Falling to Pieces (3 page)

I shuddered and straightened my posture, vacuuming myself back to here and now. I’d been so involved with our conversation I’d imagined that Marc and I had been sitting together, completely alone. In reality, the situation was the exact opposite.

Madonna sang ‘
True Blue
’ at an ear splitting volume through the speaker system. I hadn’t noticed a thing before now, not even the throngs of people with strange make-up on, crimped hair and bright clothing. I raised an eyebrow as I looked around the bar.

Marc grinned, shrugging. “Eighties night.”

“Ahhh.” I nodded. “I think I’d better go.”

His forehead creased. “You don’t like eighties music?”

I laughed. “Nothing to do with the music or the company. I have to go. My father might worry. New place, and all.” I waved my hands around. “He forgets I’m twenty-two years old.”

His face brightened, making it obvious that I’d answered a question he’d been desperate to ask. It would be funny if I told him my real age, one hundred and seventy-two, including my human years. I was twenty-two when I was turned, so I generally stuck with that if the question ever arose.

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the bar. “Do you really have to go? Will you come back tomorrow?”

“What, here?” I said, patting my hand on the top on the illuminated bar top.

“Yes. I’m always here.”

I didn’t probe for an explanation why. I slid off the stool with reluctance, mostly because I didn’t want to leave but also I was a bit afraid that a damp patch would be evident in the crotch of my jeans.

“Shall I walk you home?” he asked, suddenly concerned with my welfare.

“No, I’ll be fine.” I smiled, retaining the knowledge that I’d love for someone to try to harm me. I’d drain them dry for their stupidity.

“At least let me get you a cab. I don’t know where you lived in America, but London—well, you need to be careful.” He slipped off his stool, the top of my head didn’t even come up to his shoulder he was so tall.

“I’ll get a cab,” I reassured him with a smile, craning my head back to peer up at his face.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him in a sudden embrace. As my head rested against him, I pushed against the hardness of his chest beneath the crisp shirt and breathed in his delicious scent. Fearing my jeans would be unable to retain the leaking fluid any longer, I stepped backwards.

“Tomorrow?” I said as an agreement I’d be back.

“Yes,” he breathed, his eyes glimmering a rich, golden brown colour.

Walking on jelly legs to the door, I turned to wave once I reached it. He seemed preoccupied, drinking in my figure as he held up a hand to return my gesture as I stepped outside.

Relieved at being back out in the fresh air, I grinned and hugged myself for a moment.

I enjoyed the night air and looked forward to a run back through Hyde Park in an attempt to think clearly about what had just happened.

My senses went to full alert when I heard footsteps behind me. The scent was vaguely like Marc’s, though not as intense. I turned without fear, seeing a figure move quickly to hide in the dark doorway of a closed store. The curly dark mane gave her away. I’d spied her hair before she’d managed to dip out of sight. I was sure she was the woman from the bar, the one who had come to visit Marc earlier. ‘
She must be some kinda’ crazy
.’

I turned and continued along the sidewalk towards the park. ‘
If she wants to play games, I can too
.’

Her footsteps continued to follow me after a few moments. I was going to enjoy losing her tail.

Turning the corner to the park, I figured she’d be smiling to herself because the park was closed at this time of night. What she hadn’t bet on was that I could scale the huge padlocked gates and be half way across the park in a matter of seconds.

I felt a little triumphant, thinking about leaving her standing on the street puzzled by my sudden disappearance.

I arrived at my house in Knightsbridge still sniggering to myself because I’d managed to lose the crazy lady and I’d probably left her dumbfounded. I pushed open my front door, eager to explore my new home.

Light cascaded from dangling crystals in the alcove to my left illuminating the hallway. Dark wooden shelves set into the walls displayed the colourful spines of hundreds of books. The day staff must have managed to unpack them. I’d failed to notice on my way out in my haste to feed. I felt better knowing my hard-backed companions had been taken out of storage.

I called out to Thomas while climbing the beige carpeted stairs, honing my hearing for any whisper of a movement. He wasn’t in the house, thankfully. I lacked the desire to spoil my excellent mood by discussing our tattered relationship. Living with someone for as long as I had lived with Thomas wasn’t easy. Things had become strained over the last fifty or so years.

The first floor had been taken up by the drawing room, or the lounge as they call it nowadays. Another alcove trailed off the expansive space, giving a home to Thomas’ vast collection of first edition, classic novels.

I strolled through the second level where Thomas’ bedroom and bathroom were. It was a huge suite taking up the entire storey, tastefully decorated in delicate creams and greys and an enviable claw footbath.

A stairway at the far end of the corridor led up to two higher floors, each having a couple of en-suite bedrooms. I had taken the highest floor in the house, the third floor. The penthouse, I’d figured when I chose it. It’s the fourth floor if you count the basement kitchen.

