Roses in Snow

Brit closed her coloring book. Tips of crayons scattered around her. “Another broke?” asked Ethan. She nodded with a soft sigh. He gazed at her from his desk. Her body trembled and she stretched trying to shake off the feeling. Closing his ledger, he stood to hold out his hand to her. Pulling her up, he gave her a warm embrace and said, “You need to slow the world down, princess. It will be easier once you do.” He started to describe how she should visualize before she moved. She focused on him as he talked, but a glance within her thoughts showed him that she was not able to truly comprehend. Perhaps when some of the vitae wore off, he told himself. She would have to experiment with her newly found abilities. It was difficult to watch Brit struggle, but Ethan kissed her forehead and went back to his books watching her.

Ethan was proud that Brit was acquiring some of his attributes. He grinned at the memory of her broadcasting a comment to the room and how she struggled with moving very quickly. In time, he told himself, it would become natural for her. Brit settled back and picked up a new crayon. Her fingers moved too quickly on the page and pressed too hard. Within moments, the crayon snapped off the tip. Brit sighed staring at the page where she was trying to draw roses and cherries in snow.

Thinking to the night before, she remembered the warmth of the rooftop amidst the wind-blown snow. Ethan had given her warning about instincts. “When we both need guidance, we shall follow our instincts.” With his fingers caressing her bite marks, he added, “Though, instincts can be treacherous things.” More kisses followed until he said, “Mine. And I will not be left waiting.”

Ethan’s touches pushed the pain of Larissa’s loss from her thoughts albeit briefly. He could see within her thoughts as the newly awakened emotions of anger and grief drained away in his diversion. Brit’s eyes widened at his demeanor and words. Swaying to and fro when he pulled her close to him, she settled against him. “I do confess…that….” Her voice trailed off as she stepped closer pressing her body against his. Her fingers caressed his cheek as she finished her sentence by giving a slow and sensual kiss not wishing him to wait.

Ethan whirled her playfully fast and pressed her against the stone support for the billboard adjusting her body against his. “Confess to me, Brit,” he whispered softly before biting and nibbling along her neck. Moving his lips from her neck to her ear, he pressed her as he whispered again, “Confess to me.” Biting more, he flicked his tongue over her neckline. Snow flurried around them and his fingers shook the flakes free from her hair. Brit struggled to form the words that she wanted him to know. Closing her eyes, she felts his tongue on her neck. Her pulse beneath the skin was strong and vibrant.

Ethan continued to nibble and tease her neck with his fangs, never breaking the skin but leaving many bite marks to blush her skin. He yearned to hear her words spoken even though he could see it in her thoughts. Brit’s thoughts were never linear. He glimpsed it all. Her grief over Larissa’s death and her anger over the words she had heard. Dryl saying, “Dead,” and Nareth confirming that she was gone before the laughter started. Brit was offended and hurt over their behavior toward someone who was very dear to her. Her fingers clung to him as she rubbed her cheek against his hair. Her arms and legs wrapped so tightly around him that there was nothing between them anymore. “Confess to me,” he coaxed again. His voice was seducing her away from her high energy heart ache. “I know you will not fight me,” he said softly into her ear.

The wind was cold, and his body was as cold as the night. It mattered not as she could feel him warming where she was pressed against him. “Don’t fight me,” he repeated placing his lips on her neck. Brit blinked in bewilderment knowing she would never push him away. Opening his mouth wide, he sank his fangs into her skin breaking muscle and vein alike holding her tight as her blood filled his mouth. Before drinking, he pulled back with bloodied lips. Looking directly at her, his eyes were dark affected by her taste and his voice growled softly, “This is what I am, Brit, or at least part of me. I never hid it from you and I will always be part beast. But I will only be yours. Always. And you will never be alone because I will not allow it.”

Dipping her back until the stone supported both of them, Ethan drank heavily from her. His throat muscles working as he swallowed her blood turning it into vitae in his system. Brit’s mind raced to keep up. Telling him she would never fight him. She told him that she loved him. All of him. She could feel the snow pelt her exposed throat as he drank. Ethan enjoyed the feel of her chilled skin against his lips and the heat that lay beneath. “Do not fight me,” his thoughts pressed again and he drank another deep sip. Shifting to one side, his left hand slid lower pulling her tighter against him. With his arms around her and his fangs in her throat, Ethan seemed a predator keeping its prey near him. Brit’s thoughts started to drift as in a dream. Dizzy sensations from his drinking and embrace caused her to want her husband closer.

As if reading her thoughts, Ethan shook his head slightly. Biting his lips several times, he cause his vitae to pool before cupping her face with one hand. “I want your kisses,” he said, “And I want you to drink mine.” His tone all but ordered it as he claimed her lips pouring his vitae into her mouth. Brit kissed him and sucked his lower lip with soft pops as she released it. With each drink, her body received a slight surged reaction as the vitae hit her system. She mumbled ‘yes’ once to him and drank his kisses. Her bite marks pooled blood that slowly dripped down her neck. The color was rich red, crimson and dark, reminding Ethan of roses or cherries in the snow. Brit glimpsed his thought. Sensing her blood dripping, Ethan immediately moved to her bites and sucked the cooling blood greedily from her skin. He nibbled and licked ensuring none was left before returning to her mouth again. Reopening his lip, he demanded, “Drink more.”

Brit swallowed drink after drink of the heady vitae. Her body pushed away unsure she could drink any more. Ethan pulled her back tightly and repeated in a low whisper, “Don’t fight me. Drink more.” Her lips trembled from the powerful vitae coursing through her body. Ethan kissed her softly and dripped more vitae into her mouth as she breathlessly leaned against the post that supported both of them. Dutifully, she swallowed and he kissed again refilling her mouth albeit more slowly. Again, she swallowed. Her body trembling hard as it processed. “More,” he whispered. Her mossy green eyes blinked slowly as he filled her mouth again. One drop after another dripped from his lips until the wound healed. His fingers touched her chin holding her mouth closed with a fingertip until she swallowed.

Picking up another crayon, Brit pulled it twice across the page before it snapped. She sighed. Ethan saw her body still racked with trembles. She would acclimate, he thought to himself. Besides, the benefits she would gain were too precious not to ensure they were within her grasp. “The tremors should pass, Brit. You will learn to control the gifts I give you.” Standing, he walked to offer her a hand. “Perhaps color later.” She took his hand and he pulled her up to him settling back on the desk. After carefully looking her over, he kissed her forehead, her cheek and then her lips. Inside, he glimpsed the focus again on Larissa. She needed time to mourn, he thought. With a hint of a smile, the fact that his wife finally realized that not all were “way nice” showed she was growing in a way he deemed positive. “You will always be mine,” Ethan said softly. He motioned her to follow him to the Haven thinking that perhaps dancing could help her body process, and assist her mind to sooth over the loss of her friend.

The Second Lesson

Truth be told, Brit was growing tired. The fencing lesson had lasted far too long and she was starting to feel most weary. “Again,” Ethan directed. Touching his chest where his heart was located, he said, “Try to touch here, Brit.” Brit struggled to tag him but he moved too fast. He could read her thoughts. She wanted to stop, but continued only because Ethan had swatted her playfully with the broad side of his blade when she quit without his ending the lesson the last time. She could still hear his admonishment, “Next time, the lesson is over only when I say it is, Brit.” Seeing her memories, Ethan lowered his sword and motioned her to him. “You are developing speed in your parries, Brit. However, you lack conviction when you lunge. Enough for today, I think.”

Brit’s sweat was tinged pink upon close examination. She was tired. They returned to their resting place to obtain a few items and made their way south in the city to the public bath. Snow fell as they traipsed through the street. Once in the bath, Brit laid out fresh clothing before quickly removing her fencing garb and stripped down to a tanktop and shorts. Ethan followed suit down to his briefs. Both slipped in the warm water and Ethan rinsed the sweat from Brit’s skin with water by cupping his hand before pulling her back against him. Once she settled against him, Ethan reached for a sponge to drag over her skin as he went over the finer points of the fencing lesson.

