Die, My Love

by Penelope Fletcher

  ‘You already know this room is filled with my kind. Does it not make sense it would cater for our needs?’

  Hmm. Yes, but I thought Ben’s kind fed from live humans, straight from the tap, so to speak. Ben regards me silently for a long time, five minutes at least. Oh alright, it’s probably only been five seconds, but he does have that weighty gaze that crushes you if you’re not careful.

  I fidget as he thinks, ‘Some of us become sympathetic to the fragility of the human condition once we take mates. Killing often becomes less of a need, and more of an indulgence, to those who take human companions.’

  I’m human, and I would consider myself a companion of Ben’s, his only companion. At least I better be.

  Don’t be silly, Lee. He has already admitted you are his one and only.

  I beam at him, even as I think that Ben looks the type to indulge often.

  ‘I did indulge. It was a vast and beloved greed I sated with pleasure. Then I chose you.’

  Ah. I see. Yesterday at my flat was not Ben coming to make love to me, was it? Or maybe that was part of the plan, but he really followed me home so he could….

  Ben’s face is ashen and his eyes downcast. I consider falling prey to the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I shake it off. I’d assumed as much already considering his reaction after our kiss, and his abrupt departure afterward, but it was hard to have it confirmed that you experienced heaven and your lover battled inner demons.

  The menu has lost my interest and I pick the first thing my eyes settle on. “I’ll have the Chili Tailapia,” I say croakily to the waiter, and watch him closely now my attention is focused on how surreal this situation is. He does not seem at all uncomfortable with the knowledge this room is filled with beings that could crush him and suck away his life-force.

  “A good choice and our Lord Afzal’s specialty. He will be pleased. And to drink?’

  I glance back at the menu, panicking. This place is one where they expect you to pick the right wine to go with your food, but I just see elegant French names. I look back up at waiter with a blank expression. His eyebrows lift in surprise, mocking.

  ‘Request something light and fruity to complement the fish.’

  I tap a finger to my chin. “Something light and fruity to complement the fish,” I say as Ben instructs.

  ‘Not too dry. Tell him your trust his judgment and to surprise you.’’

  “Not too dry. I trust your judgment,” I smile thinly, “surprise me.”

  The waiter beats a hasty retreat from the table as Ben glowers at him.

  Lord Afzal. Another Lord? Is this a respect thing or are these actual titles we’re talking about?

  ‘Afzal is the owner and Head Chef of this restaurant. He is a good cook and a good friend. Loyal. He was what is known know as a Sheikh in his time, but using that title out in the open would draw unwanted attention. He is outlandish enough.’

  I smooth my hand over the silver knife on the damask patterned napkin in front of me. The candle flame flickers, and I enjoy the glow it bathes our table in. I try to casually dab away beads of sweat on my brow. It’s warm in here, almost uncomfortably so, but Ben is relaxed. He enjoys the warmth, and I don’t want to make a fuss. I just finished complaining it was too cold after all. Yeah, I don’t want to seem high maintenance or embarrass him anymore than I already have.

  I blink and the seat opposite me is empty. Oh! A kiss to the side of my face has my heart thumping hard. Damn, he moves fast. He covers my hand with his and tugs, pulling me up and out of my seat to the dance floor in the middle of the room.

  All eyes follow us. Not that any of them had left me since I stepped in here.

  Ben tucks me under his chin, and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly. He likes to hold me close to him, like I’m precious.

  He’s cold again, but with the sweltering temperature of the room, it’s quite nice. I nestle against him, enjoying how he hums to me without making a sound. The sound flows through my mind and soothes me. It’s then I notice, apart from the music, how quiet it is in here, like a crypt. Are all the couples talking mind to mind? There could be no more than four other couples. Can the others hear my thoughts like Ben can? Oh god, are they all listening to me crush over him in all the sordid detail? Ahh! Is everyone listening now, dropping eaves left right and centre? Oh gosh, please stop! You included Ben. You don’t need to hear this melodramatic madness.

  ‘The others cannot hear you, and the humans are merely their consorts.’ His body shakes and I peek up to see he is laughing. He holds me closer and sighs happily. ‘Never be afraid to speak your mind to me.’

  My mind whizzes. He cannot always hear me?

