Her Maiden

Chapter Twenty: Shatter

"...All her energies seemed strained to suppress a fit, with which she was then breathlessly tugging; and at length a low convulsive cry of suffering broke from her, and gradually the hysteria subsided. "There! That comes of strangling people with hymns!" she said at last. "Hold me, hold me still. It is passing away..."

You burst into a laugh, interrupting Alcina's reading of Fanu's Carmilla. 

She glances up at you from the book, a smirk also escaping the corner of her mouth. 

"It is a little far fetched, isn't it, pet," she concedes, putting the book down on the nearby side table.

"Would hymns have the same effect on you?" you tease, smiling at her as she reclines again in the chair by your bedside.

She scoffs, lighting her cigarette and taking a long drag before she responds. 

"I don't know pet, why don't you try it and see for yourself?" she shoots back. 

You flush red and giggle, your eyes meeting hers for a moment in the quietness of the bedchamber. All you can hear in those seconds are the fluttering sounds of candle flame and the beating of your own heart as you gaze at her. She smiles back, taking another drag from her cigarette and exhaling slowly before picking the book up again, ready to resume. 

"...And so gradually it did; and perhaps to dissipate the somber impression which the spectacle had left upon me, she became unusually animated and -" 

Her low, silken voice is interrupted by you gently pushing the book down, so your eyes can meet hers again. You look deeply into her golden orbs, your lips parting ever so slightly, a small smile conveying your hunger for her, the longing you felt to have her touch you and hold you - to have her make you feel good and in turn give you opportunity to do the same for her. 

"You don't like my reading?" she questions, though you know she has clocked the familiar pleading look in your eyes. 

Your hand traces down from the book and to her arm, caressing it softly, inviting her to put the book down and engage in something a little more intimate. 

She raises an eyebrow, her yellow eyes strangely cool. 

"Pet, you need to rest. You're still so fragile," she responds in answer to your unspoken question, her tone measured. 

"Please?" you hear yourself whine, your desperation for her affection getting the better of you, "besides, you've been doing so much for me. You've read to me every night, bathed me, fed me - I want to please you, my lady. You haven't even tasted my blood in who knows how long, you must miss it," you appeal. 

"Your blood?" she says incredulously, her eyebrows raised, "Pet, you barely have an adequate amount for yourself at the moment. I have absolutely no intention of feeding from you any time soon," she says, resolute, "though it is just like you to be so very selfless, sweet girl," she adds, her voice soft. 

She leans forward, planting a soft, gentle kiss on your lips. You feel your eyelids gently close, as you succumb to the seductive gesture, like a moth to a flame. You feel that delicious achey feeling in your lower stomach rouse, making you move closer to her, desperate for more of her touch. 

She pulls away when she notices you becoming more excited, a conflicted expression knitting her brow together. 

"We really shouldn't. You're fragile."

There's that word you've heard so often over the past week. It fills you with a gut-wrenching sense of disappointment. 

"I'm not made of glass, Alcina," you whisper softly.