Blood Juniper A Vampire Tale - Volume 1 Chapter 75 Holding Back Part 1

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No one can accuse Sam of incompetence, he’s very efficient at getting things back on track.

It takes him two minutes to get the rest of the way cleaned up at a public drinking fountain, two more to pick out a leisurely strolling couple, convince them we’re old buddies and there you go; Dinner.

He leaves me with the guy and goes to “run an errand” with the girl.

I’m annoyed by the envy rearing it’s ugly head as he walks off with her. It’s an unreasonable jealousy. I notice a gold band on the man’s ring finger, they could very well be married.

The couple is in their early thirties, dresses for the cold, bundled up in dense coats and on the pudgy side. Your average but jovial couple. They were happily chatting before Sam worked his witchcraft on them.

I get why he’s separating us. For the most part, I’ve built enough self restraint to feed on my own but Sam’s cautious about exposing me to too much at once.

Maybe the jealousy is about more than just Sam being alone with another woman, perhaps the strangers’ merry, everyday-life conversation makes me miss the normalcy.

“Of all places I didn’t think we’d run into you here. What are the odds?” says the sociable stranger under the influence of Sam’s invented story, “I hardly recognized you. You look really great, Jill.”

Small talk. Do I miss small talk? I remember talking with my family at the dining room table and messing with my younger brother as we’d fight over what to watch on the TV. I recall chatting with friends as we’d walk through parks and stores or just sitting at home. I even look fondly back on complaining to coworkers about how much the job we had sucked.

I took so much for granted. The people in my life, especially. I got so wrapped up in my life problems and everything that was going wrong, how I was failing at achieving things I thought were important. I wish I had appreciated the people and things that were going right a little more.

*Ba-dah ba-dah ba-dah*

The guy clears his throat, I realize I’m staring hard at it. I watch the muscles move as he swallows, that main artery taps with impatience. He smells like aftershave and something cozy, like wool or firewood. Very warm.

“Jill, are you listening?” the man scratches at the dead skin on his windburnt knuckles, there are crescent moons of dirt under his short nails.

The rhythm of the scratching seems to go on, like the echoing in a creaking unfinished attic and the heartbeat is steady. I sail out the tiny circle window of the roof with an umbrella in hand, in search of his heart. Parachuting down, descending closer, closer to the thrumming source.

‘Okay, this is getting demented. No more stalling, I’m seriously hungry.’

“Mmm, sorry. Long night,” I reply.

He tries to get a conversation flowing, clearly uncomfortable with what he perceives as silence, “So, you needed-”

“I know it’s out of the blue but I appreciate you being willing. It’s for nursing school. It’ll prick a little but you’ve done this before.”

“… I have?”

Oh great, what if Sam’s little spell wears off? I better hurry.

“Yep, let’s sit over here. Just lay back and close your eyes like last time.”

“It’s weird, I don’t really remember last time”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to,” I mutter, grabbing his rough palm and coaxing him to the bench. His skin is dry and hot. The veins stand out in his wrist and his blood is loud, rapidly running through each line.

He plops down and squints hard the way people do when they know they’re forgetting something. He examines his surroundings, twisting his lower half to get a good look over his shoulder.

“Wait, where’s Ang?” he queries aloud, still searching for her. He peers into the lamp lit fog that seemed to spawn from the cracks in the cement. Pretty ominous, I’m just waiting for Jack the Ripper to spring out of the bushes.

“She went to grab that case with Sam, remember? They’ll be back any minute.”

“Yes, that’s ri Hold on. Did you say Sam?”

Damn it, I forgot that alias he’s always using. I rush to correct myself, “Jason, I meant Jason.”

“Hmm,” his heartbeat ticks up a notch or two as he stares at me, “I think I should go help them.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say too forcefully, that beating is really starting to get to me. I dial my tone back to reiterate with a forced smile, “It’s fine. They’ll be headed back this way by the time you get over there.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, pursing his lips, “I’ll go check on them.”

He stands up, about to walk away. I know he won’t be swayed. I have the inclination to yell that this would all be so much easier if he’d just cooperate with me!

Frustration and hunger hop in the driver seat, rationality isn’t an option anymore.

I grab his wrist and lock on. Warmth surges down my arm. It’s like a fleece blanket snaking down it and coiling around my torso all the while curled next to a flickering fireplace. I am very aware of the heat his body is giving off and I’m the cold-blooded reptile basking in it.

His head snaps my way, confused and startled with a frown. He tries to take his hand back. I keep my hold firm, eyeing him motionless from beneath my bangs.

His face furrows into deeper disquiet. He tries to shake me off, demanding, “Let go.”

His attempts to get loose are feeble. His pulse is speeding up, sweat is starting to bead on his ruddy complexion. His anxiety is flourishing, it’s enticing, exciting.

“I need to find Angela, I’m going to. Stop holding me back,” he yanks again, delicious anger flushes his plump face, “Did he do something to her?”

*Ba-Dahhh Ba-Dahhh Ba-Dahhh!*

His free hand pushes my shoulder, I let him, “Hey! Stop it! You answer me.”

He comes at me a second time, intent on shoving with more force. I grab his moving arm and whirl him, trading places as his ass hits the woven plastic seat.

“What did you two do! I said let go!” he raises his voice, struggling to no avail. Is he using full force? Because it’s easier holding him down than a toddler throwing a fit.

His pulse is throbbing in my head, his sweat clings, permeating his savory odor. I feel my eyes ache with it, my mouth and throat ache with it.

Fear is bubbling over again as he catches a glimpse of it, of me. I must look frightening, my chest is rumbling. Am I growing, laughing? Who knows.

He yells, swinging at me. It’s like those colorful balls in a ball pit, bouncing off with no impact.

