“Thanks,” said Ana.
Razvan looked at them again. “I'll go look for Bruce,” he said and disappeared through a side-door.
“Creepy,” said Ana.
“Would you say he’s more goth, or more steampunk?” Jenny muttered.
Ana’s scowl deepened.
They took their keys and climbed up three flights of stairs to the top floor. The stairs opened up to a small landing beneath the pitched roof.
Jenny opened her door and walked into a spacious bedroom with a slanting roof. The large bed was against the interior wall and faced a skylight. Jenny opened the curtains on the opposite wall and looked out into the sunshine. She could see the sea over to the left and fishing boats bobbing on the waves. Across the river, the town rose again in a cluster of houses to the green hill top with the graveyard and the craggy ruins of the Abbey.
It was quite a view, Jenny thought.
She poked her head into Ana's room. Her daughter was sitting on her bed looking at her phone.
“I'm going to sort the bags,” Jenny said.
“Fine,” said Ana.
Jenny skipped down the stairs. Despite her daughter’s moodiness and their strange concierge, she had a summer holiday feeling. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it, she thought, as she went outside into the sunshine and back through the rose garden.
On the street, a man was standing near her car as if appraising it. He was a stocky man in a tight black t-shirt with a shaved head. For a moment Jenny thought he was a car thief, but he turned to her and gave her a warm grin.
“Hi,” he said, “Mrs. Cooper?”
“That's right,” she said. “Jenny.”
“I'm Bruce. Thought I might be able to give you a hand with your luggage.”
Jenny quickly altered her evaluation, thinking Bruce looked a lot like a man who might give DIY advice on daytime TV.
“That would be wonderful,” she said, flashing him her best smile.
She opened the trunk, conscious of his eyes upon her. She looked up at him, expecting to catch him in the act of ogling, but he just smiled nicely back at her.
“Husband joining you later?” he asked innocently.
Jenny lifted the back of the car above her head and stood up. “No,” she said. “Just in the middle of a separation. Taking my daughter away for a holiday to try and get our minds off it for a while.”
“Ah, well, I get the prize for being the biggest idiot in town.”
Jenny smiled. “Forget it,” she said, “and take this. And this too.” She loaded him up with a suitcase and another bag, which he slung over his shoulder. They carried the bags to the top floor.
Jenny directed him to leave the bag in her daughter's room. “This is for Ana,” she said.
Bruce slid the bag off his shoulder. “Hello, Ana,” he said. “Hope you have a nice break.”
“Thanks,” said Ana, still sitting on the bed.
Bruce carried the suitcase into Jenny's room and laid it down next to her bed.
“You've been very helpful,” said Jenny, digging in her purse for a tip. “Thank you.”
“No tip, please—it’s my job,” said Bruce. “And my pleasure.” He smiled at her. “Have you been to Whitby before?”
“Oh, not since I was a child. It doesn't seem to have changed much.”
“What would change in fifteen years?” asked Bruce. “I've barely changed my underpants in that time.”
Jenny laughed. “That's very funny. At least, I hope you’re joking.”
“Of course. Every week for me,” said Bruce. “Regular as clockwork.”
“If we are being serious,” said Jenny, “then it's been about thirty years since I was here.”
“I would never have guessed that,” said Bruce, looking at her, “seriously. But it still won't be much different. Time tends to happen elsewhere.”
“I'm looking forward to reliving some childhood memories.”
“Look,” said Bruce, “I'm going to give myself a couple of hours off this afternoon. Have a walk along the harbor and get some seafood. If I could give you and Ana a little tour, it would be great. I would appreciate the company.”
Jenny stuck her head into Ana's room. “Do you want to come on a walk with us, Ana?” she asked.
To her surprise, Ana said, “Fine.”
“Super,” said Bruce. “I'll wait downstairs for you.”
When he had gone, Ana said, “Forget it, Mum. He's gay.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” said Jenny.
“You heard him,” said Ana, “his partner is Razvan.” She made a sprout-eating face when she said Razvan.
“Business partner, honey,” Jenny said.
Ana laughed out loud. “Whatever,” she said. “They’re gay.”
“Ana,” she said, “I didn’t realize you were so conservative.” Then she went to her room to wash her face and choose a change of clothes.
Bruce led them on a walk through the center of town, along the river and to the sea. He was a charming and interesting host, and so funny he even managed to make Ana smile on a number of occasions, though she tried desperately to hide it.
They walked alongside the harbor and Bruce bought them ice creams even though Jenny told him not to spend his money on her and Ana. “I can pay,” she said. “Really. I have a vacation fund and everything.”
“Best ice creams in Yorkshire,” he said. “Let it be my treat. Just be careful the gulls don't poo in them.”
“Are you married?” asked Ana.
“Just ignore her,” Jenny said, “she knows it’s rude to ask questions like that.”
Bruce smiled. “I don't mind. I was married once, but it didn't last long.”
“Why not?” asked Ana.
“I was in the army,” he said. “I guess in some ways I was married to the army. Shall we go over the river?”
He led them across the bridge and Ana turned to Jenny and said, “Married to the army. I think that means he's gay.”
Jenny snorted, trying not to laugh.
