The Night Within Us: Dark Vampire Romance

by Sylvie Grohne

  “Hey, I'm Andy,” a young man yells in my ear. “Can I buy you a drink?” I look at him almost in shock. He can't be much older than twenty and is anything but unattractive. On an impulse, I want to turn and leave, but the merciless pain in my insides keeps me from doing that. Perhaps it's a reminder from fate to stick to the rules of the game, if I'm going to challenge it in the first place.

  I nod and manage a smile.

  “A beer?” I nod again, and he winks at me charmingly. “Coming right up.”

  I watch him tensely as he disappears over to the bar and returns shortly after with two glasses of beer.

  “Thanks.” As soon as I receive the beer I drink half of it back in one go. Andy laughs. “I thought you looked thirsty. I'm glad to be your savior.”

  If you knew the other way you're going to save me tonight, then I'm certain you wouldn't repeat that sentence.

  “You really look incredible. What's your name?” he yells in my ear.

  “Chanel,” I lie without thinking, because the smell of No. 5 has just reached my nose again. Not the original perfume with the unique scents of jasmine and May rose from the French town of Grasse, which I used very often in the thirties and forties, rather the slightly altered Eau de Toilette version. At the same time, I have to think of the stewardess, who was also my savior after the plane crash and who wore this perfume too. This scent apparently never goes out of fashion.

  “Nice name. I've never seen you here before.” Oh God, every time he leans over and I have his carotid artery right up close to me I can barely contain myself.

  “It's so loud in here, I can hardly hear you. And I urgently need some fresh air. Shall we go outside for a bit?” I yell in his ear now and put my glass down on one of the tables. He nods in surprise, takes my hand and adroitly leads me out through the crowd.

  “Inside it might be pretty loud, but out here it's quite cold,” my companion looks me over from head to toe and then remarks with a grin.

  “Oh, it's fine for a little stroll,” I say and lead him into a dark side street. For a moment he looks surprised, but then he wanders along beside me cheerfully, and says, “I can see right through you.”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes. You want to have a smoke, right? You're addicted.” I laugh bitterly and look at him. He's not only nice, but with the pronounced dimple in his chin and his friendly eyes he's also really cute. Even in the moonlight I can still see that very well.

  “What can I say – unfortunately, you're right.” I've barely spoken the words when the hunger overwhelms me again and burns so strongly within me that I bend over double in pain.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Andy's voice sounds worried. Why the hell does he have to be so nice? Why can't he act like an arsehole? I take a deep breath and look at him.

  “Maybe there's something else I want.” Now I take him by the hand and pull him into the corner behind the big garbage containers. When I snuggle into him, his eyes shine like a kid who is allowed to open his presents on Christmas Eve. His hands tentatively wrap around my waist. I draw close to his face and kiss him. Tenderly. A first kiss on his lips, imploring him to forgive me. A second kiss tells him how grateful I am, and that he truly is my savior. . . before my lips wander down to his neck and eyelids fluttering, I can no longer keep from sinking my teeth into the tender skin and greedily sucking up the warm blood that streams toward me. He tries to push me off, but after only two seconds his brief resistance ebbs away, and he lies in my arms, twitching slightly, until his body goes limp and he moves no more.

  Within me it's calm too, because the pain has been replaced by a pleasant feeling of contentment. The satiation which gradually fills me is liberating and it feels good. Damn good. I can't deny that. But it's nothing compared to the bizarre sensuality I always felt when Noah and I fed together.

  I can manage on my own. I don't need Noah, nor my brother, either. In spite of the melancholy inside me I feel a kind of euphoria. With my forearm, I wipe the blood from my lips, then close the wide open eyes of the young man and lower his body to the ground. “Thank you, Andy,” I whisper, before I hurry off through the darkness toward my car.

  36

  Amkaya

  The dark figure leaning against the bumper of my car sets me on high alert. As I get closer, I realize it's Jack. Damn it, what is he doing here? Don't say he followed me. I automatically look down at myself and search for blood stains, but I can't see any. Just in case, I lick the corners of my mouth with my tongue one more time.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask reproachfully and stop a short distance away from him.

