Don’t Drink the Blood
          by Kate Hill          

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        The night air was heavy enough to warm even my cool flesh as I felt the surge of blood beneath the moist, tanned throat of the youth who lay dreaming in my arms. His scent of sweat, cheap cologne, and alcohol-spiced blood was so enticing as I bent to take the first drink that I didn’t notice anyone approach until my head snapped back into a hirsute chest which reeked of old dirt and cigarette smoke. I gagged, a combination of fear and revulsion as grime-encrusted fingers bit into my ribs and squeezed by face so that my lips puffed out like a fat toddler’s.
        A gruff voice accompanied by foul breath whispered wetly against my ear. "Nobody drinks here without my permission."
        "Sorry," I relaxed in his arms enough to gain his trust, then smashed the heel of my black hiking boot into his foot, causing him to curse in pain and tighten his grip rather than loosen it.
        "You’ve got a lot to learn, baby." He shoved me face first against the brick side of the building, and I tasted blood as my own incisors cut my lips. The vulnerable position reminded me too much of my childhood spent in the care of an uncle I had tried for years to forget, and I struggled violently against my captor’s immovable strength. "That’s it, baby. I like it rough."
        "Glad to hear that." Another voice, distinctly male but incredibly refined, caused my attacker to turn from me. I used the distraction to slip from his prying fingers.
        My rescuer stood at the end of the alley looking more like he belonged in a balcony seat at the ballet than behind one of the seediest clubs in town. Tall, slim, exquisitely pale, he reminded me of a sculpture I’d seen at an art museum one year on a grammar school trip. Had it not been for the darkness of the shadows beneath his gem-blue eyes, he would have been flawless, almost feminine in his beauty.
        He glanced at me briefly, extended a long, graceful arm toward the opening in the alley, and said, "Go on."
        "I ain’t done with her yet." The fiend reached for me, but the sculpture stepped forward, protecting me with his sparse frame draped in black silk clothes.
        The fiend swung at the sculpture’s fragile face, and I raced out of the alley while I had the chance. Imagining the pale, lovely man shattered and bleeding beneath the fiend’s assault, I felt guilty fleeing, but fear pushed me toward the train station.
        The train zipped by before I could board, and I cursed out loud, my own heart throbbing with terror. I turned, crashing into a man’s chest covered in black silk, and shouted. Strong fingers gently gripped my shoulders, and I looked up into the sculpture’s pale, blood-streaked face.
        "Rene, are you all right?" he asked, and I stopped struggling.
        "How come you know me when I don’t know you?" I asked cautiously. We stood so close that I could see the fine lines about his eyes and slender mouth. A sheen of sweat made his face glow like marble in the moonlight, and a tendril of sand-colored hair tumbled across his forehead. I was surprised by the strong urge which tempted me to brush it away, but I refrained.
        "I’ve made it my business to find out who you are."
        "Why?"
        "Because I need you."
        I lifted an eyebrow in disbelief as I noted the richness of his clothes and the delicacy of his speech. What could a man like that possibly need from me?
        "Your blood," he said. "Is the only treatment for my disease."
        "Disease?" I snorted with sarcastic laughter. "We can’t get sick, or didn’t you know that?"
        "You’re the one who doesn’t know!" His gentle expression turned fierce as his eyes, which had looked so calm just a moment ago, turned to blazing mirrors which reflected the rage I’d felt all my life. I tried to step back, but his hands held me tightly. "Two months a vampire, and you think you know everything."
        I stared at him, realizing that I was going to be a victim again that night. Disgust rose within me like bile, and I don’t know who I hated more, men who sought to dominate, or myself for succumbing to them again. Though immortality had been forced upon me, I had welcomed it, believing that it would make me indomitable. I hadn’t considered that men like my uncle might also have been made immortal and been granted eternity to maim, rape, harass, and murder.
        Something in my expression reached him, and he dropped his hands from my shoulders. "I’m sorry. You have no way of knowing anything about what you’ve become, let alone anything at all about me. I don’t want to hurt or steal from you. I’d like to make a bargain, create a merger, so to speak."
        Common sense told me to flee while I had the chance, but something about him compelled me to listen.
        "There’s so much you have to learn about what you are and about how to protect yourself against creatures like the one who attacked you tonight."
        "What did you do to him?" I asked cautiously, staring at the blood which was drying rapidly on his pale face. "I thought for sure he was going to beat the hell out of you."
        He smiled slightly, a combination of sadness and amusement.
        "No offence," I held up my hands, "But you don’t exactly look like a candidate for Mr. Universe."
        "And you look like a whore in a gothic nightmare, but you’re not."
        Aghast at his crude observation, I started to defend myself, but he continued. "I’ve been watching you for weeks, Rene. You dress promiscuously, flirt shamelessly, but never go much further than that. You spend most of your time alone, unless you’re searching for a victim."
        "You’ve been stalking me?"
        "I had to find out as much as I could about you."
        "Because my blood can cure you?" I ventured, still not sure if I believed him or not.
        "Not cure, stabilize." He drew a long breath and watched me carefully as if trying to decide how much he could trust me. "Without you, I’ll die."
        "And I’m supposed to care?" I folded my arms across my chest and shrugged, desperate to convince myself that I really didn’t care. Something about him terrified me and lured me at the same time, and I knew that if I let myself, I could fall for him. Through harsh experience I knew that allowing myself to care for people was suicide. It would be more painless to drive a stake through my own heart than to give it up to a man.
        Rather than becoming angry or offended by my indifference, he looked upon me with sympathy. He reached out to brush my cheek with his fingertips, and I was shocked by the warmth of his touch, unusual for our kind. He was so gentle that I longed to close my eyes and savor the feeling of his skin against mine, but instead I knocked his hand away, furious that he should pity me.
