Sundown & Serena

by Tara Fox Hall

  Another shiver went through me, this one more a convulsion. Then I let out a scream. Lars was stirring, already healing. Both bullets had fallen out of him, and his eyelids fluttered, then flicked open.

  Lash rolled his eyes, gave a long-suffering sigh, and deftly reached down with both hands, using the doorjamb for a brace. With a dull crack, he broke Lars’s neck. Lars stopped moving, though he kept breathing.

  “Stay in your room,” Lash hissed, picking up Lars’s body in his arms with effort. “You may hear screaming, but ignore it. It won’t last long.”

  I knew he expected me to be relieved, and I was. He’d saved me. Yet I was horrified, too, because I knew he’d kill Lars in some horrible torturous way as soon as possible. Covering my revulsion, I nodded, and closed my door with a click.

  Vince was subdued when he came to me that night. But so was I, considering what had happened. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said finally, as we lay sated together sometime around eleven. “I’d have kicked his ass, if I’d been here.”

  “Was he whipped to death?” I asked, afraid of the answer but compelled to know.

  “No. Lash beheaded him, and stuck his head on a post as a warning. The body we buried.”

  I hugged him close to me, trying not to think how awful this was. But Lars would have hurt me. It was right to defend myself, and what had happened was deserved, just grisly.

  “Shh,” Vince said affectionately. “That potion will come in a few days, Baby. And we’ll take care of your needs then, just like you took care of ours.”

  I hugged him and didn’t explain my true feelings. Vince often misunderstood me, as did Nick. I knew he was trying to be kind the only way he knew how to be.

  * * * *

  My close call did drive home a point to me; I’d been blessed with how well my life was going now. It was truly past time that I gave thanks to the being who’d helped me so much. That next morning, I had Nick take me into town, where we went to my church. We were in time for afternoon mass. As always, there were more than a few of the local seniors in the pews. Several nodded to me and smiled, pleased to see me there with a male friend. I prayed a good deal, and thanked God, giving a fair tithing portion of what I’d earned so far in the collection plate. Nick looked incredulous at my offering, yet he was also generous, though not so much as me.

  After, I went to the confessional, and made my confession. The priest was appalled at my new choice of work, but he forgave me, though he assigned a massive penance. I agreed to it, but I also decided that I’d leave what I did for money now out of any future confessions.

  I wasn’t hurting anyone. Animals did what I was doing in nature all the time, they were just paid with food and shelter and protection, which was the same as I was receiving. I was and had always been part animal. No human had the right to judge me, to say that what I was doing was a sin, or evil, or not according to God’s plan for me. I’d felt the desire for sex as soon as I became animal; I had got that from God himself, it was hardwired into me, and it wasn’t wrong. I was not going to sit in a booth in the dark, and let some man who’d never experienced it himself tell me that it was.

  * * * *

  In early November, both of the transformative potions came. Vince and Nick took them, as they had agreed to. Afterwards, I thought I’d never felt so good, so sated, as when I lay with my respective lovers in my own animal form, my head resting on his shoulder, his muzzle against mine.

  In late November, Devlin called me to him, and asked me for my blood. But this time we did not have sex, or even kiss. His only touch was his light embrace as he fed from me, and then the brief press of his lips as he healed me.

  I wasn’t unhappy about giving him my blood. His bite was pleasurable, and I appreciated everything he had done for me. I didn’t even expect to get any extra money out of it. Yet I found an extra two hundred dollars in my paycheck that week. I went to him immediately, and asked him about it. “Is this for the blood I gave you?”

  “Yes, of course,” he answered.

  “You don’t have to pay me for the little you took,” I said.

  “You are my employee,” Devlin said patiently, his honey-colored eyes almost slitted. “I am not one who abuses that relationship, Serena. Besides, I appreciate your blood, both its taste, and that you give it to me willingly. You also recover faster than a mortal, and I can take more from you. Esperanza also ‘donates’ her blood to me once a month, and I give her four or five hundred, as that is her price.”

