by Martha Woods
Morgan scratched his head. “Um…”
“You did, didn’t you?”
“What do you want me to say?” Morgan’s voice was low. “Yes, I did. I wanted to be close to you. I wanted… I wanted a lot back then. I haven’t lived in it since. Last night, I had a cleaning crew come through.”
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. That was meant to be their house. And when she had dumped him, the house sat empty. It was a promise made of brick and mortar that he’d never gotten to give her. She chewed on her lower lip.
What was she supposed to say? Sorry? He had been working so much when they first started to see one another that she really didn’t see all that much of him. Ally would call him out to missions overseas and when he would return they would fall into the bed, setting each other ablaze. But, as soon as he returned, he would leave again for work. It was an exhausting life. One that he didn’t let her into.
The house felt like an empty promise. It wasn’t meant to be back then. Would it...would it become their house now? No, because the Calder were forever hunting her and her brother for what they did. As long as the Flock were hunting them, they would forever have to move from place to place. Veronica always feared that the Calder would be one step ahead of them one day.
She was afraid they would arrive at one of their homes only to find the witches already there. Veronica pressed her thumbs into her eyes, frustrated that her mind would not stop spinning.
The car slowed. Morgan turned onto a side road, the landscape sparse, but greener. The house that the pulled up to was an imitation of a Victorian home. A circle of stained glass gleamed at them as the headlights passed over it. Veronica pushed her door open once the car came to a halt. Morgan moved around the car to grab their bags. In the valley below them, Veronica could see the lights of a nearby city. Here, in the mountain side, they felt completely alone.
She doubted that even the Calder would find them here. She turned and smiled at Morgan. Elation filled her as the sense of doom finally lifted from her chest. Her smile dazzled him so much so that he dropped their bags to move over to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, nose nuzzling her ear.
“I thought that you might like it here,” he whispered into her ear.
“Are we playing house?” She turned in his arms, hands grabbing at the waist of his pants. “Or do you want to play doctor?”
He laughed. It was rich and rumbled through her, shaking her core.
“As your doctor,” he said, “I do believe that I should prescribe you several orgasms.”
She shivered in his arms. He tugged her close, his mouth falling upon hers. Slowly, he devoured her bit by bit. His tongue explored her fangs. She pushed back, but he pressed harder and bit her lower lip. When they pulled back, she looked into his eyes. She could live like this forever.
“Welcome home,” he said.
Inside the door was uneven and battered hardwood floors. On the far wall was a print of a painting that Veronica remembered from her past. Photography did not work well with vampirism, but the hand of a painter never failed. It was her and her brother, sitting together in a moon garden, white blossoms opening all around them. The painter had known what they were, of course. The artist types had a tendency to attract vampires and become thralls. This particular painter had not began as their thrall, but his life had ended well in their care.
Around the corner was a plush couch and a fabric covered ottoman. Vases of cream colored roses sat on every surface, one or two roses to a vase. The walls of the living room were lined with old photographs, dating from the invention of the photograph to rather recently. While the photos seemed to be different, the subject matter ranging from desert landscape to a tractor in a hay field, Veronica could see one thing they all had in common.
“You miss the sun,” she said as she took in the brilliant range of colors bursting over the horizon in each photo. Orange and red bled into cool pinks and lavender. In some there were still stars speckling the sky.
She glanced over her shoulder at Morgan. He stood in the foyer, hands in his pockets. “Every once in awhile I’ll indulge in the daylight drugs just to watch the sun rise. Makes me feel...alive again.”
The shift from day to night hadn’t bothered Veronica all that much. There hadn’t been much in her life that she’d missed, nothing that had whispered for her. Knowing what Morgan had suffered, she wondered whether it was a good thing or not.
“Do you miss her? Your wife?” The words tumbled out of Veronica’s mouth before she could think. She had no way of knowing what this mystery woman looked like, but she was jealous all the same. This woman had once captured his heart in a way that she couldn’t.
Morgan was suddenly behind her. The air between them was cold. “Three hundred years makes scars feel a little less painful. I think it will be her death that will haunt me more than anything.”
“You didn’t love her?”
“After a while I learned to love her. Marriage in my day was not for love. It was for survival.”
Veronica snorted. She knew the feeling, but she could never have learned to love her husband.
“Why are we indulging in such a sad conversation?” Morgan asked, softly. His fingers grazed the skin beneath her loose shirt, riding over the curve of her hips. “ There is no way to get those days back. We shouldn’t think back on them.”
Veronica turned in his arms. The look he gave her melted her. Those honey eyes devoured her, burning their way across her cold skin.
“How much do you like these jeans?” His voice was hoarse. She could feel the reason pressing into her thigh.
She shrugged. “They only cost a hundred dollars.”
He gripped the waistband and tugged. The fabric gave way, the tearing sound filling the room. “I couldn’t stand them anymore.”
Morgan dropped to his knees before her, hands working to remove the remnants of her jeans. His fingers hooked into the sides of her bikini panties before they tore in his hands. She was about to protest when his tongue parted the folds of her womanhood. The words died in her throat. She gripped a fistful of his thick, brown hair in her hand as his tongue worked away at her.
