8. Silas

I makea conscious effort to avoid seeing Juliet for a week or so. The few times I catch her scent, I immediately turn in the opposite direction. We're busy anyway, rebuilding after the attack, reinstalling security systems and fixing the perimeters. There's plenty to keep my mind occupied, which is perfect, because the minute it wanders, it wanders straight to the shiny blonde hair and freckled skin that haunts my fucking dreams.

I take Sam up on her offer, and while she's surprised by my frequent visits, she certainly doesn't complain. She loves the fucking as much as I do. She has to apply for another new bed, and gets asked why she keeps breaking them. We decide to avoid that from now on. And then put another hole in her wall.

But even Sam can't keep my mind off everything. As busy as I've been, and as satisfied as I am, there still comes that time, in the deep of the night, where all I can think about is Juliet. I imagine threading my fingers through that golden hair, pulling her head back as I fuck her, sinking my fangs into that soft neck while she moans.

Every night I'm a mess. Why, fucking why does this woman have me in this state? I don't get it. Some nights it makes me angry. I don't want to feel this way. I try to push it away. I go to the gym every night and take my frustrations out on a boxing bag. But as soon as I'm alone in my bed, nothing but the soft darkness around me, she's there. And I surrender to it, every single time.

I'm climbing down from the observation tower one evening, just as the sky is starting to turn orange, and someone calls to me. I look up to see Braun heading for me, his hand raised in greeting.

"Silas, I need you to help me out, man."

"What do you need?" I ask, jumping down from the last rung of the ladder.

"I'm meant to be on shower duty but the trucks have just come in and I need to go check the supplies." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the shower block. "Can you go watch the bloodbags get cleaned up for me?"

"Yeah, not a problem."

He turns on his heel and hurries across the compound. "Thanks!" He calls over his shoulder.

I walk over to the shower block, gazing up at the orange sky above. The air is a little cooler than it has been, not stifling hot. I wonder what the air in London is like now. I haven't been there in over 12 years. It's all destroyed now anyway, nothing to see anymore.

My family's graves are there somewhere. My little brother and sister, my sweet mother. I wonder if my father fought to protect them to the bitter end. If he'd spent his days saying "I knew it, I knew this would happen." If he blamed me. If he told them that this was exactly why I was kept away from them. My throat constricts as I remember his last words to me. You're a monster. You ruin everything. You always have.

I push open the service door to the shower block, into the side room with the one way mirror. The humans are filing in, bottles of shampoos and bars of soap in their hands. The water starts flowing as I take a seat on the blue office chair, spinning back and forth absently, not really watching what's happening on the other side of that mirror. What are they going to do? Throw soap? So much of this is ridiculous.

I cast a casual glance over the naked bodies, in the steamy room. All sizes, all ages, tattoos, scars and stretch marks. I always liked bodies, from an artistic stand-point. Every single one is unique, and fascinating, and deeply beautiful in its own way. I miss those life art classes.

And then a figure on the left hand side of the room raises lithe arms to run their fingers through long blonde hair, and my stomach is instantly filled with a whirlwind. I lean forward, the chair creaking loudly at the sudden movement.

It's Juliet. Of course it is. Water runs down those long legs, soap suds going with it. She lathers up her hands, running them over her breasts, her eyes closed as she tips her head back slightly under the cascading shower. I'm fucking jealous of that water, that soap that glides delicately down her skin, between her breasts, over her ass. Get a fucking grip, Silas. Jesus fuck.

She turns so she's facing the mirror, giving me a full view of her body. She curls her fingers against her scalp, washing her hair, her eyes still closed. A small smile ghosts across her full lips, her face relaxed. Maybe she's imagined herself off into another world, one where she's just come in from a day at the beach, salty and heated from the sun.

My grip on the armrest tightens as I imagine how she'd feel right now. How warm and slippery she'd be, how soft and supple her body would be, that gentle smile against my cheek. She'd feel fucking magical.