        "Will you at least listen to what I have to say? I promise you won’t be disappointed. This arrangement will be as beneficial to you as it is to me."
        I glanced at him and shrugged, but when he turned and walked away, I followed. His strides were long, quick, and steady, and I was forced to jog just to keep up with him. A block away, in front of an all-night convenience store, he mounted a black and silver Harley. I stared from the sidewalk and noted the strange, beautiful contradiction between the rugged steel bike and the slender blond man dressed in flowing silk astride it. His blue eyes shifted toward me as he waited for me to join him.
        No sooner had I slipped onto the seat behind him when the bike roared down the empty street. I clutched his lean waist and was surprised by the strength of his body. Though slim, his muscles were hard and supple beneath the sweat-dampened silk, and an unfamiliar thrill of desire pierced me. My eyes were closed tightly as I clung to him, fearful of the speed and openness of the Harley and the subtle power of the man before me.
        I’d never been on a motorbike before as their speed, bellowing engines, and lack of protective steel walls had always terrified me. I looked wild and carefree with my waist-length black hair, painted face, and black net dress cut far too low on my breasts and too high on my thighs, but it was the refined-looking, lady-faced man I clung to who was the true weird.
        "Either you’re terrified or you couldn’t wait to get your hands on me." His voice was slightly mocking as we cruised onto the highway.
        I wanted to reply, but fear trapped my voice in my throat as I forced myself to loosen my grip on him. I sighed with relief when we finally stopped at a suburban lake to walk along the grassy shore.
        Taking off my boots, I splashed through the shallow water at the edge of the lake. He glanced at my painted black toenails and smiled.
        "I want to tell you right off that if you let me take your blood, there will be no danger to you. The disease can’t be spread from one of us to the other."
        "Then how did you get it?" I asked, the curiosity gnawing at me like a rat on trash.
        "I was traveling in the mountains of China, far away from any semblance of modern civilization. There was a tiny village, not more than a few huts really. Just outside the village there was a lake, much like this one, and a sign was posted in the ground before it, only half of it had fallen off during a storm. The words I translated read "Don’t Drink." I assumed the rest said "The Water." It didn’t. Afterward, when it was too late for me, I discovered that the message read "Don’t Drink The Blood." The inhabitants of that rural village, separated for years from the rest of the world, carried a disease in their blood which only effected vampires."
        "What does it do to you?" I asked hesitantly. He appeared normal enough to me.
        "It deteriorates everything. Sometimes I have to struggle to keep my sanity. My mind wants to drift to the past or linger in waking nightmares. I have terrible headaches, and don’t heal as quickly as I should."
        "My blood can help you?"
        He nodded. "Certain vampires, they’re very rare, have an element in their blood which counteracts the effects of the disease. I have a friend who’s been studying it for years. He says he’s going to find a cure, and I believe he will, but what concerns me is here and now."
        "How do you know my blood can help you?"
        "By the scent of it. After so many years, I know." He stopped walking for a moment and turned to me, his sapphire eyes imploring though I sensed that to this man begging for anything was like mild torture. His suffering must have been tremendous for him to come to me and plead for his life. I felt a twisted combination of sympathy and power. All my life I’d waited to crush a man as men had tried to crush me. Now I had the chance.
        "As I said, I’m willing to offer you something in return."
        "Sorry, but you don’t have anything I want." I shrugged, my voice arrogant.
        "How about protection?"
        "I don’t need your protection." My eyes shot fury at him.
        "And if you’re going to mention how you "rescued" me tonight, you can forget it. The only reason you did that was because you wanted to save your own butt. If you didn’t need my blood, you wouldn’t have cared what that animal did to me. You probably would even have joined him."
        "There you go making up your own conclusions again." He shook his head. "I detest abuse of any kind, Rene, and I would have helped you regardless of what your blood could do for me."
        I stared at him, my own experiences telling me not to believe him, though in my heart I knew he spoke the truth.
        "You don’t want to help me." He nodded, lowering his long, golden lashes onto the dark smudges beneath his eyes. For the first time I realized what was so strange about him. Though he was undoubtedly a vampire, one more powerful than I had first suspected, he exuded human vulnerability.
        We were silent as he drove me back to the city and stopped outside my old apartment building with its peeling paint and narrow, twisting fire escapes. I climbed off the seat, my body still tingling from the ride, and glanced at him over my shoulder.
        "Aren’t you coming?" I asked.
        He lifted a curious eyebrow, but followed me up the creaky staircase to my top floor apartment.
        Out of habit, I reached for the light switch, then remembered neither of us required artificial light to see. His sharp eyes caught my movement, and the slightest smile touched his lips.
        "I seem to amuse you," I said, a vain attempt at intimidation.
        "Yes," he replied with a nonchalance I envied.
        I removed a heap of laundry from the age-worn couch so that he could sit down, and I noticed his eyes scanning the room like an animal in a strange forest.
        Never having been one for housework, I cringed slightly when I realized what my two room apartment must look like to him. The sink was cluttered with unwashed dishes, clothes were strewn across the bed, and dust the size of tumble weed blew along the scratched wooden floor.
        I stepped up to my dresser and discreetly dumped the assortment of lipstick, perfume, and nail polish which cluttered the Formica top into the already stuffed drawer.
        "So all I have to do is give you blood?" I ventured, admitting only to myself that the idea of him taking my blood was shamefully alluring. He was absolutely beautiful in his own androgynous way, and when he looked at me with those incredibly human eyes, I wanted to throw myself into his arms and feel the pressure of his slender lips against my throat. For the first time since I’d been made a vampire, I wanted to be bitten again.
