by Sarina, Nola
“Ooh, protective are you, Psycho?” Rachel sneered.
Festus glared at her and shook his head. “I hate to admit when the Psycho’s right as much as anyone, but he’s not wrong. Your Lady might be rather gentle. Levitiqas, on the other hand... let’s just say I’d like to avoid a royal ass-kicking for encouraging this.” He shuddered at a memory, and I relaxed. Festus was the oldest in the train. If he said the fight was off, it was off.
The Original Child huffed as she rose to her feet and flicked her wrists in the air, shooing us all to our seats. I grinned at her mannerisms: so similar to her mother’s. Sychar flashed out of her way and reappeared in his bench, and the Child paced across the train to the hogger she selected to stay with us on the journey.
His job was to serve us however we needed him to serve. And he did his job well as the Original Child motioned for him to stand. He smiled at her with friendly curiosity, and she smiled back. Then, she sprang into the air and wrapped her legs around his waist. Shock widened his eyes. She tore her fangs into his throat, took a long pull of his blood from his jugular, and then he stumbled with a yelp of surprise. She tackled him down and held his hands above his head as her poison drifted through his bloodstream. He choked, his skin sagging against his bones as his body dehydrated, crumpling into a mummified, coherent corpse. She watched with her head tilted to the side, an eerie satisfaction gracing her features, and the man’s body shrank, paralyzed beneath her toxic bite. He gasped until his lungs dried up, and then the Original Child released him. She snapped her fingers at Festus, who rose to aid her.
She didn’t need help feeding. She just liked bossing us around when we were acting like petulant, bickering children.
Festus lifted the train man’s fully-aware, mummified body into the air and shook the clothing from his shrunken form. And then the Original Child opened her jaws to their widest, most frightening gape, and lunged. She caught the man by the head like a snake, and wriggled forward to wrap her face around the body and take him all the way into her mouth. And then she swallowed, and with the familiar thud of a meal consumed, the body slid into her expandable torso. She stretched her shoulders for a moment, her silhouette distorted, and then she shuddered and shrank as her toxic insides digested the body, mist hissing into the air from her pores.
Festus bowed to the Original Child, all arrogance of the moments before gone. In commanding us, she reminded us of our place. We served her. We helped her survive. It was our only duty: the safe guardianship of the Original Child, so the ancient serpent wouldn’t come back and devastate mankind to exact his revenge for the theft of an apple.
The Original Child returned to her seat, and we all drifted into our own musings as the train chugged forth in the night, delivering us to the eastern province and Levitiqas’ home: the Pit.
Alpha
At the eastern train station, after a few solid nights of travel, everyone was irritable including the recently-fed Original Child. She stamped her feet at Festus when he insisted she put on her hood for departure. But his temper was wearing thin, so he whipped it over her head and zipped it up with a few choice words under his breath. It would probably earn him some discipline later, but it didn’t look like he really cared. Even Rachel, who rarely did more than bat her lashes at Festus, scowled at him for that.
In the train bay, the atmosphere quickly shifted from humble to apprehensive, as the door to the Defensor clanged open and I heard Levi’s rumbling growl outside. Festus’ shoulders shook with humor at Levi’s stress. We filed out into the train bay and I blinked in the fluorescent light.
Facing us, all clad in sleek Daywear like we wore, stood seven Gents in a perfect line. Only Levi moved, stepping forward to greet his superior, and Festus shook his hand. Then, Levi stepped back with apprehension in his stance. I shivered at the sight of him – stiff with restraint of his temper - as I took my place behind Rachel. Sychar guided the Original Child into the midst of the Gents’ protective arrangement. Levi was huge and scary. And he hated Maids. It wasn’t his fault, but his wrath reverberated through the room with a physical presence. Never had I met a Vesper so large and intimidating, and he came to transfer duty every month without fail. He cherished his duties and followed the rules, though being in the company of Maids was near torture for him. Levitiqas forced him to hate us, so he hated us without question. Why, I didn’t know.
