by Eve Newton
Cole finishes a sandwich and turns to me, saying, “Liv, I’m burning with curiosity about you. Tell me your story. I want to know how on Earth you became a Vampire a thousand years ago. Christ, I can’t believe that sentence just came out of my mouth.” He says this in awe as Devon snickers.
“Wait!” Cole exclaims suddenly. “How do you move about in the sun? Or is that Legend as well?”
Devon and I exchange looks and hold up our left hands, thumbs sticking out.
“The ring? That allows you to walk in daylight?” he asks.
I nod.
“I knew it was unusual,” he says, almost to himself.
Not wanting to get into that story just yet, I carry on: “As I said, it was back in 1012 in London, England.” I proceed to tell the story of me and CK in the barn, pausing briefly to take a sip of wine. I elaborate further to events after the barn, to the day I woke up turned. I provide the PG-13 version for Cole, though, as he may not want to hear all the gory details.
Caen, Normandy, 1012 - Aefre
I woke up in a daze. No pain, thankfully, just a bit foggy, trying to recollect what happened and trying to figure out where I was. A noise from the other side of the room startled me. I sat upright, all my senses on high alert. Then I saw him. He smiled that heavenly smile at me.
“Good evening,” he said in that wonderful accent, then asked, “how do you feel?”
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. He handed me a cup of water, from which I drank deeply, taking in my surroundings, my eyes wide at the lavish room. I placed the cup on a carved table.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” I bobbed my head. “Constantine, where am I? What happened to me?”
“Oh, Aefre, it is a long story. One I will tell you, but please, you must vow that you won’t be afraid.” He looked intently into my eyes as mine widened further.
“Afraid? I could never be afraid of you, my love,” I said.
He took my hand and kissed it softly, taking a seat beside me on the soft bed.
“What is the last thing you remember?” he asked.
I tried to remember, but everything was a bit unclear.
“Oh, the barn!” I said, then my face fell as I remembered seeing Radulf. “Radulf? Where is he? Is he here?” I asked, starting to panic.
Constantine said, “Hush, my love. He is not here. Do you remember what he did?”
Nodding slowly, I moved my hand down to my stomach. I felt no pain. I looked at Constantine, confused. “I thought I remembered that he ran me through with a spear. And you...” I said, touching him where I thought he was injured, and then his lips where I remember seeing the flash of his teeth.
Constantine sighed and said, “He did, Aefre.”
Eyes wide in panic, I stammered, “Where is he? Does he know where we are?”
“Aefre, I killed him for what he did,” Constantine said quietly. “I am sorry.”
As I took in his words, I felt no sorrow, only relief. He was a hateful, violent man and I hated him. “Oh, Constantine. No, don’t be sorry. He hurt me, he hurt you. He was an awful man. I am not sorry that he is dead.”
Relief etched his perfect features and his dark eyes watched me carefully.
“Constantine, how long have I been here? Where is here?” I gestured at the beautiful room.
“We are in Caen, my sweet, Normandy. We have been here only two days,” he answered softly, still watching me closely.
“Normandy? Across the sea? How did we get here? Only two days?” I asked, confused. I continued with more questions. “If I was run through, why do I feel no pain? Where is the wound? Where is your wound?” The questions kept coming as I started to panic. “Constantine, I don’t understand.”
“Aefre, be still. Yes, we travelled across the sea. You came to while we were on the water, but you were terribly ill, and I put you back under. I saved you from death, my love. As you lay bleeding in the barn, I turned you into one of my kind, to save you. I couldn’t bear to live without you. You see, Aefre, I am not mortal. I am a higher being, one they call a Vampire,” he said in a rush. I had never heard him so unsure of himself before.
I blinked slowly at him. “Pardon, sir. I don’t understand. You turned me? Not mortal? What does that mean? Why do I no longer have a wound?” I asked, almost hysterical now with panic and confusion.
“Aefre! My love. I will explain further,” Constantine said, managing to quiet me down so he could carry on with his explanation.
He told me about the Initial Vampires and where we came from and how, in order to save me from death, he fed me his blood, which transformed me. He told me he brought me to Normandy, to his castle there. He said he loved me and will love me forever. To survive, I had to drink blood, humans at first, but as I got older and stronger, I would need it less often and could survive by drinking Vampire blood. He said I would never age another day and that I would live forever. If I was wounded, I would heal immediately and that I was stronger, quicker, and more aware than I was as a human. Again, he told me he loved me.
I sat through his tale, speechless, blinking slowly, as I tried to take in what he was saying. I tried to believe his words.
I asked the first thing that came into my head: “How do I feed?” I felt the hunger lurking, but not for food. It was something more primal. Fierce, even. I felt a slight ache in my top teeth and put my hand up to my mouth. I pricked my finger on one of my fangs, drawing blood. Startled, I pulled my hand back. My nails had sharpened into points and I felt my eyes shifting, getting more focused.
“Like that!” Constantine smiled at me with pride, love, and joy.
