Nectar: DD Prince (40 page)

“Kyla?”

She leaned over and unmuted the mic.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

Kyla made the window for outside the closet door bigger. There was a tall metal dog run looking cage outside the door.

Lovely.

She watched Tristan get up. He looked shattered.  He brewed two cups of coffee and came back upstairs and she watched him open the cage with five separate keys. He placed the cup of coffee on the floor in the center of the cage and put a keychain with the keys beside it.

“I used 5 locks,” he said, “It takes concentration for me to open a lock and I did it this morning and timed myself at 53 seconds to get through all of them so I figure five will give you time to get back in the panic room while Sam takes me down with a tranquilizer gun. I’ll put a gun in there for you so you, too, can take me down. Sam is on his way now. I’m leaving the apartment so you can get your coffee. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

Kyla took a deep breath. What a stupid idea. Stupid stupid idea.

“Kyla?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Baby?” He breathed.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Mmm.”

“Damn it, talk to me!”

“What do you want me to say?” She croaked, “That this is a stupid idea? It’s stupid, Tristan. So stupid. Do you want me to tell you I’m scared? Cause on top of all of this shit I don’t know what’s going on with you that you’re not telling me. Fine, I’m scared, Tristan. Do you want me to also tell you that I’m going crazy and that these walls are closing in on me? Will that help you to hear that out loud as if you can’t hear it in your head already? Do you want me to say I think about pushing that button and running out the door every time you leave and that we both know I’m a fucking moron for not doing it? Do you want me to say that I don’t even care if you bite me and kill me because I just want to feel you again?”

“Baby…”

“Or do you want me to tell you those 3 magic words right back? Maybe I’m just saving saying those three little big words that I don’t ever remember saying to anyone ever in my whole life for them to be the last words I utter to you before you end my life.”

“Baby…” His face was so full of pain.

“Go take a walk, Mr. Vampire. Lack of caffeine is making me grumpy. I need coffee like you need blood, okay? I’m getting a migraine.”

“About that…”

She tilted her head.

“I think I need you to take some blood for me and pass it out. I..I think it’ll help me regain my balance. I’m really off right now.”

“Seriously? Give you even more steroid heroin so you can kill me faster?”

Just like Jackson. Another fucking addict.

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, “Fuck. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“You’re going. Go.” She folded her arms and shot daggers at that screen with her eyes.

“Back in 10 minutes.”

Kyla drank the coffee, took two ibuprofen, and got dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie. She tied her hair in a ponytail.  She did all this with a scowl on her face.

