Abandoned

Amber was "normal" in so many ways that it was easy for me to forget she was different. But she never forgot. It was clear she loathed anything that made her more aware of her differences. That seemed especially true of eating, which I assumed involved using her enhanced speed and strength to catch small game by hand.

I had an idea that I hoped would make the everyday task of eating feel less alien. I wasn't scheduled to work on Saturday, so I spent the afternoon putting together some supplies.

Shortly after sunset, Amber emerged from the basement with a sheepish look on her face. She wore pink cotton pajama shorts and a matching collared shirt. The top button was open, exposing the delicate line of her clavicles and a hint of cleavage.

"I'm so sorry about last night," she said. "You've been really nice to me, and I shouldn't have—"

"You don't need to apologize," I said. "Your entire world has been turned upside down. I shouldn't have pushed so hard."

I walked over and pulled her into a hug. She pressed herself against my chest and pulled me tight.

"Are we good?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Great. Then get dressed and meet me outside. I want to show you something."

Ten minutes later, she stood in the front yard in hiking pants and a thick wool sweater. Her eyes scanned the assortment of odd contraptions I'd placed in a line on the ground.

"What are these?" she asked.

"Animal traps," I said. "Cable snares. Cage traps. And this one is an example of how to build a deadfall." I pancaked my hands together to mimic a heavy rock smashing a mouse.

"Don't worry," I said, noting the confusion on her face. "I'll show you how to set and bait everything. We'll practice tonight. Oh, I almost forgot!"

I trotted over to the large wooden shed my grandfather had built, reached inside the doors, and pulled out two fishing rods and a couple live fish traps. "There's a stream a few miles east of here. Ever been night fishing?"

She shook her head. For some reason, the gratitude I saw in her eyes made me feel embarrassed rather than happy.

"It's only temporary," I added. "When winter hits, fish and game will be tougher to come by, even with these. I found a few places online that sell animal blood. Mostly to researchers, university labs, that kind of thing. But I'm sure we can fudge our credentials well enough to get some regular shipments."

"Hans, I don't know what to say."

"Good. Because you have a lot to learn about trapping. Let's get started."

We spent half the night practicing. Amber was a quick learner. A natural, even. We managed to set and bait far more traps than I'd expected. I considered trying to squeeze in some fishing too but decided it would be best to save that for another night. After thanking me again, Amber asked if I would head back to the house so she could eat.

I was warming my hands by the fireplace when she returned. She nestled beside me, her right shoulder brushing my arm, and extended her hands toward the flames. We stood in silence and listened to the wood pop and crackle.

"Hey, do you mind if I use your shower?" she asked. "I haven't showered since ..."

"Help yourself," I said, saving her from finishing the sentence. "Top of the stairs, right next to my room. Let me just grab my razor and toothbrush."

I was exhausted. The long nights were taking their toll. I figured I had just enough energy to shave and brush my teeth before I fell asleep where I stood.

The razor was slicing a path through the last strip of shaving foam when I heard a shriek from upstairs.

"Amber?" I yelled. "You okay?"

No answer. Adrenaline surged through my veins. The razor clattered into the sink, and I sprinted up the steps.

"Amber!" I called as I ran. "What happened?"

Still no answer. I pictured her body sprawled across the slick floor, blood seeping from her fractured skull. I threw open the bathroom door without thinking.

Amber was standing on the tile outside the shower, a white towel hugging her body. Her hair was soaking wet. She was holding her right hand against her forearm. And she was laughing.

"What the hell? You scared the shit out of me!" I could hear my heart hammering inside my chest.

She moved her hand from her forearm and pressed it to her left shoulder, then erupted in laughter again.

"I'm sorry," she said, between giggles. "But you have to feel this! Here."

She grabbed my hand and placed it on her right shoulder.

"Feel that?" she asked. "My skin is so warm! Ever since I turned, it's felt, not cold, but cool. Different. But the hot water ... see?"

She moved my hand again, this time to her upper chest, right below her neck. She was right. Her skin felt warm and moist beneath my palm. I watched a droplet of water trickle down her chest, disappearing into the valley between her breasts.

"Doesn't that feel great?" she asked.

Amber was beaming. She looked not just happy, but joyful. I'd never seen that look in her eyes. It was intoxicating.

