Making Memories

Making Memories Elizabeth Jewell All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2007 Elizabeth Jewell

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ISBN: 978-1-59596-863-0

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Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Karen Fox

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Making Memories Elizabeth Jewell Overcoming the emotional scars of childhood abuse inflicted on him by his father, Alex has begun to trust his vampire lover Liam. Now that their relationship seems to be maturing into a relationship, Liam decides they should try dating. But when their first date unexpectedly brings them face-to-face with an old enemy, their world threatens to unravel once again. A vampire necromancer and previous mentor of Liam’s, Antoine uses his dark magic to switch their identities. Trapped in a vampire body, Alex must conquer the dark lust for blood and sex. Equally trapped in Alex’s body, Liam must figure out how to reverse the spell. But the only remedy could cost Alex his life.

Chapter One Unaccountably nervous, Alex adjusts his tie in the mirror for the ninth time. He looks fine, he’s sure, in the classic dark blue suit and pale blue shirt, the blood-red tie adding a splash of color, but he hasn’t been on a date in a long time. And he’s never been on a date with another man. More importantly, he’s never been on a date with Liam. The whole concept has him flummoxed. He looks at his watch, then checks his tie again. The watch has moved forward a minute or so since he last looked; the tie looks exactly the same. With a sigh, he abandons his reflection in the bathroom mirror and walks out to the living room. He paces for a few minutes, looks at his watch to discover it’s only been a minute and a half, and finally settles into a chair. Liam isn’t late. Alex is early. He wishes he could be more cool about it all, but he started getting ready forty-five minutes ago, and it just doesn’t take that long to put on a suit and tie. Maybe if he was a girl, and needed to do his hair and makeup. He sighs and looks at his watch again. As he looks up, a Liam-sized shadow falls on his window, and he shoots to his feet. Then slowly sits back down, realizing Liam hasn’t even knocked yet, and he himself is being overeager. The knock falls just as Alex hits the chair again. He stands up more slowly this time, then pauses, straightening his cuffs to slow his pace a bit. Gathering what little cool he has left, which at this point isn’t much, he goes to the door, glances through the peephole to be sure it’s Liam -- which of course it is, because nobody else is likely to be here -- then unlocks the deadbolt and opens the door. Liam is also dressed to the nines, his suit a bit more sleek and formal than Alex’s, his demeanor infinitely calmer. He starts to take a step across the threshold, then stops,

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scraping Alex from top to bottom with an evaluative gaze. The regard makes Alex’s skin tingle, makes heat rush unabashedly to his groin. “You look…” Liam trails off, then shakes his head, as if unable to find the right words. But when his attention returns to Alex’s face, his smile, which has begun to ease from bemused to purely hungry, fades. “What’s wrong, Alex? Why so nervous?” He reaches out, his hand closing around Alex’s arm just above the elbow. Alex has to fight the inexplicable urge to pull away. It isn’t that he doesn’t want Liam to touch him -- he wants that very much. But he doesn’t want Liam to sense his tension. It’s probably far too late to worry about that, anyway. As a vampire, Liam probably picked up on the smell of Alex’s fear the moment the door opened, or even before. Alex shrugs. Probably best to be truthful. “First time and all,” he says, stammering. Truthful, yes. Coherent -- maybe not. Liam bends his knees a little, ducking his head to catch Alex’s lowered gaze. “First date?” Incoherent or not, Liam understands. Alex is relieved he doesn’t have to explain further. “Yeah.” Liam squeezes his arm and releases it, then leans forward to kiss him on the forehead. “It’ll be easy,” he says. “You’ve already put out, so no pressure on that decision. We’ll just go out, have dinner, watch the ballet, then come home and I’ll fuck you silly. Sound good?” Alex smiles wryly. It does sound good. Liam steps forward, even closer to him. His free hand rises to cup Alex’s cheek, his smile curling into a smirk. “If you’re too nervous, I think I can come up with something to help with that.” “Like what?” Alex can hear his own heartbeat pounding away in his ears, faster and faster the longer Liam touches him. Nothing else really makes its way through; even Liam’s words are muffled by the sound of his quickening blood. Liam’s hand moves down, touching Alex’s fly. Alex flinches, then lets out a slow breath as Liam’s fingers curl around the hardening lump in his crotch. “Attend to this,” the vampire whispers in Alex’s ear.

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Alex’s breath catches in his throat. Fleetingly, he wonders why they’re even going on a date. They know they’re compatible sexually -- do they need to complicate everything with some kind of a relationship? He thinks perhaps they don’t, and part of him wants to pull back, then Liam’s mouth presses against his and he doesn’t want to fight it. Any of it. Liam’s mouth tastes like wintergreen. The flavor matches the coolness of his tongue. “Don’t be nervous,” he says quietly against Alex’s lips. He presses the heel of his hand against Alex’s waist, pushing him gently back toward the living room. Alex realizes then that they haven’t even closed the door. He starts to reach behind Liam to close it, but Liam beats him to it. “Go on,” Liam says. Alex does as he’s told, backing into the living room. Liam stops him a few steps away from the couch, then kisses him again. While his mouth explores Alex’s, his hand strokes Alex’s chest, his belly, fingers finally tracing his waistband. He opens the button, lowers the zipper, then slowly goes to his knees. Alex holds himself steady as Liam’s lips caress his shaft, as his tongue laves his glans. As many times as they’ve made love, the first few touches are still difficult for him. He has to remind himself Liam has no intention of hurting him, that their intimacy is mutual, careful, and meant for pleasure. Liam just seems to know. He slows his ministrations, softens his mouth on Alex’s cock, taking things easy, gently. Like it’s the first time. It doesn’t take long for Alex to relax into it, to let Liam’s touch ease him into quiet surrender. He wants this more than anything, wants to be able to relax and enjoy what Liam has to offer. He’s learning. He welcomes the touch now instead of fearing it, even on that deep-down, primal level where it’s hard to conquer his fear. Finally he lets himself move, begins to fuck Liam’s mouth. Liam hums at Alex’s response, the sound pleased and amused, but in no way mocking. It’s the kind of sound that drives Alex’s lust higher, and makes it easier for him to remember he’s safe here in Liam’s care.

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His fingers comb into Liam’s hair, and he looks down. Watches his own dick slide in and out of Liam’s mouth. Liam seems to sense his shift in attention and starts to look up, then doesn’t. He knows Alex has a hard time watching, that it’s another hurdle for him. When he watches, he has to acknowledge what he’s doing, that he has his cock in Liam’s mouth, and that he’s enjoying it. That’s getting easier, too. Largely because he does enjoy it. Liam knows just how to make him shake and shiver and come apart. Liam’s gaze flicks up again, briefly, as his tongue rolls around the head of Alex’s cock. Alex lets his eyes meet his lover’s. He sees a question on the vampire’s face, and wonders what it means. But he trusts Liam, so he nods a little. Liam shifts in front of him, sucking Alex’s cock down hard as he moves. His hand slips between Alex’s thighs and Alex understands, then, what the question was. He tenses automatically, and he wishes his skin would stop its instinctive flinch. Liam pauses, he waits, and Alex makes his thighs relax. When he’s regained control over his tension, he eases his legs a bit farther apart, letting Liam’s hand move back over his balls. Liam pauses there, fingers toying, playing, letting Alex’s testicles roll between his fingers. It makes Alex think of jugglers or magicians, maneuvering small balls deftly from finger to finger. Then it makes him think of nothing at all, because it feels so damned good. If Liam didn’t know how to play him, didn’t know how to make him feel as if the top of his head were about to blow off, with a single touch, a kiss, hell, a look, none of this would work. It never would have started. But Liam gives him what he’s never found with anyone else. No man, no woman, has ever made Alex so willing to let another person in, physically and emotionally. It scares him. It gratifies him. It makes him tip his head back a little and say, “Oh, God, please,” when the end of Liam’s finger rims him, so gently. He vaguely wonders if they’ll be late for the ballet. He vaguely wonders if he cares. Obviously Liam isn’t concerned, because he’s far too busy sucking Alex’s cock

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and maneuvering the tip of his finger into Alex’s ass. Probably more interesting than the ballet, anyway, in the long run. Liam draws his head back, letting Alex’s cock slide from between his lips. His tongue caresses the head as it slips away from his mouth, and he smiles up at his lover. “Less nervous yet? Or shall I fuck you? Would that help?” Alex swallows, then finds a surge of bravery. “I think anything that makes me come would help.” Liam chuckles. “I see. No point starting if there’s no finish, is that it?” “Something like that.” He caresses Liam’s thick, dark hair. He wonders if the vampire realizes how beautiful he is. How long has it been since Liam has seen himself in a mirror, or a photograph, or an artist’s rendition? Alex has no idea, and he supposes it would be easy, in those circumstances, to forget even your own face. He traces a finger down Liam’s jaw. Liam is still crouched at his feet, looking up at him with a smile that’s just a shade too soft to be called a smirk, but it’s close. Liam slides the flat of his hand over Alex’s stomach. His palm is cool, the touch gentle but firm. “I want to fuck you,” he says. Alex looks down into his dark, ancient eyes and nods. He won’t say no. He can’t, not anymore. He’ll say wait, give me a minute, or take it easy, but he won’t say no. Not because he’s afraid to, but because he doesn’t want to. Ever. Even if it takes work, and time, to get past the things that make him hurt, still make him hurt even when he’s with Liam, he won’t say no. Liam reaches for him, and Alex steps back, laying a hand against Liam’s chest. Liam waits. After a moment, Alex nods again and steps toward him. As always, Liam is slow and careful at first, but firm, hands moving in authoritative strokes, palms warming as he caresses Alex’s body. Alex feels his body responding, looks down to see his cock rising hard and high, curving up toward his belly. Gently, but still firmly, Liam turns him around to face the couch and presses him gently down to his knees.

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Alex moves, bending over the couch, bracing his elbows in the seat cushions. He spreads his thighs a little, makes sure his knees are set against the carpet. He straightens and firms his posture to make sure he’ll feel in control once Liam begins to have his way. He doesn’t mind -- he wants it -- but he has his defense mechanisms. Liam presses against his back, chest against Alex’s shoulder blades, hips tucking against Alex’s ass. He reaches around to curl long fingers around Alex’s stiffening cock, his own erection prodding into Alex’s ass. With his other hand, he presses Alex open, touches his entrance. He waits for the flinch -- there’s always a flinch -- waits for Alex to soften and relax. He kneads Alex’s ass, kisses his shoulders, then his neck right at the top of his spine. Bites gently. Alex flinches again, but gasps at the same time. The press of teeth against his skin makes him shiver. Liam’s fingers are teasing and careful, penetrating him easily and painlessly even without lube. He’s had a lot of practice, Alex supposes. He doesn’t think much about it, just lets Liam have his way. Finally, when Alex’s ass is tingling, aching with need, Liam withdraws a moment and comes back with his fingers slick with lube. It’s still a bit cold; Alex flinches again, but this time because of the temperature and the soft press of fingertips into him. Flinching toward instead of away, moving toward what he wants instead of away from the penetration. “It’s okay?” Liam asks, and Alex nods. “Want you,” he manages. Then he swallows and says, “Don’t coddle me, Liam.” He swallows at the sound of his own words, suddenly tense, then relaxing as Liam’s chuckle reaches his ears. Liam’s fingers clench Alex’s ass, press him open, then, on a slick of cool, thick lube, he pushes inside him in a long, firm stroke. “Is that better?” Liam has stopped moving, cock seated deep in Alex, and Alex closes his eyes, focusing on the burn, the intensity of it, the pure, deep pleasure. “Yes,” he says quietly.

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Liam’s hands gentle on him, palm sliding softly over Alex’s hip. “Good.” His voice is just as gentle. He bends forward, kisses the back of Alex’s shoulder, then begins to move. His thrusts are slow and languid, long, an easy, even rhythm at first, then quick and short, then easy again. Alex clenches his fists on the couch cushions. He starts to reach for himself, but Liam beats him to it and their fingers tangle at the base of Alex’s cock. “Let me,” Liam murmurs against the back of his ear. Alex lets him. The vampire’s hand is cool and firm on his shaft, sliding with an easy rhythm to match the movement of his cock in Alex’s ass. Alex rides on a knife edge of pleasure so sharp he wants to weep with it. And does, unable to help himself, hot tears squeezing out between tightly shut lids. Liam slides out, shoves in, is still. Out, then in, then Alex feels the vampire’s cock pulse inside him, hears him let out a low gasp, then a murmur in a language Alex neither recognizes nor understands. Nor does he care, because he spills over the edge a moment later, Liam’s fingers tightening on him as he climaxes. Liam’s arms go around him, pulling him close, and the vampire says quietly, “Ready to go now?” Alex nods. “I think we’re running late.” “Yeah.” Liam straightens. “Who the fuck cares?”

