Текст книги "Besotted"

Автор книги: Georgia Le Carre

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 9 страниц)

Three

I know that Blake will be home very late because there is so much for him to organize. Even while I was with him the phone calls never stopped. As I promised to do, I call him when we reach the apartment building. We don’t talk for long—he is busy. I put my key through the door and realize that this is now home for me. It is where I live with my little family.

So much has happened here.

I play for a while with Sorab, then feed him and put him to bed. I prepare some food—grilled cheese on toast, and, eat it alone—I clean up after myself and wander about the place. From room to room I go switching on lights. It all feels so still and silent. Tonight I cannot bear any shadows. I see ghosts everywhere. I wish Blake would come home. When the phone rings I grab it with relief.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello, my darling. I’m missing you.’ His voice is like velvet in my ear.

‘Me too.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing. When are you coming home?’

I feel almost tearful. So much has happened that I do not understand. My head is so full of questions and worries. We haven’t made love since that night at the Ritz, and I long to feel him on my skin, and deep inside me. I am desperate to forget, to purr, to lose myself and ride that wave of ecstasy. I decide to have a bath, a really long bath, with bubbles and scented oils. I lay my head back and try to relax.

Everything will work out.

Everything will work out.

But I am unable to relax. I get out of the bath, dry myself down, lather my skin with some lotion that has honey and extracts of avocado in and lie on the bed reading. By ten Blake is still not home. I go to the fridge and pour myself a glass of white wine. I should put some music on. It feels so deserted and strange. I check on Sorab. All is fine there.

I stand for a while in the balcony. For some reason I think of Jack. Ever since that last time I saw him I have not heard from him. I wonder where he is and what he is up to. I look up to the stars and say a silent prayer for him. Wherever you are, be well. The night air is cold and makes me shiver. Eventually I return to the bed and my book. I want to wait up for Blake, but I fall asleep while reading.

Something wakes me. He is home. I see the glow of the little moon-face lamp under Sorab’s door. Softly, I open the door and freeze in the doorway. Blake is standing by the cot staring at Sorab as he sleeps. His hands are gripping the cot so hard, his knuckles show white. He has opened a window and the night outside has become coal black. No stars. No moon. A soft breeze blows in. I feel it on the bare skin of my arms. Goosebumps scatter. The room is full of clinging shadows. My heart hitches.

He whips his head around suddenly, and I am face to face with him. I see his eyes. For a moment it is as if he does not recognize me. I do not recognize him. It must be my imagination in overdrive but it is as if I have interrupted a powerful predator. His eyes burn through me, angry blue.

‘I regret nothing I would do it all again in a heartbeat, if I had to,’ he whispers. The sound is fierce and heady with male dominance.

We are locked in a stare, neither of us blinking.

I am mesmerized by his gaze. Here is the man who has a hold on me, on my soul. And he has the keys to secret rooms I have yet to open. They are full of dark secrets. I am scared. Scared for us. Scared that the secrets will defeat me. That he will not give me the keys. The breath catches in my throat. My heart skips a beat. My head is flooded with so many unanswered questions.

He makes a sound, husky, unintelligible.

And suddenly he is beautiful beyond anything I have seen. He is my man. Mine forever. I love him. I open my mouth and words flow from my heart.

‘I know our lives will never be the same again. I know you are trapped in a world that is like nothing I have ever known, but I am willing to climb mountains, cross rivers, and travel barefoot over thorns and rocks if it takes me to you. I will find you. I promise,’ I whisper.

‘I hope you never find me in the place where I exist, Lana.’ The words are ripped out of him.

A chill runs down my spine. I shiver. Words bubble up in my throat. ‘Why are you always so harsh with me?’

‘I’m not being harsh with you, Lana. For you, I’d die a thousand times. You’ll never know how lonely I was without you, but you have to understand that I am only strong when I am certain you are safe. And you are only safe when you are innocent. You can never come to me. Always I will make the journey to you. The knowledge you are looking for is poison. It will seep into your very essence. Just this once allow me to act with beauty and courage, for you and Sorab.’

