by Ana Calin
“Listen, I understand that eating goes well with conversation, but I’m not in the mood. Besides, I have to focus on helping her get over what happened tonight so that we can go on with our mission.”
“It’s not tonight that you need to help her with, it’s her entire past. She was a child prostitute, that’s no easy baggage to carry. Did you know that about her before she told us?”
I shake my head no, the pain returning to my chest when I think about Irina’s story.
“But I should have known. The way she presented herself, as this flawless, cat-like seductress, it’s actually typical for women who’ve been put through hell for their very femininity. The way she tried to take the love of powerful men away from other women, getting it for herself as if that would protect her, make the little girl inside feel safe, even if only for a little while.”
“You didn’t see these things because you didn’t care to look behind the mask she was wearing. But you do care about her now, that’s obvious.” He wipes his mouth on a napkin from the kitchen roll, and reaches for a coke.
I remember the way I took Irina in that hotel room after I watched Herald with those hookers, and the pain grows like an octopus coiling its ink-black tentacles around my heart. I used her, horny as hell when thinking about doing those things to her.
“Child prostitution,” Herald repeats with the coke in his hand, sucking on his teeth as he ponders. “She was transformed into a vampire when she was fifteen but, she looks older than that, like her body continued to grow after that. How is that possible? I mean, doesn’t the body stop transforming when you become a vampire?”
“No, not exactly. The first thing the human body does when it starts to transform is search its DNA for the best version of itself. The best version may be at any age, different from person to person. Some people are at their peak at eighteen, others at forty. Irina’s perfect version happened to be mid-twenties.”
“Hmmm. I wonder what my DNA says about the perfect version of myself.”
“There are far more important things to worry about when you become a vampire, like for example the fact that your perfect version reflects your inner looks.”
He furrows his bushy grey eyebrows. “I’m confused.”
“I thought you would be. I’ll give you an example. The Old Priest, the guy for whom you played middleman.”
“God, was he ugly.”
“You can say that again. Even though he was a vampire, and vampires are supposed to be beautiful.”
“That Quasimodo, a vampire?” He leans in, his face alight with curiosity. It makes him strangely likeable. “Why the hell did he look so gross?”
“It was his inner self, the evil inside him. A person’s essence always shines through when they’re turned into a vampire. While vampirism comes with good looks, the inner, true face comes to light as well. That’s why Vlad Dracula looks brutal, his right hand Tristan deadly—he is an assassin after all—and so on.”
“So that means that, deep inside, you’re a pretty boy with the brilliant mind of a poet, who breaks young women’s hearts.”
“I don’t break hearts.”
“Like hell you don’t. You think I didn’t see how those girls on the steps inside the uni looked at you? Didn’t you notice the jealousy with which they glared after Irina?”
I replay in my mind how I introduced her as my future wife. Why was that the first solution that came to mind? And why did it feel so good to say it?
“Everything about Irina’s looks screams that she is a seductress,” Herald says, nodding to the bathroom door where the water’s still running. “That must be her essence. But I wonder—what if it’s just what her past turned her into? Had her life been different, had she had a cozy little childhood with loving, nine to five working parents, would that still be her essence?”
I imagine Irina under the shower. Then I think of her dancing at the horror club, her long, finely muscled legs in the net stockings, stretching in the air for the pleasure of that bastard. The very monster who created the seductress.
“Her entire existence, she’s been looking for love,” I whisper, feeling my way into Irina’s heart. Looking in her direction helps. I think she turned off the water, but I’m not sure, I’m sinking into this connection with her and that dulls my other senses. “The seductress is what her deeply unfulfilled need for affection conditioned her to become. She transformed into what her inner self hoped would earn her love, the only thing that seemed to work in her world.”
“Smart handsome scholar you are,” Irina says somewhere close to me, snapping me out of the state. With a towel wrapped around her breasts and wet hair, she bends over the table, causing Herald to lean back in a gesture of self-protection. But all she does is pick up a slice of pizza, then heads to the small corner couch and rests her pretty feet on the coffee table.