She leaned back against the sideboard table, vases rattling behind her. His tongue flicked her most sensitive spot and she threw her head back. A vase crashed to the floor beside him. Her knees wobbled. He reached up, holding her thighs, hands sliding to cup her ass.
“Morgan!” she screamed her pleasure.
Once the aftershock of her orgasm faded, she looked down at the man kneeling before her. He was a warrior on his knees before a queen. Her stomach fluttered. Had he not been holding her, she would have crumpled to the floor.
Distantly, they both recognized the sound of his phone vibrating. Veronica scowled until her phone joined the party. With wobbly knees she staggered over to the bag she had dropped near the door. Tessa’s number flashed across the screen.
Why would Tessa be calling her? Irritated, she slapped the button in response. Tessa was already talking before she could get a word out.
“The beach house is gone,” she said.
Veronica’s once fluttery stomach dropped through the floor.
“The...the witches found us. We were on our way out when they arrived. They burnt the house to the ground. There’s nothing left of it. Kristian…” Tessa made a choked sob.
“Is he okay?” Veronica shouted through the phone. Fear gnawed through her.
“He’s hurt. It’s going to take him a long time to recover. Ally and Jared have given him their blood and it’s healing him little by little. He’s on his feet again despite what we’ve told him.”
Veronica let loose a sigh of relief. Kristian was still alive. For a moment she had feared the worst. She had panicked, not even thinking to use the bond they shared between maker and made. It would have told her, in an instant, that Kristian was still alive.
“He’s going to… I’ve offered him some of my blood tonight. I know it i
sn’t all mighty vampire blood, but if it helps I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“It will. Vampire blood is just a quick bandaid. Fresh blood will sustain his actual healing.” Veronica whispered. With a shaking hand, she ended the call.
Her home was gone. The witches had burned it to the ground not long after she and Morgan had left. Veronica wished that she had stayed. She wished that she hadn’t been so selfish. She’d been too concerned with what was going on in Morgan’s pants to realize the danger that they were all in.
She looked up at Morgan. He was ending his own call, eyes dark as he looked at the screen. She flinched when he slammed the phone onto the sideboard table. For a moment she feared that it was worse than Tessa had admitted. But she could see the truth in his eyes. It pained Morgan that he hadn’t been there. It killed him that he couldn’t help his wounded friend.
Veronica clutched her knees to her chest, not feeling the least bit like a creature of the night. Morgan let his head fall back against the sideboard table in defeat. They sat like that for a while.
* * *
Veronica woke in an otherwise empty bed and her stomach plummeted. She feared the worst again. Ally must have called while they’d been sleeping. She had put him on a job and he hadn’t even thought of waking her. Veronica reached for a pillow and chucked it across the room.
She heard an oof sound as it hit another vampire. The pillow fell away to reveal Morgan, standing in the doorway with two warm mugs. Her lips parted.
“I know breakfast in bed isn’t a typical vampire tradition,” Morgan began, “but I thought I’d be nice. I guess you had other ideas.”
“I’m sure breakfast in bed is a very old tradition, only it screamed back then.”
Morgan huffed a laugh as he crossed the room and passed a mug to her. It was a cream colored mug that made the blood seem sacrilegious. She sipped from the mug, glad that she didn’t have to be neat and perfect for the human in the house anymore.
“What is on the agenda for the day?” Veronica asked.
“I do believe the humans call it Netflix and Chill.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what does that entail?”
“I do believe that it involves laying in bed all night, binge watching television shows, and ending the night with copious amounts of sex.” Morgan crawled across the bed to capture her lips for his own. He tasted of blood.
“There’s nothing else you’d rather do?” Veronica liked the idea of laying in bed all day, Morgan curled around her. She’d never seen him sit so still for such a long time. All of this felt too good to be true. She felt a surge of guilt. Here she was, doing nothing while her brother was hurting.
She should be racing to him, not indulging in night long bouts of sex. Her stomach turned. It felt almost like Morgan was buttering her up for something. Like he was trying to keep her from thinking of her brother. She ducked his oncoming kiss and dove for her bag. Morgan huffed in anger behind her.
“I need a smoke and I don’t want to stink up your house.”
Cigarettes and lighter in hand, she led herself out of the house. On the front porch was a swinging bench. The whole place was so quaint that it felt surreal. Kristian liked his clean lines and old world accents, but sometimes that just felt like a museum. Veronica liked the homey, almost messy feel of this house.
There was a crocheted blanket thrown over the back of the couch, perfect for cuddling beneath. A shelf on a far wall was stocked with all sorts of novels. She had read some of the titles the night before, ranging from major literary works such as Anna Karina, to smutty paperbacks with worn in spines.
She wanted to wake up here, in his arms every morning.
They only had to deal with the Calder threat first. The witches were funneling into the U.S. little by little. Ally had reported that the witches were combing the country, looking for them. How long would it be until they found the beach house? Until they found this little valley?