Chapter Two The concert hall is huge and just pretentious enough to make Alex certain he’s got come on his pants somewhere. He’s never been here before; he’s never had much interest. It’s the kind of place you take a date, and he hasn’t really dated. Until now. And dating a vampire -- and a male one at that -- certainly wasn’t what he expected his eventual dating experience would entail. Not that it matters. Dating is dating, he supposes. He’d probably feel just as awkward if he had a woman on his arm as he does standing shoulder to shoulder with Liam. Then Liam takes his hand, and he realizes he’s wrong. This is much more awkward, in public, in this place that obviously caters to the well-to-do and likely conservative if not downright stuffy quarter of the local population. He doesn’t pull back, though. He likes the way Liam’s hand feels in his. The vampire’s palm is wide, his fingers firm, their grasp possessive, maybe a little commanding. Alex likes that. So he squeezes his lover’s hand and smiles up at him. Liam squeezes and smiles back. Near them, a tall woman in an upswept chignon and a low-cut black dress looks them up and down and fights a smile of her own. Which Alex decides is acceptable. They’re still holding hands when they approach the till and hand over their tickets. No one says anything, though in the back of his mind Alex is half-prepared to be thrown out of the building for their inappropriately gay behavior. After all, people get thrown off airplanes for such things. Liam seems blithely unconcerned, though, and Alex can’t imagine anyone daring to throw him out of anywhere, he’s so broad and focused and confident. And charming. He flirts and makes small talk with the ushers, uncaring of gender, all the while holding Alex’s hand firmly in his, a tangible symbol of ownership.

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They settle into their seats, an elderly couple on one side of them, a younger couple on the other. Apparently the ballet is a popular place for couples bonding. Liam lets go of his hand as they sit down and make themselves comfortable, acknowledging their seat neighbors. Alex follows his lead, nodding and smiling. As they settle in and the lights go down, Liam takes his hand again. They’re just early enough to not be late. Fashionable. Alex has never been that interested in the ballet. It’s far more entertaining, though, with Liam next to him, their hands clasped together in Alex’s lap, Liam’s fingers tracing soft, gentle lines on the inside of Alex’s thigh. Alex has no real idea what’s going on onstage, other than dancing, but he’s enjoying watching it. The first act goes by quickly. There’s some sort of romance -- a woman dancing a pas de deux with a man, or maybe a swan, it’s hard to tell. And there’s a fairy, and some sort of frightening devil creature who seems to be causing trouble. Alex decides to read the notes in his program to see if he can work any of it out. Vaguely, he wonders if they ever dance gay romances, and if so, if anybody lifts anybody else in the pas de deux. As the lights come up for the first intermission, Alex stretches a bit, feeling his back pop between his shoulder blades. Liam, noticing the movement, rubs the spot on Alex’s back with his thumb. It feels good, but this isn’t quite the right place for a thorough massage. “Let’s walk,” Liam suggests. “Stretch a bit.” “Sure.” Alex gets to his feet, and they make their way out to the lobby with a few others of the audience who’ve also decided they can’t make it through the next act without a drink or a leg stretch or a bathroom break. There’s a refreshment counter in the lobby, offering pastries that look more like works of art than edibles, and coffee drinks with pretentious names in Italian. The prices are outrageous. He can’t imagine anyone paying that much for a piece of cake and a cup of coffee, but there are a few people in line. He turns to Liam to comment on his observations, but Liam isn’t next to him anymore. Frowning, Alex scans the lobby. The vampire shouldn’t be hard to find; he’s

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tall, and wide through the shoulders, and something about him stands out even in a crowd. But he doesn’t catch sight of him right away. Anxiety is just beginning to tighten his chest when he catches sight of Liam. The vampire has stepped partway up the stairs to the next level, and from his vantage point above the lobby, he’s watching. Watching what? Alex traces his lover’s gaze. It’s another man, standing near the doorway into the auditorium. The other man appears to be in his mid-forties, but something about him makes Alex certain he’s a vampire. He’s passing well as a human, much as Liam does, but his skin is just a bit too pale, a shade waxy in the bright lights. And his eyes are deep and old. Most people don’t notice these things about vampires. They just let the immortals pass through their ranks unnoticed, either unaware or unwilling to make note of the subtle differences. But Alex has seen enough of them to know one when he sees one. The vampire is chatting amiably with a woman at the doorway. She is young and pretty, and as Alex watches, the two of them go back in, holding hands. Alex looks up at Liam. His lover glances down, meets his gaze. Liam’s expression is grim. He comes back down the stairs to join Alex in the lobby. “What’s wrong?” Alex asks, but Liam only shakes his head and doesn’t answer.

*** Liam is grim throughout the next act, and from time to time Alex catches him craning his neck, looking back over his shoulder, one way and then the other, obviously trying to search out the other vampire. It seems futile in the darkened auditorium, but of course Liam can see in the dark. Even so, he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for. Alex is even less able to concentrate on the stage with Liam so obviously agitated, and he loses track of whatever thread of the story he’d been able to puzzle out before. It’s mostly meaningless dancing to him now, though when the second most prominent ballerina dances an impassioned solo, he’s able to work out that she’s also in love with the strapping lead male dancer. Who could blame her? He’s got a great ass.

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At the end of the second act, Liam shoots out of his seat and heads for the doors again, less polite about it than he was before. Alex follows, apologizing as necessary. As they move into the lobby, he grabs Liam’s elbow. “Liam, what’s wrong?” He feels the vampire’s arm tense under his fingers, as if Liam is preparing to jerk free of his grasp, but he relaxes almost immediately, allowing Alex’s touch. “That other man --” “The vampire,” Alex breaks in, hopefully waylaying at least part of Liam’s explanation so he can get to the point. Liam looks surprised. Alex is offended. “Please. I’ve been working with you long enough to be able to spot one at fifty paces in full light.” Liam nods. “Right. Sorry.” “Apology accepted. I take it he’s not a good guy?” “No, he’s not. And the girl he’s with is a congressman’s daughter. And not a vampire.” “Dinner, then,” Alex mutters. “Yeah.” Liam moves a little closer to Alex and nods toward the other side of the room. Alex follows the gesture and sees the couple again, standing by the outside doors. “It’s more than that, though.” “More than a vampire about to drink a congressman’s daughter?” That seems fairly serious to Alex. “Yeah. More than that. This vampire -- I know him.” Liam stops there, which seems to Alex far less than a sufficient explanation. “And?” he prods. He suddenly realizes Liam is more than disturbed by the other vampire. He’s afraid of him. This is so unlike Liam that he tugs at the vampire’s hand again. “What?” “He’s powerful. Old. Was a bit of a necromancer in the day.” “A necromancer?” Alex knows Liam had dabbled -- Alex had, himself, for that matter -- but he also knows Liam doesn’t like dark magic. His attitude toward it had become even more negative after their recent experience with a relic they’d been

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researching, which had tapped into their basest, darkest instincts and had nearly ended their relationship. “More than a bit,” Liam concedes after a moment. Alex has never seen the vampire so discomfited. “He did things…” He trails off. “What kind of things.” Liam is silent a moment, then turns to face Alex squarely. “The kinds of things that make me not a bit sure I can save that girl from him tonight.” Alex nods. “You have to save that girl from him tonight.” Liam is still, then nods once. Alex has never seen such uncertainty on his face. It disturbs him. No, it frightens him. He’s never seen Liam look frightened before. Hadn’t imagined it was possible. He sets his jaw. “I’ll help you.” “Good,” Liam says. He nods toward the door, where the vampire and his date have apparently decided to skip the last half of the ballet. “Let’s go.”

*** Outside, the night has gone cool and crisp, the sky clear, pinpricks of stars staring down onto the city streets. The vampire is nowhere to be seen. “Shit,” Liam mutters. “Where did he go?” Alex’s question is more rhetorical than anything else; he knows from Liam’s curse that he doesn’t know, either. Liam shakes his head. “Dammit.” He stands perfectly still, and for a strange moment Alex isn’t entirely certain he can see him. Then the vampire’s head tips slightly to one side. “This way.” They head down the sidewalk in front of the performing arts complex. There’s a maze-like series of sidewalks, walls straight up on either side of them, dark and shadowed almost as if they are underground. The lighting from above, meant to keep them safe, is strangely muted. Liam moves down the branching ways confidently, as if he knows exactly where he’s going. Alex is left to follow. He’s not familiar with the area, and while there are signs here and there with arrows pointing to the different

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large buildings that make up the complex, he would be hard put to find his way back where they came from. Liam seems to be following an entirely different set of signals, though, something far less mundane than the curve of the sidewalk or a sign with an arrow pointing toward section A of the parking lot. No, he’s following a scent, or a sound, or perhaps a psychic murmur. Whatever it is, Alex isn’t privy to it, but he follows without question, ready to assist. He’s not sure what he can do against an ancient vampire necromancer, but whatever it comes down to, he’ll do it. It’s his job. Liam mutters something under his breath and makes a sharp turn, heading into the space between two buildings. They’re off the sidewalk now, out of even the sparse light afforded on the accepted paths through the maze of buildings. Alex isn’t even sure Liam is aware of his presence anymore, so focused is he on his quarry. He follows, anyway, prepared as he can be to do battle in a tuxedo he’s still fairly sure has come on it somewhere. Liam makes a sharp move with his arm, and a stake appears in his hand. Where Liam has had it hidden all evening, Alex has no idea, but it’s sharp and deadly and looks up to the task of taking out even an ancient vampire-cum-necromancer if necessary. Alex hopes so, anyway, because he certainly doesn’t have a backup stake hidden anywhere on his person. There’s a small vial of holy water in his pocket, attached to his keychain, but that’s all he has. Pathetic, he supposes, for a supposedly professional vampire hunter, but this was supposed to be a date, not a hunting expedition. “He’s here,” Liam says suddenly, his voice a harsh, whispered undertone. He stops in front of Alex, and Alex nearly walks right into his back. “Where?” Alex asks, his own voice barely audible. He’s afraid to speak too loudly, but he’s not at all sure what Liam has seen. His hand in his pocket closes on the holy water.

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Liam holds up a hand, sure enough, signaling Alex to silence. There’s a suspended moment. Alex holds his breath. Liam is perfectly noiseless in the way only a vampire can be. Then he lowers his hand and focuses on a point in the darkness. Alex sees it then, the dark against the dark, the tall, wide figure of the vampire. Now that he sees it, he wonders how he didn’t see it before. Perhaps it wasn’t there before. He hears rather than sees Liam’s hand shift on the stake. His voice is barely more than a breath. “Antoine.” The other vampire chuckles from the shadows. “Yes. That is who I was once.” And who are you now? Alex almost asks the question out loud, but as he thinks it, Liam moves next to him, a swift surge forward toward Antoine, so fast Alex is only able to comprehend it as a blur and a sound of wind. Then another sound rises, a strange, high-pitched ringing that hurts like ice picks being driven into his ears. For the space of a long heartbeat, everything goes black.

Chapter Three When Alex’s eyesight returns, he’s no longer where he was. He sees a wall in front of him, clearly visible in a strange, gray-green light. He feels warm, as if he’s walked into a sauna. But above all else comes the smell. Sweet and metallic, thick. His stomach clenches at it. He’s never smelled anything like it before. His entire body reacts with hunger, need, something close to lust. Where is it coming from? He looks down and sees another shadow at his feet, huddled and limp. Vaguely, he recognizes the woman from the auditorium, the one who was with Antoine. The congressman’s daughter. None of that matters to him. All that matters is the smell and the hunger it engenders. He falls to his knees beside her, unable to stop himself. He’s not even certain she’s alive. All he knows is that he’s hungry. He bends toward her, smells the sweet smell of food, and drinks.

*** When the sharp, momentary blackness leaves Liam, he knows immediately where it came from. He recognizes the smell. It’s Antoine, the dark magic he used against Liam years ago when they had met in an Eastern European country whose name he can no longer remember, which from a political standpoint no longer exists. To him it smells like fetid garbage, decaying fruit. Strangely muted, though, and it takes a moment for that part of it to register. His hearing is muffled, as if he has cotton in his ears. The darkness is suddenly dark in a way it hasn’t been for him in nearly three hundred years. He’s not where he was. He was advancing toward Antoine, moving into the shadows of the alley where the other vampire had taken the woman. Now he is

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standing on the sidewalk, peering into the darkness of the alley, his eyes strangely unable to penetrate it. His head is full of noise -- a pounding sound, a strange wind. It all clicks in his head, then. Antoine’s power has multiplied manyfold since their last encounter, if this is what he can do now. He smells trash and urine from the alley, but not blood. He should smell blood. And then he realizes where Alex is, and what he has to do. He moves forward as quickly as he can into the shadowed alley. His eyes have adjusted, and to a human his vision of the dark alley is probably remarkably clear. But to him, used to clear if colorless night vision, it’s like looking through dense fog, or dark water. He can barely make out the humped shapes at the end of the alley. It’s enough for navigation, enough for him to understand what they are, but his body feels uncertain as he forces it to move forward. He perseveres. It’s only a few feet -- he can work this out. It’s a handful of seconds from where he stands to the figures in the alley, and he knows what he’ll see when he gets there but it still takes him like a fist to the gut when he sees it. A vampire hunches over the limp body of the woman from the ballet, the congressman’s daughter Antoine was romancing. Her chest is covered in blood, a smear of it marking her cheek. He can’t tell if she’s alive or dead; her telltale aura of warmth or coolness is no longer visible to him, and he can’t hear her heartbeat. Wouldn’t be able to even if it were beating, and he’s not at all certain it is. He starts to bend to get the vampire’s attention, but the vampire suddenly twists toward him, face a twisted rictus of hunger, fangs bared and covered with blood. He holds the woman to his chest and growls. Liam looks down into his own face and swallows, trying to collect himself. He has to stay calm. “Alex,” he says gently. “Alex, let her go.” Alex looks up at him through Liam’s eyes. In those eyes Liam sees a flash of recognition, but he’s not sure Alex is clear-headed enough to understand what’s

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happening. He’s been thrown headfirst into a vampire’s body. It must be overwhelming. “Let her go,” Liam says again. “Hungry,” Alex answers, his voice grating. Indeed, there is little else in his eyes but bloodlust. His fingers clasp and release the woman’s shoulders, pressing her against his chest. “I know.” Liam goes slowly to his knees. “We came to save her, Alex. Maybe we were too late, but you have to let her go. We aren’t here to hurt her.” Alex blinks, some intelligence returning to his eyes. “I… I know you.” “Yes.” Careful not to move too quickly, Liam touches Alex’s arm. He slides his fingers gently down his sleeve to his hand. He’s surprised at how cool it feels. Suddenly he hears again all the strange sounds inside his own body -- a pounding heart, breath soughing in and out. He feels his own heat and for a split second it all threatens to overwhelm him, in the same way the hunger and the sharp, enhanced vampire senses must be overwhelming Alex. But he fights it back. One of them has to stay in control, or they won’t get out of this, and the woman in Alex’s arms will die. Provided she isn’t dead already. As Liam’s fingers touch the back of his hand, Alex finally loosens his grip on the limp woman. Liam eases her from his arms and presses his fingers against the groove of her jugular. He should know by her sound, her smell, if she is alive or not, but those senses are weakened now and useless to him. Instead he must rely on the uncertainty of touch to make out the vague pulse in her throat. She’s alive, but just barely. “We need to get her to a hospital,” he tells Alex, and Alex nods, then shakes his head as if trying to wake himself up. “What happened?” “Magic,” Liam says grimly. “Necromancy.” “Antoine?” “Yes.” “Where is he?”

