My Vampire Lover

My Vampire Lover 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 Lover 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 MY VAMPIRE LOVER Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Epilogue About the Author Total-e-bound eBooks ****

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A Total-e-bound Publication ****

**** www.total-e-bound.com My Vampire Lover ISBN # 978-1-906590-15-4 ©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 LOVER J. P. Bowie [Back to Table of Contents]

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Dedication For Phil. Always. Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Google: Google Inc. Chianti: Consorzio Vino Chianti Classico Consortium Honda Civic: Honda Motor Co. Lois Lane: DC Comics, Warner Communications [Back to Table of Contents]

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Prologue Paris, France, 1906 He stood in the windswept graveyard, looking down at the neatly tended earth. His eyes roamed the few spent and withering flowers, then rested on the words inscribed on the white, polished granite tombstone. Jean-Claude Lepeltier Artist 1876-1906 R.I.P. His lips parted in a small smile. As a flurry of snowflakes blew around his face, he pulled his greatcoat about him, in a gesture born of habit, but one that would soon become foreign to him—for he could no longer feel the cold. He turned his smile on the man who stood by his side. "Do you think anyone will miss me?" he asked his companion. "Undoubtedly," the man replied, taking Jean-Claude's arm and leading him from the darkening cemetery. "Those who loved you will weep, those who admired your work will curse the fates for taking one with so much talent before his allotted time. Yes, you will be mourned. The real question is, will you miss anyone you have left behind?" 8


"One or two, only..." Jean-Claude frowned, thinking. "My mother, of course ... it truly hurt to see her so devastated at the news of my death. I must provide for her in some way, Henri." "I have already taken care of that." They paused at the cemetery gates where their hansom cab awaited them. "The sale of your paintings at auction will realise a vast amount of money." Henri's chuckle was without mirth. "Ironically, much more than if you still lived. I have arranged a trust fund for your mother out of the profits, and the rest is invested in your name in a bank in Hamburg." "You think of everything," Jean-Claude said, squeezing his friend's arm. "And Paul?" "Ah, yes ... young Paul. It is best he learns to forget you." "But, he will be lost without me." "Only for a little time, Jean-Claude. Then he will find another to take care of him. A person like Paul lives on his wits—and his beauty." "Still, I would not want him to fall upon hard times." Henri sighed impatiently. "Very well. I will see that he receives a small stipend to save him from 'hard times'." Jean-Claude cast his warm smile again on Henri. "Thank you, my friend. I know you do not think highly of Paul, but he has a winning charm." Henri's smile was tight. "Which he's used shamelessly to get what he wants and still does, it seems." They climbed into the carriage without another word and proceeded at a leisured pace towards their destination. JeanClaude pushed his back into a corner of the cab and stared 9


out the window as they passed through the dark streets of Paris now lying under a fine layer of snow. "Will you miss Paris?" Henri asked him. "Yes. I have known no other home for close to thirty years." He sighed and shrugged his slender shoulders. "Of course, it would not do for me to be seen here. Your suggestion that I go to America seems sound. America holds a promise I feel it will keep. And you, Henri? What will you do?" "I will spend the rest of my life promulgating your legend so that Paris never forgets your brilliance as an artist." Jean-Claude blinked back the tears that had sprung to his eyes. "Thank you, Henri. You have been my most amazing friend. How can I ever repay you?" "By allowing me to give you one last gift before you leave." Jean-Claude's eyes glistened as he took his friend's hand in his own. "You would do that for me?" "As a token of my love and admiration for you, yes I would." He moved closer to Jean-Claude and loosened his starched shirt collar. "Here, my beloved friend, take enough to sustain your strength." "It may hurt you," Jean-Claude whispered, his lips on Henri's neck. The scent of Henri's blood coursing through his jugular vein made Jean-Claude's senses reel. He felt his incisors extend, scraping the smooth skin, causing Henri to flinch, involuntary. Jean-Claude drew back. "You are afraid." "No, no. Go on," Henri murmured, his eyes closed, his hand clasping Jean-Claude's. He gasped as he felt sharp teeth 10


break through his skin. He moaned as Jean-Claude's lips and tongue worked at sucking the blood that oozed from the wound on his neck. "Oh, dear God," he whispered, feeling his body fill with a sensual need. He clutched at Jean-Claude, holding his head, pushing him harder against his neck. "Enough!" Henri opened his eyes to see his friend's face creased with concern. "Enough, Henri. Any more, and you would die." Henri pressed his face to Jean-Claude's chest, listening to the strong beating of his heart. He did not say the words he thought, "Willingly, for you," but he was content to stay within Jean-Claude's warm embrace until the hansom cab stopped outside the railway station. "Thank you, my friend." The two men gazed at each other, Henri seeing his own reflection in the dark blue of JeanClaude's eyes. "I will never forget you, nor what you have done for me." Jean-Claude kissed his friend gently on his lips then pushed the carriage door open and stepped down into the cold night air. "Think of me now and then," he said, with a smile, picking up his bags the driver had laid at his feet. Henri fought back the tears that burned his eyes. "I will never forget you, Jean-Claude. Never." With sad smiles, the two friends parted company—one, back to the life he had always known—the other, to begin a journey that would take him to a distant shore—and to begin a new life that, if the fates decreed, would never end. [Back to Table of Contents] 11


Chapter One West Hollywood: Present day On the morning of the night I met the man who would forever change my life, my brother, Jonas, had called me to say he and his husband, Ted, would be in town for a couple of days over the weekend—and could they stay over at my place? "Sure," I told him, "and maybe you'd both like to go dancing Saturday night." My brother is two years older than me, and at thirty, he's already been in a five year relationship with Ted. They live up in Portland but come down to LA about twice a year—usually on short notice, like the time I'm talking about. That was okay though, because, until I met him, I really didn't have a life. Oh, I had friends, boyfriends on a couple of occasions, and a fairly decent job managing a small Italian restaurant. It just all seemed kind of pointless at times—a dead end, if you will. I would become restless or listless when I gave too much thought to it, so I tried not to. Jonas was always on about me moving up to Portland—a much healthier town that LA, in his opinion. Maybe he was right, but I liked LA—the noise, the crowds, the endless traffic. It was alive, vibrant, and to me, home. After hanging up the phone from my long talk with my brother, I started to get ready for work. I was lucky—I could walk there from my apartment on Rugby. No traffic snarls for me to contend with. La Fortuna, the little restaurant I 12


managed just off Santa Monica, was a bustling place, and sometimes we'd stay open a little later to accommodate some of our slower diners. I always hate to be rushed through a good meal—and I wouldn't do it to my customers. This particular night, though, was kinda slow, so I told the chef and the waiters they could take off early, and I'd lock up by myself. After counting out the bank deposit for the following day and stowing it in the night safe, I headed for the door then saw him. He stood at the window reading the menu. Tall, about my height, a slender, athletic build, thick, dark hair combed back from a delicately boned, pale face. His eyes—I couldn't see the colour in the dark—fixed on mine as I gazed at him through the door window, and he smiled, a shy, somewhat weary, smile. I opened the door. "Hi," I said. "Sorry, we just closed." He nodded. "I understand you have a very interesting wine list," he said, with a trace of an accent ... French, perhaps. I smiled. "The owners pride themselves on it. Perhaps, another night you can sample some of their specialties." "Why not tonight?" Without my seeing him move, he was suddenly standing very close to me, and I was staring into his midnight-blue eyes, my jaw feeling a little slack. "Uh ... sure," I said, stepping back, opening the door wider. "Come on in." "Thank you." His bare arm brushed mine as he entered, and I felt a tingle like an electrical charge pass over my skin. He wore a tight black T-shirt, black straight leg jeans that 13


enhanced his slim build, and a pair of black cowboy boots. The man in black, I thought, admiring the perfect curve of his butt and itching to put my hand there and stroke it. He smiled at me, and I had the uncanny idea that he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Nice place," he said. "Every time I pass by, it's always looked very busy." "Not tonight," I said. "No. That is why I came. So I could see you." "See me?" I gulped slightly. "Oh, you want a job or something? We're actually not hiring right now, but—" He laughed lightly. "No, I don't need a job. I just wanted to meet you. I have been admiring you from afar for some time." "You have?" I gaped at him, unsure how to react to that statement. No one had ever admired me from 'afar' before— at least, not anyone I knew of. I'm okay looking, I guess ... six feet, one hundred eighty pounds, chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes. I don't work out regularly, but I run and that keeps me in shape. "Why do you act so surprised?" he asked, sitting at one of the tables and returning my stare with a smile that could only be called thrilling. "I'm not used to people saying things like that, I guess." I moved to the bar. "Can I get you a glass of this week's house specialty?" "If it is red, that would be very nice."

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I tried to stop my hand from shaking as I poured his wine. Pull yourself together, I told myself. He's just a guy—a little strange—but a guy, nevertheless. "Won't you join me?" His dark eyes bored into mine as I leaned forward to put his wineglass on the table. "Uh ... sure." I poured myself a glass, then sat at the table opposite him. "I'm Ron, by the way," I said, holding out my hand. "Jean-Claude." His hand was cool and dry, his grip firm. "I thought you sounded French," I told him, pleased with myself. "It's amazing how one's accent clings, even after so many years away from home." "How many years could that be? You're still young. Are you here for studies?" "No. I am here by necessity. I was exiled from France many years ago." "Exiled?" "Well, let us say, self-exiled." "Oh yeah, we get a lot of that in the States," I said, not knowing what I was talking about. He chuckled. "Am I making you nervous?" "No, not at all." I picked up my wineglass. "Cheers. I hope you like it." "Salud." He raised his glass in salute then took a long sip, closing his eyes and savouring it in his mouth before swallowing.

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I watched him with fascination, loving the way his long lashes rested on the edge of his cheekbones. I hoped the wine would pass his connoisseur's taste buds. "Very nice," he said, opening his eyes, smiling into mine. "Phew." I grinned at him. "I was dreading the fact I might have to tell the owner his wine sucks!" We laughed together, then he put his hand over mine. "Ron..." My name sounded different when he said it. "I am very glad I met you." "Me too," I said, polishing off my wine. "Another?" He, of course, had no notion then of what I was. In his mind, I was perhaps, a little strange in my manner of speaking—a foreigner, and therefore that strangeness could be excused. Neither did he know that I had seen him, on several occasions, passing my condominium building when he took his early morning run. I would watch him from my balcony, before the sun came up, his lithe, limber body covered in a fine sheen of sweat as he loped along with an easy flowing grace. Each time I saw him, I wanted that much more to meet him face to face, to speak to him, to listen to his voice, to hear of his hopes and dreams. He seemed unaware of his own allure, and that endeared him to me all the more. Behind that unassuming smile, I sensed the real man—one whose quiet strength belied his modest demeanour. I warmed to him immediately and hoped I would not have to use my 'powers of persuasion' to win him over. I longed for this first meeting to be one he would wish to repeat again and again. 16


His hand closed on mine as I started to get up. I felt myself being pulled closer to him, though he seemed to exert no effort. Was he pulling or was I just moving nearer to him? His lips touched mine. The effect was like nothing I'd experienced before. Just the slightest touch and I yanked him to his feet, crushed him in my arms and kissed him with a fervour I hadn't known I was capable of. "Jean-Claude," I whispered into his mouth. "You feel incredible." I couldn't believe this was happening. Just a half-hour ago, I was on my way home. Now I had this beautiful stranger in my arms, his hard, hot body pressed to mine, his lips and tongue sweetly bringing me to an almost instant orgasm. "Wait." I stepped back, breathing heavily. "Wait ... I'm sorry ... whoa ... you really had me going there." I stood stock still, willing myself not to erupt inside my shorts. Holy ... I'd never come to the brink so quickly. "Ron, come to me." His smooth, melodic voice acted as a balm, calming the internal furore that had raged in me. With one long stride, I closed the gap I had created between us and took him in my arms again. There was something magical about his presence, something intangible I couldn't define. He was a real, vital being, yet there was something else—otherworldly perhaps—as I crushed his mouth with mine. Banging at the door made me jump back from his embrace. "Damn," I muttered, seeing two figures standing outside. 17


"You closed early!" a disgruntled, angry shout came from the other side of the door. I swung it open. "Sorry," I said. "We had no business, so we closed." "You had no business closing!" The speaker, an overweight jerk who should have stopped eating for at least a month, glared at me through piggy eyes. "Yeah, he's right!" An equally gross woman at his side barked at me. "We're here all the time, and we want to be served right now!" "Sorry, the chef's gone for the night." I was aware of Jean-Claude standing beside me. "Can I be of some assistance?" he asked quietly. "You the manager?" the fat jerk snapped at him. "No and if you came here all the time, as you've said, you would know that this young man is the manager. Now I suggest you leave, before I bounce you on your fat bottoms." I bit off the laugh that rose to my lips. Fatso looked like he was about to explode, when suddenly Jean-Claude held up his hand and waved it once in front of the couple's faces. Like balloons with all the air suddenly sucked out of them, the two sagged before my eyes and, shoulders slumped in complete defeat, slouched away down the street. I turned to Jean-Claude and looked at him in amazement. "How ... how did you do that?" I stammered. "It's a little trick I learned some years ago—autosuggestion, I think it's called. The nice thing is, they will never come back to this restaurant again." "Wow, impressive," I said, believing him. 18


"Now, where were we?" he said, moving into my arms. "Uh ... Jean-Claude ... I think we should slow this down a little." He gave me a hurt look. "Don't you like me?" "Oh, yeah. I like you—a lot. It's just that, I've been working. I'm hot and sweaty. I need to get out of these clothes and into a shower." "Well, I'm all for you getting out of those clothes," he said, with a sly smile. "But if you're uncomfortable here, perhaps I can come home with you?" "Yeah, that'll be good. Let me just lock up." On the short walk back to my apartment, I was pissed, yet pleased, by the numerous admiring glances thrown at JeanClaude by just about every queen who passed us. Glancing at his classic profile every now and then, I wondered why on earth he would have admired me from afar as he put it. And why hadn't I noticed him? He was most definitely the noticeable kind. He took my hand as we climbed the steps to my apartment. I was startled yet incredibly touched by that gesture. I opened the door, and he stood, poised on the threshold, as if holding back. Oh, don't tell me you've had a change of heart, I thought, disappointment making me frown. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't you want to come in?" "Do you want me to?" "Of course I do," I said, taking his arm. "Thank you for inviting me to your home." He stepped into the hall, and I led him to the living room. 19


