Disclaimers: I have an imagination. Different from Stephanie Meyers. Twilight is not mine.
WARNING: RATED M FOR A REASON. CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC SCENE
Chapter 9: Cameo Goddess
Dawnette's POV
A little bit of titanium white never hurt anybody... mixed in with the warm teak and crimson red... I had to get the color of his skin tone right. The paint colors I mixed did the Major no justice.
I let out a short laugh and shake my head. Look at me actin' like I'm Bob Ross* talking about mixing paint colors and shit... I pause for a moment, letting my eyes rake over the canvas.
In other news… we urge citizens to… and lock doors…
"Dawnie!" Uncle C shouted over the muffled tv. I don't know if he was watching Criminal Minds* or something and maybe wanted me to join him but that could wait.
If I just did one more dab right here and blend out the color over there...
"I'm coming, Uncle C'!" I yell back a moment later, just so he didn't call me again. Just one more stroke to highlight his jaw…
"Hey, Dawn," Cousin Bella burst in the room. "There's a news report on TV dad wanted the both of us to see or whatever and…" B paused and slowly walked over to me and my easel. Those thin eyebrows of hers furrowed. "I didn't know you paint."
I take another glance at the painting of the white man locked in a heavy embrace with the black woman he held in his arms. From the way his arms caressed around her form to her hand resting over his chest, just where his heart would lay. And those eyes... they way they gazed at her. So full of love... all portrayed in something that would never be. Something that was just colors splashed on a damn thick piece of paper.
My shoulders shrug. "... I don't."
I've never painted a lick in my life. Sure, I was and am a creative soul, I'm fucking Dawnette Nailah Long for crying out loud... but it was a crime to be different in Cordele. While my creativity still flowed, stemming from media and vignettes of the past, to fashion of years before to trends of years to come, it never unleashed. So as said so many damn times, I―Can't―Paint―For Shit.
So why today, after leaving honey-blonde's big ass house did I stop at the local craft store, get my hands on most of the paint colors they had, a whole bunch of these blank thick papers called canvas just to come home to paint? I don't know.
"Are you sure? Because―" Bella suddenly closed her mouth before it popped open in what somebody could describe as awe. "Are you painting impasto*?"
I look back to the picture I painted and then to my shocked cousin. "EM-what?"
"Impasto, Dawn." She repeats in a tone like I was supposed to know what the hell she was raving about. When I just stare at the brunette, her eyes roll and she explains, "It's... a style of painting that involves thick textured paint."
Bella pointed, elaborating, "Look, see how the lips look almost like they're 3D? And the varying colors of pinks and browns popping out to contrast the skin tones..."
Yeah... I still ain't had a clue what she was talking about. My eyes flickered back and forth between the painting and her.
"That's impasto, Dawn. It's very advanced. Famous artists like Van Gogh used this style." She mused, chewing her bottom lip excitedly.
My eyebrows raise slightly. "So?"
"So... you seriously have talent!" Bella exclaimed, before grinning like a kid with a bag of candy. "... Angela is in charge of this art contest held tomorrow at school."
I had no idea why she was telling me this. I mean, I'm not gonna front. It is nice. I wanted to slap my knee because never did I even imagine I'd paint something good like this... would look real nice hung over by the window... but after a moment or two of pacing like she was in deep thought, Cousin Bella finally spit it out,
"I think you should enter this… this piece."
My lips purse. It wasn't a bad idea, actually. But I knew deep down that my painting wasn't just some random artwork. It meant something to me for some reason and just looking at the way dude held sus made my heart skip a beat and made it hurt a bit, too.
Why did I feel this way? Black girls and emotions were a deadly combo, man.
"B, that's the thing. It isn't just a piece," I sigh.
"Then what is it?" She asks, looking over it once more.
"I don't know. I've more or less dreamed about this man and…" Now I was biting my lip. I quickly correct myself, not wanting to even think about the dreams I've had. "I mean I dreamt about them before, that couple..."
"Really?" Bella picked up the canvas and held it out, making me hold my breath for a spell or two.
I suddenly blurt out, "Be careful with it, B!"
She was gentle when placing it back on the easel, before trailing off, "It looks a lot like…"
She didn't finish that thought though, instead shaking her head.
"Looks a lot like who?" I wanted to know. I had to know if she thought it looked like Jasper Hale. (who I secretly knew it was)
"Never mind." Bella murmurs, making me frown.
"Bells!" We both turn towards my closed room door. "Dawnie!"
She lets out a heavy sigh, "We should really get downstairs before..."
Speak on that. Uncle Charlie's feet sounded outside the door and he knocked once, twice, his voice muffled, "What are you girls doing up here? Slumber party? Boys?"
