Frostbite

He took her breath away. Immaculately dressed, oozing confidence, deep blue eyes that penetrated her soul and stirred within her a hunger unlike anything she had ever known. He had the perfection of youth unmarred by wrinkles, but was a man for all that, and had about him an air of ruthless determination.

He had taken her hand and led her from the bar, all unspoken promises, and they had barely gone ten paces before he pushed her roughly against the wall, his lips against hers, his hand between her thighs.

“And then what?”

“Huh?”

“He pushed you against the wall, kissed you, and then?”

She sighed. “I don’t recall. Next thing I remember is waking up. Here.” She waved her hands to indicate the hospital ward.

“You don’t remember anything else? You don’t remember him biting you?”

She shook her head, and frowned as she scratched at the bandage at her neck with her left hand. “Dark hair. Short. Short hair, that is. He was taller than me. Pale skin. And cold!” She recalled suddenly the icy touch of his fingers, and how hot they had made her. She could still feel his touch, like crystals of ice within her. She resisted the temptation to trace the path his fingers had followed. “His hand was cold,” she explained.

How high had those fingers gone? Had they penetrated the black lace of her underwear? Had his soft, cool lips discovered her nipples that must surely have been as hard then as they were now just thinking about it?

“I want you,” he’d whispered. “Tonight, and tomorrow, and forever after.”

She’d laughed, of course, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped her. “You will be mine,” he said, and kissed her again…

Or had he? “He did. It hurt.” How embarrassing to have a love bite, like she was a teenager still. “Bastard.” Embarrassing also that she liked it so much, this evidence of his passion for her.

But the rest was a blank. “I don’t understand. How did I end up here? And why? I mean, I feel fine.”

“They found you outside the bar. Alone. Unconscious. You’d lost a lot of blood.”

It made no sense. Why had he left her? Forever, he’d said. Tonight, tomorrow and forever after. But tonight was now yesterday, and tomorrow today, and already the sun was descending, making silhouettes of the city and casting its streets into shadow.

She pushed the covers away and swivelled until her toes touched the floor. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you understand? He bit you. He nearly killed you!”

She paused, momentarily shocked. Tearing away the bandage from her neck, she traced the outlines of the twin puncture wounds that were wet to the touch and painfully sensitive. “I see,” she said, looking at her bloodied fingertips.

Forever, he’d said.

“I have to go.”