“You tell me,” she whispered, staring at him.
Everard was so calm and collected that it was maddening. She didn’t want to know any more, so she moved from the roaring fireplace and made her way to the door.
“I have to go,” August told him again, but as she made way to leave, his cold slender hand caught August’s arm to prevent her from leaving once again.
“For over a hundred years I have not seen you, August, and now you are going to leave me again?” August turned her eyes to face him, but when she looked at him, his face was inches away from hers. August’s soul set on fire as she stared into his eyes. She became uncomfortable being so intimately close to him. Even after all these centuries with him, Everard still had the power to seduce her and he knew it.
“What do you expect me to do Everard? Stay? And do what? No, I have a life back in London, I must return before dawn.”
“Dawn would have already reached London by now,” he said gently, “If you left for London now, you would be burned to cinders in an instant!”
August laughed then. A sharp bitter laugh. “And that would be a bad thing?” she snapped, “We are evil creatures. Perhaps death is what should befall us!”
Instantly, Everard grew angry at her answer. He released her arm sharply.
“Then why don’t you walk into the path of the rising sun now if you truly want to die?” he snapped.
August did not answer him. She sighed heavily. She was tired of arguing.
“I don’t want to fight with you Everard,” she muttered softly, “I have done what you have bid of me. I came at your call, and now I must leave. I have business to attend to, and a fledgling to kill.”
“You're going to kill alone?” he questioned me in his deep French accent.
“Yes,” she answered simply, looking deep into his eyes. For a long moment, Everard remained silent, his pale face an emotional mask.
“You’re too weak,” Everard finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “Even a fledgling is too strong for you, my sweet.”
When August did not answer, he began to pace around the room before he finally resumed his seat in the red velvet arm chair. He spread his legs out over the little oaken table in a relaxed manner. August watched him from where she was standing by the door, and suddenly he seemed like the young man she remembered from their mortal years. He sat with a slender hand raised to his chin as if he was deep in thought.
“Sit,” it was almost a command. Hesitantly she obeyed, more out of curiosity than his power over her. A long silence passed between them as he sat there staring at me, drinking in everything about me. “It has been too long since I last saw your face,” he said to her. “After our ‘bitter’ departure all those years ago.”
August remembered their last goodbye.
“What's done is done,” August answered him, “I do not wish to dwell on the past any longer. I have let the past rule me.” Once again Everard rose to his feet and approached her. August watched him warily.
“I have missed you,” he said, raising his hand to entwine it in my long black silken hair. He fondled August’s hair carefully as his eyes locked on hers. August could hear his strong heartbeat. “It has been too long my love.”
August was trembling. He was weakening her already, trying so hard to seduce her and she was allowing it to happen. It didn’t matter how hard she resisted, he was her maker, her lover and she loved him still.
“Can you forgive me for the death of your brother?” The mention of her brother pierced August’s heart like a knife. She had not expected him to mention the death of her brother here, yet he had, and he looked sincerely sorry.
August tried to turn away from Everard's strong gaze, tears rising. It had been over two centuries now since her brother's death, yet to a vampire, it only seemed like yesterday. The hurt would never cease.
“Everard please,” August began, but he cut her off, pale hand rising to her face gently caressing her like a long-lost lover. August bowed her head trying to hide her face, but he was no fool.
“It hurts you still what I did does it not?” he whispered softly. A strange thing for him. He was always so angry, so cold and cruel. But that was only the facade of the vampire; the mortal lord before August had been so different and so loving, not a monster.
“I need to know that I have your forgiveness for your brother,” he whispered gently, forcing August to look into his eyes. She could see that he was genuinely sorry for my brother’s death, but she was uncomfortable with being begged by Everard for her forgiveness. August sighed heavily, trying to be strong. She was a vampire; they are not born to weep. It was hard to tell if she had even forgiven Everard for what he had done after all the years she had spent apart from him. Staring into his supernatural eyes, she whispered the words, “I forgive you.”
Silence. As he stared into her eyes, he swiftly leaned down and stole a rough kiss from my lips. August allowed him to kiss her, a fool’s weakness. She now knew how her lover’s victims felt when under his spell.
He pushed August against the stone wall, and she succumbed to him. Gently his fangs bit into her lip just enough so that her blood bled into his wanting mouth. August felt his tongue lap at the tiny wound, tasting her ever so softly before he stared into her eyes once more. August’s blood painted his bottom lip red.
August’s heart was racing now from both excitement and fear. As she stood agains the wall, her mind raced with thoughts. What was I doing allowing this raven-haired god to treat me in such a manner? I had walked into his home a strong and determined vampire, and now I was a mess. Weak at the knees for my maker, my lover, my one true companion.
“I’m thirsting,” August suddenly whispered. The words had escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think about what she was saying. August saw Everard brush his thick black hair to the side as he revealed a long, sleek pale neck to me. The sight was enticing and so tempting. August stared at the artery, listening to the rush of blood that swirled around inside of his perfect body. Thirsting and wanting, wanting to taste him more than ever now. She suddenly realized that she had not hunted for days. Now her blood lust was consuming her; her animal side making itself known.
