by A. M. Hudson
“Hey,” Morg said, opening the door only a crack.
“Hey.” Mike’s arm appeared on the doorframe above Morg’s head. “You got a sec?”
“Uh, I’ve got…company,” she said, opening the door.
Mike’s mouth popped open a little. “Em, there you are. I was wondering where you’d got to.”
She looked into her lap.
I leaned over and whispered in Em’s ear, “What’s he doing here if he’s not here to see you?”
“You’re welcome to join us.” Morg’s voice rose over mine in an obvious attempt to shut me up.
“No, he's not,” Emily said, coldly.
“Aw, Em, come on.” Mike took a step into the room. “Don't be like that, you know I—”
“Mike, just go, please,” she said, holding a hand up.
“You’re serious?”
She nodded.
“Why? What did I do?”
Morg, Emily and I huffed loudly.
Mike stopped walking, looked at David, then me, then Morg, and turned around, leaving the icy welcome behind.
“Just give it time, Em,” David said as Morg closed the door. “He’s got a lot going on.”
“I know.” The tension in her shoulders eased with David’s fingers softly tangling in her hair, rolling her head toward his lap. “I’m just not sure I can always wait for him to care.”
I placed my hand over David's for a second, then stroked Emily’s forehead. “We’re here for you, Em. Okay. You can come move into my room if you want.”
She laughed softly, closing her eyes. “It’ll be okay. We just need a break.”
“A break?” I said.
She nodded. “I think he needs to lose me to know what it’s like to miss me.”
David looked up from Emily, the deep concern remaining in his eyes. He really cared about her, and I always knew that, but now I could really see it too—could really see the connection they’d formed through months being alone together, sharing blood. And he thought nothing of the fact that she was lying in his lap, her lips just inches away from a place only I should go. But it didn't feel as wrong as it should. It felt like . . . I don’t know, maybe like they had some deeper, untainted connection.
Morgaine sat on the chair again, leaning forward a little as though she was listening to me whisper a secret across the room. I’d seen her do that before, when she was trying to get a feel for a situation, so I gave her a soft smile, which she returned.
“We ready watch the movie again?”
“Ready,” David whispered.
Morg pressed play on the remote, then came to snuggle up behind Em, her head on David’s shoulder like he was some Universal Pillow. He’d been a part of each of our lives once—in some way deeper than friendship—and we all owned some small claim to him. He wasn't bothered by the closeness or affection of Em and Morg, and he didn't even seem to notice it bothered me, which probably meant I was looking into it too deeply. So, I rested my head on Emily’s, and fell asleep with David stroking my hair.
Despite falling asleep in Morgaine's bed last night, David tucked tightly between me and Emily, I woke in my own bed, with a pair of radiant green eyes smiling down from the vampire standing above me.
“What’s this?” I sat up.
“Something you haven’t had for a while.”
My eyes wound around the cup in his hand, steam rising from the contents, the warm smell of sweet coffee waking my mind. “You made me a coffee.”
“Only the best for my girl.” He sat beside me. “Did you sleep better last night?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my head with one hand, taking the cup with the other. “I didn't even dream.”
“I know.” He smirked.
“How do you know?” I studied him, pausing a sip away from tasting the first David-made coffee I’d had in what felt like forever. “What did you do?”
He stared at the bed sheets, as if he didn't want to tell me, but the smile tugging his lips indicated that it wasn’t for any strange reason. “I put you to sleep.”
“What, like you used to when I was human?”
He nodded, the grin growing. “It seems that, with the power of a king, everything I could do to you before you became immortal, I can do again.”
“Well, so, are you as powerful as Jason now?”
“No. My telekinesis is very limited, and I struggle to read the projected thoughts of a stronger vampire, like Mike, but I’m sure, with time, that will change.”
My mouth dropped. I hadn’t expected him to tell me he could do that. “You can read anyone’s projected thoughts?”
His secret smile slipped across his lips. “Like you didn’t already know.”
I sipped my coffee as a distraction, swallowing before saying, “Okay. Maybe I was a little suspicious.”
He exhaled. “Why didn’t you just ask me about it then?”
My lips stopped short of their next sip. “I. . .”
“Let me guess,” David said, sliding his arm between my neck and the pillow, cuddling me close. “You didn’t even think of it.”
“It’s not that, David.” I sipped the coffee again. “It’s more like I just figured you’d lie to me, or. . .”
“Or?”
“Or ask me why I was curious.”
His spine straightened a little. I was sure he already knew how my curiosities came about—by talking with Jason—but he didn’t want to hear me say it.
“Can. . .” And here was something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but kind of needed to. “Can you read unfiltered thoughts yet?”
“On demand, do you mean?”
“Yeah. I . . . I know you could do it randomly for a few days after the coronation, but, has that changed?”
The birds outside sang a song to fill the silence, and the gentle breeze moved the still air. David took a slow breath, his eyes switching from thought to humour and back again. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. I can read unguarded, un-projected thoughts again, but—” he said, but ended it there.
“But?”