  His eyebrows rise. ‘Not always, and not always clearly. Your thoughts are … fractured. Only when you direct thoughts at me can I hear you plainly. At times I have to decipher your surface thoughts to the deeper meaning beneath. I– I thought you knew this.’ He pauses, and I get the distinct sense of surprise by the way his eyes flash down to my face then away again. ‘This whole time you thought I could hear everything?’ I flush. Nod. ‘Hmm. And you accepted that invasion on your privacy?’

  “There is nothing I would keep from you,” I admit aloud and a number of heads turn our way, eyes widening in shock. I ignore them. They may hear my every heartbeat, but this is none of their business.

  One man, grandiose, and most handsome, now stands on the edge of the dance floor in the shadows.

  Ben stops dancing and steps away from me. “Daniel,” he greets aloud. I wince in that way I do when he speaks. It explains why Ben stepped away from me; his tone is biting, filled with wrath, but why? It’s okay for another of his kind to say hello to me is it not?

  Dark hair tousled up top and styled with short back and sides, Daniel’s eyes are bright blue, shocking really, and his face drips sarcasm in a rakish kind of way. His body is lean, taller than Ben’s, and he wears tailored dress slacks and a grey turtleneck. My Ben’s dress sense is better, I think. His dark jeans and navy knit crew neck fit him just right. Anyway, Daniel is the kind of man who intimidates by being in the same room as you, and boy, do I feel intimidated. He has the strangest expression on his face as he watches me and how Ben hovers in front of me protectively. He lurches forward into the light highlighting the dance floor. This man is of Ben’s kind, so lurching is odd on him.

  I offer my hand to shake with a nervous smile trembling on my lips. “Cecilie Drake,” I say feigning confidence.

  The music stops, a human gasps, and the pale ones tense. An elfin Lady has left her seat to stand ramrod straight, haunting grey eyes darting between us.

  What did I do? Ben is saying and doing nothing, so I have no clue as to what rule I’ve broken, or how to make it right. Um, so, what do I do? I feel a little foolish standing here with my hand hovering in the air.

  Daniel reaches for my hand the same moment Ben slips his hand around my waist, and presses a kiss to my cheek, his eyes still on the man bent over before me. The timing is so fluent, both kiss me at the same time. I shiver in fear from the one who turns my hand and rests his lips on the back of it, and the touch of Ben’s mouth on my skin.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Daniel says in a gravelly voice. “Have you been Child Ben’s donor long?”

  Despite the power Daniel’s voice holds, it’s nowhere near as compelling as Ben’s. I smile pleasantly, and tilt my head as if considering his words, but I’m trying to work out what he means. Child? Donor? These phrases are obviously commonplace to him … and he expects them to be commonplace to me too.

  ‘You are my love never think otherwise. The man who holds your hand is my Sire. He had hoped I would turn someone of political importance to further our race. Such is the way we usually do things.

  I want to blush with humiliation. I’m nobody, yet Ben considers making me like him. Schooling my expression to neutral, even though my heart kicks my chest like it’s the ball and my breastplate is the goal, I reply, wondering why D
aniel assumes Ben will not turn someone of political importance after me.

  Ah, there is nothing but silence where I expect Ben’s answer to be.

  Love? Do you hear me?

  “I’m not a donor,” I say since it’s been a good twenty seconds since Daniel had spoken.

  “Indeed?” His eyes flick between us. His hand remains closed over mine, and I notice his skin warms considerably slower than Ben’s. “So who might you be, so I do not offend?”

  “This is not your concern!” Ben roars so suddenly I jump a full step to the left and squeal in fright. “Stop trying to daunt my bride for it will not work.”

  Every human in the room clutches their head, a freckled red head slips from her chair in a dead faint, and all the pale ones wince delicately, but are very still, not yet comforting their humans.

  I am proud to say I stand strong, but god, my ears are ringing, and my vision cuts to black every other millisecond. I squint, praying I don’t keel over and humiliate Ben in front of his people. My love makes a low and angry sound, and his cold hands are now clasping my head firmly. The others of his kind do the same to their human consorts. I’m beginning to understand why Ben is not used to talking aloud.

  I hear his voice as if through a stone wall “Accept my sincerest apology for hurting your loved ones,” he says.

  There is an immediate response from all of, “My Lord.”

  “Sebastian, is Nia well?” Ben asks.