In no time, the conversation left fencing and moved to the shared bath. With the moon lighting up the sky behind the clouds, and the snow fluttering to the ground, the bath looked like something resembling a set of a Ridley Scott movie. Brit chattered about the pleasures of hot water, when Ethan replied, “I like the idea of being in hot water with you.” Dipping the sponge again, he squeezed the warm water to flow over her neck, bite marks, and down her back while moving her ponytail aside to kiss her sweetly.

Brit’s relaxed body went rigid for a moment and she sat forward. Blinking, her eyes widened and she suddenly giggled. “That’s a joke, isn’t it? Being in hot water means being in mischief…er…trouble…and so you are saying hot water like a bath and maybe hot water like trouble even if I’m not really trouble.” Brit continued to ramble to process out the joke before giggling again. Letting her know that it was a joke, Ethan grinned pulling her back against him again. His fingers massaged her sides and arms. Brit continued to marvel about the words. She lisped, “I know a different joke.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Yes? Well, why do you not tell me about it then.”

Tapping her toes together happily, Brit said, “Okay. There was a skeleton once up on a time. And he goes to a bar. Like a bar like the Haven. And the bartender says, ‘So what will you have?’ And the skeleton says, ‘I’ll have a beer and a mop!’ And that is my joke!” Brit collapses into giggles and says, “I’ve never seen a skeleton walk or talk, but if it did, you know it would need a mop to drink beer! Or to drink anything. Even water! Because anything wet would go right through him!” Brit gestured animatedly and giggled more, which caused Ethan to grin with pure amusement. In her mind, she visualized the joke and continued to giggle. Ethan marveled at his wife’s growth to grasp and tell jokes, which was a recent ability.

Lathering up the sponge, Ethan washed Brit’s body. Handing her the sponge, he told her that she needed to wash her feet as he could not reach them. “All clean here though,” he said low before leaning and kissing the back of her neck. She leaned against his kiss before lifting her foot and tapping the top of his head with the top of her foot. Ethan blinked at her agility and was sure he could not do the same. Brit turned to wash his body in return and his vampire ego quickly forgot Brit’s flexibility as she spoiled him. “I do enjoy your touches always, Brit,” he whispered. “But these types of touches are definitely special.”

Brit washed him thoroughly. “I like touching you with these types of touches, Ethan,” she said before giving him a playful glance as she kissed the freshly washed chest to see whether it was soap-slippery. Both fell silent for a time. Only the sound of the water rippling as the sponge was dipped and squeezed was heard. After a while, Ethan looked to Brit as he heard her mind speak a single word, “Share.” Unable to deny her, Ethan drank from her in slow sips before breaking the skin on his lips to let her drink during kisses. He pulled her closer and heard her mind reach to him again with a single word. “Share.”

Tracing her lips with his fingernail, Ethan said softly, “You are my wife. The only one I love and treasure. You will learn that sometimes you can take what is rightfully yours without asking. Without words even.” His fingernails caressed her neck and stroked down her back. “Demand it like I do. You will learn that, just like in fencing, you have to take an aggressive stance from time to time.” His fingertips pressed her to him encouragingly as he whispered, “I am yours just as much as you are mine, Brit.” Just as in the fencing lesson, his body and words guided.

The Fencing Lesson

((Taken from RP))

Coming downstairs with a most satisfied grin, Ethan brushed against Brit. Though he seemed in a hurry, he stopped at the door and turned holding his hand out toward her. “Brit, come to me.” When she arrived, he buttoned her coat up and gave her three kisses. “We are going to a walk to the beach. Those of whom we do not speak are coming to make a delivery.” Anticipating her next question, he chuckled, “They will bring several things, princess. Cookies, some supplies, a few things for me and…well, you shall see.” Her eyes grew wide at the mystery. Looping her arm in his, they left for the beach.

On the way, they saw a neko who had been a resident at the Shelter. Both were happy that she had not perished. Discovering that she had found a safe permanent home, they continued to the beach. Even in the cloak of night, assorted beings were engaged in drinking, making out, sparring, and simple social networking. Ethan looked over the scene and narrowed his eyes at the many drawn weapons. Turning to Brit, he touched the guns at his side and gestured, “You see, baby, this is why you need weapons at the ready. You never know when you will walk into a scene like this one.” Nodding toward the skiff docked on the end of the pavilion, he grumbled, “Let us continue.”

Nearing the edge of the pavilion floating in the water, Ethan grabbed Brit who was standing on the edge and jumped across to the skiff with one powerful leap. Brit squealed in delight at sailing through the air and collapsed into giggles as they landed. “Do it again, please!” she exclaimed. Her giggles caused a few astonished looks from those piloting the skiff.

Ethan nodded a greeting to each as he whispered, “Maybe, if you are a very good girl, later.” Brit’s giggles quieted as she too gave a nod to each one, but did not wish to interrupt Ethan’s meeting with them. Most of the crew were cloaked. As usual, one stood in front keeping most of his exterior from being seen less for his long, sharp fingernails. The being’s hand extended in a greeting and was shaken by Ethan. “You are dependable as always, old friend,” Ethan said. “Your services are much appreciated.” Quiet conversation continued as Brit dangled over the side hoping to perhaps see a fish even though she knew none ever swam so close to the city.

After Ethan’s conversation ended, the crew handed over two boxes. Ethan gave an envelope to the man in the front, which was as usual. Receiving an envelop in return was not expected, and Ethan gave a troubled look as it was placed into his hand. Tucking it quickly away, Ethan walked to the edge looking to where Brit peered over the side of the boat. To all present, she started with a barrage of questions and comments as she stopped searching for fish. "How far do you go before fish are around? Have you ever seen a fish as big as the boat? In the library, I saw a picture of an octopus...it was swallowing the boat!" Brit’s eyes grew wide with the telling of the picture. Seeing all simply watching her, she went silent. Puffing her cheeks slightly, she looked to the shore and to Ethan wondering when it would be time to get off the boat oblivious to the raised eyebrow that Ethan was given.

Ethan turned toward the crew looking to each one with narrowed eyes. “Did you not hear the lady’s questions?” Picking Brit up, he asked, “How far out before you see fish? How big was the biggest one that you have seen?” Brit did not notice that his eyes continued to grow darker as he asked. Again, to her delight, he leaped across to the floating pavilion and held her waiting for their answers.

The sailor nearest to them turned and answered dutifully, “It takes about two hours of a journey south until fish are seen again. Whales are not uncommon off of these shores; and the biggest was bigger than our boat. No octopus of that size has ever been sighted though.” The sailor turned as if in a trance. Brit listened attentively to the answer and politely thanked the sailor. Turning to Ethan, she grinned to him for the brief jump through the air before looking to the boxes, wondering what was inside, and musing why he did not simply have items brought over on the ferry. Ethan’s thoughts answered that some things could not be easily transported and he did not trust just anyone with other items such as foods that she would consume. Picking up the boxes, Ethan motioned her to follow him back to the Shelter.

Once there, Ethan moved the bigger of the two crates to a place where he had others. Opening it, he carefully checked the contents while she dangled over his shoulder to see. He grinned at her curiosity. “Ethan,” she asked. “Have you….have we other homes?” Her mind wondered from where the items came. “Places maybe where you once lived?” Brit wondered why she had never thought to ask him before.

After checking the contents of the box, Ethan turned pulling her close for a lingering kiss. The kiss deepened for a moment before he remembered that it was his duty to keep her curiosity sated. Breaking the kiss, he replied, “There are several places where I have resided, Brit. Places in Europe where I hold the deeds. Some of them have secured storage facilities or they are accessible to a certain group of few and selected individuals of my kind.” He watched her carefully ensuring she understood. Seeing his duty fulfilled, he pulled her close again brushing his fingers lightly over her skin.

Brit asked, “Maybe…maybe….one day we could visit other places and you could show me where you used to reside?” Ethan’s arms wrapped tighter around her lower waist pulling her to paste against him. Her fingers traced along his sides and looped behind his neck where she touched his unbound hair. Ethan hinted a smile at her growing curiosity about his past. The night before, she had whispered, “I am always curious of you.” Her curiosity without reason warmed him.

