Compulsion Ch 03

To new readers: you can probably hop on here without too much difficulty, but I would recommend starting with chapter two.

To all readers: I'm not sure if it requires the warning or not, but for the sake of being thorough, I will note that this rather long chapter takes us further towards erotic horror territory. That's a theme that will continue to develop in future chapters. It is a vampire story; maybe it goes without saying. But also... some romance? Romantic erotic horror?

Hope it's to your tastes! Look forward to Ellie being the friend we all need, Grace throwing herself headlong into danger with little concern for having her heart broken and/or eaten, and Adrian enjoying her dinner.

-MSL

*

Consciousness crept across my mind like watercolour on wetted cardstock. My phone was vibrating. I was in bed. The sheets clung to my sweat-damped skin and last night's rumpled dress. As I rummaged weakly through the covers, a groan seared my dry throat. The sunlight streaming in between the blinds was too bright, and my muscles were limp and aching as I found my phone and fumbled to check the caller ID. Ellie.

My voice betrayed a definite croak when I picked up. "Hi. Ahem....Morning."

"Oh, so you are alive," came Ellie's reply. "And it's one PM. Are you hung over? You sound hella hung over."

"I'm alive." I pressed a hand against my forehead. Was I running a fever? "I'm definitely alive."

"I was worried," she said, tone softening a little. "You never texted me back last night. Your find-a-friend location showed you got home, otherwise I'd have been out checking ditches."

"Oh, God. I'm sorry, El, I..." I swiped my hand down my face, across my stiff neck, and froze. I sat up. Too fast. The room pitched and swayed around me.

Ellie was saying something but her voice was distant and tinny. I leapt to my feet, tore myself free from the covers, and made a rush for the vanity mirror. My bare soles skittered over errant sketchbooks and tubes of paints. With a lurch, I caught myself on the counter and faced my reflection.

My makeup was smeared, my curls were crushed, eyes over-bright, cheeks flushed. And around my neck was tied a silk pocket square. With a shaking hand, I peeled it away.

Two crescent-shaped wounds marred my throat. They were a dark, angry red. The surrounding skin was swollen and spotted with dull ochre--flecks of dried blood.

"...Are you still there? Grace?" Ellie's voice came back into focus. I was still clutching my phone to my cheek.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here." I leaned in towards my reflection, transfixed, heart juddering.

"Good. You listen to me when I'm lecturing you," said Ellie, mock-stern. "So? I'm dying here. You gotta tell me everything. You sold a painting last night, dude!"

Warmth spread through me and I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. I did." My neck was so sore. I stretched, and the bite throbbed. Memories bubbled up like blood from a gash. Her touch. Her teeth. Her eyes. Adrian. "...A

lot

happened last night."

"A lot of good things?" Ellie hesitated. "...Is everything okay, Grace?"

I touched a fingertip to the bite. A deep heat swept through me in waves, hottest in my chest, between my legs, and across my savaged throat. It ached like longing ached, and I nearly doubled over from the force of it.

I spun away from the mirror. "Completely unbelievable things." My hand crept across the base of my throat. "Impossible things."

"All right, you cryptic weirdo. I'm coming over."

"No!" I clutched my throat, setting off another dizzying ripple of sensation. "I mean. I'm still half asleep. And I need to shower."

"I'll give ya thirty."

I collapsed back onto the edge of my bed and put my head between my knees until the dizziness began to abate. "...An hour. With coffee?"

"Sold!" She ended the call.

I flopped back into the mess of tangled sheets. Adrian. She'd grinned at me and made my heart flutter. She'd seen my art and told me it was wonderful. She'd sunk her teeth into me and drank my blood.

I'd promised her I'd keep her secret.

I needed to pull myself together.

I tripped over myself on the way to the bathroom--still woozy. The first splash of cold water across my face made me gasp. I wetted a fingertip under the tap and dabbed around the edges of Adrian's bite marks, at the traces of dried blood. A brutal surge of desire racked me, flowing through my veins and searing between my thighs.

With another gasp, I snatched my hand away from my neck. What was wrong with me? There was no time for this--Ellie would be here soon. I stripped myself naked as quick as I could, not daring to let my hands linger too long against my own skin, and kicked my clothes into a crumpled heap on the tiles. Then I stood for as long as I could bear under the icy stream of the shower. It flowed over Adrian's marks and numbed me of the strangeness they provoked.

