Trust (Part 23)

Taking Brook’s hand tightly, Fern kept her eyes on the floor as they walked to the back of the queue. The whispering voices of the greeters, one male and one female, followed them, making Fern think of a funereal party.  In the growing late evening and the heavy rain, the town’s cast outs were just bodies bundled into filthy, ragged clothes. Fern saw a mixed of old boots, shoes, slippers and bare feet shuffling along the pavement.

Brook gently swung her around the last person and they came to a stop. Fern raised her eyes and looked at the hunched over red jumper wearing man before them. He was coughing loudly and rubbing his chest with a stuck clenched hand. Fern prayed he didn’t turn around and rested her head on Brook’s shoulder to make whispering to him easier.

Brook kissed her head then said into her hair, ‘remember what I said?’

She brushed her cheek against his shoulder in a nod.

‘Your name is May. I’m Seth. We are brother and sister, running from our abusive stepfather. Yesterday, we got arrested by police and we lost all our things in our escape. Got it?’ Brook asked, ‘but you only say that if we get separated. Actually, let’s…say you’re mute.’

‘Mute?’ Fern hissed.

‘Yeah. It works. Or deaf? But that’s more difficult to pull off.’

‘Deaf makes more sense than mute,’ Fern countered.

Brook hushed her as the man in front of them turned slowly.

‘Sorry. Couldn’t spare a smoke, could ya?’ his raspy voice muttered the words.

Brook patted his pockets with a single hand then drew his packet of cigs and lighter. He slipped his hand out of Fern’s and offered the man one.

‘Ah, thanks,’ the man spoke, ‘finished mine this afternoon and what with the weather, couldn’t scrape the pennies.’

Brook lit the selected cig and the flicking orange glow illumined the homeless man’s dirty, yellowed fingers. Brook closed the lighter then decided to have one himself. Counting he had four left and reminding himself to not offer anyone else one, he pulled out the fifth slender white cig and lit up.

Fern had been carefully avoiding the man’s eyes and had been fixated on Brook. Though this whole time, she could feel the man’s eyes on her. Don’t talk, don’t answer. You can’t hear him, she chanted in her head.

‘On the run?’ the homeless man asked.

‘Yeah. Stepdad and police,’ Brook stated back.

‘Never been to a shelter before?’

Brook didn’t answer. He took a drag of the cig and flicked away the ash.

‘You should keep an eye on her…’ the homeless man said in a softer voice.

Fern stole a glance at him and noticed he was staring longingly at her breasts.

‘She’s deaf. Kid sister, fucking dead weight. She’s like a puppy I can’t get rid of,’ Brook sneered, ‘but I’ll keep an eye on her. I always do. Wanna smoke?’

Brook offered Fern the cig. She paused, shook her head then twisting her neck, pressed the side of her face into Brook’s shoulder. Now looking behind them, she watched the thin trails of smoke drifting into the night and wished she could leave with them.

‘Thanks again,’ the man said and turned back around. Though Fern was sure his eyes keep wondering to the sides to try and look at her again.

Brook slipped his arm around her and guided her forward. The queue seemed to have picked up pace and as they neared the doors, Fern heard someone from just inside the doorway mutter to someone else that they were nearly full. She shot Brook a look, but he was hurriedly finishing his cig. They reached the bottom step and Fern tapped her toes against the cold wet stone.

Throwing the butt away, Brook led her up the steps and ignoring the welcoming from the greeters, followed the homeless man into a hallway. Fern glanced around, noticing that the bare floor and walls were a hospital dark cream colour. They came to a stop a few steps in and peering around the line of people, spotted another set of doors ahead of them and two women with clipboards.

Fern looked over her shoulder and saw that the two greeters had come in and were now shutting and locking the door. A sudden wave of panic and fear tickled her stomach. She swallowed hard and gripped Brook’s arm tightly with both her hands. She focused on something else and saw that the greeters were wearing matching dark green t-shirts with white letters stamped in the right corner. She read; St Louis’ Shelter.

‘We are out of beds now!’ a loud female voice shouted.

