Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 19

I drifted in and out of consciousness for some time, always whimpering when my mind awoke and pulled me back into reality and embracing the calm when I slipped back under again. At some point, the daylight dissipated and reluctantly gave up its throne so that the night could once again reign. I felt the pressure ease up on my back, intense heat giving way to a cool blanket that helped bring my breathing under control yet I could not release the tension that gripped every muscle and I refused to turn around, preferring the protective nook of the dust-laden corner.

I never heard the key turn in the lock. Never heard the sound of Harper's footsteps when he entered the room, nor did I see or hear when he carefully stuck the cardboard down again, shutting out the moonlight.

Even when he picked me up, gently cradling me in his arms as he carried me from the room, I still couldn't open my eyes. I just moaned, not wanting him to wake me. It was just so much easier to sleep. To forget.

Without a word, he bathed my sore and swollen face, delicately dabbing soothing cold water onto the burn and I think at one point I cried and he dabbed at the tears too, wiping them softly away. I was sure that we were in the bathroom as I could hear water running and smelt the faint stench of damp hanging in the air. He lifted me again, I could feel his arms wrapped tightly around me and then finally the touch of something soft and cushiony under my body. It must have been forever since I had felt anything but the hard unforgiving floorboards or cold dirt ground underneath me.

I felt the tickle of his hair on my forehead and the soft caress of his breath on my face but still I did not open my eyes.

"Damned fool," he whispered and his hand was on my face, fingertips lightly tracing my damaged skin and stroking my hair. Pulling me onto his lap, cradling me again, he pressed something against my mouth and instinctively I opened my lips, the scent of his blood reaching my nose and arousing me from my slumber. Searching with my tongue, I felt the small wound on his wrist and probed at it, almost crying out when I felt the first drops of blood in my mouth and tasting the sweet nectar as it smeared my lips.

As soon as it hit my tongue, I knew this was what Harper had made me drink when I was locked away down in the pit. I could never forget the taste. So completely addictive. So fulfilling. It was like nothing I had ever consumed in my life.

Covering the tear in his skin completely, I started to feed, hearing him suck in a breath as I did so and tensing underneath me. Still with eyes closed, I raised my hands to grip his arm, not wanting to ever let go as the blood continued to seep quickly into my mouth. I was aware I was making small mewling sounds, a mixture of gentle moans and cries as I sucked desperately at his wrist, letting my tongue sweep over the wound so not to waste a single drop.

When I was finally able to prise my eyelids open, feeling the sharp pain in my left eye as  it opened ever so slightly, I looked up to see Harper's gaze fixed firmly on me, his eyes dark and heavy with hunger as he watched me drink from him. His lips were parted slightly, revealing the tips of his fangs and his hair was falling over his face. In any other circumstance I would have reached up and brushed it back so I could look at him properly but all I could focus on doing right then was feeding from him; feeling the sustenance of his blood rushing through me, awakening me with every drop.

When he tried to pull his arm away, I climbed onto his lap and wrapped my legs around him; clutching his wrist to my face and hearing him groan and stiffen against me. With his other hand, he pulled me in tighter, nuzzling at my ear and kissing my jawline in a way that made me tense my thigh muscles around his waist.

I didn't care anymore. I didn't care that I was meant to hate him; that I did hate him. I was completely intoxicated by the taste of him. It felt so damn good to feed from him, I could feel the strength slowly returning to every part of me, like a wave of energy sweeping through my veins, reaching down to the very tips of my toes. Only this time, I felt stronger than I ever had; more alive than I ever had.

He tugged at the bottom of my t-shirt, my one and only piece of clothing and quickly pulled it up over my head, leaving me completely naked but it didn't bother me. Reaching into my hair, he yanked my head backwards, wrenching my mouth away from his arm and tracing his tongue up the full length of my exposed throat before finding my blood-stained lips and kissing me passionately, deeply. I reciprocated. I wanted to and it surprised me just how much I wanted to. Lifting me slightly so I was straddling him, his hand found my breast and then so did his tongue, encircling my nipple in long lazy strokes before sucking gently. Then he moved his mouth to the other one, sucking harder this time and making me dig my fingers into his shoulders.

Grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt, I quickly removed it, tossing it to one side and pushed him back down onto his bed, feeling a small sense of empowerment as I looked down at him, noting the hunger on his face and hearing his heavy, short breaths. Running my hands up his torso, I took his pierced nipple between my fingertips and twisted the small ring slightly, smiling as he jerked underneath me and gasped. I fixed my mouth on it and sucked, letting my tongue flick over the surgical steel ring and his hands reached round to clutch my buttocks, writhing against me as I sucked harder and harder.

I let my tongue and mouth work their way down the taut muscles of his stomach, stopping to kiss the dragon tattoo that encircled his hip, its terrible black face snarling at me, daring me to go further. Snapping the button of his jeans, I eased my hands inside the waistband and pulled hard, easily slipping the fabric down over his thighs and down his legs. When I looked up at him, I could see the dark dangerous glint of his eyes seeping through lust-laden lids and instead of feeling terrified, it spurred me on. Biting my lip, I noted how hard he was and I knew instinctively just how much he wanted this. I touched my mouth to him and kissed him, a small wicked smile playing on my lips when he bucked up his hips to meet my lips and I let my mouth go to work on him again, feeling a thrill shoot through me when he moaned out loud and grabbed hold of my hair.

 I pulled away but before he could protest, I moved on top of him, feeling the grind of his hips straining against me and making him fill me completely. He hissed through gritted teeth and grabbed hold of my thighs as I rocked against him, lightly scratching my fingernails across his chest. His eyes swept over me, hungrily drinking in everything he could see and I moved harder and faster, laughing softly when I heard him gasp at every deep thrust of my hips. Fire burned through my veins, alighting every part of me with thirst, only this was a different kind of thirst, one that I welcomed and one that I desired.

Finally and much quicker than I thought it would be, he groaned and sucked in a breath, bucking and thrashing beneath me and I met his passion with my own, throwing myself down upon him and crushing my mouth against his. He gripped my back and held me tight against him as the waves crashed through us both, until finally all I could hear was his rasping hot breath in my ear, and my own, mirroring his.

Laying there, on his dirty mattress in his dark, grime-infested room, we wrapped ourselves around each other, sweat plastering our skin and slowly catching our breath until eventually, his lips sought out my neck, his hands curled into my hair and I felt him harden all over again and I knew it was not over. Nor did I want it to be.

I wasn't done with Harper Cain yet.