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

by Aiden James

  I couldn’t help wondering what they looked like when they slept. However, it wouldn’t have been the ideal time to take a peek. The sun was setting, and before long, my otherworldly guardians would arise from their slumber. I entertained a brief vision of my neck being snapped in two after opening one of these ornate caskets, by a vampire stuck in some sort of night terror—assuming vampires dream, of course.

  “Is it not a room fit for kings and queens?”

  I whirled around to find Racco standing just a few feet away. He must’ve quietly followed behind me after I ventured inside this ‘sleep’ chamber. Dressed in blue jeans, ostrich cowboy boots, and a red and black flannel shirt, he reminded me of how Armando had been dressed the first night he accompanied Garvan to my dorm room.

  He smiled shyly, the small dimples in his cheeks and the slight crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating his rugged handsomeness. This man could make my heart pound hard if he tied a burlap sack around his waist. I believe it might have something to do with those beautiful blue eyes, seductive and yet at the same time innocent. Like a little boy and a famished lover all wrapped into one person.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, stepping towards me, while I just stood there with an ‘I can’t believe you’re this gorgeous!’ expression on my face. Or, at least a dumbfounded look hiding my erotic thoughts. Hopefully. A slight twinkle in those eyes told me that he understood my plight. I’d bet he’d probably seen my wanton expression literally thousands of times during the past two millennia.

  “It’s okay,” I told him, removing my gaze from him to survey the upscale coffins again, and doing my best to pretend my fascination from just a moment earlier was still there. The surreal knowledge that the living dead slumbered just a few feet away still held some sway… but less and less as the ship’s host came up behind me. “They’ll be waking soon. Right?”

  I said this as I turned around, the scent of an expensive musk cologne filling my nostrils and wisps of dark chest hair near his neckline attracting my attention as I avoided his gaze. He stood a couple of inches taller than me, and maybe even an inch taller than Peter.

  Despite my man’s boyish charm and beauty, my tenuous devotion to Peter proved to be inadequate protection from Racco’s sophisticated sexuality and mature persona. My host studied me in silence, his eyes simmering with an unspoken passion that easily penetrated my entire being. The language of desire is more felt than spoken, as it is. He bent his face towards mine, his lips slightly parted. I shivered with a feeling that had nothing to do with temperature.

  “Does your boat have a name?” I blurted out, pulling away from the sweet allure of a kiss with an immortal man—a near-ageless human being.

  It was instinctive fear. Intimidation? Maybe. Centuries of experience versus a few years since one’s lost virginity could certainly account for that. But, where in the hell did a question like the one I voiced come from? Unless it was a random musing from my youth, like the ‘Skipper’ in my father’s beloved “Gilligan’s Island” reruns from yesteryear. The ‘Skipper’ had a name for his itty-bitty boat. So should the master of a glorious yacht.

  “We call it ‘l’Antoinette Bleue’, or ‘The Blue Antoinette’,” he said, chuckling. His eyes twinkled with even more amusement. “I named it in honor of Marie Antoinette, whom my brother and I always found the most charming and likeable person in King Louis’s court. Aristocrats can be such boring—”

  I reached up and kissed him. It was an impulsive move from a foolish teenager. His response was immediate, his lips softly caressing mine while his muscular chest and arms embraced me. I thought I might pass out from the exquisite sensations flowing through me as our lips danced together in mutual yearning and pleasure—so unlike any kiss I had ever experienced before.

  Racco knew women, and what all of us needed. His hands, and especially his fingers, massaged erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had, sending waves of pleasure and excitement throughout my body. I’m sure an older and more experienced woman would find his caress just as exhilarating, but would surely know what to expect and how to pace oneself to create a rapturous union. As for me, and my previous experience, that I now realized was far from the intermediate level I would’ve described myself before that evening? Let’s just say I was filled with reckless urgency, ready to throw him on the floor and forcibly have my way with him, despite the potential audience of four vampires.

