Emma. Title TBA. Ch 1-5

This is a first draft and is currently labeled by the Main Character. A title is still in the works.


ONE

It was a rainy Tuesday morning, and I was doing my schoolwork online as usual. I'll never forget, that I never finished that stupid assignment on Julius Caesar or that semester of college. I had just opened up the word processor to type out my response on what motivated Brutus to kill Caesar when the door to our hotel room burst open and gun barrels were pointed at me. Helmeted men were shouting at me to get on the floor. I was handcuffed and taken outside toward a dark vehicle. The whole time, I was trying to call for my baby brother Jimmy and wondering what Mom had gotten herself wrapped up in. The more I shouted, the more rough the men were with me. Eventually they had to knock me out just to get me in the truck.
I woke up in a strange place. The lights were dim and the walls were a stark white. I was cuffed to a medical cot by my right hand and Jimmy was curled up by my side and crying in his sleep. Thank goodness. I took my left hand and held his head closer to to me in a protective gesture when I heard the door open. A woman in a white coat came into the room, followed by two men in blue medical scrubs. She was holding a syringe filled with some kind of orange tinted fluid. She approached my cot slowly, while tapping the glass of the syringe, “Resist us again, and I will not hesitate to administer a sedative. Are we clear?”
At the time, I didn't know what Mom did for a living, but she always told me that if anyone ever took us to never talk. I just stared at the woman and pulled Jimmy closer. She must have taken this as a sign of my compliance, because she called me a good girl and waved the men out of the room as she sat in the metal chair across the room from me. “Where did your mother go,” she asked me. I sat still and glared at her with hatred. “I asked you where your mother went,” she chimed. I turned my head and looked at the ceiling. I didn't have the faintest clue as to where my mother had went when she left Jimmy and me alone in the hotel two days before, but just like mom told me to do, I said nothing. “Emma,” the woman said my name as if it were a treat covered in honey, “We need to know where your mother went.” I continued to stare at the ceiling. We went back and forth like this for almost ten solid minutes, her asking me where my mother was, as well as few other questions, and me just staring at the ceiling. I had just begun to recite Poe inside my head when I felt the needle slide into the flesh of my neck. Everything went black.
I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, Jimmy was no longer by side, my mouth was unbearably dry, and my stomach was cramping. I tried the sit up and look around the dark room, but I couldn't move. I couldn't turn my head and I had the feeling that I was no longer in the same room as before. I was strapped down to a cold metal table and I suddenly realized that my hair had been shaved off and it felt as if dozens of stickers were placed all over my head. I could hear the humming of some sort of machine and someone was talking outside the door, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Then there was a loud gunshot followed by lots of running feet and yelling. There were more shots fired, and people were screaming. I heard the door handle wobble at one point, but it must have been locked because no one came in. Then it got quiet, really quiet.
I only thought that my heart had been racing when I woke up without Jimmy and unable to move, but when it got quiet the power went out. The humming stopped and a minute later, emergency lights flickered on. I was finally able to see some of the room that I was in and couldn't even take it in. The only thing my eyes could see was the door. There was a textured glass panel above the handle, and on it was a small dark hand print that smeared down. I was glad that I couldn't see the floor, because I had a sinking suspicion that I would find a red puddle of blood coming from under it. But the size of the hand print encapsulated me. I couldn't look away, and the more I looked at it, the more terrified I became. I knew that I had started to cry, but I was so insensate from that small hand print on the door window, that I had started to scream. I screamed and I screamed. I yelled for Jimmy over and over again, louder and louder. I screamed with my eyes closed, unable to look at the door for another second. I screamed with such virulence, that I didn't even know the door had been busted open. I missed the man in the leather jacket who cut my bonds. I missed it when he removed the stickers from my head. I missed it when his companion rushed into the room. I did not miss the slap across my face though.
The stinging woke me from my trauma, and I raised my hand to my cheek and looked up at the men who had saved me. Both stood over six feet in height. One was older and had silver flecked through his hair, the younger was wearing leather and had muscles for days. He leaned down and looked me in the eyes, “We're going to get you out of here, can you stand?”
I tried to sit up, only to go toppling toward the floor. The young man caught me just before my face hit the tile. “Where's Jimmy?” I tried to ask, but only a strange croaking noise came out of my mouth, because at that moment, I saw the blood on the floor and the small body just outside the door. I threw myself from the man's grasp and onto the floor, where I crawled over to the door. It was Jimmy. He had hole in his chest where he had been stabbed through the heart. I almost lost my mind at seeing his frail child's body, unmoving and with unseeing eyes, until I saw the woman in the white coat in the hall floor, holding the knife. She had a bullet wound over her heart, but the blood was drying too fast. Her skin was knitting back together as I sat on the floor in Jimmy's blood. When her fingers twitched around the knife, I moved as if on instinct. Somewhere in my head, I had remembered seeing my rescuers holding shotguns. I reached behind me, and with reflexes I didn't know I had, snatched the gun from the hand of the younger man, pumped the slide and aimed at the woman. As she opened her eyes, I waited only only long enough for her see me holding the gun. When she began to laugh, I shot her head clean off. I then fell over and blacked out.