I reached the foot of the stairway leading to my room and peeled my shirt off before pressing the fabric to my nose, breathing Marc’s aroma straight out of the silk. I went through the events of the night in my head. My mind flickered for a moment over the woman. The ‘family friend’ who’d had the nerve to try and follow me. If she really were just his friend then why would she act so jealously, or show suspicion, whichever the motive had been? I shook the thought away and struggled back to more enticing thoughts.

Halfway up the steps, I undid the button of my jeans and worked the zipper down.

Opening the door to my bedroom, I flicked the ballet shoes off next to my unmade bed. I still clutched the shirt and became more and more aroused by the radiating scent. Looking down at my naked breasts, the realisation hit me—only the thin silk material had been between him and I. It sent another surge of lust coursing through me, making my nipples harden and ache for touch.

I leaned back against the door jamb of my bathroom and traced my fingertips over my collarbone and down my chest, across the stiff pink buds, all the time imagining they were Marc’s fingers instead of my own, his golden skin a stark contrast to my own.

His perfume lingered in my nostrils, making the fantasy easier for me. I folded my hand around my breast, cupping the smooth pale skin and let my palm continue down to my belly stopping when I reached the curly hair poking out of my open jeans.

Undoubtedly, I had to do something about the pent up sexual tension whirring through my body.

I stepped across the ivory coloured tiles in my bathroom and leaned over the large oval bath to turn on the taps. I closed the door, wanting the room to fill with steam so I would experience a physical mist in addition to the mist collected within my thoughts.

My eyes glowed with such brightness I couldn’t help but catch sight of them in the mirror, the rest of my face might hardly be noticed.

‘
What’s happening to me
?’ I thought while gasping at the sensation of pulling the rough denim down my legs. I dropped the shirt on the floor, close enough for me continue enjoying Marc’s scent from the tub.

I stepped into the clear water without taking the time to check the temperature. I’m unaffected by different temperatures. Not from air or water. I can feel them but they don’t bother me. I run cold all of the time, so my body can preserve the blood I drink for optimal operation, not heating.

After turning off the taps I laid back, the water lapped over my body. The swishing sensation electrified all of my nerve endings.

I closed my eyes again, finding doing so helped with the visualisation. I fantasised about him being here in the bathroom, watching me with his lip curled into a half smile. I audibly gulped at the sight of his body, the image of his nakedness in my minds eye.

His legs appeared powerful, thick and defined with muscle and dusted with dark hair—how sweet it would be to have those legs entwined with my own.

The definition of his stomach muscles made me want to lick the ridges, up to his pectorals sitting square and subtle on his broad chest. His nipples the beautiful colour of rich coffee beans. I ran my tongue over my lips imagining how the buds would taste in my mouth—how his body would respond—turned on from knowing my touch made him swell with the same desire I was experiencing.

I shuddered as I put my head under the hot water, allowing my hair to billow around me. I wanted the sensation of being touched. I wanted to be enveloped entirely. Water was the only thing available to me, the single thing offering the ability touch every part of me simultaneously.

I pinpointed the pressure of the water over my breasts, curling over their roundness and wetting my nipples. I automatically arched my back imagining the water was his chest and my erect buds brushed over his smooth skin, making them harder still at the thought.

On the ascent the water whooshed up between my legs putting pressure on the sensitive skin at my apex. I cried out a little and my palm flew to cup the throbbing area in surprise.

Reaching down to the crook of my knee I traced my fingertips up the inside of my thigh, experimenting with the sensation.

The image of the excited man in my bathroom urged me to continue, his parted lips begged me to join him in touching what needed to be touched for the release I craved.

I brushed over the throbbing flesh hidden between the thick curls and circled the area around my sex until I ached for more.

Unable to resist any longer, I ran my fingers from my opening up through the swollen folds gasping at the orgasmic tingling sensation affecting every nerve ending. My fingers flew hungrily back down to the entrance, and as I raised my hips out of the water I plunged them deep inside, caressing the slick wetness lying within.

Marc remained in the bathroom with me in the fantasy racing around my mind. Only now he watched me more intently, his eyes admiring my naked body and the way I touched myself.

The dim vanity light picked up the sheen on his tanned skin caused by the steam clouding the room; little drips trailed their way down his broad shoulders and over his thick arms down to his finger tips, burning to touch me, to take away my frustration while taking care of his own.

The pace of my fingers quickened, the friction against my dark pink flesh forcing automatic groans that didn’t even sound like they came from my throat.

Every single muscle in my body started to tense, building up with delicious pleasure, the blood from my earlier feed pumping furiously through my heart, pounding in my ears.

My breathing became erratic, every breath I took seemed to catch in my throat. My fingers pinpointed the source of the amazing sensation, so I concentrated on the nub, pressing harder and brushing my fingers over the spot, quickening my pace with every stroke and sensing my core build until I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I held my breath as the orgasm ripped through me. The sensation continued shivering though me. My lips parted allowing a strangled moan to escape them.

