My Vampire and I

My Vampire and I by J. P. Bowie Total-e-bound www.total-e-bound.com Copyright ©2008 by J.P. Bowie First published in ...

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My Vampire and I by J. P. Bowie

Total-e-bound www.total-e-bound.com

Copyright ©2008 by J.P. Bowie First published in 2008, 2008 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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CONTENTS Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen About the Author Total-e-bound eBooks ****

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A Total-e-bound Publication ****

**** www.total-e-bound.com My Vampire and I ISBN # 978-1-906590-06-2 ©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2008 Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright February 2008 Edited by Michele Paulin Total-e-bound books This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. 4


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-e-bound eBooks. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution. The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork. Published in 2008 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK. Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

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MY VAMPIRE AND I J.P. Bowie

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Dedication For Carol Lynne, Claire, Michele and all the wonderful authors at TEB. And for Phil, always. Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Michelin: Michelin North America, Inc. Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Corporation Reader's Digest: The Reader's Digest Association, Inc. Superman: DC Comics Justice League: DC Comics Mercedes: Daimler Chrysler AG Corporation iPod: Apple, Inc. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One Many years ago... He lies in the vast, cold mausoleum that has been his resting place for hundreds of years ... Marcus Lucius Verano, vampire. Time has neither ravaged his countenance nor his body. His pale, chiselled face is unlined; his black hair shows no sign of gray. He lies as though asleep; a young man in the prime of life—strong, virile, handsome ... and deadly. Deadly, that is, to those who have sought to destroy him, and there have been few who've dared. Among those who love and admire him, he is renowned for his powers, his strength, his intelligence, and his beauty. He has loved completely but once, and that love was taken from him in a heinous fashion—by one he will never forget, nor forgive, no matter how many centuries pass. In his death-like sleep, he dreams, not of revenge, but of redemption in the arms of one who would love him as no other ever has. He has a vision of such a one ... but he must wait, for this one has not yet born. Still, the face in his vision becomes tantalisingly clear to Marcus in his repose—young, fresh-faced, with golden hair, and laughing blue eyes, he moves through the vampire's netherworld with a confidence born of unsullied youth. The vampire awakes and rises from his bed of marble. As he strides from the mausoleum into the darkness of the night, the vision haunts him and will continue to do so for many years to come. 8


But now he hungers for the lifeblood that will sustain him, and so he pushes from his mind all thoughts that would distract him from the hunt. His eyes scan the darkened streets; he waits and is rewarded by the sound of footsteps and a voice tipsily singing an old drinking song. He smiles and steps out in front of the man who looks up at him without fear. The vampire's green eyes hold his in a calm and steady spell. He inclines his head slightly. "Good evening..." "And to you, sir. Can I be of service?" "You can indeed, sir ... I need but a little of your blood..." West Hollywood: Present day If there was one aspect of life I liked, better than anything else, it was when five o'clock came on a Friday and I could skip out of Carter's Colonial Bank and head for Mo's, my favourite watering hole. There I would meet my friends, Mark and Kevin, and we would knock back a couple of martinis, before deciding on where to eat. Except, this particular evening that starts my story held something that, even in my wildest and most bizarre imaginings—and that's saying something—I could never have anticipated. You see, it was the start of a rollercoaster ride that, quite literally, changed my life forever. I'm a horror movie freak. In my opinion, there's nothing quite like a good horror story to get me going—I mean, sexually. There's something about the adrenaline rush that comes from being scared out of your wits—it always makes me hard. Could it be because I was born on October thirtyfirst—Halloween—and a Scorpio? 9


Anyway, I've seen just about every horror movie ever made—some terrific, some so bad ... Actually, I kinda like some of the bad ones too. My favourite vampire was Frank Langella ... sexy, even better than Brad Pitt, and a long way from being the monster conjured up by Bram Stoker in the book Dracula. That baby gave me nightmares all through my teens. My favourite werewolf was Michael Landon in I Was a Teenage Werewolf. He was so darned good looking before he grew the whiskers and the black nose ... I would drive my mom and dad wild, always wanting to stay up for the late night horror flicks. I've got quite a collection of those old movies and still get a kick out of them. I'd heard through the grapevine that Mark, knowing my fondness for all things spooky and weird, was planning to throw a ghoul party for my twenty-fourth birthday. Everyone had to come in costume—the more far out and scary the better. Even before he officially told me, I had begun planning my own costume. I was going to cheat and not be scary—just fabulous! No dumb Frankenstein's monster mask for me! I'd been working out pretty hard at my gym on Santa Monica as of late, so I figured whatever I designed, it should show some skin. I mean, why hide what I'd been working so darned hard on? Oops, sorry ... my one-track mind. Anyway, I had decided to be a devil—a golden devil. All I'd wear was a gold lamé bikini. The rest of me would be all me—with some golden touches. Gold boots and gold horns atop the golden hair with which I am naturally blessed would complete the ensemble. Oh, one more thing, a golden trident. I decided against a forked tail—that just might get in the way or 10


someone might stand on it or—well, a lot of things could go wrong with a tail. Right? When the big evening arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, having lightly sprayed my body with some gold sparkly stuff, and I thought to myself, Roger, you look great! Something about the golden sheen of your body makes your newly toned muscles look sleek and firm. I was kinda turned on just looking at myself. I smiled smugly. The bulge in my bikini added a certain 'je ne sais quoi' ... whatever. I stuffed my driver's license and some money from my billfold into my boot, and I was ready to go, go, go. My friend Kevin was to pick me in approximately five minutes—just giving me time for a quick belt to put me in the party mood, so to speak. The doorbell rang. Kevin's early...? I wondered with some disbelief. Kevin's never early, but there he was, wearing a white sheet and nothing else. He flashed me, just so I was sure. Jeez. That was scary! Kevin's a cutie, with big brown eyes and auburn hair he keeps really short, almost military length. "You look good," he said, leering at me. Kevin had been trying to get into my pants ever since I'd met him, telling me I'd love his big dick. I liked him, I really did, just not in that way. He eventually got the message but still couldn't resist the odd innuendo or pass. Like right then, as I turned to lock my apartment door, he pinched me, hard. "Kevin!" "Sorry, I couldn't resist ... your butt looks great in that bikini ... very tempting." 11


Hmm ... Well, that was a compliment, I guess. "Thanks," I said, slipping the key into my boot. "Okay, let's go, so you can frighten all the boys at the party." **** When we got to Mark's house, the party was already in full swing. Everyone yelled, "Surprise!" when I walked in—even though it wasn't a surprise party—and then oohed and aahed over my costume. I felt special... I looked around at all the other costumes and preened ... just a little, of course. No doubt, I had the best look. Mark, his costume of black feathers moulting all over the place, brought me a martini and a big sloppy kiss. Mark and I used to be lovers, but shit happens, y'know. Happily, we've remained good friends—best friends, really. "You look great," he said, eyeing my getup. "You're so lucky to have all that hair..." Mark was already getting thin on top, something that didn't sit well with him at all. Male pattern baldness—the curse every young queen wants to avoid, at all costs. Mark blamed his dad, who was bald as a coot at thirty. I'd tried to explain to him that it wasn't his dad's fault, but his mother's— "My mother isn't bald," he'd snapped at me. Oh, well... "What are you?" I asked. "Nevermore," he said, trying to impersonate Peter Lorre or was it Vincent Price? "You know ... The Raven." "Oh. Edgar would have loved it." "Don't sound so impressed," he grumped. "I mean, look at Betty over there, two hundred pounds and she wears a white 12


jumpsuit. I asked her if she'd come as the Michelin Man, and she threatened to lay me out." "I'm not surprised," I said, laughing all the same. "You haven't told me I look good." Kevin pouted, pretending to be miffed. Nothing fazes Kevin—nothing. "That's because you're wearing an old sheet," Mark said, in a deprecating tone. "It's what's under the sheet that looks good..." Mark gave out a long exaggerated sigh. "Kevin, go get yourself a drink, so Roger and I can have a halfway intelligent conversation..." "Okay, Mother." He flashed Mark then sauntered off. "Well," Mark murmured, watching him go. "He was right about it looking good." We giggled together, then he looked at me, a funny light in his eyes. "Gotta go..." Strange, isn't it? One minute you're surrounded by all your friends, yakking up a storm, then suddenly, as if by magic, everyone drifts off, and you're left to sip your drink alone and stare vacantly around the room. Later, I discovered it was a kind of magic. Because, it was then that I saw him, standing outside on the patio, his eyes fixed on me, unwavering, unapologetic. Hot! He was my age or maybe just a couple of years older. Tall, dark—and gorgeous... Why's he out there? I wondered. Oh, maybe he's a smoker ... yuck. No sign of a cigarette though ... As if propelled by some unseen force, almost as if someone had given me a good shove, I started walking towards him. 13


He was dressed in black, as befits a vampire. It really was a very good costume—not at all cheap. Excellent cut on the tux—and the cape looked like heavy silk, fastened at his throat by a gold chain. The face above the chain was to die for—pale and interesting, I think my grandmother used to say. Thick, black curly hair framed a face that was a lot more than merely interesting. If I said his skin was incandescent, it wouldn't be enough. If I told you his eyes were like dark green emeralds, I wouldn't be lying, just not saying enough. As for his mouth—wide, generous, full—it was all of those, yet to say that isn't enough either. Even now, I can't find the words to describe his beauty. His very real, dark beauty. For what seemed an eternity, we stared at one another, neither of us moving—just staring at one another, still and silent. Then he smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "Good eeevening," he said, his pearly whites almost glowing in the darkened patio. Oh, he's good, I thought—a great Lugosi impersonation. "Hey..." I returned his smile with one I hoped was as enticing as his. "Why don't you come on in ... join the party?" And, in an instant, he was by my side. I blinked into his green cat-like eyes, dizzied by his presence and intoxicated by the faintly exotic scent he exuded. "How ... how did you do that?" I stammered. "Do what?" he purred, his voice low and husky. "You ... you didn't walk in. You just were here. First you were out there. Then you were standing here, next to me..." 14


"Next to you. Where I belong." He raised his glass, one I hadn't seen until then, and clinked it gently against mine. "Happy Birthday, Roger." I quivered. "How do you know my name?" "I'm clairvoyant," he replied with a smile that turned my knees to water. "Also, not hard of hearing. Your name was shouted by almost everyone in here when you arrived." "Of course. Stupid of me." "Not stupid—endearing." His smile hypnotised me. His eyes scanned my body from top to toe, lingering for a moment somewhere in the middle. "I like your costume—or should I say, the lack of one?" "Thanks ... is it a bit too much?" "I think it's just right." He touched my arm, sending tingles over my skin. "May I give you a kiss for your birthday?" "Huh? A kiss...?" I was acting like some dumb, stagestruck queen. I looked up into his eyes. I had to look up—he was a good six two to my more modest, but compact, five ten. "Jeez, I'm sorry. You must think I'm some kind of hick." "Was that a yes?" "Y ... yes." He leaned forward and took my lips with his own. It was a gentle kiss, at first. Just the meeting of flesh on flesh; nice, warm, full flesh ... taking control of all of my senses. Roger was everything I'd ever dreamed of, everything I'd hoped for, all these long years ... long after I had first seen his face in my vision. Now, two centuries later, I could at last hold him in my arms, feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips on mine. I can honestly say, it was worth 15


the wait, and I chastise myself for wishing he could have come to me sooner. But I do wish it. When I saw him, in the flesh for the first time, it was as though I had been transported. Perhaps his beauty cannot truly compare with the young model Michelangelo used for his statue of David, but there is a similarity around the eyes and mouth. The mouth I claimed for my own. He felt so adorable, unspoiled, untouched by cynicism and artifice—a young man poised on the edge of life, ready for its great adventure. If I have my way, I thought, I would be the one to lead him to his destiny. His thoughts were in chaos... Stop ... please stop, I screamed in my mind while the make-believe vampire kissed me. Stop, or I'll make a fool of myself right here in the middle of this room. I'll toss this glass away—the one I'm practically crushing to pieces in my hand right now. I'll just throw it away, hold you in my arms, press my body to yours, rip the Armani tux off your hot body and let you fuck me right here in front of all these people. Yes, I will! Yes, I... He stepped back, his lips forming that perfect smile again. "What happened?" I gasped. "I kissed you," he said. "I know ... but it felt like more..." "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Roger. I thought it was rather nice, myself." He glanced down at my glass. "Can I get you a refill?" 16


"That'd be nice. Wait." I grabbed his arm, feeling the strength in the hard biceps beneath the silk. "I don't know your name." "I'm sorry. That was rude of me." He inclined his head slightly. "My name is Marcus." He walked away towards the bar, his cape billowing behind him, just like a real vampire's would. Wow. I just couldn't believe my luck. That this gorgeous guy should choose me, out of all the other good looking guys in the room. Must be the gold sparkles, I thought. I grinned at my friend Mark as he sashayed over, still moulting. "Who's that guy you're talking to?" he asked me. "His name's Marcus. Didn't you invite him?" "Uh-uh. He must have come with one of the other guys, I guess." He looked over at the bar where my vampire stood, patiently waiting to be served. "He's hot..." "He certainly is," I agreed. "He kissed me," I added with a deal of smugness. "A birthday kiss, he said." "Lucky you." Mark leered at me. "Play your cards right, my birthday boy, and you might get to kiss him back." "I'd like to lick him all over," I said, meaning it. "He is just too..." I broke off as Marcus walked towards us, carrying my refilled martini, which he handed to me. "Thanks," I said, with a big smile. "Marcus, this is my best friend, Mark. He's the one throwing me this party." Marcus held out his hand. "Delighted to meet you, Mark." "Same here," Mark said, then stepped back as if suddenly startled. "Oh, sorry ... something I gotta do..." He turned, 17


and practically ran from the room, scattering black feathers everywhere. I looked at Marcus with wide eyes. "What the heck's the matter with him, I wonder?" Marcus didn't comment on Mark's weird behaviour. Instead, he ran his fingertips up the length of my arm. "I wanted you all to myself." What was that accent—something European? "Would you care to step outside?" he asked. "It's a little stuffy in here, don't you think?" Whatever and wherever, I thought, letting him steer me towards the patio door. Anywhere you want to go is just fine with me... "Let me just dump this thing," I said, leaning my trident against the wall. It was already getting on my nerves. We stood for a moment or two in the balmy air, and I, feeling that this was probably the most romantic evening of my life, lifted my head and gazed into the night sky. A falling star arced through the inky blackness. "Oh, my God," I whispered. "A falling star ... we have to wish." "What would you wish for, Roger?" Marcus asked, moving closer to me. "If I told you, it might not come true." Oh, well ... nothing ventured, and all that ... "But if you must know, I'd wish for another kiss from you." "Granted," he murmured, pulling me into his arms. His lips, those soft, luscious lips met mine in a kiss that made my senses reel. My lips parted under the pressure, and his 18


tongue slipped into my mouth. My knees buckled under me, and I swear I almost swooned. I was aware, barely, of him wrapping his cape around me, then it seemed as if we were floating—no, not floating, soaring—through the night sky, just the two of us. He held me in his strong embrace, while I clung to him, letting his tongue plunder my mouth with a sensuousness I had never before experienced. Sweet mother, I thought, all this from just a kiss? What would it feel like if we... "Roger..." I blinked, gazing into the emerald green depths of his eyes. I leaned my forehead on his chest and let out a long shuddering sigh. "God, Marcus ... you are incredible. I felt as though you and I were flying." "We were." He stepped back, letting his cape fall from my shoulders. I looked around me, then back at him, then away again. Where the hell were we? [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two "Wh ... where are we?" I stammered, taking in the high walls that surrounded us. This wasn't Mark's patio! "We are in my home, Roger. I bid you welcome." "But how...?" I looked around me. "How did we get here?" There was that mesmerising smile again. "Just as you said, Roger. We flew." "But ... that's not possible," I whispered. "Unless..." A horrible realisation slowly began to dawn on me. That ultra-smart tux and cloak were not parts of a costume. "You ... you're not a ... a ... vamp ... vampire, are you?" I stammered. He shucked off the cape from his shoulders and loosened his shirt collar. "These get to be too much after a while, don't you think? Look at you, wearing next to nothing..." He pulled off his tux jacket, followed quickly with his shirt, then paused, letting me drink in the sight of his glorious, masculine beauty. I'd been right. Beneath that formal attire was the body of a god—finely honed, naturally sculpted. A body that could never be attained by hours in the gym. This man was godlike, even though I knew him to be anything but that. He might look like a god, but from what I knew of vampires—and I fancied myself quite the academician on that subject—he was closer to being a devil. Not, I may add, one covered in gold sparkles and wearing an itsy bitsy gold bikini, but the real McCoy! 20


He stepped towards me, and I backed up, just a tad. "Wait," I said, my voice sounding decidedly wimpy. "For what?" His teeth showed in his smile. Cripes, I thought. Had they grown? Didn't that mean he was ready to feed? Feed! I looked for the way out. There was no way out. "Roger..." His voice was low and soothing. "Are you afraid of me?" "Of course I'm afraid of you. You ... you're a vampire. You're going to bite my neck, suck my blood..." "I'd rather suck your cock." "Wh ... what?" Despite myself, his words caused a stirring in my groin. "Why do you think I brought you here, to my home? If all I had wanted was to drink your blood, I could have done that on your friend Mark's patio." He stepped nearer. I didn't back up. "But I want so much more than that," he continued, his voice soothing my jumpy nerves. "Forgive my earlier crude remark. I merely wanted to take your mind off the blood sucking aspect of vampirism. You see ... I want to make love to you, Roger." "Wait," I put my hand on his chest which was covered in a light dusting of black hair and as hard as marble. "I ... I don't usually do that right away. I mean ... uh ... you know ... why don't we talk for a little while. Get to know one another. That kind of thing," I finished lamely.

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"An admirable sentiment," he said, holding my hand pressed to his chest. "And of course, I have an advantage over you, having first seen you some three weeks ago." What ... three weeks? "Wait a minute," I protested. "Where, three weeks ago? I didn't see you. I know I'd remember that." He reached out and ran his thumb over my lower lip. I almost fainted dead away. He caught me as I staggered then held me close to his bare chest. My breath was coming in great gasping gulps. "Shh, shh..." He kissed me gently. "I saw you leaving your local cinema, and I followed you home. For the past three weeks, I have been ... stalking you. I think that is the expression one uses." "Stalking me?" I was breathing a little more easily now. "But I never saw you—not once." "Of course not. What kind of vampire would I be if I'd let you see me before the right moment." "And tonight was the right moment?" "Exactly—your birthday ... and mine." "Your birthday and mine..." "I think I said that." He chuckled, and kissed me again. "I'm twenty-four," I said with a deal of trepidation. "How ... how old are you?" "Older than you ... by about eighteen hundred years." Dear God. I almost fainted again, this time from fear. Here was I, Roger Folsom, in the arms of the most stunning man I had ever seen in my entire life, and he just had to be an 22


eighteen hundred and twenty something year old vampire ... give or take a couple of years. "You look incredible," I mumbled. "And you look scared," he said gently. "Don't be. I promise you are in no danger from me." I wanted to believe him, even though I knew you should never trust a vampire. I mean, they'd never come off as very trustworthy in any book I'd read or movie I'd seen. They lured you into a trap with their silken voices and hypnotic eyes, then when you least expected it, bam! Fangs in the neck, blood sucked right out of you, thrown away like a broken doll. Yikes! "You're trembling." No kidding. His arms tightened around me, and I closed my eyes expecting any moment to feel the pain of having my throat torn out. Instead, I felt the softness of his lips on mine. "Don't be afraid," he whispered into my mouth. "I'm trying not to be," I whispered back, clinging to him, letting his tongue caress mine. And then we were floating again—this time I dared to open my eyes. We were hovering, horizontally, over a giant bed. "How...?" I began, but his lips stilled mine as we gently landed on the softest of silken comforters. I suddenly realised we were both naked. "How...?" Oh, shut up Roger, I told myself. There are no explanations for any of this, other than he can make it happen. You are totally in his power. He can do anything he wants with you. Enjoy. 23


Upon that realisation, I found myself relaxing—well, as much as you can relax when every part of your body is being assailed by a gorgeous guy's caresses and kisses. God, but he was good... I heard myself moan under the onslaught of his lips as he sucked on my nipples. It seemed as though he was able to make them both stand to attention at the same time. Jeez, how does he do that? Who cares? It feels ... fucking fantastic... I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent. Funny, I'd often wondered what a vampire would smell like— decay ... the grave ... corruption? None of that here. Just a subtle blend of fruit and musk. Yummy. I clung to him, pressing my, now, oh so eager body to his, revelling in the feel of his erection throbbing against my thigh. I ran my hands over the smooth skin that covered his muscular back, and the round swell of his butt. My fingers lingered there, straying into the cleft between the firm smooth cheeks. He moved over me, covering my chest and torso with scorching kisses that had me squirming with delight. His lips hovered over my raging hard on, then he took me in his mouth, and I almost screamed with ecstasy. This was not your regular blowjob. This was more like a religious experience. I'm not kidding. The sensations his mouth created, the sheer rapture his lips and tongue imbued within me, were feelings I had never before experienced. This went beyond all that I had ever previously known. I was transported, exulted, taken body and soul, to a plane of desire where every single fibre of my being was set on fire, 24


every nerve ending set alight with lust and a craving for it never to end. As much as I was willing to have this go on forever, I knew I'd explode sooner rather than later, and I wanted to return the favour. I struggled within his embrace, trying to reach that part of him that so far I had only felt. He allowed me that glorious sight now, and I gasped at its beauty. Long, thick, hard as steel, it throbbed in my hand as though it had a life of its own. I ran my tongue over the tip, licking the juice that leaked from it, savouring the slightly salty taste. He groaned as my lips slid down the length of the pulsing shaft, and I felt a tingle of satisfaction that I had pleasured him, too. I put all the questions, all the doubts and fears, on hold for the duration of our lovemaking. Nothing would spoil this—nothing could. Now, from no action on my part, I was lying on my back, Marcus leaning over me, the sweetest of smiles on his lips, the hunger of lust in his eyes. I threw my arms about his neck, pulling him down on top of me and crushing his lips with mine. I had become emboldened—he might be a vampire and hold my life in his grasp, but I wanted him like I had never wanted anyone before. I wanted to feel that beautiful hard cock slide inside me, fill me, conquer me, make me crave for it every day for the rest of my life—for however long that might be. "Fuck me," I whispered. "With pleasure," he growled, lifting my legs, and wrapping them around his waist. I closed my eyes in anticipation, 25


squirming a little and bearing down as he inserted his fingers, coated with lube, into my eager anus. Wait, I thought, despite my euphoria, a condom... "Do you have a condom?" I asked him, hoping I wasn't spoiling the moment. "That is not necessary," he replied, smiling. "Vampires carry no diseases. Just relax." He kissed me tenderly as though to dispel my fears, and I let him lift me onto his thick, slick, throbbing erection. Mother of God! I wanted to shriek as his rock-hard flesh thrust into me, setting my sphincter muscles on fire. My eyes shot wide open, my body arched in protest, yet I clung to him, holding him in what would have felt like a death grip to a lesser man. "Aaa-aahhh!" The cry that escaped my lips caused him to pull back slightly. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, with what sounded like genuine concern. "Yes but don't stop," I gasped, feeling the head of his cock slip past the point of resistance. "It's getting better now. Yes ... mmm ... feels good." And it did. Damned good. So good. I sank farther down into his lap, driving his cock deeper inside me, filling myself with his hard pulsing flesh. Oh yes, I thought. "Oh yes," I yelled at the top of my voice, and a great shout of laughter escaped his lips, as he drove his rigid member into me, each thrust stronger than the one before. He held me to his chest, his mouth devouring mine, and I rode him 26


like the proud stallion he was. He laid me on my back, pulled my legs up over his shoulders, and I was entranced by the incredible sight of his muscular body towering over me, his beautiful face caught in the throes of ecstasy. There can never be another time like this, I thought. Nothing else will ever compare with what I'm feeling—what I'm seeing, now. Every other sexual union will fade to nothing in comparison. He held my erection in his big hand, bringing me to the threshold, to the point of no return. I gasped as I felt my orgasm churn in my balls. The rhythm of his thrusts had gained momentum. I had the most incredible sensation of him holding me, both his arms wrapped around me, yet his hand still around my cock, propelling me towards my climax. I let my head drop back, and that's when I realised we were floating again. Our bodies had levitated off the bed, but I had no time to wonder about it as I felt him spasm inside me. He came with a great shout of joy, his semen flooding my intestines with a fiery blast, his hand forcing my orgasm from me, in a series of mind blowing jolts. "Oh, my God," I gasped, feeling again the silken comforter beneath me. "That was the most incredible..." One of his fingers on my lips stilled my words. I got the hint. He wanted silence and he was right. There were no words to truly describe what had passed between us, so I shut up and snuggled against him, kissing his shoulder with a murmured apology. His arms tightened around me, and I melted in his embrace, my mind filled with countless emotions. 27


What now? I wondered as my mind cleared. I lay pressed to him, his lips touching my ear, my flesh warmed by his steady breathing. Was this just a passing fling, a moment of passion, never to be repeated? Would he discard me like some unwanted trophy? Would he let me leave this place alive? After all, I thought, he is a vampire. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three "You worry too much." His words in my ear made me jump. He rolled off me, propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at me, a slightly feral light in those beautiful green eyes. Uh, oh ... Here is comes. The moment when he says, "Sorry, but I need your blood to sustain me." I studied his teeth. No sign of fangs, thank goodness. His fingers traced a circular pattern across my chest. "You must not worry, Roger," he said, his voice low and husky—and incredibly sexy. "I told you, you had nothing to fear from me. No harm will come to you—unless you wish it." "Wish it?" I squeaked. He chuckled. "There is a price to pay for continued dalliance with a vampire." His fingers paused over my left nipple, squeezing it gently. I writhed under his touch. More, I thought, more—Wait ... a price to pay? I sat up in bed. "What kind of price?" I demanded. He pushed me back down and kissed the tip of my nose. "What kind of price?" I repeated, my voice a great deal weaker than before. "Well, let's say you wanted to spend the rest of my life with me—notice, Roger, I said the rest of my life. That means you would have to become a vampire, too. In order for that to happen..." "I know, you have to take my blood and have me drink yours," I said, taking his hand, and placing it back on my chest. He continued playing with my nipples. Mmm ... nice. 29


"Very good. You've studied the lore." "And I've read Ann Rice," I said, grinning up at him. "Is there an alternative?" "Yes. If you wanted to stay with me for say, only two, three hundred years, there is another way." "Two or three hundred years?" I gaped at him. "That's about three or four human lifetimes, you know." He nodded, smiling. "But only about a tenth of the time I expect to live on this earth." I looked at him, serious now. "That's an awfully long time to live. Don't you tire of it?" He lay down beside me, his lips touching my temple, and he sighed, a long unhappy sigh. "There was a time I longed for death..." I sensed a sad story coming up. "Tell me about it," I murmured, turning my face to his and kissing his lips gently. "All of it or just the Reader's Digest version?" He smiled again, and I punched his arm playfully. "All of it, of course. Every little detail." "That would take a lifetime. More time than you have left, I'm afraid." I shivered at his words. Did that mean... "I told you, Roger," he said, reading my thoughts again. "You have nothing to fear from me. Time alone is your enemy." He pulled me closer to him. "But I am not being a very good host. Can I get you something to eat or drink—a glass of wine, some brie, perhaps?" 30


Now that he mentioned it, I was hungry. All that activity earlier had given me an enormous appetite, but I didn't want to break the spell that surrounded us. "I won't be a moment," he said, sliding out of the bed. I watched as he moved with athletic grace to a cabinet on the far side of the room. The candlelight picked out the musculature of his finely honed physique, the twin globes of his butt, the corded muscle of his thighs... I felt my groin grow hot at the sight. Wow, I thought, two or three hundred years of looking at that every night... But what the hell would I look like in three hundred years? Marcus turned, smiling at me as he removed a crystal decanter and two glasses from the cabinet. "You would not age at all," he said. Darn it, he really could read my mind. This could get embarrassing. "Don't be embarrassed," he added, padding back to the bed, treating me to the glorious sight of his semi-hard penis, swinging majestically between his muscular thighs. "Eventually, you would be able to read my mind, too." He poured some red liquid into one of the glasses and handed it to me. "What is it?" I asked, a trifle warily, sniffing at it. He sighed. "It's wine, Roger. A delightful Pinot Noir from a renowned California estate. I have found, over the years, that California really does produce some of the best wines in the world." "Really?" I sipped a little. "Mmm ... it's good." I looked at him over the rim of my glass. "Happy Birthday, Marcus." To 31


have added "and many more", would have seemed a tad redundant. He smiled back at me. "And to you, sweet Roger—and many, many more." We laughed together. "So, you can drink wine," I remarked. That famous line from Bram Stoker's Dracula came back to me ... "I never drink ... wine." "You must not believe everything you read about us," Marcus said, chuckling at my thoughts. "Crosses, mirrors, garlic, holy water ... all of that is superstitious nonsense. Mr. Stoker did an excellent job of recounting the legends that surround vampirism, but he also invented a great deal in order to entertain his readers. If you recall he said we were unable to cross water. That is not so. I have crossed the oceans many, many times." "What about having to sleep on the soil from your native land?" "Another fable," he replied, chuckling. "Can you imagine having to lug boxes of dirt everywhere like Dracula did—in and out of Carfax Abbey and all the other real estate he owned? I, and my friends, had a good laugh on reading that chapter. Someone led Mr. Stoker up the proverbial garden path with that story." "So nothing can harm you?" He frowned, and then drank deeply from his wineglass. "Oh yes, there are things that can harm me—kill me even." I nodded. "A stake through the heart..."

