“Please, Kara. Please, love, I’m begging you. Let me save you. Give me your permission to turn you.”
That he still asked instead of forcing the issue touched me even as the pain started to pull me under. Griffin was everything I wanted: a ruthless warrior and a gentleman, a generous lover and a friend. We’d love again. I would make sure of it.
“My love.” I whispered the endearment with the last of my strength. Then I said the scariest words I’d ever uttered in any life. “I do.”
His kiss upon my neck was the last thing I felt before awakening to my new life.
Reflections of Love
by Juliet Cardin
Cold air surrounds me. Though a fire burns brightly in the hearth, its warmth does not reach me. I am alone in this place that has been my home for almost a century. My memories are my companions on the long and lonely days and nights I face. It is unbearable, this waiting. I do not live here alone, there is one other.
My love resides here also.
While she rests her weary head down in our room each night, I can sense the distance between us. In my despair, I watch, and wait, and hope.
Days have stretched into weeks. Weeks, into months. Months, into years. And still, we remain together. And yet, apart.
Lately, I grow afraid. I have seen the look on my love’s face as she stares at me, and yet, does not see me.
And I have begun to feel her anger and frustration; it rises like the tide I see from the far window.
Two nights past I watched the woman I love walk right up to me and say, “It’s all your fault.” Her face contorted with pain, her fists balled in anger.
Nothing I could do would comfort her. Even as she placed her arms on either side of me and laid her weary head against me, I could only watch in vain. After a shared moment or two, she abruptly backed away, looking at me with regret and defeat. A lock of her soft hair hung in her face. Oh, what I would give if only I could brush it aside for her.
“I can take the sight of you no more.” Her voice was low, devoid of any emotion. Her blue eyes told a story of sadness and longing, one that I would gladly rewrite if given the chance.
I wanted to stop her words but I could not reply.
“I will not look upon you again with anything but contempt. Always you drive the ones I would love out of my life.” She paused. “If only…” Then she fled from the room.
Please don’t go.
Alone I was. Cursed in my immortality to spend eternity in this old house, but please, not alone.
I went from bedroom to bedroom, to hall, to kitchen, even to the modernized bathrooms. Wandering endlessly, alone. This old place was both home, and prison to me. Forever it seems, I must watch the woman I love come and go, while I remain.
There was a time when she swore to love me forever. We, both immortal, thought surely our love would defy all time. A beginning with no end. How we came to be eternal beings, I know not. Only that one moment when I thought death was knocking upon my door and had surely arrived to take me away, instead, I was made whole again. Then, surviving any illness or mishap that came my way. A mystery, and whether it be gift or curse, sometimes I wonder.
Providence brought us both together. A boon for our wounded hearts. Before our union, we had each watched our loved ones age and then pass away. Such heartache we endured, almost too great to bear. Both of us, hurt, confused and disillusioned with our curse, thought to hide ourselves away from the world. Moving from town to town, always on our own throughout the endless years. Never becoming close to anyone. No friends, no acquaintances, no one. Until one fateful moment we came together, our destiny’s brushing, colliding. I remember distinctly, one cold afternoon in the middle of autumn, so long ago…
The thought of spending another winter alone was weighing on me and I left my lodgings to wander the village. I walked along, contemplating life, when I saw a lady coming toward me on the street. Passing others, I most times kept my head down, avoiding contact of the eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and if someone saw in my eyes the truth of me, well, they may discover my terrible secret. But that afternoon was different. I was drawn to look upon the lovely vision as she passed me on the street. Our eyes did meet, locking as we journeyed along. We each took only a couple of steps beyond one another, before we stopped. Her hair was the color of russet sunset, and most assuredly more stunning to look upon.
“Excuse me, beautiful lady, might I walk with you a while?” I boldly asked, instantly smitten. To my great surprise, she agreed.
We strolled and talked and even laughed. Before we knew it, the moon was cresting the sky, the afternoon had turned to nightfall. I walked her to her place of lodging, in the small town where we both temporarily resided. After that night, we met again, each day for several days, I, growing more and more captivated by her.
I still recall our very first kiss. Beneath a giant oak, we’d sheltered from an unexpected rainfall. Her lips, so very soft, and sweet.
The idea of revealing myself to her was so frightening. The dreaded thought of watching her grow old and die was worse. To my great relief, and extreme delight, my love revealed her immortality to me first.
How brave she was.
When I revealed my secret as well, we rejoiced that we had been brought together. No longer would we be alone.
We bought this home together, pledged our love in a secret ceremony and lived in happiness, content with each other’s company. Isolation was a necessity; rarely did we venture far or make ourselves too familiar with the small near-by village. High walls encircle the forest that surrounds our home. The forest is thick and vast, shielding us from curious eyes. Since I have not aged since my thirtieth birthday, or my love, since hers, we must guard our privacy. We did not mind. We had each other’s company to bask in.
But now…now her love fades, it surly does. After all these years, she cannot love me still. Can she?
