by S. J. Coles
“I’ll take care of it. Goodnight.”
He muttered to himself as I hustled him to his car. The Land Rover rumbled away and I rushed to the back of the workshop. Terje stood on a raised bit of land watching the retreating vehicle with a cool, blank expression. He appeared so unearthly in the rapidly diminishing light that I was utterly convinced he couldn’t be real until he took off the glasses.
“It’s good to see you, Alec.”
It took me a long time to find my voice. “It can’t be you.”
He stepped off the rise and came within arm’s reach. The early spring breeze shifted his hair. It was longer than I remembered. He was squinting slightly, shading his eyes with his hand so I couldn’t see them clearly. He was thinner, his cheek bones sharper. But it was him.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Can we go inside?” I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. “Please, Alec,” he pressed, softly. “It’s still very bright.”
I stared at him for another long moment, tentatively decided that, whatever I was seeing, it was real, then trudged up the path. His tread was so light that I had to check to be sure he was following. I drifted down the side of the house with my heart hammering and my brain blanked. I opened the newly repaired side door and let him precede me in, then followed him into the drawing room. He stood looking around at the sawn-up timber, dust sheets and buckets of plaster mix.
“You’ve started restoring it.”
“I like this room.” My voice sounded rusty, like I hadn’t used it in years. “I wanted to make it livable.”
“It’ll be beautiful when you’re done.”
“You’re dead. I watched you die.”
His face went still. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Through what?” A rage so intense that it frightened me bubbled from somewhere deep inside me. “What happened?”
His deep silver eyes had my senses flooding with memory. I could taste him, feel his fingers gripping strong enough to bruise. I remembered the sounds he made deep in his throat as he gradually lost control. Things I’d refused to let myself think about in months rushed through my head like a speeding train. I had to put my hand on the back of the couch to steady myself.
“I probably did die,” he murmured, “in the way you mean the word.”
“Novák said you were dead.”
“As I said,” he went on mildly, “in the way you think of it, I was. My heart stopped. My body shut down. I certainly remember nothing after Ogdell fired his gun.” I shut my eyes, smelling the gunfire and spilled Blood all over again. “They put me in the morgue…” He blinked and in the unguarded moment, I detected discomfort on his face, but then it smoothed again. “I’m not sure how long I was there. But then I started to wake up.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “Like I’ve said before. With us…things take time.”
If I hadn’t been so ragged with emotion, I’d have been warmed by the look in his eye. But my voice was no gentler as I said, “Surely Novák would have known. He could have told me there was a chance you weren’t…?”
“There wasn’t much of a chance,” he said, voice level. “And, as far as the world is concerned, I am dead. It’s better this way.”
“Better?” I growled. “Better? Do you have any idea—?”
“I’m sorry,” he said it quietly, but it derailed my angry tirade.
“It’s been over a year.” My voice shook.
He stepped up to me, raised a hand and cupped my cheek. His skin was cool, despite the thick coat. I smelled fresh, light smells, like those carried on an autumn wind when winter is just starting to creep in. “I couldn’t see you, Alec. I couldn’t see anyone. I wasn’t…myself. For a long time.”
“You should have told me—”
“I couldn’t,” he insisted, gently, brushing my over-long hair out of my face. “You remember what it was like in the basement?” My mouth went dry. I nodded. “It was like that. For a long time. I had to hide somewhere where I couldn’t hurt anyone.”
“How did you…?” I heard myself asking without wanting to. “When did you…get better?”
He dropped his hand but took a tiny step closer. I could have gathered him into my arms, but I didn’t move, wasn’t sure if he’d let me or if I wanted to. In that moment I didn’t know if I’d ever be sure of anything again.
“It took a long time,” he said softly.
I swallowed. “Did you kill anyone?”
“No,” he said, firmly, putting both hands on my face. “No. I swear I didn’t hurt anyone. I…I fought the Blood.” His voice was tight, like he was reliving something painful. “I managed to get myself somewhere where there were no people before it took over.”
“If you didn’t kill anyone, how did you get better?”
His brow creased slightly. He didn’t drop his hands. “I…don’t want you to know.”
“I have to know,” I gritted. “You owe me that much.”
He slid his hands from my face onto my shoulders. I resisted the urge to put my own on his waist and pull him close. There was a wall of ice between us. When he spoke, his voice was low and slightly strained. “I fed on animals,” he said, “to start with. Then, when I was more in control, Novák helped me.”
I stiffened. “When did Novák know?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“When?” I insisted.
Finally he let his hands drop. “I’m not sure. Weeks…maybe months later. It was warmer.”
“He came to see me,” I said in a low voice, “last summer. He knew something. I knew he knew something. He almost told me, I’m sure…but I couldn’t believe it.”
He took my hand in both his own. He ran his long fingers over the marks and scars on the back of it like he was reading braille. My hand looked large, dirty and gnarled compared to his. “He brought me blood. Donated blood,” he amended, pausing his fingers in their gentle exploration of my hand. I fought the flickering that was gathering strength below my gut in response to his touch and starting to work hot tendrils up my spine. “I grew stronger. I healed. I came back to myself…slowly.”
