Claw Mark

by Lily Harlem

  Walking up the steps to the cabin was Caleb. He wore only a pair of ripped jeans and his old boots. His broad, golden chest was naked and flakes of snow, swirling in the wind, caught on his scruff of body hair.

  “He’s there,” I said, “quick, open the door.” I spun to face Isaac. “Let him in.”

  Isaac didn’t move. “I know he’s there. I heard him.”

  I frowned and looked back at the forest.

  I wondered if I’d see a wolf lurching from the trees, the one I’d heard. But I didn’t.

  And Isaac, how had he heard Caleb approaching? I hadn’t.

  I glanced at him. He’d sat on the long sofa and was staring at the fire. I noticed that he too was bare-chested and wore only black jeans. It must be his boots that I’d borrowed because he wore no shoes or socks. His nonchalance made me wonder if it really was true. What I’d been thinking when I’d been in bed all of those months. I’d kept pushing it from my mind, telling myself it was my over active imagination again.

  But…

  The cabin door opened and Caleb stepped in.

  “Hey, you’re up,” he said, rubbing his hair and sending a few drips onto the floor.

  “I heard a wolf out there,” I said, hurriedly. “Shut the door.”

  Would Caleb tell me what they really were? If it were true, that was.

  He did as I’d asked then walked over to me. He stood close—close enough for me to feel heat radiating from him. It was odd, his warmth, especially since he’d just been out in freezing conditions without proper clothing. Perhaps I’d become too accustomed to my cold husbands who’d never generated body heat and were permanently cool. I’d forgotten about the heat normal men released from their bodies.

  “Yes,” he said, reaching for one of the cuffs on my shirt. He began to fold it upward, revealing my hand within the expanse of material. “There are wolves out there. Two of them locally.”

  “Two of them, yes, that’s what I saw when I was tied to the tree. One was silvery gray and the other brown, reddish brown. I really don’t think you should go out there without protection.”

  “Protection?” Caleb frowned and reached for my other cuff, began to fold it the same way.

  “Yes, a gun or something. They’ll attack you. This time of the year they must be starving. There’s not much food around for them.”

  “They won’t attack us,” Isaac said, stretching one arm along the back of the sofa and watching Caleb’s movements closely.

  “How do you know that—?” I started.

  “Shh,” Caleb said. “We’ve lived here for a few years now, Bea, peacefully and in harmony with the environment and creatures in it. The only thing that upsets our balance is when vampires pass through. The wolves are not an issue for us.”

  “Which is why it was crazy for you to step outside,” Isaac said, shaking his head. “When there are vampires around.”

  Caleb paused what he was doing and frowned down at me. “You didn’t?”

  “I…I just wanted some fresh air.”

  He shook his head. “Well next time you just want fresh air let one of us know. The moment you stepped onto that porch you made yourself available to Elfrida. She could have been on you quicker than you could blink. One hint of your scent in the breeze and she’d have been here.”

  “I’m sorry, I…” I glanced at the window. “Do you think she’s still in the area, then?”

  “I traveled to the pass yesterday,” Isaac said. “There are signs of movement there. But I struggled to pick up clues as to who or what.”

  I suppressed a shiver. The thought of Elfrida lurking in the dark forest waiting for me created a black pit of fear in my stomach and made me nauseous. I glanced at the closed door to the outside world.

  “It’s okay.” Caleb stroked my head, smoothing my hair. “You know you’re safe in here, with us.”

  It was strange but I didn’t mind his intimate touch. I hadn’t right from the beginning. He was gentle and calm and solid and had a presence that made me feel protected and nurtured when all else was lost.

  I looked up into his rich, warm eyes.

  “You should have said you were going to get up today,” he said. “I would have made sure I was here.”

  “I didn’t know I was.” I smiled, sadly. “I suppose I just couldn’t stay in bed feeling sorry for myself any longer.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He smiled in return.

  “So I thought I’d get out of bed and feel sorry for myself in an upright position.”

