Page 17 of My Carmilla
My eyes drifted close. “You mustn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
"I never break my promises. Not the ones that matter." Carmilla dipped her finger in the glass and stroked my lips until wine painted my lips. “And here is a goblet more intoxicating than any wine.” She raised her glass, then lifted my face to hers.
The wine flowed from her mouth into mine. A heady concoction that flooded my senses. I drank her in, convinced she was the antidote, but the intoxication she brought forth seemed like a drug, sweet poison that filled me with a delicious languor.
“I want to drink from you,” she whispered against my mouth, “until we taste the same. Until we become one.” Her lips brushed my temple. “I vow that we shall always be together."
"Always together," I said, the words a soft echo.
Then, like smoke dissipating in the breeze, she was gone. I called out her name, a desperate plea that echoed off the empty walls. I found the back door that led outside.
“There you are.”
Carmilla stood in the midnight garden, all alabaster skin and raven hair. She wore nothing but a strip of moonlight. How beautiful she looked; her face sculpted from moonlight and stardust: Her crimson lips curved into a smile, her silent invitation impossible to resist.
I reached out, tracing the elegant line of Carmilla's cheek.
She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "Mine,” she whispered. “Utterly and eternally mine.”
Her fingertips trailed down my arms, my waist, the curve of a hip. Carmilla's lips, cool and soft, found mine. I surrendered to the kiss, the world around us fading away until there was only her, the press of her curves against mine, the frantic beat of my traitorous heart.
A tremor ran through me as her hand skimmed between my bare legs. My breath hitched when her fingers found their mark.
"This is what you crave, isn't it, darling?" Her voice was dark velvet against my ear.
Carmilla's kiss deepened and her touches turned urgent, shifting. Her tenderness morphed into something sharper, more primal. Feral. I gasped, a mixture of pleasure and fear coiling in my gut.
"This is your surrender, darling,” she rasped. “You belong to me, now and forever. I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."
She pushed her leg between mine and moved like a rogue wave, retreating from the shore of my body before crashing upon it again. “You will think me cruel, selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish.”
I closed my eyes, the pressure building between my legs, throbbing. “Carmilla…I—”
A searing sensation bloomed on my breast. It was a single, sharp puncture that sent me convulsing over the edge. A scream tore from my mouth, but Carmilla silenced it with a crushing kiss. Her eyes took on an unsettling glow; her movements were erratic, predatory. Somewhere through the haze of pain and pleasure, panic clawed at my throat.
Her teeth sunk into the soft flesh of my neck.
Gasping, I woke in the darkness. A weight on the bed, a searing pain above my breast – like needles digging deep. Something loomed over my bed and stalked back with unnatural swiftness. A monstrous black creature, its feral eyes burning with hunger. Terror constricted my throat. The thing moved like a wraith, its form contorting and dissolving into wisps of shadow.
I frantically searched my room. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in its silvery path. But in that pale light, I saw her. Carmilla stood near the dressing screen, blood staining her white nightgown like a macabre rose in bloom.
"Carmilla…" My voice came out hoarse, raw with terror.
A flicker and she was swallowed by the very shadows themselves. My breath came in ragged gasps as I scrambled out of bed. The floorboards were cold beneath my bare feet, a contrast to the feverish heat burning my skin. Had the strange illness that plagued the village girls manifested this horrific vision? Or had I truly witnessed Carmilla battling some unseen entity?
I threw the door open and screamed for help. My frantic cries echoed down the dimly lit hallway. Mademoiselle De Lafontaine and Madame Perrodon rushed in, their faces a mask of concern. Behind them, my father loomed, his nightshirt rumpled and his expression stormy.
"What's the meaning of this, Laura?"
"There… there was something here.” My voice cracked, the enormity of what I had just witnessed difficult to put into words. I gestured to the empty space where Carmilla had stood. "A monster… and Carmilla was hurt. She…She had blood on her.” I forced the words out in a shuddering breath. “Something took her.”
My father exchanged a glance with Madame Perrodon. Her face, usually composed, was etched with a flicker of fear.
My father strode towards Carmilla's room. He knocked firmly, loudly. No answer.
“Carmilla?” he said, voice raised. Again. Once, twice, thrice. My father grasped the handle, his knuckles turning white. "Blast, it’s locked.”
I found my voice. “Carmilla told me she has a fear of robbers and locks her door at night.”