Misery (10 page)

He did not take the elevator
—too slow
. He jumped off the balcony, hitting one ledge going down. He jumped to one more before dropping to the street.

* * * *

She felt the tension slowly being drawn out of her body by the hot water in the large marble tub. She had found some oils and put them in the water instead of bubble bath. Her skin began to soak up the soft hot treatment as she closed her eyes and laid her head back against the towel pad on the seat behind her neck.

Finally, for a time, she forgot about killings. She didn’t think about someone trying to get to her blood, she forgot about her job that she had just lost. The things that were still in her apartment that she might never see again. She forgot that there really were things that went bump in the night. There was just the sound of the water circulating and the lavender smell of the oils.

She stayed until she felt the skin on her fingers begin to winkle. Something in the system kept the water warm, but she knew she had to get out. The towels were large and soft, so it was easy to wrap one around her like a blanket, after she had dried. She wanted clean clothes so she walked into the bedroom to get items from her small suitcase. She looked around and since she seemed to be alone, she pulled out panties and a large sweatshirt. She put only these on, feeling tired and relaxed after the bath. She went ahead, turned out the light, and crawled in bed.

She could hear the TV low in the other room but didn’t know who was watching it. She assumed it was Trump. She lay back under the covers, just tried to relax, not thinking, starring at the dark ceiling.

Finally, almost asleep, she saw the large shape of Deck come into her room. He didn’t say anything but entered the bathroom without closing the door. She could tell he was stripping. She heard the shower running for a short time.

By this time she was fully alert, wondering what he was going to do. When he came out naked, she was glad there was no light in the bedroom. He approached the bed and stretched out on top of the covers.

She waited a moment but finally had to say something. “Do you intend to sleep every night by my side?”

Of course his answer was short. “Yes.”

She waited for her anger to kick in to help her. “Deck, this is ridiculous. First, you and Trump can guard me from anywhere in this apartment or suite or whatever it is. I mean we are up on what, the twentieth floor?”

When he didn’t move or didn’t answer, she tried again. “I am used to sleeping alone, I don’t think I can continue to get rest with you in the same bed. I find you disturbing.”

She knew when he turned his head to look at her.

“Whenever possible, you stay at my side.” He lay still feeling the emotions she sent. Anger, some fear but not as much as previous but there was something underneath. Sex? He wondered, as he lay unmoving, enjoying the smell, the emotions. He had to reflect on what it would be like to enter her, to receive her emotions as he fucked her. He thought, if for the first time in longer than he could remember, would he actually enjoy the act as well as finding a release for a bodily need?

“I’m not sure I can deal with this.” She spoke with anger.

She was angry. He felt the red roll off her. But he wanted something else because he knew anger.

“ “I need some more information about what is going to happen to me. So will you answer my questions?” She was proud that although her voice was low, it was steady.

There was a long silence and she knew he was looking at her. Then he surprised her as he asked a question.

“What do I get?”

His voice was also low, but it was the monotone. It also was different, lower.

She refused to look over in the dark at his shadow. “What do you want?” She knew she was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Emotions.” That word was even lower, seeming to come from his chest.

“Well, gee, does that require you touching me, because if so, I say
no
. But if not, I guess if it is something weird, like that one-time thing you did in my bedroom, I can’t say that I would be very happy about it, but I guess I could do a tradeoff.”

She felt the bed move. She could tell he was on his side with his head up, resting on his hand raised by his elbow.

“Wait, the type of feeling like you did to me was sort of invasive. I think I need several answers to each emotion. Agreed?”

“What do you need to know?”

She assumed they had an agreement. She took a deep breath. “If I get turned over to the Council, will I have any freedom, to visit friends, to work where I want, to say no if I don’t like something they want me to do?”

“No.”

She lay still, absorbing that one solid word. She believed Deck. She believed that he would not lie to her
—
she wondered if he ever lied to anyone. He might stand there without any expression to kill someone, but he would not lie to them. She shivered, but she was not sure from what, his honesty or his danger.

She heard the intake of his breath. What was he smelling, the oils from her bath?

“So I lose all my freedom. I lose all my choices if I am turned over to the Council. So if I try to get away from you guys and run, I will surely be caught by some rogue who will suck me dry. Some choice.”

He lay back down. He must have been looking at the ceiling. “I will not let you go.”

“I know what you are saying, you are taking care of me. You are watching me. But just suppose I do escape, how long before some rogue catches me?”

“I will not let you go.”

She signed in frustration. “I know, Deck, but I am trying to figure out what chances I have. What choices I have. You must understand that I might, yes, I would prefer death to losing my freedom, to becoming someone’s lab rat.

“I will not let you go.”

She had finally had too much. She rolled over, drew her arm back then slammed her fist into his chest. She knew she could not hurt him, she just needed to strike back at something, anything. She felt herself being lifted into the air as if she were a doll. She was brought down on his chest where she had struck him. Her breath was knocked out of her with the impact, her head was thrown back and down on his shoulder, her hair spreading out over both of them.

She gasped for air until it finally came in, just as she thought she was going to lose consciousness. She slowly became aware of what she had done, where her body now rested. The covers were gone and she was spread across his naked body, one of his large steel arms was around her, pinning her to him. The other arm held the hand that she had hit him with pinned above their heads on the pillow.

