Eternal (6)

“You know those can’t harm me,” the masculine voice stated the ridiculous words as if they were fact, but Mirra had the huge gun in her right hand with her finger on the trigger. She pulled the gun to her and grasped it with both hands while sitting up on the bed. The covers fell down to reveal two perfect breasts and the gun aimed directly at the man in the doorway. 1

Somehow, for some unknown reason, Mirra spoke instead of fired. “I’ve got thirty-two chances to kill you . If I miss that many times, you deserve to get me.” Her heart pounded and blood, ice cold, pounded through her veins. She had meant her voice to come out strong and bold, but it sounded scared and weak.2

“Mirra, think, you know bullets can’t kill me.” The voice spoke with the tone of explaining a simple fact like “fire is hot” to a two year old. The voice was caring, reproachful, even, as if it was somehow its fault that the words were true. “Come now, Mirra, all you’ll do is wake the neighbors. I came to talk to you.” He had a soft, caring, old friend tone.3

Mirra couldn’t figure out just why she hadn’t fired the weapon yet. Her mind was whirling. Somewhere it registered something. “How do you know my name?” she asked. 4

The figure came no closer, but Mirra’s fear abounded.5

“Turn on the light, Mirra, so you can see me. I have come to speak with you.” It was a simple request, phrased as a command. 6

Never taking her aim off of the figure or her finger off of the trigger, Mirra slowly reached out blindly and fumbled for the little lamp on the milk crates switch. The room was suddenly illuminated, and the brightness of the dim light made her eyes blink.7

Mirra had had many dreams about men breaking into her house and in each one there had been a fearsome blood bath with bullets flying through walls and rough looking thugs brains blown out by her own hand, but never had the robbers looked like him.8

A gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the form. It was him! Somehow she had known it would be the man from under the street lamp at the stop sign. The man at her car window. The man of her dreams. The man who struck fear in her heart.9

He stood in the portal to her bedroom dressed exactly as she remembered. He was wearing a black calf length coat that looked to be a London Fog. She had no idea why she was concerned with where he shopped at a time like this, but the detail stuck in her mind. She could see the black suit coat that covered a dark gray oxford shirt. The gold buckle on his black belt was the only color added to his attire. His black slacks were immaculately pressed and his polished shoes reflected the light.10

He spoke. “Keep the gun trained on me if it makes you feel better, Mirra, my dear, but please calm down so you can consider what I’ve come to say.” The words sounded like an indulgence, and he smiled slightly. The endearment he used sounded heartfelt and he waited for her to decide whether to shoot or scream or both. She did neither.11

She didn’t know what kept her from pulling the trigger. Maybe it was something in his eyes, maybe something inside… but she didn’t fire. Her fear didn’t subside either. Instead a new one arose from within her, deep and dark. She recognized this something within herself. She wanted to hear what he had to say. Never once did she let the gun falter; she kept it aimed directly at him. Her eyes were always on him, waiting for any movement, waiting for him to prove himself to be the son of a bitch she thought he’d be. Never in any of her nightmares had someone broken in her house and wanted to talk to her. Maybe that was what threw her off guard. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, but the horrifying reality was that it was happening. She didn’t know what to do. She just stared at him. For some strange reason, something inside her stirred. She stared at the outline of his face, his chiseled features, the way he stood there so confidently, nonchalantly even. No mass murderer or rapist or common thief could stand there so charismatically, so confidently. Every single ebony hair was precisely in place, his penetrating steel blue eyes aimed directly toward her. For the first time, she realized her nakedness and thought about pulling the covers up, but to do that she would have to relinquish half the hold of her gun that she aimed directly at him. Eventually, her childhood teachings won out and modesty demanded she take her left hand and pull the covers up to her neck. She also pulled her knees up to her chest as well.12

“Who are you?” The voice echoed in her mind from far away. Some subconscious part of her realized that the words had come from her lips, but the same part of her deemed that impossible. The voice had been too calm, too cold, and too full of rage to be hers. She felt the anger well up inside her like molten lava, waiting to erupt. Rage at the violation of the sanctity of her house, her bed chamber. Rage that this man stood before her so calmly, patiently, without even a hint of fear.13

