Ancient Blood: The Fallen (3 page)

I couldn't find it within myself to enter the room where I would be faced with the mud coated clothing, that I knew lay atop the washer, for within their condition lay further embarrassment and confirmation of my boring existence.

Instead, I continued my journey towards the kitchen. My taste buds were already on alert as they anticipated a cup of coffee, and entering through the doorway, I dropped the ice-cream carton in the trash, then set about the simple task of preparing the dark, aromatic brew of morning ambrosia by pouring water into the pot, and dumping grounds into the paper filter.

As I waited for the coffeepots final gurgling sigh of completion, I placed a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster, liberally slathering both with butter and jelly when they were done, having turned the nice, warm golden brown I tended to favor.

Then, with steam rising from my cup and purple-coated toast in tow, one piece already missing a corner from my impatience, I made my way over to a window and rested one butt cheek on the inner ledge of the frame.

I began eating my breakfast to the warmth of the sun enveloping me and the splendorous sound of bird song, thankful for their distraction, as I was having a hard time keeping my mind from wondering backwards.

Now that I was able to recognize what had occurred the night before was nothing more than too little sleep, and too vivid of an imagination, and that death hadn’t
really
been in the swamp stalking me, I had to admit as well, that Dante hadn’t been real either.  An admission that caused my chest to hurt.

Closing my eyes against the moisture that had formed in them, I allowed the past to come alive within my mind, recalling what had brought me to this miserable point in my life.

* * *

Seven years earlier

The year was 2003, and at the tender age of twelve, beaten down by life and disillusioned by the injustice of the world, I found myself being placed within yet another foster home.

I’d expected nothing less than what I’d already become acquainted with in the others, having in fact, not even unpacked for the first several weeks I was on the Lambros Ranch, my tiny clutch of clothing remaining in the small, cheap chain store plastic bags as I'd fully expected each day to see the old and battered orphanage station wagon pulling up outside the Ranch-house, prepared to whisk me back to the orphanage, once again having been unwanted by my foster family.

You see, over the past several years my clothing and I had been carted from orphanage, to foster home and then back to the orphanage, before being placed, yet again, in another foster home, leaving me to feel as if I never really belonged anywhere.

In truth I
hadn't
, for with each placement, I quickly became unwelcome and feared, for I often woke screaming in the wee hours of the morning, suffering strange nightmares and leaving those that lived within the home distressed from the strange unexplained events within the home, for often small fires would flare up out of nowhere during these times.

It was only within the walls of the Lambros home though, that I began to find what it was like to be held and comforted. To be soothed, and receive understanding when I would wake from the horrible visions that held my mind shackled tightly within their grasp, awaken wrapped securely within the fatherly arms of Miles, or the brotherly embraces of either Arreon or Luke, even, on the odd occasion, those of Dante’s.

Slowly however, and over time, months in fact, as I was reluctant to lower my guard, not trusting the authenticity of anything lasting, and fearing that if I did relent, the strange fires  would begin again, bringing about the occurrence of being vanquished back to the orphanage, I allowed myself to open up and respond to the warmth and patience I was shown. To at last,
feel
!

Then it happened. What I feared most began to occur. The internal storms of my ability begun to attack the house, and I again retreated into my shell, fearful my secret had doomed me. However, as the burnt items that dotted about the house were replaced without fuss, the odd fires declared to be expected of old wiring that was within the house, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

Time passed, and as I found myself still part of the Lambros home, I began to flower again, for I was part of a family, a real family.

Months went by, months that turned into years, and with each winters end, a new year  begun, bringing forth the blossoming of springs and the multitude of greens and brilliant splashes of heady scented floral.

Greens and floras that burnt to crisps, as and before anyone was quite ready, summers would come upon the Ranch, breathing its hot breath across our flesh and scorching the land we toiled upon, and where after, we would ease those hot grueling days by rewarding ourselves with languishing laziness in the small tributaries within the bayous, and ending the evenings gazing up at the stars, breathing the sweet scent of the freshly cut hay that floated on the whispering breezes.

