by JL Caid
I think I hate Darick.
We enter the house and it’s crammed with people. Wall to wall, people everywhere, holding red cups, bottles of beer, bottles of booze. There’s a faint thudding from the music in one of the rooms. The memory floods me even more as I remember doing this same thing. Entering the party. Feeling overwhelmed by how many people are there. But… it’s comforting in a sense. Because for the last week, maybe longer, I’ve felt off. Like someone’s following me. I’m supposed to feel safe at the party. But that’s a mistake. A huge mistake.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I say to Darick.
I look into his brown eyes and he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t even blink.
When I break the stare, the house is now empty. The party over. Cups and bottles left on the floor. The place is trashed. The music gone too.
Straight ahead, on the floor…
I see my camera.
4.
The floors creak and the house smells of old food and dried beer. It’s not exactly pleasant, but I’m not here to party.
The lens is cracked on the camera. I release it and show it to Darick. “This cost me money.”
“I’ll buy you a new one, babe.”
“Thanks,” I say. I drop the lens and it thuds against the floor.
Darick steps forward and places his foot on the lens. He presses and the lens explodes under his strength as though he just stepped on a snowball.
“Pictures?” he asks.
I turn the camera on. The battery light is flashing. I won’t have much time to look.
I press the play button which lets me look at the pictures.
The pictures are of the party. People dancing. Laughing. Holding their drinks in the air. The stupid crap people do to drink and look cool. Someone passed out on the counter, sleeping sideways, with red cups around the outside of his body. The next picture is of someone with a black marker, making a goofy face as he gets ready to draw on the guy’s face. The next picture… there’s a dick on the guy’s face.
“Idiots,” I whisper.
“That’s pretty funny,” Darick says.
“You want a dick on your face?” I ask.
“No, but you do,” he says with a wink.
My face feels red hot.
I look back to the camera.
The next few pictures are of the outside. But of nobody at the party. I guess I was trying to get pictures of the stars or something. The pictures are black, black, black, the very tips of the trees silhouetted against the black of the night. Then the next picture… white. Little white dots. The same white beads that I saw a short while ago.
I swallow hard.
“Keep going,” Darick says.
The next picture, there are more of the white dots. Then more. And more. And more.
“Shit,” he whispers. “You were being followed, babe.”
“While I was alive,” I say. “Is that normal?”
“Nothing is normal,” he says without looking away from the camera.
When I click to the next picture, it’s something completely different. I don’t know how to explain it. The white dots are across the picture, in giant clusters. Then there’s an outline… almost like a figure, but not a body or anything. A head. Almost in the shape of… the devil?
I look to Darick.
A split second later, the camera is ripped from my hands.
I let out a yelp, thinking maybe I dropped it.
I look down as the camera smashes against the floor.
I see a set of giant black boots step forward.
I fall to the side, into Darick.
As I start to look up, Darick turns, wrapping his leather jacket around me.
“Don’t leave,” a very deep voice says with a strange accent.
I scream.
Me and Darick disappear.
We’re standing on the side of the road now. I’m shaking but it’s not cold. I hug myself as I try to figure out what’s happening. But I won’t figure it out. I can only rely on my memories coming back. Or if Darick keeps taking me to different places in time to learn more.
He steps up behind me and touches my waist. He pulls me against him. His rock hard body soothes me a little. I put my head back against his chest.
“Do I have to ask?” I whisper.
“No.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
“I hate you, Darick. What are you trying to do to me?”
“This is about you, babe,” he says. “You’ll figure it out. Telling you only changes what your mind actually knows. I don’t want to do that to you. You’re safe with me. I promise you that. You’re understanding more.”
“That those things… the lefties… they were following me when I was alive. And there was something else. I have a dream or memory of me on the road. Like we saw. Missing a shoe. Trying to get away. Feeling like something was after me. All around me. And the white light… standing in the road…”
I turn to face Darick. “I think…”
He nods.
I push at his chest and back up a few steps. He grabs me by the elbows and pulls me close again. He lowers himself down and he kisses me. Our lips collide like a storm, his tongue flicking against mine, his hands sliding around to the small of my back. We’re full on making out, my knees bending as I start to melt. The tension between us is insane. I sort of hate him, but I sort of love him. I want to punch him in the mouth and I want that same mouth between my legs, drinking my sweetness.
I hear a noise in the distance and I break the kiss. I turn my head and see a white light. The same bright light from my memory. My hands go flat against Darick’s chest and I finally let him go and step into the road.
“I’m sorry, babe,” Darick says.
“This is what I did,” I say. “I walked into the road. I waved my hands for help…”
“Did you?” Darick asks.
I look at my hands.
No.
Waving my hands and calling for help… that was part of the dream.
That wasn’t reality.
Reality was different.
The memory and the dream have swirled together in my mind, but now I can peel them apart. I can see the difference.
The white light approaches fast. Really fast.
Truthfully, if I stand in the road and wave my hands and call for help, would the person then run me over? If they were drunk, maybe. If they weren’t paying attention, maybe.