I snicker at my silly uncle and say, "Uncle C', just a minute. We coming."
Bella and I made our way down stairs into the living room after Uncle Charlie.
"What's up, dad?" Bella asks.
He motioned to the news report on TV that was just wrapping up. The pretty Asian news reporter was standing outside an alley talking about how some dude was found mysteriously murdered.
"There's recently been a string of homicides down in the Seattle and the Port Angeles area lately. I'm worried that it'll find it way to Forks... so I'm sorry but," He braced himself before sighing heavily, "I'm giving you girls a ten o'clock curfew."
"Dad..."
We said at the same damn time.
"Really, Uncle C?"
"I know it seems bad but―"
Bella was first to protest, stammering up, "We're like―we're not kids anymore! We can handle ourselves out there and just because things are happening there... doesn't mean it'll happen here."
I watched this play out as my uncle ran his fingers through his graying hair before saying softly at first, "I understand that Bella... but this is my house and that is my rule." His tone laced with uncertainty then hardened, "And I don't... I don't want you seeing that boy anymore."
Que the chorus of Drake featuring Alicia Keys : fireworks
ALL I SEE IS FIREWORKS, ALL I SEE IS FIREWORKS, EVERY NIGHT IS FIREWORKS, TAKING OFF LIKE FIREWORKS
Because Cousin B exploded.
"What?!"
"I don't want you seeing Edwin―"
Yeah, I could never really get his name right either...
"Edward." Bella corrects him through gritted teeth, about say something more but Uncle C' beats her to it.
"For all we know he could be the one behind this!"
She narrowed her eyes and huffed out, "... dad, seriously?"
I could tell this wasn't going to end good... both of their faces were red with anger and Bella was holding her breath almost. It was like there was a ticking bomb in the room and a sista' was right in the middle of it, having to come and defuse it! Lord, have mercy...
"Bells, look―" Charlie couldn't even finish what he had to say because she shook her head and bolted up the stairs, tripping on a few along the way, being her naturally clumsy self and all. We could hear her door slamming from downstairs even with the television volume up.
I half expected Uncle Charlie to yell for her to come down or even get angry and scold her like he did to me when he found out I got that detention but instead the man just runs his fingers through his hair like he always does when he's stressed and then wipes his face. Man, I could never have pulled that shit on my momma' back in Georgia... I would've got smacked into the middle of next week!
There was an awkward silence. If Uncle Charlie knew me, sometimes I could do random shit and be awkward but one thing I hated most, probably more than peas was awkward silences...
He said nothing but just stood in his spot. The only sounds heard being the sports recap on the television and his heavy breathing.
I see it was time to work some of my black girl magic.
"Take a seat young Skywalker*," I chime to my unc', hoping the Star Wars reference would at least lighten the mood.
Instead the man jolted from his spot, "What was that?"
"Pop a squat, Uncle C'. Sit." I say more bluntly since the first thing didn't work.
Uncle Charlie lets out a big huff of air before resting his keester on the arm of that ratty old sofa.
I start with the first thing that came to my mind. "Cousin Bella... she really likes Ed boy*."
He squints his eyes, confused, "Who?"
"Stale end piece of white bread*, Ed-boy." Still a fail? "You know... Edward... Edwin..."
I could laugh at how he seemed to understand Edward as Edwin rather than my little nicknames for the guy but onto more important matters, "She's not mad about the curfew, it's understandable. Hell, even I'm not gon' trip. But think about it." Taking a moment to grab one of the mitch-matched chairs from the kitchen, I set it in the living room and take a seat before going on, "Cousin Bella has never been this into a guy before. I don't know why it had to be him, a nigga named Edward..." I cover my mouth at the slip of the n word in front of Uncle Charlie but continue, "I just know she really, really likes him and to hear you add her not seeing him onto a curfew, plus implying that he's a killer? Come on."
He considers everything I say before mumbling, "Oh, well... she's been spending so much time with him, I mean I know his family is good people. Dr. Carlisle looked over her when the Crowley boy almost killed her in that accident, and he's head staff at the hospital, makes generous contributions to Forks or whatever... it's just, well, I don't feel comfortable with her out and about dating." Uncle Charlie adds, "I'd be the same with you if you suddenly found some random stud and decided to be out with him every hour on the hour, you know?"
His voice cracks a bit and he wipes his face but I know it's just his way of hiding the fact that he got a tear in his eye, "You two are my girls... all I have."
It almost makes me cry too. I don't know what the hell is up with my emotions today! From this morning to the afternoon with honey-blonde and him acting all weird to me painting pictures that make me feel loved yet sad, ugh! Maybe my Aunt Jemeima* is coming soon...
"I checked him." I shrug indifferently once those thoughts leave my head.
"Did he pass?"
