D cradled her sleeping form gently, warmly, to his bare chest. Her face was serene in sleep, her body melded against him, one leg tucked between his. The sweet scent of her flesh and blood clung to him like a rosy perfume.
He stared down at her and waited for the cold, familiar grip of guilt to seize in his chest. The shame. The revulsion.
But he didn't feel it.
Didn't feel… anything.
No remorse. No self loathing. No bitterness. No longing. No emptiness.
Nothing, but–
Doris sighed in her sleep, an unconscious smile softening her lips. He held her tighter. Her scent, her heat, her pulse swirled around him, over him, in him. It filled him in a way he had never felt before. Or, even, had had the opportunity to feel.
He was a dhampir, hated and feared by those whom he was created to protect. He had been conceived of and engineered for one explicit function, and his destiny was singular: destroy all that remains of the Nobility. A righteous goal that eliminated any existentialist doubts about his own purpose. It was not in his nature to want for anything more. He was a soldier, a weapon, a means to an end.
But now, with Doris slumbering in his arms, he felt an endless, burning want.
A different past. A different future. A different life with her.
He would forsake his destiny, his immortality, just for a single lifetime of simple happiness with the woman he loved, and who loved him in return.
A foolish, desperate desire. His first and only.
And an utter impossibility.
D tipped his chin down to rest atop Doris' head. The fire had been reduced to a pile of smoldering embers in the stove. The night had grown very long and the rain had stopped, leaving only the soft, even thrum of her heart to occupy his thoughts.
Morning broke on the Frontier. Sunlight filtered through the lingering haze to color the world silver. D watched as the dawn light seeped through the window coverings to crawl across the floor until it reached the wall, catching on the dust motes and filling the room with a soft, warm glow.
He hadn't slept, his body inundated with energy. Instead, he had passed the hours studying his lover, memorizing every inch of her body. The scent of her skin. The silken weight of her hair. The sweet, effervescent taste of her on his tongue. A beautiful memory to hold in his heart forever.
Doris stirred just as the sun crested the horizon, accustomed to rising early. She stretched and rolled in his embrace, her eyes fluttering open when she felt his arm fall away from her. She met his gaze with a half lidded smile.
"Good morning," she mumbled, voice still rough from sleep. She nestled back into his chest with a sigh. "I'm so glad you're still here."
Her hand came up to caress his chest, tracing light, lazy designs over his skin. He, in turn, touched her brow, his thumb running down along her cheek before tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear. She hummed and pressed her lips to his palm.
They held each other there for a while, basking in the secret silence. The cabin was far enough from the outpost proper that the morning bustle did not reach them. The occasional pinch and squeak of a nearby windmill punctuated the minutes as the morning blew in, accompanied by the chittering of birds.
Doris' lips twitched, a myriad of desires and emotions begging to break free. As if reading her mind, D's arms tightened around her. A quiet reassurance. She sighed into his chest once again.
"D…" she said after a moment. She lifted her head. "We should get up."
He stared down at her, grey eyes glittering in the sunlight as they searched her face. His lips parted.
"Okay," came the succinct reply.
They rose and dressed in silence, the air of the cabin turned still with unspoken mourning. Finished, Doris gathered yesterday's damp clothes and tucked them away into her travel bag. D reclaimed his hat and long coat before strapping his sword to his back. The fire in the stove had long since dwindled, leaving the hearth cold and black.
D held the door open for her as they stepped outside. The morning air was brisk and sharp in her lungs. Doris tugged her coat tighter over her chest before digging out the borrowed keys from her pocket. With one final glance at the empty bunkhouse, she shut the door and threw the lock.
Doris removed the weatherproof tarp covering her wagon and shook it out. She noticed new areas of soreness throughout her body as she moved–in her hips, behind her thighs, in the crook of her neck. She had made sure to fan out the material of her scarf carefully to hide the fresh marks there, but not before examining them in the bathroom mirror. The twin punctures D had left were smaller, finer, than how she remembered the Count's Kiss. No ripped or bruised flesh. Just a tender blush of reddish purple from the Hunter's devouring lips.
The same color as the marks on her thigh.
Doris' hands stopped, holding the folded tarp against her hip. She watched as D led the bulls to the head of the cart, reattaching their harnesses and readying the reins. He placed the leather straps on the driver's bench before turning to face her.
Her eyes drifted from his hands, to his face, to his lips. He waited calmly as she gathered herself. He had had all night to weigh and assess his feelings, to mourn over what could never be. And now, for her, reality had come crashing down in the cold light of day.
"D," she began. Her voice was surprisingly firm despite the obvious emotions clouding her expression. "Thank you," she smiled, "for everything."
She crossed the distance between them and stood on her toes to press a kiss onto his lips. D bent down and met her sweetly, one hand cradling the back of her neck. Breaking the kiss, Doris took a step back and flashed another grin. It wasn't until she turned to place the tarp within the cart that she ducked her head to brush away something from her cheek.
Climbing into the cart, Doris retrieved a wooden crate and set it under the eaves of the barn. She patted the top of the box, saying, "Our payment for the use of the bunkhouse. Sal's wife loves our apples so I'm sure she'll be very pleased with the exchange."
She slotted the cabin keys down the side of the crate then pulled herself up into the driver's bench. D unhitched and mounted his cyborg horse, tugging his hat brim low against the rising sun. With a nod, Doris snapped the reins. The cart ambled forward with a jostle.
The outpost was buzzing with scarcely managed chaos after last night's storm. Crews of men were working to clear fallen trees and debris from the roads and riverbanks. A number of small vendor stands had popped up to serve food to the hoards of sodden travelers who had spent the night camping on the muddy roadside. With all of the disarray, no one took any notice of the Hunter and the farmgirl as they made their way down the hill and up the lane.
On the far side of the outpost stretched vibrant plains of green and gold. The swollen, muddy river soon disappeared behind them as they made their way towards Eastwick. Doris filled the air between them with stories of her previous visits to Helman ranch, going back as far as to how she originally met Rod Helman in passing one day in Ransylva. He had known her father, having hired him to dispel a pack of werewolves some years back. He had been gracious enough to see beyond her history with the Nobility, knowing the Langs to be trustworthy and hardworking.
D listened to her tales, his pace unhurried and his posture relaxed, offering insight or asking follow up questions when appropriate. The conversation flowed easily, naturally, with no sense of sadness or regret. They were simply two companions traveling to the next town together.
It was mid-morning when they reached the crossroads outside of Eastwick. In the distance loomed the high walls of the town, the stone dark with last night's rain. To the right, a narrow, rutted wagon path leading away to manicured pastures. Doris tugged the reins of her cart and D followed suit.
She took a deep breath, her cheeks ruddy with cold, eyes bright when she glanced over at him.
"Well," she said, "I suppose this is where we part ways." The leather of the reins creaked in her grasp as her hand tightened around it.
D leant forward to cup her cheek, lifting her head slightly so that their eyes met. "Doris," he murmured, just loud enough to reach her ears. "Thank you," his thumb glanced over her bottom lip, "for everything."
The undisguised emotion in his voice transformed the echoed words into something new; sweet and entreating, rich with unspoken sadness. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
Doris grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it. "Don't forget me," she added with a sad twist of her lips.
"Never," he promised.
She gave his hand a small squeeze before releasing it. "Safe travels."
He touched the brim of his hat, nodding. He put his heels to his mount and trotted away, black coat billowing in the wind.
"I love you!" she called after him. And though he did not turn back to her, she caught the unmistakable glimpse of a smile on his lips.
The End