She turned with a swish of her ponytail, she walked with such purpose away from me that I had to chase her down to find out her intentions. I thought she would leave and never come back. She lay her weary head upon my shoulder and was so still, her thoughts dark and viscous around us. We sat in silence before she grabbed my hand, dragging me across the field between our homes. Her intensity caught me off guard. She stopped midway there and kissed me with tears streaming down her face, salt mixing between our lips. She pulled at my clothes in her desperation to feel something, anything other than what she was feeling in that moment. She needed something to annul the sense of loss threatening to overwhelm her. I couldn’t feel this as our bond was broken, but I could see it on her face and smell it in her tears. Goddess how I love her. She makes me weak and strong at the same time. She makes me decisive and indecisive. She bewilders me and calms my soul. Without her, I care not for much. I go through the motions of my day, but they are acts of a play that do not include the script. I am incomplete.
In that moment where she was searching for answers I could not give, I did my best to explain to her that the seasons of a long life come and go. Some are better than others, as winter is hard on some, certain periods in our lives can be the same. The Gods show us by allowing the heads of delicate flowers to bloom through the snow that a better season is ahead, we must only look for the proof that the better time is coming. Life must be lived in sections and not as a whole. This is imperative. You must have long range goals, dreams, or plans, but you cannot allow missteps or setbacks to affect them for they are but a moment in time and pass like seasons.
Both of us were a bit shaken when we laid our heads upon her pillows and slept that night. I held her to my chest as she breathed, snoring softly, I burrowed into her hair and placed my lips on her neck, enjoying the feel of her blood flow beneath them. The sound of her heart beating and the smell of her emotions lulled me to sleep well before dawn. Her bed is a sanctuary for me. In her room, immersed in the scent and feel of her, I feel so much peace. I only hope I bring her the same comfort, but I think it highly unlikely.
Chapter Twenty
When I awoke, Lara was working in the clinic. I slipped out of her house and dashed home to collect a gift I picked up personally from a vampire clothing store downtown. Emily Leclair, a young vampire only a few decades old, had the wherewithal to open a clothing store catering to unique and often expensive tastes of vampires and the humans who attract them. Emily had been a clothing designer before her Change and her fame had rocketed skyward after. Her designs are amazing and her dresses coveted. I do not enjoy the sex kitten outfits many wear, but I can appreciate them on occasion and a trip to Fangs AMillion was the perfect occasion to give Lara such an outfit. Aiyana had been right about one thing, Lara needed to get out and be seen in the supernatural community. Her mythos was spreading and not all of the talk about her was true. It would do everyone good for her to be out and be seen. Some of the urban myths about her were ridiculously funny to the point where people thought she might not be real at all. For her to go out and be seen would put some of the unrest surrounding her to, well, rest. Lara is such that she acts like any normal human under almost every circumstance. There are no displays of power, malice, or contempt from her ever. She will be seen and judged by others for who she is and not what they have heard.
When she walked around the corner, wearing the black dress I bought for her, Black boots up to her thighs, my color wrapped around her wrists and the Harry Winston necklace around her neck, my control crumbled. I had her pinned to the wall and my fingers buried deep within her before I could give myself a reason not to. Not that there was a reason not to. The smell of her, the look of her, she makes me speechless, but she does not intimidate me to inaction. My hands roamed her body freely, my lips at her ear. The smell of her desire for me rolled off of her, its sweet, rich perfume filling my nose. My fangs descended unbidden to their full length and I rubbed the smooth, curved side of them along her neck. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and she went limp under my hands. Taking them, I nipped her like a cat, marking her as mine then covered her mouth as I drove my fingers deep within her, letting my thumb caress that firm bit of tissue until her wetness ran down my hand. I wanted to take her then, take her into her room and finish this game we played, but I could not. I had made plans and must keep them. I pressed my erection against her leg and she moaned then shuddered to her core, I lifted her higher on the wall with one arm until her feet cleared the floor, knowing that the feeling of restraint would heighten her pleasure. I drove into her again until her orgasm ripped through her, taking me with it in waves of power and emotion. It was an awesome thing to experience. I set her gently on the floor. Her knees shook against my legs, threatening to fail. Her wide and confused eyes were the most precious things I have ever seen. Her breath came in quivers and the deepest sense of satisfaction I have ever felt swept my heart. I knew in that moment that she was mine and I hers. I could feel her acceptance of that. Her utter abandon to the idea. I did not need the blood bond to know this, I could smell it on her scent and read it on her face. A life as long as mine makes one excellent at reading others.
We drove to Baltimore, our bodies heavy and relaxed. She toyed with me and teased me, despite the peace I sensed in her, she does enjoy our game. It was my plan to take her to my bed that night and explore all that could be between us. I had felt her love for me on the night of the fundraiser, I knew it to be a real thing that would grow with time. I, myself, had been lost to her since the beginning and now I finally had what I wanted in return. Had we slept together sooner, she would have done what she always does and distanced herself from me. We never would have had the chance to build a relationship. In the end, I hope we both get what we need from this and even more, what we want.