"With flying colors actually."
That seems to make him feel a bit better. "Well, if he got past you, I suppose she can still see him..."
"Thanks, Uncle Charlie." I approach him and wrap my arms around his middle for a brief hug. "The last thing we need is Cousin B having a meltdown over a boy... besides I let it be known to jit* that I'd DDT* him if he hurt her in any way. And I'll talk to her for you, 'kay, Unc'?"
"Yeah." He nods his head. Just as I'm about to go upstairs to talk to Bella he calls my name. "Dawn?Thank you."
I smile. "No problem. And as soon as I finish this painting I'll get started on dinner."
He stops me again. "You paint?"
"Not a lick."
Jasper's POV
The feel of her lips, swirl of her tongue, sound of her moans and smell of arousal has been on constant replay in my mind. If it wasn't for the pained memories of that fateful day she left me, let's just say I'd need more than a new bed frame. A portion of the house would have to be rebuilt from the damage we would've done in that bedroom.
God, I could still taste her. Still feel her. The way she held onto me, the passion she had as she kissed me.
You just had to go making her forget didn't ya'?! I had been scolding myself too. It was the only thing I could think of before I lost control.
I didn't want to but I had to.
So as I road in the passenger seat of Emmett's truck on our way to school for the day... she's on my mind.
I was doing nonsense, too.
Nonsense that even the burly vampire and his blond mate noticed.
"I don't know why the hell you're so... antsy."
"I am not antsy." I reprimand to my brother. Granted, I was currently tapping my foot. And drumming my fingers on the side of the car door. And fidgeting my leg in the same spot over and over to the point where it rattled the Hummer as it drove down the paved Forks road... but again, I am not antsy... just maybe, anxious... to see her after yesterday.
Emmett rolled his caramel golden eyes, turning to his wife in the back seat, redoing her lipgloss for the umpteenth time, "Rosie, baby, tell Jasper he's antsy."
The blonde popped her lips and gently twisted the cap to the tube of gloss before gracefully tossing it into her designer purse with just the flick of her risk.
Rosalie leaned forward, her annoyance seething as she sighed irately, "Jasper, you are antsy." Before mumbling under her breath, "And it's because of that bitch isn't it..."
"Pardon?" I question with raised eyebrows. I think she just called ma'am a female dog.
"You heard me." The blonde sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned to her husband maneuvering his truck into a turn on the main road. "He heard me right, Emmett?"
The burly vampire's eyes flickered between me and his wife and then back me and then back to the road. He began to whistle, dodging the snide "bitch" remark and apparent question. If I had the gift of reading minds like Edward, I wouldn't even need to know what Emmett was thinking because his face, actions and emotions showed it : you're on your own.
Before the model blonde could smack her beau upside the head like she usually did when he ain't make her happy or agree with her, I intercept the hit by grabbing her wrist, making her glare those topaz eyes at me.
"Rosalie, dear twin sister..." my lips curve into a pasty smile when she snatches her hand out of my grasp. "I heard you clearly but I have no idea as to why you're beseeching her with such a foul name."
The ol' southern charm trick was working on its own because I involuntarily started feeding on her tugging emotions of annoyance and slight jealousy, clashing at them with calm and beguile.
"Don't you play that southern charm on me, Jazz." She countered, squirming in her seat when I sent her another dosage of calm. "And leave my emotions how they are! ... it reeks around here." She made a show of covering her nose.
I snort out a laugh, "It's all that hairspray you douse yourself in." shaking my head once she even rolled up the window.
By now we were rounding the lot of the school and Emmett was looking for his designated parking space, basking in the attention from all the of wandering eyes from our human "peers" that already gathered and loitered around before the first bell.
Him, Rosalie and I rode to school together while my pixie wife caught a ride with Edward and his new human girlfriend Bella. Still ain't know why he chose her but I wasn't gonna' question it. Not when I was conflicted with a certain human myself... one that had me about to chew my damn fingernails like I was some nervous buffy!
"But like I'm telling y'all," I growled out in frustration, snatching my hand away from my chattering teeth, "I ain't antsy and she's... not a bitch."
A short chuckle trilled from Rosalie's throat as Emmett perfectly slide his wide Hummer in the tiny spot etched between somebody's 2001 Toyota and long, 1990s Cadillac. Equal share of good and bad cars.
"If she's not a bitch then why does she keep staring at me all the time?" Rosalie haughtily questioned as she hopped from the backseat.
"You definitely started it first, babe." Emmett piped in, flinching when she rounded to the driver's side and punched his arm. "Ouch!"
I smirk because this was their usual. But Em' was right. It all started back when I was transferred from workshop class to yearbook with her and Alice. Ma'am has that class and I sit right behind her... Rosalie wanted to know why I stared and when I refused an answer, well, she took matters into her own manicured, vampire hands and decided to stare, too. As did my wife, Alice. Although she'd smile as she looked.