        He slipped from the couch so quickly that I didn’t notice he’d moved until he stood so close beside me that I saw the flecks of gray in his dark blue eyes and the faint purple mark along his jaw line. I touched his face impulsively and asked in wonder, "You bruise?"
        His Adam’s apple moved in his slender throat as he swallowed audibly. I tilted my head back slightly, exposing my neck, wondering what it would be like to freely offer my blood. The first time had been a horrifying struggle for me, and my creator had left me alone to search out answers to my questions regarding immortality. Now this man offered me answers, protection, and the chance to experience the same kind of pleasant blood sharing which I tried to offer my own victims. I could take from him everything I’d ever wanted just as long as I remembered not to lose my heart, for he was, after all, only a man.
        His lean, sinewy arms slipped about my waist and drew me to the length of his body. His lips hovered over my exposed throat so that his warm breath fanned my skin as he whispered, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
        "Aren’t you afraid you’ll scare me off?" I replied. "I thought you needed me."
        "I do."
        "Then take what you need."
        I closed my eyes as his soft lips pressed kisses against my throat. My hands slid up his back and gently clutched the hair at his nape as his teeth pierced my flesh. My last and only memory of being bitten was by the monster who had attacked me late one night and left me in a dumpster where I’d arisen terrified and confused. If my transformation had been preceded by a bite like this, perhaps I could have shed my cynicism before I awakened to my new life.
        He held me tightly to his body as my mind drifted into the familiar dream state which I often shared with my own victims. The deeper he drank, the more our souls mingled, and I suddenly gasped in pain and shock as I felt the symptoms of his illness. He possessed much more skill at mind control than I did and, after a short time, managed to block his thoughts and feelings. Within those preceding seconds, I felt the aching muscles and shattering headache as he struggled to keep from succumbing to a madness where he would wander forever through a past littered with pain and pleasure.
        Initially I thought he had been lying about the disease, but his pain was not a lie, and I wondered how he faced each night knowing the he would suffer for eternity. I wasn’t sure I’d have had the strength to face life as he did but would rather have sacrificed myself to the sun.
        When I opened my eyes, I was seated on the couch beside him, my cheek pressed against his sharp shoulder bone, one of my legs draped about his waist. I lifted my head, blinking in the dimness, knowing I should move from him, but not wanting to.
        "I don’t know your name," I whispered dumbly.
        "Oliver."
        I smiled and languidly stroked his white cheek. "Can I call you Ollie?"
        "Only if you want to be ignored." He took my hand in his and kissed it. I jerked back, stunned by such an affectionate gesture.
        As if reading my mind, he said, "I’ll never hurt you."
        "Sure." I moved away slightly, drawing my knees up to my chin. "How often will you have to take my blood?"
        "Don’t worry. I’ll do it as seldom as possible."
        Disappointment stabbed me, and I hoped he didn’t notice.
        "We can begin your training immediately." He stood up, and when I stared at him blankly, he said, "I promised to teach you about what we are and how to defend yourself against others of our kind."
        "I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time." I pushed myself off the couch and adjusted my black lace stockings. "I don’t need you."
        I turned toward the door, but he blocked my path and stared at me with an intensity in his eyes that was just shy of anger. "Someone as young and ignorant as you is a target out there, but aside from that, I always pay my debts."
        Folding my arms across my chest, I stared at him in wonder. "A beautiful man with integrity who gives a terrific love bite. Tell me what’s wrong with you because there’s got to be something."
        "I’m mad, remember?"
        His words plagued me for the rest of the night, and at dawn when I lay behind the dark velvet draw drapes in my apartment, I knew for the first time in my life I was in danger of falling in love.

        When I stepped out of my building at dusk, his Harley was parked at the curb. Neither of us spoke as I slid on to the seat behind him and we glided down the curving city street. The sensation of the bike was still strange, but my fear of the previous night had changed to an exquisite thrill.
        We drove until the sight and scent of the city vanished behind us. He stopped beside a secluded stretch of conservation land and guided me through the wood to a sandy clearing shadowed in one corner by a massive, moss-covered boulder.
        I leaned against the boulder, watching him coquettishly through my lashes. Though he appeared much the same as he had the previous night, the shadows were gone from beneath his eyes, and he exuded a raw, vampiric strength which I had come to expect from one of my kind. My blood had obviously put his disease into remission, and his newly exhibited power was both frightening and alluring to me.
        "You’ve been a victim," he began. "First as a mortal and again last night. From this night forth, you will never be a victim again."
        "Easy to say." I glared at him. "What do you know about being a victim?" He lifted an eyebrow, and I relented as I remembered his disease.
        "I had a family once. They were slaughtered in a battle so long ago that I’m the only one who remembers it. I could do nothing except watch from where I lay bleeding, waiting to die myself, but I survived and endured, just as you have. I dedicated my life to the study of fighting. I’ll teach you everything I’ve learned."
        "Just as long as I keep giving you blood?"
        "That’s the deal."
        It seemed a simple trade, until my training began. Days of repetitive leg and arm movements led into sparring matches which left me on my back more often than not. Never in my life had I seen such speed, skill, and strength combined, and I realized that his delicate, almost feminine beauty was the perfect disguise for his underlying power. The first time one of my own blows breeched his expert defense, I felt genuine pride in spite of all my complaining.
        One night, after a particulary strenuous session, we lounged by the edge of the river in the field which had become our regular training ground.
