My Vampire and I Vol 3: Blood Resurrection (7 page)

He introduced himself as Pietro Dante and told me he had been the night attendant for only one year. He preferred it, he said, because it allowed him to visit his father in the daytime—an old man who suffered from extreme memory loss and was less than lucid in the evening. I found Pietro charming, and we soon formed a close friendship, even though I could not accept his invitations to accompany him on any of the visits he paid his father.

 

Eventually, after a period of some weeks, I ran out of excuses and simply told him the truth—well, a semblance of it at least.

“I have a terminal aversion to strong sunlight, my dear Pietro,” I told him. “An affliction of the blood,” I added. “It weakens me, and prolonged exposure could be fatal.” He was at once filled with remorse for having badgered me over the matter. “It is so hard to believe,” he said in reply. “You look so strong and vital. But of course, you cannot risk your health over my selfish requests.”

He looked so forlorn, no doubt dismissing from his mind any countryside romps with me in tow, that I hugged him and kissed his cheek, telling him that perhaps as the winter months approached, I could accompany him in the late afternoon. He seemed cheered by that, but more importantly, did not step back from my embrace. Instead, his arms tightened about me, and his lips found mine in a tentative but thrilling kiss.

Over the years of my existence I have felt the surge of love and desire for another man only a few times. I felt it for Joseph, but we were torn apart so quickly that any furthering of our relationship was made impossible. Also, I had not forgotten the words of Marcus, my mentor, and indeed rarely kept company with mortal men, outside of the need to satisfy my hunger for their blood. Marcus, of course, I had loved, and still loved as a friend, infrequent though our meetings were. There had been others who had instilled me with not love really, but a desire for affection. There, locked in Pietro’s warm embrace, I wanted more from him.

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Marcus’ warning sang in my head, yet I ignored it, crushing Pietro’s mouth with mine, holding him fast in my arms.
“Bernard,” he whispered against my lips. “Do you know how I have longed for this?
How I have dreamed of it ever since we first met?”
“I too,” I murmured, nibbling at his plump lower lip. “What can we do about this dilemma?”
He chuckled, his lips tickling mine. “Whatever it may be, can we do it without delay?” My employment had come with lodgings – a small, windowless

room adjacent to one of the libraries. It was to there that Pietro and I hastened with as much speed as decorum would allow. Careful not to arouse the attention of our fellow employees, or the many clergymen and theologians who visited the archives to study, we made our way to my room, where we immediately fell upon one another with an enthusiasm that left us both breathless and panting.

Pietro was beautiful—not the powerful, sculpted beauty that was Marcus. Pietro was more delicate, fragile almost, but not feminine. There was strength there in his warm brown eyes, and the firm set of his mouth told me this was not a man to be trifled with nor have his affections toyed with. For a moment, I wavered. Should I follow where my heart and my desire led me, or should I whisper my regrets and show him the door? For better or worse, I decided to follow my heart and my desire.

I opened his shirt and pressed my lips to his chest. His skin, covered with a light down of dark brown hair, was soft and fragrant. He sighed as I teased each nipple, his hands caressing my face, stroking my hair. The scent of his blood was intoxicating, and I could feel my gums itch where my fangs longed to extend and pierce his exquisite flesh. I fought the urge to take him so quickly. Though I could make him forget, there was a deepseated longing within me that he should remember everything that passed between us.

We fell upon my narrow bed, our clothes scattered on the floor around us. My hands cupped his round firm buttocks, pulling his crotch into mine. His pelvis moved rhythmically against me, his hard cock pushing between my thighs. His eyes fixed on mine, his lips parted in a sly smile that told me without words that he wanted to fuck me. I was slightly surprised.

I don’t know why I’d thought I would be the dominant one. I wound my legs around his waist, holding his leanly muscled body fast. He spat into his hand, rubbing his saliva over Blood Resurrection

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the head of his cock and into the tight hole of my anus. He inched forward, his hardness pushing inside me, gently at first, then with a heat and determination that made me gasp with pleasure.