  The pale one with a kind face and peculiar murky eyes nods once, and picks his red haired companion up off the floor. He strokes her head. Sitting her on his lap he rocks her gently until her eyelids flutter open.

  ‘Forgive me?’ Ben asks.

  “Always,” I whisper, and lean into him. Honestly, I need to shift my weight for a while in case my legs give out.

  Daniel’s grip on my hand tightens and instead of crying out, I pull until he has no choice but to let me go. Ben relaxes and strokes my back. And Lord Daniel? He spins on his heel with a great deal of flourish. I imagine a great black cape billowing as he does this. He storms past a table and grabs a long grey coat with a standing collar, and leaves the restaurant without a backward glance.

  Very well dressed are these beings.

  “He didn’t pay for his dinner,” I mutter into the appalled silence.

  Ben chuckles and everybody deflates. The Lady who is standing loses the intensity of her posture, and is seated. She stares into the eyes of her equally blonde companion. She is quite lovely. Her beauty is unyielding and valiant. Had her eyes not been so lovely, hair so fair, and her figure so obviously feminine, she might have looked androgynous. The man seated opposite is somewhat older, I think. He has a full beard and a broad face. I want to cuddle him … he looks cuddly. How would he react to such a thing, if I were to totter over and wrap my arms around him?

  Ben stiffens and thinks to me, ‘He would no doubt enjoy it, but his mate … I do not want to hurt anybody tonight, love.’

  Ah, I was projecting my thoughts too loudly. The music starts once again, but our drinks have arrived. Ben sits me back down. I think he wants to take a moment to collect himself after the departure of his Sire.

  Over the rim of my glass, I watch him watch me. The curiosity on my face must be evident, and Ben must know I’m waiting for an answer to my previous pondering on why Daniel assumes he will only initiate me into the coven of the night.

  Do it, Lee. Ask him again outright. Just what the hell is going on?

  Ben’s forefinger traces the lifeline of my palm, absentminded. I wish we could get out of here to be alone together. I just want to hold him for a while. In a blink, he is standing beside me again, and sweeps me up into his arms. I’m glad he’s so strong; I swoon, and grip his shirt tightly. His eyes beckon to me, reflecting my earlier wish for privacy. I cannot look away, even if I tried, even if I wanted to. Not because he has coerced me, but because he is too beautiful not to stare at.

  Ben turns on his heel to leave, but stops abruptly with a frustrated huff. The blonde-haired elfin Lady blocks our exit. Her face is luminous, even when devoid of expression.

  “Entschuldigen sie,” she says. “Wohin gehst du? Es hat keine einführung worden.”

  Sighing, Ben sets me down and covers my ears. “It was a mistake to bring her here. And Lee does not speak German.”

  “Das ist mir egal!” she snaps. “But since you care for her I will speak English. To bring her here was stupid, but respectful. You could have turned her, who are we to stop you? Daniel has always been difficult, and you know this. Es macht nichts.” She speaks crisply in short punchy sentences, and every syllable is clipped, precise. She is ghostlike this woman, if I touch her will my hand pass through? I’m in awe of her, so beautiful. She turns to me. “Ich heiße Simone.”

  I half smile, not sure where I stand with her. “I’m Lee, my pleasure to meet you.”

  Her gaze flicks over me once, twice, and her lips quirk. “Gleichfalls.”

  Erm, still don’t speak German! Her companion now stands beside her and clasps her hand. His is … humongous. I still want to give him a cuddle, but it would be like trying to wrap my arms around a tree trunk he is so huge. I think he if he were to jump and land the whole world would shake, or if he were to roar, the sky would crack in two; and the scary thing is, I’m not exaggerating.

  “She is Petite, Ben. Oh that is funny, the Petite One. Not what I would have chosen for you.” He leans down, all up in my space, and narrows his sea blue eyes. “She has a clean soul. No, no! Not what I would have chosen for you.” His hairy caterpillar eyebrows twitch as I glower at him.

  Not chosen me for Ben? For shame! The big oaf does not scare me. I will box his ears and tug that ratty beard of his right off his face if he utters another word about Ben not choosing me!

  My darling chuckles with laughter and rubs his hands over my ears in comfort.