“We can do that, baby.” Wrapping his arms around her, he nodded again as if deciding something for both of them. “We should start in a Greece.” His voice sounded distant for a moment as he added, “It would be not far from the place where I was born either.” Ethan’s had rubbed the small of her back gently and he added, “We can do that in the near future. He leaned in for another sensual kiss before letting her breathe once more. There is something that has been troubling me though. Seeing her eyes widen that he might be troubled, he said, “Just recent events. The reasons the two of us have spent so much time in the Shelter, Brit.” His voice trailed off seeming to search for words or a proper way to put it. Ethan all but burst out with, “I am of the opinion that giving you a weapon of proper proportions and style befitting a lady and my beloved would be of interest. And, of course, I would teach you to use it.” He looked down and peeked up almost like a schoolboy admitting to his parents that he broke their prized vase.

Brit’s expression was pure astonishment. “A weapon? Like a REAL weapon?” Her mossy green eyes were huge. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “But…Ethan…what… What if I hurt someone with it? You know…like…hurt…them.” Blinking more, she processed. “Ladies…use weapons?” she asked curiously.

Tilting his head at her last question, he said, “Well, darling. I would think that most of the women you know in this city outside of the library carry them, use them, and quite often harm others with them.”

Brit processed while continuing to dangle from around his neck. One thought flittered to be replaced by another. “Ethan, you never think of most ladies as um ladies.” Since she was now more in tune with his thoughts, she had been rather surprised at his thoughts at times. Some were rather shocking! “Like….Marie Antoinette,” she lisped. Ethan blinked before coughing politely and he wiped his mind of the thought that formed regarding that particular lady. Brit caught the glimpse of the thought and her eyes widened!

Ethan raised an eyebrow and grinned thinking she was obviously getting a better education in seeing what was not said than she would have ever gotten from any book. He replied, “Well, baby. It depends mostly on their manners and ways of behaving. That has nothing to do with the choice of carrying weapons. In fact, at one time, such were combined with their outfits. Like a proper accessory.” He smoothed a tendril of her hair caressing her cheek gently before continuing, “In a large portion of history, it was quite proper, and very ladylike, for young ladies to be educated in the art of fencing. Just as it was for them to be educated in music and making conversation with guests. It kept their bodies trained and their senses alert. Really…much like when we played tag.”

Ethan could see her process and hear her concerns. He reassured her, “Brit, should the need arise and you need to defend yourself, you could buy just enough time for me to arrive or for you to come to me with a few subtle moves. Not actually hurting someone you see. But keeping them distanced from you.” Her recent encounter with the lycan crossed his mind. “Just to buy you time, if needed," he said reassuringly.

It was much for her to process. Brit had always thought of the games they played, like Tag, as simply a fun game of chase. She never thought it would have other purposes. Kissing her on the forehead, he opened a second box and ran his hand along the object inside. Brit lisped, “So…learn like Tag…for exercise?” She nodded slowly to show she understood.

Ethan pulled a long, case from the box. He wiped the packing materials from it and said, “I was thinking of a blade by the way. Small enough to be an epee, which is a fencing blade. Just…well…one of my personal collection.” Ethan opened the case.

“Like a knife?” Brit asked while trying to see inside.

Ethan unsheathed the sword. “Well, not quite a knife.” Brit could see the bright shine of the blade in the amber light of the Shelter hallway. “It is quite elegant, I think, and if used correctly.” The blade obviously held memories for Ethan as he turned the sword looking it over as if seeing an old friend he had not expected to return. “I have had this blade in my possession since the 17th century, Brit.” Ethan continued to carefully examine it while he spoke, “I requested it to be sharpened before having it brought to us.”

The sword was bright and shiny. Details on the pommel included an intricate silver skull. “In the 17th century,” she repeated. “Before Marie Antoinette…like…when Charles the second was king of England.” Ethan smiled seeing that she was beginning to develop a sense of when events occurred. He nodded. “It was yours,” Brit said smiling warmly. Then her smile faded and her eyes grew huge with wonderment, “You did not perish anyone with it, did you?”

Ethan shifted his weight uncomfortably for a moment before giving her a sweet kiss of encouragement. “I do not recall ending anyone’s existence with it, Brit. I do recall using it as a training weapon and in gentleman sports.” With a shrug, he said, “Fencing definitely was considered a noble way of resolving conflict, but often ended at first blood. That means whoever drew blood first from the other wins. Not a fight to the death.” Ethan skipped over that a dagger or other blade was often used for coup de grace moments.

He watched her admire the sword and could sense that she found it beautiful. Ethan’s chest fell as if he exhaled happy that she seemed taken with his gift. “I’m glad that you find it pleasing.” She smiled nodding up at him. “Fencing is a specific way of sword fighting. There are rules of engagement, quite proper, and usually betrayed someone’s noble upbringing. You see, anyone could learn to fence if they had a master to teach them, but noble families always….” Ethan’s eyes grew slightly dark for a hint of a moment. “Noble families always ensured one was available to teach their own.”

Ethan’s hand reached for hers, and he turned her as if in a dance with his free hand so that she faced away, and he guided her back against him. Kissing her hair, he raised her hand and wrapped her fingers around the grip ensuring her hold was proper. Brit gingerly touched the blade with her free hand. It’s razor sharpness caused her to pull away fast, but then she brought her finger to the flat surface and slowly traced down the length of the blade. He repeated that he would teach her all she needed to know. Ethan watched her turn the sword so that the light would catch it causing her to pause as the shine mesmerized her. Perhaps, he thought, she would lose some distractibility by its use and could react faster when needed.

“It’s beautiful. Ethan, thank you.” She kissed him while holding the sword so that the tip was pointed down. Ethan’s arms wrapped so one rested on her tummy and the other on her forearm that held the blade. He could not help but muse that these lessons could bring far more pleasure than any payment from teaching noble brats. When she finished looking over the blade, he readjusted her hand on the grip ensuring that she held the sword perfectly.

Brushing her hair to the side, he said, “At the very least, we shall arrange your hair in a pony tail so that it does not hinder you.” His fingers left her tummy to brush back her tresses. “Mayhaps with some ribbons in it, as well.” He also made a mental note to engage Destany in proper fencing attire for her. Not like the sterile modern day garments, but such as what might be worn in days when fencing was commonly seen. His hand returned to her tummy, and the hand on her sword arm extended to her wrist. Slowly, he adjusted her posture noting that her graceful stand was a natural start. He brought her sword hand slowly to her chin. “First, you would present arms to your opponent in an official match by bringing the hilt to your chin…like this.” He moved his head from side to side ensuring again that the posture was perfect. Grinning, he pressed lips to her ear and said low, “Très bon.” Realizing she would not know what he had said, he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “Very good.”

Brit allowed him to position her. Her body was relaxed and her mind attentive. His mind briefly remembered others he had helped learn this art. Ethan sensed that she feared the weapon, and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Her flesh tingled where he held her, and from his whispered words of encouragement. She moved her feet as he instructed and her stance resembled a ballerina more than a fencing opponent. It was graceful with one foot angled to the other. Brit pressed his body and she moistened her lips. The sword was not heavy to her and she could not help but notice how it shimmered as it moved.

Ethan admired her graceful form and found no need for adjustment. His fingers traced down her body as if to check her alignment and stance. Kissing her neck, he whispered, “A natural talent.” His body moved hers slowly into an ‘en garde’ stance, before moving her back to present and into en garde again ensuring she could follow the motion. His words were low and soft as he guided her from one position to the other, “Fencing, opposed to other forms of melee combat is very much based on benefits of grace in one’s movements: An element of which you possess in abundance.” Her eyes blinked as she moved with the grace of a dancer from upright to a guarded stance. Ethan could not help but think that her hours of dancing in the studio were paying off. She held still for him to inspect her posture. Seeing him nod approval, she laid her head upon his shoulder and looked up kissing him sensually by resting her free hand on his cheek. Returning to proper form, her back was straight with a slight arch that would have clearly demonstrated her lithe form had she not been dressed in her trenchcoat.

