Dakota here with the long awaited chapter 7. If you're a new reader, I recommend that you start with chapter 1, as this is an ongoing series with only a few references to past events. But hey, who am I to tell you what to read first? You do you.
Returning reader? Welcome back! This chapter is a bit lighter fare than the insanity of the previous chapters. Not to give anything away but it's got humor, heavy metal, and a bit of light BDSM. Enjoy!
James didn't have to wait long before Lenore reappeared from whatever lair she kept within the house. Before she was wearing sweats and a band shit, having just woken up. Now she was dressed for a night out; skintight jeans, knee-high boots, and a black motorcycle jacket that was more punk-rock than biker chic.
She was wearing makeup too; dark mascara around her eyes but also blush that brought color to her otherwise pale face. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected that might have been for his sake.
"Let's go," she announced flatly, strutting past him.
He picked up his bag and followed.
The boathouse was only a short walk from the main house and James followed the vampire down the narrow path. From the outside, it was small, even charming, but like many things about this island and its inhabitants, there was more under the surface. Lenore opened the door revealing the squat boathouse actually extended into the island itself, dug into the sloping embankment, and was much bigger inside than it looked from outside.
It housed a fairly unassuming fifty-foot yacht.
"Hm."
"What?" Lenore asked.
He laughed. "Nothing. It's silly." It really was. "Cool boat though."
"Tell me," Lenore ordered, her expression serious.
"Don't worry about it."
"Tell me," she repeated, her voice demanding.
He met her gaze with his own. She was scowling at him as if he'd just gravely insulted her but he did not take kindly to being ordered around. "Make me."
"Oh, I can make you," Lenore sneered at him.
"You can try. Or you could just say please."
Lenore narrowed her eyes. "I have torn men to pieces for less insolence."
He sighed. He'd thought that maybe her disposition toward him would have warmed after their tryst last night. Clearly, he was mistaken.
"Yeah. I'm sure you have. And you can kill me if you want. Or, you can choose to be fucking civilized and treat me with some decency."
Then she was in front of him, eyes black, and fangs extended in an intimidating power play.
"Do you think I won't kill you?"
He gazed into her black eyes. It was like looking into an abyss. In more than a few ways, this was a lot like the night before.
"What about me pisses you off so much?"
"You're a human. Need I say more?"
"No, that's not it. I don't imagine you're bothered much by humans." Then he realized the connection. "I remind you of Edward, don't I?"
Her eyes flickered, those black pupils shrinking just enough to reveal the green irises. "Of course not," she spat.
"That's it," he said, the realization becoming sharper and more obvious. "When Gwen told me the story of the first time you faced off against Anubis, she emphasized certain things about Edward. About how at first you two didn't get along. About coming to you for advice—"
"Stop talking," Lenore said, now less angry and more, what, pleading? "Please."
"Alright." James put his hands up in a truce.
"You're not like him," she said, turning away from him. "He was inexperienced. Naive. Not like you. It's clear there's more to you than you admit, James the student."
It was clear she wanted to say more but busied herself with prepping the yacht. As it was not his boat, James didn't presume to help.
"So . . . please," Lenore said, clearly trying to be conversational. "What was that about?"
"It was just that I was half-expecting we'd fly or teleport or something. I wasn't expecting an actual boat."
Lenore scoffed. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"Hey, I told you it was silly. You insisted."
Lenore nodded. "This is our main transportation to and from the island. Either Gwen or I make a supply run about once a month depending on what we need."
"I thought you could fly."
"I can. But it's hard to go shopping and carry bags home when I'm in the form of bats, let alone a dude."
The image of a swarm of bats carrying grocery bags and Amazon boxes caused James to grin widely.
"How does that work, by the way? Like, if a single bat gets separated or gets taken out by a hawk, when you reform, will you be missing a hand or something?"
"It would be no easier to divide me in that form than in this. It only looks like a bunch of individual bats but, really, they're all me."
"Neat."
"How did you get to our island anyway?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual but obviously probing for information.
