1 Dicey Grenor

by Grenor, Dicey

  “No, my father said ‘Here’s your trust fund, Aaron. Now fuck off’,” he said.

  Well, that explained his bankroll. It also posed the question of why his father wanted nothing to do with him. Why was I the only one he had?

  And I didn’t know his nickname was Aaron. But hell, I really didn’t know much about him anyway. Now did I? Lots of folks used aliases in Hades. No big deal. At least I didn’t have to worry about him trying to take me home to meet the parents over some Saturday afternoon cookout.

  Cool air tickled my arms, hardened my nipples. Sure hoped I was imagining things.

  “Where’s your mother?” I asked.

  “Dead…and no, I don’t have siblings.”

  “I’m sorry. What about a girlfriend? You’re every girl’s dream. Our waitress can’t wait on other tables because of you.” I looked in the waitress’s direction to emphasize my point. She smiled and went back to cleaning the table across from us for the one hundredth time.

  “Oh, sure. Girls love lying still, pretending they’re dead so their boyfriend can get off. Or holding a loaded gun to his temple while he comes…or visiting morgues and cemeteries on dates.”

  I erupted in laughter because of his sarcasm and the images that came to mind. He’d painted an ugly picture of what it would be like to date him. “No, I guess that doesn’t go over too well with many girls. Poor Remington.”

  “Most girls I’ve dated have called the cops. I’m damaged goods.” He laughed, his face lighting up like he was sent straight from heaven. “What about your family?”

  The wind on my neck had picked up, but my hair wasn’t blowing at all. Uh oh…

  “They live in Meyerland. My dad’s the pastor of Meyerland Baptist Church.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t know you were a preacher’s kid. That figures.” He laughed again, but I paid him no mind. I was too distracted by the tickling sensation crawling up my arms and legs. Goosebumps covered my skin. Once I smelled sweet vanilla, I knew it was too late to make a graceful exit.

  Hey, beautiful. I’ve missed you, a soft, male voice whispered in my ear.

  Oh, God. Not here. “Go away,” I unintentionally said aloud.

  “What?” Remi asked. He was frowning, focusing bewildered eyes on me.

  “Nothing.”

  Willow, who the hell is this? Are you on a date, beautiful?

  “Yes. Now please don’t do this here,” I whispered.

  “Willow, is everything okay?” Remi said.

  Carrying on two different conversations was a bitch, especially when I was the only one hearing one of the voices.

  I shifted in my seat. The chill and tickling had leveled off, but now I felt the heavy weight of a palm between my legs. Couldn’t tell if it was being communicated through my brain psychically or if Max was really here in his mist form paying me an unwanted visit.

  The palm squeezed. I moaned and squirmed involuntarily. Embarrassingly. The pressure increased as he spoke again. You are mine, Willow. I told you, you will never be rid of me. I will claim you whenever, wherever I want. Now tell that human to disappear while I’m still in a forgiving mood.

  Remi pulled a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth.

  “Please don’t,” I said to Max.

  Remi mistook it as a request directed at him and put the cig back in his pocket. “If my smoking bothers you, I’ll quit,” he said. “I’ll do anything you want, whatever it takes.”

  Aw. That’s so sweet. Now tell this imbecile to get lost, Max said as he squeezed again.

  Another moan escaped my lips. Remi frowned.

  I swear I only meant to respond to Max with my mind, but I was confused. Anxious. Scared. Before I could get hold on my emotions, a finger slipped in me and my nipple was pinched. My back felt weighted as if a strong body was pushed against me and I could feel an erection. I didn’t think Max would risk exposure in public, but sometimes he surprised me.

  Then I looked down to where my body was being probed. If he’d really been materializing from mist to flesh, my clothes would have moved and they didn’t. I relaxed because at least that indicated Max was contacting me psychically. All I had to do was remember he was only touching my mind and I’d be all right.

  Easier said than done...