I grasped the back of his head, pulling him down until our lips met in a kiss born of hunger and a yearning for one another that caused my heart to pound with desire. I heard him groan softly, his breath filling my mouth as the rhythmic movement of his hips quickened, his thrusts becoming longer and deeper. I held him pressed tight to my body. He buried his face in the hollow of my neck, his lips working at my skin, his breathing harsh and laboured.

“Bernard…” His voice, muffled against my throat, was filled with such an earnest emotion that I felt myself melt beneath the warmth of his affection. My arms tightened about him, my hands caressing the smooth skin on his back. He raised his head and gazed into my eyes. “Bernard, I love you.”

Before I could say anything, his lips had covered mine again, his tongue sliding into my mouth, consuming me with his passion, even as his cock plunged ever deeper inside me. His body spasmed once, twice, and his seed flooded me. Beneath my hands, the muscles of his torso rippled and hardened with the strain and power of his ecstasy. As if in response to the overwhelming emotion that seemed to pour from every part of him, I felt my own orgasm surge through me, leaving me joyfully helpless in his arms. It was then, in that moment, that the loneliness, always an inherent part of a vampire’s long life, flooded over me, causing me to tighten my arms around Pietro and give vent to a sob, both of joy and sadness, torn from my very heart.

Immediately, he tried to console me with whispered words of endearment and soft, sweet kisses. If he was surprised at my reaction to our lovemaking, he made no comment on it but held me fast in his arms until I calmed myself and returned his kiss. His words of love had stirred an emotion within me I knew I should resist but could not. I was in love with him, and instead of the feeling of joy that should come with that realisation, I was filled with apprehension and doubt.

He loves me now
, I thought,
but what if that love turns to horror on discovering the secret I keep hidden from all men, bar the two vampires I know in Rome?
Looking into his dark eyes now Blood Resurrection

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filled with love and compassion, I cursed myself for what I was and why it would necessitate my seeing him no more. I probed his mind, ready to cast the spell of forgetfulness upon him.

 

He seemed intuitively to know what I tried to do. I gasped as I felt him resist me. His mind was filled with thoughts of love—thoughts of love, for me… for
me
. How could I take away what he felt with such depth and passion?

As if in answer to my thought, he said, “You cannot stop me from loving you, Bernard.
Whatever it is you feel stands in the way of our love, we can overcome together. Don’t shut me out of your life. I beg of you.” At his words, the tears that burned behind my eyes now burst forth, pouring down my cheeks, and I sobbed quietly in his arms. “Bernard, Bernard,” he crooned in my ear. “Tell me what it is, so that I may help soothe your troubles.”
“I…I cannot, Pietro,” I mumbled. “You would look on me with horror and run for your life—and I would not blame you for an instant.”

Gently, he brushed away my tears with his fingertips and kissed my lips with a featherlike touch. “I promise you, I will never run from you,” he whispered. “If it is too hard for you to talk of then I will not ask that you do. When you wish to tell me, will be time enough.”

I felt a rush of relief course through me then the thought came to me that putting off the telling could only make matters worse. If I delayed, and he came to regard me as the one with whom he wished to spend the rest of his days, what then? When he grew old and began to wither, and I changed not one whit, what then? No, better he knew now, and when his love changed to feelings of horror, I might find it easier to relieve his mind of the burden of knowledge.

“Have you ever heard of vampires?” I asked him, my voice sounding tense and strained to my own ears.
“Of course…who has not?” He chuckled, then asked, “Are you a vampire, Bernard?”
“Yes,” I replied, meeting his eyes, letting him see some of the feral light that glittered there.
His body stiffened with shock, and he jerked his head back as if to protect his throat.
I turned away from him.
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“So now you understand why you cannot love me,” I murmured, unable to look at the expression of terror I knew was etched on his lovely face. A long silence filled my tiny room, the only sound his slightly uneven breathing. “Perhaps you had better go now,” I said quietly.

