He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just brings the palm of his hand up to his lips, punctures the fleshy skin below his thumb, and then presses it against my lips.
It’s just a trickle. Just a taste. That’s what I tell myself when I slide my tongue over the hot liquid. The sharp taste of iron, the bitterness of copper, and… something else. The sweetness of the purple.
And then I’m inside it. The lavender mist is all around me and I’m in the forest. Paul is sitting on the fallen tree trunk. But the snow is gone now. It’s spring here, I think.
“Well.” He looks kind of pleased with himself. “You came back. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon. You’re such a delightful surprise, Syrsee. Now come, sit. Tell me everything.”
He pats the tree trunk, beckoning me.
But before I can take a step, I hear…
“That’s enough. Stop now, Syrsee.”Ryet pulls his palm away. Then his arms are around me again, hugging me close, his lips kissing my shoulder, those sharp teeth grazing the surface of my skin like a promise.
All the unsettlement leaves me as his blood mixes with mine.
I feel the high. That’s the only thing to call it. The blood is a drug, like morphine or heroin, and the whole world disappears when it’s coursing through my veins.
I dream.
Not of Paul, but both of them.
Paul and Ryet.
Because I’ve had them both now. Paul’s blood, Ryet’s blood.
I’m too tired to think it through. Too tired to care, really.
All I want to do is sleep.
