The Knight Of The Rose

by A. M. Hudson

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Thirteen

  I turned my head right at the moment that Mike, just below the tree, dr opped to his knees. In

  open palms, he held t

  he lacy fabric, his shoulders shaki

  ng as he whimpered, almost

  incomprehensibly, “Oh, baby. What has he done to you?”

  “Mike!” Emily ran up behind him, barely able to speak through her panting. “What di d you

  fi—” but her words stopped shor t as her steps slowed. “What...what is that?” As realisation set in,

  she hesitantly placed an awkward hand to Mike’s shoulder and squatted beside him.

  I looked away; my li mbs ran hot with shame—to know what Mike would be thi nking—and

  my heart picked up with longing—for how close they were to me, how, if my captor were human, I

  could scream—I could be saved right now.

  A numbing feeling of defeat swept over me. All I could control in my world were my own

  tears, so I held them back—holding my breath as if that might keep them at bay. “You’re a monster,

  Jason.”

  “Let’s see if you can’t come up with a new name fo r me once I finish with you. Now...” He

  gripped my throat firmly again and slowly rolled me backwar d onto the log-arm. “Shall we

  continue?”

  The scratch of bark on each bone in my spine meant nothing to me. I held onto the branch

  with both hands, letting tears trickle down my temples and over my ears as I watched my Zorro walk

  away—stumbling through his own, deep agony. Emily wrapped her arm around him, and his cries of

  anguish faded as he melted into the shadows.

  The rest of the hunters ran wildly across the clearing, shouting something about a blue dress

  on the other side of the valley. As they disappeared, the emptiness their silence left behind took the

  last promise of survival; I closed my eyes and said goodbye.

  “Are you done feeling sorr y for yourself, now?” Jason asked, looking down at me wit h a

  smug grin. “Can we finish what we started?”

  I nodded and unclenched my finge rs from the branch t o wipe my cheek, but Jason grabbed

  my wrist before I could remove the itch of salt.

  “Ara?” He leaned really close. “Don’t scream.”

  Would there be any point?

  The vampire smiled warmly, placing his stiff, icy hand over my mouth. “That’s a good girl.”

  It was only once he brought my wrist to his lips that I realised what he was going to do. The

  scar on my other hand tingled—the one David left when he drank my blood—and as the moist touch

  of Jason’s lips spread across my fl esh, my heart composed a muffl ed whimper of devastation; I shut

  my eyes tight and held onto the branch, digging my nails in.

  Like the first cut in the flesh of a peach, four razor pins pierced my skin with the same dull

  pop my earring made earlier. The scream I promised not to release etched its way up my throat as the

  spicy venom rushed al ong my veins, pulsing and t wisting them like worms under sand. My fingers

  curled and my teeth bit together in my mouth, cutting into my tongue as my legs shot out straight and

  thrashed about violently—trying to fight off the feeling of lava ants carrying my flesh away to their

  queen. All sound blotted out around me—leaving only the sordid sucking of Jason enjoying his kill.

  And as the blood pulsed to the place where his lips rested, the drawing sensation made a flash image

  of a string being drawn up a straw come to mind. It felt unnatural.

  My muffled cry wore out t he back of my throat then turned to a high-pitched shriek when he

  released his hand from my mouth and tore his fangs away from my flesh without loosening his bite.

  The skin came away with a long, peeling sensation, and my arm twitched violently as each nerve

  separated from the flesh.

  The white shock of pain locked my body into stillness. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t make my

  voice find my lips; they quivered, sitting parted, fighting to feel the air brush past them. But there

  was no air—no air, no hope. Nothing but pinching fingers at the base of my throat, locking me down

  in an air-tight coffin.

  When the pain of his venom rus hed back through my arm in the opposite direction, a

  weathered gasp lurked in the pit of my voice. “Make it stop!” I cried. The muscles in my wrist had

  come loose, I was s ure, leaving the edges of my skin floating on a wild, ho t wind—freezing, then

  burning. “Please stop! Please.”

  “I’ll stop when you’re dead.” He gripped my arm tighter, forcing the tremble into my

  shoulder as he smeared his t ongue across the wound. I tried to roll my body out from under his—to

  send myself to the ground—but he held me fiercely, I couldn’t get free.

  And all the lies David told me—that he’d always catch me when I fell; how he’d al ways be

  there to protect me; how venom numbs the flesh when a human is bitten—thrashed about on the

  trails of my agony, rising in waves of hatred for all—for all man, all vampires, for everything that

  ever was or ever would be. I wanted it to stop. Life to stop. The world to stop. I wanted to scream, to

  cry with all my heart and beg him to tell me why. Why? Why aren’t you here. Why did you leave me

  to die like this?

  This pain doesn’t belong to me. This isn’t me. I shouldn’t be here.

  The corners of my mouth gaped as I sobbed aloud, imaging my Mike finding me and cradling

  me in arms of safety, saying, Baby, I’m here. I’m here, you’re safe now. And he would. He’d make it

  all okay. He’d make it stop.

  The vampire laid his body atop mine, and I pushed against his chest while he drew the blood

  from my hand.

