Lust Bites Page 5

  Selin didn’t reply except to gasp and Billy gave her a series of slow juicy thrusts, each one jolting her lily-white body. ‘Say it,’ he snarled. ‘Say you want me.’

  ‘Don’t be shy,’ added Nadir. ‘It’s quite apparent you do and we haven’t got all night.’

  ‘Yes,’ gasped Selin. ‘Yes, I want you.’

  Nadir chuckled. With a careful stroke, he whisked the blade across her neck. A thin line of blood seeped to the surface.

  ‘Drink, don’t bite,’ he warned, and Billy fell on her neck, closing his mouth over the wound that was as fine and neat as a paper cut. Her blood trickled onto his tongue, sweet, warm and inadequate. Billy sucked harder, edging his tongue into the slit, widening it. He was rewarded by a thicker flow of blood. As he drank, he pounded into her, and when he used his fingers on her, he could taste the nearness of her orgasm.

  And then she was coming, coming so hard that Billy was quite carried away. Her muscles quivered around his cock and her pleasure poured into his throat. Billy had never felt anything like it. There’d been other women, plenty of them, but Selin had a quality that touched some deeper part of him. He wanted more of her and he wormed his tongue further into her pulsing gash. Before he knew it, he’d bitten and her blood was spilling in hot coppery torrents.

  She tasted good, unbearably good, meatier and richer than any blood he’d known. He drank deeply, telling himself he could stop any moment, could and would. In a couple of hours, her wound would heal and there’d be nothing to see except a dark-crimson bruise, a love bite. He gulped, feeling her orgasm course through him before it faded to a gentle throb. He continued to drink. The point at which he must stop kept eluding him. It was always a few seconds ahead.

  ‘Stop it,’ snapped Nadir. ‘You’re going to kill the bitch.’

  Billy hardly heard. He was chasing a new pulse, the pulse of Selin’s ebbing heartbeat. He was greedy for her death, and then a new thought struck him: no need! He would make her a vampire. He would drain her to near death then feed her with his own life. They’d be together forever and his quest for self-knowledge would be over.

  Yes! She would be his for eternity. Her blood poured fast, spilling from the edges of his mouth, and then he started to come as he started to feel it: the slow thud of her heart as he took her closer to the edge. Some died in quick surrender. Others clung on and when they did, their death was all the sweeter.

  Selin was a fighter. As Billy came inside her, her heartbeat drummed in his veins, a primitive beat that tugged at a dark need inside, feeding him with the bliss of stolen life as he lost himself to a mad, rapturous coming. And then the rhythm grew slower and the final pulses were fading as Billy gasped for breath, knocked by the force of his climax. He raised his head. Now was the moment. Now he would make her his.

  He withdrew and Selin’s head lolled back, her blood slicking on the fountain’s rim, spilling into the water and tinting it pink. Reflected lantern light shattered on the surface and glistened on wet stone. Billy snatched up his kilij from the floor and slashed his wrist. His blood spurted then pumped and he cupped Selin’s head, pressing his slit veins to her lips.

  She didn’t drink.

  ‘Drink!’ commanded Billy.

  There was nothing. His blood tumbled over her lips.

  She would find it soon. Any moment now.

  Billy, though he’d never managed it himself, had seen other vampires turn people. Their victims would seem comatose until something stirred them and they’d latch on.

  But Selin had lost a lot of blood. The fountain was very pink, her blood and his. Rose-coloured water cascaded down the marble tiers. By Selin’s head, threads of crimson spooled and wriggled in the bubbling depths.

  ‘Drink!’ he cried again, but still she didn’t take. Her mouth was dead, and her flesh was cold and grey.

  Panicking, he turned to Nadir. ‘Help me,’ he pleaded. ‘I’m losing her.’

  Nadir was composed and still, lounging on his cushioned divan. The scar across his torso glinted like a silvery line of fat in mutton. ‘Too late,’ he said. ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘No,’ breathed Billy, and he dunked Selin’s head in the water, clutching her weedy hair, lifting and dunking in a bid to revive her.

  The fountain turned a deeper pink, bubbling like a vat of borscht.

  ‘Wake up!’ yelled Billy.

  From the tiered stem of the fountain, falling water formed curtains of delicate shimmering pink.