  “I see I have offended you,” the giant says, and leans closer. “Are you the one, girl? Will you bear the weight of Ben’s legacy? Of our entire race’s legacy and not fall to madness? Can you live in darkness and dine on the innocent?”

  “Och, Adam, ye eedjit,” says another male voice, thick with a honeyed brogue. “The lass’ll think we’re nothing but animals.”

  Ben’s hands turn with my head as I twist to see who it is. The Scot is a stunning man. He’s green of eye, with curly auburn hair, and such ruddy cheeks and ears for so pale a complexion. The cable knit sweater, jeans, and white butcher’s apron do nothing to conceal his gawky body. He wipes his hands on a gingham tea towel and grimaces at Ben. “You downa do that, be taking the lass ‘fore she eats. Afzal will blow a gasket if he finds he served the fish for naught.” He winks at me. “Ma name’s Iain. I’m the braw one.”

  Giggling, I wave at him. He’s younger than me, twenty, perhaps, and very cute. Ben’s chuckle whispers across my ears. What’s so funny? Oh! Right, Iain looks young; he’s probably hundreds of years older than me. Anyway, he has a dimple in his chin and thick eyelashes that are entirely too feminine. His build is wiry, puny next to giant Adam, even Ben. He does seem to have a more jovial air than the rest of them.

  Ah, Adam The Giant is still in my face. What does he want from me?

  “She needs to know the truth before you change her. She is not like we were and she needs to know.” Adam is addressing Ben now but his eyes are still on me. “I am afraid to say that if she knows she will not choose you and my heart is heavy for you, Child, but this once we should place the needs of one of them before our own.”

  “Nein,” Simone interjects. “She is capable. Even if she were to end the line, does it really matter anymore? Besides, mein schatz, you are always quick to brand us females soft. So quick to judge and carry out unfair sentence without letting the accused defend herself. Es gefällt mir nicht.”

  He bristles and clasps her hand tighter when she tries to tug it away. “You will never let me forget will you?” Simone does not answer, but is looking away into the dist
ance as if remembering. Adam’s brows lower, his face goes red with an unexpected burst of colour. He opens his mouth, and, oh my, his ivory fangs are bloody huge! He sucks in a huge breath and Iain is unexpectedly between the couple, one of his lanky arms flung over Adam’s shoulder, the other curled Simone’s non-existent waist. He smacks an affectionate kiss on her forehead like a man would to his sister.

  “Naw! No brawling in Afzal’s establishment, ye know he dislikes wiping blood off the walls. Tis’nt sanitary.”

  The door behind us slams open and I tremble in place, not really wanting to look around to see who has entered the room now.

  Ben pulls me back into him and kisses the crown of my head. ‘Stay with Iain, love, I will return.’

  Then Ben, Simone, and Adam are gone. The front door of the restaurant clicks shut just as my mouth finishes cranking open to ask him to stay. Iain is left grinning mischievously. He finally realizes there is a splotch of blood on his forehead and wipes it off. About time, I’d been staring at it for ages.

  Bride? Wait, did Ben say the words ‘My’ and ‘Bride’ in relation to me a few minutes ago when talking to Daniel? Oh my gosh! What the hell? Ben get your ass back here!

  “Who is fighting?” grunts a mysterious voice behind me. It screams of sand and heat, of harsh cries in a foreign tongue to unknown gods. Oh yes, the door slamming person.

  Lee, turn around and see who is behind you.

  God, I really don’t think I can handle anybody bigger than Adam The Giant. I glance over my shoulder then balk and look at the floor by my sneaker clad feet, blinking a few times. Seriously? The pale one behind me looks like one of the men you see gracing the front cover of a romance novel. Tall, chiselled cheekbones, long dark hair, and expressive eyes. His hair is drawn back into a ponytail with a leather tie, making his features that much more severe. I’m fascinated! I take another quick look. His skin! It’s the colour of creamy coffee, and yet, the tone is cool, as if he had been de-saturated of warmer colours. He isn’t as big as Adam, thankfully, but he is pretty damn close. Place two of me side by side and my shoulder span still wouldn’t match his. Though he is taller than me, he is not too tall; his legs are shorter than the norm for a man his size, I think, though this is disguised by black harem pants. He wears only a sleeveless black jacket with a thick waist cinching leather belt, which makes him look like a ninja off of Street Fighter, or something.