  Five hundred? Maybe I should be offended.

  “But I take enough to make her pass out,” he finished coolly, that addendum making me feel much better. “I take much less from you, the same amount I take from my guards when it’s an absolute necessity. Not enough to make you weak, but enough to keep me strong for a week or so. That is the same amount I give them each time I’m forced to feed from them.”

  I wanted to ask him if he paid the families of the women he drained, but held back, reminding myself I had no proof of that at all.

  Devlin sighed. “I miss hunting, and drinking from mortal women. It’s hard, trying not to be noticed. I have spent my life being noticed, and my time since becoming vampire making it the point of my existence. It’s hard trying to blend into the shadows now, and not to my liking.”

  This being in hiding was because of Perseus, the vampire whose territory he was in. And because of his tryst with that married woman. You could have stayed in the limelight and your own territory, if you’d have kept it in your pants. “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling it was the only safe response.

  “She did not respond to the card!” Devlin said bitterly, his eyes angry and accusing. “And I have e-mailed her poetry as well for a week now and she does not respond to those either!”

  What should I say? “I’m sorry.”

  “That is all you have to say?” he hissed, baring his teeth. “You who gave me hope and made me believe that she might care for me?”

  It had been a long day, and I was annoyed. He’s blaming me? When did I ask to be his love life counselor? “Do you love her?” I asked bluntly.

  “Yes, of course!” he hissed back at me. “But—”

  “Then don’t give up,” I counseled calmly. “You seduce all these women, and they all tell you that you are so wonderful. Then one day, one woman doesn’t tell you she’d just love to give up her life to be with you, and you get annoyed! Did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s going through her own problems?”

  Devlin looked shocked. I thought him abhorrent in how much he thought about himself, and not about this woman he professed to love. He thought of her in terms of how she related to him, not in any other way. That didn’t sound like love to me, even if I’d never been in love myself.

  “So what should I do?” His tone was respectful now, hushed. “Tell me.”

  “She liked what you did to her in that hotel room, yes?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Could his tone be any more confident? “So what did you do to her?”

  “Everything she asked for and more besides.” Now his tone was lustful, obviously remembering some sex scene with her.

  Whatever had occurred was probably more involved than our night together, with so much emotion on Devlin’s end. I will never be that important to him. That’s probably a good thing. Nick had told me enough about Devlin to get my hackles at attention, coupled with what I’d seen of his mood swings. “Send her some of that poetry you seem to always be reading.”

  “I did that already,” he answered, exasperated. “I wrote her some, even!”

  “Write more! Send her flowers! Call her!”

  “I can’t call her, save at Danial’s!” Devlin said angrily. “The same with flowers! I do not want her husband finding out about her and me! I shouldn’t even be trying to contact her. I am supposed to be in hiding.”

  I thought briefly that he was a jackass, but held that thought inside. “Do what pleased her most when she was with y
ou then, as discreetly as you can manage.”

  “Fine!” Devlin said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Leave me.”

  In early December, Devlin came to me, excited that his love had responded to him. “She said I should stop writing her poetry, that I was making it hard for her to let go of us! You were right!”

  In the weeks after that, the sullen look returned to Devlin’s face, and he spoke no more to me about his love. I also avoided the subject, heeding my animal side’s warning to leave well enough alone.

  Chapter Eight

  It was nearly Christmas. Eager to see if there would be any type of holiday festivities, I asked about the coming weeks in terms of any change to my normal schedules. But none of my lovers mentioned any changes at all in their allotted times with me. From the absence of any decorations and my needing to ask for December 25th off instead of being offered the day, I deduced that Devlin and his men didn’t celebrate Christmas.

  The night before Christmas Eve, I came in from the surf to witness Lash drinking heavily in front of the TV, watching The Bodyguard. I was surprised he had chosen that over all the hundreds of DVDs in the nearby rack. What was more strange to me was Lash seemed to be getting emotional over it, something I hadn’t known was possible.