I know I shouldn't look. I should keep my eyes on that relaxed face. I shouldn't fucking look. It's not like I haven"t seen her naked before. But that was different. When I was in the shower room with her, I was too incandescent with rage to notice her body. I was too consumed with needing his scent off her to focus on the peachy tan of her nipples, or the curve of her small, firm ass.

But now, with nothing else to distract me, my gaze wanders down her body, between her legs. There's a light scattering of curly hair, and between the lips of her cunt, I can see the barest tip of a rosy pink clit. It's all I can do to lick my lips, imagining pushing that pussy apart, finding that clit swollen and aching for my tongue.

I shouldn't have fucking looked. All I want to do right now is smash my way through the mirror and seize her in my arms.

My illusions are shattered instantly when he appears at her side. Matt. Limp-dick twat. The petty voice in my head snorts. His dick isn't even that big. I'm such a fucking shit.

Her eyes open and she looks up at him, smiling. He leans down and plants a furtive kiss on her lips, and her eyes sparkle. She looks so happy. He's grinning down at her, looking around the room at the others who all have their backs turned, busy getting themselves clean.

He puts an arm around her waist, backing her into the wall. He kisses her deeply, pressing his hips against her. Her arms wind around his neck.

There's a loud snap as the plastic armrest gives way under my grip. Fuck. I'm destroying half the compound because of this woman.

I lean forward and hit the alarm button, letting it whir for a split second. All the humans jump, gazing around the room with panicked eyes, like deer caught in headlights, trying to figure out what just happened.

All except for Juliet. Her stormy eyes are fixed on the mirror. Glaring. Like she knows. She knows it was me, and that I'm jealous. I reason with myself that I did that because of the rules. I broke up a fraternization that isn't allowed. It wasn't just jealousy.

They all get back to washing and finishing up, and I can see the irritation on her face as she does. She's not relaxed anymore, her whole body tense with fury. I'm an asshole. She was having a nice time, she was happy.

I'm a selfish prick.

He looks down at her, his lips moving, and she gives him a strained smile, nodding. Her eyes flash back over to the mirror, and if looks could kill I'd be disembowelled right now. She hates me.

I lean back in the broken chair, watching them all shut the water off. They move to the next room to dry and dress, and I leave the observation room to wait outside for them. They all file past, barely acknowledging me, heading back to their dorm. Like sheep. They know the drill.

Juliet storms past me, her scent even sharper now that she's freshly washed. So much of that delicious skin is on display, dressed in tiny shorts and a tank top that barely covers her stomach. It makes my mouth water. Suddenly she spins on her heel and fronts up to me, so we're almost chest to chest.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She hisses.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You jealous?" She asks, her voice low.

"You know the rules." I tower over her, enjoying this power play far too much. "What was going on in there isn't allowed."

She smiles bitterly, nodding. "Sure, that's exactly what's going on here." She looks me up and down, her nose wrinkling. "I bet you feeders can't even get it up, you're all bloodless and dead, right?" She's practically touching me now, her heartbeat thundering barely an inch from me. "Can you get hard, Silas?"

If she wants to play this game, I'm more than up for it. I grin down at her. "You think about that a lot, do you?"

Her eyebrows flicker upwards in surprise before a look of disgust crosses her face. "Fuck you."

"Well, that would be the idea, wouldn't it?" I'm so close to her now that her scent is overwhelming. I look her up and down before meeting her furious gaze again. "And yes, I can get hard. Maybe even hard enough to make you scream."

She steps forward and slaps me, her open palm slamming into my cheek. I saw it coming a mile off, and I grab a hold of her wrist, yanking her flush against my body. She lets out a surprised yelp, blinking up at me before her face sets back into that beautiful, stormy fury.

"Let go of me!"

I inhale her scent deeply, exhaling through my gritted teeth. "This is the second time you've slapped me. I'm starting to think that's a bit of a kink of yours."

She bucks in my grasp, pressing her scantily clad body against my chest. "I said, let go."

I lower my mouth to her ear, snapping my teeth just shy of her earlobe. "Keep doing that and I'll definitely be hard."

She shoves against my chest with an outraged gasp, and I finally let her go. Her shoulders are heaving, and her eyes are blazing with fury.

