He would get up as early as he could get away with. Of course with the summer lingering that meant he wouldn’t be able to venture out into the world until after nine the earliest. Dekker was honestly floored that the other’s hadn’t put one and one together. The sun went down boss man came in the shop. That morning he rolled out of bed. He never was one for sleeping in a coffin. For someone who had buried more friends than he could count before he was twenty and also been almost blown to pieces and shot at more than once a coffin was not at all something he ever wanted to step into.

Dahlia seemed to like the idea of decorating a bedroom so it worked out. There was very little in the apartment that was not touched by the woman’s decorating. Diamonds and pearls and lavish colors and fabrics everywhere. The heavy wine colored curtains that covered the floor to ceiling windows did the job with keeping any light out of the room during the day.

Without his maker home Dekker’s mornings were quite. He would get up out of the shared bed they had. There was a second room, but Dekker had taken to sleeping besides the woman through the years. There were times that she would request the master bedroom so she could have time alone. He would comply. The guest bedroom was of course smaller, it didn’t have it’s own extravagant bathroom. Yes Dahlia even overlooked the construction of the building he now stood in. Dekker had his shop built from the ground up. He wanted to live above it. That meant that the woman who he would always have at his side would have a heavy hand in the space that she was being ‘forced’ to stay in.

Dekker would always love the burlesque dancer. Sometimes he wondered what she even saw in him that made her think that an eternity together work out. So far they had made it over a century. Amongst all the glitz he did have some of his one flair here and there. In the bedroom at the foot of the bead was his footlocker. It was the one thing he kept through the years was that. He rarely used his magic but to shrink and transport the locker. In it had pictures, records, his old uniform, metals and old tattooing memorabilia. Dahlia and Tahlia both liked to say that he was too nostalgic. He simply shook his head. Unlike the two older vampiresses Dekker carried his past with him every moment of his eternal life with the prosthetic he strapped to his thigh every morning.

That night he had a good line up of clients. That meant he had to make feeding a priority. When Dekker was a young vampire it was almost unbearable to stand in a shop for too long. The blood that would seep to the surface of freshly tattooed skin drove him crazy. Now it was merely a nagging annoyance as the night went on, nothing he couldn’t handle.

He sat on his stool working on the sleeve of a client. His machine buzzed along as the music filled his shop. Even the tattoo shop didn’t escape the ever so tasteful eye of Dahlia. It was obvious in the gold filigree that crawled down from the crown molding, the large swirling frames that held some of the art that was on the walls. The other’s were gone by now. Past midnight he didn’t require the girls to be around. He had them open the shop during the day so that they could get there at a decent time. All of his clients understood that he booked and worked on appointments at night. He was sure there were questions but his work spoke louder than his strange hours.

The clock struck three and Dekker arched a brow. He set down his machine and took a green soap soaked paper towel to the man’s arm, whipping off the ink and plasma so he could have his client go take a look at the new addition to his arm. Of course he was satisfied. Dekker smiled and then wrapped the fresh tattoo. Once he was out the door Dekker locked the large double doors. He sighed and stretched his back raising his arms above his head. Sometimes he wanted to ask one of the girls to stick around so he wouldn’t have to close by himself, but that would be unfair. Chevelle was young and needed to have a life outside of the shop. Niqui had a very full life without her job so it would simply be ridiculous to ask late nights from the young mother.

It never took long to clean. His station was cleared and spotless in five minutes. He took up the paper work that he needed to get filed and in the books made sure all the signs were off and was of the shop in another ten. He ascended the back stairs up to the apartment. He was surprised to find the door unlocked when he got to the top. He carefully opened the door and looked around. Nothing was out of place. There was no way it was some foolish robber. There was no scent of blood wafting through to room at all. Though there was a perfume that lingered. That meant it was one of two woman who he knew the scent from all too well.

Fist things were first. He walked to his little area in the living room where his desk was after closing and locking the door behind him. Art supplies and half-finished pieces scattered about. He set his papers on top of a pile to be dealt with later. His dark eyes looked over the open floor. The living room and kitchen were empty. There was one place he was sure to find his visitor. Before he fallowed the hallway back Dekker went over to the record player in the corner of the living room. He put on The Glenn Miller Band. Carefully the needle was dropped and “A String of Pearls” started to play softly through the apartment.

