by Kizzie Hayes
August didn’t move. “Fool!” he hissed again, teeth bared. “Do you have a death wish?” August found the pun amusing.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him calmly, which only enraged him more. August knew what was coming next. Her determination always brought out the evil within him. Everard despised being challenged, confronted. Everard liked to think that he was the superior one.
Cold hands wrapped firmly into August’s hair. He dragged her over to the bed where the dead whore lay. August could have chosen to fight him. She could have killed him, and he could have killed her. At that moment, August thought he was going to, but she was wrong. This was another one of his games that he piteously believed would frighten me into obeying him.
“Damn you and your stubborn ways!” he growled as he threw her on the bed. Everard threw himself over her, pinning her down, trying to intimidate her. A long time ago it would have worked.
Silence prevailed between them as they lay together like two lovers locked in hatred. It had been centuries since they had been so close, so intimately close. When mortal, her handsome lord often showered August with his affection and would make love to her endlessly under the waxing moon.
When he was made immortal, all human desires died away with the body rendering them no longer able to love as mortals love.
Even though they were immortal, they still felt love. They were still able to kiss, caress the other’s cold, dead skin, whisper poetry, dance and laugh. All those emotions did not abandon them. What we chose to feel, they felt. And so, when Everard chose to abandon love and accept hate into his heart, August chose to abandon her love for him and accept her new love for her fledgling. August’s beautiful young fledgling who was conspiring against her. August damned him for his betrayal.
August lay in his bed, surrounded by his hard body. In their silence, his eyes looked into hers. She watched him, respecting and resenting the regal figure that pinned her to his blood-stained silken sheets all at the same time.
Anger still burned intensely in Everard’s eyes, though his expression had now become serene. At that moment, he almost looked like a porcelain doll. August wanted to share in his anger with him, to share his grief, his pain. She wanted to open herself up to him, to cradle his black head in her lap, caress him as a mother caressed her child. But August knew that what she felt was madness.
As if Everard could read her thoughts, he relaxed slightly. Slowly, tenderly, he raised his hand and placed it on August’s face. His action surprised her, but she showed no such emotion. August merely allowed him to do this, while her eyes watched his every move.
“Why do we do this?” he suddenly whispered to here. All traces of anger gone.
“Do what?” August answered.
“Pretend that we are no longer companions.” His fingers began to trace her jawline. Gentle, careful, as if she was made of marble.
“Because we are not, Everard.” It was a bitter-sweet revelation that made her feel sad. “We have not been for many a century.”
“But we could be,” he whispered leaning closer to August’s face. She inhaled his scent. So intoxicating and powerful that he sent her into overdrive. “Again.”
“And what madness has possessed you to think of such a thing?” August breathed as he toyed with her lips.
“You're here. Your presence intoxicates me as much as it irritates me. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I no longer want you, Ah, but the more I want you.”
“I would serve you no good,” August whispered gently as her own anger receded. They were actually communicating now, and she did not know why. The whole situation unnerved her. This was not the Everard she knew.
“I could teach you things. There is still so much that you could learn about your gifts my love. I could teach you, show you and we could become one again, like in the old days.” At his false hope, August smiled.
“The past is the past love, let’s forget it. I do not wish to continue living in my shadow.” His jaw tightened slightly at her words.
“But what if I cannot forget it?”
“What is it you cannot forget?” He sighed a heavy sigh and for the first time turned his eyes away from August to the dead girl that lay at her side.
“I am a monster. A cold-hearted murderer who preys on the fear of others. I am a killer, a hunter.” Then turning his eyes back to hers, he said coldly, “A stealer of lives.” August then realized that Everard wanted to talk of her making.
“We are all stealers of lives,” August told him half-heartedly.
“Admirable of you to lie so freely,” he scolded gently. “But we both know you haven’t killed a victim out of pure hatred. I have and will again. I’ve stolen mortal lives and forced them into eternal darkness whether they wanted it or not. I have made fledglings that loved life yet I stole them greedily away from the light and threw them into the dark. I stole you.”
“Everard,” August began wearily, but he cut her off.
“We never had the opportunity to talk about it. You never had the opportunity to consent or refuse me. I just took you for my own selfish desires. I couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. I was cast into a world that I knew little about. I didn’t have a choice in my making. And so I returned to you, raging and angry and hateful, jealous of your life, your humanity. I couldn’t bear the thought of you living. I wanted you to suffer the same fate as I, so I took you against your will. I...” He stopped in mid-sentence.
Everard’s hand upon August’s face fell onto her stomach. She felt a surge of memories flood back to her in an unwanted tidal wave. A sharp breath escaped her lips at his touch. His eyes held hers as he spoke. “I murdered our child.”
August couldn't stand it anymore. “I went back there,” she whispered mournfully in a monotonous voice. “To our apartment. I went out to hunt, but I ended up back at the house.”
