The Vampire and the Scorpion (Blood and Venom Saga #1)

3. Three

Three

T he Showmen’s Yard was as I’d remembered it: rows of caravans and motorhomes on the gravelled ground. Beyond them, shrouded in darkness, I recalled lorries, containers, and other large structures covered in tarpaulin. The only source of light was a dying campfire. A couple of figures sat beside it with their backs to us, and from their exaggerated hand gestures, appeared to be in deep conversation.

“Bit early to be having a fireside natter, don’t you think?” I asked Austin.

“Showmen work unsociable hours. We’re going to have to climb the fence.” He tugged on the padlock. “Our leader has the only key. And keep your voice down. I’m not meant to bring girls home.”

I clamped my lips together to stifle a giggle. An adult, and still having to hide girls from your dad? That’s kinda cute...

Once inside, Austin hurried me onward to hide behind the nearest caravan. “We’re going to creep behind the campers. Keep low, under the windows.”

“Which one is yours?”

“We’re on the end. It’s hidden behind some of the bigger ones.”

After passing the campers, some at least twelve feet tall, my eyes fell upon the smallest and shabbiest of them all.

As though reading my mind, Austin said, “It’s nothing much. But it’s just me and my dad.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting my eye.

“It’s fine,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I’m a student, remember? If you have somewhere that doesn’t stink of cat piss, you’re golden.”

Austin kicked off his shoes as soon as he stepped inside and gestured for me to do the same. After putting his top hat away in a cupboard, he slid out of his tailcoat and threw it into a wicker wash basket. He hit a switch on a small lamp, filling the camper with a warm glow. Sofas to my left were upholstered in a carpet-like material, their floral patterns dull and faded. Between them was a small table, its plastic veneer peeling back to reveal the chipboard beneath. Someone had used layers of duct tape to stick blinds down over the windows, reminding me of how Hayley taped newspaper over her bedroom windows to stop the sunlight from getting in when she was hungover. Yikes! Looks like Daddy might have a drinking problem!

“Can I take your coat?” Austin asked with an outstretched hand, but I pulled my coat around even tighter.

“It’s bloody freezing in here.”

“Don’t worry, it will soon warm up.” Austin took a step towards me. The caravan was so narrow, I couldn’t move. He took another step, his body now mere millimetres from mine, my breasts pressed to his chest with each breath. I focused on his wide eyes, as green as his waistcoat. Then his lips, that twitched into a smile. I swallowed. He seized my hips, and before I could lean in to kiss him, he dropped to his knees. Tracing his hands over my ass and down the back of my legs, he kept his eyes locked on mine. My breath caught... until he reached out to flick a switch on a small heater on the floor. It buzzed into life, filling the caravan with the smell of burning dust.

“There we go.” Austin fluttered his eyelashes with mock innocence before releasing his grip on my leg and standing upright. “What did you think I meant? Get your mind out of the gutter, Ava.”

I let out a strangled laugh, catching my breath.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, what have you got?”

I grabbed the handle to a tiny fridge beneath the kitchen working top, but before I could look inside, Austin’s hand clenched around mine and slammed the door shut.

“It’s... uh... broken.” His grip tightened, almost painfully. “I need to get it fixed.” A flush of red crept up his neck as his eyes darted to one side. “Will tea or coffee be alright?”

“Tea is fine, but you’ll need to free my hand first.”

The red flush that had climbed up his neck now flooded his face as he released me. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

He couldn’t bring himself to meet my eye as he filled a kettle with water and fumbled with his clipper lighter as he tried to ignite the stove. I flexed my fingers, working the feeling back into them.

“Forget about it. Need any help?” I opened another cupboard looking for mugs, only to find it filled with brightly coloured bottles of different shapes and sizes. “What are these?”

“Would you stop poking around?”

He slammed the cupboard door shut, almost catching my hand as I whipped it back. I narrowed my eyes at him, pursing my lips into an expression I hoped he’d recognise as his first warning.

“Look... I’m... I’m sorry.” He turned his face to the floor. “I’m not very good with women, and I’m kinda regretting not taking you back to your house instead of here. It’s embarrassing.”

His eyes darted to a wall clock. “But if you’re really that curious”—he opened the cupboard door and withdraw a tiny, blue bottle with a red gem set in the lid—“you could try this one. Dad collects weird and rare beverages. This one is pretty good and I’m sure he won’t notice if a drop or two is gone?”