  “I’m glad you did. And I wish we could do something about these ridiculously big clothes but it’s all we have spare. We’re not too big on our wardrobe requirements.”

  “They’re fine. They’re better than what I arrived in.” I bent and took off the enormous boots and returned them to the mat by the door. “Perhaps, if you have a needle and cotton you wouldn’t mind me altering them though. That way I won’t need to use this to keep myself decent.” I lifted the shirt and showed the two men the rope wrapped around my slender waist holding the trousers up.

  “Good idea,” Caleb said, walking to the askew cabinet. From a drawer he pulled out a battered red tin with a picture of Marlborough cigarettes on the front. As he shut the drawer the row of dusty books on the top surface slid and then rested concertina style against the wall. “You should be able to find what you need in here. It’s basic but functional.”

  “Thanks.” I took the tin. “But are you sure it’s okay, they won’t be able to be converted back to fit you once I’ve chopped them about.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m not much into fashion.” He tapped his naked chest and his fingertips pressed into the springy hairs on his sternum.

  “I’ve noticed,” I said, glancing at Isaac. “Just as well you keep it warm in here with the fire.”

  “We wouldn’t like our guest to get cold,” Isaac said. “It’s lit for your benefit.”

  “Well,” I inclined my head. “Thank you, for allowing me to be your guest and for keeping me warm.” I hoped he’d take my words as an apology of sorts, for slapping him, because it was all he was going to get from me after what he’d said.

  Isaac held my gaze, he licked his lips and drummed his fingers on the back of the sofa. “No problem, Bea, our home is yours for as long as you need it to be.”

  I took the sewing kit into the bedroom and set about slimming down the sweats and the shirt. It had been years since I’d done any serious dressmaking but my mother had taught me her trade well. I worked with precision and soon had an outfit that although would never grace a catwalk, at least stayed on as I moved.

  The new cinched-in waist of the checked shirt made the shape more feminine, and, having reduced the bulk of the pants, I no longer had double the amount of material I needed which had given me odd rolls around my hips.

  Once that job was done, I decided to fashion some underwear, knickers and a bra, using the sexy outfit I’d arrived in. Caleb had placed that and my high-heels in the locker next to the bed, and soon I had a bizarre mixture of lumberjack meets Ann Summers.

  But it worked. I was clothed.

  The light had faded just in time for me to finish the last stitch and, feeling pleased with my accomplishment, I wandered into the small kitchen area to show Caleb. I guessed that’s where he was because a delicious smell of cooking meat and frying onions was wafting through the cabin.

  My footsteps were silent on the wooden floor.

  When I reached the entrance to the kitchen I paused and then stepped back, to peer around the frame.

  Caleb was indeed cooking. He was stirring the contents of a pan with a wooden spoon and facing side on to me, toward the window.

  Isaac stood directly behind him. Pressed up against him with his bare chest meshed into Caleb’s back.

  Isaac was nuzzling and licking Caleb’s neck. His eyes were closed as if savoring the taste of his skin.

  “Mmm, that’s nice,” Caleb murmured.

  “You’re
nice,” Isaac said against his flesh. “More than nice. I want you.” He pushed his hips forward and up, as though sliding, through their jeans, his cock between Caleb’s arse cheeks. “I want you now.”

  “Later,” Caleb said a little breathily. “Hold that thought.”

  “I want to do more than hold a thought.” Isaac wound his hand in front of Caleb, skimmed down his taut belly and cupped him through his pants.

  Caleb groaned. “I want that too, but wait, just a while. Let’s eat first and then we’ll have an early night.”

  Guilt rushed through me. For the second time I’d witnessed their private moment by unwittingly sneaked up on them. It was clear they’d become used to having me stay in my room, safely tucked up in bed.

  But now I was out.

  Hurriedly I retreated several paces. I looked at the fire, it was fading, so I noisily set about throwing another log on the top of the stack and then stabbed the embers with a long iron poker.

