Лорел Гамильтон - Cerulean Sins

I took two handfuls of the long skirt, turned on my high-heeled shoes, and ran. The room vanished as I ran, and it was a long, endlessly long corridor that I ran down. It was dark, but it was the dark of dreams where even without light you could always see the monsters. Though what lurked in the alcoves along the hallway weren't exactly monsters.

Couples entwined on either side of me. Glimpses of flesh, pale and dark, images of carnal delights. I didn't see anything clearly, I didn't want to. I ran, and tried not to see, but of course, I couldn't not see everything. Breasts like ripe fruit spilling out of old-fashioned dresses. Full skirts lifted to prove that there was nothing underneath but flesh. A man with his pants around his thighs, and a woman bending over him. Blood gleamed down the pale flesh, vampires raised fangs to the light, and humans clung to them, begging for more.

I ran faster, and faster, struggling against the heavy skirts and the tight upright corset. It was hard to breathe, hard to move, and no matter how fast I ran, the door that I could see at the end of all these carnal nightmares never seemed to get closer.

There was nothing too terribly frightening happening in the alcoves. Nothing I hadn't either seen or participated in, in one form or another, but somehow I knew that if I stopped running they'd get me. And, more than anything else, I didn't want them to touch me.

The door was suddenly in front of me. I grabbed the handle, tugged on it, and it was locked. Of course it was locked. I screamed, and knew before I turned around that the things in the corridor weren't in the alcoves anymore.

Belle's voice, "Come to me willingly, ma petite. »

I put my forehead against the door, eyes closed, as if, if I didn't turn around, didn't see them, they couldn't get me. "Stop calling me that."

She laughed, and it felt like sex sliding along my skin. Jean-Claude's laugh was amazing, but this, this… the sound made me spasm against the hard wood and metal of the door.

"You will feed us, ma petite. It will happen, your choice is only in how."

I turned slowly, the way you do in nightmares. You turn, knowing that the hot breath on your skin really is the monster.

Belle Morte stood in the center of the vast echoing space of the corridor, and through Jean-Claude's memories I knew it was a real place, this corridor. The people from the alcoves crowded to either side of her and behind her, a huge, hungry-eyed, half-naked mob.

"I offer you my hand, come, take it, and it will be pleasure beyond your dreams. Refuse me…" she motioned, and that one small movement seemed to take in all the eager, leering faces. "It can be a dream, or a nightmare. The choice is yours."

I shook my head. "You don't give choices, Belle, you never did."

"Then your choice is… pain."

The mob at her back rushed me, and the dream shattered. I was left gasping in Nathaniel's worried face. "You cried out in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?" he said.

My heart was beating so hard I could barely swallow past my pulse. I managed a breathy, "Oh, yeah."

Then I smelled roses, thick, cloying, old-fashioned, almost sickly sweet. Belle's voice echoed through my head, "You will feed us."

The ardeur poured through me, raising heat along my skin. Nathaniel jerked his hands back as if he'd been burned, but I knew it hadn't hurt. He knelt in the tangle of sheets, eyes wide, the little satin jogging shorts stretched tight over his thighs. They weren't stretched tight over the front of him yet, he wasn't excited yet, and I wanted him to be.

I rolled onto my side, reaching for him, one pale hand outstretched. "Come, take my hand." The moment the words left my mouth, I was back in my nightmare, except that I was playing Belle.

Nathaniel was reaching out towards me, to touch my hand, and I knew if he did, the ardeur would spread to him, and I would feed. Nathaniel had collapsed last night because I'd taken too much from him, what would happen if I fed again this soon?

"Stop," I said, and it was almost firm. If it had been almost anyone else, they wouldn't have stopped, but it was Nathaniel and he did what he was told.

He stayed on his knees, those tiny shorts stretched so tight across his body. He let his hand fall back into his lap. He was only inches away from me. All I had to do was close that small distance.

I needed to get out of the bed, to walk away, but that strong I was not. I couldn't seem to take my eyes away from him, so close, so eager, so young. That thought wasn't mine.

I frowned, and the confusion helped me push back the ardeur long enough to sit up, long enough to look at the mirror on the dresser against the far wall. I was trying to see if my eyes were shining with honey-brown fire, but they were my eyes. Belle hadn't possessed me like she had once upon a time. But she'd done something—awakened the ardeur hours ahead of time.

The bed moved, and my head swiveled back, like a predator hearing the mouse in the grass. Nathaniel was exactly where I'd left him, but he must have made some small movement, and that one small movement had been enough. My pulse was in my throat, my body tight and swollen with need. A need like nothing I'd ever experienced. I couldn't breathe past it, couldn't move around it. It was as if need had taken me over and there was nothing left of me.

This wasn't right. This wasn't me. I managed to shake my head, to let out the breath I'd been holding. I was being messed about with. I even knew who was doing it, but I didn't know how to stop it.

The door to the bedroom opened. It was Jason. He stood in the doorway rubbing his hands on his bare arms. He'd pulled on his jeans but hadn't bothered to zip or button them. I caught a flash of a new pair of silk undies, pale blue to match the shirt he wasn't wearing anymore.

"What are you doing in here, Anita? The power is crawling over my skin."

I tried to talk around the ripeness of my own pulse and failed twice, before I managed to say, " Ardeur. »

He came farther into the room, still rubbing his arms trying to get rid of the goosebumps. "It's hours too early."

I wanted to tell him about the dream, about Belle, but all I could concentrate on was the glimpse of silk through his open jeans. I wanted to go to him, to pull his pants down around his ankles, to take him in my mouth…

The visual was so strong I had to close my eyes, had to hug myself tight to keep myself on the bed. There was another small movement from Nathaniel.

He had lain down on the bed, his braid trailing behind him like Rapunzel. His face was peaceful. He would let me do anything I wanted to him, even love him to death.

I drew my legs in against my body, wrapped my arms around myself so tight, and held on. "Get out, Nathaniel, get out."

I felt the bed move, but didn't dare look. I kept my eyes tight shut. "Get out!"

"You heard her, Nathaniel," Jason said, "leave now."

I heard small sounds as he crossed the room, then the door shut. "You can look now, Anita, he's gone."

I opened my eyes, and the room was empty, except for the play of sunlight, and Jason standing beside the bed. His hair was very yellow in the light, the color of butter, his eyes so blue. I followed the line of his body to the broad shoulders, the muscled edge of his arms, his chest with its pale nipples. There was no hair on his chest or stomach. A lot of strippers shaved their body hair. I'd seen Jason nude often enough to know that he was mostly shaved. I just hadn't really noticed how shaved. He was my friend, so even nude, he was still my friend. You don't stare at your friend's crotch to see how much body hair there is.

Now, sitting on the bed, holding myself tight, I didn't feel friendly, I felt crazed. I wanted to fling myself off the bed, onto him. I wanted him naked.