32


"Well now," he chuckled. "That would kill anyone, wouldn't it? Also, cutting off my head would do the trick. A thrust from a silver dagger. And then there is always the sunlight..." "So, that part is not a myth." "I'm afraid not. However, I can go out in the daytime. Over the years, I have built a certain immunity to all but the brightest of days." "But we have so many bright days in California," I said. "It often presents a problem, but as I said, I manage." He pushed a plate of bread and assorted cheeses towards me. Where the heck had that come from? I looked around the room, noticing for the first time that it was really magnificent. It was big—big enough to house my entire apartment—and tastefully decorated with art deco furnishings. I had studied design at school, and that period had become a particular favourite of mine. I found myself wondering why art deco when he had lived through so many changing styles and fashions. "The 1920s is one of my favourite decades," he said, answering my unasked question. "It was a time of celebration after a war that claimed the lives of millions of young men and women on both sides. The styles and works of art reflect that resurgence of joy, and the hope for a better future." There was so much I could learn from him. "Your accent," I said, helping myself from the plate. "You're obviously not from around here." "My accent is culled from the languages I have learned and places where I have lived over the centuries." 33


Centuries ... right ... just for a little time there I had almost forgotten what this man represented. I gazed at him with a mixture of awe and just a little fear. "What—" I had to stop to clear my throat. "What brought you to Los Angeles?" He smiled and touched my cheek. "Relax, Roger. Please don't be afraid of me." "I'm not ... afraid," I said. "Just a little overawed, I guess. It's not every day a guy gets to have cheese and wine with a vampire," I added, trying for some levity. He chuckled, and picking a small piece of cheese from the plate, held it near my lips. I accepted it, taking his fingers into my mouth, my eyes meeting his, showing my trust in him. He leaned forward, kissing me gently. "I came to the United States almost by default," he said, after a moment or two. "Europe, Africa, Asia are vast continents, and even for someone like myself, living as I have for hundreds of years, there are places yet to be seen. Still, I longed for new adventure, and I had heard of this new land, wild and untamed." "You mean West Hollywood, right?" What a wit I am. He smiled patiently. "Not quite." "So, you're talking about the wild west and all that stuff?" "Something like that. But you asked why I came to LA. That was a recent decision. I've been here only a matter of months. A great deal of my time has been spent learning modern English. I didn't want to appear too much of an antique every time I addressed someone." 34


"I love the way you talk," I said, meaning every word. "I could listen to you all day and night." "Thank you and I will return the compliment by saying I could look at you, all day and night." Wow. I cleared my throat again. "You said earlier there was a time when you longed for death..." "First, I should tell you how I came to be what I am. I was twenty-five when I was changed. The man who made me was a stranger my father had given hospitality to for the night. A handsome man, Polonius, and one to whom I felt drawn. I was to be married in a month—" "To a woman?" I interjected, my mouth full of bread and cheese. "Yes, Roger, to a woman. It was expected of me. My father was a Senator of Rome. I would be expected to follow in his footsteps, marry, have children. I had done my stint in the army, fighting the barbarians—a losing battle I'm afraid, as your history books no doubt informed you." So that's where he'd gotten that magnificent body—he'd been a fighting soldier. Again, I felt the heat in my groin as I imagined him wearing a centurion's uniform, bare thighs flashing in the sunlight. Ooh, baby ... Russell Crowe, forget it. "Anyway," he continued, "that night, he came to my room. He made love to me in a way no one before had. I knew married life had no allure for me, but after this incredible experience, it held even less. Polonius sensed it in me and asked me if I wanted to share his life. When I acquiesced, he told me some of what was involved." "And you agreed..." 35


"You're quick, Roger." "Sorry, that was dumb..." He drew me into his arms and kissed me—hard. "You are adorable. Not dumb at all," he said. He held me as he continued, and I snuggled against him, my head on his chest. "We left the next morning before the servants were up. Over the course of the next few days, he changed me from a mortal man into what you now see." A magnificent specimen, I thought. "A vampire," he said. "And a fledging one then, at that. Almost immediately, Polonius left me without schooling me in the ways of survival, without telling me of what I should be aware." "But why, Marcus?" I sat up and stared at him. "Why would he do such a terrible thing?" "Fear, I think. Fear of what he'd done. I have since discovered he had been changed only a few months before he came to my home. His master had cast him out, for what reason I do not know. I never saw him again. That, to me, has always been an amazement. In all these centuries of my existence, not once have I come close to finding him—not even hearing his name. I have to imagine that, somehow, death came to him." "Is that when you longed for death?" "Oh no, not then, at least, not right away. I was young, strong, arrogant—sure of myself and my will to survive. I had been a soldier, as I said. I knew how to respond to danger. What I did not know was what I discovered in the most painful ways imaginable. 36


"It was winter when I was made. The days were short and overcast, the nights long and inviting. I found I needed to sleep during the day and come alive at night. Then, I would frequent the taverns and meeting places of the poets and philosophers. I accepted the invitations of the rich and the indolent to dine in their fine houses. It took me some time to realise I was not like other men. Eventually, the food they presented me made me nauseated, the wine turned my stomach—" "But you're drinking it now," I interrupted, as is my way. He nodded. "I have had many years to accustom myself— and my body—to the ways of other men. This would prove to be why I have survived for so long. You can be a stranger, but not strange. "But Roger, imagine my horror when I discovered that what I craved was not the fine food laid before me but the blood that coursed through the veins of those who dined with me." "Yeah, that must have been a moment." "Indeed," he said with a chuckle. "It was a moment I have never forgotten." "So, you do need blood to survive?" "Of course. I am a vampire. That has not changed and never shall. Believe me, I have sought the supposed cure all my life. It does not exist. In that," he added with a rueful smile, "Ann Rice was right." I think it was at that moment, when his eyes took on a distant look, when he looked so vulnerable and just a little lost, that I fell in love with him. The realisation made me gasp 37


with shock. He looked at me, a question in those dark green eyes. It was the measure of the man that he chose not to read my very private thoughts at that moment. "Have I said something to upset you?" he asked, touching my cheek with his fingertips. "No, of course not," I said. "I was just caught up in what you've been telling me." "I'm glad I'm not boring you." "Boring me?" I looked at him with wide eyes. "This is the most incredible night of my entire life, Marcus." I took his hand and kissed the palm. He pulled me into his arms. "Has anyone ever told you that you are a very beautiful young man?" he asked, his lips on my hair. "Uh..." I thought for a moment. The words cute, cuddlesome, came to mind, but beautiful? Uh-uh ... "I don't think so," I said, finally. "Well, let me be the first—although I find it amazing that no one else has." His hands stroked and caressed my body as he spoke, sending visceral thrills through me. "You have the most wonderful blue eyes," he said softly. "Hair like gold spun silk—" "Wait a minute..." I couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up inside me. "You're getting a little carried away, aren't you?" I lifted my head to look at him. He was frowning. "I mean..." I faltered for a moment. "Hair like silk ... mine?" "You underestimate yourself, Roger. In my eyes, you are beautiful. I hope that does not make you uncomfortable." 38


"No, no ... it doesn't." I sat up and knelt in front of him, gazing at him earnestly. "It's just that I can't quite believe all of this. You ... me ... here in this ... this amazing place. I'm just ordinary, Marcus. You are the extraordinary one. Beautiful, alluring, mesmerising ... I could go on and on about your attributes, but I'm sure you've been told this hundreds of times before. I don't have enough words ... there aren't enough words to describe you, or what I feel for you." I stopped yammering, not because I'd run out of things to say, believe me, but because of tears had suddenly sprung to his eyes. Vampires cry real tears? "Marcus?" I reached out and touched his face, wiping away the tear that fell slowly down his cheek. "What did I say? I'm so sorry. It's just that—" With a sound between a sob and a growl, he launched himself upon me, pinning me on my back while his glistening eyes searched my face. Then he lowered his body until it covered mine completely, and his mouth captured mine in a kiss that threatened to sear itself on my lips forever. I rolled him over onto his back, cradled him in my arms and covered his face and chest with hot, wet kisses, while he writhed in sensuous pleasure beneath me. I had suddenly become the aggressor, responding to the need inside me to fulfil him, to make him feel whole and to free him from what I was now sure had been a long and lonely existence. The rest of his story could wait. I wanted to make love to him in every possible way. I grasped his cock. It was already hard, pulsing in my hand as if begging for release. I wrapped my lips around the head, 39


then very slowly pulled him into my mouth, letting the long, thick shaft slide down my throat, until my face was buried in his pubic hair. I heard him moan softly. His hands ruffled my hair, stroked the sides of my face, caressed my shoulders. He raised his hips slightly, and I slipped my hands under his buttocks, massaging the firm flesh and letting my fingers stray towards the opening between the cheeks. He bore down, and my middle finger slid inside him. My lips travelled back up the length of his throbbing cock, my tongue swirling around the head, then I took it all in again. I reached for the lube, spread a good amount on my fingers then reinserted them into his anus. "May I fuck you?" I asked, with a shy smile. "You may." I'd never gone bareback before. I knew I was negative, but one can never be too careful. However Marcus had said he was immune to disease, so... He lifted his legs over my shoulders, allowing me access and I went for the gold. His legs hugged me, pulling me into his warm depths. Looking down on his face, caught in the moment of ecstasy, it was easy to forget, for the moment, that I was making love to a vampire. How could this beautiful, charming man be one of the living dead? He looked so vibrant. So alive. I felt a stinging slap on my right butt cheek. "Ow!" Then, another on my left ... Ow, again! "Marcus, what the—" He grinned up at me, cupping my buttocks with his big hands, pulling me in deeper. 40


Another slap, this time on both sides of my butt, at the same time. "Cut it out!" But I had to admit it was kinda exhilarating. I was thrusting harder, my balls slapping against his ass cheeks as I rode him. He writhed under me, grabbing my arms in a vicelike grip. I pulled back until only the tip of my cock was inside him, then I slammed home, pounding away like a demented dervish. "Yes, Roger! Fuck me, fuck me!" The sweat poured off my forehead, dripping onto his face. He grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled me down, his lips scorching mine with a kiss so intense, I lost all control. I felt myself climax—again and again. Holy God. I'd never had a gusher like that in my entire life. Marcus held my convulsing body pressed tightly to his, his arms and legs locking me to him, then with one swift movement he had upended me, holding me by my ankles, driving his unsated, steel-hard rod into me. For a moment, I struggled against this unexpected invasion, but with each push of his pelvis, I opened to him, holding him, meeting every throbbing thrust with my own. "Roger...!" He cried out my name as he came in long, wrenching spasms. I felt as though I had been split in two, so violent had our mating been. He collapsed on top of me, and I held him, pressing my lips to his neck, nibbling his earlobe, whispering how fantastic he was and how much I loved him.

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Oops. I'd said it. The 'L' word. He lay very still for a very long time, saying nothing, but not moving away from me either—thank God. At last, he turned to look at me. "You love me?" His eyes searched mine. "After only a few short hours?" "Yes. And what's more..." I must have really lost my senses, as the next words out of my mouth were, "I think you love me, too." One perfectly shaped eyebrow arched a fraction, and he sat up, staring at me for what seemed an eternity. I couldn't stand the silence any longer. "You don't have to know someone for very long to know if you love him or not," I blurted, feeling tears burn the back of my eyes. Shit ... if he was going to reject me now... He reached behind him and handed me my wineglass, filled to the brim. How does he do that? I thought, taking the glass with a shaking hand. Say something, please... "Roger..." "Yes?" He smiled sadly then took a long sip of his wine. "Before you commit yourself to me, there are things you should know." "Like what? Staying out of the sun? I can do that—" "Listen to me, Roger!" "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be flippant." He nodded, his smile returning. "Come here." He leaned back against the headboard and took me in the crook of his arm. "What passed between us this night was wonderful..." 42


I could hear the "but" coming a mile off. I remained quiet. "But if you wish to become a part of my life, there are many things you would have to give up. Just for a start, that would mean your friends and family. I am not the kind of man you can take home to meet your parents. Are you prepared to never see them again?" I stayed silent, and he seemed to take that as a "no", for he sighed and said, "I thought not. It is a lot to ask of one— even one who professes to love you." "I do love you," I protested. "And you didn't give me a chance to answer. Yes. The answer is yes. I would give everything up for you!" He sighed again. "Roger ... after only a few hours of ecstasy, you are willing to give up all you have known for the past twenty-four years? Think of what you are saying." "Does it make me sound shallow?" I asked, lifting my head to look at him. "Does it diminish me in your eyes?" "No, it does not," he assured me. "I worry, though, that after you have made the decision to leave all behind you, to stay with a man you have not yet known a full day—a man who is not ... fully human—I worry that you will come to regret it, just as I did, centuries ago." "Oh..." That hadn't occurred to me—that he regretted his rebirth. "But you were cast away. You told me he abandoned you. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" "No, Roger, I would not." He hugged me to him, causing me to slop some wine from my glass onto my chest. He leaned forward and licked at the wine, lapping at my nipple as he did so. I groaned, feeling my 43


cock harden again. Jesus, if he was trying to talk me out of this, he was going about it all the wrong way. With my free hand, I brought his face to mine and kissed his lips with a fervour I could not control. "Tell me," I breathed into his mouth. "Tell me I'm not wrong for wanting this." He returned my kiss, then said, "Let us make a bargain. I will return you to your friends tonight. They will know nothing of your departure—for them our dalliance has never happened. You will remember everything. Tomorrow night, meet me at Joe's Café on Sunset. Say around six. We will talk more of this then. It will give you time to think, time to rationalise, and perhaps, time to reconsider your decision." "But I ... Joe's Café? Couldn't we do something a little better than that?" "It's quiet ... informal. I like it." "But I—" He placed his forefinger on my lips. "Those are my conditions." I snorted. "Some bargain! You get to make all the conditions. What do I get?" "Time," he said gently. "Now, get dressed, and I will take you back to the party." "But it's three in the morning," I said, looking at my watch on the nightstand. "Everyone will have gone home." "You will be returned at the exact moment you left. I told you, no one will know of your leaving." "How do you do this stuff?" He smiled. "That is for me to know..." 44


"And me to find out ... yeah, I know that one. Well, maybe I just will find out, one of these days, Marcus." "Get dressed." "Wait." I grabbed his arm, pulling him close to me. "If no one's going to notice I've gone, there's no need to rush back, is there?" I kissed his lips, gently. "Let me stay a little longer." He crushed me to him. "When you look at me like that, how can I refuse you?" **** I was standing on Mark's patio gazing up at the stars, a little smile on my lips, when Mark came bustling out. "Are you going to stand out here all night?" he demanded. "This party is in your honour, don't forget." "Sorry," I mumbled, moving towards him. "Where'd your friend go?" "Uh ... he had to leave." "Too bad. Well, come on in. You have to blow out the candles. Everyone's waiting." I followed him back into the living room and went through the motions of laughing and chatting, and all the proper stuff, but I was just dying to get out of there. I wanted to be alone with the memory of what had happened earlier. It had happened, hadn't it? Now, looking around at my friends' smiling, slightly tipsy faces, I began to wonder if it had all been a wild hallucination. Marcus had said no one here would have noticed my disappearance, yet, I would remember everything, just as it 45


had happened—and I did. Every single, soul-searing, sensuous moment. I couldn't wait for the promised repeat performance, if I kept my date with him the following night. As if I wouldn't... "Go on Roger, blow it out!" "Huh?" Kevin, pounding on my shoulder, brought me back to earth, and I looked down at the cake. It was shaped to resemble a skull. A single black candle sprouted from the top amid a sea of red icing, meant to represent blood, I presumed. "Oh, it's great," I muttered, making a silent wish. The second one of the evening. "What d'you wish for?" Mark yelled into my face. "For it to be tomorrow night." "What?" He looked at me, pouting. "After all I've been through." "No, no..." I took his arm and led him away from the crowd. "The guy I was with earlier? We have a date tomorrow night." "Jeez, that was fast," Mark said, obviously impressed. "You were only with him a few minutes." "Yeah, well, he had to rush, but he said he wanted to see me again, so naturally..." "You said, 'how soon'?" "Something like that." "Lucky you." I crossed my fingers, hoping he was right. **** 46


After I had taken Roger back to the company of his friends, I returned home and stood outside, looking down at the lights of the city far below me. A feeling of loneliness enveloped me and I had to admit to myself I already missed him. He'd said he loved me, and I believe he meant every word. Of course, I love him in return. He was the one I have waited for. Yet, I could not let him make the decision to be my forever companion, without him knowing all the consequences of that action. He was so filled with the emotional rush of our first evening together ... he needed time to think this through, to understand the full meaning of what his life would be, should we make life's journey together. That was why I tried to hold his feelings in check, to make him really consider all that he would lose if committed to me. There was nothing I desired more than to have him in my life forever, but he needed to come to me completely aware of all that it entails. I thought back across the centuries to the moment when Polonius had made me the offer of immortality. He had withheld so many of the aspects of vampirism from me. I'd really had no conception as to what was to happen to me. To this day, I retain some bitterness for what I perceived then to be his betrayal. Of course, I was foolish to have believed a total stranger's lies. But, that was why I would not allow Roger to enter into this life-changing relationship without him being fully apprised 47


of what would be expected of him. I hoped he understood that my reticence to accept his declaration of love was in his best interests. **** Later, driving home with Kevin, I guess I was strangely quiet, my mind filled with the intoxicating thoughts of what had happened earlier. "Whatcha thinking 'bout?" he asked after a while. "The party. It was fun, wasn't it?" "It was okay. That guy, the one who dumped you, and took off—" "Excuse me?" My tone was decidedly cool. "He did not dump me, Kevin. As a matter of fact we have a date for tomorrow night." Consciously, I brought a mental image of Marcus's face into focus, his smile, his eyes. Oh, those eyes... Kevin bumped my arm. "Where'd you go?" "What do you mean?" I gave a guilty start. "I didn't go anywhere with him. That's tomorrow night." "I mean, right then. You were talkin', then you went quiet again." "Oh, just thinking of him. He's so hot." "This means it's all over between you and me then, I guess?" I looked at him, startled. "What?" "Just kidding. But if he stands you up, you've got my cell number." "Thanks Kevin. I'll remember that. How did you do?" I felt I should ask. "Get any dates?" 48


"I was fighting them off as usual. One look at Mr. Big, and they were like putty in my hands." I smiled, and said nothing, but I knew all about Mr. Big. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four The following day, Sunday, was the longest of my entire life. It was always a slow day anyway and one on which I generally sleep in till noon. Except, of course, on this particular Sunday, I awoke at the crack of dawn. The first thought that popped into my mind was of meeting Marcus at six. Six! That was a whole twelve hours away. Well, there's plenty to do, I thought, lying in bed looking up at the ceiling. There was the apartment's once weekly spritz, the laundry, the gym—oh yeah, I had to work out really hard today—and my Mom to call. Before you know it, it would be time to get all gussied up and go off to meet the man of my dreams. Wait... The man of my dreams? Had it all been a dream? I mean, there I was, lying in bed, the morning after a rather unbelievable night in which I'd been spirited away from a party in my honour and made love to by a vampire. Of course, it had only been a dream. What was I thinking? A dream... Okay, wait again. What about our date at Joe's Café? Surely, I hadn't dreamed up that part? I hadn't dreamed up any part of it. It had all happened, just as I remembered. My hand strayed to my crotch as I thought of him, every gorgeous inch of that smooth, sleekly muscled body, every nuance of his finely chiselled, noble face. Those hypnotic 50


eyes, that sensuous smile, those luscious lips, that intoxicating scent. Jeez, I was as hard as a rock... No, I thought. Save it all for him. Don't waste a drop. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the window. The sun was just coming up, bathing my balcony in its cool, early morning light. Where are you, Marcus? I wondered. Where did you take me last night? Nowhere around here, I was certain of that. Had he transported me to somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains? To some secret fortress, high as an eagle's nest, where no man could reach us? His words of warning came back to me then, and I had to admit, severing all contact with my friends and family would be more difficult than I had first thought in that heated rush of emotions last night. That, of course, was why he'd given me the time to think it all through, and innately I knew, he would give me all the time I asked before changing me—if he ever did. Walking into the kitchen to fix some coffee, I couldn't help but shiver with apprehension at how it might feel. To be drained of my blood, to drink vampire blood and have it course through my veins, to see the world and everyone in it through vampire eyes. To live forever. Okay, there were definitely some obstacles to overcome here. Numero uno— fear. Yet, Marcus didn't frighten me. I was in awe of him, but not afraid. The fact that he had made me this offer, proved him to be a man—or rather, a vampire—of honour. I was sure he would be gentle with me when it came time to change me, 51


but I had read enough vampire stories to know fangs in the jugular hurt like hell. Maybe he could do it with a syringe...? **** Despite my anxieties, I found myself enjoying the day. Just the thought of seeing Marcus again, kept me going in the gym. I fantasised about him as I worked up a sweat on the treadmill, on the biceps curl machine, working my abs—really working those—and torturing my glutes—really wanted those to stand out. All through those exercises, I let my mind roam to all that we had done the night before. I could almost feel his lips on mine, his hands on my body, caressing, teasing. I was hard again. I glanced at my watch. Three o'clock. Yeah ... won't be long now. Time to go home and shower. I stood up, holding my towel discreetly in front of me to cover the bulge in my shorts. "Hi, there." I looked around to find a good-looking young guy standing behind me. Slightly taller and heavier than me, with a shock of thick, reddish blond hair, he was very attractive in a selfabsorbed kind of way. He was smiling, but there was something cold behind it. "Hi," I said. "What's up?" "You're Roger, Marcus's new friend, right?" "Uh..." I was a little taken aback. "Well, yes, I guess. I met him last night." "Last night, eh?" He frowned at me. "You should know something." 52


"Know what?" "I'm Kurt, by the way." I started to hold out my hand, but he made no move to reciprocate, so I let it fall back to my side. "Is that your name or your attitude?" I asked, not smiling. "Very funny." "It wasn't meant to be. What d'you want?" "Just to warn you about him." "I know about him," I said sharply. "It's a little hard to miss." "Not that. I mean what he'll do when ... when he's had enough." Uh oh ... I didn't want to hear that. "Enough of what?" I asked, feigning naïveté. "Enough of you, dummy." "Hey!" He moved closer, scowling. "Ask him about me, why don't you? Ask him about how he started to change me then changed his fucking mind!" I could think of a dozen reasons why Marcus would have second thoughts about having this shit-head in his life for the next millennium and I'd only met him two minutes ago. Still, the prospect of being dumped after the initial bloodletting was not something I felt I would handle very well. "I'm sorry," I said. "Do you know why he changed his mind?" Wrong question. Kurt's eyes narrowed into a look of hatred. "Because of you. That's why," he spat at me. 53


"Wait a minute." I held up my hand to stop him getting any closer with the spitting. "I only met him last night. You're telling me he dumped you this morning?" "No. Three weeks ago." Three weeks ago. When Marcus first saw me leaving the movie house. He dumped this guy after seeing me for the first time. I couldn't help but feel extremely flattered—and smug. I tried not to let it show on my face, but I must have failed, because Kurt's grew redder than a stoplight. "You son-of-a-bitch," he yelled, pushing me hard against the ab-machine's metal support. "Ow!" I pushed him back, and the next thing I knew, I was involved in a rather unseemly fight, the two of us rolling about on the floor, throwing punches at one another, until two trainers leaped in and pulled us apart. One of them, Bruce, I knew from frequenting the gym and passing the time of day on occasion. He looked at me in amazement, I think quite impressed that I had engaged in fisticuffs with a taller, heavier guy. "Dudes," he said—he calls everyone dude. "You can't be doing this shit in here." "I know." I refrained from yelling, "He started it!" like some irate queen, even though that's how I felt. "Sorry, Bruce. Won't happen again." Kurt, huffing and puffing, shoved a finger in my face. "Don't say I didn't warn you, bitch!" And with that, he spun on his heel, and swept out. "Dude." Bruce's eyes were wide with shock as he looked at me. "What did you do to him?" 54


"Stole his boyfriend," I said, picking up my towel. I left Bruce, and the other trainer, staring at each other, heterosexual disbelief all over their faces. **** The sounds of discord invaded my sleeping mind and caused me to become alert, although it was yet some time before I could rise. Kurt. He had found Roger and baited him, provoking him to anger. I should have foreseen this and taken steps to prevent it. I was careless, and my carelessness had resulted in Roger being threatened by a stranger. He would, no doubt, have many questions for me when we met tonight. Kurt just might present us with a problem that I could have avoided, had I taken care of him earlier. That young man could not be trusted to keep silent. I'd have to make certain he could not interfere again. **** Now, don't get me wrong. I wasn't happy about this confrontation with Kurt the Curt, but it wasn't going to deter me from meeting Marcus at Joe's Café at six o'clock sharp. In fact, I was eager to tell him what had happened and to hear his explanation. I only hoped that it didn't sound too shallow. You know, "Well I thought I loved Kurt, then I saw you..." That kind of thing. Still, although Kurt had proven himself to be a first class asshole, I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. To think 55


you've struck gold in finding someone as fantastic as Marcus, to have the promise of eternal life and love within your grasp, then to suddenly get the old heave ho. That just can't have made his day. Well, I couldn't wait to hear Marcus's version of it all. The evening promised to be most interesting. When I got home, I showered, buffed and fluffed for close to an hour, then I stood for a good fifteen minutes, gazing into my closet, wondering what I could wear. Something cool and summery, I decided, taking a pale blue polo shirt from its hanger. It might have been the first of November, but in Los Angeles, it's always summer. Pale blue flatters the eyes, don't you know. Blue jeans and flip-flops—well, it was only Joe's Café, not the Ritz. Thus attired, I set off to meet the man I hoped was going to change my life forever—if he didn't dump me mid-change! He was already sitting at the bar when I arrived, and I took a moment to drink in the sight of his noble profile. Was there any part of him that didn't achieve perfection? He wore a dark red short-sleeved silk shirt, black jeans, and cowboy boots. He was nursing a glass of red wine, staring into the liquid with a moody gaze. I thought he looked more like a poet than a vampire. A gorgeous poet. One that would make Lord Byron look more like Richard Simmons. As I watched him, a young guy sauntered near him and leaned on the bar, posing for what he supposed, was great effect. Marcus turned and looked at him. I seethed. The guy smiled at Marcus. He smiled back. I stood, fists clenched. 56


The guy said something. Marcus answered. The guy frowned, then walked away. I allowed myself a smug smile. He turned—of course, he knew I was there—and there was that smile, except, this time, tinged with some sadness. Obviously, Kurt had gotten to him before me and told him what a violent and unbalanced queen I was, unfit for vampire-hood. He beckoned me over, patting the seat of the barstool next to him. "Hello, Roger." His voice was deliciously deep and husky. "I'm glad you came." "Did you doubt it?" I asked, matching his sombre mood. "I sensed some apprehension on your part this afternoon." "You did?" The bartender interrupted us with a "What'll it be?" so I ordered a vodka martini, straight up. "Did you sense anything else?" I asked, after the bartender turned away to fix my drink. "An unpleasant confrontation." "Did he tell you about it?" "There was no need." "Marcus..." I swivelled my barstool around so I could look directly into his eyes. I gulped. God, but he was gorgeous. "This guy, Kurt..." I forced the words into my mouth. "He said you dumped him after you had initiated the change. That didn't sound like something you'd do. I know I don't really have any grounds for saying that—after all, I hardly know you, but somehow what he said just didn't ring true." 57


He was silent as the bartender delivered my martini, then he slid off the barstool and took my arm. "Let's sit at that table over there by the window. I think we'll have a little more privacy." "You look really great, by the way," I said as we settled in our seats. "Thank you, Roger. You, of course, look wonderful—even without the gold sparkles." He smiled, and my heart went skittering all around my chest. "Now, about Kurt. I am sorry that he embarrassed you at the gym today." "So he did tell you." "Like I said, I didn't need him to tell me, but I called him when he got home, and asked him why he had confronted you in that way. I'm afraid Kurt is a very bitter boy. He feels I betrayed him, when in fact, it was he who betrayed me." "So he lied about you initiating the change?" Marcus nodded. "We had talked of it, but quite honestly, Roger, my heart was not in it. I had serious doubts as to his strength of character. He lacks a disciplined mind and, I hate to say this, he is extremely vapid and boring. You remember last night?" "How could I forget?" He smiled and touched my hand gently. "You remember in between our acts of love we conversed a great deal?" Acts of love, not sex. I loved the way this guy talked. I cupped my chin in my hand and gazed into those emerald orbs. "Roger, you do remember?" 58


"Huh? Oh, yes ... very well. You never did finish the story of your life." He chuckled. "As I told you last night, it would take a lifetime to tell. But that's the point I am making. You are interested enough to listen, and," he added, with a rueful grin, "to frequently interrupt and ask questions." "Sorry. A bad habit of mine." "An endearing habit, Roger," he said, covering my hand with his. "Kurt had no interest in me, apart from the sex and the chance at immortality." "He said you dumped him after you saw me leave the movie house three weeks ago." Marcus shook his head. "Seeing you only sped up the process. I had already determined to end my relationship with him. I had not, contrary to what he told you, started the change. You see, I found out that he'd been seeing someone else." I looked at him, appalled. "He must be nuts! Who could he find that would come close to competing with you?" Marcus laughed lightly. "Not everyone holds me in such high esteem, Roger." "Well, I do!" I looked around and lowered my voice. "I can tell you this, Marcus. I would never cheat on you. Never." His eyes met the intensity in mine, then he smiled and said, "Drink up. I want to take you somewhere." "Your place or mine?" "Home."

