Computer Games

COMPUTER GAMES by Tammy Lee

COMPUTER GAMES A Lady Aibell Press/Chippewa Publishing Publication, August 2006 Chippewa Publishing LLC P.O. Box 662 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729 Available Formats: Adobe Acrobat Reader (PDF) Other available formats: Palm Doc (PDB), Rocket/REB1100 (RB), Pocket PC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB), hiebook (KML), iSilo (PDB), Mobipocket (PRC), OEBFF Format (IMP), Microsoft Reader (LIT), (HTML). COMPUTER GAMES Copyright © 2006 Tammy Lee Edited by Lynne Anderson Cover Art by T. Jay Proofed by Tammy Xanthakis ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the written consent of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any trademarks referred to within this publication are the property of their respective trademark holders. None of these trademark holders are affiliated with Chippewa Publishing, LLC., our products, or our website. WARNING: The contents of this book are intended for mature audiences 18 years of age and older only. Language, violence, and sexual situations may apply. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

COMPUTER GAMES

“I wish you would quit writing that stuff,” Michael harrumphed as he walked through the room, watching Daria type furiously on the keyboard in front of her. Her thick mahogany hair glimmered with specks of red highlights in the glow of the computer screen, and her luscious curves sent urgent messages through his body as he studied the sway of her form as her hands flew across the board. “They like it so keep quiet,” she jabbed back with a smile. “No one believes me anyway, so quit being a baby.” She never once stopped her typing as she scolded him, looking up from time to time to be sure he was not going to go goofy on her again. Sometimes he just completely lost it when she wouldn’t comply. The last time he had stormed off to the basement and stayed down there all night throwing a basketball against the wall with furious force hard enough to shake the old farmhouse where they had been staying at the time. “Someday, someone is gonna realize it’s the truth. Then what?” He looked at her sternly. “And QUIT typing while I’m talking to you!” His anger showed in his face and he knew he had better calm down before it boiled over and he took it out on her. “You know I don’t want this relationship publicized. You know what it will do to us?” “What?” Daria quit typing and turned to look at him with a stern, almost angry glare. “Just what will it do to us? Or is it really a matter of inconvenience to you for the world to know we are together? For Christ’s sake, Mike, it’s been almost twenty years. You dodge the press. Cover us up with other relationships. How do you think that makes me feel? Why would it be so bad for the world to know that we’re a couple?” She was close to tears now but she strained to keep them to herself. He watched her lower lip tremble. She wouldn’t be in control much longer. Neither would he. The yearning was growing, and not just in his pants. “You know that I love you,” he said, approaching her, his hand moving to caress her shoulders, but she pushed him away without a thought and turned to continue her typing. Daria Says: He’s being an ass right now! Her words splashed across the screen in electrifying fuchsia. “Damn it. Stop that!” Mike took her hands and spun her around. She looked up at him. Why was it that one minute he could have such fun with her, even make suggestions as to what to type to make the others on their computers reading the remarks laugh so hard, and then the next minute be so upset. “You can kid around all you want. But stop telling them that it’s really happening. Someday they’ll believe it.” 1

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“Well, I don’t care! Maybe I want somebody to believe it. Maybe I’m tired of living in your little cell of a world where you can lock me away, come and go as you please, tell all your friends. And I’m here by myself, scared and lonely until you decide to come home.” “I care.” Mike’s eyes stared hard into hers, but there was pain there. “I know what the publicity will do to you. I’ve seen it happen over and over. How many relationships like ours last twenty years? I’ll tell you—you can count them on one hand! And you never see them in public! And most of them don’t have tabloid reporters who hate their guts!” He didn’t mention the others. He didn’t need to mention the others. She knew. He could see in her eyes that she knew. A flash of heat warmed his cheeks as his temperature rose. She knew how scared he was, how much he loved her. Even how right he was. He turned his back to her and put a tense hand against a nearby wall to brace himself as he squinted and forced his anger, confusion, and lust back down deep into his belly. It rumbled there. He didn’t want it this way. Why did she always have to make it so difficult for them? She reached up and tugged at his belt. He turned, the anger gone; his face softened at the look of love and acceptance in her eyes. She was the only one who’d ever shown him the compassion and tenderness he longed for his entire life. The one who’d wiped away his lonely existence and made him whole. She touched his forehead, brushing away the wisps of hair that had fallen capriciously out of place and smiled. “Okay, okay. But you know I need someone to talk to, too. I feel so alone here sometimes.” “You can talk. Just remember, I’m Bob.” He reached down and pulled her close to him and then let her go to turn and tap away again on the keyboard. “You really are a computer whore!” He chuckled and ran his hands over her shoulders, down the front of her chest, stopping to casually caress her breasts through the soft cotton T-shirt she wore. He loved it when she didn’t wear anything underneath and he could feel the outline of her nipples through the soft material. “Stop it,” she complained without conviction, her back arched in the chair as her fingers continued to tap away. Daria Says: I’m being molested as we speak. Again the words flashed in front of them in glaring fuchsia. “Ha ha, very funny. Tell them you’ll be back later.” He smiled, and pinched through the cotton. He watched as she wiggled, laughing, squirming, trying to ignore the impossible—to ignore fingers that worked their way around her breasts. “Tell them, or I’ll have to throw you over the desktop and do you while you type.” He pushed her forward until she was on her feet and he threw back her chair, which glided on its casters halfway across the room. Standing behind her, he caressed her back as she continued to type; now it was a competition to see if it would be possible for her to continue her on-screen conversation while he worked his magic behind her. His hands slid up under her shirt and ran back down her sides, thrusting her jogging pants to the floor in one swift motion. He squeezed her bottom and she moaned, but kept on typing and continuing the conversation as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Of course, to be completely correct, this wasn’t exactly an unusual situation. Just another one of their games. He spread her legs with his feet, his hand gliding in between them, touching her. She moaned as his fingers slid their way around the soft folds of skin and then she gasped when she felt him there. Surprise registered in her tense shoulders beneath his fingers. She hadn’t heard