The light closes in on me and I step toward the side of the road.
Darick steps back and crosses his arms.
That’s when I turn and crouch.
I feel like my heart’s racing, even though I have no heart. I’m dancing with a memory again. Missing a shoe. Feeling terrified. Knowing I’m going to… die.
Only I get to choose the ending. Someone isn’t going to do it for me.
The light gets closer and I jump forward into it.
And that’s how it happens. That’s how I die.
I did it to myself.
5.
I’m back in the bed. I try to sit up and I feel pain everywhere. I let out a groaning cry and stop moving. I feel like I’ve been… well, you can guess it.
I have the truth. My memory’s confession to myself. That I did this to myself. Why though? Because of the lefties? Because of that voice, figure, whatever it was? Or was I just destined to be here with Darick and his brothers?
I already know that if I dare ask any of those questions, I’ll be told I’ll figure it out in time. But I want to know why Darick did that. Why he took me there. Why he was interested in the camera. Just like when he took me to the hall and showed me the wood carvings and took me inside them.
After throwing the covers off myself , I force my feet to the floor. I stand, pain rippling through my body. I feel as though every bone is broken, yet I’m able to walk. I’m fully naked too. The room is comfortable though and I don’t mind being naked. Which is weird f
or me because I was always worried about my body. Attention from guys never worked out that great for me. But now things have changed. I’ve got four seven foot tall vampires that will do anything for me and to me.
Take that all you assholes who turned a blind eye to me all those years.
I shuffle across the floor and see a purple robe hanging on the door. It looks deliciously comfortable and I plan on putting it on and forcing myself to walk through the house until I find someone. Darick, Layre, Seth, Kyran… I need at least one of them. Preferably all four.
As I close in on the door, I reach for the robe.
My fingertips graze its softness and I hear a voice.
“You showed her?”
Kyran’s voice.
“Yeah,” Darick’s voice says. “She knows now. She was scared enough that night to make her own final decision.”
“Her fate,” Kyran says. “She didn’t hurt herself. She chose her fate.”
“Look at it how you want,” Layre says, “but she’s here with us now. We will protect her. She will protect us.”
“The elder isn’t happy,” Seth says. “He wants a gathering of olds to witness her. To cut her wrist and drink from her as she kneels before them.”
“Over my already dead body,” Darick growls. “She’s not some fucking prize you find in the bottom of a cereal box.”
“She’s a prize, brother,” Layre says. “She’s the greatest gift that’s ever existed.”
“And we have her,” Kyran adds. “I don’t give a shit what any gathering suggests. What an elder wants to do. Or what any of the fucking olds want.”
“Watch your tongue,” Seth says. “We still have to respect those above us.”
“Maybe I should take them to where I just was with her,” Darick says. “Let them see the fucking cracks of hell.”
Cracks of hell? What was that?
“She’s resting now?” Layre asks.
“No,” Darick says. “She’s standing at the door, listening to us.”
“Our curious and beautiful angel,” Seth says.
“I need to speak with her again,” Kyran says. “Alone.”
“No,” Seth quickly says. “We haven’t talked about this yet.”
“Then we need to talk,” Kyran says.
“Speak your mind, brother,” Layre says.
“You know my decision already,” Darick says. “I’m going to heal Astrid while the rest of you decide.”
“You get her alone?” Layre asks.
“It’s time,” Seth says. “We can be with her alone now. Our bond is strong enough. We’ll all feel something.”
I hear footsteps and back up. I don’t try running toward the bed or anything. I don’t reach for the robe either. Instead, I stand there and wait for Darick to open the door. When he does, and he sees me, his sexy brown eyes go wide and a sly grin creeps across his face.
“I need this,” he says.
“I need more answers,” I say.
“One answer at a time.”
“I did this to myself.”
“You were there,” Darick says.
“The others said it was fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate,” Darick says.
“What do you believe in?”
Darick steps toward me and gently touches my hips. “I believe I want to fuck you right now.”
I can’t respond to that comment. My legs part as my sex swells, already preparing for him.
Before I speak another word, Darick makes a quick move and scoops me up into his massive arms. I put my hands around his neck and he kisses me. A quick kiss. Quick and dirty, our tongues sloppy. The kiss ends and I put my head back. He lifts me up like I’m nothing and latches his fanged mouth onto my right breast.
I gasp and cry out with a groan.
His tongue swirls around my nipple for a second before he suckles me. When he does, it’s hard. Very hard. Darick opens his mouth wider and takes more of me. I know the size of my chest and I know there is no way possible for someone to engulf my bare breast the way he is right then. My toes curl tight as my body starts to shake. I part my legs again, feeling a sticky treat collecting already. My body calls for him in a way my voice can never do.
Darick takes me right to the bed and drops me. I feel like I’m going to fall a hundred feet, but it’s only a few. My back hits the soft mattress and I bounce. I cry out in pain. All my bones, my muscles, everything hurts.
“Fuck, babe,” Darick says. “I’m sorry.”
