Behind Clenched Teeth

“Ada, my pet, you really shouldn’t antagonize me so.” They speak in a clipped tone. “I’m liable to lose my hold on my-,” they pause, “restraint.” Their eyes slide to mine, an emotion lingering there. It is a dangerous thing to try to read human emotions on the faces of the Folk. “The way you linger with the others. The kisses you offer them. Her putrid, fetid touch on you.”

       “Restraint?” I scoff. “I am not yours and restraint is a human concept the Folk pretend at.”

       “I do, Ada," they say softly, so softly I almost miss it. "I pretend for you.” Artus’ eyes snap to mine, daring me to look away as they seize my arms and push me against the tree trunk roughly. “I sought to have your affection. It was sweet, what little you offered.” Their face draws nearer but instead of kissing me, they grasp my earlobe in their teeth sharply. “But I grow weary of these games.” They growl quietly, running their nose along my neck. “Perhaps, I’ll take your fear in its stead.” They run what feel like fangs down my shoulder.

       I struggle against their hold as my heart hammers in my chest.

       “You rip apart another being with your bare hands and call it restraint. You demand my affection, but you do not deserve it.” I grind out behind clenched teeth as I desperately try to reach my dagger. “Get off of me, Artus.”

       “I quite like my name on your tongue, Ada.” They murmur against my skin seductively, sending shivers down my spine, but I am ashamed they are not in fear. I am still inflamed by my earlier encounter, I tell myself.

       “Bastard.” I bite out. “Fiend!” Still trying to twist out of their iron hold.

       I feel their teeth lightly graze my throat again and I freeze. My body wars with my mind, want and need against survival. I feel warmth at the apex of my thighs and my mind screams to run, but my body wants to melt and writhe against them.

       “I am what I am.” They pull back to look me in the eyes, still pinning me to the tree with their body “You belong here. You are a gift, love. I can feel your need for me to touch you. Fear isn’t what you feel with me, is it, Ada?”

       “Get off!” I shout at them again. They laugh and I strike forward catching their lower lip in my teeth, biting down hard until I taste…not iron of blood, but the Forest on my tongue. A taste so very peculiar but also intoxicating.

       Artus groans and my legs nearly give out at the sound. The taste of their life’s blood on my tongue and lips has me nearly feral with need.

       “That’s it, Ada. Give me more.” Artus moans out, grinding into me.

       My tongue darts out to gather another bead of blood from their lip, sucking it down. Their eyes widen a fraction before they crush their mouth to mine, slamming my head into the bark of the tree. The pain brings be back to myself and I wretch my head to the side.

       “Oh, Ada.” They chide in a low tone. “Imagine the pleasure if you were to just give me what I want.”

       I glare at them.

       “Why? Is it something else the Folk can press into a wine?” Something occurs to me. “Wet wool on my fingers, bone-chilling cold, dancing in the snow…the wine is my memories, isn’t it?” I shout the accusation, a single tear escaping down my cheek. “Its sweet taste preserved and shared amongst you, while you reminisce about the poor, pathetic creature you wrung it from?”

     Artus’ hands slide slowly from my arms to my wrists. Then drag them with an aching tenderness above my head, capturing them with one hand. The fingers of the other, a whisper at my jaw, moving slowly to hover over my lips.

     “Memories make the most exquisite wines, Ada.” They lick the tear from my face. “Emotions, feelings are more…intense. Best to be distilled like liquor and savored slowly.” They close their eyes, a look of reverence on their face, their hips still slowly grinding my body against the tree.  

     “Emotions? Feelings? Like affection? You will not have that from me, and I will not give you my fear.” Though I suspect it is no longer affection they will try to wring from me. The worst part is, I don’t know if it’s the effects of the wine, the music, the siren or this glade, but a small piece of me is very willing to give Artus what they want.

     “I will do nothing without your permission, Ada. I did not, will not steal memories, I will not take your feelings, emotions or…desires.” That last word slips out in a low tone. “They become tainted and bitter when not given freely.” Artus steps away from me so swiftly I nearly tumble to the ground and am suddenly bombarded by the summer heat in their absence.

       They clasp their hands behind their back and appearing to be a perfect gentleman. No trace remains of the beast the demanded my attention, affection and mere moments ago.

       “Artus, put your hands on me again without invite, I will remove them.” I pull out my dagger for emphasis.

       “Only my hands? And all I need is an invitation?” They ask, completely serious.

       “If any piece of you touches me, I will remove it.” Leaving off whether by invite or not. Better they believe that even if I was begging on my knees for their touch, I would use knives to return the attention.

       “By rights, if any piece of you, lovely Ada, touches me, I get to keep it.” A playful smile creeps across their lips. “You can decide whether you stay attached to it…or not.”

       I simply nod at them, accepting the terms of our perverse bargain.