TWO

I woke up in the backseat of a crew cab diesel pick up truck. Most of the blood had dried and was crusty on my legs and side. There was a blanket draped over me, and we were driving past street lights. I slowly sat up to see my feet in the lap of the younger man who had rescued me. “Take it easy,” he said and passed me a bottle a water. I ripped the lid off and drank the whole bottle. That was the best tasting water I had ever had in my life. “Slow down. You'll get sick if you drink too fast,” he told me. I lowered the bottle from my lips, “Thank you,” my voice was scratchy and hoarse, but it was working again.
“Name's Deacon, and that's my dad Joe,” He pointed at the older man. “Emma,” I responded. Deacon smiled a sad, knowing smile and handed me another bottle of water. I did my best to drink this one slower than the first and only took a few sips, “Thank you for getting me out of there.” Joe looked at me from the rear view mirror, “Your mom was supposed to meet me last week and never showed.” My head snapped up to look at his reflection in bewilderment, “you know my mom?”
Joe took in a long breath, but didn't answer. Deacon reached across the seat and took my hand, “Dad knew your mom.” Knew? What did he mean by knew? My heart started to race again and I looked over at Deacon. “She's gone Emma,” he said. I started to shake, and I felt my face warm as tears gathered in my eyes. When I took my hand to wipe away the moisture from my face, Deacon wrapped his arm around my shoulder and handed me a stack of napkins with his other hand. The tears eventually stopped, and I entered a state of numbness. I had lost my entire family in a single night, and I couldn't even cry for more than a few minutes. I loved my mom, but I didn't really know her. She was always off working some job, leaving me to fend for myself. The loss that really hurt was Jimmy. He didn't even get a chance at life, he was only twelve. I had been taking care of him since he was born. Mom showed up from a job one day and said we had to disappear for a while, that was the only time I had ever went to a real school. Then Jimmy came, and a couple weeks later we were back on the road. I had taken care of my baby brother ever since.
We stopped at a cheap hotel and Joe paid for two rooms in cash. I was still too unsteady on my feet to walk myself, so Deacon carried me inside and sat me in the bathroom, “You may want to wash up, I'll find you some clothes.” I looked down at myself and thought about how right he was. I was a mess and really needed a shower. Thankfully, Joe had paid for a handicap room, so there was a walk in shower with a bench. I pulled myself on the bench and started some hot water. I was covered in blood, and the water turned pink as it ran off my body. I reached up to touch my head, and discovered that not all of my hair had been shaved. My bangs were still there and I had a strip of my long auburn hair that ran down the center of my skull, like an over grown mohawk. I washed it first, and watched the blood run down the drain as I scrubbed the rest of my body. Feeling weak as a kitten, but stronger than before, I was able to stand up and wrap a towel around myself. I managed to open the door and grab hold of the counter outside the bathroom before I fell over again. On the counter was a man's tee-shirt and boxers with note telling me to flash the lights if I needed help.
I sat on the floor and pulled the shirt over my head, and after pulling myself up again to pull the boxers over my hips, I was exhausted. I flashed the lights a couple times and lowered myself back down to the floor. Deacon came back in the room, helped me up, and guided me to one of the beds where I sat down. “It's nothing special, but the vending machine in the lobby had some sandwiches and orange juice,” he said as he handed me a plastic package and a small bottle. He sat across from me on the other bed and began to eat a sandwich of his own. I was only able to stomach half of the sandwich given to me, so I drank the juice instead.“Good job on that vampire, by the way,” Deacon said.
I almost spit orange juice in his face from my shock, “A what?” I was hoping that I had just gone delusional from being in shock, or from grief, but I was wrong. “The Vampire, I said. Good job,” he repeated. He really did say vampire. “Only an ancient could come back from silver to the heart,” he continued, “But I'm sure your mom taught you that already.”
“Are you for real,” I ask in disbelief. He was talking about vampires and my mom in the same sentence. I pinched my leg hard enough to wince. That confirmed that this was not a drug induced dream while lying in a comatose state somewhere. Deacon sat his sandwich down and looked at me in as much disbelief, “She never told you? I had heard that Joan was a lone wolf amongst us hunters, but damn.” He rubbed the back of his neck with both hands and looked at me with intensity, “How old are you Emma?”
“I'm twenty, my birthday was in April,” I told him, “Why?”
Deacon looked flabbergasted, “How did she get away with not taking you in for training when you turned sixteen?” Just then Joe came in the room with us, “The clan didn't know that Joan had kids.” Joe's remark threw me off. First vampires are real and I apparently killed one earlier, now there's a clan and my mom hid me and Jimmy from them, “I'm so confused.” Deacon placed his face into his palms, “There's a lot she didn't tell you.” Joe crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, “It'll have to wait,” he said, “we can tell her on our way home.”
“Home,” Deacon said in surprise, “We haven't been back in three years.”
“Get some sleep, check out is in eight hours. We need to be gone in six,” Joe said as he left the room. My head was spinning with the revelations, and as curious as I was, I did need some sleep. “Dad's right,” Deacon said as he fiddled with the alarm clock on the table between the beds, “Let's get some sleep.” he then turned the light off and rolled into his bed, fully clothed.

THREE

After a few hours of restless sleep, where I was plagued by nightmares of Jimmy's still eyes and of the woman rising from the dead, I gave up and turned on the television at a low volume. I flipped through several channels to find nothing other than paid programming and a Golden Girls marathon. I suppose some reruns of Dorothy and Sophia laying down some massive burns on Blanch and Rose isn't too bad. I had hoped that it would at least distract me from my dark thoughts, but the episode playing was one where the girls actually had to band together over a loss. This just brought the memories of earlier to the fore of my mind and I began to cry with renewed vigor. It seemed as if the full implication of my ordeal had finally set in. I had not only lost my family, small and dysfunctional as it was, but something inside me had gone as well.