She got on the floor and started to do the Pilates 100. She needed to burn off some energy so then she did push-ups and then crunches.

~~~

A while later she saw on the screen that Tristan was back and with Sam. Sam had a messenger bag and they walked into the kitchen. He opened the bag and pulled out what looked like 3 large pistols. He loaded each with a cartridge, passed two to Tristan and kept the third.

Kyla’s fingertips came up to her temples and she took a big deep breath and let it out slowly.

“What’s happening with Donovan?” Tristan muttered.

“Waiting for him to make his next move.” Sam muttered, looking at Tristan cautiously.

Donovan?

“Let’s do this.”  Tristan said and the two men found their way upstairs.

Kyla stood up and flexed her fingers and toes. She didn’t know why. She just felt like she had to physically prepare for this experiment.

“Kyla…” Tristan called out.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well let’s do this. Sam, point that at me. If you need to, shoot me twice with it.”

“One shot’ll take an elephant down for an hour, Tris.”

“Twice.” Tristan repeated, teeth clenched.

“Alrighty. If you have to shoot me, just shoot me once, please. I don’t think I’d survive two.”

“Right. Kyla?” he stepped into the view of the camera inside the closet, “I’ve put one on the floor of the closet here. If you need to shoot either or both of us, do it. Then get back in the panic room and wait for me to come to and then we can re-group. Hit the green button and come into the closet.”

Tristan backed up outside the closet door, holding the gun at his side. She could see Sam standing behind him, pointing the gun at him. Tristan closed all the locks.

She felt frozen to the spot where she stood.

“Kyla,” his voice was stern.

“Okay,” she whispered. What if he didn’t come back around? What if he stayed the monster? What if…what if…

“Kyla!”

“Okay! Fuck.” She hit the green button and heard Tristan’s phone ding from the bedroom. She took a slow breath and opened the door and stepped out into the cage.

She could see Tristan and Sam behind him. Instantly, Sam’s face changed. It turned grey and his fangs shot out.

“Oh fuck.” Kyla gasped. Tristan spun to look at Sam and it looked, for a second, like a showdown. Sam shot Tristan in the leg and then again and it hit his torso somewhere. Tristan lunged at Sam, punched him in the face, and then shot Sam in the leg with his tranquilizer gun. Sam shot Tristan a third time and then collapsed, falling face first into the carpet.

Tristan was winded. He looked back at her. She let out a deep breath. So far, he still looked like Tristan. Was everything going to be okay after all? She felt a gush in her panties.  She’d be gushing all day long. That’s how it always was from day 2 to day 4 of her period.  Tristan’s face was changing.

Blue? Gone. Black eyes.

Skin? Gray.
Oh no.

Click,

Oh no. The locks.

Click, Click,

Please no.

Click.

Fuck. That was four clicks and was no where near 53 seconds. One more click to go. She bolted back into the panic room and hit the red button.

Shit! I forgot the tranquilizer gun. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

A breath later the last click was heard and then another. The panic room door! It flung open.

This is it… Goodbye blue eyes and dimples. Goodbye fluttering butterfly kisses on my face and goodbye butterflies in my stomach and fire and maple syrup and bliss in my blood. Goodbye cruel world. 24 years old and done with not much of a life to show for it.  Goodbye gorgeous vampire prince. Hello death.

Mr. Death was instantly in her space. Those blackened irises were in front of her. His fangs were bared, his beautiful face marred with an ugliness she didn’t want to begin to try to decipher. His breathing was slow and shallow, as if he was asthmatic. Fog began to billow out of his mouth, as if they were in sub-zero temperatures.

“Tristan,” she whispered, feeling her heart pound like thunder against her chest. She backed up against the bathroom door.

His nose was in the crook of her neck. It was cold, like ice. He bit in and the sound of her throat piercing was sickeningly audible. It hurt but then it felt so good, too. She let out an “Ah.”  Her eyes rolled back. But the feeling inside, it wasn’t Tristan’s bliss entering her veins. It also wasn’t monster Tristan. No spiders. No sludge. It was hollow. Bile rose in her throat and it tasted like rust.

“Tristan, baby, are you in there? Please be in there. Don’t do this. We could find a happily ever after, couldn’t we? You
could
make me happy. You
do
make me happy. I wanna make you happy.”

She felt a gush down below and he let go of her throat and sniffed the air and then dropped to his knees and reached for her hips.

She spun around and then slid by him back into the closet, the cage. He rose and slowly followed. She reached toward the tranquilizer on the floor but before she got it he grabbed her hips with freezing cold hands, dropped to his knees, taking her pants and panties down roughly and then his nose was in between her legs. He jerked her down onto the rug, then she was pinned, her legs tangled in her clothes. She felt his tongue there, tasting, seeking. She stretched but couldn’t reach the gun.

If I don’t fight, maybe he’ll take it and he’ll stop. Is it possible?

She started to try to visualize her feelings and push them toward him from her mind. He let out a moan and his cold tongue was pushing hard on her clit and down toward her opening. She shuddered, pleasure spiking and her legs were like mush, wide open. How on earth could the demise of her do this? How could she begin to feel pleasure when she probably had seconds left to live?

She lifted her upper back so she could see him. His hand flew up and pinned her to the floor by the throat. He was squeezing. She tried not to panic and struggle. It wasn’t easy to fight that reflex. His grip loosened enough to make breathing easier. She felt another gush of fluid down below. He was moaning.

Emotion surged forward in her,

“Tristan? I know you can’t control this. It’s okay,” she whispered, tears streaming down, and then his tongue started to really move and he added suction into the mix. Like a tidal wave a massive orgasm washed over her. It went on and on and on. And on. She thrashed and moaned and then his grip tightened on her throat again and it somehow made the sensations all the more intense. She was on the verge of losing consciousness.

He let go.

Her eyelids fluttered. She looked up. He was standing over her, towering and seeming like a giant. His chest was heaving. His fists were clenched at his sides. He reminded her of a gray, instead of green, Incredible Hulk. He had blood on his chin. He roared. Roared!

Oh fuck…

Kyla scampered backwards against the opened panic room door and looked up to see him lunging for her. She braced herself as he pulled her to standing by the underarms and pushed her against the door, making it snap shut. She was against that door and her feet weren’t touching the floor. It was about to be over, she could feel it, he’d drain her. She wanted to look at him one more time and hoped that somehow inside there the real Tristan, the guy who’d wanted to open his own restaurant, the guy who sang beautifully, and whose smile could light up the room, whose touch lit up her body, who’d swam through the molten lava moat to break down her walls would somehow see her. His gaze was on her throat and he opened his mouth and started to move toward it.

She stared hard into those black depths, trying to will them to be blue, and prepared to try to win the ultimate stare down,

“Tristan, I… love you,” Kyla whispered, feeling her feelings for him well up inside of her.

His gaze came back to look at her eyes, her throat momentarily forgotten. His eyes
were
starting to change. They were stormy gray, on the verge of turning blue again. She touched his cheek. It wasn’t cold or warm, it was clammy. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. He stood still, his eyelashes fluttering.

Color was returning to his face and his grimace was loosening. He wasn’t totally Tristan yet but he looked like he could be on his way. A glimmer of hope burst forward in her chest. She gasped as he collapsed and because he still had a hold of her, she fell with him.

He was out cold.

Did I break through or did the tranquilizer finally kick in? What do I do what do I do what do I do?

Should she run back into the panic room? It was still disengaged so the door should be unlocked.  She checked it.  It
was
unlocked.

Should she wait in there until he woke up to see if he was past it or if it’d happen all over again?  

What? What?

She caught sight of Sam. What would happen when Sam woke up? Would he attack her, too? She wouldn’t be able to push nice thoughts into his head and hope it’d bring the colour back to
his
face. If the nice thoughts even worked. It really could’ve just been the tranquilizer.

She yanked her pants back up, grabbed the tranquilizer gun from the floor and squeezed the trigger, shooting another small dart into Sam’s leg. Then she pointed it at Tristan.  Would another dart keep him down longer or would it be lethal? Sam had shot him three times already.

She stared at him, pointing the gun, and trembling all over. He just looked like he was sleeping. Sleeping with blood all over his chin on the floor inside a metal cage in a mess of blood all over the rug. Now that he was down she should have a bit of time --- she hoped, before he woke up. She sobbed, looking at his gorgeous face and made her decision. She touched her lips to his forehead. He was warm.

“I’m sorry but I have to go,” she whispered softly and touched the cleft on his chin with her fingertips.