"Don't fucking look at me, don't look at me, don't think about me, nothing, OK? I am nothing to you. Just another bloodbag."

Matt appears at her back, and he takes her hand. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, it's fine," Juliet replies, and stalks off towards the dorm.

I watch her go. The other vamps turn to look at me questioningly, and I shrug. "Bloodbags, ey? So emotional."

They all chuckle, nod, murmur their agreement, before dispersing.

The night continues on, uneventfully. When I go to Sam's cabin once my shift is over, I don't wait for her to open the door. I throw it almost off its hinges, before I pin her down on the bed and fuck her until she can't even scream anymore.

* * *

After almost twoweeks of rain, the garden team is outside again, working in the sunshine. They're all in good spirits, and I traipse around aimlessly, just watching them.

I walk along the repaired perimeter fence, and I'm grateful there haven't been any more attacks. They're always exhausting, the fighting and the repairs afterwards. And the fear that one of those Afflicted will get a bite in on us. I've seen first-hand what it can do. It's an ugly, painful thing, and I never want to experience that myself.

I wander down the hill towards the tree line, listening to the humans laugh and chatter. Nothing changes much from childhood - give humans a pile of dirt, the ability to grow something, and some sunshine, and they're happy. I remember feeling that way, those summer days as a child. All those years ago now, when my parents bought that little house with the garden on the outskirts of London. Etching pictures in the sandbox while Harriet spun her ribbons through the warm summer air.

I spot a wheelbarrow abandoned next to the compost pile, and look back up towards the garden. Juliet had taken off with that, but I can't see her anywhere now. Her loverboy is scheduled for donation today, so she hasn't gone anywhere with him.

I move closer to the tree line, wondering if she's headed in there. I can't see her. I keep walking, moving under the shade of the canopy. Birds sing to each other from the boughs of the trees, and the ground underfoot is soft from all the rain.

After a minute or so I can hear water, rushing loudly. Then splashing. I move quietly towards the sound, and come upon a stream, swollen from the plentiful rainfall.

Juliet is lying in the depths, water up to her neck, her clothes on a nearby rock. Her eyes are closed, the sunshine breaking through the trees glimmering on the bubbling water around her. She's smiling.

I keep moving towards her, silently, just watching her. She's so fucking beautiful. Goddammit, I should leave. I should just let her have this moment, but she's like a magnet. I stop at the water's edge, and because she hasn't heard my advance she's just lying there, totally relaxed.

I look over her naked body in the water, the sunlight playing across her freckled skin. She's stunning. She's perfect. She shifts a little, her thighs opening ever so slightly, and the sight is enough to almost bring me to my knees.

Her eyes flutter open, widening as soon as she sees me. With a scream, she scrambles out of the water to clutch her wet clothes to her body.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I didn't know where you'd gone." I keep my eyes fixed on hers, knowing my willpower can only get me so far. If I think too much about that cool, wet skin and how fucking good she'd feel right now, I'll drag her off and bury my mouth between those thighs. "I came to find you."

"Well, you found me, well done you."

I shrug. "I had no idea you'd be paddling about naked out here on your own."

"It's hot." She glares at me. "I wanted to cool off, and be alone for a minute."

"Well, I'm sorry I ruined that for you."

"No you're not."

I can't help but laugh, because no. I'm not sorry at all. I got to see her naked body spread out in sun-dappled water while she lay there with a half-drunk-on-happiness smile on her face. That smile is etched on my memory now.

"What's funny?" She asks, her voice full of sass.

"You."

"I had no idea you could even laugh, shouldn't you be skulking around threatening to tear someone's head off?"

"I only do that on Fridays."

Her eyes narrow, trying to measure what I just said. "Did you just make a joke?"

"You'd be amazed what we feeders can do."

"Oh sure, get hard enough to make me scream, I remember." She frowns at me, tilting her head. "Why haven't I seen you here before? You're not new, are you?"

"I was on gate duty, for two years. Just got a promotion."

Her eyebrows raise in faux delight. "Oh, congratulations. Can you turn around now so I can get dressed?"