My mind went blank, pushing everything away apart from the pleasure I experienced under Marc’s watchful gaze.

As the orgasm petered out I let go of my limbs, unable to carry the weight of them any longer. My torso slumped back and slid down until my face was beneath the water.

I’d never touched myself before, never knew the need. In my human life I’d been taught masturbation was immoral. My sexual experiences had been traumatic to say the least.

Maybe it was Thomas’ fault that I’d lived my life as an asexual? He’d always treated me like a child, so maybe I’d just taken his lead and behaved as such?

My whole body relaxed, enjoying the afterglow as I lifted my head out of the water and rested back against the porcelain. My heartbeat slowed right down, only beating occasionally now. I’d be a little slower and my senses would suffer a slight impairment until the next feed.

A feed usually lasts me at least a few days but I had exhausted the blood I had taken tonight in a few short hours. I’d need to feed again as soon as the sun went down the coming evening. The blood had been used up through all the excitement of my pounding heart. A feed could only pump through my heart a few times before being soaked up by my organs.

I sat up lifting my head out of the water and pressed my back against the porcelain. I felt tired but lacked the drive to climb out of the water and go to bed.

Without any warning the bathroom door slammed open. Chunks of plaster spat out over the tiled floor, the door handle embedded into the wall. Water spilled out of the bath as I thrashed around in the tub trying to grip the slippery surface.

Thomas filled the doorway—he’s not a tall man, only around five foot nine, but his aura filled the space. His feet planted wide apart and his hands formed powerful fists. His eyes so wide, the whites were visible all the way around his dark denim irises.

In a flash he grabbed my flailing arms, wrenching me out of the tub. My jaw hung slack as he smashed my back into the sink. A sickening crunch of my spine snapping against the solid surface echoed around the room. The splinters of porcelain rattled and smashed over the slippery floor.

I rebounded onto the hard, cold tiles, unable to move and surrounded by pieces of what once formed my sink. My mouth all of a sudden tasted coppery and my head spun.

“Thomas,” I breathed his name. Drops of water rolled off my skin and had started to form a puddle around me.

Shock pulsed through my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine why he would do such a thing to me. I wanted to scream and shout but the healing would take time because my body was running so low on human blood. I struggled to turn my head to look at him.

“Teagan, I’m, I’m so sorry. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I smelled something, something very different. I thought someone had broken in.” He slumped against the doorframe, attempting to steady his shaking limbs. His usual pale hue appeared deathly, almost blue. His gaze was cast down, scrutinising a patch of the bathroom floor as his spindly fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ok, Thomas, we can talk about this later. Do you mind covering me with a towel or something?” I kept my voice even and low, not wishing to cause another mystery outburst. I realised I was defenceless against him right then and experiences from my human life had taught me it was best to remain calm and not attempt retaliation. I would have to deal with what had happened another time.

“Or perhaps you could move me to the bed? I’m sort of unable to move at the moment.”

“Oh, oh right. Yes, certainly.” He left the bathroom. His usually perfect posture looked slumped as he returned with the bedspread, his mouth downturned. He hurried to cover me up and then scooped me up off the floor. At least I had no need to worry about lasting damage.

“You didn’t feed?” Thomas kept his face forward, unable to meet my eyes, his brows knitted. He was confused about why I hadn’t healed yet.

“Yes, I fed,” I snapped as he placed me on the bed. Pain shot through me but I refused to show him the agony he’d caused. I’d be mended soon enough. I just had to get through the day.

“Oh, well, why—” he rubbed his chin and shook his head as if suddenly unsure he wanted the answer to how I’d exhausted the blood so quickly.

I laughed a mad maniacal laugh. “You’re asking me why?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Whom did you feed from?” he demanded through gritted teeth, resting on the bed beside me.

“I’m not sure why you’re questioning me. Shouldn’t I be interrogating you, Thomas?” I hissed as he bit into his wrist and offered me the blood that seeped out. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to allow him to use a ‘get out of jail free card’. “It’s been many years since I took a beating. You’re the last person I expected to dole out that kind of treatment again,” I continued in a softer voice edged with disappointment. He winced and I felt an odd satisfaction at seeing that.

“Did the feed have an odd aroma?”

“No, why?”

“Where’d you go?”

“I fed in the park, as you suggested. Then I went for a drink in a bar.” I bit my lip as I realised he’d picked up Marc’s scent. The meaning, I had yet to discover. It had seemed strange how a human had engaged such powerful emotions in me. He definitely wasn’t a vampire. The sun had kissed his skin. In fact, he reeked of sunshine. Then what was he? As far as I knew, there were vampires and humans. That’s all, nothing else.

“Did you catch a whiff anything different, Teagan? It’s important.” His head was bowed, looking up at me through his eyelids, lips pursed. I shook my thoughts away. I’d surely know if
others
existed.