August forced herself to sit up. Everard slowly recoiled in bitter sadness, but she took his hand in hers. He softened. “I visited the grave my sweet. It’s abandoned. Ivy hangs overgrown over the tomb; it smells of death even though there is no body or no bones lying beneath it. I pity the place. I...”
“I took everything from you,” he answered, “Your brother, our unborn child, your life.”
“The past is forgotten,” August answered sadly. It was a lie. The past was not forgotten. It could never be forgotten.
Everard sighed heavily before reaching out his slender arms and encircling August in a tight embrace. He pulled her to his chest, and she let him. He smoothed her hair as he once did when she had arisen a distraught vampire. August closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the moment one last time before she left him for good.
“Oh my love,” he said to her softly. “I have lain with many a mortal woman since you left me. In my pain, I went on a killing spree, I indulged in the most twisted, sickest perversions that I could imagine. Yes, there were many beautiful mortals, but not one of them was as beautiful as you. When I lay with the living, it was not the temptation that I was seeing. It was you.”
August smiled into the silk of his chest like a bashful child. “Fool,” August whispered and for once she heard him laugh. It was like music to her ears, light and magical. For a time, they were not two immortal beings entwined in darkness. No, they were two mortal lovers again.
*****
August don’t how long they had been lying there on the bed, but she was awoken by the sound of her phone ringing. August sprang to her feet at the sound and pulled the phone out of her leather jacket. August looked at the screen. It was Kyle. Swiping her finger across the screen, she answered. Everard was sleeping like a raven-haired angel.
“I know you are at a loss as to why I haven’t come home, my love,” August whispered to Kyle with her anger burning. August knew that Kyle wanted her dead. All this time he had conspired against her. He was jealous of her feelings for Everard. He was selfish. He wanted August all to himself but he knew that he could
never have her. As much as she tried to deny it, she belonged to only one vampire: Everard Nightingale.
For a long moment, Kyle didn’t answer. The phone line went dead. August’s fledgling was furious; she could sense it. She could feel his hate, his resentment.
August turned to look at her lover then. Everard was sleeping, his arms spread wide out over the bed like an angel. She had to make her move now; she had to leave him, unnoticed.
August remained silent. All she could hear was the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth behind her. She stood as still as a ghost, unmoving, apprehensive. Her head bowed slightly, looking at the floor. August’s mind raced as she began to think how Everard should never have taken her humanity away and killed their child. Even now, the memory was too painful for August to bear, even after all these centuries.
August could feel his eyes burning into hers before she lifted her head to look at him. When she did, Everard was half-smirking his famous arrogant smile.
“I should go,” August whispered in a strange tone. She tried to make a move, but Everard shot his hand out to her wrist, halting her steps. August looked down at his hand on her wrist before looking back up into his eyes.
“So soon?” he answered, “You’ve only just arrived.”
“I have business to attend to in London,” August told him. He snorted then.
“Of all the excuses!” he began, and just like that the monster returned. August was in no mood to listen to his childishness. She had put with his childish ways for half of her newborn vampire life. As a mortal, Everard had never been so cruel and deceitful.
“There is no further reason for me to stay now my love,” August whispered tiredly to him. Everard's eyes sparkled a deep blue then, and she felt her heart race.
“You are going to walk back into the world and be at great risk of being murdered while you slumber?” he questioned.
“It's a risk I am willing to take,” she told him, “besides, if I were to die, it would be by your hand. You're my death!”
Everard studied August for a long moment then before finally, gracefully walking over to her, his silken shirt shining in the dim candle light. She watched his every move, waiting.
“You know I won't kill you,” he purred gently then, his blue eyes glinting in the light. “I made you because you are beautiful. Why would I want to end such beauty?” “It wouldn’t be up to you, would it?” August stated bluntly, unappeased by his flattering remarks. “My fledgling is a manipulator, a deceiver. He corrupts and he possesses. If you were to kill me right now and he was in control, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“And how do you know this for certain?” he questioned. August frowned.
“You tell me,” she whispered, staring at him.
Everard was so calm and collected that it was maddening. She didn’t want to know any more, so she moved from the roaring fireplace and made her way to the door.
“I have to go,” August told him again, but as she made way to leave, his cold slender hand caught August’s arm to prevent her from leaving once again.
“For over a hundred years I have not seen you, August, and now you are going to leave me again?” August turned her eyes to face him, but when she looked at him, his face was inches away from hers. August’s soul set on fire as she stared into his eyes. She became uncomfortable being so intimately close to him. Even after all these centuries with him, Everard still had the power to seduce her and he knew it.
“What do you expect me to do Everard? Stay? And do what? No, I have a life back in London, I must return before dawn.”
“Dawn would have already reached London by now,” he said gently, “If you left for London now, you would be burned to cinders in an instant!”
August laughed then. A sharp bitter laugh. “And that would be a bad thing?” she snapped, “We are evil creatures. Perhaps death is what should befall us!”
Instantly, Everard grew angry at her answer. He released her arm sharply.
“Then why don’t you walk into the path of the rising sun now if you truly want to die?” he snapped.
