“I might,” he panted back, nipping at my lips, his hand buried at the back of my neck, holding me close - and holding himself back.
“Let it all go,” I breathed. “We both want to be here.” I moved against him, feeling the hard heat and pushing for more.
“I don’t do so well at letting it all go, Henna.” His breath tickled my skin as he gasped the words. “You take me out of myself. I lose the boundaries.”
“Boundaries? I don’t bite, you know.” I nibbled at his mouth, then took his tongue between my teeth and sucked gently, inviting him.
He groaned roughly into my mouth. “You don't bite, but maybe I do.”
I felt a little warning in his voice and hesitated. But what was the warning? Was he telling me that he was a player? That I could get hurt? I brushed his chest with my hand then rolled on top of him, holding him my prisoner. He squirmed against me and his cool breath swept cross my face.
“I want you, Henna. My God, I want you.” He kiss was deeper and pushed his hand against my rear, plastering me to him. “Henna,” he groaned. “Henna, things lead to other things and I’m not very good at keeping them apart. Let me hold you, let me touch you - and let me be careful.”
Frustrated, I threw my head back and his mouth rested against my throat. His arms clutched and he crushed me tighter. I pushed, wanting more of him, and his tongue and then his teeth grazed down my neck. Ahh, my weak spot I gasped and rolled my head, opening myself to his touch. His hard body pushed up and he flipped himself over me, moving and melting into me for a short intense moment before he arched back. But the kisses lingered, his breathing rough. Yes. More.
Then his forehead was shoved against me, hiding his face in my chest. I heard him growl softly, that incredibly sexy sound he makes sometimes. Suddenly I was in the air, then once more on my own lounge, his hands cupping my face, leaning in close and - again - holding back. His head was turned away and a kiss brushed my shoulder.
“I'm sorry but I have to leave, Henna. Not running out on you, just need to go.”
I started to protest, but he was already standing, pulling me up beside him, leading us towards the kitchen door. I could barely walk. “At least you’re telling me,” I managed. “Instead of the kiss and run from the other day.” He glanced down at me, his lips pressed tight. His expression looked forlorn and I was sorry I snipped at him.
“I don’t want you to leave, Brecken.”
“Oh, I won’t go far. And I’ll always be back.”
Abruptly I was hauled against his body again, his mouth ravaging mine. Then he was gone. But he hadn’t run and I knew he didn’t leave because he wanted to. It was something else. Something about keeping things separate. Strange way for a guy to act right at that hot moment. What goes on in his head? A new little mystery and I swore to solve it.
Chapter 44
Saturday after coffee, Henna and I went for a long walk with Sonar then headed for the tennis courts. After a couple hours, she had worked up an appetite. We each went home to clean up then I took her to eat. She ordered a jumbo hamburger with all the fixings, including french fries and side salad. I ordered a glass of ice water with three wedges of lemon. I chomped on the ice.
“I can't eat with you watching,” she complained.
I sucked on a lemon. “Try harder. I'm not hungry, Henna.”
“Here, take my salad.” She pushed it in front of me, picked up my fork and held it in front of my nose. “Don't make me eat alone, Mr. de Boer. It's - what's your word? Discourteous.”
I laughed and moved lettuce and tomatoes around. She chewed and jerked her head at my plate. So I did what I did in Lake Arrowhead - the simple disappearing trick. Slow bite in my mouth, lightening switch to my hand, into a pocket. She ate a french fry and never noticed. But the tangy vinegar made my tongue tingle so I didn't mind another bite and switch. And another. Soggy pocket, but interesting.
Henna already knew I might not stay the whole evening at the Tavern. She didn’t like abrupt departures and I gave her the warning, because I suspected “abrupt” was coming up.
I sat across from Henna as Conor finished his only set. He needed watching. Conor had a problem and was trying, not so subtly, to send me a message. I had a very good idea what his problem was and felt relieved when Henna squeezed my hand and left to primp in the lady's room.