He is a broken soul. I walk up to him, and immediately he sweeps me into his arms and presses me against the hard expanse of his chest. I breathe in the scent of him, and feel again that passionate desire to be one with him. When our bodies are so fused together that our souls touch. I need to feel complete again. I have been for so many days unwhole.

‘Oh, Blake.’

He lifts me into his arms, I wrap mine around his neck, and he walks me to our bed. ‘Your fingers are freezing,’ he says.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’

God, hot tears are trickling down my cheeks.

He bends his head, his shadows spilling over me. I hear the blood pounding in his temples, and he kisses my tears. ‘Dew drops,’ he whispers. ‘I never thought it could ever be like this.’

I swallow and try to stop the tears but they won’t halt.

He lays me on the bed. ‘It always surprises me how silky your hair is,’ he says softly to himself.

This has to be enough to pull us through. This must.

‘It feels like a dream. As if you are unreal. I couldn’t bear it if I woke up and you were gone,’ he murmurs.

‘It’s not a dream. Do you believe that two people can share a love that is so deep that nothing can ever take it away?’

He doesn’t answer me. Instead he looks into my eyes with so much love my heart quivers. The look changes. My tears stop, the blood begins to pound in my head.

‘No need for words, Lana.’

He is right. There never was a need. His finger lightly strokes my throat. I draw breath sharply. I have been starving for his touch. He lets his finger rest on the desperate pulse. The tenderness in the gesture captivates me and starts the red-hot ache between my thighs. His mouth moves in closer and closer until his lips meet mine. I open my mouth to taste him. Ah…

He enters my soul.

In the shadows of our bedroom, time stills.

Four

I wake up in total darkness, shivering and realize instantly that I am blindfolded and naked. My hands are tied behind my back, but my legs are free. My nostrils are full of the smell of damp soil and dead leaves. Rocks and branches are digging into my back. It is eerily silent. I have no memory of how I got here. Where is Blake? Where is Sorab?

Suddenly, the air is pierced by a wail, despairing, monotone, and distant.

What the hell is that?

I freeze, bewildered and petrified. Precious seconds pass, with me holding my breath, staring into the blackness of the blindfold. Then: the knowledge, something’s coming. An abomination—stalking, circling.

My lips move. ‘Oh God!’

It is coming for me. It is almost upon me. The terror is indescribable. Frantically, I rub my face against the ground, gouging my cheeks on sharp stones. The blindfold shifts fractionally, but enough for me to make out that I am in a dark forest.

I scramble to my feet, swaying, my hands tied behind my back, and lurch away into the spooky shadows. The cold wind whips my face. Branches and leaves slap my bare body. I slip on moss, sprawl on the ground, pick myself up, and run blindly. In a panic, I glance backward, but it is impossible to see anything. The blackness is so thick. But I know it is still coming. I feel it in the chill that goes out like long tentacles before it to envelop me.

I take great gasping breaths: my lungs are on fire. Suddenly I hear men’s voices chanting, low and guttural, and I immediately start running towards the sound. They are gathered around a large bonfire in a clearing not far away. All of them are in long black and red robes with hoods, which are pulled so low down over their faces, it is impossible to see them. There is an air of menace about them. I remember them. I have seen them at that party. They all know more than they will tell.

They are the brotherhood of El.

Far away in the distance I see a lantern. I should have gone towards the lantern. But it is too late. They have all turned to look at me. I stare at them, appalled, and terrified, and consumed with horror. They begin to advance. I turn around and run. I hear them behind me. They are faster than me. I hear them closing in, their heavy grunts. They are almost upon me.

I stumble and fall on the ground among roots and creepers. They surround me. I look from one faceless figure to the other with abject fear.

‘You cannot escape.’

I freeze. Oh God. No! That voice. I know that voice. I look into the darkness inside his hood. There is movement. Shiny black eyes moving to look at me. I recognize those eyes.

‘But you are dead.’

An unpleasant wet, rasping sound comes from him. The rest of the group fall on me. Hands everywhere, on my breasts, between my legs. I kick and struggle, but it is no use. The clawing and yanking are impossible to resist. They make a whispering sound. Insidious and unspeakably horrible.

They are taking me down, down into the freezing pits of hell.

Suddenly I hear a cry. A baby. My baby. My Sorab.