Walking in time to the jazz Dekker went back to the bedroom, sure enough the bedroom door was open. He spotted red heels on the floor before he saw the woman in his bed. She didn’t have the raven colored hair that his maker did. Instead it was the color of fall leaves. Dekker’s mouth set in a smirk and he shook his head. “I should have known that I was about due for a visit from you,” He laughed. Tahlia was a difficult person for Dekker to describe. It was also difficult for him to describe how exactly he felt about her too. “It’s been a while darlin’. What’s been keepin’ you away from me.” He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

Dekker had grown up during a strange time. He was born in the 1920’s. Brought into the world when America was reveling in decadence. It was like his childhood was split in two. The Great Depression hit as soon as he was accepted into Salem. In the school it felt like he was isolated from what was going on around in his country. Then again he was getting thrown into things once he graduated. The second world war was calling all the young and capable men. He was one of them.

Dekker had never seen so much violence. He would still have some days of rest where he tossed and turned as his time spent in the army would rampage his dreams. Even with the years he had lived through, the lives he had taken to stay alive it would never compare to the gun fire and grenades. The landmine that took his friends life and his leg.

He had meet Tahlia shortly after he was made. It seemed that she took the same liking to him as Dahlia did, though not in the same way. Both woman looked at him as if he were a sad lost puppy. In the beginning he was scared. He was upset and confused. The two woman, and Lucian, who had taken him in and declared him a part of their family now were strong and would gorge themselves in riches and blood. He wasn’t like them. Even if he was a child of the roaring twenties his time in battle was enough to make him understand how terrible life and people could really be.

It was strange going through the years with Dahlia and Tahlia at his side. Either he would be told that he was being too sensitive and he needed to simply get over the past or he would be wrapped up in love and told that eventually time would take his worries and bad memories piece by piece and one day he would learn to just enjoy the gift and would understand that they were around to take and enjoy the extravagant that they were born to have. He was raised as a vampire by two very dramatic ladies. Some days he would admire how they strutted through life. Other days he would roll his eyes.

A smile spread across her painted lips as soon as he stepped into the room. He spoke the same as he always had because perhaps he was too nostalgic. So much loss in his life had made it very hard for him to accept that things change and he should change with it. He clung to his music and his high and tight and his accent like a security blanket.

Dekker grinded at the nickname. “Ya always know how to sweetie,” he shook his head. Most men would kill to have this woman in their bed ready and waiting when they got home from work. Then again most men would be dead within the next hour if they found this woman in their bed read and waiting.

“It’s good to see you Miss Tahlia.” He let his arms drop and kissed her on the cheek. Dekker could only assume where Dahlia was. The Doll House probably. If Tahlia was looking to stay in London for any amount of time he was sure that his maker was not going to be far behind her ginger haired friend.

“Let me change real quick and I will join you, continue making yourself at home,” Dekker winked. He strolled over to his half of the room, naturally Dahlia had the walk in closet. He was left with a dresser and a small section of the closet for his nicer clothing. He tugged off his shirt and tossed it into the laundry basket. Off with the shoes and then his pants. Dekker only bothered to tug on some shorts.

When he was done he took a seat on the bed and looked over at the woman. “How have you been?” He asked raising his eyebrows. He knew that she probably was mostly there for sex. Manners were something he also clung to and Dekker wouldn’t let her get away with coming into his home unannounced and surprising him in his bed. That and it was his own brand of teasing. Make her actually talk to him and make her wait; he knew it drove the woman nuts.

As much as he loved Dahlia it seemed that Tahlia understood him more. When he would have darker days she would extend her hand and dance with him , start humming the songs she knew he loved. Dahlia had her own brand of helping him. She would sit and let him lay there with his head on her lap. She would run her finger nails through her hair. Dahlia and Dekker had a silent understanding that they come from very different backgrounds and have seen a very different side of the world. They balanced each other. Where as Tahlia walked through life with the same stride and weight as Dekker did.

