Chapter Eight

T he picnic at this cool old mansion is amazing. Food is free, set out on a lush green lawn. Everyone brings something to share by the looks of it. There's no admission. No one's making a mess. Kids are playing by one gazebo and knots of dancers and musicians are dotted across the place like some giant folk festival.

It was stupid to come alone, I think as I wave and smile awkwardly at total strangers. But, I'm hoping I'm not alone for long. After all, Marina said she'd be here. This is the perfect place to run into her, and I know she'll stand out, like an angel minus the wings.

And there she is—by the little winding bit of river, all dressed in white, swaying to the music with her hands behind her back, wrapped in an admiring circle of leering college boys.

Be cool. Calm. They're probably just friends.

Well, I'm a friend, too.

As I try to amble over casually, she puts an affectionate (it looks affectionate from here, anyway) hand on one burly bicep of some shaggy blonde trust fund baby, and my blood boils.

Calm the fuck down, Kev. Don't start anything. You're not exclusive. You're a one-night stand. She might have been giving you the gentle brush-off by text Saturday morning. Or maybe she meant "See you Friday night." This ain't Friday. So, just go say hi, like a fucking gentleman.

Someone ought to tell my feet that. I'm in jeans and my new hiking boots (a present from my mom, who is convinced that Pine Ridge is like some remote mountain town in the Alps where only men in boots and mountain goats survive), and I like the way they stomp. The grass is flat wherever I go, proof of my anger.

You're gonna get thrown out. You're going to be that over-the-top jealous guy. You'll scare her off.

I slow—finally.

But I'm still close enough to see shaggy blonde rich boy (I don't know if he's rich, he looks rich, and entitled, and like an overgrown spoiled brat) grab Marina's waist and pull her close to dance. The others leave, winking and nudging each other.

Just a friendly dance.

Be cool. Be cool.

"Take me to the Pine Walk. Everyone talked about it during my junior year. Ever been?"

"Many times," Marina laughs.

"I want a tour. Gonna give me one?" Rich Boy smiles with perfect white teeth.

Marina smiles back. Even though the look isn't for me, it's like pure sunshine—no, sunset. There's always a hint of something dark and seductive in her lips, but it's coupled with a warm glow.

"Sure, I'd be happy to. If you go over—"

"Unless you just want to go back to my dorm room."

Oh, hell no.

I wait with a tight chest to hear Marina's answer.

"That's just what I... I mean, ordinarily, I would love to." Her smile slips, and she sounds genuinely sad. Conflicted. "Maybe some other time."

Well, it's not the resounding "get lost" I wanted to hear, but it's okay. It's tricky to reject someone. You never know how they're going to react. I begin to move faster, out of my hiding place behind a heart-shaped topiary.

"Fine. Then the woods'll have to do." Rejected Rich Boy pushes Marina in front of him.

"Maybe someone else should give you a tour. I know the gardener here, and he—"

"Does the gardener have an ass like yours?" Rich Boy's hands land firmly on her bottom and push her along.

Nope! Not happening today, motherfucker!

I break into a run only to stop dead in my tracks when Marina hurls the jerk flat on his back with an audible snapping sound. She stands above him, glaring. "I personally find his ass spectacular, but his wife-to-be wouldn't like you hitting on her man—and I don't like the way you were hitting on me."

"Tease! You—"

"I have an affectionate nature. I was enjoying your company. Now, I'm not." Marina bends down and runs a perfectly sculpted nail over his grimacing face, a smile never leaving hers. "You must not behave that way in Pine Ridge, my dear... We have very little tolerance for such things."

"Damn straight."

Marina gasps and looks up, rising to her feet in that same gorgeous, fluttery white sleeveless dress she wore on our one and only night together. "Kevin!" Her voice is a mixture of fear and elation. She looks at the scum on the grass and then back to me, eyes wide.

Is she afraid I'm going to be mad at her for defending herself?

Wait, is she pissed that I saw and that I didn't do anything to help?

Crap, how did I get into this? Why do I care so much? For a second, waiting for her next words seems like wondering if my heart will make it to my next beat.

"I... I took martial arts one time. I mean, I used to," Marina stammers, backing away from the groaning figure who's trying to rise.

I nod. "Nice moves!" My heart has body-slammed my brain out of the way. I only have one thought. Make Marina stop looking scared. Bring back her smile.

"You think?"

I trot to join her, still nodding, pushing my cheeks to their limits with my broadest, proudest smile. "I was so damned impressed. You were like Bruce Lee in a sundress, baby. Hold on, honey." I pause to put the toe of my new boot right into Rich Boy's crotch, grinding down to hear him howl. "Don't get up. I'll walk her home."

"Fuck," Rich Boy whimpers and rolls on the ground, hands clamped between his legs.

Marina springs to my side and puts her arm through mine. I protectively close my arm over her shoulders, even though it's obvious she doesn't need my help.

I'm the one who's shaking. Sweating. So angry. And stupid. I didn't have to get physical with that guy. What if someone from work saw that? What if he calls the cops. Yeah, I was helping a woman in distress, but that's not always the first thing people think about when one person is white and the other one isn't.