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him, or felt him drop his own pants. She tried to look back over her shoulder to see him, naked behind her, but his hands kept her head pointed straight forward. “Ah, ah, ahhhh. Keep your mind on what you’re doing. Leave this to me.” He gripped her hips and a shot of electricity swept through him when the tip of his penis bumped against her mons. Her moan made him smile. Her fingers weren’t doing too well either. “It’s a lost proposition. You know that. You can’t possibly keep typing while I—” “Get to it. Less talk, more action!” He obliged. Her tense pussy swallowed him, and sheathed him with a tight, mind-numbing power. The kind of power only a woman possessed. The power to bring a man to his knees. He pulled out, and his moan matched hers for aching necessity and intensity. He fell to the floor behind her. Her eyes shot him a ‘what the fuck do you think you’re doing now? Get back up here’ look from her position bent over the desk. He smiled as he spread her thighs to accommodate his face. His tongue darted into the luscious folds of soft, warm, blood-saturated flesh. His mind spun, and his brain fogged over with desire. His fangs brushed against her feminine lips and demanding hunger thundered in his mind. “Hey!” Daria yelped. He drew back, his teeth only having grazed the succulent labia, but her screech was enough to bring his thoughts back. Michael kissed her inner thighs. “Sorry,” he muttered through the tender kisses, hoping it would be forgiveness enough. A bite of the engorged sexual organs would not stop bleeding…a bite to the intoxicating area would not allow him to stop either. Bad, he scolded himself as he rose up between her legs and positioned himself once more. He leaned across her back and hugged her as he pushed in. Her fingers stumbled across the keys. Daria Says: He almost vamped out right then and there. That was close. He moved himself into position and with a quick hard thrust plunged himself into her. She screamed with passion and delight but kept her hands in place over the keys of the board in front of her. Daria Says: OOOOOOohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh baby…Hurt me She typed and laughed and moaned all at the same time. Daria Says: The big bad man is attacking me. The chat room her cursor sat in was still with anticipation. The room was busting at the seams. Vamp Chat was a hit with the cyber community of blood-lusting young adults hungry for a life that was more than ordinary. A life full of excitement. Hungry to know that they really existed. Daria was the most popular chatter in the group. He knew most probably didn’t really believe deep down in their hearts that she was truly married to a vampire. That he kept her captive in a remote little house buried deep in the country amidst cornfields and cows, so that no authorities would hunt them—hunt him—down. They didn’t really believe that he made mad passionate love to her just before sinking his teeth into her juicy neck and pulling the precious

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life force from her until she was at the very edge of ecstasy and death … then stopping just before she took the plunge that would cast her into his world forever. He knew they didn’t believe it. He couldn’t allow them to ever believe it. Michael massaged her back and shoulders as he pushed in and out. Rocking her back and forth, making it incredibly hard to type, much less concentrate. She laughed at the errors that would appear in her words as she typed, moaned, and tensed with pleasure with every movement from behind her. Then he grabbed her shoulders and held on as he gave a final thrust that would unleash his passionate juices and fill her. His energy drained to exhaustion, he lay across her back as she struggled to pluck away at the words that appeared on the screen. Daria Says: Now’s the time. “Stop that!” he commanded. His voice was weak but harsh as he slipped a hand up and brushed away the dark tendrils of hair from the nape of her neck. He slid up her back and caressed the warm, salty skin with his tongue. She moaned and her head fell to the side, exposing the jugular ever so enticingly. He could smell the aroma of heat, passion, and life that pulsed through her veins as he took her flesh in his mouth. His teeth dove into the tender muscle and split the vein with surgical precision. She didn’t moan, and her fingers no longer sped across the keyboard. Nothing existed, not even time, for the moments of euphoria that the exchange of fluid created. Groaning, he allowed himself to slide out of her; penis and teeth both left their warm, luscious holes and he braced against the cold, hard air that swept him back to reality. He stood behind her and gave her a good sound whack on the bottom, making her jump and squeal all at once. “What was that for?” she demanded with a smile. He laughed and headed to the kitchen, turning briefly and giving her a sly wink. “For being so damned good.” **** “Did you hear that?” Michael sat up straight in bed. Daria barely managed to prop herself up on one elbow. Their games always left her drained of strength and any enthusiasm for his paranoid delusions. “If, and that’s a mighty big ‘if’ there, something made a noise, somewhere in a fifty miles radius of this blasted field…you would hear it. Not me.” She dropped back to the mattress and put her pillow over her head. Michael’s hand shook her. His cool skin sent a shiver down her back from her shoulder. She pulled the cover up tighter, brushing off his hand. “Leave me be, Michael. I’m tired. If there is someone out there, I’m sure you’ll take care of it.” “I can’t. You know that. You have to do it.” “Fine,” she shot back as she swung her legs out from under the warmth of the blanket and shivered as the cool air hit her bare skin.

