Hunger (41 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
“I promise.”
“And you must not come back here until I have fed again.” I counted back to the last night I spent overseas. “It has been five nights now, and I want you to stay safe. Tonight will be fine, I will be in total control and we can go to the hospital together. But tomorrow I will go out and do what I need to do. It does not concern you, and”âmy voice grew harshâ“it does not concern your father.”
“But”âChris sounded petulantâ“he's doing so well. What'll I tell him?”
“You need tell him nothing. He knows what I must do.”
He nodded, drained his coffee, and looked over at me. “Thank you for talking to me. I can see how hard it is for you to talk about it, and I appreciate your honesty. Plus, I'd never have had the guts to ask you those questions if you hadn't brought up the subject first.”
“You must not be afraid of asking, Chris. I will answer if I can.” Setting my empty cup on the table, I stood up. “Now, give me a minute or two to get dressed, and we'll go.”
In the bedroom I checked the closet, found and put on a pair of black leggings and a red knit tunic that buttoned down the front, applied some makeup, and brushed my hair one more time. My standard high-heeled black pumps were in the living room by the door. I walked down the hall and stepped into them. Chris was still sitting where he had been when I had left, his legs stretched out and his head resting on the back of the couch.
“Chris?” The tone of my voice was tentative, almost plaintive.
“Yeah?” He picked his head up, rubbed his eyes, and glanced over at me.
“Well, tonight, as I already explained, should be a safe night. I was hoping that perhaps, after visiting hours, we could go somewhere. I don't sleep well these days and would enjoy the company.”
“Sure, what would you like to do?”
Eager to return to the previous relationship I had enjoyed with Mitch's son, I said the first thing that came to mind. “I thought maybe we could play some pool.”
His relaxed laugh was a relief to me. “Yeah, sure, we could do that. Just go easy on me, okay? I don't like losing any more than Dad does.”
Chapter 12
M
itch was dressed and waiting in the lobby when we arrived. Chris had seen him first and had run ahead, taking the front steps two at a time. I stopped just outside the door and watched them through the glass, smiling sadly to myself at their hugging and back-pounding. Only when Mitch's eyes sought mine over Chris's shoulder did I enter. Even then I held back guiltily, embarrassed somehow at the truths the three of us now shared. If Mitch had not moved away from Chris, if he had not given me the slow, sensual smile that lit up his intense blue eyes, I might well have turned around and walked away. But he held out his arms to me and I went into them willingly.
itch was dressed and waiting in the lobby when we arrived. Chris had seen him first and had run ahead, taking the front steps two at a time. I stopped just outside the door and watched them through the glass, smiling sadly to myself at their hugging and back-pounding. Only when Mitch's eyes sought mine over Chris's shoulder did I enter. Even then I held back guiltily, embarrassed somehow at the truths the three of us now shared. If Mitch had not moved away from Chris, if he had not given me the slow, sensual smile that lit up his intense blue eyes, I might well have turned around and walked away. But he held out his arms to me and I went into them willingly.
After our embrace, Mitch kept one arm around my shoulders and looked at Chris. “Well, did you bring it?”
“Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Dad. I meant to stop, honest, but I forgot.”
“That's okay, Chris. I just figured that was why you were late.” Mitch stopped a minute, dropping his arm from me and giving Chris a stern glance. “If you didn't get it, then why are you so late?”
Chris gave me an uncomfortable look. “Well, you see, Deirdre and I, we were talking, you know, and Iâ”
“I was explaining to Chris the facts of life, Mitch. Whatever it was he forgot, I take complete blame.”
“The facts of life?” Mitch laughed. “He could probably tell us a few things about that subject, I bet.”
Chris blushed bright red, and I felt sorry for him. “No, Mitch, the facts of my life.”
“Oh.” Mitch stopped laughing and nodded. “That's different. No problem, Chris. I was only joking with you anyway.”
“What was he supposed to get that was so important?”
Mitch gave me a sheepish look. “My dinnerâthe food here is the worst. But it's really not as important as it seemed earlier, when I talked to you, Chris.” He stopped for a minute, holding back the good news as long as he could. “They're letting me out tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Chris and I both said it at the same time.
“That's wonderful, Mitch. I'm so glad.”
“But it's awful soon, isn't it, Dad? I mean, aren't they afraid you might have a relapse? Not that it's not good news or anything, but how could they have made that decision so quickly?”