“I imagine that my unconscious mind is quite stupid.” She bites from the pizza as if she needs it, but I know she’s only taking delight in the taste. “Because being a seductress ensures you anything but love. Okay, you get to turn some men upside down, politicians or billionaires who’ve earned position and wealth precisely because they hoped they’d feel worthier by having it. The lower their self-esteem, the harder they fall for women who know how to exploit the weaknesses that they think they hide so well. But the men who know our business, the really dangerous men, have nothing but contempt for prostitutes, and they treat such women like junk.”
She glances at me. I want to cry out that it’s no longer like that for me when it comes to her, but then how is it? I’m not even sure.
“Some men, especially the men that we truly want,” Irina continues, “would never take us seriously. I mean, just imagine someone like Lazarus, a refined handsome scholar that all campus beauties drool over, professors and students alike, going to a campus ball with someone like me.” She motions to herself as if it’s obvious. “A woman who’s clearly a seductress, maybe by profession.”
“There’s much more to you, and I know that.” I push back my chair and head over to her. She averts her eyes from me when I hunker down and take her hands in mine, but I won’t let that sway me. “Don’t let what happened tonight do this to you. Don’t let that bastard destroy what you’ve worked so hard to build up in all these years, your self-image and sense of worth.”
She gives a small laugh, like I’ve just said the most childish thing. “Pretty words. But I’m afraid the reality is much more complicated than that.”
“I’m sure it is.” I squeeze her hands. “But bring the Irina I know back.”
She pulls her hands from mine and gets up to her feet, walking over to the window, her vampire eyes scrutinizing the dark forest beyond it. “The Irina you know is a mask, Lazarus. And besides, why should you even care? Mask or no, I sucked you almost dry twenty years ago, with the intention of leaving you for dead. I did to you what that bastard did to me, I’m no better than him.” She lets her head hang, her hair falling hopelessly like wet cloth around her face. “I became a monster, just like him.”
I connect deeply to the hurt in her voice, that connection driving me closer until I’m right behind her. I can’t bear any space between us. I need to be as close to her as possible. I wind my arms around her from behind and press her to me.
“No, don’t.” But I’m already connected, and I know exactly why she’s rejecting me—she’s feeling unworthy, dirty.
“I wish you just saw yourself with my eyes right now.”
She whips around and faces me, her blue eyes without any make-up. She seems an angel, her lips naturally rosy and her eyelashes naturally curved upward. There are tears in her eyes, and a piece of my heart breaks.
“Right now you say. Just yesterday you thought the worst of me, you thought I deserved the worst, and you were right to do so. But that Kareem boy.... You wanted to know what he meant to me.” Her voice trembles over his name. “Well, I’ll tell you.” She juts out her chin. “He was the first creature th
at showed me kindness even though he knew exactly what I was. Sure, so did Ruxandra and Tristan, but while I do love them dearly, I had to earn their kindness, their appreciation, their love. Tristan was suspicious and wary of me, at first, and it was natural. He’s a warrior, and he’s been through hell as a child, too. A monster mutilated his soul, and his essence became that of an assassin who expects attacks and betrayals from all sides. As for Rux, you know the story.
“But Kareem, he didn’t need reasons to treat me humanely. To feel pity for me. Many people say they don’t want anybody’s pity, but I sure as heck could have used some in my life. What I wouldn’t have done for a drop of pity when that bastard Zdrovan used me the way he did.”
She stops, her chin trembling. I reach out to touch her, hoping to soothe at least a little of her pain, but she slaps my hand away and pushes past me, slipping into a bedroom and slamming the door shut behind her.
“Don’t leave her alone now,” Herald urges me quietly. He’d sat so quiet in his spot that I only remember his presence now. I was too tangled in my connection to Irina.
I don’t waste another minute and flash after her.
“A good thing you didn’t lock the door, so I didn’t have to break it down.”