The instant Henna disappeared down the hall Conor was at the booth. “Brecken, I’m hungry.” His eyes danced. Of course. How had he managed to sing at all?
A hungry vampire is an unpredictable vampire, and gentle as he is, good though he may always have been, there was a viciousness living in him now, and a physical strength that could destroy the Tavern - and its patrons - in seconds. Anger, fear and hunger directly impact our ability to control. Of these, the greatest is hunger and this lad was very hungry.
“Can you wait?” I asked, but realized he simply couldn’t. He was eyeing the man at the next booth. “Don’t look at them, Conor. Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m not trying to.” He groaned under his breath. “It’s just, I can hear that guy’s blood running through his veins.” Suddenly he grimaced. His mouth opened and sharp fangs began to descend.
I jumped to my feet. He was at the brink and I had to get him out of there and away from people. There was some doubt that he would follow me, so I grabbed his arm hard and shuffled him out the door. His mind agreed to come, but his body was telling him that food was right there, in the Tavern, close and thrumming with blood.
He struggled against me and people gawked at us. I couldn’t let that matter. I hauled him into the dark.
“Not here, Conor. Never here.” I dragged him to my car and jerked open the passenger door. “Get yourself under control,” I ordered. “You can do it. You got through your set so you’re not a wuss about control. Get in the car.”
I didn’t shove him in. I wanted him to do it, to assert his own power. And I wanted him to have the knowledge that he could. But I was ready, if he failed.
He snarled at me, surprise flitting across his face at the involuntary sound. It shocked him and he scrambled for the front seat. I tore out of the parking lot and headed for the foothills. I could see him grinding his fists into his eyes, refusing to look at the people we passed on the sidewalk and in other vehicles. I approved. Our bodies may be close in age, but Conor was a newbie and he was hurting.
I pulled off the road just above a track of houses. He looked down at those houses, noting the lights, knowing people were inside. A couple of yard dogs bellowed raggedly in our direction and he turned to me, eyebrows raised in panic. But it was the deeper look I valued. The look of trust.
“Right. Hunt now, talk later,” I directed. He followed me into the brush, but he didn’t get it yet.
“Hunt what?” The question was sincere and he was checking out the wilderness of the hills, not the populated houses. Not the dogs.
“Plenty of food here,” I instructed. “All good to drink. Wild hare, raccoon, coyote….”
He gasped. “There are coyotes around here?”
“Coyotes are good at survival. They live everywhere.” Like our kind, I thought. We talked as we ran deeper into the overgrown brush. “Have you hunted since you were turned?”
His chest heaved and he swiped his mouth. “Blood bank, remember? I’ve never hunted.”
“Except chickens.” I held back a chuckle. An open, grassy patch lay ahead. Good place for me to wait and watch.
“Brecken, about back there. At the table with that guy's heartbeat and all. I couldn't help it. Sorry.” His voice was haunting - desperate, and very sad.
I responded with teaching. Conor handled himself well, followed my lead and learned. Ravenous though he was, no animal died. He sampled, hunted and sampled again. But, as I suggested, he just tasted, never took much, always let the animal scurry away, still healthy, still strong. He was eager, fast, and soon not so hungry. Then he actually asked if he should stop, or was it better to stuff himself. I let him choos
e.
His priceless choice? “I’ll stop. I could probably do this all night, like pizza and beer or Thanksgiving dinner. I always stuffed myself. Guess those days are over.” He was happy, though. “This was great. Better than pizza.” He laughed, light and free from hunger. “Brecken, my clothes are a mess.”
“Ahh, yeah. I should have told you about that part. In the future, leave your shirt off and wear jeans instead of khakis. Keep water in your car to clean up after. Then take a shower to get wild musk scent off. Although, you might like animal scent, considering you’re a farm boy type.”
“No way. A shower’s good, but hunt half naked? What will the neighbors think?” We laughed at his home spun humor.
“I’m curious about something, Conor.”
“What?” He sprawled on the ground, sighing in the afterglow of feeding.
