The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1)

by Aiden James

  “While I understand your concerns about family and friends in the United States, the decision to turn back is neither mine nor yours to make,” he said, his tone compassionate. His expression turned serious as he studied me, and then he sighed. “You are fortunate to be alive, Txema, and after the near extermination of the relatives who bear your rare gift, I am sad to say it may be quite some time before you can return safely to your home in Virginia, or pursue your education anywhere in America.”

  I nodded quietly, determined to hide the ever-worsening dread ready to seize my heart. But, he was right… I didn’t need further evidence to understand the truth of his words. The images of Tyreen’s wounds and Elaine’s death more than sufficed—not to mention the other girls who bore my likeness that died earlier.

  “Perhaps when Chanson and the others awaken, they will allow you to place a phone call to your parents in Virginia, eh?” he suggested, the infectious warmth from his smile illuminating his countenance and fueling his natural presence.

  Despite the surreal nature of my situation and near death experience, and even the throbbing of my ankle, I was struck by the fact that Racco virtually exuded sex appeal. First Garvan, now this stranger? Did they all have some supernatural ability to stir such emotions, or was I just so hungry to have some sort of contact with the reality of the natural, physical world? I didn’t think Racco was a vampire; both his well-tanned skin and the fact he seemed unbothered by the sunlight streaming in from the clear skies implied as much. In any event I felt my body stir.

  “That would be nice,” I agreed, trying not to think long on what it would be like to lie naked with this man who surely was old enough to be my father. “So, how bad was it?”

  “How bad was what?”

  “The attack. The one in Tennessee.”

  “I’ve only heard the initial reports,” he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Thirteen deaths in all last night, and another two dozen were injured—most while fleeing the dormitory.”

  “Massey Hall?” I needed to be sure we spoke of the same place.

  “Yes, that is the one,” he confirmed. “Chanson told me that it was Garvan who urged her and Armando to stay close to you last night, instead of waiting on your promised call to them for help. I assume you know what she meant by this?”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Yes. I tend to be a little on the stubborn side.”

  “No? You don’t say!” he teased, and motioned to my injured ankle.

  “Okay, I’m known to be quite stubborn,” I confessed, and for the first time that day I laughed. It felt good, even if it only lifted my sadness for a moment.

  “I wish I could tell you more about what happened, but that is all they told me when they arrived at the boat just before midnight.”

  “They brought me to you?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Let us just say that we are very old acquaintances and we often perform favors for each other.” It seemed to me like there was something else he wished to say but he pressed his lips together.

  He turned away from me for a moment and motioned for Mercel to help himself to some of the food. It seemed like an extravagance for just Racco and me, and even after including Mercel. Racco called the waiters over and invited them to join us, as well.

  “I hate for all of this to go to waste. Dinner will be in just a few hours, and normally the staff eats earlier.”

  The impish glint in his eyes let me know this was a playful jab at me and my late arousal that afternoon.

  “You all are not vampires, correct?”

  Silly question based on what I’d seen. Moving about in the daylight and eating solid food and non-blood fluids. Even so, I wanted to be sure. Besides, the real questions I wanted to ask, the ones involving the fate of Peter, Tyreen, and Johnny, would have to wait until the sleeping vampires awoke.

  He laughed heartily. “Ha! That is very funny!”

  Mercel and the two waiters, who both looked like Mercel’s younger brothers, seemed confused. Racco spoke to them in that strange French dialect again and the entire table erupted into uproarious laughter. All at my expense.

  To be a good sport, I joined in, snickering at the silliness of my suggestion. Never in a million years would I have uttered anything like it just a week earlier.

  “Maybe you could use some time to rest before tonight,” said Racco. “When you return to your room, you will find fresh towels and linens, in addition to a change of clothes waiting for you. Your size information was given to me by Chanson late last week to ensure your every need was expediently provided for.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” I said, wondering how extensive the vampires’ and my current host’s knowledge of me was. “I could use a shower.”

  “All right. Mercel will show you to your cabin downstairs, and we will look for you around eight o’clock tonight.”

  After Racco spoke briefly in French to his assistant, Mercel led me downstairs. He allowed me to find my way back to my room once we reached the bottom floor.

  Racco was right. In addition to the bed I slept in being made up, clean towels and the change of clothes he promised were waiting for me on top of the bedspread. I smiled for a moment, as the green silk blouse and black slacks were exactly the style I would have chosen for myself. Even the shoes matched my taste, although for quite a bit more money than I could’ve afforded on my own.

  I continued to smile until I stepped into the bathroom and removed my sweatshirt. Under the overhead light’s soft glow, the twin teardrops along the left side of my neck were swollen and red. I’m sure at some point during the previous nineteen hours they were fully inflamed, and definitely the exit points for my blood. A vampire had drunk from me, no doubt, and taken far more blood than last time. Enough to leave two angry welts above my birthmarks, and keep me dead to the world until it was far too late to turn back and go home.

  long, warm bath did wonders for my fatigue, and it helped ease the soreness in my ankle. That is, until I tried to stand on it.

