Bitter Fruits (3 page)

“Perfect? I don’t know. I tend to shy away from perfection, but she’s fun and energetic and, if I can reveal something here, she makes me feel desired. Men are not much different from women in that way; we want to
be wanted as badly as you do. Scarlet makes me feel as if I am the only man in the room when I am with her - and I feel the same about her. And if you tell her, I’m totally failing you.”

“That’s sweet,” I say, because it is. It’s probably the most honest any guy has ever been about Scarlet. “Of course I won’t tell her. She’ll just gloat about it forever.
But maybe, you know, she should stop telling me about your evenings. I do like your class.” I smile at him and try to forget everything I know. I believe that he cares for Scarlet. That should be enough; no one chooses the person he or she is attracted to and, as long as they’re both happy, I just have to deal with it.

“Deal,” he smiles. “Now, the last question, which I believe is the most pressing. Alec?”

“I met him at the party,” I confide. “But he disappeared when Chloe was attacked or whatever. Then he showed up last night and took off again. We are supposed to have coffee tonight, but each time I’ve seen him, we have been drawn to one another physically - only for him to walk away and say he can’t ruin me or something.”

“And you want to be ruined, as you call it?”

“Oh God, yes,” I sigh. “Sorry. Too much information?”

He laughs at me.
“A bit. Listen, Nora, I think it is admirable that he’s attempting to wait. I imagine it is nothing less than chivalry, even if you find it frustrating at the moment. You should appreciate it, because few guys, even at my age, have that kind of self-control and willpower. He must think well of you if he doesn’t want to make it cheap and tawdry, despite your own willingness to let it be so.” I blush. I wouldn’t say I want cheap and tawdry, although I definitely seem to have less willpower than Alec does. Great. Even my professor thinks I’m a slut.

“All right.
I know. Thanks, Henry.”

“Dr. Kenyon,” he reminds me.

“Listen, Scarlet showed me the picture you-”

“Fine, Henry.
But only outside of class.”

“Deal,” I laugh.

3.

My Bible study is not very intensive since Henry was right. Growing up here and being an avid reader, I’ve heard these stories in multiple forms. My parents are history professors as well and we’ve traveled extensively in Italy. All of this serves me well now because I am not capable of focusing on complex myths at present. Luckily, it’s pretty simple anyway. Adam and Eve had everything, they were tempted, they gave up everything for temptation, were cast out, and humanity grew into existence. Then they had kids leading to a long list of begats and their son Cain killed his brother Abel out of jealousy. There. Refreshed. That leaves me a few hours to pine over Alec instead of being productive, which I am far better at doing with gusto. I don’t know what else to do with myself and I’m in the library, so I flip through a book about vampires. There’s nothing new in it, but maybe Alec and I will have something to talk about. Clearly, he takes this stuff seriously if he had his teeth capped. I find it all silly, the concept of creatures of the night, although no more or less so than the other myths we have studied. People need to look for an explanation for the things that scare them; vampires were just the natural answer for some cultures.

After it grows dark, I go outside and wait. There is one lone streetlight drenching the wall in warm light. I wait under the stream of soft yellow on the wall. It’s still cold, but I try not to worry about the chill; I start running through my witty repartee that I will use when Alec finally appears. My brain starts to feed me anxious thoughts about him standing me up and I’m turning my phone over in my hands, believing my brain, when I see him standing across from me, next to the streetlight.

“Hello,” I say.

“Good evening. I brought coffee.” He holds up a Thermos and I can make out a smile, although it is hard to see him in the shade of the night.

“Come over here and join me,” I offer.

“How about we head back to that hill? It was peaceful, was it not?
And less…distraction.”

I gaze in every direction; there is no sign of anyone on campus except us. The weather is not ideal for random jaunts, but Alec seems insistent. I jump down off the wall and follow him, wondering what his obsession is with the hill. I dressed up tonight to see him, although it’s no gown. Scarlet loaned me a black dress that may not be as ridiculous on me as it is on her, but it’s
still too small and highlights plenty. I know I look sexy, yet Alec says nothing. I won’t lie; I feel a little insulted that he doesn’t compliment me. He looks the same as he did last time - black slacks and a dark gray shirt. It’s only a t-shirt tonight, so maybe this is his idea of being casual. I’m sure it’s still Armani or something, though.