When the chill had seeped in as far as it could and I was losing feeling in my toes, I toweled off and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a paint-speckled hoodie--drawstrings tight, hood up. I had just enough time to down a tall glass of tap water before Ellie was knocking at my door.

"I brought your drunk ass a breakfast burrito." She had drinks in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and kicked her creased cowboy boots off against the wall. "Figured you could use some protein to go with the caffeine."

"

Good

call." The aroma of hash browns and sausage was enough to make my mouth water--I hadn't realized I was so famished.

I collapsed onto the couch, downed half my mocha espresso in one gulp, and then tore into the burrito. It might have been the best thing I'd ever tasted.

Ellie eyed me as she sipped her coffee, winding a tight curl around her finger. Her roots had almost grown out; now just the last inch of her hair was a faded copper, autumnal against the light brown of her skin. "Wow. How bad is it? You didn't hit the tequila, did you?"

The words came out thickly through a mouthful. "I only had, like, one drink..."

She tapped her foot, but kept any further comments to herself until I'd finished breakfast and washed it down with the other half of my espresso.

"Thanks, El. I guess I really needed that."

"Consider it a bribe to get you talking." She wiggled her eyebrows. "So? Unbelievable things? Impossible things? " A beaming smile lit up her face and she grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me into a bear hug. "Because I can believe it. I

told

you shit was gonna start happening for you. Your first real sale, dude. Congrats." Her voice was soft, and right against my ear. Just above Adrian's bite. A pang of anxiety struck me through the heart.

I pushed Ellie back, my arm muscles seizing with the effort, and tugged my drawstrings tighter. But still, her excitement was infectious. "I know. I know!"

She jostled my knee. "You

gotta

start spilling."

"Okay, okay. So Michelle--that's Lynn's friend, the bar owner--she's the one who bought it."

"The dickhead who gave you an anxiety attack?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, it wasn't really her fault, but yes. That did happen." I shrugged. "It seemed like she didn't like it at first... but she had a change of heart. Well, someone changed her heart, I guess." My own heart throbbed as my thoughts turned again to unbelievable, impossible things.

"Ooh-kay, then. What's that supposed to mean? When did you get so cagey?"

"I'm not being cagey." I was definitely being cagey. How to talk to Ellie about her?

Could

I tell Ellie about her?

Ellie was still looking expectant. I decided to try.

"I met someone. Her name is... Adrian."

"And you're saying it like that because...?"

I slumped back against the couch, pressing a hand to my feverish forehead. "Ellie, she's... um, well, she's..." I gestured weakly as I failed to find the words. "Well. She totally got my painting--down to all the lesbian symbols--and the way she talked about it, she got Michelle to understand, too. I think Michelle's going to keep it at the bar, display it permanently.

And

Adrian runs her own gallery,

and

she said she'd be interested in showing my work..." I glanced away from Ellie. "...And she looks really good in a suit..."

"Well, that explains why you're so loopy."

"I can't just be excited about my first-ever sale?"

"Dude, I've watched you pine unrequitedly after enough tall white girls in basic-ass menswear. I know the signs."

"I'm not pining." I ruffled my fingers through my damp bangs. "And it's not unrequited."

"Grace." Ellie put her hand on my arm. Could she feel how warm I was through my hoodie? "Don't get me wrong. If you get your first real show out of this... I mean, that's incredible! But there's a difference between her liking your work and being into

you

, you know?"

A flush was working its way across my cheeks, and along my throat. "El, I know when someone wants me. And Adrian wanted me." I rested my hand on my chest. My pulse beat beneath my palm and in Adrian's bite marks. "Trust me on that."

"Jesus, you're making it sound like you took her home last night." She made a show of looking around, checking under the sofa. "Is she still here?"

"No! I mean, no, I didn't take her home."

Ellie snickered.

"But she took me, um... upstairs. At the bar."

Ellie turned away from me. She leaned back against the sofa again, blinking, and shook her head. "...Damn, Grace."

"Are you judging? I feel like you're judging."

"Not judging!" She took a sip of her coffee and glanced at me sidelong. "Not you, anyway. Her, on the other hand..."

"Uh, you don't even know her."

"Uh, neither do you, after one night." She sighed. "Listen. You have to know how it looks from my perspective, right? You were so fucking anxious last night--vulnerable. Then some chick comes along to get you drunk, make you feel special, tell you she's gonna make you a star, baby!" She fluttered her fingers and leered at me. I scoffed, and she grew serious.

