Zane, The Inferno: The Flames of Vampire Passion, #3

Zane

Rounding the next aisle, I found London. She was leafing through a book, and from my vantage point, I could see it was yet another writing reference manual. Her eyebrows were scrunched together with a serious expression, as her fingers flicked through the pages.

At her feet sat a stack of dictionaries, thesauruses, and various other ‘how to’ books. She’d amassed quite a fucking lot to buy in the short time since I’d let her out of my car at the entrance and then parked in front of the building.

That was the second time in a week we’d been there. When she’d mentioned going again, I thought she wanted to buy something to read, like the type of things she wrote, not more of that stuff.

Looking at the pile on the floor, considering all the similar items I’d already purchased for her that were lining her shelves at home, I wasn’t sure why she needed more. As I approached, she reached for another one. The cover was yellow and black, with a stick figure on the front.

You’re not a fucking dummy, London.

She jumped at my voice, teetering on her heels, and I grabbed her by her arms to keep her from falling.

Zane!

What’s going on here? I asked her, watching her chew her bottom lip in her nervous habit. What are you doing, baby?

She released her lip from her teeth and said, It’s silly, huh? She gestured to the materials at her feet. It’s been so long since I’ve written anything, I feel like I’m starting over. Like I don’t know what to do.

And these will help?

Her eyes were downcast, avoiding mine, as she shrugged.

I don’t know. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the ends around her neck to lie over one shoulder. I probably won’t even use them. Let’s go home.

Fuck, no, London, I said, grabbing her arm to stop her from walking away. Urging her to my chest, I took her face in my hands and made her look up at me. Buy all of them, baby. It doesn’t matter whether you use them or not. If having them makes you feel better, fucking buy them.

Are you sure?

Glancing behind her, I spied a rack holding cloth shopping bags.

Yeah. Hold on. I’ll be right back.

After grasping one of the bags, I took it to where London was waiting and opened it. She picked all the books up off the floor and placed them inside.

Thank you, Zane, she said, pressing her body to mine. You’re so good to me.

Considering her reaction, I decided to seal the fucking deal. I picked up another writing reference manual I hadn’t seen either at home or in the items she’d found that night.

Showing her the title in my hand, I asked, How about this one?

Ummm. Okay.

Into the bag it sailed, and that earned me another smile.

We went down the row, with me plucking them up, her nodding, and then me dropping them into the growing pile.

It must be nice to have a supportive partner, a female voice said. We turned to face her. A couple was standing there, and the guy looked like he wanted to be anywhere in the world other than that bookstore. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion.

London wrapped her arm around my waist, leaning against my side.

Oh, it is! She beamed up at me. I have no idea how to repay him for it.

Is that a fact? I arched a brow, as our eyes met and held. I’d be more than happy to tell you how you can show your fucking gratitude.

And I bet you’re looking forward to it, aren’t you?

Fuck, yeah, baby!

Let’s go, Marjorie.

The man cleared his throat and prodded her away from the moment that was happening between my wife and me.

As they wandered off to another aisle, Marjorie was muttering about how she should’ve married the guy she dated in high school who really wanted her. Then her husband, who apparently wasn’t even slightly concerned about what she had said, reminded her about his upcoming fishing trip with the boys.

By that time, London and I had reached the end of the row. Glancing behind us, I saw that the other side consisted of another topic entirely.

Oh! Zane!

London hurried over to a mounted screen and keyboard at a kiosk.

What’s that?

I was hoping she wasn’t planning on ordering more reference material online. If she was, our next stop would be to purchase more bookshelves for her office. Her insecurities were rearing up. She didn’t need any of that stuff, but I resolved to stand with her and support her however I could.

I meant to show you this the last time we were here. Watch! Her fingers flew, as she typed her pen name into the search box. My books might not be here physically, but.... She bounced on her feet and waved her hands toward what appeared on the screen. Ta-da! she sang.

There on the monitor were her books. London’s face was lit with a smile of pride, as she scrolled down the page through all of her series. Bright and colorful covers with lovers caught in an embrace floated by, as she navigated the side bar.

Then the novel she wrote about The Decrees came into view. It was her top seller, with more accolades and reviews than any of the others, as well as requests for sequels she had no intentions of writing.

Her joyous expression melted away to a more clouded one. Quick as a flash, she clicked out of the program and stepped closer to me with a shudder.

That’s quite an accomplishment, baby.

