Writer's Note- This story is (was) an entrant for the open novella contest. I chose the family heirloom prompt. Thanks for reading :)
Writer's Note #2 (July 14) â As of July 12 this story is completed, so it's all here. I may or may not go back and edit for continuity, grammar and incorrect dialogue tags so excuse the mess.
This story is inspired by a short story I wrote called 'Xander & Achilles' but you don't need to read that short story to understand and follow this one. Save yourself the trouble.
Also, thanks for opening up and checking out the story. Hope you enjoy!
-RM
#
I finally understood what being struck by lightening felt like. Hit by something so suddenly and inexplicably it could only be a once in a lifetime sensation.
But, for me it was a voice. One that thundered into and through me in a heartbeat, rendering me simultaneously lost and found.
#
The bar was lowly lit, intimate dark corners shaped by a smattering of tables. The place was tiny but packed, the dark furniture blending into the dimness. Something about going to a gay bar made me want to pretend I wasn't really there. The darker the better.
I'd been knocking back drinks for an hour or so, watching a basketball game I didn't really care about. The bartender left me alone and I liked it that way. This was my ridiculous routine. The urge would get too strong and I'd have to go out and satisfy my desires.
There seemed to be some kind of open mic night and most of the guys hadn't been great, a comedian, and far too many singers. Most of the crowd talked over the singers, interested in gathering another kind of entertainment tonight. And, that's when I heard him.
His voice was deep and hoarse, instantly memorable, and filling my stomach with unease. I turned in my stool to watch him as he sung a trashy pop song, turning it into something emotional and unique. My heart nearly burst out of my chest when he finished and the place dropped into silence. And then thundering applause, followed by his shy expectant smile. Even then I could tell he was kind of arrogant, he knew he was good and that kind of confidence was always hot. Once I realized I wanted him, that's when I really started drinking. Trying to wash down this terrible need.
But even then I watched him through the corner of my eye, seeing a lot of guys approach him, but none of them talking to him for long. The bar was full of humans and of course they didn't know they were cruising a vampire.
#
"I'm not that drunk." I slurred, leaning heavily against the guy helping me into my apartment. He was stronger than he looked, just a few inches taller than me but a lot more slender. His arm was slung across the back of my waist, fingers pressed into my shirt. "What's your name, again?" I turned my face into his neck, taking a moment to inhale deeply. The booze made it so easy to do what I wanted, inhibitions gone to the wind. That's the one thing I loved about being drunk, all the shame, the guilt, the humiliation...It all came later.
The man gave a long dramatic sigh. "It's not important."
He helped me into my living room, guiding me into a seat and making his way to my kitchen. Living alone at twenty-seven wasn't unexpected but I was proud of my home. It was a spacious open floor plan modern unit, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. When I invited people over they didn't always like the monochromatic grey and off white theme but I found the pale colours calming. I lived on prime real estate and as a commercial architect I could afford it.
This place was close to pack territory so it was easy to be an active part of the wolf community. I'd been part of the Asheborne pack since birth but it had only been over the last few years that I'd been taking more of a leadership role. Maybe I could be pack alpha in the next few years if I played my cards right but I wasn't so sure about that. It wasn't very alpha like to get stupid drunk.
My eyes slid partially closed as I watched my guest under a heavy gaze, trying to piece together the events of the evening that lead me to invite a vampire into my home.
Wolves and vamps had a strained history. The wars of old hadn't done anyone any good and the younger generations weren't as antagonistic towards one another but there was always that wariness. I felt anything but wary now. I just felt that vicious want that made my skin buzz and my my mind blur.
The man came back into the living room holding a mug of coffee, sauntering over to the couch beside me. Even when he walked it felt akin to dancing, each of his motions moving too fluidly into the next. It should have made me feel discomfited at the wrongness of it but I only felt a not unpleasant tightening in my stomach.
I took a moment to look him over. I wanted to sink my fingers into his hair that was black, styled into kinky and coiled curls. His eyes were a moss green set off by his light brown skin. I'd never seen anyone so pretty before. Certainly not a man. He slid beside me and pushed the steaming mug into my hand. This close I could see he had a few freckles across the bridge of his nose. I tried to start counting them but then he made eye contact with me and the numbers scattered in my brain. The look he gave me made my stomach turn. "I'm not that drunk." I said again feeling a bit of my control slip.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I've escorted you home, when I could be doing better things." I watched the curve of his mouth as he spoke, riveted for no other reason than because it seemed so very sensuous. The small sober part of my mind was horrified. I didn't get drunk too often because I knew how I was. Men were a guilty pleasure I didn't partake in because it was humiliating. I wasn't out and I never would be. It was a blessing that I was at least bi but it was nothing like an even split. I was definitely more into men than women. It was only when I was drunk where I'd do something stupid. Something stupid like taking a man home with me.