“Chris, if I didn't know you better, I'd swear you were trying to keep me here. But those were my questions too. Dr. Samuels maintains that I am better. Hell, anyone can see that I'm better. And apparently he had a talk with Deirdre and she helped to ease his mind on a lot of things. I'll still have to check in on a regular basis.” Mitch paused and gave a small grimace. “It's a lot like parole, as it turns out. But as long as I stay the same or continue to improve, he says that I'll be fine.” He reached over and patted Chris on the shoulder. “So you see, everything's going to be okay. Now, maybe you could run out and grab me something to eat anyway. I'd like to have some time alone with Deirdre.”
“Mitch, is that fair? We'll have plenty of time alone when you're released.” I shot Chris a quick glance to see if Mitch's order upset him. Oddly enough, he had a huge grin on his face.
“All right, Dad! Now I know you're back to normal.” Chris walked to the door, turned, and waved. “Be back in about an hour. See you then.”
Mitch took my arm and steered me down the hallway. I tensed as we passed the nurses' station, but Jean was nowhere in sight. When we got to his room he closed the door, a slow smile spreading across his face. “For obvious reasons, it doesn't have a lock. We'll just have to take our chances.”
“Chances on what, Mitch?” Trying to maintain a teasing quality to my voice was difficult, for the boldness of his words, his glance, almost took my breath away. I felt a rush of excitement, along with the heat of an embarrassed blush, flowing through my body. In lieu of an answer, he moved one of the visitors' chairs in front of the door to prevent its opening, then reached over and turned out the light.
Surprised at his daring and fearful of discovery, yet strangely elated, I stood quietly, half afraid to move or speak. Then suddenly I did not care where we were, or who was likely to walk in on us. Mitch was back and we were together in spite of all the obstacles that fate had heaped before us, and that was all that mattered.
His first touch was a tentative, delicate stroking of my cheek with the back of his hand. I drew in my breath, silent and shivering, as his fingers traced their way along the base of my neck. He pulled me to him and kissed me, and the delicacy of his touch was soon abandoned. His hands grew rough and demanding, exploring my body, his kisses covering my face and neck. Finally he broke away and looked down on me with a shaky smile.
“Deirdre?” The whispering of my name gave me chills, and I could not speak. But I could give him the answer we both wanted. With trembling fingers I reached up and began to unbutton my tunic. Only when I unfastened the bottom button did I look up.
Mitch made no move, he only smiled as I began to work on his shirt. My hand brushed against the heated flesh of his chest, and he flinched slightly and sighed. When I tugged his shirt out of his pants and undid the last button, he pulled the tunic down over my arms and unfastened my bra.
His mouth nuzzled at my shoulder and I gasped. He moaned quietly as he worked his way down my breasts and stomach, and knelt to ease my leggings and panties down my hips and legs. He supported me with one arm, and obediently I followed his silent urging to lift first one leg and then the other. When I was completely naked, his mouth and hands fastened on me with hunger and passion.
Oblivious of our surroundings, I called his name again and again, flinging myself against him when he stood up. His eyes, reflecting the moonlight streaming in the windows, met mine, and he scooped me up and carried me to the bed. Hurriedly he removed his own pants and we lay naked, side by side, our mouths and bodies rediscovering each other.
After what seemed an eternity, or a second, he entered me and his breath on my neck was labored and hot.
“Deirdre, oh, God, Deirdre,” he said. “I've waited so long.”
I said nothing, but clasped him to me, careless of his crushing weight, careless of my sharp nails and teeth. Abandoning all thought, I felt my body pulled into the vortex of passion, swirling ever upward into him, into the union of our bodies and souls. I loosened my grasp. “Mitch,” I whispered hoarsely, “look at me.”
He supported himself on his arms above me and opened his eyes. The merging of our glances was electrifying, a more intimate moment than any we had ever experienced. The strength of that look alone brought our building orgasms to their peaks. I shuddered and cried, feeling myself dissolve in his arms. He collapsed against me, sobbing and spent, his fingers tangled in my hair.
When our breathing returned to normal, he rolled from me and started to dress. I threw back the sheets and picked up my clothing to do the same. As I buttoned my tunic, I began to laugh, and his questioning look only intensified my amusement.
“Something funny?” Mitch sounded mildly indignant. “It's sort of an inappropriate time to get the giggles, isn't it?”
“Oh, no, Mitch, it's not that.” I went over to him and put my arms around him. “That was wonderful beyond words. It's just that”âand I started to laugh againâ“I was wondering if Jean would be the one to change the sheets tomorrow.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing, really. But she doesn't like me very much and I'm sure that this episode would only reinforce her bad opinion of me.” I shrugged and slipped my shoes back on. “It makes no difference to me; the thought simply struck me as funny. Now, you should probably unblock the door and put the light back on.”
