She steers us into the quaint community park, our feet crunch in leaves as we enter the unswept path. My feet not hers, even in the mess of dry molch she's virtually soundless. I'm starting to wonder if I'm talking to a ghost. It would explain a lot…
"What is your name?" of all things, I should know that much about her at least.
She glances at me sideways in a mischievous way that says she may not share it.
I challenge her on it, "You won't tell me?"
"I shouldn't, this should be our last time together," she whispers.
I grab her by both hands, feeling a pang of stress and anger, "Why? Why would you say that?"
She remains silent for a moment and won't meet my eyes, "It would be best… For you."
I keep staring at her until she has no choice but to lift them to mine, her expression is stony and neutral but I see a glint of something. Is it regret?
"I disagree."
She makes a short sweet sound like a bitter laugh.
"I don't get it. You go through all this effort of following me around and now we're together and you won't tell me-"
She kisses me mid-sentence. I blink in surprise and tense. Her lips work on mine expertly, powerful as a bolt of lightning.
My eyelids flutter and my pulse starts to race. I take her face in both of my hands, tipping and kissing her back. Again. Again.
I'm suddenly convinced I cannot live without her mouth on mine. My heart is throbbing in my ribcage and if she breaks away it will doubtless stop or maybe explode.
I hear her breathless inhale but I don't let up. One of her hands tangles in my shirt, the other slips behind my neck. She's not letting me go either.
Her breath is erratic, the sound of it is arousing, like an erotic sigh from a husky woman on the other end of a line. Her mouth is open, swollen as I chew on her bottom lips. Her nails scrap against my nape causing goosebumps to flare up my spine. I can't get enough of her taste, I'm starved for her.
Her tongue slides in, I groan low. She smells amazing, her flavor is unreal, like sugar and wintermint. It's so good I can hardly stand it.
Her body forms to mine, flesh with the curve where we come together, pressing into me hard. She moans as I tighten my grip on her. The feel of her tongue makes me crazed, I knot her hair between my fingers and pull her ever closer.
I'm absorbed in the feel of her lips. Studying them, possessing them, drowning in her passionate sounds that are making me want to throw her into the soft foliage and have my way with her. Every part of her that comes in contact with me sends my skin ablaze.
I run my tongue over her teeth, surprisingly sharp. I nearly cut myself. I taste something faintly metallic, maybe I did cut myself but I just don't care. I need her. My chest is pounding.
She retracts, tilting her head back with palms at my collarbone, breathing uneven. Her wild eyes stare up into mine, they're impossibly vivid. I think about forcing her back to continue the kiss but she appears a bit startled. I feel dizzy, my heart. How is she affecting me like this? This woman might kill me.
I attempt to catch my breath but have a difficult time fully recovering.
"Are you alright?" I pant.
Her mouth is open, a titillating tongue hovering in her parted mouth. Her eyes relax into a hooded and somewhat glazed stare, damn are they ever bright.
She closes them with a slow shake of her head. An almost timid smile plays on her lips as she breathes, "Your effect on me is quite… Dangerous."
'I could say the same thing about you.' I think to myself, trying to hide my grin but one corner jerks as my cheek dimples. I'm happy it's not one sided. That short kiss was more intense than some sex I'd had, I haven't a clue how that's possible. Too short, I don't want to stop there.
I help her upright, reluctant to let go. She runs herself against me, massaging my arms before separating.
I examine her as she presses her lips with a sobering expression, glancing over my shoulder as if someone's standing behind me. I take a peek for myself to assure that we're alone.
"So," I make eye contact with her again, "If you won't tell me your name, I'll have to make one up for you."
She tilts her head with tentative amusement, waiting. Obviously, my attempt to coax the name out of her failed with the silly suggestion to create one. She's actually expecting me to follow through. I shouldn't disappoint her, I'll have to come up with something now.
I hear my own voice but don't recall speaking, "My… Night flower."
'Did I just say that?'
I'm assaulted by this sudden sensation that I have no word for other than 'flash'... Like a flashback? The world changes for a fraction of a second like I'm in one of those dreams with her, the forest is dense and unfamiliar around us. My mysterious woman is before me, just as radiant but disheveled, standing in a small moonlit clearing beneath the pines.
It looks as if her hair was pinned into some elaborate vintage style but now it's falling down in ruins, loose strands blow like silk strips in the breeze. She's wearing what I assume to be a victorian style dress, her small waist is accentuated with the form fitting bodice and the tattered remains of the skirt are thick flowing outward. The clothing was a delicate shade of pink, now it's soiled with tears, prominent blood stains and caked on mud.
Despite looking as if she were lost in the wilderness for days on end, she's like an angel bathed in a full moon light, floating to me in the night.
The metallic taste in my mouth amplifies into foul rust.
It's gone, I'm back in reality and somewhat confused. The flash image fades from my memory as quickly as a fleeting dream, leaving me completely disoriented. The more I try to think about it the faster I forget. I press my fingers to my temple, grimacing slightly as I rebalance myself.
I blink, aware she pinning me with such a heartbreaking look.
"Say that again," she murmurs.
"What did I say?"
"That name. What did you call me?" she nearly implores. It looks as if she may cry or smile. I can't tell.
"Night flower. My Night flower," The name simply bounces off my tongue. I don't know where that came from or why I'm calling her that.
The wistful smile wins as her hands press against my stomach, inching up, feeling me all the way. They curve over my shoulders to wrap in a sensual embrace that leaves me hot in spite of her freezing fingers.