They walked up the hill to the long grass and weathered gravestones below the Abbey.
“Lot of goths around here,” observed Bruce.
“Steampunk,” corrected Ana.
“I see,” said Bruce. “Is that what you're in to?”
“Not really,” said Ana. “But it’s interesting. I like to see the people dress up. Everyday clothing is so boring.”
“You should talk to Razvan,” said Bruce. They sat down on a bench with the Abbey behind them and looked down at the town below them. “He knows a thing or two about dressing unusually.”
“He certainly seems to,” said Jenny.
“Is he your partner?” asked Ana.
Bruce laughed. “What? Is that what he said? Ha. Far from it. He just works here during the season. Cooks, does a few odd jobs in exchange for a little money and accommodation. He's an English teacher back in his own country and comes here in the summer to practice it.”
“Where's he from?” asked Jenny.
“Romania, maybe. Or somewhere similar. If you're interested in steampunk, there's a party in town tonight.”
“I'd love to go,” said Ana.
“Over twenty-ones only, I'm afraid,” said Bruce. “But your mum could go.”
When they arrived back at the guest house they found Razvan lounging in the front room, with his long nose in a classic work of literature.
“Jenny is interested in the steampunk party this evening,” said Bruce.
“I'm not really,” said Jenny. “I was just wondering, really.”
“Excellent,” said Razvan, slamming shut his book. “Starts at eight. I've given myself the evening off, so Bruce will have to stay in.”
“What?” said Bruce.
“Of course, you will need a costume,” Razvan continued.
“Well, I don't have any costumes, so it’s not really possible,” Jenny said.
“I have something for you,” said Razvan. “One moment.” He disappeare
d, then came back with a garment bag. The covering was dark, so Jenny couldn’t see the costume inside. “This will do,” Razvan said.
“What is it?” asked Jenny.
“It will be fine for you,” said Razvan dismissively. “Just put it on.”
Jenny looked at Bruce in question. He just smiled and nodded. “Nothing else for it,” he said. “Razvan always gets his way.”
As they climbed the stairs, Ana said, “He's weird, isn't he?”
“A bit odd,” Jenny agreed.
“He looks like Johnny Depp.”
Jenny was shocked. “No way. He looks nothing like him.”
“Yes,” insisted Ana. “A bit old and a bit strange. But still a bit good-looking.”
Jenny suddenly realized that maybe even Johnny Depp had finally become old.
“He looks like something from a Tim Burton film,” Jenny said. “That is probably true.”
She put on the costume and then knocked on Ana's door. Her daughter's eyes became as wide as saucers.
“A nun,” she exclaimed.
“This can't be right, can it?”
Ana shrugged. “Maybe. I don't know. You look good in it, anyway.”
“I look good as a nun,” said Jenny. “I'm not sure what to make of that.”
She went downstairs to find Razvan back in his chair with his book.
“Fabulous,” he said when he saw her. “Jenny, you look fabulous.”
“Are you going to change?” she asked him.
“But I have,” he said, even though the only thing that seemed to be different was that he had put on a red smoking jacket.
“What are you?” she asked.
“A vampire, of course,” he replied, looking a little disgruntled that she’d had to ask.
“But you look the same as normal,” Jenny said.
“Indeed,” said Razvan, taking her arm and escorting her to the door.
Well, this was not how she had expected her holiday to go, Jenny reflected as she walked down the street. She had expected her first night to be spent in bed with a book, not going to a party, dressed as a nun and escorted by a man who claimed to be a vampire.
She needed a drink, she decided, and when she got to the party she helped herself to a large one and from then on surprised herself by having a great deal of fun.
Razvan seemed to disappear and then mysteriously pop up again through the night, while she drank, chatted, and even danced a little with people she did not know. In the back of her mind she knew that this was the pent up frustrations of the previous months all coming out in one night's drinking. But there it was, she thought, she was on holiday.
Towards the end of the night the party spilled out onto the street and noisily made its way around the town towards the Abbey. Just as the full moon was rising above the hillside, she felt Razvan take her hand.
“Time for home,” he told her in his strange accent.
They seemed to glide through the city streets together and when they reached the guest house, the front door appeared to open before them.
“How you do that?” she asked drunkenly.
“Special talent,” he whispered.
“Do you have many special talents?” she asked.
“We shall see,” he said and they rose up the flights of steps and she knew that she was well and truly under his spell and he could have her now and there was no reason on God's earth why she shouldn't let him. “And I’m saying this,” she told him, “as a committed nun.”
He’d chuckled and kissed her neck.
In her room, Razvan pulled her into an embrace. Jenny could feel the cloth of her habit catching against the lush velvet of his long overcoat. Jenny let her head fall back so her white neck curved like a swan's and was exposed to him.
Razvan undressed her, slowly and gently. The moonlight played on her skin painting it white, and Razvan covered it with kisses. All the while he fingers caressed her back. To her complete amazement, Jenny felt herself slowly becoming more and more aroused.
“Shhh, shhh …,” Razvan whispered, caressing her breasts with his fingertips. All along he spoke to her in his strange and deep Eastern accent. He whispered and stroked her as if she were a nervous colt and that needed to be reassured before being broken in.
