Because the Night

~Chapter Twelve~

Unusual. He called it unusual. He should have said it would make me vomit if I thought about it. He should have forced me to look away. Or made me pass out. Anything but watch as he healed the bone.

Lisimba knelt on the floor in front of me, holding my hand tight. He grabbed the knife handle.

My eyes grew wide as saucers.

He paused. “I will make certain you feel nothing.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. His tongue dipped inside my mouth, mating with my own. Images of a moonlit beach entered my mind. A warm breeze wafted off the ocean, caressing my skin with feather-light strokes.

I pulled back slightly, realizing that he put the thoughts into my mind.

Lisimba gazed at me with half-closed eyes. “Yes, Cecilia. Let the calm of the ocean wash over you. The healing will go easier if you are relaxed.”

I nodded. The images soared through my head again, only this time, I kept my eyes open.

A more interesting collage could not be found. While he injected the feel of the warm ocean breeze against my skin, I watched the knife slice through the flesh of my hand. As the water lapped at my toes, he bent over the open wound, spreading the cut wider and catching any blood before it hit the carpet. When the mental conjurings bade me feel the caress of a lover’s hand along my breast, his tongue licked the cracked bone. Lips stole along the sensitive flesh at the nape of my neck as my eyes watched the bone seal itself. Teeth nipped at my earlobes and warm breath grazed the moist skin while his fingers pressed the flesh back together. When his tongue lapped at the dripping blood, no other image found its way through my muddled mind. Every inch of my body blazed when he raised his eyes to mine.

My hand tingled. My gaze drifted to see what should have been a gaping wound. Instead, I saw a thin line of pink which looked like little more than a scratch, something I could explain away should anyone happen to notice. I flexed my fingers. Tiny frissons of electricity flowed through the flesh and traveled up my arm. I looked back to Lisimba.

His eyes blazed red. A light sheen of blood coated his lips. When his tongue snaked out, licking his mouth clean, my gut clenched in desire.

I swallowed. “You’re hungry.” Despite his promise, fingers of fear caressed my spine.

He nodded. “I am.”

Heat rushed through me. “You should hunt.”

The wicked gleam in his eyes fanned the flames. “I have what I want within reach. I can hunt after nightfall.”

His fiery orbs flowed over my body. I already burned, and his study brought me to a steady boil.

Still, I held tight to the reins. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, Lisimba.”

He nodded. “Let us simply enjoy each other’s company, then. Take the rest as it comes to us.” He smiled and extended his hand to me.

My arm rose of its own accord. Instead of joining with his, though, I pressed my palm to his bare chest and trailed my fingers along the breast bone.

He growled.

“You play with fire, ma chère. I am not as able to control myself when I hunger.”

As if to accentuate his words, his eyes flared and the muscles twitched beneath my fingers.

“And if you fed, how much control would you have? What difference would it make?” I curled my fingers and dragged my nails lightly along the rise of muscle.

He sucked in a strangled breath. “It would make the difference between me sweeping you off to your bed right now, or upholding the suggestion of just enjoying each other’s company. It would make the difference of keeping me from sinking my teeth into you while you scream your orgasm again and again until you can no longer draw breath without creating another cascade of bliss.”

He wrapped his fingers around my hand, stopping my assault as I crept my way down his belly.

“I have very little restraint left, ma petit amour.” He closed his eyes and drew a breath.

It was amazing seeing the power he allowed me. A simple touch or the hint of intention sent him to the edge of oblivion. Full bore seduction boiled him.

I flattened my fingers, twisting my wrist and clasping his hand. He opened his eyes, locking to mine. The bright red edged with gold sent shivers along my spine.

“Part of me wants to entice you until you lose control. The other part of me wants a long, slow seduction. More importantly, though, you need to feed. I can see that, Lisimba. So go. You won’t rest properly until you are able to control your hunger, and don’t ask me how I know that. I just do. Do you have one of your ‘harems’ located nearby?”

He inclined his head. “In a way. A few young women who are willing givers live just outside of town.”

I stepped forward and pressed my lips to his gently and briefly. I didn’t dare allow anything other than a brief interlude, or he wouldn’t be the only one losing control. After the explosion from the night before, I knew I wouldn’t last long.

When we parted, he nodded to me. “Go and rest. I will return soon and join you.” Then he grabbed his shirt from the sofa, quickly slid it over his massive chest and left.

***

Time alone may not have been the wisest step. My mind churned the varying facets of his tale. Over two hundred years. Lisimba lived through Napoleon and Josephine, two world wars, the Great Depression, the Great Potato Famine in Ireland, countless inventions, including the combustion engine and automobiles, the entire history of the United States of America—he’d lived through more history than I’d forgotten.

I let out a low whistle. “Son of a bitch.” Then the truth hit me. Lisimba would live well beyond my years. That had to be why he did not worry about the Parkinson’s Disease. He knew he would outlive me, even if my health was perfect for many years to come.