I must have been crying louder or longer than I had thought, or maybe the TV had been too loud because Deacon sat up and rubbed his eyes. He handed me the box of tissues from the table between the beds and sat quietly as I cried. The sun was rising outside and small beams of light were filtering into the room from the cracks between the curtain panels. My lap was covered in tissues, and the box had ran out completely when I felt the bed shift next to me. Deacon had sat down next to me, passing me a hand towel from the bathroom. I brought it to my face to wipe away the moisture from crying and I felt his strong arms wrap around me. He pulled me close, and let me cry against his chest.
My hands were trapped between my damp cheek and his bare chest. It was then that I noticed just how firm his muscles really were. As distracting as that was, a rumbling came from his chest as he spoke, “I'm here.” I took in a quick shaking breath opened my eyes and looked up at his face. He had a pained expression and his hand was rubbing my back in a comforting manner. “You don't have to talk if you don't want to,” he said, It seemed as if he wanted to say more but Joe burst into the room. He had a pistol in his hand and slammed the door shut with his shoulder, “Change of plans kids,” he said as he slid the chain lock closed, “Home came to us, and they're not happy.”
Not happy was an understatement coming from a man with a loaded gun in his hand. Deacon let go of me and jumped off my bed and into the floor to dig underneath his bed where he retrieved a large dufflebag, “Is the truck compromised?” Joe checked the window, “It will be in about five minutes, they're working on it now.” Deacon pulled three stun guns and a cartridge of tranquilizer darts from the bag. He tossed the cartridge and a stun gun at Joe, handed me a stun gun and headed to the door with the bag slung over his shoulder, “Time to go, stick close.” We then headed out the door. As we swiftly approached the truck, there were three men unpacking a toolbox under the hood. Joe began shooting the tranquilizers at them as we approached, Deacon handed me the keys and rushed forward to stun one of them under the chin as he kicked the feet out from under the second as the tranquilizer sticking from his arm took effect. I jumped into the driver's seat and shoved the keys into the ignition, if Deacon and Joe had the other men under control, the least I could do was get the truck ready. Crap! It was a stick shift. Not only did I not have the time to adjust the seat where I could reach the pedals, but I didn't know how to drive a stick shift anyway, and there were more people running toward us from around the corner of the building. Joe shoved me into the passenger seat and cranked the truck as Deacon jumped into the back and leveled a grenade launcher on the tailgate.
I couldn't look away, and all I could do was pray that he was firing something non-lethal instead of an actual grenade from that thing. Joe quickly maneuvered the truck where the tail gate was facing the group running toward us. Deacon fired the weapon at them and as I gasped, I threw my hands over my mouth. I couldn't breath and held my breath until the canister hit the ground. Only when smoke began to billow out and make the men cough until they hit the ground, was I able to draw another breath. After returning the weapon to wherever he got it from, Deacon knocked on the rear window. I climbed into the back seat and slid the window open for him to climb through. He slammed the window shut as he settled into the seat next to me, “Not happy! Talk about an understatement Dad,” he yelled, “Or didn't you notice, they were packing lethal ammo!”
Joe sat quietly as he drove, letting Deacon finish his rant. We sat in silence for a good while as the truck ate up miles on the highway. Joe pulled into a diner at nightfall, and we went in to eat. We also ate in silence. I had a suspicion that the two men were warring silently with one another. Deacon may have started the day in ire, but as we ate our greasy hamburgers in the pink vinyl seats, he had begun to look more dejected, or maybe resigned. Joe on the hand, had been working up to a sullen anger with every bite he took. I was almost relieved when we had finished and Joe threw some money on the table so we could head back out, but before we could get back in the truck Joe turned and faced his son.
The two men stared each other down, Joe with his arms crossed and Deacon with his hands in his pockets. I had only known these two men for twenty-four hours and I could tell that they worked well as a team and cared for each other, but what happened earlier seemed to have changed something. Deacon leaned against the light pole behind him, “witches or weres,” he asked. Joe's face turned red and he responded in a low growl, “Neither!” Deacon just shook his head and went to the truck and began to retrieve his belongings and a small arsenal. Joe just stood there with his arms crossed and watched his son prepare to leave. Deacon dropped his assembled bags on the ground and held his hand out to his father. Joe took it in his own and pulled his son into an embrace, “You know why I can't go with you, but I can throw the trail. Take care son.”
Joe left us on the corner and drove away. Deacon picked up the bags and headed toward a dark parking lot across the street and I followed close behind him. It felt like he picked a car at random as he jimmied the lock of a beat up silver Cavalier, tossed the bags in the back seat and told me to get in. We drove out of town and pulled off onto a dirt road, “let's see what kind of car we ended up with,” said Deacon as he began to rummage through the center console. His hand returned with a tube of lipstick, “A girl car. Fun” I turned my head to look into the back seat, only Deacon's bags were to be seen, but there was a loop hanging from the back rest. I pointed it out and Deacon got out to open the back door and pull the seat down to reveal the contents of the trunk. “Looks like it was moving day,” he said, “there's pretty pink luggage back here.” Pink luggage meant that there might be clothes and shoes that I could fit into, “Move out of the way,” I said abruptly and climbed into the back seat reaching for a suitcase. Deacon didn't argue with me, he simply returned to the driver's seat, “Get what you can from it. We have to ditch this car before we can stop for the night.” No argument there, I wanted a pair of shoes at the least. I unzipped the suitcase as fast as I could to flip the lid and found a neatly organized selection of clothes. Each outfit was folded into an airtight ziploc bag. I ripped open the first bag to find size nine jeans and let out a squeal. What was the luck in finding a car with a suitcase full of clothes that would fit me? I opened more of the bags and set aside several items to comprise a new wardrobe for myself. The next bag in the luggage set wasnt as organized and held different sized clothes, but at the bottom of the bag was a pair of combat boots in my size. I added the boots to my small pile, and moved on to the last bag. “Holy Shit!”