I slipped my free hand around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. Her mouth made a tiny, surprised squeak, then she kissed me back, hard.

Our tongues danced and darted past each other's lips. I slid my palm down her bare chest until it covered the swell of her breast, still hidden behind the towel. She moaned into my mouth, and I walked her backward, pressing her body against the bathroom wall a little too firmly. She bumped her head against the tile and laughed, breaking the kiss.

"Sorry," I said. "Guess I'm a little excited."

"Me too," she said, smiling. Then she glanced at my neck and her mouth slackened into a frown.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Poor thing. You cut yourself shaving. Here."

She extended a finger toward my neck. Before it could make contact, I grabbed her wrist and yanked it away. I took a step backward, my hand still holding her arm at bay.

Amber froze. I watched her eyes. They seemed to move in slow motion. First, they focused on my fingers encircling her wrist, suspending it in midair. Then her eyes shifted to meet mine. The joy I'd seen in them had vanished, replaced by something new. Confusion. Pain. Shame.

She wrenched her wrist from my grasp, tightened the towel around her body, and walked out of the bathroom.

Nothing I could say would speak more loudly than my actions already had. So, I did the only thing I could do. I watched her leave.

*******

The next few days were awkward. I was grateful to be back at work. At least it kept me out of the house for part of the night.

Amber was always gone when I got home, probably either out checking traps or fishing. I'd use the time to pace the hall and rehearse the explanation for my behavior in my head, but I never managed to get it quite right. Frustrated, I'd slink off to bed like a coward before she got back.

It was around this time that the nightmares started. Each was usually a variation on the same theme. Amber would seduce me, then we'd make love.

Sometimes, it was slow and sweet. Other times, it was animalistic. But the dreams always ended the same way. After we'd finish, Amber would climb on top of me and kiss me. She'd explore my mouth with her tongue until I started to harden again, then she'd grind her hips slowly against my cock and move her lips to my neck. I'd feel her fangs pierce my skin, sinking into my flesh as her lips latched around the wound. I'd feel the blood about to spurt from my artery into her eager mouth, and that's when I'd awaken, drenched in sweat, pulse racing, cock still hard.

One night, the dream was so intense that I imagined myself leaping up and pushing Amber off me. I screamed and awoke to find myself sitting up in bed, arms outstretched. I took a deep breath and started to reach for the glass of water on my nightstand when I sensed a presence.

Amber was sitting beside me. I gasped and slid backward, slamming the headboard against the wall.

She placed a hand on my knee and squeezed. "You were shouting in your sleep. It scared me."

"Sorry."

She knelt beside my waist in her pink pajamas. The air felt cool against my bare chest and legs. I must have kicked off the covers while I'd been dreaming, because my entire body was exposed. My cheeks flushed as I noticed that the outline of my erection was clearly visible through the fabric of my boxers.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked.

I nodded.

She paused for a moment. "Was it about me?"

I knew that she'd be able to tell if I lied. I also knew that trying to hide the truth would hurt her more than admitting it.

"Yeah. It was."

She gave a sad little smile. "I wish you would trust me."

"I do trust you," I said.

"Right."

"I do. It's just ..."

"You still think I'm going to eat you."

"That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

We sat in silence as the minutes ticked by. I knew I should say something, but the words wouldn't come.

She placed her hands on the bed and leaned forward. Her pajama top hung loosely off her shoulders. She crawled forward and brought her lips to my ear.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered.

I swallowed but said nothing. My chest felt tight.

"I do hunger for you."

Her lips brushed my ear, then skimmed the length of my neck. I stiffened against the headboard, and she leaned back on her knees.

She brought a hand to her chest. Her finger circled the top button of her pajamas. Her eyes locked onto mine.

"Sometimes ..."

She unfastened the button, baring the skin between her breasts. Her finger slid lower.

"When I'm near you ..."

She opened the next button, exposing the top of her abdomen.

"I can barely control myself."

She released the final two buttons. My eyes traced the thin line of bare skin from the base of her neck to the top of her pajama shorts.

Amber shrugged her shoulders and the pink top slid down her arms onto the bed. Her breasts stood high and firm on her chest, capped by small pink nipples that had hardened into pencil eraser-sized nubs.

