Fangs But No Fangs. Kathy Love

the need was still there, even though his fangs didn’t respond.

      He left the room, fleeing the need. He was halfway down the hall when realization hit him. The scrape on Jolee’s arm had been bleeding when he found her. Her blood had been on his clothing, but until just now he hadn’t even smelled it. His hunger hadn’t cried out to him until he’d consciously smelled it. There was a time that he’d never have been able to block out the lure of her blood. Were his powers so far gone? Or had he been so worried about her that blood was secondary? He didn’t really know.

      But he did know he could smell her in the trailer, her spicy, rich scent. A scent that didn’t have to do with blood, and only with Jolee herself. He entered the living room. She hadn’t moved. She remained curled on her side, her injured arm cradled against her chest. Her dark auburn hair, which had been knotted at the back of her head, had fallen loose. Strands clung to her cheeks. She had a smudge of dirt on the side of her chin, or maybe it was a bruise. Guilt constricted his chest. But no hunger. Even after smelling her blood and reacting to her essence, his hunger had calmed again.

      He frowned. But his hunger had responded to her last night in her trailer. His erection, his desire to touch her. That had been the hunger, he was sure of it. Maybe the additional couple ounces of blood had gotten him back under control. Maybe he had found the perfect amount. Enough to satisfy, but little enough to make him as close to human as he could get.

      She shifted, her knees practically coming up to touch her chin. She would be more comfortable in his bed. The lumpy mattress was far from luxurious, but it was better than the sunken cushions of the sofa.

      He started to lift her, easing one arm under her knees and the other around her back, but she moaned.

      “No,” she almost pleaded, as if she couldn’t stand to be woken again. So instead, he moved her so she was better situated on the length of the sofa, allowing her long legs to stretch out.

      He returned to his room and grabbed a blanket. As he covered her, she murmured thanks, but he didn’t think she even woke up. He tucked the cover securely around her thin frame. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d tucked a person in. Maybe his sister, Elizabeth. But he couldn’t recall.

      Pain and bitter remorse squeezed his chest. Another mortal he’d hurt. Another mortal he could have saved, if he hadn’t been blinded by his own obsession with Lilah. He hadn’t killed Elizabeth himself, but for all practical purposes, he might as well have.

      Maybe that was why he was so drawn to this mortal. She seemed to need someone. To help her, to save her—he wasn’t sure from what exactly, but he was going to make sure he protected her in some way. In the way he should have protected his sister, his brothers, and Jane. And himself.

      He sat in a chair and watched Jolee sleep. She shifted slightly so he could see her face. Those lips, her long lashes against her pale skin. Her nose, straight and tipped up just a bit at the end. His body reacted to her, but he ignored the confusing reaction. Instead he went to his computer and to his blog page.

      I think I have found a way to make up for my past mistakes. I know I can never receive forgiveness from my brothers. Or Elizabeth. Or Jane. But I can receive forgiveness from another human. I don’t exactly know where this strategy fits under my step program. She is either Step Nine: Forgiveness, where I make amends to someone I’ve hurt.

      He glanced at her. He’d definitely hurt her. Both physically and mentally.

      Or maybe she’s actually Step Eight, which I have titled Willingness. I had been using this blog as my connection to others, but I think maybe I need to do more. I think I might need to actually interact, in person, with humans for this plan to be a real success. To show my desire to change. Or she could actually be Step Twelve: Service. This step requires me to go out and help others and share what I’ve learned.

      That idea now wasn’t as appalling as it had once been. Again he looked over at Jolee. In fact, he rather liked the idea of being “friends” with a mortal. It would be quite a novelty, really.

      Jolee breathed evenly, deeply. He didn’t understand the strange reactions of his body to her. The urge to touch her. The erection without the fangs. All he knew for sure was he needed to be near her. He didn’t understand the need, but she made him feel something other than emptiness and hunger. And he would protect her. That seemed like a fair and safe trade-off.

      He turned back to the computer.

      Maybe she is a combination of all three. In which case, I dare say I’m being quite successful at this program.

      Chapter 6

      Jolee stretched, then groaned. Good Lord, she felt like she’d been hit by a Mack truck. She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. Then she turned her head, seeing tweed furniture. Furniture she didn’t have. Wait, the Mack truck analogy wasn’t far off, was it?

      That’s right. She was in her neighbor’s trailer. Christian’s trailer. Had he finally told her his name, or had she just dreamed that?

      Bracing her good arm against the edge of the couch, she pushed herself up. She looked around, but the room was empty. She couldn’t tell what time it was, because thick, insulated shades covered all the windows. The only light came from a bulb left on over the range in the kitchen.

      Christian—she was pretty sure he had told her his name—was nowhere to be seen. She swung her legs off the couch and stood. Her whole body ached, so she moved in a stiff, awkward shuffle around the room, trying to find a clock. She checked the living room and then the kitchen. No clocks. She wandered over to the window and lifted a shade. The sky was bright, but from the placement of the sun in the sky it had to be afternoon. The trailer was stifling, the air overly warm and stagnant.

      She was tempted to open a window, but it seemed like too much work. Not to mention he must like his place like this, given the heavy blinds. She dropped the shade back into place and moved to the kitchen. She needed a drink; her tongue felt like she’d been licking a bag of flour.

      She opened a cabinet searching for a glass but instead she found an odd collection of items. The Eggstractor. A Pasta Plus pot, the items still in their boxes. Meatball Magic? She took down the box, scanning the back.

      “No longer do you have to take valuable time making meatballs for dinner, now with the Meatball Magic, it’s easy.” She frowned at the box. Was making meatballs that difficult? She shrugged and put the box back.

      She picked up a white object with a handle and a hole on the other side. “Salad Shooter,” she read from the side of the contraption. She put it back, noting the only other doohickey open was the Eurosealer. No dishes. No glasses. Just infomercial gadgets. How odd.

      She found a plastic cup that was actually the base of the Master Chopper. That would have to do. The first cup she guzzled down in one breath. Then she returned the cup to the faucet for a refill. Sipping this time, she further inspected his home. She knew she shouldn’t be nosy, but after the compilation of items in the cupboards, she was intrigued. The rest of the cupboards were bare. The drawers were empty except for a large package of straws. She frowned. She could see Christian drinking from a martini glass or a champagne glass. Not with a straw. But then he didn’t seem like the type to watch informercials either. Or live in a trailer park. The list seemed to be growing.

      She went to the fridge, frowning at the typed list held by a magnet.

      Being Human:

      Step 1: Honesty

      Step 2: Belief

      Step 3: Surrender

      Step 4: Soul Searching

      Step 5: Integrity

      Step 6: Acceptance

      Step 7: Humility

      Step 8: Willingness

      Step 9: Forgiveness

      Step 10: Maintenance

      Step 11: Making Contact

      Step 12: Service