Free Dead Flesh by Tim O'Rourke Page B

similar to
that. It was like feeling tipsy – the initial happy, giddy feeling
you get before you have too much and start to feel ill.
    As I sucked
away at his neck, I could feel my wings spreading open beneath me
and for one awful moment those pictures of me standing in front of
the mirror in my room, cracked and broken-looking, swam before me.
I opened my eyes and looked at my arms which were wrapped about
Potter’s shoulders. But instead of the cracks, my skin almost
seemed to shine – glow. It was as if taking his blood was somehow
revitalising me, like rubbing moisturiser into dry skin.
    I closed my
eyes again, the soft feel of my wings beneath me making it feel as
if we were making love on a soft bed of feathers. Entwining his
fingers with mine, Potter raised my arms above my head, and kissed
my breasts, never stopping moving above me. A thin trickle of his
blood ran from the corner of my mouth; seeing this, Potter licked
it away with the tip of his tongue. Then, without warning, he
buried his face into my neck and I felt his fangs pierce my
flesh.
    I cried out. It
didn’t hurt, not really. If it did, I doubted that I would have
felt it anyway. My body felt as if it was on the brink of bursting
with ecstasy and there was nothing that could have drowned out that
feeling. It was like a madness had overtaken me and I would let him
take as much of my blood as he wanted – needed. And when I started
to feel lightheaded and that spinning feeling came back, I sank my
teeth back into his neck and let his blood gush into my mouth.
    It was then, as
we made love on the floor, drinking from each other, I realised
that we had become one and the feeling of pleasure was almost
unbearable. Our lovemaking then took on an eagerness that was like
a ravenous hunger until we both collapsed in each other’s arms.
    I rested my
head against Potter’s chest as he drew in breath. Just as my body
had seemed to thump, so did his. I could hear the blood gushing
through his veins. But I didn’t want it now. The thirst for it –
the lust for it – had gone. It was like I had been thirsty but now
my thirst had been quenched.
    “That was
wrong,” I whispered against him.
    “Was it?” he
said back. “I thought it was…”
    “I don’t mean
it like that,” I told him.
    “What did you
mean?” he asked, rolling onto his side and staring into my eyes.
His eyes were black and I could read nothing in them.
    “Making love
with you is like nothing else,” I said, breaking his gaze and
running my fingertips across his hard, flat stomach. “But the blood
thing – I promised myself that I wouldn’t take the red stuff…that I
would try and beat it.”
    “I don’t think
it’s there to be broken,” Potter said.
    “What do you
mean?”
    “It’s what we
are…it’s what you are,” he whispered. “Taking blood now is as
natural as breathing air. But I guess it’s more important to us, as
technically we’re dead and we don’t need air to survive. But we do
need blood…”
    “I don’t need
it,” I cut over him, the fear of becoming addicted to the red stuff
scaring me.
    “Are you so
sure?” Potter asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
    “What’s that
s’posed to mean?”
    “The cracks,
Kiera,” he whispered, looking away from me.
    I pushed away
from him, and all of a sudden I felt angry and confused. How did he
know about the cracks? Had he been spying on me? I didn’t want
anyone to see me like that. I looked like a monster – a freak. “How
do you know?”
    “I saw you…” he
started.
    “You’ve been
spying on me,” I hissed, feeling defensive. Nothing made me angrier
than the thought of my privacy being invaded and I couldn’t help
but think of the time in the shower block back at the Police
Station in Wasp Water. The thought of Jack Seth watching me had
driven me half insane.
    “Take it easy,
tiger, I’ve shared a room with you, remember?” Potter said. “That
was until you kicked me out.”
    “I didn’t