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Making Memories

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“I don’t know. Let’s take care of her first.” He lifts the woman into his arms as he stands, and takes the lead back out of the warren of sidewalks. When they make their way back to the main sidewalk, where the light is sufficient for Liam to see again even with his now-limited human eyesight -- Alex’s eyesight, and maybe he should supply better benefits to his employees because it seems to him Alex might need glasses -- Liam calls 911 on his cell phone. The woman has begun to stir a bit by the time the ambulance arrives. This surprises Liam. The faintness of her pulse had worried him, and he was afraid they were too late. But the paramedics wrap her up, commenting on the strangeness of her neck wound, and cart her away, sirens blazing. One recognizes her as the congressman’s daughter. They treat her with appropriate respect, Liam feels, so he’s comfortable enough releasing her into their care. She probably won’t remember much of what has happened to her, and that’s probably for the best. Once the woman has been safely dealt with, Liam turns to the question of his and Alex’s predicament. Alex has waited quietly while Liam took charge, and now he turns to his lover, his vampire lover who now wears his own body, and says quietly, “We need to figure this out.” Liam nods. “That we do.”

*** He takes Alex home. It’s the best thing to do for now, though he’s itching to find Antoine. But that will have to wait. He’ll need Alex’s help if they are to track down the necromancer, and right now Alex is useless. He’s gradually working things out, though, which impresses Liam. He knows what it is to awaken in an unfamiliar body filled with strange, insatiable hungers, bombarded with new, intense sensations. Granted, it’s been nearly three centuries since he experienced it, but he has experienced it. His adjustment, falling into Alex’s body, is easier because he’s been human. He knows how that works. Alex, though, has never been a vampire, and it can’t possibly be anything but overwhelming for him. He’s handling it surprisingly well so far, though.

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Making Memories

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He keeps Alex close as they make the trip back home, making sure he doesn’t completely lose control. He can see the hunger in Alex’s eyes -- hunger he’s held leashed for so long he barely felt it. He’s trained himself over the years to ignore it, to only feed when he absolutely must, but the bloodlust is a constant buzz of demanding music in the back of his mind that never goes away. To Alex it’s probably a scream of need. He guides Alex into the house, touching his fingers to the small of his back as he steers him through the door. It’s strange, looking down to see hands that are familiar, and yet not his. Even stranger to see his own face look back at him over his own shoulder, a look of desperate confusion distorting familiar features. Though not that familiar -- he hasn’t seen them in so long he only barely registers them as his. “Antoine did this?” Alex says as they move toward the living room. The place still smells of sex. Liam ignores that. Apparently Alex can’t. “God, it reeks in here.” He wrinkles his nose, then his face slackens. Liam feels his own borrowed body responding to the smell; the smell and the reaction will be that much stronger for Alex. “I’ll spray some air freshener or something,” Liam says bluntly. “Stay focused. We need to work this out.” “Damn straight we need to work this out.” Alex starts to move toward the couch, then, staring at the cushion where he was only recently face down with his ass in the air, he takes a step back and sits on the adjacent chair instead. “I can’t do this. God, how do you do this?” Liam regards him with sympathy. “I’ve had three hundred years to work it all out. Believe me, the first fifty or so were a bitch.” Alex looks up at him, vulnerable again, his despair and confusion blatant on his face. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your blood and… I think you might be horny. Is that what that is?” “I’m always horny.”

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“Yeah, but now you’re me so that means I’m horny…” He trails off. “I want my body back.” “Believe me, I want my body back, too. My dick’s bigger than yours and frankly yours feels weird.” “Mine feels weird? Yours is… over responsive. And the fangs… If you don’t want your tongue permanently damaged you might want to help me out with that.” “Well, I heal fast enough that there’s not going to be any permanent damage, but I see how that could be annoying. You need to just… not be hungry.” Alex shakes his head in amazement. “I don’t see how that’s possible. I mean, unless I eat something, and I can’t. Can I?” “We should have gone to my place,” Liam mutters. “I have supplies there.” “Well, we have a car, so it’s not like it’s too late.” Liam nods. He’s pleased that Alex seems to be shaking loose of the hunger enough to actually think. It’s an encouraging development. “Okay. We’ll do that, then. We need your head in the game so we can take care of Antoine.” “I don’t care about Antoine,” Alex snaps. “I just want to be back to normal again.” “Well, that’s the thing.” Liam grabs his keys from the counter where he dropped them earlier. It seems like weeks ago, though it’s only been a couple of hours. “I’m not sure we can do that by ourselves. We quite likely need him for that.” “Well, shit,” says Alex. “Yep.” He opens the door and waves Alex through.

*** Alex almost wishes Liam would let him drive. It seems like focusing on something other than what’s going on inside his own head, his own body, could be a good thing right now. But Liam settles behind the wheel and starts the engine, and they head for Liam’s place. Not just his place, but the office where they work, and where Liam lives upstairs.

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Making Memories

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The vampire -- although he’s not a vampire at the moment, Alex thinks, and the thought disorients him even more than he’s already disoriented -- seems focused on his driving, so Alex sits quietly, trying not to be hungry. For a split second, the gnawing need fades, and he feels the sharp prick of fangs withdraw inside his mouth. But he’s only able to hold the control for a short time, and soon enough the sharp teeth have slid back into place. He tastes his own blood on his tongue and sighs, letting his head fall back against the car’s headrest. “Why are you driving so slow?” He’s just noticed Liam is crawling along at thirty-five miles an hour in a forty-mile-an-hour speed zone. “I can’t see,” Liam snaps back, and Alex notices that he is, indeed, squinting out the window at the road and the passing cars. “Why not? It’s practically broad daylight out there, with the streetlights.” “Maybe to you. I’m stuck with your eyeballs, and frankly they suck.” “I don’t have any trouble driving at night at a normal speed,” Alex shoots back. Although he has to admit, the way his current set of eyes is interpreting the darkness is disconcerting at best. It’s almost like he’s wearing night vision goggles -- a blue-green aura surrounds the whole world, and at times it’s almost too bright, especially if he looks directly toward one of the streetlights. “Maybe I should drive.” He realizes as he says it how cranky and put out he sounds. It’s hard not to be. The light makes his eyes and his head hurt and the constant thudding sound of Liam’s heartbeat annoys him. It’s like there’s a car next to them with the bass turned up too loud, except the rhythm quickens and slows, stutters occasionally. Alex wonders vaguely if he should see a doctor after this is over; his heart sounds like it’s not working right half the time. “I’m not stopping,” Liam shoots back, sounding just as peevish. “Fine,” Alex grumps, and uses the annoying rhythm of his own heart, beating in the body in the seat next to him, to distract himself from the grinding bloodlust. His teeth itch, his stomach cramps, and apparently the need for blood has a major erotic element, because his dick is so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t stabbed through his suit pants.

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Making Memories

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Finally Liam pulls up into the office driveway. As they head into the building, Alex catches a whiff of Liam’s skin. It’s like he can smell the blood beneath it, and suddenly he hears it. Not just the heartbeat, but the swoosh-thump of the blood moving through Liam’s veins, the pressured movement of the thick liquid through his arteries, the valves in his veins opening and closing to let it move back up to the rhythmically beating heart. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s taken three quick steps to Liam’s side and grabs his arm, pulling him against his chest. He tips his head, fangs sharp and ready, and is about to plunge his face into Liam’s bare neck, when Liam’s hand whips up and slaps him. The blow stings, and Alex’s head whips back. Liam has struck him with all his strength, and while it’s nothing compared to what Alex knows his new vampire body can summon, it’s enough to get his attention. “The fuck?” he says, though he knows damn well. Liam pushes a forceful finger into his face. “Do not bite me. You don’t know what you’re doing, and you’ll kill me. You kill me, we’re fucked.” “I’m hungry.” Alex sounds like a petulant child even to his own ears. Liam’s scowl turns to a smile that looks more than tolerant -- it’s amused and almost loving -but it fades quickly. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he says, and ducks into the kitchen. The hunger is bad enough, coupled with the sensory issues it’s about to make Alex insane. He can’t even think past it to consider what’s actually happened to him -to them -- because it’s so overwhelming. Liam is in the other room, in the kitchen, with a wall between them, and Alex can still hear his heart beating. The sound still speaks to him not of comfort and warmth, of love, but of food. It feels like an eternity before Liam returns from the kitchen, an eternity during which Alex listens to the throb of his lover’s heart, hears the susurration of his blood in his veins, the soughing of his breath, and feels the fangs in his own mouth prick the back of his lip. He doesn’t know how to make them withdraw. Perhaps Liam can tell

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him. He wonders how Liam kept them under control at all, with the all-consuming hunger that has taken over his mind. It seems impossible. Then again, he’s had a matter of hours to acclimate to it, while Liam’s had a matter of centuries. Regardless, it’s damned annoying. Liam finally returns, a plastic hospital IV bag in one hand. It’s dark red with its contents. Alex has seen these bags in Liam’s refrigerator, but he’s tried not to think too much about them. Now he can think of nothing but. Just the color of the bag, the thick contents clinging to the inside of the plastic, makes his body ache and his stomach cramp. Liam holds out the bag. Alex grabs at it, ravenous, but Liam moves it back from his reach. “Wait.” “What?” Alex snaps. Liam needs to quit pulling shit on him, or Alex will bite him, and then they’ll be fucked, and that’ll be it. Liam lifts a cautionary finger and gives him a sober look. Seeing that expression on his own face, Alex wonders if he’s ever been this annoying when he’s been in possession of his own body. He thinks maybe he should never make that face again. It’s really quite irritating. “Slow,” Liam cautions. “Take it slowly or you’ll be in worse shape than you are now. A sip at a time, and wait for your system to adjust. Then another sip, and as soon as you feel like you can control the hunger, stop.” Alex has no idea how he’s going to do this. He wants to just grab the bag and devour it, assuage the hunger as quickly as possible. He reaches for the bag again, and again Liam moves it out of his reach. “Promise me,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Fine.” Alex responds to his tone, the command in it, but fights that, as well. It makes him hard, makes him want more than just the bag of blood, but he knows Liam will waylay that request, as well. Maybe if he does what he’s told with the blood… “I promise,” he says, saying it as firmly and convincingly as he can.

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Liam studies him skeptically, then finally hands him the bag. “Slow,” he says again. Alex takes the bag, holding his eagerness under control for fear of having Liam snatch it back again. The bag is warm in his hand, surprisingly so. Liam watches him narrowly, arms crossed over his chest. “Do you have to watch me eat?” Alex is still put out. Liam’s scrutiny is offputting, especially since it’s coming out of Alex’s own face. “Yes,” says Liam shortly, and watches Alex eat. Alex gives up. He’s not going to get his way in this, and he’s just cognizant enough of his situation to realize that’s likely for the best. The fangs he still hasn’t learned how to control prick against the back of his lip, and he swallows. Lifting the bag to his mouth, he uses the needle-sharp teeth to pierce the plastic. Thick liquid oozes from the holes in the bag. As it strikes his tongue Alex is struck by equal parts of satisfaction and revulsion. His tongue, his throat, his stomach, all want this so intensely he can barely contain the need, but his mind rebels. This is blood -- pure, raw, human blood. Primal taboos fight as he swallows, trying to reverse the physical function that causes the liquid to move down his throat. It’s also life. He drinks. Liam is still watching him closely. Alex feels the considering gaze on him and suddenly remembers he’s supposed to take it slow. It takes a force of will to pull the pierced and leaking bag away from his mouth, but he does it, just as Liam says again, “Slow.” Alex puts the bag of blood at arm’s length away from him. Still staring -- he can’t seem to take his eyes off it. The rich color draws him, makes his throat ache for more. He takes a long, shuddering breath to steady himself. It doesn’t work. This body doesn’t need oxygen, so the drawn breath does nothing on a chemical level to calm him. “Relax,” Liam says, seeing Alex’s struggle. “Count to twelve, then you can drink again.”

