Knowledge Revealed

by D. S. Williams

  Marianne flicked through the sketches slowly, lingering over each one and touching her family's faces, her fingers shaking a little. When she came to the last page, she looked up, her face aglow with delight. “They're wonderful,” she breathed happily.

  Striker glanced at me and smiled warmly. He seemed as delighted as Marianne did with the gift I could give her.

  Marianne handed the sketchpad back and I tore one of the first pages from it and handed it to her. “You keep that one. I have enough to work with.”

  She hugged the page to her chest and launched herself, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, and kissing my cheek. “You are… brilliant,” she breathed against my cheek.

  I lay back against the couch, tired after working all afternoon on the sketches. Combined with the trip to the cottage, it had been a busy day, far busier than I'd been used to in recent weeks. I woke to find Lucas hitching me into his arms and carrying me towards the staircase, with various people calling out their goodnights.

  “I should shower,” I mumbled sleepily against Lucas's chest.

  “It can wait till morning, Marianne will help you then.” He took me into the bathroom, leaving me to complete my human requirements before carrying me up to his bedroom.

  Lucas set me down on the edge of the bed, where yet another new negligee lay across the covers. Marianne's work, no doubt – I was beginning to think she had an endless supply of nightwear she was passing on to me.

  “I'll leave you to change your clothes,” Lucas announced. “Can you manage, or will I ask Marianne to come and assist you?”

  “I'll be okay.” Lucas shut the bedroom door and I glanced down at the clothing I wore. With Gwynn's morose assistance, I'd managed to get dressed this morning – a shirt and skirt, as jeans proved impossible to get over the cast on my ankle. I'd had to borrow a skirt of Gwynn's, as I didn't own any, and she and I were similar sizes. The skirt she'd lent me was beautiful, dark grey linen of the finest quality and tailored exquisitely. She'd volunteered the skirt begrudgingly – it seemed our truce from the day before was over and she was determined to ensure I knew she was only tolerating my presence.

  With a sigh, I shimmied until the button and zipper on the skirt were at the front and managed to undo it with my one operational hand. This was proving more difficult than I'd anticipated. The shirt was easier, undoing the buttons, I wrestled it off, but then I was left with a conundrum, when I couldn't remove my bra.

  “Is everything alright in there?” Lucas enquired from the other side of the door.

  “I'm fine,” I lied, slumping onto the bed in disgust.

  Apparently, the tone of my voice confirmed that something was wrong and I heard him call Marianne. In seconds, she was at the door and knocking and I offered her a glum look when she came into the room. “Sorry.”

  Marianne quickly unhooked the bra, then picked up the negligee and slipped it over my head. She smiled cheekily as she collected the discarded clothing, slinging them over her arm. “You should have let Lucas help,” she whispered. “I'm sure he would have enjoyed the opportunity.”

  Flushing with embarrassment, I watched her open the door and slip out, her laughter tinkling down the hallway. It didn't help to notice Lucas's little grin when he stepped into the room – confirming he'd heard Marianne's whispered aside – and when he looked at me, his eyes grazed over my skin in an open appraisal of the nightwear Marianne had selected.

  “I believe Marianne is trying to lead me into temptation,” he announced in a low growl.

  I glanced down at the sleepwear I wore. That wasn't the right description; this was a negligee in its truest form – white, sheer, and silky. It was tight across my chest and cinched at the waist, flaring out into a billowy skirt, which reached my toes. The only thing saving me from appearing completely nude was the extravagant amount of gathering in the fine material. I cringed with mortification and limped towards the bed, thinking of all the things I would do to that girl – once my arm, ribs, and ankle were fully healed. Nothing I was imagining would be enjoyable for Marianne.

  “Let me help,” Lucas was at my side in an instant and he pulled back the bedding, easing me down slowly, before he pulled the covers across my legs. I hitched them further up, so they covered my almost-naked chest.