I have tried so hard to be there for her. Always listening, even though I can no longer reply. Always watching. Does she not feel how much I love her? My silence is as much a curse to me as this place is. It frightens me how she risks venturing out, seeking companionship, as I can offer it no more. When she is not here, the sound of nothingness surrounds me. Taunts me.
Ah. But she returns.
I hear the front doors shut and the tread of footsteps upon the floor. I rush to the entranceway, but she walks past me, on the arm of another man. I try to catch her eye on the stairway, and yet, she brushes on.
My love.
She insults me again with yet another man.
This is all my fault. If only I were not silent. If only I could tell her of my love.
I rush to the bedroom in time to see her kiss her pretty pet and then leave him for a moment.
“I shall return with wine,” she tells him, her voice cool. Never even meets his eyes.
From across the room, the fellow spies me and walks over to stand before me.
“You are handsome,” he tells me.
Thank you.
He reaches out and touches me gently.
My love returns and I flee. Barely catching sight of the soulless smile upon her lips and the wine bottle clasped in her hand.
I cannot stand to watch them.
Into my memories I escape to a time when I could feel her touch upon my skin. The warmth of her lips brushing against mine…
I lay her down in that same bed upstairs and slowly undress her. Our desperate hands are everywhere. Teasing, tempting. Her breasts—aching for my touch, my kiss—lay bare. My lips travel down her neck to her shoulder, then lower, and when she can stand no more, I take her pebbled nipple into my mouth and suckle upon it. First one breast, then the other.
“How I love you my darling,” she tells me.
“Forever.”
“Yes. Forever.”
I remember settling between her thighs, which open to me in welcome.
Gently, I enter her. Ever so slowly.
“You
are mine,” I say.
“Yes, yours, my love.”
Then, I am fully inside of her and we are truly one. The magic begins. I start to move, to thrust within her, back and forth, faster and faster…. Until…
I break from the spell.
I cannot help it. I must watch them. Even if it tears my heart out, I must see with my own eyes the level of her faithlessness.
I am silent as I return to the bedroom.
She has allowed her fellow to lay her upon the bed. Our bed. And he is kissing her. I strain to catch a glimpse of her. To see the expression on her face as she loves another while I am in the room.
And yet, what is this? I see her break the kiss and stand to her feet.
“What is wrong?” the man asks her.
She turns her back to him and looks at me across the room. “I cannot.”
The handsome fellow is upset. He rises to his feet and begins to button his shirt. “It is your loss.” He stomps from the room in anger.
I see my love flinch as the door slams.
Still, she looks at me. Then walks toward me.
Closer, she comes.
“This is your fault. What is wrong with you?”
Is it so wrong that I love you?
She is frustrated and paces madly back and forth before me. As she crosses she stares at me in a rage.
Peace, my love.
A frightening flash passes over her eyes. “I can take no more,” she yells, and runs from the room.
A storm is brewing. I can hear the thunder crashing in the sky and the beginning of rain upon the roof. Lightening lights up the windows all around me. I fear this is not the only storm I must face tonight.
Quickly, I follow. Down the long passageway many times I catch sight of her torment. Soon, she is stomping down the stairs. I watch helplessly as she descends. She hastens across the entranceway, where she finally pauses before the doors.
Please don’t go.
She puts her hands upon the doors and bows her head in defeat. A moment goes by and I watch as her head lifts up. She glances back over her shoulder at the table before me, and in a few quick steps closes the distance between us.
When I think that she will gentle now, she instead picks up a heavy candelabra and glares at me defiantly.
“Bother me no more.”
I flee just in time but hear a crash and then a thump as her weapon of choice hits the floor.
But she is not content to stop there.
Onward she goes, across the floor and steps up to the landing where I witness her wrath.
Please my love. Stop.
I see the destructive heavy weight clasped in her hand once more. She raises her arm and I flee.
Crash.
I watch her as she storms down the hall and again, strikes out in fury, over and over. Crash. Crash. Crash.
I rush on ahead and now await her in the bedroom, where I know she will come. Her visage is dark as she enters and comes before me, slowly and menacingly.
“Look upon me no more foul, loathsome wretch,” she says to me.
Stop.
But she does not. She throws the candelabra and it hits its mark. Glass shatters and falls to the floor.
I feel myself falling. Falling. Before I too, land upon the floor.
My mind is reeling, my body is shaking. My body?
My hands I see splayed before me, surrounded by shards of glass. And yet, I am untouched. A dark curl dances before my eyes. Oh. It is my hair I see. I lift my arm before my face, and wiggle my chilled fingers in front of me. Then I touch my skin, and my hair, before I accept that I am real.
“My love?” comes a questioning voice from steps away.
I lift my head and settle my sites upon the woman I love. “Yes, it is I.”
Unmindful of the glass, she comes and kneels before me. Takes my hand in hers. “So cold.”
Her touch is warm, and so longingly missed. I pull gently from her grip and reach out my greedy hands to feel more of her. I want to touch her everywhere at once.
It seems an eternity before I finally feel her lips on mine. Where they belong. Holding her is as holding the other half of myself. Together, we are one.
She breaks away and I am bereft.
“Tell me. Tell me how this has come to be?” she begs.
