Red

by Tracey H. Kitts

  "Well, it looked like something from where I was standing,” he said, as he pulled out of the driveway.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Ten

  After a few minutes of awkward silence, he turned to me with a kind smile and patted my hand. “It's none of my business. All I know is it's been years since I saw you smile like you did today. It looked good on you."

  The rest of the ride home was spent in silence. I wasn't angry. I just didn't know what to say. When we arrived at my house, I waited for Richard to open the door. Since he was nice enough to be a gentleman, I wasn't going to ruin it for him. I considered myself as liberated as the next woman, but if a man still finds it in his heart to practice some form of chivalry, I'm not going to kill it with more women's lib. I am flattered to be treated like a lady. Though I'm definitely no angel, I appreciate the gesture.

  As he turned to leave, I stopped him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  "Richard?” I made his name a question.

  "Yes?” He turned back to face me.

  "Has it really been that long since I smiled?"

  He hugged me to him with an affectionate squeeze around my shoulders. “You've smiled,” he answered. “But today ... it reached your eyes."

  "Thanks, Richard,” I said, pulling back.

  "For braving an old woman's tea party?"

  "For being honest."

  "Any time.” His smile reached his kind blue gray eyes.

  Over the years, and through many sleepless nights of conversation, sharing philosophies about why people are the way that they are, I had come to trust Richard. If he said my smile hadn't been reaching my eyes, then it hadn't.

  After watching him drive out of sight, I went in the kitchen and made myself a drink. The effects might not last, but a fifteen minute buzz was better than nothing. As I sat there with only Marco's roses to keep me company, I wondered, not for the first time, what was wrong with me. I had managed to find a nice man, and still I wanted to spend time with Elijah. I didn't love Marco, but I couldn't seem to stay away from him either. With another shot of rum, I remembered thinking that if Peter had only loved me, that would have been enough. The memory was very vivid, and I was sure at the time that his love would have been all I needed. Perhaps it was the naivety of youth that had made me think so, but it seemed that way to me.

  It was the same with Bradley. I was willing to ‘forsake all others’ just to be with him. I knew he was no good, but since when has that ever stopped a woman in love? It's stupid and cliché, but true. If you love someone, it doesn't matter how much of a loser they are, you will always look for the good in them. Then one day you come to a point like me, when you can no longer lie to yourself. I try not to lie to people I like, and I like me. I may not like what I am, but that's something I cannot change. Ever since my attack years ago, I've had a sort of love/hate relationship with myself. Who knows, maybe I just love to hate me? But the truth is, I don't have the balls to cause myself harm, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I'm too full of myself. Or, maybe that was just the philosophy that half a bottle of rum provided.

  However you care to look at the matter, seeing myself through Alfred's eyes had changed me. Until that point, I had truly seen myself as a monster, not just because of the change in DNA, but the scars, as well. To me, I was damaged goods. But, Alfred didn't see it that way. When he looked at me, the scars were just another part of who I am ... and he loved me. That was the emotion I had felt in him during the dream, but I had only just realized it.

  I'm not sure if it was the alcohol, or remembering what I'd felt for Peter, but I suddenly recognized the feeling. Granted, this could have been any type of love, for it has many forms. But I thought I knew which kind it was. Looking at the nearly empty bottle, I decided I had mixed enough philosophy with alcohol for one afternoon. However, I no longer had the ability to shut off my mind. I laughed to myself, wondering if it were possible to dam up your stream of consciousness.

  So, there I sat, taking time to smell the roses Marco had sent two days ago and wondering exactly what it was that I was looking for. Still pondering the question, I went upstairs and packed my bag for the next night. By the time I was finished packing, I had analyzed myself until my head hurt, but I'd developed a theory. A story came to mind of a guy who picked up a snake. He came upon a snake lying beside the road on a cold winter's day. The snake, nearly frozen, asked if the man would be willing to place him inside his jacket until he was warm again.

  "Do you promise not to bite me?” the man asked.

