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Tearing his mouth from my lips, Nick gently strokes my nightdress and traces the outline of my breasts through the flimsy material. His fingers are like magic wands casting a spell over me. As he works his way down, I moan and open my thighs to let his hands seek out the scorching-hot wetness there. He hitches up my dress and I gasp as his fingers tinker with my clit, caressing and teasing till I’m numb with delight.
“You feel exquisite,” he breathes. “So warm, so alive.”
Removing his hand, he works his way back up, planting slow, lingering kisses on my face and forehead that make my knees tremble. With a seductive smile, he pulls down one of my dress straps and softly grazes his lips over my bare shoulder. I close my eyes and whimper quietly; I can’t take much more of this teasing.
Lowering his head again, Nick’s lips pass below my mouth and chin and settle on my throat, caressing my skin with his poker-hot tongue. My pulse thuds in my ears. He appears to hesitate, like he’s fighting the urge to completely devour me.
Silently, I will him to give in to his urges.
Take me. Oh, my God, take me now …
For a second-long eternity, the two of us remain frozen in an embrace, locked together as the hunter homes in on his prey.
His very willing prey.
Then finally, Nick pulls away. “No, I can’t do it. You don’t deserve this. I care too much about you to ever …” He falters, overcome with emotion. “Please forgive me.” He steps back toward the window, a shower of mist engulfing him. “I relinquish my power over you.”
And then he’s gone.
With a loud scream, I sit up sharply. I feel confused, disorientated, my whole body shaking with fear. The bedroom is dark, the window is closed, and the curtains are drawn. Everything is as it should be, everything except the crazy pounding of my heart.
I glance at the clock on the dresser.
Five am.
Instinctively, I raise my hand to my throat and heave a huge sigh of relief. No teeth mark. It was a dream.Only a dream.
For the next two days, total unreality takes over. I eat, sleep, go to work, but continue to feel completely detached from everything. People come and go at the office, try to engage me in conversation, but it’s like I can’t hear them; like I’m swimming underwater with the volume turned down. I sit on park benches. I sit on train platforms. Nothing seems real. Each morning, I gaze out the window at another daybreak, and think,I cannot do this anymore.I cannot live in a world with nothing to look forward to; a world with no love, no joy.
I cannot live in a world without Nick.
I dial his number in the mornings; I dial his number in the evenings; I call him from work; I call him from home, and find his silence strangely therapeutic. A couple of times, I’m even tempted to start smoking again, but something inside stops me: the last remnants of Nick’s hypnosis, I guess. I think of him constantly as some distant, unattainable image of beauty: a chalice of sweet wine I’ll never taste again. Like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun and got burned, but boy, was it a hell of a ride.
By Thursday morning, my desperation is at fever pitch and I realise the Thurlax has done nothing to improve the situation. Really, there is only one antidote; I simply must see him. Even if he refuses to speak to me, even if he’s verbally abusive, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. My need for answers far outweighs my fear of rejection, and I vow to do whatever it takes to get them.
So around seven pm on Thursday evening, I head to Harley Street to confront Nick outside the clinic. It’s raining heavily, but this is no deterrent. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. My anger and indignation have given me the adrenaline boost I need to keep going. And Iwillkeep going; nothing can stop me now.
For a whole hour, I stand across the road from the clinic, rain pelting down on my umbrella like a stone shower. I know I must look deranged, and a couple of people do double takes when they see me, but I’m past caring. They haven’t walked a mile in my shoes. They haven’t tasted paradise and had it cruelly snatched away from them. No, only I know what I feel. For a whole hour, I stand in the freezing cold, eyes glued to the clinic door, waiting with baited breath for Nick to emerge. At ten past eight, the lights finally go out in the building and he and Tara appear on the steps. For a second, they huddle together like rabbits, uncertain of their next move. Neither of them has an umbrella.
From where I’m standing, I can see Nick’s wearing the scarf I made for him, and the sight of it fills me with hope. I read Nick’s lips. He’s laughing with Tara, making jokes about the bad weather, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. How can he act so normally when I’m out here suffering like this?
Eventually, the two of them say goodbye and part ways, Tara heading in the direction of Oxford Circus.
Time to make my move.
In crazed anticipation, I race across the street calling out Nick’s name. He turns around and freezes. His expression is one of shock, but he quickly smoothes it away with a smile. He can’t, however, suppress the sickening guilt in his eyes.
“Carly! What are you doing here? You’re absolutely soaked.”
“I don’t care, I need to speak to you. You won’t take my calls, so what else am I supposed to do?” A heavy mist of rain brushes my eyes as I blink up at him.Oh, my God. I never thought I’d ever be this close to him again.
Nick glances around the street then lowers his voice. “All right, we’ll talk, but not here. We’ll both catch pneumonia if we stand in the rain. I’m parked just around the corner. Let’s go.”
“All right,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. It’s almost like I’m scared he’ll run away.
Taking my umbrella so it shelters us both, he walks arm in arm with me till we reach a quiet, residential street. Releasing my hand, Nick takes out his car keys and presses a button on the chain to unlock the doors to a sleek, black Jaguar. Closing my umbrella, I slip in the passenger side and wait nervously for him to join me. As he gets in the driver’s seat, I squeeze my eyes shut to psych myself up. I can’t let him know how much he’s affecting me.
For a long time, we sit in silence, listening to the sound of our breathing and the rain pummelling the roof and windscreen.
