Page 4 of Kentucky Nights
“I said the same one hundred years ago, but it ended up being the one thing I never knew I needed.”
“Why can’t you leave me alone? Just go. Find another.”
She’s hovering over me again, her knees sinking into the dirt while she runs her fingers through my hair. “Don’t you understand, Kentucky? There is no other. I love you, and I know you love me. I feel it even more now that you have my blood in your veins. You hate that you love me. I can sense that too, but in time, you’ll wonder how you ever hated me.”
“I doubt that, sweetheart.”
She smirks, picking up one of the broken rails. “It will only hurt for a second. Death will come fast. Then, you’ll be free of the silly little rules of humanity.” She rolls her eyes. “Humans righteousness about life is always so aggravating. For example, you think we have only been together a few months, Kentucky, but we have been together for a year. I let you remember what I want you to. It’s as simple as that.”
I’ve never felt so violated before. “A year? Why? Why would you alter my mind to believe we have only been together a few months? What happened in that year that you don’t want to tell me about?” Fury, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, possesses every bone in my body.
It’s as if it is amplified.
She smirks, her tongue flicking out to lick the last bit of blood from the corner of her lips. “Someone is mad,” Audrey pouts before tossing her head back, and sardonic laughter falls from her lying lips. “But I have the privilege to play with time. I had…business to take care of. I couldn’t have you running off to be with someone else. You were all too eager to wait for me, baby.” She strokes her finger down my cheek. “Your transformation will be quick. You’ll understand, Kentucky. Once you are one of us, you’ll see how you even questioned wanting a human life at all.”
I’ve never been afraid of death. I’ll happily die under a night full of stars at forty years old, but I know one fucking thing—I’m not dying alone.
I sit up, ghosting my mouth over hers. The shape of her lips has always invited me in. She is beautiful. The most ethereal woman I have ever laid eyes on. A sunset painting the sky different shades of yellows and reds doesn’t even compare to her.
I’ll never forget seeing her for the first time. I was in town about to walk into the local feed store, when out of the corner of my eye, I caught Audrey walking across the street. Her light blue high heels kicked up dust clouds from the dirt road, and her scarf drifted from her neck, the wind carrying it right to me. I believed the universe brought her to me, and maybe in a way it did, or maybe meeting me was all part of her plan.
“I knew you’d come around, baby.”
I ram the stake into her heart, her eyes rounding in shock, and her hand falls to the piece of wood sticking out of her chest. The same broken rail that impaled me.
“You should’ve listened,” I sneer, never taking my gaze from her.
I need to see her die.
Her skin begins to drift away into ash, her beauty finally reflecting her evil intent.
In one last blur, she plunges the stake through my chest. “The same could be said about you, Mr. Jones.” My name is the last word that leaves her lips. Her ashes fade into the fog, leaving me alone to die.
At least I have peace as a last luxury.
I was a foolish man to think love could come to me without consequence.
I won’t be making that mistake again.
Present day
My dead human mate’s photo is perched on top of the hand-carved wooden mantle. Daphne stares at me every day while I have my coffee.
She used to make my coffee. Every. Single. Morning. Black and bitter, but she’d always add a few drops of her blood to sweeten it for me.
I miss that.
I miss her.
I miss her kiss on my cheek when she handed me the warm mug before I began my day on the ranch. The memory of her sharing her blood for the first time morphs from her standing in the kitchen to cutting her palm with a knife in the bedroom.
Not once in all my years did I bite her. There were plenty of reasons why. One was because I was afraid I would lose control and kill her. Two, the thought of giving my bite to someone who wasn’t my fated mate stopped me. It was this small voice in the back of my head, urging me not to. Three, Daphne didn’t want me to bite her because she knew one day she would die, and she didn’t want to be addicted to the feeling of my fangs in her vein. She wanted to remain human, and I think she thought thefeelof the bite would tempt her too much.
Instead, we stocked up on her blood. Even in the bedroom, we were prepared.
I loved that about her—her humanity. I envied her for it too, but it was the biggest reason why my love for her never died.
The worn dark blue recliner squeaks as I stand, continuing to rock back and forth from my absence. I wouldn’t be all that surprised if her ghost is keeping my seat warm.
