The Healing

Leigh Ellwood

The Healing By Leigh Ellwood

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THE HEALING

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The Healing Copyright (c) 2005 by Leigh Ellwood Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Nix Winter All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Dedication:

For Dee, thanks for being my muse.

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Chapter One

“Dan, would you do something for me?” Dan was sitting in Julian’s favorite wing-backed chair facing the fire, his head bent. The first thing Julian noticed about him as Dan straightened and craned his neck around the blue paisley fabric to acknowledge the question was the raw puffiness of his otherwise angular face. Dan’s brown eyes, which Julian had always thought were set too deeply in his face, were rimmed red and glassy with unshed tears; his unruly mop of dark hair was frizzed atop his head and brushed his shoulders, having come loose from its elastic band. Dan looked a mess, and given the circumstances there was no reason to blame him. Julian was certain he looked no better. Gently Dan shook his head, unsmiling. “No. I won’t do it.” Julian inched closer and took the matching chair opposite him, her chair. He cringed slightly as he sat, as if the lingering ghost of her touch was trying to envelop him, taunt him. Julian focused instead on the brandy snifter cradled in Dan’s hands and the dark red liquid slanted inside, looking as if it would spill on Dan’s crisp, pleated slacks. “I won’t do it,” he repeated softly. “Dan.” Julian crossed his left ankle over his right knee. A clump of dirt was stuck to his heel. Cold, graveyard dirt, flecked with slim, green blades of grass. How did he miss that coming into the house? Julian shook his head and turned back to Dan. The thought of soiling his once pristine carpet was not a priority. Besides, so many other mourners had come trampling through the house today, smearing the mud of the dead into the floor with each quiet step. Like it would matter to him in the morning. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” he told Dan. “Don’t I, Julie?” Dan’s expression was pained. He was known to everyone but Dan as Julian, yet at this moment Julian wished Dan had called him by his given name. Julie had always sounded affectionate coming from him, not at all feminine, but today it 5

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was patronizing, and mournful. Dan spoke as if today was the day of his own funeral, not Jessie’s. Julian sighed. So Dan did know. “How long have we known each other, Julie?” “Thirty years this November.” “Thirty years,” Dan echoed. “More than half my life.” As if to illustrate his point, Dan ran an absent hand through his hair. Several short strands of gray slid across his temple, concealing the microscopic wrinkles forming near his eyes. Laugh lines, Julian knew they were called. He and Dan had many occasions to laugh over the last three decades, laughter and the success of their partnership. Right now, however, none of it seemed to matter without Jess around to continue sharing it with them, with him. “The first time I saw you, strumming that guitar in the Common, in the middle of the night, I wanted to laugh so hard, Dan.” Julian’s smile was natural, for the memory was so vivid. “You had the longest hair of anybody I had ever seen. It nearly covered your entire face.” This finally brought a smile from Dan, and he touched a finger to his reddened nose. “Almost being the operative word. You could still see this thing.” “What was your nickname, what those other hippies called you? Something from a TV show.” “Cousin It.” Dan set the snifter on the round occasional table between them and sank lower into the chair. He appeared hypnotized by the flames licking the mesh grating at their feet. “You came over and told me I wasn’t holding fret bar correctly.” “And you called me a narc and told me to piss off,” Julian laughed. The scene played like a television rerun in his mind--Dan in his patched jeans and cutoff Red Sox Tshirt. Him in a three-piece suit, toting an empty briefcase, trying to blend into Boston and the twentieth century after a very long sleep. Dan and his friends had an illegal campfire going; it was a wonder a police officer had not come over to put a stop to it. Dan nodded. “But you didn’t. You stayed, and listened… and suggested song lyrics.” Those soulful set back eyes pleaded with Julian. “And we formed a song writing partnership, made a record, and you told me your secret.” Julian’s smile faded. Dan was offering the condensed version of their history together. Months of acquaintance had passed before they formally agreed to collaborate on anything, and over the years they had made many records. Gold records, platinum, 6

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multi-platinum… and frankincense and myrrh for all Julian could keep track. The Commoners were a legend now, not quite in the same strata as The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, but they were absorbed enough in the popular culture to be sampled by hip-hop artists and referenced on The Simpsons. In all his years of existence, in all his incarnations, Julian had enjoyed this one the most. Until this point, anyway. He knew Dan exaggerated about how Julian came to reveal his true self. It happened quite by accident during their first tour. When his need to feed outweighed the need for discretion. To make a long story short, Julian was caught in the act. “I’m glad you never judged me,” Julian told him. “I’m glad you never drained me dry,” he said. They shared a laugh. This exchange was pure ritual, recited over years, like a Monty Python comedy skit. “Dan,” Julian said, serious now, “you know I love you. You know that.” “I do. I also know I can’t do what you’re about to ask me to do.” “What is that?” Julian arched an eyebrow. “You want me to kill you.” Julian leaned back in Jessie’s chair, feeling the warmth of the fire caress his aching shoulders and arms. Or maybe it was her warmth, reserved from the last time they sat together there, he where Dan was now and Jess wrapped in her terry cloth robe, clutching a tissue with a frail hand. Despite his assurances, she did not believe she was beautiful anymore, her skin having paled and tightened around her bones, and her hair thin and brittle as the cancer drained her life force to empty. Aside from Dan, Jess was the only other person who knew of Julian’s true identity, and many times he had offered to take away the pain and the threat of death. Each time she refused him. “We would be together forever,” Julian had promised her. “Don’t you want that?” She did, but not at the expense of her mortality or her conscience. She did not want to watch beloved friends wither and die, while she remained untouched by time, and, being a spiritual person, she did not want to jeopardize the fate of the soul. It took a long time to accept, but in the end Julian did not blame her. Now, Julian envied her. “I want to be with you forever,” were her last words to him, “but on my terms. Will you join with me?” 7

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He did not get a chance to answer. Jess fell asleep, and now she was lying in a cold grave next to an empty one Julian knew he would probably never fill. He would not, either, without Dan’s help. Dan’s voice brought him back to the present. “You weren’t in the room just now,” he said. “What are you thinking? You’re disappointed with me.” “No,” Julian answered quickly. That was a lie. He did want to die and afford himself the chance of being reunited with Jess in the afterworld. Of course, he had no guarantee that her God; in whom he had stopped believing that day he was transformed over a century and a half ago, would allow that. Regardless, the novelty of immortality had worn on Julian, and not even the fondest memories of The Commoners or the prospect of future projects could renew his enthusiasm. His beloved Jess, his wife of twenty years, was gone, and as far as Julian was concerned there was no reason to stay. “I’m not asking you to be my executioner, Dan.” Julian stood. The heat from the fireplace strengthened to a point that he could no longer be close, and he moved deeper into the room to toy with one of the decanters at the wet bar. Nothing he had bottled would suffice him, however; his feedings took place in the inner city late at night. Homeless people and derelicts, the upstanding society of Boston would not otherwise miss. One could say he was performing the city a service in this respect, though it was hardly something he would want broadcast. He chuckled at that thought. Even if a tabloid happened to pick up his true identity and publish it, he could imagine the public disinterest. Like those rags really tell the truth. “I’m not asking you drive a stake through my heart. That wouldn’t even work, anyway. Bram Stoker’s fictions are just that, I’ve told you before.” He traced the lip of one decanter. There was a small chip in the crystal, and as Julian’s finger slid, it snagged against the jagged glass, breaking the skin. Julian pressed the finger pad against his thumb, gritting his teeth against the sting. He spun around and glared at Dan by way of the large, scroll-framed mirror hanging above the fireplace, his reflection clear and visible. Another Stoker myth shot to hell. Julian studied his appearance; his fine blond hair, cut close to his scalp in the current fashion, his bloodshot brown eyes, his charcoal suit still damp from the tears of the mourners who had embraced him throughout the service and reception. He was grateful nobody had questioned the night service and candlelight burial. Everyone 8

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seemed to accept that it had been Jessie’s last wish. And rock stars and their wives were supposed to be odd, and do odd things. Julian bared his teeth momentarily. His incisors were hardly the prominent vampire fangs one might find in a joke shop, but they got the job done. Right now, they were making Dan very uncomfortable. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Please help me die,” Julian begged him. “All you have to do is stay with me for the rest of the night. Help me outside at dawn. The sun will do the rest.” Dan sniffed loudly. Any other day Julian might have joked for Dan to save some oxygen for the rest of the city. “What will happen to you?” Dan asked. Julian was silent. Not once had he discussed with him the process of death for a vampire. Just that he knew how Julian fed made Dan squeamish enough, so Julian kept other things private. Julian swallowed. “My skin will char. The heat will pierce my body and I’ll burn up like a charcoal briquette. Then my ashes will blow away into the wind.” “Ashes to ashes,” Dan mused. “Won’t it look weird for a public figure to just disappear like that?” “I have it all arranged, provided you go along with everything. I’ve left a note saying I couldn’t live without Jess. It will look as though I’ve eaten my gun, so there’ll be no dental records to check.” Julian had the body of a homeless man close to his description tucked away somewhere safe. “You’ll arrange for a quick cremation.” “People might think you’re still alive, in some Elvis kind of way,” Dan muttered, presumably to himself. “Help me, Dan. My will is set, too. You get everything.” “I don’t want it.” Dan stood upright, then wobbled from the affects of too much brandy. “They’ll check the fingerprints of whatever body you have stowed away for this.” “Taken care of, Dan.” Dan snatched the snifter; liquor splashed inside the glass. “Well, if everything’s taken care of, you don’t need me to hold your hand do you? What’s to stop you from walking outside in the sun by yourself?” Suddenly clarity brightened his face, and he pointed the snifter at Julian. “You don’t really want to do it, do you?” 9

