat and felt an overwhelming craving for him, his flesh. With each kiss and passionate caress, I fought harder and harder but remembered less and less. I went from remembering fondly the last time we had sex in the car to the pleasure I would feel by sinking my teeth into the thick muscle of his chest.
Thomas pulled away as I scratched my nails down his arm. “Ow, babe, what…why are you doing that?”
I pulled him closer and rolled over on top of him. Pinning him down between my legs, I leaned in and pursued the taste of his mouth, every inch. Our tongues fought for control as I thrust my hips and rubbed myself against the hardness beneath me. I slowly pulled myself up and lifted my gown over my head. With a toss, it was on the floor and I was pressing myself against his chest. My thoughts of love, passion and pleasure were replaced with hunger, need and delirium. I fought again to uncover the memories and reasons I never wanted to leave him. But as he rubbed my back and squeezed my bottom in his hands, I became foggy and confused. Night was day and dark was light. I did not recognize my thoughts or my feelings.
The desire to feel him inside of me quickly lost out to a searing anger that crept in and demanded control. The combination of an undefined hunger and unconscionable rage bloomed in my spirit and forced me to bite down on his lip and tug. Blood filled his mouth and flowed into mine, fueling the rage that I did not understand. As he pulled away, I pushed closer. The taste was an explosion of satisfaction akin to a cold drink of water in a hot desert. I needed it and fought to keep it. I gripped his head and drank in the metallic flavor as if there was nothing else in the world. My hips continued to thrust and grind against him, growing faster with the approach of my climax.
Galvanized by fear and survival, Thomas managed to tear away from my teeth sunk into his flesh, and struck me across the face. I felt no pain as he erupted from the bed with blood dripping down his chin. The rage driving me and forcing me to feed picked me up and lunged me back at him. He swung at me again and I fell into the trail of blood on the floor that he left behind in his escape.
“Shit, Kay, what in the hell are you doing?” he yelled as I fought to sit up.
“I’m…sorry?” I moaned as I looked up at him, fighting to remember what just happened.
“What’s going on?” Thomas said as he walked to the chair in the corner and sat down. “Why is this happening?”
I pulled myself back up onto the bed and carefully watched him. My aroused state remained as I relaxed back against the pillow and allowed my fingers to explore the damp place between my legs. I slowly stroked myself as I inhaled the coppery scent of his blood in the air, which sparked my memory of why he was bleeding. The remaining tendrils of humanity in me wanted to cry, beg for his forgiveness, but it was short-lived as I watched him stand there and sensed the fear that had been building. He glared at me from the corner as I savored the aroma that consumed my senses and helped me reach an orgasm.
“Stay here,” he said as he rushed from the room. The loud bang echoed off the walls as the door slammed. I stayed.
Thomas paced across the hard tile floor as he stared at the photos on the door of the refrigerator. Fun times, holidays, picnics, all the things he would miss out on now. But would he? She’s still alive. Kay is here. Thomas let a smile form as he thought about having his wife back. He had been resigned to losing her forever. He had accepted their fate and was prepared to be alone. The sickness invaded their lives, allowing her to linger for years. Just when they thought it was beat, it reared up in true carcinoma fashion and destroyed the future they had planned. His acceptance, however, was not reciprocated. Kay fought every ounce of it, would not accept her destiny. After the loss of Elizabeth, she would not allow another death to consume her husband again. She almost refused to let it take her. Every moment, every treatment, every hope, filled her heart. He knew she would lose the battle. And now…
And now she was lying there in the bedroom, waiting for him, wanting him. But what was she doing? Why couldn’t she speak to him clearly? More importantly, Thomas thought, where was her heartbeat? He thought about her pale, cold flesh and how odd it felt. She didn’t feel like his wife. Even during the chemo, her skin was soft and supple. Thomas dialed her doctor’s number, then slammed the phone down on the table as the answering machine picked up. He waited, then dialed again. Leaving a message that was sure to confuse the doctor, he poured a snifter of whiskey and sat at the kitchen table.