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We stepped into the dark street outside Joe's Café. He faced me and held out his hands. "Give me both your hands, and close your eyes." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five "Wow," I breathed when I opened my eyes and saw we were once again in his magnificent bedroom. "I know I keep asking this, but how do you do that?" "One day, I will show you, and perhaps—well, we'll talk of that later." He held me in his arms, his cheek on my neck, his tongue flicking at my earlobe. "Mmm," I murmured, holding him tight. "I've been looking forward to this all day." "As have I," he said, his lips tickling my skin, causing me to shiver with delight. "I am very glad you decided to meet me tonight." "Wild horses couldn't have kept me away." I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped my hand inside, gently squeezing his left nipple. "Can I ask you something?" "Anything." "Why me? I mean, what made you choose me after seeing me just once, three weeks ago?" He was silent for a few moments, then he said, "If I told you I had seen you in a vision, would you believe me?" "I'd like to." He held me just a little tighter as he continued. "Long before you were born, I hid myself from the world. Vampires do this every now and then. We live for such a long time, sometimes it becomes a burden we cannot bear, and we take 61


refuge, remaining hidden until our minds are clear and we are able to cope, once more, with immortality." His lips strayed over my cheek as he spoke. I clung to him, sensing his sadness and willing him to find comfort in my arms. "During that time of my ... repose, I dreamed of finding the man who would bring joy to my existence, who would be strong enough and love me enough to share my life as strange and unreal as it is." He fell silent again, and although I wanted to hear him say he had found that man in me, I didn't dare voice that hope. For once in my life, I curbed my impatience and waited. "When I re-entered the world, I carried with me the memory of someone—someone I did not know, had never met, nor even seen and yet, who felt familiar to me. As I said, this was a long time ago, but I have never forgotten his face. Your face, Roger." I stared at him, speechless. "The night I first saw you," he murmured, his lips close to my ear, "I felt your presence, long before I actually saw you. Then, when I did, I stood transfixed, unable to believe my eyes." "Yeah, I have that effect on guys all the time," I kidded. "I'm sure you do," he said. "I was kidding." "I know." He took me by the hand, and we sat on the edge of his bed. "Seeing you there, laughing and talking with your friend Mark, I felt my heart lift." 62


Laughing and talking with Mark. At least I wasn't slouching about, looking bored, and pickin' my nose. He chuckled. "No, you were not." I sighed loudly. "There's just nothing I can hide from you, is there?" "Sorry." He looked so cute as he attempted a contrite expression. "I will stop reading your mind, if it makes you uncomfortable." "No, it's okay." I moved back into his arms. "This is all just so hard to believe. That you would have seen me all those years ago. I wish I'd had that kind of a dream about you." He kissed my neck. "Actually, you almost did." "Huh?" "I was tempted to give you a vision of myself as you slept." "You can do that?" He nodded. "But I felt it would be cheating. I wanted our mutual attraction to be spontaneous—at least on your part. That's why I waited." Wow. "Can I ask you something else? Oh wait. You already know what it is, don't you?" "Ask me anyway," he said, blowing a teasing breath in my ear. "Well, I know this is your home—this incredible place—but just where are we?" He rose from the bed, taking my hand in his. "Come with me."

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He led me out through the French doors that lined one whole wall, and we stood on a wide balcony, gazing down at the lights of the sprawling city below us. It looked familiar. "Hey wait, that looks like LA," I blurted. "None other," he said, with a light laugh. "Where ... did you think I had transported you? Transylvania?" He emphasised Transylvania with a really good Bela Lugosi impersonation. "I'm afraid that would be beyond my powers. It would take more than a few seconds," he added. "Perhaps an hour or so." I looked at him to see if he was joking, but why would he. He can do just about anything he wants, I thought. Especially with me. I started taking his shirt off him, kissing his chest and shoulders. And then, we were on the bed again, completely naked. "Sorry," he whispered, "I couldn't wait to feel your bare skin against mine." That was okie-dokie with me, too. His eyes twinkled with a lascivious gleam. I lay beneath him, staring up into his face, taking in every detail that moulded the perfection. His breath was sweet upon my lips as he brushed his mouth slowly, and oh so sensually, over mine. "Just lie there for me," he whispered. "Let me love you." His fingers ran the length of my torso, sending tiny tingles of pleasure coursing through me. His lips and tongue wove their own magic over my skin as he travelled south, following the treasure trail from my navel to my pubic hair. He engulfed my cock, pulling it into the moist warmth of his mouth. I gasped with delight as he licked up and down the underside 64


of my erection then slid down to my balls, his tongue lapping at each one, before lifting them into his mouth. My hips rose in ecstasy at this sensation, my hands tangling in his thick curly hair. He lifted my legs over his shoulders, his tongue pushing at my opening, darting in and out of my anus, making me whimper. My breathing almost constricted with desire and lust. His tongue was deep inside me, and I writhed in ecstasy as he bored into me, causing sensations I had never before experienced—never dreamed could even exist. Just when I thought I couldn't stand any more, his mouth moved back to my balls then to my cock, taking it all down his throat. I groaned, feeling the heat of my approaching orgasm. "Not yet," I whispered. He released me from his mouth, enclosing my cock with his hand. With the tip of his tongue he traced an erotic pattern over my body until he reached my lips, claiming them with a hungry kiss. I reached between his legs, drawing his rock hard shaft into me, pushing against it, forcing it into my moist depths made slick with his saliva. Now it was his turn to groan as my ass muscles closed around his hard cock, anchoring him to me as he thrust forward, and I arched my pelvis upward to meet him. We moved to a gentle rhythm at first, his lips a tantalising inch away, his eyes locked on mine, our breathing in unison with one another. But as our lips met in a kiss born of carnal passion, our rhythm quickened, his thrusts became stronger, longer, deeper, and I, biting back the scream that threatened to erupt from my throat, clung to him, my arms and legs holding him in a vice-like grip. 65


His hand now urged me towards my climax. It began deep inside my core, surging through me like a miniature tsunami. His mouth on mine stifled the cries of sheer animal ecstasy that my orgasm tore from me, and as I lay panting in his arms, he covered my face with hot sweet kisses. "My beloved Roger," he murmured, moving himself even deeper inside me. "I love you, Marcus," I whispered, writhing beneath him to bring him even more pleasure. He began to move over me again, and I cupped his glorious butt in my hands. As we gazed at one another through a sexual haze, I slipped my middle finger into my mouth, coating it with my saliva then probed between the cleft of his buttocks, pushing past the wall of muscle there and bringing him ever closer to the edge. His breath caught in his throat. He let out a great choking cry as he came, and I buried my face in the hollow of his throat, kissing him long and hard, almost sobbing with joy as his semen poured into me. Afterwards, as we lay in each other's arms, I, purring like a contented kitten, and he, stroking my chest with his fingertips, I dared to ask, "So, when are you going to tell me about my alternatives?" His fingertips stalled on my chest, so I grabbed his hand and started rubbing it over my chest. He chuckled from deep in his chest and tweaked my nipple. "Ow! Well, are you going to tell me or not?" A long, heavy sigh followed my badgering. "I suppose I must, or you will nag me until I do." "Me, nag? Never." 66


He rose from the bed, treating me once more to the magnificent sight of his muscular back, the curve of his butt, the strength in his thighs and calves. Perfection personified. Did I mention his feet? Also perfect. He returned carrying two glasses filled with red wine. Hmm ... why not the instant appearing act? "Sometimes," he said, with a smile, "I like to pretend I am a mortal man and have to fetch and carry like everyone else." Oh yes, again with the mind reading. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to that." "Of course you will, then we will cease to converse aloud." "But I like the sound of your voice. It's sexy. Do I sound too whiny?" "You sound delightful," he replied, handing me my glass. He sat cross-legged on the bed facing me. "So, you are sure you want to know all the gory details." "Are they gory?" "Well, there is a certain amount of blood involved, Roger." "Right. So Kurt didn't get to first base?" "No, he did not. He might have had cause to think he did, but he did not." I stared at his beautiful face, and wondered again for the umpteenth time since we'd first met how time had not ravaged him. I mean, eighteen hundred years. Vampire blood must be very powerful stuff. "It is." "Will you please stop that?" I protested, half-heartedly. "Sorry. I can hear your thoughts, you see, as if you were speaking them aloud. It is just a natural reflex to answer." 67


"That's okay. So, go on, let me have all the gory details." "Well, as I said last night, I can change you completely, so that you will take on the persona of a vampire. It is a gradual transformation, preferably done over a period of three of four days. When you awaken from what appears to be an extremely deep slumber, but is in fact, death, you will become aware of many differences. Some of these differences you will adapt to very quickly. Others take time. Your vision, hearing, and sense of touch will all become greatly enhanced. It can be very disturbing, at first." I put my hand on his arm. "May I interrupt?" "Of course." "You said I would awaken from death. Would I really die?" He nodded. "You must die in order to be reborn, Roger. That is the hardest part to come to terms with, I know. When I was changed, Polonius did not tell me I would physically die. He said I would fall into a deep sleep. But I cannot lie to you. You will die before you become like me." "So you knew that you had not just been asleep?" "Indeed. Sleeping and dying are two very different experiences. To die is not an easy thing, Roger. You will resist it, and you will be afraid. I cannot lie to you about that, either. If I did, you would hate me when you awoke." "I could never hate you, Marcus." He moved closer to me, his eyes glowing with a preternatural intensity that made me tremble. "You love me now, Roger, but if I allowed you to take this step without warning you of all its consequences, believe me, you would grow to hate me. Vampire emotions are no different from 68


humans. We feel rage, hatred, and fear—yes, fear, Roger. All these human failings come with us from the grave." "But, love too, Marcus. Surely, that did not die with you?" He gave me a gentle smile, his eyes clearing as he did so. "No, love did not die with me. It was reborn, just as I was. Over the years, I have loved—not many men—a few really, if judged by the standards of my longevity. But always I gave myself completely to whomever I loved, sometimes to my own detriment." His eyes took on a faraway look, and I knew he was thinking of the time when he longed for death. "What was his name?" I asked quietly. He fixed his gaze upon me, as if seeing me for the first time, then he rose from the bed, returning a moment later with a gold-framed photograph. Not a photograph, but a portrait so exquisitely painted, it could not have been more lifelike. "The painting is by Allan Ramsay," Marcus said, quietly. "A famous Scottish artist employed by the royal families of Europe." The young man who smiled at me from the painting was definitely a head turner—not beautiful in the true sense of the word but very hot. I figured him to be about my age, maybe a year or so younger. Light blond hair fell across his brow in a most becoming fashion and was tied back behind his neck. A lace ruffle at his throat and the patterned silk jacket he wore told me this was an eighteenth century painting. His eyes, a sparkling blue, were filled with laughter and mischief. Oh yes, I thought, I just bet you were a handful. 69


"His name was Thomas." "What happened to him?" I asked, my eyes riveted to the painting. "He died many years ago." "So he wasn't a vampire? You didn't change him?" "Yes," he said, not looking at me. "He was a vampire. No, I did not change him. He came to me already changed, some one hundred years before. A fledging, really. He left the one who changed him for me." A certain bitterness had crept into Marcus's voice, and I began to wish that I had never broached this particular subject. "Marcus," I murmured. "If this is upsetting you, please ... I don't want you to be sad, remembering..." His gaze returned to my worried face. He seemed to give himself a little shake, then he smiled at me. "This was a long time ago, but sometimes the memory of what happened, still fills me with anger. I apologise for turning our time together into a wake." I would have loved to have changed the subject, but it occurred to me that perhaps he needed to talk this out. Rather than let it always hang between us like an impenetrable curtain, I decided I should encourage him to vent. Putting down the portrait and my wineglass, I moved to him and wrapped him in my arms. For just a brief moment, he did not respond, and then, much to my relief, I felt his arms enfold me. "Sweet Roger," he murmured in my ear. "Do I deserve someone as loving as you?" 70


"If that needs an answer," I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere just a little, "it's an unequivocal yes." Gently, he pushed me back down onto the comforter and lay beside me. I put my head on his shoulder. "Tell me what happened, if it doesn't hurt too much." "Imagine if you will," he began, "The Paris Opera House, a gala performance by the Paris Symphony attended by the nobility of Europe. Kings, queens, princes, dukes, earls, all vying with one another to look the most splendid. Everywhere, a sea of silk, satin, and lace confounds the eye. Scents of every exotic variety mingle in the warm summer air, dizzying the senses. "Into this fantastic scene step two men, and immediately every eye is riveted upon them. The clamour and the hubbub of voices die away, and the whispers begin. It's them, they say, the Comte d'Arcy and his acolyte, Thomas Lebrun. "I had heard of d'Arcy, of course. His fame as an artist preceded him as did the scandal attached to his name. It was said he indulged in certain practices that precluded him from invitations to many a fashionable soirée. So, it was surprising that he should have been invited to attend this gala. But what was more surprising to me was that I immediately recognised them both as vampires. Paris then, of course, had its fair share of us, just like any large city, but not many could be seen in public. I knew they both must be 'older' vampires to be able to pass as normal humans. The assembled crowd might know d'Arcy for his scandalous deeds, but no one there could possibly guess that two of the living dead stood among them. 71


"The Comte d'Arcy was a handsome fellow, tall, of military bearing, and fashionably dressed, but it was Thomas who caught my entire attention. That portrait, excellent though it is, does not do him enough justice. His beauty seemed to transcend all around him. It was easy to see why d'Arcy had chosen him as his forever companion. Even though Thomas's aura overshadowed him, he could bask in the radiance Thomas cast." At that point, he paused and tightened his arm around me. "Excuse me, Roger, if all this sounds as though I was already enamoured of him. Truth to tell, I was. Even from the other side of the foyer, his smile entranced me. I hope you don't find this unsettling." "No, of course not," I murmured, kissing his chest. "I want to hear the whole story, just as it happened." "They, of course, their senses being acutely tuned to their surroundings, knew they were not the only vampires in the opera house that night. Thomas's eyes scanned the crowd around me, and on seeing me, nudged d'Arcy and nodded in my direction. They were at my side in an instant, the force of their presence both alarming and exciting. Throughout my long life, I had tended to be somewhat of a loner. There are reasons for that, but we will get to that another time. I seldom went out in company, and thus I maintained the low profile I preferred—still prefer, as a matter of fact. "Thomas was the first to speak, introducing himself with a courtly bow, then he turned to d'Arcy and introduced me to him. The Comte was cold and imperious in his greeting, letting me know immediately, by his manner, that he did not 72


intend to further my acquaintance. Thomas, on the other hand, was delightful and asked me to join them in their box. On seeing d'Arcy's nostrils flare with annoyance, I declined but suggested that perhaps we could meet during the interval for a glass of wine. Red of course, I added, much to Thomas's amusement. And so, my dear Roger, I had met the one man, who in all my hundreds of years of existence, was to be the one to steal my heart for the first time." "Really?" I lifted my head from his shoulder to look into his eyes, so he could see my surprise. "You had never been in love with anyone else in all those years?" "Never. Oh, there had been dalliances, of course. I was a young man, when I was changed. The need for release burned in me even after my rebirth." "And hasn't abated much," I teased him. He chuckled and kissed my forehead. "I could say that you are the cause of that, Roger." "Oh yeah? What about Kurt?" He grimaced and looked away. Ouch, I really should think before I speak. I sometimes have a tendency to spoil the moment with an ill chosen remark—like that one. "Sorry. My big mouth." "That's all right," he said, his smile returning. "I like your big mouth." There are times when you can be really torn, you know? Just the way he said, "I like your big mouth" made me want to leap on him and start another bout of wild, mind-blowing sex. At the same time I really wanted to hear what happened 73


between him and Thomas. So, I resisted and asked him to go on with his story. No, of course I didn't. I leaped on him, and we had another bout of wild, mind-blowing sex. What d'you take me for? An idiot? **** After the dust had settled and I lay panting and sated on his silk comforter, he threw on a robe, and left the room, returning some minutes later with, of all things, a pizza. "Where'd that come from?" I asked. "I didn't hear you make the call." He gave me an enigmatic smile. "I don't have to." Oh, well. Ask a silly question. The pizza was great, washed down with some more of that delicious red wine he kept a plentiful supply of. "I wouldn't have taken you for a pizza fan," I remarked, between mouthfuls. He had eaten only a small piece, leaving the rest for me. "Why not? I am Italian, after all." Right ... from Rome. An original Italian, even. "So, you met Thomas and the Comte in the interval," I prompted him. "Only Thomas. D'Arcy declined my invitation, and Thomas said he could stay but a moment. He had come only to give his regrets." "Damn," I muttered. "But I was not so easily put off," Marcus said, acknowledging my dismay. "I said I understood, of course, 74


but could we perhaps meet one evening within the coming week. He hesitated for a moment, seemingly uncertain, then he gave me a disarming smile, a shake of his head and was gone." "In a puff of smoke?" I asked, cheekily. "Brat," Marcus said with a certain fondness I'd heard colour his voice from time to time when he spoke to me. "No. No puff of smoke, but his refusal certainly put a damper on my evening." "Obviously, he had a change of mind," I pointed out, pushing the pizza box to one side, and nestling in his arms again. "Mmm ... two days later, I received a note asking me to meet him in the Tuillery Gardens that very evening. Apparently, the Comte d'Arcy had other business that would take him out of Paris overnight, and young Thomas was free to do as he pleased. We met there at seven. We walked and talked for hours, and then I asked him if he would care to accompany me to my home. He said he was afraid I would never ask, and in a matter of seconds, we were alone together, in each other's arms." "I'm jealous, already," I mumbled into his armpit. "Then I will spare you what followed." "Thank you." "Later, he told me of the time when d'Arcy changed him, and how at first, he had truly loved and admired the man. Thomas was the son of a rich Parisian merchant who had commissioned d'Arcy to paint a portrait of himself and his wife. Thomas's father encouraged his son's friendship with 75


d'Arcy, and so they were often in each other's company. Thomas was dazzled by the Comte, immune to the rumours that surrounded him, thinking them nothing more than gossip and jealousy. Only after he was changed, did he realise that the rumours of d'Arcy's depraved behaviour were true. "It was then, when Thomas threatened to leave d'Arcy that the Comte revealed the hold he had upon him. He told me how desperately unhappy he was with d'Arcy, but that he could not leave him. He was bound to him forever, by some devious plot that d'Arcy had concocted. You see, when d'Arcy changed Thomas, at the moment of his rebirth, he hypnotised him into believing that should he ever try to leave, d'Arcy could simply command Thomas's heart to stop beating. He would not die, but he would never rise again." "You mean, like a kind of suspended animation?" "Perhaps. But one from which he could never be revived. I was devastated. Here, I thought I had found the one man with whom I could spend eternity, only to have that dream dashed before it could be realised. Of course, I could not, would not put Thomas in any danger, and so we parted, after making love again ... and again." "You're killing me." "Sorry." "S'okay. Go on." I nestled closer, hoping I was making a permanent impression in his side. I couldn't quite dispel the nasty feeling that all this reminiscing was going to make him look at me in a less than loving light. "Of course," he said, "we could not stay apart, and so we arranged clandestine meetings whenever we could. It was not 76


easy, for many reasons, mainly because our assignations had to be under cover of night, a time when d'Arcy expected Thomas to be at his side. Still, we managed a few moments together, here and there. Of course, it was not enough, and I started to formulate a plan to rid ourselves of d'Arcy's presence, once and for all." "You mean, kill him?" His long silence was his admission. "It was not an easy decision," he said, finally. "And not one that Thomas, at first, would entertain. He said he would tell d'Arcy of the situation and beg him to give him leave to go with me. I knew this to be madness. D'Arcy would never agree. But Thomas felt he must, at least, try. The night they spoke of it, Thomas came to my home, his face grim with hatred. "'He told me to come here,' he said, his eyes pooling with tears, 'to finish with you, and never see you again or he would make sure that neither of us survived the next twentyfour hours.' "I was outraged that d'Arcy had dared threaten us. My poor Thomas was distraught. On one hand, he wanted to never return home. On the other, he said he could not put me in danger of d'Arcy's wrath. I was not afraid of the Comte, knowing that my powers were greater than his. I told Thomas just that, but I was desperately afraid that d'Arcy would make good his threat to stop Thomas's heart. We decided that we would confront the monster and tell him that if he dared take his revenge on Thomas, I would kill him with my bare hands." "Jesus," I gasped. 77


"Of course, in my rage and desperation, I had forgotten one very important fact. D'Arcy knew everything. He had sent Thomas to me, knowing that I would never agree to his demands." Thomas stood before me, his beautiful face creased with sadness, wet with his tears. I reached out, and he fell into my arms, holding me as if his life depended on it. I kissed his tear-stained cheeks, his luscious lips that parted under mine, to let my tongue win access into his moist warmth. We clung to one another, voicing our vows of love and commitment. "Never will I let you go," I said aloud, with a vehemence I hoped d'Arcy could hear. "Never, Thomas. I will die with you, for you, but I cannot let that fiend take you from me." He silenced me once more with his kisses, forcing me down on my bed, pulling at my open shirt, tracing my chest with his lips, setting my body and my soul on fire. I divested us of our clothing with a whispered commanded, and now naked, we consummated our love for one another. "Ah, Marcus..." His breath on my skin caused me to shiver with ecstasy, and I drew him up in my arms, crushing him to me, feeling the hardness of his loins press against mine. "Oh God, Thomas, I love you," I sobbed, fearing that this might just be the last time I would hold him thus. "And I love you," he said, his voice calmer now than mine. "Whatever happens now, please never forget me or how much I love you." Our bodies meshed together in an embrace that I willed never to end. The heat of our mutual desire consumed us. Now, he lay beneath me, his eyes entreating me to take 78


dominion over him. He lifted himself up onto my lap, burying my steel hard shaft deep inside himself. I rocked to his rhythm, holding his sweet, smooth body pressed to mine, raking his mouth with my hot urgent kisses. We took full advantage of our vampire powers to prolong this incredible union. Not for us the heated rush of passion so quickly over and spent. Our eyes locked on one another, we rode the waves of ecstasy that surrounded us, our bodies fused into one. One heart, one soul, one all encompassing love. But, in the end, even vampire control bends to the need for physical release, and so it was, that Thomas, his body stretched taut in those moments before orgasm, clutched me to himself and uttered a cry, half keen, half howl of triumph as he ejaculated, coating both our torsos with his creamy semen. My own climax followed his in a matter of seconds and filled him with the elixir of my love for him. We remained locked together, allowing the vortex of our soul shattering union to ebb, and our senses to return to us once more. "Never," he said, his lips close to my ear, "never will I be able to relinquish my right to love you." "And so, later that night, Thomas and I went to face d'Arcy in his lair. He was expecting us, of course. He probably even knew of the silver dagger I had secreted on my person, but he was arrogant enough to suppose his powers were greater than both mine and Thomas's, even should we combine them against him. Thomas asked him again to release him from their commitment and to let him go with me. 79


"To our utter amazement, he agreed. 'Go,' he said, 'albeit without my blessing. If this is truly what you want, Thomas, I will not stand in your way.' I sensed a trap, but none came. He did not deign to look at me, only kept his longing gaze upon Thomas, and when that failed to move him, turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We left his house immediately, filled with elation and disbelief. Thomas remarked that we had obviously maligned him needlessly, that d'Arcy had seen the power of our love, and had given in to it. Naturally, I wanted to believe he was right, and so, hand in hand, we ran into the night. "We returned to my home, I suggested we leave Paris, immediately. At first, Thomas was resistant, saying that he loved Paris too much to live anywhere else, but eventually, I broke down his resistance. We moved to London where I had a comfortable townhouse near Regent's Park." He paused for a moment. "Roger, are you still awake?" he asked, giving me a little shake. "Of course," I said. "I wouldn't miss one word of this story. But tell me, if you don't mind me asking, How come you had all these homes everywhere? And money? How did you earn a living?" "That goes back several hundreds of years." Well, I did ask. "I think I mentioned my father was a Senator of Rome. He had amassed an enormous fortune in gold over the years. Upon his death, two years after I had been changed by Polonius and then abandoned, I returned home. My mother was overjoyed to see me. I took up residence again in my 80


home and, for a time, was able to conceal my true nature from my mother. After two years of fending for myself, I found it relatively easy to adapt to living again with humans. It was a luxury for me to have my old room again, instead of the dank barns, ditches and caves I had been forced to take refuge in to avoid the sunlight of the day. I had discovered, the hard way, it could destroy me." "You mean you got burned?" "Horribly burned, Roger. I fell asleep in an open field, one day, out of sheer exhaustion. I did not know then that the sun's rays could harm me. I awoke to the smell of my own flesh burning. I was on fire. My clothes had all but disintegrated, and my naked flesh was afire. "Screaming from the pain, and the mental agony of seeing my skin blacken and shrivel before my eyes, I ran like a madman. I still did not quite understand why I was on fire, but as soon as I reached the shade of a nearby thickly wooded area, the pain became less intense. I threw myself under some bushes and lay there, whimpering like a child but staring with disbelief as slowly, but surely, a healing process began. I discovered that day, that vampire blood made us almost impervious to things that would kill a mortal being. I would later discover that the blood with which I had been imbued was from one of the most powerful strains within the vampire world. In the space of a few hours, my body was whole again with no trace of burns or scars. It was a lesson well learned." "But how did you live—I mean, find blood—didn't you need that as soon as you were ... changed?" 81


"Yes, and of course, not knowing that either, I almost wasted away. Real food nauseated me. I could not keep anything down. Then the craving began. I'm afraid a nearby farmer went short of a few sheep and calves that spring." "Not human blood then?" "Not right away. A vampire can exist on animal blood, for a time." "For a time," I repeated. "Then what?" "I had to ... uh ... supplement my diet, so to speak, with the real thing." He paused, shifting his weight, so that he could pull me even closer to his side. I didn't mind at all, stroking his chest and flat stomach gently, with my free hand. "It is a myth that all vampires are imbued with the instinct to kill anyone who steps into their path. I took blood from humans, yes ... I still do ... but only enough that I might live. It is also a myth that those bitten by a vampire are doomed to become one of us. That, as I think you know, can only be accomplished by mutual transference of blood—and over a period of time. Otherwise, by this time, as you can imagine, the world would be populated by millions of vampires. In fact, the gift I give a man or a woman when I drink just a little of their blood adds a few more years to their mortal lives." I had so many more questions, but I wanted to hear what happened to Thomas, so showing great self-control, I remained silent as he continued. "My mother died suddenly," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. I felt slightly surprised that after all these centuries that had passed, he would still feel the loss. 82


"She had been ill for only a short time, and her death was a terrible shock. After the funeral and the period of mourning, my uncle came to me with the news that I was now the owner of our villa, and the inheritor of a vast fortune in land and gold. That and the investments I have made over the years has sustained me and will do so, for many more centuries, if necessary. "Anyway, I think I left off where Thomas and I journeyed to London where we lived happily for a time. No trap had been laid or sprung by d'Arcy. It seemed he intended to leave us in peace, much to my surprise. Occasionally, we would hear some news of him from two of our friends who travelled Europe regularly. On one visit, they told us d'Arcy had taken a new lover, a young man who bore a striking similarity to Thomas. At that news, I relaxed considerably, feeling our future together was secure." I had a feeling this story was about to take a sudden and tragic downturn. I said nothing as Marcus conjured up images of an idyllic life spent in travel, meeting famous and exotic people from around the world, and, of course, their own personal happiness. "We were in the Highlands of Scotland one summer evening, watching the gloaming as the Scots call it—that period of time when the day is ending. Just before nightfall, the sky turns to a deep purple and the entire earth seems to hold its breath in anticipation of the serenity the evening will bring. "Thomas turned to me, smiling and about to say something, when all of a sudden, his eyes fixed in his head. 83


He reached for me and I remember, I cried out, 'No, Thomas ... no!' but I knew with astounding clarity that d'Arcy had invoked his curse. I had lost Thomas forever. He sank into my arms, his face bone white, his pale lips slightly parted, the light gone from his eyes. I screamed into the night sky that I would see him avenged. D'Arcy would die for what he had just done. That monstrous man had lulled us both into a false sense of security, merely biding his time before taking what he considered to be his just revenge upon us." Marcus fell silent then, and I dared not say a word. Instead, I curled around him, laying my face on his chest, letting him feel the wetness of the tears I had shed for Thomas. The petty jealousy I had felt when he'd first mentioned Thomas as the great love of his life, now faded away, and all I wanted to do was bring him comfort, if I could. "I'm so sorry," I whispered after a while, and he hugged me to him, telling me without words that he appreciated my compassion. He remained silent for a long time, and I knew he was reliving Thomas's final moments over and over again. Had he ever found a way to avenge his lover's death? I wondered. "No." His voice was flat and emotionless as he answered my unspoken question. "No, the Comte d'Arcy still lives." "How can you be sure?" I asked. "I know," was all he said in reply. Gently he unwrapped himself from my embrace then rose from the bed. He stood looking down at me, an unreadable expression on his perfect face. "I should take you home," he said. 84


"Can't I stay?" "Not tonight. It's late, and you have to work tomorrow." "But I don't want to leave you alone. You seem so sad. I'm sorry I forced you to tell me all of this." "Don't be sorry for me, Roger," he murmured, touching my hair. "I told you of him willingly. I have had many years to grieve for Thomas. I stopped mourning a long time ago." He shrugged his wide shoulders expressively. "Life, or a semblance of it, goes on." "Will ... will I see you again?" "Of course." "When?" He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. "Roger." His eyes held mine with an intensity that made me shiver. "I want you to be very sure of what will be needed of you. I want you to understand the enormity of what spending your life with me will entail. I don't want you to make that decision out of emotion or compassion for what I have just told you. I did not tell you about Thomas to evoke sympathy. Go home and think of all of this carefully. Very carefully. When you want to see me again, I will know, and I will come for you." I pressed his hand to my lips. "I love you, Marcus," I said. "I believe you." Effortlessly, he lifted me from the bed, and I noticed for the first time that I was fully clothed. He held me in his arms then kissed me long and hard. I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I was back in my apartment—and he was gone. [Back to Table of Contents] 85


Chapter Six The following day, Monday, was hell on wheels at work. By five o'clock, I was so exhausted, all I could think of was going home, mixing a martini, and vegging in front of the TV. I had decided, when I'd had time to put two thoughts together during the day, that I would leave Marcus alone for a couple of days. I didn't want to appear too pushy or needy, whichever word you think is more apt. In the back of my mind, I figured maybe, just maybe he'd miss me enough to come flying through my window, and whisk me off to his hideaway in the Hollywood Hills. Quite the dreamer, ain't I? My friend Mark called around seven. "So, how was the date last night?" he asked "Dreamy," I told him. "Ohmigod. That's terrific." "Yeah, terrific ... except he's got some hang ups." "Don't they all? Are you seeing him again?" "Hope so. Don't know, really." "Roger, you really need to be more assertive. Aggressive. That kind of butch thing." "What are you saying?" "I'm saying that if you want this to go somewhere, you should take control of the situation and call him." "Call him what?" "Call him on the phone and tell him you want to see him again." "He already knows that, Mark." 86


"Honey, you just have to make more of an effort that you usually do." I hung up on him. Kevin called a few minutes after I'd talked to Mark. "So how was the date with the vampire?" My mouth went dry. How the hell did he know? "What?" I managed to whisper. "The guy that came to the party dressed as a vampire. Wasn't he the one you had the date with?" "Oh, yeah ... right." I laughed, a little shakily. "So, how was it?" "Incredible," I told him. "Did you do it?" "None of your business." "That means you did. How many times? Wow, Roger. You're usually so slow off the mark. What'd he do? Tie you to the bed?" "No, of course not, dummy." But he could, anytime he wanted, I thought, letting my imagination take wing. Tied down on that wonderful bed, silk scarves wrapped round my wrists and ankles, keeping me spread-eagled on my back while Marcus hovered over me, showering me with his hot kisses. Mmm-mmm... "You still there?" Kevin's voice dragged me back from my daydream. "Yeah." "So you seein' him again?" "Hope so." 87


