Chapter 9 The Hunt #2
She closed her eyes and pulled in that loamy breath, and she wondered what Eloise would smell, how it would fill her lungs and her soul. But for her, right now, she felt the trees themselves lend their sturdiness, their discernment and simplicity.
She wondered if she could hold onto it for a spell. But she knew that once she left this place, she would have to return it like a borrowed cape.
It must be around two in the morning but her blood felt alive.
The whisper of black wings pulled her attention up into the trees. The bird was there, following her. It had yet to cause her any trouble or become a nuisance, and she was too in her element of breathing in the possibilities to mind her new friend.
"You know, you're not very stealthy," she said to the bird. "If you're going to follow me, you might want to learn the art of the ghost. I have some friends that can help," she offered with a smile.
But then something fell over her body stopping her where she stood, not a thing or an object. Nothing physical. But a sudden feeling of ice cubes melting over her shoulders and down her back.
She felt the tickling fear drip drip drip and her brazenness vanished.
And then a hand wrapped around her mouth, large and assertive. Panic filled her and...something else. Something she couldn't name in this moment of frozen fear.
A warm whisper pressed against her ear then.
"Regardless of your fear of me, I will not harm you. I am going to let go of you and I am going to step away putting space between us and then we are going to talk."
She knew that voice. She'd heard it when she least expected in her mind over the last couple of months. The depth, the slight bending of words reminding her he was not from here.
And then she was released. Her breath came out in a burst as her heart pumped it fiercely through her chest. And in front of her, to his credit with ample space, stood Chief Theodore Landry. He wore an army green shirt and black pants helping him blend into the forested night.
His skin soaked up what little moonlight made her way through the thick canopy. She drank him in as her body pumped fear and something that felt a little too close to excitement through her.
"What are you doing here?"
His dark head tilted a notch, barely noticeable and his face gave nothing away.
"Here? Here is my home. My woods. What are you doin' here, Tilly?"
Her name bathed in his deep voice punctured something in her.
"I... didn't, " she looked around as if realizing just how far she had walked. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"The woods at this hour are a dangerous place to be," he admonished sharply.
And unlike any other person in the world, he brought out a side of her that stood up tall and straight. "You should know, shouldn't you? Because that's rich coming from," she stopped the words from coming out of her mouth.
His already still form stilled impossibly more. Silence ballooned between them. Then he took a booted step forward. Her heart kicked up. He took another step and then another and she marveled that he could avoid making any kind of sound, like he knew how to quiet the world with his weight.
She kept herself still, unmoving while her blood rushed frantically.
"Comin' from what?" he asked slowly, dangerously.
She shook her head.
"Say it," he said. The words were still slow and deep, digging into her rapid heart. "You know you want to." His tone held a note of teasing.
She shook her head again and wondered if her winged friend would intervene. What would happen now? She felt fear, yes. But there was an underlying feeling that was warm and beckoning and she wondered if he drew it out of her as the predator that he was, or if it was something more.
When he was standing a foot from her, closing the distance with the stealth of a large cat, she looked up at him, her neck craning to reach him towering over her. Dark hair tousled, falling over his forehead made him look like a handsome statue.
She could picture him with his white button-up shirt, his pants less modern, and windblown hair on an early 1900s expedition. He would look roguish and ready for adventure like he did now.
He raised a large hand toward her but she stopped him with a word.
"Don't." It came out faint. But strong.
His hand paused, controlled by the marionette strings of her voice.
"Say what I am, Tilly. I've been waiting to hear the words from you."
"Why?" she asked, a furrowed brow creasing her forehead.
He tilted his head, his hand still stopped in mid air. "Because I want to hear the darkness of who I am on your sweet tongue. Maybe then you will stop torturing me."
The shock of his words shot through her. "I'm torturing you?"
"Yes."
She shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. "How?"
He dropped his hand then and took a wide step around her. She felt his looming body by her side and she kept herself still. He circled her like a curious beast.
"How have you tortured me? Since I met you, there's just been somethin' about you.
" She felt his heat behind her now. There must only be scant inches between them.
She tried to control her breathing. "There's a fierceness inside of you that is masked by your sweetness.
" The way he said that word, sweetness, twice now, she wondered if he could taste it.