After a long breath, I begin. “A curse, my love. A jealous, vengeful witch came knocking on our door while you walked the grounds.”
“A witch?”
“Yes. He was quite handsome, I admit.”
“And then?”
“He swore you belonged to him, that he’d searched for you for years. Though I tried to speak sense to him, he refused to listen. He cursed me. Put me in the mirrors before I could stop him, so I could watch you betray me, he said, as you betrayed him.”
She looks at me in shock. “All this time?”
“Yes.” Though my words are painful, it is a blessing to once again hear my own voice.
“You have been here all this time? And seen…?” She hangs her head in shame.
I lift up her chin with my hand. “Yes, I’ve seen. Seen you mourn for me day and night for decades. Seen the light in your eyes die a slow death. Witnessed your acceptance with bravery and grace. And watched you berate your own image time and again, every time you attempted to seek out a new love.”
“I thought you had left me. I returned home that afternoon—so clearly I remember it—and found the house empty. I searched for you, first round the house, then the grounds, and then in the village. You were gone. So utterly gone. And I, I felt as though I died that day. I waited for you to return, for days, and weeks, months, and then years. When I could no longer stand the loneliness, I betrayed you. I am so sorry.”
“Those other men. I saw them arrive with hope and a gleam in their eye. And I saw you send them away—untouched, and in misery.”
“They were not you. I hoped to ease the pain of my loss, but being with them only made it worse. Forgive me?”
She reaches out and I pull her into my embrace. My lips rest upon her hair, and then her face. “Nothing to forgive, my love. Your heart was ever mine.”
“My hatred of my own image, smashing the mirrors…it is what set you free.”
“The witch didn’t count on that, dearest.”
She holds me tight. “Now you are free and we are together.”
“Forever, my love, my life.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “Forever.”
How Much is that Vampire in the Window
by Ann Hinnenkamp
Inconceivable.
Salvatore glared out of the floor-to-ceiling window at two middle-aged, human women and tried to dampen the rage boiling in his gut.
Ignorant fools. Even with the two-inch bulletproof glass separating him from the simpering pair, he could hear every whispered syllable. Didn’t they realize what they were gaping at? Vampires could hear a pin drop a city block away. Try as he might, he couldn’t shut out the hormonally supplemented duo’s words.
“I don’t know, Martha,” the blond with gray roots and dangerously stretched polyester pants suit began, “I still vote for the one three stalls back. The one with the dreamy smile and washboard abs. This dark one looks like he’d just as soon break your neck as drink your blood. That shock collar would never stop him.”
“I know, I know, Peg,” the redhead said and tried to raise an eyebrow. No luck. Her face remained an immovable mask. Salvatore could smell the Botox from his perch on the velvet-draped throne.
“There’s something about this one,” the frozen-faced Martha continued. “Something primal. Beastly. And see how white he is around his mouth. That’s what Betty said to look for. The whiter they are around the mouth, the hungrier they are. The hungrier they are, the more intense it is when they drink from you. This is my first time. I want it to be fantastic.”
A television screen to Salvatore’s left came to life. The words, “Smile,” and “Open your shirt to the waist,” flashe
d in three-second intervals. He watched it through three cycles and then turned back to the women.
He fumbled with the buttons at the top of his shirt and froze. Despite his great thirst, he couldn’t make his hands continue the task.
“Come on, Sucker,” Peg shouted. “We don’t got all night.” She motioned ripping off her shirt. “Show us what you got. What, are you one of those handsome but stupid ones?”
The rage simmering in his belly roared to life. He sprang out of the throne, hit the glass and snarled his fury at the now terrified suburban housewives.
As the women screamed and left his field of vision, the shock collar sent a few hundred volts into his revved up system. Not enough to do serious damage but it certainly got his attention. He fell back onto the throne.
A shade dropped from the ceiling, hiding him from view. The television screen flickered and Slick Dick appeared, his triple chins shaking as he whipped his head back and forth.
“Salvatore, Salvatore,” he began, “I thought you knew how this works. Isn’t that what you said last night when you begged me to take you on?”
Salvatore nodded. “Yes, Mr. Dick. I can assure…”
“Because that’s not how it looked to me,” Dick droned on. “So, let’s go over this again. See that red button? The one that lights up when a customer makes a selection. See it there?”
Salvatore glanced at the small button, shaped like a heart with fangs.
“That’s the one,” Slick Dick said. “That little button is your sweet spot. Your job is to get the nice middle aged women with large butts and even larger bank accounts to press the button on their side of the glass and light up your counterpart there. You do that and we all win. I get my money, you get your dinner and the customer gets a hell of a story to tell at their next book club meeting. Easy peasy.”
“I understand how it works,” Salvatore said through clenched fangs.
Slick Dick took a herculean swig from an unlabeled, sweating bottle and smacked his lips. “Let’s hope you do, Sal. ‘Cause remember, you came to me. Slick Dick doesn’t force anyone to work for him. I run everything on the up and up. Not like some of those low-class suck joints. You’re free to leave whenever you want. You got that, Sal?”
Just One Bite Volume 4 Page 8