by Martha Woods
I just sit there with my mouth hanging open. I am totally floored right now.
“Do you love him, Amy? This Vincent? You must, on some level, or the bond wouldn’t have worked.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean that the bond doesn’t work just because. It requires mutual feelings, beyond sexual desire,” Tariq says.
“I mean, I guess we… We have certainly saved each other from some precarious situations. I have thought I loved him, at times, and I have told him as much. I…don’t know,” I say weakly. “He has never reciprocated my feelings, and my efforts to tell him how I felt were always ignored. He always disappeared on me, rather than have a conversation about it. And, you know, he is not human. He is stiff and awkward sometimes. He lacks humor. He acts like human emotion is something completely foreign to him. And while there is real attraction between us, and sexual desire, I just always thought that was all it was. I thought it was me making sex mean more than it really meant.”
“So you talked yourself out of the idea that you might truly care for him?”
I shake my head. “No, I care for him, that has never been in question. But love? That seems a whole other thing, especially when dealing with someone who could not possibly love me back.”
“Love is love, Amy,” Tariq says. “It cannot be controlled. And I do not know this Vincent but I can assure you that he feels love, too. Otherwise you two would not have been able to complete the bond.”
I rub my hands over my stomach, feeling a little sick. “I guess perhaps I was naïve about this. Or kidding myself, thinking this bond was only for protection.”
“We all lie to ourselves, Amy. Sometimes.”
“Well, that aside, how could this ever work? I will age and die. He is immortal. Undead. It is not natural. And beyond that, there is also Damon, and I think…”
“I think you think too much,” Tariq says. “Maybe you should allow yourself to feel for once.”
Chapter 7
After Tariq leaves, I sit with Damon for a long time, trying to process my feelings and what I have learned. I cannot lie, even to myself. I do love Damon. I care for him very deeply. But I also love Vincent. They are very different, but my feelings for them are both real. But loving them both does not mean I can be with them both, not in a way that would be fair to them.
Damon has never hidden how he feels. He has always been open about wanting to be with me, to keep me safe, to try to have a normal life together. And I have repeatedly hurt him because I have not kept my feelings for Vincent a secret. He grew up a Hunter; hating creatures is all he has ever known, and I am constantly pushing him out of his comfort zone by being sympathetic to creatures. By sleeping with one of them.
I want them both. Is it wrong? Could I have them both? Be with them both? It is such a strange thing to consider, as it is so different from what society expects. Monogamy. Lifelong bonding to one individual. Well, I want two, and why is that wrong?
As I sit, I allow my bond with Vincent to open up
Vincent, I say.
I feel him stirring. He has been respectful of our mental boundaries always, but particularly since we performed the bond.
Hello, Amy, he says.
I heard the most interesting information tonight, I say. That vampires actually can love like humans do, sometimes more intensely than humans, to be exact. Especially when they are bonded.
Vincent doesn’t respond immediately. I can sense that the question makes him uncomfortable.
Vincent, I say. Is it true?
He remains quiet. I know he hasn’t shut the bond, hasn’t closed me out. I press again. I know you can hear me. Tell me the truth.
Yes, he finally says.
Yes what? I ask
Yes, we can love.
And do you love me? I ask.
A few heartbeats pass and finally he answers: Yes.
My heart is about beat out of my chest. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve professed my love for you, but you couldn’t do the same?
Amy, you love very intently. You would give your life to save those you love. And I have been on this earth for a very long time. It is a waste to see a young, human woman willing to give her life for a vampire who has already lived and died and now exists in a space of limbo. I am powerful. I am immortal. But you are human. Blood pumps through your veins. Your life is only just beginning.
So, you’re saying you didn’t want me to love you? I ask. That’s absurd.
You not loving me would keep you from making choices that could cause you harm on my behalf, Vincent says.
I feel very manipulated, I say. By this bond. By you. By my feelings. I think I need a break. Time to think.
Before he can respond, I shudder our connection. I sit with my hand over my mouth for a long time, willing myself not to scream. Because I want to scream. To yell. To be angry. He lied to me. I feel very stupid right now, because I allowed myself to believe that this bond, this lifelong bond, was forged only for my protection. Now it turns out that he chose me. He loves me and he chose me to be his eternal partner. And while I have thought, often, that I loved him, I have also wondered how much of my feelings were simply wrapped up in my sexual attraction to him, to the way I felt when we were sharing blood. It is an out-of-body experience and it can produce a high that could be confused with love.
I am really confused. This was simpler when I thought this bond was simply for my protection, and when I thought that Damon was gone for good. Now, I am once again at war with my own feelings.
I have been so reticent about being near Damon since he has been in this state that he’s in. Tonight, though, I need him, I need to be near him. So, I crawl into bed, after a very long night that is about to be morning. I lie next to him and let the tears come. They’ve been threatening for days, so I just let them loose as I reach out and take his hand, folding my fingers between his as my eyelids get heavy and sleep finally takes control.