"He's right, Rosalie." I remind her of that. "If we all recall, you started looking at her in Yearbook and she's, well, she ain't one to back down."
"You talk like you know her." Rosalie grumbled, rolling those eyes added with flipping her lustrous blonde hair.
"... I don't." But I think I do.
Just thinking back to that fiery spirit that lay underneath that soft exterior had me gulping back venom that I covered with a small, pained smile. Speak of the devil.
Anyone can recognize the sound of that old truck from miles away. It was a low purr followed by a loud rumbling of the engine. And basked beneath all of that was the sweet voice of an angel, singing along passionately to a song.
"She sounds like roadkill." Muttered Rosalie.
"Your fly is down." I remarked back, added with a slight dosage of embarrassment as payback for her trashing talking my, I mean Nailah ― Dawnette.
The statuesque blond groaned miserably to herself as she quickly zipped up the white designer jeans she wore. Emmett then draped a muscled arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush close against him as we all watched that rusty orange truck and the singing chocolate girl pull into a parking space a few down from the Hummer, on the other side of the lot.
Her head bobbed to the beat of the song as she continued to go along with the chorus she sung before turning off the engine and stepping outside the cab.
Hot damn. Her slender fingers hooked around the loops of the tight denim jeans that stopped around the middle of her stomach. She tugged once, twice, jumping up and down a bit to pull them up... tryin' to fit that ass in. My tongue involuntarily stuck out my lips, slowly licking over them at the way her small breasts jiggled with each move... was she not wearing a bra?
Naw. It was as if her nipples was in tune with my thoughts. I could slowly see them harden and stiffen against the materials of the cropped red sweater she wore. My bare lil' girls.
"Jazzy, boy?" Emmett called, snapping me out of those vile thoughts. Gulping back air that tickled my throat and itched it a little, I take a deep breath before facing him. His head nudged in her direction. "Check out what's in her hands."
All of our eyes snapped towards her walking over to the bed of truck, emerging with a wide board covered with tarp in her hands.
She felt apprehensive and took a moment to pause and glance over it before settling on whatever it was and nodding once. The apprehension swiftly changed to contentment.
"So? Who cares what she has under that tarp..." Rosalie mutters, the jealousy evident in her nonchalant tone. Emmett laughed, pulling his mate further against him, the two engulfing in a passionate kissed that turned a bit feral and wild in just a matter of seconds.
Cue me walking away before they decide to ditch school just to go screw around somewhere.
First instincts was to make my way to the first period of the day, bypassing all humans and their mouth watering scents... but out of every single different smell that would make me lose control at any moment should I linger, my mind focused on the very same one that captivated me from the very beginning.
It was ever changing but smelled divine. Fresh cotton, honeysuckle, coconuts and a plethora of other tropical smells... always driving me off the wall.
I know just yesterday I got too close and seriously crossed the line with her but no matter how hard I wanted to I just couldn't let her be. Whether she was truly my Nailah or not, I wanted to just know her.
She entered the double doors and started down the first corridor. Jogging to catch up to her fast-paced walk, I conjure up a small greeting once I'm at her side. "Hi."
Nailah's breath hitched slightly and her heart skips a beat before she simply retorts, trying to be nonchalant, "Oh, hey, Jasper."
I point to the board in her hands that I realize is a painting. "That's a canvas."
Ma'am smiles smugly, looking down at the covered canvas tucked under the arm. "Is that what this lil' thing is?"
My curiosity slowly intensified once we reached what I assumed to be her locker. She treated the canvas with such care and caution as it is gently placed, propped up against the nearest wall, still covered and protected by the tarp.
"Can I see?" I ask, flashing her toothy grin that was sure to work.
She deadpans though. Trailing off with a blunt, "... no."
I wasn't satisfied. I was a curious male vampire thirsty for knowing what the hell was under that tarp on that canvas, especially if she told me she couldn't paint at all. "Why?"
"Didn't your mama tell you to mind your own?" She sasses, grabbing a textbook from her locker. "And if you're gonna be nosy, my cousin Bella told me 'bout this art contest held today at school... and I did something yesterday that she thinks is 'art' , so I'm entering it."
"Then let me be a judge of that." I reach for the covered painting but am intercepted when she steps in front of me and shakes her head.
She steps closer, hands on her curvy hips. Her dark brown eyes stare off into mine and slowly her words sneak out, "Now didn't your mama tell you not to touch things that don't belong to you?"
I gulp back venom, ignore the throbbing pulse on her neck and the way her tits poked through that damn sweater, tempting me. A temptress. I find myself stepping closer to her myself. "My mama told me not to do a lot of things..."