  Even though I was naturally curious, I intended to ignore him at first. Whatever past love he was mourning wasn’t my concern or my business. Yet I went back, because like it or not, it was the Christian thing to do, and tomorrow being Christmas, I knew God might have done this on purpose to see if I’d take the bait, so to speak. I also felt I owed him a favor on some level; Lash had saved me from Lars, even if I’d been mortified about what he’d done afterwards as a punishment. “What is it?” I asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I expected Lash to tell me to leave him alone, or to tell me to fuck off, like I heard him tell the guards some variation of that almost every day. Instead, he answered me. “Do you think she loved him? That if he would have stayed with her, she might have loved him?”

  “No,” I replied honestly. “You should watch The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. That’s better use of that song, anyway.” Nick had shown me that movie, said it was one of his favorites. He was a big Dolly Parton fan. He insisted his attraction to the star was her musical talent, but I knew it was just her breasts. Men.

  “You’re probably right,” Lash hissed sadly, with more emotion in his tone than I had ever heard. “It was stupid to think anything else.”

  “Did you leave someone behind?” I said, sitting down beside him. “A woman you cared for?”

  “Just a friend,” Lash hissed quietly. “Someone who was trying to be friends with me, anyways. But there might have been more, if I hadn’t left.”

  “Why haven’t you called her?” I said reproachfully. “I’ll bet you haven’t,”

  “She loves another man, not me. I don’t want to fuck that up for her.”

  This sounded familiar. “That hasn’t stopped Devlin.”

  “I’m not Devlin,” Lash interrupted, his tone an odd mixture of pleasure and sadness. “I don’t love her, like he loves Sar. I care more that she’s happy than that I get her for myself.” He paused. “Besides, she’s human. It wouldn’t have worked anyway, it never does. I should fucking well know better, old as I am.”

  I held my tongue, a barrage of questions threatening to spill out. He’s putting her happiness ahead of his own. This sounds far more like love to me than Devlin’s feelings for Sar. And what human had wanted Lash? What are these women seeing in him that I’m not? Is it because of my animal side, that I can never look at him and see anything but a snake?

  “You can’t be sure,” I said slowly. “Everyone’s different. Some women can accept things other women wouldn’t.”

  “No. It’s better this way,” Lash said with finality, getting up and turning off the movie. “And that’s that.”

  “Call her,” I said firmly. “She might be thinking of you. Maybe she can fly down here and visit.”

  Lash turned, and gave me a cold look. “Don’t be giving me advice, like you give Dev. You’re getting his hopes up for nothing, Serena. And I’m going to be pissed at you, if nothing comes of this, after all of your instructions to him about how to win her.” He paused. “And he will be, too.”

  He gave me a final look of warning, then strode out of the room.

  * * * *

  On Christmas Eve I lit a candle at midnight, and told God I was thankful for all he had given me. It wasn’t much by way of an offering, but I thought He would like it. I’d gone to church earlier again with Nick, and given my tithe and my thanks there, also. I truly was grateful. That is what matters, right?

  I wasn’t expecting any presents, but to my surprise, I got two gifts. Nick got me a dozen pink roses, and Vince got me a box of expensive chocolate, both of them saying a little sheepishly that their families had always celebrated Christmas. I took them, feeling happy and grateful enough, so I agreed to be in bear form for them again in a week, which made both men very happy.

  * * * *

  The night after Christmas, a hurricane moved close to the coast. The waves were huge, and the wind bent the palm trees almost double, snapping more than a few. I was uneasy, but got my flashlight ready in case. Lash had cautioned me that morning that we might need to evacuate, if it got bad enough. He also warned me that if an alarm sounded to make my way downstairs to the basement, where a shelter was equipped to help us ride out the storm.