  ‘She’s dead,’ repeated Nadir. ‘I knew this would happen. You lack self-control.’

  Billy hauled up Selin’s sodden body and clutched her to his chest, blood and water running in rivulets over his skin. She was limp and heavy, and her pulse was gone.

  From Billy’s mouth came a noise that seemed not to belong to him. He tipped his head back, seeing a sky sprayed with stars, and howled like a dog in distress. He hadn’t known he was capable of such a sound but then he’d never felt such wrenching, bottomless pain before. He’d killed her. She was dead. He’d destroyed the creature he loved.

  Sobbing, he glared at Nadir. ‘You could have stopped me! Or helped me. You could have saved her. Made her a

  vampire.’

  Selin’s head lay against Billy’s shoulder and he stroked her hair, tender and comforting as if she might feel the caress.

  Nadir shrugged. ‘I could have done, yes.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ accused Billy. ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘No,’ said Nadir smoothly. ‘The best lessons are learnt the hard way. The fountain looks so pretty in pink, don’t you find?’

  4

  A blizzard had blown in, worse than expected. Sleety snow darted across the beam of Esther’s headtorch. Visibility was so low she might have been in her own personal snowstorm. They would never find Doug unless he spotted them and was able to respond. Or unless they stumbled across him. Or his body

  ‘We need to do this more systematically,’ shouted Bird. ‘Get better equipped.’ He approached Esther through the mauve-grey gloom, flakes slashing across the halogen ball encircling him.

  ‘OK,’ yelled Esther, knowing he was right. ‘Just a couple more minutes.’

  She felt guilty and afraid. Guilty because of the situation between her and Doug. She’d rejected him the day after they’d had sex, and he probably wasn’t in a fit state to take such mixed messages. She hadn’t realised how vulnerable he was, mentally and emotionally, and would have been more cautious if she’d spotted it.

  Afraid because there was something out there, a green-eyed creature that moved faster than anything earthly. Whatever it was, it had left no prints to identify, just a few smudges in the snow by the window. Doug had dismissed them as nothing but evidence of a small mammal or a bird.

  He didn’t believe Esther had seen something, that much was obvious. How infuriating. If he thought she was a woman who’d use damsel in distress tactics to defend herself, he didn’t know her at all. She generally preferred to make herself clear and if language failed, Esther was perfectly capable of demonstrating her meaning with a knee in the groin. Unfortunately, Esther wasn’t clear about what she needed to be clear about, hence the mess.

  ‘Come on, Essie! Adrian!’ hollered Bird. ‘Back inside.’

  In the quieter cabin, the white lanterns glowed softly. Johannes paced in the small space while Margret clutched her satellite phone, its thick antenna extended.

  ‘Nothing,’ announced Esther, stamping snow from her boots.

  ‘I can’t get through to anyone,’ said Margret.

  ‘We will try,’ said Johannes. ‘Margret and I.’

  ‘Whoa, hang fire! Let’s think this through,’ said Bird. ‘No point us walking over each other’s paths. He can’t have gone far. My guess is he’s injured. We need to draw up a plan, grab some food and get a couple of skidoos out. We need to keep trying to get through to base, keep them informed. Schedule’s off for the next few days. If we find him, he’s going to be in no state to keep going. We can’
t get a ‘copter out in this. Esther, stay here in case he comes back.’

  ‘Bird,’ said Esther. ‘I don’t think I’m the best person to be waiting for him.’

  ‘Essie, you are,’ said Bird. ‘I’m not arguing. If it helps, I don’t imagine he’ll be coming back anyway. Not on his own, at least.’

  Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were gone. Esther tried and failed to contact HO, washed the pots from their breakfast of porridge and cranberries, and melted some ice on the stove for tea. Using fuel for one person seemed decadent and wasteful but if Doug came back, he’d need the heat. When Doug came back, when.

  The slightest sound unnerved Esther: the whistle of wind through the log walls, the rattle of a door or the creak of wood from the cabin and outbuildings. Last night, she’d been convinced she’d seen a face at the window but now she wasn’t so sure. Bird said it could have been someone else passing by. After all, they were on an old mushers’ trail so it wasn’t too far-fetched. But there were no marks in the snow.