  “Hey, I like it.” Caleb stood at the kitchen doorway holding a drying cloth over any telltale bulge in his pants. “Cool outfit.”

  “You think so?” I hoped he’d put the redness in my cheeks down to having been stooped next to the fire. “It’s not my best work but it will be okay for now.” I ran my hands over my waist and hips, again enjoying the fact that I had clothes that fit.

  “Yes, you look very…fetching.” He grinned. “Isaac is just stirring the dinner, I’m going to serve. Would you mind setting the table? I’m guessing for three tonight as you’re out of bed.”

  “Yes, of course.” I took a deep breath and replaced the poker. When I straightened I made my back long and set down my shoulders. It was good to be up. I was still missing Aimery and Ryle with every beat of my heart, but I had to get moving. I had to start thinking straight and figure out what the hell I was going to do.

  Chapter Seven

  We dined on stew made with dark meat and accompanied by hunks of bread still warm from the oven. Caleb and Isaac ate as though they’d never been fed before, ripping the bread with their teeth and scooping in the meat as they chewed. It wasn’t particularly refined but it had been a long time since I’d dined with men who were hungry for food, rather than blood. Perhaps I’d forgotten how warm-blooded males approached eating like a task, a necessary function to give them energy and keep them strong rather than to be pondered over, relished.

  But I couldn’t deny that the food was good, and the first I’d really eaten in a while. As it warmed my belly it took away a portion of the emptiness in the pit of my stomach. My resentment of Isaac’s harsh words weeks ago mellowed a little more. He’d taken me in, kept me warm and was feeding and protecting me. I couldn’t exactly resent the guy even if we did have differing opinions about vampires.

  But were they keeping a secret from me about what they really were?

  “So exactly how long have you lived here?” I asked, placing my fork to the center of my empty bowl.

  Caleb wiped a lump of bread around the last of his sauce, cleaning the bowl so it shined. “Three years now.” He popped the bread into his mouth and grinned.

  “And you like it? The isolation?” I took a sip of water. “It’s pretty extreme.”

  They shared a quick glance. “Yes,” Isaac said. “It suits us. Extreme that is.”

  “Why? It must be hard having so little contact with the outside world, and…” I paused, not quite knowing how to word it. “It’s not like you’re lepers or anything. You’re nice, friendly guys. I’m guessing you could be anything and go anywhere you wanted to. Why choose here?”

  Tell me. If it’s true, tell me so I stop thinking I’m crazy.

  Isaac rested his hand over Caleb’s and squeezed it a little. “It’s nice of you to put it so eloquently, Bea, but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re gay.”

  “I might be in a pretty dark place emotionally,” I said with a shrug. That hadn’t been the confession I’d been searching for. “But I’m not blind to what you mean to each other and besides, being gay is hardly a reason to hide yourself up here.”

  “It is according to our people,” Caleb said with a sad shake of his head. Beneath Isaac’s hand he clenched his fist and his fingers scraped the tablecloth into a little ripple.

  “That’s a shame.” I looked between their two, ruggedly handsome faces. “Most people are pretty accepting of homosexuality where I’m from.”

  “Which is?” Isaac asked.

  “I’m a Londoner, born and bred.” A tug in my chest suddenly reminded me of how much I missed home and my dad. I pushed it away. I’d examine it later and give it time to speak to me then. “Okay,” I said. “There are a few ignorant idiots in London, of course there are.” An image of Sean jumped out at me and I grimaced. “But in the majority it’s no big deal if a bloke likes blokes.”

  “That sounds good,” Caleb said. “But we like it here. It suits our, how shall I say it, needs.”

  Their needs as wolves?

  “It certainly is beautiful.” I looked at the window which now had its curtains drawn against the stunning scenery. “Though only if you know how to survive here.”

  “We know well enough,” Isaac said. There was a tone of incredulity that it could be anything otherwise in his voice. Because of course they could survive here.

  “For instance this meal,” I said, pointing at the table holding only the remnants of our wonderful dinner. “You must bulk buy or something to get you through the winter. All this delicious food.”