  Movement and simultaneous knocks suddenly resounded from two of the caskets—the first and fourth ones in the row.

  “Maybe this is not the best place for us, eh?” he said, snickering nervously.

  Delighted that his arousal matched my own, I tried not to let the allure of inappropriate behavior instigate any complications that might follow. I gently stroked his face and pressed my index finger to his lips as he prepared to say something else. But, before we could resume this foreplay, the noises from the caskets resumed. Another one joined the disturbance, which meant we had three irritated vamps on our hands.

  “Okay… we can go to my room,” I suggested, my voice carrying a huskier edge than was normal for me.

  “No. They will be up soon, and it sounds like Chanson may not be so pleased by this,” he said. The worry in his voice sounded too amused to be taken seriously. “It may be better if we resume this at a later time. Say, tomorrow… if you can awaken earlier than mid-afternoon, perhaps?”

  A more forceful thud erupted from the fourth casket, which I assumed belonged to Chanson… or maybe Garvan, my beautiful vampire suitor? A sudden pang of guilt ripped through me, as I considered the possible effect this wanton moment could have on him.

  “Tomorrow would be better,” I agreed.

  Racco motioned for me to wrap my arm inside his and we left the room together. I doubt any of our vampire companions actually awoke, although the distinct feeling of being observed didn’t fade until we moved upstairs to the dining area.

  We shared a bottle of Racco’s prized merlot. He said it was from the turn of the twentieth century, and we sat at a window table watching the setting sun disappear into the ocean behind us.

  “You woke me up!” Chanson chided, once she and the rest of our vampire entourage joined us upstairs. The last vestige of daylight had faded into near-darkness, leaving only a slight pink glow at the edge of the distant horizon to the west. “In truth, your little escapade down below roused us all before we needed to awake. There goes our beauty sleep!”

  She placed her hands on her hips and eyed me coyly, making much of what she just said a playful dig, although I detected some irritation in her brilliant green eyes. Like Racco, she and her companions were all dressed in blue jeans, but she, Nora, and Raquel were attired in sweaters—cocoa, purple, and beige, respectively—as opposed to the blue and black flannel shirt Garvan wore.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her, feeling mostly sincere. As long as I didn’t linger on the fantasy of a sexual frolic with Racco. “I will be more discreet next time.”

  “It might be wise to consider someone closer to your own age,” she told me, which drew a snicker from Raquel, who stood nearby. Honestly, I would’ve never guessed Raquel was listening, since she carried on an animated conversation with Nora. “We shall talk more about this after you have had a chance to eat tonight.”

  Chanson motioned for me to join her at the table, which like yesterday afternoon bore a more modest array of delights. It appeared this would be it for tonight, instead of last night’s obscene extravagance in the other room, where far too much food had covered the long table. Mercel managed a smaller bar nearby, which I assumed my ancient cousin would soon visit along with the others.

  “And don’t let either of the immortal males in attendance this evening dissuade you from meeting with me,” she continued. She took my arm like a big sis and made sure I reached my destination with minimal distractions. “Believe me, they both are vying for your affections, even though neither one is suitable for you.”

  Her kno
wing smile reminded me that she was privy to my thoughts. I had been thinking crazy ‘life together’ fantasies involving Racco since our interrupted physical encounter earlier. A quick glance around the room supported her words, as I caught Racco smiling at me from the bar and Garvan watching him from across the room with a disapproving scowl upon his face.

  It sure as hell could be an interesting night.

  “Txema, come and join me and Mercel for another drink!” Racco called to me, moving over to the table and pulling a chair out for me.

  Before I replied with the ‘sure!’ I intended to give him, Garvan suddenly appeared next to him, his face drawn near to Racco’s. They both glared at each other.

  “I’ll sit over here with the ladies,” I offered, after allowing Chanson to move me to the opposite side of the table. Nora and Raquel joined us there. Luckily, another ice sculpture—this one a mermaid—blocked my direct view of where Racco and Garvan presently stood. “I’d like to visit with them for awhile.”