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Alex gives Liam a perplexed look. “Twelve? Twelve? What kind of lame-ass number is twelve?” Liam smiles a little. “It’s non-standard. You have to think about it. If it were ten…” He shrugs. “Well, you’d just go one, two, three, ten and be done. Twelve makes you concentrate.” “That is so fucking stupid.” It’s not, really, but Alex is cranky and he wants to eat and he wants even more to be himself again instead of being trapped in the strange, overwhelming, contradictory and very hungry body of his vampire lover. Slowly, and out loud, he counts to twelve. Liam nods with each number, then says quietly, “All right.” Alex drinks again, and is surprised to find that it’s easier now. The wait has, indeed, taken the edge off, made it easier for him to control himself, impossible as it seemed when Liam suggested it. He finishes off the bag at a more leisurely pace, finally setting it aside sucked dry and squashed in upon itself. Liam takes it. “Better?” “For now,” Alex concedes, although he senses the hunger could return at any moment. The sound of Liam’s heartbeat is still an insistent rhythm to Alex’s temporary vampire senses, and it still compels him. “Good,” says Liam, and reaches a hand to him. “Then I can show you the rest of it.” “The rest of it?” Liam gives him a look. The look smolders, and Alex realizes what he means. His fingers gentle on Alex’s hand, Liam leads him to the bedroom. Alex’s first instinct, strange as it seems, is to resist. As amplified as his senses are right now, he’s not entirely sure he’ll survive the intensity of a full sexual encounter. Liam seems to read the uncertainty on his face, though, and tugs again at his hand. “It’s okay,” he says gently. “Trust me.” Alex takes in his expression, the sincerity in his eyes. He’s not sure how much more of this he can stand, looking into his own face. For starters, he’s better-looking

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than he’s ever thought, even looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe that’s just a reflection of the confidence of the centuries-old vampire now residing in his body, but it’s disconcerting, whatever the cause. “You do trust me, don’t you?” Liam prods, tugging again at Alex’s hand.

Alex pulls himself out of his reverie. “Of course I do.”

“Then let’s go.”

Alex is still hesitant. “I’m not sure… Why now? Right after the blood?”

“It helps,” Liam says bluntly. “It helps with the hunger.”

“And here all this time I thought you cared about me.” Alex’s petulance is

feigned -- mostly. “I do,” Liam responds. “You’re like… dessert.” “Lovely.” But Alex follows him into the bedroom. There’s little reason to fight him. Alex assumes Liam knows what he’s doing, and he needs all the help he can get, at this point, to be sure he’s overcome the hunger well enough to function. But he has to ask the question that’s rolling in his head. “Shouldn’t we be looking for Antoine?” “Antoine can wait,” says Liam with a sober, almost chastising note to his voice. “We’ll be worthless against him if you’re not ready.” “I’ll be worthless,” Alex corrects glumly as Liam draws him all the way into the bedroom, down onto the bed. “No. We’ll be useless. No offense to this body, because I like this body and I think I’ve demonstrated that to you on many occasions. But I can’t fight him like this. Not human. We need a vampire to fight a vampire, and right now that’s you.” “Then I think what you said earlier is accurate. We’re fucked.”

“No, we’re not. We’ll be fine. We just have to be ready.”

He draws Alex close to him, there on the bed where they’re sitting side by side,

and kisses him. Alex isn’t sure what he expected -- just a kiss, he thinks, a normal, everyday kiss like kisses they’ve shared a hundred times before. It’s not what he gets. The kiss is

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layered with textures and flavors he’s never experienced before, sensations he never dreamed could reside in a simple caress of mouth to mouth. Liam’s mouth is warm and sweet, and he can taste the humanness of it. The warmth arouses him on its own, only augmented by the soft, exploring movement of Liam’s tongue against his lips, pressing past, moving against Alex’s tongue. And, as the kiss deepens, as Liam’s hands begin to move over him, easing under his shirt, Alex starts to understand what Liam means. The hunger begins to rise again, but it’s different. It’s not bloodlust, but it’s a definite need, his body straining for something it needs. He seems to have no choice but to move along with it, to take and give as Liam gives and takes, to find the rhythm Liam offers and let it take him over. The rhythm seems to be as important as all the rest of it. Something moves into synch between them, and it’s different than it’s ever been before. At least it feels that way to Alex. Perhaps it’s always like this for Liam. Alex will never know that for certain. For now he can only go along with it, feel it, let it carry him. It’s a few seconds before he realizes what the rhythm is. He can hear it, a steady beat all around them in the room. It’s Liam’s heartbeat -- Alex’s own heartbeat. It’s primal, compelling, and drags Alex along with it. He’s noticed his own heartbeat before, when he was inside his own body and in close proximity to the sound, but it’s different now. Before it was just a part of him, something he sensed vaguely every moment of his life. But now it’s something he lacks, craves. Something he needs. Human or not, Liam must be aware of it, because everything he does is latched to that rhythm, or to the movement of his breathing. He touches, strokes, caresses, laves, everything moving at a pace to match his quickening heart. Alex touches his arm, slows him a little, and he responds, lifting his head away from Alex’s chest, where he’s carefully circling Alex’s nipple with his tongue. “Slower,” Alex says. “Just a bit.” Liam nods and slows his pace. He’s careful and methodical, tasting every inch of Alex’s skin as if he’s never tasted it before. Although, truthfully, he hasn’t, because it’s his own skin. Not like this, anyway.

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Strangely, looking into his own eyes, his own face, touching his own body from the outside, isn’t bothering Alex all that much. He doesn’t really recognize himself now; it’s like he’s looking at a man who’s familiar, but not intimate. Some vestige of Liam, maybe, still clinging inside the vampire’s body. Truthfully, the longer he’s in Liam’s body, the more Alex feels like he’s someone other than himself. As if he’s becoming Liam. The vampire hungers seem almost natural now, though they still threaten to devour him whole. He leans into Liam, catching his mouth with his own, pressing into it. Soft contact quickly becomes urgent, and Alex can feel the vampire body begging for more. More skin, more contact. A need to get closer to that steady, continuous heartbeat. A need to make that heartbeat part of himself. A need to feed. It’s not as overwhelming as it was before, though, when Liam told him not to bite. He can let it happen, holding it down, letting it pass through him in liquid waves, just another permutation of his desire. He wants so much… His hands grasp at Liam, pull him closer, then Alex rolls them back into the bed until he’s over Liam, pressing him down into the blankets. Chest to chest, cock to cock, mouth to mouth, hand to Liam’s quickening heartbeat. In the back of his mind, he realizes he’s never taken control like this before, and there’s a moment of anxiety verging on panic, but it disappears before it can travel from his muddled brain to his eager hands. Liam won’t mind; in fact it’s obvious Liam doesn’t mind, as he’s gone quiet beneath Alex’s surging, demanding body, moving with Alex without tension or protest. Which is probably more than Alex has ever done for Liam, in the same body. But Alex doesn’t mind, either. He hopes his body will retain some of the memory of this encounter, because he wants to know what it’s like to be willingly pliant, easily yielding. In the meantime, he’s learning what it’s like to be needy, demanding, dominant. And, for the moment, he likes it. Liam cups Alex’s face, fingers stroking his cheekbones with callused tips. The soft smile that curves his mouth gratifies Alex. He wonders if he’s ever smiled like that.

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It’s so open and free, without doubt or darkness. It doesn’t seem to Alex like the kind of expression he could muster on his own. But, he thinks, it looks beautiful on his face. He leans down to kiss the soft curve of the lips, lets his tongue trace it. When he pulls back, his mouth warm with the taste of Liam’s mouth, Liam says gently, “Go on.” There’s lube in the bedside table drawer. Liam has the presence of mind to retrieve it and pass it into Alex’s hand. Alex coats his fingers, then slips his hand between them, slicking both their erections. He thrusts along the flat, firm surface of Liam’s stomach, rubbing shaft against shaft, glans against the rough textures of belly hair. He makes the rhythm slow at first, then faster, thrusting, sliding, hands clasping Liam at the hipbones to hold him down and steady. He feels Liam tense under him and starts to slow, then realizes he’s tensing in the good way, his body responding to the stimulation of skin sliding against skin. Liam’s hand comes up to clasp the back of Alex’s neck, drawing him down again, and he whispers in Alex’s ear, “Fuck me.” Everything in Alex stops for a moment. It’s as if he can’t move for that heartbeat of time. He’s not sure why -- he’s topped Liam before, so it’s not as if the other man is asking him for anything he’s not comfortable with. But for that split second, he feels the complete willingness of Liam’s body to perform the act. He knows he’s never given himself that easily to Liam. There’s always been tension, hesitation, long moments when Liam has to wait for Alex to adjust before they can go on. And for a moment he’s actually angry that Liam can draw that reaction out of Alex’s borrowed body. It’s not fair. All he wants is to be easy with his lover, but he’s never been able to. Until now, except now he’s not easy, he’s demanding. It’s a new sensation, and one he’s willing to explore, especially since Liam is obviously willing, but it’s strange. Thinking about it doesn’t help. His body is already moving without his volition. Liam wants fucking and that’s what he’s going to get. Alex’s hands have already moved to Liam’s shoulders, stroking him, and Liam rolls beneath Alex’s touch, turning onto his stomach. Alex is a bit relieved by this; he

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doesn’t really want to watch his own face during orgasm. He can’t imagine it would be attractive. Liam spreads himself out over the bed, arms wide, head turned to the side, eyes closed. Alex strokes his ass, the firm curves of muscle. His skin is warm and smooth, the muscles clenching and loosening under his touch. He lets his finger slide into the heat between and inside, the lube still on his fingers to ease the entrance. Liam moans quietly, legs opening, hips tilting up to let Alex’s fingers in. It’s so easy. No tension, no stress, no hesitation. Alex’s fingers slide in to the second knuckle without effort. Alex makes himself not think about it. He just wants to feel it. He leans over Liam’s arching back, kisses between his shoulder blades. Liam twitches under him, tensing and releasing, as Alex’s fingers press up to prod his prostate. A low moan shudders out of him and his hips jerk up. “Do it,” Liam mutters. “God, please.” Alex presses his lips to the back of Liam’s neck and grasps his own cock. Another hesitation, another moment of thinking too much, then he pushes inside. “God.” Liam’s breathy moan sounds at first like pain, but it isn’t. The sound is just enough to arrest Alex’s movement again, but then he takes a breath and sinks deeper. He goes slowly, sinking in rather than thrusting, letting the deep, tight heat swallow him up. He reaches out with one hand to thread his fingers through Liam’s, there against the sheets. Liam opens to him, loose and willing. His hips press back to meet Alex’s thrusting, bringing him deeper. Alex is left with no choice. His body demands it, Liam’s body demands it. He thrusts harder, faster, the length of his cock slamming balls-deep into Liam’s ass. Liam pushes his face into the pillow and moans. Encouraged by the sound, Alex thrusts even faster. It’s hard, intense, verging on brutal, but it’s what Liam wants. And it’s what Alex wants. The desire, the need, slides all over his skin like fire, lapping along every inch of him. The need for blood is right

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behind it, or beneath it, a constant undercurrent of want moving right there along with the plainer lust, the need his body has just to rut into his lover. He feels it all coming to a head, the fire pooling in his groin, ready to burst out of him. But the other need rises with it, and he lowers himself over Liam’s back again, this time not kissing between his shoulder blades, but pressing his teeth against Liam’s shoulder, then the side of his neck. He wants blood. Not as intensely or desperately as he wanted it before he fed from the cold stores in the refrigerator, but he wants it. His climax won’t be complete without it. He doesn’t know how he knows this -- the body he inhabits knows it, not the mind. His teeth press into Liam’s flesh, fangs still withdrawn. He won’t do it, though. Not without word from Liam. “Yes.” The word is so soft Alex isn’t even certain he heard it at first, but then Liam lifts his head from the pillow and speaks more clearly. “Bite. It’s okay now.” Alex isn’t sure of that. In fact it seems ludicrous to him that it would ever be okay for him to bite, as little control as he had over himself before. But Liam has said so, and God, he wants it more than anything he’s ever wanted. He feels the slim fangs slide free from their retracted position. They prick the back of his lip, and he tastes his own blood. The metallic flavor fuels the hunger for a moment, but it’s still not intense enough to overwhelm him. “Are you sure?” he says, speech problematic around the protruding fangs. “I’m sure,” says Liam. “You need it. A little. Don’t kill me.” There’s humor in his voice this time, and that alone instills more confidence in Alex that he can do this without causing permanent damage. He leans down again, one hand still clasped in Liam’s, the other bracing his own body over the bed, over Liam’s still-straining back. He dips his head and bites. The warm blood is nothing like the cold blood he drank before. It pours into his mouth, hot and coppery, heady with life. Just as it hits his tongue, he shoves hard into Liam and his cock pulses with the last, intense penetration. Combined with the sweet taste of blood in his mouth, it’s all he can take. His body unwinds, and he comes harder

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than he’s ever come, the orgasm pounding through every cell, every molecule. It’s so intense he can almost see it, red light flashing on the backs of his eyelids. It wrings his body dry and leaves him limp. The blood still comes, though. He sucks at Liam’s throat for another mouthful, then feels Liam’s body tighten under him, clenching down on Alex’s softening cock. Liam makes a low moan, drawn-out and primal, and Alex can feel the muscles inside him pulsing as he reaches his own release. He doesn’t need Liam to tell him he’s done. It’s over. Alex can feed no more. He withdraws the sharp, strange fangs from Liam’s neck and slowly eases off his lover’s prone body. “Are you all right?” he asks softly, suddenly afraid he took too much, didn’t have enough control. But Liam nods. His hand comes up to touch the wound on his neck. Blood smears over his fingers. “Could maybe use a Band-Aid.” Alex nods. He can look at the blood now without hunger. Liam’s head turns, and he smiles at Alex. “It’s okay,” he says. “How about you? Do you feel better?” Alex nods. “Yes.” “Cravings under control?” “For now.” “Good.” Liam sits up in the bed, fingers still pressed to the blood on his neck. “Then we can hunt.”