“Hey,” he says, touching my face, using his thumb to wipe away an errant tear.
“Hey back,” I say, biting my lip, taking in his handsome, chiseled face, his bright green eyes. “I miss you.”
He gives me a sad smile. “I’ve missed you every day since I left,” he says, reaching out and touching my stomach gingerly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did.”
“I know,” I say. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. It wasn’t you. You were just a pawn. And I’m okay. I really am. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”
“What about…” he glances at my belly, his expression pained.
I give a one-shouldered shrug. “Alexis is working on it, but I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter, because if a day comes when life is stable enough to even think about a family, then I’ll cross that bridge. There are other options, adoption, surrogacy…”
He nods. “Yeah, okay. Okay.”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He smiles softly but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just not sure. I thought…I thought we would run away. Go somewhere far away from all of this. And now. Now you’re with him. Forever.”
“I’m not with him. I made the choice to accept the bond because I thought it was best for my safety. I was tired of vampires trying to control my abilities. The bond was supposed to protect me from all of that. I thought of it more as a…a partnership.”
“Do you still love him?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “My attraction to him hasn’t gone away. But he kept his own feelings from me and I don’t like being lied to, or told only partial truths. I have a lot to think about. But the bond is done. There is no going back from it. So, we have to find a way forward that will work for all of us.”
“Well, I still love you,” Damon says. “For what it’s worth.”
“It’s worth a lot,” I say. “And I love you, too.”
He leans in, gently kissing me. My whole body responds, longing unfurling as I reach around his neck
to pull him closer, pressing harder against his mouth. He gasps a little, opening his mouth, his tongue finding mine.
Our bodies align and I feel the hardening of his cock beneath his pants. Desire pools in my belly. I want him.
He groans against my mouth, pulling away only to say, “God, Amy, I’ve missed your mouth. Your body. Your sweet cunt.”
This unravels me. I suddenly can’t get undressed fast enough.
As it is in dreams, we are very suddenly elsewhere, on an island, on the moon, I’m not sure. But I do know that, as I run my hands along the hard planes of his chest, it feels real. He feels real and solid and warm as I touch him, every inch of his chest, his biceps, his defined stomach, his silken cock.
“You don’t know what your touch does to me,” he breathes as I run my hand along the length of him.
“Show me,” I breathe.
Damon kisses at my neck and shoulders before lifting me up and slipping inside of me. We are suddenly against a wall, cool breezes swirling around us as I hang on. Damon is moving, pumping. His kisses are everywhere, on my mouth, against my breasts. Heat and want and wetness builds between between my legs as I hang onto him like a life raft.
He moves and suddenly, I’m on top of him, riding him, his hands on my breasts, his eyes dark with desire. I move slowly at first, taking my time as I feel my body making the climb toward that peak of pleasure. I use my own fingers to pluck the strings of my clit, my movements picking up pace as my breathing stops. When I crest that peak, I fall and fall. There is no end to the pleasure as I come and come, until I swear I’ll combust.
Damon finds his pleasure inside of me, his eyes wide, meeting mine, as he cries my name.
I wake up and I’m still holding Damon’s hand. He’s still in his sleeping form. Nothing has changed. It wasn’t real, but I am drenched in sweat and my clit is pulsing with the aftershocks of what I think were real orgasms.
I linger a moment, touching Damon’s face. I would almost swear there is the faintest hint of a smile there. I smile in return before falling into the soundest sleep I have had in months.
Chapter 8
It is mid-day before I wake up, happily stretching, feeling well-rested, sated. I kiss Damon’s stubbly cheek and decide to go to the gym. All of this drama with Quick and Damon and Vincent has made me feel coiled into knots and only a workout will help me unwind.
I head to the CrossFit gym and start the day’s workout, which starts with one-hundred patty-cake planks, followed by one-hundred kettle-bell swings. As I work through the exercises, I feel the genuine rush that comes with pushing my body to the limit.
I’m about two-thirds through the set when Rick comes in. I decide to keep working. He can come talk to me while I work out if he wants my attention. I know, it’s totally petulant, but I do not care.
“Amy, how are you?” he asks as I do one-hundred mountain climbers with my feet in the TRX bands. It’s actually a great exercise for this little interaction, since I can’t look up at him.
“Well, I’m just peachy, Officer Rick,” I grunt as cheerfully as I can as I push through the exercise. “How about you?”
“I, uh, need you to come down to the station,” he says.
“Boy, you don’t mince words do you? No small talk. No commenting on the weather,” I say. “Oh, darn, you made me lose count. I need to start over again.”
“Come on, Amy,” he says. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“I am not making anything hard,” I say. “You’ve come in while I am in the middle of my workout. You haven’t told me a thing. Am I under arrest?”
“No,” he says. “I just need you to come down to the station with me.”
I finish the set and stand up, hands on my hips. “I need to shower.”
He gives me a deadpan look.
“I am not going down there stinking like I just worked out. Just give me ten minutes.”