  The snake promised. However, a short way down the road, he bit the man anyway. The man dropped the snake and yelled, “You promised not to bite me!"

  "Yes,” said the snake. “But, you knew what I was when you picked me up."

  I brought Marco's roses upstairs and sat them on the writing desk as the thought occurred to me: I knew what they were when I picked them up, the men in my past. All I could figure was I was trying to become a snake charmer. After being hurt badly, more than once, I didn't believe it was naivety that let me still trust people. It was courage, and the hope that there was some good left in man.

  As I collected my sketches from the desk, I flipped to the picture of my hands against Marco's bare chest. Oh yes, I knew what he was, but this was one snake that I had no intention of picking up.

  * * * *

  Kat arrived early the next morning and without Alfred to remind me she was coming, I overslept. So, about thirty minutes later than we had planned, I placed my single black leather bag in the backseat beside Kat's four pink ones, and we were off.

  "So, why don't you tell me the real reason you want to go out?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about,” I lied. “It's for my birthday. I just want to party."

  "Sure, and you might casually end up at club Red,” Kat said.

  "Well, I did say I wanted to go back there."

  Kat turned in the seat and attempted to give me an intimidating look, but had to put her eyes back on the road.

  "Ok, fine. There's something that I didn't tell you about the weekend when Elijah and I got kidnapped."

  I went on to tell her how the red headed woman I had killed was Marco's girlfriend.

  "Holy shit.” For a few minutes, that was her only response until, “Why the hell are you going to see him?!"

  "Who says I'm going to see him?"

  "Don't play dumb with me Lilith. You're not that good of an actress."

  I told her about Marco showing up beneath my balcony and the flowers he'd sent, and Kat nearly drove into a ditch.

  "Whoa, hold up. You kill his girlfriend, brutally I might add, and he shows up to talk to you, and then sends you flowers. I'm sorry, but what the fuck?"

  "That's what I was hoping to find out."

  "Well, obviously, he doesn't want to kill you or he wouldn't have sent you flowers,” she said sounding bewildered.

  "Oh no. The look he gave me the other night had nothing to do with murder. But, I admit, I was expecting some sort of retaliation."

  I licked my lips just remembering how good he looked in those damned jeans.

  "Maybe since she was with Bade's group, her and Marco broke up?” Kat suggested.

  "Maybe,” I said, thinking out loud. “Or, maybe, he just didn't care enough about her to retaliate in any way. Maybe she wasn't worth the effort,” I said nastily.

  "My, my, aren't we bitchy."

  "Sorry, it just comes out some times."

  Kat laughed. “You may be right. I mean, he was dating someone who looked like you, which is creepy by the way."

  "Oh yeah, it's creepy."

  "But, strangely flattering,” Kat added.

  "Yeah ... it is."

  At that moment, I remembered what Marco had said at the club that night when I'd asked if he was attached to someone, “Yes, but I'm beginning to regret my choices.” I shared this with Kat.

  "Ouch,” she said, pulling in at a fast food restaurant.
/>
  "Yeah, talk about being kicked to the curb."

  "Well, one thing's for sure, Marco's definitely hung up on you,” she said.

  "I think you're right. I was really surprised about the club...."

  "What do you want?” Kat interrupted.

  "Huh?"

  "You know, coffee, breakfast. What are you in the mood for?"

  After we finally decided what to eat for breakfast, Kat prompted me, “What were you saying about the club?"

  I thought for a moment before continuing, “Oh, I was saying that I figured he owned the club, but I had no idea he'd named it after me. Obviously they were dating at the time. What makes a woman put up with something like that?"

  Almost as soon as the question was out of my mouth, I knew the answer. How much shit had I taken from Bradley because I loved him?

  "She must have loved him,” Kat said what I was thinking.

  That explained the look on her face. I'd have hated me, too.

  * * * *

  As I got dressed that evening, I noticed Kat watching me.

  "What?"

  "Don't you ever dress like a normal person?"