Remembering at the last second not to turn towards the voice, Fern stayed still. She felt Brook giving her a small squeeze and musing into her hair with his chin. A flutter of voices blew into her ears then the woman continued talking, directing them all to a smaller side room where they could sleep on the floor. The queue shuffled forward, whispering grumpy voices filling the tall ceiling above them.

The two greeters had taken guard places on either side of the front doors. Fern turned back and as she approached the second set, gave into the dreaded thought of; we’re trapped in here now. She looked at Brook, but he was keeping his eyes fixed on the smallest of the three women. She, like the other woman she was with, was handing leaflets to everyone. They approached her and watched her look them up and down before handing a paper out.

Brook took it from her and she hand gestured for them to go in.

Shivering, Fern dug her nails into Brook’s arm and scanned the large room they had entered. It was hard to tell what, if anything this building had once been. There were high set windows in the wall before them, but like the walls in the corridor the four here were bare. The floor was lined with metal cot beds at one end and at the other long bench tables and chairs. Double white doors in the far corner led into an area signed as the kitchen.

Most of the beds were occupied with people laying down or sitting up. The few that were empty had the leaflets placed on the blankets. The room hummed with voices, snores and soft rustlings of things. Fern couldn’t pick out many faces from those that were sleeping, but she was shocked to see a teenage looking girl curled on a nearby bed with two very young children.

Whilst many of the homeless seemed to be males of all ages, there were a few women and children dotted around. Fern focused harder and picked out an old woman pawing through a bin bag, an exhausted blonde haired woman who looked to be in her mid-forties and a young adult black woman sitting on the edge of a bed, which had the sleeping form of a boy about ten years old curled under the blanket.

Brook looked in the other direction and Fern followed him. There were two doors ahead of them now. One was marked bathrooms and the other, where the tail end of homeless people were heading, wasn’t signed anything. Brook stepped over and Fern refusing to let go of him, went along too. Through the doors was another room with more doors leading off it. This room was smaller and had darker yellow coloured walls. Scattered about were a few old canvas camping beds and air beds. All of them seemed to have been claimed already. Fern counted twenty-three people, including her and Brook, before she watched the red jumper man settling to the floor in the corner to their right.

Brook glanced behind at the doors then finally removing Fern’s fingers from his arm, pushed the door and half stepped back out. Fern almost moved after him, but stopped herself as she heard him striking a conversation up with someone.

‘My sister needs some help.’

‘With what?’ a really soft female voice asked back.

Fern wondered if it was the woman who’d given them the leaflets.

‘She’s….well that woman’s monthly thing. We have nothing. Is there anything you could spare for her? Please?’

Fern heard the woman make a pouting shape with her mouth and breathe through it.

‘She’s deaf and dumb,’ Brook hissed back, ‘please? I don’t know what to do.’

‘Alright. Where is she?’

Staying still, Fern let Brook slip his fingers into her hand and close around her palm. She felt him tugging and turned to follow him out. The woman behind the door was the same one as above. She was short and young looking, with black hair framing her face. She was wearing a dark green t-shirt and a floor touching black cotton skirt.

‘This way,’ she said after a few seconds.

They followed her down a few doors and into a store room. Brook got Fern to stand against the wall then helped the woman search through the pile of opened cardboard boxes. Fern watched them pulling out things like packets of tampons, wet wipes, tissues, underwear, basic washing kits, soap and some more things. From a deep box, the woman pulled out a second hand school backpack that was red and black in colour. She began stuffing all the things inside.

‘What about clothes?’ Brook asked in a low voice.

Fern saw the woman start to turn her head and quickly looked down at her shoes. She tried to fix a blank expression her face, but felt too overwhelmed by sadness and guilt to achieve it. She also pressed her hands to the wall and made a little rocking motion as if she was trying to comfort herself without anyone noticing.

The woman turned back and gave Brook the backpack.

‘Sister, Please. I don’t want anything for myself. But for her. She’s just a child still and she’s been through so much,’ Brook’s pleading filled the hushed room.