I truly belonged somewhere at last, and did my best to harness my ability out of respect to my home, and the man that I'd come to look upon as my dad, or that was to keep it controlled to the best of my ability.

Arreon and Luke had, as well, became true siblings, for we fussed and fought as only brothers and a sister could. However, Dante and I were never quite able reach that comfortable area in our relationship, for something different simmered between us, and as nature would have it, it was Dante that broke my heart.

We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey no one can take for us or spare us.             

…Marcel Proust

2008 Baton Rouge Louisiana

Five years pass

“…The soul known to us as Miles Lambros we place within the hands of God…” I heard the priest’s words, words meant to soothe, to comfort in times of grief and though I followed the rite, I felt no comfort, no soothing, I only felt loss, a great abandonment.

I, as well, felt a sense of irony, for a storm had moved through the night before, cleansing the air and spreading fresh life upon the ground that we now, not twelve hours later, prepared to place death within.

The funeral was simple, as Miles would have wanted, a solemn ceremony, a simple coffin, simple flowers, simple music, a few words of sympathy at his passing, then simply...over.

Realizing that I was the last to say my goodbye, I stepped forward, running my hand over the smooth surface of the coffin, feeling the warmth of sun kissed wood beneath my palm.

My eyes shone with moisture as I laid the single rose I held clutched within my hand atop the coffin whispering, “I'll see you again
Miles...
daddy
...thank
you…” then with a catch in my voice I continued, “…for loving me.”

As my quivering and breaking voice died away, I wiped at the tear that slid down my cheek and turning, became aware that Arreon and Luke had stepped forward, standing near me as I'd offered my goodbye to the only man I'd ever been able to look upon as a father figure, the only man that had ever given me a reason to in my seventeen years.

Gently Arreon reached out, draping an arm across my shoulders, drawing me close as he wrapped me within his arms, his own inky black lashes shimmering wetly within the sunlight as he huskily murmured, “ready?”

Pushing slightly away so that I could peer up into his face, I gave him a trembling smile and nod, then glancing away, I looked about us, searching for, and encountering the sapphire blue gaze of Dante's, where he stood solemn and alone, some distance away as the rhythmic click of the Imperial device began echoing about us, indicating that the process of lowering Miles remains into the ground had begun.

The sound was mournful in its cry of finality, enforcing within me the reminder that life was forever changing.

* * *

Six months had passed since the day we’d placed Miles body into the ground. Half a year that had been wrought with a plethora of change. Which was why, in the process of dumping a load of manure from the stalls, I felt my stomach do a funny little somersault with the onslaught of uncertainty that swept through me at the sight of the beat up old Chevy pickup that came barreling down the drive.

Squinting my eyes to help with the glare of the sun, I gazed apprehensively toward the oncoming vehicle.

The driver was in need of a haircut, the edges of his rich brown hair, resembling chocolate syrup in its coloring,  fell around his shoulders, and was fluttering madly in the wind beneath the baseball cap he wore pulled low onto his forehead, concealing his features from my prying eyes, a cap that was nearly as beat up in its appearance as the old pickup he drove.

His arm, I saw, rested casually on the door of the truck, his fingers thrumming in beat with the song blaring out the open windows as the truck dipped and swayed its way down the long drive.

However, though anxiety flowered full bloom within me at seeing him again, the shovel I held clutched within my hand hit the ground as I hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then took off at a run toward the truck when it spewed to a stop before the barn.

Rounding the driver’s door as it was slung open, I barely allowed the boots of the man inside to hit the ground before I threw myself at him. A man who had raptly held my attention from the age of twelve, a man to whom I'd ran the gauntlet of emotions towards, from the shy hero-worshiping of an insecure pre-teen, into teenage infatuation that morphed over time into a rocky friendship, before finally changing into what now lay secretly within me…unspoken need.