Deacons eyes shifted to the mirror at my outburst, “what's up?” I looked back into the bag to make sure that I wasn't halucinating, It was filled to the brim with lengerie. I had no idea what to say, so I meekly held up a hot pink lace teddy. Deacon almost ran the car off the road when he saw what I holding, “Looks like I stole a hooker's car.” I began to blush. I needed some underwear anyway, even the cheapest hotels have laundry rooms, and I could always wash them before wearing them. I found a single black bra, that might fit, and tossed a few of the lacey and sheer panties into my pile.
“Don't tell me you took the underwear,” Deacon said in shock. “I did,” I responded, “but I intend to wash them first. The bra should be safe though, so no peeking!” I proceeded to awkardly change into some of the lady clothes that I found, all the while keeping an eye on the mirror to insure Deacon didn't sneak a peek. When I was done, I emptied one of the suitcases at random and put my new wardrobe in it. I tossed it into the front seat then moved it to the floorbaord as I wriggled my way back up front, slinging the trunk closed as I went. The jeans were a perfect fit and so were the boots, the shirt however, due to my overly blessed breasts was a little tight and a strip of my stomach showed. Deacon looked over at me, “I guess a little retail therapy works on all women.” He called me a woman. Everyone had always called me a girl, this was first time I had been called a woman. Even the poor excuse of a boyfriend I'd had at sixteen when we spent three months in Pheonix had called me a girl. I felt my face warm.

FOUR

We pushed the car into the bushes alongside a back road a couple miles outside of Memphis, and started walking South. We had barely made it back to the main road when a semi pulled over and offered us a ride. He dropped us off at a hotel on the outskirts of town with a biker bar next door. We checked into a room and did't argue when the dest clerk put us in a queen. We dropped the bags and Deacon counted what was left of his cash as I went to inspect myself for the first time in a mirror. I still looked like me, aside from the more rocker style clothes, but my poor hair. “Deacon,” I called timidly, “you wouldn't happen to have some scissors in one of those bags, would you?” He placed his wallet back in his pocket as he stood and opened one of the bags, “what do you need scissors for?”
I rolled my eyes, “waist length hair doesnt really work when you have a mohawk.” “I never really thought about it,” he said as he handed me the scissors I requested and leaned against the wall with his arms across his chest. I picked up the complimentary comb from the counter and combed the panel of hair on my head to one side, lined the scissors up between my chin and shoulders and began to cut. When that was done, I looked to my bangs. They were a little long, so I took the scissors at an angle and trimmed the front section of my hair to line up in an asymmetrical bang. I set the scissors down and looked at my handiwork, not bad for a hair cut that I didnt exactly chose. It seemed to fit the life that I was living at the moment, the life that my mom had kept me and Jimmy hid from.
“You look like a hunter now,” Deacon said from behind me. His dark eyes were intense, and I could tell he was reevaluating his opnion of me. I may have lost everything and been a victim when he found me, but my mom raised me to keep moving on; even it meant carrying your hurt with you. I was changing, growing even. But I still had a lot of questions. “What is a hunter exactly,” I asked Deacon as I turned around to face him. “Demon hunter, But we deal with all sort of supernaturals really,” he answered, “you had the relflexes and instinct of a hunter when dad and I found you.” He must have been talking about the woman in the coat. “Your mom had been working a vampire job when it got too big for one person and she called my dad. Only she never showed up when we were supposed to meet her, so we went looking for her. They had left her for dead in the woods, and she wasn't far off when we found her. She had just enough strength tell us about you and Jimmy. 'take care of my babies,' she said and told us the hotel. The thralls had beat us there, so we followed them. They had you for two days before we could find a way in.”
None of this made sense. If my mom had been killed by vampires, “Why did the woman in the coat keep asking me where my mom was.” Deacon rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, “we got in, because there was already a battle raging. A smaller enclave had gone in on a territory dispute, and provided a needed distraction, they must have gotten your mom in route.” “And Jimmy,” I asked as I felt tears building behind my eyes.
“He was already gone when got to the room where you were being held. I'm sorry,” Deacon apologized. I felt a tear slide down my cheeck, but there was more I needed to know. I had to stay strong. I had to know what was going on. “What about the men at the hotel this morning? Why were they after us,” I asked as I wiped away the lonely tear. “That was a group from the hunter clan. Them trying to kill us is the mystery. Dad and I have never gotten flack from the clan before, so it has to be because of you, but why? I have a suspicion that the answer to that question has to do with why your mom never told the clan about you, or your brother,” was the explination that I got. I stood still and quiet while my brain processed all of this. The vampire bit wasn't all that hard to believe, not after watching the bullet hole close up on that woman's chest in a matter of seconds. Accepting that my mom was a demon hunter was different story. Although, it did explain a lot; the moving around, the secret safe in the back of the van, self defense lessons, the days on end of her being gone. She hid us from this world, but why? “We do however have a more immediate problem. I'm almost out of cash,” deacon said before a rakish grin spread across his face, “How are you at Pool?”
