by Angela Foxxe
One hand trailed down from his nape to the bottom of his back, sending a strange, nearly quivering sensation to his loins and he knew he had to do this now.
His mouth reached down for her, kissing her again, an open mouthed kiss that screamed this was right, that it didn’t matter where they were doing it. One of her hands curled against his chest, where beads of sweat had begun to form. He eased his way into her, slipping into her slowly.
She gasped, shutting her eyes, feeling him thrust harder and deeper. He cut off her cry, crushing her mouth with his. He drove into her over and over again, enjoying that delicious tightness between her thighs, a deliciousness that nearly drove him insane. Only Isla could make him feel this good, this alive…
*
Five minutes. That was all it took for the steamy session in the museum laboratory. As soon as it was over, she slowly became lucid, realizing the lab was in quite a mess with papers strewn about. What was messier was her hair. There was a full length mirror in front of her and she stared at the person in the reflection, someone that looked strangely like her, only her eyes looked wild, like she had been on a hunt, a successful hunt.
Isla suddenly felt awkward. She was confused. I wanted it, then why do I feel used? She looked at him. Gabriel was busy smoothing out the creases of his shirt. He looked unperturbed, like nothing had happened. It was as if they just had some noontime tea and a good conversation about the weather…
“Are you alright?” he asked her, breaking her trail of thought.
She shook her head. “Yeah, yeah I am.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re a terrible liar?” he said, buttoning the last two buttons on his shirt.
“I didn’t – I didn’t quite understand what happened,” she murmured.
“You’ve never had that?”
“A what?”
“Okay, you’re confusing me. Have you ever had a quickie, or sex at least?” he sounded flustered, “Please don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
“It isn’t that.”
He gave a relieved smile. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Why did we?” Her voice was tiny, like she was afraid he would react badly to her question.
“It just happened. Don’t make such a big deal it out of it.”
“Then what happens after?” she insisted, not looking at him. She busied herself in picking up the paperwork that fell, trying to grasp what she was feeling. He helped her.
“Stop,” she told him, “I can do it.”
He continued picking it up anyway, finishing quickly before she could pick the remaining papers on the floor. “You’re upset.”
“You just came here to have some afternoon delight?”
“I came here to see you,” he replied firmly. “That just happened. You asked why I was here. I said I wanted to kiss you. I wasn’t lying.”
And more, she thought, angry. She was surprised she was angry. She had thought she was attracted to him, but that whole thing turned out to be some mistake.
“You feel played? Used?” he breathed out, with a frown.
She didn’t say anything, instead she focused on arranging the papers in her hand by order.
He walked up to her and held her wrist. She frowned, refusing to look at him.
“How can you feel that? When I’ve been as sincere as I can be the entire time? I wasn’t joking about taking an interest in you, with wanting to know you better.”
She still didn’t look at him, nor did she say anything.
“Oh, I get it. You’re the passive aggressive type,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m actually feeling bad already, you’ve got a thing going on there.”
Isla glared at him this time, but only for a second. She looked back at her table right away.
“Those papers are fine,” he commented.
She frowned. “I think it’s best if you leave.”
It was his turn to frown. “What? Did I hurt you in any way? Didn’t you like it as much as I did?” Here was another stubborn human being, hell bent on unleashing her passive aggressive anger, just like Lily. Was Lily’s memory going to keep popping out like this? He didn’t want it. Her memory was going to cloud with his reasoning. She wasn’t Lily. She just looked like Lily.
“It’s not that,” she began, then she bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to this. The attention, it’s too good to be true.”
“Am I the only one showing you attention?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Am I the only one showing you attention that you’re actually interested in?”
Her mouth broke into a tiny smile. “Yes.”
“That’s settled, then. We’re having dinner again tomorrow.”
“You think it’s that easy?”
“You don’t seem like the type of person who makes things difficult for herself.”
“You’re right. I’m not. What time?”
He grinned. “Seven-thirty.”
“Shouldn’t you be going now?”
“Have you tired of me so easily?” he mocked hurt.
“Don’t you have work – oh wait, you don’t. Don’t you have some fake work to do?”
“I’m on a lunch break, like you are.”
“Except you aren’t eating lunch,” she told him.
“I’m not hungry. What about you?”
“They’re bringing me lunch.”
“What you’re doing isn’t healthy, you know.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Show me what you do.”
“Pick up papers,” she said with a grin.
He laughed again. “I was talking about you toiling in front of random, ancient objects.”
“They’re not exactly ancient. But they are old.”
“Those buttons you talked about? And that watch?” he began.
“Those buttons are causing me sore eyes,” she replied, “The watch I haven’t quite started on yet.” She didn’t want to take it out, for fear that she couldn’t be able to stop herself from holding onto it too much, she just might take it home with her…
“The watch sounds much more interesting than buttons,” he surmised, wondering where it was. It had to be here somewhere. Those drawers, perhaps.
“Would you like to see it?” she asked, her desire to see the watch now at par with her professionalism. She didn’t wait for him to say yes. Instead, she opened the steel drawer beside her, carefully taking out the watch encased in a clear plastic case.
