Ruby tears, p.3
Ruby Tears, page 3
“Thank you,” he responded.
He took a sip with a focused expression on his face. I followed his lead, taking a sip of my own drink. My tongue tingled as the liquid brushed my lips. It was all consuming. As the blood continued to slip into my mouth, it occupied my thoughts. There was no way I could focus on anything else. It was like being a heroin addict, or perhaps even something worse. This liquid ruled my life. I couldn’t be independent from its sweet taste. It was like sugar on a pastry or hot chocolate on a cool winter night. Blood was what I lived on, literally. It was my sustenance, my source of energy.
James looked over at me, his lips wet and shiny. “What is this?”
“Lambs’ blood,” I replied.
He nodded. “I suppose it’s better than the deer. Not as fresh, though.”
What was I supposed to say? There was no question that human blood was the best. We all knew it. Even their scent was intoxicating. He hadn’t tasted human blood, but it didn’t take much to figure out the difference. Preferring human blood was as innate to vampire nature as knowing a steak was better than lettuce to a human. Survival was possible on the lesser foods but not enjoyable.
“I saw the bite marks on my neck,” he said. “I know you used to bite me.”
I closed my eyes. “It’s complicated. We both wanted it. I didn’t do it against your will.”
He nodded. “So what, you just never expect me to try it?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t want to deprive you of anything, but I can’t agree to this. They deserve respect. We have to acknowledge their dignity and worth. Drinking from humans against their will is just as bad as rape. It violates them. Consent is the most important aspect. Without that, it’s just wrong.”
He shook his head. “You did it.”
“It was consensual,” I replied.
“And if I found a human who was willing, what would you say?” James asked.
My heart seemed to shudder. Did he see the intimacy of the act? Probably not. And if he did, he wouldn’t care. I was just a girl to him.
“That would be up to you,” I answered.
We stood in silence for a few more moments. He downed the rest of the blood. I couldn’t drink any more—the thought made me sick. He wasn’t acting completely crazy. The temptation was there for all of us, and I’d given into it before. The bite marks on his neck were an obvious sign of my drinking, of our love. It had all been voluntary. I’d never done it when he wasn’t willing. He had asked me to do it. James had been so eager.
But to think of drinking from innocent humans who had given no permission or consent, that was wrong. I’d done it once, but there had been no one there to tell me it was wrong. I’d been lost and confused. James had me—he had all of us to tell him no. There was a difference. It didn’t excuse what I’d done, the people I’d killed, but it was an explanation.
“We want to live different lives,” James said in a small voice.
“I want mine to be with you,” I whispered.
“I’m not sure if that’s meant to be,” he replied.
My heart sank. He really didn’t want me, didn’t want us. James had no memory of me and didn’t seem to care about the love we’d lost. He had no intention of trying to rekindle it. That broke me, split every inch of my heart. Every fiber of my body felt fractured. He was tearing me apart. Yet if it made James happy to break me into nothing, perhaps it was all right. I wanted his happiness. Even if I faded away, his smile would be the same.
“I think I need to be alone for a while,” he whispered.
I had known it was coming. But even so, it was more painful than I’d anticipated. I’d never felt rejection quite this hard. He was crushing my heart, but it was all right. If he wanted to be alone, that’s what I would give him.
“James, just promise me you won’t hurt anyone,” I said softly.
Our eyes met, and for a second, he was my James. I felt a flutter in my chest. That same warm feeling rose from my abdomen and up into my lungs. My hand brushed his.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
I couldn’t cry; I didn’t have enough tears left. It was just sharp pain that flowed through every part of my body. I felt as if I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. I imagined that maybe this was what a heart attack felt like. My body seemed out of my control.
“Don’t go,” I pleaded.
He looked at me with pity. “I’m sorry, but I can’t love you when I don’t know who you are. This isn’t where I’m meant to be.”
I couldn’t say anything. It hurt too much. I just stood there staring at him. He looked back at me with an expression one might have had when looking at their sick grandmother. He was sorry but seemed to feel as if there was nothing he could do. James didn’t love me. He only felt sorry for my pitiful state.
Gently he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. His lips were soft yet hard. Gentle yet firm. They were the lips of a vampire. We were frozen. Two stone creatures awkwardly standing together, knowing it would be the end of whatever strange love had once been between them. That was really all we were.
“I love you,” I whispered.
But when I opened my eyes, he was gone. It was over. The human I’d loved, he was a vampire lost to the wind. He was out there somewhere in the night. By morning, he could be virtually anywhere. I might never see him again. The thought made me want to crumble.
My love had left me, and he’d done it without hesitation. I was abandoned, stranded on the strings of former love. But it was all right because he might be happy. James was chasing contentment. It was a hard thing to find. I’d searched for it for years. Only when I’d been in his arms had I been at peace.
Nina opened the door and stepped onto the porch. She looked around for a moment. When she didn’t see James, she turned toward me.
“Where is he?” Nina asked.
My blue eyes collided with her brown ones. “Gone.”