I hiss and thrust his shoulder back, sinking my fangs into his plentiful wrist. It flows like magma, a rush of salt and heat and then that unmatched sweetness.

The shock of the bite silences him. I can hear his pulse crashing in my ears like roaring waves.

More balls bounce off of my arm and face, these are unrestrained punches and it’s nothing, *Nothing*!

I think about how powerless I’ve been in other brawls. Getting owned and trampled by Betsy and Miles and every other vampire. Not here, I’m on top of the food chain, on top of the *world* and it feels right. This is how it should be.

I’m strong and he’s weak. I’m above him, unstoppable, immortal. The red river is steaming like a hot spring on my lips and down my throat. A banquet for the God’s and I’m pleasantly drowning in it.

I snarl and throw his wrist down, giggling, drunk from the taste and vigor. I pounce on his chest, slamming him into plastic and metal, knocking the wind out of him as he hurls panicked garble.

His meaty arms and legs are wiggling to escape but it’s useless. I chomp into that taunting pulse on his neck like it was meant for me.

His scream is brief. Life swimming in my ears, pooling in. Warm, sugared and incredible. I follow the rapid patter, floating in the dark and up to the light.

The liquid quenches and clarifies, predator and prey. This is the way things are and it doesn’t matter if I drink until he stops moving, permanently.

‘I’m the master of his fate.’

The flavor is crystal clear and unearthly, whispering secrets of untold potential hidden within his life force.

‘His death is insignificant.’

I am in control. *Mine.*

‘Woah! Slow down.’

I pull myself off and take a sharp breath. His eyes are fluttering, a hand is groping at my sleeve, the other is pulling at the collar of my shirt in woozy half consciousness. I’m dizzy too.

There’s a bruise throbbing near the back of his neck, I was way too rough. It’s scary how easy it is to get carried away.

I stare at him stunned, mindlessly licking the sticky cotton candy remains off my bottom lip, drifting in the slow clap of his heart.

I catch the liquid trail rolling from the ragged wound l created. I gawk at it, instinctively lowering myself to seal the spill before it stains his cream button up. My lips are on his skin, my hands are hovering at my sides not wanting to commit by grabbing hold.

I want to rub my face against his soft flesh and inhale deeply. My tongue slides up to the gash, licking it clean.

That drumming is mellow, hypnotic. I have the urge to bite down again and feel it course through me, feel his life fade and become one with mine.

I bolt upright and take a few steps backwards. It’s like two sperate heartbeats are assaulting me now.

There’s something evil inside me. I don’t like this. ‘I’m not a killer. I’m *not* a killer. I’m *not* a *killer*!’

“Ash?”

I flinch and spin on my toes, eyes full.

Sam stares back at me. He has the heavyset lady laid across both arms. Her curls are cascading over a chalky face and splotchy cheeks. She’s very out of it, possibly unconscious.

He doesn’t move, seriously evaluating as he questions again, “Are you in a good place?”

I close my eyes, huffing out my nose with an exasperated nod.

He props the woman next to the man. Her head falls on her partner’s shoulder. They appear to be peacefully napping. The rhythm of their pulses overlapping and crisscrossing.

His attention returns to me, “You look like you’re on edge.”

“I wasn’t fast enough and your hypnosis wore off.”

He examines the man, tilting his head, “Well, it seems like you had it under control. You didn’t take too much, he’s breathing fine.”

“I’m terrible at this. I made him suspicious of us and he was going to come after you. I got too aggressive and bruised him up. I-”

Sam shifts his weight, confused, “Doesn’t seem like you went overboard. You even kept his shirt white well, you missed his wrist.”

Of course, I always miss something.

He leans forward pulling the man’s wrist to his mouth. He cleans up the cut in a single swipe before letting the arm fall gently into place. I watch Sam delicately roll the morsel in his mouth unconsciously.

He seems to consider the flavor. His lips vaguely parting then pressing as he swallows. I’m absorbed in him. His natural fluidity and flux is sensual and enigmatic.

I realize he’s observing my googly eyed idiocracy. I look away, forcing myself out of the dream state.

“You don’t need to be so tense. I’d say you did pretty damn close to perfect.”

“Well, there’s blood on his cuff and won’t he remember me talking to him and then jumping him.”

“You’d be surprised what people will write off as hallucinations or dreams. I’m betting he’ll come to the conclusion of passing out,” he glances back at the drowsy couple, “Besides, by the time he wakes he won’t have the lacerations to prove an assault, regardless of the blood on his sleeve.”

“How does that work?” I digress, “How do they heal so fast from the bites?”

Sam shakes his head thoughtfully, “I don’t know for sure. Something about our blood and saliva speeds up the healing process. I suppose, it also has a narcotic and stimulating effect. That’s probably why some humans get a rush from drinking vampire blood.”

“What! Living people? That’s What the hell? Shouldn’t they find it repulsive? Why would someone ever *choose* to do that?”

Sam frowns with a shrugs still looking far away, thinking deeply about something, “You’d have to ask them, Allure has many pets hooked on the stuff. I’ve been told it’s like a drug without the negative side effects.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Pets?”

“Yeah,” he says disapprovingly as his frown deepens, “Humans that follow vampires around like they’re on a leash.”

“You seem to have some opinions about that.”

He divulges his thoughts with an air of bitterness, “They have one life and the freedom to spend it anyway they choose. And with that they willingly become a slave, put it all on the line. And for what?”

I muse at Sam’s disfavor as he placidly trots away, the grey fog swirls around his heels.

I follow just behind as we head for the underground tunnel made for pedestrians as a way around the roads with laxed speed limits. His bike is parked on Orchard Crossing, a few blocks away.