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She slipped on her robe, casting a disgusted glance at the man still huddled under the warm covers. The temperature he kept the old house at wasn’t a problem for the first few years. After that, though, it was a constant issue between them. Not that it mattered much; no matter what the argument, he always won. He had a way of doing that to her. A crease burrowed into her forehead. Daria scanned the bedroom. It was shaded, and dark. She opened the door just enough to slip through, not letting the afternoon light invade the somber darkness. The house was quiet. It was always quiet, no matter the time of day. There was a comfortableness to the living room that was swathed in sunlight coming through the big picture window. It was way too long since she’d spent any time awake during the daylight hours. Years before, she would stay up when Michael went to sleep at dawn, and go to bed not long after he rose at dusk. That was tedious after a while though, especially since he was the only one she had to talk to. After a few years, his schedule became hers, and it stayed that way. She’d forgotten how beautiful sunlight was, and how warm it made a room feel. She glanced sideways at the thermostat on the wall. That could make the room a whole lot warmer too. The electricity they used during the summer to cool the house to Michael’s idea of perfection was astronomical, but they saved during the winter on gas, as they rarely heated the rooms. A small space heater next to her desk was his concession to her need for heat in the winter. Daria opened the front door and was hit with a blast of humid, hot summer air. She stepped outside, and languished in the sunshine. She let her robe drop so the sun could splash hot rays of golden joy across her shoulders and skin. The tall fields of corn spoke of a coming fall. Soon the air outside would match that inside. With the force of a lifetime of captivity, her confinement hit her. She’d only been a child, barely eighteen when Michael found her, alone, walking the streets after a particularly furious fight with her parents over curfew, and what was and wasn’t appropriate behavior for a young lady. She bit her lip remembering the fights. She’d nearly forgotten how her parents made her feel after a late night encounter with the local police over her being someplace that wasn’t deemed “acceptable” by the adults around her. Never mind that the place was swarming with adults. Never mind that they enjoyed the company of young ladies who weren’t supposed to be there. It wasn’t that incident that had started the war with her parents. She had never been acceptable to them. Never good enough in school. Never good enough at sports. Her nose wrinkled in the sparkling light of day. She hated sports anyway. Silly games with no point. She thought of her father spending hours on the weekends slapping a tiny ball with a long piece of metal, and then chasing it on foot, or driving a boxy little car across the grass only to hit it away again, and resume the chase. Yeah, that made sense. Oh, oh yeah, she mused, the idea of being the one with the lowest score to hit the ball into a cup-sized hole in the ground. Okay, that made it all that much better. Not that the sports her friends enjoyed were all that much more interesting. She toed the grass with her bare feet. Not much of a team player, her high school gym teacher whispered to her parents on one conference afternoon.

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Meeting Michael was the bright spot in her sad existence the night she bumped into him. Here was total acceptance. So she thought. Well he did, she supposed. He did accept her. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t seek to change every aspect of her being. To be perfectly honest, the house in the middle of nowhere was her idea originally. It seemed like a cool concept then. Not so much anymore. A smile spread across her lips when Rosy came sauntering across the field to her. Rosy posy, she had called the big old Jersey the day Michael coaxed her off the trailer. The very idea of keeping a herd of cows in order to feed his needs when she couldn’t was amusing, and all his. She could only provide so much blood without passing out, they had both soon discovered. His solution was cows. Well it did make sense, and no one that just happened to drive by on their country road—not that many did—would bat an eye at the sight of their little herd. Mostly they were steers. Male cows that were castrated young so they would grow big and beefy for market. She consoled herself that life as a blood supply for a vampire had to be better than the alternative they faced if Michael didn’t rescue them. Rosy, though—Rosy was for her. She’d insisted that she still required human sustenance, unless he planned on taking her into his world completely. The look on his face let her know in no uncertain terms that it was an unacceptable thought. She never could figure out exactly why that was. But if it were to be that way, then milk was a necessity. Beef was too, or some sort of meat. She wasn’t going to become a vegetarian just for him. He wasn’t exactly a veggie eater either, when you considered the blood—and that he turned his nose up to anything that even remotely resembled a vegetable. Her garden used to flourish when she stayed up during the day. It was her only occupation during the long days. Now she only had Rosy…and Beauford. Beauford the bull didn’t like her. To be perfectly honest, Beauford didn’t like anyone. Beauford was a necessary evil. When she looked up information on bulls on the Internet, it said they could be perfectly sane and reasonable. Not hers, though. Figures. Daria gave Rosy a pat. No prowlers. No enemies in the bushes, and no rescuers. The very thought shocked her. She’d never thought of rescue before. Michael was good to her. He loved her. That’s what he said, anyway. Now, though, looking around for the source of the sound, she felt a little tug at her heart—a sadness that nobody was there. “Was it you making that racket?” She gave Rosy a stern look mixed with a loving smile. “Keep it down out here, would you?” The big brown Jersey mooed at her. “Silly thing. Go find your boyfriend, will you?” The cow moved off and headed back to the field. Daria watched her for a few moments before heading back in. Rosy loved Beauford in spite of his less than amiable nature. She supposed she loved Michael in spite of his as well, but she wasn’t sure it was enough anymore. ****