We walked next door to the bar, Deacon ordered two beers and looked around. There were alot of burly leather clad men, and most of them looked like they were wishing for a fight. I just perched on my bar stool and sipped the beer that deacon had handed me. I would have reminded him that I wasnt yet old enough to drink, but this wasn't exactly the best time or place. If the bartender thought I was old enough, then I was old enough. Besides, I fely as if I needed a drink or two after everything I'd beem through. Deacon managed to weasle his way into a pool tournament. The bartender kept giving me beers as I emptied the bottles. My face was warm, and as I watched Deacon lean over the pool table to line up a shot, I began to admire a whole new set of muscles. He had a very attractive back side. I began to smile as I watched him sink one ball after another. By the end of the tournament, he had won almost five hundred dollars, and I felt so giddy, that I couldnt help but bounce and clap for his victory.
“Your boyfriend is one hell of player,” a large bearded man said to me as Deacon was collecting his reward. “Oh,” I giggled, “He's not my boyfriend.” The man looked at me, “Really now,” he leaned in close, “Then I guess he woudn't mind if I took a hot little thing like you for a spin.” He winked at me an leaned in close enough for me smell the whiskey on his breath. The man slid his hand around my backside and squeezed my butt as he pressed himself against me. I should have been scared, but what he was doing only made me angry, so I lashed out. I threw all my weight into my knee as I lifted it to connect between his legs. I dont know how it happened, but his feet left the ground before he was pulled backward and away from me. “Keep your fucking hands off her,” Deacon cussed the man as he threw him to the ground. Deacon then turned to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, “Are you alright,” he asked. I dont know what had came over me, because I couldnt stop giggling. Deacon looked confused, and I couldn't blame him, I had just been assaulted and I was laughing. “Emma,” He said, “are you drunk?” This made me laugh all the harder as I tried to say that I thought I was. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. I was starting to notice that this was something Deacon did when he was stressed or uncomfortable, but there was something else, “You are so cute when you do that,” I told him.
“Time to go, Emma,” Deacon said as he began to usher me out of the bar. Unfortunately, big and bearded had othe plans. He had recovered by the time we reached the door and his hand closed over Deacon's shouder and pulled him around for a fist to the face, but Deacon was faster. He dodged the blow and returned a few well placed jabs to the man's chest and face. I could see every muscle in his torso tighten and shift as he danced around the large drunk biker. It was magic in the making, but it was taking too long. The more I watched Deacon fight, the more I thought about curling up next to his rock hard abs, and that wouldnt be much fun if he was all bruised up from a fight. Deacon had just dodged another punch and was moving around to flank the larger man, when I noticed that I had an opening. I flung out my foot as high and as hard as I could. My foot connected with the side of the man's head, knocking him out cold. He hit the floor at the same time my foot returned to the floor. Deacon's jaw was slack, and the loud bar had gone deathly silent. “Definately time to go,” said Deacon, and we made it out the door.
I was almost sad about the short walk back to the room. Deacon had held me steady against him the whole way. I rather enjoyed the feeling of his callaused hands on me, and in my drunken state, my mind was going places. It had started when he held me against his bare chest the night before. When we got back to the room, I sat on the bed and began to remove my boots. Deacon went to the mini fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He stood over me and handed me one after I was done with the boots. I took a few sips, hoping to cool my thoughts. But when I looked up, Deacon was staring at me, his eyes intense again. “Something wrong,” I asked. He crossed his arms looked down at me, “where'd you learn to fight?” I couldn't help myself. I started to giggle again, “all I did was kick the guy.”
“A round house kick to the head of a guy standing almost a foot taller than you, while drunk and without falling,” Deacon came back in a questioning tone. “Mom taught me self defense,” I shrugged and crossed my arms, “It was going to take all night for you get that creep, and I was ready to have you to myself.” Deacon's expression changed to one of surprise and I threw my hands over my mouth. I coudnt believe that I just said that. Then I remembered that I had to sleep in the same bed with him, and that was was when the buzz went away. Not because I wasn't attracted to him, but the polar opposite. How could I not be attracted to miles of muscle with a strong square jaw, deep blue eyes that shone with intensisty and perfectly unkempt hair blacker than night? Deacon was hot. I was going through a hard time and trying to cope, but it was really hard to miss just how attractive this guy was.
“I'm so sorry,” I whispered, “I just made things so awkward.” He sat down on the bed next to me and laughed as he leaned backward to lay flat on his back. “Only because you're drunk and I'm not,” he said as he slid his hands behind his head. What was that supposed to mean? Was he as attracted to me as I was him? I could feel my face turning red at the thought, and I didn't know how to respond to a comment like that. I squeezed my hands and drew in a deep breath to calm myself. “Seeing as we have to share a bed, I suppose I need a shower, then.” I said as I stood up. The look on Deacon's face was almost unreadable, but there was a certain amount of heat with his shocked expression. I suppose he hadn't thought about the fact that there were two of us and only one bed until that moment. I had been thinking about that on some level ever since we had gotten here.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and turned on the hot water. As it coursed down my body, I felt more of the alcohol leave my system. However, the heated expresion on Deacon's face as I had walked away wouldnt leave me and I felt that heat travel through me. Even with the hot water running over me, I felt my body break into chills and my breasts felt swollen as my nipples hardened. The only warmth left in my body had settled between my legs and Deacon had caused this sensation with a single look. I wasnt sure if I could do what was needed to relieve myself with him just on the other side of the door. Then the shower ran out of hot water and snapped me out of it. I had to live with it and hope his eyes meant what I thought they were saying earlier. Then I realized that I hadn't brought any clothes into the bathroom with me.