“Why did no one tell me?” Pain tightened my throat so I barely got the question out.
“We couldn’t tell you, Alec. There was still a chance…” He hesitated, then continued steadily. “The Blood brought my body back, but I might never have been myself again, not after having been gone for so long. It was better you didn’t know.”
I suppressed a shudder. “Did it hurt?” I asked, so quietly I barely heard myself.
He raised his eyes, a spark of that dark amusement deep in his eyes. “Dying?”
“This isn’t funny.”
His face smoothed over again. “No. Sorry.” He took a breath in through his nose then breathed out slowly. The warm air brushed against my collar bone and ripples ran over my skin. “Yes. It hurt.”
“Novák turned you into a martyr,” I murmured, watching his face closely. “A tragic victim of human-haemo brutality.”
His eyes flickered slightly, the long eyelashes fluttering in the dying light. “I’m doing more good that way.”
“How can you say—?”
He gently pressed a hand to my lips to silence me. I smelled his skin and desire surged in me but couldn’t burn through the cloying, damp fog of betrayal that still clogged my chest. “No one can know the truth,” he whispered softly. “Evgeniya can’t know I’m alive.”
I stared at him. “She doesn’t know?”
“No.”
“You’re not going back to the commune?”
His grip on me tightened. When he spoke, it sounded liked he was forcing his words out. “No.”
“Would she hurt you?” My eyes flicked unconsciously to his jaw, his neck, where I remembered the ragged bite wounds she’d inflicted, but there was no trace.
“Yes. But that’s not why I don’t want to go back.”
“Why, then?” I asked, trying not to sound too intense.
His mouth turned up in a soft smile. “I’m free,” he breathed. “For the first time in my life, I’m free.”
“She said your kind can’t exist on their own. Can’t exist outside a commune. It’s not safe.”
He leaned in. “I thought you could show me how it’s done.”
All my breath left me. “What are you saying?”
He closed the remaining space between us and kissed me. He put a hand on the back of my head, tilting it to deepen the kiss. I flicked my tongue over his sharp teeth, and my head filled with the taste of old wine and aged whisky. My body loosened, like I’d suddenly been freed from a cage of wire. I gathered him to me, wrapping my large shape around his now-slight one like I could absorb him into me. I backed him against the arm of the new sofa and leaned into him. He yielded to me as I attempted to possess him entirely—mouth, arms and body—losing any remaining shreds of control, letting myself believe he was alive, really alive, really here and, despite everything, somehow wanted me.
When we finally broke the kiss, his cheeks had warmed and his eyelids were heavy. I tightened my grip, not nearly done, but he pushed me back, gently but firmly. “You need to think about this, Alec,” he murmured, his mouth looking so inviting that I could barely focus on what he was saying. “Everything I told you about relations between our kinds? It was all true. And I think you understand that more now.”
“I’m not like the rest of my kind,” I said. “And you’re not like yours.”
He bit his lip, such a stark display of vulnerability that it shocked me. The heat in me damped, allowed rational thought to sneak through, and I resisted recapturing his mouth and waited for him to go on.
“I don’t age,” he murmured. “Not like you will. I can’t move around in the day. I don’t feel things the way you do. I have to drink blood…”
“I knew all that before,” I said. “It didn’t stop me from wanting you.” His forehead creased. I stepped back, letting him straighten up, but I kept my hands on his elbows. “I’m yours, Terje,” I went on. “I’m yours in whatever way you need me. I think I’ve been yours ever since I realized how badly you needed someone.”
His face tightened. “What made you think that?”
I took a moment to gather myself, sensing I was venturing into delicate territory. “In Ogdell’s basement when you were tied to that bed… When you sat here in a blackout trying to explain yourself to me… When you put yourself between me and Evgeniya… Hell, when you called out in the snow after the Blood Party… It was like you were crying for someone to understand.” He stared at me. A chill of doubt swept through my insides but I made myself continue. “You’ve been hurt—by humans and by your own kind. That time…” I had to stop to clear my throat. “That first time, here on the old couch…” I tightened my gripon his arms. He didn’t move or take his eyes off my face. “It felt like you needed that as much as I did. You needed comfort, just like any human would. But instead, you chose to give it to me. But I could feel you holding back, feel that you needed more.”
He examined me as though, for the first time, he was the one struggling to read me. “Do you love me?” he asked, so quietly that his lips barely moved.
My stomach flopped over. “I…don’t know,” I answered, truthfully. “I don’t understand you. I don’t know you, really. I don’t know if I ever will. I’m not sure love can exist like that.”
I didn’t expect his eyes to lighten and his expression ease, but they did. “It’s good that you see that.”
I nodded. “I see it,” I said, a little dourly.
He raised my chin with two gentle fingers. “It’s a good thing,” he breathed, leaning in close so he was talking against my lips. “It means this could work. For a while, at least.”
“Just for a while?”
He brushed his lips along my jaw. His fingers threaded through my hair. He breathed in deeply and sighed the air back out against my ear. “If living this long has taught me anything, Alec, it’s that you can never predict what the future might bring. Don’t be afraid of that. We have now.”
