Killing Kiss

by Sam Stone

  ‘Drink up,’ Nate calls, and though we are back to back, Lilly and I gulp down our drinks in perfect unison.

  The rest of the evening blurs. I look at my hands. There is a strange tingling sensation in my finger tips. I feel less stiff and actually want to relax, drop my façade for once. I dance for a while with two girls who also attend some of my classes. They are like moths to my flame; but I am careful not to touch them no matter how delicious they look, wrapped up like prepared corpses in their dirty sheets. I don’t know their names because they are unimportant to me. They are like every other girl you see on campus. I have a vague recollection of seeing one or the other in jeans and cropped top earlier that day. Her stomach was bulging over the low cut waistline of her jeans. Modern girls really do not know how to dress.

  ‘We could go in the other room?’ one suggests, and the other giggles. ‘The three of us.’

  I laugh but shake my head. ‘Sorry. Already spoken for.’

  ‘You’re off your tree, mate,’ says Dan swooping in for the kill. ‘I’ll go with you.’

  But they’re not interested, much to Dan’s dismay.

  ‘Come on. You girls need another one of Nate’s special drinks.’ Dan leads them away to the kitchen which seems to be the heart of this party. What a frightening thought. I sway on among a few other die-hards; my inhibition seems to have disappeared and I forget that Carolyn still hasn’t shown despite her promise that she would be there; after ‘dumping Steve’. So I try to mingle, act like a student. This includes two more drinks, and though they still taste bad I don’t really seem to mind. I turn and dance, the pulsing rave - noise - (I just can’t begin to call it music) that Nate favours starts to have an odd affect on me and I find myself shaking my body in the same strange tribal moves that the others have.

  I come face to face with Lilly. We are dancing. Our hands touch - I’m insane - and the lust courses from me into her and back again and the strangest circle of emotion gushes up one arm and back out the other, until I no longer know from whom the power originates. Her aura shines unchecked now and I am almost blinded by it. She is as remarkable as she is beautiful. Her lyrical laugh echoes through the room as we twirl together in some strange, rhythmic, pagan dance that is both alien and familiar.

  How odd I feel; so out of control. I know it is not the alcohol, which always has little effect on me. Maybe it is her. Curious. Her nearness is staggering. She is an electric current, flowing through a river.

  ‘Oh!’ she gasps letting go of my hands.

  I realise my fangs are extended, such is the level of my excitement, and I carefully fold then away before others see. She moves closer again. Like a naja hypnotising its potential victim, I sway in rhythm with her. Though her life force beckons I am now very afraid to touch her.

  The air in the room thins and like my dream - I am drowning. It is her aura that suffocates me as it reaches out; rushes over me like glutinous liquid. It paws me, tests me, as though it has a mind of its own. Though she clearly doesn’t know what she is doing to me. It is madness but I can’t help it. I reach for her, unable to prevent my hands surrounding her small waist. The lust tugs at me, and we sigh in harmony as my breath returns and I feel more in control of her distinct power.

  We bend together again. Her lips beckon but as I lean closer it is to her ear that I press my mouth.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I say, afraid I will take her here and now.

  ‘Yes.’ She is breathless too and yet her musical voice has never thrilled me more.

  I notice Alice arriving wrapped in a greyish cloth that’s pretending to be white. Her face drops at the sight of Lilly and I holding hands. I know she will tell Carolyn. Despite this my hand tightens over Lilly’s and I pull her quickly through the door and out of the seedy apartment.

  ‘Well!’ Alice calls behind us. ‘Did you see that? Not his type ...’

  I shudder knowing that I may be destroying weeks of working on Carolyn but I cannot help myself. I am a junkie; starved of my fix so long that rational thought has completely fled.

  ‘We need a taxi,’ I say, frantic. ‘And there’s never a cab when you need one.’

  ‘Why? Where are we going?’

  ‘My place.’

  ‘But ... I thought you lived on campus.’

  ‘I do, kind of.’