The woman sighed and giving Fern another look, shook her head and muttered back, ‘you must wait for the handouts tomorrow. I need to go, the food is almost ready.’

‘No, please! She’s probably already bleed through those jeans. Just give her a few things. We won’t take the handouts. I’m desperate! Sister, don’t turn a child of God away. She needs your help.’

Fern looked shyly up, recognising the smooth tone of voice that Brook had fallen into. He’s hands were resting lightly on the woman’s shoulders and he was staring hard into her eyes. The woman was still and watching him, her face slowly going sleepy looking. The backpack was at their feet.

‘You want to help her, don’t you?’ Brook purred, ‘God wants you to do this, Sister. Can’t you hear him? He needs you to help this poor girl. Please?’

The woman nodded.

Brook slowly raised his hand and with a finger summoned Fern over. Sensing what was happening, Fern’s vampire instinct kicked in and on silent feet she went over. Brook pushed the woman’s head to the side and moved her hair away. Fern touched her arm and lend in as the smell of blood pulsing just under flesh began calling to her.

‘Do it,’ Brook whispered into Fern’s ear.

She give a single nodded and opened her mouth. Her fangs pressed against her tongue and lip then the sweet soft skin of the nun.

Trust (Part 20)

A dry moan escaped Fern’s lips and she was faintly aware of something wet on her face. Darkness bubbled around her and she couldn’t decide if she was floating or flying. For a few moments she balanced on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness. A part of her was half tempted to stay dead, yet the other part fought to live.

Slowly, her mind came to and she began thinking again. There was nothing coherent at first, but then she began questioning dying; did it really happen? Is that what I dreamed, only it wasn’t a dream? Maybe this is a part of it? Can vampires come back as ghosts? Aren’t ghosts people who have unfinished business or seek revenge? Can I haunt Brook? What is that wet stuff on my face? Tears?

Fern pressed her tongue against her teeth then her lips. She drew some of the wetness into her mouth and tasted blood. Swallowing, she greedily seeked more and found it willingly being given to her. Opening her mouth, her tongue lapped against cool skin and drew more blood in. Instinct took over and she felt the vampire part of her demanding more. It wanted to live.

After swallowing three mouths of warm, salty blood, Fern’s eyes flashed open. She knew it was Brook sitting next to her, feeding her. Further questions, circled her thoughts and pushed away the ones about dying. She took another mouthful of blood then pushed his arm away. The hungry gone and the beast inside her stomach temporally tamed.

Staying still on the floor, she watched Brook raise his arm and lick the rest of the blood away. She wondered what to say, before deciding her mind was too muddled to speak clearly. Without a word, Brook put his arms around her shoulders and chest then pulled her up. Fern moaned and felt pain shooting into her head and back. The fresh blood chased after it and the sensations vanished just as quickly as they appeared. Taking in a few deep breaths, Fern got her bearings then aware Brook had stood up, glanced after him. He was holding a hand out to help her off the floor.

She took it and he pulled her to her feet in one swift movement. Fern stumbled into his arms and he quickly caught her and held her up. Drawing her into a hug, she felt his fingers stroking her hair. Fern rested her head on his shoulder and shut her eyes. She could feel the blood racing through her and though she felt almost back to normally, the chill off Brook kept her on edge.

‘Do you want some more? You didn’t take a lot,’ Brook’s voice brushed passed her ear.

‘No,’ she muttered.

‘It’s too late to go out now. Let’s go to bed. Maybe you’ll feel better after sleeping.’

She nodded, suddenly realising how tried she actually was.

Brook eased off the hug then supported her to the bedroom.

‘I feel dizzy and sick and so…’ Fern mumbled.

She stopped and bent over. Her hands flying to her stomach as she felt her insides churning up. The floor swim before her and she couldn’t clear her blurry vision. Sweat broke across her palms and face. She panted and let out a long painfully moan.

‘It’s okay,’ Brook said gently, ‘returning back from death never gets easier.’