  “You looked quite rattled before. I was worried, so I drove after you.”

  “I don't need someone to look out for me. You're behaving like a stalker.”

  “And you were acting like someone who isn't well.”

  “So what if I was? What do you care?”

  “I don't want to argue with you, Kaya, but I'm anything but indifferent to you. That's why I'm here, because I was worried and because I need to talk to you.”

  He runs his hand through his dark-blond hair and I notice it's carelessly styled compared to normal and he doesn't look nearly as in control and self-assured. The dark twist to the corners of his mouth almost seems grim.

  “What do you want to talk to me about so urgently? The exhibition? Can it really not wait till tomorrow?”

  “Kaya,” he grabs me by the forearm, “I wouldn't be here if it could wait. Can we go to your place and talk?” As with all the other times he has touched me, now too I clearly feel the attraction between us once more, which I always try to suppress. Is it something to do with this thing between us that he wants to speak to me so urgently about? If it was the exhibition, he couldn't possibly need to talk to me so urgently.

  “Okay. Hop in, or drive along behind me,” I agree and press the central locking button on my car key. Thanks to Andy, Jack won't have anything to fear from me tonight at least.

  “I'll go with you,” he says and opens the door for me so I can get in. Then he goes around the front of the car and climbs in the passenger side.

  The drive home takes ages because we have to stop at every traffic signal and I actually wonder whether Noah hasn't got a hand in that. Probably it's just wishful thinking. Why should he care what I do now, when he doesn't reply to any of my messages or pleas?

  When we reach the villa, it suddenly starts pouring down and I notice right away that Airas's car isn't in its usual spot. So he's not back yet. Did he even tell me where he was going? I can't remember. I get out of the car and Jack holds his jacket over my head protectively as we run together to the front door and I unlock it.

  In the mirror by the door, I search discreetly for any remaining spots of blood and actually find a little one on my right upper arm. Just as discreetly, I try to get rid of it as I take my shoes off.

  “Let's go into the library. I think I could use something strong to drink. Would you like a whiskey too? I'm not sure if we have your namesake though.” I give him a wink, but his smile is restrained.

  When I open the sliding door the background lighting of the room comes on automatically and I head for the liquor cabinet.

  “I can offer you a Bushmills 16.” I lift the bottle and he nods. The brown of his eyes looks much darker today than I remember, and yet it has a warmth that moves me. Whether I like it or not.

  “You have no idea what kind of hellish day I had. I really need this,” I explain. “I can get ice cubes from the kitchen if you like.”

  “No, not necessary, I drink it neat too.”

  I pour a generous serving of whiskey into two glasses and hand him one. Although his fingers only brush mine fleetingly and unintentionally, my whole body responds to this touch. I try not to let it show, and tip the entire contents of the glass into my mouth, which earns me a little coughing fit. Airas would surely have given me a lecture if he'd seen that. Throwing back whiskey or wine just like that, without smelling it and appre
ciating its bouquet, is a class two felony to him.

  I refresh my glass and determine to do it justice this time.

  “Now Jack, I'm all ears. What's so important it can't wait till tomorrow?”

  My attempt to sound casual might fool him, but my pounding heart makes me conscious of how nervous I am. Is he going to broach the subject of the tension and attraction between us now? And how will I react? What will I say? Isn't it in fact unwise to have this conversation at this time and in this setting? My head is spinning and I come to the conclusion that I've once more made a bad decision. Even if I've lost Noah, there can never be anything between me and Jack, because at any rate it wouldn't lead anywhere, apart from to a nasty end sooner or later and another candidate on my victim list.

  Jack takes a sip and then puts the glass aside. His gaze wanders over the many books on the shelves, as if he's searching for words there, before he turns around again and gives me a tense look.

  “I must have thought about how to say this to you a thousand times already, and every one I rejected. I don't even know where to start, but what I do know is you feel it too.”