Her hand shoots forward and I freeze still in my spot. "She may have told you what not to do and what to do," Nailah mocks, pursing her glossed full lips, "But she sure ain't tell you how to button your shirt right."
I look down at her tiny fingers grasping the buttons of my collared shirt. I was running to the truck to catch the ride with Emmett as I buttoned up this shirt, and as a joke he decided to start driving off without me. Sprinting to catch up to him while buttoning my shirt in place is what led to these mitch-matched buttons.
Nailah carefully unbuttoned each one, her warm fingertips grazing briefly over my chest as she worked to latch them back to the right place. Once finished and my collared shirt was buttoned properly to her liking with two or three undone, she smiles briefly before turning back towards her locker.
Then there's just silence. Nothing but the chatter of other students and Nailah fidgeting through her purse and locker.
"So... how's the truck running?" I suddenly ask to keep conversation .
"It's fine."
"That's good." I nod.
"Yep." She sighs, looking at her wrist as if she was checking the time. "Look, the bell's about to ring in―"
"Hey!" Nailah whines, "Honey-blonde! Will you give that back?!"
I had swiped the covered canvas off the floor and was prepared to take a look at it.
She stomped a foot on the floor, her combat boot squeaking from doing so. Nailah pouted her plump, kissable lips, freckles cheeks puffing out in slight anger once I got to unraveling the tarp that covered the painting on the canvas. She reached on her tiptoes and even jumped a bit to try and take it from my hands as I held it away from her reach.
I found myself laughing at her attempts to take it from me, teasing, "It must be somethin' you don't want me to see."
Immediately she straightens up and her cheeks flush pink. Huh.
Now I really had to have a look. "I'm just gonna take a quick peek, ma'am okay? I promise!"
My playful and curious demeanor was gone with the wind. I held my breath. Narrowed my eyes. Glared hard. Felt the venom in my veins boiling over. All 'cause that puny punk of a human Mike came waltzing over to me and my Nailah.
The boy must've ain't learn his lesson from yesterday.
His eyes flicker to me and then quickly back to her as if he ain't see me.
"Hey, uh, what's good, Dawnette?" The boy greets her with a toothy grin.
"Nothing once so ever," she chimes back with a sheepish smile before giving me a once-over.
See the difference between me and him was that I learned my lesson. I wasn't gon' let my anger get the best of me today. I was gonna sit back and see if he tried anything with what was mine. And if he did... well, let's just pray he didn't.
Nailah eyes me suspiciously before turning back to the half pint.
"Cool..." he mumbles, face turning bright pink before looking down at his sneakers. "So..."
"So?" She repeated, attitude in her tone, hand on her hip. Attagirl.
"You... look... great today." Mike stammered out.
She looked down at the clothes she was wearing and shrugged her shoulder, the previous attitude towards him simmering down. "Thank you."
He smiles like he's just won the lottery. I sent him a dosage of apprehension, fear and inadequacy. If I couldn't kill him for talking to her then at least I could have him make a fool outta himself.
"I-I was wondering if..." he begun sweating. Rubbed his palms together. Licked his lips once, twice, swallowed thickly.
Them brows of hers knit together and the once simmering annoyance and attitude heightened once more. He was stalling so much, with the smiling and sweating and scratching his head that she was getting impatient. Perfect.
"Spit it out, puppy-boy!" Nailah urged.
"P-Puppy-boy?" His emotions snagged like a fishing line that had become tangled. I grit my teeth at how uncontrollable they were. With her calling him that he felt... an extensive amount of giddiness. It was even fucking rubbing off on me. "Is that like a nickname or something because if it is I love it and I have to come up with one for you, too!"
Nailah looked like she wanted to laugh. She was going to laugh. In fact she was smiling at him and even bat her eyelashes.
I tugged on her amusement, replacing it with anger and irritation. Desperate call to do that to her but... I couldn't let him win. If she ever found out I messed with her emotions she'd forgive me. Nailah always did.
"Mike, right?" She snapped her fingers at him to call attention back to herself. "Look, you seem like a really nice guy but at the moment this sista' ain't looking for no guy to―"
My eyes trailed on him. The tightening in his pants. It was evident in his eyes. He was getting turned on by her suddenly attitude. I didn't listen to her tell him off and sass that she didn't want to go out with him. Instead I stood seething in my spot at his stubbornness, at the fact that I couldn't kill him or sip his blood so slowly that it caused him the utmost pain. My teeth grit as I forced myself to hold back the growl that threatened to erupt from the back of my throat and the next thing I know I heard a crunching sound, followed by an ominous snap!
Nailah gasped so loudly that it sounded like a whistle. She whipped around, yelling, "What the fuck was that?!"