Tahlia had in fact dove into the riches and shared in the spoils that Dahlia would always shower herself with. Dekker tried to keep his conservative habits about himself. Travel light and live simply. The later was always a little harder with Dahlia about but he had learned over the years to let her do what she will and then work around that it.

He didn’t exactly need the woman that he was attached to, but he appreciated that they wanted to be there in their own ways. Dekker understood that just because he was bound to Dahlia did not mean he had her forever. He could make it on his own, he had done it before he was a vampire.

There was always this hope that he would join the others at the Doll House. France was lovely, he was actually given a leave vacation once when he was in the military. That was a strange time. He would wonder the streets in his uniform; the dirty green suit and hat, pins on his jacket marking his rank and the infantry that he was in. The people were so nice, they thanked him for his service. France would not be the same then as it was now. Just like he knew the Austria and Germany he faught in were not the same.

It wasn’t because of the memories attached that he didn’t want to work at the Doll House, it was because he couldn’t let go of his true love. His art carried him through everything. As much as dancing under the moon and stars helped , tattooing and painting were what actually saved his mind from both the raging war that would always be in his mind and to not forget his humanity when it would be so easy to just let his inner beast take over.

He couldn’t help but smirk at her demands of as a substitute for ‘miss’. “Living Goddess,” He snickered. “That’s a new one. Not sure Dahlia would take too kindly to me callin you that one.” He honestly had no idea if his maker would care or not. The two seemed to work on a plane of equil respect for one another. Still that would not take away from the fact that Dahlia had made him and if anyone should be a goddess she would probably be the one. Dekker would never give either of the women the satisfaction of hearing him call them that.

Dekker cocked a brow. “Are you really trying to say that a strip tease turnin naughty would actually be my fault?” He chuckled. “That’s a shame that you have no faith in my self control. In that case I’ll just ask Dahlia to give me a demonstration when she is back in town.

He watched her fingernails trail over his skin. “I’ve been fine. Lots of work, makin up for one of my girl’s being gone. She is back now though so things can get right on track again.” He shrugged figuring that Tahlia had no actual intrest in what he did. His eyes looked back up at hers. “You didn’t really come here to just see how lil’ ol me was doing did you?” He asked with a teasing grin.

[/bockquote]

Dekker could admit that he had this jealousy for Lucian. As much as he knew that Tahlia loved him, that bond she had with her progeny was intense. Yes he had that with Dahlia, that was how she somehow seemed to relax around him. The way that Dahlia was around Dekker was different than the corset laced up sex pot with a sharp, but refined tongue. It wasn’t the same thing that Tahlia and Lucian had. He had his theories but never cared to look into them. It was dumb to be jealous by it. Tahlia did make Lucian after all, and they had been together for much longer than he had been with his own maker.

When he thought about it being a vampire made Dekker a far nicer person. When he was human he was bitter. He had acted like a victim when he got back from the war and woke up from is coma with a missing leg and lost in the world. Things would haunt him when he was mortal. The daemons were different and could be darker now but they hardly clung to him like they used to. It was as if having no timer on his life meant that he had time to accept things. Even if it took centuries eventually he knew he would accept it.

He might have lingered here and there. The music filling the apartment always keeping him in the time he should have forgotten. It helped Dekker connect to the things that would keep him human. Dahlia and Tahlia liked to revel in what they where. Their power and eternal beauty. Dekker couldn’t He just couldn’t let himself give into the vampire that he was. Yes when he fed there was little resentment. He would find someone dumb enough to fallow him and then feast. People died and least killing them his way was blissful and then painless. Anything was better than shooting someone throught the head at eighteen. Everything else about his life was almost done to test himself, prove that he wasn’t a monster. His career that should have drove him mad with bloodlust. That would always save him. Even before, art saved his mind.

Dekker couldn’t help but smirk at her. “As that might be Darlin’ I don’t want you as a goddess. It just seems so….untouchable.” He tilted his head and the smirk changed to a grin, his fangs glinting as if trying to prove that she was not untouchable to him.

