bite.

Chapter 3b

Michael released me and quickly turned away, heading down the stairs. 

"Wait," I called after him, wanting to thank him for saving me.

He paused for a split second, his pace faltering, but then he pushed on, disappearing into the darkness. 

I tried following him, but my legs had turned to jelly. I managed a few steps and then had to stop. I took a seat on the step and rested my head against the bannister.

What the hell had just happened back there?

"Lorna? Lorna?" Francesca's voice echoed up the stairwell.

"I'm here," I called back.

Francesca appeared in front of me a split second later.

"Oh my darling, are you injured?" she asked.

I shook my head, "No, I just needed to take a rest."

"You're weak, my sweetness. Please come with me and I can get you something to eat."

"I'm not drinking blood."

"Darling heart, you have to drink... you'll get sick."

"It's not that," I lied. "The rocking of the boat, it's making me nauseous."

"Okay, we'll try giving you a little blood when we arrive on land."

Forcing a smile, I replied, "That sound's great."

Francesca returned my smile with a hug and disappeared back down below, leaving me to wonder what the hell I was going to do in a few hours when confronted with the prospect of drinking blood again.

You didn't mind drinking Michael's blood -  a small voice whispered inside my head.

No, last night was different. I was on the brink of death and Michael's blood saved me. 

You liked his blood, you want to drink it again... you want to taste him again.. 

"No way," I muttered to myself.

His blood belongs to you... he belongs to you...

At this point I stood up and ran up the stairs. I don't know why, but I needed air - I needed to get outside of this ship. 

I followed the signs to the top floor and found the door leading to the outside deck. I ignored the poster that screamed in bold capitals 'DO NOT GO OUT ONTO THE DECK IN BAD WEATHER' and tried opening the door. The door opened a few inches and then slammed shut.

"I thought I told you to go back to your cabin," a voice growled.

I spun around and saw Micheal, holding the door shut, glaring at me.

"I needed some air."

"Are you so blood starved, that you have completely lost your mind?"

He grabbed my arm and started to pull me back towards the stairwell. 

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Taking you back to your parents. The ship is dangerous, it's not a playground."

"I know! I've read the million posters plastered around the ship! Stop pulling on me! Let go," I yelled and pulled my arm out of his grip.

I fell backwards and landed on the floor with a bump. 

Micheal stood over me and said, "There is no using in fighting me. You're barely strong enough to walk back to your cabin."

I stared up at him in puzzlement. A few minutes ago, he seemed to really care about me, but now he was just being a pain in the ass.

"I'm not fighting you," I replied defiantly, "I object to being manhandle roughly."

His expression hardened and he crouched down next to me. "You're weak. You need blood but you refuse to drink."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're lying. I can feel your hunger and growing weakness."

He lifted his hand and touched my face, remarking, "You're so pale."

I slapped his hand away and snapped, "What do you expect? I have spent the last decade of my life in the ground. I'm sorry that I haven't had the opportunity to work on a sun tan."

"Lorna, you need to eat," he said, rolling up his sleeve and biting into his wrist. 

"Please, don't... I'm not hungry," I lied.

"You need to eat," he said and coated the tip of his index fingertip with blood.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He responded by reaching out and brushing his bloody finger across my bottom lip.

"See," he murmured softly, "It tastes good."

I swept my tongue over my bottom lip and tasted his blood - it was sheer bliss.

He saw the look of ecstasy on my face and drew closer, raising his wrist to my mouth.

I licked my lips and lowered my mouth onto his wrist. He inhaled sharply as he watched me suck on his wrist, drawing the blood out from the veins and swallowing mouthful after mouthful.

"Lorna," he exhaled.

I stopped drinking and looked up at him, utterly drunk on blood. 

I wanted him so badly, I couldn't stop myself.

I tilted my head up so I was facing him and leaned forward. My lips were millimetres away from his when he whispered, "Lorna, please stop."

"What," I replied in a daze.

"Stop," he repeated, "We can't do this - I'm sorry."

A tidal wave of humiliation crashed into me. I pulled back, drowning in embarrassment and quickly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. 

"I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean-"

"Look," he said, cutting me off. "We will be docking soon and I need take you back to your parents."

"Yes, I understand."

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room," he said.

*****

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