  A second finger slipped in and they both started moving in and out. My skin flushed. “Oh, shit.”

  “Are you okay?” Remi asked.

  I jumped up. “Remi, I gotta go to the ladies room,” I said then ran off. “Max, please don’t do this in public,” I whispered as I pushed the door to the bathroom.

  I looked under each stall and thanked my lucky stars they were unoccupied. Leaning on the counter, I stared in the mirror until Max’s image came in clearly. Sure enough, he was standing behind me, pressed closely with one hand dipped between my legs and the other holding me in place as he stimulated my breast.

  “You’re a bastard,” I said as coldly and viciously as possible while he continued doing such sinful things to my body. I meant what I said, but my body responded favorably to him.

  “You don’t mean that, Willow.” He grinned as he dragged his hand from my legs to his mouth. He licked both fingers slowly while staring at me in the mirror.

  “Why are you here? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “No, Willow. I cannot. You are my bride and you belong here with me.”

  With his hand removed from my cookie, I was able to sound more convincing when I said, “Damn, I hate you. You don’t need me. Go back to the rock you crawled from under and leave me the hell alone.”

  He grabbed my arms and swung me around to face him before my brain could process the movement. Of course, if anyone walked in, I’d look like I was talking to myself. But I could see him clearly, his eternally young Celtic face…with those emerald green eyes, short blond hair, dimples galore and pouty lips. If he put those lips on me I was done.

  “You knew what you were getting into when you asked me to turn you. I told you how it worked. You would be and are mine. If you did not want this bond you should never have completed the ritual. I was very clear about that.”

  “If I’da known I would be worse off, I wouldn’t have. Believe me.” Not entirely true. Becoming a vampire had been the single best thing I’d ever done with my miserable life.

  He didn’t have to know that.

  “I thought you liked being a vampire,” he smirked.

  Asshole.

  “I do. I just hate being wedded to you. I should have worked harder to find another maistre to turn me.”

  “That is neither here nor there.” He dropped my arms and turned his back to me. Nearly a minute passed before he ran a manicured hand through his nape hair. “I thought you would have come back to me by now, Willow. That is the only reason I agreed to your leaving to begin with. Why have you not? Is it because of that human you have been taking blood from out there in the booth?”

  He’d spat out human like a curse word and swung around abruptly.

  “We gave it a couple of years, Max. I told you I couldn’t handle it anymore. I can’t be one of your many puppets. I’m not a trophy for your shelf. I need to be me, an individual…independent, self-reliant. Besides, you weren’t forthcoming about everything that would happen between us. Being able to invade my mind, my dreams, was not part of it. I didn’t knowingly sign up for that.”

  “You like it when I make you come in your sleep. Or do I mistake the toe curling and the way your pussy glistens?” He moved in close and ran a thumb across my bottom lip.

  I stepped back, managing to bump into the sink. Not putting much distance between us.

  “My body may respond to you, but you shouldn’t take that to mean I want you popping up at your will. If you weren’t so fucking selfish and overbearing I may even come around. But as it goes, you want what you want and to hell with my feelings.”

  There was a startling knock at the door.

  “Willow? You in there? You okay?” Remi said.<
br />
  I moved towards the door.

  “You open this door and I am going to be all over you like a bomb in Pearl Harbor,” Max said through gritted teeth. “I’ll make you come right in front of your lover boy. Or maybe I should go there, disembowel him and spread his remains as weed fertilizer.”

  It was time to beg, appeal to his…oh, who was I kidding? He was evil through and through, but I needed him to back off at the moment.

  “Puh-lease don’t do this right now, Max. I’m here with someone. Someone who has no beef with you.”

  “And I should care because…?” His face distorted into something menacing. I shook my head and looked down. I couldn’t believe I was doomed to an eternity with this asshole. Maybe vampires were really damned ’cause this was pure hell on earth.

  “Because he’s my friend and…and…”

  “And?”

  “You can always come back later today. Come see me around noon—my time—and we can be together without interruption.”