He stared at the closed bedroom door as the first sip of Johnny Walker Red stung his injured lip. A warm, sharp sensetion filled his mouth and flowed down his parched throat. The burn met his stomach as tears formed and threatened to flow down his cheeks again. By the fourth sip he was evaluating her once-beautiful eyes. Now when he looked into her face, he saw only dull gray eyes, cloudy and lifeless. Thomas finished off his whiskey and set the glass on the table with a thump. He traced the rim with his finger, fondly remembering the first time he convinced her to try scotch. He wiped at a tear that had escaped his eye as a sharp pain reminded him of the bite on his jaw. It continued to throb with each beat of his heart. And that…what was that? She attacked him. What more would she have done had he not struck her? He winced as he remembered the sound of the slap. He had never raised a hand to his wife and never would. But this was not his wife. She was…something else.
Thomas watched the shadows grow long as the sun set behind the house. Time didn’t exist, or at least didn’t matter as he tried to make sense of the day and what he had witnessed, what he was feeling. He stood in the window and squinted at the bright orange glow, listening to the birds sing. He closed his eyes and pictured the day they had installed the bird feeders, and he allowed another smile. She loved the birds, the flowers, the spring. In his heart, Thomas felt the desire to hold her. Regardless of the circumstances, his wife was in there, waiting for him, needing him. She was there, after he had thought she was gone forever.
Thomas lifted the window to hear the orchestra of birds a little clearer and a small breeze lifted up and carried the scent of honeysuckle into the room. His senses were consumed by the aroma and his mind drowned in the familiarity of it. He was not ready to let go after all. His desire to hold her blossomed into a desire to feel her body, taste her skin, fill her with his need. Thomas moved toward the bedroom door, drawn by an unseen force. It was his soul being pulled to hers, needing her, wanting to be one with her. Their love was too strong. It was staggering, the purity with which they could love each other, and this unconditional love would not allow the bewildering reality to keep them apart. Thomas leaned against the door and grasped the knob. The low throaty moan of a voice he recognized resonated from the other side. His mind became jumbled as he tried to distinguish his feelings of excitement from his feelings of fear.
I waited on the bed, swimming in my own pool of confusion. I felt nothing that made any sense. I wanted to make love to my husband. I wanted to eat. Why were my only feelings those of hunger? A sexual hunger and a ravenous, feral hunger? Why did my heart not beat? How long had he been gone? Where was everything that used matter to me? I found myself s
lipping away and what used to be me was almost gone. Kay did not exist anymore. I had to mourn the death of my body and now I mourned the death of my essence, my soul. I was no longer there to fight the fierce predatory urges. I had no power at all. Each of my senses was alert to my surroundings but for only one thing—him. I wanted him, his flesh. I felt nothing else, heard nothing else, saw nothing else.
His aroma drifted through the cracks around the door. The wonderfully musky fragrance of a man as well as the metallic scent of fresh blood. My nostrils flared as I drew in his smell. His presence was a magnet to me and it brought me up from the bed and toward the door. My hunger responded to him, like a ship to a beacon on a stormy ocean. I pressed my hands against the door as the knob slowly turned. The door swung open as I stumbled back. Thomas walked in and grasped me in his arms. The warmth of his body and the feel of his strong hands sparked the old Kay in me as he pressed closer and squeezed me tight. Maybe I was not all the way gone. Maybe I could fight this a little longer.
Thomas walked me to the bed and laid me down. With his eyes closed he leaned down and kissed me gently on the forehead, then the cheeks and finally the lips. It was familiar and sweet and I reacted as I used to by kissing him deeply and without restraint. As his tongue explored my mouth, his hands explored my body. Stroking my thighs, my stomach and then my breast, his lips found the sensitive crease of my neck above my collarbone. I arched my back and ran my finger through his damp hair. Oh, Thomas. I was back in my world, my life, my love.
