by Aja James
Oh Dark Goddess! What must she do?
Inanna was right. She knew how she felt all along.
After last night, after her mind had cleared, she’d realized that she never stopped loving him. She’d just been too afraid to admit it. Even to herself.
And even last night, it hadn’t been a Mistress Claiming a Blood Slave.
She hadn’t needed him so badly since seeing him again weeks ago when Inanna had unwittingly brought him to her shop because she craved his body and blood as his Mistress. The slave was controlled by the Mistress, not the other way around.
No, she’d wanted him desperately, madly, because she was enslaved by him. Because of her love for him. She’d yearned for him as her Mate. It was the only way she’d ever thought of him.
She’d hated herself for it. Hated him for making her helplessly enraptured. She’d hurt him for it.
But he hadn’t let her hatred win. He’d given her everything willingly.
He’d loved her last night. With his body, his heart, his soul.
Just as he’d loved her on the night of her twentieth name day.
And finally she knew.
She knew.
He’d loved her always.
Ishtar gasped and raised her head, searching Tal out with her leopard eyes, which could see much farther than her vampire ones. She sniffed the air to scent him. He was about four blocks away.
She quickly went around the back of a nearby building and transformed into leopard form, the kitten one that could pass for a very large cat, certainly less conspicuous than the fully-grown form or the giant leopard.
With a few large bounds, she leapt up the fire escape onto the roof of the building and ran at full speed across a series of rooftops, moving thrice as fast as if she’d run down the sidewalk in her vampire form.
In a couple of minutes she caught up with him.
Tal was just turning the corner towards the smell of roasted pork and stir-fried onions when something warm and furry landed on his shoulder, stealthily licked his face and neck like a cunning little thief, then slipped down his torso to silently plop on the ground.
A familiar kittenish growl, almost drowned out by a deafening purr, met his ears as the large cat wound itself around his legs, stroking its sides and head against them, flicking its thick tail at his shins.
“Ishtar,” he murmured, recognizing her immediately.
She hadn’t taken this form with him since they’d been youths. As they’d grown older, her leopard form had grown with her. She’d never reverted back to kitten form. He didn’t even know she could.
Abruptly, she changed back into vampire form, her whole body aligned to his as she sinuously rubbed against him from thigh to chest, then kissed his mouth briefly before he could react.
“I’m hungry,” she said cheerfully, stepping away so that they were no longer touching. “Feed me, ninigiku of my heart.”
Tal reeled physically at her use of the old endearment, stumbling a step.
But even more concerning was the fact that he’d been so lost in thought, distracted by his worry for where she was and whether she was all right as soon as she’d fallen behind, that he hadn’t even noticed her until she’d landed on his shoulder in her kitten form.
At this rate, he might as well turn himself over to Anunit and be done with it; he was useless as a protector.
She noticed his reticence and accurately judged its source.
“Come now, Tal,” she said softly, “you’re not upset because I surprised you, are you? I bet you knew I was there all along and wanted to be surprised. Just like we used to do.”
He tested the truth of her words and realized that she might be right. As a boy with his “cat,” they often played this game. He’d always let her win, even though he could sense her coming a long way off.
“You said you’re hungry,” he reminded her gruffly, and led the way to the BBQ diner, his pace brisk.
She kept up with a jaunty little leap in her step, her mood so reminiscent of the girl she used to be, laughing carefree with the boy he used to be, that his heart squeezed with both gladness and sorrow.
For they would never be that innocent again.
When they entered the restaurant, she sidled up close again and took one of his arms in both of hers.
Before he could open his mouth, she said to the greeter, “A cozy table for my husband and me, just the two of us. We’re out on a date away from the kids.”
Ishtar must have smiled or made a face at the woman, because Tal heard her chuckle.
“Well, lucky you,” the greeter said, “I know how it goes, hun. Gotta keep the love juices flowing to make those babies, don’t you? Because they sure don’t make it easy when they’re under foot.”
“Oh indeed,” Ishtar agreed readily as the woman led them to a back booth. “And you must agree that I’d want my gorgeous husband all to myself as much as humanly possible.”
Tal tensed as he felt two pairs of female eyes rake him from head to toe.
“Girl, if I had this one for my man, I’d keep him locked up and throw away the key!”
The greeter hooted at her own joke as she walked away while Ishtar tugged Tal down with her to sit on the booth, conveniently squeezing him into a corner between the anchored table and the wall.
He needed to start paying attention. She too easily shepherded him like a sheepdog with her flock, walling him in every chance she got.
“Lock you up and throw away the key,” Ishtar echoed under her breath beside him, so close he was getting singed by her body heat, “what a great idea. I’ll have to try it sometime.”
Before Tal could respond, their waitress arrived to take their drinks.
Tal didn’t order anything besides the water the waitress offered, but Ishtar had specific requirements.
“Milk please, two large glasses,” she said.
“Ah…I’ll see if I can find that much,” the young woman answered, “we usually only keep it for cooking and to go with coffee.”