  I nearly fell over in the bathroom. Once I regained my balance and relied more on my left foot, I managed to dry my hair and get dressed without further incident. Just before 7:30 p.m., according to a large seaman’s clock on the wall across from the bed, a sharp knock resounded from the other side of my door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It is me, Garvan.”

  “Garvan?”

  “Yes. I am here to escort you to dinner,” he replied. “I assume you are ready to leave your room?”

  I looked around me, just to be sure, and yes, he was correct. Even my makeup and lipstick were done, and I had already slipped my driver’s license and student I.D. into a small clutch that had been laid out to match the outfit.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” I said, reaching for the door. I hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath before opening it. The image of Garvan’s gorgeous face and intense green eyes previously emblazoned in my mind proved to be an inadequate replica. Once I opened the door, I found him smiling at me, carrying a bouquet of fresh roses, blood red. Nearly two dozen in all.

  “What are these for?” I asked, surprised and pleased. I felt my face flush.

  “For you, of course,” he replied, his boyish face lit up by his enraptured smile. Somehow he looked younger. “Think of these as my apologies for the sorrow and terror you have endured since we first met, just five days ago.”

  “It’s not like it was your fault,” I said, accepting the roses from him. “But I am touched. Who would’ve guessed a vampire could be so thoughtful?”

  I hoped he saw my joke as a genuine lighthearted effort, and not the sarcasm I realized a little too late that it could be taken as.

  I do it a lot, inserting my foot in my mouth.

  “We are not all cold-hearted snakes with only one thing on our minds,” he quipped.

  His smile was dimmer than a moment ago, although he chuckled.

  “What, are we talking about sex?” I jeste
d, closing my cabin’s door. I kept the bouquet with me.

  “Maybe back in the time when Columbus sailed to your country that would aptly define my intentions,” he said, his smile widening to where his slender fangs were visible.

  He seemed delighted that I tucked the roses across my body and held them in the crook of my arm opposite from him. He smiled at me and motioned for me to wrap my other arm inside his, and I drew close. I noticed the scent of cinnamon again, just like the last time we were close to one another.

  “Right this way, please!”

  We headed down the hallway toward the staircase, the coolness of his presence chilling me. I noticed heater fans hard at work now that the sun had gone down, although they were unable to keep a slight shiver at bay. But, what a couple we made at the moment. Him dressed in a beige turtleneck sweater, dark tweed slacks, and black dress boots, and me attired smartly beyond my normal means. At least the ship’s ceiling mirror near the stairs gave that impression. A vampire myth was also dispelled for me. They did cast reflections. Or, at least this one did.

  “So, what would be on a vampire’s mind?” I asked, while we climbed the spiral staircase. He followed close behind me, and a glance over my shoulder revealed his gaze was drawn to my right foot. I tried to feign a normal walk to hide my injury. “Certainly not a woman’s shoes.”

  “You are such a jester, Txema!” he said, looking up into my face. His expression was mirthful, but his eyes seemed concerned. “What a male vampire wants is the same as any other immortal.”

  “And, what’s that?” I persisted.

  We reached the gate near the long bar from earlier. It sat deserted at the moment, although jovial laughter and merriment resounded from the dining area above us.

  The mask of his own mirth slipped for but a second before he answered. I saw a profound depth of sorrow in the sudden shimmering of his eyes, and those lines around them which I so easily attributed to laughter suddenly seemed drawn with weariness.

  “Companionship,” he replied as the merry mask returned so quickly I felt that I must have imagined otherwise. “Companionship and, of course, blood.”

  “Well, here she is!” Racco stepped away from the table where we sat together a few hours earlier. Replacing the food array was a double-necked swan ice sculpture with what looked like a punchbowl attached. “What lovely flowers, Txema! We were just talking about you and your ordeal from last night.”

  He motioned for Garvan and me to come to the table. Racco had changed into a more formal outfit, wearing a light blue dress shirt sans a tie. For the moment, his dark dress coat was draped over the back of one of the chairs. Chanson and the petite red-headed vampire, Raquel, were seated next to him, along with another female whom I didn’t recognize, whose long, straight hair was white. Armando and Franz were absent.

  Chanson laughed. “You look rested!”

  She got up from the table and came over to us, seemingly human in her casual saunter. I found it refreshing that a vampire might not feel the need to use their preternatural speed to move from one spot to another. She wore black tights with a low-cut, plum-colored sweater dress that accentuated her gorgeous figure; a little casual compared to everyone else, the ensemble worked for her form and presence. She frowned when she reached us.

  “Raquel, find a suitable vase for these,” she said, motioning for the bouquet while Raquel suddenly appeared next to her. The diminutive vampire seemed delighted by Chanson’s directive. She immersed her face in the flowers, which made me wonder if that was how she managed to gain such a similar scent. Maybe that was how they all did it, to gain such distinctive aromas.

  My eyes followed Raquel’s progress back to the table with her face still buried in the roses, as if she were determined to drain the very pigment from the crimson bouquet.

  “What has happened to your ankle?” Chanson drew my attention back to her. She kneeled before me and took my ankle in her hands. Holding onto Garvan’s arm, I grimaced as she pulled my foot out straight, sending a fiery stinging sensation from my ankle to the tip of my toes. “I should have done something about this when we first met, since I noticed your limp the other night, as well.”

