Blackwater (17 page)

"Who's the guy milling about?" Luke asks.

I scowl, "He's…uhm…my ex?" I don’t even have an answer for it. It's awkward in ways I haven’t explained to myself.

"I can get rid of him if you want." He says.

I sigh and shake my head, "Sugar, he is trying to work his way back into my life. He won't give me a minute of peace. But he's my problem. Don't bother with him." The idea of Whit hurting him makes me instantly angry.

He laughs, "Oh I got me one of them myself." He pulls out his cell phone and shows me a picture of a redhead with bright-green eyes. She is beautiful.

"Rebecca Ryan. If you see her near the property, call me right away. She's nuttier than squirrel shit." He chuckles but my jaw drops.

I take the phone and shake my head, "She looks just like my friend Angie used to." The red hair is the only difference. It's stunning how remarkable the resemblance is.

"Her grandmamma is Angie, she's Angela Palatino. Her granddaddy is Martin Ryan, you must know him. Governor of Louisiana. Old as Methuselah's goat now. He was supposed to marry your great aunt or grandma, the one you're named after." He looks confused but then nudges me and laughs, "You know the engagement party of doom."

My mouth feels like I'm spittin cotton. I take a deep breath and shake my head, "Oh…uhm. No, Angie was my age. She lived in New Orleans. Maybe a relative. She ain't the same one. Not a Palatino." I'm mumbling and stumbling over my words and crazed thoughts. I can hear friggen Whit laughing all the way down the driveway at my incoherent statement.

I think I'm gonna die. How did she live? How did she not die? I swear I saw her death. The night is still so intense in my mind. My memories could be mixed and confused.

Worse though, how the hell did she marry Martin? I almost vomit on Luke thinking about it.

Luckily, he shrugs and takes the phone back. "Not sure. Maybe. Anyway her granddaughter is a piece of work. I'm gonna get back to work." He walks into the house that now has a front door, a real one.

I look over at Whit and scowl, "Go home." I know he hears me.

He grins, "I am."

I roll my eyes.

He pushes off the truck and walks up the driveway to me. My body instantly walks down the steps towards him, like magnets pulling toward each other. He towers over me and looks down on me, "You're starving aren’t you?"

My stomach is empty. I feel hungry just thinking about food.

He takes my hand and pulls me back to my truck. I struggle but I don’t stand a chance with him. He pushes me inside and climbs into the driver seat.

He starts the truck and reverses fast. When he throws it into drive he burns out.

"Those tires aren’t cheap, Whit."

He grins at me, "I notice you don’t call me Mr. Whitlock anymore."

I don’t smile. "That’s because you used to be MY Mr. Whitlock. Now you're just Whit, some asshole I gave my heart to. I feel like a real girl now. I hate you enough that I think I could actually call you Jameson. Or Lord Whitlock. Or even James."

He scowls and no matter how hard I try, he doesn't look like anything but MY Whit.

"Can I just say that the night we were going to leave, your mother…"

I growl, "STOP! We are never having this conversation. I never want to speak of this. I saw you. I saw what I need to know."

He shrugs, "Have it your way."

He drives and we don’t speak. He pulls into a small trailer park where the smell of poverty lingers in the air like chimney smoke.

He stops in front of a small yellow trailer and then drives away quickly. He parks on the road. He gets out and walks around to my side of the door. "Get out." His tone is feisty.

I make a face, but he drags me from the open door. I kick him in the side and he slams me against the truck. His fangs are out. My skin shivers and I can't help but find him sexy with fangs. I haven’t seen fangs on another person since the night my family was killed.

"You're pissing me off, Lorelei. You refuse to forgive me for the one bad thing I've ever done to you, which honestly if you let me explain, you'd see it wasn’t so bad. Now you're blatantly flirting with that construction worker. Do I have to kill him too?"

I frown and shove him back, "One bad thing? One bad thing? That one thing happened to ruin my entire life, which FYI ISN'T FUCKING ENDING!" I cover my eyes and take a deep breath. I put my hands down and look at him, "I just want you to leave me alone. If you kill him I will kill myself in the sunlight." I don’t know why I haven’t done it yet. I hope he doesn’t question it too.

He laughs. "Aren't you afraid of the family curse?"

I shove him but I'm weak. I'm starved. "How do you know about that?"

He leans in and kisses my neck, "I told you already, Lorelei. I have things to show you. I just want to explain. I'm going to hold you down and make you listen to me."

"Yeah that's going to make me forgive you."

His face hovers over mine, "I can make you love me."

I ignore his words and focus on not melting between my legs when he touches me. Something is happening between us. His touch makes my insides feel like warm butter and I don’t seem to mind it when he gets rough. I have dirty thoughts about kissing him with my fists and wrestling.

Something is dirty wrong with me. He brushes a hand between my legs and whispers, "I know you want me."

I laugh. It's true. I can't even deny it but I can torture him. I grin, "I was gonna feed and then go take it out on Luke. He seemed like he wanted to see how far I would let him go."

He smiles bitterly, "It'll be the last thing he does."

"Stop threatening to kill people." I sigh and squeeze my thighs as tight as I can.

He gives me his lazy grin, "Stop acting like you don't love me as much as I love you."

I shake my head and look around, "I don't. Why are we here?"

He kisses me once more and takes my hand. He pulls me through the woods. We walk in silence.

I know we are close to the trailer park. I can feel the poverty in the soaked Louisiana air. Plus I can smell the people. I could smell it when we drove by only a few minutes ago.

I see the back of the small yellow trailer through the trees.

He looks back and puts a finger to his lips.

We walk silently till we get to the back window. He slides it open, "I own the trailer park and rent the trailers."