Levi bowed once to the Original Child and his shoulders vibrated. He knew to stay calm around the precious one, just as I knew it. It wasn’t easy for either of us. While I shared a rebellious nature with Sychar, I also shared my temper with Levi. I knew he was trying as hard as he could.
That didn’t make him any less frightening, though. Levi was known for being Levitiqas’ executioner. When someone needed killing, Levi got it done with an unmatched efficiency. In a way I couldn’t fully define, I admired him as much as I feared him. Levitiqas made a point of keeping Levi thoroughly under his thumb, since he was so intelligent, so powerful, and all of us knew it.
The terrible Levitiqas might be cruel, but he wasn’t stupid. He could identify a threat to his dominion when he saw one. And as the two remaining train men from our journey joined Levi in their procession out of the train bay, I shivered with recognition that if Jack and I were caught, I might watch Levi lead him away to his doom too, someday. Or perhaps Levi would kill me, instead. It might satisfy some of his pent-up wrath toward Maids.
The Original Child wiggled her fingers at me as she turned into the charge of the Gents. They strode out of the train bay, and I waved back. Rachel spun and stomped past me with a sharp elbow to my gut as she did. I bore it, and ignored it even as red crept across my vision once more. I took a small measure of strength from Levi’s restraint. If the most tormented Vesper of us all could bear the presence of Maids for the sake of his duties, then I could endure Rachel’s immaturity for the sake of being the better Vesper.
I could have stalked out of the train bay to the waiting Rachel and Hirah and beat my frustrations into her perfect face.
Instead, I snuck back into the Defensor and beaded another bracelet, and when I finally left and sprinted into the humid night toward home, Rachel was gone. And my thoughts were with Jack.
Trigger
Artificial lights always cast an uneasy tone to my thoughts, since Vespers so naturally blended into darkness. The glare of Jack’s porch light pierced through my head, reminding me this was a mistake, a sin… criminal. Seeing Levi had only strengthened my fears for our safety. Or maybe the mood came from my conscience, helping me remember my commitment to secrecy in this life of the undead, and adherence to our morals. Showing up on the doorstep of a train man with whom I had an intimate encounter contradicted everything Vespers stood for, and everything I’d been taught.
And if I got caught, I was dead. Maybe that made it more exciting. My heart thumped in my chest as I raised my fist and beat the rhythm on the door.
I heard the sound of his feet sliding across the floor inside, and I felt his heat, his proximity, even through the door. Oh, my. My predatory senses turned against me and lured me to my prey instead of the other way around. That molten lava surged through me again just being near him… and he hadn’t even opened the door.
“Who is it?” he called.
Do I answer? Do I say something flirty? Just my name? I panicked, my hands frozen at my sides, clenched into uncertain fists, and I pressed my lips together. I had not planned this well. I glanced down at myself, nerves coursing through the molten lava, wondering if the short, black skirt and tight-fitting scooped shirt I’d taken off a meal long ago was too much. Too late to reconsider now.
The lock clicked and the door swung wide and I stared straight down the barrel of a revolver.
I blinked, following the sight of the barrel up the muscled, lean arm attached to it, and caught sight of Jack’s eyes wide with surprise at my appearance. I flashed him a sneaky grin. “Nice way to greet a lady.”
Jack exhaled and lowered his
arm, the visible tension in his shoulders draining out. I cocked my head, surprised by his fear. “I’m not here to hurt you,” I said.
“I know.” Jack clicked something on the revolver and passed it to me, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just… You’re invisible through glass. I’m not used to answering the door to people I can’t see through the peephole. I thought it best to be armed… just in case.”
“Just in case I was a Gent?” I raised an eyebrow.
He nodded, half a sheepish grin pulling his lips up. Mm. Lips. I swallowed and tried to focus.
“Do you need to be invited in to cross a doorway?” he asked.
I shook my head, stifling a laugh. “No. Not all urban legends are true. After all, I got in here without invitation before.”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose you did.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, still shaking. Was he as nervous as I? Huh. I drank in the sight of his torso, clothed with a thin, ribbed undershirt and nothing else. The outline of his pectoral muscles was clear beneath the shirt, and I liked the lithe, lean look of his frame. He wasn’t huge like Levi, but then, nobody was huge like Levi. Jack was built more like Sychar.
