by Marie Hall
She smiled softly, as if unsure. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have asked.”
Waving off her concern, he walked over to a drawer in the kitchen. Opening it, he pulled out a thick, cream-colored beeswax candle and a book of matches that he’d left sometime in the late seventies. Pointing at a small cabinet inset within a pantry, he jerked his chin. “There are a few more in there. Grab what you can.”
He probably should say more, try to calm her worries that she’d insulted him somehow, but he didn’t want to dredge up any memories of Adrianna’s ghost. Not now. She didn’t belong in this moment.
Turning, she did as he asked, pulling out another five. “Where do I put them?”
Her voice was calm, taking her cue from him, and he felt an inexplicable urge to hug her, which he promptly ignored.
His cabin was as sparsely furnished as his apartment in San Francisco had been. This was a one-room home: kitchen, bedroom, bathroom all shared the same space. There was a bronze horse trough he’d used to wash in resting against a corner, a small frame bed big enough to sleep two with a feather-down mattress he’d stuffed himself. A kitchen table that would seat four. An armoire to fit his clothes in, an icebox to store perishables, and a farmhouse sink he’d installed. Water ran in from the natural spring well out back.
“Put them on the table.”
Licking her lips, she set down the fat candles, which he proceeded to light one by one. “I hate to break it to you, but this place needs some serious updating.” She chuckled, and the sound of it washed against his flesh, brought color to her snow white cheeks.
“Part of its charm.”
“Charm?” Turning in a slow circle with her hands planted on her hips, she shook her head. “Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?”
Setting the matchbook aside, he leaned against the kitchen counter. He really needed to get her more clothes, something not quite so revealing—it was distracting to look upon so much female beauty and not want to return to what they’d been doing not even an hour ago.
“What would you call it?”
Picking up a crocheted yarn blanket off the foot of his bed, she sniffed it. “Antiquated. Old. Ancient—”
He snorted and crossed his feet. “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘charming.’”
“Pft. You wish. It stinks like my aunt Telly’s rubbing ointment for her bad knees. It smells like old people and”—she laughed again—“I thought the other place was minimal, this is positively medieval.”
He shrugged. “It suits me. Does what I require.” His eyes drew down her form. “You need clothes. And another bath.”
She rubbed her chest, smearing the caking blood. “What? Red doesn’t suit me?”
“Suits you too well.” He shoved off the counter. “I’m going into town to get some supplies. The shadow arrived too soon for me to grab much other than some soaps and toothbrushes.”
At the mention of the shadow she visibly pulled into herself. The verve and vitality so present just seconds ago vanished as her eyes roamed around their place, out the windows into the woods beyond.
He shook his head. “You are safe from her tonight.”
“How do you know that?” She crossed her arms over her breasts in a defensive posture.
“Because I injected enough death into her to sink her into a coma for at least a couple weeks. Go out back, there’s a lake. Take some of the supplies in the bag, whatever you need. Don’t stay out too long; this cabin is very isolated, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes with food and clothes.”
Her jaw jutted out and she merely nodded an okay where before his ordering her about would have turned into a battle of wills.
Zipping open the bag, she knelt and began rummaging through it. The flickering flame played off her body, highlighting the sweet curves of her ass, the graceful line of her back and supple thighs. His body responded and it shocked him that it could. He hadn’t felt a need to be with a woman for too long, so long he didn’t know how to act or think.
She must have felt his look because she turned to look at him, cocking her head in question.
“Nothing.” He turned on his heels and headed back out the door.
* * *
Mila watched him go with questions pounding through her skull. After the sex in the glen, they’d been doing a weird sort of dance around each other. The stupid cry fest had been good for her, gotten rid of the festering poison inside, but now she felt exposed. Like he’d seen a side of her few ever did; it made her anxious and aware in a way she hadn’t been before—that this was it.
