100% Freshie Chapter 25 --PG-13

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librarian_7
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100% Freshie Chapter 25 --PG-13

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Disclaimer: The characters from Moonlight are copyrighted by CBS, and no infringement is intended.

Special note: This work takes place in the world of Moonlight, but your favorite vamps are not the main focus. Sorry about that; try to enjoy the story anyway. You might be surprised.


100% Freshie

Chapter 25

Will realized, as he turned his car into the driveway of his house, that he had absolutely no memory of the short journey from the private hospital where he’d left Hunter. He vaguely remembered stopping by Emma and Danni’s place, letting his mind drift into the pleasant scarlet haze of feeding from his exclusive. Emma was—what was that phrase the humans were using now?—comfort food. While he’d discovered, in their months alone together, that he wasn’t actually very interested in her, he had come to value her steady presence in his world. As with so many in the past, he had first taken her growing devotion for granted, then been unkind, trying to drive her away. He was just astute enough to recognize that he was acting out of a desire to prove yet again that he was unworthy of anyone’s—regard. Well, he thought with a snort of self-derision, he’d certainly been right so far. There was ample evidence of misplaced regard to be seen, he thought, wondering that he had spent so many years accepting the wreckage and pain of others as only a reasonable price to pay for his continued existence. And he was still accepting it in so many ways, even if Emma didn’t seem to realize that she was primarily a blood source to him.

Still, as he drank tonight, her forearm grasped in his elegant hands, he found a sorrow in her blood he’d never tasted before. It felt like the first frost of winter, like the beginning of a long, slow withdrawal from him. Even as he tried to find forgetfulness in the red of her veins, he knew that someday she would walk away from him. For tonight, though, her blood had brought him enough calm, enough of a return to rationality, that he could cope, for the most part, with the bleak realities of his situation.

For now, his main desire for the remainder of the night was to see Danger, to let the warmth of her empathy enfold him and protect him from his thoughts. He had no idea how she did it, but she was good at that. And while he felt guilty about pulling her away from her evening out with young Mr. I’m-So-Hip, it was a guilt easily stifled. Exclusive or not, he had the right of longer acquaintance with her. Besides, he told himself, if she hadn’t wanted to come, she’d have found a way to say so.

He shut off the engine and got out of his car. Maybe she was already here. There was a faint awareness of another presence nagging at the edge of his consciousness. It felt—familiar—but not quite like her. Ah, well, he’d sort it out soon enough.

A long habit of caution made him avoid entering his home through the same door each time. Automatically, then, he walked past the back door he’d last used and around to the front door of the sprawling, low, modern house, paying little attention to the rustling of the wind and night birds in the abundant vegetation that surrounded it. He keyed open the door with a code on the touch pad, resetting it as he did so to the code that would permit Danger to enter as a guest.

He supposed all this technology was a boon, but he rather missed the old days sometimes. When he’d bought this house in 1948, he’d had a Renfield—a very efficient and loyal human servant—who would have greeted him at the door and already had him situated comfortably with a drink in hand, or a freshie by his side, according to what he needed. He’d pensioned off his last Renfield in—when was it?—oh yes, 1983, and found him impossible to replace. The breed seemed to have died out.

Maybe it was because he had entered his sanctum, maybe it was because his mind was so distracted with other concerns. In any event, he was momentarily startled when a shadow seemed to separate itself from the general darkness, and flow in his direction. As it resolved into the figure of a petite, beautiful, dark-haired woman, he tried to cover his stunned surprise, even though he’d never been able to conceal anything from her successfully.

“Will, darling,” his sire said, “it’s been far too long.”

“Twenty-three years and, perhaps, four months, if I recall correctly, Serena,” he said. “But who’s counting? And you choose tonight to turn up, well, I can’t really call it on my doorstep, now can I?” He paused. “Your timing, as ever, is exquisite.”

Serena shrugged and moved closer, her high, fashionable heels making no noise as she walked. “One hears things. Our world is a small pond, Will. A stone tossed in creates ripples that travel all the way to the edges, very quickly. And aren’t you even going to greet me properly?”

Will’s face froze. His sire had always required a small submission from him upon greeting, a taste of blood from his wrist. For twenty years or so after he was Turned, he’d given it, and willingly, but eventually he’d come to resent it, to regard it as an unnecessary mark of a control she no longer exerted over him. And he was damned if he was going to resurrect that practice now. “My apologies, Serena. Of course. Welcome to my home. May I get you a drink? Is it bourbon, still?”

Serena looked up at him, filing away his refusal to render the usual tribute for later review. He’d always been independent—willful, even, she thought with an inward smile at their old private joke. “No bourbon, thank you,” she said, “although I could use a bite. You must have a freshie or two around here somewhere.”

Will shook his head. She was perfectly well aware, of course, that there were no hearts beating in the house. “I find it a bit intrusive to have them living here these days. But we can always order in, if you need.” He tried to keep the panic in his gut from rising into his voice. Danger was likely to turn up any minute, and being without the protection of a commitment to exclusivity, Serena would think her fair game. Worse yet, she could demand Danger’s services from him as a facet of basic hospitality. His mouth went dry. “Let me make some calls—I’m sure we can find someone to your taste.”

Serena narrowed her brilliant green eyes thoughtfully. Even after a long separation, she knew Will Spence too well not to be aware of his dismay, no matter how perfectly he might seem to be concealing it. She almost laughed. The dear boy was always entertaining, and his little rebellions always made his surrender that much sweeter. This might be more fun than she’d had in years. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, darling,” she said with a graceful gesture. There were times when she missed her old jade cigarette holder. It had always been a useful prop for emphasizing the delicate, practiced beauty of her hands. She had once been expert in the flutter of a fan, as well, but times changed and fashions with them. The only things women ever seemed to hold these days were cell phones. And while she had to acknowledge the convenience and ingenuity of the devices, they hardly lent themselves to expressive, unspoken communication.

Will turned from her to go to the bar. “You’ll pardon me if I pour something for myself,” he said, reaching for his preferred brand of scotch. The good stuff. “It’s been a trying night.” His back still turned, he took a gulp of the whisky, silently apologizing to the distillers for treating their product so cavalierly. He grimaced at the taste. It didn’t really have the effect on him that it once had, but even the illusion of a beneficial jolt to the system was welcome at this point. “Serena, forgive me for being abrupt, but what brings you here tonight? I’m assuming this isn’t purely a social call.”

“Oh, Will,” she said softly. He hadn’t sensed her moving in behind him so closely, and he inhaled sharply at the sudden shock of her hands on him. He turned unresisting into her embrace, and she drew his head down to meet her red lips with his own. “Now why can’t it just be that I wanted to see you again, love?” she breathed against his mouth. “You always—taste—so good.”

Damn, but she always did this to him, he thought, even as he brought his hands up into her shining black hair and sank into the rough remembered passion of a kiss where nothing needed to be withheld, nothing needed to be constrained. If there was a tiny corner of his brain screaming, Danger! it didn’t register through the heat rising in his body. His last conscious thought before his beast emerged was that Serena was right about one thing at least. It had been far too long.
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francis
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Re: 100% Freshie Chapter 25 --PG-13

Post by francis »

Emma is starting to leave Will’s world, even if he can only taste it in her blood.
Will feels good in Danni’s empathy, even when she has not much patience.
We meet Serena again. Similar to Coraline, always the wrong time to come back.

What will happen when Danni comes in?
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