  “Wait, Jack. Let me say something before you go on. I think I know what you're going to say, but believe me – there's no point, and we should maybe talk about this another time. It's already late and I. . .”

  “No,” he interrupts me. He's beside me in three steps and looks me dead in the eye. “Not another time. Now. I have to tell you now. Now, before. . .” He breaks off and I can see his inner struggle and how he is searching for more words. Where is the calm and collected man I got to know? He's standing so close to me that I can not only smell the slightly sweet aroma of whiskey on his breath, which kind of reminds me of sherry and port, but I now also deeply inhale the pleasant, familiar scent which has always surrounded him. A fragrance which doesn't have the passionate, insistent character Noah's skin does, but has a subtler attraction which definitely affects me too. I enjoy his closeness, even if I shouldn't.

  “I only have one wish. Before I say it. . . before it's all over. . .” His voice sounds hoarse and imploring, while his eyes don't leave my face for a second.

  “What?” I ask quietly, and gulp.

  “Just one kiss. Just one, tiny kiss. . . and then I'll forget what I need to forget.”

  In light of his dramatic words and the expression on his face, I have to suppress the smile growing inside me. I did think he fostered some kind of feelings for me and felt attracted to me, but such emotional intensity surprises me greatly. But what I'm even more amazed about, is that the urge to go ahead and kiss him is very strong in me too. Actually, I should turn away from him now, break contact with his expectant eyes and yet I don't do it, I keep the situation open. What's a single kiss? I don't have to explain myself to anyone anymore. In fact it really doesn't matter what happens between me and Jack, because for Noah I've gone too far already. He has left me and given up on us, left me behind in my confusion and ignored every one of my texts. I didn't betray him, but he has long since declared me guilty. What difference does one kiss make now?

  I want to do it, and I lean in to his lips, but at the last minute I turn my face away.

  “I can't,” I blurt out, and lift the whiskey glass in my hand. Now I really have a strong desire to tip its contents straight down my throat too. But it doesn't come to that, because the glass slips out of my hand as Jack suddenly grabs me, spins me to face him and kisses me. With a tender passion which renders me defenseless, because it feels way too good to fight. The strong effect he has on me makes itself known to the fullest extent in this moment. I don't just return his kiss and fail to stop him – no, I'm even the one who pulls him in still closer and intensifies the kiss. The sensual groan that escapes his throat sounds almost as if he's in pain, and the pressure of his hands on me at rib-height suddenly becomes stronger. I notice he's trying to gradually pull back from me, until finally he pushes me away and stands before me, breathing heavily.

  All at once I realize I don't even want to stop kissing him, I want to continue to feel his closeness. Suddenly I'm aware of how lonely and solitary I will be again once he walks out that door. How loud the silence will be then.

  “I don't want you to hate me,” he blurts out, his chest rising and falling with the panting. Clearly upset, he presses his hand to his forehead and doesn't look at me.

  “Why would I hate you?”

  “Because of this,” he answers and looks at me again.

  For a moment I close my eyes to try to stop the impulse which overcomes me, but my fingers are already opening the side zipper of my dress and it drops to the floor. Almost naked and heart racing I stand before him.

  I can see the desire in his eyes, but also panic.

  “Isn't this what you want?” I hesitate. What on earth am I doing here? I must be totally disturbed.

  “You don't know what you're doing to me,” he says in a tight voice, while his face is sending me completely conflicting signals. Unsure what to do, I bend down to pick my dress up again, when suddenly he's beside me, pulling me almost violently into his arms.

