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TWENTY-SEVENMarcella

This is the wrong thing to do.

I hear the thought ringing in my skull distinctly as I stand, cross to where Lacie’s sitting, and take her chin between my fingers. I hear it again, louder, as I press my lips to hers, as I shiver at the surprised gasp she makes between my teeth.

And then I do what all draugur do: I snuff that mortal fear, suffocating it so it withers and dies.

“Marcella,” Lacie breathes, her arms wrapping around my neck, my word a promise on her tongue. It’s a lie, sweet and sinful and perfect.

Every pain in my body, every nerve ending still set to screaming, fades, disappears. I lift her out of her chair, inhumanly strong as she wraps her legs over my hips. Her tongue grazes mine and a wave of heat passes over me, my throat thickening. Her heart pulses hard against my chest, our teeth scraping each other’s as our kiss deepens. She matches me second to second, the kiss not a battle but a dance of wills evenly matched.

This might be the wrong thing to do, but she’s lit me on fire. She was patient and listened and didn’t pity me. She saw me dark and broken on the floor of my apartment, she witnessed my lies, flayed the onionskin-thin layers in my mask until she saw the monster beneath it.

And she didn’t flee.

She leaned in, accepting the monster I am.

I press my lips to the damp line of her throat, feeling the hot thrum of her jugular beneath her papery skin. She makes a soft sound of pleasure; my skin explodes into goose bumps as I peel my sweatshirt off her body.

Each kiss I plant shapes a promise.

I—

My tongue dipping in the curve of her collarbone.

Won’t—

My teeth running the length of her shoulder, tearing away her bra strap.

Ever—

My lips dragging the thin lace from her breast.

Leave.

Pricking at her nipple with my teeth, I take the soft heft of the other into an open palm, thumbing across its curve.

Lacie stutters a breathless whimper, her back arching. Here in the dark of this sleeping area, on my black silk sheets, my skin glows green, the ragged disguise of my human body slipping away. I can feel the draugr beneath it, raging and wanting, screaming to be let out. It’s so much worse now than it’s ever been, dizzying and fetid. To feed, to suck her away into nothingness so I can sate the endless hunger inside of me.

Instead, I run little kisses down Lacie’s stomach, pausing every time her breathing stutters, feeling the warm kick of her heart beneath her rib cage. Alive, alive, alive.

Her hands tangle in my hair as I kiss her navel, tongue flickering through the salt scrim on her skin.

“Marcella,” she croons, the three syllables of my false name soft and broken between her teeth.

I pick my head up with a smile, knowing she’ll see the slitted eyes and the sharpened teeth I’ve studiously learned to hide. Hoping against hope she’ll stay anyway.

“Lamb?” I query, running my whip of a tongue over my teeth.

The eye contact sparks between us, the air thickening to a storm cloud.

“Don’t stop this time,” she rasps, her pupils dilated in the dark. “I need you.”

Lacie’s wet eyes travel my still clothed form. Then, wordlessly, she sits up and plants a hot kiss on my lips, her fingers expertly shucking me of my dress, yanking the lace over my head, ripping my tights off of me. She lowers herself, grazing her lips over my breast, sucking gently as she runs a knuckle over my cunt. Heat spreads through my calcified veins, turning me liquid inside. I huff softly, dipping my head to her shoulder as she strokes me. I’m fevered for her touch, shaking as she slows to a tortuous pace.

“Lacie,” I whisper. “Godde—” My words turn to a wrenching groan as she slips a finger inside of me.

“Oh, you like that?” Lacie whispers, her voice trembling as she works into me. “What else do you want?”