He kissed me again, slowly, languorously. He pulled me onto the sofa, never breaking the kiss or his fierce grip on my hair. I fumbled at unzipping my overalls without breaking contact. Somehow, he’d shed his coat and I was able to nuzzle the cool, smooth skin of his neck. He made a soft, low noise, almost like a purr, and it was as though my heart had started beating again for the first time in months. I worked at his shirt. He let out a soft laugh, then pushed me back and unbuttoned it, slowly, deliberately.
I hurried out of my clothing whilst he removed his with a spark in his eye. He was definitely thinner, his collarbone and hips more prominent, and I had a horrible moment imagining what he must have looked like when he first woke up in the morgue. The image of his ribcage shattered by gunfire rose and threatened to swamp the mood. But looking at him now, I could see no visible sign of what had happened. He was slimmer but still beautiful, all smooth muscles and fine, unblemished skin.
When he finally stepped out of his black jeans, I was pulsing with need. He took a gentle but firm hold of my arms and twisted me around to sit against the new cushions, then he straddled my hips. I gasped. He planted a series of slow, burning kisses down my neck and across my shoulder whilst he swept his long-fingered hands over my stomach and chest.
He lingered at the scarring on my neck where Evgeniya had bitten me. “I will never do this to you,” he said softly, the words brushing against my mouth. I shifted, resisting the urge to push my hips up, so desperate was I for friction. I held his gaze to let him see that I understood. “If any of my kind ever asks this of you,” he continued, “in any context, you must refuse. Understand?”
“I have no intention of letting any other haemophile this close to me.” His mouth twitched, though I could see by his eyes that he was still deadly serious. “I promise,” I went on.
He watched me for a moment longer. Then, apparently satisfied, he took my face in his hands and kissed me again. I whimpered, feeling as though I might burst. It had been so long. Too much had happened. But now he was here, more real than he ever had been, and he was bringing me too close too quickly.
He backed off, as if sensing it. His jaw tightened, like he was wrestling with something. He leaned back and I repressed a groan at the loss of contact, but then froze when he brought a finger to his mouth and pricked the pad with his canine. A spot of black-red Blood welled up.
“No,” I managed, grabbing his wrist, though the smell was filling my senses, dizzying me, causing my own blood to pump into my head and my groin with the strength of distant thunder.
“This is different.”
“How is this any different than me offering you mine?”
“It’s completely different.”
My hand on his wrist started to tremble. “How?”
“You can’t hurt me by doing this,” he said softly. “And you’ve not asked for it. I’m giving it to you because I want you to have it.” His finger hovered a centimeter from my mouth. He locked eyes with me then gently smeared the drop of Blood over my lower lip. “I want you to understand.”
The scent of it seeped through my head and filled my chest with light. I opened my mouth and could taste the smell against my tongue, my palate, in my throat. My heartbeat slowed but strengthened, thumping in my chest like a fist. Every inch of my flesh was hot, charged. I resisted a moment longer, simply to show myself that I could, then I licked my lip.
The world melted away, sloughing into nothingness. All that remained was the feel of the sofa fabric against the skin of my back and legs, the cool kiss of the air on my flesh and the suddenly warm, irresistible weight of Terje across my hips. My pulse throbbed, spreading a slow, steady burning through my entire frame that was hotter than any fire but felt like it could blaze forever. When Terje licked my lip, tasting himself in my mouth, he made a low noise in his chest and I swelled and
brightened, like the very oxygen in my bloodstream had burst alight.
Everything surged and focused on the feel of him, the feel of me, his scent, the expert way he moved and touched me to awaken every layer of desire that could physically exist within me. Everything slowed. Even the sounds he made were deep, like he was finally able to speak to me in his own language. It was as though we were underwater, floating, free and warm and isolated from everything else.
When he drew me into him with a sound like someone letting go of something painful that they’d been holding on to for a lifetime, my eyes stung and my heart ached. Pleasure and heat rolled out from his tightness, pulsing around my painfully hard cock so strongly that I wondered if it would undo me. We started to move together like dancers in a routine so familiar that we could read each other’s flesh. The world dissolved into the feeling of me being buried in him, of the smell of his skin surrounding me, the sound of his voice in my ears.
We came together in a way we never had before, even in my dreams. I don’t know how long we made love or how long the tsunami of the final orgasm actually lasted, because time lost all meaning.
I got a glimpse of what it must be like to be him, to only feel things that were so deep and primal it was like being caught in a lava flow—to know things with such intensity that they would drive a normal human mad. It both awed and terrified me, and I had to cling to him tight enough to leave marks in order not to be swept away forever.
* * * *
When we were done and the effects of the Blood were fading like the sun setting on a hot summer night, hours had slipped by. He lay along my side, propped on his elbow, resting his head on his hand whilst he ran his other through the hair on my chest. I lay on my back, the cool air finally starting to prickle at my skin. My blood still sang, my skin still glowed and I could feel the hairline grazes his nails had left on my shoulders and back in minute detail, but I could no longer see clearly in the dark and my heart had slowed to a normal, human rhythm.
I raised my hand and brushed his cheek with the back of a finger in the darkness. “Thank you,” I said, “for coming back.”