The hands still, and they turn towards the voice. It is not me they want… It was never me.

I see Blake standing there with Sorab.

No, no, no. Quick, quick, do something. Run. I open my mouth and scream to warn him but no sound comes. They have taken my voice. It’s too late. I’m too late. I begin to howl silently.

I feel hands on me. ‘Wake up. It’s just a dream.’

My eyes snap open and Blake is peering down at me. I stare at him in confused terror, my head full of gravel and evil. Then I throw my arms around him and clutch at him desperately.

He tries to lay me back on the pillows, but I can’t let go of him. I pull back just enough to look at him. ‘I am afraid for you.’

‘There is nothing to be afraid of.’ His voice is tender. He cradles me in his arms and gently sweeps away the hair sticking to my damp forehead and cheeks. ‘It’s over. It’s over,’ he croons.

But I am full of terror. The dream had been so real. ‘The men. The hooded men… In the woods. Who are they?’

He frowns. ‘What men?’

‘They want you back.’

‘It was just a nightmare, Lana. There are no hooded men. You’re safe. There is—’

‘Your father. He was alive.’

A bleak look comes into his eyes. ‘My father is dead.’ His voice is flat and lifeless.

I rest my forehead against his chest and begin to cry.

Again and again he reassures me, ‘It was just a dream. Just a nightmare,’ until I fall asleep clasped in his arms.

When I wake up again it is with a premonition that something is wrong. Raw fear. I glance at the bedside clock. It is the early hours of the morning. A warning burns in my head. I don’t dismiss it. I scramble out of bed, pull on Blake’s discarded shirt and run into Sorab’s room. It is still early and the child is fast asleep. Softly, I open the door and hurry down the corridor. Blake is in the dining room working, bent over a piece of paper. He lifts his head, sees me, and gets to his feet suddenly.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ I say, but I run towards him and throw my arms around his waist. It is true nothing is wrong. So what is the little prickling at the back of my neck, as if someone was watching me, all about then? Is this the calm before the storm? I feel my stomach in knots.

‘Don’t become a slave to your fears, Lana,’ he whispers into my hair.

As if by magic I feel the fear slinking away. Everything is all right. Blake is fine, Sorab is fine and I am fine. Nothing is wrong. It must be just my own overwrought senses. I know it is because I don’t have all the facts. There is so much I don’t know.

I look up into his face. ‘Shall I make you something to eat?’

‘No. The only thing I am hungry for is you,’ he says, taking the lobe of my ear between his teeth. ‘I simply can’t seem to get enough of you. I want to devour you all the fucking time.’

It is tempting to let him fill me up. Make me forget. My lips part with invitation. ‘Devour me, then,’ I whisper throatily.

He lifts me by the waist.

I wrap my legs tightly around his hips, encircle his neck with my arms, bury my face in his throat, and let him carry me to the bed. I unwind my legs and he lays me down gently. For a while he stands simply looking down at me, his eyes dark and grimly determined. Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt while I watch from under heavy eyelids. My veins are suddenly full of urgently pulsing, hot blood when he rips open his button fly, unzips, and stands before me naked. My eyes move to and remain fixed on his penis: big and proud and pulsing with its own supply of hot urgent blood. I lick my lips—I crave it inside me, its length, its brutal thickness, its relentless power.

Its dark promise.

I want to be fucked senseless, but more important is the desire to be the only thing he sees, feels, wants. To obliterate everything else for him but me. To capture him inside my body. To make him mine. To watch his eyes lose focus, turn so deeply blue that it is almost violet with sexual euphoria. And to watch his powerful frame shudder and convulse as his mouth helplessly calls my name at the moment of climax.

What he does is the opposite of what I imagined.

He lands on the bed on his knees, grabs me by the waist and turns me over, the same way someone would upend a bottle. Without warning I am folded over and positioned on my hands and knees. I feel his hands push the shirt I am wearing upwards, until it is bunched around my armpits.

While I am still finding my balance he ducks his head into the overhanging shirt and sucks one of my nipples. The other he rolls between his thumb and forefinger. The unusual position and the greedy sucking—as if I am a four-legged beast feeding its young—makes my head rear back and my spine arch. Immediately, he removes his mouth as if that reaction was the only reason he had nudged his head into the shirt flap in the first place.