"Make yourself comfy," I told him, pointing to the couch. "Can I get you anything while I shower? A beer? Or, I do have some wine..." "I'll wait until you finish showering," he said with a smile as he sat on the couch. Felicia, my lady cat, immediately jumped onto his lap. "Oh, sorry," I mumbled, thinking of her white hair all over his black clothes. "It's quite all right," he murmured, stroking Felicia's thick coat. "Cats and I are old friends." That's a funny thing to say, I thought, as I padded into the bedroom, pulling off my clothes as I went. Not, I like cats ... old friends ... Hmm, he's a strange one all right. Strange, but hot ... I just hope he's not a mass murderer, or something. After showering, I wrapped a towel round my hips and sauntered back to the living room. Might as well show him the goods. Jean-Claude was lying on the couch, Felicia nestled on his chest, looking into his eyes with what could only be described as adoration. He talked to her in a low voice, in a language I didn't recognise—was that French? And it seemed as if Felicia hung on his every word. I cleared my throat loud enough to break the spell he had cast on the only cat that had ever liked me. "Well, hey," I said, much too loudly. "You guys are getting acquainted real fast!" Jean-Claude kissed Felicia's nose then put her down on the rug. Smiling, he rose from the couch and walked slowly towards me, his movements fluid and cat-like. Cats and I are old friends. 20


I shivered as his hand caressed my bare chest. "Are you jealous?" he asked, a teasing light in his midnight-blue eyes. "Yes," I muttered, pulling him into my arms. His hands undid my towel, and it dropped to the ground, leaving my raging hard on fully exposed. He grasped it in his hand, massaging it, running his thumb over the head until my precum covered his fingers. Smiling, his eyes riveted on mine, he brought his fingers to his mouth, savouring my essence. I gasped as he ran his thumb over my lower lip, letting me taste myself as I licked at it. I seemed to be no more than an erect penis. Every other part of me felt limp. I wanted to just collapse into his arms and have him do to me anything that would pleasure him. I pulled at the hem of his T-shirt, exposing his smooth, hard torso, and two soft pink nipples that hardened quickly as I nuzzled them with my lips. Tugging at the waistband of his jeans, I pulled down the zipper, releasing his erection. It sprang at me like a large living thing, proud and joyous to be free. I sank to my knees, overawed by its beauty, unable to wait a moment longer before I could take it into my mouth and tasted the juice that oozed from it. I heard him groan as his cock slid down my throat. I gripped his perfectly rounded butt cheeks and pulled him in deeper, almost risking being choked to death by the wedge of hard flesh my throat muscles tightened around. His hands caressed my head and face as he slowly pumped his engorged cock inside my mouth. 21


Oh yeah, I thought, moving in rhythm with him, let me have all of that cum I know is ready to explode inside my mouth. I know it's going to taste as sweet as you look, as sweet as honey. I gulped as I felt the first spurt of his semen hit the back of my throat, then I moved back a little to let the rest cover my tongue. Mmm ... nice... I wrapped my arms around his hips, holding him there as his body thrashed against me in his ecstasy. My face was buried in his crotch, the scent of his pubic hair like an aphrodisiac. My own orgasm churned inside me, and I came like a geyser, coating the inside of his thighs with my creamy load. He fell to his knees facing me and kissed me long and hard, his tongue probing every corner of my mouth. "Oh God," I whispered against his lips. "That was so ... so..." "Wonderful," he finished for me, kissing me again. "You are a wonderful man, Ron." For a moment, his lips nuzzled my throat, his teeth scraping lightly at my skin. I shivered with anticipation, then he pulled back suddenly and stood, pulling up his jeans. "I hope that we can do this again." "Wait ... you're not leaving, are you?" I looked up at him, disappointment all over my stupid face. "I must. I have an appointment I cannot avoid." "But, we're just getting started," I protested, getting to my feet. "I want to know you better ... sit and talk ... that kind of thing," I finished lamely. "Another time, Ron." "When? Tomorrow night? I have the night off." 22


"Perhaps." "Perhaps?" I frowned. "Are you giving me the brush off?" "No, I am not." He touched my face with his fingertips. "We will be together again—tomorrow night, if you wish it." "I do wish it. Very much." He kissed my lips lightly. "Tomorrow night, then. I will call on you at seven, if that is convenient." "I'll be here," I said, happily. "I'll make us dinner." "I will have already eaten, but a glass of wine perhaps..." "Okay." I walked him to the door. He turned and put his arms around me, nuzzling my neck again—and again I shivered with a feeling of something that I couldn't quite understand ... a longing maybe, to feel his teeth pressed into my skin— Whoa, where did that come from? He pulled back his head and looked into my eyes. I felt as though I might drown in those blue-black depths as he stared at me. "Goodnight," he whispered, close to my lips. "G'night," I gulped, unable to move. Then he moved away, and I heard the door close behind him. I stood in the hall for a long moment, just staring at the closed door. What had happened? I wondered. What had that feeling been? Why had I wanted him to bite me? I hated hickeys! For a moment, I hesitated outside after I had closed the door behind me. The scent of his blood had almost overpowered me. I had heard it coursing through his jugular vein as I had pressed my lips to his neck. It was as though he 23


sensed my need, for within him, he had anticipated the move I did not allow myself to make. The bloodlust—that ever present threat to any mortal I hold in my arms—had never felt as strong as when I had inhaled the sweetness of his blood beneath his skin. I shivered as I walked quickly away from his apartment door, eager to place as much distance between myself and the temptation he had invoked within me. Strange that I had not drunk from him... I could have and blotted all memory of it from his mind. Yet, I had baulked at it. Why? Was it my attraction towards him that had stayed my instincts? Was it that I did not want to steal the precious gift, but to have him bestow it upon me willingly, fully conscious of what he was giving? I knew, instinctively, that this man was special. I had known that since the first day I had seen him, since I had reached into his mind, felt his loneliness, and the undiscovered depths of love and desire he kept in check I shook my head free of these thoughts—for the hunt, one must have a clear mind at all times. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two The following day, I thought of nothing and no one else but Jean-Claude. I couldn't wait for the moment when he would show up at my door. It was my day off, and after my morning run, I set to making my apartment look as charming as I possibly could. I'm a bit anal about cleanliness, sometimes to the detriment of cosiness, as my bro's boyfriend, Ted, has told me on more than a couple of occasions. So, I picked up a copy of Your Apartment magazine on my way home and, after surfing through its very colourful pages, went out again to buy a couple of houseplants, some flowers and a variety of scatter pillows. At six o'clock, I spent twenty minutes in the shower, making sure every nook and cranny was exceptionally clean and fragrant. Raking through my limited wardrobe, I finally settled on a white cotton polo and khaki cargo shorts. When the doorbell rang at seven, I had to stop myself from charging to the door and knocking over everything in my path. I flung the door open, my face split in two by the biggest welcoming smile I could muster. "Well, hi—what a welcome!" My brother, Jonas, beamed back at me before giving me one of his famous bear hugs. "Hi, Ron." Ted scooted past us, heading for the kitchen with, no doubt, the meal he had prepared for the three of us, back home. 25


Oh. My. God. I had totally forgotten they were arriving on this night, of all nights. "My," Ted exclaimed, hand on hip, looking around the place. He was your typical DQ—designer queen. "Did you hire an interior decorator?" He gave me a perfunctory hug. "It looks darling in here." "Thanks," I mumbled, screaming silently inside. "We brought some bubbly," Jonas said, producing a bottle of champagne from a brown paper bag. "And Ted prepared chicken cordon bleu for dinner." I looked at his smiling face and felt guilty. He is my brother after all. Jonas is all the family I've got—and Ted has always been so sweet and caring towards you ... don't be an ingrate. In a daze, I went to get some glasses, hoping Jean-Claude wouldn't show. I just didn't want to have to subject him to my family until I knew him way better—if that was going to happen. Jonas and Ted are sweet, but they can be so darned pushy at times, and I knew they'd be looking at Jean-Claude as a prospective husband for me, with no subtlety whatsoever. I was certain if he showed up now, I would never see him again. The doorbell rang, and my heart lifted and sank, at the same time. "Expecting company?" Jonas asked, his eyes wide like it was the most unusual thing in the world for me to have company.

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"Yeah ... uh ... a friend," I muttered, rushing to the door. As I opened it, I heard Ted say, "Well, we could make it work for four." Jean-Claude stood smiling at me, and I wanted nothing more but to pull him into my arms and smother him with kisses. He looked so darned adorable He wore a dark red shirt, blue jeans and the same cowboy boots from the night before. I drank it all in, savouring the sight of his slim body, his pale, beautiful face, and those incredible dark blue eyes. "Hi," I said, taking his hand. He leaned forward and kissed me on both cheeks—it's that Gallic thing. "Hello," he whispered in my ear. He smelled of something spicy ... nice. "You have company..." "Yeah ... sorry." I drew him inside. "It's my brother and his partner, Ted. I forgot they were staying with me for a couple of nights." "Hi!" Jonas was staring at us both, a glass of champagne in each hand. "You're just in time for the celebration. I'm Jonas, by the way. Ron's big brother." "Jean-Claude. I am very pleased to meet you." He took the glass Jonas proffered, then shook his hand. "This is my husband, Ted," Jonas said, all smiles. "Ted, Jean-Claude..." Well, this was just ducky. All day long I had been looking forward to another evening with Jean-Claude, getting to know him better, getting laid with any luck, and now, here we were, playing guess who's coming to dinner. I was pissed, but I tried not to show it, even though I could tell Jean-Claude 27


knew exactly how I felt about the whole thing. He kept flashing me small flirty smiles as Jonas and Ted regaled him with stories of fabulous Portland, and questions like, had he ever thought of moving north? "We've been trying to get Ron to move up near us for so long now," Jonas told him. "Things are way cheaper than LA. You could both rent a really cute apartment for so much less than here." Oh now, that was really pushy! I groaned but was relieved to see Jean-Claude wink at me. Thank God, he wasn't taking any of this seriously—or was I sorry he wasn't? "Okay, let's eat," Ted suddenly announced, jumping to his feet. "I hope you like chicken cordon bleu, Jean-Claude. Well, of course you do—it's French!" I shuddered, but Jean-Claude gave Ted a charming smile. "I do love it, but I have already dined, thank you." "Oh ... well..." Ted looked flummoxed that his gourmet cooking was being refused. "But if I may join you all at the table, I would enjoy a glass of red wine." It was then I noticed he had not touched his champagne. Jeez, what a useless host I am, I thought. "Jean-Claude," I muttered. "I'm sorry. I should have offered you that before." He put his hand on mine, and I came close to falling on my knees in front of him. "Thank you, Ron," he murmured, handing me his untouched champagne glass. I hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of cabernet and poured him a sizeable amount into one of my best glasses. 28


"He's nice," Jonas hissed in my ear as he passed me on his way to help Ted. "See you don't piss him off too quickly." Jean-Claude gave me a conspiratorial smile as I handed him his wine. He patted the couch cushion next to him then took my hand as I sat down. "Not what we planned, exactly?" he murmured, close to my ear. "They usually go to bed right after dinner," I told him, bringing his hand to my lips. "Please don't leave too early." "I am a night person," he said. "But don't you have to work tomorrow?" "Not until late afternoon. The owner likes to manage the lunch hour crowd." "Ta-da!" Ted sang out, placing his plates of cordon bleu chicken on the dining table with a flourish. "Come eat, children ... and Jean-Claude, I prepared just a soupcon for you. I hope you don't mind, but, as you're French, I would love to have your opinion." I rolled my eyes at Jonas, who just shrugged. "Ted, Jean-Claude has already had dinner," I said. "Oh, it's just a tiny piece," Ted pouted. "Thank you, Ted," Jean-Claude said, sitting at the table. "It looks delicious." I have to admit, Ted is a good cook, and his dinner was great, but I couldn't help noticing my new friend took only the smallest bite, before patting his flat stomach, and declaring it was very nice, but he was just too full to truly relish it. Ted had lots of French culinary questions for Jean-Claude, which kept the conversation rolling over dinner, but I longed for the 29


moment when Jonas would yawn and say, "Wow, but this has been a long day. What say we hit the sack, Ted..." Only he didn't say that. As we cleared the table, Jonas seemed to have gotten himself a second wind, chattering away to Jean-Claude about the last time they had visited me, and how lonely I seemed, and how happy he was to finally meet one of my many elusive boyfriends. After about an hour of this, I was ready to commit fratricide with any kitchen knife I could lay my hands on. And then it happened—Jonas yawned and so did Ted, at exactly the same time. Was it my imagination, or had I seen Jean-Claude make some small movement with his hand just before they both showed us all their cosmetic dental work? Whatever. They were both on their feet, mumbling about how tired they had just become ... praise the Lord. Hugs all around then they made for the guest room, but not before Jonas had cast me a lewd wink. Oh, boy. "They are charming," Jean-Claude murmured, sitting back down on the couch. "Your brother looks like you." "They're giant pains in the ass," I said, plopping down next to him. "But they're family, and I love them. Can I get you something?" "Just a kiss—a proper kiss this time." I was up for that. I leaned in, brushing his lips with mine, lingering for a moment before pushing the point of my tongue against his teeth, running the tip along the edge of his gums. He made a sound like, Mmf, and parted his lips, letting me slide right in. His arms encircled my neck, pulling me down on top of him as he lay back on the couch. I was instantly hard, 30


