VII.
Katherine woke up with a start. She was almost certain she'd heard a sound outside the room. She pressed against the warm body she was lying against, reluctant to get up, but then curiosity got the best of her. She rolled away with a groan, pushing herself into a sitting position and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She just sat for a moment as she tried to get her bearings. Oh, right. Noise. Outside. Investigate. Might as well get it over with. She started to push herself to her feet.
"Whatsit?" Elijah murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back onto the bed. She let out a soft shriek as she overbalanced and fell onto him. She started to move away, but he slid his arm around her, holding her fast, his hand pressed against the small of her back. She tensed to struggle, but then his other hand was in her hair, pulling her closer, and his mouth was on her pulse point, wet and hot. She relaxed against him and he sighed.
"Katerina," he murmured in Bulgarian—not the modern language, but the one she spoke as a child—and a chill went through her. She didn't understand why he spoke it now, but it was such a turn-on that she wasn't going to question it. "You smell so good."
"Elijah," she whispered, shivering as he dragged his tongue down the column of her neck. "What are you doing?"
"Shh."
She opened her mouth to protest, but then he was kissing her, rolling her onto her back, pushing his leg between her thighs. Her skin felt like it was on fire wherever he touched her, and all she wanted was more, more of his kisses, more of his touch, more of him. The next thing she knew, their clothes were gone and his weight was pressing her into the mattress as he devoured her, his fangs cutting into her tongue. She whimpered as the sweet, coppery taste of her own blood filled her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him closer. His hands skated down her sides to the apex of her thighs and then something hard was nudging against her. She spread her legs and tilted her hips to let him in and—
Katherine awoke with a start, disoriented, her eyes wide as she tried to remember where she was. But then she felt something hard and silk-clad beneath her, and she realized she was in the motel room with Elijah—on Elijah, as it seemed. And fully clothed in her night things still, as was he. Apparently it had all been a dream.
"Thank God you're awake," a dry voice somewhere above her head said with a mixture of humor and annoyance. "My arm's asleep."
Katherine rolled off him quickly, only stopping right before she fell off the bed.
"You should've woken me then," she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. She'd just had a sex dream about Elijah for the third night in a row. There was no way it could be a coincidence.
Elijah gave her a lazy smile that did all kinds of things to her insides that she didn't want to think about, at least not when she was awake.
"You were sleeping so deeply," he said. "I hated to wake you. Did you have pleasant dreams?"
Katherine scowled as she jumped out of bed.
"Fuck you! Stay out of my head!" Katherine said with a snarl.
Elijah's eyebrow shot up as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "I would never violate your privacy like that, Katherine. Whatever you dreamt, those thoughts were your own. Besides, aren't you on vervain?"
Katherine's eyes widened as she stared at him, and her face went hot as his lips twisted into a smirk. Turning away abruptly, she grabbed her bag and stomped into the bathroom.
A while later, she emerged freshly showered and dressed, somewhat calmer even if her gums were still tingling unpleasantly from the vervain she'd gargled with her mouthwash. Elijah was up and dressed, his things already packed, frowning at his phone as he tapped on the screen. She ignored him as she collected her things, stopping briefly to shove her feet into her shoes before she made her way to the exit.
"Hurry up, I want to get back on the road," she called over her shoulder as she pulled open the door. She froze as she saw the vacant space in the lot where her SUV had once been.
"Oh, fuck."
"What?" Elijah appeared in the doorway behind her and stopped short. "Where's your car?"
"I don't know!" she said, her voice rising in panic. "It was still here when I got back last night!" She wandered across the lot to the parking space, looking around as if the car might magically appear.
"Fuck," she said again, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I'm going to eat whoever did this. And then I'm going to kill them. Slowly."
"Whoever it was is long gone," Elijah said. She looked towards his voice to find him crouched down next to the hotel clerk's old Malibu. He pushed himself to his feet again, brushing dust off his knees. "Tires were slashed."
She looked over at the door of the main office, noticing for the first time that it was hanging off its hinges, and then turned back to meet Elijah's eyes. He nodded and then they both started to walk towards the office. She reached the door just before he did and was about to enter when he suddenly picked her up from behind and moved her aside. She opened her mouth to protest, but then she smelled it—blood.
He lifted the door out of the way and then stepped inside.
"It's safe," he said, unnecessarily as she'd already followed him in.
The stench of blood was even stronger now. It was everywhere, painting the walls, the reception desk, the floor. She could see a pair of mismatched Nikes sticking out from behind the desk, one pristine white, the other red, and it took her a moment to register why the shoes were different colors. She looked up at the blood splattering the walls and sighed.
"I'm hungry," she said. "Whoever did this could have at least offered to share."
At that moment, Elijah re-entered the room from the back holding a long rug under one arm, a shovel in the other hand. He shot her a disapproving glare as he set aside the shovel and then unrolled the rug onto the floor and she sighed.
"I'm just kidding," she said as she moved around the desk, crouching down to help him. "Sheesh."
"You could be a bit more respectful of the dead," he said, his tone slightly scolding, but not unkind.
"They're just food," she said, her voice tinged with scorn.
"You don't really think that."
She met his eyes for a moment and then looked away. She set the victim's feet on the carpet and then lifted her thumb to her mouth, licking the blood off, grimacing at the stale taste. "He's been dead for at least three hours," she said. "Maybe shortly before sunrise. I think I might have heard something." Right before dreaming.
"I didn't hear a thing," Elijah said, frowning slightly as he positioned the body. "I haven't slept that well in ages."
She glanced at him from under her lashes, wondering what would give him sleepless nights.
"I had nothing to do with this," she said, her stomach starting to churn.
Elijah looked up, his eyes widening slightly. "I know that," he said. A smile teased at his lips as he added, "You wouldn't waste this much blood."
Katherine stared at him for a moment and then she snorted.
"Damn straight," she said, mollified. "Waste not, want not." She sat back on her heels as he rolled up the carpet. "Do you need help carrying him?"
"No," Elijah said as he got to his feet and then heaved the body over his shoulder. "Let's get this over with."
Katherine checked to make sure the coast was clear, but the motel was as deserted as ever. They made their way over to the field, beating a path through the weeds, stopping just out of sight of the motel or the street. The open fields stretched out before them, no neighboring structures to be seen. He set down the body and started to dig as she stood lookout. He arranged the body carefully in the grave and then they took turns filling it. Finally, she patted down the soil with the shovel and then set it aside.
"There," she says. "But it feels like something's missing." She cocked her head at Elijah. "Know any prayers?"
"No."
"I suppose I could sing," she said.
Elijah nodded. "That sounds appropriate. Please do."
"All right." Katherine took a deep breath and then began to sing in a clear, sweet voice.
One toke over the line, sweet Jesus
One toke over the—
"Stop," Elijah said, holding up his hand. "'One Toke over the Line'? A song about getting high on marijuana is your definition of appropriate funeral music?"
Katherine shrugged. "It's the only song I know by heart with the word 'Jesus' in it," she said.
"I see," Elijah said. "Very well. Carry on, then." He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention back to the mound. Katherine had a feeling he wished he had a hat that he could take off in respect. Then she imagined Elijah in a fedora and her stomach made an odd flip-flop.
"Katherine?"
She jerked out of her reverie and looked at him.
"What?"
Elijah gave her a bemused glance and then motioned to the grave. "Please continue."
"If you think you can do better…"
Elijah sighed. "I can't," he said. "I've never been terribly religious, especially not with the fate life dealt me."
Katherine snorted.
"Yeah," she said. "I hear you."
She hesitated for a moment and then she moved to stand next to him, slipping her hand in his as she finished the song.