I looked from the bottle, to Austin, and then back again, wrinkling my nose. Without a label, I couldn’t know its percentage, its age, or even its flavour.

“I’ll pass. Just tea, thanks.”

I made myself as comfortable as the rock-solid sofas would allow. The scent of gas wafted as Austin successfully lit the stove. He made our tea, shoulders raised, tense, hands shaking as he filled a couple of mugs with tea bags and sugar. He looked over one shoulder at me and I averted my gaze, not wanting him to feel like I was judging him, and so instead took in the rest of my surroundings. On a shelf were black and white photographs, yellowed with age. One of a couple at their wedding, and another of men in old-fashioned, army uniforms. They sat beside pieces of bric-à-brac, and an old shoe box lined with dust. The opposite end of the caravan had another sofa, a curtain rail encircling it.

“Is that where you sleep?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Austin took the whistling kettle off the stove and poured the boiling water into the mugs. “But as my dad is out, I thought we’d sleep up this end. It unfolds into a double bed.”

“Sounds cosy.”

After adding a splash of UHT milk, he set both mugs on the table and sat across from me, his knee sliding between mine, sending a shiver through my body. I clasped my hands around the mug, warming my numb fingers, and enjoyed the sensation of the hot steam rising to caress my cheeks.

“Enough about me,” Austin said. “What about you? What do you study at Uni?”

“Games Art and Design. I wanted to be a concept artist. But this year I haven’t been doing so well. My art is great, if I say so myself, but I’ve been half-arsing the written work, and skipping lectures. It will be miraculous if I scrape a third at this rate.”

“Why is that? Your course sounds really interesting.”

“It is. But I’m no academic.” I tapped my fingernails against the side of my mug as I contemplated just how much to divulge. I’d already overshared with Austin once before and he’d taken it pretty well. “So, after my mum kicked me out when I was twelve, my grandma took me in. But she died just over a year ago. I was hoping to find a sense of belonging at Uni. Is that sad?”

Austin shook his head, his expression serious as he reached across the table to give my hand a squeeze. “Not at all.”

I tested the temperature of my tea. Still too hot. I got up, setting it aside on the kitchen worktop. “That’s enough deep, emotional stuff. That’s not why I’m here. Is it?” I shrugged off my coat, the heater having done its job. “It is definitely a lot warmer in here now.”

“Are you comfortable sitting here?” Austin asked, eyes flicking to the wall clock once more. “We could unfold the bed?”

I grinned. “I like that idea.” Together, we converted the table and sofas into the double bed, pulling the sheets tight, and arranging the pillows and duvet.

We stood at the end of the bed. My heart thumped so loud I was sure Austin might hear it.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said.

“I want to.”

I slipped a finger down the front of his waistcoat, tugging him towards me. He didn’t resist, his body pressing into mine. My mouth filled with moisture. Turning my face up to his, I planted a soft kiss on his lips. And then another, more vigorously than the first, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my chest to his. Our lips were now locked in a furious battle for dominance. He took hold of my ass, pulling my hips into his, grinding up against me. In a frenzy, I nipped at the soft flesh of his lower lip and he pulled back, gasping. For an instant, he stared at me, eyes wide, panting. Then a smirk spread across his face. I attacked again.

With fumbling fingers, I unbuttoned his waistcoat, and yanked it off him, barely registering the ripping noise as I did so. I put my hands to his chest to find yet more buttons on his shirt, while in one swift movement, Austin unzipped the back of my dress, which fell to the floor in a heap at my feet, leaving me in just my bra and panties.

My fingers refused to cooperate while I fiddled with each button of his shirt, climbing my way down. All the while, I felt his eyes upon my body... and then his hands. My skin, now sensitive, prickled as his fingertips brushed over my hips, stroked up over my stomach, cupped my breasts, and then squeezed. His hot, wet mouth was at my neck...

I unfastened the last button of his shirt and pulled it away. His body was slender, almost hairless, soft beneath my fingertips.

A hand unhooked my bra. I shrugged off the straps and let it fall. The cold air hit me, my nipples stiffening. His widening eyes raked my upper body, fixed on my breasts, wetting his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching hungrily as he watched them rise and fall with each panting breath. A pulse shot through my womanhood. Aching. Wet.

He unbuckled his belt, pushed his trousers down, never taking his eyes off me. Now just in his boxers, he guided me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me, his erection nudging my clit as he did so, teasing what was to follow.