Ethan repeated the action, making sure to move slightly more swift with each repetition. As she did when resting her hands on his to play the pipe organ in the church, her mind linked and she followed his movement. His arm guided hers to extend in time with her leg moving forward to balance her body. Ethan murmured, “Extend,” and the tip of the sword touched an imaginary foe as Ethan’s voice instructed softly, “And…touch.” He held the position feeling her body pressed against his. He tightened his hold on her and whispered, “Then, back again” as he pulled her to the starting stance of en garde.

Both stood still for a few moments and were keenly aware of the nearness of the other. Once Brit had processed the sequence, she slowly repeated taking the initiative. He resisted pressing his cheek against her less he mar her fluidity of motion. Watching their image in the window, he followed her motion allowing his body to check her form. In the window’s reflection, they moved together as if she were attached to him in 100 different points. Brit paused at each position allowing for small corrections and waited for his nod to move to the next step. Holding the touch, she felt him press her closer to him. “It’s like dancing.” He nodded running his hand over her side under the guise of checking her stance.

Moving again against her, Ethan motioned for her to continue. “It is indeed like dancing,” he said moving with her as she moved through the basic positions. “Present. En garde, lunge, thrust, touch, and back to engarde.” His voice whispered softly as they cycled through again. Another cycle in silence. “Deadly dancing sometimes, but still requiring grace and elegance, which you possess.” His hands continued to touch her lightly as they moved through the sequence. At each point, Ethan was keenly aware of Brit’s body and corrected even the slightest of errors in her form. “It will also keep you fit,” his voice continued to softly instruct. “In time, it will keep you safe. I hope…you will not be disturbed by it, Brit.”

Lowering the sword, she turned slightly and tilted her head. “It’s a wonderful gift, Ethan. Thank you.” Her smile was warm and her care in the way she held the sword showed she understood it was a precious gift. He kissed her. Closing her eyes, she processed all he had taught and said. “Ethan,” she whispered with a hint of apprehension. “I never wish to perish anyone.”

Returning the kiss, he said, “You are most welcome. I do enjoy giving you things from my past. For there is history in them. They are not merely objects.” Caressing her face before cupping her cheek, he tilted her lips up and caught her gaze. “You are my one and only, and I want you protected. I understand you would not willingly try to take a life, but as I said…” Seeing her eyes widen, he stopped to watch her. With a reassuring smile, Ethan kissed Brit again. “But as I said, this is mostly for exercise.” She nodded and he grinned kissing softly. “You did well on your first hint of a lesson, my love.”

“No one perishes from exercise,” she said more for herself than for him. Ethan remembered a countess who perished in a fencing lesson due to a corset, indulgence of alcohol and sweets, and intense summer heat. Brushing the thought away, he said, “Quite so. And, if the need for you to run arises…such as if someone were blocking your path, I am sure that we shall find a way to teach you just where to swing this blade so to give them a little ache….surely not perishing them.” He kissed her again with his eyes flashing for a moment thinking of such a situation. “Do not worry, Brit. I am not trying to turn you into a body guard. You have me for that.”

Brit nodded understanding that she would not perish another with her new gift. Turning, she took both of his hands pulling him along to the resting place where she could place the sword in the chest with her more treasured belongings. He stroked her hair while she arranged for the sword to be organized as if it was always meant to be there. Standing, she pressed close and kissed him with all of the love she felt within. Ethan returned it knowing that should she need to get away, the culprit would pray for coup de grace in the end.

Unanticipated Events

Brit sat with the dictionary while slowly flipping the pages. “Unexpected,” she lisped. “Unexpected means not anticipated; as in unexpected guests or unexpected news.” After reading over the words several times, she closed the book. The Shelter was filled with guests. A small group was frantically searching for a paper they had left on the table. Brit asked, “What is it?” After much shuffling, they told her that it was simply a chart. As words slowly formed, Brit realized it was the table she had given to Apollo. The group grew silent when she told them that she had given it to him since his name was on it. After a moment of silence, the group quickly said good-byes and scattered before Apollo happened by.

Brit wondered where Ethan had gone because he was not there when she woke. After a shower, she dressed and walked to the foyer of the Shelter. Some residents arrived and left, each greeting her. Outside, Lord Winter and Winterkitty, the snow creatures she and others had made, had been toppled, trampled, and might have been shot. “Not unexpected,” she lisped and noticed that the snow still was mostly intact. If she wanted, she thought, she could make them again without much trouble.

While making the snow creatures, many had helped. It started with Apollo, and then Lorne and Beau had joined. They were discussing a poem of a king who had died. Whether he was once great or whether he merely thought he was, in the end, the king was simply dust commanding sand. In the middle of the discussion, Brianna had fallen to the ground with bloody hands. “Unexpected,” lisped Brit softly as she applied her new words. Others had come and gone: Quiet, someone she did not know named Mei, a young vampire who seemed not to know she was a vampire, Jason, and several others. Then Ethan had come, but he did not help her make snow creatures. She giggled thinking of him and lisped, “Not unexpected.” While most playful, Ethan rarely engaged in group silliness.

During the day, she had seen many in passing. Some, such as Nerissa, she used to see often. Others, such as Redd and Tonks, she had just met. Brit mused on why she passed by Nerissa and had spent much time talking to the new library helpers. She had also seen Denny and Omega where Omega was playing music. Spinning, she thought it was called, but they had not stopped to visit with them. Was it expected or unexpected not to linger as one used to with old friends or was that something reserved for new ones.

Picking up her mug of cocoa, she tapped her nails on it while lost in thought. She sometimes missed the days of talking with those whom have been so close to her. “Denny, Omega, Grr, Joah, Larissa.” So many she thought. “Poncho. Merma. Tony. Ellie. Mel.” She took more than an hour saying each name slowly less she forget anyone. “Stacy. Jon. Choi.” Some she saw often and some she rarely saw these days. “Pieter. Blueray. Nikita.” The names she said went on and on. Was it expected or unexpected for so many to come and go as if weaving through one’s life?

Pars’s disappearance on the docks that day was unexpected, she thought. Pars had watched over her from birth. He had always been near. Before he disappeared, she had never been alone. Taking another sip of her cocoa, she realized that she had become accustom to people leaving. Each walked in to her life and stayed a while before leaving as quietly as Pars had disappeared from the docks. Such occurrences had become expected to many, but never to Brit.

Nikita’s reappearance was not a surprise to Brit. When Ethan greeted her, Brit had felt her presence. Calm and familiar. Ethan simply told Nikita that she had been missed. Nodding, Brit agreed and had asked, “Where did you go?” Nikita replied with a single word: Scotland. Looking to Ethan, Brit felt that the response must have been expected. Regardless, it was good to have her home.

Brit turned on the radio and listened to Omega’s voice over the airwaves. She could picture Denny standing near his love. Another sip of cocoa and she smiled as Omega dedicated “Come What May” to her and Ethan. Brit nibbled dunked marshmallows as she listened and thought it was sweet of Omega to have played it. Omega’s voice and Denny near her was expected. The song was not and Brit found that an unexpected pleasure.

Thinking more on Denny, Brit sighed softly. In the week before, he had paid an unexpected visit to the Shelter. While there, he acted oddly and said some horrible things to Ethan. In the end, he said to Ethan that their marriage was cursed and that they would be divorced. Later, Ethan had assured her that too much drink lead to such words. Drunk or no, Ethan had told Denny he was no longer welcome in the Shelter; and Denny had not been in the library when Brit was there. She missed him, but he had unexpectedly been scarcely near for months.

Looking up, Brit watched more people come in. One sat for soup and Brit tried to remember whether the person had registered at the Shelter. When she started to inquire, the lady left making Brit realize she had just slipped in for the soup. Shrugging, Brit felt good that the woman had something to warm her belly on such a frigid day. Brit waved at the little demon that she and Ethan had found freezing in the street before her thoughts returned to wondering where Ethan had gone. Stifling a yawn, she thought of the unexpected turmoil during the day while they slept.

It could not have been more than 30 minutes past dawn. Brit was wound around Ethan who lay dormant beneath her. Her eyes opened to the sound of growling. Low and menacing. Raising her head, she blinked through the darkness of the room, but sensed no one was near. “Ethan,” she lisped. Giving him a shake, she repeated, “Ethan?” She really did not expect him to respond without more effort on her part. Thinking that perhaps it was a dream, she settled again on top of him and started to sleep again. Her eyes had closed for sleep and she heard it again.