  I know now I am insane. I don’t know why I am taking her to my penthouse or what I plan when we arrive there. God help me, I am desperate to love her tonight, even if it means that I must go to ground immediately without sufficient preparation. What am I thinking? There are just too many witnesses to our exit. I don’t know what I’m doing, only that I want her as any man wants a woman. Anymore than that is beyond my reasoning. I shake my head; release her hand. This just isn’t like me. I never take risks.

  My head begins to clear. Reason returns briefly until Lilly trips over the uneven path leading from Nate’s off-campus flat and I catch her quickly as she stumbles forward. Before I can help it I scoop her up and we are airborne. The shock leaves her dazed.

  I am a maniac revealing myself to her like this and I know that whatever happens tonight, she cannot be allowed to tell my secret. We rocket above the campus; the buildings of the halls are lit up, and music drones out of several different windows, blurring and merging into one offensive sound. As I go higher gravity seems to have less pull on me, and the sound recedes leaving only a faint hum to intrude on my receptive ears. I feel like King Kong making off with Fay Wray; I am as equally slain by Lilly’s beauty.

  She shivers in my arms, and I pull her limp body closer to mine, looking at her glazed, half open eyes. The night air is chill. Is she cold? I kiss her unresponsive lips, aware this is our first, breathing warmth into her but she doesn’t respond.

  The roof of the penthouse is just below my apartment. I pull open the skyline window; it’s always unlocked. After all, only another supernatural being could stand on a sloping glass roof and enter my apartment. I carefully lower her down into the walk-in wardrobe. She flops, but pulls herself up on the door as I slip down beside her. She looks around, taking in the sparse furnishings of the spare room; a double divan, art deco dresser and stool with matching bedside tables and lamp. I take her hand and lead her out into the large hallway, tossing my keys onto the glass table by the front door as I pull her down the hall.

  She jerks more upright, becoming alert to her surroundings for the first time as we enter the lounge, which I know she will find very masculine, perhaps even cold. There is no chintz in sight because I favour contemporary minimalism. Still holding hands we walk over the plush cream carpet to the tan leather chaise facing the television; what can I say? There are many long nights in immortality. She can’t tell how very sad this all is because I’ve filed away the videos from the last movie spree; the room looks quite empty and spacious. As always it appears too neat to be lived in.

  For an awkward moment we look at each other. Eventually I break eye contact, because I know that she can’t. The lust recedes a little as I let go of her hand, but waits on the surface of my skin to be ignited.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ I am ill at ease.

  Like a waking dreamer she shakes herself, looking around cautiously.

  ‘What is this place? How ... ?’

  ‘My home. I have several around the world, cheesy as it seems. This one I set up over a year ago.’

  I don’t know why I’m telling her this. My apartment is modest by the standards of my other homes, but I expect her to be impressed. Instead she looks glum.

  ‘Christ! I guess your dad really is worth millions then. A city centre pad made of glass.’

  It seems she has forgotten the glimpse she had of my fangs and our journey here has had no impact. How odd. She walks the room running her French manicured fingers over the glass topped coffee table. It is a favourite of mine
with its miniature Greek statues of Aphrodite in each corner as the legs. I can’t take my eyes off her. In her toga she seems to be Venus come to life.

  Enthralled, I watch her move smoothly to the window that covers the entire right wall. She looks out through the one-way glass; mirrored for privacy. She glances out onto Deansgate.

  ‘This is stunning.’

  ‘You should see it from the roof.’

  A foolish comment, but I am a dithering wreck in the pull of her spirit. Our eyes convene and once again I break the contact. Her knowing look is too much for me. After four hundred years I feel inexperienced compared to this twenty-first century girl. In the dull light of my lounge her eyes are olive coloured. She scans the room; her intense gaze falls behind me and I stiffen as I realise she has noticed the lockets.

  ‘What’s that?’

  Helpless I stand by as she walks round me to the hexagonal cabinet. My curse, always displayed wherever I live, reminds me daily that I am a sick and perverse murderer. Lilly casts an eye over the hundreds of ornate gold necklaces, each unique, like the owners of the strands of hair within them. I hold my breath.