Smelling the blood, the hunger rose up and without a second thought, I threw myself at him, quick as an arrow, and before I knew what I was doing, I sank my new fangs into his neck and suckled like a newborn baby. I felt his hands on me, in my hair, on my arms. I pulled away from him in a daze.
“Lick the wound,” he said huskily, and I did as he asked even as it healed. I stared in wonder at his perfect neck and into his perfect eyes.
“That’s my girl,” he said with pride and crushed his mouth against mine. “Oh, my sweet Aefre,” he murmured, “I love you so. Do you love me still? Accept what we are?”
I realized that I did. I would do or be anything for this man, this…Vampire, my love. “I do,” I told him. “I love you and accept what we are.”
With his eyes on fire, he whispered to me, as my fingers fumbled to free him, “We are now one, you and I. Always and forever.”
“Always and forever,” I repeated, feeling more alive than I ever had, I lost myself in him completely, as he did with me.
C ole watches me intently, listening to my story.
“You were turned in a barn?” is the only thing he asks me.
I glare at him, affronted, as Devon says, “Hey, I was turned in a barn as well, under similar circumstances.”
Cole turns to him, mouth agape. “This is just…”
“Too much?” I ask.
“No, not that, just surreal, I guess, is the word. You said that at first you need human blood to survive. Did you kill people?” he asks tentatively.
“Cole, I’ve been around a long time.” I sigh heavily and say, “I’ve – we’ve – done lots of bad things. Things that I’m not proud of and things I don’t like to dwell on. I stopped killing for sport in the early 1800s. It was just a way of life back then, kill or be killed. It’s a cliché for a reason. At some point, you just have to evolve.”
“Killing for sport?” he asks warily.
I shrug and say, “As I said, bad things.”
“When was the last time you…” he trails off.
He’s seriously asking me that?
I think back. “1945. During the war,” I say at the same time as Devon.
Cole looks taken aback but has the humor to raise an eyebrow. “Whose side were you on?” he asks with a hint of a smile.
“The Allies, of course!” I say with a smi
le. He looks a bit relieved that I wasn’t some swastika wearing Gestapo agent.
“Ah yes, the good old days of K & D, spies extraordinaire,” Devon grins.
“Spies?” Cole asks.
I nod and say, “Devon and I were drafted by the British Army to do reconnaissance behind enemy lines.”
He looks impressed. “Wow. K & D?”
“Katherine & Devon,” I say, clarifying. “Katherine was my identity at the time. I have had many over the years.”
“So, Liv isn’t your real name?” he asks.
“It is for this life,” I say, and he looks both relieved and confused.
“Um, so how long ago…did you decide to…um…” He looks at a bit of a loss as he waves his hand between the two of us.
“What? Turn me?” Devon helps out.
Cole nods.
“Well, Devon, that’s your story to tell, if you choose to,” I say.
He shrugs and says, “Sure. It’s a great story.” He grins at me and I indulge him by grinning back.
Devon gets up to refresh our drinks and then settles back. “It was the year 1506.”
Cole splutters his beer everywhere as he chokes out, “1506? That’s a long time ago.”
I can tell what he is thinking: a long history to compete with. I touch his arm to reassure him, but he still looks crestfallen.
“Yes, 1506, in Helsby, England. A small market town, still standing today, just outside of Chester. I met Liv, or Elizabeth, as she was known back then.”
“Elizabeth? Fuck me, this is getting just too weird.” He looks at me with those beautiful, now, deep blue eyes. He sighs again. “But I want to know, I want to know it all. I want to know the real you,” he says to me. “It’s fascinating. You really have seen everything, haven’t you, my love?” he says quietly, stroking my bottom lip.
“If I could carry on now?” Devon rudely interrupts our moment and I frown at him.
Cole continues to me, “I want to understand this batshit crazy, possessive relationship of yours,” he says with a smile. I grin and he adds, “It seems to be really important to you. I want to know why.” He says it so softly.
“Oh, Cole,” I say. “It’s…”
“You have so much history, clearly, so much past, so many experiences,” he interrupts me. “It’s got to be hard to live up to all that.”
Devon clears his throat and Cole starts as if remembering that he is still there. “Am I telling this story, or not? And what’s with the batshit crazy, possessive relationship?”
“It’s nothing for you to know about,” I say, still looking deep into Cole’s eyes.
“Fine, whatever. Story or no story?” Devon asks.
“Story,” Cole says and lets me cuddle up to him. I feel a bit more weight lifting.
“Soooo, I met Elizabeth in a brothel off the market square and before you interrupt me again, no, she wasn’t a prostitute. She was visiting with one,” he deftly adds with a smirk.
Cole looks at me in amusement and I flush, providing my excuse, “It was food, that’s all. Devon, continue.”
My phone buzzes again at that point and I note it’s about work. “I have to get this. Carry on with your story.”
Moving back out to the terrace, I answer a few questions on contracts from the European offices and hang up. I return to the den, just in time to hear Devon saying, to my complete mortification, “… and I fucked her right there and then in front of everyone!”
My mouth drops open in horror as Cole looks across at me with, what can only be called, horrified amusement.