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Julian said nothing. He could not even look at his friend. He turned back to the bar and studied the decanters, eyeing the thin layer of dust on the glass. Dan moved closer. “There’s actually a possibility you would back out of this, isn’t there?” “I will die, with or without your help,” Julian insisted, for all the good it did. Dan knew he was lying, he realized, and so did he. For all his bravado when claiming victims, he was nothing more than a soft mollusk lacking a shell. “Julie.” Dan set down his glass on the bar and draped his arm about Julian’s shoulder. He smelled perfectly distilled and felt leaden against Julian’s body. “There’s no shame in admitting that you might actually be afraid of taking your own life.” Julian still said nothing. What could he say? Dan was right, but not so much about ending his immortal life as he was of the consequence of it. What would happen to him, where would he go? Would a white-robed Jess come flying toward him in a spectacle of light rays and soft, harp music, greeting him in an embrace covered in flowing silk sleeves? He had doubted for so long, maybe her God had heard him at one point and decided to have nothing to do with him should he arrived at the heavenly doorstep seeking admission. “Dan,” Julian said, but Dan shushed him with a trembling finger against Julian’s lip. It looked almost comical, the way his wild eyes smiled back at Julian. “I’m not going to do it,” he said firmly, as firmly as slurred words could come, anyway. “I know you’re not going to do it, either. I know how much you loved Jess, but I know you love life too much to let it go. Why else would you have hung around all this time?” “Not for the changing fashion, that’s for certain.” Dan laughed at that. It was nice to hear laughter again. There had not been much of it around the house in the past few months. “Okay, I won’t do it, tonight,” Julian told him, “but I won’t promise anything more. I do know, too, that I’m not letting you drive home in that state.” “No.” Dan swayed to one side, and Julian gently pulled Dan closer to him for support. He had had more to drink than Julian realized. “I’m not like you. I won’t be able to walk away from wreckage.” “You are wreckage,” Julian scolded him, and, with his arm about Dan’s waist, guided him in an awkward two-step toward the stairs. As he did so, Julian realized he 10

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would be getting part of his wish tonight; Dan would not leave him alone to rattle inside this large, empty house. But he doubted he could count on Dan to sober up by morning to help him, if that was what he still had in mind.

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Chapter Two

Dan never married. He had his reasons, the primary of which was not uncommon knowledge among The Commoners’ hardcore fan base, yet viewed as an unofficial rumor by the rest of the world, the part of the world that cared about Dan’s private life, anyway. To Julian, it never mattered, for Dan was always the faithful friend to Jess and himself. Besides, Julian was hardly one to judge him. Nevertheless, though the two had made a long-ago pact to keep the most intimate details of their lives private, unless one of them wished to divulge to the other. Still, Julian’s innate curiosity would occasionally merge to the forefront, and he would wonder about his friend. Since his vampirism had been discovered, Julian remained an open book to Dan. Dan knew of all his exploits, his victims and his women. Dan had been the one in whom Julian confided throughout his courtship and marriage to Jess. It had been Dan’s shoulder on which Julian cried after he and Jess fought, Dan’s ear bent many times over as he sought advice. Yet, it seemed Dan never felt obliged to reciprocate. As much as he had witnessed of Dan’s life, Julian still knew so little about it. Tonight, Julian lay on his side and watched Dan curled and facing him on the bed he and Jess and had shared, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. They were barefoot, and their jackets and pants were shed, leaving them both in boxer shorts and their longsleeved dress shirts. He reached out tentatively to stroke Dan’s face, prompting a quiet smile from his friend. He had not known about Dan immediately, very much the same way Dan had not known Julian’s secret. It took a surprise encounter, Dan being caught in the act while on tour, for Julian to know. “My friend,” he whispered. “Sometimes I envy you.” Dan opened his eyes and looked at Julian with all the innocence of a child. The redness rimming his pupils was gone, the tears dried. He looked almost lucid, but Julian 12

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could smell the alcohol on him. He hardly looked willing to help him follow through with any half-hearted plans. “Why do you say that?” Julian shrugged into the mattress. “You never married.” “Doesn’t mean I never wanted to,” Dan said, eyes cast away. “I just couldn’t marry the person I wanted to, legally anyway.” “You can here, and in other countries. You could go to Canada.” Dan looked away. “I could marry in one place, yes, but it doesn’t mean it would be valid everywhere. Not like a traditional marriage.” Like mine? Julian wanted to ask. But had his marriage to Jess been traditional? “Was there ever anybody you wanted to marry? Or at least spend the rest of your life with?” In all the years Julian had known Dan, he had come to know a good number of his friend’s lovers, companions, and acquaintances. Few lasted more than a year. “Somebody, yes, but I don’t think it will come to be,” Dan said, and rolled onto his back. Julian followed his gaze to the burgundy canopy supported by the tall cherry wood bed posters. Jess had decorated this room, had chosen this very bed in which they slept for years. Julian leaned into the pillow where Dan’s head rested. He could still smell Jess’s perfume. “I gave up waiting for a Jessie of my own,” Dan eventually added. “It wasn’t meant to be, I suppose.” “You shouldn’t say that. Somebody could still come around.” “If so, I hope that person loves me for me and not for my wallet.” Julian understood. He’d experienced a number of hangers-on and potential gold diggers in their early days, before spotting Jessie Lawless sipping a daiquiri in a Florida beach nightclub during a tour break. She was a jazz aficionado, and hadn’t owned a Commoners record, much less knew anything of the band. It was love at first sight, first everything. “It’s not too late,” Julian insisted. “You’re still reasonably young.” “I’m almost fifty,” Dan spat. “Fifty isn’t old. Didn’t you get the memo?” He chuckled at his friend’s facial expression. Modern slang didn’t roll very well from Julian’s tongue. “Old is Methuselah. You have a lot of prime years left. Look at you.” 13

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Dan only stared, and Julian chuckled to himself. No, it wouldn’t do any good for Dan to look at himself now, drunk and red from tears. On a good day, however, Dan looked very good for his age, at least ten years younger. Julian, being immortal, had changed little since his transformation, which happened in his mortal thirties. A bit of makeup now and then helped him “age” appropriately for his public. “So do you, you know.” Dan’s smile was soft and sad. “Many, many more.” “Don’t,” Julian whispered. “No, you don’t. Jess would want you to keep going. Not necessarily forget about her, but if she could see you now she’d kick your ass.” Julian had to smile at the image. Jess had many feisty moments. He could see that happening. But would she want him to keep going, as Dan implied? She wanted him with her in her hereafter. How could he achieve that as an immortal? He would have to die. “You can’t do it at your own hands,” he heard Dan say. Julian turned to him. “What?” Was Dan reading his mind? Dan blinked and turned on his side to face his friend. “I think after thirty years I know you well enough to know what you’re thinking. Suicide isn’t going to solve anything. Jess wouldn’t have wanted it, and according to her beliefs there is no salvation in it. “Besides,” Dan’s voice lowered, “I don’t want you to go.” Julian’s hand crept to the side and took Dan’s in a gentle squeeze. Dan was warm; his fingers were callused from years of playing guitar. Of course, the one downside he saw to ending his immortal life was forever losing his friend, his one other constant in this incarnation. The only thing that he thought would quell these thoughts of death… “No,” Dan said. “No, what?” “I won’t let you change me, either.” Julian’s lips curled. “I wish you’d stop doing that.” “C’mere.” Dan stretched out one arm to draw his friend closer, and Julian pressed his cheek against Dan’s hard chest. His friend had eschewed his usual spicy cologne for the funeral, though the scent of his aloe soap was distracting, yet at the same time a comfort to Julian. Dan shaved with it for years, bought it at some specialty shop in town; 14

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it was a scent he seemed to take for granted, but now Julian was glad to be so close. The scent comforted him, brought back memories of happier times on tour buses and in dressing rooms, Dan rummaging through his shaving kit looking for that dwindling green bar. Their breathing matched in rhythm, their bodies moving together in time. In the distance the ticking of the grandmother clock atop the highboy dresser grew faint in the blood pounding in Julian’s ears. Right here, right now, in this position, he seemed to forget the mournful day and his intentions. “Dan.” “Hmm.” Dan’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “What is it like? To be with a man?” Dan shifted closer to him. Julian felt his friend’s heart lurch, felt the bobbing in Dan’s throat, smelled the blood racing through his veins. “Much like being with a woman, I suppose,” came the answer. “I guess I’d know, having been with both.” “That’s a rather general statement,” Julian said. “I can’t see any similarities between the two.” “No?” “No.” Julian was emphatic. “Women have different softer parts.” “Men can be soft,” Dan said. “Men don’t have vaginas, it must feel different to be inside a man,” Julian said. “I’d also think that, being with a man, there isn’t as much opportunity for a whole connection.” He sighed. “When I made love to Jess, I faced her. We looked into each other’s eyes when I was inside her.” He shivered. Never did he think he’d be here, confiding in Dan the intimate details of his marriage. Never did he think Jess would die. He should’ve not listened to her, changed her. “How can you have that with another man?” “I don’t have be inside a man to make love to him,” Dan said. To Julian’s relief his friend didn’t sound annoyed with him. Dan’s voice was patient, tired. “Sometimes a long, deep kiss is all you need, and you have to face somebody to do that. You don’t need to be connected physically to be connected emotionally.” “You’ve never connected emotionally, have you?” Julian accused. “Otherwise, you’d have been in at least one relationship that lasted more than one of our tours.” 15

