11:00 p.m.
"Are you joking?" Kris muttered when she saw the outfit Pam had pulled out of the bag she'd brought back with her. "I am not wearing that!"
"Relax. There not yours," Pam huffed as she grabbed the black leather pants and black leather lace corset from her.
"Thank god," she retorted.
"Give me some credit, will ya, KrisLyn? I did pretty good with what I got you, didn't I?"
Kris smiled. "Yes, you did. Thank you so much. But why couldn't you wait for me?"
"When Eric returns we will have something to discuss. We decided to make a change of plans."
Kris frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, not at all." She wanted to speak with Kris alone, but sometimes, in matters of certain topics, Eric was better at explaining things.
"I don't know why you bought the makeup, though. It's not like we ever go anywhere."
"Oh, stop pouting. There's nothing that makes a girl feel better than some makeup. Maybe we'll braid your hair. But truthfully, you don't need all of this. You have a natural beauty that I never had."
"Wha'? Pam, you are beautiful," she said as she sat down on the bed.
She tried to smile but failed. Sitting down beside her on the bed, she said, "I never, ever had a sense I was beautiful, just pretty. Oh, I lived the life, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I looked at my girls and thought, 'I wish I had their nose,' or 'I'd kill for those breasts.' I hid behind my clothes, my hat, and the jewelry."
"When I was your age I did want to marry, wanted someone to come rescue me and take me away from that life. But I found strength in what I did, empowerment. Never mind the profession. I had my own business, a rarity in the early 1900s." She smiled warmly. "It wasn't until I met Eric that I felt a way out, but also felt I was wanted, special, worthy of being loved. He made me feel beautiful."
"You love him, don't you?"
"I loved his warmth, kindness and encouragement. I was drawn to him, and I won't lie, he was one of the best I'd ever had sexually, males anyway. Yes, I love him and always will."
Kris's heart ached for her aunt. Carefully, she asked, "But are you in love with him?"
Pam looked at her curiously. "Where are you going with this?"
Kris looked away briefly. "Back at the lake with Eric, there was a moment when I almost …"
Pam laughed. "Why are you asking?"
"I don't understand what I'm feeling about him, Pam. One minute he infuriates me and the next I want to dig my tongue down his throat."
"Ah. I've heard the playful bickering between you two. Do you not think I don't know what's going on?"
"I don't know! I mean, my body is reacting to something about him, and I am curious. But it would be the worst mistake of my life, I know that."
Pam brushed the hair back from Kris's shoulder. "Those urges you're feeling are natural for us vampires. Remember I told you the difference between feeding and sexual urges? They go hand in hand. It makes the experience of feeding more … intimate."
"Okay, so it's not just me?"
Pam shook her head. "No, darlin.' I won't forbid you to be with him, but think twice before you do."
She nodded. "Please, please don't tell him we've talked about this! It's not like it's a done deal or anything."
"I won't. It's our own girl's secret. Now let me fancy you up."
An hour later, Kris nervously held the mirror in her hand but was afraid to look at herself. "I thought vampires couldn't see their reflection."
"Stop procrastinating. You look great," Pam fussed back.
"But I don't want him to think I'm dressing up for him."
"Trust me. He won't think that at all."
Sighing, she put on her brave face and slowly brought the mirror up. First she saw her hair, which Pam had braided, but it wasn't a normal braid. The way it was done it was like there were braids within braids. "Pam, this is awesome! How did you learn to do this?"
"On slow night us girls would sit around and do the others' hair."
Kris whispered when she noticed the makeup, "This is perfect. I'm so relieved."
"Oh, ye of little faith."
"Thank you, Pam," Kris said. "Can I get a hug?"
"No!"
Regardless, Kris turned and gave her aunt a hug, but it wasn't reciprocated. "I'm not going to let go until you hug me back."
"I can play this game all night."
Kris leaned her head back. "I know I've never really told you, but I do love you, and I'm glad you came to see me when you did. And thanks for not wiggin' out when I changed my name to Beaufort."
"Little girl, I am proud you did. I may not be all lovey dovey and affectionate like you are, but know that I love you as well."
"Shit," Eric spat as he walked through the front door. "I'm gone for almost three hours and it's an estrogen party in here."
"Shut up, Eric!" both females exclaimed. "See, that's what I'm talking about, Pam," Kris said as she stepped back.
"I'm flattered. Were you girls talking—" Eric was silenced and stood eying Kris up and down. "Aw, you dressed up just for me?"
Kris looked up at Pam. "So much for what you were thinking he wouldn't think."
He searched her face for what felt like forever to her, just as it did when she straddled him on the shore of the lake. His eyes gazed down to her new navy blue, flowered-print sundress, the V-neck high enough so as not to show any cleavage, the tight waist showing off her delicate curves. She rocked her foot nervously back and forth, the silence killing her.
"Just say it and get it over with, Eric," Pam said as she grabbed her clothes and folding them neatly.
"Kris, you look … incredible." His smile was big and warm.
She finally smiled. "Thanks. But this wasn't for you, Eric. I know I can't go out now, but Pam thought it would be fun."
"And Pam, you look captivating, as usual."
"Pam, again, that's what I was talking about," Kris snickered.
"Well, let's get this over with," Pam said as she sat in the recliner.
"What? What's going on?"
"Sit, Kris," Eric said. He watched her every move as she went to the blanket by the fireplace and sat down carefully so as not to flash her crotch at him.
"So much for the fun," Kris huffed.
"Kris, right after you … took your cat nap Malte knew what you are. He said he can help."
"Cool! Wait, can we trust him?"
"Yes. After I fed tonight I checked him out. Malte Nyman's grandfather, Vilgot, is full were-saber, as they prefer to be called. Malte does not carry the gene, but he knew what you are when you kneaded his thigh while you fed, and your smell is unique to him. The mole on your left shoulder, in the shape of a claw, he saw it, as did I. It's not a mole, per se, but a mark, the mark of the saber." Kris simply stared up at him, letting the information digest.
"Honey, we'll be leaving tomorrow night," Pam said.