  David? I turned my head and looked at the empty expanse of space beside me. David. Please

  come for me? Please don’t leave me here to die.

  Jason drew his lips away, moved them up my arm, over my shoulder, and stopped for a

  moment, kissing the softer skin on my chest. The same searing pain from my wrist started over my

  heart—stopping my tears with a short gasp as I tensed from my ankles to my ribs. I opened my lips

  to scream, but Jason reached up—keeping hi s lips to my skin—and gripped th e base of my throat

  between two fingers—blocking the sound with my own tongue. I gagg ed, fighting, scraping at his

  fingers with my undamaged hand, but each time I tried, the hold became tighter—trapping my own

  anguish inside of me.

  After a moment, he released his grip; I swallowed with the sudden ability to breathe, rubbing

  my swollen tongue over the roof of my mouth. Tiny, rasping breaths of agony lifted my chest in

  quick, laboured jolts—it felt like a large piece of bread was stuck in my throat.

  “I can’t—” I stammered. I can’t breathe.

  He rubbed his thumb across my throat—almost as if he were rubbing away the lump—and

  the tension in my body eased, oozi ng away as my lips became dry and the venom in my limbs

  seemed to seep into my muscles. I coul d actually feel it assimilate, like dropping food-dye into a

  glass of water.

  The park had gone completely quiet below—the hunters, moved on. From up here, I could

  just see their torchlight in the distance, cove ring the miles in rapid succession. I watched them

  disappear into the dark—praying they stayed away until Jason was gone.

  The predator wiped his sleeve along his mouth, breathing heavily as if he’d just enjoyed ar />
  swig of cola on a really hot day. “I knew you’d ta ste lovely, Ara-Rose. After all, my brother always

  did like them...sweet.”

  The violent quiver of my jaw made my teeth clatter in my mouth, and my limbs contorted

  into a stiff hold —seemingly detached from my control. I stole a glance at Jason’s ey es; he stared

  back at me with a cruel and intent smile under the smear of blood across his lips. “You know, where

  I come from—in America, we have another name for the autumn.” His soft whisper brushed against

  my ear. “We call it— fall.”

  Nothing but a breath of perfect silence passed me, while a cool breeze lifted my hair from my

  face before the ground rushed up to meet me, like a rock on a snail.

  My eyes flashed open as I rebounded from the first impact, becoming conscious just in time

  to feel the next hit more severely. The resonating sound of dry pasta snapping between teeth echoed

  in my mind as I laid dishevelled, unable to mo ve on the ground where my Zorro had been only

  moments ago.

  Jason landed softly beside me —falling into a crouched pos ition. Though I was weary and

  suffocating under pain, I could now see his face per fectly in the darkness. He stared at me with a

  wide, indulgent grin, then, he leaned down and shifted my body—curving my twisted, ragdoll limbs

  around to the correct position. They were broken, I was sure. I coul d feel them move, but they felt

  like the empty sleeve of a coat—lank and hollow.

  I should have died from a fall that high, but I’m alive still—just long enough now for him to

  torture me to death.

  “Death?” Jason snorted. “That would be a blessing, Ara.” He traced a snake-like line over the

  base of my ribs. “I will not be finished with you until you are beyond dead.”

  I closed my eyes tightly; in my agony, while he had ripped at my flesh, my mind had believed

  he was David—but with my eyes closed, hearin g only the sound of his voice, I knew f

  rom the

  deeper, almost timid tones, that it wasn’t him. The words beyond dead repeated in my thoughts, and

  the feel of his voice in my mind made me want to squirm away; what can you do wors e to a person

  than kill them like this?

  “Something tells me—” he rested his hand firmly against my inner thigh, “—you’re about to

  find out.”

  I wanted to break free from the putrid chill of his fingers, but I couldn’t move anything on my

  body, except my fingertips and toes.

  “Damn it.” Jason looked up suddenly, over his shoulder.

  I held perfectly still, fighting inside to rid the creeping, icky feeli ng tingling up my spine—

  branching out from where his hand rested against my leg.

  I don’t want this end. I don’t want to lose my virginity like this—I just wanted to be loved, to

  feel the touch of a person that wanted me like I wanted them.

  Please not this, Jason, please—kill me, but don’t do this to me?

  He looked back from his distraction and studied my face for a long mom ent, then his e yes

  slightly narrowed.

  Warm tears ran in streams over the sides of my face, and the burning in my limbs ce ased,

  giving way to a dull, knife-like sear through my leg and my arm. They were definitely broken, but

  my mind focused only on Jason towering over me.

  He shouldn’t be this cl ose to my skin—he has no right to touch me this way. I wi sh I could

  move, because then I’d kick him in the groin again, but this time, I’d make sure his balls touched his

  throat.

  “Now, now, sweet Ara. Be nice.” Jason rose up over my body to wipe the tears from my eyes.

  After a second, he cocked his head. “Even as you lay here at my mercy, even so batter ed and so

  broken, you are still so perfect. I am sorry I have to take your life; it will be a sad waste.” His hand

  covered my face entirely, closing my eyes and stroking past my lip s and chin, stopping against my

  throat. “But, revenge, my dear, is often suffered by those who do not deserve it.”