I felt my face flush once again as I faced the prospect of entering the room occupied by Deacon and all his charms with only a towel to cover myself with. It had to be done. I couldn't very well stay locked in the bathroom forever, so I closed my eyes in anticipation as I opened the door. I took a step out with my eyes still closed and walked right into Deacon. He was standing there with his fist raised as if he had been about to knock. He looked down at me wrapped in the small hotel towel, and I saw the heat from earlier return to his eyes. He lowered his fish back down to his side, “I was coming to check on you,” he said in a husky voice. “I forgot my clothes,” I whispered stupidly as I realized just how close we were standing. I noticed that he had removed his shirt, and the only thing separating us was a thin layer of cheap terry cloth and his jeans. I almost forgot my own arousal as I felt his was growing between us. There was a tic in his jaw and felt myself reaching for his face when he suddenly stepped back.
I thought I was going to deflate from disappointment. But why? I barely knew this man. Of course he had saved me from something I could only imagine, he had held me as I cried over the fates of Jimmy and my mom; and even with the tragedy that had befallen me, there was something about him that kept me from losing my mind. My attraction toward him seemed to be pulling me away from my grief, life like a lifevest to help me cope. My grief however, seemed to be what was holding him back. The feel of his arousal a moment ago, was a clear sign that he felt toward me at least some of what I was experiencing toward him. “Emma,” Deacon said my name so quietly that I almost didn't hear, “your clothes.”
I pushed my diappointment aside and pulled something at random from my ill gotten wardrobe, it was his tee-shirt that he had given me when I had nothing else. I slipped it over my head without dropping the towel and grabbed a pair of sheer blue panties that I had hand washed and set out to dry before our trip to the bar. I stepped past him to return to the bathroon so I could slip them on from behind the door. Although my body was dry, the panties were instanly wet. Even through my disappointment of his rejection a moment before, I still wanted him that bad. I left the towel in the floor and opened the door. He was still standing there as I left the bathroom. He looked as if he was doing his best to maintain control, and as much I may have wanted him to lose some of it, I felt for him. I crossed my ankles and provided him with what I hoped was a distraction, “Why dont you tell me more about hunters?”
It took him a minute, but he composed himself and went into explaining the inner workings of hunter society. There were a few clans, though hunters largely worked on an individual basis. There were few politics involved, aside from the hackers who had to deal with false identities, cover stories, and money. He told me that hunter's were also supernaturals in a way, “although we have no magic, and a normal life span, we are born with sharper instincts and quicker reflexes.” That explained my reaction to the apparent vampire when he and his father found me. “What kind of creatures are there,” I asked. He let out a hardy laugh and finally sat down beside me, “What kind of creature isn't there?”
I already knew about vampires but, “Werewoles?”
“Among other types of weres. Werecats of differing sizes, basic shifters who can chose a form if not the timing, and other types.”
“Witches?”
“You bet. There have been witches longer than there have been hunters. Most witches are as human as we are, they just have the ability to access magic.”
I asked of several more like ghosts and fairies and got an affirmaive on them all. But what I really wanted to know, more than anything, “What was it like growing up?” By this time he laid down next to me, and I was on my side watching him as spoke. He took a minute to think about it before answering. “It's usually the same as anyone else. But there are exceptions.” “Like me,” I asked. He turned his head, “Yes. Most women give up hunting while their kids are little. They stay back to teach and train, and either retire like that or go back in the field when their own turn 16 to enter formal training. There are a few who grow up on the road before training, usually because one parent or the other is dead, or one of them never wanted to give it up long enough but the other couldn't stand to be left behind.” He stopped for a minute, but his face looked as if he was tryinng to figure out if there was more he should say. If he ever thought of something more, I wouldn't have known. He got up to turn down the covers, “You look like you're tired, you should get some sleep.” He moved as if to leave for the chair across the room and I reached out to grab his wrist, “Deacon, stay with me.”
“I can't,” he said without making an attempt to move. It was as if he wanted to, but didn't think he should. I didn't even think, I went straight for bold and got up on my knees. I moved to the other side of the bed and put of my hands on his chest, “please.” He looked at me, and his eyes were so intense with that same heat from earlier, I felt my nipples stiffen against the cotton of the tee-shirt. He cut his eyes down for a moment as he noticed, and when he looked back up at my face the desire was so intense that I nearly wet myself right there. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I don't want to take advantage, Emma.” I could almost feel my eyes smouldering at him as I slid my hands to his shoulders, “You won't.” He had put his arms around me, and I felt a flutter in my chest. We stared at one another for what seemed an eternity when he finally began to lean in. I could feel our breath begin to mingle and I closed my eyes in anticipation, when there was a sudden loud knock on the door.

