There is a noise that sounds like waves crashing against a rock wall, and with great speed, Costa and I push through the surface, to the real world. Wood floor erupts up in the few feet around us, snapping and flying across the room, and I gasp for real air. We fall over, hard, and I hear Costa’s shoulder dislocate when I land on top of him.
I’m shaking and panting, but we are on the floor of Sam’s apartment. Before I can even begin to grasp what has happened, the floor outside of Sam’s kitchen breaks open, and I watch with disbelief as Sam’s body shuttles through, and he stumbles to a stand. Then, with great noise, the floor underneath Costa and me and also under Sam rebuilds itself until there is no indication that anything was ever destroyed.
I reach for my throat again.
Sam staggers over and lifts me from Costa.
I still can’t catch my breath, and I am roaring with a level of energy that I cannot contain. Sam’s body is hot and sweaty, and it’s calling to me. I have to have him—now. I run my hand over the front of his shorts and pull his mouth to mine. Sam lifts me and walks us to the kitchen counter. The only thing that stops us is Costa’s voice. I forgot about him the moment that Sam appeared.
“So, we’re doing this again, are we?” Costa says with a slur. “Let me just pop my shoulder back in.”
Brusquely, I shove Sam away, my sights now on Costa. “Bastard!” I scream. In a flash, I’ve pulled a knife from the chopping block and circled out of the kitchen, heading straight for him.
“Don’t, Stell…” Sam tries to say, but his voice is weak.
He’s surging, and I suppose I must be, too.
But he can’t stop me, and I barrel into Costa, who is now halfway to a stand. I run against him until I’ve pushed him into the wall.
“I fucking hate you.” I don’t even recognize my own voice.
He’s smiling. “How’s that surge going for you?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
He trails a hand through my hair. “Bring it, darlin’.”
The knife in my hand plunges into his gut, and Costa and I both groan.
He tightens his fingers in my hair. “I see you have a thing for knives, too.”
“Fuck you.” I grip the handle and shove it in more. “I want you gone.”
“Now…” He has to pause for a few seconds. “Now, lift the knife just an inch but not too much.”
I grunt and edge the knife higher. His sound is so markedly erotic, and I’m powerless to deprive Costa of pleasure. I can’t stop.
“More.” He starts to slide down against the wall.
I rip the knife up until Costa smiles again and looks into my eyes.
“You’re so good.”
His bare torso is leaking blood down his frame, and impulsively, I put my hand against him to feel. Slowly, I start rubbing blood across his skin and up his chest, admiring the brilliant color and the sheen.
Without warning, Sam shoves me aside, and I catch myself on the back of the sofa as Sam yanks out the knife from Costa’s gut.
It takes no time before he’s got it to Costa’s neck. “You don’t deserve to surge and die at the same time.”
“Oh, Sam…twice in one day? All those times…I asked you to kill me…”
It’s an effort for Sam to focus. Even in my state, I can see that. Costa’s allure is strong right now for both of us, his dying undeniably feeding our surge.
While the surge is powerful, Sam’s rage is stronger and allows him to slur out words, “Better me than Stella.”
Through blurry vision, I see Sam slash Costa’s throat, and Sam lets him fall unceremoniously to the floor. Sam’s eyes are half open when he walks to me, knife still in hand, and I immediately lift my shirt over my head and meet him halfway. In a flash, he has my shorts undone, and I shake them down while he slides the knife under my bra and cuts it off with a swift movement. His hand covers one breast, and his mouth goes over my other until he’s sucking hard on my nipple. I look down and barely register the blood coloring my chest.
After he moves up, when I start to kiss him, to devour him, I hear the knife fall.
Then, when he’s on his knees in front of me, my peripheral vision catches sight of Costa’s body sinking into the floor. I run my hands through Sam’s hair and push my hips against his mouth.
Later, he’s sitting on the sofa, and I’m on top, grinding on him, while his hands dig into my ass, moving me up and down on his cock. The primal part of me is in charge, and every physical sensation that I seek comes from an animalistic urge to take everything I can from Sam and to give him everything that I have.
I am insatiable.
Sam and I are my only concern.
So much so, that the couch floating four feet in the air is of none.