"Jeez, Roger. You need to take control, be more assertive—" I hung up on him. **** That night I lay in bed, mulling over things in my mind, time and time again. Of one thing, I was certain. I was in love with Marcus, and if he would allow it, I would give up everything for him. Crazy as it may sound, I could really see my life inexorably intertwined with his. Somehow, it just felt right, as if I had been waiting all my life for this one man to make me complete. The fact that he was a vampire should have given me pause. More than pause really. It should have made me run like hell, yet I knew I would not. I think I knew then that I had gone beyond the mere physical attraction, powerful though that was. Having listened to him tell me something of his life, I couldn't help but feel the most tremendous admiration for him. The sheer willpower and determination it must have taken for him to have survived those first few years after he had been changed was, in a way, mind blowing. When I thought of him waking up that morning to find he was on fire—jeez, how do you cope with something like that? I don't care how butch you are. It's definitely not the way to start your day. And the sad affair with Thomas. After waiting all those years for the right one to come along, to have some jerk snatch it all from him out of sheer spite. I tossed and turned for hours that night. Tired as I was, sleep eluded me. All I could think of was Marcus, and the 88


incredible hours we'd spent together. I could still feel the silky smoothness of his skin that covered the hard muscles of his body. I could taste the sweetness of his lips, smell his intoxicating scent, hear the husky tones as he murmured words of endearment in my ear. And then, out of nowhere, something nudged at my mind. Something nasty, distasteful ... even corrupt. A voice, insidious and evil. I tried, unsuccessfully, to eradicate it from my mind. "Roger," it whispered. "Loving Marcus will bring you death." I sat up in bed, petrified, staring into the darkness of my bedroom and fumbling with shaking fingers for the switch on my bedside lamp. As light flooded the room, I jumped from my bed, staring wildly about me. At any moment, I expected to feel a violent attack from some malevolent being. Nothing happened. I stood in the middle of the room, panting slightly from apprehension, fear of the unknown and the unseen. I wanted Marcus by my side at that moment. His presence would make me strong, unafraid. And suddenly he was there, holding me in his arms, crooning in my ear. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, holding him as if my life depended on it—and at that moment, I felt as though it did. "Marcus," I sobbed, "I love you. Change me, so we can be together for all eternity." Then I woke up, and I was alone ... and afraid. **** 89


Next morning, I set off for work, dogged by a feeling of despondency I couldn't shake. All day, my depression grew stronger. I wanted to just leave, run to the gym, burn up my frustration on the aerobics machines, but, dedicated worker that I am, I stuck it out to the end of the day. Thank goodness I did. When I called my next customer, not really looking at the line, there he was, standing at my window, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Marcus," I gasped. "Oh gee, it's good to see you." "Have you been troubled Roger?" "And how," I exclaimed. I looked out the window. It was still daylight. "How did you...?" "I managed," he said quietly. "It's a little overcast. That helps. Besides I sensed your despair and wanted to make sure you were all right." "That's so good of you. I get off in a half hour. Can you wait?" "Of course. I will sit over there," he indicated the guest area, "and read a magazine until you're done." As he strode away, I admired his cat-like grace and grew hard remembering what those jeans and polo shirt hid. "Are you open?" An imperious voice broke into my daydream. I soon will be, I thought with a smirk. "Yes, of course madam," I said with a bright smile, my day suddenly a whole lot rosier. "How may I help you?" **** "You had a bad dream last night." 90


We were sitting in a bar near the bank where I worked. Marcus looked across the table at me, his expression a mixture of concern and solicitude. I nodded. "Yeah. It started out bad, but then you were in it. That made it better." He touched my hand. "I'm glad I could help." "Marcus..." I wanted to couch what I had to say as carefully as I could. At the same time, I was apprehensive as to what his reply would be. "I thought of nothing else but you last night. You said there were alternatives—one where you could take a little of my blood." "Roger, don't—" "No, let me finish, please," I pleaded. "I've really thought a lot about this. If you did that, like drink from me every now and then, you said I would live two or three hundred years more than the normal lifespan. What I was thinking was this," I said, warming to my proposal. "Why don't we do that as a sort of trial period thing? Then if you get tired of me, you can just stop the process and move on, free to do what you want." He sat staring at me for the longest time, his beautiful lips slightly parted as though he were about to say something, but no words came. Instead, I saw his eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Marcus?" "Roger," he said, his voice no more than a whisper. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you think I would lead you on under the impression you were somehow dispensable? If— and I mean if we undertake this arrangement, it would never 91


be with that escape clause you just mentioned. My dear Roger..." His tone grew harder. "Do you think so little of me as to even consider that I would be tempted to discard you?" "No, no—that's not what I meant at all," I said, panicking at his angry expression. "Oh God, I guess I said it all wrong. What I meant was ... was ... Oh, I didn't mean to make it sound so ... so..." I broke off lost for words, the hurt look on his face making it impossible for me to complete my thoughts. "Roger," he said at last. "I think you are possibly the sweetest man I have ever met—bar none—and I want you to know something. I hold you in much greater esteem than you do yourself. For some strange reason, you think yourself unworthy of me. Where on earth did you get that impression? Certainly not from me, for I have told you how special you are." "Yes, you have," I interrupted, as is my wont. "But see, it's really hard for me to understand how a gorgeous guy like you could ever be interested in someone like me." "Stop that." Now he looked really angry. He stood up, almost knocking over the table. He grabbed me by the arm. "Get up, now!" He marched me outside into the darkening street. "Close your eyes. Now!" he barked as I stared at him, eyes wide open. "Very well then..." He put his arms around me, and I felt my feet leave the ground. I looked down—Whoa! I closed my eyes, and held on tight. We alighted in the courtyard of his home. Oh, oh, I thought. He's really mad at me. No bedroom this time. He 92


released me from his embrace before pacing up and down, frowning and talking to himself in some strange language. "Look, I'm sorry," I said, trying to get his attention. He glared at me for a moment, then he was standing in front of me, cupping my face in his hands, kissing me with a hard passion. I kissed him back, clinging to him, pushing the erection I'd had ever since he'd yelled at me in the bar against his crotch. I pulled his shirt free of his jeans and ran my hands over his rock hard torso. "Marcus, Marcus," I mumbled into his mouth. "I love you, I love you..." We were naked, our clothes torn from us, flung aside by some invisible hand. He knelt before me, taking my near bursting erection between his lips. His hands caressed my butt, pulling me further into his mouth, while his tongue swirled around the head of my pulsing cock. As hard as I tried, I couldn't control the rush of my climax as it tore through me, rocking me to my very core. With a strangled cry, I ejaculated into his mouth. His emerald eyes bored into mine as he sucked me dry, his hand draining the last vestiges of my orgasm over his tongue. I collapsed into his arms, and he held me, kissing my open mouth, letting me taste my own essence. "Now," I whispered, arching my neck and inviting his vampire's kiss. His brow creased with concern. "Are you sure of this, Roger?" "Very, very sure." 93


"Then I will accept your blood, for it is given and taken with love." His lips on my throat sent a shudder of desire mingled with fear through my entire body. I felt his fangs nip at my flesh, tenderly at first, then more forcefully, breaking the skin, letting the blood flow. His mouth closed over the wound, and he lapped at my blood, his tongue tugging at the stream and savouring every drop. I felt his body stiffen in my arms, his hard cock pushing between my thighs. I let my head drop back in ecstasy. Take it all, I thought. Make me yours forever. No, came his gentle reply. Just enough for now. Your sweet blood will sustain me and give me strength. I realised I had read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken aloud to me. He licked the wound, then his lips were again on mine, and this time, I tasted my own blood. He turned me around. His chest pressed against my back and his throbbing cock now pushed between my butt cheeks. I reached behind me and grasped his hard flesh in my hand, guiding it into my eager opening, pushing hard against him, even while I gasped from the pain. He lifted me onto himself, his hands around my chest, teasing my nipples. I hooked my feet and ankles around his muscular thighs, arching my body to give him greater access, and we stood erect, fused together as he slowly pumped his cock so deep inside me I imagined I would taste him when he ejaculated. He shouted my name as the paroxysm of his orgasm overtook him, and it was the sweetest sound I had 94


ever heard in my entire life. Yes, I thought wildly. Now I am yours, and you are mine! I held his vibrant body pressed against my own as he gave himself so willingly to me. I could not remember ever feeling so completely lost in the sensual sensations that overcame me. No one, not even Thomas, had ever made me feel so totally enraptured in the act of love. Now this sweet man had given me his greatest gift. His lifeblood, along with his body. In doing so he had sealed his destiny. His thoughts came to me, claiming me as his own, and how I savoured those words, silently spoken with love and passion. Ah, my beloved Roger. Suddenly, my life has new meaning. The long wait is over... We stood like sculpted statues for a long time, Marcus still supporting me in his arms, as our breathing steadied and we regained our senses. When at last he slipped out of me, and lowered me to the ground, I leaned back against him, taking his hands, rubbing them over my chest and stomach, pushing my rump into his groin, teasing him playfully. "Roger," he whispered in my ear, and I turned in his arms, crushing his lips with mine. He opened his mouth, letting my tongue caress his. Our breath intermingled, the sweet taste of his saliva like an erotic balm. I pressed my face against the solid wall of his chest, listening to his heart beat in unison with my own. I lifted my head and smiled at him, a smile of deep and abiding devotion. He took my hand and walked me to the wall where we could again look down on the sea of lights that is 95


Los Angeles. His arm was about my waist, pulling me closer to him. I shivered in the night cold but was content to stand there with him, basking in the glow of what had just passed between us. He turned to me, locking my eyes with his, his fingertips gently stroking my cheek. "I do believe you love me," he said softly. "Haven't I said so? Can't you read it in my mind?" He nodded, pulled me close, caressed my body, and kissed my face and mouth. I shuddered within his embrace, wanting more, so much more. Wanting to never leave his side, wanting, needing our lives to be inexorably joined forever. "There is danger in what we do," he murmured. "I don't care," I said, pushing myself deeper into his arms. "I love you. I'll face anything with you. Any danger. As long as you love me." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven Marcus was careful in his initiation of me. In my impetuosity, I would have gladly given him all my blood in one fell swoop—or gulp if you like—but he kept saying he wanted me to be sure. I was sure, of course, but I went along with the way he wanted it done. Each night, he would drink a little of my blood, cutting me gently with his incisors, and I experienced a sexual rush that overcame any pain I might have otherwise felt. I clung to him, my cock engorged and hard, my arms and legs entwined around his body while he drank from me. Then, the moment came when, after he had fed from me, he told me I was ready. "For what?" I asked. "To receive my blood." "But I can't bite you," I protested. "I'd make a terrible mess." He laughed lightly and held me close to his chest. "Here, I'll make it easy for you." In his hand, he held a tiny knife with which he cut a slit just over his left nipple. As his blood oozed from the cut, he pressed my lips to it. "Drink from me, Roger, my beloved. Receive this gift I give you with my love." He held my head as I suckled, like a newborn babe, at his chest. His blood flowed over my tongue like sweet wine. 97


After a time, he whispered, "Enough now," and drew his forefinger over the cut, closing it without so much as a visible scar. I lay with my face pressed against his chest, savouring the lingering taste, wondering how and when it would begin to change me. After a few minutes, I looked up into his eyes. "I don't feel anything," I said, in a complaining tone. He smiled down at my petulant expression. "You will, but not in an earth shattering sort of way. There will be subtle changes—each time more noticeable, as you receive more of my blood." "When will that be?" "Soon. Do not be impatient, Roger. You are going to live a very long time. Learn to be patient in all things." I lay back on the comforter and grinned at him. "Easy for you to say—I'm just a newbie at this kind of thing." He leaned over me, tickling my chin with his tongue. "I would love to keep you a newbie always. Never lose that impish smile. No matter what may happen or what you may see, just keep that sweet charm that is innately yours." God, but he said the nicest things to me—things I'd never heard from another man and never would again. Never would I want anyone else to whisper those delights in my ear. He was all I wanted, all I desired and all I lusted for day and night. Those first nights we spent together, I will remember forever. The strengthening of our bond, the ease with which we began to feel truly comfortable with each other, the lovemaking—oh, it became so much more than sex. The 98


closeness we felt, the intimacy we revelled in, the silly things we'd do, the jokes we'd play on one another, the laughter we'd share. He told me amazing stories of his life that seemed almost impossible, until I remembered he'd had more than one lifetime to experience so much. I loved to lie in his arms while he told me of his self-discoveries—when he'd first realised he was stronger than most men, when he'd found he could read thoughts and when he'd discovered he could fly. "It was most amazing, Roger. Something I now take for granted was like a miracle to me at the time—and just when I desperately needed one. You see, I had decided to kill myself—" "What?" I raised my head from his chest and looked at him, startled. "But why?" "After the incident when I'd almost burned to death, I fell into a deep depression. It had become obvious to me that I was no longer mortal. Therefore, I could not live among mortal men. I could not be with my friends. I could not go even home. All these were lost to me, and quite frankly, I felt I could not live without it. All men and women need love and companionship, and I did not want to face a lifetime alone. At that time, I still did not know that I could possibly live forever. If I had, I think my despair would have driven me to madness. "Anyway, one night, I stood on the edge of a high cliff, overlooking the sea, with the intention of throwing myself onto the rocks below. I pulled off the burned rags that had once been a fine linen toga and cast them away. I remember I said a prayer to Mars, the Roman god of war. In the army, 99


he had been my protector, as he was for all soldiers, or so we believed. I asked him to take my soul, if I still had one, and to allow me to be a soldier again in his heavenly army. With that, I launched myself from the edge, closed my eyes and waited for my body to be dashed upon the rocks, ending the pain of desolation I felt each and every day. "Instead, my body lifted and rose, spiralling upwards, soaring over the ocean below. Of course, I was astounded. How could this be? I asked myself over and over. Yet, I revelled in this new source of power as I swooped down towards the waves, skimming the surface of the water, before soaring upwards again. That first time I flew all night until the first glimmer of the sunrise appeared over the horizon." "Wow," I murmured, seeing in my mind's eye Marcus looking like a naked Superman as he flexed his flying muscles. "This of course," he continued, "seemed like the miracle I had prayed for. If I had been given this extraordinary power by the gods, then surely I should not throw my life away so needlessly. I decided then that I would live and take what fate had in store for me." "And I'm very glad you did," I said, sliding my hand down the ridges of his abdomen, until I found that part of him I had become obsessed with—apart from his eyes, his mouth, his chest, his butt—oh, and of course, his mind. I smiled as I felt him harden in my hand. He sighed. "Roger, I am beginning to think that you see me as some sort of sexual plaything. After baring my soul to you, with what I consider to be an astounding event in my 100


life, you merely want to grab my dick. Are you becoming a sex addict?" I ran my tongue over his right nipple then licked my way up to his lips. Smiling into his eyes, I said, "Yes, but only with you." A low, sensuous growl escaped his lips. He flipped me onto my back, showering my face and chest with hot, hot kisses. I writhed beneath him, a sensation of bliss enveloping me as he filled me with his manhood, and I bore down on him, pulling him in deeper. My eyes rolled back in my head. This was better than flying, any day! Sometimes, after our lovemaking, I would lie beside Roger and watch him sleep. The darkness of night makes me restless—it always has. For that is the time of the vampire, the time when we venture abroad, seeking our sustenance. But I loathed to leave Roger's side. To wander the streets or parks no longer seemed a necessary part of my life. Our lives were inescapably bound together, and it was my sworn duty to protect him from those whom I knew would try to tear us apart. The forces of evil were gathering around us, merely waiting for the opportunity to strike. At times, I chastised myself for bringing this danger into his life. Kurt had tried to hurt him, but he was a nonentity compared with what we might someday face. **** An unpleasant surprise, Kurt by name, awaited me at work the following day. I had just come back from lunch, when he 101


sashayed up to my window, a smirk as big as Texas on his stupid face. "So," he sneered at me. "Still seeing Mr. Wonderful by Night?" "What's it to you?" I asked, just as nastily. "Is he giving you the big story about how you're the best lay he's ever had?" "He isn't that crude, Kurt, but if he was comparing you and me, I'd be the winner hands down." His face became an ugly scowl. "Well, you'd better make the most of it," he snarled. "Because from what I hear, he's not going to be around much longer." "What are you talking about?" My voice was steady, but my stomach took a dive. "Oh, someone I've been seeing tells me Marcus has made a lot of enemies over the years. It might be time for some payback, from what I understand." "You're full o' shit," I sneered. "Marcus can look after himself. He's had a lot of practice." "Don't say I didn't warn you," he sing-songed on his way out. I could hardly wait for the rest of my shift to be over, during which, I sent out many a mental warning to Marcus. He'll be all right, I told myself. He can't be taken by surprise. He's always aware of what's going on, even when he's asleep. I knew where he lived and how to get there now, so I decided if he didn't show up at the bank or my apartment, I'd drive up to his place and bang on the door. 102


I needn't have worried. When I pulled up outside my apartment building, he was there, standing on the steps. "Whew! Am I glad to see you," I said, flinging myself into his arms. He laughed and crushed me to him. "Were you worried about me?" "That jerk Kurt came by the bank. Come on in—" "I know." "Jeez, is there anything you don't know?" I asked as I ushered him inside. "Many things," he said, looking around at my modest abode. "But conversations like those, I have a habit of overhearing. I hope you don't mind." "I don't mind. I'm glad your early warning system is so finely tuned." I put my arms around him and nibbled at his earlobe. "What did he mean about you having lots of enemies?" He sighed. "When you have lived as long as I, you are bound to make a few enemies along the way. Actually, I think I have been rather fortunate in that I have many more friends than enemies. I can name only two who may be of danger to me." "Who are they?" I asked, leaning back, so I could see his face as he answered. "The Comte d'Arcy for one, although it has been many years since last we crossed paths. The other is an even older adversary, and one I have not given a thought to in many years. Long ago he and d'Arcy joined forces. They have 103


caused me problems from time to time. Now, it seems they want to do me greater harm." "What?" I exclaimed, leading him to the couch. "But why?" "Because of you, dear Roger." "Me?" I looked at him in horror as we sat down close to each other. "What did I do?" "It's not so much what you did, but rather what I did. I fell in love—something they cannot abide or allow to happen." I gaped at him. "But why? You said d'Arcy had another lover. Why would he care about who or what you have now? And who's this other guy? What did he do to you?" "So many questions." He pulled me into his arms and held me tight. "I have put you in danger, my beloved." "I don't care about that," I cried. "I care about you, only you, and..." I kissed his neck as I continued. "Even more now that you've said you love me." "And perhaps our combined love will help us prevail," he said softly in my ear. "Often, the forces of love are stronger than those of evil." "If either of those guys comes near you," I said fiercely, "they'll be sorry fuckers!" He laughed gently, kissing my lips and caressing my cheek with his fingers. "My brave warrior," he chuckled. "I do believe, that together, we can give them more than they bargained for." "So what's the plan?" "Well, for the present, you are safe here in your apartment. In case you did not notice, I was unable to enter until you invited me in." 104


"You mean that part isn't a myth?" "Exactly. A vampire cannot enter where he has not been invited." Right. That's why he'd been standing on the patio at Mark's place. He had to wait for me to ask him in. "Well, there's no way I'm asking those jerks in here." "However, there is always a way to circumvent that problem—and his name is Kurt." "Kurt! That asshole better not come around here, or I'll pop him one." Marcus chuckled again. "I don't think he'll make the mistake of arriving at your door when you're here, but if he gains access, he can invite d'Arcy in. Then our security is breached." "You mentioned another enemy—an older adversary, you called him. Who is he?" Marcus's expression grew grim, and he rose from the couch, in order to look out of the window. "His name is Gregory. He was a Hungarian monk when we first met, many, many years ago. He blames me for his vampire state, and has vowed to kill me. He thinks I changed him." "And did you?" "No. Believe me, Roger. Nothing could have been further from my mind. I disliked the man at first sight. He was a sanctimonious, miserable human being, without an ounce of joy in his spirit. His fellow monks despised him enough to have him thrown out of the order to which he belonged." "How did you meet him?" 105


"In the monastery where he was lodged." His smile reflected a distant memory. "I have always been a curious man. Religion has fascinated me since my youth. I was not raised a Christian, although Christianity was rampant at the time of my birth. My father believed in the old Roman gods and would not allow Christian teachings in his house. "After I was changed, I disavowed all gods, feeling if they existed then this calamity could never have befallen me. But as the years went by, I matured in my thinking, and seeing the sufferings of man through the ages, I marvelled at how humans could still cling to the basic belief that there was a God, out there somewhere, invisible, unheard, yet somehow governing the fortunes and misfortunes of all men. I felt the need to know more of this God and see if there was a mention of my kind in those tomes stored within the monastery vaults. I have to admit I wanted to discover if I could ever find redemption from this half-life I was bound to." "Oh, Marcus..." My eyes filled with tears at the thought of him so lost and alone. "I wish I could have been there then to bring you comfort." "You have no idea how much I wish that same thing," he said, taking my hand and holding it to his lips. "Perhaps then, we would have been spared." He paused and drew me into his arms. "I am just glad that I found you now." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight It was dark outside, and I was hungry—for food this time. There was so much more I wanted to hear, but I didn't want my rumbling stomach to distract us, so I asked if he'd like me to fix us something to eat. "I have a couple of steaks in the fridge. Would that do?" I figured he might like his rare. "And I have some wine. Not the vintage you provide, but it's not bad." He smiled and nodded. He was really turning out to be the easiest-to-please boyfriend I'd ever had. While the steaks were grilling, I poured some cabernet into my best glasses— I'm enough of a queen to have had some good crystal on hand—and he pretended it was just to his liking. After a minute or two, I pulled the steaks from under the grill. They were rare all right and suddenly looked extremely appetising to me. Me, who preferred everything well done. "Look okay?" I asked him. "Excellent," he said, licking his lips in mock anticipation. I giggled and flipped them onto a couple of plates. "Dinner is served, sir." I gave him a courtly bow, and he smacked my butt. We sat side by side at the table, feeding each other chunks of underdone steak. I'd never been so happy. "Tell me about your friends, Marcus," I said. "Do any of them live here in LA?" "A few ... one in particular I want you to meet. His name is Jean-Claude. I was his mentor for many years." 107


"Oh, yeah?" Mentor, I thought, with a twinge of jealousy. That means they're really close. "Yes, we are. Very close," Marcus said, a smile playing about his lips as he read my mind—darn it. "He was changed only one hundred years ago," he continued, "and had a lot to learn as, like me, he was abandoned after his change." "Is that common amongst vampires?" I asked. "I mean, I would think if you go to all the trouble to change someone, you want them in your life." "No, it is not common. Jean-Claude and I were unfortunate. I, because the man who changed me was a coward, and Jean-Claude because he was taken against his will and grew to hate the one who changed him. That is not unusual. Being changed is a traumatic experience, one that takes you from one life to another, making you leave everything you have ever known behind—forever. Imagine awakening from what you supposed was some kind of nightmare to find it a reality, and no matter how one might try to wish it way, it cannot be undone." "So you helped Jean-Claude through all of this?" He nodded. "He was lonely, lost and very bitter ... For a time I did not think I could save him from himself, but gradually he came to an acceptance of his new life." "Were you lovers?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't notice the strain in my voice. "We loved each other. We still do, but not in a sexual way. He is a very attractive man. He was changed just before his thirtieth birthday, still in his prime, but no, we did not engage in acts of love." He tapped the tip of my nose with his 108


forefinger, and grinned at me. "So take that jealous glint from your eyes." "Sorry," I muttered, grabbing his hand and holding it tight. I brushed his knuckles lightly with my lips. "I'm being obnoxious." He smiled into my eyes, a smile guaranteed to melt my heart. "When you meet Jean-Claude, you will love him too." **** "So about this creep, Gregory," I prompted, after I'd cleared the table and we sat back down on the couch. "He was one of the Brothers in the monastery I joined for a short time." He sipped his wine, without a grimace, so I figured he was getting used to it. "I had by this time, adapted to many of the ways of humans. The discipline and the solitary monastic life benefited me enormously. Very few monks approached me. No one spoke except at meal times from which I absented myself. Only the Father Superior knew my true identity, and he was eager for me to find the path to redemption and allowed me to stay within the monastery walls, on the strict promise that I would not bite the necks of any of the Brothers. "This promise I adhered to, finding my sustenance elsewhere. I threw myself into my studies, pouring over the volumes the Father put at my disposal. For months, I searched for the answers I needed, but I found nothing. You see, Roger, I just could not find it in me to believe what I was reading. To me, the texts were awash with superstitions gleaned from every religion that had gone before. I rapidly 109


became disillusioned, even though the good Father gave me daily encouragement. "Then disaster struck. Not immediately, for it came in the guise of Andrew, a gentle young man to whom I felt an enormous attraction. It was obvious from the start that he felt it too, and before long, he was in my cell and we were making love most every night. I hid my vampirism from him—he had not guessed my true nature, thinking that the sexual heights to which I raised him were partly his doing." He paused. "I'm sorry, did that sound very conceited?" I nodded. "Yes." Then I grinned at him. "But, as one who has been raised to those heights, I'll forgive you." He kissed me gently on the chin, and shot me that amazing smile of his. "Don't do that," I warned him, "or we'll never get to the end of this story." "Mmm," he murmured. "Something to look forward to. Anyway, Brother Gregory had been spying on us and had informed the Father of our liaisons. The Father had no choice but to throw us out of the order, but I begged him to give my young lover another chance. This he did, and I took my leave of the brotherhood the very next day. I retreated to Naples where I had a villa and for a time forgot about redemption, Christianity and all things religious. I fell in with a group of vampires who lived only for enjoyment. After the harsh monastic life, this seemed the perfect antidote, and I indulged in all the pleasures put before me. There are some things for which, upon reflection, I feel shame and embarrassment, and I would rather not talk of them, if you don't mind. I would not want you to think less of me." 110


"Nothing would make me think less of you, Marcus," I assured him "But if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." "I thank you for that," he said sincerely. "It was as though I had lost my senses for a time, and indeed, it is a miracle that I survived this period of my life. I became careless with whom I spent my time, but even more dangerous was where I spent it. I did not confine my socialising to the vampire circle but took to going out to places frequented only by humans—taverns, bars, and gatherings at private residences—that sort of thing. "It was at one of the latter that I saw him, Brother Gregory, large as life and just as obnoxious as ever. Why he was a guest at this particular party, I never did find out, but if anyone was a fish out of water, it was him. When I arrived, the owner of the house, a young nobleman of great charm and beauty was in a corner being berated by Gregory, probably for indulging in such gaiety. On seeing me, my host rushed forward, relief plainly written on his face. He grabbed me, dragged me to the other end of the large salon and begged me to rid him of this nuisance. Gregory, meanwhile had attached himself to a group of young men, all of whom I noticed with some amusement drifted away rather quickly, one by one. "My host pushed me towards him, and so, reluctantly, I hailed the monk as cordially as I could. If he was surprised to see me, he did not show it but shook my proffered hand and enquired after my health. I stood there, pretending to be interested in our conversation, until he said, 'By the way, 111


your little friend, Andrew, met with a terrible accident after you left us.' "Trying not to show too much emotion, I asked what had happened. 'He was found raped and beaten,' he said. I did not miss the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he added, 'And was struck mute from the shock.' I knew then and there that he had perpetrated that dreadful deed. "An almost uncontrollable rage seized me at that moment. It took all of my vampire discipline to resist seizing him by the throat and ripping him to pieces. But instead, I formulated a much more brutal revenge. I invited him to accompany me to another party—one, I told him, much more suited to his taste. The fool agreed, and I led him into the most notorious vampire lair in the city—and left him there, alone and defenceless." "Jesus..." I stared at Marcus with big eyes. "I felt no remorse. Nor do I to this day. What he did was monstrous and his punishment was appropriate. He raped and beat a young, gentle, defenceless boy. I simply gave him a dose of his own medicine." I couldn't really argue with that, but it showed me a side of Marcus I had not anticipated. While he was nothing but warm and loving to me, I had just been reminded that he could very well be a lethal enemy—cold and unfeeling—when wronged. He must have seen this on my face or read my mind, for suddenly, he moved closer to me and took my hand in his. "Don't ever be afraid of me, Roger," he said, his face full of concern. "I have sworn to you, I will never harm you. I will only protect you. You do believe that, don't you?" 112


I nodded. "Yes, I believe you, Marcus. It was just my over active imagination visualising what he must gone through." "It was worse than you could ever imagine. Three days later, I went back to see what was left of him." The room was dark and still, save for the whimpering that came to my ears from a far corner by the fireplace. There, crouched in a huddled mass, was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen in my entire life. It was as though his body had been turned inside out. Instead of skin, veins and capillaries crisscrossed his bloated flesh like a putrefied web. Great pustules and open sores covered his body. His face, when he turned it to me, had dissolved into a mask of almost molten flesh, from which two tiny eyes, devoid of lids or lashes, glared with hatred at my shocked expression. "You did this to me," he said, his voice thick with the drool that escaped his lips and puddled on the floor. "Have you any conception of the hell you brought me to? How am I to live like this? What will become of me? Oh dear God, help me." I could not find it in my heart to feel even fleeting compassion for him. He had been a monster in his mortal life. Now he looked the part. "All will shun you," I told him, my voice cold and unfeeling. "And you will have many years in which to reflect upon what you did to a young and trusting boy. The God you cried to for help has renounced you, Gregory. He will not come to your aid." What was left of his lips pulled back, baring his fangs in a terrible parody of a smile. "I will live to see you dead, 113


Marcus," he snarled. "At my own hands, when I am strong enough." I left him lying in his own filth. Andrew had been avenged. "He had been changed, not once, not just twice, but over and over, until he became the monster he had always been inside. One of the vampires told me—well, perhaps it is better you do not know all that they did to him. Suffice to say, he became grotesque, unfit to be seen by mortal eyes, and was condemned to lurk forever in the shadows of night." I shivered involuntarily. "And he's out there somewhere?" I asked, shakily. "I'm afraid so." "But you haven't seen either of these guys for years and years, right? They've left you alone all this time. How do you know they're even still around? Maybe Kurt was just blowin' smoke up my ass, trying to rain on my parade." "Despite your quaint turns of phrase, Roger, I believe the danger to be real. But I will not let any harm come to you. I will deal with this." Oh, no. I didn't like the sound of that. "Marcus, please ... why don't we just take off for a while until they get over whatever's got up their noses? I could take time off from the bank. We could fly off to one of your villas in London or Rome or—" He silenced me with a finger on my lips. "I do not run. Ever," he said, a glint of battle in his eye. Of course, he wouldn't. He'd been a Roman warrior, for crying out loud, and God knows what else in all the centuries he'd been alive. Just because I was scared shitless at the prospect of two undead 114


monsters crawling over my windowsill in the middle of the night, he wasn't going to cut and run. Okay, if my apartment was where we were safe for the night, I was going to make darned sure we both had the time of our lives. "Did I ever tell you," I asked, attempting to make my voice sexy and husky, "that macho men are a total turn on for me?" I slipped my hands under his shirt, squirming with delight at the feel of his smooth, silky skin. "No, I don't think you ever did tell me that," he replied. His voice was definitely sexy and husky, without even trying. He began to unbuckle my belt, reaching inside my fly and squeezing my already hard cock. "Mmm, but I love the effect it has on you." Those were the last words we said to each other for quite a while, as our mouths became busy doing other things. His mouth was a thing of wonder to me. His lips, so full and soft, so perfectly shaped, were by themselves, enough to inflame me with lust. I always wanted to feel them on mine, either pressing gently in long sweet kisses or taking me with unsurpassed passion. I curled my arm around his neck, pulling those luscious lips closer and flicking at them with the point of my tongue. I gasped as he caught my tongue between his teeth then sucked it slowly into his mouth, his lips closing about mine, making me a willing prisoner of our mutual desire. His arms encircled me, pulling me into an embrace that was at once tender and yet demanding. A sensual growl escaped his lips, sending rivers of goose bumps over my bare 115


skin. I clung to him, completely giving myself over to his sheer masculine power. Do anything you want with me, I thought. I am yours and always will be. All I want is your love, was the reply that came to my mind like a soft, sweet murmur in my ear. Later, as we lay contented in each other's arms, he murmured, "Sleep now. This is my time of wakefulness. I will watch over you and keep you safe." Just who hasn't wanted to hear those loving words whispered in his ear? With a feeling of utter happiness, I snuggled into his arms and closed my eyes, almost instantly falling into a deep sleep. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine I awoke to a thunderous knocking at my door. "Who the hell?" I mumbled, rolling out of bed and stumbling, bleary-eyed across my bedroom. As I stepped into the hall, the knocking became even louder. "I'm coming," I yelled. "Keep your hair on!" Totally pissed off, I swung the door open and gaped in horror at what stood glaring back at me. Kurt, his face a mask of hatred, leered at me, baring teeth long and as sharp teeth. Beside him stood a tall, sliver-haired man, who at any other time, I'm sure I would have described as handsome. Right then, however, his face was filled with an animal hatred that sent shivers of shock through me. But it was the other ... thing that totally freaked me out. Huge, misshapen, bulbous, grotesque—fucking ugly—was all I could see. And believe me, I didn't want to see any of it. It pushed the others aside and stepped towards me, its breath rancid upon my face. As it reached for me, its overpowering stench filled my nostrils. I screamed and screamed. "Roger ... Roger!" From out of the darkness, hands held me, arms enfolded me, and I struggled with all my might to free myself. "No!" I shrieked. "You can't come in!"