Fern felt hot tears prick her eyes and desperately, she wanted to slip to the cold floor and just lay there. Instead, she felt Brook’s hand circling her lower back, whilst he’s other hand was mildly pushing her onwards.

‘Bathroom,’ Fern gasped, ‘I’m so going to…’

‘You’re not going to throw up,’ Brook stated, ‘you can’t reject my blood. It’s just a side effect. Lying down will help. Come on.’

Unable to stop him, Fern allowed the move to the bedroom and collapsed on top of the unmade bed. She lay face down, feet off the edge, breathing deeply. She felt Brook drag her upwards before flipping her over. Her head sink into a pillow and she looked up at the ceiling. Brook wrestled her jeans and trainers off then pulled the duvet over. Fern rolled and curled up into the foetal position. She watched Brook opening the window then closing the curtains against the coming dawn.

He joined her in the bed and propped his head up on his elbow to stare down at her.

‘Why did you do it?’ Fern forced out.

‘Kill you?’ Brook asked.

Fern give a little shake of her head, ‘bring me back.’

Brook’s eyes flicked upwards, ‘I guess, I just really like you…’

Fern opened her mouth then closed it again, fearing to give voice to her thought of; Bastard, you really don’t mean that, do you?

‘What? Don’t believe me?’ Brook questioned as he stroked her cheek with one finger.

‘It’s hard too,’ Fern breathed, ‘I betrayed you.’

Brook shrugged, ‘so have many others.’

‘Then why?’

‘Reasons.’

‘That you aren’t going to tell me?’ Fern mumbled.

‘Probably,’ Brook whispered and tapped her nose.

Fern sighed into the pillow and shut her eyes. Darkness was tugging at her again and though she feared giving into it, she knew there was no choice. She could sense dawn touching the night sky and time moving forward. Sleep was summoning her and there was nothing she could do to resist the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

‘Are you feeling better? Less sick?’ Brook muttered.

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘Then try to sleep. We’ll go out first thing. You’ll feel a lot better after you’ve fed.’

Fern forced open her eyes and looked at him, ‘and then?’

Brook looked away from her, over her shoulder at the wall, but not before she caught the flash of anger on his face. His fangs pressed down into his moist bottom lip as if he was determined not to answer.

‘Just go to sleep,’ he said at last.

Fern shut her eyes and with a shuddering breath allowed the darkness to claim her once more.

Trust (Part 19)

The wind swept through the trees, dragging salt and sand from the sea with it. Fern watched the tree tops whipping around. She could hear heavy breathing and two hearts racing, though it took her a few moments to realise that it was her breaths echoing in her ears. She put her hands to the railing and curled her fingers around the cold metal. Desperately, she wanted to look at Brook, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him.

Without a word, she felt him turn and go inside. She looked over her shoulder and watched him pacing the living room. He ran his hands through his hair and around his face a few times. His hands balled into fists then released again and slapped his sides. His breathing was ragged, loud and almost coming out in gasps. He spun at the hallway wall and walked back towards her.

Fern noticed there was mud on his boots and jeans, whilst there were traces of blood on his hoodie. As he got closer, she carefully sniffed and smelt blood, soil and some unknown sweet scent lingering around him. It reminded her of spice apple pie.

And me, what do I smell of? She thought. She put her nose to her shoulder and took a deep breath. The woods, the sea, the fisherman, Dacian…. She turned and looked back out across the woodland and the distance tops of the village houses. What have I done?

‘Brook…’ she spun around.

‘No!’ he roared, ‘don’t you dare! I can’t even think straight now!’

Fern ran inside, nearly trapping over the door frame and threw herself at him. Brook didn’t catch her and she dropped to the floor at his feet.

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’

Brook shoved her away with both hands and stepped backwards.

Fern, kneeling, pressed her head to the carpet and broke down. Huge sobs racked through her and she started struggling to breath. Pain soared in her chest and she had to pull up to gulp down big takes of air.  She wiped her wet face and tried to gain control. Through her tear coated eyes, she looked up at Brook.