That was a tough pill to swallow. If we stayed together as a couple, I would grow old and grey while he stayed amazingly young.

I heard my foster mother’s voice, “Everything happens for a reason, Cici. You just have to accept that.”

I stomped to the bath and stared at the mirror. The woman glaring back looked deadly. “Tell me what purpose it serves to steal my mobility! What purpose does it serve to find someone willing to work with me and this stupid disease and then discover he will never age? What purpose does it serve to put me through this hell?”

The glass shattered, raining into the basin below. Rivulets of blood formed on the wall and jagged shards where my left hand finally stopped.

I pulled my fist back, looking at the numerous lacerations and shook my head. “Fucking moron. If I had half a brain, I’d be dangerous.”

The latch clicked on the front door. “Lisimba? Are you back already?”

No answer came to me.

My good hand turned on the spigot. The water stung. “Hot damn, son-of-a-bitch, that hurts.”

I picked the pieces from my flesh and wrapped a small towel around the appendage to avoid dripping on my carpet. I stomped out of the lavatory.

“I’m afraid I made a bit of a mess again-” My voice caught in my throat.

“Must not be who you were expectin’ to see.”

The third attacker, cemented as Number Three in my mind, sat on my sofa with his boots propped on my coffee table. He wore what looked to be the same encrusted clothes as I’d last seen. The same handgun trained on me.

“Why don’t you come on over here and give me a good welcome? I’ve been waiting for this.” He glanced around. “Where is that boyfriend of yours? I have one in here,” he tapped the revolver, “just for him. Got me a little pay back to dish up.”

I was entirely sick of this shit. I kept the gun within my peripheral vision while I checked for potential escape routes.

The front door lay on the other side of the weapon. Even if I got that far without getting shot, he’d overtake me in no time. To get to the fire escape off the balcony, I’d have to get through the locked and blocked sliding glass doors and over the railing before he pulled the trigger or tackled me.

The crimson stain soaking through the terry cloth posed a problem with either scenario.

“What’s going through that pretty little head of yours,” he sneered, “besides one these rounds if you don’t do as I said and get your ass over here?”

I ground my teeth and worked to tuck the towel in on itself, hoping it would stay in place. I did not move.

“Hey!” He kicked his feet against the table, knocking everything to the floor.

A tiny thump caught my attention. Number Three appeared not to have heard it. I crossed the few steps and knelt beside the table to pick up the scattered papers and magazines. I made a big production of straightening the mess while tucking the fallen blade in the waist band of my shorts. Whatever this fucker did, I was taking a chunk of him with me.

“I saw your buddies in the paper. Dead as a mouse in a cat house. Looks like someone’s been hunting the hunters.” I knew the blow would come, but it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch when the gun butt collided just behind my temple. My head whipped around, but I didn’t move.

He grabbed my hair, yanked backwards and pressed the muzzle directly between my eyes. His legs straddled mine where I crouched. I looked past the weapon and glared at his angry face.

“What’s wrong? Worried he’s coming for you, too?” I grinned with much more bravado that I really felt. “You should be. He won’t stop hunting until you’re dead. And he’ll make you suffer for everything you’ve ever done. Go ahead. Pull the trigger. Cowardly bastard.”

His nostrils flared. Still, I wanted to keep pushing. I knew that if I got him pissed enough, he’d lose his perspective and slip up somewhere. I needed that window to open the knife and land it.

The feel of the air changed, and tendrils of electricity snaked along the edge of my mind. I recognized that my vampire boyfriend searched to see if my state of mind remained receptive to him.

I used this connection to my advantage. Lisimba, I need you now! I accompanied the thought with a quick image of the gun and the person holding it.

Those tendrils became nearly audible angry waves of AC current. Even Number Three sensed it. His hands quivered as a small tremor passed through his limbs.

The front door burst open and crashed into the wall. Number Three jerked his head toward the noise. When he turned, the gun moved just enough.

I grabbed the knife, flipped it open and stabbed straight up.

A gurgling scream erupted. The gun dropped to the floor. In a blink, Lisimba crossed the room and sank his teeth into Number Three’s neck.

I couldn’t force myself to look away.

As soon as Lisimba attacked, Number Three fell silent. He wanted to scream. I could see the fear boiling in his eyes, his mouth wide open. He probably thought he was. His face contorted in a mix of anger, pain and absolute terror.

In a matter of moments, his eyes turned dull, his skin pale, and his muscles limp.

Lisimba released his hold and his bite and dropped what was left on the carpet. He turned and knelt beside me. The wild animal faded instantly, replaced with genuine concern.

His hands flew all over my body, feeling for injuries.

“Ma petit?”
I caught his eyes. “I want that knife. Suddenly, I love that goddamn piece of shit.”

***