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...
He took her hand in both of his. "No, it's not. I have to go with him."
She shrugged. "Well, of course. How long do you think you'll be gone?"
"That's just it. We won't be coming back. I am... cursed... and, if I don't want to lose another son, I have to stay with him."
She sat back, withdrawing. "Cursed? Another son? There's more to this story."
He sighed. "A lot, I'm afraid."
"Why haven't you ever talked about having another son, Night? I see how you are with Ace... you adore him. Why aren't you in contact with his brother?"
Night explained his situation as best he could as she listened intently. She managed to drink the rest of her coffee while he gave up on his, abandoning it to the one disgusting temperature for caffeine: room.
When he was done, she picked at a bead of fluff on her flannel shirt, lost in thought. Eventually, she asked, "When do you think you'll leave?"
He blew out a breath to combat the stress. "I wanted to talk to you about that. How soon can you start to close the books?"
"Immediately. We'll have outstanding billing and accounts receivable, of course. And we'll need to cancel whatever contracts you can't fulfill. Then there's putting the cabin on the market." She scowled. "Wait. Where are you going to live when you go? And, why close up shop? Why not just move it?"
"I don't know where we'll live. I haven't thought that far ahead. And, I just assumed shuttering the business would be the thing to do."
She shifted forward. "I can help. Let me? I can find you a house, or some land, to buy, and look into transferring the business instead of shutting it down."
"Cathy, I—"
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't. Don't you dare treat me like Stephanie. I'm your friend, not just a fuck. In case you didn't notice, this business is my livelihood, too, and I'm good at helping you two run it." Her voice cracked, "I deserve more than just being left behind to forget you."
He reached for her. "Yes. You do."
"So you'll take me with you?" she sniffled.
That gave him pause. "You want to go with us?"
"Of course I do. How else would I help run the business in its new location?"
"Oh. Um..."
She patted his hand. "Look, Night, I get it. You've made it clear that you don't want to be tied down. You know that I'm a pragmatic person. I'm not looking for a romance here, and I'm damned well not naive enough to think that you'd pursue a human if you had someone of your kind available to you." She cupped his cheek. "But, I care because my life is better with you and Ace in it. I want that to continue. So, take me with you. Give me a small corner of whatever land we find to build on, and let me be your friend."
He took her hand and kissed her palm. "I don't deserve such friendship, Cathy."
She rolled her eyes. "Lord. Give it up, Night. Honestly, the I'm-not-worthy schtick gets old. You deserve happiness, and friends are a part of that."
He exhaled deeply, flexed his shoulders again, and rolled his head. The events of the day weighed on him.
"Still tight?" Cathy murmured, using the voice she knew he liked.
He froze, images of Fleur, then Tarra, flashing through his mind. Meeting Tarra had reminded him of Fleur and how much he missed her. Not to mention that he was fascinated by the Chosen. "Um..."
She frowned and tilted her head. "What? I thought you needed to feed?"
"I do."
She slid out of her chair. "Well, then take me to bed. I'm willing, and I'm not making demands. Well," she grinned, "I expect to be shown a good time if you can get over yourself." She placed a hand on his shoulder and waited.
The scent of her arousal washed over him. The need flared, and his heart pounded, pouring blood into all the right places. He watched her smile and tilt her head every-so-slightly for him. He knew that Tarra would never do such a thing; the Chosen knew his entire life. His cowardice and shame would be forefront for her. Cathy, however, was here and willing. She didn't need to know all the sordid details of his past, and for that, he was glad. She was, indeed, the friend that he needed.
He growled and snatched her to him as he stood, kissing her as hard and deep as he wanted to bury himself in her. When she melted into him, it only spurred him on. Any hesitancy he'd felt a moment before was gone.
He scooped his hands under her ass and lifted her, enjoying how she simply wrapped herself around him so he could carry her to his bed. It seemed the matter of a few heartbeats between the time they stood in the kitchen and when he dumped her on the mattress.
She laughed before giving him a knowing grin, eyes hooded and wanting. "Jesus, Night. I love it when you want me."
When she reached to unbutton her jeans, he caught her hands, lifting them over her head to capture her tiny wrists with one hand while working his knee between her legs. He dropped his head to her neck and ran a fang over her skin. His cock jumped when she shuddered under him.
"That's good," his voice rasped. "The question is, do you want me?" He ground his thigh against her, and she whimpered.
She arched into his touch, breathing heavy. "You know I do. I can't hide my heartbeat or scent from you."
"None of that takes the fun out of hearing you beg, woman."
"Is that what you want, Night? For me to beg to be fucked. By you?"
He couldn't help himself; his approval rattled in his chest. "Yes."
She stilled, knowing it would make him look at her. When he did, she caught his gaze until she knew he was as invested in the moment as she was. "Please, Night," she whispered. "Bury yourself in me." She lifted her lips to his. "Please."
He took the invitation for a kiss, finding little resistance to his probing. Her raw need for him proved a heady cocktail, slowing his movements until every touch was deliberate and calculated, gauged to torture her with her own desire. All thoughts of anything but his desire to fuck her, and the need to feed from her, vanished.
She whimpered when he started to work open the buttons on her flannel shirt to show the tank underneath. He slipped a hand over it, feeling the soft cotton of inner fabric, and growled his approval when his searching hand found no bra to interfere with his explorations. He cupped one, thumbing over her nipple through her undershirt, swallowing her moan. He broke the kiss slowly as he rolled its small hardness between his thumb and forefinger.
"How many times can you come for me before I have you, I wonder?" he asked as he moved to take it in his mouth, fabric wetting with his saliva.
"I don't know," she breathed, "but I'm willing to keep count."
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