by Eryn Black
Did he have a heart beating in the dead cavern of his chest? The question plagued him as the blackest night passed by and soon the creeping claws of the dawn’s early light would peek out from the horizon bringing an end to his one night with Aurora, his one night of paradise. He wanted to tell her what he felt, but it was impossible to say when he did not know or understand how he felt himself.
“Hmm,” she purred nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and kissing the small divot over his collarbone, darting her tongue out to seal her seductive move. The side of her face pressed against his firm chest, as she settled into the comforting feel of his arms secure around her, cradling her… and then it happened again.
Thump, thump.
The beats were spaced out, but strong, and left no room for doubt. Aurora leapt off of his lap and took a few steps back, her bare feet stumbling over the wood floor and she pointed a shaking hand toward his chest.
“I wish I could tell you…” he tried to explain to her, but she shook her head in doubt.
“That is impossible,” she told him, shaking her head in denial.
“How can either of us be sure what is possible or impossible?” She slowly stood up, his arms stretched out to his side in an unarmed fashion. His body was stripped clean of clothing leaving him completely exposed and his eyes were wide and vulnerable. “We are both creatures of legend. By the logic of every mortal that walks the streets below us we should not even exist, so who are we to determine what is possible?”
“You were cast out, cursed for your sins.” She reached her arms out to her side, as her robe lifted off of the floor and slid over her body, concealing her modesty. “What have you done?”
“Nothing! Nothing that I know of.” He walked toward her, but she stretched a hand out, stopping him in his place. “What do you want from me!”
“I want the truth. No games, no tricks.” She looked him over from head to toe and back up to his face. “How can I trust that this is real and not a ploy to gain my confidence?”
“And what would be the benefit in that.” He looked over his shoulder toward the disheveled bed and the long red silk ribbon discarded on the floor. “If my goal were to seduce you, I think I have managed to achieve that quite successfully, there is little left for me to do to you.”
He did not see her hand moving toward his face, but he expected the slap nonetheless.
“I’ll give you that,” he said under a restrained growl.
“Then what? What shall you do to me next time? If you truly have a heart beating inside your chest then are you capable of living with the guilt that comes from your actions.”
She posed a question that he had been pondering, what had happened to him? Was he forgiven, and what would happen should he respond to his natural vampire instincts? Blood filled his eyes and Aurora backed away from him, fearful of how she could push him. It was a question that he feared as well.
“Up until now I haven’t had much of an appetite,” he said with vinegar.
Her eyes darted to the glass on the table.
“I only opened a bag out of habit and perhaps to test myself, but I haven’t had a sip,” he defended himself. “And what if I had? I never asked for any of this! I was the Angel of Death, I never asked to be the killer in the shadow.”
“Then what do you suspect has happened? That sex brought your heart back to life?” She crossed her arms, the flowing fabric of her robe flung out by her arm movements and then settled in front of her draping to the floor.
“No!” he shot back in defense. “I have no answers for what happened, but I am certain that my curse was not lifted because I used extortion to put you in my bed.”
“Extortion? Is that what you call threatening the life of a Nephilim? His father was once a friend of yours, before…”
“Before I became a monster and was damned.” He was not about to go down that road again at the moment. “No need to narrate the past to me, the details have haunted me.” He threw his arms in the air and walked away, opening a drawer on one antique chest he pulled out a pair of sweat pants and slid them on one leg at a time, he ignored the drawstrings that dangled from the waistband that hung low over his hips. They were comfortable and in his years cursed to the earth he had grown to appreciate the luxury of comfort over practical, there had never been time, or need, for it before, but the same could have been said for love and attachment.
Resting his hands on his hips he took in a deep breath expanding his chest and realizing that it was an involuntary action that looked so natural. Breathing had been a useless novelty for him, something to do so he could hold onto memories of his life left behind, but this was a practical action that he enjoyed. Azrael did not trust these changes coming over him, uncertain why, and to what purpose, but he was not about to express his fears to Aurora when she looked upon him with so much judgment.
“So, is that what this was for you. This night with me, just a means to gain redemption. That is the only explanation for a living heart to beat inside that cadaver of a body.” The fear she felt in the moment came out in her stinging words and though he knew that she only lashed out at him in fear, her words hurt all the same.
“You think of me as some mass of rotting flesh?” he challenged her, walking slowly to her in slow dragging steps, Azrael knew the sexual appeal that women found in his body and she was no different in her desires for him. “You accuse me of ulterior motives in bringing you here, trapping you in our arrangement, but what of your own interests?” He paused a couple of feet away from her and looked deep into her eyes, Her lips parted slightly to emit a soft gasp, the blood had washed away in his own as his brief moment of hunger born from anger had turned to desire and he could see in her wide-eyed expression that she felt the same.
“How is it that Uriel’s son had come looking for me, but never knew who I was? For a 500 year old Nephilim one would think he would be a bit wiser, but no, he came looking for Azrael the Vampire, not the cursed and who should come to his rescue, but why you, not Uriel himself or Michael’s daughter, or any other skilled Nephilim, at least they would be able to explain to that tadpole that I cannot be killed and the attempt would be futile… but why you?”