Both our eyes trailed down to the broken canvas in my hands. I was so angry that I had snapped it into two.
"I... ma'am," the look of hurt on her face was enough to almost bring me to my knees. I ain't even have the gall to summon up the right apologies. "I didn't mean to..."
The sadness in her eyes sunk into a blazing anger that rolled off in waves. Nailah clenched her tiny hands into fists, snapping, "Boy, you real deal do get on my nerves, sometimes!"
Her anger right now rivaled the time when she found out about Maria.
She glared me down, saying nothing more. Her hand raised like she was going to do it, like she was going to slap me again like she did back then. I braced myself for the hit that never came.
Nailah lowered her hand and let out a frustrated huff.
"Please don't be mad with me, ma'am, I didn't mean to―" I was interrupted by that fucking pipsqueak, cutting me off and touching the small of her back, hand hovering over her ass like he wanted to grab it.
Mike was full of himself at the moment. "Come on baby, don't conversation wall* me!"
He was about to touch her again and I swore I was going to lose it this time but she beats me to the punch, and points down the hall, beckoning him away from her.
"Shut the hell up Mike! Now go!" I was about smirk smugly but she turned to me, anger still seething. "Gimme' that!"
She snatched her canvas from my hands and uncovered the tarp, looking over the damage I had done. "Snapped the damn frame in two..." she sighed disappointedly to herself, her eyes lowering like she wanted to cry. Nailah shoves the canvas back in my arms.
"So, Dawn..." I don't believe it. That pompous ass was still here! "If you're not too busy maybe we could go out. There's this real nice spot down in Port Angeles―"
She holds up her hand, silencing him. "Not now, Mike!" Then frustratedly grabs her belongings, slams her locker shut and gives me a once over before retreating down the hall.
"Cool... later." He waves, nodding his head before shouting after her, "Yeah, I'll―I'll see you later!" The last bell had rang and if we stood here any longer, we'd tardy. But I couldn't care about that, not when I upset Nailah so... Mike gave a glance at me and snickered, "Heh..."
He's lucky we weren't the only ones lingering around in this hall who were gonna' be late today...
.
. .
.
"Hello?"
There was no answer.
He called for his fishing mate Joe. "Joe? That you?" He called again throughout the silence, "Joe?"
The middle aged man shrugged it off and continued on setting up his boat for the early fishing trip he took every afternoon just before sunset. He mentally checked off each and every item on the deck of his boat, making sure he had his fishing rods, bait, lures and whatnot.
Once complete, Waylon started his boat, smiling at the smooth purr of the engine ready to cast off.
But just as he was pulling away, he was suddenly jerked back, the front of his boat colliding with the wooden docks in his boathouse. The sudden appearance of a woman perched on the docks, holding his boat in place startled him. She was beautiful however, red eyes and all. A tiny, oblong shaped face, chiseled cheekbones, pink lips that settled into a sexy smirk was complimented with red hair that settled into unruly yet lustrous curls resembling fire.
His sudden shocked turned into pure amusement. Just what was someone as beautiful as her doing in his boat house?
"Hello," he smoothly greeted the woman with a toothy grin that use to work on dames when he was young.
She smiled her pearly whites at him but before he could question her as to why she was here and possibly get her phone number, his boat shook, rocking at the heavy object that just collided with it.
What in tarnation? He thought to himself, turning away from the red haired beauty just to be met with a shirtless blond male that had the most cocky grin sported on his marbled face. It was strange, two random people that looked like they came straight out of a magazine, suddenly appearing in his boathouse. Although the guy looked a bit like a bum with the worn jeans and old boots.
"Nice jacket," the male spoke, his red eyes suddenly morphing to a pitch black.
"Who are you?" Waylon asked, looking up at the strange man with dark eyes.
The male crouched to his level, snidely remarking, "It's always the same questions with you people." At the confused look etched on his food's face, the blonde elaborated, "Who are you..."
"What do you want..." The female behind him teased.
"Why are you doing this..." The man added with a short laugh that was interrupted at the appearance of a third.
A dark skin with long hair dressed in old attire that dated back to what could be described as European aristocrats had lay himself down on the starboard of the boat. The man fingered with his long dreadlocked hair as he sighed in an airy tone laced with eloquence, "James... let's not play with our food."
At those words, fear crept its way down Waylon's spine and before he could even think to run or fight back, all three swarmed him and began to feed, biting into his wrists and neck.
Once finishing off the man, James sighed irately at how he was still thirsty. He had sent Victoria and Laurent to find food in this small backwater town after they left out of Seattle and all they could come up with was this middle aged man alone in a boat house.