Chapter Four Alex hadn’t been sure the sex would justify additional delay, but Liam was right. Alex shouldn’t have doubted him. Between the blood and the sex, he feels strong, satisfied. His body is still unfamiliar, but the strange hungers have faded, their intensity easier to bear. He can concentrate now on the strength in his hands, the speed in his body, his hearing and eyesight -- all the things that will allow him to go up against Antoine. “What’s next?” he asks Liam. Liam is pulling his jeans up, sliding his belt into place. He looks sober again, a deep line forming on his brow. Alex isn’t sure he likes the way that looks, and thinks maybe he should avoid too much frowning in the future. “Research,” Liam states. “We need to find him,” Alex protests. Liam doesn’t seem to have the proper sense of urgency. Or any sense of urgency, for that matter. “He could be killing again.” “Probably not. He fed well, even though the girl managed to survive. He’ll likely hole up for a bit, let the heat die down, before he kills again.” “Then he’ll feed somewhere else, so he isn’t caught. I mean, I would, if it were me. It seems like the smart thing to do.” Liam smiles. “Yes, it would be the smart thing to do. And Antoine is smart. Fortunately for us, he’s also arrogant. He’ll stick around, if for no other reason than to watch us suffer.” Dressed now, he leads the way downstairs to the library. “This is heavy magic he’s worked on us. He’ll want to see how it plays out. I’m sure he’s hoping for a show.” “A show?” “You going insane with the cravings, me having to stake you, thus effectively killing myself.” He shrugs and opens the library door. The smell of books, musty and

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old, a bit nauseating to Alex’s new amplified senses, wafts over them. “He’d think that was funny.” “I don’t like him,” Alex states. “Yeah. Neither do I.”

*** Liam whips through the books, skimming titles, occasionally pulling one off the shelf to look at it and skim the contents. Even more occasionally, he drops one onto the table in the middle of the room. “You can start looking through those,” he tells Alex. “I don’t think we’ll find what we’re looking for, but it’s worth a shot.” Obediently, Alex takes a seat at the table. “Do you think we even have what we need?” “Good chance of it.” Liam drops another book onto the pile. “Just a matter of finding it.” Picking up the first book, Alex begins to page through. It’s written in church Latin, with occasional paragraphs in a code he’s become familiar with over the past several months working for Liam. He goes from page to page, section to section, translating just enough to know for certain he hasn’t found what he’s looking for before going on to the next section. He’s finding it hard to concentrate; he feels high and floaty, as if he’s taken a painkiller, or smoked pot. After the fourth or fifth book, the words begin to run together. Still, nothing jumps out as relevant; it’s all the same references over and over, one book offering footnotes that cite the book he just read, the next book citing a book from earlier in his skimming -- a spiral pattern that makes him a little dizzy. “Are you all right?” Liam is laying another book down on the table. He’s been through most of the books along the far wall of the small library. Alex is pretty sure all the spellcasting books are there. The other walls have to do with demons and artifacts and various and sundry other subjects probably not helpful to the current situation. Alex nods. “Fine. Just a little woozy.”

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Liam eyes him narrowly, then realization rises on his face. “It’s nearly sunrise. You should go on to bed. I can finish this.” “But you stay up during the day to work. I should be able to, too.” The wooziness drags at him, unarguably the kind of weariness he’ll have a hard time fighting. “It takes practice,” Liam says gently. “You just go sleep. It’ll be the best thing.” Alex nods. He picks up the book he was thumbing through and sets it back on the pile. As he does, the back cover slips from his fingers, sending the parchment-brown pages fluttering. Something flies loose and drifts to the floor. “Shit,” he mutters. “I broke the book.” He bends to pick up the sheets, but Liam beats him to it, retrieving the fluttery bits of paper from the floor before Alex can quite grab them. At first he thinks they’re pages out of the book, that he’s broken the spine and ruined it, but as Liam retrieves them, Alex realizes they’re loose sheets, covered in a spidery handwriting, blurred here and there with age and an occasional water spot. The writing looks as old as the pages, which is to say quite old. “That’s it!” Liam exclaims. “That’s what?” Alex’s brain is getting blurrier and blurrier. While he often feels a step or two behind Liam when they research, now it’s more like five. “My notes.” He holds up the sheets so Alex can see them more clearly. Alex can’t make anything out of the cramped, spidery scrawl. He’s not even sure it’s in a language he knows. “Notes from what?” “I told you I knew Antoine.” He lowers the sheets again, flipping through them, eyes scanning the contents. “I was a student of sorts for a time. And like any good student, I took notes. Ha!” “Ha?” “Yes, ha.” He sits at the table, buried in the sheets now. “I’ll have to puzzle all this out -- I can barely read my own handwriting as it is, and this is some old coded

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version of Basque…” He trails off and looks up at Alex. “Go on to bed, love. You’ve plenty of time for rest.” Alex finally relents with a nod. He’s certain he won’t be able to fight his weariness any longer, and if Liam needs time to study, anyway, there’s no reason not to give in to it. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet and heads back upstairs to bed.

*** Watching Alex depart, it’s a few moments before Liam really registers the significance of his having to leave. The sun is coming up. He pushes the thought back, focusing on the notes, the old, brittle paper covered in his own spidery, hundred to a hundred and fifty year old handwriting. He’d written all his notes in code back then, clues to the secrets of necromancy hidden in tangled words and symbols that weren’t quite letters, but hinted at them. The secret should be here, the means for their release and return to normalcy. He can make out sentences here and there, then whole paragraphs. He’s certain, after a matter of minutes, that he’ll find what he needs. The sun is rising. He can feel it almost as tangibly as he could as a vampire, but differently. It’s a sense of anticipation now rather than fear, a need to meet it rather than run from it. He fights it. He, too, is tired -- he’s been up all night, and this body is used to a period of rest during those hours. But he wants to see the sun. It’s been so long. It’s just like everything else about being human, he tries to tell himself. It’s not going to be as glorious as you remember it. But it’s the sun, and in the end he can’t resist the lure. He lays the papers aside, perhaps a quarter translated, the knowledge in his head but not written down, and heads out of the library. There are no wide windows or skylights in the building, of course; it was chosen and in some cases remodeled with the comfort of a vampire in mind. There’s no place he can go inside the house to see what he needs to see. He’ll have to venture outside.

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His body knows it’s fine, that it will feel good to have the warm sun caress his skin, but his mind is still that of a vampire. The sun is anathema, poison, death. He puts his hand on the front doorknob and stops there, frozen, unable to turn the knob and open the door. It’s all right, he tells himself. He closes his eyes, the better to hear his interior pep talk. It’s all right. His hand tightens on the knob. Opening his eyes, he looks down at it, at the fingers curled around the brass fixtures. They’re not his hands. Alex’s hands are more delicate, longer, with long fingers. Liam’s own hands are square and broad, and are currently upstairs, probably folded together and tucked under Alex’s head as he sleeps quietly in Liam’s vampire body. Liam turns the knob. The door opens onto a porch, so his first view of the morning sun is from the safety of shadow. He’s stood here before, in the shelter of the porch awning, the sunlight burning his eyes but safely away from his skin. Even that limited exposure he could only handle for a short amount of time. He stands there for a moment just outside the door, with it still open behind him, as if awaiting his inevitable retreat. Around the house, the small neighborhood has begun to awaken. He sees the neighbor across the street walk down the driveway to retrieve her newspaper, still clad in pajama pants and a T-shirt. She catches his eye, and he waves at her, smiling. Her return smile and wave is lit by the morning, warm and golden. Liam watches her walk back to her house, then slowly closes the door behind him, cutting off his own escape. A streak of sunlight has crept forward onto the boards of the porch, golden, mote-filled. He takes a slow breath, holds it, lets it go. And steps down the porch steps into the light. He flinches at first, his mind ready to feel the horrible pain and smell the stench of his own flesh burning. But his skin is human. Holding still in the wash of morning, he lets himself experience the sensation as it is, not as he expects it to be.

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It’s warm, soft in its way, the light caressing his skin. He squints a bit in the light, though there’s no need to. His human eyes are perfectly well equipped to adjust to the sun. He lets them, and when he’s able to make himself relax and stop squinting, he takes another step forward. Panic grabs him for a moment, harsh and insistent. He has to close his eyes, letting the bright sunlight filter through closed lids, transformed to red and black, like a dying fire. With the panic swallowed down, he takes another step forward before he opens his eyes again. He’s in full sunlight now, any protection afforded him by the shadow of the porch left well behind. It’s full morning, and the neighborhood is awake and alive. It feels completely different than it does at night. More welcoming, not so afraid of itself. Another neighbor, a woman he’s never met but has seen in passing on fall nights when darkness arrives before dinner, jogs by with a smile and a wave. He nods back, lets his gaze linger on her body as a distraction before finally turning his face up to the blue sky. He’d like to say it’s as wonderful as he remembers, but he can’t remember. Three hundred years it’s been since he’s seen a bright blue sky, a white orb of sun. Three hundred years since the natural white light of morning has touched his skin. Everything looks different. The colors brighter, more vibrant, as if super saturated. He’s never seen so much color. He can see in the dark, but not like this. Night hides the truth of things, colors included. He stands there for a long time, until his natural panic fades to nearly nothing. When he’s settled and unafraid, the sun feels like liquid on his skin, and everything around him feels like a brilliant, too-real world that he can never truly be part of. Not after this. Not ever again. Sadness washes over him. He knows it’s time to go in, to let it all go. If he doesn’t do it now, he might never gather the courage to take that step. Still, he takes another slow step forward. He’s nearly to the sidewalk now, nearly to the place where the daytime world goes on without him. He stands there on the

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edge, feeling the warmth cover his body, then, slowly, he turns and goes back into the house.

*** Alex awakens abruptly, as if a sound has jerked him out of sleep, but as he stares at the ceiling he can hear nothing. Not even his own heartbeat, which seems as if it should be racing in his chest with the startlement of his abrupt awakening. But there is nothing. Slowly, he sits up. His stomach feels strange, as if it’s cramping with hunger, but the feeling is different, more like nausea. He swallows, then rubs his forehead. An ache has started just above his eyes. Rising, he starts out of habit to walk toward the bathroom, then realizes he has no need to. There’s one question answered, at least, about vamp physiology. No need to pee first thing after waking. The morning wood, however, appears to be a shared characteristic. Except it’s not morning wood, it’s evening wood, and he’s had reason to know that before experiencing it first-hand. He yawns, scratches himself, and looks for clothes. Normally there wouldn’t be much here he can wear. They’ve not fallen into enough of a pattern of couplehood for him to keep much here in the way of clothing. But now, since he’s wearing Liam’s body, he figures he’s allowed to borrow his clothes, as well. A knock falls on the bedroom door just as he’s pulling a sweatshirt over his head. It’s soft, frayed at the neck, and it smells like Liam has worn it recently. “Come in,” Alex says. Liam enters the bedroom and eyes his lover with an affectionate smile. “Sleep well?” Alex nods. “Not bad.” In truth, he slept like a stone, and remembers nothing of the last several hours. No dreams, no thoughts, no fleeting impressions of half-waking during the night. Just a stretch of deep darkness. “You?” “An hour or two.”

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Alex shakes his head. “You know, that body likes six to eight hours. Sometimes ten. You’re going to wear me down, and I’ll catch a cold.” “Huh.” Liam’s expression becomes contemplative. “I hadn’t thought about that. What’s it like to have a cold? It’s been a really long time -- I might want to try that out.” “No, you don’t,” Alex informs him. “Take care of me. Go have some breakfast, and don’t forget the orange juice.” Liam chuckles. “Come down with me.” The smile continues to shape his lips, but a more serious expression has settled into his eyes. “We need to talk.”

*** Alex makes breakfast for Liam -- eggs and toast, orange juice and bacon. Liam keeps the food in his refrigerator solely for his human employees; Alex has eaten breakfast here on more than one occasion. He always has to check to be sure the food isn’t past its use-by date. Liam doesn’t eat any of it and therefore doesn’t bother to keep track. His own hunger gnaws, but it’s ignorable for the moment, no more bothersome than an uneasy stomach after he’s eaten too much garlic, or raw onion. He’s surprised by that -- he’d expected to awaken just as ravenous and consumed by bloodlust as he had been when he first fell into Liam’s body. “So,” Alex ventures, pouring coffee for himself. It’s the one kind of human food he’s seen Liam consume, so he assumes it will taste all right to him. “What did you find out?” Liam’s expression is distant. He’s chewing a mouthful of eggs and toast ever so slowly, rolling it around his mouth as if he’s a sommelier tasting a fine wine. At Alex’s words, he looks up. “My notes had what we need,” he says. Alex perks up. He takes a seat at the table across from Liam, cradling his mug of coffee between his hands. “You know how to kill him?” “I do.” Liam swallows the eggs and regards Alex soberly. Alex isn’t encouraged by the expression.

