Alpha Vampire Romance: Vampire’s Mate (Paranormal Shapeshifter Alpha Demon Vampire Romance) (Coming of Age Werewolf BBW Shifter Women’s Fiction Short Stories)

by Rebecca Abbott

  “Jonathan!” I call out to him and his smile widens even more.

  “Martha!”

  We meet and he wraps me up in a bear hug. He always was a big guy, but now he is absolutely huge and judging by the way he crushes my sides with his bear hug I’d say that most of it is muscle. I pull back and look up at him. He always was taller than me.

  “You look good,” I say. “Not sure about the mustache, though.”

  He rubs his mustache, smiles and shakes his head. “You always did say whatever was on your mind Martha.”

  “No use hiding what you’re thinking.”

  “You look good too.” He holds me at arm’s length and looks me over.

  “Yeah right. I look like I’ve been eating too much and working out too little. Speaking of eating. I’ve got some groceries in the car. Help me bring them in and I’ll fix you something if you’re hungry.”

  “I just ate, but I’ll help.”

  We gather the groceries out of the car and he hefts the bags with all the wine bottles in them. He shakes his head with a smile and starts for the house without a word. I unlock the door and let him inside. Pointing him to the kitchen, I follow after shutting the door. He sits the bags on the island.

  “Groceries huh?” He clinks the bottles together.

  “I like grapes.”

  He bellows laughter and pulls one of the bottles out of its bag. “I might not be hungry, but I am thirsty. Do you have anything besides this stuff?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t.” I don’t drink beer and rarely drink anything stronger than wine.

  “Give me a minute.” He turns and starts for the door.

  “You’re leaving already?” I ask.

  “No. I’m going to run down to a little package store I saw on my way into town and pick up something different to drink. Do you want anything?”

  “Yeah. A bottle of vodka.”

  “Vodka?” He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t changed a bit have you?”

  “No, but you have and now that you’re here we’re going to celebrate you being back. I haven’t seen you in five years.”

  “Six.”

  “Has it been that long?”

  “It has.” He opens the door and turns back. “I’ll be right back and then we can get to catching up. So long.”

  That ‘so long’ makes it sound like he is never coming back, but it’s just a thing we have done ever since I can remember. We never say goodbye. We always say so long. If you knew anything about rock, you would probably know what song that comes from, but if you don’t I won’t be too hard on you.

  The sound of Jonathan’s bike is a loud rumble like thunder as he starts it up and pulls out of the driveway. I take the time he is gone in to put away the groceries that I bought and put on some different clothes. Not that I’m not comfortable, but it seems to me that sweats and a sweater aren’t exactly clothes to have on for company even if it is your stepbrother. I slip into an older grey shirt that I like because it enhances my more than ample breasts and it has one of my favorite sayings on the front. ‘Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.’ A pair of shorts that show off my legs and I feel much better. You might be wondering why I didn’t put on a pair of shoes and I’ll tell you. I hate shoes. I’d go barefoot if I could, but people give you weird looks if you do that in public. You might also be wondering about my choice of clothes, but I can assure you that I’m not trying to seduce my stepbrother. If he notices what I am wearing then so be it.

  I pour myself a generous glass of wine and wait for Jonathan to get back. As I wait, I find myself wondering what he is like after experiencing war. I’ve seen the television shows and the movies that depict men who have gone to war as being totally different than they were before. Will he still be the same guy who liked to listen to funk while he smoked a joint? Something tells me no, but we’ll see.

  The rumble of his bike is loud as he comes down the street and pulls back into the driveway. Seconds later he knocks on the door. I roll my eyes and hurry to the door. He is standing on the other side with a paper sack in each hand and a grin on his face.

  “You don’t have to knock you dork,” I tell him.

  “Yes, I do. This isn’t my house Martha. It’s yours and I won’t just go barging in.”

  “Don’t look at it like that. My house is always your home Jon. Whenever you need it. Remember that.”

