My name was John Sutton. I was the son of a prostitute with no knowledge of my real father.

When I became Lamont Oliver, I was no different. I was the son of a Brothel Madam, within a house with no Monsieur.

When given the chance to become someone different, I hadn't changed. Even with meeting Charlotte, I was a man with no possibilities. And now, I was a man with only half a mind.

My memories returned at a rate that stunned me, because as quickly as it came, when it left, it took parts of me with it. What remained were the final words I'd said to Abigail before John vanished and Lamont was born.

I'll kill you.

The water from my mind's eyes drifted away with fading waves as the closet door opened for me. No one pulled at the handle; I had opened it myself. I stood in the doorway, unsure of when I awoke or stood, but it made me no difference. The sunlight was gone, meaning I'd lost so much time. Which also meant Abigail was well into her plans to continue this blessing, and well into the truths of my reappearance.

I was down the hall and up the stairs in seconds. My eyes lit the shadows of the hallway, my senses alive. I heard every voice and step within the manor, but I only wished to hear the ones of those I cared about:

I needed to know Charlotte and Rosie were safe, and that Victor and Nathan were alive.

There were mutters and laughs of those excited for Abigail's sermon; they lingered far below, within the basement halls. Inside the left manor, I heard the talk of dinner. Within the right, there was talk of the garden's reconstruction. Above me, I heard Charlotte's voice; she sang a quiet song, one that her mother would sing at night.

I followed the tune that lulled me to sleep on countless nights. It led me up another flight of stairs, down another hall and right to a door painted white. I pushed it open without invitation and expected to find Charlotte ready for battle; to have a gun, a knife—anything—in her hands, but that wasn't the case.

Instead, within the room with its floral walls, I saw her seated on the ottoman at the foot of a large bed. There were photos around her. Photos of Rosie, of Victor, and a few of myself. I took in deep breaths as her dark eyes looked up at me, her hands massaging oils into the bottoms of feet. She smelled lovely, and wore barely anything at all; a tank, so big, it fell loosely around her shoulders.

"Lamont." The way she said my name erased all the pain I felt. She looked at me with those large, brown eyes that devoured my soul, and for a second, I'd forgotten what I ran through the walls to tell her.

"Charlotte, we need to find Victor. And Abigail. Where's Rosie?"

She glanced out at the stars that shined brightly through the window's glass. Her room bore no curtains, allowing the moonlight to kiss her skin. "Tonight's the Blessing," she said, placing her foot back down on the wooden floor. She didn't look away from the window. "Rosie and Nathan are with Victor. I last saw Abigail, maybe, an hour ago. She came to remind me of my dressings, and to be ready for what's to come."

My hand had never let go of her doorknob and it creaked under my grip. "What does that mean? What does she know?"

Finally, she looked back at me. "She doesn't know anything. She still fully expects you to participate and bless the newcomers tonight with our curse."

"She doesn't." As I moved forward, the door shut behind me. "Charlotte, I blacked out downstairs. With her. I've been in a closet for hours, dreaming. She knows that I'm lying. She's got to."

Charlotte grabbed my hand as I kneeled in front of her. "Lamont, she's known for a long time that Victor and I were out to get her. Rosie coming back here with you only makes it truer. If she believes you'll still participate—"

"I won't."

"—then our plan can continue. You can kill her; we can kill her."

"Charlotte, you don't understand. There's more to this. She's tried to murder me before and will do it again. That's what this Blessing really is. To kill me, and everyone dear to me."

Charlotte touched the side of my face. Her fingers gently traced my jawline, following the line down to my neck. "You think I don't know? I do, Lamont, believe me. That's why Rosie hasn't left Victor's side since earlier, and Nathan has been such a good help. We're prepared for this."

I slumped down onto my knees and Charlotte slid down with me. Her bare legs were warm against mine. "How far out of the plan am I?" I asked as I searched her eyes. "What haven't you all told me?"

"You blacked out again today? So soon after the other," she ignored my question with one of her own.

"Charlotte, answer me."

"No," she pressed her hands over my chest, "you answer me. You asked your friend for medicine when you came. How bad have they gotten that you can't have a full day without losing time?"

I froze at the question. I honestly didn't have an accurate answer. "H-Hours, maybe," I said, as well as I could.

Her brow knitted together in sadness as she shifted closer to me. She touched my face again and kissed my top lip. "Have you forgotten today?"

I closed my eyes. "No," I breathed, "I remembered."

"No," she whispered. "You remembered your past. But today. Have you forgotten today?"

I shifted back, sitting on my feet. She pulled her weight down on my legs, gently straddling me as well as she could. I searched her eyes as I flushed as much as she did. "I remember the morning, and the afternoon. I—"

She shook her head as she closed her eyes. The warmth of her forehead was nice against mine and eased my tension. Her quiet breaths echoed with the wind that blew outside; the combined sound made me close my eyes. "Today was the day you revealed your light to me. When we went out into town to find my father. Today was the day you showed me you truly loved me."