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“True,” Dan said sadly, and Julian instantly regretted the remark. As much as Dan played up his bachelor image, Julian could tell at times that the absence of a faithful companion hurt his friend. “You’ve been with women, yet you prefer being with men. Why?” As long as Julian had lived, as much as he had seen, Julian had yet to understand why some people were attracted to members of the same sex. From what he had experienced firsthand, living vicariously through Dan’s love life, it didn’t seem like a positive lifestyle. Everything in secrecy, behind closed doors. Emotions veiled by worried glances and downcast eyes. Julian had to wonder if people like Dan existed in his mortal lifetime. If they did, they did an excellent job of hiding things. Even today, in a more liberal and accepting society, there was the need to hide, at least that was the way Julian perceived it, given Dan’s desire for privacy. Julian surmised Dan’s preferences had to transcend mere personal choice, for who would want to live feeling like a criminal? Dan wasn’t a criminal; he was just a man. A good man. “Why is the sky blue? Why do birds fly? I don’t know, I suppose it’s my nature, just as it is your nature to be attracted to women,” Dan said. Wo-man, thought Julian. One woman. Jess. Julian couldn’t even conceive a future with another woman. Who could replace Jessie? Who could heal a heart rendered useless? He tilted his head back for a look at his friend. Dan’s eyes were closed and his lips were parted slightly. Julian’s sight, made keener since his transformation, magnified every pore, every dark fleck of stubble on his friend’s face. Yes, his friend had aged well indeed. Perhaps better. He had grown from a skinny, ragged hippie to a handsome, mature man. “Dan?” He prodded. No answer. Dan instead exhaled sharply through his nose and his head fell to one side, revealing his long, smooth neck. Julian unconsciously licked his lips. He had not fed this evening and seeing Dan lying so close, so trusting, his neck so vulnerably exposed…he could lurch forward and be embedded within a fraction of a second. Dan wouldn’t know what hit him, and would be powerless to stop it. He could feed, but he wouldn’t kill his friend, just take enough to sustain him for a few hours until he found a more suitable victim. If he decided to go on, he then reminded himself. 16

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Dan shifted and pressed his arms closer around Julian, who buried his face back into Dan’s chest. He could feed, then slash his own wrist and make Dan feed, make Dan one of him…give him a reason to keep going. Dan would never forgive you, his conscience berated. I don’t care. Everybody he loved died. Dan was all he had left; there wasn’t anybody else. He sighed audibly, loud enough to rouse his friend. What was the point in having Dan forever, if Dan never forgave Julian for pushing him into a life he didn’t want? He would be better off dead, too. Roughened finger pads grazed his cheek, then hooked underneath his chin. Dan was pulling him up to meet his sleepy-eyed smile. His breath warmed Julian’s face and dried his tears. “Does it repulse you to think of me with men?” He asked. “Kissing a man, holding a man?” The way you’re holding me? He had to admit, though, he didn’t feel uncomfortable now. “To be honest, Dan, I’ve never dwelled on it long enough to be repulsed. Your life outside the studio was always yours.” Dan’s smile showed traces of wickedness. “Really? You were never repulsed, or even curious? Never once considered what it would be like to join the ‘dark side’?” “I never said that.” Dan seemed even closer now; Julian didn’t need the enhanced eyesight to know this. “Jealous?” “Of you? Please.” Julian tried to make light, but his voice choked. “I meant of the other men.” Julian said nothing. Dan’s hand cupped his cheek, then slithered to the back of his head, cradling him. “Did you ever think of me in that way?” Julian asked, serious now. He felt it had to be asked, after all these years. “Kissing me?” Making love to me? His answer came unspoken. Dan took Julian’s hand in his, tracing the lines with his thumb before bringing Julian’s palm to his lips. Dan planted a light kiss there, one barely felt on the surface, yet powerful enough to constrict Julian’s heart. He lay motionless and watched Dan’s mouth part slightly; Dan’s tongue burrowed into his love 17

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line and tapped up to his fingers. He took them into his mouth for a moment and Julian shivered at the warm, wet sensation. Releasing Julian’s hand, Dan then leaned forward with a slight brush of his lips against Julian’s. His touch was faint, yet the sensation flooded his acute senses, and soon both men were engaged in a passionate kiss. Julian rolled onto his back, pulled Dan on top of him, and widened his mouth to allow his friend deeper access. He tasted the brandy, felt Dan’s tongue brush along his upper plate, then tease the two sharpened incisors at either side, and he groaned his approval into Dan’s mouth. This…wasn’t repulsive, wasn’t what he had expected. And he was enjoying it. Hardened muscles brushed against his--thighs pressed against thighs, hands stroked his chest and teased the buttons of this shirt. A bulging cock threatened its fabric prison and rubbed across Julian’s pubic bone. Curious, Julian dipped a hand under the elastic band of Dan’s shorts and stroked his friend’s warm, hardening shaft. Dan’s kiss pinched his lips in response. “How does it feel?” Julian asked when he broke free for air. “S’nice,” Dan breathed, and nuzzled Julian’s neck. “How does it feel,” Julian tried again, “to run your cock up another person’s ass? Did it hurt the first time? Does it feel tight? Does it make you want to come at once?” But as he asked, Julian wondered if Dan had ever done that before, to a man or woman. He had heard that some homosexual men were classified as “tops” and “bottoms,” and he had to assume that meant giving or receiving, so to speak. It had never occurred to Julian until this moment that Dan might not do both, but only one or the other, but which one? This moment. Yes, this was an odd moment, he decided as Dan’s caresses intensified; hands stroked his shoulders and arms over the shirt. He closed his eyes to enhance the sensation of Dan’s lips pursed on his throat, Dan’s hips grinding into his leg. His own cock hardened in response. It was the last thing he had expected to be doing on the day he buried his beloved wife, but strangely Julian had the feeling Jess would not have objected. She loved Dan, too, and had even joked more than once about having Dan join them in bed on occasion. Julian smiled at the memory; he missed Jess’s bawdy sense of humor. He also knew Jess wouldn’t have wanted Julian to be alone forever. But with Dan? Julian couldn’t imagine how Jess would react to something like that. 18

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“It feels like nothing else,” Dan was saying, low and deep, into Julian’s skin. “Being constricted, like you’re in a vice, that warm, soft sensation…the way your skin pulls and is touched when you move in and out…” Dan mimicked the movement, pumping into Julian’s leg. “Then you come, and you want to go on forever.” Suddenly Dan stilled and looked in Julian’s eyes with a charming smile. “Don’t tell me you and Jess never…no,” he said. “That’s not my business.” “It’s okay, we never did,” Julian said. For Jess’s sense of humor and liberal thought, she was actually rather conservative in the bedroom, preferring the tried and true missionary position above anything else. Even her resistance to trying new things and even new positions in bed, which had annoyed Julian, he now missed. Dan dipped his head low and brushed his lips against Julian’s ear. “And if I were to try to make love to you now, would you resist?” He dared. “Would you use your vampire magic on me and turn me into a toad?” “Vampires don’t know magic.” But he avoided answering his friend directly, because he couldn’t say. Men didn’t attract him, yet here he was stroking his friend into what would certainly become an orgasm, while his own erection bobbed and strained in his shorts unaided. He needed the release; he hadn’t climaxed in at least a month, when Jess was still capable of making love. In the time since he didn’t bother masturbating, the need for Jess overwhelming his own selfish desires to feel good. Now, he felt he needed to come, and he didn’t care whom or what helped him. “Please,” he groaned. Dan’s free hand was braced against the mattress. Gently Julian lifted it and brought it to his own groin. Dan’s fingers molded to the bulge and stroked Julian’s cock over the cotton shorts, matching Julian’s own pace. Dan slid off of Julian and rested on one side so that the two faced each other. He propped his head on his elbow and adjusted his other hand so that each could stroke the other in relative comfort, without cramping. Julian mirrored Dan’s position and inched closer, feeling his friend’s even breathing warming his face and prickling his skin. He looked down between them where Dan’s wrist and forearm had moved the band of his shorts, exposing the purpled head of Julian’s cock. He watched, fascinated with how gently his friend caressed him, how Dan’s thumb circled the tip while the palm of his hand slowly rubbed him up and down. His touch sent shockwaves up Julian’s spine and down his legs, and Julian pitched his head 19

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back and groaned. He wondered if Dan employed the same pattern when pleasuring himself, or if it was something he reserved for his lovers. Julian rarely pleasured himself as it was. When Jess was around, there was no need to do so. He closed his eyes and tried to ape Dan’s gestures, but a low growl rumbling from his friend’s throat urged him to speed. “And if I were to keep doing this,” Dan grunted, arching his back, his closed eyelids fluttering, “would you rethink your plans?” Julian said nothing, heard nothing for the blood pounding in his temples. Felt nothing but Dan’s breath scorching his neck and the rapid tugging of his cock. “Julie...” Julian opened his eyes, alerted to a sudden movement. Dan’s cock slipped from his grasp as Dan shifted in bed, reversing his body so that his face was level to Julian’s cock. His grip remained intact, and Julian reclaimed Dan’s cock and stroked, fascinated now with the close view. “What would you do,” Dan asked, his voice heavy, “if I did this?” Julian sucked in air as the tip of Dan’s tongue traced the ridge of his cock, then lapped at the smooth head. Julian looked down in time to see Dan’s mouth close over the head and pull it deep into his throat. Oh. He couldn’t believe he was actually watching his best friend sucking his cock, and he was enjoying it. He loved the feel of Dan’s lips pursed around him, the way his head bobbed up and down, taking him deeper and deeper. Julian sighed; Dan certainly knew his way around a man’s cock, more so than Jess, who had to be goaded into the occasional blowjobs he received. The buildup in his groin was a pleasured torture. His balls tightened, his orgasm imminent. Dan released him long enough to say, “If you knew you were loved, would you choose life?” He glanced quickly upward, then resumed fucking Julian with his mouth. Julian groaned. Pre-cum bubbled from the tip of Dan’s cock, sliding down his length, dripping onto Julian’s knuckles. Julian wondered what it would taste like, if it would sustain him better than the blood he craved and needed. He wanted to taste, but he couldn’t bring himself to take Dan into his mouth. He loved his friend, but he wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. 20

