Eternity and a Year

by Ranae Rose

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he lay balled on the ground, shivering. That was strange, as she herself was hot beneath her jacket. Did he have a fever? Could vampires even get fevers? She shook his shoulder. “Brendan!” He was unresponsive.

  Carrie cast a nervous glance at the man lying in the alley. She had to get herself and Brendan away from her attacker before he woke or anyone else came along. She eyed a door that hung slightly ajar in the side of the building. Then, she seized one of Brendan’s thick arms and began the arduous process of dragging him towards it. It took her nearly ten minutes to lug his body over the threshold. When it was done, she collapsed by his side. He wasn’t shivering as badly now they had entered the dark, dank interior of the old warehouse.

  “Brendan?”

  He shook. She lay down beside him, wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek against his back and cried. What else could she do? She certainly couldn’t take a vampire to a hospital.

  Chapter Three

  Brendan woke with a groan roughly fifteen minutes after Carrie had laboured to drag him into the shelter of the abandoned warehouse.

  “Brendan?” Carrie leapt to kneel over him. “Brendan?”

  He rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Carrie?”

  She breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I’m here. I didn’t know what was wrong, so I brought you into the building…”

  “Thanks,” he murmured.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. His eyes were open but he kept blinking, as if he were staring into a bright light instead of lying in semi-darkness. His expression was pained. At least he’s awake, she thought, that’s an improvement. Still, she chewed her lip as worry plagued her.

  “Yeah,” he replied, “it was just…the sun…” He grimaced.

  “The sun? So…it’s true then? Sunlight hurts vampires?”

  Brendan nodded. “It makes me sick and it hurts my eyes.”

  “Oh. Do you…do you feel okay now?”

  Brendan ignored her question. “Why’d you come here? That was stupid of you. You could have been killed. I only saw what was happening because I heard you scream.”

  Carrie frowned. Brendan seemed to be rapidly regaining his health—his grimace of pain had turned into a stubborn expression of disapproval. “I had to see you,” she said. “After last night, I—I just had to see you.”

  Brendan grasped one of her hands and squeezed. A slight tremor lingered in his fingers, one of the remaining traces of the sun’s wrath.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again,” he said.

  She sighed. “I didn’t really want you to leave, but…” She quieted as her head throbbed with a fresh wave of raw emotion. How could she explain what she’d felt? Anger, jealousy, betrayal…and a desperate longing despite it all. She’d hated banishing him with the same words she’d used on the night of the fight that had separated them for a year, and yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

  “I’m sorry, Carrie.” Brendan’s apology resonated in the dark, mostly empty room. “I love you. I would do anything to take it back if I could.”

  Carrie drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I forgive you.” Her heart felt somehow both heavier and lighter as she spoke the words, resigning his betrayal to the realm of painful memories she’d try her best not to think about. It was one of many.

  Brendan sighed deeply. “Thank you.” Tears shone in his red eyes.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive,” Carrie said, “so glad.” Tears welled in hers, too.

  “Upstairs…” Brendan began, “upstairs, I have blankets…”

  A tingling started in her core, and her clitoris began to ache with need. She followed him up two flights of rickety steps to the room where she’d lain with him two nights before. He’d covered the hole in the wall with something, and the windows must have been filled in long ago as they were little more than faint outlines of off-coloured bricks in the walls.

  “I can’t see very much,” she said, gripping the railing as she stood on the last stair. “I’m afraid I’ll fall.”

  “That’s right,” Brendan said. “Sorry. I forgot you wouldn’t be able to. I mean, I can see in the dark.”

  “You can?” Carrie asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. Here, hold my hand. I’ll guide you.”

  She reached for his cool fingers, wrapped her own around them and followed him across the floor. The dust they kicked up tickled her nostrils.

  “Here,” he said after a moment. “The blankets are at your feet.”

  She could just make them out, and she sank down slowly, her knees settling on the layer of soft cloth that protected them somewhat from the hardness and chill of the floorboards.

  Brendan didn’t waste any time. He unbuttoned Carrie’s jacket, barely pausing to lay it aside before slipping his hands beneath her shirt. Soon, her clothes lay in a pile of their own next to the blankets. She shivered.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot I can’t keep you warm. Do you want to put your jacket back on?”

  She nodded reluctantly as her skin pebbled. He must have seen, for he lifted her jacket from the floor and settled it over her shoulders. She slipped her arms through the sleeves.

  “Better?” Brendan asked.

  “Yeah.” She would much rather have been warmed by his body heat, as she had been on so many cold nights in the past. But just having him back, cold or warm, vampire or human…that was enough to make tears of gratitude well in her eyes.

  “Lie down, then,” he whispered.

  Carrie obeyed, and for a moment, she floated in the darkness and quiet of the windowless old building. Brendan’s touch anchored her as he thrust her legs apart with sudden intensity and bowed his head between her thighs, pressing his mouth to her body. He shoved his tongue inside her, and she gasped as he coated her damp folds with saliva that was as cool as the rest of his body.

  “Brendan!” she exclaimed, and writhed.