Mitch smiled and nodded. “I love you,” he said almost as an afterthought, walking over to move the chair and turn on the lights. He had not yet put his shirt on, and when I saw him in full light, I wanted to cry at the way his body had been wasted; those years apart had been harder on him than on me. He carried the reminders of our separation like battle scars, his hair gray, his normally tight muscles, slack, and the flesh of his chest and back scarcely concealing the bones underneath. And when I saw the few reddened scratches on his back, I tensed and swore.
“Damn.” I said it quietly, but he heard and turned to me.
“You've got it wrong, Deirdre. The correct response is âI love you too, Mitch.' Try it out, will you?”
“No, I didn't mean that. Your back is all scratched. I'm so sorry.”
He craned his neck to look over his shoulder. “Am I bleeding?”
“God”âI took a short breathâ“I hope not. Come here.”
I ran my fingers gently over him. “Does this hurt?”
“No, it feels good,” he said, then winced when I came into contact with one particularly nasty-looking scratch. “Well, maybe not good, but it feels right. Sort of like getting your first hickey; you're trying to hide it when all the while you want to shout out âLook what I got.' ”
Worriedly, I checked his neck, then breathed my relief. “You're lucky in that respect, Mitch. No marks for Sam to wonder about during your release examination.”
“And your examination results? Will I live?”
I put my arms around his waist and laid my cheek against his protruding shoulder blades. “Without a doubt, my love. Now, get your shirt on. Chris should be here soon.”
“I like that, the way you've started calling me âmy love.' But you still haven't said it.”
Giving him a small push so that he would turn around and face me, I put my arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “I love you too, Mitch.”
Â
Chris arrived with their dinner about fifteen minutes later. I could hear the rustling bags and smell the greasy odor of cooked meat long before his tentative knock sounded outside the open door.
“Come on in,” Mitch called, and Chris poked his head in with a slightly curious glance at the two of us.
“I hope you didn't mind waiting. The, um, line was pretty long.” He walked into the room and set the bags on the bedside table. Mitch went for them immediately and unwrapped two of the sandwiches, an ecstatic smile on his face. He held the burgers up to his nose and inhaled deeply.
“Now I know I've died and gone to heaven. What else could I possibly ask for?” His tone was smug, satisfied, and the look he gave me betrayed what had occurred while Chris was gone.
Embarrassed, I felt myself blush. “If you two don't mind, I'll let you eat in peace. I could use some fresh air.”
“You'll be back, won't you?” A pleading note entered Mitch's voice, belying his former confidence. I moved over to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Of course I will. Enjoy your dinner.”
I did not go outside, but continued down the hallway. When I got to the barred window, I stopped and looked out on the night. It was snowing again and a draft came through the cracks in the molding. Inhaling deeply to remove the odor of food from my system, I saw the reflection of one of the patients, shuffling toward me. He did not enter one of the rooms as I expected, but came right up behind me and spoke.
“Nice night, ain't it?” His voice was nasal, high-pitched, and monotonous.
“Yes, very beautiful.” I didn't turn around, expecting he would quickly lose interest in conversation and go about his way. Instead, he put his hand on my shoulder and said again, “Nice night, ain't it?”
“Yes,” I said louder, “it is a nice night.”
“You're his girl, ain't you? The cop's girl? He killed someone, did you know that? Drove a stake right through the poor bastard's heart. I was here when they brought him in. I heard him talk about it all. He's crazy. We're all crazy here, but he's worse 'n us. He believes in vampires.” His hand tightened on my shoulder, his grip unexpectedly strong. He was working his way into the story and the monotone he first used had become more vivid as he continued. His deep-throated laughter caused a shiver down my spine, and suddenly the hallway seemed too long, too far from the rest of the hospital.
“He's a crazy one, he is. He believes in vampires, I heard him.” I watched him through the window, his mouth working, as if chewing on his words, his eyes losing their hollow and glazed appearance, growing in cunning and comprehension. “Maybe you're a crazy one too. Tell me”âhis voice deepened, becoming more cultured, more familiarâ“tell me, my dear, do you believe in vampires?”
I looked again at the reflection in the window. I had never seen him before, did not recognize his face. But when I spun around to confront him, to compel him to leave, Max stood before me. It was Max dressed in the hospital pajamas, Max with his robe hanging askew, one end of the sash dragging on the floor.
“Dammit, Max, go away and leave us alone. That's all I ask.”
His face acquired his usual semi-sarcastic expression. “You should know by now, Deirdre, my love, that I will never leave you. You are mine, even Greer cannot change that. Although”âhe gave a nasty, knowing smileâ“the sex is good, I must admit that. Perhaps that was the attraction I could not understand before. But he'll grow old, wrinkled, and impotent, as all humans must. And what will you do then?”
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