Sips of Blood (29 page)

Wil felt his penis stretch and swell.
Shit, how much of a masochist am I?
The fluid ran through
his pubic hair, dribbling down between his thighs.

"Just enough,
monsieur."

Sade dropped the last of the fluid on the tip
of Will's penis. Wil knew that a bit of his semen mingled with the
drippings that rolled down his organ.

A flick of Sade's finger lit the ornate
lighter. He carried it to the head of the board.

Wil felt the cold of Sade's hand brush his
cheek. The smell of burning hair forced him to jerk his head.

"Only a few strands,
monsieur.
Your
hair is so dark, long, and thick, I envy you."

"Don't, please. Marie, stop him. I don't want
this."

"Finally,
ma
Marie, something that
frightens
votre chouchou."

The man just needed to scare him, Wil
thought. If he showed enough fear, this dead man would back off.
This dead man that needed to be destroyed.
Oh Marie, you were so
right.
But Wil needed to take out more than this Sadist. He
turned his head and looked at Marie. She stared back. A flicker of
emotion never disturbed her features as she allowed Sade's hand to
move down closer to his chest.

"She shared her blood with me," Wil
yelled.

His chest flashed in waves of flame that
progressed down to the lower half of his trunk.

Screams. His own. Marie's, as he saw the man
sweep his fist into her mouth.

* * *

The ceiling light stayed lit after they left,
but Sade had turned up the dimmer. Wil felt spotlighted. His burned
body flinched under the glow of the high-wattage bulb that seemed
to heat his stinging skin even more.

They had left him tied, but he still could
tuck his chin in and see the blisters forming on his chest. He
could not see the lower half of his body, but pain informed him of
the damage that had been done.

"Bastard." His voice quivered. His anger
passed a stream of pain through his body, rippling down as a tide.
"I'll destroy you," he screamed, and the pain intensified, swelling
into a new wave. Tears blurred his eyes and spilled down the side
of his face. He inhaled, attempting to gain control over his
emotions; instead, the smell of burnt meat turned his stomach. A
dry heave contorted the pain into an unbearable trap that couldn't
be escaped. He tasted blood and realized he had bitten down on his
bottom lip. His tongue lapped at the blood. A fierce thirst
overpowered him. Saliva wouldn't come. He kept sucking on the lip,
but it didn't satisfy.

The door opened, and the light dimmed as the
door shut again. He heard the rustle of clothing, the squeak of a
floorboard, a cold hand wrapping around his left ankle, and the
smell of paraffin.

God, have they not done enough?

Warm wax was dribbled onto his left foot. The
heat seemed minor in comparison to the flame that still withered
and blistered his skin.

The heat of wax, the cold of a frigid hand
faded. The savage moved closer to his head. The smell of Marie
focused his mind. She stood where he could see her and blew out the
candle. She brought her face close to his.

"I forgive you," she said.

"Forgive?"

"For telling Louis that I had shared my blood
with you. He is afraid to do any real harm to me, since Liliana
knows that I am here. A frown." She rubbed a thumb across his
forehead. "Yes, I had told her I would come here when she and I had
stepped aside for a minute. He loves her, you know. A sick love,
but still a controlling emotion she has over him. He would never
destroy me, because her wrath would break his... dare I say, heart.
But you were a bad boy." Marie leaned forward to kiss his lips.

Wil spat the congealing blood into her face.
Marie raised her fingers to the blood and slowly wiped her face,
licking each finger clean between each of her strokes. When
finished, she lowered a finger to his cut lip and wiped away blood
that she ran across her own lips. She used her tongue to mop the
blood from her lipsticked mouth.

"I had to show you how much of an animal he
is. I didn't think you completely trusted what I said. Did
you?"

Silence pitted the two against each
other.

"I didn't think so. Louis is hard to imagine.
I'm here to rejuvenate you, my poor pet. It will take time, but
your body will heal. I promise not a scar will settle into your
skin."

Wil's body began to shiver.

"I had best hurry." She almost laid a hand
upon his chest, but stopped when he took a quick intake of air.

