The Thirst Within (23 page)

The garden is paved with walkways and is partially
covered by tall trees. Light trickles through the tree canopies and bathes the
garden in an ethereal light. It’s just before dawn, and the pale morning light
hints at another beautiful summer day. I’m in a nightgown, out of bed, waiting
for the sunrise. And then I see it.

The sun rises behind the trees and witnesses
the first day of my life as Corben’s beloved. I close my eyes and commit the
image to memory. I smile. Time to go back—I got out of bed just to see the sun,
but the bed calls me back now with promises of him. I leave the garden and walk
back to the big house of which I’m now the mistress.

The tile floors are cold but I don’t feel uncomfortable.
It feels like I’m walking on hardwood instead. Like something I’ve seen
recently, but can’t remember where. My legs are a little cold, but feel as
though they are covered in fleece. I pay no attention to the cold when I go
looking for him.

I maneuver the great house smiling in
anticipation. I see the stairs that I know will take me to him and climb to the
third floor, where the huge master suite is.

The house is full of light, like the light of
high noon. But the master suite is dark; the blinds are drawn in. With what
little light there is I can see his sleeping form on the bed. My heart starts
pounding in my chest.

He’s partially covered with a satin sheet,
drawn up to his chest. Above that I see his shoulders are bare. I’m standing at
the door, just staring at him, and my body responds to the sight before me. A
fire starts somewhere in my belly and spreads all over my extremities. He is so
handsome. The way my eyes pore over him it’s like I’m looking at him for the
first time. I can’t look away.

It hurts to look and not touch. The tips of my
fingers long to move over his arms; my fingers to curl over his biceps. My
chest expands aching for his hands to caress me. My feet move towards him, to
ease the pain of the separation that arrests me. It feels as if I’ve been away
from him for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be with him. I walk
towards him, my arm extended to grab the thin sheet that covers him. I want to
see him naked. I want his body to cover mine. I
want
him.

I reach the foot of his bed and grab the sheet.
Faster than my eyes can follow, his hand is over my wrist like a steel shackle.
I look up, surprised, and I see him sitting up. The sheet has fallen further
down, revealing his sculpted chest, his abdominal muscles perfectly toned. He
is wearing something like gray pants, of which I can only see the top.

His eyes are open. His pupils are dilated, the
irises two thin rings, dark green like the evergreens outside. He blinks, and
seems to focus on me.

“Tori,” he says. The name on his lips feels
foreign to me, yet familiar at the same time. The grip on my wrist reduces, but
he doesn’t let go.

I climb over the foot of the bed, using his arm
holding my wrist as support. I come closer and admire him, smiling in victory
at having conquered him. His lips part in surprise, and I bite half of my lower
lip to refrain from making any boorish, unladylike sounds. I bring my lips
close to his.

I hear his sharp intake of breath, and in the
next split second his hands are at my shoulders, holding me at arms’ length. I
frown; I don’t understand what he’s trying to accomplish, but I have a sole
purpose: to get
closer
. I extend my arms under his, and I touch his sides
with my fingertips. His skin feels so strong, yet so smooth.

He doesn’t say a word but he pushes me a little
further back. I press my shoulders into his iron restraint, making a frustrated
yelp like a child’s when he won’t let me get closer. His expression softens and
he yields; his elbows bend, allowing me to lean into him and wrap my arms
around his back.

There
. I burn against his chest. My
hands trail his back, feeling the contours of his muscles. I feel his breath on
my ear, but he’s otherwise frozen. My lips are so close to his neck; I breathe
in, and his scent assaults my senses. It fills my extremities with longing, as
a myriad of feelings reverberate through me. I can’t be away from him any
longer; and now full of determination I press my lips against his neck.

He stiffens one last time, and then exhales;
and his hands relax at my shoulders. In fact, his whole body slackens as though
he’s giving up on a battle I didn’t know he was fighting. His arms drop to my
waist and he slowly pulls me even closer. His hands timidly travel under my
nightgown and touch my skin reservedly, barely making contact.