  Lucas stood uneasily at the side of the bed – unusual for a man who was always impossibly in control. The embarrassed flush faded from my cheeks and I peeked at him from beneath my eyelashes. The expression on his face was disconcerting; with his eyes fixed on the window, he appeared to be struggling over something internally.

  “What's wrong?” His demeanor was alarming and I tried to think if I'd done something to trigger the desire he tried so hard to control. Thinking back through the last few minutes, I tried to pinpoint anything that could have awakened his constant thirst for my blood.

  The sound of my voice pulled him from his reverie and he walked around the bed, slow in comparison to his usual speed. He lay beside me, pulling me into his arms. “It's nothing,” he responded quietly.

  I turned to study his face. He was lying silently, staring at the ceiling. Watching his face carefully, I looked for some sign, a clue as to what was wrong. Why was he suddenly so… detached? Yes, that was the right word – as though he wasn't aware of me beside him – but was instead studying something in the darkest recesses of his mind.

  My alarm grew as the minutes passed. I could stand it no longer. “Lucas. You have to explain what I did. I want to help keep the temptation to a minimum, but if you don't explain what I did wrong, I don't know what to do to fix it.”

  He pushed me away a little, allowing him to roll onto his side. Resting his head against his fist, he was propped up on the pillow looking down at me. His blue eyes were incredulous. “You think this about my thirst?”

  I nodded, trying not to cringe at the terminology. “I want to help, but I need to know when I do something to make the temptation worse.”

  To my surprise, he grinned and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “I can assure you, my Charlotte; this has absolutely nothing to do with my desire for your blood.” He dropped his eyes meaningfully towards my body, hidden beneath the thick eiderdown.

  “I… oh.” Heat spread rapidly through my body, rising up my face like a glass filling with water and I knew I was as red as a beetroot.

  Lucas was studying me when I recovered enough to peek at him, the same delighted smile ghosting over his lips. “I've been concentrating so hard on suppressing my thirst for your blood, I hadn't realized that other, more latent human desires were pushing their way to the forefront,” he explained huskily, tracing his fingertips across my face and down my throat. “Desires that I have been repressing for a number of years.” He leaned down and kissed my lips fleetingly. “It seems I have more than one battle to fight.”

  I wasn't certain I wanted there to be a battle over the second desire, and I reddened for a second time.

  “You are so very beautiful, when you do that.” He traced his fingers across the hot glow on my cheeks.

  “I'm not sure I actually do anything,” I grumbled. I was having trouble concentrating, the thought of his – latent desires was causing a flurry of butterflies, deep in my groin. I tried to control the rampant thoughts running through my head, aware of Ripley sitting downstairs and I wondered exactly how far his particular talent could reach. If he could read my thoughts from downstairs, I'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

  Lucas watched me, tracing patterns against my neck with his fingers. “What are you thinking?” he demanded softly.

  “I was wondering if… it's even possible. You know… the… intimacy without the… feeding…” I trailed off, self-conscious. Talking about sex wasn't one of my strong points.

  Lucas's expression was serious. “I don't know. Rowena told me she spoke to you briefly about our history. A vampire and a human have never attempted what we are doing now. I can't give you an answer. All I can tell you is that being around
you requires complete concentration at all times, I have to think carefully every time I touch you. If I were to lose concentration for a split-second, I could snap one of your bones.” He ran his fingers through my hair, considering his next words. “I personally believe a sexual relationship is possible between us, but there are a number of desires and emotions involved, which for me, are extremely acute. I'm not certain I could maintain the concentration required to ensure your safety. And certainly not now,” he added ruefully, “when I'm having enough trouble controlling the thirst around you.”

  “I'm not sure that your… desire in that regard, could be much stronger than mine,” I admitted, blushing furiously again. “I've never felt like this with anyone before.”

  “Which would explain why you throw yourself at me with such abandon, every time I kiss you?” Lucas teased. He watched the pink flush cover my cheeks and leaned over to kiss the tip of my nose. When I'd recovered my composure, he spoke again. “I'm curious. Has there been someone else in your life, before me? I know things are very different nowadays to how they were when I was truly twenty four.”