“That looks really… old,” he said.
“We’ve traced it to having been made in the 1880s. It looks simple at first, but the timepiece has been made well, like in Switzerland.” She took out gloves and put them on. She held it up for him to see. “This looks like it’s personalized, one of a kind. Someone who could actually afford to commission this. It’s plain silver, but look at the hands on the watch. I think they’re made out of gold or something.”
Eighteen karat gold, he thought.
“There’s also an inscription at the back, fine cursive if you ask me,” she breathed, liking the weight of the watch in her hand. “If you’d like to hold it, there are gloves.”
He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m afraid I might damage it,” he laughed.
“I’ve been trying to research what ‘A.B’ means. I had thought it was the name of the watch maker. I’m now thinking it was the name of the watch owner.”
“Could be,” he murmured. He suddenly felt weak just looking at it. He was afraid it would show. He mustered another smile. “I suppose I’ve over extended my stay.”
She looked up. “Oh, you’re leaving?” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. Then she nodded. “I guess pseudo work is happening now?”
He laughed. “I will see you tomorrow,” he told her, bending over to give her a quick peck on the cheek.
She felt her face redden slowly. He was about to leave when the door opened, and Ravi, Rory, Sarah and Greg came in.
&nb
sp; “Mr. Ramsey, what a pleasant surprise,” Greg said, shaking Gabriel’s hand.
“Hello, Greg,” Gabriel said, “I trust all is well?”
“Of course, sir, of course. Shall we see you at the unveiling of the newly renovated east wing?”
Gabriel nodded. “You can count me in.”
Sarah watched Gabriel walk away, her mouth half open. She turned to look at Isla as soon as Gabriel left. “My god, isn’t he the most beautiful living thing, ever,” she breathed.
“What did he want?” Rory asked, his lips pursed.
She decided to give a simple reply, nearly smiling at the thought of their torrid and hasty lovemaking on the table just minutes ago. “He asked me out on a date.”
CHAPTER SIX
He felt as if the last vestiges of his strength were about to leave him. He had successfully walked back to his awaiting sedan by the curb, and he weakly got into it.
“Home,” he said in a raspy voice, feeling his throat tightening. He loosened his shirt by a few buttons, even if it didn’t do any help.
Gabriel closed his eyes, unable to believe he had actually found it, and had actually forgotten about how painful it was to him. Despite its age and the fact that it had been covered with sediment and faint rust, he still felt the pain that silver gave him, even if it was just a sliver of light from the examination table.
But he had found it, it was all that mattered. And he figured it was best kept safe with her. He only wondered if the gem was in it. She could have known about the ‘stone’ inside it, but chose not to say anything about it. To the untrained eye, that stone was insignificant. Isla had shown him the initials at the back of the watch, and he couldn’t help but recall the most important moments of his life when he had held the watch first, and when he had lost the capability to even look at its shine.
That was what silver did to any nightwalker. It maimed them, it could kill them, no one was immune, not even William, his sire. His mind was flooded with memories the moment he saw the watch. It was almost too painful to even think about everything, to remember the past.
A.B. Those were his initials, before he decided to change his name and keep himself away from society for a while, a long while. It had been a personal choice to keep away from the world.
Aidan Blackwood had been of noble stock, a self-indulgent, devil-may-care youth, before he became the blood drinking Gabriel Ramsey. He hadn’t always been this careful, this controlled. It had come from years of practice, years of tapping into his existing strengths as a nightwalker. He still consumed blood, but didn’t crave it as much as he did before. He had been turned 125 years ago, and had been one of the rare nightwalkers to actually enjoy some sunshine.
It was because of that stone that was most probably still inside the pocket watch. The famed and elusive red diamond, uncut and unpolished. A red diamond that had cost him more than half of his coinage in 1893, a rough equivalent of about £10 million in today’s market. He had willingly paid for it, to keep it safe from the others. It was smuggled all the way from South Africa, and was over five carats, if he had allowed for it to be polished. He wore a polished one, a split from the existing red diamond he had asked Lily to keep safe.
The stone was not without cursed stories. Whoever held onto it for more than a month had tragedy befall them. The miner who had supposedly kept the stone, died a violent death, along with his family. The next man who held onto it, a Dutch soldier looking for quick cash, was captured by a warring tribe and was speared multiple times until he died. It was quickly passed on, and everyone who held onto it knew of its price on the market, still died anyway.
He had heard about this stone during one of his excursions with William in Cape Town. With a massive plague ongoing, it was good cover for their hunts. Besides, according to William, ‘no one would miss the slaves’. William was right and their rampage continued for a good month, until he came across stories being passed on about a stone that could help nightwalkers ‘walk’ during daytime.
William had dismissed it as baloney, but Aidan longed for the sun on his face again, a quasi-warmth that wasn’t freshly spilled blood, so he persisted. Stories filtered about a white man who was looking for the blood stone, and the rest was history. He had given the man his money, nearly all of his inheritance, only for William to kill the man out of spite.