Thanks.

And you should realize that with all those under your belt, writing another won’t be as difficult as you’re thinking. I reached around her, pulling her to me, and tipped her chin up. Look at me, London. I waited for her to do as I said, and when she did, I went on, trying to build her confidence. It’s been a while. But you’ll be fine once you get started and find your groove.

A few moments passed before she nodded.

I hope you’re right.

Fuck, yeah, I am.

Then at the sound of a machine blowing air and sloshing liquid, her eyes widened.

Do you smell that?

Hmmm?

Coffee! She pulled out of my grasp and wafted her hands in the air towards her nose. Strong, from the scent of it. Just the way I used to take it.

A comment about how she took something else was on the tip of my tongue. Before I could say anything, she licked her lips and pivoted towards the direction from which the aroma was coming.

I’m going to go over there for a bit, while you pay for the books. Okay?

She kissed my cheek and made her way to the stairs that led to the café.

London

I’d smelled coffee since my change, and the scent of it hadn’t caused such a visceral reaction. When Zane had taken me there earlier in the week, the café must’ve been closed, because I didn’t recall any activity in that part of the store. I guess the combination of that bitter aroma and books hit me with a punch, bringing my past to the forefront of my mind.

I knew I couldn’t drink it. I didn’t want to. But still, the fragrance of the ground beans, blares of the steaming milk, and being surrounded by my first love—books—took me back to the evenings after working 8- to 10-hour shifts, dreading even the thought of stepping into my house.

As things between James and me had started turning sour, going from bad to worse with each day that passed, I found refuge and comfort sitting with a sandwich, a notebook, a pen, my musings, and the aromas around me. That and glancing up to see the shoppers, as they made pleasant conversations with each other, all the while, stealing peeks at their purchases.

I’d hoped that one day, one of my books would be placed in a plastic bag with a prominent logo emblazoned on it. But after my works had been rejected a few times, I published on my own. Everything had worked out fine as far as I was concerned.

I had learned to ignore the piteous comments and wary glances when I told people I was an independent... or indie, as we say in the book world. I could almost hear their thoughts: She’s not a real author. Must not be any good. If she had any talent, she’d have a contract with a publisher.

Whatever.

Scanning the room until I found the clock on the wall, I saw that in about ten minutes, the store would close. My little meandering wouldn’t take that long.

As I walked up the steps, the expanse of the glass-enclosed dessert and sandwich display came into view. Pastries, slices of cake, and brownies were all there, beckoning to my deadened human senses. My mind registered the memories of the flavors and textures, as I looked the display over. When my fingers touched the cool glass, I paused at the sight of one delicacy in particular.

Is there something I can get for you, ma’am?

No, I mouthed with a smile, without looking up at the attendant, and then I voiced my answer to be polite. No, thank you. Just admiring the beauties I can’t have.

Ma’am, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you don’t need to lose weight. Following my line of sight, she continued, Here. Have that chocolate scone you’ve been eyeing. If you’re worried about the taste, I can give you a sample. They were made fresh this morning.

As she slid open the door to bring out one of the flaky pastries, my mind flashed back to when Zane took me to fix my mother’s tire. On our way to her house, he had stopped and bought me a chocolate scone and cappuccino. I was so nervous about getting his car dirty, but he wasn’t concerned about that at all. He just wanted me to enjoy what he’d bought for me. That was my Zane. Always taking care of me.

At the memory, my eyes watered, and I covered them as quickly as I could, without drawing awareness to my vampire speed or red tears. If discovered, I could’ve influenced her to forget what she had seen, but I didn’t like messing with people’s brains like that. Plus, there could’ve been security cameras.

Thank you, but no. I have a restricted diet, I said, closing my eyes to contain my emotions, before opening them back up. I have fond memories of that particular dessert, though.

Gotta watch your insulin? she asked with a hand on her hip, not buying my excuses.

Something like that. Thanks again. The thought occurred to me that she might be trying to hurry me along, so she could close the café. I’m just enjoying browsing. Is that all right? You don’t need to worry about waiting on me. I’m sure you have other things to do, since your shift is probably almost over.

Sure, honey. Knock yourself out.

Seeing she wasn’t going to make a sale, she turned and went to a supply closet, the soles of her shoes squeaking as she walked.

Five minutes until closing, said a quiet male voice, as it broke through the softly playing classical music.