When we reach the crest of the hill, I see that he
’s laid out a picnic. It is a wonderfully sweet gesture and I am taken aback by what a gentleman he is. There are moments when I feel like he walked out of a novel set a hundred years ago. Maybe I should start calling him Heathcliff. He shatters the illusion when he takes out Styrofoam coffee cups, but still. Maybe they’re the new Armani Styrofoam line.

“Nora, you are ravishing,” he says and pulls me into a kiss. His tongue tickles my lips and there is a small prick as his fangs
are dragged across my mouth; he is instantly forgiven for delaying the compliment. I am ready to be with him and hope that the blanket is a hint that he is finally ready as well.

“I missed you,” I tell him and slip a hand under his t-shirt. He closes his eyes while I caress him. When I move lower, though, he backs away and shakes his head.

“Patience, dear,” he teases. “How was your day? Learning a lot?”

Okay
, I think.
So this is how we’re going to play it
. “Oh, a ton. Would you like to talk about standard deviation? How about some covariance? Because I can tell you all about those.”

“Really?
That sounds…dull.”

“It is dull - and I actually can’t tell you anything about them, except that I keep writing down the definitions and they’re not sticking. Seriously, when am I ever going to need to find the
z-score of anything? Why does anything even have a z-score?”

Alec laughs. It’s comfortable doing this, despite my body’s yearning for more. I’m not a very outgoing person, but I don’t feel the same natural shyness I feel with everyone else when I’m with him. Strangely, he even seems amused at my terrible jokes, which is unheard of in my dating history. I lean back on the blanket, the moon overhead reminding me of mythology class.

“We talked about Icarus today,” I say. I have a feeling that Alec is my sun and I, like Icarus, am never going to be able to stop myself from getting too close. I can only hope the fall and punishment aren’t fatal. I turn over on my side and look at him. He’s beautiful. Yup, I am most definitely going to come burning down to earth when this is over.

“I always enjoyed mythology and literature,” he says wistfully. “I have a personal
connection to many of the stories.”

“Personal connection?”
I ask.

“It’s almost like you could say I was there,” he answers. His voice is light, but his eyes say something else. For a moment, I believe that he
was
there, that he walked the same streets as Icarus and the others from my vast book collection.

“Do you take classes here?” I ask. I realize I’ve never seen him on campus before and I don’t know anything about him other than that he seems to be interested in me. I can’t
imagine why else he would be here, though, since it’s not exactly a hotbed of activity. Our little campus isn’t attracting types like Alec for the bagels.

“No, I’m not in school,” he says.

“Oh.” It is something of a deal breaker for me. Maybe it’s because I have been driven by a passion for art and literature, subjects that have no market or purpose in the world, but I always felt that college was a mandate not a choice. My parents’ profession is probably a part of it as well; I don’t think I could bring Alec home if I told my parents he chose not to go to college. A quick glance at him, however, and I realize I don’t care what my parents think. I can’t walk away no matter what happens. I try to hide my disappointment, not wanting to insult him; he sees it immediately, though.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I can hold my own in conversation.
But, if it makes you feel better, I finished school already.”

“I see. Where’d you go?”

“I went to school in England, as a matter of fact.”

“No accent?” He pours my coffee into a Styrofoam cup but some of it spills onto his pants. He tries to dry it off, but accidentally spills even more. His grin is sheepish and I sense embarrassment in him, although he should see me attempt to do pretty much anything. These moments remind me that he is human after all and not some perfect angel sent from the gods to tempt me.

“It was a long time ago,” he replies and hands me my coffee.

I sip it black and watch him. He grows agitated under my inspection; his
body is tense, and his eyes flick back and forth. I thought we were supposed to be relaxing; no one gets stressed out at a picnic. Why is he so nervous around me?

“How old are you?” I ask him and his eyes grow dark at the question.

“Old enough. Anyway, I brought croissants. Chocolate or raspberry?” His smile returns, but I catch the darkness that slips over him before it does. What is Alec’s secret?

Not wanting to pry and pleasantly distracted by pastry, I take the raspberry croissant. I notice he does not eat or drink while I do. He’s fortunate I’m not one of those girls who
refuses to eat on a date; in fact, I’m the opposite. I finish the croissant and take a chocolate one as well. Hell - he bought them to be eaten, right? I’m enjoying the treat, but I feel something itching at my skull, some fact or notion worming its way into my brain, trying to get my attention. I wish I could place what it was.

“Alec, tell me something about
yourself,” I say.

“What do you want to know?”
Again with the evasion. He could tell me his favorite color is mauve. At least it would be an answer.

