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“If I am to be one of your kind.” Valerie exhaled. “Will you stand by me? Because frankly, I am at my wits’ end. I can barely move.”
Mircalla tipped her chin with a triumphant smile then she pressed her lips where the itch burned. She licked the salt in her wound and Valerie could barely stand, resting on her chest with her hands laced around her face, closer and closer in a swirl of emotions. Her heart was thundering in her chest, but she was only aware of where Mircalla’s lips pressed against.
They were crimsoned and shaking.
“I’m afraid,” Mircalla whispered, a tender smile dancing on her lips. “I don’t have the strength in me to let you go. I can’t control it. I would rip my heart off its birdcage and hand it over to you if it meant we could stay like this forever. How can I ever let you go, my dear Valerie, the heart of my soul, when you have given me the world?”
The quaver in Mircalla’s voice made her shiver. She was cut out from the draughts of her body, inhaling mist and blood. Mircalla unbuttoned her trousers, never taking her eyes off her, then looked at her blood soaked shirt. Her fingers were clumsy, unable to move quicker, and she faltered with every motion.
Mircalla swore under her breath as she fumbled another button. “I don’t mind admitting that I’m nervous, but my gosh, I am terrible at this.”
“Let me help,” Valerie whispered, as much for herself as for her. She kissed Mircalla again, still looking into her eyes, unbuttoned her shirt to where the swell of her belly began and kissed her again. She was caught between Mircalla and the bed and realized that the shirt was stiff with blood, slight sweat patches under her arms, and she dropped it on the pile with the rest of her clothes. Mircalla pulled off her stockings, and Valerie could not help but sob. Deeper her hands pulled and pulled and heat mounted on her stomach, her breasts, setting her ribs aflame. Mircalla was cold and it was as if she reached a mountaintop, frozen and brumal as her skin recognized hers.
She stood before her with nothing but her corset and sighed heavily as she clutched her neck. Mircalla’s gaze rendered her all but invisible and Valerie was about to explode. Mircalla motioned her to approach, lips parted and lids heavy with unbounded lust. Valerie, her own face flushed and too aware of its building energy, was seized by surging adoration.
“My corset…Please—” Valerie began, growing rough and impatient. She gave a low moan of despair and shut her eyes close. It was impossible to handle the weight of this crush, collapsing into herself like a great dome of passion and she did not care if it was a sin, corrupting her soul and shaping her body into a carnal museum. It was exhilarating to find herself this animated next to the woman who she pronounced only a guest a few weeks ago.
Mircalla traced a finger down her corset, the swell of her chest pressing lightly against her back, and planted kisses beside her ear, and said, “You’re lucky I’m good with laces.” Valerie could hear her smile as her lips followed a meandering path, kissing her with greater hunger and confidence. She untied the bow first, then loosened the lace, the weight pulled off her waist. She stroked her cheek with her chin and leaned over her shoulder. Her fingers moved faster this time, the sound of unhooking echoing in the room.
“You are so warm,” she said, and with each word, her lips brushed against hers. “And I envy the heart that beats inside you, the skin that wraps you. I loathe the breadth of air that touches you, the morning frost that sees you before I do. But these will not keep me from trying.”
“Then, let me see you try.”
Mircalla carried her to the bed; she was still fully dressed. Valerie sucked in a sharp breath as the cold sheets greeted her and her eyes were still drawn on Mircalla. Her hair was cascading down in a silky wave, and she looked up at her with a knowing smirk. Valerie felt a jolt of electricity run through her as their eyes met. Her heart was racing with anticipation as Mircalla pulled her closer for another kiss and their bodies were pressed together, exploring each other under shadows; Mircalla’s moans soft in her mouth, like the touch of a butterfly, and under the pressure of her tongue, everything was simple.
And if she was on the brink of collapse, it did not matter. It was like drifting off to sleep, being embraced by this creature, dashed by blood and inspiration, and the gushing chill of her body overwhelmed her. Valerie’s hand settled on the small of her back, tight and steady, as Mircalla climbed on top of her. She quickly stripped off her vest and shirt, threw them across the room, and her hand was moving up and down Valerie’s chest. She was aching from wanting more, the dizzying sweetness of the moment had fueled her hunger. Mircalla had the same disoriented look. It was as if they were both passing from one turbulent state to another, wandering around the earth without the knowledge of the other, and as they now melted in each other’s hands, against their lips, the days spent in separation seemed like a privation. A collision of order. Wanting someone this profoundly, giving into the delicious yearning, both monstrous and exalting, or admitting sanguine defeats drenched in her lover’s sweat would never be a compromise if she had never been married. It would be a eulogy.