  His uncertainty must have vanished, because his kisses are now so unbridled and driven, I can hardly catch my breath. He presses me so passionately up against one of the bookshelves that some books fall off it as his hands explore my body. I breathe a moan into his mouth. I've long since caught his excitement. Jack gives me the gift of forgetting. Forgetting that my heart is raw and my soul without a home. He gives me a liberating high. I end my awkward attempt to undo his shirt after only two buttons by simply ripping it open, so the rest of them pop off in all directions. Finally I can feel his skin too. It's soft and cool. My hands stroke his shirt over his shoulders so that it too falls to the floor, and he is standing before me naked from the waist up. With an impatient moan he pulls me so tight against his body that for a moment I can't breathe again. His lips smother the sensual groan that escapes my throat because his hands are sliding down to my thighs. I close my eyes and let my head fall back in pleasure, because his lips are wandering over my neck now and making me pant in excitement.

  “Ouch!” The sudden pain in the spot where Jack is kissing me pulls me roughly back to reality. As if paralyzed, for a moment I forget to breathe. What the hell?

  Jack drags himself off my neck and looks at me. His eyes are wild, like an animal's, and his expression is stricken. He stares at me, almost as if in despair, while my blood drips from one of his fangs.

  “What. . .?” My horror finds no words, and I push him away from me.

  “Let me explain,” he begs and takes a step toward me, but I sidestep him and then keep backing away without letting him out of my sight. The shock prevents me from forming any logical thoughts. My hand automatically goes to the spot on my neck and I can feel the two openings, which are slowly starting to close up again.

  “Who. . . who are you?” I stutter and then cry out, because a sharp pain is boring into my foot and I'm slipping backwards. The stupid whiskey glass, shoots through my head – then everything around me is dark.

  37

  Amkaya

  I stroke her hair tenderly out of her face. If only she weren't so beautiful. If only she didn't awaken these goddamned feelings within me, which make me weak and crazy. So many women – so many faces, and of all of them this one had to burn itself upon my heart. And yet I promised to kill her if I found her. I've never had trouble killing. I was born and raised to kill, but she makes everything that came before her obsolete. When I look at myself in the mirror, I no longer know who I am, and when I look at her, I forget myself completely. And even if she hates me now, I won't be able to do anything but continue to love her, because I do love her, and how I hate myself for that! Damn it, she's waking up. . .

  Although I'm awake, I feel as if I'm still dreaming. I'm lying in my bed and staring, dazed, into Jack's dark eyes.

  What was that just now? One of my weird dreams? No, something isn't right here. I sit up, confused, and noti
ce that my hair is sticking to the pillow a bit.

  “You hit your head on the desk.”

  He's right. My hand may not feel a wound on the back of my head, but I do feel a heap of dried blood. How long was I unconscious? The wound has long since healed, but it must have bled heavily. Blood. Suddenly I see Jack's wild face before me again and remember what happened – why I stepped in the shards and fell. No, that was definitely no dream.

  I scramble back up against the head of the bed in fright and almost knock the bedside lamp off as I do. The only light in the room. But it just wobbles and then comes to a stop again where it is. Jack leans forward a little and reaches his hand out to me soothingly, but that only increases my panic. My heart is hammering so loudly, I can hardly hear him when he speaks again. “You have nothing to fear from me. I only bit you because I wanted to stop it somehow.”

  I stare at him, full of distrust, and search for the meaning in his words and an answer as to why my alarm bells weren't ringing with him. Why didn't I notice?

  His eyes have lost their wildness. With a despondent expression, he looks at me almost imploringly and suddenly I see something in his eyes that takes my breath away and makes my blood run cold. It's nothing tangible, just a feeling. My mind can't yet make sense of it, but my emotions are way ahead of my mind and the shock spreads through me like wildfire.

  I cast off the covers and run past him into the bathroom, feel for the light switch and stare at myself in the mirror. Yes, I can see it in my eyes! Why couldn't I see it before? Didn't I want to see it? But how could it be possible? There's no way it can be possible. I feel faint and like I'm going crazy. I quickly turn on the faucet and splash water on my face to get a clear head. Lots of water. Then I bend my head right down and try to wash the dried up blood off the back of my head too.

  Only as I'm rubbing my hair dry with a towel do I notice I'm still naked, and reach for the gray nightshirt which is lying on the shelf next to the towels. I hastily slip it on.