“But . . . not always, and . . . it’s only yours so far.”
“Mine?” I sat up a little more, balancing the cup in hand so as not to spill the contents. “Why only mine? Am I weak?”
“Is Emily weak?” He grinned. “I can read hers.”
Hmpf. I turned my head quickly and sipped my coffee, focusing on the liquid.
He just laughed. “I love your jealousy.”
I half smiled into my cup. I knew what he meant, because I loved his jealousy too—the way any mention of Jason made his blood change temperature. “Can you read Jason’s mind?”
He cleared his throat, sitting back a little. “No.”
“Can he still read yours?”
The conversation had clearly gone sour. “Yes.”
My smile widened. “I love your jealousy.”
“I, My Queen, do not need to be jealous of my brother.” He took my cup and pushed me gently backward on the bed, a playful grin sweeping the anger from his eyes. “I have you. I married you, and I will never need to play against him for your heart.”
I touched his face, looking from his lips to his eyes. So many words came to my tongue, ready to roll off, tell him how right he was, but that sinking feeling—the one like I’d forgotten a child in the car on a hot day at a supermarket—roiled up inside me. My eyes became smaller, focusing on it. I’d forgotten something. I just knew it. And whatever it was, I needed to remember, because whatever it was, I was sure now, had something to do with Jase.
“Where do you go?” he said with wonder, his eyes searching my face. “I wish I could read your mind as easily as I used to. I miss knowing everything you're wondering and dreaming.”
I let my legs fall softly apart as his weight came down to rest between them. “I miss it, too. Miss everything about being human.”
“Really?” He looked at my lips, his lovely dimple pressing into his cheek. “Becaus
e I can think of one thing you don't miss.”
“What’s that?”
“This.” He rolled the tip of his thumb past his index finger, tearing it open, and wiped the warm, sweet liquid across my lips.
My tongue moved involuntarily, stealing the blood for itself, sending it down to the back of my throat. And that was it. I had to have more.
David laughed as I rolled up and flipped him onto his back, landing on his hips like a cowgirl. “You’re right. I miss being human. I miss the sweetness, the, I don't know, the innocence of our love back then, but I like this much better,” I said, driving my pelvis down hard on his…zipper. “And you do realise I'm so hungry right now I could drain you dry?”
“Go ahead, succubus.” He grinned. “And I’ll flip you over after and take it all back.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
I squealed, suddenly moving through the air, landing on my back with the pillows rising up around my ears, and David's jeans scraping roughly against my bare upper thighs. “It’s a promise.”
“Then, in that case—” I thumbed a button undone on his shirt and traced my finger down his flesh from his throat to his sternum. “Come closer so I can bite you.”
Chapter Three
I came over the hill, the midday sun bright and yellow above me, glaring in my eyes enough that as I set my gaze down on the basketball court, I could swear I saw Mike holding a child up to the hoop.
“Mike.”
He bent down, then tossed his hand in the air, waving it once. “Hey, Ara.”
“Hey, what you do—”
“This is Will,” he cut in, presenting a small, blond-haired boy. “He’s new.”
I stopped dead halfway down the hill. “Yes, we met yesterday.”
Mike smiled at the kid. “I’ll just walk ‘im back inside. Two secs, ‘kay?”
“Sure,” I said chirpily, but my bones wouldn’t move. Who on Earth authorised him to take the Damned outside? I mean, what if Will tried to escape? He could end up in all kinds of terrible places.
Mike walked the boy back toward the house, his hand on his shoulder, both of them talking animatedly, like they were best buddies. I almost didn’t recognise my ‘mature’ best friend and Chief of Security anymore. He even dressed differently when he came to see the Dammed—always in jeans and a light coloured T-shirt, usually wearing a baseball cap, too. And I kinda liked him this way. He was Fun Mike. Guy-I-grew-up-with Mike.
I reached the base of the hill as Mike broke into a light jog back in my direction, bending to scoop the basketball off the ground as he approached. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey. Letting the Damned out now, huh?”
He smirked at the quaver in my voice. “Yeah. Who'd have thought blood-hungry kids could get a release of energy from playing outdoors?”
“And . . . who, exactly, approved this?”
“David.” He stood taller, clearly ready for a challenge. “But not without supervision, and only one at a time.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Ara. Those kids,” he pointed to the house, “for the most part, are normal. You can’t keep them locked away for the rest of their lives—”
“But, I’m the one who—”
“Even if the conditions are pleasant,” he finished. “You don’t have to agree, Ara, but you—”
“Mike.” I put my hands up. “I agree, okay. I was just. . .”
He smiled sheepishly. “Surprised.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to start an argument. I think it’s great they’re going outside.” I glanced over at the house to see all the little faces watching Mike and I through the window. “It’s just that no one told me.”
“Didn’t David?” Mike jumped up to dunk the ball in the hoop.
“Nope.” I strolled over and caught it on the rebound. “He told me we had a new group, and mentioned something about education, but—”
“Did he tell you we decided not to feed them Pure Blood?”