Jack would be flawless as a Gent. I pressed my lips together at the idea. That was even more forbidden a thought than the memories of Jack’s mouth between my legs, and I squashed it into the oblivion of impossibilities in my brain. I couldn’t think of that.
Besides, if Jack were a Gent, he’d lack the depth of expression in his eyes I adored, the way the blue almost lit up like glowing, jade fire when he caught me staring at him. Like right now.
Change the mental subject! Jack’s penetrating gaze sent that lava melting through my body, smothering my ability to think.
“A gun wouldn’t do much good against a Gent, Jack.” To demonstrate the point, I cocked the revolver and pointed it at my inner thigh and pulled the trigger.
Jack ducked at the crack of the bullet and grabbed me by the wrist, yanking me inside. I laughed as he did. Bullets only glanced off my powder-soft, impermeable, tissue-paper skin, and this particular bullet had nearly powdered to invisible shrapnel on impact. He slammed the door and dropped to his knees before me, and I startled at his closeness.
“Shit,” Jack said. He leaned in close to look at my inner thigh and wrapped his hot hand around my calf. I almost fell apart at his touch and clenched the muscles of my stomach to keep from dropping to the floor with him and climbing atop. I wanted more of him. More of what he did to me…
Jack sighed with relief when I turned my knee out to the side and let him inspect the place I’d shot. Jack stroked his hand over my thigh, looking for any injury, and then leaned down to place a reverent kiss near where the bullet had hit.
I squirmed when he kissed me again, and a third time. This wasn’t quite the Jack I’d met before, the Jack who pushed me against a wall and swept my breath away like leaves in the wind. He looked up with relief in his light jade eyes, the shade of his lashes darkening the color as he peered at me, a hint of a playful smile tugging along the edges of his lips. I reached down and took his face between my palms, delighting in the massage of his stubble. “Eyes, ears, and mouth. Those are our only weak spots. If you’re going to shoot a Gent, aim well. Hitting him in the chest with a bullet will probably just lead to a temper tantrum.”
Jack nodded. “Vespers don’t have any other weak spots?” His hand slipped up my inner thigh a little further, and he squeezed my flesh, and I lost my breath.
“Anywhere with internal access to the body, I suppose,” I said, but my words came out in a whisper. I wanted him to slide up higher, to touch me with his hands, to stroke my sensitive, forbidden areas with fingers so warm I never dared to imagine them before I actually felt them. But he licked his lips and then rose to his feet.
“And our scars,” I added, absently rubbing my throat and the giant crescent from my creator’s teeth all those years ago.
“Interesting,” Jack said, scanning my throat with curiosity and desire. “But in the future, you need to avoid discharging a firearm in my neighborhood if there’s no real danger.”
I sobered and the fire inside me paused in its relentless spread through my limbs. Oops. I hadn’t thought about neighbors. “You don’t think the authorities will come?”
Jack shrugged. “Probably not. I’ll lie, if they do. I don’t think cops would find the humor in a woman on my doorstep shooting herself in the thigh, even if she’s hot as fuck. Did that even hurt?”
Hot as fuck? Did I hear that right? I shook my head but couldn’t tear my gaze away from his eyes, which stared right back with at least as much intensity. I loved it when he swore at me. The way the words flew out without caution, without hesitation… like how he didn’t hesitate to kiss me…
“No, it didn’t hurt.”
“Not at all?”
“Like I said, I’m actually pretty sturdy.”
Jack slipped his hands around my waist on both sides and tugged me so close my breasts brushed his chest with every breath I drew. I rested my palms on his pectorals and felt his heartbeat, that strange pull between hunger and lust enticing me as his pulse thrummed through my hands. He squeezed my sides, and the solid possession of his touch fogged my mind. He squeezed harder, and I watched his muscles shake with the effort.
“Does that hurt?”
I shook my head, and my curls danced into my face. “No.”
His lip curled back to reveal his even, white teeth, and Jack tugged me harder against him, crushing my chest to his. “And this?”
“No.” It was a plea, a whimper for more.