“Do not pretend that you had not been expecting me.” Her eyes narrowed with defiance.
Azrael sighed in exhaustion, they had been down this road several times during the night and it had gotten them nowhere. Past pains and betrayals left them both suspicious to the other one’s intent and with their shields up neither was ready to bend to the other. He didn’t want this anymore, he didn’t want to fight with her, it was pointless and left them both only hurting each other before they ended up back in bed together Something miraculous had occurred that night and it scared them both, but rather than respond to that fear by lashing out at her… He needed to surrender… He needed to trust her.
“Are we really going to spend our last few moments together repeating the same arguments, over and over again?” He was tired of the constant back and forth, their entire night had been one fight piled over ruthless lovemaking over and over again. He wanted peace, whatever the changes coming over him meant he didn’t want his one night with Aurora to end in another pointless argument.
Azrael caught her by surprise, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him, she made no move to fight him when he dipped her and looked into her soft, beautiful face. He lowered his head and buried his face into the crook of her neck breathing in her scent and drawing his nose up the column of her neck and under her jaw. When this night passed and she was called on for the sun to rise he would remember her scent and the feel of her in his arms then, no matter what would befall him in the future, Azrael would know that he had held paradise in his arms once more.
“I didn’t know that you would come for him, but I had hoped.” He kissed the side of her jaw, it was an intimate touch that left her shivering in his arms. “I have loved you since that first night in the gypsy camp and I will love you on until
I am at last granted an end.” He kissed her lips tenderly. “I don’t know what has come over me, nor did I ever expect it, but I am thankful that you are here with me now as my heart beats again in my chest, I can tell you with all assurance that my heart is still and always will be yours and though I regret my sins in the past I will never regret this night with you.”
Azrael pulled her close to him slowly lowering his lips over hers and taking them in celebration that his heart beat strong and fast.
The dawn came far too quickly and Azrael held her in his arms, leaning against the open doorway. Her head resting on his chest listening to his heart and turning her head to kiss the firm shield his chest made over the precious organ. The sky was now painted over in a bright majestic blue and Aurora looked up toward the horizon as the first golden ray of sunlight caught her eyes, bringing to life all that burned inside. She reached up to cradle the side of his face in her hand and kissed him one last time before reaching out with her other hand, drawing the sun to rise. Brilliant ribbons of red and orange unfurled from the horizon painting the sky above them as the dawn broke in a brilliant storm of color.
“Good morning,” she told him with a twinge of pain in her voice.
“Good morning,” he replied releasing his hold on her.
Aurora began to lift off the ground, but kept her hand holding the side of his face. Floating over the railing of the balcony she tilted her head and smiled into his face before letting her hand fall down over his chest to feel his heart beat one more time before she pulled away, floating into the sky and disappearing into the fiery brilliance of a new day. Azrael stood there for some time, the morning light stinging his nocturnal eyes, but as the sun’s rays cut across his balcony he closed his eyes and let the warmth feed his cold body as though it were Aurora herself caressing him with her light and his heart leapt at the thought of holding her again one day.
Three weeks later
Balancing groceries in one’s arms is such a simple common task for mortals, something that they often dread, but for an immortal of 100 years or more the slightest task to give them the sense of normalcy brings on a feeling of satisfaction that mortals would never understand. Perhaps it was a silly thing for someone as ancient as Azrael to ponder, but he enjoyed these moments however, the dozen blood bags zipped up in insulated lunch bags put a tarnish to the illusion of normalcy. Three weeks had passed since his night with Aurora and his existence had grown complicated very quickly, and for one as ancient as Azrael, complicated was a curious irritant.
With a clipped rhythm he climbed the steps in beat to his heart, the blood that he had consumed earlier pumped through his body with an efficiency that surprised him. Happy, delightful, and even perky were words used to describe his demeanor in the past few weeks, something out of place and very disarming to the gothic tagalongs in the French Quarter, but he couldn’t help it, either he had had the fuck fest of a lifetime or he had been granted the pleasure of experiencing joy for the first time in four hundred years. He felt ashamed of how he would occasionally think back to that night as a fuck fest, or anything else demeaning, in that bargain she had given him the gift of joy and healing and somehow in that night a part of his curse had been lifted, giving him hope that one day he would be forgiven for his sin and perhaps he would find himself worthy of such a forgiveness.
Azrael turned at the banister away from the stairs and walked down the hall, the old carpet lay flat beneath his feet, no spring or fluffy life left in the woven antique and it let the creak from the floorboards beneath it escape, announcing to his neighbors that he had come home. The balcony doors were never locked and flying into the apartment would have ensured his privacy should anyone hear him coming, but that would have spoiled the illusion of normalcy. He looked into the top of the reusable shopping bag to ensure that the lunch bags inside were stacked and zipped, at least he appeared environmentally conscious while he transported his blood.
At the door he set one bag down and used his thumb to push the fake keyhole aside revealing a small black strip which he pressed with his thumb triggering the lock to pull free from the slot in the doorframe. Keys were a dying trend, much like disposable… anything and he was happy with that. Turning his back to the door he kicked a foot back to push the door open and spun into the room with a happy whistle.