Fucking lackeys... he thought to himself, rolling his eyes at the way the woman licking her fingers and her lips like she had ate the best meal in the world, when really the guy didn't even taste that good to him. And he barely filled himself because of the two sharing with him. He hated sharing his meals.
James stripped the dead man of the nice jacket that was indeed genuine leather and shoved it on, loving the feel of the material on his skin.
"Looks sexy, babe," Victoria purred behind him, snaking her arms around his waist. The sound of her voice told him she wanted to fuck and right now, he had grown tired of her and their companion Laurent. Plus he was still hungry.
Wanting to feed alone and actually play with his food as the dark skinned vampire he had known for decades called it, James coolly unwound her arms from around his waist. "Vickie," he also acknowledged Laurent, "You two find us some place to stay for the oncoming week. Port Angeles. Leave this backwater town the way it is and make it nice yet inconspicuous."
She wanted to protest but the look in his eyes had her doing otherwise. Victoria sighed, "Fine." Her and Laurent were gone in a flash, leaving James to carry out what he had planned.
Finding another meal to satisfy his cravings.
A woman would do, maybe someone innocent. And if she was good looking enough, he may have even messed around with her, too.
He ditched the old boots he had on and dashed through the forest, sniffing and getting a layout of the area. Swishing the soil and dirt between his toes, feeling and touching anything he could consider a landmark and basking in the fresh air of this wet place.
"The rain could turn this place into a muddy marsh," he commented to himself, already deciding he hated this small town called Forks. Probably full of old geezers like that guy we just drank.
He tried to pick up a scent that called to him for an hour before angrily punching the nearest tree and coming up with nothing.
He was about to call Forks a dead end before something wafting nearby sparked his attention.
It was juicy. Mouthwatering. Something to kill for. But not what he was truly hooked on at the moment.
He ignored that scent coming from the north and focused on the one in the south.
Not only did it make his toes curls and had him licking his lips... it jogged memories. Sweet and bitter memories of his days back in the old south. His days with a human Victoria, a business partner freshly turned named Laurent and as a slave master with a flourishing plantation.
But this wasn't hot Georgia in the south. This was wet Forks way on the other side of the United States, north. Not to mention the fact that she should be long dead by now. Unless...
James shoved those thoughts in his pocket and ran towards the scent. The scent of cotton, honeysuckle, tropical fruits and... sweat. Pure sweat that he fucking loved.
A quaint house lay in front of him. No cars were parked in the driveway aside from an ugly rusty orange truck. Standing at the treeline, he focused his hearing, listening in. No movement except for one. No talking. No sound of television. No shower water. No running faucets. Just the sound of soft music that echoed throughout the house behind a closed door.
Swiftly making his way around the side of the house, making sure to be discreet and undetected, James climbed himself up the trunk of a big tree that overlooked the largest window the house had. He perched himself on a stable branch, red eyes widening at such a sight:
A warmly lit room with a dim lamp and a few lit candles, bare yet comfortable looking... the moving shadows of a slim yet curvy, tall woman danced on the white washed walls as she hummed along to the song bellowing out from James assumed was a radio or record player.
He couldn't get quite a good look at her face but had a great view of her round, perky ass out for the world to see since she only had on red laced underwear and an oversized wool sweater that stopped just at the base of her thick thighs. She had to be black.
James had his share of black women he messed around with that ended up being food at the insistence of a jealous Victoria, and then there was her, but he knew she was a black woman because the glow of her skin from the candle light and the rhythm in her hips as she whined and shook them to the beat of the song, matching the tempo.
She looked sexy as hell dancing like that, shaking her ass, waving her arms in a fluent like motion. The girl had James licking his lips in anticipation of sinking his teeth into her bronzed flesh.
Where would he feed from? Her neck? Her wrists? Maybe he'd mix pain with pleasure and do it as he slowly entered her and fucked the daylights out of her. He could then suddenly imagine taking her from behind... him slowly sliding into her wet pussy like a sword to a sheath. She'd be bent over, moaning as he pushed each inch of himself further and further, burying into her velvet walls. A handful of her breasts in one hand, his other laced into her short curly hair that slowly trailed down to her beautiful neck. He'd guide her to match his own tempo and would fuck her to the song she sang.
He was painfully hard. Between her scent and the way she moved to the thought of having his way with her and the very fact that she smelled exactly like his darkie, his Nia, James clutched onto the tree for support with one hand and fought to undo the buckle of belt and button of his jeans.
Before it crossed his mind, he was stroking himself. Roughly rubbing his shaft yet softly ghosting his fingers over the head. It was intoxicatingly, the fact that she danced like a seductress and hummed the song before breaking out to singing it. Oh, her soprano voice. It was her. It had to be Nia.