and so it seemed was he, for I could feel his erection pushing against my crotch through both layers of denim. "There's more room on the bed," I whispered into his open mouth. "That sounds nice." I jumped up and took his hand, leading him into my bedroom, where, for a moment, we stood quite still just gazing at one another as if we were seeing each other for the very first time. Then he moved into my eager arms, his hands reaching under my shirt, fingers caressing my sides, my back, my chest, pausing over each nipple and squeezing gently, causing me to gasp with pleasure. His lips were on mine, his tongue laving the inside of my mouth with an intensity that threatened, once more, to bring me to the brink way too fast. "Wait," I croaked. He stepped back, peeled off his shirt then tugged at mine. I threw my arms up as he pulled it over my head. He nuzzled my armpit, almost rendering me incapable of further movement—almost. Our naked chests slapped together as we embraced. His skin, pale as marble, was smooth to my touch. He rubbed his fingers over my chest hair then bent to suck on my left nipple. I fumbled with his belt buckle, pulling it open, tugging at his jeans until they fell about his ankles. I pulled down my cargo shorts. Neither of us wore briefs, and it was an erotically charged moment when our cocks rubbed together, his precum mingling with mine. We fell on top of the bed, our bodies and mouths clamped together. "Jesus," I muttered, pressing my mouth harder against his. His lips parted, letting my tongue slip in. As our 31


kiss deepened, he clung to me with an urgency I had never before experienced, then suddenly he was all over me. His tongue, his lips, his hands were everywhere at once, caressing, licking, probing. For a time I lay there as if helpless, letting myself be devoured by his need, content just to gaze into those incredible eyes each time he raised his head to look at me. My cock was now so hard it ached. I rolled him onto his back, grasping his hard, throbbing dick. I fell on it like a hungry animal. I seemed to have lost all vestiges of self-control. I wanted all of him, every part of him in my mouth. "I want to fuck you," I breathed. "I want you to." "You are fucking fantastic," I gasped, reaching for the lube and condom I had thought to leave handy—just in case. He threw his legs up over my shoulders and, as I penetrated him, he smiled up at me with a huge, almost pagan-like smile. I nearly came right there and then. What a turn on! I closed my eyes as my dick hammered him, driving deeper and deeper until it was all the way in, and my thighs slapped against his butt cheeks with every downward plunge. He began to moan. He carried me with him, his hands clutching me, urging me on. "Fuck me, fuck me!" Oh yes, this was the greatest sex I had ever had in my life. It was if we floated, wrapped in each other's arms, high above the clouds. All earthly things fell away. We were no longer in my bedroom. We soared, flying, cosmically joined, one body, one soul. 32


I opened my eyes and he raised his head, planting his beautiful lips on mine, forcing his tongue into my mouth and causing me to explode inside him with an electrifying jolt that tore a choking cry from my throat. He clung to me as his own orgasm spewed from his cock, flooding his torso with great white streams of semen. I collapsed on top of him, murmuring God knows what inanities. I think I even told him I loved him, and I meant it. I really did mean it. We lay there, locked together, my cock still deep inside him, for a long time. I didn't want to let him go, and he seemed content to stay right there. When I found I still had a voice, I said, "That was incredible." I wished there had been other words for it—incredible just didn't seem enough. "You are a wonderful man, Ron," he whispered, running his fingers over my stomach. "You're pretty wonderful yourself," I said, kissing his cheek. "Would you like to stay over?" "I would love to, but unfortunately, I cannot. I have an early appointment." "Oh..." I tried to hide my disappointment, but couldn't. "How about lunch tomorrow then?" "Again, I am sorry—" "Another appointment?" He nodded. "You sure are one busy dude," I said, not without some bitterness. "You're upset." I didn't answer right away, and I heard him sigh, his breath warm on my chest. 33


"Sorry," I said. "I have no right to make demands on your time. We've just met, but I feel kinda connected, you know?" "I feel that too, Ron." He lifted his head and looked at me, and I felt my heart turn over. "There are some ... difficulties in knowing me well." "What d'you mean?" "My time for occasions such as this is limited to night time. I cannot go out in the daytime. I have an aversion to strong sunlight." I looked at his pale creamy skin and nodded my understanding. "Yeah, I can see it would burn you badly. But there are some really good sun blocks on the market for that kind of thing." "They do not work for me, I'm afraid. My condition is ... hereditary, you see." "Oh, I'm sorry ... but if you can't come out during the day, I could come see you at your place, maybe ... I work nearly every night, and have most of my day free." I knew I was being pushy, but I wanted him to know I was sincere in wanting him in my life. He looked at me with his unwavering gaze, and I wondered what was going on behind those beautiful eyes. Was he desperately trying to find a way to dump me without me pitching a fit, or was he merely looking for any excuse to not see me again? Had I become way too needy? I grasped his hand in mine and pulled him closer to me. His face rested in the hollow of my throat, his lips brushing the stubble under my skin. Once again, I had this strange sensation of wanting something more. The touch of his lips 34


had raised the short hairs on the back of my neck, and I shivered involuntarily. "What is it?" he asked, putting his arm around me. "Are you cold?" "No, no. You just set me tingling." I kissed his lips, and he parted them, gently biting the tip of my tongue. "Mmm," I murmured, holding him tight. "I wish you could stay all night." He smiled into my eyes. "Not all night but we have time to make love again, if you wish." I didn't waste any more time on talking. Every moment had suddenly become very precious. **** As I paced the floors of my apartment after, I must admit, reluctantly leaving Ron's bed, I wondered about the wisdom of my increasing attraction towards him. Taking a mortal lover has its disadvantages, not to mention its dangers, but there is an allure that is hard to completely ignore. Someone like Ron, so eagerly attentive, so willing to see the good in everything and everyone, was like a breath of fresh air in my too long existence. I wished my friend Marcus was here to guide me in this. He had recently taken a young mortal lover whom I had not yet met, but he seemed very happy with the relationship. Marcus... I smiled, as the memories of our long and sincere friendship flooded my mind. I owed my life and my sanity to 35


him, and I wished him all the happiness this young mortal could bring him. My thoughts returned to Ron and to that moment when he had almost willed me to cross the line I had drawn between us. That line, if breached, would change his life and his destiny. Forever. And, oh, the incredible willpower I'd had to pull on to resist the temptation to break his skin with my teeth and taste the sweetness of his blood. The growl that rose in my throat at the thought of it, chilled even my own blood. From my balcony, I stared out into the dark night, my eyes searching for the one who would satisfy my craving for the blood that would sustain me for yet one more day. A wave of loneliness crashed in upon me, and I yearned to be back in Ron's apartment, to feel the warmth of his skin under my hands and the touch of his lips upon mine. Sighing, I walked back into the living room and pulled closed the drapes, trying to shut out the lure of the darkness. But the call of the blood cannot ever be disregarded. It is what makes us different from mortal men and women. This need drives us and calls to us in the stillness of the night, sending us out to wander among our prey. He was young and pretty, in the way so many young men in West Hollywood are pretty. Blond, blue-eyed, toned muscles rippling under his tight white T-shirt. A little tipsiness was in the small smile he gave me as I approached him. "Hi there. You're kinda cute..." His voice was slurred. "And you are very beautiful," I replied, and that was all it took. He was in my arms in the dark doorway, his lips on 36


mine, his breath smelling of whatever sweet drink he'd been imbibing. His body stiffened for a moment as my fangs pierced the skin over his jugular vein, then he pressed himself to me as I drank, his arms holding me to him while he whispered in my ear how wonderful this felt. I left him standing alone in the dark doorway, his mind vaguely retaining the memory of something wonderful, of sensations he had never before experienced. He couldn't wait to tell his friends all about it—if only he could remember exactly what it was. [Back to Table of Contents]

37


Chapter Three Next morning, Ted had a hundred or so things for us to do—together. "Oh guys," I whined. "You don't need me trailing around after you. Besides, I have to be at work at five." "But we need you to drive us around," Ted said, eyebrows arched. There's no point in arguing with him when his eyebrows are shaped like humpback bridges. "We'll be back after lunch, in plenty of time for you to get ready for work—if we leave right after you finish your coffee." "So how'd it go last night with Jean-Claude?" Jonas asked, winking at me over his cup. "Jonas, will you please quit the dirty winking stuff. If you're wondering whether we had sex or not, the answer is yes, we did. Full out, mind-blowing sex—several times!" "We know," Ted smirked. "We heard. Thank God, I fell asleep when you started in on the third go around." I glared at him, my face glowing. "Well, if you knew, why ask? Just to embarrass me?" "Ron, take it easy," Jonas said, giving me his, 'I'm your big brother, so listen to me' look. "We're very happy you've found someone as cute and as pleasant as Jean-Claude." "He's very pale," Ted remarked. "He's not sick is he?" "No, he's not sick." I rose and put my coffee mug in the sink. "He has a skin condition ... hereditary, he says ... can't take the sunlight." 38


"Oh yeah, I've heard about that," Ted said. "Isn't that alopecia or something?" "No, that's when you lose all you hair overnight," Jonas corrected him. "Ugh ... imagine that. But there is a word for the skin thing—" "Anyway," I interrupted their diagnoses. "He has to be very careful when he goes out in the daylight." "He's not a vampire, is he?" Jonas chortled. "Oh!" Ted screamed, making me jump and setting my nerves on edge. "He just might be—that pale face, dark hair, those sexy, hypnotic eyes, the fact he couldn't eat dinner—" "He told you he'd had dinner," I yelled, thoroughly pissed off with them. "Yes, he said he'd eaten." Ted narrowed his eyes at me. "Perhaps he meant he had fed." "Oh, for Pete's sake," I muttered. "Ron, where is your sense of humour?" Jonas asked, looking at me sternly. "Ted's just joshing, aren't you Ted?" "Of course," Ted said, punching my arm. "Besides, he couldn't be a vampire—he had a glass of wine—and as we all know from watching those old movies, vampires never drink ... wine." The morning was a nightmare, or daymare, or whatever. Ted had to visit every single store in the Beverly Centre. I hate shopping and limit it, if possible, to birthdays and Christmas. I slouched around while Ted and Jonas picked up just about every single garment they laid their eyes on, oohed and aahed, then put them back. Jeez! 39


At lunch, Ted gave me their schedule for the rest of the day. "Of course, we'll be exhausted after all this shopping, so we'll probably nap when we get back to your apartment— sorry you have to work, Ron. We thought we'd come to the restaurant and have a late dinner, then we can wait for you and go out for a drinkie, when you're through. How does that sound?" "Great," I muttered, pushing my chair back from the table. "You all right?" Jonas asked. "Are we wearing you out?" "No. I was just thinking about Jean-Claude. I was kinda hoping he'd drop by the restaurant tonight..." "Oh." "Well, if he does," Ted said, brightly. "We can all four go for a drinkie!" **** Friday night is gala night at La Fortuna and always a big event. We had reservations for every table the entire evening. I had just managed to squeeze in a nine o'clock for Jonas and Ted when the phone rang. "La Fortuna, Ron speaking," I sang out. "Can I help you?" "Ron." My heart quickened at the sound of his voice. "JeanClaude." "May I see you tonight?" "Of course ... Uh, I'm working till ten, then we have to clean up. My brother and Ted have a nine o'clock reservation. Would you like to join them?" 40


"No, thank you, but, I can drop by after you close, if that is all right with you?" "Totally all right," I said, happy as a clam. "Then, I will see you later." "Looking forward to it." I put the phone down and did a little jig of joy, much to the amusement of the staff who pointed and giggled—bitches. The phone call had come earlier that night. That same insidious voice carrying the message of threat upon my life. I had escaped his assassins before, but it seemed he would not be content until I was dead. I shuddered at the steps I might be forced to take. To kill was not a part of my creed. My friend and mentor, Marcus, had shown me a gentler way, reminding me that to kill should only ever be used in extreme circumstances—as a last resort. If I could avoid the killers as I had before, it was all well and good, but a new factor had been added to my need to be vigilant for any surprise attack—Ron. I could not, with good conscience, involve him in anything that could harm him. This was my battle, brought about by my own actions before I had met him. The proper thing to do was to protect him from these villains—and the only way I could safely do that was to break off our brief, but sweet, association. After just one more time in his arms... **** Nine o'clock, on the dot, Jonas and Ted were at the reception desk. "Heliophobia," Ted said, smugly. 41


"He looked it up online," Jonas explained. "Looked what up?" I asked, not getting it. "Aversion to sunlight, silly," Ted said. "It's called heliophobia." "I thought anything ending in phobia meant a fear of something," I pointed out. "Well, you'd be afraid of it too, if it was going to burn your skin, now, wouldn't you?" "I suppose," I said, picking up two menus and leading them to their table. "Want something to drink?" "Is Jean-Claude coming?" Jonas asked. "Not until after closing. I asked him if he'd like to have dinner with you guys, but he said no." "Ah, hah!" Ted exclaimed, narrowing his eyes at me. He does this whenever he feels he has something profound to say. "Refusing another meal. What does that tell you?" "That he has other plans for dinner?" "Don't start with that vampire stuff again, Ted," Jonas complained, looking at his menu. "You started it," Ted reminded him. "Well, anyway, we'll have a bottle of Chianti, thank you, Ron." For the last hour we were open, I was too busy to visit with them, which didn't seem to bother them at all—every time I looked over, they had their heads together, deep in conversation. How do guys who have been together for close to ten years still find things to say to one another, I wondered, not for the first time. And once again it brought that old feeling of wishing I could have that same kind of relationship. Ted would drive me up the wall, but it was 42


obvious my brother loved him—and that's all that matters, I guess. Working on autopilot, I thought about Jean-Claude and our fantastic night together. Not that we had talked that much, we were kind of busy with other stuff, but I felt innately that he could very well have a lot to tell me if I'd give him the chance. There was something mysterious about him. I just couldn't quite figure it out. Those moments when his lips touched my throat—I could still feel that unequivocal shiver of pleasure that coursed through me and the anticipation of ... what exactly? There I go again, I thought, making a whole heap out of what was probably all my imagination. At ten-thirty, when the last of the stragglers had filed out and Jean-Claude had not shown up, I started to worry. Was he going to stand me up? But why, I reasoned, after he'd been the one to call and make the date? Shit. I hated this, especially when I saw Jonas and Ted casting gloomy expressions of sympathy my way. Maybe he got tied up at dinner—not literally of course. I hadn't figured him for the kinky type, just the fantastic type. I groaned mentally. It just wasn't fair to have that kind of experience with such a fabulous guy, just to have it shot out from under me. You're overreacting, I told myself. He said after you close up. He didn't say how long after. But, by eleven, I knew he wasn't coming. The last of the help had gone, and I was sitting at the table with Ted and Jonas, twirling the stem of my wineglass and feeling blue. 43