This was her life now. She could rant and rave and piss and moan about it, but it changed nothing. The thought of offing herself felt wrong, not because she was suddenly in love, but because when he’d kissed her, moved inside her body for the first time in so long, she knew she wasn’t alone.
It wasn’t a fight she’d have to shoulder full responsibility for again. And it was strange thinking that, because she wasn’t sure where they stood. She hadn’t exactly made a habit of one-night stands in life, so she was socially inept at navigating these waters.
You’d think in afterlife, things like embarrassment and humiliation would cease to exist. They really didn’t; in fact, they intensified by about tenfold.
Riffling through the bag, she yanked out a bottle of shampoo and conditioner, a hairbrush, toothbrush and paste, and a towel. There were some clothes in the bag, but mostly his stuff.
It was surprising to her that she really didn’t care about wearing so little clothing, being practically naked in front of him constantly. Just yesterday it’d been hard to watch him sleep in the buff. Now today she was walking around with her breasts hanging out and her hoo-ha on display and barely thought about it. Just didn’t seem all that important anymore.
But the way he’d been eyeing her, maybe it was best if she at least attempted to cover up. Feel more human. Grabbing a plain gray T-shirt from the bottom of the bag, she exited the depressingly small cabin and made her way to the back.
The woods were electric.
It was amazing how different the world smelled, tasted, looked, now that she was immortal. The setting sun was a deeper shade of yellow. The orange and pink streaks across the sky more jewel-toned, and the green of the leaves was an intense shade of color.
The water was also different. She could smell it in a way she never had before. There was the obvious, fish and muck and brine, but there was more. Each molecule within each individual drop had its own distinctive scent. All her life she’d been taught hydrogen and oxygen had no odor, but that wasn’t true. Even the most sensitive machine couldn’t pick up on it, but there was a smell.
It was salt and mineral, earth and clay all rolled into one. She inhaled again, letting it coat her lungs.
Nesting owls in the trees above smelled of rodent and berries. The soil was rich and pungent. A blackberry bush beckoned her with its sweetness.
This was it.
The vibrancy of life she’d never known existed before manifested itself in a new way—it was more than the colors or the scents, it was tangible. Awed, she held her arms out, watching as the sun played off her skin, and smiled, because it didn’t burn. She wasn’t sure what it meant to be a hybrid exactly, but maybe being part shifter and vampire had its perks, because she didn’t have to fear the sun or the night.
She inhaled deeply, calmer than she’d been in ages.
A hand clamped onto her shoulder and she screamed, tossing everything she held as she jumped onto the nearest tree branch.
Frenzy gazed at her with a perplexed question in his silver eyes. “It’s only me.” He held up his hands.
She frowned, heart still thundering a violent cadence in her chest. It was strange how she felt her heart’s movement since drinking from his vein. Before that it’d been a hollow, empty feeling inside of her. Drinking his blood had made her feel human again.
“Why’d you come back?�
� She grabbed her chest, flattening her palm against her breast, scanning the woods. “Did you see something?”
Greasy fear twisted her stomach in knots.
He frowned. “I’ve been gone nearly forty minutes. I worried that you might wonder where I’d been off to.”
“Forty minutes?” She shook her head, finally prying her fingers from the branch, jumping back to where he stood. “I’ve only been out here for like two minutes.”
His smile was tight. “You became entranced.” He touched her brow with the back of his hand.
She closed her eyes because it felt good.
“You’re hot.” He sounded worried.
Shrugging him off, she shook her head. “I don’t feel it.”
“You need to eat.”
“I did. I drank your blood.” Just saying it made her want to lick her lips. The taste of his blood had been…ah gods, amazing. Sweeter than grape juice, more addicting than a fine wine. It’d heated her veins, slid warm and hot down her throat, and she swallowed hard because just thinking about it made the hunger return.
She grabbed her stomach.
“No, O’Fallen. You’re part shifter too. You need food, I suspect.”
Wrinkling her nose, she took a step back. “I’m not going to swallow anything raw, livers, or…” Mila thinned her lips. “I can’t do it.”