He was pressed against the wall, head thrown back and left hand to his forehead. His eyes were shut and he too seemed to be battling to stay in control of his emotions. His fingers grabbed the fringe of his red hair and tugged at it. A growl escaped him. He pulled harder at his hair then opened his eyes, fixing them on Fern.

‘I got lost,’ she breathed and swallowed.

Brook looked at her, unimpressed and waited.

‘Dacian found me,’ Fern continued, ‘he brought me home. I didn’t know what else to do…’

Another growl escaped from Brook’s tightly pressed together lips.

‘Where did you go? I waited for you….but I got so hungry and scared. I thought you had left me and I… Just didn’t know what to do!’

‘You should have stayed put,’ Brook hissed.

Fern shook her head, ‘I couldn’t. I fed. He helped me…’

‘Oh? And he just happened to be hanging around…This Daican?’ Brook sneered.

Fern balled her hands into her lap and settled back on her heels. She took another deep breath and felt herself calming enough to go on, ‘he’s from the arcade. He spoke to me when I went to the bathroom. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’m sorry.’

Brook shook his head, ‘I knew it…Fuck! If it wasn’t for worrying about you!’

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.

Brook took a few steps towards her, hands tightening into fists as he did so. Fern’s eyes dropped to watch then rose to his face again. She felt a fresh wave of tears pricking her eyes, but tried to hold them back.

‘Do you like him?’ Brook snarled.

Fern pressed her lips together and moved her head quickly, ‘no. Of course not.’

‘You swapped blood.’

‘I was injured…’

‘Liar!’

‘Tried, I meant. Sorry, I was weak and I could resist him!’ Fern shouted and slapped her hands on her knees.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Brook argued back.

‘What else do you want me to say?’ she cried as the tears dripped on to her cheeks.

‘You can’t,’ Brook spoke in a low voice, ‘your actions have been too loud.’

Fern bite her lip and made to get to her feet. Brook fast moved over to her and pressed his hand to her shoulder. Fern cried out at the sudden heavy weight and nearly toppled over. She saved herself by putting her hands onto the carpet. With quickened breathing, she looked up at Brook.

‘I regret making you. You are completely unworthy,’ he said coldly.

Fern chocked, ‘no! Take it back. It’s not true. I made the mistake!’

‘No. It’s all my fault.’

Fern felt Brook move his hand up to her neck. She brought her arms up in defence, but it was too late, his fingers were already pressing against her throat. She felt him squeeze down and pressure building in her windpipe. She wrapped her hands around his lower arm and tried to pull him away.

‘Brook! Please, let go! I’m sorry!’ she screamed then kept on repeating those words.

Brook turned his head away, fixing his eyes across the kitchen and onto the fridge. His fingers pressed down tighter.

Fern gasped then couldn’t take another breath. Darkness and bright pins of light danced before her. She tried to think, but nothing other than her sudden inability to breath came to her. I’m so going to die!  

Everything seemed to slow down almost to a stop. Fern heard her heartbeat dropping down, her mind went completely black. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The word stretched out as if a singer was saying it and holding the note of an impossible length of time. Dead. Dead. Dead…..dying, dying, dying. Breathe? Dying, dying, dying. Breathe, breathe.

Fern felt herself floating, swimming on a black river. She wanted to open her eyes and see if she was still alive, but she could not feel or sense any part of her. Death? She wondered before losing everything as she drowned in the black waters.

Trust (Part 18)

Fern sat on the edge of the sofa and watched Dacian looking around. The idea that she should offer him a drink or something to eat popped into her head. She stood up, words already in her mouth, but caught herself just in time. Instead, she tried to look casual as Dacian studied the photos.

‘I really shouldn’t be here,’ he breathed.

‘Why not?’ Fern cut in.

He turned to her, surprised she had heard him, ‘because we should respect other vampires’ territories.’

‘But I invited you in.’

‘I don’t think it’s your place,’ Dacian answered back.

‘This is my home now and I want you here,’ Fern countered, ‘I don’t care.’

Dacian pulled a face and acted like he was going to argue further.

‘I really don’t,’ she stressed and sat on the sofa again.

