My Dark Beloved - onc 2023 Ambassadors Pick-Longlisted

.4

You know that feeling when someone sets a plate of your absolute favourite food in front of you but you know you're not allowed to get even a tiny taste? That's how I feel when the reason my jeans are causing me great discomfort leans forward and nearly touches their nose to mine.

"Is this place always so dead?" Their words waft around me like particles of shattered silver.

"Pretty much," I reply, wondering if I should lean in closer.

"I like places like this. Few prying eyes and the ones that are prying," they pause to look over to Jeremiah, "well, who gives a fuck about mister lost-in-Hollywood-starlet-La-La-land who hasn't stopped staring."

"He likes her," I say as I briefly look at the Hedy Lamarr posters. "I mean, she was gorgeous."

They shrug lethargically. I can tell they are uninterested.

"Besides, Jer is alright," I say finding the need to jump to the bar owner's defense.

"I don't like him staring."

I don't know why he is. Jeremiah keeps to himself. He lets his patrons do what they want, as long as it's not illegal and does not involve fire. Hell, once I got pissed drunk and ended up doing a strip tease on the bar. Jer barely batted an eyelash.

"Maybe it's because he never sees me talk to anyone. When I come here it's alone. To drink." I'd never been to the Dust with company – not even Lux (who hated crappy bars as much as she hated the cold). I have never hooked up here and never said more than a casual hello to a handful of regulars.

"Well, if he's going to stare, how about we give him something to really stare at?"

I met this stranger maybe fifteen minutes ago. I have no clue what their name is, but before I can spit out that I'd rather not be stared at, they worm their way between my legs and plaster themselves against me. Soft palms rest on the top of my thighs and...holy hell, I think my body's caught on fire. Their lips touch mine and the sky above explodes. When their tongue dips into my mouth, sliding and seeking, I feel like I'm coming home (and I am about three seconds from coming in my pants).

Oh, God, or Goddess, or whatever deity one prays to! I want to get on my knees and worship!

"You taste so good," I utter as they break the kiss. With them sitting back in the stool, a part of me rips out of my soul and sits with them. "Come back."

They give me a coy smile. "You want to touch me."

"Yes. God. Hell. Fuck. Yes. Come back closer – right back to where you were."

But our little intimate moment is crushed when a pair of burly arms plant themselves on the counter in front of me.

Jeremiah looks at me curiously. On his shoulder rests a red tartan dishcloth. There's a stray bit of scotch tape stuck in his hair. "Doin' all right, Elio?"

I am flustered. It may be below zero outside, but in this tiny spot in the Stardust bar, it's about a hundred degrees. My damn vampire blood may be unable to make me blush, but the human part of me is turning my cheeks red. I may not be able to feel the cold, but I sure as anything can feel this warmth.

"Hey, Jer."

Jeremiah is silent as he looks me over. His lips are pursed into a thin line. Before he speaks, he takes hold of the dishcloth and wipes a few moisture rings off the counter. "Been bar hopping tonight?" He asks out of the blue.

I have no idea where that comment's come from but I reply honestly, "Nope. This place is the only one I can stomach."

Jer raises a brow in question.

"I need a drink something bad. Can I order?"

He goes to say something but stops. Jeremiah nods before finally talking. "The usual?"

"Not tonight." I'm in no mood for whiskey. I want something else. Something different. I cast a glance at my new friend's drink. I want something clear. "I'll have one of those." I point.

Jeremiah chuckles. It's rare he does. "A peanut?" He taps the spot where a rogue nut's resting.

Wanting my drink and wanting him to go, I pick the first clear drink that comes to mind. "Vodka on the rocks."

"Sure thing." Grabbing a glass, Jer clears his throat, "The storm is getting bad." He gestures to one of the windows as he sets the glass down before grabbing a bottle of Absolute off the shelf. "I'd call it an early night if I were you."

My sweet-tongued seductress leans toward me. They whisper I'd make a freaky snowman as they run the tips of their nails along my knee. I stifle a chuckle as I look up at Jeremiah and nod. "Yeah, I was hoping to go to bed early tonight."

Two ice cubes are dropped into the vodka. Jer pauses before he hands me the drink. "Take it easy, buddy. OK?"

The stray peanut is flicked into the trash. Jeremiah wipes away flecks of shells. When the counter is as clean as it can be, he flops the dishcloth back on his shoulder and walks off.

In my ill-lit spot at the bar, I toss back the Absolute and feel the stranger's hands slither up my inner legs. Fingertips caress while the drink burns and burns. The liquor creates a maze from my throat to every single cell. My body celebrates the fact that I'm getting a buzz this quickly. In the mirror across, I watch my reflection wink. Under my clothes, my skin is hot. I can feel the heat from those demanding, pale hands that are lingering near my groin.

I set the glass down. It took me thirty years to learn how to chug without it coming back up. All I feel now is wonderful.

Around me, I hear the music flowing from the jukebox. A slow, lazy song fills the air. I look to the beauty beside me. Their silver hair calls my name. I reach out to touch it. "I love this song," I whisper.

"What song?" A purr ebbs from their words as they lean into my touch.

"On the juke. It's the second time it's playing but I ain't complaining." I say with a playful drawl.

"Silly boy," they chuckle. "There ain't no music." They mimic my drawl. "The jukebox is broken. There's a sign dangling from it, big as anything. You can't miss it."

I turn and look. Miss it I did. In huge red letters, the word BROKEN is scribbled on a cardboard square. I furrow my brows. The song continues. I hear it as clearly as I hear my new friend speak.

A chuckle. They rise and wiggle to the spot between my knees. They can make that area theirs. Claim it. Take it. "I think you are losing your mind," a long finger touches my temple. "But don't worry. A little madness never did no harm."

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