Night is Forgotten, as was his wish. Struck from the memories of the Black Dagger Brotherhood and even the Chosen's records, he lives with the only member of the vampire race who knows him: his son, Mehnace. With Mehnace's transition into adulthood...
Jardine accepted the book, and after Tarra retrieved the latest volume, she made herself comfortable on the bed again.
"So, tell me about him!" Jardine urged, crawling up to sit beside her at the headboard.
"Well, I know you don't remember, but you've met him. You helped his son transition."
Jardine stilled. "I did? When? I don't remember anything like that!"
"No, you wouldn't... couldn't. The curse is such that, unless you are with Night nearly every day, the memory of him fades. Though, in your case, the Scribe Virgin deliberately took the memories from you."
"They were?" Jardine wrapped her arms around herself. "That doesn't seem right."
Tarra clasped Jardine's hand in her own. "Right or wrong is not for us to judge when it comes to the decisions of the Scribe Virgin."
"Of course not!" Jardine exclaimed. "Am I allowed to remember now?"
"Yes. And this gives me the perfect opportunity to test something! Would you be willing to help?"
Jardine's eyes gleamed. "Yes! Of course! What do you want me to do?
She nodded to the book she held in her hand. "The volume starts with Rhet's transition. Read it and see if you remember."
As Jardine eagerly flipped through the pages of her volume, Tarra began to record the day's events in her own. They worked for the better part of an hour until Jardine gently closed her book.
"I don't remember. It's like reading about someone else's life."
Disappointment plagued Tarra. She had hoped reading about him would be enough. "Okay, I have another option to see if your memory will come back." She crawled off the bed and dug into her chest at the bed's foot. From the bottom, she brought out a carefully wrapped crystal bowl.
Jardine sucked in a shocked breath. "How...? You have a bowl! A sacred seeing bowl!"
"I do. How else would I perform my duties?" She set the book down to act as a pedestal for the bowl. She reached for the pitcher she always kept on the nightstand and poured a few inches of water into it. With ease, she brought forth the image of Night sitting at his table in his kitchen.
Jardine leaned over to see. "Is that him?"
"Yes." Tarra waited, watching Jardine's face. She wasn't surprised when Jardine scowled, then winced, hands to her temples.
"Oh! I—I think I remember!" She took several deep breaths. "I was sent to Night and Fleur in the Old Country to feed Rhetribution when he transitioned."
Smiling, Tarra encouraged her. "You were! Do you remember who Fleur was?"
"She was Night's shellan. She... Oh! She was a Fallen Chosen! She was Hatrhed's mahmen."
"Do you remember what happened with Rhet?"
She gasped as the memories flooded into her. "He was so angry! He felt so betrayed that Night and Fleur kept his identity and history a secret."
Tarra nodded. "I know. I watched. Night and Fleur were devastated when he insisted on relocating immediately. They never really got over it. They had thought to do it differently with their second son, Mehnace. Fleur died giving birth, though." She snuggled into the bed, and Jardine joined her as she recounted the day's activities.
Several hours later, Jardine had returned to her quarters, full of new memories and insights. Tarra, as she predicted, was having a hard time trying to sleep. In the end, she sighed and rolled out of bed. She picked up the bowl from the nightstand and carried it to her desk. She wanted to check on Night one last time.
Her heart ached for him when she found him sitting at the kitchen table, staring at nothing, doing his absentminded chest rubbing. She sighed, remembering how her stomach had flip-flopped when she walked into the kitchen and finally saw him in real life. She'd never dared hope that it would happen.
The feeling of having him near? Indescribable. His presence had been nearly overwhelming. It was a wonder she'd been able to focus at all. And, though she'd never been formally trained as an Erhos, she had almost wished she had been, just for the idea that she could service him. The best thing about the whole situation? Tarra knew he had felt the same thing.
She blushed at the thought as heat spread through her. He'd looked at her with such intensity, almost predatory, and wasn't that the hottest thing ever? She shivered as she refocused her attention on the matter at hand.
Tarra scowled, not happy that a pang of jealousy shot through her when Cathy walked into the kitchen. She'd seen them together many times and knew that he needed to feed. Why not have sex with that? It was a completely natural thing. She tapped her foot as she watched them talk, anxious over what might come next.
Maybe... she pushed the thought away. She had no right to think that he'd play into the attraction he had felt for her, and, certainly, it wasn't right to expect him to give up the things he had in place on a whim of attraction for her.
As he carried Cathy to bed, Tarra snapped back into reality. He was a Brother. She was a Chosen Scribe. It was her duty to watch and record, not lust after what she couldn't and shouldn't have. Get it together, Tarra. It is not your place. He cannot be yours, and you are daft for thinking it could be any other way.
She disturbed the water's surface, and the image of him undressing Cathy as he ran his hands over her body scattered. She blinked and scowled at the threat of tears. With a sigh, she left the bowl where it sat. She'd lost the impetus to expand his book, though she knew she needed to record the day's events. It didn't seem as enticing as it had an hour ago.
The more she tried not to think about Night's strong hands on Cathy, the more the thoughts intruded into her consciousness. She'd watched them many times, and the jumble of memories raced through her mind, followed closely by heat through her body.
Tarra reached for her more intimate places, running fingers through the slickness that blossomed there. A part of her was surprised at the visceral reaction she was having. The rest of her didn't fucking care. Before she realized what had happened, she'd become Cathy under Night's strong body in her imagination.
It felt good to dip into herself, imagining it was his tongue. She moaned as she opened her legs wide, just as she would if he were with her, giving him access to whatever he wished. She imagined that his hands would be firm and a little rough from physical work, but his lips would be soft.
She wound herself up, working faster, her heart and breathing picking up as she pleasured herself. Night... she crashed over the edge with a soft cry despite herself, wishing that it had been him. With her release, though, came tears. She'd waited so long to meet him, and now that she had? She knew she'd never be the same... and she'd never be his.
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