Marina leans on me, her body soaking into mine like rain seeping into the ground. Calmness settles over me. No one's even looking in our direction—almost like they didn't see a thing.

"You like Bruce Lee?" she asks, as if we're sitting having coffee and making small talk.

The shakes are gone. "Jackie Chan's my number one, but Bruce Lee is up there. So, what's this Pine Walk?"

Her smile is back, soaring off her lips and straight into my heart. "I'll show you."

KEV SAW A SHOW OF MY demonic strength. I don't know if he realized that I simply flung a two-hundred-pound man to the ground as easily as swatting a gnat, or if he saw something else, something more acceptable to the human brain. But I know he saw something, and I know that he's still with me, sitting on a bench in the most secluded section of the Pine Walk as fireflies dance around our heads and I straddle his lap.

"I saw those guys bothering you," he breathes out between heavy kisses.

I hike up my skirts, his nearness reminding me that I am hungry again—but strangely, I'm only hungry for Kev. And the hunger only prickles in my insides when he's near. When I received my earlier unpalatable invitation from Todd, I felt nothing hungry, nothing sexual—only some confusion. "I have many friends," I lie. I have many conquests, out of necessity. I would call very few people outside of the supernatural community my friends.

"Rich Boy wasn't your friend, baby."

"I know. I don't need men like Todd for friends. I need them to scratch an itch." I bite down on his lip as he gives a frantic grunt, and I feel his hands shifting under me, undoing his zipper. The truth slips out around him.

"Nuh-uh. Your itches are mine to scratch. If I see Todd flashing his perfectly capped teeth at you, I'm going to knock ‘em down his throat."

Protector. Satisfier. Words roll from my lips, first in the ancient tongue, older than the Russian I used to converse with Gregor, older than a thousand languages, but as Kevin pulls me onto his cock, sinking himself inside my wet heat in one hard pump, my whispers turn to English. "You are my hunger. You are all I desire," I confess, words I cannot take back, words I have only said to one other.

Most of me prays he will reject me, stop and look askance at such a heartfelt, heavy declaration.

Kev moans into my mouth and grabs the back of my neck, his fingers kneading my pale skin as we rock our bodies together on the little wooden bench. "That's right." He pulls his head away to look into my eyes, dark, bottomless eyes melting into mine, little ships that have no idea of the sea they're crossing. "You're all I desire, Marina. Want you. Need you. Not just Fridays, all the days."

"Mm, yes. Yes, fuck, yes ," I answer in a breathless groan as my body gets what it's been craving. Kevin knows my insides, my tricks and depths (at least some of them), and he pulls back to adjust before sinking himself right in the most sensitive place, the needy sucker on my upper wall. He sheathes himself inside and my muscles clamp down, thousands of nerve endings dancing, pulsating. Both of us moan so loudly that night birds flutter from their roosts.

"It's too fast to claim me for all the days," I warn with my last brain cell.

"I know."

"Then—"

"You make me reckless, and I like it."

WE HOLD HANDS AS WE lazily stroll back towards the sounds of the picnic. At the last moment, I swerve, leading him off the path. Humans shouldn't venture into the uncharted woods alone, but I'll keep him safe—and he still hasn't seen Pine Ridge for what it is.

Hasn't seen me for what I am. When he does...

Well, it'll be nice as long as it lasts.

"Girl, you're insatiable," Kev snickers and kisses the back of my neck. "Warning. I'm not your rustic woodsy type. Opening the car windows instead of using the AC is my limit on roughing it."

"I'm not leading you into the woods for more hanky-panky," I chuckle and pause, letting him hold me in his arms, letting my back sink into his solid chest. I'm full. Happy.

I should be afraid, I know it, but I can't find the fear right now.

"Then why are we going into the woods? If you wanna play Little Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf, I'm willing to try." Another kiss, this one with a nip, and strong, dark hands slide tenderly across my middle, massaging me as we slowly start to move again.

"I want to avoid Todd and his friends. In a few weeks, they'll forget all about it." I hope. They might be my meal ticket this year, once Kev finds out the truth.

"Not to sound like a jealous prick, but why hang out with them?"

I turn and lead Kev toward the river, sure that I know my way back to White Pines through this circuitous route. "I... I'm single. Ready to mingle." I use pat phrases that don't explain my need for their energy, for their sexual release.

Kevin is silent for a while, holding my hand now, letting me lead him through deepening shadows and under low pine boughs. "Always got that itch? Like the attention? I've met women like that before."

He doesn't sound happy about it. I shrug. "It is lonely without... without a family. Without Gregor. Someone to love."

Damn it. I bite down on my lip hard, face turned so he can't see the angry anguish that spreads across my face. I keep revealing little bits that should stay hidden. I don't mind if men see my body, but my thoughts are private.

"I get it."

Silence. Shadows. His hand is warm in mine, firm and possessive as he wraps his fingers around my palm.

"What do you want in someone? Long-term?"

"I don't want long-term. I mean, I do, but I can't. It could be risky for you—for the person."

"Okay, well, I'm not asking about reality. Just hypotheticals. Want me to go first?"