  But I needn’t have worried. Vince came to me at dusk holding a duffel bag of supplies, telling me while he believed we were safe that he would sleep with me that night just in case the worst happened and we had to evacuate. I fell asleep with him holding me, feeling peaceful.

  I woke up to hear the howling of the wind, and some thunder booming loud enough to shake the room. Vince slept on, snoring. I listened to the storm for five minutes, then decided I needed something soothing to restore my rattled nerves. I got out of bed, carefully moving Vince over, knowing better than to wake him. He’ll think sex is the perfect way to soothe me.

  I went downstairs in my robe, and made myself some hot chocolate. I was just taking it out of the microwave when a crash of thunder startled me. I took a sudden step backwards and bumped into the counter, letting out a cry of surprise. “Shit,” I said under my breath, breathing a sigh of relief.

  I took a sip from my steaming mug. Ah, just right.

  A bolt of lightning illuminated the kitchen, and Lash in the doorway, watching me. I let out another cry, clutching the counter with my free hand.

  “Sorry for startling you,” he hissed, not sounding like he meant it at all.

  “It’s okay,” I said, giving him a smile. “I couldn’t sleep with the storm outside.”

  “I heard it, too,” Lash hissed. “Want to share some cow?” he added a little awkwardly. “I wanted a little something before going back to bed myself.”

  Should I decline his request? He would be offended if I did. And I was hungry. “Sure. That would be nice.”

  Lash went to the refrigerator and removed a hunk of steak from the bottom drawer marked “Lash” in large block letters. He grabbed one of the kitchen knives, and divided it in half, handing me half on a plate, and taking the other half for himself. We went into the dining room and began to eat, using only our hands.

  It was delicious, more so than the meat we usually had which was expensive steak. “This is wonderful. What is it that it’s so much better than what we usually eat?”

  “Organic,” he said, licking his fingers. “No drugs. It gives the meat a sweeter taste.”

  “So you order this specially?”

  “Yes. I like to have it for a treat a few times a week.”

  “So no chocolate for you?” I teased.

  “No,” he said, flicking his eyes to me then away. “No chocolate for me.”

  Our meat was soon finished. I gathered up the plates, and took them into the kitchen to wash. I turned o
n the faucet, rinsing them, as Lash came up behind me, putting his arms on either side of me and gripping the counter. I went still.

  “Did you like the meat?” he hissed in my ear.

  My body broke out in a cold sweat. “Yes,” I said, swallowing hard. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “I want to share something else with you,” he hissed lustfully.

  I trembled, wanting to scream and knowing if I did, a fight would ensue, a fight that Vince was sure not to win. “No, please.”

  Lash’s hands went over mine, and held them down to the counter with force, so I couldn’t move. He trapped my body between the sink and himself, his erection against my rear, hard and ready. “Just hold still,” he hissed in my ear. “I want to feel your body against mine.”

  Snake! My animal side was petrified, frozen. I gathered my human courage. “No. Stop it, Lash.”

  “Be quiet,” he hissed gently. “I won’t hurt you.” He pressed his body tight to my back, and taking hold of my wrists, he wrapped my arms around me without letting go. He rubbed his face in my hair, and then pressed it to the back of my neck, groaning. Then he began to slide my arms and his down toward my hips. I struggled, but he was stronger than I was, and I got nowhere, and still his hands slid lower. Finally, they were at my hips. He pushed his pelvis against mine, pulling back with his arms to force my body tight against his. “Tell me I can,” he hissed to me, his voice full of need. “Please, I’ll give you any price you want. Just let me inside. I want to be warm. Please, Serena.”

  I almost did it. My human side said to submit, that once I’d sated him I’d be free. With the sheer need in his voice, he wouldn’t last long. Yet my nose was full of his snake scent, my animal half in rising panic, telling me I had to run or be killed, that he was death. I forced my growing anxiety down, trying to keep control. “No,” I managed. “I’m sorry, but no.”