“I am Drayden, you know exactly who I am.” The rage began to subside. It was the way he spoke to her, the tone he used, like he cared for her, like he knew her, like he wanted to talk to her, understand her, and wanted to be near her. He slowly began to calm her even as she still kept the gun trained on him. “Mirra, I’ve waited a long time to come to you. I've come to give you the choice you've always wanted to make."14

Something inside her snapped, “I wanted you to give me a choice? I don’t even know who the fuck you are!” 15

The fire in her eyes and her southern accent made him smile. In her rage she looked so beautiful sitting in her bed, trying to use an Indian design comforter to hide her nakedness. She tried to appear like a steel fortress, but down deep inside she knew the reason she hadn’t fired the weapon was because it was useless. She wasn’t someone who was afraid to pull the trigger and kill a man, she simply knew she couldn’t kill him. He knew she was brave or she would have shot out of fear and instinct and screamed bloody murder like so many women before her, and that would have pissed him off, really pissed him off. No, she was meeting his expectations, and that caused a smile to come across his face; not a sneer, but an actual smile. For the first time in generations he was actually happy. He knew that he’d been right. His patience had been rewarded. 16

"Think about what I'm offering you, Mirra. You have always known me. You have always wanted what I have to offer. You long for it. Make any arrangements you think are necessary. Have a good night's sleep, my darling," he commanded. "I'll be back for you." With that, he was gone; he simply vanished from her doorway. Mirra sat dumbfounded and stared at where Drayden had been. She had no idea what to do. She was still holding the gun, sitting up in bed, wondering what she had gotten herself into. For some reason, she couldn't think about it right now. Her eyelids were so heavy, all she wanted was sleep, merciful sleep. Drowsiness overcame her and a dreamless, restful sleep overcame her, just as Drayden had commanded. 17

The alarm jolted her awake. She reached over to hit the snooze and to her amazement, her gun crashed into the alarm. She had held it all night. Her lamp was still on, too. With perfect clarity, she remembered the night's event. Mirra tried to tell herself that it must've all been a dream, but she couldn't convince herself of it. Somehow, she knew it had been real. Drayden was real and he was coming for her. The thought made her whole body shiver. She had no idea what to do or who to turn to. The cold reality of it was that there was no one to turn to, no one would believe her… not even Jamie. She desperately wanted to call her and tell her best friend what had happened, but she couldn't. The disbelief in her eyes the last time she'd spoken of a real vampire had hurt Mirra too much. She couldn't stand to look in Jamie's eyes and see her think she was losing her grip on reality. There was nothing to be done. Mirra resolutely got out of bed and dressed for class. 18

The mechanics of the day kept her thoughts off of him as much as anything could. Her classes were a tough distraction. Even her cadaver lab class which she usually loved, wasn't cutting it. She found the intricacies of the human body fascinating, but today, nothing could shroud the cloud that covered her. Mirra made it through that day and the next. The week chugged along, and she honestly began to believe that it had all been a dream. She buried herself in her schoolwork and created a routine of practically living at the library. Friday was a hell day for her with two exams and she was ready for the weekend. She stopped off at her favorite burger joint for dinner, then grabbed a case of Bud Light at the Quick Trip before heading home to relax and unwind. Mirra propped her feet up on the coffee table and watched one of her favorite movies at home. She even busied herself with cleaning house, a chore she despised, just to keep herself occupied. Nothing worked. 19

She grabbed another beer from the fridge and wandered outside. Mirra sat in her green plastic lawn chair in the back yard sipping a cold beer, trying to get the thoughts of the dark stranger out of her mind. She exhaled and watched the smoke drift in the wind. It was just past twilight and the moon was nearly full tonight. She searched the sky for familiar constellations, but she knew that in the city, there wouldn't be any. That was one thing she missed about the country – the nights. They were so peaceful. The sounds of whip-poor-wills, frogs, and crickets were comforting and soothing. She even loved the lonesome call of the coyotes and the excited way the dogs of her youth would answer. Night time was soothing for Mirra. She had always been a night owl. Her internal clock would much rather stay up half the night and sleep until way past noon which always pissed her dad off. 20