"Yes!" I seize on the idea eagerly, but I'm also really curious, even though I have no right to be.

"Well...Four days ago, I would have said I wanted someone sweet, smart, and sane. Sexy, funny, and just a little bit boring."

I try not to wince too noticeably. I am...none of those things. Not even smart—not around him.

"Oh. Well. I guess—"

"And then I met you, and I think... Yeah, I think the plan changed a little bit. I want someone who's sweet and the right kind of crazy. The kind of crazy that takes me into the woods in the middle of the afternoon and doesn't take me back out until the moon is rising."

He's a poet, in a simple way.

The way Gregor could describe the sun on the water or the way the whale songs told stories...

Simple men are some of my favorite poets.

My heart, so carefully caged, finds skeletons of dreams and starts to fashion the bones to pick the locks.

Kev goes on. "I'm always the steady guy. The oldest. The one who didn't get hurt playing sports, the one who didn't stay out past curfew. The one who worked, saved, and paid for the last load of college classes and my own car." He stops with a sudden grunt, pulling me back to him, and spinning me into his kiss. "I'm the boring one," he says when he lets me go.

He's so far from boring. He's steady. A haven. Things that must flee, must hunt, must hide—we love those safe places. He doesn't realize that to someone who has rarely known peace, his declarations are a siren's song. "You are not boring. You are steady. A calm sea."

"You make me think about running wild. Make me think about how with the right girl, things are settled, but they never have to lose their excitement. Even the calm sea still has waves."

Oh, God. He speaks to my heart and doesn't even know it.

"You barely know me," I fight the urge to melt into his arms, to let someone enfold me, someone to share my wild nights and tranquil days, to try to recapture a life I believed I would never find again.

"I want to get to know you."

He'll only be hurt. And losing him will only hurt you.

But I'm nearing my last century. He's in his only century. Maybe... For just a little while...

"I am not the steady one. I don't have much. I can't have much. I can't stay put."

"Did Gregor make you stay put? Does Pine Ridge?"

Curse him, yes. The truth escapes. "Yes."

"Well, I'm in Pine Ridge. I'm no fisherman, but I have a steady job. I want to shoot my shot. I figure I've got as much of a chance as rich boy Todd," Kev's voice holds no pressure, and his hand slides back into mine as if we never stopped walking.

He trusts me.

Men should never ever trust me.

I want to shout out that I'm a monster. I've killed before. "I've hurt people before. Men."

"Yeah? I've hurt women, too. Sometimes doing the right thing is painful. Ending things has to happen."

"Oh, I ended things, but I'm afraid it was the wrong thing," I whisper, eyes dark and unfocused for a minute, seeing blood blooming in icy water.

We're back by the river. If we swim several miles downstream, my house boat is moored at a sloping bank where there is no dock, practically hidden by tall grass and trees that bow to reach the water. It looks uninhabited, and it should be. It's uninviting for a reason, meant to keep people away unless I pursue them. If Kev saw it, he would understand. I'm not normal. Not his sort of normal.

The other direction leads to White Pines, where people are still grilling and eating. I can see sparklers and bottle rockets against the darkening evening sky. "Your car is this way," I whisper, pointing.

"Yep."

Go. Go, I've hinted as much as I can without making you summon the police or scream in terror.

"Can I give you a lift home?" he asks.

"No, I'm in the opposite direction," I say quickly.

"Then can I see you tomorrow night?"

"I'm trying to warn you not to let me hurt you. My... My past and my associates mean I'm a very bad risk. Poor investment," I say, anxiously smoothing my hair over one shoulder.

"Your voice keeps breaking, baby. Like you don't really believe it." Kev sizes me up, head cocked, hand on his chin.

He looks far too cute like that.

"Would you hurt me?" he asks.

"No! Not on purpose."

"Good. Can I see you tomorrow night?"

"I am broke. I don't have a steady job. I can't have babies. I am telling you—"

"I am asking you— Can I see you tomorrow night ? Just you, not your bank statements, or anything else."

"Ohhh." I bite my lip and put one hand to my forehead. "You don't listen."

"Everything you've said is an excuse. I don't want an excuse. I figure if you really don't want me around, you'd tell me no. If I didn't listen to that—" Kev smirks and pounds one fist into his empty palm. "Wa-bam! I'd be flat on my back like Todd the Wonder Creep."

I have to chuckle at that.

But he's right. I've tried everything short of revealing my true form to get him to lose interest—everything but simply rejecting him.

That's one thought I can't bear. I want to taste the salty sweet of him one more time.

Want to be held in someone's arms—no, in his arms, and fall asleep feeling safe, one more time.

"What time should I come over?" I ask.

"Well... You could just come home with me now, and we'll talk about it in the morning?" Kev's soft, velvety lips brush mine.

"Take me home." I slide my arm under his. It's a lie, a very sweet one. That I have a home, and that it's with him, that it's safe to stay there, that it's allowable to let a human see me sleeping and vulnerable.

To trust.

To pretend it's love.

"I'll make breakfast this time," I whisper, kissing him again.