She watched my eyes, drinking in my lust just as I drank in the sight of her body.

I reached for her breast, but she grabbed my wrist and held it suspended in the air, just as I had done to her. She shook her head, then pushed my arm away.

She moved her hand over my boxers and traced her fingertips up and down the length of my shaft. My cock twitched in response.

Her fingers tugged at the waistband of my boxers. I raised my hips, and she slid the boxers down my thighs. Her fingers circled my shaft and began a lazy up and down motion.

She leaned down and brought her left breast to my cock. A large drop of precum had formed at the tip. She pressed the head against her nipple and smeared the liquid into her skin. She rubbed the underside of my shaft back and forth across her stiff nipple until I was ready to explode. Then she stopped.

"Here's the truth," she said, shifting onto her stomach.

She held my cock in one hand and brought her mouth so close that I could feel her breath on my skin.

"I want to taste you."

Her lips parted and she brought her head forward. Just as her mouth was about to engulf me, she stopped and pulled back.

She tilted her head so that her mouth hovered just below my shaft. She moved her head back and forth in slow swipes, her lips tracing the length of my cock without ever touching my skin.

"In fact, I want to suck you dry."

Her tongue brushed the base of my shaft, and she licked upward in one slow motion, pulling away just before she reached the head. Her hand squeezed my cock, coaxing more precum from the tip.

"Every. Last. Drop."

Her eyes met mine, then she extended her tongue and licked the precum from my cock.

"Do you want that?" She swiped her tongue across her fangs. "Do you want me to suck you?"

"Fuck yes," I said.

Then her mouth was on me, soft and wet. She bobbed her head in slow, steady strokes, swirling her tongue at just the right time.

My heart hammered inside my rib cage, the blood pulsing in my veins. I could feel my cock swell inside her mouth, already on the verge of exploding.

Her black hair spilled across my lap. I reached down to brush it aside so I could watch, but she pushed my arm away.

She took me deep, not quite to the base of my cock, but close, and I moaned in pleasure. She wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft and drew it up my saliva-slickened skin. Her mouth and hand set a slow, torturous pace, working in tandem to draw me closer to the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Amber. I'm almost there."

She moaned around my cock and bobbed her head faster, twisting her hand as she slid it up and down my shaft in time with her lips.

I groaned and bucked my hips into her mouth, racing toward my release. My hamstrings tightened, and I felt myself hurtling past the point of no return, my entire essence focused solely on the wet embrace of Amber's mouth.

She cupped my balls with her free hand, and when she used her fingertips to lightly scrape my scrotum, I exploded.

I howled in ecstasy as she guided me over the waves, extending the peaks and valleys with her talented lips and hands, milking every drop of pleasure from my pulsing cock.

My muscles uncoiled and I collapsed against the pillow. As I caught my breath, Amber kissed and licked my cock, using her tongue to clean my shaft.

"See?" she said. "You can trust me. Not a drop spilled. Of blood, I mean."

I laughed and shook my head.

She hopped off the bed, her breasts bouncing lightly as her toes hit the floor. She collected her pajama top and started toward the door. Before she reached it, she spun toward me and winked.

"Sweet dreams, Hans."

*******

I spent my shift at work the next evening counting the hours until midnight so that I could get back to the house and see Amber.

The first thing I noticed when I got home was the delicious smell. I traced it to the kitchen and found Amber standing over a pot on the stove.

"What smells so good?" I asked.

"Beef stew," she said. "My mom's recipe. Close to it, anyway. Your spice rack leaves a lot to be desired."

I walked behind her and tried to wrap my arms around her waist. She pushed my hands down and slipped away toward the kitchen table.

"I still can't touch you?" I asked.

"Nope!" she said, grinning. "You have to earn it."

"And how do I do that?

"I don't know. But it'll be fun watching you try."

She picked up the stack of mail I'd left on the table and started sifting through the envelopes. "Anything good?"

"Not unless you consider bills good."

She paused and stifled a giggle as she stared at one of the envelopes.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"This is addressed to Hans G. Levin V," she said, holding up the envelope. "Are you really the fifth?"

"Yeah. So?"

"It just sounds so fancy," she said, laughing. "Like royalty!"