  Immediately, a surge of warmth traveled down my toes to my ankle. The pleasure surprised me and I wanted to giggle. But I tried to remain nonchalant, since the other vampires sitting around the table stared intently at me.

  The swelling and pain disappeared.

  “My God… this is so unreal!” I whispered, unable to mask my astonishment. “How’d you do that?”

  “The same way you can,” she replied, offering a knowing grin as she stood back up. “Any female who bears the teardrops on her neck can do this.”

  My gaze was drawn to the left side of her neck, where the small, dark birthmarks looked even more like stenciled gang initiation ‘tears’ than they did the other night, accentuated by her ashen complexion.

  “What do you mean I can do this? How is it possible?”

  She set my foot on the ground and stood in front of me.

  “I will teach you at some point, my dearest. There are many things that you will need to know and understand about yourself.” Her fingers traced my jawline and then down the side of my neck to rest her first and second fingers on the birthmarks. I shivered at her touch, and not just from her icy flesh.

  “We should introduce her to Nora before she and everyone else decides we are being rude,” said Garvan, a look of sly amusement illuminating his beautiful eyes.

  “Yes, I suppose we should,” she agreed. “Come, let’s show you off to the king’s chaperone.”

  She led the way back to the table, where the white-haired female stood to greet me. She wore a long, elegant evening gown, black silk, seemingly overdressed compared to everyone else. I would’ve felt self-conscious in her presence if not for Chanson’s outfit and the sleek emerald spaghetti-strap dress Raquel wore. I guess when you only have a small circle of immortal peers to impress, anything goes.

  If not for the color of her hair, I would’ve assumed this vampire was only a few years older than the others. Her face bore no lines—no telltale crow’s feet or smile lines. Just classic beauty. A marvelous floral scent embraced me as she stepped forward, smiling, with her black-gloved hand extended.

  “It’s hyacinth, dearest,” she said, her light-blue eyes sparkling. She chuckled warmly. It seemed they all got a kick out of reading my mind and seeing my uncomfortable expression when my thoughts were exposed. Her accent was unmistakably British, refined, and reminded me of the better BBC programs my mother likes to watch on cable. “I am Nora Sterling, personal assistant to King Gustav Domnul-delael. It is such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Txema!”

  I grasped her hand to politely squeeze it, not overly surprised at the coolness that penetrated the glove’s soft velvet.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I said, returning her loving smile with my shy one. “Is the king you serve also a vampire?”

  “He is the king that we all serve!” offered Racco, who was in the process of ladling a bluish punch concoction into a glass. “Since the mortals among us need standard sustenance, I suggest the rest of you humor Txema, Mercel, and myself as we move into the banquet hall for dinner. For the undead gathered with us tonight, I am pleased to announce that the bar is stocked with the finest Type O, B, and RH-negative money can buy!”

  He laughed merrily, and moved toward a pair of double doors in the rear of the room. I recalled seeing the doors earlier, assuming they opened to a kitchen or someplace similar. The doors automatically opened as we approached, revealing a much larger room, although definitely not the ship’s kitchen.

  Surrounded by windows on all sides, a long cherry table sat in the middle of the room, with plush leather chairs around it. The table bore an array of delectable entrees—like roasted chicken and prime rib, a variety of bread, and exquisite desserts. It seemed like an extravagance unless a hell of a lot more servants than attended our earlier meal would be join
ing us tonight. Two young females wearing standard chef’s hats stood near the chicken and beef, holding sharp carving knives, ready to serve us.

  “Please make yourselves at home while Txema and I have dinner,” said Racco. “Mercel will be happy to see to your preferences.” He motioned to Mercel, who stood behind another long bar in the back of this room. He called to his assistant, giving further instructions in French. Something about joining us at the table after the vamps got a wineglass full of their chosen blood type for the night. I wondered morbidly about the mixing and matching that surely took place, if any of our vampire companions requested an option beyond the three choices mentioned by Racco.

  He motioned for me to join him, then took up his plate and began walking around the table, adding small amounts of the delicacies to his plate. I picked up my own plate and started piling food onto it, quickly accumulating more than I originally intended, which told me that my hunger was worse than I presumed when Garvan came to get me.

  “So, what do you think of our alchemist friend?”

  Chanson spoke from behind me. She had a wine glass filled with a much thicker libation than any wine. At least her lilac scent forewarned me of her near-instantaneous change of location.

  “Do you mean Racco?” I glanced at her over my shoulder.

  She nodded with a wry grin on her face. At the time, our host was helping himself to a slice of prime rib on the other side of the table from me.

  “We’re not talking about some kind of wizard here, who’s trying to turn lead into gold, are we?”

  Now it was my turn to grin wryly.

  “Actually, we are,” she said, motioning for me to sit down with her at the middle of the table. I felt a momentary tug of guilt, since Racco had asked me to join him in the seat next to his, at the table’s head. “He was quite adept at that particular recipe too, from what I understand. But it was centuries before I was born.”

  “Huh?”