  “Certainly,” said Racco, smiling again as he peered around the sculpture.

  He nodded respectfully to Garvan and sat down. Garvan’s frown remained fixed upon his face as he looked away from Racco. His expression changed to one of smug satisfaction by the time he turned his attention to me. Thankfully, he only nodded, which saved me further involvement.

  “See, jealousy and ‘cat fights’ are not strictly the domain of the female sex!” whispered Chanson, drawing close enough to me that her lilac scent was nearly overpowering. “You are the new flower in spring that so allures the bees and the wasps equally, so be careful. Your world is changing… your life will never be the same. But, you know these things, Txema. Go ahead and gain nourishment for your body, and then you and I shall talk.”

  I nodded politely, wondering what new revelations would be forthcoming from Chanson, whom I could tell had taken upon herself the role of my protector. Again making me think of her as the older sister I never had. Part of that comforted me—as strange as all of this was at this point. But, as I sat there, thinking about the tension between Racco and Garvan, and the journey to their homeland that would be completed sometime before the next day’s nightfall, I felt alone again—more than at any point I could recall since my life spiraled into chaos.

  The distractions of being the center of attention for the immortal undead, and the romantic focus for the even rarer immortal human were simply thin veneers that couldn’t erase the family and friends I had lost, possibly forever. In a snap, all of my worries returned to me in full force, and I felt trapped and lost.

  I took a few small club sandwiches and ate quickly. Then I grabbed another glass of wine and nodded to Chanson, letting her know I was ready to hear what she had on her mind.

  “Come with me.” She stood up from the table and motioned to the others to stay behind. “Join me for a walk on the deck.”

  “Should I grab my coat?” I asked, thinking winter in the Atlantic couldn’t be any warmer than winter back home.

  “No. It shouldn’t take that long,” she assured me.

  The random thought suddenly flew into my mind that maybe she would suck me dry and toss my blood-less corpse overboard.

  “You are such a silly girl, sometimes, Txema!” she chuckled as she led the way outside. “Why would I possibly harm the last link between my kind and the elixir of eternal youth and beauty?”

  She laughed heartily. A stiff frozen breeze embraced us, far colder than her presence. I wouldn’t last outside of the yacht’s protective warmth for long. The deck swayed noticeably, forcing me to grab the handle to the door we had just exited with my free hand. The brass felt especially frigid, sending deepening pain through my fingers.

  “Hold on to me instead,” she said, offering her arm for me to grasp onto.

  She seemed like a statue with a lead base, unmovable, despite the ship’s reckless speed through the darkness. If not for the recent knowledge I’d gained about vampires’ supernatural abilities, I would’ve been terrified. I clutched her arm and held on for dear life.

  “You and I are not so different,” she said, her long dark hair billowing around her face.

  Her luminous eyes flashed with acute excitement. In the glow from a nearby lamp, they seemed even brighter than I’d recalled seeing before. Perhaps they were accentuated by the paleness of her skin. Even so, I had no doubt that most males—alive or not so much—would find her beauty extremely compelling. She had added a dash of makeup that night, accentuating her lashes and eyebrows with a touch of mascara, as well as adding blush to her cheeks and lipstick to her otherwise bluish lips.

  “How do you mean?” I asked, certain her comment wasn’t a reference to her ancestry to me.

  “As I told you, long ago I was once where you are now,” she said, pausing to look out into the darkness surrounding us. “I was young, like you, when Gustav came to me. It was the last time a crisis like the one we find ourselves in now happened. I had seen him before. I recalled waking up in the middle of the night on several occasions, with a slight pain in my neck above the birthmark you and I share. I would catch a glimpse of a handsome man leaving by way of my window.”