  “We plan what we need, sure. We’re also pretty good at growing and storing our own stuff,” Caleb said.

  “And hunting.” Isaac sat back and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “We’re good at hunting.” He looked impossibly huge when he puffed himself up—all brawn and power. In that moment I could just imagine him stalking and bringing down prey.

  “So what was that we just ate?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t regret my question and also trying not to stare at Isaac.

  “Venison.” Caleb stood and gathered the plates. “Fine dining in London, no doubt?”

  “Yes, it sells for a good price on the market.” I resisted kicking myself for not recognizing the gamey flavor, but then I hadn’t eaten it very often.

  “Market?” Isaac frowned at me.

  “I’ve worked in Smithfield for years with my father.”

  “What’s Smithfield?” he asked.

  “The meat market. I’m a butcher by trade.”

  For the first time I saw Isaac look anything other than slightly weary of our conversation. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened a little. “A butcher, but…”

  “But I’m a girl?” I huffed.

  “Well, yes. Doesn’t all that meat and blood and guts make you, a mort…I mean, a girl squirm?”

  I gave a scornful laugh. “I wouldn’t be much of a butcher if it did. Blood doesn’t scare me; neither do bones, guts and death. I just prefer it to be done properly and with skill so that there is no suffering. Suffering scares me; anything suffering makes me sick to my stomach.”

  “So we may be able to make use of you,” Caleb said, pressing his hand on my shoulder as he walked past, heading to the kitchen. “If we make a kill.”

  “Happy to earn my keep.” I smiled at Isaac who was still staring at me with his amber-colored eyes. “Have I surprised you?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said with a slow nod, “Again.”

  Soon after dinner I excused myself. The first day of being upright and carrying the heavy anvil of grief had been exhausting. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do it again…but I’d try. After a night of sleep.

  I sank my head into the pillow and struggled to make my thoughts straighten. I started thinking about Elfrida and what she’d said about Aimery being a murderer in his mortal life. Did I believe her?

  I didn’t want to but I struggled to find a reason for her to lie when she had me tied up and about to be drained. What would she have gained from such untruths?

  Secondl
y, it did kind of make sense. It put together the pieces of what he’d told me and, like a jigsaw piece slotting into place, I understood his hatred of his human self now and why he’d chosen to be turned. Why being a vampire suited him and the way he held himself with such control and discipline now. It was obviously the opposite of how he’d been before—out of control and high on killing.

  A tear leaked from my eye and I squashed it into the pillow. I’d loved that man, no matter what he was.

  Soon that tear was followed by another and another. Before I knew it I was silently sobbing. My loss was a gaping hole in my life. I’d been so happy for such a short space of time. And when I was happy, delirious with the luck I’d been granted to find Ryle and Aimery, all I’d thought of was the short time the next sixty or seventy years would be. Little had I known we actually would have only months together. When had a lifetime turned into nothing more than a Caribbean holiday?

  It was hard not to feel bitter and angry that they’d been alive for centuries yet been extinguished when it was my turn to be with them.

  Crying was exhausting, but I knew that. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t sick of it. I was. The state of sobbing and feeling bloated and weary with grief, was deafening, blinding; it had overtaken everything. So it seemed.

  Except today I’d seen a glimmer of the force that had made me continue after the death of my mother. It was the tiniest speck, the most fragile of strands, but it was a force that spoke to me. A mantra that had pulled me through the bleakness of sorrow before, and with it then, I’d also pulled my father. Now I only had to heave myself out of the swamp of depression, but on the other hand I had lost two loved ones, I was at double depth.

  But it still stood, my belief in going on. Because where there was life there was hope.

  And I was alive.

  Of that much I was certain.

  I slipped from the bed, needing a tissue and a glass of water after crying into my pillow.

  It was later now and the cabin was dark. I could just make out my shadow slipping in front of me as I reached for a tumbler. There were no curtains in the kitchen window and outside the ghostly glow from the moon lit the trodden snow to the log shed.