Dacian let his shoulders drop and went over to her. He sat beside her, easing a cushion into place behind his back.

Fern’s eyes darted to him then looked straight out. She leant back, picked up the other cushion and hugged it to her chest. Whilst they had been walking, she had wondered so many things about him and had willed time to allow them to talk. Now, she had been granted it she didn’t actually feel the same urges and guilt played on her in its place.

‘I should go,’ Dacian whispered, ‘it’s not right and I don’t want you to get into trouble.’

‘What will he do?’ she asked in a small voice and looking at him through her hair.

‘I don’t know. He’ll be mad though. Mad you let me into his space, mad I brought you home. Found you. Maybe, he’ll think I want you for my own…’

Fern swallowed a giggle, ‘no, he wouldn’t. He’ll be angry sure, but he wouldn’t think that.’

Dacian shrugged, ‘you can never tell. I knew a vampire once for thirty years and he was nice and calm all the time. He never showed his emotions till one day, he just snapped.’

‘Why?’

‘No one knows. He just went crazy, killed a load of people and burnt down a building. He died in the fire.’

Fern toyed with the edges of the cushion, ‘everyone can be like that. I guess.’

‘Perhaps. But we are unpredictable, Fern. Even more so then humans and animals. We are two forms trapped within one and each form is fighting for control all the time. You might not feel it right now, but soon you’ll have to battle it,’ Dacian stated.

‘How old a vampire are you, Daci?’

A smile crept over his face, ‘want to guess?’

Fern frowned before answering, ‘forty?’

‘Bit more,’ he said eagerly.

‘Fifty?’

‘Tiny bit more.’

‘Fifty-two?’

Fifty-five. As of a month ago,’ Dacian jumped in.

Fern giggled and put her hand over her mouth to hide it. The cushion slipped into her lap.

‘I know, I don’t look a day over twenty. Amazing, huh?’

‘Is that how old you were…?’

‘Twenty-two,’ he corrected, ‘I was working in the theme park that use to be close to here. The sixties had just arrived and I was helping close the place for winter.’

‘That sounds interesting,’ Fern chimed in.

‘Let’s keep it that way,’ Dacian laughed back, ‘what about you? How did you and…Brook meet?’ he asked seriously.

‘It was in the Lake District. He was swimming and I was out for a night time walk.’

‘And you accepted his blood?’

Fern nodded, ‘it’s what I wanted. The only thing I wanted since I found out…’

Dacian raised his eyebrows in question.

Turning her head away, Fern spoke gently to the cushion, ‘I was dying and there was no cure. I didn’t want to go. It was just so unfair! I was young and pretty and could do anything I wanted or having anything. I didn’t understand why it had to be me. I hoped there was an answer somewhere, but I didn’t find one. Well, beside from this dream I had about becoming a vampire.’

‘Go on.’

‘I don’t know what happened,’ Fern picked up, ‘I didn’t even believe in vampires! Something, made me do it through…I spent hours researching how to find or summon one. Then trying it over and over again, even mixing it up when I got bored. I was out almost every night looking and hoping. It consumed me. But of course, by the time Brook found me, I had already given up.’

‘And you did all that because of a dream?’ Dacian asked.

Fern nodded, ‘I can’t even remember the dream now…it feels like someone else had it, not me.’

Sighing, Fern threw her head on to Dacian’s shoulder and looked up at his slightly confused face. Her hands frayed the cushion’s edgings once more and she felt crying. She held it in and waited for him to speak.

He eased his arm up and put it around her shoulders. Drawing her in, he kissed her forehead and mumbled, ‘I wish I’d found you.’

Fern slowly moved her head up, her eyes catching his lips before fixing on his electric blues.

‘There are so few of us left and today’s tech makes it even harder for us,’ Dacian whispered, ‘once we could hear someone calling us out miles away. Now, it takes much longer and even then it can be so pointless.’

‘I understand. Brook told me something like that,’ she responded.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Dacian said and he kissed her head again.

