My Vampire and I (13 page)

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean apart from your party?"
"Right ... yeah ... I meant on Sunday. What'd you do Sunday?"

"I talked to you Sunday, Roger. Just what is wrong with you?" he asked as we sat at our table by the window. "You're acting weird. Is it really just that Kurt guy?"

"Okay," I said, with a sigh. "You should be the first to know, anyway. Mark, I am totally,
totally
in love with Marcus.
It's just the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, Mark.
I am just so ... happy."

"Roger..." Mark rolled his eyes. "You met this guy on Saturday—less than a week ago—how can you possibly say you are in love with him? You, of all people."

"What does,
you of all people,
mean?" I asked, bristling.
"It took you three months to agree to go out with me,
and
you told me your previous boyfriend practically had to set off 122 My Vampire and I
by J. P. Bowie
firebombs in front of you to get you to notice him. You don't do spontaneous, Roger."
"Well, this time it's different. He's different."
And how,
I thought.
"Well, okay." Mark looked at me carefully. "I have to admit there's something different about you—a sort of glow."
"It's love, Mark," I said dreamily, winking at him. If he only knew.
"If you say so." He beamed as Carlos, his favourite waiter, zoomed up to our table. "Hi, Carlos," he said, flirting mightily. "I'll have the usual."

* * * *

 

Marcus was awake and waiting for me when I returned to the apartment around five-thirty. After we had kissed for several minutes, I related the incident involving Kurt.

"I think I may have to take care of young Kurt," he said, frowning.
"You don't mean..."
"Nothing too drastic." He smiled at my apprehension. "A little hypnotic suggestion, perhaps, to cleanse his mind of his hostility towards you." "Can you do it from here?" I asked, not wanting him to go anywhere near darling Kurt.

He chuckled. "I'm afraid not, but it should be relatively easy if d'Arcy hasn't got to him. From what you've told me of your confrontation today, I'd say he had not. He would have been a deal more antagonistic were he under d'Arcy's control."

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"But Marcus, in my dream, Kurt was there with those ...

those other two ... and you said d'Arcy could have somehow imprinted images in my mind. If that's so, then you could be in danger, getting too close to Kurt."

"Look, Roger." He studied my concerned expression for a moment or so, then he put his hands on my shoulders and gripped them tightly. "As charming as your apartment is, we cannot stay here forever. Someone must make the first move, and it would serve us well, if we knew exactly where we stood with Kurt. If he is indeed d'Arcy's acolyte, then we should be aware of that fact and be prepared for any move he might make against us—you, in particular. Forewarned is forearmed, the Bard said, and he was right."

"But—"

 

"No buts, Roger." His hands slipped down and covered my buns. "Except your butt, of course." He smiled at his own joke, but I was getting scared. He was planning something I wasn't going to like.

"I'm going to find Kurt now."
I
knew
it!
"And I shall ascertain his mental state. If he is free of d'Arcy's control, I shall ensure he stays that way. If he is not, then I shall take other measures." "Oh, Jeez," I groaned, laying my head on his chest. "Take me with you, please."

"Absolutely not. I told you, I would never deliberately put you in harm's way. When I have discovered what it is we need to know, I shall return for you. Until then, please do not 124

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answer your door or go out." Tucking a finger under my chin, he raised my lips to his and kissed me sweetly. "Promise?" I nodded. "Promise."
What was the use of arguing? He could override anything I said or did. As I mulled that thought over in my mind, part of me felt resentment. "Do not hate me for this," he said.
God, would I ever get used to him reading my mind? "I don't hate you. I love you," I mumbled into his neck. "I'm just scared for you, that's all."

"All will be well. If I sense any danger and deem it too powerful for me to combat, I will not try—this time. If Kurt is in league with them, we will need a solid strategy."

