by C. L. Quinn
So he was right where he should be, here in an unforgiving land because he had done the unforgivable. His mind took him back to that moment too often. At any moment he began to feel better, breathe easier, her face would come to him in death.
Daniel rubbed his eyes with fingers he could barely feel. A headache was crushing his temples again. Long hard days in brisk cold wind that seemed to freeze the skin on his face and cut into everything beneath. Now, with winter on them, the sun wouldn’t make an appearance in the sky again for another few months. The brutal air would become worse. That didn’t bother him. It didn’t interfere with his hard work as he tried to atone for his sins…and whiskey blurred nights.
He knew there was a strong storm brewing that would shut down the small town for a few days or more. He’d head to the Wooly Bully in about an hour to gather a supply of booze to make it through to the end of the storm.
The huge snowstorm predicted for the next day was expected to be a blizzard, so the Wooly Bully was slamming. When Starla and Eillia came through the door, the loud din hushed some as the men looked up and stopped in their tracks for the two lovely women. Eillia saw the bartender smack a few of them in the arm with a towel as he made his way to them.
“You ladies like a table?”
Starla smiled at him. “If you have one,” she said, but didn’t see one that was unoccupied.
“Oh, we have one. How about here?” He led them to a three person table against the side wall. Three men looked up from where they were seated at the table.
The bartender kicked one of them in the foot.
“Scat! These fine ladies are looking for a table.”
They grumbled as they picked up their mugs and bottles and left.
Starla started to say something, but Eillia gave her a look. After they sat down, Eillia leaned back as the bartender made his way back to impatient patrons at the bar.
“It was only polite. They will be fine somewhere else. And this gives you a nice view of who comes and goes. You’re trolling for a man, right?”
Starla tried to look indignant.
“I’m not trolling! Not exactly. But if someone interesting comes in…yeah, I’m looking.”
“Well, then, this is a good spot. I’d like some Crown Royal if they have it. Do you think they do?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty high quality for this town. I’ll ask.” Starla got up and smoothed down the too-tight jeans she’d donned. They looked nice on her slim figure and left little to the imagination. She could see they rode against her curves, creating a peek at her shape. Men liked that, though, so it would serve to entice any man who might be interested in her.
Eillia had no idea what brand of whiskey she was drinking. It wasn’t Crown Royal, but it was doing its job relaxing her. The best part of the night was watching Starla shine. She was a beautiful girl. Long dark brown hair, which she’d pulled up and secured in little waterfalls of curls around her face, deep chocolate eyes, classically pretty features. And she was getting a lot of attention. She knew Starla had been worried about her as competition. She hadn’t needed to be. Eillia sent a soft
compel to any man who looked at her to either check out Starla or go on with his business. Depended on whether she thought he might be suitable for her new friend.
But she found herself enjoying the laughter and merriment of people who lived extreme lives in this extreme place, and were gathered here tonight for some companionship. And maybe a little human contact in the form of sexual gratification.
Eillia downed the rest of her small glass of whiskey. Sex. She missed it. The area between her legs twitched as she remembered how wonderful it felt to accept her man inside her and ride him to pleasure. There was a sense memory ache for what her body craved. She shook her head and motioned the barkeep over.
“Another one, please,” she said politely. He shook his head.
“I’ve never seen such a small woman kill that much whiskey. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Wonderful. I can hold it. So, please.” He nodded and brought her another. Of course he had no way of knowing that a vampire’s fast metabolism required more liquor to get the same effect.
It was busy in spite of the fact that the population of this town was quite small. There were a lot of non-locals who worked in the Arctic Circle or passed through, and were getting their buzz on since the expected storm would likely stop everything in its tracks for a while. The larger city north of them, Barrow, had a “damp” law like much of Alaska which prohibited the sale of alcohol, so Wilkes-Barre, which did not, was a very popular destination for anyone looking for a bar with booze.
Eillia watched Starla dancing with a handsome young man, blonde, looked like he was of European descent. Switzerland or Norway, judging by the white-blonde long hair and blue eyes. She looked excited. Still, Eillia would check his aura tonight.
She sat back and closed her eyes, pulled the hood up to block her face from view to further discourage male attention. Eillia used her abilities to journey through her memories to the last time she lay with Hamid. It wouldn’t come. Why couldn’t she see his face? She felt the moisture on her cheek again as she realized that she might never see him again even in her dreams.
Daniel was so shit-faced. It was a fucking good thing traffic wasn’t a problem around here, because no less than ninety percent of everyone in this place tonight was driving drunk. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t run into a tree, but head-ons with other cars were rare. He looked around at the men sucking down liquid gold here tonight. It would be a long-ass number of days before they could get here again, so they were getting their money’s worth. Too bad there weren’t more women here to take advantage of the horny, drunk men. There was a little hottie that was dancing up in an impromptu space cleared by pushing some tables back. She was adorable, but a little sweet and innocent for the likes of him.
