A Shade Darker ✔️

{Chapter Twelve}

Light Where The Sun Doesn't Shine

June 8th, 2017

Mike

I usually do not grow tired by the end of the day, but with so may changes happening in my life the weight is starting to affect me. First things with my brother, the way he seems so jealous and capable of putting my wife's life in danger. My wife, however, was a different story.

A groan escapes my lips as I run my pale fingers through my hair and think of solutions. Solutions never seem to pop up as quickly as the problems do, something I wished would be easier in my life.

After my jump up onto the balcony, the dark sky, constant or not, reveals stars and I know it is night. Maybe it could be the first night for sleep. Sleep for me. Maybe sleep for my Queen who had complained earlier about not "getting a wink of it". Some slang term, I suppose, that meant she hasn't slept very well.

The treehouse is quiet except for the grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the living space. I can't hear footsteps or talking or any noises that signal someone is about, and my first thought is that Ashley has escaped again.

Even though the exhaustion was close to claiming my body, I still ran fast down the hallway and peered into the bedroom with the only light on. There, struggling to untie the corset around her torso, Ashley grunts and sighs as her arms fall at her sides.

Feeling relief rein through me, I step forward slowly and grab the ribbons hanging from her bodess. I grab them and pull, sending the green silky ribbons unraveling at my fingertips.

My wife looks over her shoulder with a look of surprise on her face, her hair spinning around her framed face and sending the faint smell of her perfume and alcohol with it.

I look to the side dresser. A glass of scotch sits on the top, the containers lid is flipped.

"A midnight drink?" I ask, pulling on the ribbons continuously until her corset was lose enough to drop to the floor, landing at the base of all her skirts.

My wife sighs before stepping over the stiff dressing and flopping, very unlady like I might add, onto the bed.

Laying on her back, she stares at the ceiling and closes her eyes.

"I needed those drinks, believe me. The alcohol just kind of...soothes me. Makes me numb and tingly at the same time..." She rolls onto her side and sighs, her eyes on the bed next to her as she rubbed a finger over the pattern of the quilt. "Makes me forget...Makes me feel like I could be at home right now..." I don't miss the way her voice grows heavy and struggled.

Every word sounds strained and she wipes her nose as a tear drips over the bridge of it.

She sits up now, staring right at me with a smile and shrug.

"But I'm never going back. So I should just...let it all go, right?" My mouth opens but no words come out.

I clear my throat and hang my cloak on the back of the vanity chair. I grab her almost empty glass, fill it and bring it and the container over with me to the bed. I sit down next to her and hand her the glass.

She sniffs, wipes her nose and takes the glass.

"Thanks..." She downs a few gulps before adding, with a smile "I guess you're not as bad of a monster as I accused you of" Her words strike me deeply. Like someone parted the trees and let a bit of sunlight into my world filled with absolute darkness.

But I couldn't rely on her words. Her eyes were glazed over and slightly red, her words a little slurred. I stare at her glass and ask:

"How many have you had?" She stared down into the glass and hiccups. Her eyes narrow but she smiles a little, almost bashful as her face reddens.

"Is it a crime for the Queen to get a little tipsy?" Tipsy? My eyebrows narrow at the word.

She giggles into her hand, hiccuping again.

"Tipsy means drunk. Or intoxicated" She finishes the rest of her glass and again I feel that ray of sunshine. But this time because I feel like I can connect with the new improved language she uses.

She pours more liquor in her glass and motions it to me, her eyes curious.

"Do you drink at all? Ever?" I shake my head, staring at her lipstick marks on the edge of the cup.

"I don't very much enjoy the taste of liquor" I say truthfully, her gaze redirecting to the hallway.

I began believing her more and more when she said she was getting "tipsy". Her attention span is that of a fruit fly.

She closes her eyes and leans her head on my shoulder, almost startling me at first. I wondered by morning if I should mention the things she had done and will do tonight. Would she remember them? Would be mad over them?

"Were you born a Vampire, Mike? Or were you just an average boy? An average kid like me..." Nobody had ever asked me that before.

Of course not by the vampires I was surrounded by because they already knew. Nor the women I had as mistresses before, but because they didn't care. They wanted sex with a prince. I wanted to suck their blood.

But there was still those little memories swimming about in my brain. The memories of running around as a child, playing with my mother and friends at school. I remember the first girl I kissed at a ball.

I realize I've zoned out in my own memories and when I turn my face down to answer her question, I find my wife asleep on my shoulder.

I sigh and push some hair away from her forehead. Her skin is warm and glowing, unlike mine that is cold and dull. I understand what it's like to be her, almost. The way we missed our families and old lives. But what if I could change all that? What if I could be the person to make her forget about everybody else?