“We need to talk. Go bathe quickly, and dress.” He shoved a pile of clothes into her arms.
There was a pink shirt with a picture of a fish on the front surrounded by hearts and the words I HEART BASS LAKE. There was also a pair of size-five blue-jean shorts.
“How’d you know what size I am?”
He smirked. “I may not like many people, but I watch.”
“Women.” She stuck out her tongue.
Frenzy shrugged.
“Whatever. Thanks.” She gestured.
Crossing his arms across his chest, it finally dawned on her that he’d changed too. Instead of the slacks and silk shirt she was accustomed to seeing on him, he was in denim jeans and a ribbed black shirt. It highlighted the thick strands of his crimson-colored hair and made her body suddenly ache.
“You look good in that,” she admitted without stuttering. There was one thing she liked about this new vampiric body of hers: it was owning up to her sexuality, being free and unashamed to admit what was on her mind.
His lips curved into a wicked but sensual smile that stole her breath. “Thought you might.”
“Gods.” She rolled her eyes. “Vain much?”
“How is it vain when I’m only telling the truth?” He winked.
Winked!
And why that should bring her such joy, make her feel suddenly so alive, so hot and bothered—it didn’t make sense. Then again, none of this did. She smiled. “Aye, whatever.”
He moved into her space, so close their bodies grazed, shared heat and air. She shivered, swallowing hard.
Then he was trailing his thumb along her jawline, pressing it into the tip of her chin. “The accent,” he said.
She sighed, letting go of the pent-up breath. Her voice was breathy and soft when she said, “I can’t seem to stop it from escaping anymore. All my life I kept myself closed off, alone, and I canna…” She licked her lips, not sure what to say.
“Do it anymore?” he supplied.
Looking at him, she nodded. “I suppose.”
“Bathe. There’s a conversation to be had that’s been long overdue.”
She nodded and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry about that. I really should have finished by now. Did I really hypnotize myself?”
It seemed hard to believe that she’d stood standing in the middle of the woods stark-assed naked for close to forty minutes, but she also couldn’t deny that she now had clothes and he’d changed.
“Go.” He nudged her. “I’ll wait and watch and make sure it doesn’t happen to you again.”
Mortified about her slip, she turned on her heel, grabbed her toiletries, and headed to the bank. Setting her items aside, she jumped into the water, which was, again, nice and temperate.
It wasn’t even spring yet. The water had to be at least in the sixties, if not lower.
Making quick work of washing, not wanting to get lost in the lull and movement of the life pulsing all around her, she moved briskly from task to task. How stupid had she been just standing there that way? What if something had come upon her unawares? She’d dropped her guard; she never did that. Ever. Her life had always been about staying one step ahead. But too often she was losing focus on what mattered, too busy squabbling with Frenzy over asinine stuff. Wanting to change what obviously couldn’t be changed.
Scrubbing her nails across her scalp one last time, she dipped her head under the water. Grabbing some sand, she rubbed it over her flesh, particularly where his blood had been, trying to strip as much scent off of her as possible.
Once she felt seminormal again, she swam back to shore.
He was still where she’d seen him last.
“Have you even blinked?” she teased.
“Not often. Didn’t want to miss the show.” He grinned, revealing even and strong white teeth.
Handing her the towel, he bent and retrieved a bottle of water. Quickly drying, she took the bottle from him with a question in her eyes.
“To brush your teeth. I noticed you brought out the stuff.”
“Thanks.” Taking it, she dipped her head. Then proceeded to brush her teeth. It was weird because she didn’t feel at all like she smelled or even had morning breath. Her body was different, but this was just a way for her to hang on to some sort of humanity.
Brushing the tangles out of her hair with her fingers, she glanced up to note he was still looking at her. But this wasn’t just a look, it was a scorching brand. Primal and raw and full of need.
“How do I look?” she whispered.