"Can you really say you were thinking straight? When have you

ever

hooked up with a stranger before...?" Her shoulders hunched. "I just don't want anyone to take advantage of you."

"Maybe you're right." I played with my hoodie strings. "I definitely wasn't thinking

straight

."

Ellie shoved my knee.

I nudged her back. My muscles were too limp for a proper shove. "It wasn't like that. Yeah, I've never done anything like it before..." Adrian's bite throbbed and my thighs shifted against each other. "But that doesn't mean I didn't want it this time. Adrian... she made me want it. So... " I trailed off.

"Oh, Jesus, dude. Spare me the details of your sexual awakening. I get the picture--vividly." Ellie raised a hand, pressed it to her temple. "Fine. I guess you can fool around with whatever fuckboi you like..."

"Oh, well, now that I have your permission..."

Ellie ignored that. "But as someone who cares about you, I gotta say, since it's tangled up with your art? You might wanna let this one go. It sounds like the kind of thing that ends in a mess."

Another memory flashed across my mind and pulsed through my body--of sprawling helplessly in Adrian's arms as she licked the blood from my skin. My toes curled. "I won't come crying to you if it does."

"No, Grace, that's not what I meant." Ellie set her coffee down on the table and leaned forward on the heel of her hand. Her eyes searched mine, and then she cocked a smile. "I've got your back. Always. And hey, if it came down to it... I'd fight her for ya. You know, to defend your honour."

A prickle played along my spine. "Definitely

don't

do that. She's, um..." Adrian loomed in my mind, eyes black, teeth sharp, and I couldn't put to voice exactly what she was. "She's... tall. Seriously tall. Like six foot something."

"Well, I called it, didn't I?"

I pulled my drawstrings all the way closed so that I was enveloped entirely in the blissful darkness of my hoodie. My pulse thrummed all around me. "Oh, whatever, El."

*

Ellie had a shift at the café to get to. I was glad to have the excuse to be alone. The cold shower was wearing off, and the fever was growing stronger. I gave myself over to it. The rest of that first day passed in a listless haze. Brief bouts of sleep claimed me, only for some intense impulse to rouse me again.

Once, it was hunger--I knelt in front of the open fridge, shrouded in its chill, and gorged myself on a pint of off-season cherries. Their sour-sweet flesh split between my teeth and stained my mouth and my hands red.

Saturn Devouring His Son.

Once, it was terror--I was not alone. Someone was holding me down. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Then all at once it was over, and I was lying on my back on the couch. Sunbeams streamed through the kitchen window and fell across my heaving chest.

The Nightmare.

Often, it was desire--I awoke with my thighs squeezed around my hand, or my fingers splayed across my breast, or a moan on my lips. The urgency of whatever dreams I'd been having couldn't last in the light. I rubbed pacifying circles through the fabric of my underwear to soothe myself back to sleep.

Indolence and Lust.

The fever faded as the sun sunk. I came to in my living room and found that the moonlight had turned it into a value study, all shades of grey. The world was cooler. Steadier. I had sweat through my hoodie; the damp cotton stuck to the skin beneath.

I combed a hand through my hair. Another shower was in order.

I stripped off my hoodie in front of the mirror, and stopped dead when I caught sight of my reflection. Adrian's bite marks--they were no longer the livid red of deep wounds. I leaned over the sink to get a better look.

How long had I been languishing in that fever? I panicked for a second, grabbed my phone to check the date. But it'd only been the day. Then how could I be healing so fast? I should've barely scabbed over--and yet, already, the wounds were shrinking. Fresh scar tissue encroached around the edges. I ran my fingers across my throat.

Oh.

A shiver of pleasure raced through me. It wasn't the overwhelming sensation that it had been--now it was closer to familiar. Something I knew what to do with. I had spent all day stringing myself along, and I was suddenly very aware of it. My hand trailed down my neck. I grasped at my breast, squeezing myself tight. My nipple was hard, and I rolled my palm against it.

"Mm..." I bit back a moan as I watched myself in the mirror. Spots of colour blotched my cheeks and my chest.

I slipped out of my sweatpants and my underwear and paused for a moment, gaze drifting down between my reflection's legs. My bare skin was flushed and glistening with wetness. I drew the tip of my finger between my folds and sucked in a breath.

When I rushed to my room and fell into bed, the sheets were wonderfully cool against my back. I let myself sink into the pillows. My fingers trailed along my collarbone, then downwards. I kneaded my breasts again, tweaked my thumbs across my nipples, arched my back into my own touch...