  I decided not to point out the obvious, that I was not a normal person, and instead took a good look in the mirror. Smiling to myself, I thought it looked as if I'd taken a page out of Bade's book that night. Tight black vinyl pants hugged my thighs like a silken embrace. I wore a form fitting top, so sheer it was nearly transparent, and so deeply red, it was nearly black. The sleeves were short and split over the shoulder, and my red bra was clearly visible underneath.

  Just below the shirt, you could see the belt that rode low on my hips, glinting in the light. The buckle was solid silver, carved into the shape of a running wolf. My makeup was tasteful, but I'd gone heavier with the eyeliner than usual, giving my hazel eyes a dark, smoky look. I never wore more than powder as a foundation. I was blessed with an even complexion, but I'm fond of earthy brown lipstick and black eyeliner.

  Finally, I answered Kat's question as I slipped into my black vinyl boots. “I've got a vendetta against the fashion police. Remember?"

  Kat was still giving me that questioning look when I clipped the silver thumb cuffs to the belt loop at my hip.

  "Thumb cuffs?"

  I let my smile reveal some of my wicked thoughts as I replied, “It goes with the outfit."

  Kat wore another sensible but chic black dress, and I noticed as we got in the car that she could easily fit in anywhere. On the other hand, I would stand out in most crowds, but that wasn't exactly anything new. As usual, we didn't stay anywhere long, and Kat got as drunk as she had the time before. I suppose having a friend along who is half werewolf and practically immune to alcohol would make most people let their guard down. Who needs a bouncer or a bodyguard when they've got me?

  As we approached club Red, I felt my pulse begin to quicken. Before we entered, I pulled Kat aside and handed her a small silver phial with a spray nozzle attached to the top.

  "If I leave and someone tries anything, don't hesitate to use this."

  She squinted at the bottle. “Werewolf mace?"

  "Close enough,” I shrugged.

  "What is it?"

  "Silver nitrate."

  Kat smiled and swerved slightly as she said, a bit too loudly, “So, you gonna talk to The Big Bad Wolf about that whole killing his girlfriend thing?"

  "Ssh,” I said, pulling her past some people who were now staring and pointing in our direction.

  "Oh, I get it,” she replied, still not exactly whispering, “You want me to turn a blind eye so you can bump and grind with the bad guy."

  As I led Kat closer to the door, I felt a familiar prickle along my skin. It was the unmistakable feel of power that radiated from the very alpha.

  "Hello, Red,” Marco's rough sexy voice said from behind me.

  Kat smiled from ear to ear as I turned toward where Marco stood, draped casually against the doorway. I took my time, letting my hungry eyes take in the sight of him. Marco was definitely eye candy, and I'd always liked sweets. He wore dark red leather pants, so dark they were nearly black, but closer to a deep cherry, with a matching shirt that looked to be satin. The shirt hung open to reveal his natural golden tan as well as the trail of dark hair that spread across his chest, down the ridged curves of his abs to disappear below his belt. I felt him watching me as I traced that trail of hair with my eyes.

  "I knew you'd come,” he said.

  Kat staggered forward and giggled, “So, do you like to huff and puff, or just blow things down?"

  To my surprise, Marco laughed. He flashed her a smile of nice even white teeth as he replied, “I don't see anything wrong with a little huffing and puffing now and then.” He put his arms around us both as he added, “Please, come in."

  When he stepped close, I breathed in his scent and felt my eyes roll to the back of my head. If someone could bottle Marco's scent they could sell it as a form of Ecstasy.

  Marco led us past the dance floor and up a flight of stairs. There were several booths and tables there that were separated from the rest by wrought iron railing, but had an excellent and elevated view of the dance floor. The air was so thick with the scent of sex and werewolves that even I wanted to howl. Perhaps visiting Marco so close to the full moon had been a mistake. The music thumped in my chest like a second heartbeat as I felt Marco press himself against my back. He wrapped his arm around my waist, carefully avoiding the silver belt buckle.

  "Would you like to dance first, or get straight to business?"

  As I considered the question, I turned to face him. “Are you planning to kill me?” I asked.