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Across the room, her computer’s blank screen stared at her, as if accusing her of being up so early, and not coming to its aid. She walked across the carpet and sat down. Her heart beat rapidly. Her fingers were about to commit treason, and she knew it. Her mind was a willing accomplice. The screen flickered to life. She wove her way through the complicated maze set up by the Nightcrawlers, the happy little community she’d found quite by chance only a few months earlier while cruising around looking for different bugs she might use in a garden she knew she would never tend again. What she’d found was so much better than worms, or even fresh veggies. A whole group of people who were hungry to hear all she could dish out of her “imaginary” life with a vampire husband. Technically, he wasn’t her husband. She smirked, thinking about the look on the pastor’s face at the little Methodist church her parents used to drag her to on Sundays, if she’d ever thought to confront him with the idea of performing this particular interfaith ceremony. That would have gone over real well. An evil wish swelled in her chest. It would have been grand to tell her parents. Michael hadn’t allowed it though. Too risky. Oh how she wanted to have him meet her parents. Maybe give them a nice juicy taste of propriety … vampire style. She never saw them again after the first night with Michael. For the longest time she didn’t care, either. Life was suddenly exciting. After twenty years the excitement was long gone, however. She wondered if they ever thought of her. She wondered if the pastor ever said a prayer for her. A tear eased down her cheek as she typed out a message on the empty screen. The chat room was busy and active, but she’d just signed on, and had no idea of what was going on before she entered. Daria Says: Waz up? Several lines of mundane chitchat jumped on the screen as her words appeared amongst them. Then all activity came to a grinding halt. Mistress of the Night Says: Wow, you’re up early. Don’t vampires sleep all day? It was Sylvia. Daria kept a picture of Sylvia printed out and taped to her monitor. They were close, and usually chatted all night long if Michael was out prowling, or sucking on a cow. It kind of surprised Daria to see her there during the day. She’d assumed her friend also spent the daylight hours sleeping off the night’s chatting. Apparently not. Daria Says: Me? You know I’m not a vamp…although I do usually sleep when he does. A noise woke

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him, and he sent me out to see what it was, so I decided to stay up and see who was on. Mistress of the Night Says: Ah, yeah, the servant. I guess I thought you guys would have housekeepers and such. Daria Says: You know I’m alone out here…with Bob. Even typing the name made her feel like she was cheating on Michael. He’d say that was silly though. It was. Yet she still felt like it. Mistress of the Night Says: Doesn’t he know all the action’s at night? It’s pretty active during the day too, you’re just never around to see it. You’re too busy snoring with Dracula. Daria Says: Don’t call him that. She hated when anyone referred to Michael as that silly comic book styled vampire in the old black and white movie, and heaven forbid he be compared to anything Hollywood came up with lately. Not to mention that one author’s crazy rendition of brooding, self-damning vampires, one of which was all but a cult to himself in the community Daria loved. Nevertheless, she and Michael spent countless hours laughing at the world’s view of vampires. It seemed they all came from France too, or some distant land…or Louisiana. The Louisiana variety were French too, and apparently spoke with heavy accents. Michael was as American as apple pie…no accent. He was the boy next door. Or the man across the street. Everybody’s all-American. Right down to the thick red blood coursing through his veins. Okay, so the blood wasn’t his own; it was red nonetheless. Kraul VonDrak Says: What do you say? The words stared back at her, waiting for an answer, accusing her with her own silence. They always had some sort of strange name that they thought made them sound cool. Like real vampires. Daria rolled her eyes. They had no idea. This one scared the pants off of her at first, when he’d privately messaged her inside the chat room so no one else could see. The little box that popped up damned her with its secretiveness. She had never seen him around there before. Then again, maybe she had for all she knew. Lots of the drifters in and out would change names like underwear. Unlike the regulars of the room, they hadn’t developed as a part of the community yet, so they played around. Or probably just forgot from one time to the next what name they had used in the room. Daria Says:

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I don’t know. You’d never find me anyway. Kraul VonDrak Says: I would if you gave me directions. She could never do that. Michael would kill her, and most likely her visitor as well. Daria Says: I can’t. Kraul VonDrak Says: How will you get away then? You certainly can’t walk out. How close is the nearest town? Daria winced, then typed, thirty miles. Kraul VonDrak Says: Hey, have fun with that. Daria Says: Okay, I’ll think about it. Kraul VonDrak Says: Look, I can come for you today. He won’t even know I’ve been there until we’re long gone. The thought was enticing. Daria reduced the private screen and stared at the chat room. Talk about parties, dates, and the evils of work and mean bosses…it all sounded so grand. It sounded so normal. Even Sylvia’s constant complaining about her no-good lazy boyfriend who lived with her in her parents’ basement sounded like heaven. All of it. It was alive. What if we don’t like each other? she typed in the small private screen again. What if you don’t like me was more the question on her mind. What if he came there, took one look at her, and turned and walked away? What if he left her there with Michael after he found out about her deception and plan? What would Michael do to her? She put a shaking hand to her throat. She had a fairly good idea. There were other options beyond leaving her alive, and pulling her across to his side. There was the middle. There was death. She wasn’t ready to die just yet. Kraul VonDrak Says: If you don’t like me, and/or I don’t like you, I promise I will still get you out of there, and help you get on your feet. That did sound good.

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Okay. Her shoulders tensed as she typed out a route to her house from the closest major city she knew of. Daria Says: Are you far from there? No words appeared on the screen, and for a moment she thought he was gone. He wasn’t interested. Maybe she’d scared him off by making him promise to care for her no matter what. Maybe he didn’t live anywhere near Springfield. Maybe. Kraul VonDrak Says: Sorry, I was just looking it up. It will take me a few more hours than I thought it would. It might be close to evening. Daria’s heart sank. If he got there when Michael was awake, he didn’t stand a chance, and neither did she. Don’t worry. The words appeared in the box. He must have read her fears through the blank lines. Kraul VonDrak Says: If it gets too close to dark, I’ll find a place to stay until tomorrow. Can you be up after sunrise in the morning? Yeah, she typed. Kraul VonDrak Says: Okay, if it’s too late today, then tomorrow morning. Daria Says: Good. Thanks. She was about to hit the exit key and turn off the computer to go back to bed. Then suddenly she stopped. Hey wait! she typed. Kraul VonDrak Says: What? Daria Says: What’s your name? Xavier, was the reply. Well, didn’t that just beat all. She wasn’t married to a French vampire, but she was about to be saved by a French man.

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Daria Says: Okay then, Xavier, I’ll see you later, or whenever. They exchanged their goodbyes and Daria sat back, wringing her hands. Goodbye sounded so final. She shook her head. She was crazy. This guy wasn’t really coming for her. How silly to think a total stranger would drive for hours to rescue some woman on a computer screen he’d never even met. A woman who claimed to be married to a vampire, no less. Sure, sure, he’ll be here. Maybe with a couple of rescue workers from the psych ward. Daria said her goodbyes to the room and decided to spend the day outdoors. She didn’t stay up during the day anymore. May as well make the best of it while she waited for her knight in shining armor that wasn’t coming. Around dinnertime she walked back in the house, refreshed, slightly tanned, and feeling more positive. So what if she wasn’t rescued. There were more horrible places to spend a life than on a pretty little farm. Michael was good to her. He trusted her. Guilt stabbed her in the chest. Well, regardless, the deed was done. She got up and trudged to the bedroom. Daria stood in the quiet bedroom and listened to the sound of Michael’s breathing. Its slow, even rhythm relaxed her nerves. The realization of how tense she was hit home when he turned in his sleep and she jumped. Breathe, Daria, she commanded. Her heart fluttered as she tiptoed to the closet. The door creaked when she opened it and made her cringe. A glance over her shoulder let her relax when Michael snored in response. What was she thinking? She left the room without the suitcase. She couldn’t pack. If Xavier didn’t get there before Michael woke, surely he’d see a big suitcase sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Daria ignored the cross-eyed stare of her Siamese cat while she paced; she frowned instead of laughed at Sylvester’s comical look. What if he does show up today? She wouldn’t be ready if she didn’t pack. A quick swipe of a change of clothing would have to do. She attempted a smile while she convinced herself that would be fine. Knickknacks she rarely paid any attention to any more now stood out to condemn her for leaving. She picked up a silver unicorn. Michael had brought it back for her after one of his all night excursions. They’d only been together a week, and she’d cried the whole time, left here alone. A flash of hot anger melded her hand around the little statue in a fist. If it wouldn’t wake Michael for sure, she’d fling the stupid little horned horse across the room. There wasn’t anything she would miss. That was it. A note. She needed to write a note. Michael deserved that much. He would wonder where she was. Her fingers shook as she watched the ink flow onto the paper with almost detached amusement. All the words were superficial. Thank you for being kind. Thank you for caring for me. What drivel. After twenty years that was the best she could think of to tell a man? What about why? Not a single thought came. Isolation. Loneliness.