Jack’s eyes darkened with a hint of anger – sexy as hell – and he reached around to grab my backside and crush his pelvis against mine, grinding that ridge against that place he tasted the last night I saw him. I lost my breath and let my head drop back, and Jack chuckled as he bent to lick my throat from my chest to my chin. He pressed harder against me.
“And this?”
I couldn’t speak, the firm hold of his hands, the pressure of his groin leeching away my ability to think. He only needed to touch me, and I surrendered in his arms, locked under his spell. All I managed was a moan.
“Yeah, you are pretty sturdy.” Jack’s hand crept up my side and he cupped the back of my head, drawing me up to face him again. He brushed a kiss over my temple, and I closed my eyes. He kissed my eyelids, his breath hot on my skin, and I was so close to igniting I wondered if we’d even make it to the bed before I lost it.
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you,” he whispered.
He took my lips with his, and I was careful to keep mine closed, even though I wanted to taste him so badly. I wanted to explore his mouth with my tongue, to run the smooth fronts of my fangs over his lips… but I’d hurt him, if I did that. That fine line between hungry and aroused was still too unfamiliar to me, and I didn’t trust myself with open lips.
Jack’s hands slid lower on my waist to my hips, and he grabbed me harder, tilting my pelvis forward as he pulled me against him. I sighed at the feeling. I wanted that… in me. Inside me, where a man belonged with a woman, where I was forbidden to allow him. So good… I watched his eyes as he kissed me. He returned my gaze, and I was so lost in the depth of his desire that I wanted to close my eyes, to quell the intensity… but I couldn’t do it. I was his target, locked in his sights, and I wanted him to pull the trigger, this time.
Jack kissed me harder, and it was all I could do to keep my tongue at bay. I grabbed onto his shoulders, careful to avoid the healing slice bandaged around his bicep, and admired the firmness of his muscles. Human, not iron like I imagined a Vesper’s to be, but solid as he squeezed me harder still, his arms quivering with exertion. I let out a whimper and dared to move my lips just a little bit on his, and he groaned in response. The sound was so low in his throat, almost like the growl of a Vesper but much more man, more reckless, and he rubbed down the side of my thigh, moved to the middle, and stroked his hand back up to meet my center.<
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I held my breath and the lava poured through my veins with every millimeter his fingers crossed on their journey, and then he touched me beneath my skirt, warm skin stroking my cool, wet, wanting softness. He stroked slowly at first and then picked up speed, his rhythm matching my gasps of needy agony and pleasure so divine I couldn’t think. My fingers dug into his shoulder and I let out a feral sound, shrieking as my sensation peaked. The rough pad of his hot finger slid once all the way from back to front in a slow, torturous motion, and then I burst at the seams and grabbed him tighter, my legs vanishing from beneath me as he caught me and held me up.
That throb I craved ricocheted through my body and I panted. Jack’s satisfied voice rumbled into my hair as he murmured, “Yes.”
The throb slowed and I regained my balance. Something caught my attention as I inhaled. The air tasted off, enticing a momentarily forgotten hunger, and I jumped back, shoving Jack away from me. He stumbled, and I stared at his shoulder where I’d held him. Thin ribbons of blood coursed down his arm and dripped off his knuckles to the floor. I lifted my hand and inspected my fingertips with horror: I’d dug right into his flesh and ripped him open when he dropped me off that cliff of ecstasy and caught me, once more.
“I’m okay,” Jack reassured me with a laugh.
I shook my head, staring at the blood on my hand. Oh, no! He gave me such pleasure, and I hurt him in return. Exactly as I feared I would do.
Jack held up a finger, signaling me to wait, and then he took the stairs up two at a time as I recovered from all the foreign sensations in my body: pleasure, fear, remorse. When I was sure he was out of sight, I quickly licked the blood from my fingers, glad he didn’t see me do it. The taste punched my hunger into high gear, but I stuffed it down beneath my self-control. If I devoured Jack, I wouldn’t have this anymore. Sychar’s reverent tone as he breathed Samantha’s name to me for the first time echoed in my ears, and I whispered, “Jack…”
