Blood Juniper A Vampire Tale - Volume 1 Chapter 68 Undesirable Part 3

I chase helplessly as Betsy pulls Ashlen up the triangular staircase. Even if I were to go after them full sprint, I don’t think I’d catch them. I should have been more alert, seen through that cheap trick!

Maybe Betsy is right. Perhaps I am losing my edge. What I do know is I have the urge to break her corrupt little fingers one by one.

I said I’d protect Ash. *I Promised it.*

I lose sight of them and completely forget about trying to keep a low profile, tearing up the stairs.

An unexpected sight greets me far off at the thin balcony hall.

I’m not precisely sure what happened but I’m relieved to see Ashlen is free and backing away from a rising confrontation. Betsy’s attention has been called elsewhere. She’s fuming, thrusting a furious finger in the face of a perfectly nonchalant Cooper.

I don’t waste time getting to Ash. Betsy won’t have a second opportunity to touch her. I will not let it happen.

“That was my claim, Cooper,” Betsy hisses with rapid growing militancy, “Give me one good reason not to bleed you for it.”

Cooper looks lovingly down at her as if she’s only a rambunctious puppy nipping at his pant leg, “Whatcha on abou’ Betsay?”

“Don’t be smart with me. I know you released her.”

“Ya had some chicky tied up in dere n’ she got loose?” he jabs a thumb at the nearest room, he’s definitely playing dumb, “That’s sloppy o’ ya. You need ta work on your knot tyin’. I’m no boy scou’ but I’ll show ya tha square one n’ tha figer-eight-”

“This,” she growls, holding up a braided rope, “has been snapped.”

She’s overly dramatic, half dropping, half thrusting the rope at his feet and crossing her arms.

“Now, Cooper,” her tone is filled with that false scary sweetness threatening to taper, “I thought we had some special understanding with us being so close in era. So why are taking what’s *mine*?”

“Took wha’? Do ya fink I’m hidin’ ‘er behind mi back or someffin’?”

She fists a wad of his shirt and balls the knitted fabric as if squeezing the life out of it, her fangs are large and exposed.

He blinks down at her, heavy lidded and non confrontational. A charm that has most dames and even some men falling over themselves. Cooper’s strong yet adorable face that most can’t stay mad at But this is Betsy we’re talking about.

“Well don’ let mi stop ya,” he says, “Betta’ go find ‘er before she gives ya tha slip.”

“You mixed up, mutt tongued, son of a bitch.”

“Ya kno’ wha’, yer right, Betsay,” Cooper leans back against the railing, boredom from her nagging starting to show, “We’re close in age, so you should kno’. Pick a private location and I’m not responsible fer ya dinna, Kay? Iss not mi job, Missy.”

“You really want to play the meddler’s game? I’m surprised at you. You must be feeling pretty confident,” she sneers, clicking the syllables of the word ‘confident’.

Betsy glares purple daggers into his face but he remains unintimidated and unaffected.

Her eyes shift to study him, weighing the reward over the consequence of her next move. Perhaps *she’s* lacking confidence to take him in a fight. Interesting.

Between the two of them, I don’t actually know who would come out on top. Cooper will take every opportunity to avoid a ‘meaningless melee’, as he puts it, but any fool who’s taken that for weakness has regretted it. Apply enough pressure can you kiss that pacifism goodbye, he’s certainly no amature when it comes to combat.

Betsy peeks over her shoulder at me. The annoyance hardening her features relaxes into something downright tickled seeing that I’m guarding Ash. She lets the shirt snap back into place and takes a step for us. Her devious gaze hones in on Ashlen.

I wall off Ash with a snarl, “Keep us out of your hair brained schemes.”

Her eyebrows raise as her attention shifts back to me, “Or what? What will you do?”

I glance at the gathering below. A few are staring and whispering, some are pretending not to spy on the escalating engagement taking place in the upper hall. More than half the room is either disinterested, politely ignoring or hasn’t noticed. Well, that’s something at the very least. I fix back on her and stare her down.

Her smile widens, goading me, “Are you going to get mean? Is that bad boy side gonna get violent?”

I’m meticulous about my phrasing, “Lay a finger on Ash again and you won’t have an ounce of enjoyment from what I’ll do.”

Scarlet hair spills over her shoulder with an animated tilt of the head, “Are you actually threatening me?”

“Not a threat, a promise.”

It’s difficult to intimidate someone who gets a thrill out of a threat, but I warn her with the glaring gravity of my word. I don’t like leaving an air of mystery to it but anticipation has always fueled her excitement more than curiosity. Bottom line, I won’t have her dragging Ash into this shit anymore.

She narrows her eyes considering the severity of my promise and whether I’m capable of doing something she wouldn’t find twisted enjoyment in. We hold each other’s gaze for the space of several heartbeats.

She breaks our silent stare down, twisting to the side and shaking her hair back, “A decade ago I wouldn’t have doubted that. But you’ve gone soft.”

“You want to risk testing me on it?” I bare my teeth, “I know you better now than I did a decade ago, much more than I care to know.”

Her lips flick into a brief sneer before contorting into a feisty lemon drop pucker. She searches my face, the empty room beside us, then the crowd below. Her rapid diabolical irises pulse, showing the faintest hint of returning annoyance.

A hiss of all around bitterness passes through her teeth and she leaves the three of us without a goodbye. That’s the most courteous thing she’s done since showing up. Good riddance.

We watch her indignant heels glide away in something that would be considered a march if it wasn’t a supernatural blur. Much too swift for the general public.

The woman’s judgemental eyes and upturned nose scorn anyone daring to sneak a glance her way. Hindsight, it’s incredible how blind I was to her obvious faults. Was she always this eccentric? It’s a little frightening that she had that kind of hold on me. I suppose we all harbor a willful though unconscious pass for the people we care about.

What was it that drew me to her in the first place?

Now I remember, strangely it’s her authenticity. She’s not one to lie to herself and not easily fooled by the bullshit of others. I suppose, a part of me admires one that can embrace who they are so unapologetically, even if that true self is admittedly wretched.

Not like I can talk, I’m just as bad if not worse than her. I just hide and live in a state of denial. I’m not a good person and she wasn’t put off by it. In fact, she loved me for my unforgivable defects. There is certainly something wanton about unconditional acceptance.

Or unconditional love, as some would say.