  “Thanks.” For a second his voice is hoarse and tearful, but then it returns to its normal gruff tone. “Now are you going to let me in so I can put this stuff down or am I going to stand here on the sidewalk all day?”

  “Get in here.”

  *****

  He sits the paper bags down on the counter top and rips them down the sides. The case of beer he puts in the fridge, but he leaves the bottle of vodka on the counter top. He opens a beer and downs most of its contents in a single swallow.

  “Where do you keep your glasses Sis?”

  Wow. That felt weird. I haven’t had anyone call me Sis in a long time, but I have to admit that it also felt pretty good. I point him to the cabinet above the sink and check out the bottle of vodka he brought. It’s a half gallon! Good lord. Apparently when I said celebrate, he took it as get fall down drunk and pass out before the sun goes down.

  While he looks for glasses, I tell him I have something I need to do really quickly, and step into my bedroom. I think I better call work before I get too far gone and tell them I won’t be in for work tomorrow. I’ve got a few vacation days stored up and a few sick days as well. Who am I trying to kid? I’ve got five weeks of vacation and I’ve never taken a sick day since I started working at the nursing home. I call the shift boss for tomorrow and she answers the phone on the first ring.

  “Hello Martha. Is there something I can do you for?” Ginger’s voice is always so calm and gentle. It’s a lot of the reason she is so good with people.

  “Yeah there is Ginger. My brother just came back from Iraq.” Stepbrother actually, but why get into the details right now. “I was wondering if I could get tomorrow off so that I could visit with him before he leaves.” I have no idea when he’s leaving and they owe me the day off, so it’s best to be as polite as possible. I’ve found that a soft voice and a polite demeanor will get you a long way in this world.

  “Sure thing Martha. You haven’t taken a day off since you started working here. You know what? Take the whole week off. You deserve it and you definitely have the vacation days to cover it. I’ll get someone to cover your shift.”

  “I couldn’t Ginger. What if something went wrong?”

  “If things get too bad, I’ll call you. You’re only a few minutes away. If things get too out of hand I’ll give you a ring and you can get down here in a jiffy. How’s that sound?”

  “Alright. It would be nice to have a week to visit and relax.”

  “Good. Have fun. You’ve earned it.”

  “Thanks Ginger.”

  “You’re welcome. Goodbye.”

  She hangs up the phone without waiting for a reply like she always does. Once I hang the phone up, I stand for a minute with a dumbfounded look on my face. A whole week off. I haven’t had that much time off since I was in high school. Not even in college. I worked my butt off even when I had a few days off so I could get ahead and graduate early.

  As soon as I step into the kitchen Jonathan hands me a glass of clear liquid that I know all too well to be vodka.

  “Drink up.” He clinks glasses with me and downs his own in a single gulp.

  I don’t want to look like the odd one out so I do the same. It burns going down, but a quick sip of my wine fixes that. We sit down on a couple of stools near the island and he pours us another drink.

  “So. I have to ask. When did you get the mustache?”

  “It’s about all they allow in the Marines. I wanted a mohawk but they said hell no.”

  For a while we talk of light things a skate around the big is
sues like Dad dying while Jonathan was still on tour in Iraq, but eventually we get around to the hard questions. As he takes another drink, I tug on the sleeve of his coat.

  “You going to take that coat off, or do you plan on leaving in a hurry?”

  He grins sheepishly and shrugs out of his coat. My eyes almost pop out of their sockets when I see how large and defined his arms are. I was right. He is huge. Underneath his coat he has on a sleeveless shirt and when he bends his arms his biceps bulge with muscle. I tell him to toss his coat on the couch. Then he drops the big one.

  “How was Dad’s funeral?” he asks.

  “It was beautiful Jon. You would have liked it. The urn they put him in was shaped like a fish believe it or not.”

  “Dad always did love to fish.”

  “That he did.” Even thought my father wasn’t Jonathan’s he still called him Dad because he was the only father he ever knew. “Remember that time he took us fishing out at Red’s Lake and you turned the boat over?”