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Were those reasons enough? They would have to do. **** The sun rose, and then made a lazy path through the sky toward the west. The day was coming to a close all too fast. Daria’s heart sank with the setting sun as she lounged on an old threadbare couch. There was precious little time left. Then it would have to wait until tomorrow. She hoped Xavier was smart enough to take her word for not being there after sunset. The sound of tires in the drive alerted her to action. Could it be? She jumped up and rushed across the room to the door. On tiptoe, she stood and looked out a small window at the top of the door. In the drive, a long black car gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The door opened with agonizing slowness, and a silver-tipped boot appeared from within, followed by a long muscular leg encased in crisp new denim. When the tall, slim man stood up from the interior of the car, Daria stifled a laugh. So much for a romantic Frenchman. Slick there looked like he’d just stepped off a dude ranch for overprivileged yuppies. She held her breath as he bent to reach back into the car. When he pulled back out, a tengallon hat topped the outfit of sparkly boots, iron-pressed jeans, and tight t-shirt emblazoned with a mustang in the throes of a bucking fit...and a purse. A purse? Daria steadied herself. Just get past this, get away, then do something about the way he dresses, and the fact that he carries a purse. It must be a style thing. She’d been on the farm too damned long. To be honest, the tight t-shirt was the saving grace of the outfit. It snuggled across a set of strong biceps and a broad chest. Xavier might not be French, but he was a damn good-looking cowboy. “What are you made up for?” she asked, attempting to hold back impolite laughter as he strode up the walk. A significant limp testified to the newness of the shiny boots. “It’s a farm, right?” He looked around. Cows and cornstalks met his gaze, and she smiled warmly at his attempt to fit into what she must certainly expect. At least what he thought she would expect. “That’s sweet, Xavier.” Honestly it was, but she wished he hadn’t spent time getting a new outfit rather than getting there earlier. If he’d come a few hours sooner, she might have actually had time to really pack. Not now. The sun was hovering just above the horizon. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Xavier asked as Daria pushed him aside and started down the sidewalk. She rushed back and grabbed his firm, strong arm. A little spark of desire tingled in her, and created a flood of mixed emotions. She pulled, but he resisted. “Please Xavier, there’s no time.” Over his shoulder, the sun was setting with a furious pace. Shadows crept across the fields. “It will be dark soon.” “So?” “So!” Her eyes widened at the horror of his nonchalant dismissive attitude. “If Michael catches you here, and finds out why you’re here, we’re both goners.”

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“Aw, come on, Daria. I’ve never met anyone who thinks he’s a vampire.” Blood shot to her face and flushed her with heat. “He doesn’t think he’s a vampire. He is a vampire, Xavier. He really, really is. And he will kill you. He will kill us both.” And he won’t even bat an eyelash, she wanted to continue, but it hurt her deep inside to think … to know … that it was true. Not even for her he wouldn’t. She realized with shocking pain that it was a fact. “Oh, please. Come on.” Xavier dragged her back inside. “Hey, nice digs.” She watched him scan the room with approval. Okay, it was nice. Not fancy. Not new. But nice. Comfortable. She had to admit that even though she’d pay good money to be out of there right that minute, and probably would pay for the rest of her life to be gone for good. The thought of living life always looking over her shoulder made her skin crawl. Would he come look for her? Would he come look to bring her home … or to take her out? She didn’t think he would come after her to kill her. Why should he bother? “Revenge.” His comment startled her back to the moment. “What?” “That’s what it says.” Xavier pointed at a snarling dragon with a banner in its mouth. Daria stared at it. So that’s what it said. The Latin inscription on the banner had always eluded her, and Michael was not forthcoming with an explanation no matter how often she asked. He had brought the evil-looking monster home after a particularly long jaunt and dropped it on an end table in spite of her demands to get rid of the hideous thing. She remembered the look of hurt on his face when she’d turned away. It was a gift, he’d said. She shook off the memory. It was a gift, and it was ugly; now it was even worse for knowing what its message was. “Xavier, come on. You’ve seen one vampire, you’ve seen ’em all,” she said with a shaky smile. Maybe humor would tear him away. “You know, these guys who think they’re vampires, they can be even more dangerous than if it were true. You never know what they’ll pull to convince someone.” What would work? Maybe it would help if he thought she was just joking, and Michael wasn’t really a vamp. “He’s not really a vampire? Why the sudden change of story?” “Look, I just had to get out of here, and I didn’t think anyone would help me if I told them I was married to an out-of-shape old farm boy. He hits me.” Oh, the sins she was spinning with her lies. Michael had never laid a hand on her in anger…yet. “Just a peek, okay?” Xavier didn’t give up. He kept tugging her in the direction of the doorways on the other side of the living room. “Does he sleep in a coffin? In the basement?” Daria scoffed. “No, and no. Now come on.” She pulled back, but was no match for Xavier’s resistance. “What fun is that?” “It’s no fun. See? He’s just a big fat farmer. So come on.” Xavier still pulled her. “In there?” he asked pointing to the door that led to her bedroom that she’d shared with her husband for twenty years. Daria nodded. It was no use. The man wasn’t going to leave until he looked at a vampire. The sun’s rays retreated from the window, and the room was cast in shadows. “You’re a fool. The sun is almost gone.” “It will only take a minute if you’ll quit pulling on me.” The sharp look on his face made Daria stumble backwards and lose her grip on his arm. If Michael ever looked at her like that, she’d be afraid of being dinner.