        Wiping my perspiring forehead on my sleeve, I stared at him, my temper still struggling beneath the facade of calm he’d taught me to keep while fighting. Though I desperately wanted to learn from him, his methods sometimes infuriated me. Too often he’d force me past what I thought were my own physical limitations. Since the change, I hadn’t even suspected I still had physical limitations, but even a vampire eventually tired of running, fighting, and grappling. What frustrated me most of all was that he was just as relentless with himself. How could I walk away from physical demands when I watched him, suffering from the disease, training beside me? He took my blood only when the symptoms became unbearable, no more than once every few months, but I always knew when the symptoms began. He never complained, but still I knew.
        As we sprawled by the river’s edge, I noticed his sallow complexion and shadowed eyes and felt a sinister thrill because he was suffering. We had begun judo training that night, and I was still too young and stubborn to appreciate the severity of his lessons. Instead of realizing that he was conditioning me physically and emotionally to endure serious attacks, I lashed out at him in the only way I could.
        "I’m curious, Oliver, does your disease affect your libido?"
        He lifted a questioning eyebrow, and I felt a surge of power almost as great as that which accompanied the taking of blood. Leaning forward, I continued, "I mean, sickness can ruin a mortal’s sex life, and earlier you didn’t seem to enjoy the hunt as much as I did."
        He gazed into the rippling water with a calmness I had yet to attain.
        "You’re young. Like a mortal child, you have little control over your sexual urges."
        My fingers clenched the grass in my fury. No matter what I did or said, he always seemed to best me. I stood up, slipped off my torn, grass-stained jeans, and unfastened the ties on my black renaissance shirt. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye as I waded naked into the water. I stood, water making my skin gleam, and rolled my hair into a twist on top of my head.
        "Tell me the truth, Ollie, when you take my blood, don’t you wish you could take more?"
        "And if I tried, I’d terrify and repulse you like every other man you’ve been unfortunate enough to have an experience with." He shook his head. "I love you too much, Rene."
        My heart pounded as rapidly as a mortal’s, and I swam to shore to drag on my clothes with trembling hands.
        "Don’t ever say that again." I glared at him. "You don’t love me. You just need me."
        He shrugged and walked silently to the Harley.
        "Let me drive it." I stepped between him and the bike, holding out my hand for the key.
        "You’re afraid of it."
        "I was afraid of being slammed around my a thousand year old martial arts expert, but you got me over that one fast. Give me the key."
        He placed the silver key ring in my palm, his warm fingers brushing my skin and causing me to shiver with passion. At times I hated him for being the only man I had ever truly desired.

        He taught me more than how to defend myself but instructed me in social graces as well as the history of our kind. I learned that garlic and religious symbols wouldn’t harm me, and though the change made my skin and eyes sun-sensitive, daylight wouldn’t kill me. I could eat if I had the desire to do so, but only blood could sustain me.
        Oliver insisted that I enroll in evening courses to further my education which had stopped at tenth grade level.
        "You’re going to live for a very long time, Rene," he said. "To avoid existing like an animal, you must arm yourself physically and mentally. Knowledge can be an effective weapon."
        "I don’t need anything that I don’t already have. Blood from a bag lady tastes the same as blood from a CEO."
        "Don’t you want more? You have so much potential..."
        "What’s so great about your life?" I taunted him, hating how insecure I felt when faced with his intelligence and sophistication. "What do you do when you’re not with me?"
        He merely looked at me with a sad half smile on his fine lips. So I took the classes he enrolled me in, I took the knowledge he freely offered, and he took my blood. What bothered me most was that I looked forward to sharing my blood with him. I enjoyed the feeling of his teeth and lips against my throat, and I loved the feeling of his body pressed against mine. Each time he drank, I thought he would suggest furthering our physical relationship, and each time I was left disappointed. Though I sensed his attraction to me, not once did he offer to take me to bed, and in spite of my own desire for him, I was terrified of losing my soul by asking for what I most wanted.
        He surprised me one evening as I waited for him on my front steps wearing my usual workout gear: black bicycle shorts and a T-shirt covered with faded skulls. I slipped onto the bike behind him, but instead of driving toward our field, he headed deeper into the city.
        "We’re going shopping," he answered my burning but unasked question.
        "Cool. I know a place that sells gorgeous corsets..."
        He shook his head.
        I protested as he stopped in a parking lot across from an upscale mall, "Don’t even think you’re going to dress me like some yuppie..."
        "You are a vampire, Rene. You no longer have to look the part because you’re actually living it."
        I shrugged, hugging my arms across my chest, feeling completely out of place among the richly-dressed shoppers. Oliver, wearing a casual yet impeccable black and white suit, appeared stunning and sophisticated while I, as he’d pointed out months ago, looked like a gothic whore.
        "There’s nothing wrong with me," I snapped. "No part of our deal said I had to wear what you want me to."
        "Humor me?" He touched my chin with his index finger as if I was an obstinate child, and I turned away.
        "You’re sick, so I guess I can indulge you this once."
        I did my best to rebel as I stepped from dressing room after dressing room wearing flowing dresses with matching hats, elegantly-cut suits, and ankle-length skirts with long, soft sweaters and silk scarves. At least he had mercy enough to choose black, dark gray, and occasionally scarlet clothes. Perhaps it was the way his eyes seemed to devour me with passionate appreciation, but I had to admit, only to myself, that I looked wonderful. Since he paid for the entire new wardrobe, I couldn’t complain too much. We stopped at a hair salon where the dead ends were trimmed off my waist-length hair and the stylist gave me Cleopatra bangs while the manicurist painted my nails burgundy.
        I stared in the mirror at the attractive, elegant woman in a simple red dress and high heeled black pumps, and scarcely recognized myself. Oliver stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, and smiled.