His slave. His darkie queen. His property. He was on struggled yet unnecessary breaths as his strokes sped up and he dug his fingers into the bark of the tree, groaning softly at the pleasure he felt.
He wouldn't just fuck her. He'd taste her. Even if she came and was all tired out, he wouldn't stop. He'd keep thrusting in her deeply until she cried out from how good it felt and then would drink her. Sip her slowly like she was water and he was stranded in a desert.
Fuck. Yes... that's what I need.
James met his releasing, coming down from his high slowly. He was so caught up in pleasuring himself that he hadn't even noticed she left the room and that he snapped a branch from the tree in half.
Wiping his hand on the back of his jeans, James narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He thought back to long ago, although a bit foggy it was painted fresh in his head, the day he lost it all and lost her.
The ingrate boy he tried to breed into an overseer and possibly change, took her. He didn't know when it happened or how it happened. But she suddenly started smelling like him and tried to distance herself from him, never wandering the plantation as much but retreating straight to the slaves quarters. She then... he stopped himself there, growing angry at the very thought. It was that one day he began questioning things. And he suddenly remembered the sneaky looks and the one time the boy and she returned from the same path... it all had made sense from then and there, especially when Laurent questioned things himself.
But the boy left to fight in the war and suddenly returned changed, threatening his way of life and his plantation. They fought and his home, his crops was burned to the ground. The boy set his slaves free and took her with him to wherever while he was left to pick up the pieces and leave the surrounding area for the fear for being caught by the law. Not humans and their shitty policing systems but the vampire law.
He swore if he ever saw him or her again, he'd get revenge. He'd slowly kill the boy and he'd make her watch. He'd fight him in a rematch to the one he lost all those years ago and burn him to a crisp. And as for her?
James snorted. If this girl who could've or couldn't have been Nia had this much of an effect on him, he was in deep trouble. Kill her, fuck her, change her... decisions decisions.
James let out a heavy, unnecessary sigh about to reveal himself from the tree in her backyard and make his way inside her home but something stopped him again. Another scent. Another familiar smell.
Honey. Pines.
He glared and bared his teeth, crouching down ready to spring into a fight.
Two surprises in one night.
The boy Jasper.
Theme song of chapter
Cameo by Childhood
Goddess by Banks
*―references
Bob Ross ― A great man who was a modern painter and television teacher. Known for his large, white-man permed 'fro, punctual 30 minute painting sessions, and soothing voice. Liked to paint "Happy Trees" and made the world believe anyone could paint.
Impasto― painting technique of laying on paint thickly so that it stands out from a surface, appearing almost 3D.
Take a seat young Skywalker―Star Wars reference to prequel Episode III, Revenge of the Sith. The line is said by Mace Windu.
A visit from Aunt Jemiema ―another term for when a female is about to get her "time of the moment".
Ed-boy―reference to Ed, Edd n Eddy character Rolf, calling the Ed boys, Ed-boy.
Stale end piece of white bread―reference to Ed, Edd n Eddy character Rolf, "You have broken the trust of a Son of a Shepard! Confess to your crimes Stale End Piece of White Bread! Return my eggplant cups!"
Jit―a young mf that don't know shit
DDT―A wrestling move invented by Jake "the Snake" Roberts. Starts with a short arm clothesline then works into front facelock onto the opponent and falls backwards, slamming the opponent's face into the canvas.
Conversation Wall―When you're trying to make a conversation with a girl/guy you met recently, either A) online B) via text message or C) in person, and she/he responds to any of your questions with blank stares, doesn't seem interested or is ignoring you.
A/N:
It took me a while to come back to this story even though it was always on my mind for the simple fact that a reviewer commented that Dawn is the stereotypical black girl, not even after reading the first chapter, but only the preface. I'm black myself and I warned that this story will not be for the faint of heart or for people without an open mind. I don't even understand how she's stereotypical, but I'm not going to get into it any further because then I'll be ranting all day and add on another 2k to this already long chapter...
For the sake of my writing and sanity, heed this final warning that this story features BLACK HUMOR, POP CULTURE REFERENCES, SATIRE, MENTIONS SLAVERY, MENTIONS OF RACISM, INTERRACIAL LOVE, BLACK PEOPLE, POC AND YOUR USUAL TWILIGHT WITH AN OBVIOUS TWIST.
Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, follows and P/M messages since 2015 encouraging me to continue this story I had planned out. I will never let another review or something so little stop me from writing again.
I will continue to write and update this story as I used to, so be out on the lookout for the next chapter.
Now about this chapter, what did you think? Dawn painting a portrait of Nailah and Jasper? Jasper ruining it? Mike being annoying as shit? And the appearance of James? His memories? More will be revealed. Next chapter is as good as this one and the last.
Stay tooned! Thanks for reading!
Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan