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“Hey, okay, it’s your funeral,” and mine, she continued in her mind. She watched as Xavier shoved the door open none too softly. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid man. Stupid dead man in a few more minutes. Daria crept up to the door and whispered into the darkened room. No sun didn’t matter in there. There was no light thanks to heavy drapes and blinds inside, and shutters outside. “Okay, now you’ve seen. Let’s go.” The last words she hissed in a harsh breath that she drew back in with a whistling sharpness as she watched Xavier reach into the silly bag he wore and pull out a slender rod of silver with a pointed end aimed directly over her sleeping husband. “Michael! Wake up!” Her scream bounced off the walls, and Xavier’s eyes shot up and glared at her, his lips twisted in a menacing sneer. “Shut up, woman.” “You lied.” “So sue me.” “Michael, wake up!” Her scream broke through the haze of his sleep and she saw his eyes flutter open, then snap to attention at the sight of the spike directly overhead. **** Xavier lay on the floor of the bedroom in a puddle of his own piss. His body drained, and his face white as the sheet on the bed—he was cold, dead, and completely devoid of blood. Daria stared at the body, unable to move from the doorway. Michael brushed past her, wiping his lips as he swept by. “I told you what would happen with you talking to those people.” How could she have been so foolish as to lead a hunter to her lover? “I’m sorry.” She was, too. She was sorry that she’d brought the man here, but equally sorry that he hadn’t really come to take her away. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. She was surprised to find herself not really all that upset about not leaving. “Promise me you’ll stop playing around in that infernal chat room. It has to be a haven for them. It’s probably where they get all their information.” “I can’t remember ever seeing anyone else making claims to knowing a vampire … sure, some claimed to actually be vampires.” “They’re probably dead now…whether they really were, or not.” The thought made Daria cringe. She’d liked some of them, even if she had never really believed they were what they said they were. It was all like a crazy, big game. Funny how she questioned all of them, but not herself. “I promise.” “Good,” he said. He gave her bottom a squeeze as he passed by. Daria turned and walked with tired steps into the room following Michael’s path. Her heart froze when she saw him, standing like a statue, staring in disbelief at the piece of paper she’d stuck to her computer screen. The note! She’d forgotten to remove the damned note. “He wasn’t here to kill me.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. His voice was strained, and cracked in a way she’d never heard it do before. “Yes. Yes, he was.”

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Michael turned to her with venom in his glare. “That’s not why you brought him here.” “No.” She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t.” “I see,” he said with a resolved frown. **** They dropped down in the middle of a busy intersection, and not a soul paid them any attention. Daria rolled her eyes. Were people that jaded? Twenty years ago a man swooping out of the sky and depositing a woman on the side of the road would cause at least a stir amongst the locals. Of course, with the black sky, and his equally black clothing and hair, he wasn’t much more than a shadow in the darkness, and she’d been cloaked in his arms until he dropped her to the cement. Her eyes widened at the blinking lights, and bright shops that glimmered in the night. The roar of people rushing by, talking, laughing, or just busily shoving their way past each other was enormous. “What do I do now, Mi…” He was gone. A tear slid down her cheek. He hadn’t even said good-bye. **** Daria straightened her skirt. Damon Charles’s leer always sent shivers down her spine. This was no exception. She needed a new job. After several days on the streets, she’d been grateful for the opportunity to work. It didn’t take long to figure out what her new boss really wanted, however, and now, six months later, the strain of out-dodging, outwitting, and outmaneuvering him threatened to make her unravel at the seams. She had enough money saved now to make it through a few weeks of no paychecks if she quit. The fact, though, was that wouldn’t solve the real problem. The real problem was her apartment was lonely. Her new friends were shallow. The people she’d known on the Internet in Nightcrawlers no longer wanted anything to do with her. She wasn’t sure anymore if Mistress was part of the hunters that made up the Nightcrawlers, but even she avoided her now online. The friends she made at work, or the few nightclubs she’d tried out considered her boring. Perhaps she was. You didn’t spend twenty years isolated and not develop some personality disorders, she supposed, not the least of which was having been married to a vampire. When she considered it, he’d never been boring. Not ever. The clock behind Damon showed it was time to leave for the day. Her heart told her it was time to leave for good. **** Her little blue beat-up Chevy ground to a halt on the gravel drive. Her thin, low-heeled shoes twisted on the rocks as she climbed out of the car and wavered in the center of the driveway straining to see in the dark.

