Mick's Education, part 1
Where the hell was Coraline? She had gone out just after sunset, airily remarking that she’d be back in plenty of time to take him out for a bite. Ha. Really funny, dearest, he thought. His lips twisted in something between a sneer and a snarl. He didn’t know where she had gone, but it was obvious that she had gone to see and be seen. She’d been dressed in her finest, which for Coraline meant that she was wearing something clingy, sequined, and deep red. It had been almost more than he could bear to watch her leave without him, but she’d been adamant.
“You’d just be bored to tears, darling-besides, I’m meeting people I need to talk business with, and I’m not quite ready to introduce them to you yet. Soon, I promise.” She had kissed him lingeringly, so much so that she’d had to redo her lipstick.
Bitch. Thinks she can just come and go, and leave me here to sweat.
He was alone in the house. The staff all went home after dark; why would anyone risk staying there at night with a newly turned vamp? They were all humans, but they knew what they were dealing with. It was only sensible to reduce the risk by leaving for the day around the time Mr. St. John was climbing out of the freezer.
Oh, god. He slept in a deep freeze. Every night he woke up with a crick in his neck. He wanted somewhere real to sleep. There were definite downsides to this vampire thing. Aside from the obvious ones, that was…especially the alternating sensations of vicious need and horrible remorse for the things he did while he was hungering. Coraline was trying to teach him how to care less, but somehow the lessons weren’t all that effective. And he wouldn’t need lessons on how to cope with being a vicious killer if she hadn’t-
“Fuck!” Mick pushed open the French door and went out to the pool. Stripping off his clothes, he dived in and began to swim. The water was cool, and swimming was effortless. This was one of the upsides. He could swim forever, and he didn’t even have to breathe all that often. Swimming was a joyously sensuous experience now that he was undead. He loved the way his body cut through the water, loved the power of his stroke and the sensation of movement it gave him. But he was just pacing in a different way. After swimming laps for half an hour, he rolled over and floated on his back. Looking up at the stars, Mick imagined how wonderful it would be to float away from everything, to sail away into the sky and just be free of what he had become.
He felt like a pet-a decorative, amusing, insignificant plaything, not a real husband. It wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d stood there under the arbor and repeated those vows with her a few weeks ago. He’d been expecting a marriage-a partnership, not a relationship that was more like teacher and student, or mother and child.
The only time he felt strong with her was in bed. And they couldn’t even sleep together, they had to sleep in the freezers or they got too weak to withstand the sunlight. Their time together was in stolen snatches, usually measured in minutes, not hours.
OK, this is depressing. Mick flipped over and dived, swimming under the water with his eyes open, till he reached the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He walked his hands up the steps till his head broke the surface, then found purchase with his feet and climbed out onto the terrace. He flung himself disconsolately into a chaise and dripped dry for a few minutes before padding naked into the house.
There was a shower in the bathroom nearest the pool, and he quickly washed the chlorine-scented water off his skin and hair and toweled himself dry. He needed to do something to occupy his time or he’d go nuts, waiting for Coraline to remember that he needed to go out. Slinging the towel around his hips, he went upstairs to the bedroom to get dressed.
“You’d just be bored to tears, darling-besides, I’m meeting people I need to talk business with, and I’m not quite ready to introduce them to you yet. Soon, I promise.” She had kissed him lingeringly, so much so that she’d had to redo her lipstick.
Bitch. Thinks she can just come and go, and leave me here to sweat.
He was alone in the house. The staff all went home after dark; why would anyone risk staying there at night with a newly turned vamp? They were all humans, but they knew what they were dealing with. It was only sensible to reduce the risk by leaving for the day around the time Mr. St. John was climbing out of the freezer.
Oh, god. He slept in a deep freeze. Every night he woke up with a crick in his neck. He wanted somewhere real to sleep. There were definite downsides to this vampire thing. Aside from the obvious ones, that was…especially the alternating sensations of vicious need and horrible remorse for the things he did while he was hungering. Coraline was trying to teach him how to care less, but somehow the lessons weren’t all that effective. And he wouldn’t need lessons on how to cope with being a vicious killer if she hadn’t-
“Fuck!” Mick pushed open the French door and went out to the pool. Stripping off his clothes, he dived in and began to swim. The water was cool, and swimming was effortless. This was one of the upsides. He could swim forever, and he didn’t even have to breathe all that often. Swimming was a joyously sensuous experience now that he was undead. He loved the way his body cut through the water, loved the power of his stroke and the sensation of movement it gave him. But he was just pacing in a different way. After swimming laps for half an hour, he rolled over and floated on his back. Looking up at the stars, Mick imagined how wonderful it would be to float away from everything, to sail away into the sky and just be free of what he had become.
He felt like a pet-a decorative, amusing, insignificant plaything, not a real husband. It wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d stood there under the arbor and repeated those vows with her a few weeks ago. He’d been expecting a marriage-a partnership, not a relationship that was more like teacher and student, or mother and child.
The only time he felt strong with her was in bed. And they couldn’t even sleep together, they had to sleep in the freezers or they got too weak to withstand the sunlight. Their time together was in stolen snatches, usually measured in minutes, not hours.
OK, this is depressing. Mick flipped over and dived, swimming under the water with his eyes open, till he reached the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He walked his hands up the steps till his head broke the surface, then found purchase with his feet and climbed out onto the terrace. He flung himself disconsolately into a chaise and dripped dry for a few minutes before padding naked into the house.
There was a shower in the bathroom nearest the pool, and he quickly washed the chlorine-scented water off his skin and hair and toweled himself dry. He needed to do something to occupy his time or he’d go nuts, waiting for Coraline to remember that he needed to go out. Slinging the towel around his hips, he went upstairs to the bedroom to get dressed.