"Shall we go for that drinkie, then?" Ted said, trying to lighten the gloomy atmosphere. "You guys go. I don't feel up to it." "Ron..." Jonas took my hand. "Come on, guy ... don't go home and mope around." "No, I won't. I have some accounting to do here, so now's as good a time as any, I guess. I'll see you back at the apartment later. Go on, have fun together." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I'm sure." After I locked the door behind them, I poured myself another glass of wine then went into the back office to tackle some of the outstanding paperwork I'd let pile up over the past few days. About ten minutes into this, I got the strangest feeling something was terribly wrong. I thought I heard a voice calling me. "Jean-Claude?" The silence surrounding me was almost palpable. I felt a weird prickling in the back of my neck. Getting up from my desk, I walked out through the restaurant and peered out of the windows into the dark streets. I saw nothing unusual, yet the strange feeling persisted. Unlocking the door, I went outside, looking up and down the street. Nothing. I locked the restaurant door and started towards Santa Monica Boulevard. As I passed an alley about a block from the main drag, I heard a moan. 44


Shit. I squinted into the darkness and barely mad out the shape of someone lying on the ground about halfway down the alley. I strode quickly towards him—I could now see it was a man—and then my heart jumped into my mouth. "Jean-Claude! Oh, Jesus..." He lay on his back in a pool of blood, his dark hair fanned out around his face, which looked even paler than usual. I knelt by his side. Then I saw it—a long piece of wood was buried in his chest. His eyes met mine. "Pull it out," he said, his voice barely audible. "I have not the strength..." "But, if I pull it out, you'll bleed to death," I protested. I flipped open my cell phone. "I'll call for an ambulance." "No!" His hand grasped mine, knocking my cell from my hand. "No, please do not do that, Ron." His voice weakened again. "Do you want to save me?" "Of course..." Tears burned the back of my eyes as I gazed down at him. He suddenly looked so young, so frail... "Then pull out the stake, I beg you ... now." "Okay. Hold on to me. It's going to hurt." I grabbed hold of the wood with both hands and gave it a mighty tug. It came with a sickening ripping sound, but the fountain of blood I'd expected to follow in its wake did not happen. Flinging the stake away, I opened his shirt to look at the damage. "Jesus Christ..." A gasp of shock escaped my lips as right before my eyes, the terrible gaping wound in his chest slowly closed and disappeared, without so much as a visible scar. 45


"How is that possible?" I whispered. "That's impossible ... what I just saw is impossible..." "Not impossible," he said, struggling to sit up. "I have regenerative powers." "Regener—you do?" But who in the world has regenerative powers that work that fast? I wondered. No one I've ever heard of. I helped him to his feet, and he sagged in my arms as I held him close to me. "Who did this to you?" I asked, my lips touching his hair. "Paid assassins," he replied, clinging to me. "And ignorant in their craft. They did not finish the job." "Thank God for that," I said, lifting him into my arms. "We need to get away from here. I'll take you into the restaurant." "Are your brother and his partner still there?" "No, they left—at my insistence. I thought you weren't going to show, so I told them I had work to do." "Good. I wouldn't want them to see me like this. It is bad enough I have subjected you to this mess." "I'm just glad I found you, Jean-Claude." He laid his head on my shoulder. "As am I," he said quietly. Once inside the restaurant, I carried him through to the back office and set him down on my chair. In the light, he looked even worse, his face ghostly pale, his eyes darkly shadowed. "You've lost a lot of blood," I said. "I should get you to a hospital. They can give you a transfusion—" 46


"No, Ron. There is not a hospital in the world that will treat me when—" He broke off, obviously unwilling to complete what he was about to say. "There is something about me, you should now know." But I already knew what he was about to say. No human being's body could ever recover from a wound such as I had seen inflicted on Jean-Claude. Not even the regenerative powers he said he had could possibly work that fast. And now all the other details about him fell into place in my brain. His inability to go out in the sunlight, the fact that I had not once seen him eat any food, his delicate pallor, all were leading me to believe that what Ted and Jonas had joked about earlier was in fact true! But how could it be? Jean-Claude was not a monster. He was sweet and kind and loving—and I loved him. Despite the realisation of what he was, I couldn't bring myself to run from him. I took a deep breath and gripped his cold hand in mine. "You mean, they won't treat you in the hospital, when they realise what you are?" He sighed. "You have guessed correctly. Are you now filled with horror and revulsion?" "No. I just want to help you recover from this." "Ron, you are a sweet and wonderful man, but I wanted to spare you from this knowledge. I have become very attracted to you—something that a person in my condition should not allow to happen. I was on my way to see you tonight when the would-be murderers struck me down. But, I must be honest with you. It was my intention to not see you again after tonight—" 47


"But why?" I protested. "I've never felt so connected to anyone in such a short time. "We're so right for each other." "Ron, look at me. I am a vampire. There is danger in knowing me. Do you still think we are right for each other?" "We can work around it, surely..." He managed a small smile. "You are adorable, Ron ... but hear me now. I was born in 1876. I died in 1906 and was reborn that same year. For the past one hundred years, I have lived and survived on my wits—and on the taking of human blood. I cannot live without it, for without it I would wither away to nothing. It is my curse, but it is also my strength, and my salvation, grotesque as it may sound to you and others." "You are not grotesque to me," I said, squeezing his hand. You are beautiful, and I love you. I want to help you through this. Believe me, I will do anything to help you, Jean-Claude— anything at all." "You don't know what you're saying. You have no conception of what it means." He tried to rise from the chair but fell back exhausted. "I should never have come into your life." "Don't say that, please." I raised his hand to my lips. "If you drink my blood, will it make me a vampire?" "No..." He managed a small smile. "That is a myth, perpetuated in books and movies. It makes for a more lurid tale. No, you would only become like me if, over a period of time, your blood was replaced completely with vampire blood. But enough of that kind of talk. I will not drink your blood, sweet as I am sure it would be. You see Ron, I love you too, 48


and I cannot bear to think of you outlawed and persecuted by mankind." I gave a mirthless laugh. "Hey, being gay can get you persecuted by mankind, Jean-Claude. But now you've admitted to loving me, I think I should invoke the lover's privilege and demand you drink from me." He blinked. "Lover's privilege?" "Just kidding—I made that up. But come on, you need blood tonight—right away—and here I am full of type AB negative. It's all yours for the taking." "I cannot, Ron. You don't understand." "I understand enough to know that you will die if you don't do what I ask," I told him "You're only alive now because they missed your heart. You don't have the strength to go out looking for another donor, and you won't let me take you to a hospital ... so, what's the alternative?" He groaned, as the truth of what I said sunk in. "Ron, are you sure of this?" "Yes, I am sure," I said, getting on my knees in front of him. "AB negative's very rare y'know," I added as an extra incentive. "Very potent." That got a little smile from him. "Just show me what you need me to do, Jean-Claude." His dark eyes filled with tears as he gazed at me, and I could feel myself choking up. I knew this was a moment for us both—whatever happened now would change our lives forever. He leaned forward and kissed my lips with such tenderness I felt my heart would stop. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you, too." 49


I moved closer so that I was kneeling between his thighs. I pulled my shirt off and brought my face close to his, giving him access to my neck. "Look away," he murmured. "I do not want you to see my fangs." His lips moved to where my jugular throbbed with my lifeblood, and his teeth bit deeply through my skin, letting the blood flow over his tongue. It hurt, I can't deny it, but at the same time, holding him in my arms while he sucked from me, filled my body with an incredible sensuousness. As his lips pulled at my skin, I felt my cock harden, and my hand, straying to his crotch, encountered his burgeoning erection. Seemed like my blood was doing the trick ... His thighs tightened around my torso, locking me to him in an embrace I wished would never end. His blood on my tongue caused a fire in my veins—the thick, sweet fluid that flowed from him, gave heat and strength to my body. His scent filled my mouth and my nostrils as I drank from him. I inhaled him, this mortal man who loved me enough to give me his lifeblood, who trusted me enough not to take his life in the process. He clung to me, and I to him, in an embrace born of my need—and his loving willingness to share that which I needed. Blood is life to me, and his blood, given as it was in love and trust, proved all the sweeter and stronger. I could feel the heat in my loins, the hunger for his body—and his for mine. A wave of emotion flooded over me, and I tightened my arms about him, willing this time to never end, that I would never have to release him from my caress ... But beware, I 50


told myself, lest the bloodlust cloud your vision—and your mind. He pulled back, and I felt him lick my neck. "That will close the wound," he said, kissing my lips gently. "Thank you." He looked better. The gauntness had gone from his face, and his eyes had regained the luminous quality I remembered. I knelt at his feet, gazing up at him, truly moved by what had passed between us. "I'm looking at you," I said, "and I can't believe you're a hundred and thirty years old. How is it possible?" "Do you know anything of vampire lore?" he asked, touching my cheek. "Only what I've seen in movies," I admitted. "I'm not much of a reader, I'm afraid." He grimaced. "The movies generally show us as coldblooded killers without compassion for those who give us life. There are some like that, of course, just as there are good and bad mortals, but we do not have to kill those whose blood we take." "How did you ... uh ... become a vampire?" I asked, taking his hand in mine. "I was changed one hundred years ago by a man for whom I had formed a great admiration." His eyes took on a faraway look as he remembered. "His name was Augustine LePlante. We had been introduced by a mutual friend, Henri Renoir. Henri was a very close friend of mine and had brought Augustine to me thinking that, as a person of great connections in the art world, he could be of great benefit to me." He paused and smiled at me. "I do not think I've 51


mentioned I am an artist. In my youth I was quite successful. If you could ask Henri he would tell you, very successful. He handled my business affairs, and it is because of him I have, even today, enough money to live in comfort." "He's not a vampire?" I asked, my mind struggling to take in all he was saying "No. Henri died many years ago. I still miss him. Of course, he did not know LePlante's true identity—why would he or anyone else for that matter? I had a lover at the time, Paul, who was jealous of everyone in my life, especially of LePlante, whom he considered a threat to his position in my life. Henri detested Paul, and I think encouraged his fears of being replaced. He considered Paul no better than a whore, a leech who clung to me only for his own needs. I won't bore you with all the petty details, for in the end they were of no consequence, whatsoever. "LePlante drugged me, and over a period of days, changed me into what I now am. He wanted me for himself, but I, on awakening from my death, could not bear him near me. I railed at him for what he had done, cursed him for making me one of the living dead, no longer able to hold my darling Paul in my arms without wanting to feed on him or make him like myself. I fell into a state of near madness and LePlante left me in disgust. Henri found me close to death, unable to live with what I had become." I gazed at him, trying to visualise the kind of horror he must have gone through in those first days as a vampire. As hard as I tried, I knew nothing I conjured up in my mind could actually compare with what he had endured. 52


"How did you survive this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "Henri saved me. When I told him what LePlante had done and that I could only live by drinking blood, he gave me his, just as you did tonight. Poor Henri. I did not know then how to control the bloodlust that can overpower a vampire's senses. I think I would have drained him, but he, sensible man that he was, struggled to free himself, and in doing so, made me aware of what I was doing. "For a long time, he sheltered me in his home, where I continued with my work, until we felt it was expedient that I should 'die' and disappear from Paris. I was buried in St. Germain cemetery—or rather, my casket was buried there— and I came to this country. Henri sold all my paintings for exorbitant sums of money—now that I was 'dead', they had tripled in value—and he invested all the money in a Swiss bank, in my name." "And your lover, Paul?" "Of course, he saw a change in me but never guessed what it was. He thought I was ill and suggested we go to the countryside until I regained my strength." He smiled sadly at the memory. "He was very sweet for the first day or two, but then, when I could not join him outside in the daytime, spending most of the day in a darkened room, he grew bored and demanded we return to Paris." "Nice guy," I murmured. "A beautiful guy, Ron, but not very nice. He attended my funeral, and cried, just a little." He squeezed my hand. "He was not in your class at all." 53


"Thanks." I felt myself blush under his steadfast gaze. I cleared my throat. "So you came to the States a hundred years ago?" "Yes ... to New York, where I was fortunate enough to meet Marcus Verano, a vampire who befriended me and gave me the encouragement I needed to see me through those first dark days. He is the one to whom I would have turned for help had he still been in LA." "This Marcus guy," I said, feeling a twinge of jealousy. "You're close friends?" "Extremely close. He was, and still is, my mentor. If it had not been for him, I doubt whether I would have survived very long as a vampire. I was filled with bitterness towards my state of existence. He made me see that fighting what I had become was useless. There was no going back—no redemption from this half-life—but it could, given the proper perspective, be more than I had thought, at first." "Were you lovers?" I asked, wanting him to say no. "Not in the strict sense of the word. We loved each other— we still do—but we did not have sex, if that is what you are asking." I blushed again. Yep, that's what I was asking. Jean-Claude leaned over and kissed my lips. "You will love him, too, when you meet him." "You said he left town." "Yes. He and his mortal lover had business to attend to in Rome. He would not tell me the nature of it, but he seemed troubled. My talent for mind reading is primitive next to his— 54


even if I were his equal, he could block all his thoughts from me. He is very powerful." "You said he helped you." "More than helped. He schooled me in vampire lore and made me aware of the myths and the truths of our culture. More than anything, he taught me to treat those who gave their lifeblood to us, either willingly or unwillingly, with compassion and gratitude. 'Never kill a mortal,' he said, 'unless your own life is in danger—and even then, make it a very last resort. We are stronger and quicker than mortal men,' he reminded me. 'We can disable and escape, at lightning speed.' I have always lived by that creed, Ron ... but tonight, it failed me." "Do you have any idea why were you attacked tonight?" I asked. "Had you been threatened?" "Yes." He stroked my hair as he answered. "Some weeks ago, I received a phone call from someone I did not know. He said I should leave LA at once, or my life would be forfeit. I tried to contact Marcus, but he had already gone to Rome. He still, as yet, has not returned. Of course, I had no intentions of leaving, and when I received the second threatening call tonight, I told the person just that. "The caller ranted at me, saying I was a vile poison on this earth, and that I, and the likes of me, would be eradicated by all means at his disposal. I took his threats seriously, Ron, and I have been careful and wary when on my own. But tonight, on my way to see you, my guard was down. They came at me from the darkness before I could defend myself. They dragged me down the alley to finish me off, but they 55


were panicked and clumsy when they drove the stake into me. I knew they had missed my heart, but I feigned death, and they fled, thinking their work was done." "But you don't know who the caller was?" "One of the attackers mentioned a name, saying they had to call him as soon as I was dead." "What was the name?" He hesitated for a moment. "I'm not exactly sure, but I think it was something like Delaney." "Do you know anyone by that name?" He shook his head. "No. It meant nothing to me." "Delaney," I mused. "Sounds Irish. There must be hundreds of Delaneys in LA." I paused, remembering someone. "I have a friend in the LAPD. Haven't seen him in a while, but I could call him and see if he could check on any Delaney with a police record." "The man who called me sounded educated and authoritative," Jean-Claude said. "Somehow, I don't think he will have a police record. It is more than likely that he does not soil his own hands with his criminal intentions." "Hmm, maybe..." "And I would rather the police were not involved in this, Ron. It could prove ... awkward." "Yeah, you're right. We can't have them poking around." I stood and held out my hand. "I should see you home—make sure you're okay, before I leave you alone." He took my hand, and I pulled him to his feet, putting my arms around him, holding him close. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I stayed?" 56