“Give me everything you have,” Ishtar said eagerly. “And if you don’t have two glasses, do you have cream?”
“Yes?” the girl asked the answer rather than stated it, embedding an implicit question in the word—why in the world do you want cream?
“I’d like to have a cup of that on the side with the milk,” Ishtar answered her silent question.
“Well…I’ll see what I can do,” the waitress hedged, “I’ll be back to take your order shortly.”
She directed her next inquiry back at Tal.
“Are you sure I can’t get you something besides water, sir?”
Tal started when Ishtar grabbed his arm suddenly and hugged it between her breasts.
“He’s mine,” he heard Ishtar practically growl at the woman, who scurried hurriedly away before the growl had finished vibrating in Ishtar’s throat.
Tal tugged his arm back and turned to face his “keeper” more fully.
“What was that all about?” he asked low.
If she was playing games at his expense, he didn’t want any part in it.
“She was coveting your face and body,” Ishtar replied calmly, reasonably, “I didn’t like it. The other woman who met us at the entrance admired you too, but she knew you were mine. She was merely sharing her approval.”
He shook his head, having no words to argue with her.
What rubbish she spewed.
He might not be able to see himself in the mirror, but he knew he must look like a monster after all the torture he’d endured over the past several millennia. His scars were hidden under his clothes, but he could feel the lines and prominent bones of his face and jaw when he washed, the brittle hardness of his hair, shaven to a spiky, utilitarian buzz.
He’d never been vain and didn’t regret the loss of his looks, more concerned that his body no longer had the strength it used to, but he knew he wouldn’t win any beauty contests as he was now. If he’d looked like this back then, no vampire wo
uld ever have chosen him for a Blood Slave.
She seemed to understand his wordless rebuttal, for she reached up a hand to touch his cheek.
He flinched away but her hand pursued him, her fingers smoothing in an infinitely gentle caress down the side of his face, her thumb brushing lightly over his mouth.
Reminding him of the way she used to touch him.
The way she used to love him.
“You’re so beautiful, Tal,” she whispered, her voice husky with a vibrating purr.
“Everyone sees it. Everyone wants you. But I was your first. You promised that I would always be your first. And I’m never letting go of my Claim.”
Frozen, with nowhere to budge even an inch, Tal could only tense himself as she leaned in to press her lips to his, igniting an inferno within him.
And then just as quickly, she moved back again.
“I’m never letting go of you, Tal,” she vowed deeply with quiet conviction.
He was saved from having to respond as the waitress returned, her voice less cheerful and solicitous, her mood obviously subdued.
Ishtar efficiently ordered for both of them—four slabs of baby back ribs, two sides of jumbo fried shrimp, two large bowls of coleslaw and corn, a large sausage platter and two loaves of bread.
“I’m very hungry,” she said when the waitress left them to put in the order.
“Maybe I should have confirmed first whether you brought enough money. I don’t have any.”
Tal dug into a pocket and took out two bills.
“Is this enough?”
She stared at the two fifties and shrugged.
“I didn’t look at the cost of the food, but I think so.”
He wished he could see her face. She didn’t sound like she navigated this modern world any better than he did, even though she must have lived freely whereas he’d been imprisoned all this time.
But he didn’t really know.
He didn’t know anything about her in this age, hadn’t shared any of her experiences—what she’d done, where she’d been, who she’d been with.
It pained him deeply to face this truth.
“What do you do for money?” he couldn’t help the question even though he wanted to recall it as soon as he asked.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know her, for with each piece of knowledge, however small, it would be that much harder to let her go.
He could feel the air shift as she shrugged beside him.
“I never needed money, even to this day. I didn’t have anything after the War,” she said matter-of-factly, “I had to steal clothes and shoes to wear when I finally escaped my human captors.”
When I finally escaped my human captors.
She said it without inflection, as if it was just a thing of the past, but Tal felt her pain all the same.
“I went back to the palace to scrounge what I could, after the human marauders had deserted it. There was nothing of value left, no gold, no jewels. But I took some daily wares and…and the gifts you gave me, for I had hidden them away, and left everything else behind.”
Tal thought of the comb and carving he’d made for her out of discarded blocks of sandalwood. She’d kept them all this time, at least the leopard with its ribbon.
It had given him strength last night. He’d held it tight in his hand, recalling how she used to touch him, always with passion, affection and eager love.
It had hurt infinitely more when her touch held only fury and vengeance.
“For a very long time I just remained in the wild in my leopard form, hunting prey, moving from mountain to mountain, traveling to different lands, stowing away on ships even, just getting as far away from Akkad as possible,” she described with some false cheer, as if she noticed where his thoughts had gone and wanted to distract him.
“I’d collected quite a treasure trove over the ages of common things,” she said proudly. “I arrived in the Colonies, as this place was known a few hundred years ago, on a ship with Spanish explorers. I was very useful to them because I could track things and was an exceptional hunter.”