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“So… how do we do it?” Liam pokes the remainder of his eggs, looking down as if he’s reluctant to tell Alex what Alex wants to know. Finally he looks up again and says, firmly but quietly, “You have to be hungry.”

Chapter Five Alex doesn’t like the sound of that. He doesn’t like the way his vampire body prickles at the implications, or the way his human mind rebels against them. It’s a struggle already, and they haven’t even started. “How hungry?” he ventures, certain the question is as banal as it seems. Liam remains sober, brow furrowed in concentration, as if he’s trying to read Alex’s mind. “You have to drink him,” he says gently. Alex takes a slow breath. “I don’t know if I can. I mean, we just spent a lot of energy making sure I’m not hungry.” Liam nods. “We might have to work just as hard to get you ready for the opposite.” Alex is silent a moment, remembering the ravenous hunger, like ragged teeth ripping through him. After his night’s sleep, he can feel it lurking again. Ignorable, but undeniably there, a particularly unpleasant background noise. “Why me?” he asks. Again, the banality of the question strikes him before he speaks it. “Well…” Liam pauses, as if trying to decide how much sarcasm to allow into his words. In the end, it’s a moderate amount. Not scathing, but enough to make Alex give a wry smile. “I can’t really do it.” Alex shakes his head a little. “Not what I meant. I mean why did he switch us? Did he think it’d be harder for me?” Liam is silent again for a long moment; too long for Alex to be comfortable with it. That kind of silence means Liam is trying to work out how to tell Alex something he isn’t going to like. He runs a hand over his face, frowning again. Alex recognizes the gesture as one of his own. Odd. He would have thought that would have belonged to

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mental memory, not body memory. “Vampires generally don’t bite other vampires,” Liam says slowly, his words careful and considered. “There’s a reason for that.” “This is where you tell me I have to kill him for the good of everyone, but it’s going to kill me, too, right?” “Not quite.” Alex was hoping for a solid “No.” “Not quite” sends his anxiety levels soaring again. Nothing about this is going well. He makes a mental note -- magic is bad. “It can be deadly to a vampire,” Liam goes on, “but it isn’t always. In fact, vampires who survive the process often come out of it stronger, with powers they never had before.” “If they survive.” To Alex, that seemed like the salient point. “We have a good chance. If it were me, still in my own body, I’d likely make it. It’d be painful, but I’d make it.” “Why? What makes you special?” Alex can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. Fortunately, Liam knows him well enough not to take the harsh tone personally. “Age, mostly. Experience. The fact I was Antoine’s pupil for a time.” Alex nods. “The first one -- I can see how age would imprint on your body, and protect me that way. But experience, and what you learned from him -- isn’t that all over there, with you, in your brain?” “Not all of it.” Alex can tell Liam is doing his best to sort out the positive and avoid the negative. Alex feels the need to get the negative out in the open. If he dies… he doesn’t want to think about it. If he dies, Liam will remain as Alex, while Alex takes Liam’s body with him to a permanent grave. At least he assumes that’s how it will go. He fights back another surging panic attack, making himself focus on Liam’s words. “The memory of it, certainly, is stuck over here, but much if not all of what I’ve experienced and what I’ve learned has made its mark on my body. Changed me physically. Spells I performed or that were performed on me while I studied under Antoine, the physical effects of having abstained from blood… and --”

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Alex breaks in, panicking again. He realizes Liam is leading up to something, but he can’t stop himself. “You’re making shit up, aren’t you? You have no idea how this will work.” “Alex.” Liam speaks firmly, touches Alex’s arm to draw his attention. Alex makes himself look into Liam’s eyes. “Alex… I’ve done it before.” Alex opens his mouth, then closes it again. “You’ve drunk another vampire?” “Yes. It changed me physically. And it makes it that much more likely that my body will survive the experience.” “Why did he switch us? I still don’t understand. If he knows your body can survive killing him --” “The body,” Liam says carefully. “Not necessarily the mind.” “Oh.” They are both silent for a moment. Alex runs over everything that’s been said, letting his mind absorb it all. Liam’s body can survive the ordeal of killing Antoine, but perhaps Alex’s mind cannot. With the death of Antoine, presumably Alex’s mind will return to his human body. Possibly insane. He takes another deep breath, which still has no noticeable effect on his vampire body. “How bad is it?” It’s the only question he can think of that seems relevant. Liam’s hand curves over the top of Alex’s shoulder. “It’s bad.” “Can I make it?” “I think so.” Alex nods. The statement isn’t as encouraging as perhaps it should be, but it’s the best he’s going to get. He’ll take it.

*** “Hungry” in Alex’s new situation carries more layers of meaning than it did when he was merely human. He’s experienced this already, with the gnawing bloodlust combined with intense sexual hunger that overcame him when the transformation took place. Then, he and Liam focused entirely on controlling it. Now, they have to set it loose.

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Alex is hesitant. More than hesitant, he’s scared. Liam seems uneasy, as well, which doesn’t help. If Liam can be matter-of-fact, and just do what needs to be done, Alex thinks he can handle whatever happens. But Liam’s discomfort, though subtle, runs in an undercurrent as they prepare. “You’ve just come out of the daytime sleep,” Liam tells him unnecessarily. “With the feeding you did last night, the hunger will be muted, but it’ll come back, and quickly.” “I thought you woke up every night starving.” He’s not sure if Liam told him that once, or if he’s just making assumptions based on common vampire myth, which he already knows is rarely accurate. “Not every night. About every third night, if I’m properly fed, I’ll start really needing blood so badly it’s hard to ignore. And we satiated you, so you’ll have a bit of leeway.” Alex nods. He’s still disconcerted by Liam’s attitude. He’s fluttery, almost, having difficulty meeting Alex’s eyes. “Liam,” Alex says. “Please. Don’t weasel out on me. We have to do this. I’ll deal.” Alex sees the first truly visible crack he’s ever seen in Liam’s emotional armor. The other man blinks, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You could die.” “I know.” Strangely, it feels better to actually acknowledge it. It’s real that way, instead of like a ghost in the room. Alex smiles. “And then you’ll lose your hot, amped up vamp body and get stuck with the skinny, stuffy researcher. That body will make you wear tweed if you let it. Just bear that in mind.” Liam answers Alex’s smile, some of the haunted look fading from his face. Joking was the right thing to do, and Alex is grateful for that. “It’ll be okay,” he says. He isn’t sure it’s true, but it doesn’t matter, because as the words come, he means them. “All right, then.” Liam seems relieved. “Let’s get started, then.” Alex isn’t at all certain what Liam intends to do to him, but he takes the other man’s hand and lets Liam lead him from the kitchen back into the bedroom. He has a feeling nothing that happens here over the next few hours -- or however long it takes --

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will be nearly as pleasurable as the time they spent here last night. But he’s ready, or as ready as he can be, and, as always, he trusts Liam. “How hungry?” he asks again, hoping for a more specific answer. “Hungry,” Liam says. He sits on the bed and draws Alex after him. “As hungry as we can get you, in as many ways as we can.” “I don’t want to fuck him,” Alex blurts. Why this bothers him so much, he’s not sure. He can live with the idea of drinking the other vampire, of drawing his immortal life out of him for good, but the thought of having sex with Antoine curdles his stomach. “You won’t have to.” Liam draws a slow hand down Alex’s chest, his intent obvious. “But it’ll help if your body wants to.” Alex shakes his head a little. He doesn’t know how to answer that. His experience with vampiric hunger is too limited, and he’s not sure how being horny will help. But, again, he trusts Liam. Both to prepare him for what he has to face, and to guide him through it with as little damage as possible, both to body and mind. Liam will do everything he can, and if their venture fails, it won’t be for lack of trying. If Alex dies, it won’t be for lack of precaution or protection. Liam kisses him. The response of Alex’s body is more intense and more consuming than he expected it to be. They had, after all, fucked each other stupid last night. It seems almost inconceivable that he would be this needy already. Liam knows what he’s doing, though. The idea is hunger, not satisfaction. Hands, tongue, all work Alex’s body over, bringing him to a fever pitch of desire. His body pulses with need, but Liam won’t allow him to pulse his way to orgasm. Liam’s mouth slides over Alex’s cock, wet and hot, Alex’s back arching up from the bed, wanting more, hungry to finish. Liam’s mouth slides back, tongue circling Alex’s glans, making him shiver and cry out. Liam pulls back just when Alex is about to topple over the edge where, right now, he simply cannot go.

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“All right?” Liam asks, the words coming strained between panting gasps -- the exercise in need is having an effect on him as intense as the effect on Alex, it seems. Which, oddly, makes Alex feel a little better about it. “Yeah,” Alex manages. “So far.” “Good.” Liam lifts himself over Alex, looking down into his face, studying him. “We’re not done, love.” “No?” God. What else? He can’t even gather his senses enough to ask the question. “The blood,” Liam says gently. “You have to need the blood.” “God.” He breathes the word. He can’t imagine, but he won’t have to imagine. Soon enough, he’ll know. Liam strokes Alex’s head, combing his hair back from his face. “Are you ready?” Alex closes his eyes and takes a slow breath out of habit. “Give me a minute.” Long fingers trace his eyebrows, his cheekbones. “Can’t take too long. Can’t let it fade. You have to want.” Alex nods slowly. “Yeah. It’s okay. I’ll be okay…” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” Liam nods, but instead of continuing, he is quiet a few minutes longer, just stroking Alex’s face. Then he bends to kiss him, slow and long, the movement of his mouth a slow exercise in exploration. Alex makes a humming sound deep in his throat. The languorous kiss eases his arousal, not in a way that makes it disappear, but in a way that makes it both more pervasive and easier to bear. Alex is lit with lust to the deepest marrow of his bones. His vampire blood is warm with it. He feels as if he’s swimming in desire. When Liam draws away again, Alex half-lunges after him, trying to regain the connection. It’s too late, though, and Liam leans away, over the edge of the bed toward the nightstand.

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Alex, unsure at first what Liam is doing, takes a moment to gather himself. He knows that for once calm is not the goal, but he’s also certain that complete lack of control will do no one any good. He has no idea where the balance might be. When he opens his eyes, Liam is looming over him again, this time with a slim knife in one hand. Alex swallows, makes himself look at the glinting, thin blade. Liam kisses his forehead softly. Even knowing what’s coming next, it takes Alex by surprise when Liam slides the edge of the knife across his own forearm. The smell shocks him more than anything else, the sharp, metallic tang of blood in the air. His mouth opens and he leans forward before he can stop himself. He feels the fangs prick at his gums, burning, not quite descending, and his tongue thrusts forward, reaching for the drops of blood oozing from the wound on Liam’s arm. Liam lets one fall, and it touches Alex’s tongue, hot and sweet. His mouth stays open, the fangs sliding out further along his lip. But Liam draws his wrist back, pressing a finger against the wound to stem the flow of blood. “No more,” he says. Alex closes his mouth and swallows. His lip curls back, and he has to fight a growl. He wants more. The taste of blood has affected him even more intensely than the sexual stimulation did, so intensely he’s having a hard time remembering why he’s not allowed to take what he wants. Liam’s hand is gentle, easing him back. “No more,” he says again. “You’re ready. We need to go.” Alex closes his mouth and nods. He feels glazed, disoriented. Where are they going? Why? What could be more important than the hunger chewing through his body? Liam pulls at his arm. “Let’s go.” Alex blinks, stares at him, then follows, blindly and obediently.

Chapter Six Liam watches Alex closely as they get dressed, gather their weapons, and return to the car. There’s a delayed reaction element to vampiric hunger that he knows Alex won’t be ready for when it hits him. If he woke mildly hungry, and then Liam pushed that up to a higher level with the cock-and-blood-tease exercise in the bedroom, then a few more hours of wakefulness will crank the hunger up to, as it were, eleven. Liam isn’t sure Alex will be able to handle it. He hopes they can find Antoine before the truly uncontrollable lust kicks in. “Where do you think we’ll find him?” Alex asks as Liam pulls away from the curb. “Not sure,” says Liam. This, of course, is the biggest flaw in the plan. He’s certain Antoine will be lurking, to gloat over their transformation if nothing else. The question is where. The answer comes to him just as Alex says it out loud. “The hospital.” Alex’s head jerks up and he stares straight out the window. Liam can’t tell if he’s reacting to his own realization or some sort of shift inside himself. He scans the other man quickly, looking for signs, but Alex continues to speak. “He’ll visit the woman. He’ll gloat over her, or he’ll torment her, or he’ll break in and kill her overnight if he gets the chance.” “Good call,” Liam says. Mentally, he kicks himself for not figuring it out. It’s obvious, now that Alex has spoken the words. But Liam was, and still is, totally focused on Alex, on how long it’ll be before Alex’s body starts to rev up with demands, how long before the lust becomes unbearable. He clenches his hands on the steering wheel and drives faster.