His lips met mine in a hard kiss. Then he drew back, and gave me a sly smile. "Come home with me," he said. "And then we shall see." [Back to Table of Contents]

57


Chapter Four Jean-Claude's condominium was only two blocks from my apartment—convenient, huh? "I've seen you run by here almost every morning," he told me as he ushered me inside. "That is when I was first intrigued by the sight of you—in those little shorts!" He had picked up a remote from the coffee table and pointed it at his CD player. The sensuous sounds of a woodwind instrument filled the room. "So, you wanted me for my body, not my mind," I kidded him, looking around the spacious living room. I don't know what I'd expected his place to look like, antique furniture maybe, but it was decorated in a minimalist style, lots of space and clean lines. "Yes," he said, smiling. "And I still want your body." He unbuttoned my shirt and slipped his hands inside, caressing the sides of my torso. "Will you stay a while?" "Mmm, you bet. What's that music?" "Part of Brahms clarinet concerto. Do you like it?" I opened my mouth to say yes, when my cell phone jangled in my pocket. "Sorry," I mumbled, dragging it out and looking at the caller ID. Jonas... "Where the hell are you?" he barked in my ear. "We went back to the restaurant, you weren't there, and you're not here at the apartment." "You should be a detective," I chuckled. "You're very observant." 58


"Quit the smart talk. We were worried." "Take it easy. I'm over at Jean-Claude's." "Well, you could've called to let us know. So..." He sounded more relaxed. "He showed up, after all." "Yeah. I'll be home in a little bit. Don't wait up." "Okay. Tell him hello from us." "Will do." I closed my phone and slipped it back in my pocket. Jean-Claude nuzzled my nipples. "My brother says hello," I said, my voice strained with pleasure. "God, that feels good." He looked up and smiled at me. He was so fucking adorable ... a fucking adorable vampire. I cupped his beautiful face in my hands and kissed him. "You know," I said. "Jonas and Ted said there was a possibility you might be a vampire." His eyes widened in surprise. "They did?" "Yeah, they were joking, of course. I told them you couldn't take the sunlight. That and the fact you wouldn't eat Ted's dinner had them doing all sorts of crazy guessing." "Not so crazy, as it turns out," he said. He looked at me with tender eyes. "Ron, if this is going to be too much for you to handle, I will understand." "No, it's not. Of course, there are things I don't understand yet. You'll have to tell me what you need from me, what I can and cannot do around you. That kind of thing." He nodded. "I just want you to be completely sure you can accept what I am—and it's really a case of what I can and cannot do around you. For instance, you know I must 59


occasionally feed on a living human. It cannot be you all the time, for obvious reasons." "I could go get transfusions." "Ron, be sensible," he said, chuckling at my earnest expression. "Don't you think the hospitals would be just a tad suspicious of you coming in every few days for a refill?" I laughed with him. "Yeah, that was a dumb idea. I'm just worried about you exposing yourself to more danger." "That's very sweet, but I have been doing it for many years. And, trust me when I say, I do not harm anyone I drink from. There were some things in my early life I did not fully understand, but my friend, Marcus, taught me the vampire's bite actually adds some years to a mortal's life." "It does?" I hugged him to me. "Bite me again, then we'll have lots more years together." He kissed my neck. "You are truly wonderful, Ron, but we must take this slowly. I want you to fully comprehend what you're getting yourself into." "I know I love you," I told him, holding him tight. "Mmm," he sighed with pleasure. His hands were on my butt, pulling my crotch into his, rubbing his hardness against mine. "You ever going to show me your bedroom?" I teased. "Immediately." He took my hand, and we almost ran across the living room, and into his master bedroom. I had no time to notice the décor as we both hit the bed, tearing at each other's clothes. For someone who'd just had a neardeath experience, Jean-Claude showed remarkable powers of recovery. His lithe, supple body slid over mine as he climbed 60


on top of me, his lips on my mouth making me shudder with desire. I felt his erection throb between my thighs, and I groaned with the almost overpowering weight of my lust for him. "You have a condom?" I whispered. His smile was so sweet. "I could not tell you this before, Ron, but now that you know me better, we have no need for condoms. Vampire blood is immune to all disease." His kisses were the greatest I'd ever experienced. He's made kissing an art form, I thought, as his tongue caressed the inside of my mouth, leaving no part unkissed. I held him tight, never wanting to let him go, wishing that these precious moments together would morph into an eternity, and take us to a plane where only he and I existed, safe from those who would harm him. But right then, the purely sensual, physical attraction between us, was too much to ignore. Our bodies entwined so tightly together they seem to fuse as one. As I entered him, his sweet warmth enveloped me, bringing me to an ecstasy that bordered on the unbearable. A long, shuddering moan escaped me, and he whispered my name, his lips on my skin sending shock waves of desire through every fibre of my being. I plunged deeper, and his legs around my waist held us securely locked together as we moved in a slow intense rhythm, our eyes fixed upon one another, his hands holding my thighs, pulling me ever closer, ever deeper inside him. He inserted his lubed fingers into my anus. He probed gently at first, stroking the sphincter. Pushing past the tight 61


muscle, he massaged my prostate, causing waves of ecstasy to flow over me. "Jean-Claude," I murmured in his ear. "I can't hold back. Come with me..." His body stiffened under me as his orgasm overcame him, and his hot cum sprayed over his chest and mine, bringing a choking cry from his lips. I lowered my face to his, and covered his mouth with my own, feeling the hot charge of my ejaculation leap from my balls and surge through me, filling him with the essence of our mutual passion. I leaned over him, marvelling at the sight of his hard, slim body that showed not one sign of his earlier attack. I kissed his chest where I remembered the wound had been and felt a slow anger build in me. Anyone wanting to hurt this beautiful man, or to take his life, was going to have to go through me. "I can feel your anger," he said, stroking my face. "You will not endanger yourself on my behalf, Ron. I forbid it." He drew me close to him and kissed my lips. "Promise me." "I just want to know who this Delaney guy is," I said defensively. "He's already proven he's a real danger to you. What if he tries it again when he finds out his hired thugs blew it? And didn't you mention he said you and your kind, or something like that? He might go after your friend Marcus, too." "He would need an army of thugs to vanquish Marcus, and even then, I think they would fail. Marcus is perhaps the most powerful vampire ever. He is legendary among us." "Maybe so, but I still think we need to track down the loon and put a stop to his tactics." 62


"We'll talk of it later when you are not quite so angry. We will need clear heads for devising a suitable plan of action." "Okay, I can take a hint. I'll shut up about it—for the time being." "Good." He gave me one of those disarming smiles. "Now, before you go, there is something I want you to do." Ooh, yeah. **** Later, with Jean-Claude lying still and quiet in my arms, I could not help but be amazed by all that had happened that night. In such a short space of time, my life had gone from humdrum, to Wow! I mean, it's one thing to fall in love with a wonderful guy who's stunning to look at and great in bed, yet it's quite another to find out he's been marked for death and, on top of all that, is a vampire. A vampire... As I gazed at his pale face, serene now in repose, I could still hardly believe it was true. He seemed so ... normal in so many ways. Yes, he had a strange magical quality about him, and he possessed powers we mortals couldn't come close to, but there was a vulnerability about him that seemed at odds with what one imagines a vampire should be. Of course, I only had scary images to go by—Nosferatu, Vlad the Impaler and all those guys. Jean-Claude didn't come remotely close to those yucky characters. He was beautiful, gentle, tender, and caring. 63


He stirred in my arms and smiled up at me. "You are wondering how all this came to be," he said, after kissing my cheek. "I guess I'm still waiting to wake up," I confessed. "To find all of this has been a dream." "I understand," he murmured. "You asked me earlier if I knew anything of vampire lore, and I have to admit I'm kinda ignorant on that subject. All I know is it started in Transylvania." He chuckled, his lips tickling my chest. "No, Ron, not in Transylvania. That is just a story. Vampire roots go much further back than medieval times—probably even before the Ancient Egyptians. No one is quite sure, but Marcus believes we have existed since the beginning of time." "But who was the very first vampire?" I asked. "That, my dear Ron, is a conundrum wrapped in a mystery. No one has discovered the answer—and heaven knows, we who are immortal have had more time to search than any others. I think the answer has been long buried in the sands of time, and it is not within our powers to unearth it." He eased himself onto his elbow and gazed at me, his fingers brushing the hair on my chest. "And if we could, what purpose would it now serve? Life is full of mysteries. Debate still rages over when the first man walked the earth. Some things are better left unsolved." "I guess," I said. "Isn't it amazing though, that I've had to wait a hundred years to meet you? Just think, if I'd been alive in your time, we might have met and fallen in love then." 64


"And you would have saved me from this existence," he murmured, his lips close to mine. "And we'd both be dead," I deadpanned. We gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, then together, we both burst out laughing. I pulled him into my arms and covered his face with kisses. "Oh, Ron," Jean-Claude laughed. "Look, you have woken me up completely." "I can see that and feel it, too," I said, grasping his hardening cock. "Oh well, I'll have to take care of that, right now." **** Next morning, as I staggered into my apartment just before seven, Jonas and Ted were packed, ready to go and full of questions. But I wasn't giving out too much info. "Is this serious?" "Could be..." "Are you seeing him tonight?" "Maybe..." "How come he was so late?" "He got waylaid. I mean delayed." "What does he do?" "He's an artist." The one giant question, of course, they didn't ask. Why would they? Never in their wildest imaginings could they guess that what they'd joked about was really the truth. "Well," Jonas said. "He sure is cute." "Yeah," Ted agreed. "Nice buns." 65


"You were scoping out my new boyfriend's buns?" I kidded. "You bet. They're hard to miss." "Okay..." My big brother hugged me tight. "We have to go. Try and hold on to this one, will you, please?" "Jonas..." "Really, Jonas." Ted pushed him out of the way to hug me. "Pay him no heed—but try and hold on to this one, won't you?" After they left, I called my friend Barney at the LAPD. Barney and I had a brief but passionate affair a couple of years back. We still saw each other for a drink now and then, and he had offered to help if I ever got in trouble. Trouble—me? "Hey, Barney ... Ron." I said when he picked up. "How's it goin'?" "Good ... you?" "Yeah, good." I imagined him sitting at his desk in all his blond hunkiness, broad shoulders hunched, shirt sleeves rolled up exposing those great hairy forearms. "Listen," I said, shaking away that vision. "A friend of mine says a friend of his has been getting threats from some creep with the last name, Delaney. You got anything on record?" "You got a first name?" "No. Just Delaney." "Well, let me fire up my trusty computer, and we'll see ... Hmm, looks like there are a few Delaneys here. A Tom, a Jack, a Justine and a William ... Small potatoes, though. Petty larceny, fraud, that kind of thing." 66


"No threatening?" "People don't generally get booked for threatening, Ron. They have to carry out the threats, first. If your friend's friend feels he's in danger, he should report it." "Right. He doesn't want to do that." "Then it can't be too serious, can it?" "I guess. Well, thanks for looking anyway." "No problem. Hey, let's have a drink real soon." "Sure. I'll call you." I put the phone down, thinking hard. Maybe it wasn't Delaney. Jean-Claude had said it sounded like Delaney. What sounds like Delaney? I picked up the phone book and flipped to the D's. Delane, Delaney, Delani, Delano ... Delano ... Rev. Jerry Delano. Why did that name ring a bell? Right, he was that right-wing asshole always pontificating about homosexuals going straight to hell. I ran to my computer and Googled him. And there he was. The Reverend Jerry Delano, staunch advocate of imprisoning all homosexuals, and in some cases, executing them. Likens homosexuals to vampires, preying on the innocents of this world. Likens us to vampires, I thought. What if Delano had wanted to make an example of Jean-Claude—someone he thought was gay—by staking him like a vampire. Only, he didn't know Jean-Claude really was a vampire, just told his hit men to stab him with a sharp stake. Of course, that would have been enough to kill an ordinary man. But why pick on Jean-Claude? What was the connection there? If there was a connection. I called Barney again. 67


"Hi," he said, sounding surprised. "You wanna go for that drink tonight?" "No ... I mean, that'd be good, but I have another question. The Reverend Jerry Delano. D'you have anything on him?" "That freak? Nothing concrete but a heap of complaints from the gay community, of course." "Of which you are a part," I reminded him. "Uh, yeah ... well, like I said, nothing we can act on. Why'd you ask?" "Oh, I'm still trying to help a friend of a friend—Delaney, Delano, y'know?" "Gotcha. Well, like I said—" "Nothing concrete," I interrupted. "Right. So, how about that drink?" He sounded needy. At any other time, I'd have been happy to oblige, but right then I had other priorities. "I'll call you," I said, and hung up. A half hour later, I was at Jean-Claude's door. I hoped he wouldn't mind my arriving unannounced—but this was an emergency. He opened the door almost immediately after I knocked. He didn't look at all surprised, just stood aside and waved me in. "You shouldn't open the door to just anyone," I told him, with a reproving look, after he'd kissed me hello and made me feel warm all over. "I knew it was you," he said, kissing me again. He wore a dark blue cashmere robe that felt so darned sexy to the touch. 68