Too late,
Wil thought, as his action
ignited his flesh all over again. Through the haze of his distant
world he saw Marie rip apart the flesh on her right hand. Blood.
His thirst seemed beyond containment. Blood. The metallic, sweet
smell almost drowned out the odor of singed meat.

"I forgive you, Wil," she whispered. "I've
come to heal, my savior." She brought her cut wrist to his mouth.
"Drink, Wil. Quench that thirst that distracts your mind. Drink.
When you get stronger, you will be able to get even."

Staring into Marie's brown eyes, Wil suckled
at her wrist. He sucked so strongly that he saw her face crimp in
pain.

Bitch, he thought, while tasting her on his
tongue, allowing her to glide down his gullet, to seep into the
pores of his body.

Chapter 53

Dressed in a black cassock with a purple
stole crossing his chest, the priest unlatched the gates of the
cemetery. He swept the gates open and led the mourners down the
path to the family plot. Liliana stood far back in the line, not
wanting to intrude on the family's privacy. Her uncle walked close
to Matilda, whispering, comforting, lying, offering condolences
that were empty. Offering his condolences when he took pleasure in
the mourner's sorrow.

The hymns at the church had been solemn,
emphasizing the hysteria of the mother when she called out for her
baby. The screams resounded in the hollowness of the church as the
choir continued to sing. Matilda had to be held back, else she
would have lunged for the white coffin, which, covered with a full
bed of white and red roses, seemed to float in the midst of the
pall bearers. The priest's sermon had dwelt on the shortness of
Cecelia's life, the potential that had vanished with her, the love
she had for her family, and the peace she would find with her
Lord.

Not with her lord,
Liliana thought.
Never would Cecelia find the kind of peace the priest had promised.
Cecelia would know a never-ending hunger.

Liliana closed her eyes and remembered
awakening inside her coffin, the days-long confinement, the
hopeless cries that were smothered by the earth. Had her uncle
prepared Cecelia? He had not prepared Liliana. Perhaps after seeing
Liliana's famished, gaunt face, her bloodied fingers, and the
rigidity of her frightened body, he had learned a lesson.

The last of the mourners brushed past her,
and when she opened her eyes, she realized that most of the
entourage had already assembled at the grave. Quickly she fell into
step with those who preceded her.

At the grave site the coffin already hovered
over the gaping maw of the earth. The priest, book in hand, waited
for the crowd to still. Liliana looked for her uncle and found him
standing next to the parents, his hands folded in prayer and his
head bowed to the Creator.
Such blasphemy.

Dressed in a black custom-made designer suit,
her uncle looked striking. No, she corrected herself, he looked
ethereal, with his white, jaggedly cut hair dipping down on his
forehead and his somber but confident face of chiseled
features.

He must have sensed her watching, for he
looked at her and barely broke a smile to acknowledge her. Liliana
looked away quickly, unable to accept the familial recognition. She
and he were the same. Cecelia would join the family. He couldn't
remain here with Cecelia. Where would he suggest going? Liliana
didn't want to move on. She wanted to lie in David's arms,
peaceful, loving him too much to unleash her taste for blood on
him.

She and her uncle were the only ones of their
kind here, except for the others, the mutated vampires that merely
existed in the cemetery.

My God, what of Cecelia?
They'd
certainly smell the fresh body and come for her. Quickly she looked
back at her uncle. Matilda leaned on his arm, dabbing tears from
her eyes. Her uncle offered her his clean linen handkerchief, and
she sobbed at the thoughtfulness of the gift.

Liliana reached for Sade's mind and finally
knew she had captured his attention when Sade kissed Matilda's hand
and encouraged her to stand nearer the priest as the final words
were being said. He dropped back from the family, disappearing for
several minutes until he whispered behind Liliana.

"Something disturbs you,
ma
chère."

Liliana moved out of the mourners' circle and
walked to a distant tombstone. Not until they stood next to the
headstone did she realize it belonged to Wil's mother.

"The mutants I told you about are going to
smell her body. She'll be too confused to protect herself,
Uncle."

