Nine Shillings

Impact Injuries

London - 1842

The rising sun was making the curtains glow; I could feel it, a dim awareness of time passing. Mostly I could feel the six year old jumping on the bed.

'Wake up, Mummy! It's day time,' Mary shouted, making me wince.

'I know,' I muttered into the pillows. 'I'm trying to pretend it isn't.'

'That's a silly game.' She landed on her knees beside me and poked the scarred side of my neck. 'Feel that, Mummy?

'Yes,' I mumbled.

She poked the matching scars on my shoulder. 'What 'bout that, Mummy?'

'That too.'

'Scaring dogs is silly, Mummy. They got sharp teeth,' she said.

'I didn't scare him. He wasn't a very nice dog.' Which was an understatement for Richard, a vampire who delighted in turning good men bad by any means. Even by turning their lovers into vampires under his thrall. That last bit hadn't worked on me and he was no doubt regretting his lack of research in hell.

'Daddy saided you're tired 'cause Pappy keeps you up alllllll night,' she continued as if I'd said nothing. 'He won't telled me what. Just growed-up things.' She rolled her eyes with a level of drama only a small child could muster.

'Pappy doesn't keep me up all night,' I replied without opening my eyes. It was a pity he didn't but he was still grappling with seeing his maker kill me to use against him, only for me to eat Richard.

She grabbed my arm, which had been dislocated a few hours earlier, and pulled.

'Fine, I'm up.' I sat up and leaned against the headboard before she could dislocate my arm a second time. Bruises were prodding at my chest, they healed slower but were harder to cause, unless you fell off a church tower.

Bran came in, swept Mary off the bed and swung her round, making her giggle.

'Aren't you supposed to be playing hide and seek with Daddy?' He put her on his hip.

'I want Mummy to play.' She pouted.

'You go hide from Daddy before finds you and I'll get her up.' He set her on the floor outside the door.

She gave him a scathing look then hurried away. She wasn't going to let me still being in bed in the middle of the morning cause her to lose the game. Bran shut the door.

'Are you sure you don't want me to get you up?' I shifted onto my knees on the edge of the bed, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

He broke away. 'That doesn't help.'

'Do you want a kiss?'

He licked his lips and nodded.

I kissed him again. He settled his hands on my hips and I let him draw me closer. His power pulsed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat that burned hot against my hands and tingled my tongue. Every note of the whiskey on Bran's tongue, from field, to cask, to glass was distinct. My hands rasped across his skin and his heart beat faster.

We tipped back onto the bed; kissing and touching, rubbing up against each other. I slipped my hands into his trousers and squeezed his arse. I loved his arse, not too firm and not too soft, very Bran.

'Do you want me?' he whispered.

I cupped his face and kissed him. 'Yes.' I slid my hands down and unbuttoned his trousers, then gripped his arse tight, nails digging in.