She felt a swelling of emotion inside her that escaped in a long a sigh. The emotions produced hot prickles of tears that welled in her eyes. She turned her face away from him as if ashamed, and with a long shudder she submitted and gave herself up to him.
He laid her down on the bed and bent over her. “You’re mine,” he said. “I’m going to savor you like a man before his favorite meal.”
Jenny felt herself placed on the platter, which was at once thrilling and downright repulsive. Involuntarily, she arched her back, supine before him, and she saw him lick his lips. In the cruel, cold moonlight Jenny could make out the moisture glistening on his brow and above his thin lips. His vermilion tongue appeared snake-like and flickered like a flame over his sharp, white teeth.
He laid a strong hand on her shoulder, and with surprising delicacy, the fingers worked her flesh. The hand traveled down the arch of her spine. The other hand lifted her off the bed towards him, while the first continued its inevitable voyage, tenderly tracing her curves, back, down, and around to the eventual roundness of her buttocks.
He raised his hand so that it touched her neck and the soft caresses of his fingertips on her throat raised the hairs all over her body. An electric charge spread throughout her. She felt she was in danger, but it was danger so delicious she hurried towards it. She knew now there was nothing she could do to prevent it and so she went on like a barrel bobbling towards the edge of the falls.
He ran his forefinger and thumb along her throat, sending a hard arrow of pleasure straight into her center.
“What is this mad spell have you put on me?” Jenny found herself asking in a husky and low whisper. The sound reverberated beneath his hand.
Razvan gazed deeply into her eyes. “The very same spell that you have cast on me.” His fingers moved up to her chin then her cheeks. Then he gently massaged her eyelids, ever so delicately so that he came in and out of focus.
With the other hand he reached down over her neck and let it play on her chest. He cupped her breasts, sighing in delight.
“Your breasts are absolutely divine,” he whispered. His joy was so real and unconfined, Jenny almost laughed. Not once in her life had she ever considered her breasts divine. Tom had never said as much and in that very moment Razvan had done what no man had done before and let a lifetime of concern about her body slip away as easily as he had taken her out of her clothes. She raised her head to watch as he licked her nipples hungrily.
His tongue flicked desperately over her nipples and she could feel herself warming under his touch. Razvan lavished himself upon her body. She breathed him in and the bittersweet scent of him flooded through her.
And now his fingers had reached between her legs.
“Take me how you wish,” she heard herself whisper. His face was down near hers now and his breath was hot in her ear.
“Be in me now,” she told him.
He stood back from her so that he was in front of the window. The moon shone behind him, and in its shadow he freed himself from his clothes. Jenny gasped. He was beautiful and terrible, a god of a man with finely sculpted muscles, pale and hard as if he’d been sculpted from alabaster. The expression on his face was one of raw need as he stood over Jenny and gazed upon her nakedness.
And then he fell upon her like a wolf from the mountains of his homeland. It seemed to Jenny as if she were being devoured by lust, coarse and primeval. He licked and bit and sucked and scratched, and she went with it, desperately clinging onto the bed sheets as he rode her through the moonlit night.
And they were on the pathway that was made for only them. They were out in the wildness of the forests, far from the present, a place where no time existed, where all of Jenny's memories and ref
erences were lost in the swirling pool in which she found herself. She had no past behind her, and no future ahead. There was nothing but him and he filled her completely. Sensation was everything. Wild and thrilling sensation that made her claw the sheets and twist her neck. Sensation destroyed everything else until it was all she was. The feeling swelled in her as if she were a ship tossed around on an ocean of pleasure. Their limbs slid against each other, slick with sweat as they performed their mad, involuntary dance.
His thrusts came cautiously at first as he seemed to gauge the sensation, the effect upon her body. Then, as she responded, he thrust again, harder and with a devilish urgency. And then he was gone, careening off into the dark wild lands of eternity. Beneath him in that moment, Jenny realized that all her essence and all life everywhere could be distilled down to these heart-pounding minutes in which her body responded to its deepest mechanisms. These moment where their lives, their whole existences, bodies, minds, imaginations, DNA, crashed into each other, he like an enormous wave upon her beach.
Jenny gasped, and forced her hands from the sheets so she could touch his perfect skin. His muscles rippled beneath her touch, and he felt smooth, hard, powerful. He dipped into her faster and faster, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out, and then it happened—she exploded in all-encompassing pleasure.
Each part of her body felt fragmented. Feeling like a collection of doll parts, she lay there, panting. He had made her whole then pulled her apart again. And without thinking she chased after him, not willing to fall back into normality, not willing to go back to the sane, rational existence. The beast in her was free and it would not now be contained.
As Razvan slid down on top of her, letting out a deep and satisfied sigh, she twisted from under him. He was still excited and she sucked and licked him like a ravenous wolf desperate for the blood.
Razvan moaned at her attentions and when he was ready for her again, Jenny swung a leg over his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair. She pumped herself up and down, delighting in the sensations once again building within her body. Razvan responded and again they were set loose across the wild land that neither of them wanted to return from.
Bitten by the Alpha Wolf Page 5