“Jealous, as if you ever really could be,” He teased back. She knew well that he didn’t get involved with Dahlia. A kiss here and there and cuddling up in bed, but never more. Or maybe she didn’t. Dekker never spoke on his private moments with Dahlia. He just assumed that Dahlia told her red haired friend everything. “Annoying. Here I thought you loved the challenge.” It was never a challenge, he just wasn’t as easy as most of the men who came half hard and only needed a sexual smile to get it the rest of the way up. Or those woman that went to her with practically moaning with frustration by the time she got their cloths off.

He watched her fingernails trail up his arm. It sent a shiver down his spine. She was practiced in her touch. She could render a man useless with her smirk. Before he could speak again her lips were on his. Dekker slid his eyes shut and pressed into the kiss. A hand raised and cupped her cheek. Tahlia knew that he wanted her. In the beginning it took a while for her to wiggle into his bed. Dekker wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of being passed to Dahlia’s friend. He wanted to make the decision to be with Tahlia himself. It took longer than he was sure Tahlia liked but perhaps all of the effort made her actually fall for him and not just think of him as another sex toy.

Tahlia was Dekker’s number one. Dahlia was his best friend. Tahlia was the girl that he wish he had to fight for when he was in Germany. He would have wrote her every chance he could with whatever scrap of paper he could find. Dekker would have kept her letters close, tucked away safe in his pack wrapped in a sock. He would have a picture of her tucked into his helmet so that she would be with him always. All the boys in his company would be envious of the red haired beauty that Dekker would get to go home to.

Things like this were what made him think that there was a reason he was turned. From such different times but they were meant to be together. Dekker didn’t know if Tahlia actually knew what she was to him. He could have had this or that girl. Any woman at the Doll House was available. He didn’t want any of them. The last woman he was with was human. It ended with blood and nightmares. Tahlia knew him and she was what he was. There was nothing to spring on her. Though she could always break his heart. Call him a silly little boy for hanging his heart up with her. It could have been that fear that kept him from admitting all of that too her. He didn’t want to be broken by Tahlia.

“You caught me,” She was like a bad habit. He didn’t want to dive in as deep as he did without having the word that her feelings were the same. Dekker didn’t feel that he had any authority to ask that of her. She had her own life. He didn’t want to ask her to change the way she was because he was just a sentimental soldier boy.

Dekker caught the scent of Lucian, and Dahlia. All these other people mixed in with her perfume. Now it was time to take all that away and replace it all with his own scent. He kissed her every inch memorizing the way she tasted. Her neck, collar bone, chest stomach. He wanted to feel her thigh twitch as his tongue ran up the soft skin. He would smile as she would moan out in pleasure.

When they were together that was all there was. There was no raging war in his head. The music that carried thought the apartment only adding to the moment. It was like all the horrors in both of their lives never happened. It was just them together with their hands all over each other.

Time was no longer a thing. They had an eternity so why not eat up as much as they could by being tangled in one another? The way they made love with one another was not a way Dekker would ever figure two vampires was. He didn’t like to use his fangs on her. Yes her blood was sweet and he loved when he could share that, but this was love. Being tender and gentle with soft touches seemed more appropriate to him. He wanted her to know love. Dekker wanted Tahlia to understand that life didn’t have to be debauchery and sin. It was like when they danced, tender moments to take away all the pain that he always saw in her eyes. Dekker just wanted to take it all away.


It all built up to them laying in each other’s arms. She shivered and Dekker pulled her closer. He kissed the top of her head. The way her finger’s trailed over his arm this time was different from earlier. This time it was almost like a wordless thank you. Tahlia snuggled up to him more. He hummed content with how they fit together. “I love you.”

Again and again and again Dekker had been asked by not only Tahlia but Dahlia to go to France, be with them. The shop was not the only reason that Dekker would stay back in England. He was the one who could apperate, they would always point out. He would just look at them and say ‘yes of course’ . He wanted to know that they cared enough about him to be away from the Doll house if only for a night to spend with him. He liked his woman at home with their hair down, not dripping with diamonds and dressed to the nines. Dekker wanted who they were without the backdrop of some club.

