Redemption (2 page)

“I’ll take her back to the dressing room and send in Lexus.” Sonny stated, as he lifted Samantha to her feet. “Can I trust you’ll keep your hands to yourself?” The mystery man nodded in affirmation as Sonny carried Samantha out through the black curtain.

Lily folded up the black tarp and stowed it back behind the bar.

“I hope you don’t mind if we change things up a bit. Lexus and I usually do something a little less…sticky.” He just smiled with the piercing gaze emanating from his eyes. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.

She pulled Sonny’s chair to sit in front of her customer. She sat, legs crossed, arms wrapped around her chest trying to hold in what was left of Samantha’s heat.

“Not a man of many words, are you?”

“No.” His voice resonated in her ears, his breath trailed till it met her cheek.

“This opportunity doesn’t come cheap. I would hate for you not to get your money’s worth.”

“I already have.”

“So, spreading out a tarp in my G-string was enough?”

“Walking in from behind that curtain was almost enough.”

Lily’s mind began to race. His voice was so soothing, an effect rarely brought upon her by any human.

What kind of game is he playing?

“I’ve been watching you, here at the club. I’ve noticed something.” He reached his hand to stroke her cheek but she quickly pulled back. “I’m not going to bite.”

“We have a strict ‘hands off’ policy.”

“Just one touch?”

She inched her face closer as his chair slid forward across the marble floor. His hands made their way to either side of her face, his gaze was mesmerizing. She had no idea how long they stayed like that before he made the distance between them mere centimeters, his sweet breath playing tricks with her mind. She felt herself slip as his warm lips pressed against hers. She knew it was against the rules, her rules, but she couldn’t make herself stop. His warmth entered through her mouth and traveled to her icy core.

“What human could possibly have this kind of power over me?”
The thought reverberated through her mind as his lips finally retreated from hers.

“I know what you are.” He placed a few more kisses on her now warmed lips before she realized what he had said.

He pulled back, gently caressing her chin with his fingertip. This pulled her out of the kiss induced, drugged state. “What am I?”

“Dead,” he simply replied.

She raised her brows at him. “That seems like a very rude thing to say.”

He pulled her hair back and swept it to one side and lightly traced his fingertip across the small scar on the back of Lily’s neck. “I know what you have inside. Amazing how something so small can fool so many. Genius, really. A small electrical pulse and everyone believes you are what you pretend to be.” He tried to place another kiss on her neck, but she pulled away.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed.” She attempted to lift herself from the chair when he grasped her wrist.

“I want to help you. I’d be a loyal companion.”

“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you.” He took a pocket knife from his pocket, rolled up his sleeve and instantly slashed the top of his forearm.

Lily jumped back out of her seat. “You shouldn’t have done that. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

He rose from his seat and walked toward her, offering the arm that dripped with crimson delight. “I want you to. I think if you take a taste, you’ll realize I’m right.”

She continued to back away. Her eyes closed tightly, trying desperately to block out the smell her body yearned for. “You have no idea how long it’s been.”

“It’s right here. Just take it.”

His arm was only a millimeter from her lips. They parted as her tongue escaped her mouth and caught a drop of his offering. His young blood rejuvenated her body more than any iguana ever did. Her tongue made its way back and forth across the fresh wound until the blood had almost stopped flowing; almost. She knew she could get away with drinking more and was about to give in, to sink her teeth into the inviting flesh...

“I think that’s close enough.” They were both startled by Sonny’s entrance. Lily snapped back into the realization of the situation and wiped her mouth, covering his arm with his sleeve.

“Lexus will be in soon.”

“I can’t.” Lily turned to dart out of the room.

“Lily please, don’t go.” She turned; stunned that he knew her real name. He grabbed her wrist. She looked down at his grip, at the blood seeping through his shirt. She turned her arm and caught a glimpse of the inside of his wrist. A small, black circle of flames inked on his skin. The mark of a servant long since forgotten. It didn’t matter though, she had to escape.

“Please.” One last pleading look from her mysterious willing slave. She couldn’t stand his adoring eyes warming every inch of her body.

The curtain flew as she almost invisibly made her way to the dressing room. She grabbed her things, jumped into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and sprinted out the door, her McLaren SLR ready and waiting. She thought how thankful she was that she had a full tank of gas, with a few spare canisters in the back. She couldn’t stop, not now.