Okay, I needed it. Now. My knees fell open. I ran two fingers up through my wetness, settled them on either side of my most sensitive spot, and then began to slide them up and down, squeezing myself gently with every stroke.

"Ah... God, that's good..." I mumbled to myself. And then I pressed my other hand over my mouth.

Adrian had liked me quiet.

My heart throbbed at the thought of her. Her bite throbbed, too. My hips rocked against my fingers and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

What would she do to me if she were here? She could pin me to the bed so easily... Her fingers would close like manacles around my wrists. Or over my throat... My own hand tightened there now. Blood rushed beneath my fingers. My thumb bit into my pulse point, against the edge of her bite.

A burst of pleasure. An echo of the way it had felt when she'd opened up my veins. My fingers moved faster now. I was so wet that it was pooling beneath me, seeping into the sheets.

If Adrian were here... I'd writhe beneath her, powerless. Her black gaze would sear into me and she'd command me to beg for her. For her tongue. For her teeth. And I would beg. How could I resist, when it was everything I wanted, and everything she wanted?

My palm pressed harder against my windpipe, and my breath caught. My fingers slid frantically between my thighs as I lost my coordination and rhythm. The heat in my core burned bright enough now that my hands were chilled in comparison. All the better to remember her cold touch...

Her mouth would be on mine. She'd taste of blood and sex. When she growled ravenously against my throat, the tremor of it would thread through my every vein and artery. The knives of her teeth would tear into me, and she would drink, and drink, and drink--

I was twitching wildly under my own hand but Adrian's name was on my lips, and I came for her. The breath went out of me in a keening moan. My fingers trailed lazily along my slick inner thighs and across her marks.

I sighed, eyes drifting shut, reveling in the dizzy pleasure of the moment. It faded out in pulses, keeping time with my heartbeat. Then I rolled to the side, pressed the back of my hand against my forehead, and frowned.

Had I really meant to imagine her that way? So heartless?

Yes, there was a darkness to Adrian's appetites--and a terrifying thrill to slaking them. But that wasn't everything she was. She was also charming, and flirty, and easy to talk to. She'd spoken passionately about her work, and my art, and Vermeer. She wanted more than my body, more than my blood. Didn't she?

Of course she did. She'd told me as much.

The memory of her voice coursed through me.

I want all of that. All of you.

In a week's time, you'll call.

*

The second day was easier, which was lucky, because I had to work.

The cold, sunny walk to the café helped to calm the lingering heat under my skin, and by the time I was into my routine behind the espresso bar, I was feeling much more like myself. In between customers, I told Lynn about my exciting night. Ellie eyed me from across the room, where she was cleaning tables.

Lynn clasped my shoulders in her burly hands and shook me slightly. Her mop of short curls bounced, Adrian's half-healed bite twinged, and I bit my lip.

"Oh, Gracie, I'm so proud of you..." Lynn folded me into a quick hug. "Michelle told me all about it--how she saw your painting and just knew it was something special. Aren't you glad I nagged you to submit something?"

My heart swelled. "Thanks, Lynn. Yeah. I really am."

"And now that you've caught the interest of a gallery?" Her eyes twinkled as she beamed down at me. "Well, you let me know when you want to put in your two weeks. Stay as long as you like, of course--just don't hold yourself back on our account."

"I won't, I won't." I ducked my head to hide my blush. I was feeling rather warm again.

Lynn clasped her hands over her ample, suspendered chest. "Look at you--you're practically glowing!"

"She's not pregnant, Lynn," Ellie interjected, cutting between us to wipe down the countertop. "Although

something's

definitely gotten into her..."

I warned her off with a look. Lynn didn't seem to notice anything was amiss.

"And I love your new style, too," she went on, indicating the black turtleneck I was wearing. I'd dug it out of the back of my closet that morning. "So Parisian! Perfect for a big-time artist."

I adjusted the sweater, pulling it firmly up to my jawline. The fabric tugged against the bite marks beneath, and a pleasant shiver swept over me. "Oh, right. Yeah. Just trying to fit the part, I guess."

Ellie was right, though. Something had definitely gotten into me.

As the sun set that night, I drew a bath and basked in the last traces of my fever. The water lapped around my neck, right at my half-closed wounds. It reminded me of the way Adrian's tongue had laved me. My hair floated loosely around my submerged shoulders, and the hills of my breasts crested above the surface.