42. Christopher
Chapter forty-two
Christopher
Our dates continue. The temperature between me and Lehm is heating up. I feel like I’m back in high school, where make-out sessions led to heavy petting. But something holds me back from going all the way.
I can’t figure out if I’m not ready for a deeper relationship with Lehm or if I really believe I’m not worthy of being loved by two people. I’m still seducing Maria every chance I get, and we’re thriving. Does that mean there isn’t room for anyone else, or is it just my fear of messing things up?
I’m the only one having this debate. After all, a throuple was the norm for Maria and Lehm—although in a slightly different arrangement.
They know how to problem-solve and resolve differences in a group setting, and I aspire to experiencing the same emotional intimacy they display with each other.
But I’ve never tried a throuple before, and definitely not a long-term one.
So, we move slowly as I try to figure it out.
But I find myself asking Lehm to assist me more with all kinds of chores, leaving Maria more time to help Zinnia with her schoolwork, which both mother and child are thrilled about.
They never had enough quiet time in the silo together, not with Maria always working hard to keep them alive.
Tonight, I have to check on the livestock, and Lehm eagerly volunteers to go with me.
We ride to the back forty on two American Quarter Horses.
Weeks have passed since his first lesson, and he’s mastered the basics of riding. I can’t take my gaze off him as he moves in the saddle.
When he turns his head to check on me, his dreads lift and whip around. A smile lights his face. “Much farther to go?”
I return the smile. “We’re almost there.”
“You want to take the lead?”
“Not necessary. You can’t miss the corral. Just stay on the path.”
“If you say so.”
I’m trying to build up his confidence. Ten minutes later the path widens, and I click my tongue, encouraging my gelding, Benedict, to catch up with Lehm. Keeping our pace at a leisurely stroll, I ask, “What was it like living in the silo?”
“The best possible life we could imagine.”
“Didn’t you want to live in the domes?”
“Never knew they existed. Too far away.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like.”
“Okay for the most part.” He shrugs. “After our parents died, Zinnia’s birth was the scariest thing to happen.”
I scratch my head. “Really? Why?”
“You ever been present for a birth?”
I cough, clearing my throat, and Benedict startles. I pat his neck and catch up with Lehm until we ride side by side again. “Never been present for a mortal birth…only a vampire one.”
“Imagine two guys with no real medical training. All Gabriel and I had was a little book learning. We read everything we could find on the subject. And from what we read, we knew we weren’t prepared for any complications.”
I reach over and squeeze his arm. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”
“Maria was in so much pain. This was the first baby she carried to full term, so we knew it could take longer, but at fourteen hours, we panicked. And then suddenly things changed, and Zinnia’s head appeared. We followed the instructions in the medical books and guided her out.”
“Wow.” Not an adequate response, but I can’t imagine what they went through. “You must have been thrilled.”
“We were, once we had Zinnia cleaned up, nursing, and Maria delivered the placenta.”
Placenta? Even for a vampire, some mortal processes still gross me out. But I ignore that, proud of my beloved for going through such a terrifying experience and proud of Lehm for helping her birth Zinnia.
He stretches his arm until his fingertips touch mine. “After all the fear, the relief of holding my baby was wonderful.”
I know that feeling, at least—joy after uncertain terror. I felt the same way turning Maria.
At the edge of the corralled pasture, I halt my horse, as does Lehm.
“See over there? The robots are doing their jobs, keeping the longhorns watered and fed. An alert warned me that a bull had dislodged his electronic tag—that, or it’s malfunctioned.
Either way, I need to replace the tag. The robots can’t install the trackers, which is technically veterinary medicine, and these AI-controlled machines can’t perform that. ”
“Wow. I still can’t get over how advanced your technology is. Back at the silo, I felt grateful to have solar panels, water filtration, and air conditioning. And you have all this.”
“We have all this.” I lift the reins. “Let me show you the boundaries of the pasture. Except for the small fenced area over here where the chute is, the pasture is marked out by an electronic fence the herd can’t pass through.
” I hold up a remote device that can create an opening through which my horse can enter.
“I’ll go inside and entice the bull into the chute. ”
We continue riding the perimeter. The horses shy away from the static of the electronic fence, so I let them set the distance between us and it.
When we return to the corner where imitation wood rails create a narrow space at the front of the pasture, I point at the chute.
“Once I lure the bull down the path and it comes to the chute’s end, you’ll drop a gate from behind to trap it.
The Lux provided a jet injector. I press it against his neck to replace the malfunctioning tag. ”
Lehm gives me a skeptical glance. “How do we get the bull inside the chute?”
“I’ll ride in and find him with this.” I show Lehm the virtual screen. “The bull missing the sensor is this one.” I dismount and gesture for him to do the same.
He joins me while I unpack the medical saddlebag on the nearby table and show him how to use the gear.
Satisfied that he understands what to do, I step away, but Lehm heads toward the chute at the same time and we collide.
I grab the fence rail and his hands land on my hips as he steadies himself. Releasing the fence, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into an easy hug. “You okay?”
He returns the hug then steps back, squeezing my hips. A wink follows. “Sorry, not sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” A pleasant sensation trickles through my belly, and I give him a quick kiss, then tip my head with a flirty smile. “Anytime.”
I head back to Benedict, strutting to show off my butt in jeans, and swing into the saddle. Quarter Horses are smart, with natural herding instincts, and trained to work with cattle. I’ll be just fine.