She let out a fear-laden laugh. "Fierceness? You've read me wrong, then. May that end my torture of you because I am not fierce."
"No?"
Her breath stilted sharply when she felt that one word against the back of her neck. The caress of warm breath against her exposed skin created sparkles through her body. She felt shocked, alive, on the precipice.
"Hmmm," he rumbled there nearly flush with her skin. He wasn't touching her. Not one part of his skin touched hers and yet she hadn't felt so intimately touched like this in so long.
She swallowed against those thoughts.
"What do you want? Are you going to," she breathed out. "Are you going to do something?"
She felt before she heard his rumble of deep laughter, barely escaping his mouth like it stuck to his chest cavity. She felt the vibration of it against the middle of her back.
And then he stepped around her again facing her.
"What somethin' would I do to you?"
She didn't answer him as she stared widely up at him. He was goading her.
"Say it," he demanded again. "Call me what I am. If it helps, I'll start." He bent his head low, his dark eyes capturing hers in a hold she couldn't rip away from. He was the kind of wild handsome that felt dangerous to simply look at. "What are you afraid I'll do to you, little witch?"
She blinked. "I...I'm not-"
"You are. Now what am I?"
The moon seemed to wrestle her way further into the forest where man and woman stood locked in a stand-off. Creatures paused their nighttime routines to watch as she stood there in awe, in shock, in fear.
In excitement.
"A vampire. You're a vampire," she said. She'd meant it to come out boldly, but the words made a narrow escape.
As the whisper touched his ears she watched in wonder as his eyes closed slowly, his mouth parted just the slightest, full and honest under his neat mustache, and his face took on a look of relief. He was relieved to hear her call him this.
And she was undeniably in awe.
She lifted her chin. "And an asshole, brute who must have been a mosquito in your previous life."
When he opened his eyes, her accusation lay between them dangerously, the sound of crickets their clock until he laughed. The sound made her step back; it was beautiful and dangerous.
"Fierceness," he whispered shaking his head as he looked over her face like she was the most fascinating creature. "And you're afraid I'll, what, drink from you? No need to fear that."
"Why?"
A smile, an almost smile, brought up the very corners of his mouth at her reticence.
And then he dipped low, his face burying nearly against the skin of her neck.
Nearly. But he didn't touch, keeping his dark promise.
She sucked in a great breath, holding the humid air in her lungs as her ears flooded with the rush of bloody adrenaline.
She felt his breath there on that tender skin, hot and like a new promise.
A part of her wanted to push him away and run.
A very secret part of her wanted to drag him against her there, tangle her fingers into his thick hair, and hold him against her neck.
She needed to keep that part of her as secret as possible.
He breathed her in. She could hear it, the way he dragged in her essence with a slow and deep pull. She counted to seven before he let it out in a dark gust of breath that touched her neck in a baptism.
She almost let out a sound of surprise, of something worse; ecstasy.
What was wrong with her?
And then he stepped back. Then another step. This time the crunch of leaves and sticks made themselves known under his weight.
"Because I will not touch you. You have my word." The way his words came out, it felt like the deepest promise ever made to her and she believed him.
She swallowed a lump of relief and disappointment in equal measures. "Thank you," she got out.
"Not until you want me to. And then bets are off, little witch."
Her eyebrows shot up at his words.
"Go home. I'll make sure you're safe. But go home."
And then he was off. Into the woods silently, a predator if she'd ever seen one.
She placed a hand to her galloping heart and shook her head at this moment that would run on repeat in her mind.
"Jeeze," she whispered to no one. But then the bird made itself seen and she frowned. "Are you friends with him? What was that?" she asked pointing to where the vampire had left moments ago. "What the hell was that?"
When the creature didn't answer she sighed. "Let's go then. I won't sleep at all," she complained as she walked. She walked through the woods, looking over her shoulder every so often fearing to see another glimpse of him.
Hoping to.
She gave the moon her sighed anxiety, the uncertainty of her feelings digging into her.
And then she was walking up the cracked sidewalk of her apartment, the thought of trying to find sleep in her lonely bed a dreadful thought.
But as she lay down, her eyes pinned to the ceiling fan lazily circling above her against the popcorn ceiling, she touched the skin of her neck with a featherlight touch and drifted off to sleep as her mouth without permission lifted in a dreamy smile.