Page 29 of From Russia With Blood

I extend my arm to the man at the entrance and sigh as he scans me and motions me on. I know I haven’t reached my limit yet, but somehow my brain is trying to convince me that something will keep me from safety - even something as stupid as a drink technicality. I need to get inside. I have to be in this space. There’s no other option.

My heart doesn’t slow down until I’m finally through and surrounded by people. Their soft conversations interspersed with moans and cries soothes my brain, and I breathe deep, filling my lungs until they’re about to burst. Safe. The word is like acid in my mind. It burns as it tries to soothe. I know I’m safe. I know I am, but my adrenals do not believe a word of it. Walking over to a small alcove, I sit in the space and watch the ocean as we continue on our journey.

The water is so close now, and I’m so grateful our rooms got changed. If I were in my original room, it would be far too close for comfort. At least in my current room, I can pretend I’m on a regular boat. True, the wake is bigger, but it’s so much easier to lie to yourself when you have concrete visuals to back you up.

Chapter 10

Jackson

Sunlight streams through my porthole, cutting through the last vestiges of sleep. Groaning, I rub my eyes, the feeling akin to rubbing glass on skin. What the fuck happened last night? Closing my eyelids tight, bits and pieces flash, tearing through my brain with painful clarity.

Gloria. I’ve dreamt about her often since finding her blood, but never like this. She was a wild demon, unhinged, hell-bent on destroying me. Something held her back, but it wasn’t me. She was strong. Stronger than even when we were training at the academy. Otherworldly. She was always pale, but this time, she was white, like a ghost.

She came into my room and threw me on the floor like I was a rag doll. Nails, sharp and cruel, raked down my chest as she drank from the blood that flowed over my skin. Rolling my head on my neck, I note the intense soreness in my muscles. I’ve never had a dream leave me feeling like I had fought for my life, and I was no stranger to nightmares.

Looking down at my chest, I frown, seeing nothing marking up my skin. But why would I think there would be. Last night had to be a dream. Why am I even wondering if it’s real? If my shrink were here, he’d tell me I was projecting or some such shit. I found happiness with Katrina, and now, my guilt is eating me up.

It’s taking the form of my ex-lover, the one I couldn’t protect. Of course there’d be nightmares, right? Her scent still lingers in the room, setting my teeth on edge. Can a simple dream really affect all my other senses? Every muscle hurts. I feel like I just lost a life-or-death battle, and all of it revolved around Gloria.

My blood chills as I force myself to crawl towards the bathroom. There’s a two-drink limit on board, meaning I can’t be drunk, but I don’t even remember going to the bar. My water is new and untampered with, so it can’t be drugs. I don’t get seasick. Yet, here I am, the powerful urge to puke up my guts, cramping my body over the toilet. Nothing happens.

Did I somehow get food poisoning? The ill-feeling rolls over my body as I manage to stand and actually look at myself in the mirror. I won’t have to dress up today. I can say I’m a zombie, and no one would question it. Red, bloodshot eyes stare back at me, as I note the pallor of my skin.

I look like I have one foot in the grave. Hell, I’ve seen junkies look better than this. Shaking my head, I go back to my bed, noting the slight pitching of the ship. What bright sunlight forced me awake is now gone. In its place, dark clouds obscure my view of the water.

Storms are common on cruise ships, but now, I know of at least one person that will be terrified to get caught up in one. My gut clenches as I make myself move to my water stash. Katrina will be beside herself if she’s caught upstairs alone. Storms are always worse for the upper decks. It’s worry for her that keeps me from following my routine. I untwist the cap and take a big gulp.

The loud ringing in my ears is the first sign that something’s not right, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care. Each time my brain tries to delve into my symptoms, the thoughts flee. Every move is like slogging through molasses, but instead of trying to labor through it, I want to just lie there on my floor and let it pass. I was doing something, but what? Think. The floor is cool against my heated cheek as I lie there, forcing my brain to put one foot in front of the other until it can make a coherent thought.

It never happens. Instead, fire races through my system, burning away every thought except the one to find my woman and mark my territory. Already my cock is hard and throbbing, almost to the point of pain, but it feels good. God. It feels so fucking good. Ripping through my suitcase, I pull out my normal clothes and badge. I don’t have time to figure out a costume, not when my dick is straining like it is.