She looked at the red ember of the cigarette as she twirled it in her hand and took another swallow of Bud. Mirra sat her beer on the rusty green wire mesh patio table next to her overflowing ashtray. Suddenly, she knew she wasn't alone in the back yard. The hair on the back of her neck pricked up and goose bumps broke out all over her body. Her animal instincts were at work straining her body's senses, warning her of danger. Even before her eyes saw him, she knew he was there. She looked up at the dark man with a start. He was threatening, yet disarming, as he just stood ten feet in front of her on the patchy lawn where he definitely had not been a minute earlier. 21

The privacy fence was old, but solid, eight feet tall, and it ran the entire way around the back yard. The gate was padlocked from the inside and the patio was built directly out of the middle portion of the old wooden house. He couldn't have gotten where he was by any ordinary means, and her dreaded conclusion was that he was no ordinary human being. Hundreds of thoughts raged through her head. She flung them out as fast as they came, but one kept coming back to haunt her… 22

You’ve always wanted to meet one… 23

LUDICRUS!!! Her mind screamed at itself. Yet, there he stood, big as night and sexy as hell. 24

He said nothing and Mirra swallowed hard. A cold shiver ran through her body, followed closely by another. Her mind swam, trying to derive her escape. There was no way for her to get up and beat him in the house and lock the door. She had no weapon, save the lit cigarette in her right hand, so she took a drag off of it and tried to think sanely. Breaking the beer bottle and using it crashed through her head, but something told her there was no escape. A serene sense of calmness washed over her. 25

His teeth were brilliantly white and gorgeous. Mirra had always had a thing about men’s teeth. She couldn’t stand to be with a man who didn’t have what she termed sexy teeth. White, straight, and even better, pronounced, pointed canines. Tom Cruise was her favorite actor for that singular reason. 26

Old Def Leppard tunes oddly permeated the night air from her radio in the kitchen. What once seemed soothing, now seemed like an insult to his presence. On some level, she knew exactly what he was, and he knew it. She did and did not want to acknowledge that realization. 27

Somewhere, from deep inside, she found the strength to calmly take another drag off of her smoke and stare at him. He seemed impressed that she hadn't freaked out at his presence and the glint of a grin slid its way across his lips. Mirra exhaled as he took a step toward her.28

His voice was deep and musical to her ears. “Are you ready?” 29

Those three words struck fear in her heart. She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This could not be happening. She knew exactly what he was and what he had come for, but couldn’t believe it. All her life she had said she wanted what he was offering, but now that he was standing right in front of her she was terribly, horrifyingly afraid. Be careful what you wish for, the thought came involuntarily, You just might get it. 30

He was tall. Probably six foot six, she guessed. His shoulder length ebony hair framed his rugged face, making it seem too pale for his hair and his clothes. It seemed to almost glow in the semidarkness. His lips were full, kissable lips and his eyes were dark cerulean pools set upon masculine jawbones. His neck was thick, muscular, and save his huge, unjewelled hands, this was all of his skin that was visible. His silk shirt was so dark it was ebony. The only thing even remotely shiny about him was the belt buckle that lay against what she knew was an achingly taut abdomen. His slacks fit him well. Even his black shoes shined and seemed to announce a presence of money. 31

Drayden took a step toward her and instinctively, she tried to push herself through the back of the chair. She was definitely afraid of him, and definitely attracted to him. His voice was like masculine music to her ears. "I have waited long enough for you, Mirra." It was a simple fact, the way he said it. He kept coming. He was before her now, extending his hand. “Come to me, my Mirra.” It was a command, and for some32

reason unknown to her, she obeyed. She felt herself rise from the chair and stand before him. Slowly, she saw her left hand outstretch to meet his and was aware that her right hand had dropped her cigarette. She looked up into his eyes. They were deep blue, like the icy depths of they ocean, and they were sparking, sending out tiny bolts toward her. She could get lost in those eyes. This man possessed something that no other man ever had. And Mirra knew exactly what it was. A million questions were racing through her mind, but she couldn’t look away from his gaze. 33