Lifting her head once more, she rubbed her eyes to try to wake so that she could focus. Again, the growling was heard. Louder. Her eyes widened and she wriggled free of Ethan to find a window. Listening at the door, she could tell that again, none were near. Brit’s feet pattered softly on the cold floor as she opened the door to go to the windows of the hallway. Looking down, she saw her undisturbed snow creatures standing guard. More growling and an angry male voice could be heard. Leaning toward the glass, Brit saw a neko male and a human lady standing at the door. A huge lycan was growling.

Brit tapped on the glass, but no one heard her. It was then that she saw the lycan lunge at the male crashing him backwards. Brit ran down stairs to the front door opening it. No one seemed to notice her. Turning she shouted, “Turmoil!” No sound answered and she turned back to the door. The male neko was obviously shaken, and Brit understood the lycan when he told the neko boy that he was to perish. Brit regrouped and lisped, “You can easily kill him….but….I would be grateful…and would tell Wotan so….if you allowed him to live.” The lycan seemed surprised by her request.

Reflecting on the lycan’s reaction of pausing, Brit realized her actions were not expected. The lycan, she guessed, probably knew he could think on what happened and knew he could kill the kitty boy another time if he chose to do it. Brit puffed her cheeks and hoped he would just forget about the kitty. The lycan left and so Brit took the couple inside. She paused seeing Lorne at the door. He seemed to ensure all was well, and then left. Looking above him, she wondered momentarily whether Brianna was tottering from the rooftop again.

Once inside, the kitty boy seemed angry. Just as Brit knew she was not like others, he knew that the lycan could have easily killed him. The way he looked at the lady, Brit knew that she was the kitty’s beloved. Tilting her head, Brit knew that he was also wondering who would care for his lady should he perish. Both the kitty and human girl were cold, and Brit found them jackets from the Shelter’s lost and found. Watching them calm, Brit felt herself relax even as she could hear the howling in the distance as the lycan told its story to the others in the wee hours of morning. Brit felt tired, but ensured that the couple had food and knew where they could rest. Walking to the door of the Shelter again, Brit saw another resident return home and then she returned to the resting place.

Finishing her cocoa, she sighed softly. A most unexpected turn of events. “You left our resting place?” came Ethan’s soft voice as he brushed snow from his shoulders. She was pleased to see him. Rising, she kissed his lips before hugging warmly. Ethan returned a trio of kisses and looked her over as he always did upon greeting. His ability to see within her mind was not unexpected. It felt warm and she welcomed when it occurred. Her ability to hear his thoughts that followed, however, was new. It was unexpected. The growl from within him, however, was expected. Another kiss was obviously needed and she could feel his eyes follow her as she rinsed her cup. “Baby,” he said softly.

Brit could hear his thoughts that formed, and so she hugged him and kissed him again lingeringly. “I cannot allow someone to perish at our door without saying something, Ethan…” Her eyes met his and he could hear her thoughts explain that he would not allow such happenings either. Blinking, Ethan was unsure whether it was her nature or his blood that prompted some of her actions. Kissing her forehead, he wrapped her close to him and rocked both of them in a warm embrace while he pondered the events that he had seen within her mind.

Christmas Eve

With the long winter nights, Ethan usually woke before Brit. Without going to the window, he could sense that the streets were coated with a fresh blanket of snow. Ethan loved the beauty of fresh snow and he especially enjoyed the way that the snow muted the sounds of the city. The snow merely added to night’s sense of enchantment for it was Christmas Eve. Sliding Brit from his chest, he arranged her so that she laid on a pillow that half-supported her shoulders. Brit barely stirred causing Ethan to marvel how soundly she could sleep.

Ethan pulled the blanket over her tucking it along her sides. Seeing that she was bundled, he placed his ear to her back and closed his eyes listening to the air move in her lungs mingled to the strong sound of her heartbeat. His fingers trailed through her hair arranging it into coils that resembled red puddles around her. Ethan closed his eyes and warmed his fingers on her body. Brit stirred slightly before settling back into her deep slumber. The wind howled outside causing him to roll to his stomach and stare at the wall. His hand reached for his cross but it was not there. Flattening his hand, he patted the spot where he had worn it for years.

The cross had brought Ethan comfort during many junctions during his existence. When he was mortal and doing God’s work, he had touched it for luck and to ask His blessings to allow him to complete tasks he was set to do. The cross had given him a focal point so he could pray before a battle, and it allowed him to stay sane after his capture. The battle did not last long: There were too many, and Ethan’s men were swarmed. Ethan was the last one standing swinging wildly even after he knew that all had been taken. They circled him like wolves taking down wounded prey and placed him in chains. One at a time, all of the men who had served with Ethan in God’s army were murdered before him. Ethan had known it was only a matter of time before it was his turn. Beaten, tortured, and drained. Ethan remembered holding his cross praying for the ability to break the chain on his foot preventing him from escaping during the day when most of his captors scurried away to escape the sunlight.

Brit made a small sound reminiscent of a kitten complaining. Ethan loosened his hold and raised his head to watch her. Light touches on her skin lulled her back to sleep. His thoughts returned to the cross. He remembered watching the last of his troop die. The sounds of the wind outside resembled the unholy howl, and Ethan was never sure whether the sound was his. He remembered keenly holding the cross tightly. God would surely hear his prayer in his weakened state. It seemed that his prayer was heard and answered. A miracle occurred. His captors brought him food. Then they gave him dark red vitae to drink. Ethan struggled to resist, but it was forced into his mouth until his body betrayed by the peristaltic contractions of his throat pushed the contents to his stomach and caused him to miraculously heal.

Laughter followed. Ethan could still hear the taunts that it was not his God who healed him. Still true to his faith, Ethan consoled that God’s will allowed them that decision and he gave a prayer of thanks. During his prayer, Ethan was grabbed up. He could still remember the feel of the cross in his hand as the sharp fangs sank into his throat. Rapidly and unceremoniously, Ethan’s life was drained from him despite his excellent fighting skills. Ethan remembered the panic of dying and the surge that followed as more vitae was placed into his mouth. Survival instincts caused him to swallow. He remembered being caught between two worlds, and knowing with growing terror that he was becoming a creature very like those he used to hunt. As he shivered through the night, he was helpless to react to the laughing and taunting asking him where his God was now.

Several boots to the side and more laughter and taunts followed. Then his sire picked him up by the collar of his tunic and pressed his face against Ethan’s ear. The dark voice said in a clipped, deep voice, “If I break each of your bones, you will not die. If I burn your flesh, you will not die. Your God has turned his back for all of your service.” With no little force, Ethan was thrown into a shallow grave. Closing his eyes, he recalled scent and sound of dirt shoveled loosely on top of him, covering him merely enough to protect him from the rising sun. Then darkness descended.

Burying his face in Brit’s hair, Ethan remembered waking and frantically digging his way from the dirt to a full moon. Ravenous, he attacked the closest source of blood and drank in huge gulps until the bovine collapsed on top of him. Ethan had to claw his way from beneath the animal and ran to the barn nearby. There, he shivered while tears dried in bloody streaks on his face and he struggled to calm his thoughts while clutching his wooden cross. The wind continued to howl outside. Dropping his head to his hands, he kissed the cross and prayed. Ethan could only imagine the image he created at that moment. It had taken him hours to clean the blood and matter from his hair and skin. His blood-soaked tunic was burned for warmth after he stole breeches and a barn jacket from a peg. That night, he felt unworthy to wear it anymore.

“Ethan?” Her voice caused him to startle and he looked to his wife with wild eyes. Brit touched his cheek. “Are you well,” she whispered. His hand came to hers and he pressed it against his cheek. It was warm and soft. He sat up composing himself from the bleak memories before pulling her into his lap still swaddled in the blanket. She reached to brush back his hair. “Ethan? What is wrong?” He could feel her thoughts probing his mind. Ethan smirked. He had worked hard for her to develop a link to his thoughts. The timing for it to click in place was uncanny.