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Instantly, the room was flooded with light. I was still in bed. Strong arms held me. Warm lips were pressed to my neck. "Roger. It's me. Marcus. You were dreaming. You're all right now. I'm here." I collapsed into his embrace. "Oh thank God," I whispered, hugging him to me. "They were all outside my door, waiting for me." "It was just a dream. They cannot harm you here." He smoothed back the hair from my brow and kissed me tenderly. "I'm sorry, so sorry that I have brought this terror into your life." "It's okay," I gulped, holding him tight. "I've had nightmares before. My mom always said I had an overactive imagination. It was just that ... thing that was there. Jesus, I don't know how I could've dreamed up something so hellish." Marcus was quiet for a moment, thinking, then he said, "D'Arcy may have managed to imprint images in your mind. He is very powerful. I have no doubt he is going to try to use you to get to me. He sees you as my weakness." He smiled and kissed my cheek. "He obviously does not know you very well, yet." "Kurt was there too, but he looked ... different." "If they have really reached Kurt, then there is nothing we can do for him." "But it was just a dream," I reminded him. "That's what you said, remember?" I could tell from the way he tightened his arms around me he knew it was much more than that. He was just trying to 118


calm me down. "Kurt could be a big help to them, couldn't he?" I asked. "Yes," he replied. "I'm afraid so. Young Kurt is filled with the need for revenge. He's the perfect target for d'Arcy's mind manipulation." "So, what do we do now?" "You will do nothing except what you would normally do in the daytime—go to work. The Comte cannot wander the streets of Los Angeles in the daylight. He has never conquered the effects of sunlight on his body. Besides, Gregory cannot be in Los Angeles. He cannot fly, and even if he could, his appearance makes him useless in the light—any kind of light. He would clear a room in two seconds flat." We chuckled together at that, and I glanced at my watch. Almost six. "It's time for me to shower and get ready for work, if that's what you want me to do." My hand strayed to his crotch, stroking the warm flesh I found there. I smiled slyly at him as I felt him harden under my touch. "You are incorrigible," he murmured, kissing me. "Time for a quickie?" I teased him "I hate quickies," he said, his smile full of mischief. "Remember, I can make time stand still." "Oh boy," I cooed, rolling him onto his back and planting a wet one on his lips. I don't know if time stood still or not. I was way too busy to notice. **** Banking can be downright boring at times, and after the events of the past few days, I just couldn't concentrate on the 119


humdrum pain-in-the-ass job I'd been stuck with for the past two years. I kept thinking about Marcus, alone in my apartment, hopefully catching up on his sleep. I knew vampires slept in the daytime, but I also knew his mind would be on hyper-drive, trying to work out some way of getting us out of the mess we'd found ourselves in. I've always had a tendency to blame myself when things go wrong. Like when Mark and I split up, I was racked with feelings of inadequacy. What had I done wrong? Hadn't I done enough? That kind of thing. Now, Marcus was in danger because of me. Granted, I hadn't asked him to fall in love with me, although I was very happy that he had, but now, because of that, Ugly and Uglier were after him ... and me. I glanced out the glass exit doors, and my heart jumped into my mouth. Kurt the Bitch was standing outside, talking to my best friend, Mark. "Oh no," I muttered, leaving my post and dashing to the doors, one of which I yanked open so hard, it struck the tiled wall with a mighty crash. Both Kurt and Mark jumped, startled by my overly dramatic appearance. "Mark," I yelled. "What're you doing?" "Wow." He gave me a dumb smile. "You took my advice— getting all butch on us." "Why are talkin' to this guy?" I shouted, jerking a thumb at Kurt, who was giving me that old smirk again. "Stay away from my friends," I yelled at him, stepping towards him. "Roger, for goodness sake, what's wrong with you?" Mark looked at me as if I was demented, which at that moment I 120


was. "Kurt and I were just shooting the breeze while I waited for you. We're having lunch, remember?" I didn't remember. Jeez, I thought, if it doesn't directly concern Marcus, I don't remember anything. "Well," I said. "Fine. Come on in and wait for me. Don't hang around out here with ... with ... him." I pulled Mark inside the bank and slammed the door in Kurt's grinning face. God, but I hated that guy. "Roger?" Mark looked at me with concern. "What's wrong with you?" "Nothing. How'd you know that guy?" I asked accusingly. "I don't know him. He was standing outside and said 'hi'. I thought he looked nice, so I said 'hi' back, then we started talking. That's all." He peered at me. "How do you know him?" "Goin' to lunch," I yelled at one of my fellow tellers then grabbed Mark's arm and marched him out the door. Kurt had gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I still didn't like the fact that he'd been hanging around. I liked it even less that he'd struck up a conversation with my best friend. "Okay," I said, as Mark and I headed for our favourite Mexican diner. "That guy, Kurt, is a creep. He gave me a bad time at the gym the other day over the fact that I'm dating Marcus." "So, how's it goin' with you and Marcus?" "Great, but there's a problem." "The one I just met?" "Yeah." This is all Mark needed to know, really. I mean, how could I tell him the man I loved was a vampire and the 121


guy he'd just been talking to outside the bank was probably in league with a monster out to kill Marcus and me? I almost laughed out loud, as I imagined the expression on Mark's face if I'd told him all of that. "Yeah," I said, again. "He's being a real bitch about it. We got into a fight in the gym." "Wow." I could tell Mark was impressed. "Well, from what I remember, Marcus is a hottie. When do I get to meet him properly?" We had reached the La Rosa diner. I played for time, opening the door for Mark then pretending to look at the specials board I knew by heart. "So, what'd you do over the weekend?" I asked him. He raised an eyebrow. "You mean apart from your party?" "Right ... yeah ... I meant on Sunday. What'd you do Sunday?" "I talked to you Sunday, Roger. Just what is wrong with you?" he asked as we sat at our table by the window. "You're acting weird. Is it really just that Kurt guy?" "Okay," I said, with a sigh. "You should be the first to know, anyway. Mark, I am totally, totally in love with Marcus. It's just the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, Mark. I am just so ... happy." "Roger..." Mark rolled his eyes. "You met this guy on Saturday—less than a week ago—how can you possibly say you are in love with him? You, of all people." "What does, you of all people, mean?" I asked, bristling. "It took you three months to agree to go out with me, and you told me your previous boyfriend practically had to set off 122


firebombs in front of you to get you to notice him. You don't do spontaneous, Roger." "Well, this time it's different. He's different." And how, I thought. "Well, okay." Mark looked at me carefully. "I have to admit there's something different about you—a sort of glow." "It's love, Mark," I said dreamily, winking at him. If he only knew. "If you say so." He beamed as Carlos, his favourite waiter, zoomed up to our table. "Hi, Carlos," he said, flirting mightily. "I'll have the usual." **** Marcus was awake and waiting for me when I returned to the apartment around five-thirty. After we had kissed for several minutes, I related the incident involving Kurt. "I think I may have to take care of young Kurt," he said, frowning. "You don't mean..." "Nothing too drastic." He smiled at my apprehension. "A little hypnotic suggestion, perhaps, to cleanse his mind of his hostility towards you." "Can you do it from here?" I asked, not wanting him to go anywhere near darling Kurt. He chuckled. "I'm afraid not, but it should be relatively easy if d'Arcy hasn't got to him. From what you've told me of your confrontation today, I'd say he had not. He would have been a deal more antagonistic were he under d'Arcy's control." 123


"But Marcus, in my dream, Kurt was there with those ... those other two ... and you said d'Arcy could have somehow imprinted images in my mind. If that's so, then you could be in danger, getting too close to Kurt." "Look, Roger." He studied my concerned expression for a moment or so, then he put his hands on my shoulders and gripped them tightly. "As charming as your apartment is, we cannot stay here forever. Someone must make the first move, and it would serve us well, if we knew exactly where we stood with Kurt. If he is indeed d'Arcy's acolyte, then we should be aware of that fact and be prepared for any move he might make against us—you, in particular. Forewarned is forearmed, the Bard said, and he was right." "But—" "No buts, Roger." His hands slipped down and covered my buns. "Except your butt, of course." He smiled at his own joke, but I was getting scared. He was planning something I wasn't going to like. "I'm going to find Kurt now." I knew it! "And I shall ascertain his mental state. If he is free of d'Arcy's control, I shall ensure he stays that way. If he is not, then I shall take other measures." "Oh, Jeez," I groaned, laying my head on his chest. "Take me with you, please." "Absolutely not. I told you, I would never deliberately put you in harm's way. When I have discovered what it is we need to know, I shall return for you. Until then, please do not 124


answer your door or go out." Tucking a finger under my chin, he raised my lips to his and kissed me sweetly. "Promise?" I nodded. "Promise." What was the use of arguing? He could override anything I said or did. As I mulled that thought over in my mind, part of me felt resentment. "Do not hate me for this," he said. God, would I ever get used to him reading my mind? "I don't hate you. I love you," I mumbled into his neck. "I'm just scared for you, that's all." "All will be well. If I sense any danger and deem it too powerful for me to combat, I will not try—this time. If Kurt is in league with them, we will need a solid strategy." A solid strategy. I liked that phrase. He chuckled, reading my mind, of course. "Close your eyes, Roger." I did, and when I opened them, he was gone. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten I stayed in the apartment, fretting, worrying, and driving myself crazy wondering just what was going on. I made a sandwich, fixed myself a martini, watched television and jumped up and down from the couch a million times. "Argh!" I finally yelled unable to bear it another minute. That's when it happened—the knock on my door. Holy crap. Don't answer the door, Marcus had said. "I won't," I said aloud, as if he were there. "Roger? Are you home?" It was Mark. Sighing with relief, I yelled. "Be there in a minute!" I threw the remains of my sandwich in the trash, turned off the TV then opened the door. The moment I saw him, I knew I'd made a big mistake. "Oh, Jesus," I whispered. "Mark..." They've got to him somehow, I thought, and changed him. Tears stung my eyes as I gazed at my best friend, his face pale and hard, his eyes cold and definitely not friendly. "Let me in, Roger." Even his voice had changed. His tone was icy and touched with anger. Of course, he couldn't just sashay in to my apartment, now that he was a vampire. He had to be invited—and he most certainly wasn't getting an invitation from me! "Go away," I said.

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"Roger..." His voice took on a whiny tone. "I need your help. They said to come to you, and you'd help me—you and Marcus. Won't you help me?" Oh God, I thought. I'm responsible for this. This was all my fault. "I'm so sorry," I quavered. "But I can't let you in. Please go away." "Go where?" he snarled at me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to launch himself at me. His face contorted with anger. "Look at me, Roger! You did this. This is all your fault. Yours and that creature of the night you think is in love with you. Well, he's just using you like he's used everyone before you." "Mark, you don't know what you're saying." "You don't know what you're doing," he sneered, spitefully. "They told me all about him. How he uses stupid, gullible young men to get what he wants—a mortal who can take him into people's homes where he intends to slaughter them and drink them dry! That's what he wants you for, Roger—nothing else! You poor fool." "Stop it," I yelled. "I won't listen to this." "You must listen." His voice became gentler. "You're my best friend. I love you. You know that, don't you? I've come to save you from him. Once you're of no more use, he'll dispose of you, like he got rid of the others." "What others?" "Others." "You're lying, Mark," I snapped at him. "You're not really Mark, anyway. Go away!" 127


"Where can I go now?" he whined. "You have to let me in!" "No, he does not." The voice came from someone I couldn't see, but I knew it was Marcus. Mark's head whipped round, his eyes peering down the hall, but Marcus was right behind him, his hands on either side of Mark's head, holding him in a vice like grip. Mark screamed, an unearthly sound that was cut off as Marcus bundled him into my living room, slamming the door shut behind him. Mark kicked and struggled like a maniac within Marcus's grasp, but he was no match for Marcus's greater strength. I watched with a kind of fascinated horror as blood began to stream from Mark's eyes, his nose, and his mouth. "You're killing him," I yelled, pulling at Marcus's arms. Next thing I knew I was on my ass on the other side of the room. "Ouch," I groaned, rubbing my rump and trying to stand. "Stay over there," Marcus commanded, steering Mark into the bathroom. "Don't try to interfere. I am saving his life." I listened to Mark throwing up what must have felt like every vestige of his being into my commode. I didn't dare go anywhere near. I just hoped that Marcus knew what he was doing. After what seemed an eternity, I peeked in. Mark was sitting on the commode, his face cupped in Marcus's hands, a kind of adoration in his eyes. Marcus was talking to him in a low, gentle voice. I stepped back, feeling a tug of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. Stop that, I told myself. He's helping Mark through this, that's all. 128


A few moments later, Marcus appeared in the doorway, carrying an unconscious Mark in his arms. "He needs to rest now," he said, laying my buddy on the couch. "Will he be all right?" I asked, gazing at Mark's pallid complexion. "Eventually. He was not changed. As I told you, that takes some time to complete. Whoever did this to him—d'Arcy probably—drank some of his blood and placed him under a hypnotic trance. Your friend believed himself to be a vampire." "Enough to come here to do me in," I said. "Under instructions to do so. He had no will of his own. Nor will he have any memory of it. I have seen to that." "You mean he won't know about you, even after all that happened in here?" "No. In the morning, you will tell him he came here, very drunk. You put him to bed, rather than let him go home in that state. He will believe every word you say. I would advise that he not go to work tomorrow. He will not feel very well." I sat on the couch and took Mark's hand in mine. "This is all my fault," I moaned. "I put his life in danger today, and I will never forgive myself for it." "That seems to be one of your more peculiar traits," Marcus said, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Excuse me?" I lifted my head and glared at him. He met my glare with a cool eye. "You tend to blame yourself for a great many things over which you have no control." 129


"But I had control over this," I blurted. "I could've ... could've..." "You could have rejected my advances and not allowed me to fall in love with you. That is how you could have controlled this," he said gently. "That would have been the only way." I sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch's soft pillows. "You're right," I told him. "Everything, from the moment I met you, has been spinning out of control." "Roger..." He came and knelt at my feet, his emerald eyes filled with remorse. "If all this is too painful for you, I can end it right now." "What?" I gaped at him. "How?" "Listen to me carefully before saying anything." He took both my hands in his. "I know that all of this..." He lowered his voice to a gentle murmur. "...Our meeting, our love making, the danger that now surrounds you—all of these things may have become overpowering, and perhaps you now wish to relinquish them. Believe me, I will understand if you do. Just say the word. I will use my powers of hypnosis, just as I did for Mark. You would forget ever having met me." "Don't you dare!" I roared, springing to my feet, nearly knocking him over. He jumped up, looking a little surprised at my reaction. I stood, panting slightly, glaring at him, and then, I did the unthinkable. I smacked him. A good hard smack on his chest. "How could you even suggest such a thing?" I raged at him. "Do I mean so little to you? After all your oh so fucking eloquent words of love and devotion, this is how it would end? You would erase yourself from my mind? I don't think so, buster!" 130


His great shout of laughter incensed me even more. I opened my mouth to yell some more, but found myself captured in his strong arms, his tongue invading my mouth. I melted into his arms, unable to resist him or stay mad for one second longer. I practically climbed over him, wrapping my legs round his waist, my arms round his neck, crushing him to me, desperate to never let him go. He carried me into the bedroom with me clinging to him as though my life depended on it, covering his face and neck with wet kisses. He laid me on the bed, lying over me, gazing into my eyes with a kind of surprised tenderness. I guess he hadn't expected such a strong reaction to his proposal that he make me forget all about him. Right then, I couldn't imagine anything worse than that. I would rather be chased down a dark alley by the hounds of hell than lose him now. "The hounds of hell?" he murmured against my lips. "You do have an overactive imagination." "Stop reading my mind," I managed to mumble into his mouth. "You might hear things you shouldn't." "My beloved Roger," he whispered. "You and I will have no secrets from one another." His teeth nipped at my throat, and I stretched my neck to give him greater access. It hurt just a little, but the overpowering sexual rush I felt as he took my blood made the pain fade away. I pushed against his lips and tongue as he sucked, willing him to take it all, but again he pulled back. "Not yet," he whispered, cutting himself then pressing my lips to the wound that flowed with his rich, powerful blood. 131


"Oh, my God," I gasped when he pulled away from me and, once more, healed the cut with a stroke of his finger. "That was incredible, Marcus." He bent his head to mine, filling my mouth with his tongue, mingling the combined taste of our blood. I clung to him, my hand grasping his rock hard erection, guiding it to where I longed for it to be. I had just enough presence of mind to reach for the lube on my nightstand. I coated his cock with it then let him drive it deep inside me. My overpowering need for him made me forget, for the moment, his size, but I gritted my teeth against the initial pain and pushed back against his Herculean thrusts, wanting to give him the fuck of his long, long lifetime. And I did. We lay on my bed, our arms and legs still intertwined, my head on his chest, when I remembered why he'd gone out in the first place. Wow. All that had happened subsequently had made me totally forget about Kurt. "You didn't tell me what happened with Kurt," I said, propping myself up on my elbow. "Did you find him?" "Oh yes, I found him all right. He won't be troubling us again." What did that mean? "Uh ... what did you do ... to him, exactly?" He looked up at me, his expression grave and solemn. "Do you really want to know?" I swallowed, hard. "You didn't ... kill him, did you?" "Worse than that, I'm afraid." 132


What the hell could be worse than being killed? "Worse?" I asked, my voice decidedly shaky. He chuckled and pulled me down on top of him, tickling my sides until I screamed for mercy. "I was teasing you, Roger," he laughed. "Of course, I didn't harm him. Even someone as nasty as Kurt deserves a second chance. Let us just say he has seen the error of his ways and will, from now on, be the perfect young gentleman." "How on earth could you do that?" He raised an eyebrow and gave me a reproving look. "You doubt that I could?" "No, no. I don't doubt you can do most anything you want," I said quickly, making him smile. "Hypnosis, right?" "Right. I also implanted in his mind, an aversion to anything vampiric. From now on, he will have no interest in me, whatsoever." "Poor Kurt," I snickered. "So, d'Arcy hadn't really gotten to him?" "The Comte knew of my affiliation with Kurt. He had courted him but in the process discovered there was someone else very close to you. Kurt admitted to me that he had led your friend Mark to d'Arcy. It seems d'Arcy felt Mark had a much better opportunity of reaching you than Kurt ever would." "He was right about that, I guess." Mark! "Oh, Jeez," I said, jumping off the bed and dragging on my shorts. "Mark's been in the next room all the time we've been ... you know ... He probably heard everything we've been doing." 133


"I told you he will remember none of this. He is still asleep." "How do you know?" He rolled his eyes then fell back on the bed with a heavy sigh "How do I know?" "Sorry," I muttered. "I'll just check in on him, though." He was right, of course. Mark was sleeping like a baby and looking a lot better than he had earlier. With a grateful sigh, I retraced my steps to the bedroom. The bed was empty. "Marcus?" I'll be back. As clear as a bell, those words resounded in my head, complete with our governor Arnold's heavy accent. No doubt about it. My vampire had a sense of humour. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eleven He didn't come back that night, and of course, I fretted and worried, then ended up pissed off that he'd gone in the first place. Where had he gone and why? Oh, I knew he could take care of himself, but the odds of two against one worried me nevertheless. "Damn," I muttered, aloud, pacing about the living room, knowing I couldn't leave the apartment with Mark still asleep on the couch. I couldn't leave him alone, and besides, where would I go? I hadn't a clue as to where to start looking. All I could do was hope that he was staying well clear of those other two. Around eleven, I figured I was spending the night alone— apart from Mark. He had tossed off the coverlet I had spread over him earlier and was muttering something unintelligible in his sleep. I hoped he wasn't having the same kind of nightmares I'd had the previous night. I worried what this experience might do to his psyche. Marcus had said he'd remember nothing, but I wondered about that. Sometimes, memories can lie repressed in the human mind for ages until some catalyst brings them back. Maybe he wouldn't remember anything when he woke up but as time went by... Trying to put those pesky thoughts from my mind, I went to bed and lay there, worrying about my vampire lover and filled with nagging doubts about our future together. When I was with him, I didn't have these doubts. His mere presence filled me with so much love and confidence in the outcome of 135


our relationship there was no room in my overawed brain for doubts. I was nuts about him, plain and simple. Anything he wanted from me, he would get without reservation. I only hoped I was enough. Roger! Oops, that did it. The voice in my head sounded just a tad pissed. I really should know better by this time. Sorry, Marcus. You should be. Haven't I told you, over and over, what you mean to me? Where are you? I asked, hoping to change the subject. Besides, I really wanted to know. Go to sleep. That's where I'll be. Marcus, how can we do this now? I mean, my being able to hear your voice in my head. Is it because I drank your blood? So many questions, Roger. You will know the answers soon enough. Now, go to sleep and dream of me. And I did. It was a perfect dream. No monsters clamouring at my door for entry. Just Marcus and I alone in his magnificent home, rolling about on silken sheets, making love for the longest and most exquisite time, revelling in the feel and taste of one another. Never wake me from this dream, I thought as I lay stretched out wantonly beneath his hard muscled body while his soft lips traced a magical path over my torso, inflaming me with white-hot desire. I reached up, cupping his face in my hands, pulling him closer so I could feel those soft, full lips on mine. Their touch 136


made me writhe sensually beneath him. I wrapped my legs around his slim hips, and as I pulled him inside me, we floated away on a silken coverlet. There are dreams and then there are dreams like this one. This one I wanted to take with me every night I was without him. Somehow, he must have entered my mind to make this so perfect. It was almost as good as having him there in person. Almost. All wonderful dreams must end, of course, no matter how hard we try to cling to them, willing them back into our senses to no avail. The alarm clock, that most shitty of all of man's inventions, buzzed loudly in my ear, reminding me that another day at the bank had arrived. "Crap," I muttered grumpily. I rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and staggered into the living room. Mark was in the kitchen, making coffee, and looking as bad as Marcus had said he'd feel. He glared at me. "What the hell did we do last night?" he demanded, hands on hips, his voice thick and sluggish. "I didn't do anything," I said primly, playing Marcus's game. "You showed up here drunk as a skunk and just as smelly." "How rude!" He checked under his armpits. "Spring-like," he said with some satisfaction. "So, you weren't with me?" "Uh uh." "Damn. I don't remember a thing." "I'm not surprised. I haven't seen you like that. Ever," I said with total conviction. "Coffee ready?" 137


"Mmm ... Well, I feel like shit in case you wondered." He paused, then looked at me in a panic. "Was your new boyfriend here? Did he see me like ... that?" I nodded. "He was shocked," I said, with a straight face. "Said he couldn't associate with me if I cultivated friends like that." Mark grunted. "He talks that prissy way? You're better off without him..." "Excuse me," I said, affronted. "He is extremely well educated." I swept past him and poured myself a cup of coffee. "Besides, I was kidding. He felt really bad for you." "So where is he?" "I'm right here." And there he was, strolling out of the bedroom, hair suitably tousled, wearing my only other pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips and looking earth shatteringly gorgeous. "Hello, Mark. Nice to see you on your feet again." Mark gaped, literally, his mouth hanging open, hand reaching for the countertop to steady himself. His eyes drank in every inch of Marcus's fabulous physique, lingering for just a tad too long on the tantalising bulge, displayed to wondrous effect by the thin cotton fleece. "I think I'm going to swoon," he said. "Either that or die from an overdose of jealousy." He quivered, really quivered, as Marcus took his hand and shook it solemnly. I, meanwhile, grinned with happiness. My man was back. "Did you doubt it, even for a moment?" Marcus asked, kissing my cheek. "No. I'm just happy to see you." 138


"I can tell," he murmured, his hand surreptitiously brushing my crotch out of Mark's sight. "Well," Mark said, loudly. "I'd better hit the road. Work and all that, y'know." "D'you feel up to it?" I asked. "Of course," he replied airily. "Takes more than a few Bloody Marys to stop me appearing before my public." Mark worked in a shoe store. He paused, a puzzled look on his face. "Why'd I say that? I hate Bloody Marys." "Maybe you switched last night," I suggested. He shook his head, as if trying to remember. "Hmm, well, gotta go. Lovely meeting you, Marcus. You're everything Roger said you were. And a good deal more," he added under his breath but loud enough for us both to hear. I saw him to the door and hugged him tight. "I'm glad you're feeling better," I said, holding him close. He hugged me back. "Thanks for looking after me. I promise I won't do anything like that again." He kissed me gently. "You're a lucky boy. He's terrific." "I know. Bye, Mark. Please be careful today." We waved our goodbyes, then I ran back into the living room and jumped into my lover's arms. "Oh, it's so good to see you," I cried, burying my face in his neck. "I was so worried. Where were you?" Where was I, indeed? Thousands of miles from where I truly wanted to be—lying next to you, sweet Roger, holding you in my arms and making love to you all through the night. Instead, I went to face the two who threaten our happiness. The Comte d'Arcy was surprised to see me for I had blocked 139


all knowledge of my imminent arrival from his mind. Of course, I did not have to defend myself against Gregory, his mind being dull and slow. I think d'Arcy was quite shaken at my sudden appearance in the garden of his villa. I could not enter—he had long ago revoked any invitation—but he met me outside, standing well away from me on the steps of the portico. He knows the strength of my powers and is not willing to challenge me without a great deal of preparation. The Comte is cunning, however, and I would be foolish to ever underestimate him. "You placed the lives of two young men in jeopardy tonight," I told him. "I should warn you that I find your actions unacceptable. Your quarrel is with me and no one else. You will leave Roger and his friends alone." "Or what?" d'Arcy sneered. "The mere fact that you keep your distance from me is your own answer," I replied. "You know my powers are greater than yours, and I will not hesitate to use them should you persist on meddling in my life." "Well, now..." d'Arcy seemed to consider what I had said for a moment. "Perhaps we can come to some understanding." "That is why I am here." Marcus held me for a long time, saying nothing. When he released me, I could tell by the look on his face that he'd been somewhere unpleasant. "I went to visit my old friends in their lair, last night." He stroked my cheek gently as he spoke. "To see if I could talk some reason into their twisted minds. I reminded them what 140


they had vowed so many years ago could now be undone. What difference did it make to them with whom I spent eternity? Would my happiness really cause them so much pain? Why this need for senseless revenge, when in fact, all that had befallen them was of their own doing? "Gregory, of course, in his mindless way, would hear nothing of it, but d'Arcy seemed inclined to consider withdrawing his vow to destroy me, if I met with certain conditions." I didn't like the sound of that, at all. "What conditions?" I asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. "First, that I would give up all my earthly possessions and hand everything over to them for their use. My villas, town homes and estates that are scattered around the world. Secondly, that I would pay obeisance to them in all things. And thirdly, that I would give you to them. And so I agreed—" "What?" I yelped, my eyes searching his face for a sign that he was joking again. "To the first two conditions only," he continued. "The third, I told them, was an impossible demand. After all, you are not mine to give. I reminded them that this is not the age of slavery anymore—and that Roger Folsom has a mind and a will of his own. Indeed, I told them, sometimes I am hard pressed to control him for my own designs." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and his mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. "Naturally, they were not amused by my answer. They told me they would have all or nothing, and if it were nothing, only my death would then appease them." 141