To him, her eyes looked like a child’s eyes, still yet, but he couldn’t wait for her any longer. He had waited ten years for her and that was long enough. He guided her to the patio door, never taking his eyes off of her. With her right hand she slid the glass door open and stepped inside, leading him in without a word. His shoes made no sound on the old yellow tile floor as they walked straight through her unkempt kitchen, past the fading, peeling floral wallpaper, and dirty dishes down the dark, narrow hallway to her bedroom. 34

The house was cool and her bedroom a mess, as always. The bedcovers were in wads on the bed and spilling off onto the old brown shag carpeted floor. Jewelry she rarely wore and childhood trinkets were scattered amongst perfumes on the dresser. He took no notice of these things. Drayden squeezed her hand and she turned to face him. No more than two feet were between them, and the electricity in the air was palpable. 35

With his left hand still in her right, he stroked her dark curls away from her face. His touch was ecstasy and she closed her eyes. His thumb caressed her cheekbone and he tilted her chin so that her face was raised to his. Mirra opened her eyes for a moment to look into his. Drayden's eyes were on fire. On fire for her! 36

He pulled her to him and kissed her in a way she had never been kissed. She thought he might crush her as his lips overpowered hers and his hands pulled her against his hard body. Mirra put her hands around him and reached over his shoulders to pull at his coat. It slid off of him like water. The silk shirt underneath was liquid beneath her fingertips and she almost melted as his tongue possessed her mouth. Her eyeballs rolled back in her head beneath closed lids and she thought she might faint from his kiss. It was a good thing he was holding her so tightly, or she might fall. It seemed like they kissed for hours, and she was lost in his embrace. His hands slowly roved up and down her back and buttocks. Vaguely she was aware that she was wearing cut off jeans and an old t-shirt. This struck her as an odd contrast to his attire. Thoughts flew in and out of her mind like lightning, one following the next, all without answer. He enveloped her mouth with his and took her breath away. His hands roamed her body, and pulled her shirt up. He broke the kiss only long enough to pull it over her head before he claimed her mouth for his own again. 37

Another obscure thought flew through her head, I wish I was wearing one of my good bras. Mirra’s mind was dulled with the sweet sensation of his tongue. Never before had a man kissed her like this. It was as if the room swam and her body was weightless. His kiss left her mouth and his lips began a hot trail down her throat. Instantly, terror broke out within her and she immediately stiffened. The moment was gone. Fire as cold as ice ran though her veins, and for the first time she was scared of him. Drayden felt her tense and backed off. He lifted his lips from her body and looked deeply into her eyes. There was something in her eyes, something that he sorely wanted to possess. Mirra impressed him. She had shown no fear of him until now. That was good. If she had screamed or bolted for the door when he appeared, he would have killed her like thousands before. But he knew she was different. She was strong, and special. She wanted to be like him. Her soul had called to him, and he had answered. 38

He looked down at her and locked her eyes. “You want this,” he said. “You’ve always wanted this.” His voice was deep and throaty. His eyes had a feral glow that they hadn’t held before. The vampire hadn’t known it would be this hard. He wanted to take her now, but that wouldn’t be fair to her. He loved her, as much as it was in his power to love. He had watched her and grown to love her over the years. He had watched over her and saved her from harm on two separate occasions. She was his. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to claim her. Yet, he wanted her to keep her innocence. He wanted more than anything to please her and give her what she secretly desired most. 39

The animal within him was chained for the moment, but he knew it was there, gnashing its teeth, wanting to get out. He could control himself with her, just this once, he told himself. After this night, she would be strong enough to handle his power, if she survived. Then, he could be as rough with her as he wanted. He had to restrain himself tonight, though. She was only a human. 40

He backed off of her in the soft light of the room, but kept his hands on her thin waist, massaging her olive skin. He stood in front of her and waited. She was so lovely, standing there so frailly, barefoot in button fly jean shorts and a pale yellow bra. 41