“There isn’t a village for miles,” he purred, leaning against her fragile form. August could smell the scent of his hair, the perfume that only a fine young man would currently wear. He smelled divine. He was same old perfect Everard.
“Oh, how I want you.”
Staring into his eyes, August was blood crazed. Just the smell of him ignited her fury for his blood. She wanted to feel him running through her. Suddenly, she wanted to know what it was like to be one with him again.
Slowly, taking her hand, Everard walked to the red velvet armchair, never taking his eyes from hers as she hazily followed him. He sat down and pulled August into his lap. Placing a slender finger underneath her chin, Everard guided August’s face to his before consuming her in a passionate kiss. He nipped at her throat playfully and she gasped at the sensation. Then August tore her lips from his and drove her fangs deep into his bare slender neck.
It started instantly, the low thrum of his heart against hers as she drew the blood to the surface lapping at the sweet, thick nectar that flooded her mouth like a red fountain.
A flash took August back to the time when they had been mortal, and she could see him upon his bed with her beneath him as he thrust into her as they made love. Another flash took August to Paris on the night of her change. For the first time, she properly saw how confused and crazed Everard had been that night.
August saw myself as a young mortal girl sitting by a dresser writing in a journal that she so loved, her free hand caressing the swell of her belly as she wrote. August was smiling. Another image after that showed her lying upon the Rue Chavern's floor screaming wildly, lashing and thrashing as she was turning, her chiffon nightgown stained red from between her legs as their child bled out of her as August died.
Everard’s heart was weaken
ing, and August knew that if she held on any longer that she would kill him but he did not protest. It was then that she felt his gentle hand on her head, then guiding her as she retracted her fangs to peer into Everard's eyes. For a long moment, he gazed into August’s eyes before leaning up and placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, licking the blood away.
“You belong to me, my love,” Everard whispered into August’s ear. “You always have.”
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 23 of 44
Forever
I’ve never been one to believe in the supernatural. Paranormal, of course. I could spend days watching ghost hunting television shows, but everything supernatural always seemed so far-fetched and unrealistic. Werewolves, vampires, witches… It all seemed so crazy – until I was thrown into their world.
Shortly after graduating from a small community college with a degree in business, I decided to open my own floral shop in my hometown of Jasper, just about an hour outside of Atlanta. It started in the spare room of my apartment and blossomed until I had enough income to buy my own little building space. I lived in a town small enough to garner regular customers, yet big enough to move away from my parents and choose when I got to see them. I didn’t have much say in who else I saw. At thirty-six, I’d spent sixteen years in the business and in that time, I had seen half of my high school classmates come to me for their wedding arrangements. Watching everyone get married when I was still stuck online dating made it hurt just a bit more. I loved seeing everyone so happy, but I couldn’t stand constantly seeing what I was missing out on – what I had dreamed of since I was a little girl. A big wedding with flowers adorning every wall, down the aisle and underneath my feet.
After organizing the bouquet sets for an old classmate’s second marriage, I hit my slow season. We never had bad weather in Georgia, but summer and fall were definitely the most popular wedding seasons and high school prom wasn’t until the spring. Right as slow season hit, I saw an unexpected face walk in through the shop doors. It was nearly impossible to ignore him as his tall frame loomed over every pre-made arrangement in the store. His dark mop of hair moved through the small aisles of flowers and trinkets until he made his way to the front counter.
“Hannah. Hannah Campbell, right?” he said, a small smirk crossing his lips as he looked at me, his brown eyes lighting up in silent laughter.
“Professor Crowne,” I replied with a mirrored smirk.
“It’s been fifteen years, Hannah. Please, call me Kyle,” he insisted.
“Kyle,” I said quietly, testing the sound of the name on my tongue. “You look exactly like you did in college.” He was one of the younger professors, fresh out of graduate school and only six years older than me.
“I could say the same about you, but you look much more mature than you did at nineteen.” Something about the way he said those words sent a rush down my spine. His demeanor was undeniably friendly and the lilt in his speech told me he didn’t mind getting a little flirty during our first meeting in years.
“I hope by ‘mature’, you don’t mean old,” I laughed lightly. I turned from facing him to tie bows around a couple new floral arrangements sitting in vases on the counter behind me. He followed the curve of the counter to stand in front of me again, barely taking his eyes off of me to look at the flowers.
“Is there anything I can help you find?” I asked, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the bouquets as I tied the ribbons.
“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for something to give a friend for her birthday.”
“A friend or a girlfriend?”
“Friend. We both like girls so that wouldn’t work out very well,” he chuckled.
I smiled at his comment and nodded my head for him to follow me across my little shop. One wall had particularly colorful flower sets, typically chosen for birthdays.
“These are pretty popular birthday sets,” I said, pointing at the wall of color. “We have most of these growing in the greenhouse if you wanted to handpick which flowers you’d like.”
