Forever Starts Now

by Kallysten

  Even if Diane's sources hadn't claimed as much, he would have known she was in town. He had found her travel bag in his loft, her clothes in his drawers, and the imprint of her body on his bed. But she hadn't been around when they had arrived, soon after sunset. Matthew still raged when he recalled that accident on the highway that had cost them two precious hours and trapped them for the day in a nearby town. She had to be already out and hunting, Diane had commented when they had failed to find her, and Matthew hoped she was right. The alternative was that she hadn't been back to her lair at all, and Matthew could only think of one reason why she wouldn't.

  If she were dust, he would...

  He didn't know what he would do, if she were dust.

  "Hey, handsome. Why so gloomy?"

  He didn't bat an eyelash at the sensual voice so close to his ear. It wasn't Claire's.

  "Leave me alone."

  The full-throated laugh that followed was drowned in the beat of the music.

  "Leave you alone? When you come back after months of absence? No way. I want a dance."

  The girl looped an arm through his and tugged lightly. Matthew finally turned his face toward her, annoyed and ready to show exactly how much. The familiarity of her features stopped him. He couldn't remember her name, if he had ever known it, but he remembered seeing her talk to Claire. He remembered scaring her away, too, but apparently the experience hadn't traumatized her.

  "Have you seen Claire recently? Brunette, short hair, about your height—"

  "I know who you're talking about.” She tugged once more at his arm, and when Matthew let her have it, she slid her hand into his. “Dance with me, and I'll tell you about her."

  Despite his better judgment, Matthew allowed her to take him down to the dance floor. He couldn't help doubting she really knew where Claire was, but if there was a small chance that she was telling the truth, he couldn't let it pass.

  The wild music he enjoyed so much failed to touch him today, but when the girl let go of his hand, in the middle of the crowd, and turned to face him with a beaming smile, he slid into the well worn persona he wore like a costume in dancing clubs: a flirting smile on his lips, hands that alternated rising in the air and skimming against his partner, movements always in tune with the music. Usually, these were all tools, weapons to attract prey and lure them in. This time, they were just a show, with no other goal than to satisfy his partner enough that she would tell him what he wanted to hear.

  The song ended, then a second one played through. A gentler, slower beat came up next, and his dancing partner wove her arms around Matthew, her body sliding close to his. They would have needed to be naked to get any closer, and Matthew was tiring of the game. He bent down to her ear, and asked:

  "I've danced with you. Where is Claire?"

  She looked up toward him, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “You call that dancing? We're only getting started. I want the full thing, a dance here, a chat around a nice glass of wine and then going to a more intimate place for a little more..."

  As her voice trailed off, she raised herself on her toes to reach Matthew's lips. He pushed away from her abruptly, glaring. She was playing with him, and he was in no mood to allow it.

  "Do you even—"

  "Buy me a drink, at least,” she interrupted him, amusement gone from her face and voice. “I'll tell you."

  She started fending off the crowd and walking back toward the staircase. After a brief moment of hesitation, Matthew followed her. At the very least, he could use a drink himself. If the girl truly had nothing to say, there were other people he could question, other places he could visit.

  On the first bridge, the girl slowed down until he had caught up with her. He gritted his teeth when she slid her arm through his, but humored her. She had better truly know something about Claire. They finally reached the first floor and she tried to pull him toward the private alcoves in the back of the room. Matthew resisted, and led her instead to the bar. She was pouting when she sat down on one of the high stools, but a sip of wine soon had her smiling again. Matthew didn't even touch his own glass.

  "So where did you go for all these months?"

  Leaning her forearm against the bar, she pivoted to angle her body toward him. She had crossed her legs and her dress was riding up very high on her thighs, giving a hint of black lace beneath it. Matthew caught himself staring—Claire had lacy black underwear; he had bought it for her—and returned his eyes to the girl's face. Judging by her widening grin, she had noticed where his gaze had wandered.

  "Away. Now have you seen Claire or not?"

  The grin wavered and she looked away for an instant before looking back at him almost pleadingly.

  "Listen, I can see she was very special for you, but there are other women—"

  "You don't know anything,” he cut in flatly. He was losing his time with her. Sliding off the stool, he glanced at the bartender at the other end of the bar. He had seen Claire chat with him a few times, maybe he would remember if she had been back to On The Edge.

  "She/s dead."

  The words caught Matthew like a punch to the jaw. Without realizing what he was doing, he grabbed the edge of the bar and held on tight as he looked at the girl once more.

  "If that's your idea of a joke..."

  "It's not a joke.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “A Special Enforcer killed her."

  Blindly, Matthew reached toward the glass he hadn't touched so far and emptied it in one long gulp. Any second now, the ground would open beneath his feet and swallow him.

  "It was all over the news,” the girl continued. “They said she had been turned, and her ex wasn't happy about that. He was a Special Enforcer. He killed her, and the vamp who had made her. Freaky story. I thought about not coming here for a while but—"

  "Wait a minute."

  The knot stopped tightening over Matthew's chest, just enough that he could look straight at the girl, look at her with wild hope. She winced when his hand clenched on her arm, but didn't protest.