Chapter Five — Adorer
I started out watching the 1970 version of Dracula, but it was too depressing. Of course, not as depressed as me, but still. Dracula probably hadn’t been the best thing to watch, considering that my ex-boyfriend was running around the South as a blood-hungry maniac. Then I’d moved on to the 1939 adaptation of Wuthering Heights. It was pretty good. I’d always liked it. When I was little, I would imagine myself as Cathy. The idea of running free among the English hills had been euphoric. As a little girl, there was hardly anything I could imagine as more romantic. I would have loved to own a horse, to ride upon the hilltops. My 1940s suburban childhood hadn’t been the same as that of a London girl. But looking back, it had been just as magical.
I missed my Georgia home. Of course, I’d hardly lived anywhere else my whole life. We’d only come to Texas to escape Pansy in her mad rage. But now that James was gone, we didn’t know what to do. Would we go back to Georgia? I didn’t know what I wanted. It might be too overwhelming.
No one had talked to me. They didn’t know what to say. Nina and Anya had knocked on my door several times, but I’d never answered them. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to pretend as if I didn’t exist. The TV and old movies drowned out my thoughts. As long as I didn’t think of James, it would be all right. Of course, avoiding my memory of him was more complicated than I’d hoped.
Once the credits had rolled, I began watching Gone With the Wind. It was therapeutic. It wasn’t my Georgia—not from my 1940s childhood or 1950s teenage years—but it was somewhat reflective of the place I’d come from. Sweet tea and sugar, cookies and cakes. I could taste the cherries and peaches, soft strawberries on my lips. The women with their swirling dresses, the men in dashing suits.
Just as Nina kept little statues, woven rugs, and sparkling jewels from India, and Anya kept leather satchels, clay vases, and earnings made from bone from her Cherokee heritage, I kept the memory of my Georgia. We had to hold tight to them. If we didn’t, they would fade away. This was what we had. If I let it slip, I’d lose it forever. This memory was precious. To me, it was better than diamonds.
A plain white blanket was spread over my pink, cotton nightgown. I wouldn’t sleep in it. That certainly wouldn’t happen. After all, I was a creature of the night. But just the idea of sleep and its allusive beauty was enough to comfort me. My black curls fell down around my shoulders like a curtain made to conceal my porcelain skin. I heard Scarlett’s voice on the TV and turned my attention back to her. We looked a little alike. The black hair, light skin, and blue eyes made us have a clear resemblance. She’d lost her love just like me. Maybe we were more similar than I’d once thought.
I could hear hushed voices in the other room. Everyone else seemed to be in the kitchen. The telltale sound of knives chopping lemons and limes on the counter gave away their location. Nina’s voice traveled through the air as a soft giggle escaped her lips. I imagined that Roy was attacking her with kisses or wrapping his arms around her waist. Anya and Arthur were discussing something, though their voices were too low for me to hear. I wished that I was as happy as them. If only James hadn’t forgotten everything, I would have been.
The smell of blood mixed with citrus enveloped my senses. Nina knew it was my favorite, but I liked cherries too. Though they were both my sisters, Nina had always been more of a maternal figure. She’d found me at my lowest and rescued me. Nina had taught me how to be a civilized vampire rather than a ravenous creature. Anya followed her lead, attempting to comfort me as much as possible.
Moments later, I heard a knock on my door. Before I had a chance to reply, it opened. I was expecting to see one of the girls, but when I looked up, I had a totally different surprise. Albert Jefferson, in his perfectly arranged suit, stood in front of me. He held two glasses in his hands. I didn’t know what to say.
Albert had told me he loved me, but I’d turned him down for James. Everyone had thought I was crazy for rejecting a rich, Victorian bachelor for a teenage boy. Though I hadn’t wanted to admit it, my heartstrings grew tight every time I saw Albert. The memory of his lips against mine was clear and precise. It was like watching a movie in my mind. I saw the way he’d held me, his strong hands against my waist.
“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered.
My eyes grew wide as I examined his immortal face. Deep brown eyes, dark, messy curls, and a small grin. My heart gave a little thud. How did he do this to me? My soul was shuddering.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He walked toward me as I made room for him to sit. Our bodies brushed against each other as he sat beside me. He gently lifted my knees, so they fell over his lap, and the blanket was draped over both of us. He’d never seen me like this before. I looked sick, though that was impossible for a vampire. Albert handed me one of the glasses he’d brought into the room.
“Nina and Anya called me,” he said. “I wanted to come. I had to see you.”
I took a tiny sip. “I’m sure you don’t like what you see.”
He smiled. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”
I lowered my eyes. The ache for James within my heart was still strong. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” Albert whispered. “I know how much he meant to you. You gave him everything.”
I nodded. “He left.”
Albert pulled me against his chest. “I know, dove. I know.”
I let myself fall into him, a few tears dripping onto his jacket. He didn’t seem to mind. Albert wrapped his arms around me. Our glasses of blood had ended up on the table beside us, still mostly full. This was better than drinking. His scent and hard body gave more to me and my senses than blood could. He was overwhelming. How could one man distract me so much?
He smelled so fresh, so clean. Yet there was still a gentle touch of musk in his scent. We melted together into what felt like a puddle of stone. Two hard bodies wrapped in an embrace to create a jumbled mesh of marble. He seemed so relaxed as I lay on top of him. My face was buried against his body.
