Chapter 14: An Ugly Past Told.

Ludovic's POV

"Awww" Amber meowed at me. She wore a cute face with her hands clasped on both sides of her cheeks.

"It's a title oversized, but it'll works just fine." I smiled into the full length mirror screwed into the concrete wall in Amber's small square room. The Morning Sun Motel is her home, as well as her work place.

I had never seen her with a relative from near or far away. She is lonely; just as I am. We had that in common, and I took it upon myself to spend time with her every night with a bottle of whisky, laughing over old jokes. Some of them are bland, but sweet Amber had a way of re-jigging the jokes to make them come out fresh as a new born.

I looked at her through the mirror and I saw why I had held back my primal instincts. She was an angel to good to be snacked upon. Order than the fact that I am in enemy territory, she had the strings of my happiness tied mischievously around her fingers. She pulled them at will, and who am to stop her?

Well, I have to give up my cheeks for a good stretch sometimes to return the good nature. We made a good team, like mother and son.

Like mother and son.

"I knew you'd look smashing in it." She chuckled throatily, raising her right brow at me.

"I can see that," I winked at my reflection in the mirror with pride, buttoning the black plaid shirt halfway to reveal my buffer chest. I rolled up the sleeves and stopped halfway up my forearms. It was tight around my arms, giving me a sense of ownership. I always love them tight.

Like Iris' juicy fold. Tight and ymmy.

"You should be a model, baby boy." She dragged, pouting her lips.

"Not again, Amber. A black shirt and a baggy pant doesn't make a model of a man." I replied, grinning at her reflection in the mirror.

"How about complementing your dress with a twentieth century Chelsea boots?" She came up beside me with the pair in her right hand. They appeared used, but not worn out.

I took them from her with a raise of my brows, "Still, it's not enough." I bent down beside her to try them on. My feet sat into the old shoes without slacks. Nice.

"If it's up to me, you'll make a good model. You're way better than those scowling horse fish strutting down the catwalk with ugly faces." She folded her hands below her bosom.

"Right." I scoffed, rising up to feel the shoes on my feet.

"I'm serious, Vic." She called me Vic whenever it was important, just like mother. Everything about her is a replica of my mother. When mother gets better, I must introduce Amber to her. After telling her the truth.

For her own good, she must be left in the dark about who I really was.

She poked me in the side with her elbow to make me see her point.

"Ow, what was that for!" I wore a comical look, holding the spot as if it had caused me actual pain.

"Stop acting like a pussy. You just fucked a young girl last night."

"I thought we're over that topic?"

"I can say whatever whenever." She pouted.

"Who did these 80's fashion wears belong to anyway?" I asked, coiling the checkered Kashmir scarf around my neck she held out to me.

Her shoulders sagged. The question obviously had permeated a sealed compartment in her memory. I fear I had tampered with an old scar. A forlorn look masked her features, which cut through my heart.

Why does she make me so soft? Why do I feel so human around her? How could a human make me switch my emotions without even knowing?

"You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to talk. I'll understand." I added quickly.

"They were Geoffrey's." She blinked.

"Are you sure about this, Amber?" If she cried, it was certain I would shed a fountain in return.

"He was the best thing that ever happened to me." She settled at the edge of the bed, with her hands placed on her laps. I sat beside her to give her all the moral support she would be needing in the course of the expurgation.

"Was he your husband?" I asked calmly.

"He was my husband, my best friend, my confidante, my fight buddy, and everything there is that makes a woman happy in a man." She turned to look at me, managing a smile, and I smiled in return to comfort her.

"Sound like a lucky man to me." I added.

"No. I am the lucky one," she smiled, then continued. " He was the best cook in the world that ever lived. You should taste his Jambalaya and apple pie. You're gonna love them and never want to taste another hand. He made them with all the love and precision there is in the world."

"The recipe?" I asked with a grin.

She scoffed and turned her face away from me. "I do have them. But I could never do it like he does it. I was always a bad cook, and I still am."

"How did he die?" I got to the climax of the story. The introduction seemed to be a tag along that needed to give way for the main plot.

She snorted deeply, and stood up to face the window overlooking the lush woods spread across the lonely road. Her brown skin glowed in the rays of the sun.

"He died in the war."

From where I sat, I could not see her face clearly. But I sensed the change in the atmosphere precipitated by the anger in her voice.

"Was he a soldier?" I coaxed. My brows knotted in wanton curiosity.

"My Geoffrey would never kill anything that had red in it's veins." She blurted.

"Where you attacked?" I was puzzled. If he was not a soldier, what could have killed him?

"It was our fifteenth wedding anniversary that fateful night. Geoffrey had prepared the table with red candles and fairy lights decorating the dining. Jambalaya and apple pie were sitted at the centre of the table, ready to be dug into with a bottle of sparkling white wine. Lest I forget, the moon was bright and full.

Geoffrey was looking like every woman's dream in his sweatshirt and denim jean that night. I was as giddy as a new lover, enjoying the night with my Geoffrey sitted opposite me.

All of a sudden, the night went south when two beta wolves stormed into our house. Their piercing yellow eyes were void of any ounce of remorse, as they pounced on us.

Geoffrey reached for the shotgun stacked under the round dining table, aiming it at the blood thirsty animals to scare them of. Someone would have said it was a foolish move, but you can't blame us; it was our safety mechanism in times like that.

One of them pounced on me, barring his fangs at me, while the second werewolf attacked Geoffrey. I ran the table knives through the mouth of the werewolf that pinned me to the ground, and managed to rush off into the kitchen where I locked the door.

The wolf banged and scratched at the door to break it loses. I swear to God, Vic, I thought I would die that night.

I reached for a non stick frying pan and held it up to hit the wolf with if it got in. It wasn't long before I heard gunshots and angry growls tearing the night apart from the sitting room, but I couldn't do anything about it. I was scared to the marrow.

Suddenly, the wolf gnawing at the kitchen door stopped it's attempted entrance into the kitchen. I was confused because I knew they wouldn't stop until their fucking thirst is satisfied. I heard a couple more gun shots and everywhere was still.

After much deliberation, I tiptoed to the kitchen and turned the door knob to open the door. I saw the werewolves on the floor naked, with their heads blown away to paste. Geoffrey was wounded. He had been bitten in the neck.

I rushed over to his side to try all l I could to help him, but I couldn't stop the bleeding. Even in pain, he tried to assure me all would be fine, when it was glaring it was all a lie. That was the first time he had ever lied to me."

She scoffed and sniffed away a tear. "My sweet Geoffrey would never lie to me."

"Now I know why you said you're the lucky one." I smiled.

She smiled back and continued. "Being a full moon, he didn't want to change. He didn't want to be like what he detested with all his life. He told me he loved me, and kissed me for the last time, before blowing off his own head right in front of me."

She turned her body to face me. Her countenance was different. She had a look of terror and sheer determination on her face.

"Since then, I swore to have my revenge on every fucking hybrid in the world."

I stood up to collect her into my embrace. Her sobs broke through the barricade in my heart, melting it into vulnerability. "It'll be all right, mother. I'm here now."

I was still surprised I called Amber mother, when a hand grenade shattered the window panes and dropped into the room.

"Get down," I shouted.