She suddenly became afraid, more than she had been since meeting him. Afraid for all the wrong reasons, because she felt his body as a male, a sexual draw that she didn’t understand.

She heard his voice. It was low, close to the top of her head.

“Tell me what you feel, I need to know the names. I feel your emotions, but I do not know the names.”

What did he mean? What did he want? She lay unable to move, trapped against him, feeling the heat began to form between them. She was still, pushing uselessly with her one hand against the bed at the side.

He pressed tighter with the arm around her back. The air was pushed out of her. She dropped her head onto the large chest.

“Tell me what you feel.” His voice was persistent.

He let up on the pressure. She knew she had to answer. She drew in air. “I am afraid, is that what you want to know, that you have frightened me?”

She felt the rumble in his chest.

“What else?” He asked again.

She didn’t want him to put the pressure on her, to deny her air. She waited only a second to answer. “I am confused. I feel anger that I am powerless. Deck, why are you doing this? You are hurting me.” She heard her own voice. It was almost a sob.

“It is the bargain, emotions.” He answered with more than one word.

She lay still, afraid to move, thinking. Was he receiving her emotions? Was that what he wanted from her? She began to remember their bargain and she began to think how he had acted at the different times that they had been together. Finally she was aware of his erection, pulsing against her legs. It was huge and ready.

“Deck, I don’t want sex with you right now. You want to know what I am feeling? Well, I do feel some
—
shit, okay I feel some interest, no, some excitement about your sex, but I don’t want it. The thought scares me, in a different way than I am frightened by the people that want to kill me or take my blood. Now I have given you all the damn emotions I am going to give you. Let me go.” She pushed, and this time he let her go. She slid off his body.

She lay there next to his large form, breathing fast, feeling the heat roll of his immense chest beside her. She was now totally confused. She had felt some type of threat from him, but he had also released her. He had asked her for names of her feelings
—
what was that all about?

She finally heard his low voice.

“I owe you answers, you gave me many emotions. If you do not move I will answer what I can.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. Okay, she still needed answers. “Yes, if I could get away from you and Trump, how long would it take for some rogue to catch me?”

She felt a slight tug on her hair that was spread on his chest. “There are some nightwalkers hired to capture you. You would be taken as soon as you stepped outside this apartment without protection.”

She stopped breathing again. What the hell was this all about?

“Please breathe.” He did not move, but his voice was low.

She drew in a deep lung-full of air, her body grateful for the oxygen. “I think I need to take some time to sleep on what you have told me. Well, the little you have told me, and to guess what it all means.” In her mind she was saying, to interpret what little he said into what the whole thing meant. She didn’t move much, just to pull the covers over her legs.

* * * *

He lay still listening to her draw in air as she slowly relaxed. He felt her emotions close down. He let go of the draw of them. He realized she was becoming addictive. He slowly picked up a strand of the hair lying across his chest, bringing it up to his nose. It held the scent of the last shampoo she had used, but more important, under that was her scent, buried in the strands. It was soft, softer than any of the finest cloth he had ever held.

The feel of it over him brought back the memories of the emotions he had absorbed. He could not feel his own emotions, had not felt anything since he had come out of the camp. It had surprised him the first time he felt them from her. He did not even know the names, he just absorbed the feelings. He had no reference, just that he knew he must have had something missing for a long, long time in his life. It was better than drawing blood when he was hungry.

Now, here with her beside him, it was still circulating throughout his system, as if he had tasted some exotic blood that was pumping him full of extra strength. He had not thought that coming from the bathroom would disturb her. He had been use to sleeping nude among bunkmates for as long as he could remember. There had been the previous night they had spent together in the motel. But this time he could feel some type of emotion from her as he approached the bed, stretching out on top of the covers.

Any emotion was strange, welcome, but he had no names for them. He did recognize the slight anger that was there along with the other emotion when she protested that he was going to stay with her, so he lay on his back and sucked into his skin what she was sending.

He needed to look at her. In the dark she shone like polished ivory. Her skin so clear, but it was that unbelievable hair, like mist in the morning sunshine. He caught a smell of sex. He wondered, as he lay unmoving enjoying the smell and the feelings. He had to wonder what it would be like to enter her to receive her emotions as he fucked her. He wondered whether, for the first time in longer than he could remember, he would actually enjoy the act as well as finding a release for a bodily need.

He felt the difference in her emotions. Being this close, she was emoting something that again he had no name for, did not understand. She was trying to understand something about her situation that even he did not fully understand. But he did know an opportunity when he saw one.

She had actually asked him what he wanted. He wanted what she was sending him, emotions that he had not felt for almost two centuries. He had risen up to see what her face would show when he told her what he needed. He felt her fear, but also her resolve.

He’d felt the surge of disgust when he answered her truthfully about the Council. He knew she would not be able to live in confinement. She would rebel against what the Council would require.

He’d smelled her frustration as she looked for a way to escape what looked like a lack of freedom. He had no choice but to tell her the truth
—
he would not let her go to the streets.

She took him by surprise as she reacted so fast. She showed such anger that she’d struck out against him with her fist. He’d grabbed her without thinking
—
it was warrior instinct
—
but as soon as he had her on his chest, he knew it was right. To feel her touching him, lying on him, to hold her tightly, too tight, to get the emotions through direct contact. It was like a drug, better than alcohol. Better than purest blood. He had not even heard her words for a moment or two.