“Make it up to me. Make me forget about the pain.”
“That I can do.”
With a brutal snarl on his face, forever looking angry and ready to attack, Darick drops his jeans and kicks them off. His cock is throbbing and massive, just like last time. This time, however, he surprises me when he reaches for the bottom of his shirt and lifts it up over his head. He’s built like steel. Maybe the strongest of them all. Every inch of his wicked muscle is muscle earned through living. There’s a vast difference in his body versus Layre’s body. Layre has toned, fit, gym muscles that are meant for licking and tracing. But Darick is built for protection. He’s built to hover over me and fuck me until I can’t remember anything again.
Besides the muscle, something else catches my eye. Right where his heart used to be there’s a scar. A jagged and nasty looking scar. The scar tissue is a lighter colored skin and quite honestly, it looks painful.
Darick climbs to the bed, on his knees before me. His cock slaps against my bare mound as his hands touch my body, sliding right up to my chest. My hands wrap tight around the sheets as I thrust at him. He slowly pulls back and fucks forward, rubbing the bottom of his shaft against my mound and up to my stomach. If I shut my eyes, it’s like there’s a python slithering up my body and working its way back down.
But I don’t close my eyes for long. I want to stare at him. I want to watch him fuck me from the front this time. I want to touch and taste his scar.
I can’t stop looking at the scar. When I look into his eyes again, he’s pissed at me. For looking at the scar. Because that’s going to lead to a lot more questions.
I reach for his arms and pull.
Darick takes his hands off my chest and puts them flat to the bed and bends his elbows to come down and kiss me. My hands touch his sides, feeling the muscle all the way down to his ass. Even his ass is firm with muscle. It’s ridiculous.
He keeps gently fucking, sliding his cock against my belly. I place my right hand to the top of his cock, pressing him against me. He’s now fucking my hand and stomach. I feel every rigid inch of his body, from his thick root to his defined tip.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t wait.”
Stealing a kiss from me as I try to find more words, Darick stops moving.
We stare at each other.
I move my hand from his perfect cock up to his chest. I place my hand against the scar.
He curls his lip and shakes his head.
He pulls his hips back, sliding his cock down my body until he’s resting between my legs. No matter how ready I feel, there is no ready for this. He presses forward and I gasp. I crunch forward and grab his back, my nails taking hold against rippling muscle.
Darick growls as he sinks himself into me. He plunges forward with force and doesn’t stop. Driving me against the bed, making it squeak in agony as he assures my body that he’s fully inside me when I feel his hips smash against my inner thighs. Trust me, I know he’s as deep as he can go. There’s a fleeting moment when I wonder if he’s rearranging my insides.
He puts his mouth to my shoulder and kisses it. He opens his mouth and gently slides his fangs from my shoulder to my neck.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Yes. Have me. All of me.”
Darick starts to fuck me. He’s holding the sheets, pulling at the bed, thrusting at me with more force with each passing second between us.
And he doesn’t let up either. It’s zero to sixty in three seconds and he stays there. I’m bein
g driven into the bed over and over, Darick kissing at my neck, growling as he does so, my heels digging into the bed as I try to buck my hips at him. I can’t believe that my body wants more. I should be nervous that he’s going to take things too far and hurt me, but instead, I want more. I want him harder. I want him faster. I want him to try and break this massive and sturdy bed. Even if it breaks me because of how good it feels.
When the peak of my own pleasure makes its attack, I begin to writhe on the bed like I’m in some scary movie. My head hits the pillow as I arch my back. Darick goes with me and slides his lips and the scruff on his face down to my breasts again. I don’t know how he does it, but he manages to dip his mouth against my breasts over and over, giving me the sensation that there are two people kissing my chest. The throbbing between my legs grows as I need release. Each time he pulls his body back, I feel the slightest hint of relief, but then he slams right forward again, making me cry out as my back hits the bed and I lift my upper half off it.
He puts an arm around me and pulls me to his chest. My mouth bites at him as though I have fangs and as though I can feed off him.
I’m almost in a seated position and there’s no way Darick should be able to keep fucking me. But he does. He goes harder, faster, the well-earned muscles of his body able to hold me in this position and keep having me.
“Don’t leave me this time,” I manage to say breathlessly.
“I’m not fucking going anywhere, babe,” Darick says. “Get ready.”
With those two words, he explodes inside me. Rocking his hips forward, taking himself to the hilt, I feel his other hand wrap around my back. He’s hugging me, pulling me even tighter against his rough smelling, hard chest. A hint of man, sweat, grease, spicy clove too. He holds for a couple seconds as he continues to deposit himself inside me. Then he starts to fuck again. Not some gentle after sex fucking either. He’s fucking for the gold medal when he’s already won it.
My tongue flirts with his muscle and I kiss up to the scruff on his face until l find his mouth. We begin to kiss. So hard and wildly that I can feel the super jagged tips of his fangs hitting my lips, my tongue, leaving me shivering as I think he’s going to bite me.