“You wouldn’t have.” She keeps in the shadow by the window.
“You don’t really want to be alone right now, Irina,” I press as I close the distance between us.
“You sound like a psycho, telling me what I actually want,” she counters, keeping the towel tightly about her. I point to my heart as I invade her private sphere.
“We have a connection. I’m your Grail, my blood is inside of you. I’ll always be a part of you, even if you reject me.” As I say it I realize just how much intimacy that implies. The very essence of my body will be forever inside this woman, and nothing can change that.
My cock hardens, and I can only hope Irina doesn’t look down to discover my erection. She’d think the worst of me. Just to be sure I take her chin between my fingers, keeping that beautiful blue gaze on my face.
“If you could see yourself through my eyes,” I whisper.
“I have,” she says. “I know how you see me, and I don’t like dwelling on it.”
She tries to move past me again, but I push her against the wall, just to keep her in place. She has no way around me now, she’d have to use force.
“Things have changed,” I whisper, my breath touching her irresistibly pretty face. “Now I’ve gotten a taste of the real you, and there’s no way I’m letting that go.”
She pushes me, but I press my body against her.
“Don’t,” she warns through her teeth.
“I’m not trying to take advantage of you, I want to connect. I’m staying with you tonight, and I swear to God it isn’t about sex.”
“Sex,” she repeats. “You were right. It sounds so impersonal, clinical.”
I tilt her chin up with my finger, our mouths now so close that I can taste her breath, and my cock grows steel hard inside my pants. The warmth of her body behind the towel, pressed to mine, the scent of her, all of it is doing dangerous things to me. I smell her face like I would a flower, my eyes half closed.
“I’m sorry, please forgive me,” I manage in a throaty whisper. I feel entitled to invade her like this and, even though my mind knows it’s wrong, my body won’t stop trying to merge with her. “Just please, Irina, let me hold you. Let me share the bed with you tonight. Let me give you protection, emotion.”
She searches my eyes as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. And who could blame her? Only days ago I could barely even look at her, that’s how filled I was with grudge and anger.
This soul connection is messing with my head, preventing me from giving her space. It’s so unique that I don’t want to stop feeling it no matter what, and I’d do anything to keep the strings attached.
I walk her to the bed. She hesitates for a few moments, but then she lies down, the towel reaching only to the middle of her thighs. I take in a shaky breath as I let my eyes move over her body, shrugging out of my shirt and tucking myself in with her.
She turns with her back to me, allowing me to spoon her, her whole body telling me how much she needs this. Ah, the feeling of her silky, warm skin on mine. I press my chest to her back, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply like I’m inhaling a drug. God, this woman is going to be the death of me.
“Irina?” I whisper, delighting in the knowing that she feels comfortable in my arms, at home. It’s probably normal, since I’m her Grail, but I’m not sure how normal the cravings are that now ravage my body.
“Hm?”
“Can I...” I lick my lips. “Can I kiss you?”
Pause. It’s a few moments until she faces up, the tip of her small nose brushing my cheek.
“You promised.” It’s a pained reproach.
“Please, just a kiss.” I whisper, brushing my cheek gently to hers, needing to feel more of her.
She doesn’t say yes or no, she doesn’t even move. All I know is that her sweet breath touches my skin, and I can’t control myself anymore. I close my mouth on hers.
The experience of my first kiss with Irina Motovilova hits my taste buds like a blast of sugar. This is the first time our mouths unite, even though we’ve already been deeply intimate twice.
She stirs, trying to put distance between us, but she only manages to free her mouth. “No, I’ve had enough of this,” she hisses. “I’d rather die than give my body to a man again hoping that a scrap of affection will come along with all the fuckery.”
Her words go like knives through my heart. My mind understands her, knowing I need to gain her trust, but I’m a man losing control of his heart, which is scary as hell. Her outburst triggers my jealousy, especially now that her face burns with determination to reject me.