The fact that Tahlia had been spending this time with him meant more to him that she could ever know. He didn’t have to go chasing. Dekker understood the time that she put in to visit him. If he could ask her to relocate the Doll House he would. Dekker would sink all the money he had made from Hell on Heels to do it. His shop was steady there was no issue in his mind with that idea.

If there was any way that he was sure she would one hundred percent say yes to that idea he would be over the moon. That would mean he would have her every time the sun dipped down below the horizon. They could spend their mornings making each other late for work laughing and kissing each other. Somehow as much as he wanted it there was this image of Tahlia the person she walked around as at the Doll House that would never have a home in London with him where he would play his old songs and she would wear tea length dresses in pastel colors just for him.

Dekker was that way though. As much as he would smile and get lost in the day dreams of taking her to the jazz clubs of his youth Dekker was sure at the end of the day she thought he was just some silly nostalgic fledgling. It had nothing to do with Tahlia, it was the bitter pessimism that he lived with everyday.

Still he allowed himself to get lost in her. She would calm the gun fire that raged in his head. She was able to quell all the darkness. As much as he was scared to give in he needed her more that he could ever admit.

When she whispered back that she loved him too it felt like he was brought back to life. If his heart could beat it would be thudding out of his chest. He looked down at her and matched her gaze. “I do darlin’” He wrapped his arms closer around her. Words would never be able to describe what hearing her say that meant to him. “No one else could possibly be what you are to me.” He sighed knowing that those words were vague. Dekker wanted to pour his heart out to her, confess all those things he was too afraid to tell her.

It wasn’t that Dekker expected to have Tahlia be the girl he always figured he would have. That kind of girl was back in America, under some peach tree torn to pieces because she couldn’t accept that there were really monsters that lurked in the night. He had tied a pink ribbon around the tree that he buried her body under. A peach tree for his little Georgia peach. He didn’t want Tahlia to be woman like he already had and failed with. What he wanted was just to have her when he woke up and when he feel asleep. Dekker wanted Tahlia in her bad moods and when she was the happiest she had ever been. Dekker could have a literal eternity with Tahlia and he wanted that, all of her for the rest of his time.

Eventually he wanted to know all of her. Dekker knew there was plenty that Tahlia had never told him. She in contrast knew most of his life. There was a lot during his human years that he left vague. She would be someone who he could open up to about it. When the fireworks would go off in celebration outside their window she could hold him as he clung to her fighting off the memories of a fox hole he had to hide in as gun fire and mortars were fired his direction. When it all passed he could tell her about the memory about all of it in hopes that talking would take it all away, but knowing that it never would.

Dekker also wanted normal days with Tahlia where there was no problems and the past stayed in the past. He would still play his records and she would come home smelling of so much perfume and laced up in a corset. They could spend time sitting on the couch , Her fingers kneading the muscles in his back that were protesting from being slouched for hours. They wouldn’t have to speak about dark secrets but just of their day. Simple and in the moment.

She started to speak and Dekker just watched Tahlia carefully. Her words seemed ridiculous. Sense when had he ever said there where others? Then again when had he ever confessed that there weren’t Sure the girl that worked in his shop could easily say they figured him for chaste. Tahlia was not around to know that all he did was work when he was left alone and all the others were in France.

There had been three other woman he had said that too and know it to be true in the century he had been alive. That was his mother, the woman he had buried back in America and Dahlia. Dahlia and his mother were a platonic love. The woman who was now probably no more than bones in the dirt he could honestly say all he remembered was her sunset colored hair and that she liked to paint her lips a rose petal pink.

Dekker’s mouth pulled down into a frown. Maybe he was right to not say anything for years. When she pulled away an ache crawled into his chest. Dekker sat up and still watched Tahlia not completely sure what to do. Then she said it. She didn’t say it to anyone else.

“And you think I do?” He spoke softly. “Tahlia you are the only one that I touch. I don’t look at other woman. Only you. So don’t you dare think I say that to all the girls, there is no afterwards for them. “ His words were almost sharp and accusing. He was a little hurt that she had even assumed that he had been unfaithful. Dekker had no idea that there had been any reason to be faithful to the red headed woman but he was sense the first night he had finally let her crawl into bed with him.