        "I think I understand what you mean." I reached for one of his hands with my manicured fingertips. "No one would ever suspect that we’re vampires, except that you’re weird, that is."
        "Do you really think I’m weird?" he asked, handing me the keys to the bike and mounting behind me.
        "Incredibly."
        "Thank you." He smiled with genuine happiness and I lifted my eyes to the moon as we tore out of the parking lot.
        I tested my new image at an elegant restaurant, terrified of failing at first, but growing more confident with every step as we followed the waiter to our table. The manner in which the young man spoke to me as he seated us and the appreciative glances from other males in the room lifted my confidence. They saw an attractive, well-dressed, educated woman, not a cheap-looking, high school dropout turned vampire.
        I glanced at Oliver who sat across from me, his eyes lowered to the menu, his pale hair brushing his forehead, and realized that though I had given him my blood, he had given me far more in return.
        "Oliver," I murmured, tracing the rim of my wine glass with a fingertip. "Where do you live?"
        He brought me across town to the renovated warehouse that he called home. The few windows of the tall brick building were darkened by black drapes, and as we slipped through what had been a side door, I felt chilled even though it was summertime. Inside consisted of one vast room with impossibly high ceilings which had once been the main storeroom. The floor was of polished wood and the ceilings a tangle of wires above random metal bars reachable only by the thick black rope dangling in the center of the room. Heavy bags of varius sizes and a single speed bag were scattered about the room, and one wall was decorated with an assortment of swords, staffs, and other exotic weapons with glistening edges and smooth handles. The only articles of furniture were a black pot bellied stove, bookcase, and charcoal sectional couch on the wall opposite the weapons collection. At the far corner of the room, a stairway led up to a glass-encased room which overlooked the warehouse floor. My keen eyes noted the black carpet, painted walls, oak dresser, and bed covered in a simple white cotton comforter.
        A vision of Oliver and I entangled in that bed caused me to shake my head clear.
        "Has anyone ever told you that you have an abnormal obsession with violence?" I tossed him a mocking glance as I approached the wall, recognizing several weapons which he’d instructed me to use during our training sessions.
        "Choose one." He motioned toward the weapons, and I reached for my favorite, a rapier I’d used often over the past months.
        He attacked before I had a chance to think, but he had trained me to react without thought. As we traded blows across the slick wooden floor, our eyes glistened like spectral lights in the darkness, and the sound of steel echoed in the vast room. I felt his unfaltering strength each time our blades met, and I knew that he no longer restrained himself when we fought, but more than that, I was no longer afraid.
        Suddenly our weapons locked and we stood so close that I saw the alluring combination of battle rage and sexual desire in his eyes, and I realized he felt as I did. Hissing, animal-like, I exposed my teeth in a primitive mating gesture which was innate in our kind. This time, I wanted him to take more than my blood.
        His eyes narrowed in momentary question before he responded in kind to my advance. His lips drew back, revealing the gleaming, wolfish teeth which sent a thrill of desire through my entire body. The swords were discarded as he drew me into his arms and kissed me. I closed my eyes, my fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, my body pressed to the length of his. A sudden flash of past abuse caused me to push against his chest with my palms, and he immediately drew back, though his hands still touched my waist.
        His eyes held mine, and I was instantly comforted by his look alone. I locked my arms around his neck and he held me tightly.
        "I’ve never felt this safe with anyone," I whispered. "I’ve never had a family to speak of, but you’ve been like a father to me."
        He drew a sharp breath, and I looked up, concerned. "What’s wrong?"
        He touched my face with the back of his hand. "It’s almost sunrise and I have to get some sleep."
        "If you’re not feeling well, you could take my blood."
        He shook his head. "Not now. You’re welcome to stay here today."
        He left me to replace the swords while he climbed the staircase to the bedroom. Moments later, I slipped into the bed beside him. He placed his arm around me and I rested my cheek against his chest, listening to the almost mortal rhythm of his heart as I fell asleep.

        I felt his eyes upon me as surely as I had felt the moon rise that night. Rolling onto my back, still warm within the sheets, I gazed at him through my lashes, noting that he was already dressed in a classic black suit which was an odd contrast to the steel-toed boots on his feet.
        "I’m not used to seeing you this early," I smiled, raising myself with my elbows. "But I’ve always been curious, what exactly to you do when you’re not training with me?"
        "I think it’s about time you found out."
        His words intrigued me. Though I pressured him to elaborate while I dressed in black slacks and turtleneck, he said nothing as he twisted my hair into a stylish french braid.  We walked side by side along the city streets, and I realized that he was leading me out of the rich section and closer to where I lived.
        "Slumming tonight, Ollie?" I glanced at him through my lashes.
        "Shh." He held up his hand. "Listen. Concentrate."
        "On what?"
        "Our senses are stronger than mortals’. We can see, hear, and smell our prey. Like animals."
        "So?" I skipped ahead and walked backwards so I could face him as we talked. "There’s prey all around us. We don’t really have to work that hard. Now if we were country vampires, then maybe..."
        He stopped suddenly and I stood before him, my head tilted like a curious dog’s.
        "Smell that?" he asked. "Fear. Excitement."
        I inhaled deeply and realized he was right. I caught the strong scent of several mortals. I heard voices, laughter, and weeping.
        "Stay behind me," he whispered.
        We followed the voices to an alley behind a shabby looking club. The throb of music bled through the deteriorating walls and kept time with the jagged, brutal movements of the three filthy, hulking men who were using knives to slice the clothes off a willowy youth. I gasped when I noticed the thugs’ sharp toothed grimaces and realized that this was a vampire gang tormenting a mortal victim before the kill. The youth tried to flee, but one of the men tripped him with a booted foot, causing him to land face down on the pavement. As the youth lifted his head and blinked through the blood dripping from a gash on his brow, his enormous, horror-filled eyes fixed on mine. For a moment I stopped breathing as I saw the worst parts of my own life reflected in his expression, and I felt the urge to run from the alley, from the fight, and from my own fear.