“Did the hogs and chickens live, too?”
He was instantly embarrassed. “Not the hens. There are dozens and dozens so no one noticed. And I fed the rest to the hogs. Kind of a thank you. My Dad spotted leftovers and couldn't figure out how the hens got in with the hogs.” He gestured at the dark hills. “This is better.”
I had to laugh. “Anything and everything is better than chicken. Fur is bad enough, but feathers?”
I scrunched down Indian style beside him. “How long since you last fed? How long with nothing?”
He lay back and made himself talk, though I knew he just wanted to bask in blood filled contentment. “Nearly a week. I ran out of blood bags, but I was okay so I didn’t think about it with everything going on. Getting moved in here and starting at the Tavern. Then I started to feel it, but I met you. That was a total shock, meeting someone just like me. And today I was so hungry, I couldn’t think of much else. I wanted to talk to you.”
I lay back and waited.
“Well, I didn’t know if I should find you,” he said. “I could tell you were around and I got to the Tavern early and sat in my car, but you didn’t come. So I made myself stay and sing and wait for you. I hoped you’d get here when Henna did. I mean, you have a thing with her.”
That made me sit up. What had he noticed about me and Henna?
“So you came in with her,” he continued. “I saw you watching me, but she was right there all the time. It was killing me.”
“Yeah, too obvious you were hungry, Conor. I should've helped you the other night.”
“No, it’s my own responsibility. I left my folks to be on my own. I can’t rely on anyone, even you.” He grinned sheepishly. “Big words after you just brought me up here to show me where and what and how. It’s stupid to say thanks for something this big, but thanks anyways.”
Smart, I thought. He gets it, but a little assistance never hurt anyone.
“Here’s the thing, Conor. First, I’ll give you information. You can ask me anything about us you need to know. Second, don’t ever let yourself get that hungry again. It’s far too dangerous and totally unnecessary. Third, …” I stopped, pondering my next words.
“Third?” he said.
I checked him over. Conor was probably of Scandinavian descent. Fair skin, bigger than I am, conservative haircut, clothes not quite the California style. I was looking at a farmer, willing to face whatever I’d say, but anxious about it all the same. In that instant I decided to let him make a prolonged stay in my territory.
My words were repeats, in a way, but more thorough now that I knew he wouldn’t be moving on. So I gave him number three. “You're new, Conor, so when you’re hungry, keep away from people. Don’t ever stress yourself, don’t test your ability to resist, don’t see humans as food. Not ever.” Ironic, I thought, how the pot was calling the kettle black. I felt a small sliver of shame at the good advice - advice I didn’t currently follow myself.
But - Henna. How else could I handle the power of her energy? So people for me, wildlife for Conor. I shrugged away the complications.
“Number four?” he said. “I’m expecting a number four.” I frowned, wondering where his thoughts were. “Brecken,” he continued, “I expected Henna would be number four.” He watched me carefully. “There’s something different about her. I can tell. It’s just there and ... never mind.”
“And what?” My voice was too sharp and he gave me a startled glance.
“I was going to say it's great. There’s something, and it’s great.” His face was open and very human. Heh. A full stomach does indeed soothe the savage beast.
Probably better to tell him part of the truth about her. He realizes it, in any case. “Some people put off strong vibes. Henna is one of those, and she feels the vibes of other people better than most. She could feel yours, for example. I’m sure she already has, even though she hasn’t put it together in her head. At least, not yet.”
I deliberately kept it low key, and Conor accepted my answer. But he gave me a look like I was down playing things, so I added a little. “I go to watch Henna perform, but we also spend time outside of the Tavern. In public we’re friendly and that’s all. Nevertheless - well, like I told you, she’s mine.” He frowned. “Nothing official as far as people are concerned. But, mine.”
“So we can have a girlfriend?”
”Sure, we can. There’s a catch, with her, though.”
He bolted up. “Let me guess. Henna doesn’t know about us.”