Timidly, she reached out toward him and let her hands run over his chest. He was strong. The black silk felt wonderful beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes and let her hands roam all over his chest, down to his abdomen and back up again. She felt his shoulders and strong biceps through the silk and it felt oh, so good. She wanted to see what was underneath that shirt. Suddenly the silk was too much in the way of her fingertips. She wanted to feel HIM. Slowly she undid his top button, then the next, and the next. She spread his shirt open wide to reveal a chiseled chest, carved as if from marble, sent from the gods. She let her hands meander over this glorious skin and slowly pulled his shirt up out of the prison of his pants that kept it trapped against his body. She slid it down over his arms and slowly walked around him, stopping when she got to his back. 42

She longed to kiss him, so she pressed her lips against his shoulder blade and felt him revel in it. His head tilted upward and his arm muscles got even harder. She stayed there, raining little kisses on his back and shoulders for what seemed like an eternity. He wasn’t used to having to use such restraint. Finally, she worked her way around to his chest again and began to kiss him there. Her tongue ran little circles around his nipple and when she opened her eyes to look up at him, it was all he could take. He grabbed her by both arms, picked her up, and crushed her on the bed. He took her mouth again and ground himself against her. He could feel his fangs beginning their descent and forced himself not to think about the sweetness of her blood. His tongue licked her neck and blazed a trail down to her breasts. He could feel her tense as he passed her jugular and that helped him cope, at least for the moment. 43

Mirra came to lying naked in the bathtub and had only a moment to realize it before the most intense pain she had ever felt overtook her entire body. She tried to clamor out of the tub to hit the toilet before the vomit exploded from her mouth but didn’t make it. The hamburger she’d had for dinner leapt out of her throat and heaved on the old green linoleum floor. The nausea was one huge wave. There was no stopping it. She retched until she was sure her insides were going to explode. She had almost got her head into the toilet to avert some of the mess when she realized something even worse was coming. She stood up and traded her head and her butt places just in time. She grabbed for the trashcan and puked into it while at the same time her bowels voided everything. 44

Mirra had never been this sick in her entire life. She’d had some forty-eight hour viruses in her time that she’d thought had wanted to make her die, but this was something entirely different. She was dying. Her body was getting rid of everything in it. The vomit had gone from food stuff to that yellow stomach acid color and she was now down to puking up the most bitter tasting green bile that her gall bladder could produce. The cramps in her stomach made her want to scream, but she couldn’t even get a breath to scream because of all the fluid pouring out of her mouth. The thought occurred to her that she hadn’t inhaled a breath in who knows how long. She couldn’t stop retching and she felt like her asshole had exploded. The pain was excruciating and her body was doubled over from it. Mirra fainted. 45

When she roused this time, she was lying in a pool of her own vomit and feces in the floor. Her hair had chunks clinging to it and she didn’t want to know what it was. The smell made her want to puke again. The urge rose soundly, but there was simply nothing left in her body to void. She flushed the full toilet and prayed that it would all go down and reached for the toilet paper to begin mopping up some of the floor. She used two rolls of Charmin and got up most of the mess then threw a towel down on top of it, sprayed the Dollar General Store version of Lysol all over the place and stepped into the tub and pulled her tropical fish shower curtain. 46

The hot water of the shower sprayed down on her and she let it sting her face. It felt wonderful. She wasn’t brave enough to run her fingers through her hair yet so she turned around and let the river of water rinse through it for several minutes before reaching for the bottle of shampoo. She was in mid lather when her mind finally returned. Where is he? What has he done to me? She blushed at the thought of making love to him, a complete stranger. What in the hell have I done? The thought came unbidden of his strong hands caressing her body, the feel of him inside her, making her come again and again like no man ever had. She shivered at the thought and smiled. 47

Mirra stepped out of the shower after having washed her whole body a good three times and threw another towel on top of the original just in case. She coated the room again with Lysol, brushed her teeth soundly and combed through her wet hair. The bathroom door opened into her bedroom and she walked out to find him lying on her bed fully clothed, looking just as fresh and handsome as he had standing out on her patio in the night air. She shut the bathroom door behind her quickly embarrassed of the smells that must still be emanating from it before she realized she was stark naked. Now she didn’t know what to be embarrassed of most. The fact that she was naked, the smell, or that she had just given her body to a complete stranger. 48