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“If you let me give you a reason to stay, would you, Julie?” Dan kissed a trail down Julian’s rock hard shaft. “Yes.” The answer slid from Julian’s in a soft cry. He tugged harder on Dan’s shaft. Dan loosened his grip on Julian’s long cock, palmed it again and tugged harder. It felt as if Dan might yank it clean from his body; it felt so damn good. “Would you stay?” Dan asked again. But the buildup spilled over before Julian could answer. Grips tightened, floodgates opened, and the two climaxed simultaneously. Julian opened his eyes to see Dan’s hot seed soaking his shirt and the sheets. Dan’s long, labored grunt pounded in his ears for several seconds after each man released his grip and sank back to face the ceiling. His friend’s rumbling cry of joy sounded sweeter than any of their songs. Julian wiped his hand on the seat of his shorts; the thought to lick himself clean vanished. He watched Dan limply right himself to lie next to him. His hip touched Dan’s, and he listened as Dan’s breathing slowed to a calmer rhythm. Wow. What the hell had he just done? Would he even be able to shift in bed to look at his friend again? Seconds passed, breathing slowed. Julian felt the mattress sag beneath him, and he turned his head to see Dan’s body curled away from him; his shorts and shirt were righted, his heels were tucked under his bent knees. Julian rolled to his side and drew his friend into a one-armed embrace. “Danny,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” Dan’s voice was ragged, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. Julian kissed his friend’s cheek. “Don’t be. You’re a good friend, the best I’ve got.” “A friend isn’t supposed to suck off another friend on the day of that friend’s wife’s funeral,” Dan said. “This was inappropriate.” “It was necessary,” Julian insisted, and smiled though Dan couldn’t see him. “We can blame it on the alcohol…and lack of blood.” Dan harrumphed. “It’s still no excuse. I disrespected Jess…” “Jess would thank you for saving her husband’s life.”

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Dan straightened and rolled around to face Julian. Julian moved away slightly to better confront his friend. The stench of alcohol and cum intoxicated him, burning his nostrils, and superseded the scent of Dan’s delicious blood. Suddenly there came the thought of what it would be like to drink Dan’s blood and cum at once, biting him as he took his friend’s cock into his mouth. How much would the thrill of the feed increase for him? No. It couldn’t be. Much as he enjoyed his release, this just wasn’t his life. “You’ll stay?” Dan sounded hopeful, but his eyes betrayed any hope. Julian paused. Would he stay? The pain of losing Jess had hardly diminished in the glow of Dan’s ministrations, but there was also Dan to consider. He loved Dan…but not in the way that would allow for another moment like this. Was that what Dan wanted, though, to be with him as a lover? Julian couldn’t do it, and looking at Dan now he realized his friend was thinking the same thing. What could he say? He was too confused, too grieved to make up his mind. Thankfully Dan didn’t appear to be expecting a formative answer, though the drooping frown on his friend’s face appeared portentous. So Julian beckoned him closer and pressed Dan’s head against his chest. “I’ll stay,” he said finally, kissing Dan’s hair, “for now.” *** He decided the next morning that he didn’t want to die. But to remain in this time was not an option either. For all the wonderful memories of his life with Jess and Dan, there was also the pain of loss, a pain that overshadowed his very existence. This was clear as he trudged downstairs to the kitchen, where he found a hung over Dan bent over a mug of steaming coffee. He felt dizzy from not feeding. The whiteness of the décor was blinding. Julian winced at the speckled white Corian countertops, the nickel-plated faucets and the brass molds shaped to look like barn animals nailed to the walls. Jess had cooked here, eaten here instead of in the main dining room when he was away. She would always be in this kitchen, and it would always hurt to come here. True, a vampire didn’t need regular food; therefore, he could shut off this room, but what of the rest of the house? There was a piece of Jess in every corner. The thought of selling it and moving away only increased the pang of sorrow. He couldn’t face the memories, but couldn’t leave them. Either way, he lost. 22

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That left only one other option. He took the stool opposite Dan at the island counter and folded his hands. “I have decided,” he said, “I need to sleep.” Dan didn’t look up from his mug. Julian knew Dan didn’t have to ask what that meant. “For how long?” “I don’t know. I have no sense of time when I sleep. It could be a year, maybe five…” “Maybe fifty?” Dan accused, and Julian remembered he had told Dan that his last sleep had lasted half a century. Julian sighed. “Maybe.” “I’ll be dead by then,” Dan said. “I don’t have that many years left.” Julian peered at his friend through thick lashes. Even bowed low, he could see Dan’s eyes were rimmed red. A teardrop beaded around one and threatened to fall. He sighed again. Seeing Dan like this wasn’t going to make saying goodbye any easier. “I might not be that long, maybe only twenty years,” Julian conceded. “You’ll still be around.” “I’ll be old.” “Old is Methuselah.” “What is death, then?” Dan asked, wiping his eyes. Julian shook his head. The temperature in the otherwise cheery kitchen seemed to have dropped considerably, and Jess’s inconspicuous knick-knacks now closed in on him, taunting him. His throat constricted, and the scent of coffee and warm vanilla choked his senses. He couldn’t stay here, or anywhere in this house, another day. Not for a while, anyway, and not while he was awake. “I am death, if I stay here, Dan.” Julian reached for Dan’s arm and was relieved his friend did not flinch. “I won’t die, but I won’t be able to live if I don’t distance myself from this time. I’ll be useless to you.” “It’s not like we have to record again--” “No,” Julian broke in. “I meant what I said last night. You have many good years left. Your voice is still intact, you can still make records.” He smiled. “I think you’re finally due to have the spotlight to yourself.” “What if I don’t want it?” A smile tugged at Dan’s lip. “You will, and if I know you, you’ll be loath to give it up.” 23

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And Dan finally raised his head, smiling through tears and raw flesh. He nodded, resigned. Julian felt some relief at this. To him it meant Dan too was relieved that Julian had decided not to leave the world permanently. “Okay,” Dan said, sniffling. “Okay.”

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Chapter Three

Everything was arranged within the week. Julian contacted his lawyer and made arrangements to change his will again. Instead of Dan, Julian would leave everything to his minor son, making Dan executor of the estate until his son’s maturity. Of course, Julian and Jess had no children. With a little help from a few discreet contacts, papers were arranged to identify Julian as his own son, who would come to Boston to claim the property. In case Dan died before Julian woke, Dan altered his own will to make arrangements to ensure that the property did not end up in somebody else’s hands before Julian could reclaim it. Dan perused the copy of his will sent to him by overnight delivery. He folded the thick stack of papers. “I should leave everything I have to Julie, Junior as well,” he said. His lips twisted into a wry smile. Julian shook his head. He didn’t want to ponder Dan not being there when he woke. “Give it to charity. I should have enough.” “Okay,” Dan sang, “but don’t complain fifty years from now when our music becomes hot again and you’re missing out on my share of the royalties.” Both men laughed, but as the specter of the prior week’s activities crept into their collective consciousness the levity quickly dissolved and the two resumed winding down Julian’s affairs. The house had come with a bomb shelter underneath the basement, built at the insistence of the previous owner, a paranoid citizen of the Cold War era. Jess and Julian had simply tossed a throw rug over the trapdoor upon moving in and resumed their lives. Now, Julian watched, with an envelope with falsified identification papers in hand, as Dan rolled away the rug to reveal a rusted latch and hinges. “I haven’t moved that rug in years,” Julian murmured. He noted the discoloration of the trapdoor against the rest of the floor. “Maybe I should have had it waxed first.” 25

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Dan pulled the door open with one might heave, revealing a narrow staircase with no railing. “I’ll take care of it,” he grunted, and stood. Looking at Julian, he gestured to the entrance. “I’m not good with good-byes, Julie,” he said. “I love you, you’re my friend…just go now before I lose it.” Julian put a hand on Dan’s shoulder; glad his friend didn’t pull away or flinch. He peered down the hole, seeing an army cot with a matching olive green blanket awaiting him. He was going down there to sleep, to get over Jess. Part of him still didn’t want to do this. He heard Dan sniffling and felt sick. Dan was to be his guardian, making sure nothing happened to the house in his absence, making sure he was undisturbed. His armored knight was rusting. “Dan…” Dan turned his head away to hide the tears. “Julie, go. Before I slam this door shut and find a way to keep you here.” Julian saw the pain in his friend’s eyes. As if what I had done hadn’t worked, what will? He could imagine Dan was thinking just that. “I’ll try not to take too long,” Julian said, but he knew the words meant nothing. Once he fell asleep, he had no control over when he would wake. Extraneous forces that might wake the deepest of mortal sleepers had no affect on him in this state, and the added seclusion of the shelter wouldn’t help. It would happen when his body willed it. “Dan,” Julian begged, “look at me…” “Go.” Dan managed to firm his voice. “Go.” “Okay.” His head hung, Julian descended the stairs without looking back. The shelter was a cool, uncomfortable crypt, darkened further as the trapdoor was folded over him, blocking all light. “Okay,” he heard Dan whisper, echoing the same defeated tone from the kitchen the week before. “Okay.” And the trapdoor clicked shut, sealing Julian in darkness.