Tickling slightly to distract her, Ethan grinned feeling her thoughts never entering completely. “Of course I am well, Brit.” She squirmed delightfully beneath his fingertips, and he thoroughly enjoyed her warm skin and softness. Even in her sleepy state, she stopped struggling once she realized that she was quite bound by both her hair and her blanket. Grinning mischievously, he bounced her gently to see whether she would struggle more. Brit giggled at his playful mood, but then curled up and closed her eyes nuzzling against him. “Oh,” he murmured, “I see you have wisely surrendered.” She grinned while feigning sleep. “Little faker,” he chuckled pulling her up and pressing his lips to her throat with a playful bite.

Brit meeped before bursting into giggles. She stretched and looked up at him. Ethan smiled seeing her eyes open: Dark green and framed in sooty lashes. Sometimes, when Brit looked at him, Ethan could not look away. Stroking her cheek, Ethan watched as Brit wriggled a hand free to touch his hair lightly while she finished waking up. Ethan bent and kissed his wife gently while feeling her hand touch his cheek. Soft caresses mingled with more kisses. His lips left hers to kiss her eyes, hair, and then along the side of her face. Each kiss caused Brit’s heartbeat to quicken. Her fingers pulled Ethan closer to her throat and he enjoyed the catch of her breath as he opened her bite marks and drank slowly. Closing her wounds, he opened a wrist to let her drink. As their blood mingled within each one, Ethan marveled at the sensual intimacy he had wrongly thought he might only achieve only through changing Brit.

He held her as long as he could. It was, after all, a special night. After feeding her a dinner of oyster stew, Ethan bathed and dressed Brit in her red gown that had been freshly pressed along with his matching suit. Opening the door, he escorted her to the church. Snow flurries fell and he grinned watching them catch on her eyelashes. Brit ran to the manger outside of the church to look inside expectantly. “Where is baby Jesus?” she asked.

“He has yet to be born…but soon, I think.” Motioning her through the door, Ethan prayed and light candles with Brit while observing her thoughts with voyeuristic interest as she prayed for seemingly everyone that she knew. Checking the time, he furrowed his brow and sighed realizing no Christmas eve mass had been planned. “I think we will have to hold our own mass, Brit,” he whispered to her. Settling at the organ, he pulled her to him. Placing his fingers on the keys, Ethan started to play. Music filled the church. Ethan felt the song wash over her. Each note played created a greater sense of closeness to God and added to the holiness of the night.

Brit watched him play wondering how Ethan learned to play so beautifully. Hearing her thoughts, he said, “Before radio…before television. Once we practiced to keep ourselves entertained. Arts, music. Reading poetry. Once it was all that one had.” After a moment, he said softly, “And prayer.” She smiled staying close. Her mind could follow his. Pausing a moment, he pulled her to his lap and placed her hands on top of his. Kissing the back of her head, he started to play. Her fingers rested on his and followed his motion. The pace picked up and she was able to follow. Ethan smiled sensing her delight at helping him create beautiful music to hail in Christmas morning. The song ended until midnight passed and he whispered, “Merry Christmas, Brit.”

She blinked several times and exclaimed, “I…I have a present for you!” She rummaged through a small bag and produced a small wrapped object. He raised an eyebrow in surprise as he took the package. Ethan had not seen Brit purchasing anything nor had he seen her making anything. With no little surprise, Ethan grinned as he carefully opened the paper not wishing to rush the moment. Brit glanced at him repeatedly growing anxious that he was taking so long to open her present. Once Ethan removed the tape, he unfolded the paper to see a small medallion attached to a ribbon and small ring. Brit had painted the medallion: A perfect image of the two of them together. Ethan beamed as he examined it closely. No kindred could have painted it more realistically. Upon closer look, he realized that she had used a brush of no more than three bristles.

“I will carry it here. Close to my heart.” Smiling at her, Ethan continued to examine the portrait before placing it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

Brit lisped, “You can attach a watch or a key…or anything to it, if you wish.” She pointed out the other end of the ribbon.

“I see that.” Grinning, he kissed her softly. “Thank you, baby. But…I also have something for you.” He had not wrapped it and did not think she would care. Pulling her rosary from his pocket, he gave it to her by wrapping it around her hand. On the end, he had placed his wooden cross. The small gem in the center glittered. He watched as her fingers curled around it. The wind continued to blow snow around outside and, again, Ethan thought of that night in the barn so long ago. Clearing his throat, he pulled her tightly against him. “The cross was worn by me when I was like you.” He swallowed and kept his thoughts focused on the night and his love for her. With a whispered voice, he said, “It brought me much comfort, Brit.” Another pause and he said thickly, “It has helped me survive…to endure.”

Ethan felt her eyes on him and he could feel Brit’s mind seeing within his. He focused on her eyes, and that was all she could see. He never wanted her to see the terror or the horror and so, he focused on the prayers that he had said through the years, and on the love he had found within her. She whispered in wonder, “It brought you to me.” His eyes grew wide as he met her gaze. He simply nodded and kissed her again as gentle as an angel’s wing.

Together, they said prayers and left for home before dawn. Walking past the manger that continued to be empty, Ethan explained that baby Jesus was probably still in the process of being born.

Invited Guests

Feigning his review of the ledgers for the Shelter, Ethan watched Brit paint. Just as he enjoyed watching filmed sunrises, one frame at a time, he took great pleasure in watching his wife coax images to life through her art. Though Brit’s media had always been crayon in the past, she regularly amazed friends and strangers alike in her ability to create realism from crayon. Of course, Ethan knew the magical abilities of motion, sound and occasionally scents were due to the special ink given to Brit by Lorne; however, he also knew that Lorne had proclaimed there must be an ability to use it. Ethan was unsure what exactly was in the ink. Lorne’s response was that the ink was “comprised of the material of dreams,” which Ethan felt was an insufficient response. Regardless, the ink did not seem to affect Brit and Ethan enjoyed the results from it. He enjoyed paging through her coloring books to reminisce as well as to see what caught his wife’s eye within the city.

Ethan tapped a pencil in the ledger noticing that Brit continued to wear her box of crayons in a thigh holster. Though talented in crayon, Ethan felt that Brit should expand her abilities and attain new skills. Since she had shown aptitude for art, he purchased her an easel and assorted paints. Along with the delivery came a nervous art student in need of tuition who provided a few basic lessons for Brit. Ethan was pleasantly surprised that Brit chose to learn about oil paints over watercolors. After all, watercolors, like many things in the mortal world, were not made to last and oil endures.

The art student had shared basic techniques and now Brit applied them. Ethan watched her hand outline the portrait from their Christmas card onto the canvas in pencil before moving onto ink. He had stopped working to muse on her attention to highlight and light. Brit seemed to have a natural ability to define halftones and shadows, and then finally reflections. The inked canvas looked realistic and true. Once she progressed to the imprimatura layer to the umber underlayer, he could see Brit’s focus increasing. With a glimpse into her mind, he saw uncertainty but she clearly used her instinct and raw talent to make sound choices.

Brit was in the process of placing colorful dabs of paint on her palette to create the dead underlayer. Ethan tilted his head curiously as he knew from the art student’s directives that these colors would make the image look as if its objects were lit by moonlight alone. With a shrug, he went back to observing his wife paint, and found the lines of her back and curve of her sides as enjoyable to observe as was the painting she was making. If painting was Brit’s hobby, observing her had become Ethan’s hobby. Running his fingers on the arm of his chair, Ethan watched her while thinking of the texture of her skin and listened to a ballad that was rumored to have been written by Henry VIII, and still held favor throughout the years. In the midst of his musing, Ethan’s tranquility was disrupted by the sounds of soft moaning beyond the door of their resting place.

Ethan glanced with no little irritation toward the door. The sounds of obvious pleasure now mingled with light rhythmic bumping and gained Brit’s attention. She giggled to Ethan and said, “Maybe there are beloveds dating.” Ethan arched an eyebrow thinking of the list of guests they current had at the Shelter and counted two that might be ‘beloveds.’ The sounds grew louder, and Ethan rolled back his chair standing. Sounds of his boots made heavy thuds when he walked to the door. Checking his pistols attached to his thighs, Ethan opened the door walking toward the sounds which were louder in the hallway.

