The Horrible Crowes - Cherry Blossoms
Afterglow: the time of day just after the sun is swallowed by the horizon and the sky looks as though it has been brushed with watercolor. The glow of warmth and comfort that comes after a high. I relished them both, languid as I lounged in the soft grass. My hair - which I had trimmed and curled in preparation for tonight - fanned around my face; my fingers, stretched far above my head, brushed the soft fur of my just-finished meal; and I arched my back. I had been delicate with my food tonight, not letting a drop of the doe's blood touch my new sundress or sandals and ruin my plans.
Though I had let my eyes drift shut with the setting sun, I could sense Jasper was close, his own thirst satiated, by the lovely feelings he was emitting. His pleasure and affection edged my comfort closer to ecstasy, which built even further as I felt him settle next to me. His fingers brushed my cheek and I curled myself against him.
"Enjoying date night, Darlin'?" he asked. I nodded and smiled, finally opening my eyes to meet his. They were a light butterscotch, soft as he examined my face. My own eyes had only just begun to temper my new diet. Just three weeks into vegetarianism, they were closer to amber.
I asked, "Did you enjoy your meal?"
My gaze darted briefly to his button down and jeans as I examined them for blood. I found none. He was just as careful as I.
"Yes," he replied. Jasper wrapped his arms around me and slowly rolled us, until he was flat on his back, holding me tight, my body sprawled on top of his. His warm breath ruffled through my hair as he spoke. "You should eat something else. It's a long drive to Peter and Charlotte's, and there isn't much of anywhere to stop on the way."
"I will," I promised, shifting in his lap. I dragged myself across his stomach as I sat up, the rough denim of his jeans chafing my bare inner thighs - my dress had spilled to either side of my straddled legs. I felt the first curls of lust: his and mine, one in the same. My gaze unabashedly worked over his body, taking in broad shoulders and lean muscle and I breathed, "food can wait."
I let my hand trail down the path my eyes had made, dragging across his chest and down his abdomen.
"Sarah," Jasper murmured, his voice gentle and husky. I leaned down, my hand cupping his cheek; he whispered my name and his adoration between kisses. His lips against mine, firm and cold but more gentle than they had ever been, pulled a soft moan from deep within me. I moaned his name . . . Jasper . . . and his hand, resting against my waist, tightened. My skin yielded to his touch, curving under his fingertips. Every part of me yearned to have him inside.
He whispered, "So beautiful."
My hips, moving of their own mind, rolled and shifted against him, trying to soothe the building pressure.
"Oh my God," I moaned, "Please touch me."
Jasper grinned, flipping us at vampiric speed. And I was on my back, laying amongst the butterfly weeds with my arms around his neck and his body comfortably situated between my legs. I pushed myself against him, my body begging for his.
"Shh," he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck. I could feel his teasing smile against my skin. He said, "be patient, Darlin'."
His fingertips were slow, agonizingly slow, as he pushed my dress up over my hips and stomach. The volume of pleasure had been turned higher by our gifts. The strain and pressure of desire - I felt his and mine, mingling in the pit of my stomach, driving my need. The lust and affection - the emotions I knew he was feeling, mine as though they were his own. He pulled my face to his, drowning my senses in a passionate kiss. The scents of the woods and the touch of the grass against my knees faded. All that mattered, all that registered, was the tangle of his hands in my hair and the smell of his skin. I'd had enough patience.
I threw my arms around his neck and crushed my lips to his, using the momentum, and near my full strength, to flip us.
"Ow," Jasper said - he was grinning - as he slammed into the ground. My fists curled into the fabric of his shirt and yanked, spraying buttons across the forest floor.
A scent, a distraction, danced with the breeze - the barest hint of sweet human blood - and ruffled through my hair. My heavy breath snagged in my throat, but the thirst was sated, and one touch from my lover pulled my attention back him. He kissed along my jawline.
Seduction: the pull of every touch and kiss and whisper, drawing us closer to its inevitable conclusion. The temptation that floated towards my nose and lit my throat on fire. It had grown stronger, the human - humans? - had come closer, and the fire in my throat was joined by the twin burn of another.
I turned a desperate gaze to Jasper, yearned for him to stop me, and his eyes locked on mine. They were dark, near black, with wild thirst and desire. My lust was driving his higher. My thirst was driving his higher. Thirst and Lust. They warred, twisting and turning together. Two vipers intertwined.
Thirst won. It bit into my throat.
I yanked my body from Jasper's arms and ran towards the source of temptation. He was just behind me, his footsteps light in the spring of damp grass.
The scene was a few short moments away: a man and a woman, intertwined against a rock, his hulking body covering hers. His fist crushed her delicate wrists into the granite and her back was being grated by the rough surface of the boulder. Blood oozed from the shallow scrapes. His other hand stifled her whimpers and pleadings, but her wide, panicked eyes screamed and could not be silenced.
Their camping gear was scattered around the site. Two sleeping bags, one gray and one a pale purple, were zipped together, spilling out of a large tent. A pair of camping chairs sat next to a dying fire, one collapsed to its side. An all-terrain vehicle rested a few yards away, no doubt how they navigated the rocky trails to this site.
"Shut up, Emma!" the man growled. He slammed his hand into the rock by her head. I scratched at my arms; they burned with her pain.
Rage bubbled inside me. If there was any man who deserved to die, in that moment, I could swear this man did. But it was her blood that flooded my senses, rich and hot and sweet. And I hesitated.
The woman's blood. Blood. Blood!
I took a step towards the woman, my gaze intent on her neck. The long lines of her throat. The throb of her jugular. Her wrist. The broken skin. The slowly dripping wine.