She talked of Sheriff Collins and I understood that his threat level was rising and something would need to be done soon. I did not want to kill the man without knowing more about him, but I thought that it may come to that anyway. Whether he was a Watcher or some new threat, I did not know, but it was beginning to matter not. He would have to be dealt with soon. Had I thought about it then, I would have remembered the odd things that have happened of late around my home. Things missing, doors left open, doors closed when they should not be and other curiosities that in hindsight should have been a major red flag, but got blamed on having a house full of people. My security was excellent, but it is clear to me now, that it was not good enough. It would never been good enough as long as there were those in my house that sought to destroy it. There is a saying about hindsight being perfect. There is also a saying about the difference between late and too late. I hoped I was not too late to make things right with my House and my People. The betrayal stung, I just hope it is not a fatal wound.
She walked into Fangs Amillion like she owned the ground it sat on. Not a single eye did not turn to her. Her power was undeniable. She did not flaunt it, or even act as if she knew it was there, but not a soul in that building did not feel her entrance. She smelled of Blood, Sun, Salt, Sea and Sex. A succubus would have made less of a scene. She did not notice anything amiss.
She did however, notice Aiyana and I was shocked and more than a little happy when Lara claimed me in front of her, rubbing her scent on me like a cat and nearly growling as she did so. It was a shock to me, but not an unpleasant one. I was learning that perhaps Lara in love is not a kind or gentle thing at all.
Aiyana is an interesting story. She is old. Old and powerful. If there is an American equivalent to myself it is she. Aiyana was Comanche before she was turned and has lived her existence exclusively on American soil. She never shared why she was turned, but she did share that she had been a powerful witch and had no small amount of magic that she retained after her turn. I met her in the early 1900s and she was already a force to be reckoned with. Comanche warriors were known for their height and they are nearly the tallest among the native tribes, perhaps Aiyana is a throwback t
o their earlier Mayan days for she didn’t even come close to five feet tall. Her size made her what she is, I believe that. She is a loaded spring, always ready to fight and a lit stick of dynamite on a calm day. She has had some difficulties in our world because of this. The amount of power she possesses makes her a target to others of our kind that would like to own her, but there is no owning the wind on a Texas plain and that is what she is like. We had a brief and electric affair when first we met and occasionally shared a bed much later, even as late as a few months ago, but we could never be anything more than sexual release for each other due to our inherent natures. When she told Lara that we were like two forks in a microwave, she was being truthful, at least in that respect. We couldn’t agree on what time a clock showed, let alone much else. We did, however, share a prowess for business and Fangs AMillion had made us both quite a lot of money. We were friends, or so I thought and we worked well in that capacity, if nothing more.
When Aiyana interrupted her intense nuzzling of my throat, a gesture she surely understood the meaning of, Lara’s body went rigid. Even before turning around, I could feel my little Faerie gear up for a battle men simply do not understand. Lara saw something in Aiyana that I did not. Women have instincts men can never claim. They see things differently and as whole, they see them in an instant. Aiyana was a threat, at least that is how Lara perceived her. I wish I had seen it as well. I watched them volley back and forth and saw a side of Lara I never dreamed existed. She can hold her own in the war of words against one so old and powerful as Aiyana, but in the game of being female, Lara had her beat. It was a pleasure to watch, like a well played game of chess. Every veiled insult Aiyana threw at Lara she dealt back two fold and I smelled something I had never smelled before roll off of my beloved. Possession. She leaned against me, wrapping me in her strong slender arms and leaked the smell of possession all over me. I went weak as a schoolboy.
Aiyana was not serious, up to and until that moment, I believe that she was just testing Lara, feeling her out in the way that females do. I do not think she believed Lara would rise to the challenge. I did not believe then that Aiyana held any interest real in me. Now, I am not so sure. The long lived learn early that they do not enjoy being slighted. She may see Lara’s mastery over me as just that, a slight. She will definitely see Lara’s mastery over her as one. It seems we learned too late, that we must tread carefully around the Comanche Abedabun for power is like a snake, when it lays coiled and in wait it can be very difficult to judge its size. Only when the thing is stretched out and squeezing around your body, does the scope of danger make itself known. Aiyana left us in a swirl of sapphire and stalked across balcony.
I dislike dancing. I dislike dancing quite a lot. The sight of Lara on a dance floor however, I liked more than I thought possible. I am not a horrible dancer, but could not even compare to her. She moves with the sinuous grace seen on a professional, I wondered if she had ballet lessons as a child, if not, she missed an opportunity to be a Prima. There was not a beat she missed or a song she could not move to. Her and Grania set the dance floor on fire while Paul and I watched from the safety of darkness. The eyes of those ringing the dance floor were upon them as they moved, working their way through a bevy of men, picking and choosing the best dancers among them. When I could take it no more, I went to her, joining her in dance after dance, until the tempo changed and I found her in my arms. With the feel of her warm body pressed against mine I thought that perhaps I could like dancing after all.