Here, he could almost hear her grin.
“They didn’t even care I was female. They were very respectful of my abilities and treated me like a member of the crew. Some of them even knew what I was—not the leopard but the vampire. They willingly Consented to give me blood when I needed it. I’d learned early on to avoid the religious zealots, having experienced enough persecution from human ignorance to last me to eternity.”
The food arrived and almost overflowed their table. Ishtar piled a plate with a bit of everything on it in front of Tal and dug into a rack of ribs with her hands and teeth.
“Anyway,” she said between mouthfuls, “I learned from the exploring expeditions that I didn’t have to have coin to live; I just had to have something of value to trade. Sometimes it was metals that could be found in the mountains that I climbed easily. Sometimes it was fur and meat from animals I hunted. I just gathered enough things of value to trade for what I needed. And once in a while I’d trade for something I wanted.”
“What did you want?” he asked softly, digging more leisurely into his food than the ravenous wildcat beside him, mesmerized by her accounting.
“Oh, simple things,” she answered, and he felt her shrug again.
“I saw a doll made out of soft cloth stuffed with cotton in a store window once. I think I might have been in a country called France at the time. I thought of Inanna and got it on a whim, paying a length of fine lace for it that the shopkeeper was willing to take in exchange.”
“It was silly,” she admonished herself. “Inanna was certainly no longer a child by then, but I guess she’d always remain a little girl in a mother’s heart. Even though I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a mother.”
“You would have been a good mother,” Tal said fiercely.
Despite himself, he reached for her hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go.
She was silent for a while, as if weighing his words. Or startled by his touch.
“Would I have been a good Mate too?” she asked so softly he almost didn’t hear.
But instead of waiting for his answer, she continued her recounting with gusto.
“As it turns out, old things, very old things, are worth a lot of money to modern humans. I know where all the museums and private collections are in every new place I go to. For one of the little trinkets I collected over the ages, I can get amazing things in return.”
He heard her pile a few dishes together. It appeared she’d demolished half their meal already.
“Like my shop Dark Dreams,” she continued, tearing into a third rack of ribs.
“It took just a water bowl from Egypt to own that place. It was a foreigner who arranged it all for me, and for the price of a small pitcher from the same time period, he set up a method to pay all of the utilities for the next hundred years in advance. Said something about an escrow account, whatever that is. I never even had to meet him in person.”
“Humans have their uses,” she said, somewhat grudgingly, “not all of them are ignorant and jealous. Not even most, I’ve learned. But I still don’t trust them as a rule.”
“You’ve been alone all this time?” he asked, finishing his food and wiping his hands clean. He sat back against the booth and faced her fully, his senses picking up changes in the air around her when she moved, forming a picture in his mind.
She nodded, chugging down her second glass of milk.
“There’s always been a part of me that seethed with anger and vengeance,” she admitted solemnly, not looking at him.
“Ever since the Purge after the war. Ever since I lost my sister and mother.”
Tal clenched his jaw at the reminder.
He caused her to lose everything. If she’d been overcome by darkness since the War, he’d been as much to blame as anyone else.
“I didn’t want to form relationships and I didn’t trust myself in them. It was only re
cently, since I settled in New York City, since I found Inanna, that I started to…care again. But I had to be careful because there was always a part of me that wanted to lash out and destroy things.”
She shook her head as if trying to shake out the shadow of bad feelings, or because she still didn’t understand what beset her when she felt those feelings.
“Baking for the orphanage nearby helped to calm me,” she said quietly. “Having visits from Inanna, and then her Mate and her son, helped even more.”
She didn’t add that because of him, because of Tal, she no longer felt the darkness at all.
“You learned how to bake,” he mused, perhaps purposely focusing on the most benign part of her tale.
“I’ve learned many things,” she answered with pride.
“I’ve had to. I was no longer a pampered princess with countless servants to provide for me. So I learned how to cook, clean, sew, fix things, build things.”
She made a face even though he couldn’t see it.
“I just haven’t quite gotten used to technology. You know—those i-things. The Internet. I don’t watch TV either. But I do have an old record player in the back of the shop that I sometimes play. It’s incredible the kind of music humans have been able to create over the ages. So different and unique and beautiful in every age.”
Yes, Tal loved the music too, especially as he had no sight for the rest of it. He well understood her reticence with technology. It seemed somehow unnatural that humans spent more time with their devices than with each other.
“What about you, Tal?” she ventured tentatively. “I wish you’d tell me about what happened to you.”
In answer, he stood to leave, waiting wordlessly for her to move out of the way.
For a while, she remained stationary and silent. He could feel her watching his face intently. He made sure that he only projected an emotionless mask.
He would never tell her of his experiences. They were his to bear alone. He didn’t need the pity of others. Least of all hers.
Finally, she rose to her feet as well, slowly stepping out of the booth.
He left the two fifties on the table and walked unerringly out of the door they’d entered through before, Ishtar trailing a couple of feet behind him.