"How? You don't have a peep-hole." "I just knew." "Oh, right. You have extra-sensory powers." "Some. They take a long time to fully develop, but I'm working on them every day." "You look wonderful," I said. "Did you ... uh ... go out after I left this morning?" "No. You didn't leave until almost sunrise. Would you like some coffee?" "You have coffee?" "For guests, of course. You think I don't know my manners?" I grinned at him. "Perish the thought, as they say. I'd love a cup of coffee." I followed him into the kitchen, which was all shining stainless steel and porcelain. "Jean-Claude ... have you ever heard of a guy by the name of Jerry Delano?" "You mean the rabid, self-proclaimed scourge of immorality?" "That sounds about right." "What about him?" "I think he might have had something to do with last night's attack." He gave me a mug of steaming coffee, along with a steelyeyed look from those dark blue eyes of his. "Ron, I do not want you getting involved in this. You promised me you would not. Remember? I nodded. "You said we had to have a clear plan of action and now's the time for that plan." 69


"I said that to get you off the subject." "You want me to stand around and do nothing about the man I love getting hurt—and almost killed?" "Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do." "Well, sorry. No can do!" "Ron, don't make me take stronger measures." "What d'you mean?" "I can make you forget it ever happened." As calmly as I could, I put down my coffee mug on the counter and pulled him into my arms. "Jean-Claude, please don't do that. I know you can, but I beg you, don't shut me out of this. It's too important—you are too important." He nuzzled my throat with his lips, causing great ripples of desire to course through me. I tightened my arms around him... "Then please do not put yourself in any danger," he whispered, close to my ear. "Allow me to take care of it." "How do you propose to do that?" He sighed and stepped back from my embrace. "The Reverend Delano and I are already acquainted." I gaped at him. "So you knew it was his guys who attacked you. Why did you tell me they mentioned a name that sounded like Delaney, when you already knew?" "I said too much, and I now regret it. I was foolish enough to hand you a clue, and you were clever enough to work it out." He looked away for a moment, thinking. "I suppose some form of explanation is necessary, although I am still adamant that you will take no action whatsoever." "Okay." 70


"Some weeks ago," he began, "I met a very attractive young man—a mortal like yourself. I sensed he wanted to get to know me better, and so I agreed to meet him at a place of his choosing. We had a drink at a little bar on Melrose then went for a walk together. He completely opened up to me. He told me of his unhappiness at home, and that he was the son of a religious leader, a man who railed against gays and lesbians at every opportunity, even advocating the death penalty." "Delano's son is gay?" I gasped. Why hadn't I heard about that? "Yes, and of course, completely in the closet. I will make this short. What the young man did not know was that his father was having him followed—not that he suspected him of being gay but of having some kind of clandestine affair with a woman. Delano had to be certain his son was not involved with some woman he could not approve of. "When his spies reported back that Jerry Delano Junior had in fact seen, not a woman, but another man, the result was predictable. I often wish I had my friend Marcus's extraordinary powers of perception. He would have known all was not as it should be. I, however, still have much to learn, and so I walked into the trap Delano set for me. On a night I was to meet his son, Delano showed up with two of his henchmen. He called me every filthy name he could dredge up from his own twisted soul then set his men on me. Fortunately, I was prepared for this, and they were totally unprepared for my vampire strength. I beat them off and 71


escaped, the sound of Delano's fury echoing in my ears. I knew he would try again." "But he doesn't know you're a vampire. He just thinks you're gay, right?" "Right." "So, if they'd managed to kill you, the stake through the heart was a warning to gays, in a way." "Yes, it's his analogy—gays are like vampires and should die like vampires. Fortunately for me, his men were clumsy." "And how did you feel about Delano Junior?" I asked, my voice sounding tense in my own ears. He shrugged. "As I said, he was very attractive, but there was no future in it. He is completely dominated by his father. He has no will of his own." "But if things had been different," I pressed. "But they are not different. They are what they are. You are here with me, and I love you. Is that not enough?" "Absolutely enough," I said, pulling him back into my arms. "But what d'you suppose will happen if Delano discovers his men didn't finish the job?" "It might prove too dangerous for him to try again." "But they drove a stake into your chest, Jean-Claude. You don't think they might find it hard to believe you survived that?" "The last thing they would suspect is what I really am. They will be surprised I survived, but that is all." "My friend, Barney, the cop I told you about? He says they get complaints about Delano all the time." 72


Jean-Claude stiffened in my arms. "You told someone at the LAPD about what happened?" He broke free from my arms again. "I asked you not to involve the police!" "I didn't. He's an old friend of mine, and I kept it totally generic—a friend of a friend and all that. I didn't tell him about the attack, just the threats. He said there was nothing they could do, anyway." He looked angry. "Ron, I know you have the best of intentions, but I wonder about your judgment. I think it would be simpler if I relieved your mind of this burden." He raised his hand in that motion I had seen him use before. I grabbed his wrist. "No wait, Jean-Claude, please. If you do that, I won't remember anything of last night and it was incredibly special to me. Please don't take away those memories. It'll change things between us." His eyes bored into mine, their blue-black intensity chilling me to the bone. Maybe that's what he wants, I thought. Maybe I've blown it with him. Maybe he wants me gone. I sighed with relief as he slowly lowered his hand. I held on to it, just in case he changed his mind and zapped me. I turned his palm to my lips and kissed it tenderly. "Ron," he whispered, "you must listen to me." "I will. I do," I whispered back, my hand on the back of his head, pulling him close. I kissed his lips, his face, his neck. I think I was trying to eat him up. I lifted him onto the counter top, flung open his robe and buried my face in his crotch, licking up and down the length of his hardening cock. I heard him gasp as his hands caressed my face. "Ron," he panted. "I cannot think when you do this." 73


I released his cock and smiled up at him. "That's the idea, Jean-Claude. I don't want you to think. I want you to mindlessly enjoy my taking advantage of you. I want you to let me lick you all over." I ran my tongue up over the ridges of his abdomen until I found his left nipple. I enclosed it with my lips, scouring the nub with the tip of my tongue, feeling it harden in my mouth. His arms encircled my neck, his legs wrapped around my waist. He slid off the counter top, clinging to me, his lips on mine, my hands on his bare butt, supporting him as I carried him into the bedroom. I laid him on his back and continued with the licking I'd promised him. I burrowed between his thighs, hooking his legs over my shoulders, my tongue probing the opening to his most sensitive place. I inhaled his muskiness, tasted his sweetness, savoured the texture of the puckered skin, my tongue slurping its way into his core. He writhed beneath me, his moans like music to my ears, filling me with the desire to bring him sensations he had perhaps never yet experienced. My hands caressed his thighs, his slim hips, his firmly muscled torso. His body arched in ecstasy under my tongue's onslaught, letting me push further inside. I grasped his rock hard erection, pumping it slowly, loving the gasps of pleasure escaping his lips. I let my tongue glide over his balls, up the underside of his cock, taking the slick, moist head into my mouth and devouring him completely. He drew me up into his arms, kissing me with a hungry passion. His legs encircled my waist as I guided my eager cock into his warm depths. I felt his hands on my ass, separating the cheeks, probing my open hole with a 74


moistened finger and causing my entire body to spasm uncontrollably as he massaged my prostate. My orgasm built inside me, but I fought to control it. I wanted this sensation to last, to feel myself bonded to him for more than just a few minutes' pleasure. His lips on mine was the greatest experience of my entire life. The sweet fire they created in me increased my need to satisfy him completely. Nothing seemed more important to me than to bring him the ultimate pleasure. The slow, sensuous rhythm we had created now quickened as the intensity of our need for one another urged us to even greater heights of desire and passion. "Jean-Claude," I breathed into his ear. "I love you, JeanClaude, I love you. Whatever it takes for me to stay by your side, please make it so." His arms tightened around me. His lips stilled mine with a long, intoxicating kiss, and his hard cock, pressed between our writhing bodies, suddenly spewed out streams of hot semen, coating our torsos with his creamy load. I groaned as my own orgasm took control of me, my body bucked in the furious throes of ecstasy as I came inside him with such force, I almost blacked out. We lay in each other's arms for a long time, his head on my chest, allowing our breathing to return to normal. When I found I could speak again, I raised his face to mine. "What I said earlier, Jean-Claude. I wasn't just babbling in the throes of passion. I really mean it. Wherever you are going in life, please take me with you." 75


"Do you know what that means?" he asked, gently stroking my hair. I nodded. "Yes, but it's what I want." "Then, you must drink from me," he said. "My blood will imbue you with greater strength and a longer life." "I'll become like you?" "No. Before we take that extreme step, I want you to know all of the consequences. For now, be content in the sharing of our blood." He put his lips on my neck. "This will hurt just a little." I held him as he bit down, drawing my blood into his mouth. The pain was eclipsed by the sensual rush that coursed through me, and I pulled his naked body even closer against mine as he fed. A feeling of rapture overcame me, and I fell back, Jean-Claude on top of me, his tongue sealing the wound on my neck. "Now," he said. "Drink from me, Ron. Take this gift of life I give with all my love." Covering his mouth so I couldn't see his fangs, he bit deeply into his wrist until the blood flowed, then with a smile, he held his wrist to my lips. My tongue flicked tentatively at the blood. It tasted nice, I thought with surprise. I don't know what I had expected. The only blood I'd ever tasted before had been my own when I sucked on a paper cut or something. He pressed his wrist against my lips. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "You must drink." I put my lips over the wound he had inflicted upon himself for my sake. I lapped at the blood that spilled onto my 76


tongue. It was rich and sweet, and it warmed me inside as it flowed down my throat. I could almost feel it being absorbed into my tissues, burning its way into my being, changing me, and bringing me immortality. "Enough now," he murmured, gently pulling away from me. "Thank you," I gasped. He took my face between his hands and kissed me. "Look at me, Ron," he whispered. "Look into my eyes, into my soul, and see it filled with love for you." "Oh, Jean-Claude." His sweet words had brought me to tears. "I love you, too," I murmured, choking on a sob. I laid my head on his chest and made a silent vow—no one was going to take this man from me—no one! [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five By the time I awoke, back in my apartment, the following morning, I had thought of several different plans of action, but the one that appealed the most was total confrontation with Delano. I wanted to get in his face and tell him to back off—or else! Now that I knew his son was gay, I figured I could somehow find a way to get through Delano's protective strongmen. It didn't take me long to find out that Delano preached his litany of intolerance at the Church of Abiding Truth in Pasadena, and it being Sunday morning, what better way to spend my time than listening to a fire and brimstone sermon aimed at ridding the world of all gayness? I knew what I planned would royally piss off Jean-Claude, but what he didn't know wasn't going to kill him, right? Dressing down seemed like a good idea, so I fished out a white shirt, grey tie and black slacks from my closet, and appropriately attired for church going, I hopped in my trusty Honda Civic and headed for Pasadena. Delano's church was a splendid sight. Tall spires and faux marble arches caught my eye as I drove into the crowded parking lot. Greeters at the doors murmured blessings as I passed into the cavernous interior decorated in early-ugly— tons of gold leaf and red velvet—but supplied with really comfortable cushioned pews. I looked around at the congregation and figured the average age to be upward of fifty. The nice looking people, 78


chatting amiably amongst themselves, made me wonder why on earth they would want to listen to the hateful ranting of a madman. One or two even smiled across at me—if they only knew! I spotted Jerry Junior as he and his old man appeared from behind a red velvet curtain. He looked like a younger version of his dear old dad, with the same great head of hair, only his was blond and highlighted, while his dad's was a startling white. Father and son approached the golden altar, made obeisance in front of the golden cross, then Junior sat on a golden chair while Senior turned to face his adoring fans. "Praise Jesus!" he exclaimed, holding his hands to the heavens. "Praise Jesus!" the congregation clamoured and we were off. My eyes remained riveted on young Jerry as his father rambled on about sinners and salvation. He kept a small smile plastered on his cute face most of the time, but once in a while, he would frown as though he remembered something— something unpleasant. At one point, we made eye contact, and I smiled ... shyly, then looked away as though embarrassed. When I looked his way again, he was staring at me. I dropped my gaze from his, then looked up again quickly. He smiled. I smiled. And that was that. Delano's sermon finally finished with him shouting to Jesus to save all sinners—and punish all sodomites. In Delano's world, there was no forgiveness for the likes of me. An organ crescendo that shook the foundations of the building accentuated his ranting. Totally over the top, but the crowd lapped it up, throwing heaps of money into the red velvet 79


bags that were passed around. I dropped in one cent— Canadian. Delano and son stood by the open doors as we filed out into the brilliant Californian sunshine. I'm sure everyone was relieved to see the world had not ended, despite Delano's dire predictions of God's punishment on us all for allowing homosexuals to run free among ordinary, decent folk. Avoiding the white-haired bigot, I held out my hand to the youngster, who took it in both of his and ran his middle finger across my palm. He gave me a smile, and whispered, "Ten minutes ... wait for me ... side entrance." That was easy, I thought, easing myself round the corner—no sign of any strong-arm men, but I supposed the Reverend didn't need them while he was surrounded by his faithful followers. Exactly ten minutes later, the side door opened, and Jerry beckoned me inside. "Hi," he said, breathing heavily. He pulled me into his arms and delivered a scorcher of a kiss to my mouth, which was slightly open in surprise. I hadn't expected him to come on this strong. His tongue was inside my mouth and halfway down my throat in a flash. "Take it easy," I hissed, pulling back from his embrace. "We have to be quick," he said hoarsely. "My father will notice I've gone and send one of his bozos looking for me." So, they were around after all. He started kissing me again, one hand tearing at my fly, while the other grabbed my hand, pressing it to his hard dick. "Wait," I muttered. "I don't want it like this. Can't I see you later somewhere?" 80