For her, there had always been a violent gap between her history of suffering and her dreams for the future, for she could not overcome the gap without being destroyed by it. She had clung to the promise in her name and was ruined by it. She would bury the past all night long and still not be done because she didn’t feel she had a right to forget her losses, or insist upon marking herself in the present. She was a monument made to despair and regret. Still, despite her reservations, she could not stop dreaming about growing new roots, right on this bed as Mircalla’s lips wandered on her collarbone and down to her breasts. The saddest cadence of her voice became a guttural plea, alive by the touch of another woman, and the tender belief that all would be well.
“Please.” Valerie writhed in pleasure. Without a word, Mircalla buried her hand to Valerie’s neck, wrapping her arms around her, and she felt a sharp pain that seared her mouth. Mircalla had sunk her teeth deep into her flesh, leaving her with a growing need to be closer and closer.
The blood was draining from her body, but the rush was more palpable, consuming, and addictive. Her body caught up with the sentiment quickly, hurling itself in her direction, her back tight like an arrow, and Valerie knew, with such precision that almost made her blind, that she was under Mircalla Karnstein’s spell, body and soul. She was given over to the night, became a raging beast of prey herself, born from nowhere but her sighs. What she knew about herself had been crafted from the account of others, the smacking lips and pointed ears. No, no. She was, indeed, a beautiful and reckless experiment of being, loving, and wanting.
Valerie was ravenous and uncontained, much like her lover who convulsed above her, latching on to the quietest parts of her body, spreading her limbs open as much as she could and Valerie couldn’t bring herself to resist. Mircalla pulled back for a moment, her lips stained with Valerie’s blood, a site of her new origin. She feared the moment would be lost and Mircalla would leave, but she leaned in closer and gave her a taste of her own blood.
A stream of color shimmering on her skin, carnations blooming on her chest. Valerie sobbed. She felt brave and noble, bewildered and confused by this undefined lust in her heart. It bred new questions, but nothing remained when she was under Mircalla’s gaze as she kissed along her stomach until she reached the waistband of her drawers.
With a wicked grin, she pulled it down, exposing the heat, and Mircalla nuzzled against her skin, following the curve of her inner thighs, then moved up, ready to taste her to the core. She kissed and settled on the top of her, stroking her thighs longer and longer, and teasing with her breath, before finally diving in with her tongue. It was lovely to look down; a tickling, seducing sensation, and her lover’s hair tangled in her fingers, eyes gone bright, fingers curling up just the right way to dangle her off the precipice.
“Mircalla…”
She was beside herself, her breath rising and falling rapidly, turning into dreadful sighs. She was slick with sweat and blood, wanting to reach out and press Mircalla’s head harder but Mircalla crawled up her body and kissed the punctures.
“Did you like it?” Her breath was hot against Valerie’s ear. She moaned as though she was washed by heavenly light. A place unstated and undefined—the threshold of untamed encounters, splitting at the heart of meaning, searching for vitality; at the same time, unsettling the notion of getting it right, stripping it down so only the pangs of desire remain.
Valerie nodded, suffused with heat and the tangy taste sliding down her tongue, heaving and at a loss for words. Her voice was nothing more than a weak wheezing sound. Mircalla laughed and curled her fingers deeper.
“I pray you won’t keep quiet tonight, my love.”
Valerie gripped the sheets with one hand and covered her mouth with the other to stop the screaming as their bodies landed with a quick release, collapsing onto the bed, names lingering on their lips. Valerie was devoid of any sense, unconscious and limp with pleasure that lifted her like crushing waves, and the moonlight shone on her face with such intensity that she thought she was dead.
22
The night passed inpeace. Mircalla folded her hands on the shallow pit in her back, trailing a finger along Valerie’s flushed face, and they laid quietly. But there was an unpassing sensation that slithered under Valerie’s skin. It crept in silently at first, as sleep creeps in after supper, like something rumbling beneath the bed, then it stabbed as it went, tearing her apart limb by limb. Mircalla noticed her unrest. Her face was grave, contorted with agony, and Valerie twisted back and forth like a wild animal.
“It hurts,” she said. Mircalla kissed and embraced her again and again, as tears ran slowly down her cheeks. This particular sensation, Valerie feared, was finding its violent entrance and sickening something inside. By morning, she was deeply bewildered, and nestled up even closer to Mircalla. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her teeth were chattering; her feet felt like icicles under the quilt.
When her body finally stopped, Mircalla leaned over her shoulder and gave her a kiss.