"Marcus," I whispered, shuddering despite his nonchalance. "What can we do?" "What I can do is make sure they cannot carry out their threats. Don't worry, Roger." He pulled me into his arms. "They are not as powerful as they think they are. I have lived longer than either of them. My powers are strong and very much more disciplined. Sometimes, I am amazed Gregory has survived this length of time. He is incredibly stupid." "What about d'Arcy's new boyfriend?" I asked. "Can't he mellow the old guy?" Marcus shook his head. "Another vampire spirited him away, this time before d'Arcy could invoke any kind of curse upon him. This has, as you can imagine, made him all the more bitter." What a loser, I thought. "What about some of your friends you've spoken of? Thomas's friends perhaps? Wouldn't they help you defeat d'Arcy? They must hate him for what he's done." "Vampires are expected to fight their own battles. To ask for help is considered divisive and is frowned upon. Many years ago, a war among vampires was almost our undoing. Now it is expected that petty squabbles be settled between the adversaries." "Petty squabbles?" I exclaimed. "That has to be the understatement of the decade. Those guys are threatening to kill you, Marcus. That's a helluva lot more than just a squabble." "Still, I do not wish to involve anyone else." He paused, thinking. "There is one, however." he mused. "Someone I 142


have not seen for some time and who hates d'Arcy even more than I do. She might just jump at the chance for vengeance." "She?" "The Duchess of Andorra or so she was then. Now she is simply Andorra. I could reach out to her, I suppose." "You don't seem too sure," I prompted. He walked over to the window, looking out for a long moment, before turning to me, with a rueful smile. "I'm not sure how she will react on meeting you," he said, with just a trace of hesitancy. "Me? Why would she care one way or the other?" "We had an ... um ... an affair of sorts, many years ago," he replied, before adding what I supposed was for my benefit, "Many, many years ago." An affair of sorts? "That's okay," I said, already hating the bitch. "If she can be of some help, that's the main thing, I guess. What does she have against d'Arcy?" "He killed her entire family. Enslaved them and tortured them—he changed them then let them starve for want of blood." "But why?" "Because he could. Because he is a monster who delights in torturing innocents, and because Andorra would not give him her youngest brother, Anton. D'Arcy took him anyway, while Andorra searched for her family, but rather than be coerced into vampirism, young Anton took his own life. "In a matter of days, Andorra lost her entire family. She tried to kill d'Arcy herself, but without success, so, in despair, 143


she locked herself away for a period of mourning, allowing no one near her for several hundred years." "My God," I whispered. "But how could she survive without blood for so long?" "Remember what I told you before. We can put ourselves into a somnambulant state—suspended animation, if you will—for almost as long as we wish it. We require no sustenance during that time, simply a dark place in which to sleep, uninterrupted and undisturbed. This is, in fact, how I discovered her. "I had returned to Rome to find an eternal resting place for Thomas. There is a place in the catacombs of St. Sebastian, in Rome, known only to we vampires, where the few of our kind who by accident or design have ceased to be are laid to rest. I had carried Thomas there and built him a sepulchre of fine, white marble. Alone, or so I thought, in those last moments before I said goodbye to him forever, I felt a vampire presence nearby. Suddenly, there she was, having just awakened from her decades of slumber. "She asked me for whom I mourned and what had befallen him. When I told her Thomas had been a victim of the Comte d'Arcy, she let out a terrible, fiendish scream of rage. I thought her quite mad until she told me her story. That the first name she should hear after her awakening should be of her foulest enemy seemed almost too much for her to bear. There and then, she pledged that should I ever devise a plan to avenge my lover's death, she would aid me in every way possible." Marcus paused in his story, and for a moment, I thought I saw just a hint of a blush on his pale, chiselled 144


cheeks. Was he embarrassed to tell me what happened between them? My usually so forthright vampire? "Go on," I said, resisting the temptation to smirk. "Well, we were two lost souls really..." he began with a deal of hesitation. "My grief was so fresh in my mind and her grief was as palpable as mine, despite the years that had passed since her family's murders. We reached out to each other for comfort and support. It became something else—a need, I suppose. A need to love and be loved." Now, I felt like a jerk. I'd been so ready to tease him, make fun of his fling with the lady Andorra, but seeing him look so sad and vulnerable made me just want to hold him tight, which is what I did. "Roger," he said, stroking my hair and kissing my forehead, "Please believe me when I say that anything I felt then, pales in comparison to what I feel for you. When Thomas left me forever, I never imagined I would love that way again. My time with Andorra was pleasant. She is a very beautiful woman. She was changed at the peak of her loveliness, so that it was captured for all time, never to fade or tarnish. She perceived, I think, from the very beginning that our time together would not last, and of that, she was understanding. When last I saw her, she had a fine new beau. A musician, I think." "A vampire?" "No, a mortal human, like you, though not as comely and charming." "Flattery will get you everywhere," I said, teasing his lower lip with mine, "and everything." I snuggled into his arms, 145


revelling in the feel of his cool, muscled flesh. "I have to go to work," I moaned, thinking of the boring day ahead. "Unless..." "Unless?" "You make time stand still—just for a little while?" "Consider it done." I sighed. He was definitely the best boyfriend in all the world. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twelve That night, Marcus took me back to his house in the hills to meet Andorra. With very little convincing on his part, she had agreed to help him rid the vampire world of the d'ArcyGregory plague. She would travel, vampire-style of course, from her villa in Valencia, Spain and be at Marcus's home just after sunset. I hadn't expected that she would bring her 'beau', as Marcus so quaintly called him, but she had. He gave me some idea of what might lie in store for me if Marcus and I became 'forever companions'. But first, Andorra ... It would be almost impossible for me to describe her eloquently enough without resorting to comparisons. So, if I say she looked like a young Catherine Zeta-Jones and Selma Hayek, combined into one taller, slimmer, even more beautiful woman—I'd still not get it quite right. She was stunning, breathtaking—the perfect yin to Marcus's yang. The sight of the two of them standing side by side was almost too much for me. I mean, how much beauty can you stand at one time? "Andorra," Marcus was saying, "This is my friend, Roger." She seemed to glide towards me. The shimmering stones on the black dress she wore gleamed and glinted in the soft lighting of the immense living room. She stopped about a foot away from me, her dark eyes sweeping across my face and body, her face impassive, coolly detached. 147


"So, you are the one who has stolen my Marcus's heart?" Her voice was low, melodic, but with a challenging edge. I have to admit, I was lost for words. I mean, how d'you answer a question like that? Yes, bitch, so fegedaboutit? Maybe not the best reply at that moment, so I just smiled and nodded, while I stared into those eyes of obsidian. "Hey, Andy, quit scaring the kid." This from the lanky guy leaning one elbow on the fireplace mantle. He walked towards me, hand outstretched. "Tony," he said. "Roger." I shook his hand, with a certain amount of relief. Tony put his arm around Andorra's waist with an easy familiarity that made me wonder just how long it had taken him to be so comfortable with her. She looked formidable to me, a dangerous beauty and not one I could ever see myself being chummy with. Tony was, well, unremarkable for want of another word. Nice looking in a rumpled, untidy way, thick eyebrows over brown eyes, a friendly smile. Andorra leaned into him, an affectionate gesture which gave me hope that she was not the callous bitch she looked. She smiled slowly and extended her hand to me, palm down. Was I expected to shake it, or kiss it? I chose the former, and her grip almost made me gasp with pain. I say almost, because I suddenly felt up to the challenge and gripped back harder. Okay, so it's no big deal to beat a woman in a handgripping test, but I honestly believe that I would have lost to her had I not recently been imbued with some of Marcus's blood.

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Seemingly satisfied that I was not a wimp, she smiled and kissed my cheek. "He is delightful, Marcus," she cooed. "You are right to want to keep him for yourself." "Not quite the way I would phrase it, Andorra," Marcus said, with an apologetic smile to me. "But I am glad you approve." "Andy always likes to test the new guy on the block," Tony said, grinning at me. "Ready for a drink?" "Please," I said, and he led me over to the bar. "She lets you call her Andy?" I whispered, climbing onto a barstool. His grin got wider. "Well, it took her some time to get used to it, but hey, after nearly a hundred years of togetherness, you have to ease up on the formalities, right? What'll it be?" "Vodka martini, please." A hundred years? He didn't look a day over twenty-eight. "So, are you ... changed?" "No, we're taking it nice and easy. Maybe in another hundred or so, we'll seal the deal." He slid my drink towards me. "You decided yet?" I shook my head, glancing over to where Marcus and Andorra were in deep conversation. I couldn't believe we were talking so casually about immortality. "We haven't really talked about it in detail. We've exchanged blood a couple of times." "I thought so," he said, popping open a can of beer. "You've got the look." "The look?" "Yeah. Vampire blood has certain qualities that start some subtle changes in you. When I met Andy I was a soldier in the trenches—1914, one of the first big battles of the First World 149


War, and I was shot to pieces. I was left for dead, but I managed to crawl out. That's when she found me, took me to her home and fixed me up, giving me some of her blood to replace what I had lost. I thought I was hallucinating—I mean this incredible woman tending to my wounds. I was in love with her before I found out what she was—is—and then, it didn't matter." "Marcus said you were a musician." "Right. I played violin for the London Symphony." "You don't sound British." "Canadian. But I got drafted into the British army anyway, first year I was with the Symphony." "Bummer. Do you still play?" "You bet, but only at informal gatherings." His smile was a tad rueful. "Being considered lost in combat for the past hundred years, doesn't exactly enhance a guy's résumé." Marcus joined us at that moment. He stood behind me, massaging my shoulders with his strong fingers. "Andorra has gone to freshen up a little," he said, then added, "She likes you." Tony chuckled. "By freshen up, he means she's gone to find someone's blood to keep her going." Marcus's fingers froze on my shoulders, and I heard him suck his breath in between his teeth. "Tony," he said quietly. "I don't think Roger needs to hear that, just yet." "Sorry." Tony grinned at me again. He wasn't sorry at all. "You'll get used to it," he said, passing a glass of red wine to Marcus. 150


I had a sudden urge to be alone with Marcus, and he, of course, knew that without my saying a word. "Tony," he said, after taking a sip of his wine. "You and Andorra will have the guest room on the second floor. Why don't you go up there and wait for her to return?" "Sure thing," Tony replied easily. "I can tell you guys need to talk." Picking up a couple of cans of beer, he left with a wink at me. Marcus turned my barstool around and kissed my lips gently. "Are you all right?" he asked, his lips travelling along my jaw line, then nibbling at my earlobe. "Yeah ... just a little overawed by all this," I admitted. "Andorra's ... uh ... Marcus, that's very distracting." He chuckled in my ear, sending shivers all through me. "You look so delicious with that worried little look on your face," he murmured. "Come with me." I slid off the barstool, taking his hand as he led me through the French doors and out onto the veranda. The night air was cool on my skin, and the scent of the night-blooming jasmine that covered the walls behind us, filled my nostrils with its sensuous perfume. He enfolded me in his embrace, holding me with a sensual tenderness that made me love him even more. He seemed so in tune with my feelings, my doubts and yes, my fears of what might lie ahead for both of us. Andorra's presence, I found unsettling and, strangely, somehow I felt she could be a danger to him. There was something about her. "Andorra troubles you." 151


I nodded then rested my head on his shoulder. "I don't know why," I said. "I know she's your friend, but there's something there. Something I can't quite put my finger on." "You are very intuitive," he murmured. "But your sweet nature rebels at seeing too deeply into dark souls. I must make you stronger. Let you develop your own special gifts." "Gifts?" "Many mortals have latent abilities. Some find them unnatural and try to suppress them, while others, finding they can enhance their livelihood, abuse them in order to make a profit." "You mean like psychics?" "Yes." He took my hand, leading me across the veranda to the entrance of his bedroom. "Psychic powers can be very useful, when used properly. Although vampires can read minds and communicate mentally with one another and with some mortals, we do not possess that particular power. It seems to be a human trait—and one, which I believe you may possess." "Me?" I looked at him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Mark and I had always laughed at those TV shows with so-called psychics and channellers calling on dearly departed souls, who'd much rather be left in peace. "What you and your friend find so amusing," Marcus said, "is what I call the charlatan side of the gift. Some of those people might indeed have some knowledge of what they purport to know, but they squander it in the name of entertainment and profit. True psychics," he continued, "seek to use their gift for the betterment of mankind." 152


"I can't think of one who does that," I said, frankly. "They are rare beings—perhaps one per century—and, I agree, there does not seem to be one alive today." We sat on the bed, and I unbuttoned his shirt, slipping my hand inside and rubbing his nipples with my fingertips. I was rewarded by his gasp of pleasure. "All I know is this, Marcus," I said, gazing into his beautiful eyes. "I love you, more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. Whatever you want from me, you can have. Whatever you wish me to be, I will be. If I have reservations about Andorra, it's not out of jealousy or fear that you might listen to her opinion of me. I don't know if it's psychic intuition or simply a gut feeling I have, but all is not as it seems." He held my face between his hands and kissed me tenderly. "And I will not ignore what you say or think, my beloved," he murmured. "But you think so highly of her," I said weakly. The effect his closeness had on me was beginning to show through the denim of my jeans. I eased him onto his back and lay over him, pulling his shirt open wider and kissing his chest. He smiled up at me. "I'm sure both of you will be friends," he said. And that was the end of that particular conversation for the next hour or so. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirteen When Marcus and I returned to the living room, Andorra and Tony were sitting on a couch by the fireplace, conversing in low voices. His arm was around her shoulders, and her head rested on his chest. I couldn't help but think they looked the very model of domestic bliss. Boy, can appearances be deceptive. Andorra raised her head as we approached, her dark eyes flashing in the firelight. She gave me an unsettled feeling, and I just couldn't figure out why. Tony seemed so nice and totally in love with her. What was it then that I sensed? Marcus, feeling my hesitation, gently massaged the back of my neck then put a protective arm around me. "So Andorra," he said, smoothly. "Have you and Tony made yourselves at home?" "Thank you, yes. The room is superb, Marcus." She rose and, once again, seemed to glide towards us. Her eyes held a hint of humour as she stared at me. "Roger, I do believe you do not like me, yet. You and I should be better acquainted. Marcus, would you mind if I took your lover outside for a stroll?" Before he could reply, I said, "I'd like that very much, Andorra." Why not? She couldn't really try anything with Marcus so near. Tony rose and stretched his lanky body. "Great idea. Marcus and me can sit and shoot the breeze. It's been about fifty years, right Marcus?" 154


"Has it been that long? It seems like only yesterday," Marcus remarked, watching Andorra and I headed for the French doors, her hand on my arm. "Don't worry," she purred. "I won't spirit him away, dear Marcus." "Better not," he replied, with a small smile. "I'd hate to have to hunt you down at this time of the night." She laughed gaily, steering me outside across the veranda and down the steps that led to the wide garden below. "He has become very possessive of you, so quickly," she said, in her smoky tones. "I have not known him to be so enamoured of another since Thomas." She pronounced his name, Tomás. "But of course, he has been so lonely since then." I didn't miss the barb. "I'm only glad I can be the one to ease his loneliness," I said, evenly. "Marcus is an incredibly special man." "Yes, he is. He and I were lovers, you know." "Yes, he told me. He said you brought him comfort after Thomas died." "You don't mind knowing that?" "Of course not. I wasn't even born when all that happened. I don't think my ancestors had even come over on the boat from England." I smiled into her impassive gaze. It suddenly occurred to me that she could not read my mind, and I wondered why. "But why do you ask me those questions when you must already know the answers?" "Why do you say that?" she asked, a little surprised. 155


"Well, I know vampires can read minds. Marcus does it to me all the time." "Ah..." She fixed me with her deep, dark eyes. "He obviously hasn't told you that he has blocked your mind from everyone's but his own." "He has? No, he didn't tell me." "He was afraid that d'Arcy or the monster Gregory could reach you with their mental powers. A safe assumption, I fear. Therefore he took steps to thwart that possibility. So you see, he has protected you from all of us." "Do I need protection from you?" I asked, looking her squarely in the eye. She laughed lightly. "Only if you betray Marcus's trust." "Then I guess the answer is no," I said, still holding her gaze. "Because if there is one thing I'm certain of, it's that I would die before I betrayed him. We may have only known each other for a short time—in your existence, a mere second, I'm sure—but love knows no time constraints or conditions. I love him—have loved him from the first moment we met. I hope you believe me, but, I have to tell you, I don't really care if you do not. The only one who must believe me is Marcus, and I know that he does." "My, my..." Her eyes dropped away from mine for a moment. "Such intensity in one so young." When she looked back at me, I thought I saw her eyes glisten. "I'm beginning to understand why Marcus thinks so highly of you." She placed a hand on mine. "You have nothing to fear from me. I know I come across as a rather scary woman sometimes. Tony will tell you horror stories, if you let him. 156


Marcus may have mentioned something of my previous experiences with d'Arcy?" I nodded as she paused. "I'm afraid he made me what I am. Cold, bitter, and at times, lethal. "Tony has mellowed me somewhat, but even he cannot rid me of the inherent distrust I feel when a stranger gets too close to someone I love. I noticed you also distrusted me. Even though I could not read your thoughts, I sensed it in the way you looked at me. I hope that we can now be friends." So that was it. She had, for some reason, equated me with those who had destroyed her family. Jeez, but what a terrible burden to carry through life, always mistrusting those you do not know. "Andorra," I said quietly. "I'm glad we've talked. It's cleared up some misgivings I had about you. You and Tony ... you seem very close." "As do you and Marcus, my dear." She smiled and touched my cheek. "I can only wish for you and my dear friend Marcus the same happiness Tony and I have found. He has brought a light to my life that was missing for many, many years. One day, perhaps, he will totally rid me of my bitterness." Marcus looked up with some relief, when Andorra and I walked back into the living room, arm in arm. His eyes locked on mine, and I sent out the thought, Everything's all right. He smiled and patted the couch cushion next to him. "Young Roger is wiser than his years," Andorra said, sinking effortlessly to the floor at Tony's feet, and resting her head on his knee. "Even if he does think the sun shines out of your arse, Marcus," she added, teasing him. 157


"He knows class when he sees it," Marcus kidded, tousling my hair, fondly. I smiled at him, then looked across at Andorra as Tony absently stroked her long black hair. I fancied I heard her purr under his touch, so like a cat was she—a beautiful cat, relaxed now but senses alert, sinews coiled, ready to spring and defend those she loved. "D'you think d'Arcy knows you're here?" I asked her. Her dark gaze met mine. "Undoubtedly," she replied. "He is most likely gathering his powers to strike at us, even as we speak." "Don't worry." Marcus took my hand in his. "He and Gregory will have to face us without assistance. I have reached out to all who know them, and no one wants to soil their hands with their dirty work." "But no one wants to help, either," I said bitterly. "Rules of the game, Roger." Tony smiled ruefully at me from his seat by the fireplace. "Vampires' honour, and all that." "Yes, Marcus explained that to me, but it seems crazy, in a way, that you can't rally some forces to get rid of these guys once and for all. Everybody hates them, but they've been allowed to create havoc for a long time, without anyone stopping them. Isn't there some kind of justice system?" "A vampire Justice League," Tony chuckled. "That's a helluva idea. What d'you say, Marcus? We could start by taking out d'Arcy and his sidekick, Greg the Gross." "Not amusing, Tony," Andorra said, giving him a reproving look. "For a start, there is no 'we', my dear. You and Roger 158


will stay well away from d'Arcy and Gregory. When Marcus and I meet them in battle, we do not want to worry about protecting you at the same time. You know better than that, remember?" Tony's smile faded as she spoke, and it was obvious he was remembering something pretty awful. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten," he muttered. He looked across at me, his eyes filled with sadness. "So Roger, you and me, we get to stay home and watch TV and hope and pray that they come back." I listened with horror as a sob broke from his throat. "Tony..." Andorra reached up and stroked his face gently. "We've talked of this before." "I know, I know. It's just that..." He stumbled to a halt as Andorra placed a finger on his lips. God, I thought, he's terrified for her. My stomach lurched at the thought that this might turn out very badly. What if— "Nothing will go wrong," Marcus said, gripping my hand. "Andorra and I have formulated a plan." "But won't they know what you're planning?" I interrupted. "They can read minds too." "But not ours. I told you my powers are greater than theirs. I have blocked all of our minds from theirs. They may know of Andorra and Tony's arrival, but that's all they know. They cannot eavesdrop on our conversations or our thoughts. This gives us an advantage over them." "Can you read their thoughts?" I asked. "Not d'Arcy's. And Gregory's is a jumble of half-thoughts and hatred. He is the one we will vanquish first. His stupidity will make him easy prey." 159


The question that had been running around in my mind now sprang from my lips. "Where are they exactly? Are they in LA?" Marcus shook his head. "The Comte was here. That's how he was able to get to your friend Mark, but he has now returned to Rome." "Rome? But..." "That is where Andorra and I will meet them. In the catacombs beneath the city. The Comte d'Arcy has already sent out the challenge." Sent out the challenge? Oh, dear God. "Marcus, Tony and I must go with you and Andorra." "Yeah, Roger! Way to go," Tony exclaimed. "No!" both Marcus and Andorra shouted at the same time. Andorra jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing with anger. "Such a suggestion is sheer stupidity," she cried. "Roger, I thought better of you than that." "Sorry," I said. "But there's no way you're leaving us behind. How d'you think we're going to feel, separated by thousands of miles from you two? We don't have to be on the front line with you, but at least let us be nearby in case we can help. We could be decoys or something." "No," Andorra shouted again, and this time I saw fear in her eyes as she looked to Marcus for support. Of course, I thought, she's afraid for Tony. "Roger." Marcus held my hand against his lips. "You are a brave and wonderful man. Andorra and I truly appreciate what you're trying to do, but we cannot allow it. You and Tony will stay here." 160


"No, dammit!" Tony jumped to his feet, his fists clenched in anger. "No, I won't let this happen. Andorra, for the love of God, what if something happens to you and Marcus? D'you think d'Arcy and that troll will let Roger and me live after that? I would rather die at your side than have to face those monsters alone. You know what they'll do to me and Roger." I had a feeling I didn't want to know what they'd do, but the look on Marcus's face told me he was weakening. His eyes met Andorra's for a split second, then he sighed and turned to me, his eyes searching my face. "Roger, do you have any idea the horrors you and Tony might face?" I shook my head. "It doesn't matter, Marcus," I told him with as much conviction as I could muster. "What will matter is if I'm left without you." I looked over his shoulder at Tony, who was hanging on my every word. "Tony and I, we're a part of you and Andorra, and like him, I would rather die at your side than face a life without you. Don't leave us here, please." I watched his brilliant green eyes fill with tears, and I flung myself into his arms. I was barely aware of Tony's voice coming it seemed, from somewhere far off. "Well," he said, quietly. "That's settled, then." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fourteen I awoke in Marcus's bed, the room darkened and still, the space beside me empty. I knew he would be somewhere in the house, talking with Andorra, while Tony and I slept. I was worried, though, that he and Andorra might slip away in the night, reneging on their promise to take us with them. Our insistence that we accompany them had not sat well with Andorra. In her mind, she had not even considered that she and Marcus might fail in their attempt to put d'Arcy out of business. Andorra struck me as the type who didn't acknowledge failure as a possibility. But in that, I sensed danger for them. Maybe Marcus was right. Maybe I was becoming a tad psychic. Maybe I could be of some help to them if I concentrated on this... Go back to sleep, and stop worrying. Oh, for cripes sake, he'd caught me. When would I ever get used to him living in my head. I didn't mind it really. It was kinda nice in its own bizarre little way. Bizarre? Sorry ... You won't leave without me, will you? No. Okay, goodnight. I tried hard to go back to sleep, but the psychic thing had me and wouldn't let me rest. He must have decided to let me work it out, however, as I didn't receive any more mental prodding from you-know-who. 162


The exchange of blood had already heightened some of my senses, which was great when Marcus and I were having sex. Everything seemed so much more sensory, somehow. The feel of his hands on my skin, the touch of his lips, the scent of him. All that had intensified since our mutual bloodsucking. I supposed it had always been that way for him, and I grew hard, thinking that at our first time, he had been inflamed by his extra-sensory exploration of me. My skin, my lips, my scent, all burning him up. Yeah! "Get a grip," I muttered into my pillow, resisting the temptation to start stroking myself. I'd save it all for him. It was the numinous part of the psychic experience Marcus seemed to be interested in. He had said I was intuitive, but my intuition about Andorra had been wrong. Not wrong, really, just misdirected. She, herself, admitted that she was cold and bitter—characteristics I had picked up on, but without the reasons behind them. Now, my intuition told me she was also arrogant and headstrong. I worried about that. Could it be that those bold attributes would lead her and Marcus into a dangerous situation they had not foreseen and could not escape? I heard the bedroom door open, and someone entered the room. I tried to raise my head to see. Things were getting fuzzy. The harder I tried to stay awake, the heavier my eyelids became. I had a distant awareness of Marcus's gentle voice lulling me to sleep, his arms about me, lifting me from the bed ... and then, nothing at all. **** 163


"Wakey, wakey!" That ridiculous voice in my ear made me sit bolt upright in bed, rubbing my eyes and looking about me for the source of this annoyance. A lanky frame with tousled hair and thick eyebrows came slowly into focus. "Tony?" "Si, signor, I breeng you coffee. Please to wake up." I looked around the unfamiliar room. "Where are we?" "We are in Roma, signor. Roma, la magnifica!" "We're in Rome?" I gasped. "But ... how...?" "By vampire-air, that's how. In the middle of the night. Our carriers are now sound asleep." I fell back on the pillow. "I don't believe this," I groaned. "How do you cope?" "You get used to it," he said, pushing a cup of coffee under my nose. "Here, drink this. It'll make things clearer." I sat up again, taking the coffee cup from him with a muttered thank you. It was delicious. "Wow, did you make this?" "Sure did. Practice makes perfect. I've had almost a hundred years of it." "Whose place is this?" I asked. "Andorra's. Marcus felt the terrible two might try a raid on his villa. Andy's is harder to get to. If you look out the window you'll see what I mean." I slipped out of bed and padded over to the window for a look-see. I could see nothing but clouds. What she do? Build this sucker in the sky? "See what I mean? We're higher than the Empire State." 164


"But vampires can fly." "Gregory can't, and we're so far up this mountain, he couldn't climb it, either. Gregory's a mess," Tony said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "He is one ugly dude and a trifle ungainly." "You've seen him?" "Oh, yes." He fell quiet, and I had a feeling he didn't want to talk about Gregory anymore. "I thought the catacombs were where they were going to meet," I said, to change the subject. "Yeah, that's the plan, but you can't trust either of those two. They're likely to come crashing in anytime, waving their fangs and claws about." "Shouldn't we be on the lookout then?" I asked, getting nervous. Tony chuckled. "Relax. Look at that sunshine out there." "Oh, right. Silly of me." He gripped my shoulder. "Don't worry. They'll be all right. They have to be. There's no way Andorra can go down to those two—nor Marcus. He's too powerful." "Yet, you're worried," I said, looking him in the eyes. His shoulders drooped, and he nodded. "A part of me always is. As much as I love my life with Andorra, I know my existence depends solely on hers. If anything ever happened to her, I'd be dead in a matter of days. Without her blood, I would age in the blink of an eye. I'm a hundred and twentysix years old. What d'you think I'd look like if the life she gives me was cut off? You don't have to worry about that yet, 165


and not for a long time. If anything happened to Marcus, you'd still have a lifetime before you." A lifetime before me without Marcus? I didn't even want to think about that. Surely, we hadn't met to be parted so soon. I refused to believe that and hastily put it from my mind. "Like you said earlier, Tony. Everything's going to be all right." **** We let our lovers sleep until just before sunset, then I went to Marcus's room and let myself in. I could see him, by the faint light of a guttering candle by his bed. He was lying on his back, his hands resting on his chest, his lips slightly parted, breathing evenly and gently. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down on him, at his fine-boned face, framed by his dark curls, and my heart ached with love for him. I leaned forward, kissing his lips then smiling against his mouth as I felt his hand cup the back of my head and hold me there. "Hello." His tongue was sweet on mine. No morning breath—or should I say, late-afternoon breath from this guy! "Hi," I murmured. "Did you sleep well?" "Mmm..." His powerful body stretched under me, then with the one quick motion that I never saw, no matter how many times he performed this sleight of hand, I was naked and pressed against his hard, thrilling flesh. "I had a dream," he said softly. "Of you and me ... and the promise that it would come true." "Hasn't it?" I asked, snuggling into his warmth. 166


"Almost, Roger. When the task Andorra and I must undertake has been completed, then we will be free to explore our life together." My sigh was a mixture of hope and apprehension. So much depended on what happened here within the next few hours. I clung to him, wrapping my arms and legs around him as though I could hold him there forever. "Are you afraid?" he asked gently. "Only for you and Andorra. Tony is terrified something will happen to her. He told me that his life depends on her returning to him." "She will calm his fears in her own special way. Come now." His lips on mine, as always, caused my brain to melt. "Forget for a little time what lies ahead, and show me how much you love me." "I wish I could," I whispered. "No matter how hard I try, there always seems to be something more I could do." "You are perfect just the way you are, my beloved Roger." "Drink from me first, Marcus," I begged him. "Perhaps it will make you even stronger." For a moment, he hesitated. "I will drink the blood you offer me," he murmured, finally, his lips warm on mine. "It is given and taken in love." He rolled me onto my back, his teeth and lips working at my throat until the skin broke and the blood flowed over his tongue. I held his head pressed to the wound, running my hands through his mass of thick black curls. He sucked long and deep, filling his veins with my lifeblood. It felt strangely different this time. I became drowsy and felt myself falling 167


into some dark void, supported only by the strong arms that held me. I struggled within their iron grasp as a fearful panic surged through me. What was happening? I moaned out loud, "Marcus..." Suddenly, I was being shaken awake. "Roger. Oh my God, Roger." I opened my eyes groggily and stared into Marcus's guilt ridden expression. "Roger.. I am so sorry. I drank too much. Forgive me." A flash of steel, and blood oozed from a cut on his chest. He held my limp body, forcing my lips to the flowing blood. "Drink, my beloved," he crooned in my ear as I lapped at his chest. Gradually, I felt the strength return to my limbs. I opened my eyes and gazed into his. "What happened?" I asked, hoarsely. "Forgive me, Roger..." "Of course, I forgive you." Whatever it was I was forgiving him for, I wasn't yet sure. "The bloodlust I fight so hard to control," he explained, his voice shaking with emotion. "It overtook me as I drank your sweet blood. I am so sorry, Roger. I could have taken too much, then..." He didn't have to explain what would have happened. It would have necessitated my being drained completely, then allowed to die. I shivered as he held me in his arms, stroking my hair, his lips soothing the wound on my neck. "It's okay." My own voice was just a tad shaky. "No harm done." 168