He would never approach someone like her. Joey D’s mother was more his speed. She knew the score and she lived for the attention. She wasn’t looking for a mate. This lovely girl was. So he watched her gyrate and laugh with a group of obnoxious drunks trying to match her dance moves and impress her. He couldn’t help but think that most of them were not really good enough for her either.
It was getting late though and he was exhausted. Maybe it would help him sleep better than usual. Maybe the dreams would let him the fuck alone…just for a night. He closed his eyes and laid his head back. He deserved this life, this fate. It would be nice, though, to find peace someday. Not feel like the worthless shit he had for the past year. One more for the road? Probably a bad idea. He looked around the room again. No one was leaving. They were enjoying the young woman’s company too much. He watched her head back to her table, which was on the other side of the bar. Someone was sitting there. Was it a woman? He thought it was by the small size and how she was sitting. Though she was covered head to foot. A hoodie with the hood pulled up was really androgynous and he couldn’t see her face. Well, she must not have been a looker like her friend. No one was bothering her. He felt a little sorry for her. Nature was cruel. One girl with the looks of Helen of Troy can rule the world while another might be lucky to ever be loved at all. People were addicted to physical beauty. He should know.
He started to get up before he became too maudlin when the woman seated at the table turned her head. He saw her face, and it knocked him back into his seat. What the hell!!?? He sat forward. He had to be more drunk than he realized. It was her. The face that peeked from under that unremarkable hood was the one that had haunted him for a year. The stunning woman whose death he had been responsible for. It was her.
But it couldn’t be. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Then opened them and looked back at the woman, expecting to see a nice little local. No. It was still his Asian goddess. No one else on earth could look like her. He was sure of it. He staggered toward her through the writhing drunk bodies on the makeshift dance floor. His eyes couldn’t leave her face. Suddenly she looked u
p directly at him. Their eyes locked and he saw her expression change. She looked startled. And she couldn’t take her eyes off him, either.
They stayed like that as he approached and stopped, inches from her, and didn’t move. He couldn’t speak. What do you say to a dream? To a ghost? I’m sorry I killed you. All I want to do is wrap you up and keep you safe.
Eillia stood. How did she know this man? She felt certain she did, and yet she drew a blank when she tried to remember him. But he wasn’t a stranger, she felt that. She searched the handsome, rough, masculine face. Long hair, pushed back, like restless fingers had done the grooming. Hard cut jawline that hadn’t seen a razor in a while. Piercing pale blue eyes. Not a face you would forget. But she couldn’t place him.
“How do you know me?” she asked suddenly.
He looked shocked. Then he blinked and cleared his throat. “I don’t.” He kept staring and then repeated. “I don’t. I can’t.”
“You look like you do.”
“No. I mean, you look like someone I knew…but she’s dead.”
Oh. She looked like someone from his past. That explained it. It didn’t explain how she thought she knew him, but she didn’t consider herself entirely reliable right now. Just a weird fluke, that’s all this was. Well, she could help him with his shock.
Eillia touched him on the forearm to compel him to forget her, and was surprised when he moved his hand quickly and took her fingers in his. He turned her hand over in his, caressing the palm, then looked back into her eyes.
“You’re warm, you’re real,” he said softly. Then he abruptly reached up and pushed the hoodie back, revealing her face fully, the dim light in the bar bouncing off the shiny black hair that cascaded down her back and around her face. Eillia was so mesmerized by his actions, she didn’t move to stop him. He stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands.
Eillia breathed deeply to capture his scent. He smelled so good. How did she know his scent?
“You are so lovely. I’ve never seen anything else in my life that made me believe more in God than this face. Only a god could have designed you.”
Eillia drew an uneven breath. Whoever he lost had been a lucky woman. This man was capable of such passion. She could feel it through his touch. An arc of that passion moved through her and centered itself in her loins. She thought he might be able to bring her to an orgasm with his touch alone. Whoever this man was, she couldn’t feel this way. It was a betrayal to her love with Hamid. She couldn’t want this man. How could she want him?
“No,” she whispered, and captured his gaze. She moved in close. He smelled like whiskey and man and she wanted to vampire speed him to her little cabin, rip off his clothes, and crawl inside him. But instead, she said, “You don’t know me. You will leave now and go home. You won’t remember seeing me here tonight. You’ll just remember drinking, seeing some friends, and carefully driving home. Go.”
He blinked and turned away, went back to his table, pulled on his outdoor gear, grabbed his keys and threw a fifty dollar bill at the bartender. He murmured something no one understood and disappeared through the door.
Eillia dropped into her wobbly chair. Oh, God. What was that? He acted like he recognized her. And she felt something when she saw him. But she could not place him. She should be able to. With a sigh, she ran her hands over her face. Well, it was over. He wouldn’t remember her and she couldn’t remember him. So, her reaction to him was just horniness, and that was very common for vampires. And much more so for her, since she hadn’t even seen to her own needs this past year.
