Always the Vampire

“I’ll be good. Come on.”


I ducked under the arm he held out and took his weight. Which wasn’t as dead as it had been at the apartment, but we hadn’t taken three steps into the water when he collapsed to his knees, taking me with him.

Both of us paused there on all fours, Triton panting and mooning the condos on the dunes, had anyone been looking. I tried not to get my shorts any wetter than they were.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said.

He glanced at me then turned his face to the surf. “Just get me in deep enough, and the water will support me.”

“Triton, there are sandbars out here,” I said sternly. “The waves are higher because of the storm. And if they don’t knock you on your bare behind, the riptides may pull us both out. I’m not in the mood to be sucked out to sea in the dark.”

“You have another idea?”

“I do. How close are you to changing?”

“Thirty minutes to an hour.”

I reconsidered my solution for another minute. It might be risky, it might be downright crazy, but it was my port in this storm.

“Triton, have you ever surfed?”

He gave me a long look then nodded. “Cowabunga.”





ELEVEN




I changed into my black, scooped-back maillot behind the open driver’s side door. No chance of Triton peeping, and since I had killed the interior lights, no me mooning the condos.

Having dry clothes to wear on the drive home? Priceless.

As I slid my surfboard free of the truck, I peered over at Triton. He lay curled on his side, arms around his middle as if protecting himself. Damn, what would I do if he couldn’t shift? Or only partly shifted? I shook away those negative thoughts, grabbed a chunk of wax, and swiped it over the board in a zigzag pattern. I didn’t need the waxing for super traction, just to render the fiberglass less slippery.

With the leg leash strapped to my ankle, I hoisted my board and hurried back to Triton.

“Hey. Big, fat, Greek shifter.”

He opened one eye. “I’m not fat.”

“Tell that to your lip. Roll on your knees so I can help you up.”

He did, groaning and moaning. I purposely put my vampire strength in gear, grasped his sandy arm, and got him to his feet.

“Come on. I need to get you in deep enough to put you on the board.”

With my board under one arm and supporting Triton with the other, we shuffled into the surf. Ankle deep, then knee deep, then ankle deep again when we hit a sandbar. Finally, I had us in hip-deep water.

“Okay, time to get on the board,” I shouted over the roar of the waves. “Can you help me paddle out?”

“I can try.”

“Try hard. I’ll take the front. You get on behind me. Scoot up enough that your head will be in the small of my back.”

“My feet will stick off the end of the board.”

“Then keep them together or they’ll act like a rudder.”

He nodded and I straddled the board. My legs were just long enough to dig my toes into sand shifting with the strong undertow, but it helped steady the board while he mounted close behind me.

“All right, let’s go flat together.”

I eased down on the board, felt Triton mimic my progress. The board swayed with the waves, but we didn’t capsize. I began paddling hard and fast, focusing on slicing through the water, chesting up to breach each breaker. I ignored Triton’s labored breath on my bare back. I ignored the feel of his chest pressing into my butt. I even ignored the tickle of a more intimate part of him brushing my calves.

It seemed to take hours to get to the line up, the place where surfers turned their boards to wait for a wave, but we made it without taking a spill.

“How are you holding up?” I hollered over my shoulder.

His guttural “Fine” rumbled up my spine.

“Ready to straddle?”

“Rest first.”

“All right, but if you think you’re ready to shift, slide off.”

“I won’t sink the board. Not like I almost did your father’s boat.”

I grinned at the memory. Triton had been late for our monthly new-moon rendezvous, and we’d rowed like Vikings on speed in our attempt to reach the beach before he shifted. We’d only made it to the inlet before he’d torn his clothes off and flopped over the side.

“My father would have killed me if we’d sunk that boat.”

He chuckled, a gentle vibration that trickled all the way to my feet. “Your mother would’ve killed you if you’d shown up soaking wet again.”

Or she would have had Triton’s ring on my finger faster than she could filet a fish.

“Cesca, I’m going to slide off now.”

I looked over my shoulder. “You’re shifting?”

“No, but I’ll feel better in the water.”

“You’ll burn too much energy treading the swells.”

“I’ll hold on to the board.”