“Is it him? Is that Kareem guy, is he why you’re rejecting me now?”
She sits up with her back against the headboard. “You serious? That’s what’s on your mind now, the dead Kareem?”
She’s defending him! Before I know it I’ve wrapped my hand around her jaw, pushing her against the headboard so that she can’t move, my naked upper body pushing into hers. The towel has fallen off her breasts, leaving her stark naked in the dark, but my vampire eyes can see everything. Her scent takes over my nostrils, and my painful need for her seems to possess every inch of my body like a demon.
“What did Kareem mean to you? What are you keeping from me? Did you know him before this mission?”
“I already told you the truth, you madman. He was kind, humane, a warm soul.” She defies me, her blue eyes blazing. “He’s the one who should have lived, and not me.”
“How can you say such a thing?”
“I’m already dead inside, Lazarus,” she cries out, tears swelling out of her eyes. “Tonight the same man who killed me as a human almost killed me again as a vampire. And before he did it he made me realize that I’m no better than him, that I’ve become the exact same kind of monster. I never got real affection because I don’t deserve it! I’m not worthy of it!”
Tears pool in my eyes as I listen to her, my grip on her jaw softening. I watch her cry, her pretty face filled with pain. She’s vulnerable, falling into a black abyss, a hell that opens wide to swallow her, and this outburst of fury is a cry for help.
I get a glimpse of the girl she used to be, a girl playing with a stick in the mud, drawing....hearts. Her words resound in my head: ‘hoping that a scrap of affection would come along with the fuckery.’
That’s why her body decided the seductress would be the perfect version of her—she’d always craved love, her entire existence, and at the time she turned into a vampire, her young mind still believed that giving men the pleasures they wanted was the only way to get it. In the end, the man who took her in and offered her some semblance of shelter and protection had been a client, one who felt some kind of affection to her because she offered him pleasures.
She kicks and beats me, and I let her do it, pulling her against me. She pounds my sides and my back with her fists as she cries a river of tears on my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around her.
“Yes, do it,” I whisper as she sobs. “Take it. Take my heart. Have it, sweet girl, pour yourself into it, until the love I feel for you possesses me whole.”
She stops struggling, crying softly now. Her hands tremble on my sides as if she’s given up, drained of strength, but I know my words and our emotional connection are draining her of anger. Moments later she falls into a half-sleep, exhausted, as if she’s been exorcized of her own pain. I can feel that she’s lighter, that her darkness has thinned, and as I look into her tear-streaked face I see the girl.
She looks so innocent. I arrange her shiny blonde hair lovingly to cover her perfect breasts, caressing it, then moving to her cheek and stroking it with the back of my finger.
I lie by her side for many hours, my vampire eyes peering through the darkness and taking in her beauty. Watching her chest move up and down in relaxed, rhythmic deep breaths. God, I can’t stop myself. My hand grazes its way up the inside of her thigh with the tips of my fingers, inhaling sharply as I do. The need to give her pleasure pools in my heart.
I perk my ears for Herald. He’s in the other bedroom, snoring lightly, the small sitting room with the kitchenette between us. He surely heard the outburst between Irina and me earlier, but now it’s been hours. The night is deep, dark, and quiet, and I have to be careful if either of us makes sounds of pleasure, because it could wake more than just Herald.
I lower myself between her legs, my hands grazing their way under the towel along her fine inner thighs, making room for my head. I inhale the scent of her femininity. Jealousy strikes again as I remember she’s been with others, immortal men who had the experience and skill to give her sensations other women would not even dream about. How am I ever going to live up to that?
The answer comes from deep within—this isn’t about me. It’s about her, making her feel loved for the first time in her existence. Isn’t that the most important ‘first time’ of all? I part her soft, perfectly smooth folds with my fingers, gently. I lick my lips in anticipation, giving her the chance to react and protest if this isn’t what she wants, but she doesn’t. Probably connecting to me like I’m connected to her, her body responds to me.