        Before I could move, Oliver lunged forward, grasped the arm of the closest man and smashed his face into the brick side of the club. The other two immediately rushed to aid their friend, and the youth took the opportunity to crawl from the alley on bleeding palms, his twisted ankle dragging behind him.
        I pulled him to the sidewalk, out of view of the thugs who were fully occupied with Oliver.
        Peering from behind the wall, I clenched my fists as they fought. Though Oliver was obviously far more skilled than the three men, they didn’t have the handicap of his disease, and since they had just fed, were at the peak of their strength.
        The heaviest of the three caught Oliver’s slender form in a crushing grasp as the other two flew at him, fangs bared, knives clutched in their fists. At that moment I forgot my own apprehension and leapt into the alley, slipping the dagger from beneath my coat. The steel toe of Oliver’s boot crushed the temple of one of the beasts as my blade plunged through the back of the other. By the time I looked up, Oliver had freed himself from his captor’s grasp and used his own dagger to pierce the monster’s heart. He destroyed the unconscious one just as calmly while I stood before him, my breathing ragged, my hands doused in blood, and my heart throbbing with a combination of horror and fury.
        "You are crazy!" I gnashed my teeth at him.
        "That’s not what you said on the night we met."
        I lowered my eyes, recalling how he’d not only saved my life, but changed it for the better.
        "Why?" I whispered as we walked out of the alley. The youth had disappeared, probably into the club to phone the police, but Oliver and I would be gone long before they arrived as we walked in the shadow of the buildings toward home.
        "After my family was murdered, I spent a lot of time learning how to fight and kill, but it was only after I became immortal that I realized that no matter how many people I hurt or how powerful I became, I wouldn’t lose my hatred. The one who made me a vampire didn’t fight or kill. He was a scientist, a strange profession back then. He was always trying to discover new ways to improve life for mortals and immortals. I learned so much from him."
        "Is he the one who’s been working on the cure for you?"
        Oliver nodded. "There was so much about him I admired. I wanted to be like him, but I was certainly not a scientist. I couldn’t remain still long enough or shut myself up studying all the time. I was too used to soldiering, so I decided to use the skills I had developed."
        "So that’s why you’ve become the fanged vigilante?" I tried to keep the anger from my voice. "Now that you’ve taught me everything you know, I suppose you expect me to do the same?"
        He stopped walking and placed his hands on my shoulders, his eyes on mine. "I don’t expect anything from you. Everything between us has been a fair trade."
        His words stung like a slap, but I forced myself to remain calm as I shrugged off his hands. "Sure. That was the deal."
        "Yes, it was."
        As we stopped outside his house, I realized it was the last place I wanted to be. I couldn’t face another chaste night in his bed when I wanted to lose myself in him forever.
        "Do you need my blood? Your face is bruised from fighting."
        He shook his head.
        "Then I’m going home."
        "Wait, I’ll drive you..."
        I waved my hand as I walked away without looking back.
        Two nights later, he took my blood again. I had scarcely answered his familiar tapping on my apartment door when he pinned me to the wall, his chest hard against my breasts, his lips hovering over mine. His unusually aggressive behavior took me off guard, and though I could have slipped easily from his grasp, the desire in his eyes aroused me.
        I tilted my head slightly, exposing my throat, and watched through half-lowered lids as he bent to kiss my neck.
        This bite was different from the others. He exuded such desperate passion that my body turned to liquid in his embrace. I felt his teeth against my flesh, heard the synchronized beating of our hearts, and I was certain that this time he would finally make love with me.
        Gasping, he drew back from my throat. I still clung to him, my fingers biting the sculpted muscles of his back.
        "I have something for you," he whispered against my hair.
        I gazed up at him with blurred eyes, taking a moment to realize that he wasn’t about to slip into my bed.
        My disappointment faded when we arrived at his house and I noticed a beautiful black and white Harley parked on the curb.  He held out a gloved hand, keys dangling from his fingertips. "It’s yours."
        "But I couldn’t possibly..."
        "Take it for a ride."
        Unable to resist, I mounted and glided down the street, the wind cool on my face.
        When I returned, Oliver’s bike was gone and an envelope with my name on it was taped to his door.  A feeling of dread filled me as I opened the note with trembling fingers.
        I have nothing left to teach you. The second key belongs to this house, though it’s nothing compared to what you’ve given me.
                                                                              My eternal love,
                                                                              Oliver

        Dumbly, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I stood in the center of the vast room, tearing the note to pieces with my trembling, manicured hands.
        Over the following months, I only returned to my dingy apartment to retrieve a few random articles. I moved into Oliver’s home, hoping that he would return, but somehow knowing he never would.
        Anger and sorrow overtook me, and the only way I could relieve the torturous feelings was to use the skills he’d given me as he had intended me to. The first time I sensed the terror and excitement of a violent assault, I rebelled against my own desire to intervene. Oliver had broken my heart, and I wanted to do nothing that would warrant his approval, but he had known me too well. He had realized, long before I did, that I could not refuse the opportunity to punish those fiends like the ones who had once violated me. He had given me a power over men, both mortal and immortal, and I could not deny it.
        Each night when I returned to the empty warehouse after feeding and fighting, I would curl up on his bed and long for the comfort of his embrace. His gentleness had done what the violence of other men never could. He had touched my soul.
