Clattering downstairs, I see Muohta lolling on the couch.He woofs when he sees me.When I check his bowls, I see that Shadow already gave Muohta food and water.
My blond and brawny domesticated vampire lover.
Muohta looks up when I snort with laughter.
“Sorry, Mu, but you wouldn’t get the joke.”
Making my essential cup of coffee and popping a tub of fruit yogurt open, I lean against the kitchen countertop.I muse about the forthcoming day while spooning the cold strawberry-flavored slop into my mouth.
Gone are the days when I could snap a photograph of Shadow’s note and flick it over to Google image search to find out what those squiggly lines mean.I wonder if my blood-obsessed lover will translate it for me tonight?I also want to know more about incubi.
Maybe it’s time for me to pester Ben for local knowledge again.
There is so much I want to know about Landslide, now that I have some background on its origins.
The chill in the mud room doesn’t hit me so bad since spending half the night with Shadow’s cold body next to me.Tempest left me with detailed instructions about the island’s recycling system, so the general store is only allowed to sell yogurt in glass pots.
Flipping the lid of the glass bin open, I throw in the rinsed glass pot.My aunt wrote that I should rinse everything because recycling doesn’t get done during winter once the island gets iced in.
Only when I step into the warm shower do some of my injuries begin to bother me.
My pelvic floor actually aches.I’ve never experienced such a weird pain before.Tender and sore at the same time.When I wash between my thighs, I am shocked to find my clitoris is still engorged.The hard nub pulses with anticipation as I delicately dab at it with the cloth.
No thanks.No more finger banging required.I would much rather wait for the real thing.
As nightmarish as the concept of Shadow is, he has become more real to me than any man could ever hope to be.
Looking in the wet bathroom cabinet mirror with shower mist swirling around me, I loosen my hair from the clip and let the damp strands fall down my back.
Yes, I look different.Not only is my face so pale the blue-mauve veins can be seen threading under the skin, but my pupils are small pinpricks of black in the middle of the tawny irises.The whites of my eyes are bloodshot, too.I blink rapidly as the morning sun rises over the pine trees.
I look like a pink lab rat.Hurriedly sifting through my makeup bag, I find my green-base cover stick and dab it over my abraded chin and nose.
And mascara.Lots of mascara.
I never wear perfume, and I don’t need to apply deodorant under my arms—redheads are not prone to sweating much.But there is a bottle of scented body cream in the cabinet, so I rub that over my aching limbs.I guess this is how an athlete must feel after playing a hard game.
Bundling my cotton nightgown into the wash basket, I notice the torn fabric.As much as I hate housework, I might as well do a load of washing while I’m out.There is a soft smile on my face as I strip the sheets off the bed.
I feel like a bride the morning after her honeymoon.Is this how Tempest felt?This is the same house, the same bed where Ifan and Tempest spent their first night.So romantic.
With the machine on, I call Muohta.
I can see my breath in the air as I wait for the engine to start.Winter on Landslide.Spring and summer on Landslide, too.It’s the modern world that feels alien to me now.
“We’re going to Ben’s, Mu.”I like talking to my dog when I’m lonely.“You like Ben, don’t you?”
The Samoyed huffs.He would enjoy visiting more if he were allowed to chase the chickens.
It’s nice to know I won’t be taking any more wrong turns.Once again, I find Ben splitting logs in the front yard.Beckoning with his hand, he goes into the house ahead of me to put on the kettle.
He leaves his work boots in the entrance hall, so I kick off my sneakers.It’s not yet winter, but the path is muddy from the rain.Did Shadow ride back to the club in the rain early this morning?
“Morning, Ben.You’ll let me know what I owe you for firewood, won’t you?”
The homesteader grunts.
“Mr.Sylva stuck a note under my door this morning.Says he’ll be paying for your firewood from now on, Luna.”