She kissed me. I lost track of where we were on the dance floor when she claimed my mouth with hers, burying her hands in my hair. Brazenly, in front of hundreds of witnesses that could smell what she did, she nicked her tongue on the tip of fang she searched out. I can make them nearly impossible to find, but she found one and my mouth filled with the caramel sweet, salty taste of her blood. It scented the air and I was not the only one who noticed as many a back stiffened among those lining the walls to watch. It was time to go home. I had ignored my hungers enough. She was offering what I craved and I would refuse it no longer. There was not a speed limit that did not get shattered on the way from Baltimore to Westminster that morning. Had I been thinking, I would have acted like a human teenager and taken her in the vehicle.
Chapter Twenty One
We did not make it home in time. We got snarled in traffic and the few precious moments we had before dawn slipped away from us. Rushing upstairs, I hurried through a bedtime routine that would be wonderful if I could share it with her daily. I brushed my teeth and stripped down, forgoing the shower I desperately wanted because there was not time. I stood at the sink and caught her in the mirror watching.
I never think myself handsome. My body is utilitarian. A tool that gets the job done. By Faerie standards my face is quite plain. I can wear a Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition suit and look nicely put together, but it’s more the suit than the man underneath. Of course, humans are attracted to me, that is the magic, the money and the power, but if I were mortal I doubt I could get a date. When a woman like Lara Hennessey, who is of among the most beautiful females on this plane or any other, who cares not for money or power, roams your face and body through half lidded eyes with her mouth open in a soft sigh, you begin to feel desirable. Her eyes skimmed the hard lines of muscle along my back and caught on my thighs, making me heavy in places I had no time to address. I could see through her eyes, that she appreciated all of me and that she thought me handsome at a minimum, though she has never said. I hurried through my nightly routine, cursing myself for not allowing Lara to side track me at the beginning of the evening. Had I taken her to bed, I would be wrapped up in her warm and naked skin, spent, happy and waiting for the dawn or better yet, already asleep with her. Fangs could have waited any number of nights, I should not have allowed either of us to delay another moment.
At the last possible moment, Lara asked to heal me of the Vampire Infectious Disease so that I could feed again. Had it been earlier in the night, I might have fought her harder, but as it was, I was at my weakest. It is not as though I did not want to be rid of the disease, I just did not want to tax her in that manner or use her power for my own gain. There is also a small part of me that worried. Worried that she could see into the heart of me and that is not a wise thing to allow. My physiology is different than any other vampire, of that I can assure you. I have kept this secret from any who could tell and it it worries me to be under her microscope. I do not know why. I trust her implicitly, but instinctive fear is there all the same. Then she did what she always does, she gave me the stern stare of an experienced nurse looking over glasses that she does not wear and waited. She said she would do this thing with or without my consent and what more could I say? She was right. She had complete and total power over me for a few hours a day. I was a being foolish. With her, my secrets were safe and if she uncovered them then so be it.
She lay me on the bed and unleashed her power. Her hands roamed my body, seeing into the heart of me all the things I wanted hidden. I could feel her in my mind, I could feel her breath on the very atoms that make me up. It was more intimate than any touch. I made her stop. It was too much. It is one thing to see this powerful creature work her magic on others, but another entirely to have the weight of that power pressed upon you. She sat astride me, glowing softly in the dark of my room and I wanted a few more hours added to this night.
She fed me then. She assured me that her blood would heal the VID in any manner in which it was infused and offered me her wrist. I took her neck instead. Sinking the full length of my fangs into the deepest vessel she had there was ecstasy, I did not use my mind to change the feeding into something it was not, as I had before. It was pure and raw. I do not recall ever feeding this way. Perhaps I have and do not remember, but I think I have not. Vampires use compulsion during a feeding to make it more pleasurable, she did not want that. It was the most honest thing I have experienced, I was being what I was and allowing someone to experience it with me
for the first time. Her emotions were so tangible I could have touched them. I heard the words in her head and felt her pleasure at saying them. Just you. Just me. It electrified me. I took her as she pushed the smallest amount of her power into me through the blood I drank. I had not wanted to feed off her like this. I wanted it to be different. Perfect. But perfection is in the feelings surrounding the event and not the stage upon which it is set. While there were no candles or lovemaking, she gave me something just as valuable and it was perfection. After I pulled from her, sated and content, she used a trick I have only seen a vampire perform, taking her nail she cut me, painlessly and straight. Then she bent to my neck and took back a piece of what she had given. Binding us again. Not as Master and slave, never that. She snapped back into my mind and after the endless days of her absence I was overjoyed at having her there. She snuggled into me with a sense of deep satisfaction and I knew that we were where I had longed to be months upon months ago. She held my face with her hands and my eyes with hers, smiling into their depths. I could feel the sunrise like a shadow moving across my soul, but it did not take me. As only happens in these moments with her, I outlasted that moment, her power captured me long enough to feel the entire weight of the sun eclipse my soul and then I was gone.
The Scarlet Heron Page 10