I whimper restlessly, but he places his hands between my shoulder blades and pushes me face lower down, so my chin and mouth are buried in the pillow and my buttocks and pussy are horribly exposed. But even that offering he deems insufficient. He yanks my hips higher until my knees lift clean off the mattress, and with a manacle-like hold of my thighs, rams into me. I cry out with the shock of his ferocious entry and the surprising depth his shaft has gone to.

The pillow muffles my scream.

For a few seconds I hover between pleasure and pain. And then the pillar lodged deep inside me begins its outbound journey. I close my eyes, open myself to accept all of him, and wait… Even though I am anticipating it, the second punishing plunge makes me bite the pillow.

The wild violence of his thrust is shocking and yet I welcome it. I want him to use me in this primitive way. To use my body to rid himself of his demons. I am in awe of his power and my ability to withstand brutality of his need. So he fucks me with ragged breath, as if with each pump he is releasing all the pent up tensions in his body.

The frenzied battering makes my sex feel raw and tender, but I squeeze his cock as if I am milking it. Suddenly he makes a sound—feral, triumphant, inexplicably male. And for the first time since I have known him he allows himself to come before me. It tears through him and he climaxes as he always does, long, hard, agonized, calling my name, as if it is a prayer. His cock jerks and spurts its hot seed into my desperately clutching cavity.

For some seconds he stays still inside me, as he gathers his senses. Then he withdraws out of me and I attempt to fall over to my side, but he puts his hands on either side of my hips and holds me in that highly exposed position.

From the sides of my eyes I see him go on his haunches. I know his semen is leaking out of me. He jams his thumb into my pussy and pulls it out, which causes his thick milk to spurt out. He smears his juices all over my sex and begins to rub, over and over, in, and around, my cleft.

‘Yes,’ I hiss, as my body clenches, and I feel the orgasm building inside me.

But he does not allow me to climax, instead he teases me until I can bear it no more, and I lift my head and beg him to let me come.

Then he puts his palm flat across the soaking wet entrance of my body and simply holds it tight. Shamelessly, I grind my heated sex against the hard hand, pumping and working my hips mindlessly, like some rutting animal. It does not take long. My orgasm is explosive and leaves me high and quivering like jelly.

Gently, he lays me on my back and lies flat on his back beside me, one heavy hand—the fingers spread—on my stomach. That hand is full of possession and ownership.

Slowly my breath returns to normal and I find myself exactly where I started. With a whole pile of unanswered questions.

‘I’d like us to finish that conversation we started the other day.’

‘Maybe another time, Lana,’ he says quietly.

We lie facing the ceiling in silence and the longer the silence stretches the more lost and alone I start to feel. I think of what we have just done—it is so vivid in my mind—and yet we could be strangers now. I have to stop myself from rolling away from him, curling up into a ball, and just crying my eyes out. I simply want to help. I am his woman. Not his toy.

Why the silent treatment? I haven’t done anything wrong. As the seconds tick by I start to fume silently. If I was Victoria he would tell me. I would enter the forbidden realms with him. I become jealous and sad all at once. But more angry than sad. I sit up and glance down furiously at him.

He turns to look at me. Questioning. Slightly puzzled. His thoughts obviously elsewhere.

I swivel my eyes away from him.

He reacts by catching my hand and pulling me down to his chest. ‘What’s wrong?’

There is no avoiding him while he is so in my face, and anyway I don’t want to avoid him. I want a confrontation. Molded into his chest I crane my neck away from him and glare into his stare.

‘You know,’ I bite out fiercely, and try to twist away, but he brings his other arm around and, effortlessly, I am a total prisoner.

‘If you carry on I’m going to have to fuck you again.’

‘That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Out of bed I am of no use to you, am I?’

His expression changes. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘I don’t understand you. You say you love me and you can’t imagine your life without me, but you won’t tell me anything. I’m sick of being locked out, Blake. Honestly, it’s tearing me up inside. Do you think I am too dumb to understand? Is that it?’

‘No, it’s not that—’ he interjects.