  His eyebrows raised, his jaw dropped. “You will not fight me? You promise to give yourself to me freely?”

  “Yes.” I gulped. I really hated him. But damn if my cookie didn’t clench at the thought of him coming to me later when the sun was high and my drapes were drawn tightly. It would be just him and me. Good times.

  “You know I’ll just be in your head, right? I cannot come from my hiding place yet. You will be okay with me lying with you through your mind?”

  He’d been a high-profile celebrity-type vampire before the HPA was passed. If he came out of hiding now, he’d be recognized immediately…and hunted as the evil monster he was.

  Remi knocked on the door and opened it.

  Yes. Yes! I shouted mentally to Max. Then I folded a hand towel like I’d washed my hands and threw it in the trash.

  Max blew me a kiss and disappeared. I would never forget his Cheshire-cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. Motherfucker.

  Turning to Remi, I smiled. “Yes. I’m okay. Must’ve been something I ate earlier.”

  I followed him into the hall and back to our booth.

  “I thought I heard you talking to someone. Were you on the phone ’cause I didn’t see anyone else in there?”

  “No. I don’t even have a cell phone.”

  To talk to my maistre vampire, I never needed one.

  Chapter 7

  Tension in his apple red Audi Roadster rose as Remi killed the engine and the lights.

  We were parked in front of my motel room, and I knew he was expecting an invite. I risked a glance in his direction and met that same ol’ creepy yet beautiful stare. Yep. He wanted to come in. Part of me wanted him to, but the rational side was winning out. We should keep our relationship professional like it always had been. Besides, shit with Max in the diner had been too close for comfort. He’d sanctioned human blood withdrawals since it was necessary for my existence, but not sex. I could imagine what Max would do if he caught me getting warm and cozy with Remi after catching me out with him.

  But Max was a man of his word, so far anyway. If he was planning to visit me at noon, I didn’t have to worry about him popping up within the next few hours. The real question was whether I trusted myself to be in my room alone with Remi.

  I looked over at the digital clock. It was nearly five o’clock. Could I keep my hands and fangs off him? Did I really have to?

  Remi spoke first. “I’m not expecting sex or anything. I know I came on strong earlier, but I can behave.” He looked towards my room door. “I just don’t want the night to end. I feel like I’m getting to know you better.” His eyes shifted to me again, traveling over my breasts. “Maybe you’ll let me touch you a little like I usually do? Since I won’t see you again until next week?” He stretched his hand out to touch me then dropped it on his lap. Was he demonstrating how well he could keep his hands to himself or proving how hard it was to do so?

  “Remi…”

  “We could be good together, Willow. Will you at least consider my proposal? About living with me?”

  Hell no. “Sure.”

  “Liar. But that’s—”

  I awakened with a start. No, that was an understatement. I was downright panicky, nearly pissing myself. It had come on so suddenly this time, without warning.

  When you have narcolepsy, you get used to falling asleep at the most inappropriate times, but geez. Being in the car with Remi during an episode was all wrong. He’d admitted to fantasizing about killing me. Could there be a worse keeper for my virtue when I’d hit the sudden REM? Maybe it didn’t count since I was already dead. But still. He didn’t know that.

  I looked around expecting to find my guts spilt across the seat with him bathing his dick in it when he said, “I didn’t touch you. I swear.”

  He stubbed out a nearly-finished cigarette into the ashtray, rolled his window up, and stared out.

  He knew what I’d been thinking, but didn’t sound offended. He sounded matter-of-factly, like it was the most logical thing to be afraid of him when I fell asleep. Security wasn’t here to keep Remi in check. I was completely justified in being suspicious. He knew it, and I knew it.

  Now what the hell had he been saying about living with him? Yeah, right.

  I shuddered. The possibilities were scary. Not only was he not roommate material, he wasn’t a good carpooler either. I hadn’t been thinking clearly when I’d gotten in the car with him.