Smiling, Fern moved and put her head to his chest and her arm around him. She felt Dacian rest his chin on top of her hair and hug her back. For the first time in the last few days, Fern felt happy and calm. He makes me feel so different to Brook! She thought.

Dacian gently tugged her head up and she let him a line their lips. His touch was so soft and yet so protective. Fern licked her lips a little as Dacian brought their heads closer together. Their lips brushed and Fern felt butterflies in her stomach. She pushed her lips harder against his, determined to show she felt the same way. He didn’t pull back. She felt his hand on her cheek, rubbing her skin lightly and tilting her further up.

Dacian ran his tongue over his lips and she quickly opened her mouth for him. He slowly explored her and Fern couldn’t help but think how different he was to Brook. A spike of guilt speared the butterflies and she broke off the kiss.

‘What is it?’ Dacian breathed.

‘Nothing, nothing,’ Fern gushed.

She swept her hair back and moved the cushion out of her lap. She looked back at Dacian and saw the uncertainty on his face. She licked her lips again then lent back into him.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Dacian muttered.

‘But you believe this right?’

She kissed him.

Dacian buried his hand into her hair and drew her closely. He pressed his lips harder against her’s and Fern felt herself getting excited. She put her arms around his shoulders and slipped her fingers into his hair. She tried to pull him down on top of her, but he was far too heavily to move. Dacian broke of the kiss and planted one just on the edge of her mouth.

Fern, with a big smile on her face, lowed herself down on the sofa and Dacian followed her. He settled on top of her then carried on with kissing her cheek. Fern sighed and shut her eyes. She felt the trace of his lips against her skin as he worked his way down to her neck then to the base of it. He nuzzled against her and she felt his hair tickling her cheek. Trying not to laugh, she focused on the spot he was kissing.

Fern felt Dacian grazing his teeth against her and she squirmed. He sucked tenderly at her skin then bite down. She gasped and clutched him tighter at the sharp pain. Dacian placed his palm and fingers across her lower face as if to quieten her. Fern relaxed under him, finding the pain easing as she did so.

Loudly, she could hear Dacian drinking her blood. They heartbeats coming together in one sound and they bodies tingling in anticipation. Dacian licked at her shoulder then moved and licked her nose.

Giggling, Fern opened her eyes and they kissed. She repeated Dacian’s moves on him and kissed her way down to his neck. She heard him growl in her ear, but she didn’t have his patience and quickly sliced her fangs into him. She heard him moan a little as she began drinking. His blood was hot and the right mix of salt and sweet. She swallowed and eagerly took more as Dacian’s hand slide down her body and came in-between her legs.

Fern took another mouthful then she heard something in the background. Opening her eyes, she listened carefully and tried not to let Dacian’s rubbing fingers distracted her. The noise sounded like a door opening.

Dacian shot his head up, breaking Fern off. He was breathing hard and looking wildly at the door. He scrambled off her and the sofa, backing up towards the window. Blood drops appeared on his neck and began staining his t-shirt. He pressed a hand over them and turned to the glass door.

Fern struggled upwards, almost falling on the floor, but catching herself into. She got to her shaky legs and followed Dacian. She could hear the elevator whirling and her heart out racing it. She reached for Dacian, but missed him as he unlocked and opened the door. He turned to her before he stepped through, giving her a worried look.

She wanted to say something, but nothing would form in head or on her tongue. Behind her, the elevator had come to a stop and she could hear Brook running down the corridor. She turned to glance at the door as it blew open. Cold air rushed from two directions at her and she wiped her head back in time to see Dacian climbing over the balcony.

She rushed out, her hand almost grabbing his as he let go of the railing and dropped from the sixth floor. Fern felt a small scream tumble out of her mouth then Brook was pressed against her. She felt his arms tightening around her and pulling her away. He threw her back inside and she landed heavily on the floor.

Fighting for breath and feeling tears spring in her eyes, Fern twisted and looked up. Brook was standing on the railing, leaning over it. She got up and stood in the doorway, wiping the tears away. She stepping out, she went to Brook’s side and saw the shadow of Dacian disappearing into the woodland.

To be continued in October.

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