        One night, so close to dawn that I could already sense the heat of the impending sunrise, someone entered the warehouse. Still dressed in a tailored black and white suit, I slipped from the bed and tiptoed silently down the steps. I immediately sensed the power of another vampire, and I tensed, my heart beating painfully in my throat. I dared to hope that Oliver had returned after all.
        The man who was walking (rather loudly for a trespasser) into the warehouse was much heavier and had much darker hair than Oliver. Taking my favorite fighting staff from its place at the foot of the steps, I lunged at the intruder, striking him hard between the legs and again across the back of his head as he doubled over in pain from the first blow.
        I lifted my weapon for a final strike, but the man raised his arms in surrender, "I’m looking for Oliver. I’m a friend."
        "What do you want Oliver for?" I demanded, remaining in a defensive position with my legs shoulder length apart and slightly bent, both hands grasping the staff.
        The man’s lips turned up in a pained smile as his tender-looking brown eyes swept over me. "Figures you’d be Oliver’s woman. Class, strength, and elegance."
        "That’s me alright. Class and elegance." I murmured, a sarcastic edge to my voice as I allowed him to rise.
        "I’m Noah." He extended his hand.
        "Oliver told me so much about you," I smiled, relaxing. "Have you found a cure for him?
        "Possibly...Don’t look so excited. We’ve tried and failed before. When will he be back?"
        I lowered my eyes so that he wouldn’t see the disappointment in them. "He’s gone."
        "But he’s been taking blood from you?"
        I nodded.
        "He knows how difficult it is to find someone with your blood."
        The concern on Noah’s face frightened me. "If he doesn’t take blood from me or someone like me, what will happen to him?"
        "I’ve seen him come close to death a few times. I don’t want to talk about it." Noah shook his head. "When was the last time he took from you?"
        "Two months, one week, and three days ago, but who’s counting?"
        "Damn," Noah’s fists clenched. "I have to find him, make sure he’s gotten another donor."
        The thought of another vampire offering her blood to Oliver made my stomach clench with jealousy. Perhaps he hadn’t left me because he’d fulfilled our deal. Maybe he’d found another woman he preferred to take blood from.
        "No way," Noah said when I expressed this thought while doing my best to sound impartial. "The second I saw you, I knew you were his fantasy mate."
        I was both stunned and elated by his words, but my own emotions had to wait. "Noah, do you have any idea where he might have gone?"
        "Oliver’s always been dramatic. If he thinks he might die, the only place he’d go is home."

        Arriving in Norway should have thrilled me since I’d never been out of Boston before, but I was far too worried about Oliver. Noah’s obvious concern did little to comfort me. Though he tried to keep the conversation friendly during our trip, I noticed the tension in his face when he thought I wasn’t looking.
        "You love him," I murmured during the late night hours when most of the mortals on the plane were asleep.
        Noah’s dark eyes focused on me, and he smiled gently. "Don’t worry. It’s not like that. He’s my son, my friend."
        "I’m not worried." I shrugged. His look alone told me that he didn’t believe my lie for a moment. To redirect the conversation, I asked, "You’re not the Noah, are you? The one with the ark, I mean."
        "Of course not. That one came long after me." He laughed at my look of surprise. "Only teasing."
        "How can you crack jokes when Oliver could be dead?" I snapped.  Noah’s teeth flashed and his eyes took on a wild expression. "He’s not dead. I wouldn’t let that happen."
        My own temper flared, but I empathized with his desperation and remained silent for the rest of the flight.
        After we’d checked into our hotel, Noah and I began our search near what had once been Oliver’s village but which was now a city with streets and buildings unfamiliar to us.
        "This could take weeks," Noah muttered as we stared out the windows from the back seat of a cab.
        "Not if we do this right. Tell the driver to pull over."
        Noah opened his mouth to protest, but my look stopped him, and he did as I asked.  He followed me through the dark streets as I used my enhanced senses to observe everything around me and feel for underlying danger.
        "Do you have any idea where you’re going?" Noah finally demanded.
        I held up my hand to silence him. "I can’t believe you’re centuries older than me but have learned so little."
        "I am I scientist," he said, his voice haughty.
        "Forget about the books for a second and go with instinct...There. Can you smell it?"
        He paused. "Blood. Fear."
        "Watch and learn, Professor." I turned an unfamiliar corner to a very familiar scene. Two vampires were attacking a mortal girl, but only the girl would survive that night. I destroyed the two before Noah could lift a hand to help, and he shook his head, awe in his eyes.
        "I never thought I’d say this, but I think you fight even better than Oliver."
        "He was a good teacher." My concern must have been obvious because Noah tried to touch my shoulder in comfort, but I shrank from him, consumed with finding Oliver.
        My technique didn’t locate Oliver that night, though I led Noah throughout the city until even our immortal legs ached. At dawn I fell into an uneasy sleep with too many unpleasant thoughts fighting for priority in my mind. Foremost was concern for Oliver’s life, but right after that was Noah’s apparent devotion to the man I loved. He was dying, so I finally had to admit my feelings for him, but like all my life, I had let fear keep me from what I wanted most.
        I had the inexplicable feeling that Noah’s protective instinct for Oliver was more than the worry of a parent or friend, yet he insisted that they had never been more.
        The following night, all my questions were answered because that night we found Oliver.
        It was just past midnight when I caught the stench of mortal fear, vampiric wrath, and the arousing, familiar scent of the only man I’d ever loved.  Noah’s eyes met mine, and I knew he recognized Oliver as well. Together we dashed through the graveyard. Had it not been for the precision of his movements, I would scarcely have recognized Oliver as he fought raging, tawny-haired twin vampires. The identical demons looked like Vikings in designer jeans, and though Oliver was at an even height with both, their brawny bodies looked monstrous in comparison to his slim lines.