One hand travels up my back, his fingers light
as a feather, exploring my skin, making me burn with desire. I press against
him, enjoying the feel of his cool hand on my burning skin. My lips are still at
his neck, and as I exhale I run the tip of my tongue over his skin.

He makes a grunting noise, and in a second he grabs
me by my bottom and lifts me, pulls the sheets back, and places me down on the soft
white satin that covers the mattress; I’m suddenly horizontal. He hovers over
me, his eyes locked with mine, his expression unfathomable. God, he’s so
beautiful. I bring a hand to his bare chest and caress him softly. He shuts his
eyes, takes my hand and kisses it hesitantly. Oh… his lips send a shock down my
arm and into every cell of my body. He gives me back my hand; his movements are
gentle and incredibly stimulating. My arms move of their own accord behind my
head, just as his hands grab the hem of my nightgown and pull it over my head.
No; it’s not a nightgown, but a… shirt.

I lie there, my bare chest to him, while he
just stares at me. My breasts stiffen under his scrutiny. I bite my lip,
wanting him. I bring my arms around him and pull him down into an embrace until
our bare chests touch.

Finally
. He faces away from me and I
nuzzle against his neck, enjoying every second of this heavenly hour. I raise
my hips forward to meet him; to get closer to him.

Timidly, he places one of his hands on the side
of my chest and caresses my breast pressed between us, rubbing my nipple gently
with his thumb. I feel it
everywhere
…. His other hand moves to my raised
hip and stokes my side. Every move is slow and deliberate. His hands find the
edge of… of my pants; I realize I’m wearing some form of fleece pants. His
fingers crawl under the elastic; they roam serenely on my bare skin. He
squeezes the flesh of my behind gently, but with enough strength to drive me
wild.

His hand on my back presses me against him, and
my groin rubs against his. My body reacts to the friction, building up pleasure
like a rocket. It’s concentrated on my secret spot, but spreads to every inch
of my flesh. I breathe raggedly. I move against him, slowly, pressing my body
into his, into his hand caressing my chest. My head is at his neck; I can’t see
his face, only
feel
him.

He shakes and grips me harder, almost as if he
were keeping himself steady by holding me close to him. As if fighting his
will. I don’t understand his reserve, but I caress his back lovingly, letting
him know that I
want
him. He moves with me, obeying my body’s wishes.
And then my hands tangle in his hair as a million sparks explode quietly within
me. He presses my hips against his one last time, and holds me there for a few
seconds, his frame continuing to shake faintly.

He slowly lowers me back to the bed. I collapse
beneath him, my heart thrashing wildly. He raises his head and his handsome
face appraises me, full of wonder and regard. I want him close to me. I pull him
down to me again and he succumbs.

“
Mon Dieu
,” I breathe against his neck.
“
Mon coeur
.”

He pulls back swiftly and looks into my eyes.
They are now greener; his pupils have contracted as normal. He squints at me,
alert, his eyes focused.

“No,” he says. “No, no. Tori. Wake up.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about. I’m
awake. But so delightfully tired.

“Corben?” I ask him.

He scrambles off me, and in a second he’s back
and wearing a white shirt he didn’t have on a moment ago. He hands me the shirt
I was wearing.

“Put this on, Tori.”

I look at it and recognize a rock band’s logo.
A rock band? I’m confused. I don’t even know what that means. I frown, as I try
to figure out what am I thinking of.

“Raise your arms, like this,” he says. He takes
one of my arms and raises it. I comply and raise the other one. He pulls the
shirt over my head.

“Tori. I need you to wake up.” He grabs my face
with his hands and stares into my eyes. “Tori. Please.” He feels terrible, I
can tell. I’d do anything to keep him from feeling that way. But I don’t know
what he means. And then I’m so exhausted.

I close my eyes. It’s a testament of how tired
I am that I
can
close my eyes, cutting off the sight of his perfection.
I fall asleep almost immediately.

***

I wake up in a cold sweat.

“Corben,” I breathe. He’s in the foreground of
my thoughts, because I was dreaming of him. I feel arms around me tighten. It’s
him
; I’m in his arms, my back pressed against his chest. I jump a
little, shocked. The arms disappear in a second and I feel a strange emptiness
adding to my confusion. I turn around to face him in the darkness, my heart
beating fast in my disorientation.