  He held her there firmly, pinning her thighs apart and rendering her efforts futile. She gasped, and he reached out without pausing to take one of her hands in his, squeezing it. The gesture brought back a slew of memories, including those of how much she had always enjoyed what he was doing to her now. A shiver of delight ran down her spine as a spike of pleasure shot up through her belly. His heatless tongue against her slick skin warmed her rather than cooled her. Her flesh blazed where he’d licked her, and when his tongue dipped between her slippery folds again, the sensation was electric. She had a sudden vision of a dark sky crackling with lightning, set off by the meeting of two disparate winds, warm and cold. Here, in the semi-darkness, her entire being lit up similarly, her nipples tingling as her body throbbed against Brendan’s mouth. He thrust his tongue deep inside her again, and she moaned. The smooth surfaces of his fangs pressed against her flesh, and she spread her thighs a little wider, willing him to come farther in.

  When her pleasure peaked, Carrie arched her hips, raising them above the hanging hem of her jacket. Brendan pressed in his tongue even farther, reaching, tasting, then withdrew. She shuddered and her hips collided with the blanketed floor again with a dull thump.

  A moment later, he was beside her, kissing her. At last he rose. “We’re not done yet,” he told her.

  She looked up at him. “What—?” she began.

  “You have to finish what you started last night.” He began to shed his clothing. When he was naked, he stood before her, waiting.

  Carrie rose to her knees, parting her lips in anticipation. She could see him more clearly now as her vision had adjusted to the dimness of the room. As her face drew level with his hips, the tip of his cock brushed her cheek, the flesh as stiff as the skin was smooth. His hand brushed the other side of her face, and he guided her slowly until her lips were pressed against his erection and the dark hairs that grew around it brushed her jaw. He groaned when she opened her mouth to admit him, shuddering when she reached below to cup his testicles.

  Carrie reve
lled in the familiarity of the act. She had done this so many times before Brendan’s disappearance. Now, as always, her nipples brushed the fronts of his thighs as she moved, and he buried his hands in her hair, urging her to take more of his cock into her mouth. She obliged, allowing his smooth skin against her tongue and the repressed strength of his hands to distract her from his scars, which she’d shut her eyes against to ensure there was no chance of seeing them. She’d told him she’d forgiven him, and she desperately wanted to mean it, but it was difficult—very difficult—to know that a stranger had done what she was doing now, and that she had the darkest year of her life to attribute to that aberrant act.

  “Carrie?”

  She pulled away as he slipped his hand beneath her chin, letting him guide her until their gazes met. “What?”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I—I’m not.” She pressed the back of a hand against her cheek as she spoke, half-surprised to find a few tears had slipped out, betraying her sadness. “Oh, I—I’m sorry, Brendan. I forgave you. I just wish I could forget.”

  Carrie tried to look down at the floorboards, but he stopped her, guiding her gently again with a hand beneath her chin, meeting her gaze once more. His eyes were soft in the partial darkness, every bit as soft—somehow—as they had been capable of being when they’d been hazel and human.

  “I’m sorry I reminded you,” he said. “Let me make it up to you. Let me make love to you just like I used to.” He lowered himself over her, easing them both to the floor, and the stiff form of his erection pressed against her inner thigh.

  He thrust himself inside her.

  She moaned and wrapped her arms around him. She still wore her unbuttoned jacket, but her hands were free so she could grasp his back, and her breasts pressed against his chest as she drew him down to her. This, too, felt wonderfully familiar.

  * * * *

  Carrie didn’t have work the next day, so she slept in late, tired after a night with Brendan and looking forward to another. He had insisted she not come to the warehouse again, as yesterday’s events had proved it wasn’t safe for her to venture there on her own. He couldn’t leave the protection of the building’s dark interior during daylight, so he’d promised to come to her apartment just after sunset.

  After showering and eating breakfast, she decided to spend the day cleaning and organising her apartment. She didn’t want to do anything other than see Brendan, but if she had to do something, cleaning seemed like a good enough choice—it would leave her mind free to wander, worry and fantasise while also ensuring the apartment would be a pleasant environment for his first night home. And free of evidence of how I’ve spent the past month, a small voice in the back of Carrie’s head added, causing her to frown as the phantom taste of rum teased her tongue, gone as quickly as it had come.

  Around noon, the doorbell chimed, its cheery notes resonating through the apartment. Carrie rose from dusting the living room furniture to answer it. She was surprised to see an unfamiliar man holding a bouquet of flowers.

  “Are you Carrie Fletcher?” he asked.

  “That’s me,” she replied, regarding the riot of lilies, daisies and carnations he held. She could see a florist’s brightly painted van in the parking lot. Had Brendan sent them?

  The delivery man handed over the bouquet and left.

  She inhaled the delicate perfume the colourful blossoms released. She smiled as she unfolded the tag that rose on a little plastic prong from between two carnations and a lily. It had been over a year since anyone had done anything so sweet for her.

  Carrie, the tag read, I can’t make it tonight. Don’t come to the building, whatever you do. Sorry, Love, B.

  She wilted, sliding down to the floor with her back against the closed door.