His blue eyes burned in her rear view mirror as she spun out of the parking lot.

She drove through the night and all the next day and made her way as far East as she could without stopping. Only three stops for gas before she made it to New England.

It was only a few weeks until she settled in Boston. She found herself working for the Boston office of The Manchester Group, but it wasn’t what occupied most of her time.

She flipped the journal to the page where the delicate paper napkin was attached. It had been almost two days since her last thought of him, but there was his phone number soaked in black ink on the napkin.

Marty O’Shea’s was the place to be on Wednesday nights, at least for her. She was addicted to amateur nights. Wednesday nights, Marty O’Shea’s held one. That first Wednesday in July, she was trying her hardest to be nonchalant, but she was really aching for an audience. When you have nothing but time on your hands, music was a pretty good distraction.

She added her name to the roster of mostly testosterone filled, ivy league boys and sat patiently awaiting her turn while sipping her red wine.

“Everyone put your hands together for a first time performer and our only brave lady on the roster tonight. Give it up for Lily.” The bartender patted her on the shoulder as she took her place on stage with her guitar.

As the music begun, the audience hollered at her choice. As soon as the lyrics began, three wannabe Irishmen started singing. She felt herself moving to the music, mouthing the words as the Irishmen belted them out. Her black t-shirt clung to her torso, fueling the hormone charged room. She found herself inviting the Irishmen up on stage to finish her set. When she was announced that nights winner, her three new best friends hoisted her in the air.

Her fingers drifted across the picture of the three of them with her on their shoulders. She flipped to the next page, to a picture of her with Ian.

She usually shied away from emotional and physical relationships with humans, as she never wanted a repeat of her Vegas mystery man. But there was no escaping Ian’s cerulean blue eyes. Not that she hadn’t been attracted to men before; every time was different. Most men couldn’t escape her beauty, a curse more than a blessing. Ian wanted more.

Ian worked as a concert pianist since he had finished his Master’s of Music in Piano Performance from The Boston Conservatory. Every time his fingers hit the keys, he struck something that had lain dormant inside her for so many years, and she couldn’t help but feel herself falling.

She explained her aversion to sunlight and her pale complexion fairly easily – a mild form of Solar Urticaria, an allergy to direct sunlight. That got her out of the weekend baseball games and afternoon barbeques. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle direct sunlight. She wouldn’t burst in to flames and turn into ash or any such nonsense; it was just uncomfortable at times and was better to avoid it as much as possible.

So, after three months of meeting under the cover of darkness, he begged for a weekend away. Luckily, the weekend expected drizzle for all forty-eight hours. Giving into the mood of the weather, she suggested a weekend in Salem.

October in Salem was promising. A trip to haunted houses and a physic fair before settling in at a bed and breakfast. It got him into an expectantly spooky mood. She tread lightly as she approached the subject of the paranormal.

“What do you think…about all this stuff?”

“Oh, I love it. Scary movies, the houses, the whole bit. I love October.”

“I mean, do you believe in it? Witches, magic and stuff?” She was failing miserably to get her point across.

“I don’t know. But being here, it’s hard not to.” She could tell that Ian had other notions on his mind as he playfully grabbed her hand and threw her down on the bed.

He straddled her while ripping his shirt off and exposing the abs of possibly a Greek god. She strummed her fingertips across his ripped midsection, before grabbing him and flipping him over so she was on top. She reached for the camera that lay on the bedside table.

The picture was right before her. It caught his bare chiseled chest, inviting eyes and his dimpled, stubble covered cheeks. The words he had uttered next filled her with awe and relenting torture at the same time.

“Marry me?”

There was no response that could have done him any justice at that point. If she had a heart, it would have surely broken at that moment. She just dropped the camera and fell on top of him. She met his lips as his arms surrounded her, taking in as much of him as she could; now knowing she would have to leave him. She kept what raw emotions she hadn’t already exposed in check, but she had to have him.

Each time they were together, she knew there was a danger. She couldn’t help but crave his warmth inside of her. With each thrust, each moan, she wanted to keep them in the moment forever. She knew the instant her fingernail drew blood from his back as it was almost too much to bear. His climax came close to her breaking point.

She excused herself to find something to clean up his back. Rushing into the bathroom, she grabbed the rubbing alcohol, and doused her hand with it; removing every trace of blood before it was too late. She scrubbed his back of every drop before placing a large dressing over the scratch.