My eyes shot open. She didn't look at me, but her eyes danced underneath her eyelids. "Charlotte."

She almost smiled. "Why do dark times bring us together?" she whispered. "There's never a light that pulls us, but danger, instead."

"You're my light," I said to her.

"Then, why did you run up to my room?" When she opened her eyes, they shimmered like gold stuck in stone. "To warn me? To get me ready and kill her?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"Nothing good comes from our dark days, haven't you learned that by now? It's done nothing but brought us pain."

"No." I wrapped my arm around her and felt my heart leap at the feel of her skin beneath her thin top. "It always brings us close."

"And yet, so far," she whispered against my lip. "Tonight, will either free us or destroy us, can't you see that?"

I shook my head as her hands found their way into my hair. "No," I told her, "because I vowed to protect you. And, Charlotte, I've broken that vow more than once, and I swear by God that I will not leave you tonight."

"Your body won't—" a tear fell from her eye, "—but you will."

The blue of my eyes illuminated her face. My fingers dug into the side of her hips. What did she mean?

"I can't leave you, Charlotte May," I said against her lips. "I'm bound to you, forever. Your blood—"

She laid me down on the floor and straddled me.

"—runs through my veins."

I took in a deep breath as she lifted my shirt from above my head. Quietly, it landed beside me as it fell from her fingers.

"Your life—"

She freed herself, tossing her shirt on the bed behind her. The way her skin glistened, was just as I remembered. How could I forget someone so beautiful?

"—nourishes me. Blankets my lie. And I—"

I undid my pants, pushing them down onto my thighs. My member stood upright, racing with blood and ache, just as my heart hammered away in my chest. Another tear fell from her eye as she positioned herself properly above me.

"—am neither dead nor alive because of it. But, immortal."

Slowly, she slid down, sheathing me in the warmth I'd only felt in my dreams. I cried out as she did. My fingers left indents in her skin.

"With you," she moaned as she shifted up and down again. "I'm only immortal with you."

How many times had we said that together after a fight? It became our truce after Charlotte survived my disease. It was how she forgave me and found the strength to go on. How I found the courage to forgive myself for what I'd done.

Our words to each other, our immortalized apology, was fifteen years overdue.

"Lamont!"

The sound, her voice; she shattered me.

She rocked her hips forward and pulled a sound from deep within my throat, a sound so foreign to me, but God, did it fill me with ecstasy. I pulled her back down to me when she tried to lean away and filled her entirely. Her gasps and cries brought back so many memories, nights when she told me I was far too much but begged me not to stop. Tonight, she couldn't find the words, but I saw it in the glow of her eyes, and that smile that inched up her lip.

Sitting up, I trapped her body with my arms and ground my hips up in between her legs. She let out a long, drawn out moan, one that lit a fire inside me. Sweat broke out on her skin, and mine. 

"Lamont," she whimpered against my lips. Her fingers grabbed onto locks of my hair, tugging my head back as she met the rhythm of my hips. As I growled, she pulled my hair harder. I grabbed a fistful of hers, pulling it the same.

The light of her eyes mixed with that of mine—hues of gold and blue. We panted together; sighed and moaned together. When her body trembled, I held her tight. I pulled her ear to my lips and encouraged her. "Come for me," I growled, "let it go."

Oh, did she let go. The moisture between her legs dripped down my thighs as she cried out my name again. I muffled the sound with a kiss, coaxing her tongue out of her mouth with mine. The spasms of her orgasm drew out my own, and it wasn't long until I came inside her.

As I gripped her ass in my hand, keeping her hips still, we stared into each other's eyes. Our hot breaths mixed in the space between us. I moved to let her go, but she refused and wrapped her legs around me. "I missed you," she said in between pants. "I've really missed you."

"I shouldn't have left." I pushed hair away from her face. "I never should have left you alone."

"I forgive you," she rolled, pulling me with her, "I'd always forgive you."

I balanced my weight on my elbow, my other hand beside her face. With my thumb, I played with her hair that covered the floor. Beneath me, her body was warm. She trembled, legs wide; I fit perfectly between them, the place rightfully mine.

With one hand, I traced the line of her collarbone, down the space between her breasts. She was as soft as ever, supple beneath my hand. It wasn't until the clouds freed the moon of its temporary shadow and shone its light on her stomach that I saw the faint stretch marks around her skin. I touched the lines, sighing as I traced my teeth with my tongue.

"These were Rosie," she whispered, her hand following my fingers. "Marks from my pregnancy. Am I ugly now?"

I snorted, and leaned down, pressing tender kisses on each of the lines. "You're as beautiful as ever, if not more," I said, "because you mothered my child. This body," I kissed further down, pressing her thighs further apart, "has given me everything."

She giggled. The way she bit her lip pushed the blood back down to my legs, and I was erect again. "Has it?" she whispered, watching as I positioned my face over the lips I hadn't kissed yet.

"Shall I remind you?" I smirked, pulling her closer. She nodded, pinker than she'd been, and I dove in, losing myself in the dessert I didn't deserve.