by A. J. Lewis
“Very good,” said Bruce, laughing.
“Is it ok to leave him with Ana?”
“Of course,” said Bruce, “he's not a maniac. Whatever ancient urges run through his veins his well-capable of controlling them. Except, of course, if its a full-moon and something has particularly aroused him. But we always lock him in the cellar on those nights.”
Bruce turned to her and grinned.
“Anyway, Ana's safe. He won't get past the tattoo.”
“I'd forgotten about that,” said Jenny, laughing.
They'd reached the rocks that marked the end of the beach and turned to retrace their steps.
“I'm very happy you've decided to stay a little longer,” Bruce said.
“Me too,” she said. “I'm a lot happier than I was when I arrived here.”
“You look it,” said Bruce, taking her hand. They stood on the beach with the waves gently lapping around them and kissed.