"Sneaky rotten bastard." I whisper. It gets us around having to be invited in. I peek in and see an older woman. She has needle marks on her arms. She is asleep.

I pull myself up into the window and look back at him uncomfortably. I've never fed in front of anyone. It feels too personal to do with another person.

I drop to my knees in front of her and try to block out the fact he has climbed in the window too. I brush her salt and pepper hair out of her face. Her neck brings my fangs out instantly. I lower my face to her throat and put my hands over her eyes.

I bite down, waking her. She tries to struggle but I hold her face down and pin her body with mine. The first bite is the best. The hot blood sprays into my throat. I gulp her back until the last of the blood slips from her body. I stop drinking and pull back. The last of the blood in her trickles down her ashen throat. I wipe my mouth and walk from the room. He doesn't follow me. He stays and waits for me to finish.

I don’t think about them. I don't get to know them or feel badly for them. I'm immune to it. The only feelings I have now are intense love and hatred and desire and regret. It's impossible for me to feel something part way and I can't pity them fully. Their life style is always why I'm here. I never feed from healthy people. I never feed from good people. I always eat criminals and homeless and drug addicts. I always have.

Except in the beginning when I ate animals.

The drive home is quiet. I know he knows how I'm feeling. I always feel this way after feeding. I don’t usually have a sexy man beside me, who I will let do anything he wants to me because of the blood.

He slides his hand up my jeans and gropes my thigh. "You smell so good."

I shake my head and push his hand away, "Please don’t take advantage of it."

He rubs his hands over my legs and then up between them. I moan instantly as his fingers lightly tickle between my legs. He jerks the truck over to the side of the road and attacks. His fangs are out. I know mine are out. They don’t go away for at least an hour afterward when I'm really hungry.

He leaps at me and starts kissing me violently. My back is pressed against the truck door. I kiss him back, tearing my own shirt off before I can stop myself. He tears my bra from my body and licks up my breast. He avoids the nipple that’s sticking out, begging for it. He kisses around it in a circle. I'm melting into him.

A voice interrupts the madness, "What's going on in here?"

I'm pulled from ecstasy as a flashlight blinds me. I shy away. Whit grabs the man at the door and lifts him off the ground. He bites into his throat and drains him on the side of the road. I see his uniform and his car on the other side of the road and grimace.

Whit drops the dead policeman to the ground and slams the truck door. He starts the truck and drives.

The smell of blood is in the air. I'm feeling wild from it. I know later when I think about it, I will regret every moment of this.

Whit drives to a dirt road and pulls off. He parks the truck and gets out. I'm bare-chested and gripping my tattered shirt to my exposed breasts. He opens the door and takes my hand. He drags me behind him and after a few minutes I know where we are.

I see the hiding house and pull on his hand, "Tessa is staying there."

He looks at me and growls. I back up. I'm grinning from ear to ear. I know blood still lingers on my lips. His are coated in the fresh blood of the police officer.

He walks toward me slowly. I walk backwards. I can smell the rich blood on his lips. I can smell the sex coming from everywhere else.

"We shouldn’t do this. I'm going to regret it." I shake my head.

"You want me." His lazy grin breaks my heart and I grip my shirt to me and turn and run. I trip and he's on me.

He pins me into the itchy wheat. He kisses my back and my neck and grinds against me. He slides a hand up into my hair and pulls lightly, lifting my head from the wheat. He turns my head and kisses me. His bloody kiss is better than any kiss, ever. I roll on my back as he unbuttons and removes his pants.

Before I realize what I'm saying I've said it, "There is a blanket in the back seat of the truck."

He is up and gone, running in his shirt and underwear. Running away crosses my mind, but I don’t. I just think about it, until he walks up holding the blanket and his lazy grin. Then I think about him and rip my pants off.

He shakes the blanket and lays it flat. I climb on and lie back. He tugs at my boots and throws them on the ground.

He kneels in front of me and bends to lay soft kisses on the inside of my thigh. I gasp and hold my hand over my mouth. I'd hate for old Aunty Tessa to hear me as his warm mouth plants wet kisses everywhere.

He rubs a thumb over my underwear and I feel like I'm going crazy. He is torturing me. He is very good at this. He is too good at it. My brain creates an awesome diversion. I have no willpower left. It has to be him that stops this insanity. I wince and let the words slip from my lips, "How many have there been?"

He lifts his face and looks at me, "How many what?"

I close my legs and look at him, "Girls?"

His eyes widen. He processes my question and then decides to be angry, "What?"

I gulp and sit up.

The moon casts shadows on his face but doesn’t hide the anger, "Why? Why are you bringing this up now?"

I shake my head and cross my arms. I need to stall until the blood lust is gone, "All this time you were looking for me, were you missing me or was that only a part time thing? Were you sleeping with other women the whole time?"

He runs a hand though his hair and shakes his head, "It wasn’t like that. It was just, you know."

I shake my head, "I don’t know." I bite my lip, "I did, but anytime I got close, I…well…I lost control."

He processes again and nods, "You ate them?"

I'm ashamed. As usual, "It was an accident, usually."

His eyes glow with the same sarcasm that's in his tone, "So, you saved yourself for me, but not on purpose? So you tried but didn’t succeed and that makes me an arsehole?"

I shake my head, "I dated a few boys in forty-eight years and but none of my relationships went anywhere. I never let them. But then again I wasn’t the one being devout to you. I wasn’t the one trying to win you back." My anger slowly starts to become real. True chick moment.

He crawls over me and kisses me, "Can't we just let it be ancient history? We can start over."

I lean back and shake, "I guess it doesn't matter. You murdered my family and even if I can't seem to make that bigger than you, it still counts in my heart. And it's not like we're dating now. I would never date you. I owe them that at least. Sorry, I know I said we weren’t going to talk about it."