1838

I missed her.

I hadn't seen her, in any way, for over a month. The town council spent every day, arguing back and forth, on whether or not to remove the natives. Charles and I argued the recklessness of removing families from their homes. "They're people!" Charles slammed his hand on the podium, "I'll be damned if you think you can remove my wife!"

Someone thought it'd be funny to point out that his daughter was also one of them, and needed to be removed, as well. He took the comment back when I lifted him in the air by his collar and told him I'd kill him; I'd rip him limb from limb, tear his intestines out and hang them to dry by the church. I was a demon after all, and I made sure he knew it.

No one heard the threat or saw the utter fear on his face. I was ordered to let him go and leave the courthouse for the day. Thankfully for him and everyone around me, I obliged, but gave the man one good glance to ensure him I'd do good on my word.

I'd spent the rest of the hours wandering the town, downing a few drinks at the pub. I never sought out Charles to ask about the final decision made in that courthouse—a forgotten thought. Instead, my mind running on drunken fumes and tobacco, led me outside Charlotte's bedroom window.

I wasn't sure of the hour, but by this point, the moon was high and bright in the sky as my only form of light. I called for her quietly and tossed a pebble at the glass. When she saw me, she wasted no time running down and out the door, into my arms.

I pulled her into the trees a few yards from her mother's garden.

"I missed you," she sighed as we kissed. Her hands gripped the front of my shirt, holding herself steady. I let my hands explore what I never could. A month apart from the woman you love could do a lot to a man.

"Have you?" I smirked as I pulled her waist close to mine. She trembled at my touch, eyes half-lidded and glazed. She wore nothing but her sleeping gown, white and thin. I could feel her breasts through the fabric as they pressed up against me. With restrained a groan of delight, I mentally told the length within my pants to calm down.

She was the love of my life, and I'd die if I killed her.

"Terribly." Charlotte pressed herself up on her toes to breathe on my lips. Her finger traced the faint stubble on my chin. "In the morning, at night."

I hissed. Why did she do this to me? Her eyes, the way they looked at me; her lips, the way they parted, beckoning me to kiss her. And her hands—oh, did her touch drive me mad.

I pulled her fingers away from my chin and kissed the tips of them. "Only the mornings and nights? You don't think of me throughout the day?" I chuckled quietly against her hand.

She turned red as a cool wind broke through the space around her. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

My, my, my Charlotte May.

The next groan I couldn't hold back. I cupped her ass in my hand and hoisted her up, legs around me. With a quick turn, I pressed her back against the tree. The mixed nervousness and desire on her face made me tremble as I breathed against her lips. There was no hiding the heat that dropped down in between my legs, and she knew.

"Lamont." Her hands found the length of my hair, undoing the tie that held it in its ponytail. Dark strands covered my face as the wind blew again, but she brushed them away with her fingertips. Her red lips inched closer to mine. Hot breaths left her in gasps. I hissed, I growled, and I took her lips in the hungriest of kisses.

As her soft moans clouded my thoughts, I tried to remind myself of what I couldn't do. I couldn't touch her beyond her clothes. I couldn't taste more than her lips. Yet, I couldn't fight myself the way I could fight a man. I was weaponless, hindered, and weakened by her touch.

When her lips pulled up to my ear to whisper, "I want you," I lost the little self-restraint I had left.

I ground my hips against her, shattering the stillness around us with the cry that broke past her lips. Her fingers dug into the collar of my shirt, into my skin. I sucked in a hard breath at the subtle pain. God, it felt good. Taking her lip in mine, I suckled softly and pushed my tongue into her mouth. Hers met mine in a dance we hadn't done, to the rhythm of our raging hearts.

"Lamont," she moaned so lusciously, my breath caught in my throat.

How long had it been since I touched a woman? Had a woman? Did my body hate me for denying myself the tender love of another?

I just... I couldn't.

I heard a rustle in the trees nearby.

"I love you," she breathed against my lips.

Her eyes searched my eyes. Their dark brown hue was bright in the moonlight. I traced my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip as I lifted one of her hands above her head.

"And I love you," I said with a kiss.

She sighed against my lips as my hands trailed under her gown. She was wet, ready, and I wanted nothing more than to have her. Just once. I shuddered at the thought.