Kyle walked along the wall examining all the flowers while I stood back and examined him. He honestly looked like he hardly aged. He looked a little older when he was my professor at twenty-five, but now at forty-two, he looked closer to thirty-five. Maybe it was his general style. He wore dark wash jeans and a slightly tattered band t-shirt; his hair was shorter and a little shaggy, hanging just above his glowing brown eyes. The stubble covering his jaw helped a bit too – and had me biting my lip at him as he chose his flowers.
“You have bearberries?” he asked suddenly, snapping my attention back to reality.
“Yeah. We have a couple more pots of them in the greenhouse if you want some. We usually sell them during the winter months.”
“No, I’m actually allergic,” he laughed. “I’ll just take this one.” I grabbed the colorful flower set he preferred and rang it all up for him, packaging everything for him to take along.
He turned to the entrance. Before he could make it to the door, I mustered up enough courage to ask the question I wished I could’ve asked while I was in school – except professors dating students was against school code.
“Prof – Kyle,” I called, barely catching my slip-up. He turned back and smiled at me, making me feel a little more nervous about what I was about to say. “Do you want to, maybe, get lunch later? Or dinner? Whichever would work better for you. I have a pretty flexible schedule,” I rambled.
“Sure. Lunch sounds fine.” He walked back over with another smile and handed me his phone to put my number in. Despite my nerves, I gave him my number and managed to smile in return. He left without another word. Barely seconds after the door shut behind him, I received a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hey Hannah. It’s Kyle. Are you available in about two hours for lunch?
I smiled to myself and typed back a quick reply, saving his number before I’d forget.
Hannah: Sure! My lunch is usually from 12-1 if that works?
Kyle: Sounds good. I’ll pick you up at noon.
I didn’t know Kyle as Kyle in college, but those texts told me he wasn’t a very exciting texter. Whatever, I could deal with that. I set my phone down and went back to work for another two hours. I could hardly pay attention, though. Mainly because I was incredibly nervous for my date with…my old college professor. Maybe it was a bad idea.
At eleven o’clock, my other employee, Taylor walked in. I hired her about five years ago to only work summers while she was in college. Thankfully, she studied creative writing and wrote her own novels while she wasn’t working. Even though she was about twelve years younger than me, we had grown close in the past two years of working full-time together.
“Hey, Taylor,” I smiled. She punched in her time card and joined me in the greenhouse to make new arrangements. “Can I ask for your opinion on something?” I asked.
“Yeah, definitely,” she said.
“Okay. I don’t know how to say this, to be honest. Um, I ran into one of my old college professors today.”
Taylor just stayed quiet and waited for me to continue. My mind was racing with everything except what to say next. “Okay. And?”
“And,” I started, “I have a lunch date with him in about an hour.”
“What? You have a date with your old professor?!” Taylor squealed. “That’s awesome, Hannah!”
“I’m really glad you said that,” I laughed. “Ugh, I was getting so nervous.”
“Is he old?”
I laughed even more and replied, “No. He’s only six years older than me.”
“Damn, nice!”
Taylor and I spent the next hour talking about Kyle until the man himself walked back into the store.
“That’s him,” I whispered quickly, drawing Taylor’s attention to the man walking to the front desk. Taylor just raised her eyebrows at me.
“Hey,” Kyle smiled. “Ready?”
“Absolu
tely,” I returned with a smile.
*****
Kyle chose one of the smaller, privately-owned diners in town to have our little lunch date, but I was starting to question if it was a date or not. Most of what we talked about was simple reminiscing over things that happened when we were both at the school.
“So what have you been doing since then?” I asked, desperate to learn about what he was doing now.
“I still work at the school and now I have tenure so I can finally stop being a hard ass,” he joked.
“What about that friend you were talking about earlier? How did you two meet?”
“She’s a teacher at the high school. She asked me to give a speech to her students about college and we became friends from there.”
“Just friends, right? I don’t have to worry about her storming in here and pouring my drink on me?” I joked.
He laughed with me, the sound making my own smile grow a little bigger, and shook his head. “Just friends. Like I said, we both like women. Since I’m not a woman, I’m not sure how that would work out,” he smiled. “She did say she’d like to meet you, though.”
He already told her about me? I thought. “That was quick,” I said.
“She asked if I wanted to get lunch shortly after I left. I told her I had a date and she asked all about you.”
“I’d love to meet her,” I smiled. “If she’s a close friend of yours, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
And we sure as hell did. Two weeks later, once Kyle and his still unnamed friend were finished with their Friday classes, he asked me to meet them at his place for some drinks. Taylor gave me advice on what to wear, so I showed up at Kyle’s front door with a black skirt and red top, a pair of black flats adorning my feet so I ‘don’t look desperate’, according to Taylor.
“Hey, come on in,” Kyle greeted. “Ellen’s right in the living room.” Kyle’s place was thankfully small enough for me to see the living room from the front door so I wouldn’t end up wandering around like a lost puppy.
Inextinguishable Love: Firefighter and Interracial Romance Page 73