He sits up and a dim light flickers on above
us; I’m assuming he does that for my benefit, since he can probably see in the
dark. He’s fully awake. I squirm back, away from him, trying to figure out how
I feel past the shock of finding myself in his bed. I stay on my side, confused
and alarmed of the blank that my mind is drawing.

It takes me a minute for the memories to
surface, and when they do, the wave of dread that rolls over me takes my breath
away. I remember my accident. Him picking me up. And then nothing.

And then the dream. Or what I thought was a
dream, but really happened; I was in a sort of sleepwalking mode. But I
remember it clearly… too clearly…. A glow starts in my chest, spreading to my
limbs.

I shudder the thought away. I’m repulsed,
embarrassed beyond belief. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever slept sharing
a bed with someone else. And
oh God
. The level of intimacy! I start shaking,
and to my dismay, my eyes fill with tears. I brave a look up to his face, and
the hard expression I find there scares the shit out of me; I scramble off the
bed and run. I run away before he has the chance to say anything that will ruin
me.

I dash down three flights of stairs, escape to my
room in the basement. I don’t even turn on the light; I shut the door behind me
and lean against it, as if I could block everything that lies on the other side.
The windows are fully covered in snow. I feel trapped; depressed. Unfortunately
I still want Corben.

There’s a knock on the door. Of course he
followed me.

“Tori, I’m sorry,” he says on the other side of
the door. He sounds… hurt. “It’s my fault. I can explain everything.”

“It really happened,” I say. It’s not a
question. “Were you awake?” I’m sniveling and my voice is small and childish,
but I can’t care.

“Yes, I was.” He sounds bashful.

“You tried to stop me.”

“Not hard enough.”

“Why do I feel this way?” I whisper, almost
pleading. I know he hears me.

“Do you remember your accident?”

I don’t respond right away as I relive the
violent memories. “Yeah,” I say, shaking. “But I don’t remember anything
afterwards.”

“Tori, you were badly hurt. You cracked a few
ribs and hit your head many times on those rocks.”

I remember, and I shiver. And I recall the
pain.

And find myself surprised to not feel any pain right
now.

“How come I’m fine now? Did you—did you give me…?”
I start, but I close my eyes as I realize what happened. He fed me his blood. He
must have. “Oh, God.”

“I had to,” he whispers, and his voice is so
full of emotion that I wish I could see his face. “It wasn’t a significant amount.”
Like I even know what a significant amount is.

“Is that what made me…?” I can’t finish. It’s
hard to say out loud,
try to seduce you
.

“Tori…. I’m sorry. Let me explain everything to
you. Will you come up to the living room?”

I wipe my tears away with the back of my hand,
and suddenly notice something. “Aaah!” I cry as I blink, patting my eyes
frantically, touching the cornea directly and scratching it in the process. I
hear discordant noises coming from my mouth.

“Tori? What’s wrong?” Corben calls.

“I can’t find—I can’t feel—my….” I can’t form
sentences, and I turn around, open the door, run past Corben to the bathroom and
inspect my eyes in the mirror, noting briefly that my hair is a mess.

“Tori, your heart is out of control,” Corben says
behind me. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he demands.

I look up in the mirror and my panicked stare
collides with his. Our eyes almost match in color, but mine are frantic and his
are worried. “I scratched my eye. I was wearing my contacts and now I can’t
find them!” I move my hands again to my eyes.

He’s immediately before me, pinning my forearms
to keep me from scratching myself again. “Sh-sh-sh,” he trills. “Your contacts
are not lost in your eyelids. They’re upstairs in my bathroom. I took them
out.”

“Huh?” I blink, and I stare into his eyes again,
the real ones, and it doesn’t make sense, because I can see him perfectly well.

“I probably damaged them… I just threw them in
a cup with water. But I’ll get you new ones. You kept blinking as if something
was bothering you. I checked your eyes, saw them, and I took them out.”