  "You said ... Jonas killed her and her Sire? You're sure of that?"

  She shrugged. “That's what the newspaper said."

  "When was it?"

  "I don't know.” She tried to pull free, but Matthew didn't let go. “Months ago. A bit after you stopped coming here. You're hurting me."

  An almost hysterical laugh tried to push its way past Matthew's throat and he shut his mouth to keep it in. His body shook with laughter though, and he finally released the girl's arm. For whatever reason, the police thought Jonas had killed Claire right after she had been turned, but he knew better. She wasn't dead. At that moment, he could have shouted it for the world to know. Claire wasn't dead.

  "It's all right,” the girl said, patting his shoulder awkwardly. “You can cry. Or we could go somewhere more private. I'll make it all better, you'll see."

  Her voice dropped to a caress on the last words. It dawned on Matthew that she thought he was mourning, and that she was offering to comfort him. He finally managed to stifle his laugh and shook his head. However, before he could say a word, Claire's voice rose from behind them, tight and acidic.

  "You should know by now he never sleeps with the same girl twice."

  Matthew's head whipped toward her. He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, but the look on her face stopped him. She wasn't too happy to find him here, with this girl, her pinched lips said, but there was more to it. The determination in her eyes, in the tilt of her head, in the way she stood was the important thing here, though he wasn't sure what it meant.

  "Not unless she's very special,” she continued.

  A flash of her fangs had the girl scrambling off the stool and away from them. Claire sat down on the freed seat, and pushed the half full glass in front of her away.

  "Very special indeed,” Matthew murmured, and raised his hand to catch the bartender's attention.

  * * * *

  When she entered the club and saw Matthew at the bar with a g
irl, Claire's first reaction was to clench her fists and jaw. Diane had said he was looking for her, but this looked like something else altogether. Trying to quiet down her growling jealousy, she stepped forward, keeping her eyes on Matthew. With the ambient noise, she couldn't hear what they were talking about, but she saw. She saw him stand, ready to leave, and then the look of pure, raw pain on his face at something the girl said. She saw, also, the way he clutched at the bar as though it were a safe line, and the way his throat worked convulsively around his drink. She was close enough to hear, now, and with just a few words she understood.

  He had just been told she was dead. That pain had been for her. And the relief flooding him and his scent now, bittersweet like rich dark chocolate, that was for her, too. The jealousy was still there, just on the edge of her consciousness, but Claire felt relief too, if not for the same reasons as Matthew.

  With a few words and a fangy smile, she got rid of Matthew's friend and took her place next to him, accepting the glass of wine he ordered for her.

  "You shouldn't be here,” were his first words to her. They stung.

  "I'm only here because you are,” she shot back, pivoting on the stool to look at him. “Diane told me where to find you."

  A wary look crept on his features. “Did she, now. Did she tell you also how stupid it was to come back to Jonas’ town?"

  "No. She showed me how stupid I was to believe your lies.” She smiled at him. She knew it wasn't a nice smile, but she didn't care. “I'm not going to give up so easily."

  He watched her take another sip of wine, his face impenetrable. She had no idea what he was thinking, and she didn't like it. For him to be so closed off couldn't be good.

  "What you are going to do, Childe, is get out of this bar and out of this town before something bad happens to you. Come on, let's go."

  Claire rolled her eyes at the protective tone in his voice. Where had this caring streak been for the past months, when she had wandered alone from town to town? There would be time for recriminations later, however, and she allowed him to take her arm and guide her toward the exit. What she had in mind required a somewhat more private setting.

  "I've missed you,” she said bluntly just as they were stepping into the street.

  Matthew's stride faltered. He caught himself quickly enough that she might not have noticed, but attuned to his reactions as she was, she couldn't miss it. It didn't matter when he didn't say anything; he had already answered.

  "Diane told me something else, tonight. Something I knew but had forgotten."

  A small glance toward her was once again his only reply, but it was enough. She knew she had his attention. Loosening his hold on her arm with her free hand, she slid her hand to his own and clutched it tight.

  "She told me that for decades after you were turned, you claimed you loved Helena. Nothing she said would make you admit you didn't. And I remembered the letters. You wrote them after you were sired, but in almost every one of them you said you loved Helena. That made me wonder...” She drew him to a stop, using her hold on his hand to make him turn to her. “Why did you try so hard to convince me that vampires can't love? Why, when you knew firsthand it wasn't true?"

  The fleeting look of trapped animal in his eyes roused a smile in Claire, but she tried her best to hide it. He would have misunderstood it at that moment.

  "For your own sake,” he replied very gently, so gently she could almost have believed him. He reached to her face and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn't ... I don't want you imagining there'll ever be anything between us beyond blood. Even if you love me, it doesn't mean that I do."

  His voice was pleading her to believe him, but she knew she couldn't trust his words. What she did trust was the pain he had shown earlier when he believed she was dead, and the little light in his eyes when she had sat next to him, and the way his thumb stroked the back of her hand now. She smiled at him, and shook her head.

  "Liar. You can say what you want, you can even sleep with whoever you want. I know you're lying. I can smell it. Your entire scent shifts when I'm near you, did you know that?"