While he'd told Gwen his visit was meant to be a one-way trip, he was still guarded around the vampire, more so after her outburst. She was a predator to her core and despite the night before, he was still very much on guard.
"Friend gave me a ride. Dropped me off." That was true enough. Although James didn't really count the charter company he'd used as a friend.
Lenore narrowed her eyes at him. "When was this 'friend' supposed to get you?"
"It was open-ended. I was supposed to contact them when I was done."
"When you were done with your science?"
"That's right."
It wasn't a lie. He had, in fact, collected soil samples. He just hadn't planned on returning.
He felt her stealing glances at him as she piloted the boat but tried not to notice. She was a good skipper, piloting the big yacht with skill. After last night, he wasn't sure where he stood with her. He was pretty sure she wasn't planning on killing him, but he didn't pretend to understand the motivations of her kind. Maybe last night meant nothing and she didn't care at all. Maybe it did and this was her version of romantic banter.
The Puget Sound was an enormous waterway and, despite it being one of the most heavily trafficked waterways in the world, was surprisingly empty of other boats and ships. There were several tankers and container ships in the distance and a few smaller pleasure craft near the shore but the sun was setting quickly and most of those were heading toward their marinas.
Lenore steered the yacht silently and James sat with her in the pilot house in quiet contemplation, enjoying the cool sea air. The yacht was luxurious without being ostentatious and was far removed from the boat ride he'd taken out to Sun Stone Island a few days prior. It was hard to wrap his head around all that had happened since. He thought that saying he'd gained a reason for living was a cliche copout but he was certain that he'd crossed a threshold between his old life and the one he'd lead from then on.
Whatever happened, he was changed.
An hour later they pulled into a slip of a marina. Lenore tied off the boat and wordlessly jumped off, seemingly not caring if James followed.
He grabbed his backpack and followed her down the dock, aware she was likely playing another game with him.
"You walk slow, James the student."
"And you're in a mighty rush to get to a museum that's closed."
"Getting in after hours is not an issue."
"Yes. It is."
She stopped and faced him. He thought she might try to intimidate him again, but she just stared. "Explain."
"First rule of any recon mission is not to be detected by your subject. Sure, we could show up at this late hour, break in, and look around, but if Anubis is there it'll be easy for him to find us too. We'd be on his turf after all."
"So you suggest going during the day?" She said the last word with clear contempt.
"Yes. More people, easier to blend in, and figure out the lay of the land. And he doesn't know about me."
Lenore considered this. "I'm still going with you."
"Will going out during the day affect you?"
"I'll manage."
In the parking lot, they arrived at a rather inconspicuous Toyota Tacoma. It was the perfect truck for someone wanting to keep a low profile.
"So, where to, then?" Lenore asked.
James held out his hand for the keys.
Lenore looked at his hand and relented, giving them over.
"I think you could use a night out."
***
Stupid girl, Lenore thought.
Here she was, letting a man she'd just met drive her around town like she was some pick-me Tinder date. He casually tapped on the wheel to the beat of the rock station as he drove, completely comfortable with the lack of conversation.
The night before had been a mistake.
She'd been so spun up from her hunt and then her encounter with Anubis that she'd practically thrown herself at this strange man. She was intrigued that he didn't seem particularly afraid of her. She watched grown men, with all the conviction their religion could provide, piss themselves when she came at them.
James made jokes.
And he managed to do something no man had done in hundreds of years: he got the upper hand on her.
She'd been foolish and impetuous, too comfortable in her years of being the apex predator wherever she went. When she visited him the night before, she had intended to scare him into telling her who he was; she didn't buy his story of coming to their island for a moment. But when he managed to put that stake between them, pushing it against her breast with fierce defiance burning in his eyes . . . it made her so fucking wet she almost came right then.
She'd never been in real danger from him, of course. But the risk of it was there and it woke something terrible in her.
Despite her better judgment, she found herself attracted to him in a way she hadn't been attracted to anyone in, well, a very long time.