"They don't let me out of their sight for long enough." His eyes pleaded with me. "Please, let me just suck you off." I was beginning to feel sorry for the poor son-of-a-bitch. What a life—followed everywhere by spies, never being allowed to have time with friends. He sank to his knees in front of me, and I froze as I heard a door open behind us. "Jerry! What the fuck d'you think you're doing?" A tall, dark haired man glared at us across the room. "You!" He pointed a finger at me. "Get the fuck away from him!" Jerry seemed rooted to the spot, so I bent to help him to his feet. He threw his arms around me. "Please! Help me get out of here, please," he sobbed. "My father will kill me when he hears about this." "Jerry!" The tall man strode towards us. He looked vaguely familiar. "Back off," I told him. He made a grab for Jerry, and I punched his arm away. I'm no hero, but I'm in good shape, and I wasn't going to let him hurt the kid. The guy looked at me with surprise. "Leave him alone," I said, putting a protective arm around Jerry's shoulders. "Fuckin' perverts," the man muttered, trying to push me out of the way. I swung at him, and he was so intent on grabbing Jerry that he didn't see the punch coming. My fist connected with his jaw—hard. He grunted in pain and staggered back. I flung the door open, grabbed Jerry's hand and dragged him outside. "Let's go," I yelled. He gripped my hand and fell into a fast run alongside me. "My car's over there." I heard shouting 81


behind us and turning for a look. Delano, his face beet-red under that white hair, and two or three men pounded after us. "Get in. Quick." We threw ourselves into the car, and I burned rubber, heading for the church gates. "Where are we going?" Jerry asked me, his face white with fear. "My place, if we've managed to shake 'em." "Oh God, what have I done?" he moaned. "He'll kill me for sure, this time." "He'll be pissed, is all," I said. "He'll get over it, eventually. You can call him from my apartment, and—" "You don't understand," he cried, his eyes full of tears. "He beat me up the last time I did this." He pulled his shirt out of his pants. "Look." I glanced at his tan torso and gasped. His skin was a mess of welts and bruises. "Jesus," I muttered. "Your father did that?" "Yes, and he said next time, would be my end." "Oh, come on, he didn't mean it." But knowing what Delano was capable of, I was no longer sure of what I'd just said. The man was insane. What he'd tried to have his thugs do to Jean-Claude was evidence enough. Now, finding that he would deliberately beat the shit out of his only son and threaten him with death just because he was gay told me the man had to be stopped. "I'm calling the cops," I said, peering into my rear view mirror. Didn't look like anyone was following us. "I have a friend with the LAPD. He'll help us." "The cops? But my dad will kill me." 82


"No, he won't, Jerry," I snapped. "He won't get another chance to touch you, if you let my friend help us." He was silent as we pulled up outside my apartment. I could tell he was terrified at this turn of events. He was probably wondering how the chance of a quickie had suddenly turned into a fight for his life. "My name's Ron, by the way." Luckily, Barney was at his desk when I called. "Can you come right over to my apartment?" I asked. He sniggered. "You hot for me again?" "No ... I mean, I could be ... but there's someone I want you to help. His life is being threatened..." "This the same guy you called about the other day?" "No. Someone else." "Jeez, Ron. How many more people do you know who're getting threatened every day?" "Just come over, will you? Please?" A heavy sigh was followed by, "Oh, okay. See ya in a few." I looked at Jerry, who sat on the couch, being rubbed on by Felicia. He sank back against the cushions and took her in his arms. I heard her purring, clear across the room. Traitor, I thought. "I love cats," Jerry said softly, kissing Felicia's ears. His eyes glistened as he stared up at me. "Thank you for getting me out of there." "My friend Barney will be here shortly," I told him. "Just tell him everything you've been through and show him the evidence—I mean, all those bruises. Why did he do that?" "I was seeing some guy, and he found out." 83


Jean-Claude... "He and one of his bozos—the one you punched earlier— took turns beating me up." "Your mother?" "She left him years ago. Can you blame her?" Yeah. I could blame her for leaving her son with a maniac, but I said nothing, just nodded. "Then he told me he was going to get the man I had been seeing. Jesus, Ron. We hadn't done anything. I asked him over to the house when my dad was out. We just talked. He hugged me goodnight. He was really nice." I know, I thought. "They locked me in my room the night I was supposed to meet him. I felt so damned guilty about what they would do to him, and there was no way I could warn him. Anyway, they didn't manage to get him." So he didn't know his father had almost killed Jean-Claude. "That's good," I said, clearing my throat. "Can I get you a soda or something?' "Just water. I'd like something stronger, but better not with a cop coming 'round." Was he old enough to drink? "How old are you, Jerry?" "Twenty-five. I know, I look younger. Everyone tells me." "Yeah, you do." I got up as someone hammered on my door. "Hope that's Barney," I said, seeing the tension on Jerry's face. I peered through the peek-hole. "Get your thumb off," I yelled, "or I'm not opening the door." "Fine, I'll leave you to your fate, then." 84


I flung the door open. "Why do you always do that?" I asked, belligerently. "'Cause I know it pisses you off." Barney bussed my cheek, and sauntered into the living room. "Hi, I'm Detective Barney Foster," he said, holding out his hand to Jerry. Was it my imagination, or did young Jerry blush slightly as he took Barney's hand and introduced himself? "So, Felicia left you again for another guy, Ron?" Barney chuckled as he settled on the couch next to Jerry. He looked huge sitting on that couch—I swear I've never seen anyone else with shoulders as broad as his. Jerry seemed fascinated by Barney's arms, or was it his chest—or maybe just all of Barney? The kid's eyes were glued to my ex-boyfriend's every movement. I hid a little smile as I went to fetch him a glass of water. "Getcha something, Barney?" "'Nope, I'm good." He studied Jerry's face for a moment then cleared his throat noisily. "So, Ron tells me you're being threatened." "By his father, the Reverend Jerry Delano," I called out from the kitchen. "Show him the bruises, Jerry." Jerry carefully put Felicia aside and stood up. He pulled his shirt up over his head, and Barney's eyes widened as he gazed at Jerry's slim, hard torso. I wasn't sure if it was the sight of the bruises that caused Barney's mouth to fall slightly open, or the sensual sight of the young man's body. "Your father did this?" Barney's voice was strangely thick. "Him and one of the thugs he employs as a bodyguard," Jerry said. 85


"Why does a man of the cloth need bodyguards?" Barney asked, standing up, and with a gentleness I'd never seen in him before, he put his hands on Jerry's shoulders, turning him around slowly and peering at the marks on his body. "Looks like they used knuckledusters, here, and here," he said, touching Jerry's skin lightly. "Sons-of-bitches..." He straightened up, and Jerry stood as if transfixed, gazing into Barney's eyes with quiet adoration. I felt like the biggest third wheel in the world. This was not a situation I had foreseen. These guys were falling in love right before my very eyes! Jean-Claude ... Oh, wow. How was I going to explain this to him—or him to them? Jeez. "Uh ... Barney?" He turned and looked at me as though he'd forgotten I was in the room. Then his eyes seemed to come back into focus. "Oh, right. Uh, put your shirt back on, Jerry, and tell me everything that's happened to you. I wanna make some notes." For a time, Jerry sat quietly answering Barney's questions. Seems old man Delano had suspected his son was a homo for some time. "He would rant on about homosexuals being a plague on the earth," Jerry said. "All the time looking right at me. Once, I got up the nerve to argue the point, and he went into a tirade that took him days to get over." "When did he start beating you?" Barney asked him.

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"Well, it started out being just a slap or two, but after my mother left, he kinda took his rage out on me. He blamed me for her leaving." "What a jerk," I muttered. Barney looked up from his notebook and gazed at Jerry, a gentle sympathy in his eyes. "What was the reason for this latest beating?" "He found out I had a date with a guy. He locked me in my room, then took his goons to the place we were to meet. He was going to have them 'beat the crap out of the fag,' he told me, but when he came home, I gathered things didn't go so well. The guy got away, so Dad and Brett, the worst of his goons, beat the crap out of me instead." "Jeez," Barney murmured. "I want to meet this Brett character." "Barney," I said pointedly. "Jerry's not going to be able to go back home, at least, not until he has an assurance from his father that he's not going to beat the crap out of him again." Jerry grimaced. "He's not going to give me the time of day, never mind assurances. There's no way I'm going back there. Don't worry, I'll find somewhere to stay." "You could sleep on the couch here," I mumbled, trying to transmit a mental message to Barney's brain. Ask him, dummy. "No, that's okay," Jerry said. "My place," Barney blurted suddenly. "What?" "You could stay at my place." 87


I noticed with a great deal of amusement that Barney's face had gone a ruddy shade. "Uh ... that way, I could kinda ... uh ... protect you if any of your dad's strong-arm men ... uh ... tried anything." "That's a great idea," I said with enthusiasm. "Why didn't I think of that? What d'you think, Jerry?" From the shining in his eyes, I could tell young Jerry thought it was a helluva idea. I sighed. Who knew I could play at being a yenta? **** The apartment seemed very empty and flat after they'd left. I felt lonely ... and needy. I glanced at my watch. Four o'clock. Would Jean-Claude be awake yet? I could leave a message if he didn't pick up... He picked up. "Jean-Claude." "Hello, Ron. I thought it might be you." His sexy accent in my ear gave me a hard on. "I'm not calling too early, am I?" "No. How are you?" "Great." "You have something to tell me, I think." How did he know that? "I do? Wait ... I thought you said you couldn't read thoughts." His low chuckle made my toes curl. "Would you like to come over, and tell me all about your day?" "You won't get mad and try to zap me?" "I won't get mad. Come over." 88


"Be right there." Quickly, I pulled off my conservative church-going costume and headed for the shower. Had to be all clean and shiny. I crooned a happy, snappy number as the hot water tumbled all around me. I didn't hear the front door being jimmied open, nor did I see the shadows of the two men as they entered my bathroom. I gave a startled yelp as the shower curtain was suddenly yanked back, and I was hauled bodily from the shower. A punch to my stomach doubled me over with pain. "That's for earlier," a voice growled, then something hit me on the head, and the world went away. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six When I came to, I was lying on a bare mattress in a darkened room. I stayed still, trying to remember what had happened. Oh yeah ... two guys in my bathroom. One of them had been the jerk I'd punched before Jerry and I had made a run for it. He'd looked familiar, but how had they found out where I lived? Too bad they hadn't tried to break in when Barney was still there. He'd have made mincemeat outta them. They'd obviously expected to find me there alone with Jerry. Damn, but my head hurt. I groaned as I sat up, the pain arcing through my skull like a steel knife. I stood up, weaving groggily. I wasn't tied, and someone had thought to throw a pair of shorts on me. "Hello?" I called out through the locked door. I heard a shuffling sound from the other side then a voice. "Back away from the door." I backed away. The tall guy who'd punched me in the stomach stood in the doorway, a sneer on his face and a gun in his hand. Too bad he was such a jerk, he was kinda cute. His eyes gleamed as he glared at me. "How'd you know where to find me?" I asked him. "You work at La Fortuna," he replied. "I've been there a couple of times, so when I saw you with the kid, I thought I recognised you. A phone call to the restaurant from your 'outof-town cousin just here for the day' snagged your address without a problem." 90


"I thought you looked familiar, too," I said. "Too bad we're not more fussy about who we serve." His sneer got bigger. "Smart ass." I flexed my chest muscles. "You want me, don't you?" I taunted him. "I can see through that expression of disgust, y'know." "Shut up," he rasped. "The Reverend wants to speak to you. If I were you, I wouldn't get too cute with him." "Yeah, I know ... he's mean and nasty. D'you get off on that S 'n' M stuff?" He scowled. "I said, shut up." He grabbed at my arm. "Let's go." He pulled me out into a long corridor then pushed me forward ahead of him. "Third door on the right. You're expected." The Reverend Delano sat at a giant mahogany desk set in the middle of a large well-furnished room. The interior of his church might be enough to give Christopher Lowell a heart attack, but Delano's own private domain was tastefully decorated in muted colours and expensive furniture. He cast an ugly look at me as his fellow basher pushed me through the door. "You're a friend of my son?" He stood and walked around his desk, stopping a few feet from me. He looked me up and down, his nose twitching like he smelled something bad. Only himself, I thought. "Well?" "Not really," I said. "I just met him this morning after your really fantastic sermon." He ignored my sarcasm. "Where is he?" 91