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The lights were on in the old barn. “Of course.” She teetered across the stones to the grassy pasture that led to the barn doors and stood in the entrance staring at the man seated below the cow on a low stool. His hands worked a steady rhythm as his cheek pressed up against the steamy sides of the beast that munched her hay with a sublime expression of happiness. Rosy posy—how that cow adored Michael. Even so, she adored being milked even more. Michael’s rich brown eyes looked up at her standing there. She shivered at the coldness in them. No expression whatsoever. No hope, no hate, no desire, no nothing. Not even a smile of recognition. He did remember her, didn’t he? “Mike?” A stream of milk splashed into the pail. “I want to come home, Michael.” He squinted at her from his perch beside the happy cow. “Do you want me back?” His eyes glistened. For a moment she thought he would cry. That would be new. She’d never seen him cry in twenty years. “It’s all or nothing though. No more half-life.” Her muscles felt weak. She’d practiced the demand over and over, but now it scared her. Not the desire—the reaction. She watched. He didn’t even flinch. A flash of fear shot across her mind. What if he said no? She couldn’t read his eyes. It irritated her. She never could tell what he was thinking. He rarely had trouble knowing her thoughts. Well, almost rarely. He missed the mark the fateful day Xavier came. “Are you sure?” Daria nodded. She really was sure. Beyond any doubt she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life, no matter how long, with him. He stood and she wasn’t sure if he was going to swoop down on her to hug her, or strangle her. Well, surely he wouldn’t waste the meal…at least he’d take her first. At least she would feel his arms around her one more time. Her eyelids quivered with tears as she winced at the way he swooped her into his grip. Terrified, her body stiffened in his embrace, then his lips brushed her forehead, and he kissed her. “I’ve missed you.” Tears flowed freely from her eyes as he hugged her and kissed her eyelids, and then her cheek. His mouth traveled with hungry kisses down her neck. His hands cupped her breasts and her back arched to his touch. She shimmied to lift her shirt over her head and allow him to take her in his mouth. Her nipples rejoiced at the feel of his tongue flicking against them. Her moans filled the barn as he knelt before her and wrapped his arms around her hips, caressing her buttocks as he pushed her skirt up over her waist. His face pressed against her belly and she heard him sob, and felt his hot, salty tears. His shoulders shook as she placed her hands on them, and lifted him to stand before her. “Take me. Please, Michael. Make me truly yours forever.” He smiled at her, and then looked away to wipe his damp cheeks. When he looked back up at her his eyes danced with a mischievous gleam. “I intend to,” he said, pushing her back onto a bale of straw. Her world spun as he cast off his jeans, and lowered himself onto her in a single motion. With a shove he thrust a muscular thigh between her knees and spread her open to him. Daria tried to contain a squeal as he reared back, grabbed her legs, and pushed them upwards, then slid

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his hands down to her quivering pussy. It ached for him. Her entire body pulsated with desire and longing that had built up to the point of explosion over the past months. The lingering strokes of his fingers was nearly too much to bear. Daria wiggled between his legs, begging him to penetrate her. Instead, he dipped the tip of a finger between her lips, and withdrew. Her moan filled the barn, and brought a baleful moo from Rosy, who watched the scene with lazy interest. Daria wrapped her ankles around Michael’s neck, and pulled him forward. His hands landed on each side of her. “Don’t you want me?” Her voice was husky, and her anxiety made it crack just a bit. Her worry eased as she felt his lusty desire pressed against her. Without a second thought, she grabbed him by the hair, and pulled his neck to her lips, grasping the firm muscles between her teeth, and biting down. The tables were turned, and she felt him jerk with surprise. Maybe she should have thought of it before. Biting him for a change. It was fun. She bit down harder but before she drew blood, he plunged himself deep into her with a force like flames that wrapped themselves around her, and consumed her. Michael clasped her hips between his hands and rocked her into him. Slapping into her thighs. Driving her into an insane ecstasy. Just when she thought she would implode if he didn’t cum, and take her into his world right then, she was sure she would die of rapture. With one last thrust he filled her. Daria looked up at her lover, afraid he would stop, and not follow through with her request. She couldn’t bear the idea of living half in and half out of his world any more. She needed to be with him, completely, for eternity. With a trembling hand she brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen over his eyes. Her smile renewed as she watched his eyes turn into deep golden brown pools of flame-shot desire as he opened his mouth and bared his fangs. He sunk them deep in her neck, and the barn spun in furious motion. Her muscles weakened with the passing blood and the euphoria that she remembered so well. The feeling swelled in her brain until she thought she’d explode from happiness. Then the point where he’d normally have drawn away, he pulled harder. Her throat tightened, and a scream escaped her lips as darkness descended on her mind. She wasn’t sure if this is what dying felt like. She didn’t care if it was. If she died right then, she would die happy. Then her world fell away. **** The sun set outside the little farmhouse. Michael shook the cool shoulder lying next to him. Daria opened her eyes and smiled up at her mate. In life, and death, till nothing make them part. She sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled back the shades. With a shove she pushed the shutter open and peered out across the moonlit field at Rosy. Rosy looked back, munching a mouthful of deep green grass next to the discarded computer that sat amidst the hay and daisies.

THE END

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About the Author Tammy Lee Tami Parrington (Tammy Lee) is a writer whose personal life is as eclectic as her writing. The author of three novels, numerous articles and short stories, as well as several screenplays, she is a loving mother of two grown children, and devoted grandmother of two. She has been married to her soul mate for twenty-five years and lives on a farm in central Illinois where she raises just about every farm animal possible, and has successfully shown everything from rabbits to dogs to horses. To find out more about Tami, please visit http://www.tparrington.com.

Our authors love to hear from their readers! You can write to Tammy Lee here: Tammy Lee c/o Chippewa Publishing LLC P.O. Box 662 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

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Lady Aibell Press http://www.ladyaibell.com a division of Chippewa Publishing LLC Catching Your Dreams of Fiction! http://www.chippewapublishing.com

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