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Chapter Four

Hands, smooth and petite, raked across his shirt. Plucking away buttons, testing the coarseness of the thick curls matted to his chest and tracing his breastbone. Julian shivered and sighed in his mental cocoon; his eyes fluttered under his lids. This was the first clear image he had seen in his mind in weeks, perhaps years. This was the most vivid of the dreams he’d had since lying down to sleep, and he hoped not to awake just yet. “Hello?” Jess’s voice was tentative and silky, music to his ears. Julian watched her hover though the haze of sleep, concern etched in her brows and darkening her lovely blue eyes. The white gown she wore barely covered her shoulders and breasts; two dark nipples jutted from the wispy fabric, serving as perfect targets for Julian’s aching hunger. He longed to lean forward and take one into his mouth, cut away the white barrier, and skim his sharp incisors over the silkier white of her skin. The temptation to nip the rising swell of her bosom was strong--he would only need a bit of blood to sustain him until he could find another body on which to feed. Jess, you came back to me. How was this possible? He had held Jess in his arms when she gave her last breath. Or did he change her at the last minute? She looked as she did before the cancer took hold; smiling soft eyes, angular face, and pursed pink lips begging to be kissed. The transformation would have restored what her illness took away. How long had he been gone? Was Dan still alive? Did he change Jess? He couldn’t remember; he had been asleep for so long he didn’t even know where he was. At least, it seemed that way. “Hello? Are you okay?” Jess asked him. Jess, I’m fine. You’re here. I love you. No words came forth, however, only a strangled whimper, that didn’t sound human. 27

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He tried his arms, but he couldn’t move. Sleep had atrophied his body, but not his awareness. He could only lie helpless, while Jess flew overhead, her long hair swirling around her in ethereal, angelic beauty. The scent of her intoxicated him. Her blood and her obvious musk flooded his senses, stirring his cock to life. It was gratifying to know at least, that part of him still worked, and he couldn’t wait to be free. Oh, he could almost taste her… He wanted to cry, and found himself so dry and weak that he couldn’t even will tears. He inhaled and fought the weight of sleep. He had to wake and get back to Jess, for if this wasn’t a dream…if this was real, he needed to make up for lost time. He never would have considered sleep if there were a remote chance Jess hadn’t died after all. Those soft hands now pressed against his chest, over his heart, and pumped violently against him in a disjointed rhythm. One, two, three, then a pause, then the cycle renewed. Julian felt the air sucked from his throat with the pressure, yet the force was so great it helped open his eyes. The woman gasped and then released her touch. The heat of her remained on his bare skin for a few seconds before vaporizing. “You’re alive,” she said, astonished. “You were cold as ice.” All at once life flowed back into him, warming his body and tingling his limbs. Julian wiggled his fingers, jerked forward into a sitting position, and gulped a great amount of air, shocked and happy to see his dream was quite real. Jess was there, staring at him with widened eyes, both of her hands pressed against her mouth. But she didn’t look happy. It confused Julian. “Jess,” he wheezed, and looked around the dim shelter. Nothing about his surroundings had changed since Dan sealed the door; at least, that was Julian’s perception. He was still on the cot, still covered in the heavy woolen blanket, still facing that same silly disco nightmare mannequin. Only now the scene was enhanced by his beloved’s presence. He struggled to raise an arm to her, pleased with his success, but his face fell just as quickly as she stepped just out of reach. “Jess,” he echoed. The woman in white gathered her thin robe around her and cinched it at her slender waist. “Who are you?” She demanded, though her voice was filled with more fear than authority. “This sub-basement’s been locked for years, how the hell did you get down here?” 28

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What? Surely Jess would have known to find him here. Surely Dan would have said something to her. Where was Dan? He had promised to be here, or at least leave some sign for him. “Jess,” he said, “it’s me. I’m okay.” His lip twitched, and he brought a hand to his own face, raking through a rough patch of beard. No wonder she didn’t recognize him, he realized. He didn’t need a mirror to know how grizzled he looked. “Who’s Jess?” The woman asked, and Julian’s smile faded. Her gaze panned down the length of the cot, and Julian followed her line of sight to his lap, and to the noticeable bulge tenting the blanket. As quickly as possible he swung his legs to the floor and folded his hands between his thighs to mask his arousal. The woman’s expression changed slightly at this. Julian saw flickers of awe and disappointment, curiosity and fear. There didn’t seem to be enough of one emotion to overpower the rest, however, and prompt this woman toward resuming conversation. He leaned forward and caught her countenance in the overhead, yellowed light, and he numbed. This woman was not Jess, he realized, only a striking twin. Of course, how could he have hoped that there was the possibility Jess hadn’t died, that he had been able to pull her from mortal death at the last minute. Those hopes dissolved with his exhaustion. It still didn’t explain, though, who this woman was. And Dan… His head still bowed, he spied an envelope with his name scrawled in Dan’s unmistakable chicken scratch lying on the floor. He bent for it, but was stilled by the woman’s insistent voice. “Are you some kind of magician?” She asked. “Because nobody had a key for the trapdoor. I only found one this morning…” “I had a key,” Julian lied. “What?” The woman frowned, and paced away from him, shaking her head and swinging her arms. Clearly she was trying to discern why a stranger would stealthily sneak into a rock star’s mansion and camp out in the bomb shelter, he knew, but she was a stranger as well. How did she get the only key to the shelter? Dan had promised to leave it in a predetermined hiding place should something happen to him, so nobody would venture downstairs and find his body.

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He felt the envelope for a key-shaped indentation. Nothing. Odd. Maybe Dan forgot to leave it, or didn’t want to come down here and see him laying, death-like, on this cot? He swiped the envelope when she wasn’t looking and stuffed it into his back pocket. “Who are you?” He asked. “I asked you first.” “Yes, you did.” Julian sighed. Might as well be nice in order to get answers. At least she hadn’t threatened to call the cops, yet. “I am Julian Van Wyck--” “--Junior,” he added quickly, as she whirled around with in open-mouthed surprise. “Junior. My father was--” “I know who your father was, and I know who you are.” The Jess clone put a hand to her heart and heaved. Her voice was testy. “What are you doing sleeping down here?” “Well…” How to explain this? “I was having a look around, and like I said I had a key to the sub-basement. I wanted to know what was down here, is all. I must have fallen asleep.” It was a lame story at best, but at least Julian had the paperwork to prove his ownership of the house. “Why did you sneak into the house? Why didn’t you just knock on the door like a human being? I’d have let you in,” the woman accused. “I didn’t think--” Julian stammered. “I know who you are,” she repeated. “I knew to expect this, I just didn’t know when. I was beginning to think you didn’t exist, or just wasn’t interested in the house…or anything in it.” Julian raised an eyebrow. “Well, here I am. It’s not like I’m a Sasquatch or some other fairy tale beast.” He smiled and then drew his lips forward so the woman couldn’t see his sharpened teeth. “I’m very much real.” “So you’re real. What about Jess? Who’s she?” Julian’s face fell. “She’s…never mind. Just a dream.” A horrible, too real dream. The woman shook the comment away. “You did come like he said you would.” Her head bowed and turned away, and Julian felt suddenly faint. Whoever she was, she knew about Dan’s will. That could only mean one thing. 30

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He was grateful to still be sitting as the inevitable question formed in his mind. “Dan Wilkinson…?” “Gone.” Her voice cracked. Gone. The word rang hollow in Julian’s ears. Dead, Dan is dead. He wanted to cry out. Dan, his dear friend, who comforted him in his grief, whose heart he had broken, dead. And he hadn’t really said good-bye, either. Or apologized. “H-how?” The woman kept her stare fixed on something else, and tears formed in her eyes. Julian willed her to remain quiet. It was best he didn’t know, after all. Dan, he cried silently, are you happy where you are now? Are you with Jess? How he wanted to be with both of them now, despite the risk of ending up in the mortal person's Hell. He shifted in place and heard the envelope crackle beneath him. What had Dan written? Was he dying when he wrote it? If only this woman would give him some time alone. Then again, he had been without company for so long, and he was hungry. He eyed the smooth curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat. A perfect place for a lover to plant a kiss…it would seem almost criminal to mar such lovely skin to satisfy himself, yet he was so weak. She appeared to read his thoughts. “I have a room waiting for you, just as he asked,” she said, and held out a hand to help Julian to his feet. “I am Cara.” “Cara,” he greeted her cordially and took the opportunity to size her up in the overhead light. She was a good foot shorter than he was, and looked no older than thirty, maybe younger. Her face was free of creases and at the moment glowing. “Do you…live here now?” Cara nodded. “I grew up here, in fact. I was away for a number of years…college and work, but I came back when I found out--” Her voice caught a sob. “That’s okay,” Julian whispered. He didn’t want her to continue. To hear the details of Dan’s death would only cement the reality of it in his mind, and he wanted to remember the robust, handsome man he had left behind, not a withering old man eaten alive by illness. Was Dan old, though, when he died? Julian winced. Of course, Dan had to have been nearly eighty. Cara mentioned growing up in the house, perhaps she was a niece or 31