I exhale heavily and rub the back of my neck. "I don't know about that. I should really keep a close eye on you."

Her glare becomes lethal. "Turn around."

With a chuckle I turn my back to her. "You've been here since the beginning, is that right?"

"Yes." The abrupt tone of her voice tells me in no uncertain terms she won't elaborate on that matter. "You can turn around now."

When I turn back to face her, she's standing there with a hand on one hip, her long hair dripping water onto the ground around her feet. Her white shirt clings to her wet skin, showing me every single curve and swell of her body. Beautiful. I huff out a breath and she cocks an eyebrow.

"Like what you see?"

I raise my eyes back to her face. "What gave you that impression?"

"You, ogling my tits."

I laugh out loud. "You're really not afraid of me, are you?"

"You like your women afraid, Silas?" Her nose pulls up into a sneer. "Does that turn you on?"

I run my tongue over my teeth. "Fear smells incredible, you know. Tastes great too."

Her face betrays the barest hint of surprise at my words, but she quickly pulls that nonchalant mask back into place and clears her throat. "Whatever. I know you like what you see, because you stare at me all the damn time." She tosses her hair, arching her back so her tits strain the fabric on her shirt. Fucking tease. "Must be hard though, seeing something you like and not being able to do anything about it."

"What does it matter to you?" I cross my arms over my chest. "You and what's-his-name are happy, aren't you?"

The split second of hesitation before she smiles and nods is all I need to confirm what I thought. He isn't satisfying her. He can't be.

"Of course." She gives me a little shrug, her voice just a little too high-pitched.

"You like me looking at you?"

"No." She snaps, far too fast. She rolls her eyes. "I just… You know, you saved my life. I'm grateful for that. But that's all." Her eyes move back to me, and she looks me up and down. "You're British, right?"

"I am. I was born in London."

"How old are you?"

"In human years or vamp years?"

She shrugs. "Either, both, whatever."

"I was turned 28 years ago, when I was 25. So, I'm 53 I suppose."

"Old." Her nose wrinkles again, making the freckles dance across her face.

I chuckle. "Yes, I suppose I am old to someone your age."

"How did you end up in the states?"

"For someone who wanted me to act like you're nothing and no one, you sure are asking a lot of questions."

She sighs and storms through the stream, passing me to go back to the garden.

"I came over here with my maker," I say when she's right next to me, and she stops, looking up at me. "She got tired of London, so I came here with her."

"And where is she now?"

"Dead."

The answer makes her face drop a little. "Afflicted?"

"Mmm." I nod. "Begged me to kill her, so I did."

"Oh Jesus." She flinches a little, and moves to keep walking, hesitating as she looks back up at me. Goddammit, those eyes. "Why did you save my life?"

"Because it's my duty to protect you." I hold her gaze, and her cheeks flush a little. "I told you. I want to look after you."

"No feeder has ever wanted to look after me."

"I guess they don't see what I do."

Her eyebrows flicker upwards, and she drops her gaze to the floor, the sweet flush of her cheeks rising higher and higher. "No one sees us. We're just food."

"No, you're not." I'm aching to reach out and touch her, run my fingers down the curve of that bare shoulder.

"Yes, I am." She tilts her head as though she's going to look at me again, but her shoulders slump with a sigh. "Please don't talk to me like this."

"Like what?" The urge to touch her is almost causing me pain.

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry you had to kill your maker," she says softly before walking away from me across the soft leaves, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the rain-soaked ground.

As I watch her go, my mind wanders to Margot. Beautiful Margot, with wild black hair and big blue eyes. My maker. The one who taught me everything. Who I'd loved to the point of obsession. Who'd lain in my arms, begging for death as blood poured from her eyes. After 200 years of life, she'd been taken by this fucking virus.

I sigh, kicking a pebble into the bubbling stream. Most days my humanity is just a ghost, hanging in the background. I learned to suppress all those human emotions years ago. I let go of them. I became a monster. A killer.

But watching this human woman walk away from me, I feel humanity pooling in my chest, all those things I've ignored for years rushing over me again.

Fuck it all to hell.