Page 39 of Kentucky Nights
“Don’t call me baby. Don’t make me…” I almost say shoot you, but remember he likes it. “Don’t make me go get the barn kittens.”
An audible gasp escapes him, a hand flying to his chest. “That’s so rude.”
“You make no sense, Lorcan. A gunshot is a whole lot ruder.”
“Everyone has their preferences. Friends? I forgive you for shooting me.” He holds out the hand he had inside my chest, strangely, it isn’t covered in blood.
“Friends.” I grip his hand for a firm shake. “Maybe I need to try to get out of my bubble.”
“You should try. If you choose death, that’s devastating, Kentucky. You think your world is dark now? You haven’t experienced pitch black. Sure, you’re weighed down by emotion, but you can’t have that in Purgatory, or it can get you killed. You have five days, give or take a few, because every couple is different. I’ll be here to take your souls if that’s what you choose,but please don’t make me reap a friend.” His hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
“I’ll do my best, but I won’t make any decisions for Dru. She has to want this as much as I do. I won’t force her.”
The orange illuminating in the caves of his eyes vanishes, leaving me to stare at an empty abyss. “I understand,” he says. “Very honorable of you. You’ve always been the most respectful vampire I’ve met. It’s finally time to enjoy your life, Kentucky. Give it a chance. I doubt it will disappoint you this time.”
An owl hoots nearby, probably perched on a low-hanging branch of the tree next to the barn.
“I have to go. Souls are calling for me.” He turns to walk away, flipping the back of his cloak in a drama-filled fashion, and it fits his personality.
“Do you reap humans too?” I ask before he leaves.
“All souls that exist. I don’t work alone. There are thousands of Voids. I have a ton of brothers and sisters.”
“Must be a heavy burden to carry.”
He frowns, a sudden sadness filling the air. “It is. We feel everything. The pain, confusion, fear, sadness, and we even see their deaths. For new Voids, it can be bad. There’s an adjustment period, but the burden never fades, not really. We just learn to live with it.”
And then he is gone, nothing left of his presence except the bullet that is on the floor.
My spurs spin with every step I take to the edge of the loft, needing to feel the breeze against my face. There isn’t a star in the sky. The galaxy is covered in sardonic clouds promising more rain. Moisture hangs in the air, the earthy scent of wet dirt has frogs croaking in the distance and singing in the rain.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare down at the house I’ve built with my bare hands, and there’s something sosatisfying in knowing my mate is there, safe and sound within the walls I’ve built.
After all this time, maybe I’ve been waiting for a reason to turn this house I’ve spent my entire life perfecting into a home. All of it, every door and window, every add-on, maybe it was all for my mate.
Am I really entertaining this idea of living forever?
I rub my eyes, blowing out a pent-up breath. It is easier said than done to change the course of what I thought was the rest of my life. For more years than Dru has been alive, I’ve had a plan. From the moment I was turned, I knew death was the only acceptable answer, but only when my vampire life came to a natural end.
I don’t know many people who get so many chances to live. Is Dru supposed to be “The third time is the charm” kind of deal? Why now?
A whimper pulls me from my self-inflicted confusion. I zone in on the house below, waiting to hear the noise again.
A few seconds tick by without another sound. “Losing your damn mind.” I wonder if hearing random things is a side effect of not having the bond complete. It has to be.
I press my palms against my eyes and yawn, spinning on my heel to head back to the cot when I hear the whimper again.
And again.
Red colors my vision, my fangs lengthen to prepare to attack. “Dru,” I growl, leaping from the loft. Mud splashes all over my jeans when I land, my boots sinking into the wet ground.
Blurring through the front door and to her bedroom, I pause at the doorway. She’s restless in her sleep. Dru has kicked the quilt I hand-stitched down to the edge of the bed. Sweat pebbles on her forehead while a tear breaks free, sadness rolling down her cheek.
I kick off my shoes, not wanting to get mud all over her bedroom floor, and then realize I have mud on my jeans too.
Fuck.
I blur to my room to get a clean pair of sweatpants, then speed back into her room.