August did not answer him. She sighed heavily. She was tired of arguing.
“I don’t want to fight with you Everard,” she muttered softly, “I have done what you have bid of me. I came at your call, and now I must leave. I have business to attend to, and a fledgling to kill.”
“You're going to kill alone?” he questioned me in his deep French accent.
“Yes,” she answered simply, looking deep into his eyes. For a long moment, Everard remained silent, his pale face an emotional mask.
“You’re too weak,” Everard finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “Even a fledgling is too strong for you, my sweet.”
When August did not answer, he began to pace around the room before he finally resumed his seat in the red velvet arm chair. He spread his legs out over the little oaken table in a relaxed manner. August watched him from where she was standing by the door, and suddenly he seemed like the young man she remembered from their mortal years. He sat with a slender hand raised to his chin as if he was deep in thought.
“Sit,” it was almost a command. Hesitantly she obeyed, more out of curiosity than his power over her. A long silence passed between them as he sat there staring at me, drinking in everything about me. “It has been too long since I last saw your face,” he said to her. “After our ‘bitter’ departure all those years ago.”
August remembered their last goodbye.
“What's done is done,” August answered him, “I do not wish to dwell on the past any longer. I have let the past rule me.” Once again Everard rose to his feet and approached her. August watched him warily.
“I have missed you,” he said, raising his hand to entwine it in my long black silken hair. He fondled August’s hair carefully as his eyes locked on hers. August could hear his strong heartbeat. “It has been too long my love.”
August was trembling. He was weakening her already, trying so hard to seduce her and she was allowing it to happen. It didn’t matter how hard she resisted, he was her maker, her lover and she loved him still.
“Can you forgive me for the death of your brother?” The mention of her brother pierced August’s heart like a knife. She had not expected him to mention the death of her brother here, yet he had, and he looked sincerely sorry.
August tried to turn away from Everard's strong gaze, tears rising. It had been over two centuries now since her brother's death, yet to a vampire, it only seemed like yesterday. The hurt would never cease.
“Everard please,” August began, but he cut her off, pale hand rising to her face gently caressing her like a long-lost lover. August bowed her head trying to hide her face, but he was no fool.
“It hurts you still what I did does it not?” he whispered softly. A strange thing for him. He was always so angry, so cold and cruel. But that was only the facade of the vampire; the mortal lord before August had been so different and so loving, not a monster.
“I need to know that I have your forgiveness for your brother,” he whispered gently, forcing August to look into his eyes. She could see that he was genuinely sorry for my brother’s death, but she was uncomfortable with being begged by Everard for her forgiveness. August sighed heavily, trying to be strong. She was a vampire; they are not born to weep. It was hard to tell if she had even forgiven Everard for what he had done after all the years she had spent apart from him. Staring into his supernatural eyes, she whispered the words, “I forgive you.”
Silence. As he stared into her eyes, he swiftly leaned down and stole a rough kiss from my lips. August allowed him to kiss her, a fool’s weakness. She now knew how her lover’s victims felt when under his spell.
He pushed August against the stone wall, and she succumbed to him. Gently his fangs bit into her lip just enough so that her blood bled into his wanting mouth. August felt his tongue lap at the tiny wound, tasting her ever so softly before he stared into her eyes once more. August�
��s blood painted his bottom lip red.
August’s heart was racing now from both excitement and fear. As she stood agains the wall, her mind raced with thoughts. What was I doing allowing this raven-haired god to treat me in such a manner? I had walked into his home a strong and determined vampire, and now I was a mess. Weak at the knees for my maker, my lover, my one true companion.
“I’m thirsting,” August suddenly whispered. The words had escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think about what she was saying. August saw Everard brush his thick black hair to the side as he revealed a long, sleek pale neck to me. The sight was enticing and so tempting. August stared at the artery, listening to the rush of blood that swirled around inside of his perfect body. Thirsting and wanting, wanting to taste him more than ever now. She suddenly realized that she had not hunted for days. Now her blood lust was consuming her; her animal side making itself known.
“There isn’t a village for miles,” he purred, leaning against her fragile form. August could smell the scent of his hair, the perfume that only a fine young man would currently wear. He smelled divine. He was same old perfect Everard.
“Oh, how I want you.”
Staring into his eyes, August was blood crazed. Just the smell of him ignited her fury for his blood. She wanted to feel him running through her. Suddenly, she wanted to know what it was like to be one with him again.
Slowly, taking her hand, Everard walked to the red velvet armchair, never taking his eyes from hers as she hazily followed him. He sat down and pulled August into his lap. Placing a slender finger underneath her chin, Everard guided August’s face to his before consuming her in a passionate kiss. He nipped at her throat playfully and she gasped at the sensation. Then August tore her lips from his and drove her fangs deep into his bare slender neck.
It started instantly, the low thrum of his heart against hers as she drew the blood to the surface lapping at the sweet, thick nectar that flooded her mouth like a red fountain.