  Each breath I took responded to my panic as Jason slowly lowered his head and crept his way

  along my flesh, meandering a careful swerve of putridly soft kisses over my navel, then my hips.

  When his warm breath puffed against my upper thigh and his hand cl enched my leg, I cri ed

  inside, gripping the fingers of my venom-infused hand through my hair.

  No, please stop—please don’t, Jason.

  The familiarity of the leaves rustling above me and the garden-scented breeze made my heart

  ache for normality. Even the stars, once so mysterious, seemed only so familiar to my weary eyes as

  I watched them, wishing on each one for something, anything to come along and save me from this.

  I couldn’t see Jason, co uldn’t tell from the way he touched me what he was about to do, but

  his hot breath on my inner thigh made a thousand thoughts rush through my mind—and none of them

  were good.

  Then, like a cone-shaped needle broke the flesh, he sank his teeth in to my leg. A wash of

  fear and agony stole a squeal from my lips; it split the air like a thousand knives through an eternity

  of silence and echoed off the emptiness all around me. My thigh bone seemed to tighten with the

  ferocious burning, making the scream leave my lips and move deeper into my soul—

  resounding from the back of my throat in the highest save-me-God-save-me pitch I’d ever heard.

  Finally, all life, all s ound faded, and my cry became only a distant shriek, like a whistle

  blowing. But even when I closed my mouth, panting as t he pain shot through my hip, the whistle

  continued.

  Then, I heard a holler; “She’s over here—over here.”

  The whistle blew once more, echoing in my mind as if I were spinning in a plastic bin.

  Jason sighed. “Why did you have to go and scream? Now you’ve ruined all my fun.”

  The cold night air burned my throat as it scraped into my lungs, dragging vestiges of Jason’s

  sweet scent with it—a scent that once reminded me of love, but now, only wreaked of cold fear.

  He landed on the grass next to me, his body stretched out alongside mine. “They’re coming

  for you.”

  I tried to nod. I knew t his much, but I knew he wasn’t finished with me yet, either. Vampires

  are fast—he had plenty of time.

  Just promise me you won’t hurt any of them, Jason.

  His green eyes softened, turning bright as the life-force of my blood fuelled him. “My carp is

  not with them. But, I want you to know, Ara,” his voice became low and deep—he leaned over my

  body and spoke into my brow, “I’v e enjoyed our ti me together—although it’s been cut short . I will

  watch when they come for you. I want to see what your replacement thinks when he finds his tr ue

  love broken and s hamed on the ground, like a worthless whore that nobody l oved—that nobody

  cared to fight for.”

  My body felt no more pain, but the truth of his words ached more than my flesh had. The

  venom had burned in my limbs for so long that they were numb to all he could think of to hurt me—

  except the truth, which made my heart feel all the rage, sadness and longing of a betrayed nobody.

  Jason’s right. David never came for me. Even until Jason dropped me from the tree, I still ,

  stupidly, believed he would come—but he didn’t. And now I will die alone. I will die disgraced and

  abused, and Mike will find me.

  I’
m glad—I’m so glad I get to die; I couldn’t bear to live if I had to look, for one second, into

  the faces of those I love after disgracing myself, ruining my own life with naïve and wild-heart ed

  foolishness. I should never have loved David—but I will love him anyway, for all time.

  A sharp, tight grip encapsulated my throat, and Jason’s cheek touched my jaw as he sank his

  teeth into my neck. I laid perfectly still. My body twitched nervously—convulsing without t he

  knowledge of my brain. But I felt calm inside—unable to process what I was suffering.

  “Your blood is running thin.” Jason sat up a l ittle; two lines of red dripped from the corners

  of his mouth—just like David wh en he drank from me by the lake . Then, without wi ping it away,

  Jason forced his lips on mine.

  The blood, like licking salt off a metal spoon, burned my throat as his tongue forced my lips

  apart and touched inside my mouth. His tuxedo scratched against my naked chest, and he held my

  face in his hands, forcing his lips harder against mine. I couldn’t get away, and I could no longer

  breathe. I could no longer even try.

  It’s nearly over now. The nigh tmare was fading away with the stars in the sky. Only seconds

  left—I could feel it. I’ll miss life—I’ll miss David, but at least the suffering is over.

  Jason pulled slowly back from my lips, and studied me. I felt the fear in my eyes flood away

  with the serenity of near-death, and I’m sure I smiled. “Tell Davi d...I love...him,” I muttered weakly

  into the memory—not a message for Jason to deliver, but a part of the story before the end. David

  will hear it when Jason shows him the memor y, and he’ll know that, even in death, it was his name

  on my lips.

  The stars blurred into one t hin silver line, and the ni ght sky surrounded me. For a second, I

  saw them; Mum and Harry—not hing more than a flash—just a flicker of a memory—standing there

  behind Jason. They were waiting for me. I wanted to run to them, call to them, ask them to help

  me—for anyone to help me. But I knew they weren’t really there, an d that even if they were, they

  couldn’t help. There is no help. People die every day. People suffer every day. Who’ s there

  for them? Who comes to save them?