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cousin, brought here under Dan’s guardianship only to have the roles reversed later. Julian could only hope that Dan had found some happiness in those last decades of his life. He tested his feet, and was pleased to see he could take a few steps without stumbling. He wanted to get out of the shelter, and see the house again. He had to know how long he had been asleep, he had to feed, and plan his future without the two people who had meant everything to him... He had to regain his equilibrium. The next step he took had him plowing headfirst into the mannequin. In seconds Cara was at his side and guiding him to the stairs. His eye caught the flowing sleeves of her gown, and a flash of reddened skin marring one arm. “Whoa there.” She chuckled nervously. Her hands were soft, and the heat of her touch burned through his sleeves, prickling his nerves. “You haven’t been drinking down here, have you?” “I need to, drink, that is. I’m thirsty,” he murmured, barely audibly. Cara gave no sign that she had heard, and instead steered him upstairs. Julian winced at the bright light streaming down from the open hatch. The house had changed little since he went to sleep; there might have been a fresh coat of paint added to a wall or two, but he wouldn’t have really noticed. Julian let himself be led through corridors of familiar portraits and knickknacks, and up more stairs and down another hall. “There’s a room already set up for you,” Cara was saying. “I’ll let you get settled and get you something to eat.” Her sigh was ragged, and Julian noticed her hands shaking. “Then we can talk about the provisions of the will.” “Okay.” He felt a sudden urge to comfort Cara, as she seemed more nervous than before. Perhaps she thought he would evict her once it was confirmed that he was the rightful owner of the property, or maybe Dan had changed the will to erase any claim of Julian’s, and she was too scared to admit it. He couldn’t see Dan doing that, though, not even out of spite. Whatever she wanted to say, however, Julian wasn’t ready to hear it. He had just awakened, but he was still too tired to resume his immortal life. And he wanted some time to properly mourn his friend. 32

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He was pondering all of this when he realized Cara had escorted him to the master bedroom, his room. The curtains were drawn and the lights low, as if mourning for him. It felt like entering a crypt. This was the room he had shared with Jess, where Dan had brought him comfort on the day she was buried. He nearly twisted his neck looking around the room. The room hadn’t changed one iota since he left. Same bed, same window treatments, though the colors had faded significantly in the sun. Even the sheets looked the same, but certainly Dan would have purchased new ones in the time he spent here. He glanced at the double vanity by the bay window. Jess’s perfume bottles and makeup cases were still lined up in a uniform pattern along the mirror, as if time had paused in just this one place. The lack of dust told him somebody had taken great care to keep this room clean and preserved in anticipation of his return. Dan. Julian’s heart ached for his friend. He wondered if he concentrated hard enough on the adjoining bathroom door, would Dan come sauntering out rubbing his wet hair with a towel, smiling at him. Asking Julian where the hell had he been. When Cara spoke, the bubble burst and Julian turned to look at her, dazed. “You should have a seat,” she advised. “You’ve gone pale all of a sudden.” He could have said the same of her. Cara was seemingly whiter in the sunlight streaming from the windows. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, and inched toward the bed. “It’s just that…” He remembered he had to pose as his “son,” and continued, “…this room looks so big. I would guess my father lived here.” “I wouldn’t know that, I would assume so. Your father died before I was born,” Cara said, and Julian looked at her. “Was this Dan’s room then?” He asked, smoothing a hand over the taut, crisp sheets. The bed had a fresh scent, and Julian studied the sheet pattern, fighting back the image of Dan’s lithe body coiled around his. “Yes.” Cara’s voice was low. Julian swallowed. Dan must have died here as well. As did Jess. The time spent in the shelter had done nothing to dull the ache of loss. Death continued to haunt him. “I don’t blame him for taking the room. He probably wanted to be comfortable.” Julian pictured a frail Dan sitting against the headboard, wires and tubes sticking out of 33

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his body. He should have changed him that night, he realized. Spared Dan the agony of such an end. “This was a comfortable place to be once.” “I’m sorry?” Julian bit his tongue, realizing his slip. “I meant this looks like it’s the most comfortable room in the house. Very cozy.” He had to remember that he needed to act like he hadn’t been here before. When Cara nodded and said nothing more, he relaxed. Then, “Dan,” he prodded, “did he have…a companion?” “Yes, for many years.” “And they were happy?” “I think so,” Cara said, but the look on her face alluded something different. Julian decided not to pry just yet. He wanted to read Dan’s letter. Maybe it would give him some insight on Cara, and how she came to live here. “I’m sorry I missed him.” Cara’s smile returned, and Dan nodded again, for lack of anything else to say or do. “Well, I will leave you alone, let you get settled while I bring you something to eat.” The need for blood caused his body to quiver, but he hadn’t the strength to tell Cara not to bother, that regular food would not suffice. Besides, he had already aroused enough suspicion from the lovely young woman, he was certain, and the time alone with the letter would be worth it. “Is there anything you want in particular?” She asked. She was nearly to the door. “Cook can make anything you wish.” He smiled. Jess had always wanted a hired cook. “Surprise me,” he said, and Cara held his gaze for a few seconds, then left with a wan smile. The door she let slowly drift toward its jamb; Julian detected her fading shadow against the outside wall. Then he brought his attention to the crumpled letter he pulled from his back pocket. With trembling fingers he tore the seal and nearly ripped the letter in half trying to extract it from the envelope. Dan’s unintelligible handwriting, after all these years, was still a pain to behold, but Julian never felt happier to squint at Dan’s near-intelligible words. 34

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Julie, it began, and Julian swallowed back a lump. Dan would never call him that again. Nobody would. He wouldn’t let anybody do so. He read: I’ve started writing this letter so many times, and each time I end up crumpling the paper into a tight little ball and pitching it into the nearest trashcan. It brought back memories of a more frustrating time, when we were trying to write songs for our first album and failing miserably. Still, those days were a hundred times more pleasant than these days I’ve lived without you. Julian willed his tears away. As dry as he was, though, they wouldn’t come anyway. “Dan,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” I’ve warred with myself for years whether or not to let you in on a secret I’ve kept from you. Part of me wanted to spare you any pain upon waking in whatever future you find. Part of me wanted, and still wants, to punish you for leaving me, hoping that what I’m about to say will haunt you forever. That night we were together, after Jess’s funeral, and we became lovers, you wanted to know why I never found someone to share my life with. What you didn’t realize then, and probably still don’t, is that I had. I can’t believe that after thirty years you could have been so oblivious. Julian could no longer feel his fingers holding the letter. It was you, Julie, the letter read. You’re the only one I wanted to be with, from the first moment I saw you in the Common a hundred damn years ago. And every damn day since, but I knew you weren’t attracted to men, so I kept my desires to myself. I kept quiet and watched for years as you seduced scores of giggling teenage girls, wishing it were me lying in your arms at the end of the day. You want to know why I never held onto a relationship for more than a year…you were why. Every man I fucked had your face. I only felt your hands pinched in my hair while your dick slid in and out of my mouth. I only heard your voice moaning for more. Jesus, Julie, you should see me right now. I’ve got a hard-on. I ought to whack off on this letter…be funny to watch you flaking off centuries old cum to read it. Julian wanted to laugh at that, but was too choked. Then I had to stand next to you at your wedding and watch you pledge your love to Jess. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Jess, and it pleased me to see you happy with her. But I was a selfish, silent bastard then, too. Those tears you saw me shed during the 35

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ceremony weren’t happy ones, my friend. The ones I shed for years afterward, you didn’t see. Julian remembered that day well. So much time had past since his wedding to Jess, yet when he closed his eyes he could see every detail. There was Jess in a short dress befitting the day’s fashion, and Dan in a blue tuxedo with a ruffled cravat, his long hair askew and a mustache covering his upper lip. Dan had said how happy he was for the couple, and Julian was too occupied with Jess to know his friend’s heartbreak. There wasn’t anybody else in the room that day. Now, Julian supposed he saw only what he wanted to. “Dan,” he cursed under his breath. The letter explained it, but Julian couldn’t understand why Dan did not say anything, especially after Jess had died. Julian sighed. He knew why, what difference would it had made? Julian wasn’t gay, and despite his confessions Julian knew Dan wasn’t so selfish or vindictive as to take advantage of a grieving man. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t… Was he? I encouraged you that night, my friend. Julian tapped the edge of the page against his lip. Yes, he had. Perhaps, deep down, there was an attraction to Dan that he had unconsciously denied? He recalled the group camped on the Common: there were a number of lovely young women there, with heavy-lidded eyes, smiling and crowned in flowers, snapping in time to Dan’s guitar. Julian could have had any of them, but he had zeroed in on Dan instead. Because of his music, Julian told himself. Dan was the center of that little group, and it seemed natural for Julian, for anybody, to be drawn to him. But was that the only reason? The thought dissolved in the cool air, and Julian resumed reading. I think of that night we were together and want to cry some more…with joy, with anger, I can’t decide. That I finally got the chance to hold you and kiss you, made me for that moment the happiest man alive, and yet that happiness is surpassed by the constant guilt I feel. That happiness came at the price of Jess’s life, and my self-respect. I know you heard me say it so many times when you were still here, but I apologize. I don’t think I can never stop apologizing for my behavior, because I have to confess that I wanted to do so much more that night. 36

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I loved the feel of your skin against mine, Julie. I loved the way you fit in my arms, the way you tasted. I wanted so much more, Julie. I wanted to feel you from the inside. I wanted your lips around my cock; I wanted to press myself against your back as I entered you. And Julian looked down to see his own cock stiffening again. What was wrong with him? He was aroused when he thought he saw Jess, and yet the feelings were stronger thinking of Dan! What I am thinking? Jess was his wife, for God’s sake. He should be heartsick over her, not Dan. The whole point of going to sleep was to get over losing her, to heal the empty hole in his heart caused by her death. He did miss Jess, still. He felt no better for having slept, for he was alone. This Cara was a stranger, though a lovely one. She probably already had a lover, and who knew if she would stay on in the house with a peculiar man as he? Besides, why would he want to let another person into his heart, if he were only going to lose her in the end like he lost Jess and Dan? “Dan.” It wasn’t your fault, Dan. It’s mine. He had been afraid, he realized. He, a vampire who stalked the night and fed on the depraved, afraid to explore the possibility of having a loving relationship with another man. That opportunity was gone now. He should never have gone to sleep. He should have stayed to see what might have been. He glanced at the crack in the door. A sliver of shadow alerted him to a presence. Cara. He should hide the letter, he knew, yet was too compelled to read further. The next sentence struck his heart. I’m watching you sleep now, and I want to wake you-Julian wondered why Dan had not tried. Or did he, and did Julian not budge? To his knowledge, nobody had tried to wake Julian the other times he slept; then again, he hadn’t been as accessible. A pang seized his heart and lodged upward in his throat. To have had Dan so close… It hurts to see you here, lifeless and cold. I love you and hate you at the same time. I want to bend over and kiss you, then slap you wake for what you did to me. I want you to wake and see-37