  ‘Are these antique?’ she asks, without glancing at me.

  ‘Some.’

  ‘Unusual ...’ she murmurs. ‘I guess they are your mother’s collection?’

  ‘My mother’s ... ? Yes, that’s right.’ Of course she’s still under the illusion that I am a student, just like her.

  ‘What have you got?’

  I look at her blankly.

  ‘I would like a drink, thanks.’

  Embarrassed by my lack of courtesy I open the drinks cabinet and I fix her a drink, Martini and lemonade, while she sits on the chaise; her white sandals discarded haphazardly on the floor as she tucks her feet up under herself. Her eyes glow up at me with curiosity and anticipation as I place it in her hand. She reminds me ...

  ‘How about some music?’ I suggest, automatically switching on the CD player.

  My throat is tight. I still don’t know how this has happened and why Lilly is here when it should be Carolyn.

  ‘Purcell,’ she sighs as she sinks back into the chocolate and cream cushions. ‘Dido’s Lament. I’ve always liked this.’

  Her eyes close and she appears to be sleeping. I step forward mesmerised and surprised that she recognises the music, let alone the composer. She is ... different from all other girls in this century. Why didn’t I notice this sooner?

  ‘What’s your real name?’ she asks suddenly.

  I stare at her. Silent. Her eyes are still closed and her body still, save for the gentle rise and fall of her lovely (I have to say) breasts.

  ‘It’s not just Jay, is it?’ she continues.

  Is this some form of human intuition? Slowly she opens her eyes and I notice that the green iris is drowned out by the black of her dilated pupils. All becomes clear. Obviously our drinks were spiked by the not-so-charming Nate. My guess is Ecstasy. How stupid of me not to check the drink before tasting it. This explains why my control has slipped but it could be to my advantage. She may never remember being here or anything we discuss. I could send her away now, before it is too late.

  Her blood sings to me, pumping steadily through her veins. I can almost hear my own name echoed in every beat that thumps through her youthful heart. I open my mouth to tell her to leave.

  ‘My name’s Gabriele,’ I say, moving closer to her despite myself. ‘But I’d be asking for trouble calling myself ‘Gay’ for short.’

  Her throaty laugh brings a purely male response to my fangs and they thrust down painfully, bursting from my gums as excitement bubbles through my blood. Long, sharp and hungry, my blood lust chases away the remaining affects of the drug. I step back; feel slightly confused as my head clears and I am no longer insane.

  ‘Come. I’ll take you home.’

  She holds out her hand and I take it, intending only to help her rise but the contact takes me over the edge. I’m lost. I wrench her forward, gorge myself with her lips; she tastes of Martini and the subtle under taste of toothpaste. I assault her mouth, feeling the rushing of blood through her tongue as I lick and explore. She is like Brighton rock and I am a man starved of sweets. It is all I can do to stop myself from biting that sugary tongue, raping that lovely throat.

  I am used to leading and I’m shocked when her tongue swirls skilfully around mine. Dancing briefly over my teeth; but she still doesn’t notice my fangs.

  ‘Let’s dance,’ I gasp, pulling back, my body trembling with the exertion of self control.

  ‘To Purcell?’

  ‘Always.’

  I pull her closer, moulding our bodies together. I am quivering with anticipation of her touch. I hear a growl, and realise it has escaped from my own lips. I find her mouth again and she moans softly, matching my rhythm, with tongue and hips until I jerk away once more. Such sweet suffering; it is too much. My excitement knows no bounds and I am terrified I will bite too soon. My lack of control is scandalous. Determined, I begin to pull away; I shouldn’t pursue this further.

  Then. Deliberately. She bites me. A playful nip that draws blood. I freeze. The salty, metallic flavour drips into my mouth. I lick my lips like a rabid fox. My eyes fly open, landing on the glass cabinet as once again I possess her full lips.

  Lucrezia’s teeth bit deeply into the tender flesh of my groin and I was swallowed by the rapture of her sucking mouth.

  But no. I need control. I need ...

