Out For Blood by Walker Mike

Author:Walker, Mike [Walker, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: The Writer's Coffee Shop
Published: 2013-10-28T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Five

I think we dozed a while, or slept, in some kind of wonderful lassitude.

“Please get the comforter, Clark,” she said finally. “We’re naked. And I want to talk.”

“Uh-oh, the talk thing.”

“Shut up.”

“I thought you wanted me to talk?”

“Funny vampire!”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Honey, we’re having our first fight.”

“Bite me,” she smiled.

Arranging the comforter, I lay down beside her. Once again, she pulled it totally over our heads, encasing us in a cozy cocoon, or, in her imagery, a grave.

“I like being like this with you,” she said.

Yep. She wanted to do the talk thing. I kissed her, taking my time, figuring it would be my last chance for a while. And it was. But ignore these curmudgeonly asides. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t enjoying every minute of this intimate world she had created. When I finally let her come up for air, she snuggled even closer and commanded sweetly, “Now tell me the story of your life . . . or lives.”

“Not much to tell,” I said. “The first three-hundred years kinda zipped by. Then I met you.”

She shot me a warning look. I’d apparently hit my kidding-around limit.

“Tell me about Ludmilla,” she said.

Yeah, I sighed inwardly, let’s cut right to the chase. And why not? It was actually a good place to begin, right at the dawning of my identity as a fully formed young man getting the first inkling that loving someone can actually shape your destiny. In moments, I was surprised to find myself speaking quite easily of things I had never revealed.

Only once had I ever felt the urge to tell anyone of my human life or the centuries that unfolded after I entered the world of the undead. I had actually been on the verge of revealing what I am to my best friend of all time, Jimmy Dean, but left it too long. I’d endlessly cursed my hesitation after he died in that stupid car crash. There’s no question that had the adventurous, mystical Jimmy known who and what I was, he would have begged for conversion and become my motorcycle-riding buddy for all eternity. And, yes, it had been a lonely old world without him. How good it would have been to share my secrets, my very existence, with someone I cared deeply about.

How good it felt now.

Knowing where Taylor’s query about Ludmilla was going, I answered her unspoken question and confirmed what Ludmilla had already told her—that we’d never consummated our love. And when I mentioned the shocking revelation Ludmilla had made about her father on that warm, sunny afternoon in Romania, she wept.

“It is the worst thing that can happen to a girl,” she sobbed. “Believe me, I know.”

I held her tight, not asking the question yet. Suppressing my fury.

After a while, she said, “When I met Ludmilla that night on the beach, I knew I had fallen in love with you. She was so beautiful, and I was so jealous. I wanted to hurt you, and it would have been easy because I was attracted to her.

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