  “No. I remember the time he took us to Red’s and you turned the boat over. You were whining about your hair and kept standing up in the front of the boat. Then you dropped your pole in the water and when you bent over to pick it up we tipped over.”

  “I don’t think that was how it went.” That was exactly how it went, but I hate admitting it. “Besides, you didn’t even try to help me when I was drowning afterwards.”

  “I was the one who pulled you to bank.”

  “Sure.” I roll my eyes and mock punch him on the arm. That was something we used to do with each other as kids, but mainly I wanted to see how hard those arms were. They were like rocks. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but damn he looks so good sitting there.

  “What was it like over there?” I was trying to change the subject and get my mind off of his biceps, but now that the words have left my mouth I would do anything to take them back. What a stupid question to ask a veteran. What was it like over there? I might as well ask him if he killed anyone while I’m at it.

  “It wasn’t too bad at first. I spent a lot of the time walking the side streets or riding around and making sure that the civilians were okay. I did that for weeks. I thought it was some kind of game over there and that the media had just hyped it up a lot. Then on the third week I was there I was with my squad at a road block. We were fixing to drive through when a RPG blew up the truck in front of us. It was just some guy and his family in the truck. I think they meant to hit us, but I’ll never really know.

  “We leapt out and right away training took over. I ran with Tom, my buddy, to a low wall. I had seen the position the guy shot the RPG from so I called it out to my commander and he told me and my buddy to go and take the guy out. We did what we were trained to do and took the guy out, but on the way out Tom took a wrong turn and triggered an IED. He was dead before I could get to him.”

  As he goes quiet, I’m trying to think of something to say, but his story has disturbed me. I knew it was bad over there. I’ve seen the news and heard the stories, but hearing it first hand is a whole new experience. I open my mouth to try and comfort him and he continues.

  “It was rough going after that. For a while I didn’t care if I lived or died. I took the hard missions, the suicide missions, in the hopes that I wouldn’t come back. I always did. A lot of the times without my men, but I always came back. So you want to know what it was like over there. It was hell and I miss it every second I am away.”

  “I’m sorry Jon. I shouldn’t have asked. I just can’t ever keep my stupid mouth shut. You know that.” My apology sounds as flat to my ears as I’m sure it does to his.

  “Don’t be sorry. It honestly feels good to talk about it.”

  “Do you really miss it?” Once more I’m going to ask a stupid question. It’s who I am.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  His short response lets me know more than if he would have talked for an hour. If he doesn’t have much to say about something it usually means it’s true. He’s been like that since we were young. I’m going to close that subject for now and talk about something else.

  “Do you have a special woman in your life?”

  “Not right now.” He takes another drink of his beer. “Hell, I haven’t had a woman in my life other than as part of my platoon since I joined the Marines.”

  “Not one?”

  “No. I just haven’t found the right woman yet. I don’t plan on wasting my time with some skank that just wants sex. What about you? Do you have a man in your life?”

  “Nope. All work and no play is how I roll.”

  “Damn. What a horrible life.” He laughs and nudges me in the ribs with an elbow.

  “Yeah, maybe, but I’ve got the week off. What do you say we go down to the bar and close the sucker down?”

  “I’m game. Put on some shoes and we’ll show this town how to kick up its heels.”

  I go to the bedroom and slip on a comfortable pair of shoes that don’t look too bad. Not that I plan on turning any heads tonight anyway. He is already outside waiting with a helmet in his hands. I shake my head and cross my arms under my breasts. I know exactly what he wants and I’m not going to do it.

  “I’m not getting on that death machine. No way. No how.”

  “Come on. I’m a good rider.”

  “Well, that’s new ‘cause you used to suck.”

  “Quit being a sissy and get on the bike. I’ll leave without you. Now come on.”