He trailed kisses from my neck, down to my breasts, taking a nipple between his lips, grazing it with his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. A gasp escaped my lips as an electric spasm shot through me. His tongue flicked once more, extracting a soft moan I couldn’t suppress.

He put a hand to my mouth, hushing me. “I don’t want everyone to hear.”

I had forgotten that there were others living close by. Very close by, only a few flimsy, paper-thin walls separating us. I nodded, pressing my lips together.

He slid my panties away. A finger slipped against my clit, already slick.

“All ready for me, I see,” he teased.

I flushed. “Do you have a condom?”

He nodded, smirking.

“Then please, just fuck me.” Before he could stop me, I pushed down his pants, his cock springing out of confinement.

I pretended not to watch as he applied the condom, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off it...

I lay back, one hand on his arse, and guided him inside, pressing my hips upward, taking him inch by inch.

“Not too hard. But deep,” I instructed. “I want to feel all of you.”

He thrust his hips, sliding in and out, the wet slap of his skin on mine. And again. And again. And again...

He grunted, his body becoming rigid, his cock buried deep inside me.

Oh dear... Game Over...

I was half-asleep. Wrapped up in soft bedcovers, the only defence against the cold. Unable to move. Alcohol still coursed through my veins, leaving me in a dull stupor. I was vaguely aware of a pulling on my arm, but still caught up in a post coital slumber.

I kept my eyes closed, hoping I might drift back into a deep sleep, teetering on the edge of a dream, the smell of sex amongst the bedding.

Another tug on my arm. Harder than the first.

I didn’t want to care. The warmth of the bed inviting me deeper into unconsciousness.

A sharp pain pulled me out of my torpidity. A piercing, stabbing into the flesh of my inner elbow.

“What the—” I sat up, the world spinning sickeningly.

Austin, now dressed, sat beside me. His mouth hung open, eyes bulging, unblinking, fixed on my face. He gripped my arm in one hand, a bloody needle in the other.

Am I... dreaming?

I blinked. Once. Twice. Austin was babbling, but I couldn’t understand the words. I stared at the needle, then my arm, which I now noticed was wrapped in a tourniquet. Dazed, I yanked my arm free from Austin, my skin slipping against his sweaty palm. Blood was flowing freely from the scratch as I unhooked the tourniquet.

“And that’s why I need your blood,” Austin said. I could finally understand him, though his voice still shook. His hair was up on end from where he must have been driving his fingers through it. “Please, stay calm.”

Reality slapped me.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” A tingling sensation shot through my limbs. With all my might, I kicked him in the chest, knocking him backward off the bed. I checked my arm. The blood was still oozing from the scratch, staining the bedding.

I wriggled free. Whipped my head around, searching for my clothes. But Austin had risen to his feet and shoved me back onto the bed, climbing on top, pinning me beneath his weight.

“You need to be quiet!” He clamped his hand over my mouth.

I writhed beneath him, arms and legs thrashing, tossing my head from side to side. I discovered an opening and snapped my jaws down on his fingers. He yelped and yanked his hand back.

“Fire!” I screamed as loudly as my throat would allow. “Fire!”

Austin shook his head as all the colour drained from his face. Taking advantage of his state of shock, I wrestled him off me and barged past, grabbing my coat as I darted for the door.

“Ava, wait!”

But my hand was outstretched to grab the handle—when it was opened from the outside.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, blocking my exit. His haunting appearance—hollow cheeks, deep-set eyes beneath a prominent brow drawn together into a scowl—set the hairs on my neck on end. Instinctively, I brought my coat up to cover myself before a wave of adrenaline took control. I had to escape.

I darted forward, ready to bulldoze past, but he grasped my shoulder with one hand, and with all the effort of someone flicking down a row of dominoes, he sent me hurtling back into the caravan, crashing into a cupboard door, and landing in a heap at his feet.

What the fuck?! How did he... He barely moved...

“Austin,” the man said. “Would you care to explain yourself?” He spoke softly, but it felt as though he had shouted, his deep, refined voice full of authority.

I looked back at Austin, a bead of sweat running down his pale face.

“Mr Madigan,” he spluttered, his voice getting caught in his throat, “I am so sorry, it’s not what it looks like!”

The man called Madigan now fixed his gaze upon me with a stern, stony look that sent a chill down my spine. I pulled my coat around me, desperate to find my clothes, but dared not look away from either of my captors.

Madigan sighed, pinching the bridge of his thin nose. “It doesn’t take a genius to understand what happened here.”

Withdrawing a key from his pocket, he locked the door behind him.