  "Of course it changes. It's called lust."

  "Liar."

  His face closed off and he let go of her hand. She knew he would strike before he even opened his mouth, and she braced herself for the blow.

  "I loved Helena. You remind me of her. Whatever you think is there when I look at you—” His gaze hardened just a little more. “—it's there only because it's her I see."

  Claire said it again one last time, very softly. “Liar."

  She would prove him wrong. She would catch him in his own web of lies, and then he'd have no choice but to relent. And she knew exactly how she would do it. It wasn't exactly how she had imagined things would go when they met again, but romance could wait a little longer.

  Throwing her arms around his neck, she pulled him down at the same time as she raised herself on her toes and crushed her mouth to his. She ignored his muffled noises of protest and pushed her tongue past his lips. He resisted at first, tried to pull free of her, but she caressed his tongue and his lips, never letting go until he caved in. He began returning the kiss and his hands rested on her hips, stroking tentatively through the material of her dress. She pulled back then, and grinned when he immediately sought her lips again. He caught her grin and stiffened in her arms.

  "Claire ... a kiss is not going to change anything,” he sighed. “You can't—"

  She wasn't interested in what he thought she couldn't do. The important thing, as far as she was concerned, was that he knew exactly who was pressing against him.

  She kissed him again, as deeply as before, and at the same time she pushed him back until he had to choose between falling down and moving backwards. She guided his slow steps into the cul-de-sac behind them, past two metal dumpsters that would offer them some cover, then angled his body until a wall stopped him.

  The kiss continued, more intense than before, fiercer, as though they were both trying to catch up on long, lost months. When Claire cupped his erection in her hand, Matthew growled in her mouth, his need and want surrounding her like flames. Emboldened, she unbuttoned his pants and slid her hand inside them, curling her fingers around his cock and gently pulling it out. Matthew's eyes opened wide. He gasped and broke the kiss off, shaking his head, his left hand leaving her waist to clutch hers.

  "What are you doing?” His voice rasped like gravel.

  "Trying to decide if I want you in my mouth or in my pussy.” Not being able to blush was a blessed thing. “Any preference?"

  His hand was still clenched on hers, but he wasn't pulling her off him, and when she started stroking, so very slow, from the root to the very tip of him, his hand accompanied her movement.

  "Claire, don't."

  He said her name like a prayer, like a plea, but more important than that, he said her name.

  "Stop me, if you don't want me."

  His hand tightened on hers, and for a second she thought he would answer her challenge and stop her. Instead, he released her hand abruptly and caught her hips instead, pulling her closer to him, leaning in once more to kiss her. She moaned into the kiss, then again when he tugged at the hem of her dress, pulling it up until his hands could slide beneath the edges of her panties and cup her ass.

  "Hold on to me,” was the only warning he gave before he hoisted her up.

  By pure reflex, Claire closed her fist on the collar of his shirt. She couldn't wrap her legs around him, the wall blocked her, but before she could say a word he reversed their positions, pushing off the wall and turning so that her back and shoulders pressed against it instead. Her legs slid in place around him, and a murmur—"Guide me in."—reminded her that she still had his cock in her hand, now pressed against the soaked material of her panties. She fumbled a little to push the fabric aside, and then he was sliding in, slow and strong. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed.

  For weeks, she had dreamed of him, of them toget
her again. This was more than all the dreams together. It was ... right. She had come back to Haventown, but only now was she home.

  With both hands clutching at Matthew's shoulders, Claire opened her eyes again. Brown so deep, so dark it seemed black greeted her, the truth shining in his naked gaze. She wasn't the only touched to the core by this joining. She wouldn't let him claim otherwise, later. But for now...

  Using the wall behind her as leverage, she raised herself on him, then slipped down again. Matthew moaned, a half formed sound that, to Claire's ears, sounded like her name. She smiled. When she raised herself again, he accompanied her movement, amplifying it. They wouldn't last long, not like this, not after so much time. It didn't matter. She already had what she wanted.

  * * * *

  Decades earlier, Matthew had shed one of his last human reflexes; he had stopped breathing when he had sex. And yet, with one arm locked around Claire, the other against the wall supporting the both of them, Matthew found himself struggling to catch his breath after his climax, and unable to stop. His only consolation was that she breathed just as hard.

  Her forehead rested against his and she had closed her eyes, but her whole face glowed with a smile. As gently as he could, he pushed away from the wall and, now holding her waist with both hands, he raised Claire off him then down when she dropped her legs. She wobbled for an instant, but when he let go of her waist, she was steady again, and smoothing her dress back along her legs. Matthew took her cue and made himself presentable again, trying still to figure out what to say. When she looked back at him, she was still grinning.

  "I knew it,” she said, almost triumphant.

  "Knew what?"

  "You just fucked...” She paused and frowned briefly. “No, you made love to me. Not to ... a ghost. You called my name."

  She reached out to take his hand, and Matthew found that he didn't want to stop her. He had been fighting his feelings for too long. The guilt was still there, and maybe in time it would fade, but in the meantime he wanted to be with her. “I'm not letting go of you,” she said, sliding closer to him again. “You're stuck with me forever, and forever starts now."