  “Alright.” I climb onto the bike behind him and strap the helmet on. The buckle is a little loose, but the bar is only a few minutes away. Surely I will be okay until then. I know what you’re thinking. Why in the world did she get on the bike? I’m not too ashamed to tell you that I wanted to put my arms around Jonathan and see how he felt. I’m always had a thing for him since we were little. I didn’t do anything about it then because people would have thought we were weirdos and shunned us because I was his stepsister. Now we’re older and both of our parents are dead. We’re not related really, so I see no problem in it. He starts the bike and the steady thrum excites me. As he pulls out of the driveway, I ease my crotch a little firmer onto the seat so I can truly enjoy the bike and its power.

  *****

  A couple of hours after leaving the house and we’re sitting across from each other in a booth listening to some good old-school rock pumping from the jukebox. Jonathan mentions something about when we were younger and we go down the rabbit hole to a simpler time when bills and taxes didn’t exist for us.

  “Do you recall the time I had friends over for my thirteenth birthday?” I ask him. I know that he does.

  He ponders for a moment with his hand on his chin like he is really thinking hard. He shakes his head with a small grin. “No, I don’t seem to remember that one.”

  “Sure you don’t. Me and my friends were upstairs in my room doing what girls that age do. Talking about boys, boys, our bodies, and more boys. Terry Simone took off her shirt to show us her new bra so we all started taking off our shirts to compare bras and sizes and you fell out of my closet. I don’t think I had ever seen you move as fast as you did that night.”

  “I got excited. That was a lot for a young boy of eleven to see all at once.”

  “I thought you might remember.” We laugh and I poke him in the ribs from across the table. “I knew you were in there. That’s why I steered the conversation to bras to see if one of the girls would take her shirt off. I knew that you had a crush on Terry. Man I wish I could have seen your face when her shirt went over her head.”

  “It wasn’t her who I was excited about.” He says around his beer as he takes another drink.

  “It wasn’t? Who was it then?”

  “I probably shouldn’t say.”

  “Come on. It’s me. Martha. You can tell me anything.”

  “That’s the problem. It was you.”

  “Wait. What? You were excited to see me in my bra.”

  “Of course I was. Your breasts we
re already starting to fill out and you were twice as hot as those girls ever were. You still are. To be honest I wouldn’t mind seeing what they look like now that they have full developed.” His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said. “Oh shit! I’m sorry Martha. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

  I reach across the table and put a finger to his lips. “You didn’t say anything wrong. In fact, I’m glad that you said it because I’ve had similar feelings about you for years. If you really want to see what they look like. Here they are.”

  I didn’t put on a bra early so I just lift up my shirt from the bottom and show him my breasts. His eyes widen again as he takes them in. One of his hands spasms once like he wants to reach out and touch them. I wish he would. He doesn’t, and I pull my shirt back down.

  The yell comes from across the bar, but I can tell by the sound of it that whoever made it is coming closer. Sure enough some guy walks right up to our booth and lays both hands on the table. I look at him and right away I can tell that he thinks he runs this place. He’s the guy that everyone respects because of his size. He is a big man, but not as big as Jonathan. I assume that most nights this guy gets any woman in the bar he wants. Well, I hate to burst his bubble, but he isn’t getting this girl tonight or any other night.

  “Name’s Harry and I gotta say that you’re looking damn good honey.” His voice is heavy with booze and his words are slurred.

  “Thanks.” I try my best not to encourage him.

  “Me and a couple of the boys thought that we might take you for a little ride and show you a real good time. What do you say?”

  “I say no. I’m here with someone.” I figure there is no sense in telling him that I wouldn’t leave with him if he was the last man on earth.

  “Maybe I insist.”

  Harry’s hand shoots out to grab me by the shoulder, but Jonathan is quicker. His hand is a blur as it darts out and grabs Harry by the front of his shirt. Jonathan pulls him down close and looks him in the eyes for a split second before he speaks. His voice is almost a growl when he speaks.

  “Touch her and I’ll leave you laying here coughing blood.”