I frowned, searching my brain for that conversation, but it’d never happened. “No. Why’s that?”
“For one, they’ve all been rejecting it, and—”
“I know that. But, we were just gonna keep trying in the hopes—”
“It isn’t enough for them, Ar. Think of them as concentrated versions of vampires—they need more blood than an adult.” He stole the ball from my hands. “Kind of like when vampires get hurt and need human blood because ours isn’t strong enough then, either.”
“And, what were the other reasons you decided against giving them our blood?”
“We don’t want them immune to Pure Blood venom.” He threw the ball into the hoop, ignoring my sudden gasp. “We left it that way in case you never find a cure for vampirism.”
“So, you're just going to kill them if I can’t change them back?”
Mike took a deep breath. “We may have no choice. They can’t stay that way for eternity.”
“Mike! That’s horrible.”
“I know. But it won’t come to that. Besides,” he said, dribbling the ball, “we’re also leaving things open in case one of them wants to die.”
“You're giving them the option?”
“Yes.”
“They're children, they can’t make that kind of choice.”
“Ara, those kids are older than you.”
“Not in human years.” I stole the ball.
“Yes, but they mature with experience and age, just like we do.” He reached across and snatched it from my hands, throwing me a vehement glare with just a hint of a smile underneath. “Their minds aren’t locked in childhood at all, like vampires first thought. And—”
“I know,” I cut in. “I’ve seen them learn, show reason, integrity, wisdom, even. But I don’t like the idea of giving them the option of suicide.”
“Freedom, you mean.” He turned away and threw the ball toward the hoop.
“Huh?”
“Freedom. It’s not the option of suicide, Ara. It’s the freedom to choose an immortal life or a peaceful death.”
I studied him carefully for a second before he broke the stare and wandered over to grab the ball from across the court. He was serious about this stuff. I’d never seen him get so . . . red in the face, over any topic. “Why does it matter to you so much, Mike—whether they live or die?”
“It’s not that.” He tossed the ball to me; I caught it. “It’s . . . I don’t know.”
I hid my smile with the turn of my back, and aimed the orange ball to the sky, throwing it but missing my target. “You come here every day, don't you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” I folded my arms, squinting up at him. “One might just think you were starting to like those kids.”
He smiled bashfully, jamming his hands in his pockets, but it slipped away as he looked at his feet. “So what was the deal with you lot last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“I had coffee with Morg this morning. She told me you all fell asleep on David.”
I took a step away and grabbed the ball off the ground. “Yeah. And?”
“Where was Emily?”
I passed him the ball. “What’d you mean?”
He sighed, hinting the obvious. “Where, Ara?”
“Oh, um, she had her head in his lap.”
“Exactly.” He spun the ball around a few times between his palms, studying it. “You all looked at me last night like I was coming to Morg’s room for sex or something, yet Em falls asleep with her head in your husband’s crotch, and no one bats an eyelid?”
“Someone did.”
“Who?” He glanced sideways at me, the ball rolling off his fingertips toward the hoop again. “You?”
I nodded.
He sighed. “Things aren’t great between her and I, Ar, but . . . I love her.”
“Do you? Really?” I asked in a flat but curious tone.
“Of course.” He bent down to grab the ball. “She just
expects too much of me. I can't be with her twenty-four-seven.”
“Or you don't want to.”
He made a basket, his hands staying in the air a few seconds longer than needed. “I . . . I don't know.”
I grinned, trapping the ball under my toe as it rolled toward me. “Trouble in paradise.”
“Shut up.” He copied my grin, elbowing me in the ribs after.
“Just tell me one thing,” I said.
“Sure.”
“Do you actually want to be with her, Mike, or are you holding on to her like some trophy?”
“Nice shot.” He laughed, watching my ball go through the hoop without hitting the rims. “And . . . yes. I do want to be with her, Ara. But—” His gaze went distant.
“But?”
“There are . . . things. I dunno.” He shook his head. “I just . . . it’s not all black and white.”
“So talk,” I said, and Mike walked away, taking a seat on the courtside bench, with his head in his hands.
I sat beside him, leaving the ball to roll off, coming to rest on the foot of the hill.
“When I spend time with her, she’s not even there. You know, I told her something really personal the other day, and she. . .” He leaned back, looking up at the sky. “She laughed. Yet, when I told Morg the same thing, she. . .”
“She?”
“Well, she supported me. It’s like, I know you think there’s something with Morg and me, but there’s not. She just . . . listens.”
“She gets you,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah. But it’s not just her special talent, Ar. She’s a good person.”
I nodded and looked up at the same place Mike was staring. “So, are you saying you want Emily to be more like Morgaine?”
He laughed, catching the humour in my voice. “I just want her to want me for more than the idea she has of me, if that makes any sense.”
I ran the words over in my head, interpreting them as best I could. “You want to be free to be you, and have her love you anyway.”
“Yeah. But she’s got this image of me and what I should be, you know? And it’s not me, Ar.”
“I know.” I nodded, thinking more about the Mike I grew up with. “So, what was it?”
“What was what?”