I went back to perusing the sweet offerings, and then Zane’s arm looped around my waist. I settled back against his chest.

You almost ready, baby?

The lady behind the counter, cleaning the floors, paused when she saw Zane. Pursing her lips, she shook her head.

"Restricted diet, my ass, she mumbled, as her mop swished on the floor. You’re not eating to make sure you keep trim for that man. Hell, I’d starve myself, too."

Zane snickered into my ear.

Don’t worry about my wife, lady. I make sure she has something fucking tasty, and I feed her well.

All I could do was smile at his comment. Zane had no filter, and although he still shocked me at times with what spurted out of his mouth, I loved his brash claiming of me at every opportunity. I was his completely, and that fact would never change.

Turning in his arm, I gazed up at his face.

Did you see what I was looking at, baby?

Hmm? No, what was it?

Something sweet and chocolatey, taking me down memory lane. That’s all.

Mmmm... His eyes roamed the display, and then he groaned when he saw the gooey morsel. And the rest is our history, baby.

Oh! Did you find that book? The one about the middle ages you said you wanted?

Fuck. I forgot about it.

There’s still time. I patted his arm. "Go find it in the History section, and I’ll meet you at the register."

And then we can go home, so you can fucking show me how thankful you are for everything I do for you.

Oh, I bet she will, the lady behind the counter whispered to herself.

Zane snorted, smacked my ass, and then took off, traipsing down the stairs to find the book about the era when he was human. Though he had an e-reader and sometimes reluctantly used it, he insisted that he liked the feel of a ‘real book’ in his hands.

He’d signed up for all the email lists I used to advertise my novels, and one of them featured a book about that era that was written by a historian, and it caught Zane’s interest. He’d mentioned buying it so many times that I couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about it once, much less twice. But in his attempts to help me, looking for it had slipped his mind.

After he left, I went back to gazing at the different foods I’d never partake of again and my thoughts about the past years. I didn’t miss being a human. On the contrary, I was happier than I would’ve been had Zane not found me and saved me from my mortality. I would’ve been dead, the six-feet-under kind, if not for him.

A newspaper rustled, and a chair scooted, scraping against the wood floor behind me.

London?

Oh, my God.

I straightened, as a chill slithered up my spine at the smooth and sensual call of my name.

London, is that you?

My options were to either run away from the man who had destroyed me emotionally, or stand my ground, face him head on, and show him the strong and confident woman I had become.

I survived The Decrees! What’s seeing and speaking to an ex-boyfriend, compared to that horrific ordeal?

Even knowing how much I had changed and grown as a person, my tongue remained tied in a knot that I couldn’t loosen to respond. In a flash of memories, I relived every single moment with the man dressed in the understated elegance I remembered him for, who was readying to approach me. His jeans, distressed in that precise way, probably cost $800 or more. The grey cotton V-neck T-shirt was most likely some Egyptian blend upwards of $1200 for its innate softness. I had no idea how to estimate the prices of the bracelets and other jewelry adorning his wrists and neck, but I was sure they were immense.

His expensive attire wasn’t something that bothered me anymore. I could buy whatever I wanted, and Zane wouldn’t blink an eye.

During the time in which we were a couple, on more than one occasion when my clothing hadn’t been to his standards, Chris’ family wealth had been thrown in my face. But I was paying my own way through college, without any scholarship or help from my mom. I’d been working part-time and going to school full-time and could only afford thrift store purchases. Knowing that, Chris neglected to offer to buy me any of the finery that he wished I was wearing, saying that his trust wouldn’t cover it.

I shook my head at the fool I had been.

He folded the newspaper, hung his wire-rimmed glasses in the dip of his shirt, pushed the chair under the table, and began to saunter over to where I stood frozen. He looked at me in a quiet appraisal, and I must’ve passed muster, given the way his eyes darkened.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he had aged well. His skin was tanned, probably from a trip to Tahiti or some other far-flung place. His hair had a slight curl in its thickness and was cut shorter at the sides than the top, allowing tendrils, which had begun to grey in that beautiful way it does for handsome men, to fall in waves. His forehead held the creases of the years, but the brawn in his forearms belied the health of a man who worked out with weights enough to maintain his image. His hazel eyes held the swaying intensity I knew well. Add to that the scruff at his jawline, and he was sure to make any woman swoon.

Any woman other than me.

"It is you, he said, as he closed the distance between us. I was thinking about you just the other day. Funny, seeing you here. Serendipity."

