Chapter 2 – A Poisoned Heat

Alexandre

She collapses in my arms without warning, like a weight of fevered silk. My first instinct is to push her away. She smells of alcohol, chaos, urgency. And yet, I stay there. Her fragile body fits against mine with disarming familiarity. I should be disgusted. I am. But not in the usual way. Not with the cold repulsion I feel for women who are too easy, those who throw themselves at the first rich man like heat-stricken dogs. She is different. I really look at her for the first time. And I freeze. This dress too demure for this bar. This clumsy makeup. Those disheveled, almost childlike hair. And that gaze… My God. That gaze. Clouded by alcohol, but not empty. A gaze that implores, that seeks an anchor. One last chance to feel something. To be seen differently. 

— You’re truly beautiful, she murmurs, gripping my collar, her voice thick. How much do you want… to spend the night with me? 

I feel my temples tense. 

— You’re looking for a man? Like this? Stumbling? 

— Obviously… Why would I ask you otherwise? Didn’t you get the point? I decided to be someone else tonight… 

A nervous, painful laugh escapes her. As if she’s trying to stifle a scream. 

— Fine, I say in a cold tone. But I doubt you can afford a night with me. 

She doesn’t respond. She slightly pulls back, hitting the elevator wall I’ve already called. Her fingers brush my shirt, sliding over my skin as if by mistake. She wobbles. And I catch her, again. The elevator encloses us in its metallic cocoon. She sways against me, a small flickering flame. Her fingers clutch my jacket like a lifeline. And suddenly, without warning, she kisses me. Not a kiss of seduction. Not a provocation.

A cry for help. 

Her trembling lips against mine, disordered, burning. I feel her short, fevered breath. She softly moans, a barely audible sound that lodges straight in my gut. I should push her away. For a thousand reasons. But I don’t move. I support her. I lift her. I carry her to my suite like one carries a cursed vow. Her arms close around my neck. Her cheek pressed against my chest. The biometric door opens with a silent click. The dim lighting glides over the dark wood, the clean walls, the black leather of the sofa. 

I gently lay her on the sheets. 

She moans. Arches. 

Her skin is burning. Her dress clings to her thighs. She grips me again, pulling at my shirt. 

— I’m hot… please… help me… 

I kneel beside her. My gaze searches her face. Damp forehead. Dilated pupils. Erratic breathing. 

— You’ve been drugged! 

She blinks, blurry. 

— Someone put something in your drink. Damn, you idiot… you didn’t even realize it. 

She moans again. Her hand seeks my neck. She kisses me, breathless. Her lips stick to mine, insistent. Her body tenses against mine with a force she can no longer control. 

— I just want to… forget… to feel alive… 

I struggle. I grip her wrists. She moans, frustrated. But there’s no fear in her eyes. No escape. She looks at me with a strange clarity, as if the poison in her blood was revealing what she truly was: a wounded beast that silently howls. 

And I falter. 

My mouth crashes against hers. A harder, rawer kiss. My hands slowly glide over her skin, discovering her shoulders, her neck, the fragile line of her collarbone. She tenses beneath me, and I feel her thigh brush against mine. 

I unbutton her dress. Slowly. One by one. 

She helps me. Her movements are disordered, but impatient. Her skin is satin, covered in goosebumps. I undress her like one reveals a secret. 

Her body is stunning. But that’s not what makes me lose my footing. 

It’s the way she gives herself without shame, without request. Just… this urgency to live. To burn. 

— Tell me your name, I whisper, lost. 

She laughs softly, almost cruelly: 

— And you think you know who I am? I don’t sleep around for money. Not out of desire. I sleep to punish myself. 

These words slap me. But I’m already too far gone. 

I shed my shirt. Everything else. Our naked bodies seek each other, brush against each other, fit together. 

I penetrate her slowly. Her warmth envelops me, burning, almost unreal. She moans, her head thrown back, her arms pulling me harder against her. Each movement is a tear. Each thrust, a contained cry. 

I kiss her. The neck, the shoulders. Her breasts. Her mouth. She moans again, her back arches, her hips seek a rhythm, and I give it to her. 

I take her like a condemned man takes his last breath. 

Our bodies collide, respond, drown. Her voice breaks in a sharp sob as she orgasms, her nails digging into my back. I follow shortly after, breathless, lips on her throat. 

I stay inside her, for a long time. 

As if coming out would make her disappear.