Mesmeris by K E Coles

said.
    ‘No, but you may kiss me if you wish.’
    ‘What if I don’t?’
    I watched the silhouette of his profile, saw him smile.
    ‘You’re a git,’ I said.
    ‘I know.’
    I leaned over and kissed his closed lips, felt the heat from his body, touched his smooth skin. He didn’t respond so I kissed him again, a longer more determined kiss. He made a funny noise, a sort of groan.
    ‘Why don’t you kiss me back?’ I said.
    ‘I’m testing myself,’ he said, ‘seeing if I can resist you.’
    A challenge then. I pressed my body against him. I kissed him again, a long, proper kiss. I felt him soften, felt his lips open and then I was on my back with him on top of me and he was kissing me, strong, deep kisses. His hands went inside my jumper, pulled it up. He kissed my breasts, while he pulled it over my head. As I lifted my arms, pain shot through my shoulders. I clamped my teeth together to suppress a yelp.
    He froze. ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘You winced.’
    ‘I didn’t.’
    ‘Yeah, you did.’ He sat up and pulled the cord above the bed. Blazing light filled the room, made my eyes sting. ‘Let me see.’ He pulled the covers back and stared at me. I folded my arms across my chest.
    ‘Shit!’ he said.
    ‘It’s fine.’ I stretched my hands to cover the livid blotches on my arms. ‘You have bruises too.’
    ‘Not like that. You’re telling me they don’t hurt?’
    ‘Not much.’
    ‘You’re a terrible liar.’ He turned away, pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them. ‘Don’t know what I was thinking - after what they did to you today.’
    Crushing disappointment made my throat constrict. ‘I’m fine - really.’
    He looked at me as if I was something new, a curiosity. ‘I’ve never felt like this before,’ he said.
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Like I don’t want to hurt you.’
    What the hell?
‘Do you usually want to hurt people?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, and he put his hands over his face. And we stayed like that, him hunched over, me staring at the side of his head, tears running into my pillow, until I must have fallen asleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    When I opened my eyes, the light was off. It was dark and quiet – the kind of solid quiet that only comes in the hours before dawn. I unstuck my face from the soggy pillow. Dingy yellow light filtered through gaps in the curtains, played over the empty bed. He’d gone.
    A suppressed howl like an animal in pain came from somewhere. I jumped. My heart banged against my ribs. Then silence returned. As the minutes passed, I relaxed, decided it must have been a nightmare. My eyes closed and sleep, merciful sleep washed over me. I jerked awake and sat upright. No doubt this time. A definite groan came from close by, inside the room. I pulled my jumper on, gritting my teeth against the pain, and listened. Silence, but for the whoosh of blood in my ears.
    Then the stifled moan came again, from the foot of the bed. The room was freezing. My breath hung in the air like smoke. I inched towards the edge of the bed on my belly.
    He lay on the floor. Naked, in a foetal position, his eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching his head. A spasm racked his body. He convulsed, his face contorted with pain, cried out through clenched teeth.
    ‘Jack.’
    His eyes snapped open. Black eyes.
    ‘I’ll call an ambulance.’
    ‘No.’ He convulsed again, drew his knees to his chest. Sweat glistened across his skin, despite the cold.
    I ran to the sink, soaked a towel, and wrung it out. I crouched down beside him, wiped his brow, his face, the back of his neck. A raised weal ran down his spine
    ‘Oh, God!’ I said. ‘What did they do to you?’ It looked as if someone had run a knife down Jack’s back. Just below his waist, a horizontal wound crossed it. I touched the scar with the tip of my finger. Dry, the wounds not new, long healed.
    ‘Come into bed. You’re ill.’
    His feverish eyes glowed, too shiny, too bright. ‘You need to go home.’ He