He turned to his left toward the hospital and noticed a human boy and girl grinding against each other on the wall of his office. “May I help you?” came Ethan’s low measured voice. The couple scrambled to rearrange their clothing. Both dressed in frayed, black and red checkered clothing. Both looked as if they could use a meal and seemed slightly unkept. Blinking, they shook their heads. “Are you new guests of the Shelter?” asked Ethan. Again, more headshakes. “Then you are trespassing,” Ethan said quite pointedly. “And further more, you are disturbing my evening with your…canoodling.” The couple stammered fast apologies and bolted before he could offer them food and a place to stay. Ethan watched them run down the steps. Turning toward his office, he encountered Brit. “It was merely a couple who seemed to be…engaged in activities of canoodling.” Ethan looked to Brit incredulous that he actually used the word.

Brit giggled, “We have guests who are beloveds?”

He chuckled and said, “They are not guests.” He grinned at her widened eyes, “They are…”

“LOVERS?” Brit’s eyes sparkled over thinking of new love right in their Shelter! “We should ensure they are guests. Then they would have a safe place to date.”

Ethan crossed his arms placing a finger to his own lips, “Brit, unregistered guests are called trespassers, and there is a hotel for those only seeking places to date. No one should be in our Shelter just for a place to be with their beloved. To be sure, beloveds are welcome here if they meet the criteria of other guests.” Brit nodded slowly, and he realized that she had followed him from the safety of his office. “Baby, do not follow me when I seek to check on potential turmoil. Stay where you are safe.” She started to reply and he hushed her by giving her a soft kiss indicating that the matter was not for discussion. He directed her back to her canvas.

Not more than three nights later, Ethan was again at his desk enjoying both his wife’s form as she painted while soft music played in the background. With snow blanketing the city, Ethan felt that Christmas was coming to the city. He read over an invitation to a holiday event that had been delivered and thought that Brit would enjoy such an event. Then he heard a girl’s voice, “I cut myself so I can feel alive.” The voice came from outside of the room. Brit put down her brush and stared beyond him to the wall behind his desk.

A young man’s voice responded, “You are too beautiful to scar the canvas of your body. You can cut me though, if it makes you feel alive.” Ethan rolled his eyes, but caught sight of Brit. She was enthralled overhearing such declarations between the unseen couple.

A sound of kisses exchanged was heard mingling with light moans. The girl responded, “But you are afraid of blades.” More kisses followed and Brit walked to where Ethan sat and slid into his lap. She grinned at him as if witnessing love itself. The girl said, “I would only cut you if I could find a way to do it using only wool and cotton.” Brit pressed her hands to her mouth processing.

The boy moaned into a kiss and replied, “Whatever makes you smile. You are so pretty when you smile. You make my tummy fill with butterflies each time.” Ethan rubbed his own temples not believing that he was hearing such things. Brit pressed her forehead against Ethan’s delighting that others in the city found love. Sensing Brit’s thoughts, Ethan tilted his head curiously toward hers.

Several seconds passed as wet kisses were exchanged outside of the room. Brit pressed her lips lightly against Ethan’s. The girl outside confessed, “You make me feel valued. No one else ever did, you know. Until I met you, I didn’t exist. Before I met you, my soul was a ghost without a home.”

Ethan placed his hand on Brit’s back returning her soft kiss while the boy on the other side of the wall told the girl, “I am so lucky I found you. It makes me wonder why I was even getting up each morning before we met. You complete me like nothing else ever could, and without you, I would wither and die, so please don’t hurt my heart. I will bleed to death if you do.” Brit looked up with real concern at the statement and Ethan blinked at the melodrama.

The girl said, “But you would still have your heart and you have mine. I gave it to you. If you left, I would have nothing left. I would be alone with my Rice Krispies each day. Just…” The girl’s voice caught before she whispered, “Snap Krackle Cry every day for the rest of my life.” Ethan’s fingers twitched on his pistol and Brit softly lisped, “Aww.”

More sounds of wet, sloppy kisses followed. The boy then said, “At least, you would still have a life to spend. I’d just sit in a dark corner and wait until the darkness is no more.” Kisses and shuffling followed and the boy moaned, “It cannot happen. Even though my chest is open and you have my heart, I am still yours.” Ethan slid Brit off of his lap and walked toward the door again as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Brushing back his hair, Ethan opened the door as the boy said, “You always must return, because only the one who broke you can fix you.”

Brit pattered across the floor and hugged Ethan. She lisped, “Please be sure they have a place to sleep…and food. There is too little love in the city.” Ethan’s fingers itched on the handle of his pistol. Touching her face, he marveled at her prettiness. Brit’s mossy green eyes were wide and sincere, and she was concerned about the couple so in love.

Ethan returned to his desk for the ledger. This time, he positioned himself so the couple could not run as easily. He got their names and registered them in his book before marching them like they were two errant teenagers to the kitchen and told them to eat some soup. The couple walked ahead silently and seemed bewildered they were being given food and a room by the man who accused them of trespassing a few days before. Both ate the soup silently between apprehensive glances toward Ethan.

Brit joined them in the kitchen and chattered amicably for a short time. Brief introductions and the couple seemed to relax. Sensing the sunrise near, Ethan excused him and Brit. The couple watched them both go upstairs. After thinking that Ethan and Brit were out of hearing range, the girl said to the boy, “Dude. Before she showed up, all I could think was Hansel and Gretel. You feel me? Hansel and Gretel.” The boy nodded with wide eyes.

Brit looked up at Ethan asking, “Hansel and Gretel?”

Ethan smirked at her naivety and was pleased that she could hear at such a distance. He kissed her hair and walked her to their resting place. Though the couple was roughly the same age as his wife, he said, “Young people today are tragically apprehensive.” Grinning at her look of confusion, he opened the door.

Twenty Years

Furrowing her brow, Brit peeked again at Ethan. She could see into the hallway where the light was starting to fade from the windows beyond. Briefly she mused that he had not felt sunshine in so very long, and would never feel it again. The room had been set up so that the reflected sunlight could be glimpsed in the attached room, but the wall did not allow it to even accidently reflect to where they rested. The wall was a small marvel of engineering for which Ethan had paid dearly so that Brit could maintain her sense of day and night. Images of the night before flashed in her memory. She focused on each one as she pulled the threads of her gown that were torn and loose trying to remember at which point her dress was damaged.

True to Ethan’s word, Brit had not left the room where they rested. Requested pancakes had been delivered and he politely turned down her request to play a game of chase. At no point did Ethan leave the room either, and he spoke only when necessary. Unlike before when they spent weeks in their resting place, there were no stories or cuddles or anything. Brit had spent hours layering color after color over the same single line. Ethan sat at his desk pretending to go over some ledgers but was keenly aware of her. Thinking she might catch his eye, Brit looked up at him from her coloring book. He was not watching her. “Vexed,” he had said when she asked whether he was angry. Closing the book with a sigh, she walked to where six marbles remained next to a wall. Settling near them, she rolled them one at a time watching them slowly move to the other side of the room and come to a complete stop before rolling the next one. Once all six were clustered, she moved to the other side of the room to repeat the process. She did not notice Ethan’s fingers squeeze the ledger slightly at the inevitable soft tap as the marble hit the wall.

Closing the ledger, Ethan moved to the chest with his belongings and dressed as he had been the night before. He combed his hair back into the usual style and arranged himself to perfection. Returning to his chair, he watched her roll the marbles again across the floor in silence keeping her self busy. Hearing the sixth marble tap the wall, he rolled it directly back to her. “Brit,” he started softly, “I want you to explain to me what you did wrong. Try to go into as much detail as you can.”

Brit caught the marble and picked it up along with the other marbles to place them in a bag. “I made you mad…vexed…. because I left the Shelter when you said not to.” Picking up her few crayons near the book, she started to arrange them in a box according to the color wheel. Ethan watched her and noticed that her gown was scrunched about her making it look as if she were sitting in a puddle of damask fabric. She said nothing else but her thoughts added, “And that is why you don’t love me anymore.”