***

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He notices Alex squirming as they near the hospital and watches him closely, waiting for any sign he’ll have to intervene. If Alex goes feral on him, things could get ugly very fast. But Alex just squirms, and continues to squirm as Liam pulls the car into a space in the parking garage. If Liam didn’t know any better, he’d think Alex had to pee. “You all right?” he asks as they get out of the car. “Yeah.” Alex’s voice is hoarse, as if he needs to clear his throat. Liam ventures a downward glance; he’s got a monstrous hard-on going, and Liam’s amazed he can even walk. “We need to find him,” Liam mutters, “and fast.” Alex just nods, his expression registering little in the way of comprehension. “How?” he asks, though, so he must have understood something. Liam leads the way into the building. “If it were me, I’d sniff him out.” “Can I do that?” “I don’t know. Can you?” Liam finds an elevator and they head up, out of the parking garage and into the hospital proper. He’s not sure where the woman will be held, or where Antoine might be if he’s lurking. If he were in his own body, he’d be able to smell Antoine already, most likely. He’s not sure Alex will be able to duplicate that feat, especially with other matters so pressing, like the gargantuan wood in his pants. “I can try.” He starts to concentrate on it a bit too soon, and Liam has to nearly shove him off the elevator as it stops on the sixth floor. Alex stops and puts a hand to his face. “All I can smell is disinfectant.” His face crinkles as if he’s about to puke. “Give yourself a few seconds to adjust.” Liam waits, rubbing Alex’s back to help him calm down. Fortunately one man leaning against the wall making faces while another man rubs his back isn’t out of place in their current surroundings, so they attract little or no attention. Unfortunately, Liam’s rubbing Alex’s back doesn’t seem to

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be very calming. Alex shudders under the touch, and after a few seconds he straightens and squares his shoulders, shrugging off the other man’s touch. “I’m fine.” His voice is strained to the breaking point. Liam takes a step back, understanding Alex’s need for distance. He waits, watching Alex closely. He recognizes the strained set to Alex’s mouth - he’s trying to disguise partially extended fangs. The hunger is mounting. They have to find Antoine quickly, before Alex loses control. Liam wishes fervently that he could smell the trail Antoine has to have left behind, the sweet/rot smell of a vampire who still takes live prey. But he can’t. It’s a smell that, however strong it seems to vampires, remains elusive to human senses. Otherwise feral vamps would go hungry. Alex moves farther away from the wall. Liam can see the tension in his body, his fists clenching and unclenching. “What is it?” he asks softly, but Alex doesn’t answer. He steps into the hallway, head high, eyes a bit wild. His nostrils flare. He turns his head, then starts walking purposefully down the hallway. “Did you find him?” Liam keeps his voice low, not wanting to attract undue attention. The quicker and quieter they can get this done, the better. Quick and quiet means they’re less likely to be caught. Alex throws a glance back over his shoulder, eyes burning, as if he’s angry. Liam thinks he’s just hungry, but he’s not sure. When Alex doesn’t answer with anything more than the sharp glare, he frowns, but keeps following Alex down the hallway, not ready yet to risk breaking the other man’s concentration. Alex heads down the long corridor, then turns, taking them into another wing of the hospital. They pass a nurses’ station; one of the nurses asks if they need help, but Alex strides firmly by, every step an exercise in focused purpose. “This way,” he says, his voice low. Liam wants to ask, “This way to what?” but refrains. Someone’s probably going to die tonight, and Liam doesn’t want it to be him, so there’s no sense tempting fate. Hopefully Alex, in spite of the bloodlust, is still cognizant enough to remember what he’s hunting. If not, they’re both in deep shit, and there’s not much Liam can do about it.

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***

Alex can feel himself losing control. Little by little, his focus fraying around the edges. He’s certain he has a bead on Antoine, though. If he can just keep hold of that razor edge of concentration for a few minutes longer. “You okay?” Liam mutters behind him, and Alex only then realizes he’s been silent for several minutes. Moving forward one firm, determined step after another, but silent. “Got him,” Alex bites out, but it’s all he can manage. His fangs are cutting into the back of his lip, unretractable no matter how hard he tries, and his throat is raw with swallowing the tense spasms of need. He wants to bite. There is blood all around him here -- whose fucktard idea was it to chase Antoine down in a hospital, anyway? -- and it does nothing to aid his control. He’s so fucking hungry. “Good,” says Liam, and lays a reassuring hand on Alex’s shoulder. Alex shrugs it off tersely. He doesn’t want to be touched. It’s too much. If Liam touches him again with that warm, human hand, Alex can’t be responsible for the consequences. And he’s afraid the consequences will be his teeth ripping open Liam’s warm, human throat. He can smell Antoine, though, when he draws breath to track him. The reek is so intense he can’t understand why everyone in the hospital can’t smell it. With that smell around him, Antoine should have been sussed out and removed from the premises immediately. How could that woman have sat next to him through the ballet, for that matter? Then he remembers that he hadn’t smelled the vampire, either, when he’d been in his normal human body. It was solely the vampire olfactory sensitivity that made the stench so obvious. And he can’t smell it, either, unless he remembers to breathe. And it’s getting stronger. He can’t be far now. Alex slows, eyes narrowing as he scans the rooms. He’s only vaguely aware now of Liam following behind him. He’s blocked out the sound of Liam’s heartbeat, the slight, sweet odor of blood that still clings to him from the wound on his arm. Or tried to. He can still smell it, vague, delicate, lurking behind the stench of the vampire they’re stalking.

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That scent shifts again suddenly. Alex stops so fast Liam nearly treads on his heels. He hears the sharp intake of breath behind him, the rising heat on his back as Liam’s body lurches toward his, trying to rebalance. A wave of heat above his shoulder tells him Liam has reached for him and nearly grabbed him to regain his balance, but the hand that he can feel only from its aura of warmth withdraws before the fingers actually touch him. Alex draws in a breath -- it doesn’t work to calm him but it certainly works to enhance his sense of smell, too well, even. The carrion scent of feral vampire washes through his nasal passages, down into his throat so that he nearly chokes on it. He turns his head. The door next to him reads 602. Through the window, he sees the woman from the ballet, the congressman’s daughter, stretched out on the bed, the sheets white and pristine over her inert body. Her skin is pale, her eyes closed. A nurse bends over her, making notes on a chart. Beside the bed, nonchalant, Antoine reclines in a chair. As Alex looks through the window, the vampire looks up, and their eyes meet through the glass. Antoine smiles a slow smile, amused and malevolent and irritatingly smirky. Alex’s teeth clench until his molars ache and the fangs he can’t seem to retract draw blood from his lower lip. He can’t barge in because the nurse is right there next to the bed. They’ll have to wait for her to leave. “Is he in there?” Liam’s whisper comes from behind him, and Alex tips his head to acknowledge he’s heard. Liam is looking through the window, though, into the room, just as Alex is. “Yes,” Alex says, puzzled. “He’s right there next to the bed.” Liam frowns, peering again through the window. “Glamoured, then,” he states. “Ah.” The nurse is getting up; Alex steps back from the door. He takes a seat quickly in one of the chairs in the hallway, as if he’s just waiting there for someone else. Liam plops into the seat beside him, following his lead. The nurse seems concerned as she departs the room, muttering to herself over the chart. Even with his enhanced hearing, Alex can’t quite make out what she’s saying.

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She’s speaking Spanish, he realizes. He watches her retreat down the hall, then slips out of the chair and into the room, Alex on his heels. He’s half afraid Antoine will be gone, but he’s still there, still in the chair next to the bed. Only now he’s got the tube from the girl’s IV in his hand and is drinking from it like a straw. The bag is bright red, fresh blood coursing directly into her veins. No wonder the nurse was muttering -- the poor woman is probably still anemic, in spite of all efforts to correct her condition, if Antoine’s drinking her transfusion. Antoine grins as Alex and Liam enter, lifting the tube, squeezed tight between thumb and forefinger, as if in a toast. “Good to see you,” the vampire says, fangs glinting. “Though I have to admit I expected you earlier.” Alex takes a step toward him, fists clenched, but Liam touches his elbow, arresting the movement. “Careful,” Liam murmurs, so quietly Alex can barely hear him. Antoine laughs. “Careful is a very good idea. It won’t get you what you want, though.” Alex blinks at him. The carrion smell is different somehow, this close. Alex recognizes the change for what it is. He’s hungry, beyond hungry, ravenous. He wants blood, wants sex, wants nourishment in whatever form he can find it. And Antoine is there to satisfy that need. He can smell the girl’s blood, too, the blood from the transfusion bag, but it’s not as strong or as compelling now as Antoine’s scent. Perhaps it’s because of the spell, an equilibrium unbalanced by magic calling out to be corrected by countermagic. All he knows is that he needs. Only Liam’s fingers curled against the crook of his arm hold him back. And slowly, gently, those fingers pull away. “Take him,” Liam murmurs. Antoine hears the words, and there’s a flash of amusement in his eyes. “You think you can --”

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It’s all he gets out. Alex flings himself across the room, slams Antoine back into the wall. His hands clamp onto Antoine’s neck, his shoulder, wrenching them apart with brutal strength beyond any he’s tested in this body. Strength driven by need and hunger. By necessity. Antoine’s eyes widen in surprise, and he claws at Alex’s hands, but even with his own vampire strength he can’t dislodge the vise-like hold Alex has on him. With the long, pale neck bared to him, the head twisted sideways at an almost impossible angle, Alex can clearly see the thick, blue-black vein beneath the vampire’s pale skin. It doesn’t pulse -- there’s no heartbeat to make it pulse -- but it’s thick and ropey there under the skin, and it holds what Alex needs to make himself whole again. He bites. There’s a slight resistance as his teeth pierce the pale skin, as if he’s biting through plastic wrap. The human part of him rebels at the strange sensation, his stomach twisting a little, but the vampire in him takes control and he bites deep, deeper, tearing into the flesh. Antoine slides down the wall, hands striving vainly to pull Alex off him. But Alex is nothing but the vampire now, the blood and body-lust swallowing him. Nothing is going to dislodge him now. Not until he’s done. Not until the thirst is quenched. The taste of the blood has shifted, though. The first few swallows were sweet and syrupy, thicker than human blood, not warm, but good going down. Now, as he bears Antoine down to the floor and drinks deep, the blood begins to taste bitter, astringent. His throat continues to convulse as he swallows automatically, barely registering the taste as drink after drink begins to take the edge off the seemingly insatiable hunger. Beneath him, Antoine’s body is taut and shaking. His hands flail, occasionally grasping Alex’s arm. His back arches, pressing his stomach up into Alex’s. Alex can feel the vampire’s steely hard cock pressing into him. He starts to lower his hand to curl his fingers around it, but some small part of his brain remembers Liam is there watching, and the movement stops before he can quite complete the half-conscious thought.

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Would Liam even care? he wonders, but his mind rebels. He won’t do it. Even in the depths of the bloodlust filling him, he won’t touch Antoine that way. The blood, though… The blood is an entirely different proposition. Drinking him is as intimate as sex in its way, but it isn’t sex. It’s nourishment. And in this case, survival. Antoine’s body jerks under his, and Alex is certain the vampire is orgasming. And possibly dying at the same time. That part he’s not so sure about. Whatever’s happening, it’s intense, and Antoine flails under him, moaning. Alex can’t disengage his teeth to look at the other man’s face. Then the pain hits him. Low and hard, tearing through his stomach, up into his chest, as if someone has ripped into him with a knife in his gut and ripped upward to take out his heart. He howls in pain, but he can’t stop drinking. He sucks, swallows, drawing out the thickening blood from the vampire’s ravaged throat. It tastes bitter now, and hot. It tastes like acid, and it feels like acid searing down his throat to his chest, his belly. It’s going to eat through him from the inside, shred him, turn him to dust and light. He can’t stop drinking. Vaguely, he feels a hand on his back, then on his shoulders, pulling him away. Then the horrible, disemboweling pain seems to melt his guts, his belly, his heart. He can bear it no more, and falls back into Liam’s waiting arms.

*** The pain lasts a long time. Everything around him remains dark, consciousness eluding him, but he can feel the pain. A memory floats to the surface, but it’s not his. This is what it was like to turn. More memories rush him, isolated, intense, then braiding together, from discrete moments to incidents, events. Liam’s memories. The first blood he drank after he was turned. The vampire who turned him. A child, weeping, its blood even sweeter in his mouth. A woman, struggling under him. Alex feels himself shaking, unable to accept what’s flooding over him.

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This is not me. I never did these things. But he knows who did, and that is almost worse. Who is he? Is he Liam still? Will the spell work the way it was meant to work, or will he be caught here forever, half Liam, half himself, trapped in a body that must kill to live, webbed in memories of horrible depravity that he knows belong to the man he loves more than he’s ever loved anyone in his life? How can he love him, knowing he has been this in the past? That, in many ways, he still is this? The memories come faster, more intense, until it feels as if he’s living them rather than remembering. Murder and death, a rapacious fury Alex couldn’t previously have even imagined Liam capable of. But he was. And is. It’s too much. More than his mind can encompass. He can’t feel his body, or anything outside him; all he can feel is the memories, as if they are happening to him in the here and now. He can’t do this -- he can’t have done this. This isn’t him, and the creature who did this is a monster. Once again, he has no choice but to lose himself in the darkness.

