Operation (31 page)

“John, don’t think, for once in your life. Just react.”

Before he could even think about what she had said, he felt himself drawn to her. His body was trembling. He tried to stop it, but found he couldn’t. The moment seemed to become a frame by frame exposure of each second slowly passing. He closed the distance between them. He could see tiny beads of moisture on her lips glistening in the meager light of the hallway. He saw her tongue, pink and inviting, slowly pass across her lips, wetting them even more as they slowly parted in anticipation of his arrival, beckoning him to touch.

When their lips met, he felt the trembling rise to a climax and he nearly shook himself from the attachment he so much wanted. Instead, he felt her hands reach up and hold him on his biceps, to help still his shaking. He thought he heard her say something, but it wasn’t words. It was a low moan of excitement.

He allowed himself to revel in the softness and fullness of her lips, ensuring that he tasted every centimeter of them. He felt her tongue probe inquisitively in his mouth and he met it with much enthusiasm. He raised his arms and wrapped them around her and they embraced tightly as the kiss continued.

Then, his mind reminded him that he barely knew this woman.

He suddenly felt the kiss ending and he backed away slowly, their eyes remaining focused upon each other. Her lips parted in a wide smile, showing her perfectly shaped and brilliantly white teeth. He felt another wave of trembling engulf him.

“You’re still trembling,” she said. “Why?”

“Nerves. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. But it’s good nerves…I think.”

She rubbed his arms with her hands and then said, “Well, you almost made it.” She moved one of her hands from his arm and gently touched his face. He felt her fingers slowly move over the contour of his chin, his cheeks and his eyebrows. The feeling was so sensual, and yet so relaxing and soothing.

He remembered what she had just said and asked, “Almost?” He wasn’t sure what she was referring to.

“You were really into the kiss with me most of the time, keeping those bad thoughts at bay—almost. But you did well.”

How did she do that? How could she tell what he was thinking?

“John, stop worrying if I have ulterior motives at heart and just accept things as they are.”

“How can you tell these things? How can you tell what I’m thinking? What I’m feeling?”

“I’m very good at understanding people, John. Take someone like you: you’re so downright simple, yet you try to complicate things to make yourself feel inferior.”

“I don’t—”

His words were interrupted by a beeping sound. Christina removed her arms from him and reached into her pocket. She removed a pocket watch and silenced the alarm.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s just my alarm. I had it set for the other day and must have forgotten to turn it off.”

She separated from him and moved once again toward the door. “I have to get going so you can get a little sleep and then off to work. Will you call me tonight?”

“If I can. It all depends upon what happens today.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding disappointed with his answer.

“Christina?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re here and I’m here. Is there any other explanation required?”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Right answer,” she said. “Call me.”

“I will.”

Without another word, she turned and left his home. He stood on the front porch and watched as she walked hurriedly to her car, a small Toyota Echo, got in and drove off.

He waved to her as she sped off into what was left of the night. The blackness was slowly turning into the gray of dawn. He wondered if this had all been a dream and when the morning sun rose, if it would all be over.

He took one last look down the quiet street in Ocean View and then decided to grab an hour of sleep and then get a shower. If he hurried, he would make the briefing on time, perhaps with even a few minutes to spare. Part of him didn’t see the rush, though, because he didn’t have a clue what he was going to tell them. 

Chapter Nine

“Christina?” Jake asked, as she entered the underground area of the old Navy facility. He was sitting in an English-styled library: rich wood and leather furniture surrounded the walls, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books marched the perimeter. Tiffany lamps glowed in the corners, adding to the look of the old yet well-preserved wood.

“Good evening, Jake, what are you doing here?” she asked. It wasn’t uncommon for Jake to wander into her home; after all, he had been coming here for many years, but lately Christina had begun to detect a change in his demeanor and habits. Perhaps it was because of his advanced age; but he was becoming more nervous and somewhat disoriented.

“I couldn’t sleep. It happens when you get old like me,” he said, as he rose slowly from the chair he had been sitting in.