“Bingo!” I said facetiously. “She doesn’t know about us at all. About our world. She doesn’t know about me. It’s imperative to keep all that hidden, Conor. It’s our deepest and most vital secret. If you ever get found out, you’ll have to disappear.”
He looked worried. “Um, what do you mean by disappear?” Did he think I meant that I'd kill him?
My voice was gentle, to soothe. “I mean leave, Conor. Go far and never come back. Do I really need to explain why?”
“Nope, I know why. I saw my parents. They love me, but they were completely blasted by it. I’ve called home since I got here and my folks are still freaked. It’s a little better since I’m not there guzzling blood bank goop in the basement.” He hesitated. “My sister.”
“Is she freaked, too?”
“Yes, and no. I guess mostly yes, but she thinks I’ll get over it. I’d die if she knew I was thinking of biting on the people at the Tavern.” He looked at the ground, shame playing across his face. “I’ve never done it, except those two times on her. She forgave me, though. I don’t know how she could.”
I murmured. “An amazing sister and love. That’s how.”
“Yeah. We talked about it. I didn’t want to, but she did and I owed her. I told her all I remembered about being sick and everything. I was so scared she’d catch it, too.”
“It’s not something you catch, newbie. It’s a gift you were given. A vampire drank on you and made you drink back on him. It wasn’t an accident.”
Conor stared into the night. “Like in the tabloids, again.”
Hard not to laugh at this guy. “That part, yes. The tabloids and movies have that part right.”
“Good. I mean, she won’t ever be like me then, because I didn’t do that. Make her drink? Yuck. I never would. I didn’t even mean to bite her.”
“Ah, but she tasted good, didn’t she.”
He jerked at my words. “Damn it.” He buried his face in his arm. “So good. I don’t want it to be good, but it was. I can’t hug her or even stand very close. I’m too afraid I’ll do it again.”
“You won’t,” I assured him.
“How do you know I won’t?”
“Because you love her and don't want to hurt her. Your will is strong. Your character is strong. Look, you’re already stopping yourself with animals. And you were careful with your family right there in the same house, in the same room. You’re a good person, Conor, and you can be a good vampire.”
He gave a bitter snort. “A good vampire. Is there such a thing?”
“Oh, yeah. You’ll know the difference when you meet up with one of the other kind.”
&
nbsp; He stared at the night, probably groping with the existence of more like us. I wanted to get back to Henna. I stood and stretched. There was one more thing to tell him.
“I'm extending permission for you to stay here so I want you to start practicing how to control yourself better. Start tonight. Feel your vampire. Look inside and find the power you contain then build a sort of mental wall around it. A psychic wall, if you like that word. Hide your power and need. Control yourself totally, especially at the Tavern. Start right now to practice that.”
“How do I know if I’m doing it right?”
So, I taught some more. “When you're alone, concentrate on who you are. Let your vamp self surface. Let it roar then use your will power to shut it down. Do that again and again so you know how it feels. Understand all of who you are and concentrate on hiding who you are. Put on an act, if you need to, but the act is real, since you are also human. But let the human part out and hide the rest, that's all.”
“Yeah. Remember, I did that with my parents. I didn’t want them to be afraid or look at me funny, so I made myself act normal.” He was sad again. “But they looked at me funny anyway.”
“They did the best they could, Conor. Things happen to people in life and this happened to you, but it isn’t the end of the world. Actually more like the beginning.” We stood up and headed for the car.
“Can I ask you something? Not to be rude, but how old are you really?”
Out of long habit, I dodged. “Been around for a few years.”
“Wait. Can I try to guess?”
“Meh. Just know that I won’t really answer.”
“Were you a vampire when Clinton was president?”
“Mmm. Get in the car, Conor.”
“How about Elvis? When he was alive?” I grinned and eased onto the road. He fidgeted with excitement. “World War II?”
“Been there, done that.”
“Wow. World War I? Before there were cars? Before Custer?” I rolled my eyes. “So, before Custer and probably before the Civil War? Were you in it?”
“Enough.” We both laughed.
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