"I would never have forgiven myself had I changed you without you granting me the right to do so," he said. I knew he was hating himself for what he had almost done, and I tried to reassure him that I was fine. Actually, I began to feel more than fine—invigorated, full of piss and vinegar, as my old Granddad used to say, except that I was full of vampire blood. And a good old, powerful brew, at that! The effect was evident in the stiffie I now sported. I made a point of taking Marcus's hand, steering it in that direction and smirking a little as I heard his gasp of surprise. The previous trauma was forgotten as he knelt over me and took all of my engorged cock into his mouth, laving the hard flesh with his tongue and driving me absolutely wild. I thrashed around under this onslaught, bucking like crazy, shoving my cock even deeper down his throat. His hands were everywhere at once it seemed, teasing my nipples, caressing my chest and stomach, reaching into my eager ass. His own spectacular erection throbbed tantalisingly close to my mouth. I stuck out my tongue, licking the juice that spilled from it, wrapping my lips around the head and pulling it all the way down my throat. Later, I would think that it was his blood in my veins that gave me the almost overpowering burst of sexual energy I had ever experienced. There was not a single part of his body my mouth and hands did not reach to hold, caress and stroke. No orifice escaped my attention as I morphed from being the catcher to the pitcher for only the second time in my life. If Marcus was surprised, he hid it well, allowing me to have my way with him by showing me with a grand display of 169


his beautiful butt that I was welcome there anytime. Such a gift could not be refused, and I dove in there, face first, my tongue navigating the length of the cleft until it nestled in the moistness of his anus. My hands massaged both cheeks, parting them, exposing the delicate pink flesh my tongue now lapped at. That same erotic, sensuous scent invaded my senses as I probed deep inside him. He writhed beneath me at this onslaught, his hands clutching at the sheets as ecstasy overcame him. His hips rose to meet my lips and tongue, pushing the object of my desire within even greater reach, allowing me to feel the pull of his sphincter muscles on my tongue. I ran a sensual pattern of kisses up his spine, letting my cock push at his opening, now thoroughly lubed with my saliva. He groaned as I entered him, drawing me in deep until I had filled him to the hilt. I started a slow and sensuous rhythm he met with every long stroke. Our bodies fused together as we rode the waves of passionate ecstasy made all the more intense from the sharing of each other's blood. He turned in my arms, now lying on his back, smiling up at me without breaking our rhythm. His hands cupped my face, his fingers stroked my brow and cheeks with a sensuous tenderness that increased my desire to make this act of love as wonderful for him, as it was for me. I bent closer to kiss his lips, revelling in the feel of the soft plump flesh against mine, of his tongue as it swirled in my mouth, setting every nerve ending in my body aflame. As if a trigger had been pulled, releasing it, the rush of my orgasm convulsed deep inside me. I gasped into his mouth as 170


I started to lose control. His arms tightened around me, pulling me even deeper within him; his strong thighs pressed against my torso, holding us locked together. He moaned, and the sound was like an aphrodisiac to my ears. It seemed to come from his very soul, a total meeting of his mind, body and spirit in the power of his own sensuality. He carried me with him, urging me on until I exploded inside him with an electrifying jolt that tore a long, guttural cry from my throat. After I had filled him with the product of all this new energy, he rolled me onto my back and gazed at me with a tender light in his eyes. "My beloved Roger," he whispered, stroking my cheek with his fingertips. "You never fail to amaze me. I hope you feel as fulfilled as I do." Taking his hand in mine, I kissed it gently and smiled into his eyes. My answer was in the love I felt for him and needed no words. **** I awoke to the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Somewhere, outside on the balcony, a violin was being played. I'd never been very knowledgeable of classical music, and it certainly wasn't on my iPod, wedged somewhere between Beyonce and Janet, but the silvery sound that floated on the air all around me made me want to capture it and listen to it forever. Filled with sadness, this intrinsically beautiful melody seemed to speak directly to me, encompassing all the changing emotions within me. I lay there, entranced, until the 171


final quivering notes faded away, as if gently pulled from the instrument into the night air. I slipped from the bed and walked quickly to the window. Outside, Tony lowered his violin and smiled at his audience of one—Andorra. As I watched, she moved into his arms and held him, kissing his lips with a tender passion. "Tony has an amazing talent." Marcus's voice behind me made me jump a little. I leaned back into his embrace as his arms encircled me. "I didn't recognise the melody." "It is one of his own compositions." "It's so sad that he can't pursue a career," I said, watching as Tony and Andorra walked away hand in hand. "All that talent wasted, really." "Not wasted. It is appreciated by all who hear him." He hugged me to him, and kissed the nape of my neck. "I must get ready to leave." My body tensed at those words. So, the time had come. "I'll be right back," he said, disappearing into his dressing room. I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on my pants, my mood rapidly changing to one of dejection. God, just what would happen if all this went wrong? If by some horrendous stroke of misfortune, Andorra was killed—or Marcus—or both of them. Jeez, it just didn't bear thinking of. I had convinced myself over and over, that they'd both be fine. Fate couldn't be so damned cruel as to take them from Tony and me. When Marcus returned, he wore a black silk pullover shirt, black jeans and boots. A knock at the door, then Andorra 172


entered, wearing an almost identical outfit. Her hair was tied back from her face, highlighting the delicate bone structure and the near translucent paleness of her skin. Tony followed her into the bedroom, looking decidedly depressed. Whatever words Andorra had tried to soothe him with had not helped. The poor man looked as though he was close to tears, and I couldn't blame him. The wonder of it was that he was not regarding Marcus and me with a great deal of hostility. Let's face it, we were the ones responsible for this situation. I saw Marcus flick a hard look at me as that thought went through my mind. "Time to go," Andorra said, matter-of-factly and put her arms around Tony, holding him close. He bowed his head to her shoulder, and I saw a tear run down his cheek. Oh Jeez, I thought, this is terrible. "Roger." Marcus opened his arms, and I almost fell over my own feet, running into his embrace. I pressed my face to his neck and whispered. "I love you. Please come back to me." His arms tightened about me, and his lips found mine, crushing them so hard, I tasted blood. "My beloved, Roger," he murmured. Gallons of tears formed behind my eyes. Damn, I didn't want him to see me blubbering like a two-year old, but that's what was going to happen, if they didn't get out of here— right this minute! Andorra smiled at me. Okay, here they come, I thought. Yep, hot scalding tears streaming down my face. Her face was all blurry, as she stepped forward and kissed my wet cheeks. 173


"Look after Tony for me," she whispered. Okay, but who was going to look after me? [Back to Table of Contents]

174


Chapter Fifteen Tony and I stood on the balcony, watching as they launched themselves into the air. It was the first time I had seen Marcus fly. What am I saying? It was the first time I'd seen anyone fly without some kind of 'chute or balloon or something to hold them up. But there he was, soaring high above the city with Andorra at his side, their arms outspread, gliding together, like two graceful birds of prey in the moonlight. I jumped, startled as Tony put his arm around my shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice, he was too intent on watching them, just as I was, until they dropped out of sight into the darkness below. Now, the long wait would begin. His arm still around me, we walked back into the living room. "Like a drink?" he asked. I nodded. "Martini?" I nodded again. "Tony?" "Yes?" I jumped up on a barstool and watched for a moment in silence as he prepared my martini. "Would you play your violin for me? I heard you earlier this evening. It was the most beautiful thing I think I have ever heard." "Thank you, but I only play when Andorra can hear." Surprised, I blurted, "But why?" "Because, without her, I would never have been able to play again. While she nursed my injuries, we discovered that 175


the nerves in my left hand were dead. I wouldn't have been able to hold the violin, never mind play it. She took me to a famous surgeon in Vienna who was able to correct the damage, but I believe it was her blood alone that facilitated the healing. So, Roger, the gift she returned to me I share only when she can enjoy it too." I nodded my understanding. "Well, when she returns," I said, smiling, "we can celebrate by listening to you play." I had hoped to cheer him up, but he gave me a morose look then took a long pull on his beer. "Cheer up, Tony. They will come back. I'm sure of it." "How can you be sure?" he asked, his voice edgy with bitterness. "You've never been through anything like this before, have you?" "Well no, but—" "Well, I have and believe me we were lucky, really lucky to get out the last time. This time, I don't know if her luck will hold." "But she has Marcus with her," I said. "He told me he's more powerful than d'Arcy." "But not as devious. Marcus is a wonderful guy—for a vampire, but he's not cunning like d'Arcy nor as monstrously strong as Gregory." He shuddered for a moment, remembering something. "I tell you, I just don't like the odds. That d'Arcy must have something up his sleeve, before he agreed to a confrontation with Marcus and Andy." "What d'you mean?" "He never plays straight. There's always something devious in everything he does. Years ago, not long after I met 176


Andy, he tried to kill me. You see, he just can't bear to think of her having some happiness in her life—same as Marcus. D'Arcy hates them both and will do anything to destroy them." "So what happened?" I urged him. "He heard through the vampire grapevine that Andy had a new lover—me, in other words. Mostly through my own stupidity—and I won't go into that if you don't mind—he got a hold of me and held me hostage, telling Andy he'd kill me if she didn't come live with him. You see, he'd harboured illusions for years about having Andy and her kid brother as his ... love slaves for want of a better expression." "Was this before or after Thomas?" I asked, showing my confusion. "After," he replied. Really? That made me wonder what kind of guy Thomas had been, living with a monster like d'Arcy. Or maybe, he didn't know. Give him the benefit of the doubt, I told myself. "Anyway," Tony was saying. "Andy's brother committed suicide rather than be d'Arcy's anything, but d'Arcy never gave up on the idea that one day he might just snag Andy. So, there I was, being watched by Gregory, this monster. I can't tell you, Roger, what that guy looks like. He is the ugliest, most revolting thing I have ever seen. How the hell d'Arcy can bear to be around it, I don't understand. But it was the gorgon's presence that saved our skin. He is just too stupid to live. "While d'Arcy was waiting for Andy to arrive, Greg the Smeg got it into his retarded mind to have some fun with me. 177


He put one paw on me, and I started kicking and screaming like a demented banshee. I managed to get a few good kicks in, too. D'Arcy came running in to find out what the ruckus was all about and started yelling at Gregory to leave me alone or he was going to ruin everything. Andy showed up just at that moment. She used all the confusion to her advantage, grabbing a lantern and smashing it over d'Arcy's head. Of course, he burst into flames." He paused for a moment. "You do know that flames can kill a vampire, don't you?" he asked me. "Yes, but I thought it was from the sun." "No, any kind of flame, if they can't put it out. Anyway, d'Arcy went screaming off somewhere into the house, Gregory running after him, grunting that he was sorry—what an asshole. Andy grabbed me, and we flew outta there— literally." "Wow." I looked at him, impressed. "So, there you go. With Marcus at her side, Andorra is bound to beat d'Arcy again." "Yeah, but this time, d'Arcy's going to be a lot more prepared and a lot madder. Word is, it took him a long time to recover from the humiliation of being beaten by Andorra. I tell you, I don't like it." I stared at him for a long moment, then I threw back the last of my martini and said, "How do we get to the catacombs?" He grinned at me. "That's what I've been hoping you'd ask. Let's go!" **** 178


The catacombs of St. Sebastian on the Via Appia Antica are a popular tourist attraction, but at that time of night, of course, there was no one around. The cab driver gave us a quizzical look as he drove away, probably thinking we were a couple of loco American tourists who thought we could get in anywhere at any time. I followed Tony as he went straight up to a small door almost hidden in the thick stone walls. With a tug, then a push, the door creaked open. "How'd you do that?" I whispered. "You learn this stuff after a while," he replied. "Come on." We walked into an enormous cavern, lined with pillars, arches and marble plaques set into the walls and carved with myriad names. A faint light coming from one or two fluorescent lamps high in the ceiling above us illuminated the interior. An unpleasant mustiness pervaded the atmosphere, and I shivered as I thought of all the dead bodies this place housed. Tony beckoned me forward, and I followed close behind as he set off down one of the long corridors. When we reached the end and stood facing an ochre coloured wall, he felt about at the base for a moment or two then grunted with satisfaction. He pressed down on something I couldn't see, and to my amazement, one of the stone panels slid back, revealing a dark space behind. Pulling his flashlight from his pocket, Tony bent down and crawled into the opening. By the light of the flashlight's beam, I saw we were in a sort of tunnel. As we started to crawl forward, I heard the panel slide back into place with a 179


disconcerting thud. I thought it best to remain silent as we made our way along the tunnel, even though I had an almost overpowering desire to scream like a frightened girl and get the hell out of there. At the end of the tunnel, an iron grating barred our way. Now what? I thought, but undeterred, Tony pushed it to one side and slid through the opening. Following, my heart in my mouth, I looked about at the tall dark walls that surrounded us. I gripped Tony's arm. "Where are we?" I whispered. "Almost there," he whispered back. "Keep close to me and be very quiet." No problem there. Ahead of us, a flight of stone steps descended into what looked to me like the entrance to hell. "We're going down there?" I gulped Tony nodded, his finger to his lips, then started down the steps. Oh, Jesus. I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself on the well-worn stones. How many countless feet had trod here over the centuries, I wondered—and for what? I shuddered to think what we were going to find at the bottom. There went my overactive imagination again. But at the bottom of the steps was another long corridor, dark as a witch's you-know-what. Thank God Tony had thought of bringing the flashlight. Cautiously, me still clinging to his shoulder, we inched our way along the corridor, listening for any sounds ahead of us. And then, I heard them. Voices coming from somewhere not too far off. Tony and I exchanged glances, then he nodded, setting off again, 180


keeping us both close to the wall. Now we heard one of the voices more distinctly. A voice I did not recognise. "The Comte d'Arcy," Tony murmured. Involuntarily, I shivered at the sound of his voice, cold, venomous, and threatening. Some words reached my ears. "You were fools to come here ... summoned the Dark Forces..." What Dark Forces? "What Dark Forces?" I whispered in Tony's ear, but he shook his head, telling me he didn't know. I didn't like this. Then, Marcus's voice, clear and untroubled, answered. "The Dark Forces are beyond even your reach, d'Arcy," he said. "Only the most evil pact ever imagined could bring them here. They are not interested in our petty differences." God, but he was the master of understatement. "You underestimate me, Marcus, and yourself," d'Arcy's sinister voice cut him off. "I have struck a bargain with them. Your and Andorra's lives for the return of the man I lost to you all those years ago." Marcus's sharp intake of breath echoed around the chamber in which they stood. "What are you saying, d'Arcy? Not even you would dare." He stopped and suddenly looked towards where Tony and I were hidden. Roger ... Get out of here, now! Oh, Jeez, he'd sensed us nearby. Frantically, I nudged Tony. "What do we do?" Get out! Suddenly, a vile smell assailed my senses. "Look out," Tony yelled, diving to the floor. 181


A greasy hand wrapped around my face and I was yanked off my feet by something—it couldn't be a someone—then carried bodily into the chamber. Gagging, I struggled with all my might, before I was flung to the floor, all the breath knocked out of me. A second later, Tony landed beside me, his long limbs spread-eagled across the floor. "Well, well, well ... what have we here? Reinforcements?" D'Arcy's laughter was filled with derision. "Gregory, bring Marcus's plaything to me." This thing, this monstrosity of what might have once been a man, loomed over me, grabbing at my hair. "Fuck off," I yelled, backing up out of the way and aiming a kick at the monster's shins. There was a flurry of movement behind me, then Gregory was sent tumbling backwards, smashing into the wall behind him. A strong hand grabbed me and hauled me to my feet. "Are you all right?" I looked up into Marcus's angry yet anxious face, and nodded. "Sorry," I mumbled. I watched as Andorra picked Tony off the ground, her face a stony mask of displeasure. "Well, this is an interesting development," d'Arcy said, chuckling. He glanced at Gregory who was stumbling to his feet, his piggy eyes filled with hate. "Stay there, Gregory. Let us see how Marcus reacts to our invited guest." From behind the white marble sepulchre near d'Arcy, a figure emerged. Dressed in a dark burgundy velvet jacket and trousers, a black silk cravat at his throat, the man whose painting I had seen only a few nights before stood before us, a faint smile touching his lips. 182


"Tomás," Andorra said, horror in her voice. I looked at Marcus's stricken expression and felt the bottom of my stomach drop out. I wanted to run from this place and never stop until I had reached West Hollywood. There was no place for me here now. Thomas and Marcus were reunited. I was forgotten. Startled, I felt Marcus grip my arm. "What fiendishness is this?" he barked at d'Arcy. "What is it that you hope to accomplish here?" The Comte's smile was wicked. "Tell him, Thomas." A momentary flicker of doubt appeared on Thomas's pale face. He reached out a hand towards Marcus. "Tell him!" d'Arcy roared. Thomas's hand dropped to his side. "You will sacrifice all those here with you to the dark forces," he said, his voice slow and slurred. "Do this, and I will be yours again—forever, Marcus." "Dear God, Thomas," Marcus cried. "What did he do to you? How is this possible?" He released his grip on my arm and strode forward to where d'Arcy and Thomas stood. He stretched out his hand, running it over Thomas's face, not so much in a caress, rather like feeling his temperature. He turned on d'Arcy. "You think you could fool me with this trick? This is not Thomas—not really. You have awakened him for your foolish enjoyment, but he will not survive long." "He will," d'Arcy sneered. "With the aid of your plaything's blood, Marcus. Surely, you would not deny your beloved Thomas the lifeblood he needs? I thought you would have been more than willing to sacrifice some of your own, but now 183


with your little friend's arrival, that will not be necessary. Give him to Thomas. Let him drink his fill. Let him live again." "No, damn you," Marcus seethed. "You will not do this. You killed Thomas. You give him life." And with a move so fast, it was almost a blur, Marcus seized d'Arcy by the throat, sank his fangs into the vampire's neck then pushed him into Thomas's arms, letting him feast on the blood that spilled from the wound. The Comte let out a long high-pitched scream of terror as he felt Thomas's lips and tongue pull the blood from him. He sank to his knees, Thomas following, clinging to him like a leech, sucking and sucking... A roar from the other side of the chamber, made me jump out of my skin. I'd been so mesmerised by the horrific scene in front of me, I had totally forgotten about Gregory. So had everyone else it seemed, for he now blundered forward, but somehow, Marcus with his mental powers held him in check. The two of them stood facing one another—beauty and the beast. When Marcus was satisfied that Thomas had drunk enough of d'Arcy's blood to sustain him, he released Gregory from whatever hypnotic spell he had cast on him. With a hateful growl, Gregory rushed forward, knocking Thomas aside. Then, picking d'Arcy up in his arms, he took off into the darkness of a far corridor. Marcus helped Thomas to his feet, and the two ex-lovers stood staring at each other for what seemed to me to be an eternity. I suddenly realised they were talking to one another with their minds... I've lost him, I thought. 184


This must seem like a dream to him, reunited. I could feel the tears burning at the back of my eyes as I turned away. Tony grabbed my arm. "You can't leave. You don't know where you are. Just wait." Andorra threw me a look of sympathy, and I felt like shit. "Roger." I looked to where Marcus stood, smiling at me. Oh no, I thought, he's going to introduce us, then ask me if I mind, but— "Roger," he said again gently. "Come here." Head up, swallowing the great gulping sob that was starting in my throat, I walked over to him. He drew me into his arms, crushed me to his oh so incredible body and kissed me, hard. "You are without doubt, the most headstrong, aggravating and wonderful man I have ever known," he said in my ear, his lips soft and warm against my flesh. "Thomas wants to thank you for intervening and saving him from d'Arcy." He does? "I do." Oh right, another one who can read my mind. What happened to the block Marcus had put up earlier? Thomas smiled and took my hand in his own cool one. "Marcus has much to be grateful for," he said. "And I am forever in your debt." His eyes were sapphire blue, and as I remembered from his portrait, full of laughter and mischief. All these years lying in that sepulchre hadn't changed him much. So what was happening here? Was I about to get my marching orders? "Roger." As Thomas moved away to join Andorra and Tony, Marcus gave me a reproving look. "Will you please stop 185


selling yourself short? You are the one I love. Nothing that has happened here has changed that. Do you believe me?" I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. I put my arms around his neck, pressing my face to his. "I love you too, Marcus, but are you sure? I mean, you and Thomas, all those years..." "Hush." He kissed me tenderly. "Who knows the why and wherefore of who and how we love, Roger? Is it not enough that I crave your presence every moment of every day? Have I not shown you how much you mean to me?" God, I loved the way this guy talked! Where else was I going to find a boyfriend as eloquent and erudite? Nowhere, so I'd better stick to him like glue. "Okay," I said. "Let's go home." "Not quite yet," he chuckled. "We have one or two problems to deal with first." Drat. He remembered. I sighed. "So, what happens now?" "The Comte will no doubt soon recover from his ... unfortunate loss of blood. He is not going to give up until he feels he is avenged. We still need to be on our guard." Oh, great. Andorra, along with Tony and Thomas approached us. "Do you think he really summoned the Dark Forces in order to bring Thomas back?" she asked Marcus. "No. That was a bluff. He stopped Thomas's heart, and he could start it again, that's all." She frowned. "Do you think he could do it again?" "I seriously doubt it," Thomas said with a great deal of conviction. "I think his blood has made my heart stronger 186


than it ever was. Do you plan to find him? If so, I think I could be helpful. I know of several places he can hide." "As well you should," Andorra remarked, tartly. "Who was by his side for all those years, if not you?" "Exactly." "But don't forget that d'Arcy knows that also," Marcus interjected. "He will be on the lookout for us once he has regained his strength." As they talked, Tony and I drifted off into a corner. "Are you in a lot of trouble for being here?" I asked him. "So-so, at the moment." He winked at me. "She'll get on my case when we get back home, but she'll get over it. Eventually." "You were right about Gregory," I said with a shudder. "He is one ugly mother. And that smell..." "Yeah. I could have lived another hundred years without seeing that creep again. They're planning another strike, I think," he said, glancing over at our trio of vampires. "We should volunteer." "Are you nuts?" I exclaimed. "You think they'd even consider taking us along? When we know what they're planning, we'll improvise." "You're the man," Tony said, grinning at me. **** Later, back in Andorra's villa, Tony and I made sandwiches while Marcus and the others plotted their next strategy. "Anyone like a glass of wine?" I yelled from the kitchen. 187


"Yes, please," they chorused together. Nice, polite vampires. God, I thought, if any of my friends could see me now. Mind you, they'd probably think if this should happen to anyone, it should be me, the queen of horror flicks. So many times, I'd bored the pants off them, regaling them with the plot of the latest movie I'd seen. As I poured the wine, I thought of all the vampire movies I'd seen, especially the final scenes where the naughty vampire gets his—or hers. Maybe there was something in those stories that might help here. Like I said, my favourite Dracula was Frank Langella—not as sexy as Marcus, of course, but pretty good. When he cut himself and had the heroine drink his blood, I'd almost creamed my pants. On the other hand, Christopher Lee did the same thing in one of his vampire movies, and it was about as sexy as watching grass being fertilised. Anyway, at the end of Frank's version, the "good guys" had him trapped by opening his coffin when the sun was up. "How about if you lured them outside into the daylight," I suggested helpfully as I placed their wine on the table. "Daylight strong enough to destroy them would also destroy us," Thomas said, picking up his wineglass. "Not if you used Tony and me as the lures." "Roger," Marcus warned. "Just kidding." I smiled at him and dropped a kiss on his forehead before leaving the table in a hurry. "I thought you said we would improvise," Tony hissed at me. "Listen," I whispered. 188


"Actually," Thomas was saying. "Roger's idea is quite sound." "Forget it," Marcus snapped. "How could we protect them if we cannot go outside?" "Marcus is right, Tomás," Andorra said. "We cannot leave Tony and Roger alone with those monsters. They would not last but a moment or two. No, we need to find them while they sleep then dispose of them as quickly as possible." "How do you intend to do that?" Thomas asked with some disdain. "We sleep at the same time, but if we sent Roger while they slept..." Hmm. I was beginning to think Thomas wanted me out of the way. I needn't have worried however. "No!" Marcus thumped the table for emphasis. "Neither Roger nor Tony will go anywhere near them. Do you understand Thomas? Now, let us hear no more of using them as bait or anything else that will endanger them." He gave Thomas a cold look. "You should know I would never allow it." "Your pardon, Marcus." Thomas drained his wineglass then stood up. "If you will excuse me, I must go out. I will not be long." I shuddered at the implication. I could only hope he was as gentle as Marcus with his victims, but somehow, I doubted it. I was forming an opinion of Thomas that was none too flattering. I'm going to keep an eye on you, fella, I thought, munching my sandwich. Just don't make any funny moves. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Sixteen That night, Marcus was especially sweet to me. After Andorra and Tony had retired to their room and there was still no sign of Thomas's return, he playfully carried me to our room and flung me down on the bed. Lying on top of me, he peeled my shirt off. What, no magic fingers? I thought, smiling up at him. No magic fingers, he replied. I want to undress you, slowly, kissing each part of you that I lay bare. There was no way that I could survive that, without disgracing myself fabulously, so I wrestled him onto his back—of course, with his permission—and started to tear his clothes off with my teeth. I'd seen this done very successfully, in a porno movie, but it proved to be much more difficult in real life. He started to chuckle under me, as time and again I failed to unzip his pants, using only my molars. "Damn," I muttered to myself, down there. "It looked so easy when Rod Hardcock did it." But then, the magic fingers were there to help, and in a flash, his pants were gone, his perfect penis right there within easy reach of my mouth. I wasted no time, taking it deep inside my throat, using my tongue's newfound skills to bring it to its hardest, proudest dimensions. It filled my mouth with its pulsating, throbbing power. I felt him move over me, and his mouth held my cock prisoner. I froze, momentarily, as the sharp edges of his fangs ran up and down the length of my 190


erection. The effect was electrifying, and I cried out loud as my cock jumped in his mouth. No, I don't want to come yet, I thought and began to think of crazy stuff that would allow me to revel in this rapturous feeling for as long as he laid it on me. Then his voice was in my head. Don't fight it, beloved. Fill my mouth. Let me drink the essence of your love for me. That did it. With a gasping groan, I climaxed and felt the muscles in his throat constrict as he swallowed every drop that jetted from my engorged penis. At the same time, his cock spasmed in my mouth, and I sucked down the torrent of cum that flooded over my tongue. He pulled me up until our lips met, scorching me with a long, lingering kiss. I clung to him, still shuddering from this amazing sexual rush. He held me in an embrace I wanted to hold onto forever. "You are the sweetest man I have ever met," he said. "Not to mention, the bravest. I should punish you for what you did tonight, and yet, I think it would not deter you from doing it all over again." "What punishment did you have in mind?" I asked with a little smirk. "Only what you could endure." "From you, that could last a lifetime," I whispered. "Oh, my beloved Roger." I loved it when he called me that—'My beloved'. It was like an echo from a bygone age. People just don't talk to one another like that anymore, more's the pity. 191


Those words of endearment he showered upon me linger forever in my memory. It's just too bad we don't live each moment as if it were our last. We always believe there will be a tomorrow. Marcus and I lay quietly in each other's arms for a time, until I remembered part of what Tony and I had overheard earlier in the catacombs. "Marcus?" "Mmm?" "What are the 'Dark Forces' exactly?" "Something I hope neither you nor I will ever have to deal with." "But what are they?" I persisted. He sighed, knowing I could keep this up until he was worn down. "They are the ultimate evil. A race of ancient vampires who haunt the bowels of the earth, feared by all who know of their existence." "Why would d'Arcy contact them, then?" "Believe me, he did not. The Comte is an inveterate liar. Very little of what he says or does is coloured by truth. He is also a coward. To face the Dark Forces alone, one needs nerves of steel." "Have you ever faced them?" "Never. I know of only one who has, and he was struck mute by the experience. The good thing is they keep to themselves. They need nothing we have, and I certainly need nothing from them." "So all they do is lurk about underground? Not much of a life." "It is their punishment." 192


"For what?" "For asking too many questions." "Huh?" I looked up at him. He had a little smile on his face. "Oh, you. Okay, I can take a hint." "Wonder of wonders," he murmured, covering my body with his. So much had happened that neither of us noticed how late it was—or how early, if you prefer. As I lay in the shelter of Marcus's arms, I noticed a shaft of sunlight glint on the highly polished surface of the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. The sun was beginning to rise. I quickly ran to the windows and pulled closed the drapes—didn't want any of that touching my man! He gave me a drowsy smile as I jumped back into bed. I could tell his time to sleep was coming upon him, and I curled up by his side, resting my head on his chest. He's safe now, I thought, knowing that neither d'Arcy nor Gregory could come near during the daylight hours. I waited until I heard his steady breathing, indicating that he had fallen into the deep sleep of the vampire. Then I slid out of bed and hopped into the bathroom for a quick shower. As I dressed in front of the mirror, I saw some changes in my appearance. If Tony hadn't mentioned it, saying I had 'the look', I may not have noticed, subtle as they were. My skin seemed clearer, paler, my eyes brighter, despite the fact it was early morning, when I usually walk around with them half shut. I smiled at my reflection. Were my teeth whiter and just a tad longer? No, I told myself, must be my imagination. After 193


all, Tony had drunk from Andorra for years, and his teeth looked normal. After dressing, I wandered out into the kitchen, in search of a cup of coffee and Tony. I found both waiting for me. He gave me a sleepy-eyed grin. "Quite a night, eh? You sure are getting an initiation by fire." I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat by him at the table. "How do my teeth look to you?" I asked, grimacing at him. "They look fine." "Not fang-like?" He grinned. "You don't grow fangs until you're changed, Roger. Drinking Marcus's blood won't affect your teeth." "Hmm. Okay, I'll bow to your expertise in this matter. Did Thomas come back?" I asked, changing the subject. Tony nodded. "Andy waited up for him so she could show him his room. She said he looked ... rosy." "How much can we trust him, d'you think?" "A good question." Tony gave me an appraising look. "Of course, you know the history between him, d'Arcy and Marcus?" I nodded. "Marcus told me." "So, he's gotta see you as something of an obstacle if he wants to get cosy with Marcus again, right?" I nodded again. "Something he said last night definitely gave me the idea I'm not high on his list of favourite people. It also made me think that what he suggested might just work. It may be too crazy, and if it is, just say so..." 194