“You know, you never answer questions directly.
Fine. Where do you live?”

I think he’s going to whisper his address in my ear, like a dirty secret, but instead he begins to nibble on the lobe and his hands maneuver up under my dress. I want answers, but I want his touch more. I’m ashamed of how fast my body shuts off my mind, but I can’t deny that this is where I
had hoped the night would go. I fall back onto the blanket, the croissant forgotten by my side as he moves on top of me and his lips slide along my neck. His fingers tickle my thigh and I yearn for him to finish where he left off last night; I twist, hoping to brush against his fingers. He manages to stay away, though, so I wrap my legs around him, wanting more. The hem of my dress is around my waist and there is only a thin pair of lace panties between his fingers and what I want most. I feel him tense, but I refuse to let go. His shirt comes off and I kiss his chest, feeling him fighting against his own desire. My nails dig into his ass as he strains over me and I lift myself to meet him. His lips bear down on my neck and the bite this time is intense, hot pain searing through me but the pleasure it brings is too sweet to fight. I plead for him to enter me. I can feel how hard he is against my leg and his fingers are bruising my thigh; I know he wants to slip them inside me as badly as I want them to slide into my warmth.

He pulls my dress off; his kisses and bites move along my chest, across the swells of my breasts, and down my stomach. I manage to get my bra off while he is at work; as my breasts
are released, he takes one in his mouth, the sharpness of his fangs teasing my nipple and making me desperate. His fingers caress me along the seam of my panties and I arch closer to him, giving him invitation to finish his teasing.

“I want
to feel you inside of me. I want to know you in every way,” I tell him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says. “But it is getting harder and harder to resist.”

“It certainly does seem to be getting harder and harder,” I tease, and I finally release him from his pants. I run my hand along the shaft and, although I cannot see it because he is still biting and kissing me, I can feel it pulsing in my grasp. The tip is slightly wet. I begin to stroke him and he moans, his fingers slipping as he gives in to my touch, brushing against my wetness and almost giving me what I want. I can’t take much more of this.

“Let me taste you,” I plead. I wiggle out from under him, despite my own craving to have him
enter me, feeling confident that I can break his will. I am free and I lean down to take him into my mouth, but he pushes away and I am left alone on the blanket, naked except for my panties, and soaking wet. He looks at me, mortified when he sees that we have taken it to this point. I can see what he’s been hiding as his cock pokes out from his pants, and I don’t want it hidden any longer. I reach for him, but he quickly fixes himself and shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Why do you keep forcing me to take this where it cannot go? This is not what you want. I’m no good for you.”

“It is what I want,” I pout, but I feel embarrassed and vulnerable, sitting here naked under his gaze. “Don’t you find me attractive?”

He sits in front of me and brings me to his chest. Our flesh is hot and sticky where it touches and I can’t stop the ache between my legs. His breathing is ragged and he tightens his grip on the back of my head as he tries to slow it. I am
hurt or angry or frustrated, but I don’t know which. He runs his hands along my entire body and I push against him, needing him and not knowing how to accept his denial.

“I want you, Nora. I have wanted you since I saw you. You are gorgeous. However, there are secrets that… Please understand, the steps that you want to take will reveal things. This cannot end well - for either of us. I don’t want to make you suffer, but I am fated to suffer. Don’t make me bring you with me into the darkness. I can’t bear to lose you.”

I sense the pain that grips him. The darkness that he speaks of sounds frightening, but I don’t feel fear when I face him and meet his eyes. “I will follow you anywhere. Dark or light. Stop trying to make my choices for me.”

Our lips meet again, but it is with doubt. Neither of us knows what will happen if we are to
move forward, but I want to have a chance to find out. My body is still crying out for him, but now my mind is calm. I want him, but I want him when he knows that I’m ready for whatever that means. His hands touch me and his caresses are soft. We both slow our breathing and I try to let my will match his. When he pulls away, he gathers the picnic and looks at me with longing and a hunger I do not recognize. It’s not sexual, but desperate. Almost as a dying man looks in the last moments of his life.

“In three days,” he says. “I will meet you again at the church where we first met. In the meantime, I want you to look something up - and if you do not appear at the church, I’ll know that what you found changed everything.”

“Okay,” I say warily. I’ll do anything he asks, but his fear scares me. What kind of secrets can he possibly hold? Little right now could stop me from going to him in three days.

“Find the name Charles Samuels. He was an Oxford student in the 1960’s. And then, we shall see how much of the darkness you are willing to face.”