I felt the intensity of his desire as he settled between my legs, his body pressed firmly against mine. Our sensuality returned us to a time of no sickness, no medication, no death. I was winning, controlling it all. Thomas pulled my arms above my head and brought his lips to my mouth again. Planted beneath him, I savored the feel of his body and delighted in the surge of excitement that filled my stomach and stilled heart. For the first time since I awoke, my cold body generated heat. My need for him became intolerable as I rolled my hips up and allowed that precious warmth and moisture to caress and tease him.
“I want you,” I murmured into his ear.
“I love you so much,” he whispered as he struggled to sit up and remove his jeans.
As he pulled away, the space between our bodies did more than increase my longing; his taste on my lips woke the untamed Kay. I followed him up and grabbed his face between my hands. Pulling him to me, I placed my lips on his mouth, then nipped his lip. He jerked back for a moment, then took me into his arms and threw me back on the bed. With my arms pinned over my head again, he lowered his body onto mine. He looked into my eyes as his reservations dissolved. He ignored the things that bothered him before—the cloudy eyes, the cold skin, the nonexistent heartbeat. Tears rolled down his cheeks and landed on mine as I tried to reach his tender flesh with my mouth.
Thomas tightened his grip on my arms and lowered his face to mine. He kissed me again with such force that my own lip began to bleed and the once-soft kisses became a battle to consume each other’s mouth. The taste of his blood coated my tongue and enraged the new me. I fought it desperately as the weight of him between my legs fueled my eagerness to feel him inside me. Each of my desires was at war with the other, creating an agony that devoured my existence. Thomas moaned and pulled back from my face as I tilted my hips up and opened to him and the joining we both desperately needed. I watched his face through the cloudy mask of my vision as he entered me and began to satisfy my craving.
We moved together as one, like we used to do when we lived and loved and the world made sense. My pleasure, matched by his, escalated and made everything else cease to exist. No more life, no more death, no more pain and no more fear. He groaned over and over as our lovemaking overwhelmed and endured. Thomas released my hands as his thrusts became sharper, stronger and wild. I grabbed his back and raked my nails down his sides as blood from his lips dripped into my mouth. I caught sight of the wound on his jaw and pushed myself up and flipped him over onto his back.
Straddling him, I leaned forward and took his jaw into my mouth as I rode him toward climax. The old Kay retreated as the new Kay sucked the blood from the newly opened wound. Thomas moaned, then fought to push me away. Lost in my hunger, I planted my teeth deeper into his jawline. His moan turned into a scream as I pressed harder, then slid my lips down to the warm pulsating artery that ran down the side of his neck. I could sense Thomas reaching his climax so, as was always my habit, I forced the apex of my own and our coupling ended—two people, one shared explosion. At this most vulnerable moment, I tore into his neck and let the warm blood flow. Thomas screamed and tried to push me away.
“Stop…Kay…stop,” he mumbled as he let his arms fall back to the bed. “Why baby…why?”
The new Kay won as I devoured some of the lean muscle of his neck. He grabbed my head but could not move me as I continued to take what I wanted. Weakened, his grip on me slipped away as the life slowly flowed from his body. I leaned back and lay on the bed beside him, the blood covering us like a blanket. With both of my hungers momentarily satiated, I found my senses returning. I watched patiently as the light left his eyes.
“My Thomas,” I groaned.
The scent of honeysuckle flowed through the open door, reminding me of a life I had once lived. The metallic aftertaste on my tongue reminded me of a death I must endure, his death. I didn’t know how long I’d be waiting there but I knew somehow, with time, Thomas would be back.
NIGHT OF THE LOVIN’ DEAD
Ashley Lister
A my refused to succumb to fear.