“Like dinner.” The sound of his deep voice mixed with the way he was mentally undressing her made her weak in the knees. Made her stomach tickle and heat pool between her legs.
“Come.” He held out his hands. “We’ve been out here long enough and before we give in to this hunger”—he let that word dangle and she knew exactly what he was talking about. She should be offended, but she wasn’t, she so wasn’t—“we need to figure out our strategy.”
Mila licked her lips.
She followed him back to the cabin in a sort of daze, eyeing his ass as he walked. The way the jeans hugged his hips.
Back inside, she noticed that he’d done stuff while she’d been hypnotized outside. The smell of cooked steak teased her senses, and suddenly she wasn’t hungry for sex. Her stomach didn’t just growl, it roared.
“I figured you’d need to eat too. And since you seem inclined to deny yourself meat that’s raw, I bought rib eye, barely seared on both sides.”
It touched her that he’d notice something like that. And that he was also giving her a way around the whole bloody-meat thing. Eating raw steaks wasn’t abnormal or gross, it was the way her nan used to prefer her meat. It felt safe and right now; she needed that.
“Thank you.” She dipped her head as he led her to the table that bore two plates. Both had steaks on them, but one of the plates also had a potato dripping in butter and a mound of broccoli.
Neither of those two items did anything for her, but she couldn’t stop eyeing the steak like it was her newfound lover. Her fingers curled.
“George mentioned that so long as you keep up eating a steady supply of mostly raw meat, the type of meat doesn’t matter.”
She smiled. “Poor lone wolf. He’s gotten a bad rap, hasn’t he?”
“Considering that the zombie he slept with was his wife of forty years, who he had no clue had gotten infected earlier in the day, yes, I’d say he’s gotten a very bad rap.”
That actually was kind of sad and made her feel horrible for how she’d treated him before. She’d heard rumors of the lone wolf who’d been kicked out for sleeping with a dead
body, but she’d had no idea the dead body was actually the reanimated corpse of his beloved wife.
He pulled out the chair for her. This all felt so domestic, so comfortable. It was still hard to believe that she didn’t want to gouge his eyes and rip his heart out of his chest every other second. It dawned on her as she sat that most of the battles they’d had, she’d instigated. Maybe if she hadn’t been so determined to be a bitch from the beginning, things might have been different between them from the get-go.
“Would seem so.”
Staring at the hunk of cow meat, mouth salivating with want, it was all she could do not to snatch it up and rip chunks out of it. It felt like forever since she’d eaten a thing. The burned squirrel in George’s lair had nearly made her vomit.
“Dig in.” He gestured, picking up his fork and knife. “I’m sure you’re starved.”
Licking her lips, she grabbed the utensils and sliced off a chunk both big enough to satisfy and small enough not to look like she had no manners. The first bite was succulent and sweet and she couldn’t help but moan in appreciation.
“I didn’t sleep with the shadow, I know I already told you this, but it’s important you really believe me,” he said quietly just before slipping a forkful of meat and potato into his mouth.
She glanced up, chewing. It’d been gnawing at her whether he was being honest then, she wouldn’t deny it. Not that it should matter, because they weren’t much of anything. Sleeping buddies, if that. There was nothing between them.
“You said you kissed her.” She finally admitted the one thing that’d been bothering her most. “Why?”
Spearing broccoli into his mouth, he swallowed before saying, “To learn the truth. How much about me do you know?”
She knew he wasn’t asking about him specifically so much as his kind. Deciding that it was time to be fully honest with him, she nodded. “Not much, truthfully.”
“Tell me what you do know so we can go from there. And don’t stop eating.” He pointed to her plate with his knife.
She snorted. “Aye, death.” Sawing off another large chunk, she chewed and then swallowed. The blood had made her feel powerful, invincible, but the meat helped clear the cobwebs, made the pounding and incessant need for sex not so manic. “Most of what I’ve learned about the others I was taught by gran and mum.”