I don’t want one more night of jacking off. I want to be balls deep in Katrina. Groaning, I yank on my pants and carefully zip up, throw on my jacket, and pocket my badge. Light flashes in front of my eyes as I grip the doorknob. Nothing seems to make sense anymore. I feel balanced, and yet, everything in me is swaying, quivering, like nothing in me will ever be still again.

Blinking hard, I wipe at my face, ridding myself of the sweat beading up on my forehead. Gloria’s face fills my sight, and I lash out, expecting to connect with the specter in front of me. Instead, I slam into the door, the hard jolt snapping me out just a bit. Where the fuck is she? Right now, I don’t know who I want to devour more, Gloria or Katrina.

Grief and rage flood my body as memories from last night plague my thoughts. I want nothing more than to be rid of them, but I can’t. It’s like it’s on a demented loop, and nothing I do will make it stop. Gripping my hair, I yank on the follicles, just to see if that extra bite of pain will drive her from my thoughts.

She just laughs at me as blood pours down her throat to cover her breasts. It’s driving me insane. I can feel myself going mad but lack the care to stop it. I just want her image to be erased from my mind for all eternity. Perhaps once this cruise is over, I’ll feel differently, but right now, I’d die happy if I never remember her again.

Things flash again, and instead of Gloria, Kat fills my brain, nearly driving me to my knees with lust. I grab at the crotch of my pants and adjust myself, something to release the discomfort I’m experiencing, but I know deep down it will never go away until I’ve sated myself with Katrina’s body. She’s what I need to rid myself of Gloria. I know it in some deep, unspoken, primal way.

Yanking the door open, I stumble into the hallway. Some of the cruise members look at me, concern lacing their expression, but I ignore them, flashing my badge like I’m at a crime scene. I’m on autopilot as I force my way to the elevators. Knowing her, she’s probably huddled in her room, freaking out about the pending storm.

She’ll have a lot more than wind and rain to worry about when I get ahold of her. Last night was tame compared to the rageful lust I’m currently feeling. She got off way too easy. This time, she’s going to have to earn every orgasm she gets, and with the way I’m feeling, she’s not going to come for a very long time.

Time stands still as the elevators ride up to the deck. Already the ship sways, and I feel the movement deep in my core. I stop my pacing and brace as we dip even more to the side. For a moment, the lust I feel abates to be replaced with a genuine shaft of worry. What if she’s freaking out? Poor thing must be scared to death. Then she shouldn’t have come on the damn cruise to begin with. My brain argues with me, demanding I forget the small shards of chivalry that plague my conscience.

Just like that, the need to punish her, to sexually dominate her, to show her exactly where she went wrong fills my body, giving me further strength. The elevators finally open, and I dart out into the hall, making my way to her door with ease. My mind is completely gone, and in its place is a hunter relying on physical memory to get to her part of the ship.

No one else is around. It’s just my prey and me. I get closer to her door, and everything in me freezes. It’s open just a crack, and I know deep in my gut something is wrong. I reach for my gun, but it isn’t there. I never go to a call without my gun. Shaking my head, I dispel the shards of light that assault my eyes.

Scenes overlay each other as I push the door open. There is the bed I took Katrina on last night, but superimposed on top of that is the scene from Gloria’s death. They overlap in a disjointed way, but it’s still difficult to tell one scene from the other. Again, I reach for my gun, but it’s still not there.

Instantly, I’m transported back to that night I tried so hard to forget. Blood coats the walls and sheets, dripping down onto the carpet. With a roar, I attack the bed, flinging the comforter and sheets down onto the floor. This isn’t real. It can’t be. In between splotches of red, the white linens glared up at me as if to remind me of what I’m doing and where I am.

Shaking my head again, the room starts to come back into focus. It’s not Gloria’s room. If I let myself think for just a moment, I would have known that. My eyes narrow as I scope the room, looking for the missing occupant. Again, the ship pitches to the side, and I stumble to the floor. Growling, I hop back up and race back to the elevator.

If she’s not here, there’s only one other place she might be. Heaven help her if I find her in Luka’s arms, letting him touch the body I own, the body I plan to brand with my touch. Jealousy fills my chest as I smash the button to the Party Deck. It’s not moving fast enough. My skin feels too tight across my body, and I scratch at my arms, raking my fingers against my skin to rid myself of this bone-deep itch.