She felt a pull towards him, the urge to snatch his wrist and drink the blood. She reached out to drag him closer, but a small voice uncurled from the back of her head and told her not to do it. She paused, caught in limbo for a few frantic seconds before Brook pressed his wrist to her lips. Then there was no denying the urge. She wrapped both her hands around his wrist and sucked at the blood. She glanced up at him and saw his calculating eyes, before she shut her own and concentrated.
Fern swallowed, savoring saltiness and sweetness together. That small voice whispered that she should be disgusted and repelled. She should stop. Fern felt something else pushing her forward, a greedy and desperate need. Brook’s blood tasted good and she could feel the flu like sickness passing. Her tongue pushed into the cut he had made, searching for more as the blood seemed to slow. She heard Brook moan and flicked her tongue harder, which reward her with more blood.
She slid her thumb up into his palm and felt him close his fingers on top of it. His head touched her’s and he mused into her hair. She wanted to kiss him, but that would mean letting go of the blood. She sucked harder and swallowed quickly. She could hear his heartbeat and her own beside it. Brook mumbled something into her hair and she took it as a sign. Drinking faster, she tried to bite into him. There was an odd tangling in her mouth, she thought she felt her teeth moving. Her lip moved back and she felt her new fangs piercing into his flesh.
Brook laughed lightly in her ear and his hot breath tickled her, ‘bite me if you think you can handle some more,’ he whispered giddily.
She did so, letting her fangs sink downwards. Blood pooled in her mouth and she swallowed. She moaned in pleasure and took another mouthful. Brook was saying something, but she couldn’t hear his words. His arm draped over her back and his fingers started to rub gently across her skin. He slid his hand further down and paused at the base of her spine there for a few moments. Fern sucked guiltlessly at his wrist, feeling completely consumed by the taste of blood.
‘You need to stop,’ Brook demanded.
Fern flashed her eyes at him and tried to fasten her mouth tighter to his skin. She felt Brook place a hand on her hip and start tugging his arm away. She wrapped her fingers firmly around his hand and refused to let go. Brook however, but more pressure on her hip and in one shift movement ripped his hand out of her grasp.
He stood up and walked back to the corner, drops of his blood splashing the floor as he went. Fern watched him disgustedly before settling back on the camp bed. She licked her lips and as far as her tongue could reach around her lower face. Swallowing that little bit of blood, she searched the inside of her mouth for more. Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered where they were.
The roof was arched bare bricks and looked very old. Fern could see cracks and moss. It reminded her of Victorian swear tunnels or a side room in a wartime public shelter. She went to ask Brook, turning her head down to him. She could see him clearer them before. He was slumped against the wall, head thrown back and legs sprawled out. He was breathing deeply and Fern could still smell his blood.
‘Where are we?’ she asked loudly.
‘It’s safe, don’t worry about it,’ he replied.
‘That’s not what I asked.’
Brook opened his eyes and shuffled his legs up, ‘we’re under a mausoleum. I didn’t have enough money for a hotel room,’ he tacked on as a joke.
‘What about my clothes?’ Fern requested as she sat up.
Brook climbed to his feet, using the wall for support and walked over. From the other side of the camp bed, he picked up some discard clothes and dropped them onto her feet. He straightened and stayed there.
Fern sorted out her clothes and dressed quickly, feeling Brook’s eyes on her the whole time. She got up from the camp bed to put on her underwear and jeans. She felt the cold and damp floor clinging to her skin. Sitting down, she brushed her feet before putting on her socks and pink trainers. She went to get up again, but Brook pressed a hand to her shoulder.
‘What?’ she questioned.
‘I’ve to drink from you,’ he stated.
Fern’s face twisted up in puzzlement, ‘but why?’
‘Because you’re had too much and the Ancients claim the repeated exchanging of blood makes for a better baby vampire.’
‘I’m not a baby!’ Fern snapped.
Brook shrugged his shoulders. He took both her hands in his right hand and with his other hand he pushed Fern back down onto the camp bed. She struggled against him, but he lent his body weight into her and pinned her legs in-between his own. He sat on top of her lower stomach and placed her hands above her head.
Fern wiggled under him, trying to get comfy, but falling to do so, ‘why are you so heavy? You don’t look it.’
‘Vampire power,’ he simply replied and dropped his head to her neck.
Brook moved her hair back and turned her face to the side. He kept his hand there and Fern could feel his fingers on her cheek and nose. His breath rushed against her, then she felt the soft kiss of his lips. She shut her eyes and relaxed. Fern felt Brook kiss his way slowly up her neck then the tip of his tongue trailed back down to the base of her throat. She shivered with delight and pressed her legs together.
Brook’s tongue made a slow circle around the same patch before Fern felt the press of his teeth. His fangs pieced her skin, slipping so easily in. She felt a pin prick of sharp pain which was quickly replaced with the feeling of ecstasy. Fern moaned and felt Brook letting go of her hands. He guided her arms around himself and Fern hugged him.
She could feel him pulling blood inside his mouth and swallowing her. Her thoughts became hazy and she felt like they were floating. Brook broke away with a large gasp of air. He wiggled out of the hug and got up. Fern fluttered open her eyes and watched him wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
To Be Continued…