Jill was so enthralled by him that she hadn’t been careful to avoid stepping around the house onto a rather loud twig.
Damn. She cursed at herself for not being more aware of her surroundings.
The man's attention shifted to the direction of the noise. “Is someone there?”
Quickly, Jill used the hunger in her belly as an excuse to get away, deciding she would come back later.
****
Jillian returned later in the evening after her nightly hunt to find the light in the upstairs room still on. She scaled the tree closest to the side of the house where the window was.
As fate would have it, it was the young man’s room. The tree provided the perfect venue for her to observe him and learn a bit more about his life.
His hair was still wet, showing he'd just gotten out of the shower. His toned and sculpted chest dotted with beads of water settled in the grooves between his pectoral muscles.
Everything about him was so breathtaking. He was dressed in loose athletic shorts just low enough on his hips, Jill could see the dips where the bones began leading down into those perfect muscular legs. The tuft of hair leading down below his shorts made her body quiver.
He was so different yet so similar in this body. His amethyst eyes were like jewels. His skin light in complexion with a hint of the sun’s kiss upon it. On his right shoulder was the tattoo of a tribal rose, his hair dark as the night sky when the moon chose to hide her face.
The muscles in his back were so developed, they would make any woman weak in the knees to be with him.
When the light went off, Jill used her sensitive hearing to tune into the softness of his breathing.
Easing to the edge of the branch, Jill tested the old windows held closed by a single, golden latch easily opened with something flat such as a knife blade or the claws of a lycan.
She extended her nail and slid it between the small crack between the window panes, opening the windows. Her foot falls quiet on the wood floor.
Leaning over him, she breathed deeply through her nose, taking in the same scent of rich, dark musk mixed with subtle hints of cedar and pine. It is you. It’s been so long.
Jill would have to wait until he woke up to see if he recognized her as he did with each rebirth. For this moment, none of it mattered to her. She’d waited for thousand years alone, watching history drift by like water over rocks. After all this time, she’d finally found the soul of the man she loved.
Curiosity drove Jill to look around his room to try to find some clue to what his name was in this new life.
The search was made difficult due to everything still being in boxes all labeled, “Son’s room”.
One of them was open, revealing stacks of books and a photo of a woman. Her dark brown hair and soft smile made Jill happy and sad at the same time. She hadn't seen her come in with them.
Still nothing gave her his name.
What is your name, handsome? Jill thought to herself as she continued looking around. Okay, this is frustrating. She dropped to sit beside his bed.
The sounds of the morning birds made her curse the dawn. The light of day often served as a relief from the threats of the darkness for Jill and her people. However this time, it was a source of frustration.
“We will meet again soon.” Jill whispered and jumped out of the window into the breaking dawn.
****
As soon as the sun's rays came through his window, Damien jerked up in his bed, his breath heavy and quick as he looked around the room only to find he was still alone.
Nothing had been disturbed.
“Had to be a dream.” He told himself aloud.
The cool breeze coming through his window, confused him since he was certain he’d closed it the night before.
A knock on the door made him jump. “C'mon Dame, don't want to miss your college orientation, do you?” Charlie, Damien's dad and the new police chief of Big Timber called through the door.
“Yeah. Give me a few,” Damien replied, agitated. He got up from his bed, opening his drawers to pull out a pair of jeans and a black shirt.
A red plaid over shirt hung on his headboard. He took it and put it on, leaving it hanging open and rolling up the sleeves to his elbows.
The backpack with his sunglasses, wallet, cell phone, laptop and notebooks sat at the foot of his bed.
Damien moved fast to put his boots on and grabbed it, stopping by the box with the books and the photo of his foster mom, Sarah.
“Morning mom.” He said with a sad smile upon his face as he put the photo on the night stand before racing down the stairs.
****
Damien got himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table for breakfast.
“Busy day?” he asked, attempting to start a conversation.
“Honestly, I’m not too sure.” Charlie spoke up from behind the paper he was reading, sipping his coffee.
Damien ran his hand through his hair, leaning back in the chair. “Do you still think about mom?”
The suddenness of the question caught Charlie off guard. “There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about her,” He replied. “I see her in my dreams as she was before she contracted her horrible sickness.”
Damien hesitated in asking his next question, wondering if it may make him sound crazy. “Ever feel like she's still here?”
“Oh yeah. In my own dreams I still see myself pushing her in her favorite backyard swing she