  I shook my head bashfully.

  “No boyfriends?” His tone was inquisitive, his deep blue eyes studying me with calm composure.

  “No.” I wrinkled my nose delicately. “I've never been on a date.”

  “I find that very difficult to believe. You're a beautiful girl.”

  “You seem to think so, but you'd be the first,” I responded. “I never got into dating – the situation with Mom was so difficult, I spent all my time at home with her. And then— after they were murdered— starting a relationship was the last thing on my mind.”

  “I see.” He played with my curls, lightly pulling his fingers through them.

  We drifted into silence again and I mulled over our conversation. In some ways, I was relieved to know Lucas considered it possible for us to develop our relationship into something physical. It was clear from the discussion with him, and prior to that with Rowena, that vampires were intensely sexual beings. But that was the problem wasn't it? They were vampires, involved with other vampires. But Lucas and I – a human and a vampire? What would happen if I fell pregnant? Was it something we could even consider, if our relationship developed to that point? I daydreamed, wondering what it would be like to have Lucas close to me, his naked body against mine, without the quilt creating a barrier between us…

  “Charlotte, what are you thinking about now?” Lucas's voice interrupted my explicit fantasy. “You're blushing, and I haven't said a word.”

  It took a minute to recover my composure and Lucas waited, playing with the curls lying against my neck.

  “I was thinking it was nice to know you desire me, too,” I stammered, blushing furiously yet again. “I thought perhaps it was only my blood you were interested in.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “You silly girl. Of course, I desire you. How could I not, when you are so stunning? And what you are wearing tonight – if I'd had any uncertainty about my desires, then that slip of material has ensured I am fully aware of what I am feeling.” He grinned, his blue eyes flashing with silver. “I may be vampire, Charlotte, but I react to a beautiful woman in exactly the same way as a human man.”

  “So you find me… physically attractive?”

  “Yes,” he growled softly. He brought his face over mine, so our lips were mere inches apart. “I find you extremely physically attractive.” His aroma made me dizzy, my heartbeat racing as I breathed it in. He leaned in and kissed me, a sensual and tender kiss, and his cool lips placed firm pressure on my own. He released my mouth and trailed a row of kisses across my cheek and neck, working his way across my collarbone. He licked the small indent above my collarbone, and then blew cool air across it, making me shiver.

  Rolling onto his back, he captured me in his arms and I rested my head against his muscular chest. “You should sleep now, my Charlotte.”

  Lying tranquilly against him, I waited for sleep to come, but my heart still pounded against my breast and I could still feel the coolness of his kiss on my lips.

  “Lucas?”

  “Yes?” He pressed another kiss against my hair.

  “Which desire are you having more trouble coping with?”

  He sighed heavily. “At this stage, it's a tie.”

  Chapter 16: Warnings

  The portrait of Marianne's family was progressing well; I'd worked on it for nearly three weeks and was excited with the work I'd accomplished so far. Early each morning, Lucas brought me downstairs – he still insisted on carrying me, and I enjoyed it – being held in his arms was something I was getting very used to. After breakfast, which I was capable of preparing myself, I settled to work at the easel.

  Painting had been a lifelong love of mine. From the time I could hold a pencil, I'd developed a love of drawing, which blossomed into a passion. My latent talents had been recognized by Mr. Tully, my sixth grade teacher, who'd suggested it was a talent worth developing.

  Mom had been incredibly proud of my artistic ability. Although art classes were expensive, Mom insisted on enrolling me, and my love of art had developed into a passion. If I'd attended college, art would be my major – there was never an alternative. Despite my decision to skip college, I'd known some career allowing for artistic expression would be the only option I'd find satisfying. I'd managed to pay my own way for the past two years through commissions. While it didn't provide a substantial income, it was enough to buy food and pay rent, for which I was grateful. And happy. During the difficult months on my own, painting was a solace, an island of peace in the centre of stormy seas. It didn't matter how depressed or isolated I'd become, painting provided me the opportunity for moments of pure, unadulterated joy – it was probably the only thing which allowed me to remain sane during this turbulent period in my life.