But I am not done. ‘In your heart of hearts you think I’m not good enough, one of the unwashed masses. How stupid of me to ever think that we could be equal partners in a relationship. I’m just a doll to you, aren’t I? One day you’ll get bored of playing with me, and then you’ll just put me away and totally forget I even exist.’

Hot tears begin to gather in my eyes. I try to blink them away. I am not going to cry, but the more I try to stop the more sorry I feel for myself and the faster they spill out.

He does a surprising thing. It stops my blubbering instantly. He fists my hair and lures my head lower until it is inches away from his face, and then he lifts his head, and licks my tears. First one cheek, then the other.

My reaction is instant and unexpected: fresh desire sizzles through me.

‘Don’t… Don’t ever again say such things. They were true once, but not anymore. In fact, I don’t believe they were ever true. From that first night I saw you, I had a reaction to you that I have never had with anyone else. You took my breath away.

‘I tried to tell myself that it was because you were so extraordinarily beautiful, but I’ve been with so many beautiful women, some who have brazenly thrown themselves at my feet, others who have played hard to get, and then there were the truly shy ones, but never have I felt that irresistible need to brand them as mine.

‘To lock them away and never let another man near them, let alone touch them. When I met you the rest of the world stopped existing. There was only you and I in my world. I wanted nothing else.’

He presses his forehead against mine, his words curling softly around us. I feel him everywhere. I love him so much it feels as if I should scream it from the rooftops. And yet I worry—my life has taught me that every time I love something, even if it be an animal, my heart will eventually be wrung out and broken.

‘You must believe that I am telling you the truth. My heart was in a coffin, safe, dark, motionless…until I found you in a secret place, among the shadows of my soul. You saved me.’

He smiles softly and weaves his fingers through mine, his brows dipped low. I stare into his sad eyes. He has laid his heart at my feet. How would I have thought that he would turn out to be a gentle warrior? Love doesn’t keep a record of wrongs. My heart melts. I forgive him.

‘So why do you hide so much away from me, then?’

He sighs softly. ‘If you knew a room was full of needles, would you let Sorab crawl in it?’

I frown. ‘I’m not a baby.’

‘Let me make myself clearer. I am afraid for you. I am afraid you will be taken away from me. Even the thought of losing you makes me feel sick to my stomach. You are the only person I can ever imagine myself with now. If all else—the mansions, the mines, the cars, the business, the yachts, the planes—perished and you remained, I could still continue, but if everything else remained, but you were gone, I’d be a broken man.’

His eyes are suddenly wet. He has never cried before. It breaks my heart. He is my love, my heart, my everything. I will leave it for now. I must know, but I will find out on my own. Somehow I will find out.

‘Could you not sleep last night?’

‘No, there is too much to do. The phones never stop ringing. People from all over the world offering condolences.’ His lips twist bitterly. ‘If only they knew.’

‘When is the funeral?’

‘Day after tomorrow.’

‘Where?’

‘New York.’

‘When do we leave?’

‘You’re not coming.’ His voice is suddenly hard.

I step away from him. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you never take your beloved gerbil to a viper’s den.’

‘But I want to be with you.’

‘I’m only going for a day. I’ll be back the next day.’

I gaze up at him. ‘Blake, I want to be with you during that time.’

‘No.’

I cross my arms. ‘So you don’t want me at the funeral?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘All right, I will come with you but I won’t go to the funeral.’

He shakes his head. ‘No. Then I’ll be worrying about you in New York.’

‘All right. I won’t leave the hotel.’

‘You’ll be bored.’

‘I’ll read and I’ll order room service.’

That takes the wind right out of his sails. ‘Why do you want to come so bad?’

‘Because I want to be with you during that time. I think it is important.’

‘All right. But you have to promise that you won’t leave the hotel without me.’

‘I promise.’

‘What about Sorab?’

‘If it is only for one night I’ll leave him with Billie.’

He frowns.

‘Blake, if you don’t take me with you I will fly there on my own.’

Suddenly he looks tired. ‘I can never resist you. Yeah, you can come.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t make me regret it.’

‘By doing what?’

‘By leaving the hotel or making me worry about you.’ He looks at me warningly.

‘I won’t. When are we leaving?’

‘Tomorrow.’