        Though he was holding his own against their combined strength, his disease was obviously effecting his health. Pale as sand on a Florida beach except for the dark smudges beneath his fever-bright eyes, he looked like a horror film vampire. Blood and saliva dripped from his fangs as he snarled savagely at his adversaries.
        Without hesitation, I attacked the closest twin, my booted foot snapping his knee before any of them realized that Noah and I had arrived. As he fell, he reached for my ankle, but I moved too quickly and smashed his temple with the ball of my foot, knocking him unconscious.
        Oliver slashed the other twin through the heart with a double-edged dagger, then flew at me, his fangs bared ominously, the dagger drawn back as if to stab me.
        "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed. Then his eyes met Noah’s who had stooped beside the unconscious mortal whom the brothers had been attacking before Oliver had intervened.
        "Now I know. You had to drag her here, didn’t you, Noah?"
        "Oliver, you’re sick," I stepped toward him, my heart twisting at his obvious suffering. "Let me help you..."
        "No." He dropped the bloody knife, tears glistening in his eyes. "I’ve had it. If I’m going to die, then it’s fine with me."
        "Well it’s not fine with me," I glared, the thought of his death overwhelming me.
        "Or me," Noah added.
        Oliver’s eyes darted from me to Noah before he turned silently from us and disappeared into a mausoleum.
        "This is my fault," Noah murmured, but I was too worried about Oliver to consider his words.
Fists clenched at my side, I followed Oliver into the tomb where he knelt in a pile of dried leaves, his eyes lowered to his bloodstained hands.
        "I can’t believe you’re giving up." I snapped, tears constricting my throat. "You taught me to overcome my fears, and now you’re surrendering to yours. I guess you are like other men. Everything you ever told me was a lie."
        "Since when have you thought of me as a man? I’m like a father to you, remember."
        I heard the bitterness in his words, and for the first time I realized that he desired me as much as I desired him. Had I not been so terrified at the thought of losing him, I would have been thrilled.
        "You refused me so many times," I said softly, kneeling beside him. "I didn’t think you felt..."
        "Desire?" He shook his head. "Just because I have this damn disease doesn’t mean I can’t feel."
        I thought of the times I’d tormented him about his affliction hindering his sex-life and felt overcome with shame.  He sat back on his heels, pressing his palms to his eyes. "I’m tired, Rene. I’m sick, and I keep fooling myself into thinking I can beat this."
        I drew him into my arms and held him so tightly that I felt the quick, almost mortal beating of his heart.
        "Noah thinks he might have a cure," I said.
        "It won’t work." Oliver’s words were slurred as he leaned heavily upon me, close to losing his fragile hold on his sanity. "He was good at creating the disease, but he can’t find a cure."
        I stopped breathing. "What do you mean?"
        "He did it. One of his experiments."
        "You mean Noah poisoned the village?"
        As Noah stepped inside, fury welled within me, and, taking him completely off guard, I kicked his groin.
        "You snake!" I shrieked, attacking him with a ferocity I had never experienced before. He was no match for my skills, and within seconds he lay at my feet, his head whirling, blood dripping from his jaw.
        "Stop it!" Oliver, still weak from the fight and the rapid progression of the blood disease, stumbled between me and Noah.
        "He did this to you," I said, my voice shrill as tears blurred my vision. I glared at Noah, "You told me you loved him. You made him! You’re his father!"
        Noah wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I was looking for a way to control criminal acts among our kind. I never meant to create a disease. I would drive a stake through my own heart before hurting Oliver."
        I fell to my knees, completely deflated. Oliver sat beside me, drawing me into his arms, and I buried my face in his chest, sobbing like I hadn’t since I was a child. For so many years I’d hardened myself against emotion, but Oliver had given me the strength to feel again. Whether I loved or hated him for it, I wasn’t sure.
        "I really think I have a cure or at least a treatment this time," Noah pushed himself painfully to his feet. "Don’t you want that woman of yours, Oliver? Don’t you want to live?"
        I lifted my face to Oliver, and as he wiped my tears with his fingertips, I knew what his answer would be.

        Two nights later, Oliver joined me on a walk through another cemetery. The night was still and lovely but not nearly as lovely as the slim, powerful vampire who strolled beside me, his hand in mine.
        Noah’s treatment had worked, whether or not it would last only time would tell, but for now Oliver was strong again with all the appetites of a complete vampire.
        "Why did you leave me?" I asked, glancing at our entwined fingers.
        "Because I knew how you felt about men. I wouldn’t take your blood without giving something in return, and I had nothing left to bargain with."
        "And if the treatment doesn’t last? Will you not let me help you because you’ve got nothing left to trade?"
        "Why do I always make you so angry?" He traced my lip with his thumb as we stopped walking.
        "I’m not angry, I’m afraid that you’ll leave me again someday. I love you, Oliver, and even if the cure doesn’t last, I don’t ever want you to go away."
        "Ever is a long time for us."
        "A million years wouldn’t be long enough for me to spend with you."
        "Rene." He pulled me into his arms, his mouth soft against mine.
        I closed my eyes, threading my fingers through his silky blond hair as I pierced his lip with my incisors. The taste of his blood thrilled me, and I clutched him tighter as he lowered me onto the grass.
        "Oliver, we can’t do this here. We’re on someone’s grave."
        "It’s all right." He nuzzled my neck, holding me to his chest. "It’s mine."
        I would have laughed, but his teeth had pierced my throat, and I was lost in rapture as he took me, blood, body, and soul.

Copyright 1999 Kate Hill