  “So, how long have you had narcolepsy?” he asked as he ran a trembling hand through his hair.

  That wasn’t the conversation I expected, but it was better than continuing the old one. And why was he so nervous?

  I looked down in his lap.

  Oh.

  He was poking through his jeans with what must have been one ache of an erection. He really had restrained himself. Impressive. He’d been on his best behavior even when I had passed out right next to him in a relatively confined space.

  He suddenly slapped his palm to his forehead. “You know what? I never thought to ask if you’re seeing someone. I just assumed not.” He paused. “Well? Are you?”

  “Uh…” I’d never had to explain my relationship with Max before. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ve never seen you with anyone. You stay at the motel alone, don’t you?”

  “Like I said—it’s complicated.”

  “I really wish you’d open up to me.” He scratched his head. “You need someone to protect you, provide for you…love you. I can do all that. I’m single, no kids. You’re like my girlfriend. I don’t see anyone but you.”

  “We’re not dating, Remi. I’m sorry. I can’t be your girlfriend. I can see you at the club but that’s it.”

  Silence.

  I hated ending the night on that note so I thought of something to talk about. “How long have you been a necrophiliac?” I asked.

  He chuckled, “You first.”

  “What?”

  “I asked how long you’ve had narcolepsy.”

  Oh, yeah. He had asked that. “It’s genetic so I was born with it. I had an aunt who was narcoleptic so when I first started showing signs in my teens, my parents knew what was going on.” I flashed back to the prayer meetings and attempted exorcisms. Since my parents were convinced narcolepsy was demon possession, they had summoned all the deacons and elders of the church to cast it out of me. When that hadn’t worked, they’d put me on a water and unleavened bread fast and tried beating it out of me. I had been quarantined and forced to pray the Lord’s Prayer every hour for…

  “Willow?” I shut off the memories and looked at him. “Are you okay? I asked if there was a cure or treatment for it.”

  “No cure. And as far as treatment goes, you name it, I’ve tried it: acupuncture, hypnosis, medication, routine therapy…” Exorcism, spells…

  “Lobotomy?”

  I laughed. “Okay. Not everything.”

  “Are you on any medicine now?”

  “No. I visit a doctor often to be tested for clinical
trials and I attend a sleep disorder support group though.”

  “A group of narcoleptics? I didn’t realize it was so common.”

  “It’s not. Most of our group members have psychosomatic issues manifested by insomnia. I’m the only one with narcolepsy but it helps being around other people who suffer from sleep disorders. The psychiatrist who facilitates it is a caring man. I like him a lot. I came back to Houston after being gone a year because he built a clinic in the Medical Center.”

  “I think I’m jealous.”

  And sure enough, his hands had tightened to fists.

  Okaaaay. It was time to call it a night. He’d already stalked me, said he wanted to kill me, and now was showing how irrationally jealous he could be. Apparently we weren’t going to be able to end on a high note. I grabbed the door handle.

  “I know about psychiatrists,” he said. “Something happened when I was young…and well, I had to see one—a few—for a while. I still do…see a psychiatrist, I mean.”

  No big surprise there. “It must have been something bad that happened to you.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been fascinated with death ever since.”

  I settled back in my seat. I’d always been curious about how he came to be aroused by death. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “No more than you wanna tell me what you were thinking about a minute ago.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. Some things were better kept to oneself, but I needed to confirm a suspicion. I’d give a little, ask a little, keep it fair. “You were abused?”

  “Yes.”

  “By your parents?”

  He sighed. “No, I was kidnapped when I was six.”

  Oh, boy. His story really was bad. To learn more, I needed to give more. “My parents are religious nut-jobs. They would never call what they did to me abuse, but Child Protective Services would,” I said.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “If you tell me more Willow, I’ll want to kill them so let’s not talk about this anymore.”

  I actually smiled. I wasn’t sure whether it was because he’d want to kill for me or because he was brutally honest or because we’d both suffered childhood trauma.