I was just a step from her, my eyes wild with thirst. Her heart beat faster. Fear.
Jasper appeared behind me, throat burning. His fingers dug into his palm, cracking his own flesh with the effort of not murdering an innocent woman.
The woman's blood slipped down her fragile wrist.
I closed the inches between us.
One last burst of resolve. Jasper shoved me towards the man. My teeth sank into his dense, muscled neck.
Ambrosia exploded into my mouth as my victim's pain exploded through my throat. A distraction. I let my gift free, closing the man's synapses and easing his agony. His limp body collapsed against me. The blood flowed warm and rich. A Michelin Star restaurant compared to the fast food of animal blood. How had I sustained myself on anything less? I heard Jasper - his voice hollow, like it was coming from a great distance - growl at the woman, ordering her to flee. As she scrambled towards her ATV, My Love stepped to the other side of the man. His throat was burning and his resolve was weakening. His eyes were wide, black coals.
Jasper sank his teeth into the man's jugular, accepting blood into his long-starved body.
Between both of us, each pulling at the plasma, it was drained quickly. And the corpse dropped to the forest floor.
'Saints of God, come to their aid, come to meet them, Angels of the Lord.'
I whispered it breathlessly.
Guilt. It hit Jasper like a bullet and he dropped to his knees. He hung his head as the human blood stained his eyes. I felt it too, the contrition, the shame, tugging at my heart. Stinging my eyes - my crimson eyes, the progress of the past weeks had been erased. But my mate, my Jasper, was in so much pain. I knelt in the grass next to the . . . next to it, and reached across the expanse to brush my fingertips along Jasper's cheek. He flinched from my touch and I drew my hand back like it had been burned, my breath frozen in my throat. Did he blame me? It had been my undisciplined thirst he had succumb to.
"I - I'm sorry," I stammered. Look at me, Jasper! Look at me!
It was only a second before my fear was soothed. Jasper reached for my hand and held it against his face. His skin was hot and flushed from feeding, and he clung to my hand with both of his. The love poured from him as freely, as always, but the guilt . . . I was drowning in our joined guilt. Jasper picked me up, and I settled in his lap with his arms wrapped tight around me. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his bare chest, ignoring the flecks of red that dotted his white skin, breathing him in until all I could smell was the cedar and clove of my mate.
We remained as statues for close to an hour while the man's body cooled and the sun dropped low in the sky.
"Jasper?" I breathed.
"Yes?"
His voice cracked and my heart broke.
"We'll need to take care of this," I said. The corpse, the tent, the spray of blood across the rocks and the dirt - all of it would need to disappear. Quickly, as the woman would likely inform the police of what had transpired. At least what she had seen. But Jasper's eyes had not left the ground, the constant pounding of shame had not left his soul, and I offered, "I can do it. If you need some time."
"No," he said. He pushed himself off the ground and tried brushed the dirt from his jeans, but it only smeared. "I'm fine. Let's work."
He glanced around the scene and said, "I'll go back to the cabin -"
The ranger's cabin, the place we had been staying for these few weeks, was deep in the Blue Ridge mountains. It had no electricity or hot water and was full of dust and splintered wood, but it was a place to be. It had a porch to sit on as we got to know each other and it had a bed for us to make use of.
"- and get us some shovels," Jasper finished, "we'll burn and bury everything."
I said, "I'll get rid of the ATV tracks. Meet you back here."
Jasper nodded solemnly and left. He took the bulk of the heaviness with him, and the guilt, shame, and melancholy lifted off my shoulders.
"Oh, Jas," I breathed, watching his retreating form as he ran.
I turned to the scene before me. The tents, the sleeping bags, the assorted camping gear. It would be burned. My eyes skipped over the corpse and my stomach turned. The tire tracks, cutting rough paths through the soft dirt. I would follow them to a bend in the road, blurring and obscuring them, then I would fell a tree. Any ranger the woman located would be sure she was lost. That her ATV could not possibly have crossed there. There would be no evidence to support her claims. The poor girl may be called a fool, but at least she would be spared the truth.
I followed through on my plans with deft and practiced hands, absent of my mind. I was considering our circumstances. With a body behind us, toil before us, Heaven above and Hell below us, I made my way back to the meeting place.
When Jasper returned, he carried two shovels, a small can of gasoline, and some clothes in his hands. Worn jeans for him, a dress for me. It was a simple dress, heather gray and cotton. Somber, and I wondered if that had crossed his mind. He sat the clothes to the side. Wordlessly, he tossed a shovel to me and we began to work. A pit, roughly eight feet long and six feet deep, appeared. We tossed the camping gear in. The body, wrapped in sleeping bags, followed. It didn't quite fit. The man's feet, clad in durable-looking hiking boots, and a sliver of cold, pale ankle stuck out from the bag.
Jasper yanked the tattered remains of his shirt from his body, tossing the blood-stained fabric into the hole. As he unbuckled his jeans, I pulled my sundress over my head. It left me in just black lingerie. It clung to my skin and accentuated my curves, and I glanced at Jasper. His hair had fallen in his face, but, through the loose strands, he was watching me. His jeans, unzipped and hanging dangerously low on his hips, revealed the waistband of his boxers. My eyes met his, and he turned his head, laughing ruefully. How differently this night was supposed to go.
We redressed swiftly, tossing the old clothes into the pit and dropping a burning lighter onto the pile. It went up in flames.
"Bones broke in half
A stain on my shirt
From a couple hours out with the boys
And all good things come to an end."