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The door creaked open further before Julian could flip to the next handwritten page. He started and stuffed the pages behind him, tucking them under his seat. Cara was coming back with food as promised. He wanted none of it. All he wanted was a way to turn back time. Julian waited, listened for the faint swish of Cara’s dressing gown, and heard instead a labored sigh and the shuffling of slippers. It was a soft scratching sound, harmless but portentous enough for Julian to suspect something. Unconsciously he bared his fangs and hoped he would have enough strength to ward off any danger if necessary. But he quickly saw he was in no danger of the bent figure peering into the room with vacant eyes, wearing a mask of wrinkles and unkempt hair. Julian’s face fell, as did his heart. This was no ghost. “Dan!”

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Chapter Five

It couldn’t be Dan. Dan was dead. Cara had said Dan was dead. Dan had been young and beautiful; his eyes had always been inquisitive, a beautiful rich brown. This man was gray all over, stooped and sad in a blue bathrobe, flannel pants, and slippers. He looked near death. And he looked like Dan. “Who are you?” Julian asked. He tried to stand but the fatigue of sleep had not completely let go of him. He rocked back on the bed and watched the old man watch him. The old man said nothing, but turned to leave. “Wait,” Julian begged. Could Cara have lied to him before? What would be the point in that, unless she thought she had a better chance at keeping the house by pretending Dan was gone. Julian took a breath and stood, then moved slowly toward the door. The old man followed his every step, frowning, his eyes slowly registering life. And he spoke in a voice so childlike and hoarse. “Julie.” It was just loud enough to send Julian reeling backward, but Julian stood his ground and reached out to the old man. Dan. Dan had not died. Dan lifted a withering hand to Julian’s; his hands were bony and gnarled, bent with arthritis, and looked as if they hadn’t touched a guitar in decades. “Julie,” Dan repeated. His hand shook, even as Julian gently took it in his own. The old man’s skin was eerily soft and cold. Julian wanted to cry; it seemed only yesterday this man’s hands were all over him, easing his pain. Now Dan appeared to be the one in pain as he looked desperately into Julian’s eyes. “Please, Julie,” he said, “finish it.” 39

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“Finish what?” Julian asked, and drew Dan into the room. “Come here.” He led Dan to the bed and sat the old man down. Dan’s body was frail and small now, and the comforter seemed to swallow him whole. “Dan,” Julian said, trying to keep his friend upright. The older man seemed to have no sense of balance, or belonging. What had happened to him while he asleep? Old is Methuselah, he had told his friend all those years ago. But even at eighty or so, Julian never expected his friend to become this decrepit. “What happened to you?” He asked Dan. “Are you sick? Who is Cara? How long have I been asleep? What’s been going on here?” “He can’t tell you.” Cara appeared from nowhere with a small tray bearing a steaming bowl of soup and a water glass. She set the tray on a nearby dresser and approached, looking pointedly at Dan. “He can’t tell you because he doesn’t know anything. He suffers from Dementia, and he shouldn’t be up here.” “Dementia?” Anger heated Julian’s face. “You told me he was dead. Why would you lie to me like that?” “Like what?” Julian cradled Dan’s head and shoulders, shielding him from Cara as she tugged at Dan’s robe. “You told me Dan was dead.” “I told you Dan was gone. It’s the truth.” Silently, with cutting gestures, she urged Dan to stand, but the old man was having none of it. She exhaled sharply through her nose; strands of hair fluttered and she brushed them away from her face. “His mind is gone. He doesn’t remember anything anymore. Sometimes he’s lucky to remember his own name.” “He remembers my name. He called me Julie; he’s the only who ever did that. This was long before you,” he added to Cara’s confused glare. “Yeah, I bet he also called you a vampire.” Cara rolled her eyes and tugged at Dan again. “What?” Julian felt cold. “Vampires, he sees vampires everywhere he goes.” Cara waved her arms, exhausted. “Keeps saying one’s coming back for him, must have confused him with you. I knew to expect you when I went through his will.” “His will?” 40

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“I have power of attorney,” Cara said. “I guess you can say I also have custody, and if I didn’t think he’d die of a broken heart I’d have had him put in a home long ago.” Julian flinched as she reached for Dan again. He wanted to smack her hand away, and hope his strength was sufficient enough to knock her across the room, as he’d been able to do in the past. Instead he straightened and pulled Dan closer. There was the familiar scent of aloe he had so missed. “I’m glad to know you have a heart,” he said, his voice dripping acid. “J-Julie,” Dan whispered. Where was my heart? How could he have had resigned Dan to such a sad end? And here was his friend now, begging him to end it with a pleading, liquid look in his colorless eyes. Finish it. Finish Dan’s life. He couldn’t do that, but he couldn’t stand to see Dan suffer. “I need to keep an eye on him here,” she said simply. “I let him out of my sight and he’ll be scammed by another gold digging faggot.” Julian wasn’t listening to her. He tuned out her voice to hear the blood in Dan’s veins. It wasn’t the vicious roar he remembered from all those years ago, more like the steady slowing of age. His body was so thin and feeble, he was nothing more than vessels and bone sheathed in clammy skin. Dan didn’t deserve this body, this end. “You don’t have to worry about Dan anymore,” Julian said, and tightened his grip on Dan’s skull. Gently he pulled Dan’s head to one side, exposing a spotted neck. Cara’s eyes widened. Suddenly she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “What are you doing? You’re hurting him. Stop it!” Julian bared his fangs and hissed at the girl. It was enough to elicit a surprised gasp and render her still. His teeth felt sharper and more prominent in his mouth; they bit into his lower lip as he momentarily relaxed his jaw before diving for Dan’s throat. The initial burst of blood shooting down his own throat sent Julian into heady ecstasy, like a drunk falling off the wagon. He savored the coppery scent and flavor for only a second before sucking Dan’s life force with the vigor of his own youth. “What are you doing?” Cara shrieked. She moved to pry the two men apart, but the vampire had gained enough strength from Dan to make good on his earlier wish. He didn’t hear Cara hit the opposite wall with a dull thud, nor did he see her fade into 41

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unconsciousness as she slid to the floor. His focus was on the limp rag doll in his arms, groaning with relief. “Julie,” Dan sighed. He cooled further in Julian’s grip. “L-love you, Julie.” Julian released his bite and licked his lips. Blood stained his fangs and gums, and trickled down his chin. Dan’s blood warmed him, coursed through his veins and tingled his nerves. His chest heaved as if breathing for the first time, and his cock stiffened and strained against the body now in his lap. Dan looked dead already, and he was very close, but Julian wouldn’t allow it. “Dan.” Julian’s voice muffled as he brought his wrist to his face and bit open a vein. “You brought me back to life. I’m returning the favor.” He pressed his bubbling wound against Dan’s motionless lips. “Drink, Dan,” he urged. Dan wanted Julian to finish it, and Julian would grant his friend death, but only at the cost of eternal life with him. Slowly Dan’s upper lip curled, then pursed around the wound. Waves of pleasure rippled Julian’s skin as Dan nursed, suckling slowly at first, then gaining speed as he gained strength. When Dan reached the limit, Julian gently pushed him away and stretched Dan lengthwise across the bed. “This will hurt, my love,” he whispered as Dan silently panted and coughed blood. “But it’s quick.” Then he stepped back and watched his friend’s mortal body writhe like an epileptic as his physiology changed first from the inside, then on the surface. Dan’s skin tightened and paled, his hair shot up and out several more inches and covered his shoulders, and his eyes rolled in the back of his head, fluttering in time to the rapid twitching of his limbs. No sooner than it had started, it ended, with Death leaving behind a much younger Dan Wilkinson with bloodstained fangs smiling at the ceiling. Dan was still for a second, then tilted upward to smile at his friend. He beckoned Julian closer with a bloody tongue. “Welcome back.” “I should say the same to you,” Julian said. Dan took Julian’s proffered hand and let himself be raised to his feet. He kicked off the slippers and tested one foot, then the other, admiring his restored physique. “The pain is gone,” he said, flexing his fingers before him and looking around the room. “And it looks like somebody’s been playing with the tint dial in my head.” 42

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“Your senses are more acute now,” Julian told him, “but you’ll adjust quickly. In fact, it’s something we’ll have to do together while I acclimate myself to the world of the living again.” His own fingers twitched as he reached forward to touch Dan’s arms. “But first, I want to do something else.” Dan smiled at the unspoken suggestion, but when he looked past Julian to the crumpled body on the floor, he broke free and rushed to her. Cara moaned, her voice low and her eyes closed, her head wobbled unsteadily on her shoulders as Dan tried to rouse her. “I-I’m sorry,” Julian said. “I wasn’t thinking straight--” “She’s fine, no harm done,” Dan broke in, and brushed a hand over the young woman’s skull. Cara’s eyes opened and she gasped at the drastic change to Dan’s appearance. She tried to shuffle away but Dan held her still and shushed her. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he told her. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to be scared.” “Am I dead?” “No, sweetheart.” Cara looked at him, then up at the vampire looming over the two of them. “What…what did he do to you? My God, you were telling the truth…” Dan kissed the tip of her nose. Julian noticed how Dan kept his mouth puckered so as not to expose his sharpened incisors. Best not to frighten her any further. He thought to help Dan get Cara to her feet but the look of uncertainty on her face kept him a statue. Dan’s gentle touch to her shoulders helped the hysteria visibly bubbling within the girl subside. “I’ll explain it all later,” Dan said quietly. “For now, though, I think you need to rest.” “Rest,” Cara echoed dully. Her gait was crooked and slow as she shuffled out the door, nodding her head. “Yes. I’m gonna go lie down.” Dan patted her shoulder, and let his hand drop as she disappeared around the threshold. “I’ll be by in a little while,” he said and quietly closed the door. Julian heard the click of the lock as Dan turned to him with a coy smile. “Or a long while,” Dan said.

