most, and then he showed her mercy.
The feeling was pure heaven. And he knew how to draw out the sensations, playing, tormenting her, until she was in a different state of consciousness, flying through a cloud of bliss that built higher and hotter towards the ultimate peak… so slow, so exquisite, she almost did not want the journey to end but it must, she couldn’t contain this swelling knot of fire any longer…
All those feelings were washed away by a sudden horrible sensation: a silver river drenching her from head to foot, like mercury: heavy, toxic and icy cold. The room spun. She was suddenly
nowhere
, lost in a snowstorm or in the lethal cold of the
Weisskalt
. Her only clear impression was of a white shape oozing from her, as if she were an amoeba splitting in two.
Her ghost-double, the lamia, rose over the bed and floated, gazing down at her from above. Time stopped. The nightmare moment went on forever.
“Charlotte? What’s wrong?”
Karl’s voice shocked her back to reality. She pushed him away and sat up. Couldn’t think or speak or breathe. As their bodies disengaged she was left feeling empty, hot and slippery and unfulfilled.
Karl grasped her upper arms, looking alarmed. She was confused, unsure of what she’d seen. What
he
had seen.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Why did you stop?”
He was breathing hard, making a visible effort to calm himself. “You went deathly white and cold,” he said. “You were shaking, pushing me away. Your eyes were blank. Love, you haven’t fed enough and I didn’t even ask…”
“No, it’s not that. Did you see… did you see the ghost come out of me again?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Only some mist that might have been anything. Steam from the bathroom drifting through the moonlight? Charlotte, beloved, it’s all right. There’s nothing there.”
She gave a low growl of exasperation, stared into his feverish eyes.
“What if the poison is still in my blood?” she said. “I daren’t risk infecting you!”
“If you have some contagion, I’d happily share it,” he responded.
“Don’t say that. I can’t risk contaminating you, even for love.”
“Dear heart, I’m sure you’re not ‘contaminated’ in any way. But if you feel… I don’t know that ‘unwell’ is the right term, but I don’t think you’ve fully recovered. I should have realised, before we went this far.”
He stroked her hair. They sat close, tense with frustration in body and heart. Charlotte felt torn up with emotion. She wanted Karl desperately, as he wanted her. They always did, like swimmers diving into a hot volcanic pool again and again, craving the glorious sensation of falling into each other.
Karl was too courteous to sate his own desire after she’d called an unexpected halt. Charlotte suspected that if a victim protested just as his fangs pierced the flesh – the point at which the gushing blood became the entire universe – even then, he would stop.
She admired him for that, but at this moment she wished he were not so self-controlled. If he had ignored her strange turn, if he’d let the fever carry them both into the rush of fire and the mutual blood-feast, they would presently be wrapped together, gasping with contentment – not sitting apart, aching with unspent lust.
But.
Karl might now be full of alien venom from her veins. That would have been worse.
Foreheads resting together, they sat gripping each other’s hands, anguished.
“Dearest, I do not think…” Karl began softly. “I am certain there’s nothing wrong with you or your blood.”
She ached all over, with knots of sensation concentrated in the tips of her fangs and her loins. She also felt vaguely ashamed.
I refuse to let the hallucinations affect me
, she’d told herself repeatedly. Yet she was affected. The knife had cut into her psyche, dissected her in some horrible, indefinable way. She couldn’t even judge if she was right to be concerned or
The feeling was pure heaven. And he knew how to draw out the sensations, playing, tormenting her, until she was in a different state of consciousness, flying through a cloud of bliss that built higher and hotter towards the ultimate peak… so slow, so exquisite, she almost did not want the journey to end but it must, she couldn’t contain this swelling knot of fire any longer…
All those feelings were washed away by a sudden horrible sensation: a silver river drenching her from head to foot, like mercury: heavy, toxic and icy cold. The room spun. She was suddenly
nowhere
, lost in a snowstorm or in the lethal cold of the
Weisskalt
. Her only clear impression was of a white shape oozing from her, as if she were an amoeba splitting in two.
Her ghost-double, the lamia, rose over the bed and floated, gazing down at her from above. Time stopped. The nightmare moment went on forever.
“Charlotte? What’s wrong?”
Karl’s voice shocked her back to reality. She pushed him away and sat up. Couldn’t think or speak or breathe. As their bodies disengaged she was left feeling empty, hot and slippery and unfulfilled.
Karl grasped her upper arms, looking alarmed. She was confused, unsure of what she’d seen. What
he
had seen.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Why did you stop?”
He was breathing hard, making a visible effort to calm himself. “You went deathly white and cold,” he said. “You were shaking, pushing me away. Your eyes were blank. Love, you haven’t fed enough and I didn’t even ask…”
“No, it’s not that. Did you see… did you see the ghost come out of me again?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Only some mist that might have been anything. Steam from the bathroom drifting through the moonlight? Charlotte, beloved, it’s all right. There’s nothing there.”
She gave a low growl of exasperation, stared into his feverish eyes.
“What if the poison is still in my blood?” she said. “I daren’t risk infecting you!”
“If you have some contagion, I’d happily share it,” he responded.
“Don’t say that. I can’t risk contaminating you, even for love.”
“Dear heart, I’m sure you’re not ‘contaminated’ in any way. But if you feel… I don’t know that ‘unwell’ is the right term, but I don’t think you’ve fully recovered. I should have realised, before we went this far.”
He stroked her hair. They sat close, tense with frustration in body and heart. Charlotte felt torn up with emotion. She wanted Karl desperately, as he wanted her. They always did, like swimmers diving into a hot volcanic pool again and again, craving the glorious sensation of falling into each other.
Karl was too courteous to sate his own desire after she’d called an unexpected halt. Charlotte suspected that if a victim protested just as his fangs pierced the flesh – the point at which the gushing blood became the entire universe – even then, he would stop.
She admired him for that, but at this moment she wished he were not so self-controlled. If he had ignored her strange turn, if he’d let the fever carry them both into the rush of fire and the mutual blood-feast, they would presently be wrapped together, gasping with contentment – not sitting apart, aching with unspent lust.
But.
Karl might now be full of alien venom from her veins. That would have been worse.
Foreheads resting together, they sat gripping each other’s hands, anguished.
“Dearest, I do not think…” Karl began softly. “I am certain there’s nothing wrong with you or your blood.”
She ached all over, with knots of sensation concentrated in the tips of her fangs and her loins. She also felt vaguely ashamed.
I refuse to let the hallucinations affect me
, she’d told herself repeatedly. Yet she was affected. The knife had cut into her psyche, dissected her in some horrible, indefinable way. She couldn’t even judge if she was right to be concerned or
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