“Are you sending me away?”
I looked at him with surprise. “You do not want to run from here? From me?”
“Am I in danger, Bernard?”
I shook my head. “No, not from me. I would never hurt you, Pietro, never.”
“Then why should I go when the man I love is here, lying beside me, holding me in his arms? Or was holding me in his arms until a moment ago.” “Pietro…”

A finger on my lips stilled my words. “What you have told me, I should find terror in, I know. But I look at you, dear Bernard, and I see only the man I love, not a rabid monster waiting to tear my throat out.” His eyes grew wide for a moment. “You don’t do that, do you?” “No, I do not.” I took his hand in mine and brought it to my lips. “If you want to hear that aspect of it, I will gladly explain, but first, let me assure you again, you are in no danger from me—nor shall you ever be.”

 

To show his trust in what I had just vowed, he kissed my lips tenderly and laid his head on my chest. “Then my place is here with you,” he said. Of course, he wanted to know how all this had come about, and I was happy to tell him of the circumstances that led to my meeting Marcus, our subsequent friendship, and how he had saved me from the plague.

“The plague?” Pietro raised his head from my chest where he had rested during my long story. “There has not been word of a plague for centuries.” “Uh…no, that is correct,” I said, touching his cheek and caressing it gently. “I was referring to the plague of sometime past.” “Oh…” His eyes searched mine for more of an explanation.
“Some hundreds of years past,” I added, my voice no more than a whisper.
“Oh, you mean…?”
I nodded. “Yes. I fear I am somewhat older than I look.” Blood Resurrection
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A ghost of a smile flickered on his face. “Some hundreds of years older, by all accounts,” he said, struggling to comprehend this new revelation. “But you look so young.”

 

“Vampire blood has the power to resurrect and retain the image of youth…forever.”

“Ah…” He fell silent again, studying my face as if trying to see any telltale sign of my real age. Then he chuckled softly and kissed me again. “I always thought there was something different and special about you, Bernard. I just didn’t know how different and special you really are!” And so Pietro and I became lovers—and yes, we remain true to one another, to this very day. He and I agreed that he would not go through the change from mortal to vampire while his father still lived. The old man, although sinking fast into a world of forgetfulness, still remembered his only son and seemed to perk up when Pietro visited him. But two years after the start of our love affair, Pietro came to me, his face stricken with grief. His father had died in his arms that very afternoon. He arranged to have the funeral at night so that I might attend, and afterwards, he and I lay in my tiny room, wrapped in each other’s arms while I tried to bring him comfort and solace.

Around that same time, I became aware of a young priest who visited the archives almost every day, poring over ancient transcripts and reference books with a fervour that made me wonder at the reasons for such zeal. Of course, it was none of my business, therefore I resisted the temptation to simply ask him of his dedication. Nevertheless, I would watch him with some interest as he turned page after page at almost preternatural speed. He was young and handsome, with an ethereal quality about him. He was not a vampire. I had ascertained that immediately. The old saying ‘it takes one to know one’ applies to vampires, too. Yet, there was something strange about the man, and my instincts told me he was not altogether human. What then? I wondered. Could he be a demon, perhaps a warlock or wizard or even a shape-shifter of some kind?

His presence brought me uneasiness. If I recognised him as something other than he appeared to be, could he perhaps be aware of my true nature?

“You are far too interested in that young priest over there.” The whispered accusation close to my ear startled me for an instant. I’d been so intent in observing the man in question, I had not heard Pietro sidle up behind me. I turned to look at his smiling face. He was teasing me, of course, but my heart tightened with a sudden fear for his safety.

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“What is it?” he asked, his smile becoming a frown.
“I’m not yet sure. Something about the priest worries me.”
“Well, I can check his credentials.”

“No, don’t do that. I don’t want to arouse any suspicions in him. Let me keep an eye on him for a few more days. Perhaps it is nothing.” However, my opportunity to ‘keep an eye on him’ came to an abrupt end two days later when the priest suddenly ended his visits to the archive library.

“The priest has discontinued his studies,” I told Pietro, later that day.
“Perhaps he has all the information he needed,” he suggested.
“In such a short space of time? And did you notice that he never made notations?”

“Well, let’s see what he was so eager to devour.” We walked over to the shelves that housed the books the priest had pored over day after day. Pietro pulled one from the shelf and handed it to me, while he perused another.