"About us finding d'Arcy while he slept and offing him and the ugly one?" I nodded. "I think Thomas was more inclined to send me on my own, but your help would be appreciated. D'you know where d'Arcy hangs out?" "I have a good idea, if it's the same place he had before. We'd have to do some climbing." "Okay. What would we need?" "You're serious about this?" "Yes." "Man." Tony sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "You know if this goes wrong we're dead meat, don't you?" "Right, but we do stand a good chance during the day. A, they'll be asleep and vulnerable, and B, Marcus can't read our minds and know what we're doing. This is the only shot we'll get before he and Andorra wake up." He gave me a long, searching look, then he finally nodded and stood up. "Okay, I'm with you." "What will we use? Stakes or—" "Cutting off their heads would be quicker and a lot more certain. Sometimes a vampire can survive a stake through the heart, but not the loss of his head." I shuddered, thinking now of what we were actually proposing. To kill someone, even someone as ghastly as d'Arcy, would not be an easy thing to do. "Or we could set fire to his villa," Tony added. "We'd just have to make sure they didn't escape." "Wait. If we set fire to the place, they'd have to run out into the sunlight." 195


"Not necessarily. I'd bet on d'Arcy having some kind of underground tunnel he could use to escape. Andy has one here." So nothing for it but to face them in their lair and do some chopping. Yikes. "Okay," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. "Let's do it." Tony had a Mercedes stored in the garage under the villa, so he drove us down to the local hardware store where we bought a couple of axes. Tony knew d'Arcy's villa was hidden atop a peak in a local ski area, so we drove some way out of the city, to the base of a really tall mountain. "Wait," I said, yanking on his arm. "How the hell are we going to get up there?" He pointed upwards. "There's a sky train the skiers use. It runs all year, and it'll take us most of the way. From there, though, we have to hike it." Carrying our bags that held our murder weapons, we boarded the sky train and took off into the blue. At any other time, I would have enjoyed this ride. It was truly spectacular. I mean, you could see as far as the city of Rome. It sparkled in the distance in the winter sun. Knowing what we had to face at the other end, kinda killed the moment. Tony had become extremely quiet, and I wondered if he'd chicken out when we got off the lift—not that I would have really blamed him. I was beginning to have some serious doubts myself as to the wisdom of what we were attempting. We hiked up the trail Tony thought would lead to d'Arcy's villa. After about a mile, I started to get worried. This was 196


going to take longer than I had anticipated. My watch already read noon. Sunset was at five. "How much farther?" I wheezed, the thin mountain air playing hell with my lungs. "It's quite a ways yet. Maybe another couple of hours." Okay, that would still give us three hours of daylight. We could still do this. But at three with still no sign of any damned villa, I stopped and motioned for Tony to sit with me at the side of the trail. "This is crazy, Tony. Are you sure his villa's up here?" "I was pretty sure," he muttered. "But now, I don't know." Great. "Okay, if we don't find it in the next hour or so, we have to start back. It'll be dark before we get to the lift. Shit, Marcus and Andorra will be awake and madder than hornets. And all for nothing." I moaned, my chin on my chest, knowing I had blown this. "You're right. Maybe we should head back now. We don't want to be out here in the dark. I forgot to bring the flashlight." Oh, another great! Greater than great. Jeez. I stood up. "Let's just check around the next bend. If we can't see anything, we'll head back." He nodded, following me up the trail. When we reached the bend in the road, my shoulders went slack with despair. Nothing ahead for what looked like miles and miles of mountainous trail. "Fuck," I muttered. "Okay, let's get back while we still have some daylight." Feeling totally stupid and cringing at the thought of the unwelcoming committee we were going to face 197


when we got back to Andorra's place, I clumped off down the trail, Tony straggling behind, obviously unwilling to listen to my ranting. Of course, it got dark before we got very far. One minute there was a passable light filtering through the trees onto the trail, the next minute it was pitch black. "Tony?" "Yeah?" "We'd better hold hands or belts or something so we don't lose one another." "Okay." I felt his big hand take mine, giving me some feeling of comfort, and off we went again, blundering down this lonesome trail. Suddenly, Tony's hand tightened on mine. "D'you hear that?" he whispered. "Hear what?" A prickle of fear tingled on the back of my neck. "Kind of a flapping sound." "Tony, this is not the time for horror stories. I'm scared enough." "No, I heard something. Listen!" I stopped dead in my tracks, and he barged into me, nearly knocking me over. "Tony, for Chrissakes." "Sorry, but you stopped." "Shh!" Now I could hear it. He was right. It did sound like something flapping ... wings flapping ... big wings ... Oh, shit! "Run!" I yelled, pulling at his hand. "Run where? We can't see a damned thing." 198


A low, sinister chuckling sound nearby froze the blood in my veins. "Tony?" "That wasn't me." I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, loud enough for Marcus to hear me, no matter how far away he was at this moment. But a hand was clamped over my mouth, and I felt myself being lifted into the air. Then, I'm ashamed to say, I passed out. **** "Roger, wake up, Roger!" Someone was shaking me so hard, my teeth rattled. Groggily, I looked into Tony's haggard expression. "Thank Christ," he muttered, gripping my arm. "I thought you'd never come out of that." "Where are we?" I asked, looking around the dimly lit room. "We're in fucking Dracula's castle. Where the hell d'you think we are?" "Dracula?" I stared at him, still not quite with it. "The Comte d'Arcy. He took us off the trail and brought us here. I was right. We just hadn't hiked far enough." "Well, if you'd had a greater idea of just how far up this mountain it was, maybe we could have planned this a little better," I said, glaring at him. "How was I supposed to know? Last time, I flew outta here." 199


"Great." I rolled off the giant wingback chair I was slumped in and staggered to the window. I could see nothing at all. "Marcus has got to know where we are by this time, Tony." "How'd you figure?" "Because he can read my mind, and right now it's screaming, 'I'm in fuckin' d'Arcy's villa somewhere in the mountains!'" "He can't reach your mind here." "Why not?" "Because d'Arcy can block those powers just like Marcus can. This is d'Arcy's turf. He's the man here, in total control." I felt sick. "You mean Marcus doesn't know where we are?" "Oh, I'm sure he and Andy will have worked it out by this time. Both of us missing while they were asleep. You offering to be a decoy last night. They'll have figured it out, all right. But they won't be able to get in here." "You told me Andorra rescued you from here before. Why can't they get in?" "Because before d'Arcy invited her here. He will have revoked that invitation, making it impossible for either her or Marcus to enter the villa." "Damn, that's right. So we have to get out." Tony's laughter was sardonic at best. "Hey, that's right. Why didn't I think of that?" Any further sarcasm was stalemated by the door being shoved open, revealing our old friend, the Comte, standing there, a vicious smile of satisfaction on his face. A smell, worse than a skunk's in heat swirled into the room, telling us 200


that Gregory lurked close behind. Jeez, how did d'Arcy cope with that? "Oh my God," I exclaimed, gagging at the rancid odour. "What the hell died and wasn't cleaned up?" The Comte chuckled. "He is quite disgusting, isn't he? He has his uses, however." He fixed Tony with a malevolent eye. "I'm afraid, my dear Anthony, that he has become somewhat infatuated with you." "What?" Tony recoiled in horror. "You're not letting that ugly son-of-a-bitch anywhere near me!" "You have no choice in the matter," d'Arcy snapped. "Come here, Anthony." "No, no, no!" Tony backed up against the far wall, his face stricken with terror. Gregory, the thing that had once been a man and now was some hideous grotesque, lurched into the room, bringing with him the stench of corruption. Yellow pus drooled from lips that moved in a ghastly parody of an anticipated kiss as he reached for Tony. "You bastard!" I bellowed. "Stop this now!" The Comte's high-pitched laughter was his only answer, his red-rimmed eyes gloating over Tony's terrified face. "Stop it, you son-of-a-bitch," I yelled, lunging at him. Without being touched, I was flung to the far side of the room and watched with a kind of fascinated revulsion as Gregory pulled Tony into his arms. The monster gazed at Tony's terror-stricken face with a sort of glee. A rumble of pleasure escaped his drooling mouth, and he brought Tony's face 201


closer for what could only be the most disgusting kiss of all time. "No!" Tony's scream echoed through the room. He raised both his hands above his head, and with a strength born of Andorra's blood, he brought both fists down on Gregory's head, causing the monster to stumble backwards and at the same time release Tony from his revolting embrace. "Andy!" The cry of terror was torn from Tony's lips, then before I could move to stop him, he dove headfirst through the window, his scream echoing back to where I stood, horror stricken, staring at the bits of shattered glass that still clung to the window frame. "Oh, my God," I whispered. "Tony." "The fool," d'Arcy snarled. I backed away from him as he reached for me. "Don't try anything as foolish, Roger," he hissed at me, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him. "I'm saving you for something very special." He flung me towards the door. "Follow Gregory," he barked. "You are powerless against me. Your lover cannot save you now." I followed the reeking hulk that was Gregory down a long hall lit by marble sconces. My mind was numb with fear and grief. Tony. Dear God. I still couldn't believe what had happened, and Marcus, unable to get near me. I had really done it this time. What absolute fools Tony and I had been to ever attempt something like this. And now Tony was dead, and Andorra would probably never forgive me, not that it mattered. I was going to be dead too, very soon, by the looks of things. 202


I wondered what 'very special' thing d'Arcy had in store for me. Whatever it was, I knew it was going to be extremely unpleasant. Oh, Marcus. Damn, but I didn't want it to end this way. If only I could see him again, before— I stumbled into a huge drawing room where, standing by the fireplace was a familiar figure. Thomas! "You bastard," I seethed. "Does Marcus know you're in here?" "Of course." His smile was vicious. "Can you not hear him howling his rage outside?" Outside? "He's here?" I started to run for the door, but Thomas, in a flash, had me by the throat. "No, Roger, I'm afraid you cannot see him. Nor will you ever again." His tongue scoured the side of my neck, and I shuddered with repugnance. He might be hot looking, but a creep's a creep, whatever the disguise. "Yergh! Get off me, you fucking perv," I yelled at him. He flushed with anger and slapped me across the face. "Ow!" I kicked his shins hard. He lifted me off the ground, his mouth gaped open, his fangs extended. Oh shit. "Wait, Thomas." d'Arcy's rasping voice made my would-be blood drinker pause. "I think Marcus should witness this." You see? Arrogance knows no bounds. He was going to bring Marcus in here. That will be their undoing, I thought, with a mental smirk. Yes, bring him in, d'Arcy, and let's see what will happen to you—and you, Tommy boy! 203


Thomas relaxed his hold on me, and I couldn't resist popping him one. I caught him on the edge of his jaw. Not a great punch but one that made him gasp with surprise. "That's for the slap, shit head," I said, through clenched teeth. His eyes blazed red with anger, and with a snarl, he grabbed me again, bringing his mouth to my throat. "Thomas, stop! Not yet." D'Arcy was regarding me with some amusement as he pulled Thomas away from me. "You are quite the fighter, Roger. Your looks belie your ability. I had thought you weak, but it seems I was mistaken. How delightful. All the more fun for us, eh Thomas?" Thomas simply glared at me, licking his lips with what I guessed to be anticipation of my blood pouring into his mouth. Jeez. Hurry up and let Marcus in. "Take him upstairs," d'Arcy ordered. "Gregory, wait for my command, then open the door and bid them enter." Yeah, Gregory, then run like hell. Thomas dragged me up a winding staircase to a landing one floor up, one side of which was made entirely of glass. Through it, I saw Marcus pacing about below, no doubt raging at his inability to help me. Thomas rapped on the glass, then as Marcus jerked his head upward, gave him a little wave and smile. God, I wanted to slap that smile off his face. Then it dawned on me. They wanted Marcus to see whatever they were going to do to me but from outside the villa. They weren't going to let him in until it was all over. "Marcus," I yelled, struggling like mad to free myself. His beautiful face was stricken with pain and horror. "Thomas, 204


you don't want to do this. He'll hunt you down for the rest of your life. You know that, don't you?" Thomas looked at me, hatred streaming from his eyes. "You really thought you could take my place, you peon? When you are gone, he will forget you and come back to me." "Are you crazy? Marcus will never forgive you. He'll kill you for this." A flicker of doubt crossed his face. "You know I'm right," I panted, still struggling. "Let me go, and he might forgive you. You don't want him as your enemy." His eyes shifted from mine to the window through which he saw his former lover staring up at him, silently beseeching him not to do this. Then I heard d'Arcy behind us. "Now, Thomas. Do it now so that Marcus can watch his sweet love die." A cruel smile crossed Thomas's face. He ripped my shirt from my body then pulled me into his arms. His eyes locked on mine, and I felt my will dissolve. He's hypnotising me, I thought, unable to resist him. He placed his right thigh between my legs and began to rub rhythmically against my crotch. He wrapped my arms around his neck, then he kissed me on the mouth, a long, long passionate kiss, all for Marcus's benefit. I thought I heard Marcus screaming with pain below me, but that might have been my imagination. Thomas moved his lips to my jugular, his sharp fangs viciously breaking the skin, then he began to suck the life out of me. For how long he drank from me, I have no recollection. All I knew was that I was falling asleep, sinking into his arms, 205


a limp and unresisting vessel from which he could satisfy his hunger and jealousy. Just dimly, I heard some crashing sounds, a roaring, voices raised in anger, curses raining down on me. And then, I knew nothing at all. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seventeen "Roger." From far away it seemed, I heard Marcus calling me. I tried to answer, but no sound came from my lips. "Roger, can you hear me. If you can, squeeze my hand." With what took an almighty effort, I squeezed. It must have been a feeble attempt, for I heard his voice again. "Roger?" I tried again, harder this time. It must have registered for I heard a sigh of relief. "Roger, my beloved. He drained almost all your blood, but a trace of it still remains. I can help you live, but my love, you will be changed. Do you understand?" I squeezed his hand. I felt a drop of something warm and salty on my lips. His tears. Weakly, I licked at the moisture, and I heard him sob. Then another voice—a woman's voice said, "Quickly Marcus, you cannot delay if he is to live." "Roger." His voice was but a whisper, close to my ear. "Is this what you want?" I squeezed his hand again ... yes. His lips caressed the wound where Thomas had bitten me, then I felt him drink what little blood remained in me. My body grew cold and heavy as my life began to ebb. I'm dying, I thought, dying ... Marcus, please don't let me die. Please... I tried to move, but could not, to struggle, to hold on to the last vestiges of my existence, but instead, everything slipped away from me, until all that was left, was darkness. **** 207


I stood on the edge of a high cliff, looking out across the dark sea, lit faintly by a pale and ghostly moon. Far below me, black waves surged against the rocks, the sound of their fury echoing up to me as I balanced precariously on the cliff edge. All around was a stillness, as though every living thing had taken flight, and left me alone to face my fate, whatever it was to be. I tried to turn away, to retrace my footsteps away from the sheer drop in front of me, but I could not. There was no way back now, no deviation from the path fate had decreed was mine to follow. I opened my arms wide and looked upward into the pale face of the moon. It seemed to smile at me, a cold, sardonic smile. It knew I was dying, and it gave no comfort. Death is, after all, unavoidable. It's that strange, enigmatic fate that awaits us all, one way or another. To die old and in one's bed is the ideal, but it's never really our decision. In other circumstances, it wouldn't have been my choice to die at the ripe young age of twenty-four. But I understood what Marcus had offered me—to die and yet to live, though in a vastly different form. "Marcus," I whispered. "Are you somewhere near?" His voice came again to me, gentle, calming. "Yes, my beloved, I am here. Come to me now. Trust me, my love. All will be well." I smiled and looked away from the moon's cold gaze. "Take me then," I murmured. Launching myself from the edge, I fell headlong into the darkness of the abyss. 208


**** When I awoke from my death, it was immediately apparent to me that things had radically changed. I recognised the room. We were still in Andorra's villa, and in this bedroom, Marcus and I had made love just before Tony and I went on that foolhardy mission to kill d'Arcy and his sidekick, Gregory. But the room seemed different somehow— enhanced perhaps? More brilliantly coloured, images sharper and clearer, everything strangely nearer. That was odd, but I'd work it out later. Now, I wanted to get up, walk about, test the new strength I felt coursing through my body. "Lie still." He was standing on the other side of the room, yet his voice was like a murmur in my ear. "Marcus..." Instantly, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand caressing my cheek. "How do you feel?" he asked. "I tried to make sure you would not be afraid." "I wasn't really. You were with me." His eyes searched mine. "Do you feel ... different?" "I don't quite know yet." "I mean, towards me." He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it gently, his eyes never leaving my face. "I don't understand," I murmured. "I love you. What in the world could change that?" "Sometimes, in the course of the rebirth, there is a resentment towards the one who brings about the change. You do not feel that?" 209


"No." I brought his hand to my lips and slipping his thumb into my mouth, I winked at him. His smile made my heart leap with love for him. "I would be an ingrate to resent the one who saved my life," I said, rubbing his thumb over my lips. "Now, please kiss me, and tell me that you love me too." He did, on both counts. Then he helped me from the bed and let me walk about on my own. No doubt of it, my step was springier, my movements more fluid. "Wow," I said, happily. "Does this mean I can fly like you?" "Not yet. Please don't go jumping off the balcony," he said chuckling. His words reminded me. Tony. "Oh God, Tony..." I whispered, my mind racked with guilt. "Hold on," Marcus said, striding towards the door and opening it wide. "You'd both better come in." Andorra appeared in the doorway, looking serene and lovely as always, but the person behind her was the one who made me race forward and fling myself upon him. "Tony! You're alive! What?" I gaped at him. "You can fly?" "No," he laughed, holding me tight. "But Andorra can, thank God." It was time for explanations, and I had a million questions about what had happened after Thomas had taken my blood. Thomas ... if he was not dead, he would pay for that. "He is not dead," Marcus said. "He and d'Arcy escaped." "And Gregory?" "He's toast!" Tony said with considerable relish. His arm around my waist, Marcus led me into the living room, where we all sat by the fireplace, and I listened to 210


them recount the story of what had happened. Fortunately for Tony, Andorra witnessed his death-defying leap and was able to break his fall from the window, by leaping up to catch him before he splattered all over the gravel driveway. "That gave us an edge," Tony explained. "I didn't need an invitation to enter d'Arcy's villa. Only problem was, I had fainted as I fell from the window. By the time I woke up, Thomas had already started to drain you." Gregory, who'd been stationed at the door waiting for d'Arcy's orders to open it, was taken completely by surprise when Tony pushed it open, yelling for Marcus and Andorra to join him. Once inside, Andorra had set about beating the crap out of Gregory—and there was a lot of it—while Marcus bounded up the stairs to reach me. "You should have seen him go, Roger," Tony said, his eyes shining with the memory of it. "He yelled at me to follow him, but he was like twenty steps ahead of me already. Thomas was in the throes of bloodlust, so busy sucking it all out of you, he didn't even hear what was going on. Man, was he surprised when Marcus tore him off you. He picked Thomas up like he was nothing, held him suspended off the ground, and stared into his eyes until Thomas quivered like a leaf. Then he threw him down the stairs. He must have bounced two or three times on the way down, landing at the bottom on his head. He was lucky Marcus didn't snap him in two." "Tony." Marcus looked suitably modest about his derringdo actions to save me, but I would have none of it. "Thank you," I whispered, holding him close to me. "And d'Arcy?" I asked, turning to Tony. 211


"He looked royally pissed that he had been beaten—again. But he didn't hang around for the fallout. He just disappeared, leaving Thomas and Gregory to fend for themselves. Thomas, seeing he was outnumbered, and I think, scared to death of Marcus, flew off into the night. So that left poor old Greg, deserted by his cronies," Tony added, laughing. "What happened to him?" I asked. "I cut off his head," Andorra replied, with a smile. "Which brings us to you, my beloved," Marcus said, taking my hand. "Right, I must have been a mess." "Man, I really thought you were a goner," Tony said, shaking his head. "You looked ... dead." "Thomas had drained you almost completely," Marcus explained. "Your heart was merely trembling inside you, and I felt only the tiniest of pulse beats." "Poor Marcus was in shock, seeing you this way," Andorra said, quietly. "For he knew you were going to require an enormous amount of blood to save you. More than he alone could give." I stared at them for a moment, a nasty thought pricking at my mind. "You didn't ... tell me you didn't use Gregory's blood." "Oh, man!" Tony exploded, his eyes wide as saucers. "Are you kidding? No, you got a cocktail." "All three of us gave our blood to you, Roger," Marcus said, squeezing my hand. "You will live for an eternity with 212


what you have received. You will be strong, powerful in body and mind. You could be the most powerful of us all." "You mean, powerful enough to do d'Arcy and Thomas in?" I asked with a deal of venom. "Undoubtedly," Andorra replied. "But you must not waste your new life on revenge. Do not take on the persona of a d'Arcy or Thomas—they who are now reviled by every vampire in the universe. They will not be welcomed anywhere, anytime. They are outcasts now and always will be." "You see, Roger," Marcus said gently. "Some time has passed since you were reborn. Remember I told you when we first spoke of this that the change should be done gradually. Unfortunately, Thomas took you to the brink of death far too quickly, and sometimes that can result in brain damage. Even with the blood you drank from us, we felt it best to let you rest for as long as possible in order that you would not suffer any form of reversal. We allowed you to awaken only when we were sure there were no signs of physical or mental damage. Although it seems to you all these events took place just last night, in fact it has been a month—" "A month?" I squeaked. "Oh, my God ... what about everyone at home? What will they be thinking? My mother, Mark, people at the bank—all my friends." "There are some sacrifices that must be made when you embrace this new life." Andorra, pointing this out, did not make me feel any better. "Oh Jeez, what am I going to do?" I moaned. "My mom is going to be out of her mind with worry." 213


"Maybe we could get some word to her. Let her know that you're okay," Tony suggested, looking at me with sympathy. "But how? What do I tell her after a month of not being in touch? 'Hey Mom, I'm in Italy and I'm not coming home— ever—and guess what? I'm a vampire'? Yeah, that'll go down well." Marcus stroked my hand to comfort me, but I could tell he didn't know what to say. This was way beyond his area of expertise. Moms and Dads didn't exist in his world. "We'll think of something," Tony said. **** All of this happened so long ago, yet some of it lingers in my memory with a freshness that still brings tears to my eyes. When I was strong enough, Marcus and I left Andorra and Tony in their villa in Rome and returned to Los Angeles. From Marcus's house in the hills, I phoned home. Listening to my mother sobbing with relief at hearing my voice, made me realise how much I loved her, and how much I was going to miss her and Dad. As Andorra said, there are sacrifices to be made, but there are ways to circumvent some issues. If my parents thought it strange that I would only visit them at night, they never questioned it. When I told them I had a fabulous new job as a private secretary to an up-andcoming financier which would entail my travelling all over the world with him, they both said they were happy for me, even though they would see less of me in future. And guess what? I brought Marcus home to meet them one night, just before we left for London. I could tell they 214


were just as awe-struck as I had been the first time I met him. Mom was in a dither the entire time he was there, while my dad seemed to hang on every word Marcus uttered, without interrupting once to ask questions. "Please remember to call," Mom said, kissing my cheek as we left. "And get some iron in you. You must be working too hard. You're both a mite pale!" Kevin hadn't really noticed I'd been gone. He'd met this great guy, he told me when I called. His name was Kurt. Mark was harder to deal with. He was happy Marcus and I were together, but the fact I'd gone out of town for so long without calling him to say I was okay did not sit well with him. He was decidedly cool towards me the night I told him Marcus and I were off to Italy, for an extended period of time. "Good luck, then," he said, standing stiffly in my embrace. "I'll call you," I said as I left. Both of us knew then, I never would. Yes, some sacrifices had to be made. Now, fifty years later, I look back on all that with some sadness. Yet, they have been fifty of the most incredible years of my life. How could they not be with the world's most wonderful man by my side? If ever a fledging vampire had a more caring, loving teacher than I, I'd like to meet him—and call him a liar. As you can probably imagine, vampire-hood is not something you take to immediately and without some awkwardness. The world around me had suddenly taken on new dimensions, playing havoc with all my senses. Sight, sound, smell, touch— all were, at first, so enhanced it was almost frightening. 215


I would fall over my feet, be outraged by some people's voices that now sounded squawky and off key, be overpowered almost to gagging point by smells I had previously found quite pleasant ... However, as time progressed and I was coached by the most wonderfully patient companion in the world, I became adept at keeping my balance and able to deflect cacophony and bad smells from my ears and nose. The blood I had been infused with, that powerful 'cocktail' from Marcus, Andorra and Tony, had given me the head start most young vampires could only dream of. As the weeks and months went by, it became obvious to Marcus and myself that they had imbued me with such a potent brew, my strength would one day attain formidable proportions. Just as well I'm such a nice guy. Of course, I made mistakes. My first attempt at flying was pretty hilarious. No, I didn't launch myself from Andorra's balcony. I do listen sometimes. "Baby steps," Marcus said, standing with me on a second story window ledge then grabbing my arm as he fell forward. He flew. I ended up spitting out dirt from the flowerbed below. Ah well, we all know that saying about pride go-ething and all that jazz. You should see me zoom now! In my mind, though, the greatest part of this gift has been the extra-sensual lovemaking Marcus and I indulge in, with a frequency that has never abated over the years. Vampirehood is great for the libido, guys. That old boast 'We fucked all night' really does apply to us. Jealous? You should be. 216


We see Tony and Andorra every now and then. Shortly after my recovery, Tony asked Andorra to change him. He told me he didn't want to be the odd man out anymore. He makes a very handsome vampire. Oh, and in case you're wondering, the Comte d'Arcy has never been heard of since that night in Rome. Marcus thinks he has hidden himself away in the depths of the earth, perhaps waiting for a new millennium. Or maybe the Dark Forces got him. I rather prefer that ending for him. However, we did eventually catch up with Thomas—just recently, as a matter of fact. He was staying in an old hotel in Vienna—one where Marcus has had rooms for years. Can you believe the fool was actually there when we checked in? He had recalled Marcus taking him there when they were lovers and had inveigled his way in, employing what little charm he had left on a young chambermaid, who did not report to the hotel's management that a man was staying in the suite. We knew he was there before the bellhop opened the door. Imagine my surprise and shock, however, on seeing this poor imitation of what had once been a very hot specimen of vampire. To mortal eyes, he probably still looked fairly handsome—a trifle seedy perhaps, someone who may have fallen on rough times. But to Marcus and I, he had become a shrunken shadow of his former self. "Holy shit," I blurted with no subtlety whatsoever. "What in the hell happened to you?" "Roger," Marcus demurred, the corner of his mouth twitching just a little. 217


Trying to be his old arrogant self, Tommy boy raised an eyebrow and glared at us both. "Drop the attitude, Tommy," I said. "Last time we were together, you tried to kill me. How about if I return the favour?" He looked at me, a flicker of fear in his eyes. He knew I could do it. He could sense the strength and power I now possessed. "Th ... that was all d'Arcy's idea," he stammered. "I never wanted to harm you." "Oh, so sucking me dry was just love play?" Marcus put his hand on my arm. "Thomas, I'm not sure why you are here, but it would be best if you leave now." His lower lip quivered. Oh, here we go, I thought uncharitably. Here comes the sob story. "I have nowhere else to go, Marcus," he sobbed. I knew it. He was going to try for sympathy from kindhearted Marcus. "What has happened to you?" Marcus asked. "I am shunned by all who know me," he quavered. "Ever since that night when d'Arcy coerced me into agreeing to his plans, I have never known a restful day. I am beset with terrible guilt." "So you should be," I sneered. "You betrayed Marcus, and you were ready to throw me to the wolves." "Please forgive me." Oh, puh-leez! What a phoney. "We forgive you, Thomas," Marcus said, gripping my arm. Wait a minute... 218


"But I'm afraid you cannot stay here. You must leave, immediately." That's my boy... "But, Marcus." "No, Thomas. What Roger said is true. There is no room in our lives for a treacherous friend, coerced or not." With a murderous look at me, Thomas swept from the room. It was all I could do not to kick him on his bony ass as he passed me, nose in the air. The slam of the door behind him as he exited filled me with a sense of deep satisfaction. "Well," I said, kissing my man on his luscious lips. "I think that's the last we'll see of him." Marcus sighed, his sweet breath filling my mouth. "When will you ever learn some manners?" "'Scuse me?" I said, affronted. "I should have been polite to that son-of-a-b—" His lips on mine silenced me. When we came up for air, he said. "I didn't mean Thomas. You didn't tip the bellhop. That's just not polite." "I'll give him the biggest tip of his young life next time I see him!" Laughing, I jumped into Marcus's arms, circling his hips with my legs. At seventy-four, like I said, I'm still ready for it. So is he, and he's got quite a few years on me. We hit the bed, in a tangle of arms and legs, his lips on mine, his kisses thrilling me as always. We're so good together, my vampire and I. [Back to Table of Contents] 219


About the Author J.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim's Company. Emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. Currently living in Henderson, Nevada. Email: [email protected] J.P. loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website and author biography at www.total-ebound.com. [Back to Table of Contents]

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My Vampire and I

I, Vampire

I and My Chimney

My Vampire Lover

My Lord Vampire

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Be My Vampire Tonight

My Wicked Vampire

My Lord Vampire

My Fair Vampire

My Vampire Lover

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My Wicked Vampire

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

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Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

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Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

I Love My Mami!

I Want My MTV

I'm a Vampire and I Count

So I Married a Vampire

My Vampire and I

I, Vampire

I and My Chimney

My Vampire Lover

My Lord Vampire

My Vampire Lover

Be My Vampire Tonight

My Wicked Vampire

My Lord Vampire

My Fair Vampire

My Vampire Lover

My Vampire Lover

My Vampire Lover

My Wicked Vampire

My Wicked Vampire

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

Be Still My Vampire Heart

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Be Still My Vampire Heart

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