With moisture filling my eyes, I snuggled tightly against Dante's chest, the top of my head barely reaching his chin as the words of apology stuttered forth, “I’m so…s…sorry….Dante...”

* * *

He was in the pits of hell, there was no other explanation Dante decided, for the intoxicating scent that was Kira surrounded him, swirled it's way through every particle of his being, eating at him from the inside out, creating an onslaught of desire that forcefully slammed its way through, and burnt a path all the way to his cock.

There, it set up camp, burning hot and hungry,  making him swell to uncomfortable proportions beneath the denim of his jeans with a flame of want, in truth, an ache that seemed to have gotten out of hand over the last year, having grown into this raging inferno that was nearly consuming him.

Now, fighting for self-preservation, he quickly shoved Kira away, cursing long and expressively beneath his breath as his hand brushed across her breast, feeling the swell of the hardened, bra-less nipple against his palm.

He was angered at how fast that affected him, how fast everything about her had always, it seemed, affected him, forcing feelings and emotions that had changed as time passed.

Emotions that had become something beyond his power to control or understand. Feelings that had confused him five years ago when he'd first peered down into the saddest, yet the most defensive green eyes he'd ever seen, and feelings that maddened him now, for they'd grown into something else, something that was creating within him desires that swamped him with thoughts and wants he shouldn't…no,
couldn't
have towards her…ever. The want to be buried up to his balls inside her.

Over the years, Kira had changed right before his eyes. Changed from the awkward, gangling child, into what stood before him today, a hot, sultry, sexier than hell, beauty, whose features as a child had only
hinted
at what was to come, and fulfill that prophecy they had, for they'd become perfectly formed, emphasizing eyes so intensely green they appeared like Emeralds within the rich, honey kissed tone of her face.

A face that supported a small dainty nose above lips that curved in such a natural sexy pout they literally begged a man to plunder their sweetness, lips that were such a temptation, they tested Dante to his limit as her darkly tinted, long and lustrous hair fell in an even sweep down her back, and grazed the swell of an ass that he'd had more than one fantasy about.

Fantasies of biting its delectable round firmness, before he'd hungrily begin running his tongue up the smooth, silky arch of her lower back, as continuing to move upward, he'd stroke the sweet flavored flesh covering her spine and shoulders before, turning her to face him, he'd wrap himself within  her long silky tresses as he pulled the torrid peak of a nipple within his mouth, feeling the pebbled hardness against his tongue as he licked and suckled its roundness.

With a low growl, he adjusted himself as his thoughts brought about their usual results, and though he ached for her like no other woman he'd ever known, there would be no fulfillment to his need, as the fantasies were all he would ever have, all he
could
ever have, for he could never
take
what he so desired.

However, in the wee hours of the morning, when he had no control over the internal wants of his own mind and body, he'd awaken drenched in sweat, his cock hard and throbbing, inflamed from dreams, dreams that were incredibly provocative, incredibly precise, dreams that left him aching with a need that scored him to his very soul, and more often than not, a belly coated in cum.

              Weakend over the past month to a point he'd never been before where she was concerned, he'd fled temptation, only to find now upon his return, his desires had not lessened in the least, and needing to not only keep a
physical
distance from her, he now needed an
emotional
one as well, and allowing a scowl of distaste to spread across his features he barked, “Jesus Christ Kira, do you have to be so fucking clingy, you're always touching, hugging…
hanging
all
over
me…give me some room to breath dammit!”

There it was, the look he sought, the look of acute anguish that washed her face of color.

A look that confirmed his intentionally hurtful words of having done their purpose, at the same time, slamming the pain he saw reflected in her features against his own heart like a sledge hammer, nearly stealing the breath from his lungs.

Yet he needed to be certain, certain there was no wiggle room, and forced himself to snarl, “now if you’re quite done sniffling and sniveling, where the hell is Arreon?”