  "Why, are you planning to kill me?"

  I reached out and found whatever it was I'd found that night with Bade. A fever warm and sinuous flowed through my veins as I responded silkily, “Not tonight."

  I watched as the pulse in his throat beat faster at the sound of my voice. He was fighting to control his reaction, but he felt it. Whatever it was, he felt it. Kat took a few shaky steps forward and rested her head against Marco's arm.

  "He smells really good.” She spoke to me as if he wasn't standing there.

  Marco put his arm around her shoulders to prevent her from toppling over the railing in front of us. I had been sadly mistaken on how much alcohol she'd managed to keep down. I had never seen Kat that drunk before.

  "I think you may be wrong,” she continued directing her comments to me, as she leaned on Marco for support. When I noticed she wasn't taking the opportunity to cop a feel, I decided it was time to take Kat home, she wasn't herself anymore.

  "About what?"

  "Bad guys don't smell this good,” she half whispered to me as if she were revealing some secret of the universe.

  The grin on Marco's face could not have been more devilish if he'd had horns. “It's werewolf pheromones, Kat. Don't be fooled.” I glanced back at Marco as I added, “He may smell good enough to eat, but trust me when I say, you don't want hair in your food."

  "Maybe we could get him to wax,” she suggested, running her hand up the front of his bare chest.

  This succeeded not only in making me laugh, but I felt some of the sexy power drain from my voice. However, when Marco looked as if that didn't sound like a bad idea, I pulled her hand, roaming ever lower, from Marco's body. Kat looked like it was Christmas, and I'd just stolen her present, but Marco laughed and suggested, “Perhaps your friend would like to retire to one of the VIP rooms upstairs, alone,” he added the last part in response to the look I gave him. “She could sleep it off a bit."

  "I don't need to sleep anything off,” Kat insisted with as much dignity as she could muster. “Can't a woman make a pass at someone without being considered sloshed?"

  "Well, then perhaps I could find someone to accompany her,” he directed the suggestion to me.

  "You want me to leave my friend alone with one of your wolves? I don't think so."

  "Would it matter if I said that I trusted him?
"

  "No, it wouldn't."

  "Is he good looking?” Kat asked hopefully.

  Marco smiled. “I think so,” he teased.

  Kat leaned forward and whispered, “What do you think? I've still got the mace."

  I just shook my head. Marco was listening to our every word. It does no good to whisper in front of a werewolf.

  She smiled up at him and replied with more discernment than I thought her capable of at the time, “Why don't you have him join me at that table over there?"

  Marco looked to me before responding. “Alright.” He snapped his fingers at a waiter as he said, “Send me Luther."

  Without hesitation, the young man turned and went back past the tables to disappear behind a red door. A moment later a tall man with long white blond hair emerged, looking like he'd stepped off the pages of a dirty magazine. He wore an outfit similar to Marco's except that it was completely black, making his hair look all the more white, and his skin was more a darker shade of pale than tan. As he approached, I saw that his eyes were a nice clear blue and despite his, at first, creepy impression, he had a pleasant smile.

  There was something about him that was very familiar to me, though I couldn't quite place it until he spoke. “Lilith,” he said. “Don't you remember me?"

  "Oh my God, Luther.” I stepped forward and embraced one of my childhood friends whom I'd not seen in nearly ten years. We had been in drama together. I couldn't believe how much he'd changed. His voice and his smile were the only remnants of the boy I had once known. Luther had never been this sexy in high school. I was certain of it.

  "How've you been?” he asked, looking down at me. Luther was about six foot two, but to me, even in heels, that required looking up to answer him.

  I motioned around at our surroundings as I said, “About as good as you've been, it seems."

  "Does this mean that you'll leave him alone with your friend?” Marco asked. Truthfully, I'd forgotten he was still standing there. I was so shocked, not only to see Luther again, but to know that he was a werewolf. We had never been intimate, but we were relatively close in school, and for a minute, I didn't feel quite so alone. But I remembered he was a werewolf and I was something in between so, technically, I was still alone.