But that thought shifted as I heard the trees again. It wasn't the wind that moved it. What pushed against the branches nearby were heavier, like that of an animal, or man.

Charlotte panted, quietly moaning as I slowly moved my hands, but my eyes were not on her. They were behind her, focused on the trees beyond the one that hid us.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered as her hand gripped mine.

I knew she wasn't, but sadly, it was no longer my focus.

Near her house there were shadows; dark figures with cloths over their faces. I narrowed my eyes and watched as they moved around the outside of the house. With ease and care, I placed Charlotte back down on her feet. She protested and whined and looked at me like a sad puppy.

"Hush," I told her.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked as she gripped my shirt.

I shook my head as the shadows paused, talking amongst each other. They were men, from what I knew. Men from town, which only made it worse. I tensed as I tried to listen and make out what they'd said, but they spoke softer than my heightened senses could pick up.

"Lamont, I'm sorry if—"

"Shh!" I pressed my finger against her lip as I heard some of their words:

"We'll kill them both, make him look insane."

"Now, that's easier said than done, isn't it?"

Charlotte gasped and pushed back against the tree. I hadn't noticed, but as my heart hammered in my chest and anger fueled my adrenaline, my eyes turned bright. Like fire, I lit the space around us. Her hand moved to touch my cheek, and quickly, I moved it away. "Stay here," I said, and when she didn't say anything, I added with a warning, "there's someone at your house."

She spun, my eyes no longer a topic of interest. She hugged the tree. "What?"

I didn't answer. I pushed past her, ducking into the tall grass behind the garden. The men didn't see or hear me coming. As two rounded the stairs, into the house, I grabbed the man who stayed behind. He was ready, knife in hand. He swung at me, missed, but didn't try again.

His eyes settled on mine and their abnormal blue light. My lips pulled back as I snarled at him, a sound I rarely made. With trembling hands, he pulled the mask away from his lips, and I almost laughed. I would have if I hadn't made a good threat.

"Y-you're M-Mr. O-Oliver..." he stuttered.

Ah, the man from the morning. Mr. Ship-Them-All-Out. Yes, I remembered him. How could I forget someone who threatened the life of the woman I loved? And, I hadn't forgotten the threat I'd made, either.

"I am," my hand reached for his neck and squeezed so tight he couldn't make a sound, "and it's quite unfortunate I don't know your name. Not that it will matter."

He sputtered as I lifted him above my head. His legs kicked, his hands scratched at my arms. I watched him for a moment, as he struggled to fight. He wouldn't know that I'd never lost one, nor did I plan to.

My thumb pressed hard against his throat. I could feel the nasty pop in my hand. He gurgled, blood spilling from his lips, and when he looked down at me in terror, I grinned. He tried to talk, but not a sound broke free. I read his lips: Demon.

"I am," I said as my free hand pressed my fingers against his shirt, "and much worse."

His mouth spread open in a silent scream as my hand ripped through his shirt and with force, into his belly. As blood dripped down from the open wound, I grabbed what I felt inside, and pulled. A strangled gasp left him as muscle and tissue spilled out with my hand.

His legs twitched, his hands fell. When I dropped him, I gave his neck a quick turn in the wrong direction, just to be sure.

With all the adrenaline, my heart pounded in my ears. I popped my neck and listened. Inside, I heard feet. Screams. Charles' gunfire.

That was my cue.

But I hadn't moved fast enough. Or, perhaps I spent too much time killing the man outside. Once I was up the front porch and into the sitting room, Anna was gone. She'd been dragged out the back by the two men who'd entered first. And Charlotte, my poor Charlotte, screamed for her mother as her captors took her away.

I could've chased them, too. My body, already high off the smell of blood and murder, was at its peak. I was fast enough. Strong enough. I wouldn't have needed a light to spare my eyes. I'd become the monster I had forgotten, and I could've helped them all.

Instead, I stopped at the kitchen. My eyes fell on Charles' trembling body. His pistol was pointed at me, tears in his eyes. He'd seen what I'd done outside, I knew it. It was all over my shirt, my shoes. I raised my hands in defense, shook my head, and said, "Charles, listen to me."

He closed his eyes as Charlotte came through the back door, tears staining her red cheeks. "Papa!" she cried, and he caught her.

I couldn't move.

I simply looked down at my body, covered in another man's blood.