  She paused for a moment, and the way she studied me told me that she was allowing me a moment to search my own memory for such experiences. I was about to shrug my shoulders to let her know I had nothing to add to what she told me. But, then I remembered something…an image of a young woman who would sometimes show up in my room late at night—often following a nightmare of falling off a cliff into a pit of sharp wooden spikes. Most the time, I ended up running into my parents’ bedroom, screaming from the nightmare. I scarcely recalled the pinprick pain in my neck, but I knew it felt familiar the first night Garvan visited me.

  “Yes, it is the same for all of us who share the twin tears on our throats,” she said. “I can tell by your shivers that we only have another minute out here where we can talk like this. So, I will try to be quick with what you need to know now, and the rest will have to wait until we can afford a longer visit.”

  I nodded enthusiastically since I was freezing my ass off. It occurred to me that reading a human’s thoughts must be related to close proximity, since when I glanced through the nearest window I could see everyone else on the ship remained gathered at the table, although Garvan stared intently in our direction. He looked both perplexed and frustrated.

  “You will be given the same choices that I had long ago,” she continued, once she had my full attention again. “Follow your heart at that moment. Immortality is yours to decree with whatever decision you make—whether it is your immortality or another’s. Just don’t let Racco sully your mind and heart. Your entire being must be lucid when the moment of truth comes for you.”

  “When will that happen?” I asked, after nodding thoughtfully. I knew the likely locale for this decision would be somewhere in France. Would it happen quickly, or were there more pieces to this crazy puzzle that had to fall in place first?

  “Not as soon as we reach our destination, but certainly not long after you get settled in your new home.”

  “In the castle?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “Gustav will share more about this tomorrow night when you meet him and the others who are waiting anxiously!”

  “So, we will reach France tomorrow?”

  “Yes, we are only a few hundred miles from the mainland now and should reach our docking point sometime in the morning,” she said. “Whether or not we will wait until dusk to make the trip into the mountains, to reach the castle, has not yet been determined. It depends on Customs and on other developments going on among the European vampires. I will share more once I know for sure what is happening.”

  She turned back toward the door leading me into the dining room of the ‘Blue Antoinette.’ I stopped before going in and turned back to face her.

  “Do you know what became of my friends back in Tennessee? Especially Peter and Tyreen?” I asked, “I’m really worried about them.”r />
  “I understand your fears for their welfare,” she said. “You want assurance they are okay? I will tell you this: they are both safe and doing fine. You will soon see them again. Very soon.”

  hanson’s words proved cathartic for me, and I had no idea the tremendous comfort and relief I would feel from what she said. Almost immediately, the overwhelming exhaustion from everything I had gone through hit me full force. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open, and much worse than the night before. I had become a queen-sized party-pooper.

  Needing time alone, I walked myself back to my cabin. Surprised I even lasted until shortly after ten o’clock, I laid down on the bed. Intending to rest just a moment and then go wash my face and brush my teeth, I didn’t wake up until almost noon the next day.

  It was Tuesday, exactly one week after my initial encounter with a vampire.

  Before taking a shower, I peered through the window blinds, thinking we must be drifting since the ship’s engines were silent. But, the ship wasn’t drifting. It sat motionless.

  I gasped in surprise. A beautiful coastline sprawled before me, featuring a mixture of French and Spanish-styled buildings. Sailboats surrounded us beneath a cloudless sky, skimming along much bluer water than what I’d seen the past few days.

  I assumed we had arrived in France and were floating less than a half-mile away from that nation’s shore.

  I could hardly wait to set my feet on solid ground again. Yet at the same time, that same prospect brought a dire sense of finality. It was as if whatever I was then, or more like whoever I was at that moment, would soon change forever. There would be no way to get back to the person I was before my forced trans-Atlantic journey began.

  I thought about my family and how many times we had talked about visiting France, to return to Grandma Terese’s childhood home. We always found some reason or another not to follow through with an actual trip overseas.

  “But, I’m here now,” I whispered to myself, trying focus on something other than sadness, since I missed them all terribly.