Hours might have passed. The night stretched on over New York, a million stars blending into the lights of the city. I'd always found a sort of peace in the way one could never tell where one ended and the other started.
I was tangled up in Thomas' arms and the bedsheets, twisted around our bare legs and we continued to clutch each other closely. "You," Thomas breathed against my neck, "are exquisite."
I giggled a little, rolled over onto my back. I was drenched in a hot, sticky sweat, and there was a satisfying ache throbbing from between my legs. Oh, I had him, I had him, and yet I was still drawing it out. I blinked hard in a vain attempt to clear my head, to center my focus for what I was about to do. Hating myself for it all the while.
When I turned back over, positioning myself so that I was almost entirely upon his chest, Thomas looked up to meet my eyes. His gaze held a million secrets, a million words he'd never bring himself to say. "I fear I must confess myself to you," he said softly through the darkness. "This was...this was my first time."
That I was not expecting. Not with the way he'd moved me so, held to me and kissed me as though he'd had a million other girls in the exact same place. But my heart was racing and his honesty made it all seem so much sweeter. Much more intimate. Slowly, slowly I drew my fingers down the bare skin of his chest.
"I'm very glad to have had it be with you," he was saying, but I had tuned him out already. My nails were oh so sharp; I was surprised he hadnt noticed the way they were breaking through the delicate surface of his skin.
I'd thought too soon. "Ouch," he snapped, trying to push me away. I licked my lips as the blood broke free from the cut. "Calla, what are you-"
This time, when he met my gaze, there was no tenderness in either of our eyes. In his, there was only fear. Terror, even. I watched as they widened.
And as for me, my own gaze was pure lust. I'd lost myself to the thoughts of devouring him. There was little left in me of the girl he'd been with only moments earlier.
I reveled in the screams, even as I tore him apart. Blood spilled from the open chest, coating the sheets and my bare arms. It stained the tips of my platinum hair as I lowered my face to kiss him. "Goodnight, love," I whispered hoarsely against his lips. My right hand went up to wrap around his throat, and my mouth found its way to his heart. I listened to the sound of his life fading away, almost in time with my own, as I very literally left him heartbroken.
For a long time I could only lay there beside him, beside his corpse. I was revived, filled with new energy. And he was dead. His life had paid for my salvation.
"I seem to have forgotten how divine you look."
The voice in the shadows raised a scream from my lips. In spite of myself, I reached for the blankets, but they had long since tumbled to the floor. The speaker laughed, a dark sound that sent chills down my spine. I knew who it was long before they stepped out into the thin trail of light filtering from the window.
"Everette," I breathed. His name came out somewhere between a hiss and a moan.
He only smirked, everything devious and positively evil. Then he was upon me, and before it all went black, I recalled only his lips against my forehead.