Page 31 of Kentucky Nights
I sigh, a throb building in my temples from annoyance and hunger for Dru’s blood. I have to push that aside. Her blood is something I might not ever have the pleasure of tasting, and the sooner I wrap my head around that, the better off I’ll be.
Hope is by far the most deadly emotion there is. It’s dangerous. The pesky feeling lifts your soul so high that you begin to build confidence that life will go your way—and then, like the ruthless bitch hope is—it pulls the rug from under you until you’re on your back.
Hope and Karma have to be related because both are cruel mistresses toying with a man’s emotions.
“Romeo, give me your damn foot.”
“No.”
I yank my hat off and toss it in the bed of the truck, getting unreasonably frustrated with his antics. “I said give me your damn hoof, Romeo,” I snarl.
He blows a raspberry, his lips vibrating together before he backs up, turns, and has the audacity to walk himself to his stall. He bites the rope attached to the door and tugs it closed, leaving me standing in the middle of the barn alone.
“Really? Really, Romeo? You’re going to be mad at me for not running after her?”
Silence.
“Romeo!” I belt, knowing damn well he can hear me.
Again, silence.
“You really piss me off more than a raccoon is when it’s wet.” I huff, knowing I have other chores I need to do.
“That doesn’t even make sense. Raccoons love water and know how to swim,”he finally responds, and of course, it is to correct me.
I throw my hands up in the air, completely done with this conversation. “I don’t know how you know that.”
“Animals talk.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, not knowing what to say to that. Romeo is obviously done with my company for the day, and I need to get the hay to the row barn for the cattle.
“Okay, fine then. I’m getting back to work. Stay here in your stall then.” I jump onto the bed of the truck, snag my hat, and cover the hay with a tarp.
Hopping to the ground, I lift the tailgate and slam it into place. My fingers trace the indentations I’ve left behind. Her scent lingers, the warm spice of her lust clings to the air, taunting me.
Hanging my head, I clutch the same spots dented into my truck. This woman is going to test me in ways I never thought were possible. I remember thinking that Audrey was the biggest event that ever happened to me. Being with her was a test in itself. I understand now that she never loved me but was using me, and I allowed it.
My entire life leading up to the day I got turned had been unremarkable. I was alone. My mother died giving birth to me, and I never knew who my father was. My uncle raised me, and when he died in my early twenties, I figured the rest of my days would be spent alone.
The ranch would have had to be sold if I got too old to manage it, since I had no one to pass it down to. The more I think about how truly alone I was, the more I think Audrey knew that no one would miss me if I were gone.
She had hoped turning me would be the answer to my lonesome nature. I’m giving her too much credit. She wasn’t that kind. She had hoped it would give her more purpose than she had.
The thing is, there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. Being alone is peaceful and resonating. There’s nothing like being in the pasture and watching the sunset after a long day. The soul becomes healed staring at a fading horizon promising another early morning will come.
Loneliness is deeper than that. When your own company is no longer enough, your heart begins to ache for love that hasn’t seemed to find you yet. It’s a heavy burden to carry, a tragic ailment that will eventually kill. Loneliness is a murderer who takes its time to suck every inch of life out of you before you come to the decision that you’ve had enough.
In a way, it’s a vampire, taking every ounce from your heart until it finally stops beating.
Is that what’s wrong with me? All this time, I’ve been alone, but have I been lonely instead?
I stare out into the pouring rain, wishing Dru were still standing there looking at me over her shoulder. She’s in the house now. The porch light is faint in the haze of the weather, acting like a beacon to bring me to her.
As much as I would love to walk through my front door and spend the evening trying to get to know Dru, I think it’s best if both of us have a little space tonight. I know she’s confused, and I don’t trust myself not to feed from her without permission.
The more time we spend together, the hungrier I become for her.
I climb into the truck and grip the wheel, leaning my head against the headrest to take a moment for myself. I don’t know how she takes her coffee, and I love her more than I want death.