"In police custody." His eyes widened. "What?" "Yeah, I called the police after he showed me what you'd done to him." I couldn't resist grinning at the shocked expression on Delano's face. "He's giving them a statement about how you and Lurch here beat him up, using knuckledusters no less." "He's lying." Lurch gave me a shove. "Get Bob Sanders on the phone now, Brett," Delano said, tight-lipped. "We'll get Jerry home, then we'll make sure he doesn't pull another stunt like this." "What—you'll beat him up some more?" I snapped angrily, watching Brett/Lurch pick up the phone and talk urgently into the mouthpiece. "Your own son? I think even your flock of dumb-ass followers might find that just a tad excessive. How's it going to look when this piece of news hits the media? 'Evangelical preacher abuses gay son—news at ten!'" "Be quiet," Delano snarled. "Your opinions are worthless, you faggot—" "Oh yeah? I think the police are going to see you for the hypocritical scumbag you are, when I tell them you had a friend of mine attacked, and almost killed, the other night." Delano narrowed his eyes at me. "What do you know of that?" "Enough to put you in jail. I found him, badly injured, near my restaurant. He was on his way to see me, when your thugs shoved a wooden stake into his chest. Only he's tougher that you thought. He survived, and he's ready to give the cops a statement soon as he's out of the hospital." I got a 92


kick out of seeing Delano's face as I told him this extremely tall tale. Jean-Claude would be surprised to know he was in the hospital, eager to talk to the police. Delano flicked an angry look at henchman Brett who was still on the phone talking, I guessed, to Delano's attorney. "Yeah," I said smugly. "Brett blew it. Left a witness alive who's heard your name mentioned in connection with the attack." "Dammit! Give me the phone," Delano barked. "Bob ... wait..." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Put the fag back in the room. We'll work this out after I talk to Bob." As he took his hand off the mouthpiece I yelled, "Help! I'm being held here against my will! Call the cops!" Brett grabbed me and punched me on the back hard enough to send me to my knees. Then he hauled me to my feet and hustled me out of the room, his gun pressed into my ribs. Just before the door closed, I heard Delano say, "Oh, just somebody fooling around..." Brett marched me up the corridor and threw me back in the dark room, even darker now, as it was getting late. "You can't keep me here forever, you know," I said. "You guys are in a world of trouble. Expect the cops to come acalling any minute now." For a moment, indecision flickered across Brett's face, then he slammed the door shut on me and locked it. Damn. What the hell was I going to do? Of course, the cops wouldn't be calling. Barney and Jerry were probably canoodling on the couch back at Barney's apartment, totally unaware of my predicament, and Jean-Claude was most likely 93


wondering where the hell I'd got to. Delano's attorney would to call the police station and be told no one by the name of Jerry Delano had come forward to make any kind of statement. When Delano found that out, he'd be in here, beating the crap out of me, until I told him where Jerry actually was. Hmm ... time for a serious escape plan. But how? My head jerked towards the window as I heard a tapping on the glass. I rushed over and pulled up the blind. "Jean-Claude," I gasped, staring at his worried but still gorgeous, face. Wait a minute... I figured we were at least three stories up and there was no balcony out there. I pushed the window open. "How ... how did you get up here?" "Explanations can wait," he whispered. "We must go, now. Quickly." "Go where? It's a thirty foot drop, at least." "Trust me, Ron," he said, holding his arms open. "Climb through the window and hold on to me. I will take you to safety." "But—" "Now, Ron! There is no time to lose." "Okay..." I scrambled through the window looking for what had to be the very tall ladder he was standing on. There was no ladder. What the heck was he standing on? Jean-Claude put his arms around me and pulled me the rest of the way through the window. "I've got you," he said. Yeah ... but in the words of Lois Lane, Who's got you? 94


I closed my eyes, expecting us to crash to the ground at any second, but then I felt as though we were climbing higher. I opened my eyes. We were higher. We were flying! Holy crap—what a kick! "We're flying," I yelled. "A keen observation," he said with a dry chuckle. I held him tight, my face pressed to his neck, my eyes almost bugging out of my head as we hovered over the Delano mansion. "There is just one thing I must do before we leave," he said, our feet touching down on the balcony outside Delano's study. With a small gesture from his hand, the French doors crashed inwards, wood and glass spraying into the room. "What the fuck?" Both Brett and Delano gaped in total shock as Jean-Claude strode towards them. Brett reached for his gun but was suddenly sent spinning across the room, landing with a grunt of pain against the wall, where he lay unconscious in a crumpled heap. "You!" Delano stared at Jean-Claude, hatred streaming from his eyes. "How dare you enter my home?" "I dare," Jean-Claude replied, "because it is time for you to learn the error of your ways." "You would judge me?" Delano rasped. "You ... sodomite!" "I am much more than that." Jean-Claude smiled, and before Delano's horrified eyes—and I have to admit, mine too—his fangs extended as his smile evaporated and was replaced by a silent snarl of anger. Delano screamed in terror then screamed even louder as Jean-Claude reached for him. Dragging him across the top of 95


the desk, Jean-Claude hoisted Delano into the air as if he weighed no more than a child of three. In all my wildest imaginings, I could never have conjured a vision of Jean-Claude as he appeared now. Right before my eyes, my gentle lover had transformed himself into the monster who now held Delano in a death grip, his sharp fangs only inches from Delano's jugular. "Jean-Claude," I gasped. "No." His head whipped in my direction. Releasing Delano from his grasp, he let the stricken preacher slump to the floor. "Do not worry, Ron," he said, his face once more composed and beautiful. "I would not extend this man's life by one more minute." He walked towards me and took my hand. "Come, we must go now." Still shaking from the scene I had just witnessed, I let him lead me onto the balcony. With a gentle smile, he wrapped his arms around me, and I clung to him as we soared into the cool night sky. **** As we landed on the balcony of his apartment, he kept his arms about me and nuzzled my neck with his lips. "I must apologise for letting you see the darker side of me," he said softly. "I have more powers than I've led you to believe." I hugged him to me. "I think it was worth it, just to see Delano get his. By the way..." A sudden thought occurred to me. "How did you manage to get into Delano's study? I thought you had to be invited." 96


"I had already been in Delano's home. Young Jerry invited me there on our first meeting." "Oh ... right." I nodded then winced as his hand touched the place where Brett had pounded me. "They hurt you." "It's nothing you can't fix." I followed him into his living room, where a bundle of white fur lay, completely at home, on his couch. "Felicia ... how...?" "When you didn't arrive after saying you'd be right over," he explained, "I went to your apartment and discovered you had been abducted. There were signs of a struggle, wet puddles on the floor—and poor Felicia in a state of fear. I calmed her and brought her here." "Thanks. But how did you know where I was? I thought you said you couldn't read thoughts." "I can when those I love are in danger. Your thoughts came to me, loud and clear as a clarion call." His eyes grew dark as he looked at me sternly. "Ron, what you did today was foolish—brave, but foolish. The one good thing is that you got Jerry out of his father's house." "You know all that?" "Your mind was filled with it as I searched for you." He kissed me tenderly. "What am I to do with you?" he murmured against my lips. "Spank me?" I suggested, kissing him back. His hands caressed my bare torso, soothing my aches and pains. "I think you might enjoy that form of punishment too much." 97


"Mmm ... but think of the fun we'd have after." "I am thinking of that," he said, his voice husky with desire. "Can I use your shower first?" I asked. "I feel skuzzy after dealing with those dirt-bags." "Of course." He gave me a little smile. "Would you mind if I joined you?" "Mind? I'd love it," I said, pawing at his shirt buttons. In a flash, we were both naked, standing in the shower, warm water pouring down on us. All right! Serious powers he hadn't bothered to mention. I held him, bare skin pressed to bare skin, warm flesh, made slick by soap and water, moving in a sensuous rhythm born of need and desire. His tender lips on mine told me of his love for me, while the erection I felt throbbing against my leg, signalled his desire. I would have been content to stay holding him for eternity, my arms around him, my hands caressing and stroking the silky smooth skin that covered his taut, sleek body. Every part of me hummed with desire for him. He was everything I wanted and more. And the greatest thing was that I felt as if all the sensations he created in me were also manifested in him. I wanted nothing more than that—well, maybe just a little more. Was it the blood he had imbued me with that had increased my sensitivity to his caresses? His hands moving over my skin seemed to leave a trail of fiery lust in their wake. I found myself wishing our physical bodies would meld together, that we would become as one, and that he would 98


live within me and I within him. As if in answer, with a murmured entreaty, he gently turned me around in his embrace, so that his throbbing cock was pressed between the cleft of my buttocks. "Oh yes," I whispered, grasping the pulsing muscle in my hand and guiding it into my warm, slick depths. He filled me with his man flesh, and the feeling was like nothing I had ever experienced. Wrapped in his arms, his lips thrilling the flesh on the nape of my neck and my shoulders, I leaned back into the strength of his powerful thrusts, matching the slow, sensuous rhythm he'd begun. My body arched in ecstasy as his hand found my throbbing erection. Don't let this ever end, I thought. Let this moment live forever, let nothing come between this fusion of our bodies, minds and spirits. I groaned and pushed harder against him, grinding my butt into his crotch, trying to take in every centimetre of his long, hard cock. He gasped my name in my ear, and then he whispered, "I love you, Ron. I love you." That did it. My orgasm wracked my body, wrenching streams of cum from me that splattered across the tile walls of the shower. His own climax followed almost immediately, and I bore down on him as he filled me with the red-hot blast of his semen. "Oh God," I murmured, collapsing against him as he covered my neck and face with his sweet, sweet kisses. "I think I just saw Heaven." He chuckled in my ear and nibbled at my earlobe. "My wonderful Ron." 99


We stood very still for a long time, still joined as one, content to stay that way, letting the warm shower water cascade gently down on us. After all, we were in no rush. Whatever was out there, good, bad or plain indifferent, could just wait. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Epilogue You'll be glad to know this story has a happy ending—two happy endings actually, as you will see. I called Barney from Jean-Claude's the following day, and he told me he'd taken Jerry to the police station to make a formal complaint against his father, based on the physical abuse he had suffered at his father's hands and those of his henchmen. A warrant for the Reverend's arrest had been issued, and several police officers were on their way to the Delano residence even as we spoke. Yeah! "Don't forget to watch the news tonight," he said, with a deal of relish. "The media's got wind of it. How, I can't imagine..." I chuckled. "Yeah, isn't that amazing. By the way, how're you and Jerry getting along?" "Aw, he's just so great, Ron. I know it's crazy, the way we met and all, but I can't tell you how connected we both feel in such a short time. I didn't think it was possible to feel so ... so..." "In love?" I finished the sentence for him. "It can happen, Barney." "Right. I guess that's it. I'm in love with him, Ron. Really in love with him. Crazy, huh?" "Not so crazy, Barney. He's a lucky guy." "I'm the lucky one. He's just so incredible. You should see him when he—" 101


"Okay, Barney," I interrupted what I felt was going to be way too much information. "Go tell him that, not me. I'll talk to you soon. Bye." I put the phone down and smiled across the room at Felicia. "Your Uncle Barney's gone gaga," I told her, and she started to purr happily. I walked into the darkened bedroom where Jean-Claude lay in his vampire sleep. I stood for a time by his bedside, just gazing at him, mesmerised as always, by his beauty. The memory of the transformation I had seen up close the day before had begun to recede, thanks to Jean-Claude's whispered assurances that I had nothing to fear from him. All night, we had talked, made love and talked some more until the first grey light of dawn had appeared. We had talked of the future—our future together. He was cautious at first, taking great pains to lay it all out, so there would be few, if any, surprises in store for me. He drank from me, and I from him, allowing me to again feel the incredible rush of vampire blood coursing through my veins. We would take it easy for a time, he'd said, holding me close, so that I might gently feel my way into this new life. There are obstacles to overcome, of course, Jean-Claude's aversion to daylight and his need for human blood being the two biggies, but I'm sure we can manage. After all, it's not like he's the only vampire around. LA has quite a community of bloodsuckers—not counting people like Delano and his ilk. Delano's arrest on TV was quite a sight. Jean-Claude and I watched with a degree of satisfaction as the Reverend and his cronies were led out of his mansion, surrounded by TV cameras and yelling reporters. Delano made quite a spectacle 102


of himself, babbling on about vampires taking over the world. Whatever credibility he had left with his fans went out the window after that statement. Barney was there and, on camera, popped Brett on the jaw when the jerk tried to resist arrest. I knew my butch ex-boyfriend had been praying for that opportunity. I saw his lips move as he bent over Brett's prone form, and I knew he was saying, "That's for what you did to Jerry." Ah, justice ... sometimes it really does work. Jean-Claude switched off the television and smiled at me. "Feels good, huh," I said, taking his hand in mine. "What feels even better is having you here with me," he said, raising my hand to his lips. He looked at me from those dark blue eyes, and I shivered as I always did when he gazed at me that way. "What?" I whispered. "We are about to have company." "We are? Who?" I heard a gentle knock at the door. "You may enter," Jean-Claude said, getting to his feet. "Wait ... you don't know who it is," I hissed, jumping to my feet. "I know." The door swung open, and I gasped at the sight of the two men who stood, side by side, in the doorway. One was tall, with eyes as green as emeralds and dark curly hair framing a face that would leave most male Hollywood stars grinding their teeth in envy. The other, about a head shorter, blond, sweet-faced and smiley. No, they weren't wearing red lined capes or anything like that, in fact, 103


they were casually dressed in jeans and tee shirts, but I knew immediately what they were. "Marcus," Jean-Claude said, embracing his friend. "And Roger ... we have not met, but I feel I know you already." He turned to me. "This is Ron. My lover." I stood staring at them like a dummy for a long moment, suddenly terribly aware that I was the only mortal in the room—alone with three vampires. Three very attractive and friendly vampires, of course—but just for a moment, I felt a tad insecure. Roger stepped towards me, a big smile on his cute face. "Don't be nervous. We won't bite!" I laughed, feeling foolish, and grasped the hand he offered. "Sorry, this will take a little getting used to." "I know what you mean," he said. "I'm a newbie, too." "You're not a vampire?" "Yes ... but still growing. This big guy here..." He took Marcus's hand, and smiled up at him. "He's being Mr. Patience, while I make a mess of things." I gazed at Marcus, feeling a sense of awe overtake me. As I took the hand he offered me, I remembered what JeanClaude had said—"He is legendary among us"—and in his eyes, I thought I could see the centuries of knowledge and wisdom he had attained. How incredible, I thought, to be loved by someone like him who had lived a hundred lifetimes. What was it, I wondered, that made these exotic creatures choose to love mortals like Roger—now an ex-mortal—and myself. His smile deepened and his grip on my hand tightened just a fraction as he read my thoughts. 104


"Jean-Claude," he said, and his deep, melodious voice had a sexy huskiness that I could imagine had thrilled many men and women over the years. "Your lover has many questions for you—some that only you can answer." He drew Roger to his side and kissed the top of his head. "But, speaking for myself," he continued, "I love the mortal art of questioning almost everything that comes to their attention. When Roger and I first met, most everything I said, was met with a question. Many times, my long and, I'm sure, boring soliloquies, were interrupted by his 'How? Where? When?'" Roger giggled. "It's true, but one thing you never were, or are, Marcus, is boring. How could I be bored listening to all those great stories, and in case you haven't noticed, my being changed, hasn't stopped my questioning everything." I put my arm around Jean-Claude's waist and held him close to me. "We haven't even begun to know each other yet," I said. "That's something I'm looking forward to." And it was, for as I imagined our future together, my vampire lover and I. I envisaged a life where we would sometimes lie together under a moonlit sky, and after we had made love on the cool clean grass, Jean-Claude would tell me of the life he had lived and of the life he foresaw for us. Who could ask for anything more? [Back to Table of Contents]

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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. Also by J.P. Bowie My Vampire and I [Back to Table of Contents]

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