“It’ll be all right, princess,” he said.
“Why did you come?” I asked.
“Because I love you,” he whispered.
It wasn’t the first time he’d told me he loved me. Albert had fallen for me long ago. But then I’d met James, and my whole world had shifted. I’d never known a teenage boy could change my world as much as James had. He’d been a bright star in my otherwise desolate night. We had been beautiful.
“I’ll take care of you,” Albert mumbled with his cheek pressed against my head.
I thought of James, the way our lips had touched, and how lovingly he had looked at me with his soft, human eyes. He’d taken my heart. Every single cell of my body had been devoted to him. It had been real, true love. But now that he’d abandoned me, what would I do? Was it necessary to hold a devotion to him?
And Albert, I knew what he wanted. He’d never stopped pursuing me. Albert had given me space, but he’d still been waiting for my heart. I didn’t know how I felt about him. At the moment, my heart was torn. James had lost his memory and didn’t want me, but I couldn’t simply transfer my affections. It didn’t work like that. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rid myself of my thoughts of James.
“I don’t know what I can give right now, Albert,” I whispered.
His hands grew tight around my waist. “Nothing, love. I don’t expect you to give anything.”
I relaxed into him as his lips pressed against the top of my head. It was as if my body, wrapped in my cotton nightgown, had somehow become molded to his. He didn’t seem to mind but rather pulled the blanket up tightly around us. His hands floated gently across my hair and down my back.
I let out a soft sigh as I heard the TV continue to play and Rhett Butler say, “You should be kissed and often and by someone who knows how.”
“But just so you know,” Albert said, “in the morning, I’m taking you to London.”
I didn’t have the strength to argue.
Chapter Six — Dormir
Nina and Anya had known all about the whole London conspiracy. Apparently, they’d talked Albert into the secret plan. Of course, he hadn’t objected. When I walked out of my room in the morning wearing a pink sundress and heels, Albert had been smiling like a kid on Christmas. His grin had given me a little smile.
“You need to get out of the house,” Nina had said.
“You need fresh air,” Anya had told me.
“It’ll be good for you,” Arthur had added.
“Definitely,” Roy had agreed.
And so, I’d been persuaded to board a private plane headed for London with Albert as my sole companion. I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d chosen this path, but I was pretty sure it had something to do with peer pressure. It wasn’t all that bad. Really, the plane was very nice. Leave it to Albert to have his own plane. He had everything.
There was a compartment up front with cushioned chairs, a large table, and a TV. On the wall was a mini refrigerator stocked with blood. Beside it was a bookshelf with glass doors that I hadn’t wanted to open, afraid they’d fall out and tumble on top of me. I was tempted to touch one of them, just to feel their leather against my skin, but my fear of an avalanche of books was too terrifying. They looked so old and worn, like the kind of books you’d find at an antique shop. The pages would have been thin and fragile. Beautiful books, even if I could only look at them.
The middle of the plane had a couch, desk, and antique phone. The sofa was a deep purple in the cabriole style. It was plush with cushions that felt like feathers. Albert’s desk was dark wood, with a large drawer and a hard-looking chair in front of it. The windows were covered by thin curtains that I pulled to the side. I liked seeing the sky. Flying was a sensation I rarely felt. I’d never liked crowded planes. But this, the freedom it brought me, was wonderful. I felt like a bird.
The sky was at my fingertips. We flew through clouds like eagles soaring above the sky. It was magical. And down below us was the deep, enchanting sea. The water looked still from this far up. It was endless and expansive. I wondered how anyone had ever been brave enough to travel it.
In the back was a bedroom. I didn’t enter it. Just glimpsing his room felt like an intrusion of space. But I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself from looking at it. I thought I’d take a small glimpse for the sake of discovery. Albert was in the front of the plane with the captain, so he wouldn’t see me. Besides, he’d left me alone. Was I really doing anything wrong? I was just taking a little look.
I pushed the door open slightly, not moving my feet. I didn’t want to step into the room—that would have been too much. It would have felt wrong. Yet this whole action seemed to be an indication of something. I didn’t want to think about what it was. Perhaps I could convince myself it was curiosity. That was partially true. I wanted to see more of Albert. Somehow his bedroom felt like a nice place to start.
The whole room was black. The large bed was covered in a velvet duvet the color of midnight. Fluffy pillows lined the headboard, and a black curtain surrounded the bed. Like the walls, everything on the bed was the color of a raven. Even the carpet was a luscious shade of black. It all appeared soft, too. Looking into the room was like staring into a dark abyss. It was illuminated only by a small chandelier.
It was all so private. I felt like an intruder in a secret space. It looked like a sanctuary for him, a place he could hide. Perhaps this was where he went when he wanted to be alone. Maybe he flew around the world for no reason other than to escape reality. He had so many people to impress, vampires to feed, and businesses to run. Yet when he was tired, he must have come to this room. I was staring into a space that was his own. In that brief moment, I saw a new part of Albert Jefferson.
I’d been so immersed in my contemplation that I hadn’t heard him come up behind me, “Anne?”