  With my current level of contentment, painting had become an even bigger passion. By confronting my personal demons and making steps towards making peace with them, painting had become a truly profound experience. For hours at a time, I worked on Marianne's painting, watching her family coming to life beneath my brushstrokes.

  Lucas was content to sit and watch – he'd quickly recognized how focused I became whilst painting and was happy to observe. Sometimes he played the piano, occasionally the violin – having an uncanny knack of selecting music that inspired me further. At other times he sat on the couch, perfectly still for hours on end whilst I worked.

  Today he'd gone hunting with William and Striker. I was beginning to recognize the signs of a hunt being imminent – dark circles appeared beneath his eyes and darkened as the thirst took hold and his skin grew paler. When Lucas came back from hunting, it was delightful to see him with just the tiniest hint of color in his skin. It faded quickly, but I was proud that I could read the signs when he needed to feed, knew when it was important to keep him away from undue pressure. I was even beginning to control my reaction to his kisses. Admittedly, I wasn't doing particularly well in that regard – he only had to brush a kiss against my lips and my heart started a crazy flip-flop in my chest, but I was trying hard.

  Hunting was something I found complex to understand and come to terms with. I accepted as an absolute, that Lucas and his Kiss were vampires and whilst my body required food, their bodies required blood. What I couldn't get my head around was the hunting and I found the idea truly abhorrent. Lucas sensed my difficulty in this regard, making efforts to keep his discussions about hunting to a minimum and only mentioning it when necessary. On the other hand, Striker delighted in giving me blow-by-blow accounts of his adventures when he went hunting. He knew it made me nauseous, hence his amusement. He loved teasing me and knew I would screw up my nose and go pale when he spoke about his latest exploits with a bear, or whatever animal he'd been chasing. I'd tried to imagine the women hunting and couldn't even conceive of what it would be like – the whole concept was completely alien.

  For most of the morning I'd been wo
rking on Marianne's father, his eyes were proving difficult to capture and I'd spent ages getting the coloring just right. I was alone – Ben had gone to work, Rowena was in Puckhaber searching for a book she wanted to purchase, Marianne and Acenith were shopping in Billings. Gwynn was visiting with Katie. Ripley was the only one in the immediate vicinity. I'd been astonished to learn he was an author of some renown amongst scholarly types, writing textbooks regarding key historical events from the past five hundred years. As he'd explained, who better to write historical text than someone who'd actually been there for the events? He was currently working on a project about the great fire of London in 1666, and given that he was in London at the time, he was more than qualified to write about the event. Ripley and Lucas had converted an old stable on the property into a writing studio and it was there that Ripley was currently ensconced.

  These small periods spent on my own were pleasurable. Lucas worried about me being alone, concerned over the depression I still struggled with, but I'd assured him I was fine and enjoyed the time with the house to myself. Being alone had never been my problem; I enjoyed solitude and even more so now when my thoughts were no longer suicidal. Mom was available through the acceptance of my ability and the conversations I'd blocked for so long afforded me great comfort. She seemed closer now than she had at any time in the past two years. With the house empty, I was comfortable having long conversations with her, not bothering with mental dialogue – I could talk aloud and hear her responses in my mind.

  Painting was interrupted by a characteristically human problem – my stomach growling for food. Washing up the brushes, I headed into the kitchen to scrounge up some lunch. I would be eternally grateful when Jerome removed the plaster from my limbs – he'd promised it would only be another week or two before he could take them off. Having to rely on Marianne and Rowena for assistance in the shower was becoming tiresome, although I appreciated their help; I was looking forward to having a shower in privacy. Not to mention the thought of indulging in a good scratch – my skin was becoming unbearably itchy beneath the plaster.