Veronica closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was rude to blame the witches’ hunting on Tessa. She knew damn well why the witches were after them. It was her fault that the witches were after them. It was her fault that the witches were trying to systematically wipe out their coven.
What would the witches do once they caught her? Would they tie her to a post, force her to greet the sun? Would they carve her to pieces, use parts of her for their spells? Veronica had seen them do it to a human once. She’d been next on the list. Apparently, even though she’d fought her way out, her name never came off that list.
She wondered how her brother was doing. They had escaped the witches, but only barely it seemed. She shut her eyes against the cool night. If only she had been there, if she hadn’t left. Maybe then the house would still be in one piece. She would sacrifice the house in a heartbeat if it meant her brother was safe. She reminded herself that Tessa was there, feeding him until he healed. Ally would catch up to him. She would do her job.
It was okay that she was here, she told herself. You’re allowed to be happy. Right?
Finally, she flicked the butt of her cigarette into the sandy walk way before pushing herself up from the bench. Morgan was in the kitchen, papers spread across the dining table. When she came in his head jerked up. He smiled, the feral smile that set parts of her on fire. He swiped his hand over his work and came around the table to gather her into his arms.
Wrapped in the circle of his arms she felt the thoughts from earlier melt away. She could get used to this.
“Now,” Morgan whispered against her skin as he nuzzled her neck, “I believe that we have a date with a certain bed and some wifi.”
She fisted his shirt in her hands. “I agree.”
* * *
They spent the entire night in the king sized bed, enjoying one another’s bodies while Netflix played in the background, completely forgotten. Veronica lost herself in the rough feeling of Morgan’s fingertips along her skin. She needed to feel them in other places, to know if they would make her arch her back.
She was about to roll over and ask, when Morgan pushed himself from the bed. He ran his hand over his face, rubbing the stubble that wasn’t there. It would never grow in again. He had been changed the way he was right here and now, having just shaved his beard.
“Where are you going?” Veronica asked. She was trying to push her worry down, to lock it away in the corner of her mind. She was just being paranoid. Morgan had been giving her his all this whole time.
“I’m just going to call and check in on the other groups. I want to make sure that everyone is okay and they made it to their safe houses.” He grabbed his phone off the nightstand before leaving the room.
Veronica frowned. Why had he taken the call out of the room? He was calling her family. If anything, he should have stayed in the room. She pushed aside the rumpled blankets and crept out into the hall. Standing still, she listened for the sound of electrical static. Vampire ears made for great snooping.
Leaning her arms against the banister, she could hear Morgan’s conversation in the foyer downstairs. A small amount of guilt rolled through her and then vanished. Something was amiss.
“I’m telling you no,” Morgan hissed into his phone.
The voice on the other end was barely a whisper. All she could hear was a jumble of unintelligible syllables. Step by step, she inched down the stairs.
“No,” Morgan whispered. “You listen to me. My job is to stay here. That’s what we agreed on and I signed a contract. Are you going to go against your word?”
“You’re the only one I can trust to do this,” an electronically processed female voice said. The big boss lady, Ally. “It’s a quick in and out kind of thing.”
Veronica could hear the protest of the plastic phone beneath his hand. Life proof cases were not lifeproof when you had vampiric strength. Instead of giving Ally any kind of response, he slapped the red button on the screen and threw his phone down onto the table. His hands fell onto the back o
f a wooden kitchen chair. The wood groaned beneath his grasp, his arm muscles bulging for a moment then relaxing again.
She stepped down from the stairwell, softly padding over to where he stood. Her arms slipped around his waist and she laid her head on his back. He was made of stone beneath her touch. They were both cold, beings seemingly made of marble, but beneath his touch she felt soft.
“Thank you,” she said into his skin.
He turned in her arms. His hands rose to hold her, one moving to stroke her long hair. “No problem.”
“What did Ally want you to do?” Veronica pulled away from him, chewing her lip.
He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. “She needed me to track several witches up towards Michigan. She said that some of them were getting a little too close together and she wanted me to help scatter them so they can’t create a unified force.”
It sounded like a death trap to Veronica. It would have put him in the center of the witches radar and they would have come in from all sides. Especially if he took one of them out. His job would be the end of him, she was sure of it. Yet, he refused Ally this time. For now, he was safe here with her.
* * *
The warm, colored water rose around her neck as she soaked in the jet tub. Never before had she allowed herself the comfort of a modern bathtub. So many of them looked absolutely pathetic, but this one was wide enough for several people and the jet system intrigued her. Now, it pumped warm, glitter infused water around her cold skin. Bath bombs were an odd, yet wonderful invention.
She had just put the phone down. Kristian was doing better. Tessa’s blood had reinvigorated him, but had left Tessa drained. The proud human refused his assistance when he offered his blood in exchange. She knew what it meant. She knew that it would mean the beginning of her transformation. Veronica imagined that her brother was pushing the issue, especially in a time like this. It would help to have another vampire, not a defenseless human. Human Tessa would always be the weak point in their family, despite her gifts.