“Devon!” I growl and he has the grace to look slightly abashed.
“You said it’s my story to tell,” he says petulantly.
“I didn’t mean every gory detail,” I snap.
“Well, I happen to think that it’s a rather important part of the story,” he says haughtily. “I accepted you straight away.” He’s smug.
“Devon,” I warn quietly, as Cole looks anywhere, but at me.
I sit back down next to Cole and take his hand in mine. “It’s of no consequence. Tell your tale. The censored version,” I press.
Cole looks at me a bit pained. “Sorry,” I mouth.
He shrugs, adding, “Ever since you said you had turned him, I figured that you had, you know. I guess it is kind of different to hear it put quite so literally.”
“How about we make this a long-story-short kind of deal?” I remark now in annoyance.
“Fine,” Devon says, now a bit annoyed as well. He launches into the abridged, PG-13 version of events that led to his turning. I tune out, remembering it in my own way like it was yesterday.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Helsby, England, 1506 - Elizabeth
A fter that fateful day at the brothel, Devon and I were inseparable. We stayed up all night making love and talking. I told him stories of my adventures and tales of my sire, Constantine.
One day the question came, just as I knew it would. We were in my room at the inn, lounging on the bed, naked and spent.
“Will you bite me?” he asked.
I looked over at him and rolled onto my side; he did the same, so I was staring into his clear blue eyes.
“Will you?” he asked again
“Are you sure?” I asked. Acceptance of what I was, was one thing, giving into the bite was a whole other story.
He nodded.
“Now?” I asked.
He nodded again.
I lit up at the hint of human blood, willing human blood, and I sat upright. He followed me. I motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. He did as I asked.
I climbed off the bed and crawled onto his lap. I could already feel myself getting aroused. He groaned as I squirmed on his lap and I felt him stirring beneath me. With one hand on his right shoulder, I wrapped my other hand around the back of his head and grabbed a fistful of his dark hair. I pulled his head to the side and let my fangs extend. Slowly, I lowered my mouth to his neck and quickly sank my fangs into his flesh. He flexed with the pain, but that soon turned to pleasure as I suckled gently on him. His blood tasted like nectar and I felt my strength returning as it slid down my throat. I released the bite and licked his wounds to heal them. He lifted my hips, pushing me onto him, and I rode him into oblivion. He came quickly, leaving me unsatisfied, but I didn’t mind. I had drunk his blood and that alone will suffice for now. Now, it would only be a matter of time before he was truly mine.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he said in wonder. “That was magickal. I want to do it again.”
I smiled. “All in good time, my darling, darling boy. First, you have something to attend to.” I pouted at him; my bright blue eyes mischievous as he blushed.
I t was a few weeks later when he first broached the subject of me turning him. We had been carrying on with the biting and I could sense he wanted more. He was a farmer from a simple farmer and his wife, but Devon was quick-witted, clever, funny, honest to a fault and so eager. Eager to learn anything and everything he could, eager to live in my world. He was already putting into practice everything I had taught him on how to please me and was most appreciative and surprised to discover how I could please him. The only wrinkle in our happiness was his distaste of my need to kill. He didn’t understand it was a Vampire’s nature to hunt the weak, to hunt their prey. The thrill was in the chase and the sweetness of fear was intoxicating. I knew it was something that he would overcome once he was like me.
It was no surprise to me when one day, he asked, “How do you go about becoming one of your kind? I mean, I know how Constantine turned you, but I don’t quite like the idea of being run through with a spear first.”
I giggled and agreed, “No, it’s not the best way, to be sure.”
“Then how?” he pressed.
“I would drink from you until your heart slows and all but stops, and then I would feed you my blood and wait for it to transform you,” I explained.
“Does it hurt? Having most of your b
lood drained?” he asked, worried.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. No one has ever said so,” I replied.
“Would you turn me?” he asked shyly.
And there it was: The Question.
“Do you want me to turn you?” I asked in return.
“I think so, yes. I love you and I don’t ever want to be without you. I want you to show me the world. Teach me everything you know. Take me on adventures!” he said excitedly.
I giggled at his enthusiasm and asked, “What would you do for me? What would I get in return?”
His eyes darkened and he said, “I would worship you, love you, do your bidding. I would please you in so many ways. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours, forever.”
“That sounds like a proposal of marriage,” I said coquettishly, and his eyes lit up.
“Would you be my wife?” he asked eagerly.
“Oh, my darling boy, I do love you,” I sighed.
“Is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.
“I will ask you again, in one week, if you want me to turn you. If you answer correctly, I will do as you wish,” I said.
“What is the correct answer?” he asked in puzzlement.
“That is for you to learn from what was said here today,” I say sternly.
His confusion deepened, and all offers of marriage were forgotten.
P recisely one week later, I led him outside, and we took a stroll through a nearby field.
“Devon? Do you want me to turn you into a Vampire?” I asked suddenly, catching him off guard.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation and I smiled. There was no room for uncertainty and doubt, as once the act was complete there was no going back.