“We never stray from the dark, Aidan,” William had told him.
Aidan knew William enjoyed his money. It was the foundation of their debauchery, but Aidan wanted to test if it was true.
There was no compromise, and William had thought he had gone mad. They parted ways as soon as they reached England, with William telling Aidan he was good as dead, and that he didn’t want to see his favorite pupil burn into ash.
Aidan didn’t die, but William did. His Sire had killed himself after realizing there was nothing left to live for and he had done all the things he had wanted to do for nearly three hundred years. He felt a bit of empathy, just a bit, for he was truly enjoying life with his newfound talisman against the burning pain of the sun. He had kept this solely to himself and had only come across two others who enjoyed basking in the sunlight in all his years as a nightwalker. Both of these nightwalkers also had red diamonds in their possession, red diamonds that went beyond 5 carats.
It was the reason for Lily’s death…
He shook his head as he clambered his way into his manor, with James greeting him at the front door.
“You look tired, sir. Care for a drink?” he asked his master.
Gabriel nodded, feeling very much like how his old self, Aidan did, when he first found out silver was unbearably excruciating. He knew James would bring the drink up to his study, his place of refuge. Instead of whisky as his nightcap, some Type A or Type O would probably do. James came up later, carrying a bag of Type O, fresh from his cold storage.
“Would you like me to remove the contents from the pack, sir?”
“No, thank you. You may leave.”
James nodded and bowed his head. The heavy oak door closed with a creak and Gabriel found himself sighing, even if it was such a human thing. He needed to breathe once in a while, to remind himself of what remained of his humanity. Breath was life, unfortunately he didn’t need it much. He stood up from the comfort of his chair and walked for the table.
There was a lowball glass beside the blood bag, and he slowly squeezed the contents out, ensuring not a drop went to waste. Any type of blood would do, especially after what he went through earlier. He didn’t want to keep drinking blood, this was his third in a week and he never went beyond that amount; but he had a feeling he would need another bag in a few days, if he ever wanted to check if the red diamond was still in it.
He hoped James had purchased enough blood from the hospital to keep him strong for the upcoming days. James had always been a reliable human. Good old James. He had served Gabriel for over thirty years, starting as a relatively young lad, fresh from a stint with the royal family. Gabriel paid him well, and James knew full well of his master’s condition.
There was a kindness in James that Gabriel couldn’t kill off. The man was loyal and kept to himself, a bachelor in his late fifties who enjoyed French pressed coffee, and making eggs Benedict, a meal that Gabriel actually enjoyed every once in a while. He also shielded Gabriel from those who pried too closely, and purchased blood bags legally but incognito.
Gabriel knew James wouldn’t live forever, but he had begun to contemplate if James would actually allow him to turn his devoted butler into a nightwalker like he was. Forever seemed awfully long, but it all depended on how one enjoyed their new life, actually.
As Aidan, he had regretted his turning first, knowing full well his morning strolls would disappear, his diet would change immensely, and his liking for blood would become too much to bear. It had been something that William had taught him early on, where one had to bend to the need for blood. Animals couldn’t be substitutes, it had to be human blood.
*
>
England, 1892
He had met William in an illegal gambling den, clouds of smoke surrounding everyone. Aidan noticed the regal looking man’s stare. The man drank laudanum and a whore was busy whispering crude things in his ear, but the man paid no attention to it. It made Aidan uncomfortable, and the moment he lost his card game, he walked over to William. William quickly shooed the heavily perfumed and half-naked courtesan away, motioning for Aidan to take a seat and join him for a drink. Aidan didn’t.
“Excuse me, is something the matter?” Aidan asked, not liking the glare in the man’s eyes.
“William, William Hockley. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”
Aidan frowned. “I’m sorry, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Nothing is the matter, my young fellow.”
This surprised Aidan, he only looked to be around a few years older than him. This William Hockley was paler than most, and he had fine veins running on his hands. Aidan would later learn that this was how vampires slowly aged.
“I’m just wondering why a fine gentleman from the upper crust is here,” William said slyly.
“I am not from a respectable--”
“Your aura exudes it. Yet, you are here, trying to be a rebel. Are you aiming to prove something? Or are you just bored with life?”
Aidan frowned, and William knew he had hit home. The young lad was bored with life, and wanted to experiment with many things, even if it meant he could be hurt or threatened. He was perfect to turn…
Months of camaraderie passed by, but William thoroughly insisted they make their revelries only at night. Perhaps, Aidan thought, he had difficulty sleeping. He didn’t know what William did, but he enjoyed William’s company. He had finally found someone as carefree as he was, someone who only cared about the happy things in life, and someone who barely had any responsibilities, unlike the responsibilities he shunned as son of Lord Blackwell. They enjoyed their share of liquor (the expensive type, as William had specific tastes), and their opium laced cigarettes, a personal favorite of Aidan’s. At the age of twenty-four, Aidan felt he was on top of the world and that life was good. But it wasn’t going to last long, for William had other plans in mind.