She watched his movements as he approached. They were somewhat awkward, she thought, as he took the few steps toward her. He moved as if he was willing his limbs to go in a direction they did not wish to go in. His steps were slow at first, but as he continued, they seem to cooperate more willingly. He was getting old, she thought, so old. He was almost at the end of his life.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep,” she said, actually trying to imagine the feeling of an aging body, even though it was something she would never experience. He was how old now? Was it seventy or eighty? She couldn’t remember.

“You just got back in time; the sun is almost up,” he said, sounding like a concerned father talking with his daughter who had come home late.

“I have been given a mission,” she said. The words were simple and needed no further explanation because she had said this exact sentence to him many times over the years. The sentence carried with it an understanding that he was not to ask any questions. It kept him safe from the patriots, she thought.

“It’s been a while since you were working,” he said.

“Yes. Things have been quiet,” she agreed. “But it appears as if this one will be different, much more complicated.”

“Well, I was just worried,” he continued. “Sitting here alone, I was thinking what it would be like if you didn’t come back. What would I do without you?”

She moved closer to him.

“Jake. My precious Jake. What would I do without you? You have taken care of me all these years. Do you think I would abandon you?” She reached out and stroked his white beard, twirling the hairs with her fingers.

“Abandon me…,” he repeated, with a mixture of fear and anger.

She stopped playing with his beard and placed her hands on his arms, drawing him to her. He did not resist her pull: he never did.

“I don’t know anymore,” he said softly. “My thoughts are nothing more then vague memories of the past that I can no longer remember. I fear there will be nothing to hold onto soon and I will simply die. An empty shell of what I once was: a man that has loved you all these years. You will leave me for another man, someone who can give you more, someone who will understand you. I think of that and I yearn for death. I will welcome it with open arms the way I used to anticipate your arms, your kisses…”

“Shush, my beloved Jake. There will be no speaking of death. Not tonight, not tomorrow. Life shall go on for us. It will never end, nor shall we be overcome by it.”

The words came easy for her. She had repeated them innumerable times over the years. Was she using him? Of course she was. Isn’t that what people did? Use one another to get what they wanted.
Yes
, she told herself.

“Will it? Forever?” he asked. “I’m not so sure anymore. Too many things are changing, too fast and too deep. Life has become nothing more then a rat race to hell, to see who gets there first.”

“Yes, Jake, it shall. Forever. The life outside of these walls has no meaning for us. They are only shadows of what we have here. You have been and always shall be mine. Nothing else matters.”

“Christina. Oh, my Christina. I need you. I need you more now then ever. This old man wants you. I want you to love me. Can you still love an old fool?”

“You are no fool, Jake, but yes, I can love you. Do you want me?”

“Oh God, yes,” he said.

“Tell me?”

“I want you.”

“Will you give yourself to me freely?”

“Yes. I give myself freely.”

“Then I am yours.”

Christina took one small step back from him. Her fingers moved to the white shirt she wore, searching for the buttons. She began to unbutton each one slowly. As each button released, she could hear Jake gasp slightly as his breath caught in his throat.  Her shirt drifted open, her firm breasts revealed. She ran her own fingers around the nipples and Jake moaned with the anticipation of a teenager. When the last button was undone, she grasped his hands; they were old, she thought, heavily calloused and rough, but they could still feel. She placed his hands on her breasts and then placed her hands over them and pressed gently.

“Touch me, Jake. Please. I’m your woman. Do what you want.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “What I want.” His body seemed to come to life, leaving the shell of the old man behind as he touched her, absorbing her own energy. She could now sense his arousal growing with every second.

She moved Jake in the direction of the leather sofa in the living room, their clothes falling to the floor around them. She gently eased him onto the sofa, and then allowed him his way.

As he lay on top of her, his breathing quickened and he began covering her neck with heavy wet kisses. She could feel the hairs of his beard tickle her throat. He pulled her tightly now with his newfound strength and she could feel his excitement building. She stroked him like the dying embers of a fireplace; fanning life back into old wood and nurturing it back to a powerful blaze of enormous and warming heat.