FIVE

My eyes flew open and Deacon's hands gripped my arms. “Deacon Marshall! I know you're in there! Open this door right now,” yelled a male voice from the other side of the door. “Get some pants on Emma,” Deacon said as he threw on a s shirt and went to answer to the door. I grabbed the pink flannel pants that I had aquired from our stolen car of the night before and had just pulled them over my hips when Deacon open the door. A tall wiry man with wild eyes and pale hair burst in and envelopoed Decon in a hug so forceful that it lifted him off the ground. “The witches called us last night and said to find you here. They said you would be in trouble,” huffed the tall man. Deacon rubbed the back of his neck with both hands, “We've thrown them for a bit.” As the tall man shut the door, he noticed me standing at the foot of the bed. He walked up to me and sniffed the air, his eyes became slilts, “What are you?”
I had never been asked such a strange question before and took a step back. “Paul,” Deacon said as he moved across the room to my side, “that was rude.” The man named paul shook his head and followed up by extending his hand, “Sorry, bad wolf habit to smell people. Name's paul.” I shook his hand apprehensively, “Emma.” Deacon saw my nervousness and wrapped his arm around me to rub my arm and Paul's eyes widened at our touch. “So the witches called you,” Deacon asked Paul as he indicated the we should sit. Paul took the chair, “Yeah, they were cryptic as usual, but knew I'd be able to find you here tonight. Didn't mention the girl. What kind of trouble are you in anyway?” Deacon rubbed the back of his neck again and explained to Paul what led up to finding me, “next thing I knew, the clan was trying to kill us. My dad took the truck in the opposite direction to throw the heat off of us.”
Paul leaned forward in the chair, “Your own clan was trying to kill you? Why?” Deacon shrugged, “ I can only assume it has something to do with Emma and why Joan never told the clan about her.” Paul's expression showed concern for the situation, but he sniggered none the less, “And here you were about to sleep with her.” My face turned red with a mix of anger and embarrassment, that wasn't any of his business. “What's more,” Paul continued, “she isn't even human. You only think your clan is mad now. I know you hunters are all about your bloodlines, imagine their reaction if they found out you had slept with her.”
“What do you mean I'm not human,” I asked in a shaky voice. I couldn't care less if he could smell the phermones in the room, how could I not be human? “Not completely, anyway,” Paul said, “Your mother may have been a hunter, but your father wasn't. And judging by your scent, he wasn't even human.” My father? Mom wouldn't let me ask about him, said it was the best for everyone if he didn't know about me. “If she's not human, then what is she,” demanded Deacon. Paul walked up to me and began sniffing. He smelled the air around me, my hair, he picked up my hand and smelled my wrist. “I can't say for sure, but she's definitely not moonbound. Whatever she is.” That was a term I was unfamilliar with. Deacon noticed my confusion, “Moonbound means a shifter or were that changes on the full moon. There are only two types of shifters not bound to the moon. Dragons and true shifters.”
“I though Joan was her mom,” said Paul in question to why Deacon was explaining this to me. “Joan didn't just hide her kids from the clan, she hid our whole world from them,” Deacon said. “Well damn. Anyway, I suppose you guys are going to need sanctuary for a bit?” Deacon nodded in response to Paul's question. “We'll head out to the ranch in the morning. Until then, I'll keep guard outside.” Paul then began to strip as his body started to shift. There was a lot of crunching noises and light like a sparkler, but within a couple seconds there was a large red wolf in front of us. Deacon opened the door, and Paul settled on the ground with wary eyes.
Deacon rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned against the now closed door. I sat with my hands in my lap, trying to take in the turn of events. To find out that I wasnt human, was a huge shock, and I wondered what I was. I even entertained a few possibilities before I remembered that Deacon was a hunter. I could see that he was friendly enough with the wolf, and could assume he was as well with the witches that were mentioned, but what if I turned out to be something that he would have to hunt. That was a stark realization, and it scared me, “you're not going to have to kill me now, are you?” My voice was shaking with the threat of tears as I asked that question. Deacon looked up at me from the door, directly into my eyes. He seemed almost hurt that I had asked but I couldn't leave well enough alone, “even if you dont, I understand if you don't want to finish what,” but he had come across the room as was I speaking and interrupted me by pressing his mouth against mine in a feirce kiss.
It was a kiss unlike any I had ever experienced and the sensation was immediate. As soon as I realized that Deacon was on his knees kissing me, it felt like the world around me had lit up and was charged with an intense electric buzz, then everything fell away to nothing. It felt like the two of us were the only two people in the world. I wrapped my arms around Deacon's neck and pulled him with me as I leaned back onto the bed. His weight above me was a comfort. He left my mouth and traveled to kiss on my neck as his hand found the hem of the tee-shirt and began to slide up toward my breast. When his thumb twitched across my nipple I arched my back, and my legs wrapped around his waist. He used this to his advantage and settled us closer to the middle of the bed, then proceeded to use his other hand to push my shirt up. I quickly removed it, and my hands darted the buttons on his shirt as I trapped his mouth against mine. I needed to feel his skin against mine, I needed to worship the chiseled chest that first ensnared me. He was soon rid of that as well, but didn't give me a chance to follow my desire. Deacon had caught one breast in his mouth while his hand fondled the other. He pinched my nipple ever so slightly with his teeth before switching sides, never leaving either breast untended.