  * * * *

  Carrie went to the boutique the next morning with dark circles under her eyes. She looked and felt little better than the day she had been sent home early. She thought she did a better job of hiding her irritability around customers, but she still tapped her nails on the counter, stared into space and found herself squeezing pens and pencils until they almost snapped. Anne regarded her with cautious, concerned looks every now and then but said nothing. When Carrie’s shift finally ended at five-thirty, she shot out of the shop like a gazelle, eager to visit certain other stores before they closed.

  She would go to Brendan’s building, she’d decided—she just wouldn’t go unprepared. She’d spent the spare moments of her workday planning her trip there and what she would ask him when she arrived. She wanted the truth—all of it—and she wouldn’t settle for anything less. Her head started to ache at the thought of the conversation and what it might reveal. His last confession had proved almost unbearable. A few tears pricked at her eyes, and she wiped at them with the back of her sleeve as she stepped into a small shop in a strip mall.

  Nearly half an hour later, she emerged with a compact bundle. She’d purchased an extra cell phone and added it to her calling plan. She would give it to Brendan, and next time something like this happened, he’d be able to call and explain. There would be no more waiting on pins and needles for her. There was certainly no reason why a vampire couldn’t use a cell phone. The thought cheered her a little.

  She took a deep breath as she entered a second store—a shop that sold personal defence items. She walked quickly past the gun counters and stopped in front of a less-threatening glass display case. The owner came to speak with her and helped her to pick out a model. It wasn’t cheap—she charged it to her credit card—but after yesterday, she knew she needed more than just a feeble scream and a desperate hope for salvation with which to defend herself. She left the shop with an electric stun gun in her pocket. Let some creep try to grab her in an alleyway now, she thought grimly as she turned and started in the direction of Brendan’s building.

  The sky had begun to turn purple as evening settled over the city, and it was halfway dark by the time the warehouse loomed desolately in the distance. Carrie shoved her hand into her pocket, gripping the stun gun and glancing from side to side for any sign of danger.

  She reached the alley, where she’d been assaulted the day before, without incident. It was quiet and deserted. The door in the side of the building was closed. But was it locked? She walked towards it with an outstretched hand. With a little force, it swung open, creaking on its rusty hinges. She stepped inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark room lit only by the dull, evening light that streamed in from the alley behind her.

  A loud thump sounded from overhead. She tensed as more followed. Someone was hurrying downstairs. Was it Brendan? God, let it be Brendan, she thought, tightening her grip around the handle of her stun gun.

  A dark figure appeared at the landing of the staircase across the room, its menace a palpable force. Carrie shrank against the doorframe as she began to panic. Whom was she facing—what had she stumbled into now? Then she caught a tell-tale gleam of copper at its head. Brendan. She opened her mouth to speak, relieved, but he shouted first.

  “Get out of here, you filthy bitch!” He lunged forward with amazing speed. “Get out!”

  Carrie cried out in shock and pain as Brendan collided with her, sending her toppling backwards through the doorway and onto the hard, packed-dirt surface of the alleyway. The back of her head collided with the ground, and the purplish sky span above her, streaked with bright colours that hadn’t been there a moment before.

  “Carrie!” Brendan’s voice was filled with horror. “Carrie!” He bent to scoop her up. “What are you doing here? Oh, Carrie—I thought you were someone else! There’s just enough daylight left in the sky to make it hard for me to see, and I could only make out your outline…”

  Carrie blinked in an effort to chase away two of the three images of Brendan that stared down at her, then squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel two arms holding her. There was one Brendan, only one. She opened her eyes, and they met his.

  “Carrie, I’m sorry. I’m so
sorry. Are you okay? You’re bleeding, I can smell it! Where are you hurt?”

  “My back,” she said, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. The pain that seared across her skin just above her hips was nearly as overwhelming as her confusion. Her throat tightened in response to the agony.

  Brendan pressed her carefully against his shoulder, peering over hers to lift her jacket and shirt. The long laceration, every inch of it burning, sliced across the small of her back where she’d hit the bottom of the door frame. Blood oozed out of it, soaking her clothing.

  “You need to go to a hospital,” he said.

  “No!” The last thing she wanted to do now that Brendan had her in his arms was leave him, no matter how badly it hurt.

  “You’re bleeding a lot,” he said, “I think it needs stitches. Oh, God, Carrie, I’m so sorry!”

  Carrie winced at the thought of being sutured. “It’s dark enough out here. Just go to a store and get me some bandages. Take my wallet, it’s in—”

  “No!” Brendan snapped. “You’re going to the hospital.”

  Carrie fought back tears of frustration. “I came here so you could tell me what the hell is going on, and you’re going to tell me! Who did you think I was?”

  He dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” he replied. “I’d carry you to the hospital, but…I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist so much blood.”

  Carrie ground her teeth. “I don’t need an ambulance! It’s just a cut! I’m fine!”

  Brendan ignored her as he dialled nine-one-one. She tried to twist out of his arms but ended up vomiting onto the ground instead as a wave of agony turned her stomach inside out. The cut across her back still burnt. Brendan finished giving the address and snapped the phone shut.

  “Who did you think I was?” Carrie demanded. Her voice came out weaker than she would have liked it to.