Hi, Chris. I found my voice and was intent on not losing it again. How are you?

I’m well! Just got back from a trip to the Maldives. Have you been there?

No. Not yet.

Oh! You have to go! I stayed at an amazing resort. The food was absolute Heaven. The water, the clearest blue I’ve ever seen. You could see all the way to the ocean floor. The weeks I stayed there passed by quicker than I wanted. His eyes wandered to the counter behind me, and his voice dropped in volume. That’s where I was when I was reminiscing about you and me. I was vacationing alone, taking part in a spiritual retreat, reflecting on my life, my youth, and my mistakes. I gained a lot of clarity. It was easy to picture us both there, having a great time together.

If he thought I was interested in being anywhere with him, he was crazy. When I didn’t respond to his bait, he cast once more.

Are you hungry? Can I get you something?

No, Chris, I was just looking. And I need to go.

Ignoring my wishes as usual, he went on.

Speaking of looking, you’re as beautiful as ever, London. He ran his fingers through his locks with a chagrined expression. Age hasn’t caught up to you the way it has me. I never thought I’d have a gray hair, and now my head is peppered with it. Can you believe it?

I gave myself a mental slap when a perverse glee trilled through me, knowing that he would die, while I wouldn’t.

You could always color it. There are products made exclusively for men.

He jerked his head up in shock at my comments. He was expecting me to compliment him, tell him how handsome he was and validate him, like I had done when we were together.

Nah, quite a few ladies seem to like the mature and debonair me.

I’m sure they do. I couldn’t stop the snark from coming out of my mouth at his passive-aggressive comment. I wish them luck. They’ll need it.

Oh, don’t be that way, London. We were different people back then. We were so young and innocent. He glanced down at his watch. You know, there’s an eatery not far from here. Their chef, I read, trained by travelling the world honing his craft. They have an amazing wine and liquor inventory. They only stock the best labels. None of that drivel you bought for us to share while we were wrapped around each other. Why don’t we go and catch up?

I could not believe I was hearing almost the same pick-up line fall from his mouth that I’d heard from Zane’s.

I don’t think my husband would appreciate me leaving without him.

James is here?

He turned his head this way and that, trying to find my ex.

No, I divorced him years ago.

Snapping back to me, he said, I knew that would never work.

Really.

Of course. That was a total rebound, London. He laughed under his breath and then looked at me through his downturned lashes. The same happened to me after our relationship ended.

"What are you talking about, Chris? You broke up with me to be with... what’s-her-face? I hated the way I sounded, like the pissed-off ex-girlfriend I no longer was. I then gave the woman who had done me the favor of swooping in and taking him from me the respect of calling her by name. Joliene."

He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck.

Yeah. Never should’ve done that. No one else I’ve been with has been as good to me and perfect for me as you were.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Zane strolling between the aisles to come get me. He probably thought I’d gotten lost in my musing about chocolate scones and couldn’t tear myself free.

I’m happy you did, and I’m not that woman you knew back then anymore.

Watching Zane, I smiled, as he approached a sitting area where a group of women were gathered. He tipped an imaginary hat to them, gaining their rapt attention, before stopping to ask what they were discussing in their book club. When they told him, their cheeks a bright red, he snorted and then went into Lindy Beck sales mode.

Hmm... I’ll have to ask my wife if she’s read that yet. All I know is that she’s been obsessed with several series by an erotic vampire romance author. I’m not fucking complaining, if you know what I mean. She’s been on fire with those books, and trust me, ladies.... We’ve both enjoyed them. He paused and looked around. "I wanted to see if the author had published anything new. I fucking looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find her name on the shelves in the Romance section. I thought maybe they were sold out, but when I asked the person at the help desk, he told me her books were exclusive items and that they couldn’t sell them here. He leaned in closer to them, and they did the same towards him, as he reeled them in. If you ask me, that sounds like some literary code for too hot for the eyes of the average reader. Can’t say it would be wrong, though. From my personal experience with what my wife’s read to me, Lindy Beck has a knack with her steamy and passionate love scenes. He huffed a laugh. She’s got my 100-fucking-percent support for her writing career, and I hope she continues for years to come. She’s made me, he said, wiggling his eyebrows, a happy fucking man."

A woman raised her hand and asked, What’s the author’s name again?

Zane repeated my pen name, and she grabbed her purse