  A reflection, suggested Adrian. He had a point. A weak aurora borealis had been playing across the sky, a pale-green gossamer scarf, slow and balletic. Maybe that had cast a freaky light.

  Esther began to think she’d imagined it. And she’d had such strange dreams in the night, a jumbled narrative that had left her with a head full of images: a peacock and a pink fountain; veiled women and turbaned men; a river bobbing with fishing boats; and a man with bright-green eyes who had such beauty and presence that she’d woken up wet, her lust spiked with loneliness and need, the intensity of which she’d never felt before. It had left her on the brink of tears.

  She’d stayed in her sleeping bag, waiting for the others to wake up. To her shame, the discovery Doug was missing was close to relief. The panic snatched her right out of her pain.

  She made tea and sat at the table, waiting. Bird was right: he couldn’t have gone far. But, depending on his clothing, if he was injured he couldn’t survive in subzero temperatures for long.

  This was Esther’s third major expedition. Once, two team members suffering from extreme frostbite had to be airlifted out but Esther hadn’t experienced any major dramas. However, the threat was always there. If it weren’t, there would be no challenge, no reason to do this, no glory in the final achievement.

  Esther sometimes wondered what she would do if she didn’t have the ice. She’d been on skis almost as soon as she could walk, her parents instilling her with a sense of adventure and wonder. The Arctic transformed her. She loved being here. It was both tranquil and savage, and, thanks to climate change, so momentary and fragile, a bubble about to burst. The sea ice was melting, coastal villages were under threat, livelihoods were at risk, polar bears could vanish.

  Oh, where the hell was Doug?

  Esther connected her palmtop to the satphone, thinking she might upload her blog, then realised she was being stupid. Comms were down. Last night’s dream was muddling her brain. She was in half a mind to blog about the dream and was wondering who might read it when she heard a noise outside.

  ‘Hello! He – ello?’

  It was male and her first thought was Doug, even though it wasn’t his voice. She hurried to the cabin door, thinking Bird or Adrian, although it didn’t sound like them either. There was no German accent so that ruled out Johannes.

  ‘Hello?’ The voice was right at the door. Esther flung it open and a blizzard of snow whirled into the cabin. In the midst of the flurry, on skis, was a tall figure in a black ski suit, face concealed by a balaclava and visor, head haloed in almost a foot of grey fur.

  ‘Hi!’ he called, tipping up a ski pole in greeting. ‘Mind if I come in.’

  Esther was already ushering him in because in these conditions you don’t ask for ID. The man stepped out of his skis and clomped in, his equipment clattering as he stood it in a corner. Esther slammed the door against the storm.

  ‘Phew!’ he said, and he quickly pulled off his headgear and visor. Sleek black hair spilt from his balaclava, and his dark eyebrows, as shapely and elegant as his finely-boned face, contrasted with his pasty complexion. When he raised his head to smile, Esther was startled to note he had one perfectly ordinary blue eye while the other was violet. It wasn’t violet in the way Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes were said to be violet. A better description might be bright purple.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Esther, alarmed. ‘Where’s your party? Or are you alone? A member of our team’s missing. Have you –’

  ‘Simeon,’ said the man. He gestured with a gloved hand. ‘I’m with a friend. We got separated. Silly fools. We’re on a sponsored ski.’

  Esther frowned, puzzled by too much. He was so pale he might not have seen the sun for months which was understandable if he’d been out here a while. But was that possible? He looked too delicate to be battling an Arctic winter.

  ‘We’re heading north,’ continued the man. ‘For the pole. We’re raising money. For the, um, Haemophiliac Awareness Trust. And you are?’

  ‘Esther,’ said Esther, still staring at those eyes, one purple, one blue.

  Simeon smiled broadly. His teeth were white and strong. ‘What a pretty name,’ he said. ‘Esther.’

  He removed his gloves and tossed them onto the table. ‘How you doing, Esther?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘You’re English, right?’

  Esther felt slightly dazed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am.’

  ‘Listen, we found your friend. He’s OK. My partner, my team-mate, he’s bringing him.’