*** Liam waits. Sitting at home on his couch, watching Alex twitch and flail in the grip of dreams, he can’t quite remember how he managed to get his lover out of the hospital. Antoine had set a glamour of some sort, and until Alex drew enough of the vampire’s blood to send him into unconsciousness, the glamour held, keeping the nurses and doctors away from the room. When it fell, though, chaos ensued. Fortunately, by that time Alex had taken as much blood as he was capable of taking, and it was easy enough to pry him off Antoine’s supine body. As the nurses rushed in to check on the bleeding man on the floor, Liam slipped away through the last, tattered remnants of the glamour, Alex leaning heavily on him. By the time anyone caught sight of them, they were outside the room, and no one thought to connect the blood-drenched man in Liam’s embrace to the blood-drenched man on the floor in the room that housed the congressman’s daughter.

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He didn’t stick around to see how the nurses reacted to Antoine, probably still alive but unconscious and with no vital signs to make that obvious to anyone not accustomed to dealing with vampires. Likely they’d declared him dead and shipped him down to the morgue. Much more concerned with Alex’s well-being, he appropriated a gurney and a lab coat, dodged and dissembled, lied and maneuvered, using three hundred years of experience with human nature to convince doctors, nurses and passersby that yes, they were going into the hospital, not out of it, yes, there was a doctor waiting, they were heading for the emergency room, Liam himself was a doctor, everything was completely under control. In this way, he passed six floors down and into the parking garage where finally, safe from inquiring do-gooders, he maneuvered Alex into the back seat and headed home as quickly as he dared. Now he sits watching as Alex continues his struggle through the absorption of the vampire blood he’s consumed. It’s a long and painful process, as Liam well knows. He’d hoped the magic would reverse before Alex had to deal with all this, but it hasn’t. Liam is still human, and Alex is left to endure the gauntlet Liam remembers far too vividly from his own past, when he drank his own sire. He remembers the memories that flooded him then, of everything he ever did, every soul he ever drank, blood and pain and deep wells of remorse. The remorse is what kills most of the vampires who undergo the process. It’s too much to handle when every life you’ve taken returns to haunt you. There’s great power to be had when the transformation is completed, but at the cost of the freedom of a life of purely amoral evil. It seems a fitting price for cannibalism. He wonders if Alex will experience those memories, or his own. He hopes the latter -- he barely maintained his sanity through the flood of memories of things he himself had lived. He can’t imagine how much worse it would be for a human to endure the memories of centuries of murder and bloodlust. It seems illogical that Alex would endure Liam’s vampiric memories, but it’s magic, and magic has its own rules. The vampire’s memories are as engrained in the body as in the mind, so it seems a likely possibility.

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Alex moans and writhes, his pain, whether of body or spirit, plainly visible and plainly nearly intolerable. Liam can do nothing but sit and watch, and wait, and hope that the absorption of the blood does, indeed, reverse the magic that has brought them here.

*** He grows tired, waiting, and finally stretches out on the floor next to the couch where Alex sleeps. He reaches up and takes his lover’s hand, kisses it. “I’m here,” he murmurs against the cool skin, the ridges of veins soft under his lips. He holds the hand until, drifting into sleep, he lets it slip from his grasp. When he awakens, he’s on the couch.

Chapter Seven Alex swims to the surface of consciousness, groping for some sense of reality. He’s been trapped for what feels like an eternity in a morass of another man’s memories, blood-soaked and painful. He wants out. It hurts, coming back from the depths of unconsciousness. Hurts like being born. His skin aches, his bones, and a pounding drumbeat pulses in his skull. Slowly, he opens his eyes. The sound is intense and all-encompassing. He winces. What the hell is it? And there’s another sound, like a windstorm outside, but it’s a rhythm, as well, steady and even, but quickening as he begins to panic, wondering what’s happened to him. The drumbeat quickens as well, and suddenly he realizes what the sounds are. Heartbeat. Breathing. He’s human again. Startled, he sits up. He holds his hands up to look at them and recognizes his own long fingers, the tracery of veins on the backs of his hands that is different than that on the backs of Liam’s. He turns them over to look at his palms. The lines there haven’t changed, the lifeline on his left hand still arching boldly alongside the mound of his thumb joint. Inexplicably, a lump rises in his throat. He isn’t sure if the tears are born of sadness, fear, or pain. Something moves behind him, the motion caught in the corner of his eye, or perhaps he hears it. He’s not sure. But he turns in response, and sees Liam on the couch, half-sitting, a bleary, disoriented look on his face. “Alex?” The vampire’s voice is a strangled whisper. “Are you all right?” Alex just looks at him for a moment, one he can measure now in heartbeats, or breaths, rather than in silence. He’s not sure how to answer the question. He still hurts,

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and when he looks at Liam the memories come back, flooding him. He swallows, the taste of blood returning to his mouth. Finally he nods. Liam lets out a sound of relief, not quite a breath. “Thank God,” he says. He pushes himself to a sitting position and reaches out, hand clasping Alex’s shoulder. Alex just stares at him, uncertain what to do. He doesn’t want to pull away, but the touch of the vampire’s hand on his shoulder makes him cold inside. Those hands have killed, brutalized, done things Alex never could have imagined until he saw them unreel in his own mind. But Liam’s hand tightens its grip on Alex and draws him close, and Liam kisses him. It’s the space of a full breath before Alex is able to respond. Just as he does, Liam draws away. “Alex?” Alex meets his lover’s gaze. It’s hard, but he does it. The desperation in Liam’s eyes nearly breaks him. Liam is afraid. Liam’s fear makes Alex try to ignore his own. He leans back into the kiss, lets his lips stroke across Liam’s. But even as he does, he tastes the memories of blood, of throats opened coldly, without emotion. It’s all still too fresh, too clear. He tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter. That wasn’t the Liam he knows now. It was an entirely different person -- not even a person, an animal incapable of the love Alex knows Liam holds for him. But he lived those memories. They invaded him, took him over and, for those endless, excruciating hours, made him something he’s never been before. He’s not sure how to recover from it. Not sure he can. He wants to. He wants it to be like it’s always been between himself and Liam. He wants to relax under the vampire’s touch and let his careful hands and sleek body help him bury the pain. So he opens his mouth to Liam’s, strokes the vampire’s lips with his tongue. It’s the same. Anything beyond the taste of cool flesh is his imagination, the imprint of a past that doesn’t even belong to him. He pushes it all away, focusing only on the movement of Liam’s mouth against his.

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Then Liam’s hand rises to touch him again. His arm, his elbow, fingers stroking his ribs, then going lower to press the heel of his hand against Alex’s hipbone. Suddenly it’s all too much. He pulls back, and the words come from his lips before he can stop them. “I can’t.” He shakes his head, just a little, just enough. “I can’t.” The words nearly choke him. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He turns his shoulder away, curling into himself, feeling small and broken and alone. Liam’s voice comes from behind him, quiet and shaky. “What… what did you see?” Alex can’t look at him. He can’t look at the face he loves and reconcile it with what he’s seen. “I saw you,” he answers. “I saw everything.” Liam stares at him a moment, his eyes widening, then he, too, seems to withdraw into himself. He nods once. “I’m sorry.” His voice is so quiet Alex isn’t certain he heard it. “It’s not your fault,” he mumbles in answer. “You didn’t choose to be what you are.” He’s not sure it’s the right thing to say, not sure it will make anything any better. “You didn’t choose to make me go through it all.” Liam nods. His voice when he speaks is still barely a murmur, as if he can’t summon the energy to make words. “Maybe he knew it would be this way. So that even if he died, he’d still have his revenge.” “Is he dead?” It occurs to Alex he hasn’t thought to ask until now.

“As far as I know.”

“You didn’t see him die?”

“No, but he must have, if we were restored.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Another strange silence falls between them. Alex doesn’t even want to consider

the possibility that Antoine might still be alive. There’s too much weighing on him. He

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reaches out again, touches Liam’s face. The coolness under his fingers makes his stomach clench. Vampire. It doesn’t matter. It never has. But right now it does. He lets his hand fall. “I should go,” he says. “I’m tired -- I’m sure you are, too.” “Yeah.” Liam’s voice is thick. “Sure. It’s nearly sunrise, anyway.” Alex nods, but it’s a few more seconds before he gets to his feet. Slowly, and certain with every step that it’s the wrong thing to do, he gathers his things and leaves.

Chapter Eight The last time there was strangeness between them, Liam didn’t see Alex for days. He’d avoided the office, and Liam had finally gone to fetch him. This time, Alex comes to work as if nothing has happened. But the atmosphere between them is strange, closed off, as cool and professional as it was when Alex had first come to work here, before he’d ever been in Liam’s bed. Liam isn’t sure how to act around him, what to say, how far he can push into Alex’s bubble before he’ll be shoved back out. Even Carly, who holds down the office during the day, notices it. “What bug has he got up his butt?” she asks Liam at one point, after Alex has left them alone to run to the library. Then her eyes widen. “Or is that totally politically incorrect since you’re usually up his butt?” Liam can’t help but smile. “The day you’re politically correct is the day we won’t have jobs anymore, because wherever the demons come from will have frozen over.” “Well, I think most of them are from Cleveland, and Cleveland freezes over fairly regularly.” She smiles at him gently, and for a moment he thinks maybe she hasn’t realized he didn’t answer her question. Then she adds, “Whatever it is I hope you two sort it out. This job is depressing enough without the two of you moping around the place like a couple of… mopers.” Liam nods, appreciative of the sentiment but not sure there’s much -- if anything -- he can do about it. He can’t chase Alex down, not this time. Alex has to work through this one on his own, and Liam doesn’t know how to help, or how long it might take. He sees the first stirrings of hope when, a few nights later, they’re looking at a book together. Alex is standing next to Liam, and he leans across the desk to peer more closely at the antiquated Latin inscribed on the pages. As he does, his hand settles between Liam’s shoulder blades, a casual touch, but intimate. And Alex hasn’t touched

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him since they’d both come back to work. It’s so soft, so unexpected, it feels almost like they’re making love as Alex holds the pose for a few more minutes, while they work out the letters and fit the words together. When he finally leans back and draws his hand away, Liam feels bereft. He’s not sure what to do next -- three hundred years old and he doesn’t know what to do to bring Alex back to him -- so he just sits there, gives Alex a tentative smile, which his lover -- ex-lover? He can’t even bear the thought -returns. He goes upstairs early that night, making his way to bed before the sky has begun to lighten. He can’t bear to be so close to Alex any longer without knowing what is happening between them, what will happen. He needs to know he’ll be able to touch his lover again, that they are, indeed, still lovers, and Antoine’s final revenge will not be the end of their relationship. He stretches out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’s never cared about anyone the way he cares about Alex, and it’s taken all this to make it clear to him. He knew he cared about the man, knew they were good together, but he’s only just realized he’s not sure he can live without him. The sun is coming -- he can feel it. Since his return to his own body, he’s been more sensitive to it, as if he must relearn how to stay awake during the day. He doesn’t want to sleep yet, though. Sleep is too dark and deep and alone lately, in his cold bed without even a heartbeat of his own to keep him company. He wants to spoon around Alex’s back and fall asleep with those warm rhythms in his arms. He thinks he hears something and sits up. It’s not until the sound comes the second time that he realizes it’s a knock on his front door. Blearier than he expected to be after the brief rest, he wavers to his feet and goes to answer it. Alex stands outside his door. His eyes are red-rimmed and he looks hesitant, as if he might run away any second. “Alex,” Liam says. Alex stares at him a moment, then says, his voice low and shaky, “You love me.” “Yes.” It’s the one thing he’s certain of.

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Alex smiles a little, and a single tear wells from his lids. “There was so much there, so many memories to sort through, but I found that one. It took a long time, but I found it.” Liam starts to take a step toward him, but stops, uncertain. Alex closes the distance without hesitation and kisses him, deep and slow and long, and it’s all Liam can do to keep from weeping with the joy of it. It seems a long time before Alex leans back from the kiss, eyes shining now with more tears, but with emotion, as well. Love, and, to Liam’s relief, need. Alex’s hand traces down Liam’s arm, then he laces their fingers together. “You need to sleep,” he says gently. Liam nods. He’s tired enough now to be groggy with it, the sun calling to him. Alex steps over his threshold, and, still holding his hand, walks him to the bedroom. Alex undresses him carefully, slowly, kissing him as he does, until Liam is naked and wanting but too close to the daytime sleep to do anything about it. Then he pulls off his own clothes and leads him to the bed. “I can’t,” Liam mumbles. It hurts him to say it. “The sun.” “I know.” Alex kisses him, then lies down and draws Liam after him. “Sleep,” he says. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” As weak with gratitude and relief as he is with the coming sun, Liam stretches out next to him and folds his warmth up in his arms. He falls asleep to the rhythm of Alex’s hands stroking his hair, and his lover’s heartbeat soft and quiet against his chest.

Elizabeth Jewell Elizabeth Jewell is the author of a growing collection of paranormal and contemporary erotic novels and novellas. She’s been writing since before she could read, and has given in to the fact that she’s completely addicted to the process of composing fiction -- especially hot, steamy, paranormal fiction. Elizabeth lives in Colorado with her kids and a hyperactive ferret named Spike. You can visit her website at

http://elizabethjewell.kabeka.com

http://elizabethjewell.blogspot.com.

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