  ‘Lilly. You have to go ...’ The flashback is the final phase. ‘I can’t be held responsible. This isn’t meant to be ...’

  Her irises are completely black as she licks the blood from my oozing lip. Taking without love is so unsatisfactory, but sometimes I have to break my own rules ... And surely lust is almost as good?

  Lucrezia, pulled back, her head reared, fangs extended she strikes again just above my breast. Her eyes are opaque green, monstrous.

  ‘Lilly. Stop.’

  She sucks my bottom lip. ‘Why? You taste so lovely, Jay ... And I’ve always thought the sharing of blood was rather erotic.’

  I kiss her violently, forcing her head back, my tongue in her mouth. Even though she almost lies in my arms she does not feel helpless or vulnerable. She is not submissive. Her hands catch in my hair and it seems the pain I inflict arouses her more. I lift her, she allows it, but again this is far from acquiescence.

  I carry her back down the hallway, into my bedroom. When I stand her on her feet I am beyond aid. She sways a little but steadies herself against my double bed. I wait, helpless. I allow her to lead; she pulls at my toga, while hers falls away with little more than a shrug. Her hand falls on my chest, just above the faint scar left by Lucrezia’s vicious attentions, and strokes down over my nipples. My eyes close as she slips away the remains of her clothing. She is naked and I can’t look at her. Though her body feels ...

  Lucrezia’s firm breasts pressed against my chest as she lay over me. I was in a stupor, stunned and shocked from loss of blood.

  ‘Gabriele, my beautiful boy. You shall have me as no man alive ever has.’ She positioned herself above me.

  She was cold inside. Dead. Not a living breathing thing. She rocked her hips and my treacherous body responded as though it had a mind of its own. Her head scooped down and she licked the pulsing vein at my throat. I felt the sharpness of her teeth grazing the vein. I gasped. I no longer felt willing, merely unable to escape.

  Lilly’s body is so smooth and perfect and young; her life force is - She’s so tough that I feel like I have met my match; it rolls over my skin like an invisible hand. Is she like me? Oh Lilly! My hands roam her body. She is Braille to the blind. She measures my movements, matching them with her own; refusing to be anything but equal despite my overpowering passion.

  ‘I’m not like you, Gabriele.
I am immortal and your blood will keep me so.’

  The orgasm wracked through us both, forcing the blood to burst quicker from the artery as her waiting mouth convulsed over the wound matching the rhythm of climax. My eyes glazed and the coldness from her limbs slipped into mine as she took my warmth back into herself with every swallow.

  ‘It’s a shame. You are such a lovely boy, Gabriele, but death comes to all mortals. Is it not better to end beautiful and young in my arms, in such ecstasy, than to age, forever remembered as a doddering old fool?’

  ‘I ...’

  Darkness shifted around the corner of my vision. An icy abyss of eternity entered my soul.

  Starvation can turn the sanest of us from our rational thoughts. Lilly writhes beneath me. I take control of her at last, but this still does not feel like rape. The pleasure is oddly enhanced by this thought. She wants me. She pulls me into her, without fear, without any need for me to compel ... I am led, not leading, and I fall into her arms like a willing boy looking once again for his first experience.

  I lick her throat, feeling the vein swelling in response to my movements within the warmth of her body. She rises to meet me, her head thrown back, her artery offered; she’s shivering. Do I feel cold to her? I suck her throat gently; the vein rises farther, bulging against my tongue. My fangs throb fully extended and yet I hold back torturing us both.

  ‘Take me ...’ she says, and I wonder, does she really know what she’s offering?

  I raise my head, looking into her lovely face as her eyes open; cold and passionate in that one glance before they close again.

  She groans. Anger courses through me. Fury because, yes! Damn it she reminds me, despite my denial, of Lucrezia. Yes. Lilly you will feed me. Why not you? Why have I wasted all these years looking for a mate that cannot survive? Why not give in to my true nature and feed? Why not punish when I have been so punished and wounded and despised for surviving?

  I bite deeply and viciously. She whimpers.

  ‘Know how it feels. Feel your own death, Lilly.’