“Fine,” he says with a huff. “I will be outside. It does stink in here.”
I roll my eyes and head to the shower. As I get cleaned up and dressed, I fret. What could he be calling me in for now? Maybe he wants me back on the force? But no, it can’t be that since I have not made good on his orders to get counseling. Maybe I should. Is there a counselor who specializes in going crazy from being around too many supernatural beings?
I think I am losing it.
When I walk out, Rick is leaning against my car, a cup of coffee in hand. He says, “Just follow me in. No need for drama.”
“By drama you mean you’re not going to cuff me and put me in the back of your car?” I ask.
“Just follow me,” he growls.
I do as told, parking right next to his vehicle in my old parking spot. As we walk in, I ask if I am going to need to call an attorney.
“I don’t think so,” he says, leading me into an interrogation room. “I just need to talk to you.”
“On camera,” I observe. “Must be serious.”
“I do not need your sarcasm right now,” he says. “I understand that you are angry with me, but I am just doing my job.”
“Well then do it,” I say. “Nothing is stopping you.”
He pulls a plastic bag out of his pocket. My cell phone is inside.
“That my…”
He unlocks it using the passcode we all share. As investigators, we often take photos with our phones, photos that could be used as evidence. As a precautionary measure, we use a standard unlock code. With that, he opens up my videos and plays the video of Alvin Quick from the night before. He holds it up so I can see, an expectant look on his face.
“What is this, Amy?” he asks.
“It’s a rally for Alvin Quick, a state senator,” I say.
“Why were you there? Why were you recording it?” he asks “And don’t lie.”
I meet his gaze for a long moment, trying to assess how much truth to tell. I grind my teeth together and rub my chin.
“I think,” I say, taking a big breath in, then letting it out slowly, “that Alvin Quick and Matthew Quick are the same person. And I am ninety-nine-percent sure that that person is behind the Centerfold Murders.”
At first, Rick’s mouth hangs open. But then he starts to laugh. “You expect me to believe that a state senator and a famous actor are the same person, and that they are killing pole dancers for kicks?”
“Not for kicks…” I say
“Amy, this is ridiculous,” he interrupts. “Yes, they have the same last name and maybe they look similar, but they are probably cousins or something. Or their similarities are a coincidence. Which is beside the point anyway, since you’re not supposed to be working this case.”
“I was just…”
“You were doing what I told you not to do,” he says, interrupting again. “I put you on leave. I told you to get your head together. Instead, you’re chasing some insane conspiracy theory and poking around when there is a whole team of investigators working the case. You need to let that team do its job. Go get some rest and some…mental help. You are clearly not in your right mind.”
“You know what?” I ask, angry now. “I am the team. I am the only one who has given two craps about the real facts in this case since day one. All you men…all you cared about was booking someone right off the back. Well, guess who figured out that those people you booked were innocent? Who was the one who realized someone was framing them? Who was the one who even paid attention to the similarities between each murder? Me, that’s who. I am the only one who realized there were connecting pieces and layers of information. And guess what? He’s not done, this guy. He’s got an agenda, and he won’t stop until it’s complete.”
“Amy,” Rick says. “I know you put a lot into this case. I appreciate that; I really do. But you have got to back off.”
“Why?” I ask. “I am playing the fall-guy for what reason? Because the boys got their feelings hurt that I stepped in and figured shit out when they couldn’t?”
“That’s
not…Amy, you know I don’t see it that way,” he says.
“You don’t see it what way? You just referred to the victims as pole dancers, Rick. You were completely disrespectful. And sexist. So don’t tell me there isn’t some weird, masculine bias going on around here. I am the only female investigator on the team. And I am the best. And they don’t like it, so they go around talking about how I am too emotional, or I am losing it, or I am whatever. Because it made them feel crummy to have a woman outdo them in the field.”
“I know you’re feeling angry and hurt, Amy…” Rick says.
“Screw you, Rick,” I say. I get to interrupt for a change. “You have always had my back, and I have never let you down. You raised me in this business. You were a mentor to me. We’ve worked some crazy cases and when no one else could find the evidence we needed, I always found it for you.”
“I know,” he says. “I know. You are very good at what you do. You always have been.”
“Well then, why not just let me keep doing it? Why not just trust me? I have never let you down.”
He sits back and rubs his face with his palms. “Amy, you’re one of the best. I won’t pretend you aren’t. That’s why this is so hard for me. For the team. We all…”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “That’s bullshit. The team doesn’t give two shits that I’m gone. They’re probably happy about it.”
“I know that you’re feeling angry and hurt, Amy, but…”
“But what?”
“Amy,” he says sternly. I’ve pushed him to his limit. “You must know more about this than you are letting on. I need to know what you know. All of it. We need to figure this out and get this case closed. That reporter is still here every single day. People in the victims’ communities want to know what is going on.”
I refuse to speak. I am done with this horseshit.
“Amy, talk to me,” he says.