Abruptly he stopped in mid-note when he heard September Morn playing through the room, which was comfortably warm and lit in rich amber tones from the crackling fire that burned in the corner fireplace. Such an entrance would set anyone’s senses on alert, but then he felt her, just as he had countless times over the centuries. Walking to the bar he set the bags down, ignoring them for the time being and turned to see her bright fiery red hair in his bed.
“Did you forget something?” said he asked with a cheeky grin looking at how the new white linen sheets were draped over her naked breasts and tucked under her bare arms.
“I did,” she said sitting up on her knees and letting the sheet fall onto her lap, revealing her exquisite body.
Azrael was left speechless as she lifted herself off of the bed and slowly walked across the room to him, her hips swaying seductively with every step and her hair falling over her shoulders, teasing him with a glimpse of her round, perfect breasts. She stopped in front of him and draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning her weight against him and tilted her head back slowly aiming her pouty mouth up to his. Azrael was terrified to move for fear that he would awaken and the illusion would vanish from his room, but then she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him gently on the lips, then broke the seal before he could respond and smiled into his eyes.
“I forgot to tell you that I love you too.”
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Kindred Sacrifice
Bavarian Alps, late 18th century
Galloping through the snow covered wasteland, the horseback army spared no moment or tiring breath to the cold winter elements. Freezing blasts of wind swept up along the snow-covered road as the horses’ hooves sent flurries swirling up to fall on the riders who trailed behind. Few mortal men could make such a ride in the heat of summer, but lost in the hollow white of winter no one would manage to escape the cold Bavarian mountains alive, but this was an army of the undead.
Taking the lead with an iron grip on the reigns and a seat low and strong, Victor rode with determination, fueled by his rage. Nothing else mattered but the safe return of his beloved Sophia. Images of her now trembling in fear at the hands of her captor flashed in his mind and he cursed the diseased soul who had taken her from their wedding bed. In his blood he knew that she was putting up her best fight, striking back with all her might, but her weak mortal body was no match for what threatened her and the realization was a freezing shard of panic that impaled his veins.
“We must ride faster!” Victor called out to the men following close behind him. “Break through the storm, men, hell is at the gate waiting!” Isolated by the falling snow his voice could not be heard beyond his saddle, but the men were loyal servants of Victor and knew what it was that he asked of them and followed when he kicked his horse into a faster pace.
Drugged by his own brother with dead blood at the time of her capture, Victor was not able to summon the power of flight and had been rendered to riding out to her rescue while he recovered from his brother’s betrayal. Weak and manipulative, Alexander was the last man Victor would have expected to conduct such deceit and was still fighting through his hazy thoughts to believe what he had seen in his own bed chamber. Pressing further he prayed he would have clear mind and a strong body when they arrived, brother or not, Alexander would perish if his Sophia was harmed.
The animals were pushed beyond their limits and suffered from the extreme cold, but Victor could see the outer wall of his brother’s strong hold. He could not surrender now before the fight had even begun, not when he was so close and her life was at risk. Nothing could stop Victor from rescuing his bride.
Nearing the gat
e, two men fell behind and were lost to the snow and the others drew their swords for combat. Holding the lead, Victor rose up on the saddle of his horse holding the reigns in one hand and his sword in the other. He rode with a power only known in legend. His voice broke through the deafening snow and the men heard his battle cry.
At the gates Victor released the reigns, and jumping from his horse’s saddle, he flew up over the battlements. His strength began to restore and he landed with ease in the path of armed men ready to battle. There was no time to pause or look to calculate. Victor raised his sword over his head to fend off the first stake that exploded into splinters from the man’s hand. Then with a swing of his sword the attacker fell to the ground in four burning pieces. Again and again men charged at him and they fell one by one.
“For the Queen!” one soldier yelled, leaping from his horse’s saddle and clearing the outer wall. Landing with his sword at the ready, he moved with a fluid grace, swinging his sword above his head and impaling it into a snarling guard charging toward Victor’s back. Falling to the stone floor of the battlement, the shifter’s body sizzled and smoked from the bleeding hole in his chest.
Another casualty of battle.
Polished with holy water and silver by their human servants, their swords were death to any immortal, leaving them smoldering ashes. Once the line of the battlefield was drawn, no mortal man, shifter or Vampire survived Victor’s wrath. Sophia was imprisoned here and tonight he would strike down every man and immortal until his bride was safe in his arms once more.
Five more solders cleared the wall. Leading the charge, Victor sounded the battle cry that awoke the beasts in his men, raining down carnage on the shifters and humans who guarded the courtyard. Stirring the snow at his feet, a flurry lifted him off the ground, flying over the opposing forces and landing in the throng of men armed for the kill. Growing stronger, he could sense their fear and fed from it. Lunging in for the first attack, he swung his sword over his back, slicing through one man who fell in an instant before bringing the blade in front of him to impale another before him. Around and around he swung the deadly sword, fighting his way through the courtyard and to the front doors of the ancient palace.