“Yes, Jake. You do what you want and then I will do what I want. It’s the same as it always has been. All these years, we’ve used each other for our own purposes.”

“Yes,” he murmured breathing rapidly. “Our own purposes...”

He was close now, she thought. Over the years, she had learned how and when the opportune moment for him was when it would be best to combine her pleasure with his. She allowed him to enter her and he began his thrusting.

Feeling his excitement almost at a crescendo, she released her own passion, which she had confined to its own dark lair, feeling her incisors lengthen with the anticipation of the feeding. He was close now—very close.

The moment she felt him orgasm, she in turn moved his head to one side, brushed the whiskers away from an area of scared flesh from her numerous feedings, opened her mouth and bit into him. He moaned as she began sucking the blood from the main artery in his neck. She sucked deeply, languishing in the warmth of the blood as it flowed into her mouth, filling her. She swallowed and let the blood make its way into her own system, nurturing her own organs and refreshing them with the blood that had once been her life as well.

“Christina,” Jake moaned.

She said nothing as she continued to suck his life force. Her mind danced in the aura of life entering and mingling with her own dead organs. She had never known how to explain the sensation that the blood gave her, but it was far more enriching then just the human sexual aspect. This was life all over again.

For the brief time that the blood continued to live in her body, before her altered system killed it, it would bring back all those feelings she had experienced when she was alive. It was like a continuous explosion of sensation as each organ became alive again. It was like having multiple orgasms. She would truly feel alive: she would feel like she did before she had become something else. She closed her eyes and let the live blood arouse her body and mind. She drifted off into the memories that swept her away, hoping that they would be pleasurable.

Chapter TEN

“Christina,” Jake moaned again, this time even weaker.

The sound of her name drove her up to wakefulness from the trance and to the realization that she was still sucking Jake’s blood.
How much have I taken?

She released him and he fell back on the sofa. His complexion held a paleness that frightened her; she had taken too much blood. She felt for his pulse. It was weak but steady. She rose from the sofa and grabbed a blanket that lay across one of the chairs. She opened it and spread it across his naked body. She stood over him for a moment, and then touched his forehead, brushing some of the hair that had fallen across his face and combing it with her fingers back into place.

“Oh Jake,” she said. “I almost did it that time, didn’t I? This game of ours will end soon, I can feel it as well as you can.”

His lifeless figure did not respond.

“Sleep, my Jake. Sleep.” She rose from the sofa, gathered her own clothes and got dressed. She could feel the glutton of blood within her cooling rapidly and making her feel bloated. But it was not only her stomach that felt bloated, but her mind as well. Her thoughts felt disarrayed and confusing. This too was not normal after feeding. Usually the euphoric feeling would remain and her thoughts were sharp and focused. Then the image of John Reese came into her mind and refused to leave.

What had she intended on accomplishing by going to see him? She knew what he was. She had read all about him from the file she had taken from General Stone’s office. He was the authority Stone had turned to, but what she didn’t understand was why. Why did Stone need Reese? And why was it important to know more about vampires? Was he to become her new keeper? Her new patriot of the cause? She didn’t think so. Then what was it? She didn’t know, but there was something else that bothered her. She couldn’t exactly define what that something was...it was just something about him.

After she had learned about him from the information in Stone’s home, she had observed Reese prior to enrolling in the class. Actually meeting and talking with him had been surprisingly interesting. He was obviously very passionate with his research and studies of ancient myths. She had been surprised when she browsed through his library. He had things in there that were extremely rare and should have made their way into a museum. In truth, he had painted a picture of her kind that was more accurate than any other she had come across before. She wondered if he knew how close he was to the actual truth. She also thought that he must have paid a fortune to obtain the texts he had. It was obvious he was not a rich man; judging from his home, he must have sacrificed much to obtain them. But that wasn’t it…