  Esther snapped to attention. ‘Where?’ she demanded. ‘We have to go to them. Where are they? How is he? Does he need medical attention? I can try to contact my team and they can –’

  ‘Hey, don’t panic,’ said Simeon. ‘He’s cool, man. Just lost a bit of blood. Are you alone here?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Esther, and she felt threatened by the question, remembering the face at the window and its luminous green eyes. ‘Yes, I’m alone.’

  That violet eye did something strange to her. When she looked at it, fragments of last night’s dream swirled in her mind: the pink fountain, the veiled women, the man who’d left her wet with longing. She could vaguely recall giving him a blow job. The face at the window must have turned up in her sleep but his presence seemed more than a residue of the day’s events. She felt connected to him and she guessed, from her layman’s knowledge of dream analysis, he represented someone or something else, perhaps an ex-boyfriend or a yearning for home.

  She turned away from Simeon’s eye but it was a struggle because she wanted to stay in the emotions of the dirty dream. Maybe this was what Doug had been suffering from, a viral infection that induced mildly hallucinogenic states and an excess of desire.

  ‘Where’s your friend?’ asked Esther, and the question seemed to carry more weight than she felt it ought. ‘What happened to Doug. Are they far away? I’ve been struggling with sats and radio the last half hour. Maybe it’s the blizzard. Do you –’

  ‘Billy will be along shortly,’ Simeon said confidently. He unzipped his ski suit and stripped down to thinner layers.

  Esther began to worry. ‘Aren’t you cold?’

  Simon pinched his black sweat-top. ‘We’re trialling new techno fabrics. Intelligent clothing. This is their thinnest yet. It’s revolutionary. How many humans – people – in your team?’

  ‘Six,’ said Esther. ‘Four are out there looking for Doug. I’m sure they’ll be back any moment.’ Esther didn’t think it was true. They’d still be searching for Doug, not knowing he’d been found.

  She felt she ought to be asking more questions and enquiring about Doug but all she wanted was to wallow in the soft trippy strangeness aroused by the coloured eye.

  ‘My friend and I,’ said Simeon. ‘While we’ve been travelling, we’ve had this weird sense of something out there, something on the ice that’s watching us.’ He took a step closer. ‘Do you guys ever get that?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Esther.
‘Well, maybe me more than the others but I have had a sense of … of something.’

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you being alone here?’ asked Simeon. ‘In this little cabin?’ He took another step closer, his rangy limbs slinky and reptilian.

  Esther shrugged, standing her ground. ‘I’m made of tougher stuff than that. Anyway, we have to find Doug. That’s our priority right now.’

  The man tilted his head and scrutinised Esther, lips twisting in a come-hither sneer. ‘You’re cute,’ he said. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘Your eye,’ said Esther. ‘Why’s it like that? Why is it purple?’

  Simeon looked caught out. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Contact lens. Must’ve lost one. ‘Scuse me.’

  He tipped his head down, and his thin white fingers fluttered briefly over the blue eye. When he lifted his head, both eyes were violet, shining with the translucency of gemstones. Esther didn’t know if he’d added a lens or removed one. She was feeling somewhat detached, bizarrely attracted to this man whose skin wasn’t pinched and raw, who didn’t cough or wheeze, and whose haughty porcelain face was completely free of sores. He looked as if the cold had never touched him.

  ‘Boyfriend?’ asked the man again.

  ‘No,’ said Esther. ‘I don’t really have time.’

  Simeon slunk closer still and stroked her jaw with long gentle fingers. Esther’s groin flushed as if he’d touched her in a much sexier way.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked dazedly.

  ‘Checking you out,’ Simeon said in a new brisk voice.

  With both hands, he tugged down the polo-neck of her sweater. For several seconds he examined her bared neck until Esther, worried, began backing away. Smirking, Simeon followed, a swagger in his lean hips, until she was pressed against the ridges of the log wall at the foot of the bunks.

  ‘What is this?’ asked Esther.

  ‘Lust,’ said Simeon and he unzipped her fleece with one swift pull. ‘Dirty, greedy fuck lust. Blood lust. Lust for hot little whores called Esther.’

  ‘No,’ breathed Esther. Her heart thumped as the extent of her stupidity struck her. His talk of rescuing Doug was a con, of course it was. For miles, they were the only ones around, just her and him in a shed on the ice. Esther’s sudden sense of solitude was so acute she wondered if this was how people felt when death was due.