She was the only woman walking into the depths of the night with half a dozen elder clansmen from the aédre village council. She was dressed in a sacrificial robe: a ghost-white, gauze-thin sheet that clung to the sylphlike contours of her otherwise naked figure. Tobin, the council’s senior woodsman, held a blazing lantern to lead the way. He was taking them through the strange and winding paths of the forest that hid the sacred warrior burial ground of the neighboring Blackwood clan.
But Amy refused to succumb to fear.
The untrustworthy companions, the ceremonial robe and the eerie destination would have petrified any other woman. But Amy was not scared. In truth, she couldn’t bring herself to feel any emotion other than intrigue. She was curious to learn how the night would develop and find out whether or not it would prove satisfying. She suspected, if the rumors she’d heard were true, the whole experience could prove to be very satisfying. The thought made a sly smile creep across her lips. It was a chilly night.
The robe offered no protection from the night’s cool air. They were taking a meandering path through the overgrown forest that surrounded the Blackwood burial ground. The skeletal fingers from hanging branches swayed down with each breeze and snatched at her flaxen locks. The sounds of the night were lost beneath the stomp of heavy boots breaking bracken, the swish of kilts and traveling swords catching undergrowth and the grunts of labored breath.
Her nipples stood hard with the cold.
The beads of stiff flesh thrust obviously against the gossamer fabric of the robe. She was aware that most of the men in the party had already noticed this detail. The thought made her cheeks burn dully with unenthusiastic embarrassment. At the back of her mind she rationalized that most of the elder clansmen had seen her exposed nipples at some point or another during her twenty-four years with the ǽdre village, so there should be no real sense of shame. And whilst that thought inspired a rush of smoldering, proud arousal, it also made her wonder if she had been chosen for this adventure because she was easy to bed.
Tobin walked briskly ahead. The wavering glow of his lantern, a flame cleverly captured by their mage in an open-topped glass phial, guided them like a mythic star. Tobin moved with the lithe assurance and light-footedness of someone born to walk moonlit forest pathways. He moved as though he was a spirit carried by the forest’s winds.
“Watch out for the roots,” Tobin warned. His voice was a soft whisper. “W
e’re almost there now. You should all keep your eyes skinned and your voices low.”
Amy made no response. She had not been speaking anyway.
To her left and her right she was escorted by two burly spearmen: Harald and Erik. They wore the dark orange hauberks of the ǽdre village militia. The council’s mage walked behind her whilst, ahead, Rex and Jorund remained side by side behind Tobin huddled together in the collusion of a whispered conversation.
Amy lowered her gaze to watch where her bare feet were treading.
Pine needles stung sharp against the exposed soles. Fallen bark and branches underfoot made each step unpleasant but not unbearable. The idea of being tripped by a bulging root was a threat to the pleasure of this experience so she kept her gaze fixed deliberately on each footstep.
From the periphery of her vision she could see the rigid thrust of her erect nipples. Despite the lazy chill of the night she was darkly aware of the rising heat that tingled in her loins. She could picture her broiling desire as a slowly warming need. She dearly hoped the ceremony would prove fulfilling. Her inner muscles clenched as though excited by the idea. A smile of lust-fueled anticipation spread across her lips. Her nostrils flared as she drank in lungfuls of the night’s softly scented air.
“Hurry up, Amarantha!”
Her smile disappeared. She didn’t need to look up to see who had called her name. Only Jorund was formal enough to use her full birth name. Jorund was a senior figure on the council and the most trusted advisor to their leader, Rex. In his stiff tunic of authority, decorated with the gold sash of his rank, Jorund looked like the embodiment of pomp and ceremony.
Amy did not care for Jorund.
His lips were twisted in a perpetual scowl. His scowl, on this journey it seemed, was perpetually directed at her. “Hurry up, Amarantha!”
“What’s the rush?” Amy raised her voice louder than necessary. Her retort rang sharply through the night air. “They’re dead. It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”
Love, Lust, and Zombies Page 17