“I’m going to keep the bull as calm as I can. Just stay away from his horns. They’re eight feet tip to tip. Until he’s locked into the narrow chute, he can swing those babies pretty fast.”
Lehm brings his hand to his forehead and salutes. “Got it.”
The cattle are mostly asleep at this hour. I circle the subject and realize it’s Possum, the same bull who snuck up on me from behind and sent me running the last time I inspected the herd. He’s a joker, a bit temperamental at times, but harmless.
I slide a telescopic rod from my remaining saddlebag and extend it until it’s long enough to reach Possum. Awakened from a sound sleep, he sometimes needs a nudge, and I tap his hindquarters gently.
He unfolds his legs and pushes his back legs to raise his bulk until he’s standing. As temperamental as Possum can be, he and I get along well, and drowsy as he is, he angles over to the small corral without resisting. An easy job.
Lehm is waiting by the squeeze chute’s back door, ready to drop the barrier. He steps up on the bottom rail, where he can see what’s happening in the corral, waiting for Possum to enter the chute. Perfect.
I ride in gentle S-patterns to move Possum closer to the chute’s entrance. I may be a city boy, but I’ve taken to cow herding—not enough to want it as a full-time job, but enough to be good at it.
Then Possum notices Lehm. He snorts, acknowledging the presence of a stranger. I hang back, giving the bull time to calm down.
Possum circles, building up momentum. Now he’s fully awake, unhappy about finding himself in the corral, separated from the herd, and recognizing someone else is where Dr. Clarke usually stands.
The bull doesn’t like the vet and makes it known, but he’s not usually this agitated either. I don’t like what I’m seeing. “Lehm, step back.”
He doesn’t move. He’s still on the fence rail.
“Lehm, move!”
Why doesn’t he obey me? I briefly take my eyes off the bull to meet Lehm’s eyes. Then I realize what I’m seeing.
Fear. He’s frozen in fear.
“Lehm!” I yell.
In that moment, Possum paws the ground, then charges the fence, whipping his horns, and the right point hits Lehm’s chest.
With the impact, he grunts. “Oof.”
“No!” At lightning speed, I slide out of the saddle and whoosh to Lehm’s side.
Please be okay.
Locking my arm around the bull’s neck, I grip the free horn so he can’t move his head. I reach over the fence, grab the jet injector, dial in a fast-acting sedative, and inject the bull.
As much as I want to claw out the animal’s throat for hurting Lehm, it’ll thrash more in its death throes and drive the horn in deeper. And it’s not the bull’s fault, it’s mine. I misjudged how Lehm would react to the big beasts.
The bull stills as the sedative takes effect, and I leap over the fence to gently pull Lehm off the horn and lay him on his back.
Then I realize my mistake. Blood burbles from his chest, soaking his t-shirt. “My…heart.”
The horn punctured the vital organ—not enough for an instant death, but enough for a slow one.
“No! You can’t die.”
His skin turns gray, and his eyelids flutter shut.
Fuck. There’s only one thing that will bring a vampire back from a staked heart.
I don’t hesitate.
I bite his neck, injecting fang serum and tasting his blood for the first time.
Sweet, delectable nectar.
I don’t take much. He’s losing enough that I don’t have to drain a lot. When I sit back, his dark eyes stare at me, and I bite my wrist. “The choice is yours. You can drink my blood. Go through the turn again. Be mine, not Diego’s.”
Tears well in my eyes, because if he dies, it’ll shatter my heart. I realize now that I love him. With the threat of losing him, I see my fear for what it was. But I didn’t give Maria a choice in the turn and I learned from that. This must be his choice.
Foamy blood covers his lips. “Yesss.”
Relief floods me. I press my wrist to his mouth, and he sucks.
The most sinful feeling washes through me then. The connection between us solidifies and desire intensifies as he sucks my blood. But it’s more than desire.
My fear that I won’t be found worthy of love—it vanishes. As his eyes close, no doubts remain. The bond forming between us is strong. He’ll survive, he’ll be mine, and I’ll be his…along with Maria. I’ll hold both of them in my heart forever.
Once he falls into the sleep of the dead, I comm Maria to explain what happened and assure her all will be fine. Cradling Lehm in my arms, I ride back to the stables, the other horse following.
She meets us by the barn door and rushes over, then presses her lips to his forehead. “Thank you for saving him.”
With his blood still on my lips, I lean over and kiss her. “We’re a family. We protect family.”
The silo’s community motto.
She sighs and scoops Lehm into her arms, freeing me to dismount.
My horse has been patient, but he tosses his head with a whinny, so I swing out of the saddle.
Maria glances at me. “We’re family. And now we’re all yours.”
My head swims. I’m so fortunate to have her…and Lehm. “I can carry him if he’s too heavy.”
“Naw.” She shakes her head, giving Lehm the same loving look she gives Zinnia. “He’s light as a feather. I got this.”
“Okay.” The horses can wait a few minutes—I’ll return later to unsaddle them. But first, I’ll ensure all my children are okay.
It turns out Zinnia is asleep. We won’t have to explain anything to her. Maria carries Lehm to our bed and lays him out, then strokes his cheek with the back of her hand. “We’ll both be here when he wakes.”
I started out a rock star, became a scavenger, and then a thief.
Now I’m family man—something I never thought I’d be.
I slip an arm around Maria and take Lehm’s hand.
I finally realize the lesson I was meant to learn.
I’m worthy of love, and when it falls into my lap, I should grab it with both hands and not let go.