"That's rich, coming from a Duchess."

"Apologies, your Highness," she said, dropping into a deep bow. "I didn't mean to offend."

We had a wonderful dinner. She watched me eat every bite and beamed when I told her how delicious it was. Then we curled up on the couch by the fireplace and watched an episode of Bridgerton until I fell asleep.

The next two days were pleasant, but frustrating. Amber rebuffed me every time I tried to kiss or touch her. She seemed to enjoy tormenting me.

The first shipment of animal blood arrived on a Thursday afternoon. I'd ordered it the previous week without mentioning it to Amber. I stored the four glass bottles—two each of cow and sheep blood—in the refrigerator and left a note on the kitchen counter. I hoped it might be enough to put me back in her good graces.

I returned home from work that night anxious to see what she thought of the surprise. She usually waited for me in the kitchen or the living room, but tonight both were empty.

"Amber?" I called. "You home?"

I opened the refrigerator door and saw that the four bottles of blood were untouched. Maybe she hadn't seen them.

I glanced at the note I'd left and noticed that it was lying on a different spot of the counter. Amber knew about the blood, then. She just hadn't tried it.

She was probably out hunting. I stepped outside to check and spotted movement to my right, near the shed. I walked closer and saw that one door was hanging open, swaying on its hinges in the breeze.

A chill ran down my spine. I didn't remember leaving the door open. I didn't remember being in the shed at all today.

I swung the door shut, secured it with the rusty latch, and turned to go back to the house. If I was going to do any more exploring, it would be with a flashlight in one hand and a firearm in the other.

Before I took a single step, I was hauled off my feet and pinned against the wall of the shed. I glanced at the hand clutching my coat, then at the familiar pair of blue eyes below me.

"Amber?"

Her face was twisted into a mask of rage. I remembered what she'd said in the storage unit about having a temper while she was still alive. How she'd smashed the coffin to bits with a flick of her wrist.

"Who are you?" she hissed.

"Amber, it's me."

She lowered me against the wall and brought her face closer to mine. "I'm going to ask one more time. Who are you?"

"I don't know what you want me to say!"

"You can start by telling me why the fuck you have these."

She raised her other hand to my face. Clutched in her palm were three wooden stakes.

"Where'd you find those?"

"In your storage shed. I thought I'd clean and organize it while you were at work as a little thank you for ordering the blood. Guess what I found inside? A silver-plated box with wooden stakes, mallets, and all your other goodies."

"What goodies?"

"Wreaths of garlic, holy water, silver crucifixes. You know, vampire-killing goodies."

"Holy shit," I mumbled.

"What were you going to do? Stake me while I was sleeping? Poison the blood you ordered with holy water?"

"Listen, Amber. I can explain."

"Fuck that." She flashed her fangs and brought her mouth to my neck. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't drain you right now."

I grabbed her head and tried to pry her mouth from my neck, but she didn't budge.

"Because you'll die!" I shouted.

"I don't need you to survive," she said. "I can hunt just fine on my own. And I'll find another place to sleep."

"That's not what I mean. It's my blood."

"What?" Her grip on my coat loosened. She moved her head away from my neck so that she could look into my eyes.

"I mean it," I said. "The second you touch my blood, it'll kill you."

The anger in her face softened, replaced by confusion. Or maybe curiosity.

"Put me down and I'll explain," I said. "Please."

She released my coat, and I slid down the wooden wall. I fell to my knees and searched the ground until I found what I was looking for. I picked up a small stick.

"Drop it," she said.

"Relax. I'm not going to drive a twig through your heart."

I used the stick to scratch letters in the dirt: Hans G. Levin.

"It's an anagram," I said. "Made from the letters of my last name. My real last name."

I scrawled the reordered letters into the dirt. Amber stared at them, eyes wide.

"Van Helsing?" she read aloud. "Like the fucking vampire hunter?"

"That's me. Abraham Van Helsing," I said. "The fifth."

"And that's supposed to convince me not to kill you?"

"Yes. There's a reason my family has survived so long despite having such a dangerous occupation. Our blood is bewitched."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I closed my eyes and recited a string of words that few outside of my immediate family had ever heard:

"Removed from Transylvania soil,