She looked around for Starla, and found her in a lip-lock with the handsome blonde. Eillia pushed through the crowd with her mind, everyone stepping aside automatically for her without even realizing it. As she approached Starla and the young man, she put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. He had a good heart. Okay. Still, a little compel never hurt.
“You’re going to escort this young lady home safely in about thirty minutes, give her a great good night kiss, and then make sure she gets in her apartment before you drive carefully to yours. Right?”
He nodded. Starla blushed.
“Just looking out for you, honey. He’s a good guy. I’m leaving. See you tomorrow, if the snow allows.”
“Alright, Lia. Thanks for coming with me.”
“Sure. It was interesting.” She left quickly, and when no one could see her, she hyper-speeded to her truck and headed home. All the way, she kept thinking of the stranger who hadn’t seemed like a stranger. And how all she wanted was to throw him down on her bed and let herself feel something again. It was too soon. It was too soon. Wasn’t it? It all made her head hurt.
When she got back to her frigid cabin, she rapidly built a fire and pulled two heavy plush blankets off her bed to curl up beside it. Nights like these she often slept right here on the floor in front of the fire. Eillia curled up, wrapped snugly inside her blanket cocoon, with hopes of restful sleep to calm her racing mind and libido. She went out quickly to the increasing sounds of the wind shreeing through tiny air leaks in her cabin.
Daniel had fallen asleep. He woke to loud bangs and piercing shrieks as the wind continued to try to blow his house down. He grinned as he pulled his tired naked body out of bed. The big bad wolf was at his door.
“Go ahead, do your worst, you motherfucker,” he said, and looked around to see where the bottle of JD was hiding. Shit! Nearly empty. And the storm just gaining strength wasn’t expected to let up soon. He had enough cans of soup and hard bread to keep him in food for the next week…but he was out of liquor as soon as that bottle was empty. It told him two things…he’d been drinking far too much…and he had to find a way to get back to Bully’s. Weird thing was, he’d meant to pick up a few bottles last night before he left. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t. Winter had just started and there would be a lot more nasty days to come alone in this poorly built pre-fab shack he lived in. Note to self, lay in a huge supply of liquid anesthesia. He couldn’t face the long winter sober. Too much fucking reality there. Made it too easy to remember.
Well, damn storm had to let up sometime, so he would plow his way out and get down to town to load up. He wandered over to his small front window. White. Nothing but white. Okay. Distractions. No reception tonight for the small television near the fireplace. An old VCR and TV combo in the corner he’d never touched. Were there tapes? A short search turned up old classic westerns and some old sci-fi movies. He picked one about alien invasions in Colorado, heated up some chicken noodle soup, grabbed the remaining JD and sat down to try something different to occupy his mind.
The movie lost him only ten minutes in as he dropped his head back against the couch. This was where he’d ended up after all the manic moments of his life. Alone. Drunk ninety percent of the time when he wasn’t doing body-breaking work. Did he ever have any dreams? Any expectations of what he wanted his life to be? He searched through his memories of an abbreviated childhood where he never really had a home. Eventually the military became the only home he’d ever had. Even afterward, years as a bought-and-paid-for soldier, he had never kept a house or apartment. Mostly just rented space between jobs. Had he ever expected to be happy?
Thinking about his life so far, had he? No. The concept didn’t seem to fit into the life he built. Sad. Ah, well. The little boy he’d been would tell the drunk ex-soldier sitting on this hard couch to “man up.” It was the only encouragement he’d ever received as he matured into the young man who finally left to become a killer for his country. And he’d never come back.
A few years ago he’d had a recurring relationship with a woman who bartended at a hole-in-the-wall bar in South America. She would provide sexual service for a select few men that she preferred for a steep fee. Daniel had been one of those few. Memory drew him back. She’d been worth it.
Rosie had loved to chat after sex. He found her engaging and incredibly smart for a woman who’d had little formal education and had grown up in a dru
g town south of the equator. He knew she cared about him. And somewhere inside he admitted he cared about her too, but never considered a real relationship with her. Mercs didn’t do well with those.
Lying naked on the bed one night, playing with his hair, she’d told him he was closed off. That he couldn’t let anyone in.
“You don’t have the tools to do that. I don’t think you ever learned how to love someone, Daniel.”
He’d thought about that over the years. She was dead-on right. He didn’t have the tools. So he’d accepted who he was. A man who would always be alone.
Now if he could just get himself to stop obsessing over the horrible events last year and move on. The last drop of whiskey slipped from the bottle into his mouth. He grinned crookedly and spoke aloud.
“Yeah, you puss. Man up.”
And yet, it didn’t take long after the final drop of Jack was gone to realize he needed to make that booze run soon.
An hour and a half later he fell asleep. It was a deep, restful, undisturbed sleep. He would awake amazed at how well he felt. It was the first good sleep he could remember for a very, very long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
The wind was relentless. Horizontal snow pelted her little cabin. Ice pellets banged at her windows in a vicious attack, as if they were trying to break in. The high pitched whine of the sustained winds of the blizzard hadn’t stopped in hours. Eillia loved it.