"I will linger among the trees. They will not
have the opportunity to suck her flesh." His fingers brushed her
cheeks. He looked at his own hands, remembering something. He
reached for the crested ring on his left hand and removed it from
his finger. "I shall always love you,
ma petite fille.
Always you will be first in my life." He took Liliana's left hand
and slipped the weighty ring on the middle finger. Raising her hand
to his lips, he kissed the ring and turned her hand over to kiss
her palm. "Cecelia quenches a hunger that merely satisfies my
fantasies. But she will never have my love."

* * *

Snuggled in David's arms, she played with the
fine hairs of his chest.

"That tickles." Playfully he pushed away her
hand. Like the legs of a spider, her fingers started moving up the
trunk of his body. "Uh-uh. Wrong direction." He drew her hand down
between his legs. "That's the right spot. Can't you tell?"

"But what if I want to tease you?"

"I like where you're teasing me now."

"But this isn't teasing. This is foreplay.
Next thing you know, you'll set me atop your hips, and we'll be way
beyond the teasing stage."

"What sort of coquettish game do you want to
play?"

Liliana slipped the peach-colored silk sheet
back off their bodies and kneeled.

"I want to take turns driving each other
crazy."

David took the down pillow from her side of
the bed and placed it under his head along with his own pillow.
"That will require thought and a filthy imagination."

She watched David's eyes scan the
bedroom.

"This is so neat for a ladies' boudoir. I
expected to see black lace teddies hanging off dressers, makeup
scattered around the bathroom sink, dresses left out from the
arduous morning selection of what to wear... but wait, if I lean
over the side of this mattress, will I find nylons scattered
beneath the bed?"

Liliana sighed.

"Don't look so depressed because you're not a
slob." He chucked her under the chin.

"I dress in another room."

"Ah! And you take your lovers to the bedroom,
but never the dressing room. Oh, Liliana, I thought I had found the
perfect housewife."

"We have... We had help."

"I'm sorry about the death of the
housekeeper's daughter. I didn't mean to ruin..."

She pressed two fingers to his lips.

"Let's talk about our sexy romantic
fantasies."

"Who starts?"

"You seem eager. Why don't you go first?"
Liliana smiled and shifted her weight to her right buttock.

"Actually, some of my fantasies I'd like to
live again."

"Then these aren't just fantasies."

"Even used fantasies are new with different
lovers."

Strange how the thought of other women made
her stomach sink. He knew she was no virgin when they first made
love. Each had had experiences with others that amplified their
ability to satiate the other.

"I'd like to sweep you away." He grabbed her
wrists and brought her back down on the mattress. "And I'd indulge
myself in whatever manner I wanted. I could tie you down and give
you orgasm after orgasm until your sleepy eyes told me you were
intoxicated with the smell of our sex and the warmth of my breath
on your skin."

His hot breath chilled Liliana as much as the
kisses with which he liberally moistened her flesh.

"Orgasm after orgasm," she repeated.

He looked at her and smiled.

"Tempted? I know how to take you on a high
beyond anything alcohol or a narcotic could give you."

"That easily?"

"Takes lots of sweat and ingenuity on my
part." He released her wrists and ran his hands down her arms and
across her breasts, squeezing and plucking until sexual excitement
forced her to push his hands away. "I can't bring you to peak after
peak..." He tapped her nose lightly with an index finger. "After
peak, if you keep pushing me away."

"But my breasts are so..."

"Sensitive. That's the point, so to speak."
He tweaked one of her nipples. "To have multiple orgasms you have
to stay on the edge of torment and ecstasy."

His wet mouth covered hers, his tongue
gliding against the roof of her mouth. He took hold of her wrists
and brought her arms over her head. The cold brass and iron
headboard felt refreshingly cool in contrast to David's burning
flesh. Holding her wrists with one hand, David reached for
something. The shifting of skin against skin increased the sexual
tension between them. When he moved back onto her body, she raised
her hips into him. He began to loop cloth around her wrists, tying
her to one of the brass posts.