She whispers with heavy unshed emotion, "I've missed you so."
She releases me before I am overcome with the urge to do more than hold her. She's doing things to me, making me insane.
"Sit with me," she beckons, pulling me to a bench with haste. I don't fight her.
She brushes a lock of hair from my forehead with a graceful slide of her hand as I sit beside her. Her gaze briefly flicks over my shoulder to scan the space behind. Odd, is she nervous? Her wistful vulnerability clicks off like a living room lamp when her focus returns to me.
Her face darkens, evaluating me with a cold stare. She's dangerous more than just sexually, there are signs of innate warning. Like the neon colors of poison dart frogs or staring down a white tiger mere feet away.
She states coolly, "I frighten you."
I wet my lips and don't deny it, "Very much."
She frightens me in multiple ways.
Her lips part while sliding her thighs together with an unintentionally erotic shift in her hips. I refrain from swallowing, feeling very hot under the collar and very much desiring her. Right this instant.
She curls her hands into her lap, looking across the way at a wilting flower bed but not really admiring it. Her lips thin with pensiveness.
I have a sudden spark of anxiety and catch her hands. I urge quietly, "Don't leave."
Her head swivels toward me. One brow curiously arched.
"I want to see you again. I want to know you," I pause, wracking my brain with ways to express this desire without being too intense, but honestly I can't call this weighty infatuation anything other than obsession, "Tell me… Something I don't know about you."
'Which is basically everything.'
She nearly gawks, but smooths it over, "I'm not all that interesting."
"We both know you're lying."
Her eyes tighten in a small, sad smile.
"You haven't changed," her lapis irises glitter with adoration, "And yet, you never fail to surprise."
I'm awed by her response, she didn't say much but it's as if we've known each other a very long time. I realize she *gets* me on a very personal level, a side I don't share with anyone else.
She glances over my shoulder once more, the tenderness hardens. Her eyes almost look shiny and hostile like a cornered wolverine for half a second. I ignore my gut yelling that something bad is afoot, all my good sense has been thrown out the window. I'm being so reckless but, at the moment, I'm strangely indifferent about it.
She closes her eyes and sighs deeply, shaking her head. Something is upsetting her.
She leans into me before I can inquire about her sudden change, pressing her lips softly to mine, hands gently caress my biceps.
Her quick kiss tastes of gloom. I try to study her eyes but they remain closed and she turns away, hiding her face with a curtain of straight hair.
"Forgive me," she says softly.
"Forgive you for what?" I bend my head attempting to get a better look at her, "As far as I'm aware, you haven't done anything wrong."
Her mouth twists into an unsettling shape, like a small pained smirk. Her hands flinch on my arms.
"Forgive me, mon cœur..." The hair rises on the back of my neck as her words trail off into an admittedly scary tone. Is she making that sound? It's a noise a pissed off bobcat would make.
My eyes widen and I flinch as her lids peel open. Blue light spills from her face like headlight beams coming over a hilltop. I could have sworn her irises were glowing before, now it's unmistakable. They're lit up ice blue!
I scramble to get off the bench and suck at my teeth as her hands tighten on me. A grip like iron cuffs.
I'm gawking at her. Too stunned to make a peep or force her off, too shocked to say 'wait a minute!'
She's straddling over me now, a full baring of teeth, an intimidating snarl that should not be coming out of this young woman's throat. Her teeth, they're huge, sharp like a sickly wolf ready to lunge at your throat. They're fanged!
My body is responsive again, trying to push away, reaching for my pocket but it's too late. She's unnaturally strong, pinning me against the bench. I stare, eyes so wide they're watering as her face gains proximity to mine, neck craning downward like a barn owl.
The air curls in her open mouthed snarl. She strikes, teeth piercing into the side of my neck. It's quick, a sharp pain like a staple gun breaking skin. I squirm and inhale violently. She bit me! She's still biting me!
The pain is remote, it instantaneously morphs into something more than pleasant as her mouth works just beside my throat. Am I confusing pain with pleasure? A burst of warmth flows through me, it's like I'm sinking in a pile of goose feathers. I think I'm actually enjoying her bite as much as her otherworldly kisses, which really freaks me out!
I can't move, it's like I'm paralyzed. I can't make a sound.
She arches into me, her hands seamlessly move from trapping each arm to cradle me. Her slender arms lower me onto the seat. My fingers flex with an attempt to get the feeling back. I battle the numbness and the chaotic sea of duplicate from losing blood too rapidly, pushing against her but feeling weak.
She's drinking the life out of me like a succubus. I must be dreaming, this isn't happening. I'll wake up any second now… But what if it's not a dream.
"Why?" I rasp. My limbs straining against the she-devil turn to jello along with my thoughts as heavy fatigue sets in. I think I'm bothered by her betrayal more than her turning into a monster. I start to laugh at my stupidity, it's a string of humming that dies along with my own pulse thundering in my ears. It's all shutting down.
This seems so real. My glasses are still on but they don't help. My vision is becoming fuzzy and black. What if I don't wake up?
Of all the ways to go out, it should have been guns blazing. Well, isn't that just too damn bad.
I'm peeved but also find this oddly funny, like this has happened to me before. This is how it's going to be, huh? If God is watching, that guy has a crude sense of humor.
It's over, I can't fight it anymore. But, I guess there are worse ways to go than dying inside a mostly pleasant dream. I just wish she told me her name.