He had found the waist of the flannel pants and slid his free hand inside, searching for my core. It was then that I wished I had never aquired panties. As thin as they were, theye were in the way. His hand felt so good rubbing back and forth across my sex, but I needed more. I don't think that I had ever squirmed with such desire before, I extracated my hands from his hair and tried reaching around to remove the obstacle, but before I could move my hands past his back, he slid his hand beneath the seam, and I felt myself moisten as he slid a finger inside while massaging the outside with his thumb. When his finger slid out, he used the moisture to great effect, gliding back and forth over my nub. I felt like I was on fire, and my fingers dug into his shoulder blades before I threw my arms back with my head as I moaned.
My one breasts felt suddenly empty as he began to kiss down my stomach, and along my hip bone, before I felt his breath over my sex. He slid his arms beneath me an lifted me up. He quickly removed the fabric between us and his mouth was on me, kissing me in a place that had never been kissed before. His tounge was swirling and darting to great effect as I felt my breath quicken, my body respond. It felt like I was on a precipice, and instead of fearing it, I wished for the rush of a fall. But when I finally went over the edge, instead of falling, I flew with his name echoing from my lips. He returned to kiss my mouth, and the taste of my release on his lips pushed me to a new height. I was scrabbling to release him from his jeans with both hands, eager to touch his desire. As soon as I conquered the zipper, Deacon kicked his jeans off, and my hands grasped his erection. I heard him take in a quick breath as I began to stroke, rubbing his tip against the moisture at my entrance. He soon had both my hands pinned above my head, and my eyes flew open as I felt him push his way inside. It was a quick thrust, and he settled there as he saw the look of shock on my face.
His gaze was soft, and questioning, asking me without speaking. My face flused red, “I should have told you,” I said. But Deacon kissed me on the forehead, and began to slide out. That's when I lost control. Pleasure had taken over, and there was a fire in my belly that I never felt before. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, not wanting him to seperate from me. He thrust back in, slower this time, and I moved with him. All thought had fled my mind as soon as I felt him moving within me, I wanted more, and I never wanted him to stop. I rocked my hips with him as he slid in and out, with a quickening speed. My head was rolling as he laved at my neck and his hands were still holding mine above me aganist the bed as his pace quickened more. I was panting and moaning, and my hips begans to force his speed to increase. He continued to hold me with one hand, and as the other caressed down my body, stopping to pinch my nipple along the way, causing me to squeal instead. He found my nub once again, and began to rub as his thrusts grew harder. I could feel myself being carried onto that ledge again.
I rose higher and higher, screaming in pleasure the whole way. It felt as if I had wings of flame carrying me to my climax. Just when I thought that I could go no higher, I felt Deacon thrust harder and deeper than before. I felt his release inside me, the warmth of it pushed me right off the edge. I could hear his rumbling moan as I expeienced a climax so high that I had gone hoarse. When I finally came back down, Deacon was still deep inside me and kissing me tenderly. He rested his forhead against mine for moment as we both caught our breath.
When he tried to remove himself so as to allieviate his weight from me, he couldn't. “Shit,” he said. I wasn't positive about the tone in his voice, but it definitely didn't match the mood of what we'd just done. “What's wrong,” I asked. He put his arms on eith side of me and pushed his chest up away from mine, “We're stuck.” “What do you mean we're stuck, that's not normal, is it.” I asked beginnning to get a get a little panicked. Deacon sighed as he smiled an uncertain smile, “It is for shifters when they find their mate.” I was about to ask what he was talking about, when suddenly there was a flash of light between us. When my vision cleared, I noticed an irredescent tattoo over Deacon's heart that wasnt there before, a single blue flame. He held himself up with one arm as he ran a finger across the skin over my own heart. I looked down to find the same tattoo on me. He was then able slide out of my core and roll over next to me. He pulled me close and held me against him. “That was a bond lock,” he whispered to me in reference to why were stuck, “the tattoo is different based on the type of shifter as well as pack or clan lineage. It's a seal or a signal of sorts to other shifters that you're off the market.”
“Off the market?” I wondered if that meant what it sounded like. “It's exactly what it sounds like, Emma, shifters mate for life,” said Deacon. “Oh my god Deacon,” I pushed myself up to look at him, “I am so sorry.”
“For what,” he asked me with a perplexed look on his face. “I didn't mean for you to get tied down like that. And here I was thinking that my being a virgin was big deal,” I rambled off. Apparently that was a bigger deal than the mate thing, “Wait, you're a virgin?”
“Well I was, until about ten minutes ago,” I said, “I thought you figured that out when we were, you know.” Deacon looked at me in disbelief, “ No, I thought your reaction was from me holding your hands, a lot of women find that too domineering.” I smiled at him, “no, I really liked that.” Deacon laughed quietly and we layed there for while, his arms wrapped around me and head resting on his chest. “I'm so screwed,” he said suddenly and started laughing in earnest. I sat up and pulled the blankets over me. “Not like that Emma,” He reached up to stroke my cheeck, “I'm glad that fate picked me for you. I've wanted you since I first saw you, and have felt something stirring since I held you that first time. I was just remembering the vampire, and the biker you roundhouse kicked. Even if you don't realize it, you coud easily kick my ass, but instead you chose to kiss me. Not to mention how easily you're accepting the whole supernatural thing.”
“Given the circumstances, I see the humor,” I grinned, “but when the blood diappear and a bullet wound over the heart heal up in a matter of seconds right before you eyes, it's kind of hard to deny the supernatural.” After further thought though, my acceptance of the supernatural should have been seriously shaken upon being told that I was one. But maybe, some part of me already knew on a subconsious level that I was different, and made it easier to accept.