Tilting his head to the side in surprise, he moved a bit closer touching her chin with his index and middle fingers to lift it up until she looked to him. “Of course I love you. That is why I’m very particular about your understanding this cannot ever happen again.” The realization that his wife thought he no longer loved her caused an unsettling feeling that left him to babble slightly, “You will always do as I tell you. Because you know I am more experienced and will always care for you…acting in our best interest.” Ethan stopped for a moment to give Brit a chance to process before continuing, “When I go to great length to educate you about something, you will not ignore me…or let curiosity have you act against my requests. We had discussed this very issue just the day before intensely and you disobeyed me the very next day.” Looking down, he saw her take his hand and paused, and then added quickly, “You promised to obey when we got married.” She did not respond and he could see she was lost in thought. He whispered, “But of course I love you, Brit.”

“But you did not give me kisses. Not when I saw you or even when we rested,” she replied. Her fingers traced the shape of his hand. “Not when I saw you or even when we rested.” Her voice was not accusatory but seemed bewildered.

Ethan nodded in agreement. “That is true. You see, actions yield consequences and, depending on the actions, there are positive or negative ones.” He continued for sometime justifying reasoning for the lack of kisses. Her fingers trailed over his hand. Sometimes, the tracing took on the shape of patterns. Letters…numbers. Ethan did not notice as he continued, “If I did not care about you the way that I do, I would not really think about it and would have ignored such a situation.” She seemed focused on the tracing of his hand. Letters and numbers and symbols. Watching her, Ethan was saying, “Me being so affected by you though doesn’t allow me to act differently.” Brit seemed silently focused on his hand as she continued to trace. “I need to know you understand what you did wrong and not ever do it again.”

Even after he had finished speaking, she continued to focus on the numbers which she now wrote on his palm with her finger. He could see she was heavily focused and so he looked to her mind. She was counting. In her mind, she was adding, multiplying, dividing, and multiplying again. “Twenty years, Ethan.” The number twenty was clearly seen in her mind.

Tilting his head to the side, he kept one hand touching her chin and supported the weight of her head so that he could look directly at her. “What do you mean twenty years, Brit? Perhaps you will enlighten me as I do not see this correlation at this moment as what this has to do with making me feel you understand what the issue was and is, and what you need to change.” Setting his jaw, he grumbled, “I do not understand ‘twenty years’.”

Brit continued to draw a set of numbers on his palm silently. He could see she was deeply saddened over the realization that she had broken a promise to him and had broken her promise to God. “Twenty years, Ethan.” Looking up, she whispered, “It is how long you have made me wait for a kiss now, if I compare your years to mine.”

Ethan blinked once at her thought process and tried to do the math to see how accurate she was. Halfway through, he realized that she had just distracted him, though not on purpose. That would not do when he was annoyed that she allowed a distraction to take her from the Shelter. Ethan shook his head and refocused on her. “I waited hundreds of years for you to give me that first kiss; and I shall not have it spoiled by things we can change and affect with our behavior.” His mouth set firmly. “You will understand fully what you did wrong and be sure not to ever repeat the same mistake!” Realizing his voice was too forceful and too fast, he regrouped and said more calmly as he released her chin and adjusted the lace on his sleeve. “After that, you can have all the kisses that you crave.” Hinting a pout, he grumbled, “It hurts me as much as you not to share such things. But I need to know you understand first.”

Remaining close, she peeked up at him beneath her sooty lashes and her fingers caressed his wrist. “Are you going to make me wait twenty-one years for a kiss?” Ethan peeked in her mind at her thoughts. Her question lacked the manipulative motives another might seek: Brit simply wanted her kisses and he saw she was feeling rejection. His fingers stretched toward her face that seemed to shimmer in the low light with the porcelain perfection that it had attained via his vitae’s powers. Her motions were gracefully feminine and her eyes remained guileless. His mood grew dark at the unfairness of such a combination.

Pulling his wrist back, he focused again on his lace sleeve and said quickly, “It is not like I woke and suddenly denied you kisses.” His words were sounding stale to him. He tilted his head to the side and gazed at her a moment. Her lips had formed a perfect pout and she rested her hand on his shoulder touching his hair. Ethan blinked feeling himself wanting the soft touches. He straightened remembering what he was telling her. “Maybe I forgot I want to kiss you like you forgot what I told you explicitly not to do?” The words sounded wrong to him. Her lower lip quivered and he stammered, “No. I did not forget.” Her eyes seemed greener than he ever remembered as she watched him. Clearing his throat, he tried to remember where he was, “Because…I know the importance of such things.” Her fingers lightly caressed his upper arms. He noticed the whiteness of her fingers against his dark jacket. His words whispered rather slowly, “It’s a fact that…depending on your behavior…I will be seeking them more or less than usual.” Ethan blinked feeling her hand touch his hair again. He started to reach for her hand but ended up wrapping an arm around her. His voice grew softer. “Brit. I just..I need to know that you understand and will not repeat the same mistake.” His arms tightened slowly closing the gap between them. His lips barely touched her forehead in the softest of kisses.

Brit closed her eyes and held her breath through his kiss. She could feel her skin tingle beneath where he had touched. “I do not mean to upset you, Ethan…or hurt you.” Her body pressed against his and he could smell the sunshine on her skin. “I just do not think that kisses should be given for anything but love.” Silence followed for moments. Her body dragged across his as she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips lightly to his, as gentle as an angel’s wing. Ethan pulled her in tighter. The kiss reminded him of the slow, soft kiss she gave him in return to the first kiss he had ever given her.

Her body was warm and soft as she nuzzled against him. Ethan could sense her sincerity. His lips gave her another soft kiss. “No, you did not do it on purpose….perhaps this is what leaves me not pleased…” Brit returned each of his kisses silently and she seemed relieved to see that he still loved her. “You will think of things before you…” His words were interrupted by another returned kiss. “You will give consideration and priorities to your actions.” More kisses that deepened and lingered. “I…know you are not a little girl…you will not think like a little girl again.” His fingers entwined in her hair and his words were lost in his observation of its softness. “And you will always do what I go to great lengths to make sure is done.”

Pressing against him, she returns each kiss. “Okay,” she whispers wrapping her arms around his neck kissing him with a sweet softness that melts into a kiss that begs to be deepened. Ethan kept her close to him. His fingers never leaving their position as she takes more initiative. Nodding once, he felt she finally understood him. Her heart called to him. Again, he focused on the sound of her blood flowing in her body and the warmth of her lips against his skin. His other arm wrapped around her pulling her tightly to him, perhaps too tightly. Ethan lifted Brit up walking a few meters to his desk where he pressed her against it with his body weight. He paused a moment to ensure he had said all he wanted to say.

Ethan felt annoyed with himself that Brit could prove such a distraction. Placing a finger to her lips, he said menacingly, “You will not disobey me again.” His eyes widened as she opened her lips to bite his finger gently. Her mind was open and he heard clearly a ‘yes, Ethan’. He could feel all of her sadness being replaced by love. There was no fear in his menacing demeanor. “All women have the make up to be Jezebels,” he muttered. Not making any excuses about pinning her arms, he opened his mouth wide and plunged his fangs deep into her neck. Biting quite hard, he took slow but deep sips of her, much like a beast would take of its prey. The sips grew more paced. Keeping her pinned with one hand, he bit into his own wrist pressing the pooling blood to her lips. Ethan flexed his wrist causing the blood to flow into her more like a demanded sharing of him rather than an offering. He continued to drink of her as she did of him. His body kept her pinned along with his fangs in her throat. His vitae continued to pour into her as his free hand sifted through the multiple layers of her gown until he touched her bare skin.

Hours passed. Ethan had not felt dizzy from blood exchange, but he felt dizzy tonight. The slow exchange of blood for kisses and kisses for blood gave both heady sensations. Ethan noticed that Brit’s sweat had a pink tinge to it. After ensuring all puncture wounds were safely closed, he listened to her thread heartbeat and examined the deep bruises on her body. Sitting up, he blinked at the slight head rush and brushed his hair back. Looking down at her on the desk, he touched his lips wiping blood from them. “We won’t be going out tonight,” he whispered and carried her to cuddle until sunrise.