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Chapter Six

“Who was he?” Julian asked. “Who was who?” “The man who hurt you. The man Cara called a ‘gold digging faggot.’” “Relax, you’re too tense.” “I can’t help it.” Anger seared Julian’s skin and bunched his shoulder and back muscles, forcing Dan to press the heel of his hand deeper into him and roughen his pace. They were in bed, with Dan straddled across Julian as he lay on his stomach, his chin propped on his folded forearms. Neither man had wasted any pretense. The bedroom door hadn’t been locked two seconds when the vampire and his new creation came together in a tight embrace, their mouths hungrily devouring each other in a fit to make up for lost time. It was Dan who pulled away first and led Julian to bed, both men discarding clothes as they went. The massage was his idea, to help Julian rejuvenate any atrophied muscles, and to slow their progress. “The way we’re going, we’ll blow the windows out,” Dan had said, breathless. “I didn’t think this moment would ever happen, I don’t want it speeding past me before I realize what happened.” “We have all the time in the world now,” was Julian’s reply. “If need be, we’ll replace the windows.” Now it appeared their progress was delayed by Julian’s tension. “What happened to you while I asleep?” He demanded. “Who was it that hurt you so badly that this Cara woman saw fit to keep you locked up here like a dog?” “Cara treats me well, don’t worry about her.” Dan was calm. He leaned forward and kissed the nape of Julian’s neck, then worked his way down his spine. “And it’s not important who the man was. He’s long since dead.” Julian savored each touch; his breath hitched on the intake. His cock was going to bore a hole right through the mattress if it got any harder. 44

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He tried to stay focused. “Cara seemed rather upset about it,” Julian said. Dan sat up again and scooted down so that he sat gently on the backs of Julian’s thighs. Holding the small vial he earlier grabbed from the vanity, he squeezed a dollop of lotion on his palm and massaged it liberally on his shaft. The lavender scent was strong and tickled Julian’s senses. Dan rubbed his lubricated cock between Julian’s buttocks. Julian braced for contact, but Dan seemed content to just tease him. “Cara barely knew him,” Dan was saying. “She was just a child then.” “You drove me nuts when we first met, and things still haven’t changed,” Julian growled, but it was difficult to keep the amusement out of his voice. What Dan was doing to him…how could he stay angry? “Are you going to fuck me or what?” “I see a long sleep has done nothing to diminish your impatience,” Dan said, and laughed. He pointed the tip of his cock at Julian’s anus and pressed lightly. Julian wriggled underneath Dan and managed to roll onto his back without dislodging Dan. He rested his palms behind his head and gazed down his bare chest to where Dan perched on his abdomen. Dan’s hardened shaft stood erect against his chest, its skin much darker in contrast. He wondered how Dan’s cock would feel inside his mouth, then sliding in and out of his ass. It looked ready to combust with its purpling skin and bulging veins, and Julian wanted nothing more than to offer Dan release. He couldn’t understand why Dan was stalling. “And who is Cara, exactly?” Julian asked. He had to assume she was connected to Dan’s reluctance. “She said she grew up here.” Dan nodded. “You have no brothers or sisters. A cousin?” This time Dan’s gesture was the opposite. “After you left…I got married.” “Married? To a man?” Dan cast his eyes down, and Julian frowned. “Are you saying…I don’t understand.” Dan idly traced a line up from Julian’s navel. The touch sent a pleasured shiver through Julian’s body. His own cock tightened in response and tapped against Dan’s. “Time was passing so quickly, and I realized I might be dead before you woke. I didn’t want ownership of the house to be disputed, so I figured I needed an heir to keep things clear, just in case. It was basically a marriage of convenience. I got the heir, and 45

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she got a nice allowance and the freedom to do what, and whom, she wanted. Of course, I had some companionship...for a while.” “The gold digger?” Dan nodded. “I changed the will as needed over time,” he continued, “among other things. Thankfully, he didn’t get what he really wanted.” “Huh,” Julian said. “So, Cara is your heir, your daughter?” “She is my great, great-granddaughter.” What? Julian eyes widened. How was that possible? Assuming Cara was in her thirties, and Dan in his mid-fifties when he had a child, which would make Dan… Dan’s head canted to one side, his eyes reading Julian’s concern. “I’m over a hundred twenty-five years old.” “That’s not possible.” Julian paled. Dan nodded. “I didn’t think so, either, but after you went to sleep and I went about the rest of my life, I noticed something. I wasn’t aging as quickly as everyone else around me was. I took care of myself, yes, but when my son had his first son I was seventy-seven years old and looked no different than I had the day you left. I couldn’t figure it out.” Julian couldn’t, either. He said nothing. Dan cuffed both hands around Julian’s thigh and massaged away the tension. “Then I remembered our night together…you had a cut on your hand.” “I did?” And quickly the memory of that night resurfaced. Yes, the decanter. The glass had broken his skin, and Dan had kissed away the pain. “I must have tasted blood that night, I don’t remember,” Dan continued. “It must have been enough to slow my aging, but not enough to make me immortal.” He sighed. “I suppose I would have died eventually had you not come back.” “And the Dementia?” Dan shrugged. “Comes with aging, I suppose. Plus, I was quite fond of telling vampire stories to the grandchildren. I don’t think anybody suspected I was telling the truth.” “And nobody suspected anything when you didn’t just die?” Dan smiled. “I lied about my age often. It bought me thirty years, at least. That, and the eventual advances in health care, and a well-timed story about longevity running in the family…” 46

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“You swine. You would get away with something like that.” Julian grinned. “Oink.” “Fuck me, you pig.” Julian moved to turn on his stomach, but Dan stopped him by pressing both palms on Julian’s bare chest. The heat of Dan’s touch warmed his entire body, and Julian’s cock twitched against Dan’s torso. “Don’t move,” Dan whispered, and smoothed his hands down Julian’s hips, urging them farther apart. One hand dipped low to fondle Julian’s scrotum before sliding down further. Julian concentrated fully on Dan’s touch, gasping as one, then two greased fingers entered his anus. “Remember what we talked about before,” Dan said, moving his hand in gentle rhythm, “about how you thought there could be no connection between two men making love?” “I do.” Julian’s words were hollow, echoing in his mind as the memory came to light. He looked for any sign of hurt on his beloved’s face and was relieved to find none. He arched his back instead and let himself be lost in Dan’s touch. “It changes tonight. Look at me, Julie.” Julian’s head tilted forward. Dan’s gaze never wavered, not as he urged Julian to lift his hips, and not as he cuffed his own cock and positioned the tip at entry. Slowly, gently, Dan eased forward, and Julian gasped aloud from the new sensation. “Relax,” Dan’s whisper admonished, and Julian obeyed, taking him slowly inch by inch. Before he realized it, Dan was inside him to the hilt and undulating his hips, seeking his own pleasure. This was their true connection, the joining of bodies and souls, the healing of the rift in time and pride that had separated them. “You will show me how to be a good vampire?” Dan asked. “You will teach me?” He dipped low to quickly lave one nipple with his tongue. “I will.” He would be Dan’s master, just as Dan was mastering him, showing him how to love. Dan grunted with one slow, labored stroke. “And if I were to keep loving you, would you leave again?” His face softened and his jaw fell open, exhaling his desire. Julian saw Dan’s new incisors, sharp and beautiful. “Don’t leave me again, Julie.” “I’ll never leave you. I love you.” The words were forced through short breaths, yet sincere, as Dan dared a light brush against Julian’s cock. All of his feelings, his 47

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passion locked away for nearly a century, released in that one moment and Julian came in an extended, low roar, spraying himself and Dan’s abdomen. Dan followed a few short seconds later and collapsed on top of him. Julian kissed his lover, stroked his hair, and edged his fingers along his spine. He should never had left, and definitely he would be making up for the time lost between them, after he taught Dan to feed. He felt his cock go limp, pressed between their bodies, and sighed. How he wanted to do the same to Dan, and ram his cock inside him. Another thing that would have to wait. “Thank you, love,” Dan whispered, “For healing me in my old age.” He hugged Dan’s neck, clinging to him tightly. “Thank you,” Julian said, “for healing my heart. You are mine, and I am yours. I’m never leaving you behind again.” “Okay,” Dan smiled as his tongue involuntarily flicked at an incisor. “Okay.”

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Author Bio

Leigh Ellwood lives and writes in Virginia. She is the author of the Dareville series of erotic romance, and the author of The Healing, an erotic paranormal for Venus Press. Leigh is presently working on more erotic stories for her readers to enjoy. Her website at www.leighellwood.com features excerpts of her many works.

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