* * *             

Dante's words lashed at my heart, and the blow to my midsection might as well have been from his fist, for the pain it caused was just as intense. Bringing about the knowledge that the apprehension of this past week had been well founded, for he was making it quite clear that he was not willing to forgive me, nor for that matter, he was silently stating, would he ever look upon me as friend, or sister again.

I felt a tearing sensation, a pain in the region of my heart.

A heart that stuttered and stopped beating before shuddering back to painfully throb within my chest at the realization that though a week had passed since we'd last seen each other, a week of anguish on my part, I was apparently the only one of us that had agonized over the separation, and I found myself growing angry, my cheeks tinting pink with the emotion as I hissed, “you want room…by God I'll give you all the goddamn room you can
handle
!”

Then followed the heated words with, “and to answer your question about Arreon…how the hell should I know…I’m not his fucking keeper!”              

Temper now verging on blowing the top of my head off, I turned and stomped away, and with that, my day was set into a forward motion that, by the time the sun set in the western sky, it would find me filthy from my hair, to the bottom of my mud and manure encrusted boots, and feeling like the target of some evil prankster.

My first inkling of what the day would bring, after the cross words with Dante that was, should have come when I went to dump the wheelbarrow, and found the mulch pile exploding in my face.

However, as usual I was ever slow to learn, for what came after-wards was a chain of events that unfolded like the script from some insane cartoonist.

The compost pile was still smoldering and emitting tiny puffs of smoke as I gazed at it, wide eyed and filled with disbelief when I found myself whirling around with bits and pieces of straw, grass and manure flying off me like I was shedding an outer layer of flesh when I heard a low snort behind me.

Eyes narrowing, I glared at the figure of Dante as he let out a low whistle as he got his first good look at my face and the material that was making up the new facial I was supporting.

However, before I could guess his intentions he moved, scooping me into his arms and turning, he strode towards the water trough, as with nostrils flaring, he sneered, “holy
hell
you stink,” then relaxing his hold, he dropped me into the water trough.

I sputtered and gagged on the murky, bitter tasting water that filled my nose and mouth as my head went under, then my furious wail rent the air as I'd cleared the surface, and at the broad expanse of Dante’s departing back that met my water drenched eyes, I found myself slapping the water with my palms in anger.

Dante stumbled, then righted himself, as shoulders shaking with silent mirth, he disappeared around the corner of the barn. Suddenly the roar of his laughter rang about the farmyard, causing my face to grow hot with the flush of the red-hot fury that encompassed my whole frame.

Livid, I found myself counting to ten in an effort to calm the white-hot sparks of anger that shot throughout my system, and sprinkled the air around me like the discharges of a roman candle.

Slowly as I drew a breath, then another, I calmed the beast within me that wanted nothing more for the moment than to roast Dante, and at the same time, the air around me stopped sizzling.

Thirty minutes later found me scrubbed clean of the matter from the compost pile, as well nearly dry from the heat of the sun, and the smoldering fit of anger I continued to simmer within, for I was still yet unprepared to forgive Dante for his Neanderthal mentality, and standing before the tool shed, its ramshackle condition intimidating to say the least, I gazed at it in trepidation.

I’d had my doubts for a while now that it would withstand a good gust of wind, let alone bare anyone’s weight, and I now found myself to be in quiet a pickle because of my trepidation, for I'd done everything I possibly could to avoid having to enter into its interior over the last several weeks.

However, a large section of the corral fence was badly in need of repair, and the items necessary to make them, were inside the shed. Therefore, I was out of time, excuses, and options.

Shrugging, I tossed up a silent prayer and reached for the door. When it stood open, the interior loomed darkly before me, and I tried in vain to shake off the feeling of unease as I raised a foot to step in, only to find myself pausing again, an overwhelming desire to look upwards skirted its way across my mind, and finding myself unable to do anything else, I raised my eyes upward.