The man snapped his long, slender fingers in my face. "Pay attention." He said in that unique raspy baritone. "The gay bar you went to has been the site of a lot of muggings and assaults. I only escorted you home because you were presenting as a prime target, getting smashed like that. I don't normally consort with wolves. Especially, not ones who hit on me."
I touched his face, sliding my thumb across the bridge of his nose. "I can't help it." I admitted. "I get a little bold when I'm drunk." I said after moving my hands off of his face. I had been leaning into him, crowding into his space. The animal part of me wanted to lick his skin, memorize his scent, and sculpt his body against mine until I knew it like the back of my own hand.
The vampire snorted, leaning away and standing up. "I only did you this favour because I hate seeing people get taken advantage of. I know wolf instincts get muddied when you drink too much. Think of this as a favour."
I stood up, too, wobbling only a bit. I only had to angle my head up just a bit to meet his eyes. "I swear I'm not that drunk. You're just the most gorgeous guy I've ever met." The words flowed out of me like water, even though I'd never complimented a guy out loud before. All my experiences had been shoddy motel rooms and dark back alleys. I only wined and dined women, there wasn't anything taboo about a man and woman going out together.
My compliment got a suggestion of a smile out of him, but he still turned and started walking towards the door. "Hopefully, the hangover isn't too much of an inconvenience, Mr. Wolf."
I watched him leave, feeling like angels were singing. "My name is Achilles." I whispered, just before he closed the door, knowing he heard me.
I stared at the closed door, feeling my heart race out of control. Great, I was completely and utterly fucked.
#
I remained in a daze for the next several minutes trying to understand how I could have such a visceral reaction to a stranger. Just some guy at a gay bar who I couldn't take my eyes off of as I took shot after shot trying to wash down the shame and humiliation.
Seeing him walking around my apartment made my heart sing and the part of me that was all instinct felt like being around him in a way that felt right and everything else was wrong. And I didn't even know his name. That impossible soundtrack of singing followed me as I stripped out of my clothes and washed my hands and face in the washroom.
Eventually, I made my way to my bedroom wondering if meeting him was the reason I couldn't get the song out of my head. And then I realized it wasn't coming from my head but out loud.
A sweet and tinkling melody travelled through the air, soft but high notes arcing into something like a lullaby. I paced around my bedroom, feeling like the volume of the music was changing. I followed the sound, opening drawers, before turning to my closet.
My walk-in closet was bigger than it had any right to be, everything in it's place except for a box of things from my last move I hadn't rifled through. The song still called me, right before I saw something emanating pure white light from inside the box.
I walked over to it, kneeling down to reach into the box. It had been given to me by my mother a few years ago on my birthday. She told me they were things from my father's side of the family. He was a man I'd never known so I wasn't too curious but sometimes...I felt like it was calling to me.
I slipped my fingers inside the box, seeing a few pictures of him and my mother, so many years ago. My mother was standing on a pier with my father, a straw sun hat cast low across her face. She wore a yellow sundress that billowed in the wind but framed her heavily pregnant stomach. My dad had posed for the camera by facing her side and kissing her cheek while holding one hand to her belly where their fingers were intertwined there. I favoured my mom with her dark brown hair and pale brown eyes. I was a bit darker than her only matching my father's honey bronze skin in the summer. Other than that I was as white as my mom any other time of the year. My parents had met in Greece, going from meeting on Mom's vacation going to married in a matter of months. A whirlwind of a romance if there ever was one.
My father was a Turkish- Greek with bronze skin and thick dark hair. My mom said I had his face. Maybe his thick hair, deep dimples and I'd gotten my height from him but I wondered what he would look like now.
My fingers stumbled on something cold within the box and I froze. In a moment I felt colder than I'd ever been the coldness seizing hold of my chest, constricting my lungs and diaphragm. I breathed and cold fog came out of my mouth, spreading into the air. My hands were still in the box, my freezing fingers gripping something cool and metallic. In horror, I watched my skin crack as my veins bulged blue, icy lines forming on my skin.
I pulled out the bracelet; a silver featureless band, heavy and cold in my hands. My eyelids lowered as my heartbeat slowed and it occurred to me I was dying.
Suddenly, I was filled with regret. I should have done better. Spent more time with Mom, try to get to know Jim better, come out to Anders. Come out... I should have done that. I should have asked for the vampire's number. If freezing to death in my fucking closet wasn't a metaphor for my life then I didn't know what was. My mind was slow and sluggish as I stared at the bracelet not understanding what was happening or why the song was coming from the bracelet.
My mom had said it was a family heirloom from my dad's side. I saw my fingers freezing then, turning blue and then purplish black as all the sensation in them left me. The music was too loud for me to think, the band glowing white.
The part of me that wasn't human told me to put the bracelet on before I froze to death. So with the last of my mobility, that's what I did. It was agonizing and slow as I shifted the bracelet onto my wrist. I felt an impossible warmth emanate outwards from the bracelet before I blacked out.