A solid strategy. I liked that phrase.
He chuckled, reading my mind, of course. "Close your eyes, Roger."
I did, and when I opened them, he was gone.
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by J. P. Bowie

Chapter Ten
I stayed in the apartment, fretting, worrying, and driving myself crazy wondering just what was going on. I made a sandwich, fixed myself a martini, watched television and jumped up and down from the couch a million times.

"Argh!" I finally yelled unable to bear it another minute.
That's when it happened—the knock on my door.
Holy crap. Don't answer the door, Marcus had said. "I won't," I said aloud, as if he were there.
"Roger? Are you home?"
It was Mark. Sighing with relief, I yelled. "Be there in a minute!"
I threw the remains of my sandwich in the trash, turned off the TV then opened the door. The moment I saw him, I knew I'd made a big mistake. "Oh, Jesus," I whispered. "Mark..."
They've got to him somehow,
I thought,
and changed him
.
Tears stung my eyes as I gazed at my best friend, his face pale and hard, his eyes cold and definitely not friendly.
"Let me in, Roger." Even his voice had changed. His tone was icy and touched with anger.

Of course, he couldn't just sashay in to my apartment, now that he was a vampire. He had to be invited—and he most certainly wasn't getting an invitation from me!

"Go away," I said.
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"
Roger
..." His voice took on a whiny tone. "I need your help. They said to come to you, and you'd help me—you and Marcus. Won't you help me?"
Oh God,
I thought.
I'm responsible for this. This was all my fault.
"I'm so sorry," I quavered. "But I can't let you in. Please go away."

"Go where?" he snarled at me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to launch himself at me. His face contorted with anger. "Look at me, Roger! You did this. This is all your fault. Yours and that creature of the night you think is in love with you. Well, he's just using you like he's used everyone before you."

"Mark, you don't know what you're saying."
"You don't know what you're
doing
," he sneered, spitefully.

"They told me all about him. How he uses stupid, gullible young men to get what he wants—a mortal who can take him into people's homes where he intends to slaughter them and drink them dry! That's what he wants you for, Roger—nothing else! You poor fool."

 

"Stop it," I yelled. "I won't listen to this."

 

"You must listen." His voice became gentler. "You're my best friend. I love you. You know that, don't you? I've come to save you from him. Once you're of no more use, he'll dispose of you, like he got rid of the others."

"What others?"
"
Other
s."
"You're lying, Mark," I snapped at him. "You're not really Mark, anyway. Go away!"
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"Where can I go now?" he whined. "You have to let me in!"
"No, he does not."

The voice came from someone I couldn't see, but I knew it was Marcus. Mark's head whipped round, his eyes peering down the hall, but Marcus was right behind him, his hands on either side of Mark's head, holding him in a vice like grip.

Mark screamed, an unearthly sound that was cut off as Marcus bundled him into my living room, slamming the door shut behind him. Mark kicked and struggled like a maniac within Marcus's grasp, but he was no match for Marcus's greater strength. I watched with a kind of fascinated horror as blood began to stream from Mark's eyes, his nose, and his mouth.

"You're killing him," I yelled, pulling at Marcus's arms.
Next thing I knew I was on my ass on the other side of the room. "Ouch," I groaned, rubbing my rump and trying to stand. "Stay over there," Marcus commanded, steering Mark into the bathroom. "Don't try to interfere. I am saving his life."

I listened to Mark throwing up what must have felt like every vestige of his being into my commode. I didn't dare go anywhere near. I just hoped that Marcus knew what he was doing. After what seemed an eternity, I peeked in. Mark was sitting on the commode, his face cupped in Marcus's hands, a kind of adoration in his eyes. Marcus was talking to him in a low, gentle voice. I stepped back, feeling a tug of jealousy in the pit of my stomach.
Stop that,
I told myself.
He's helping Mark through this, that's all
.

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A few moments later, Marcus appeared in the doorway, carrying an unconscious Mark in his arms.
"He needs to rest now," he said, laying my buddy on the couch.
"Will he be all right?" I asked, gazing at Mark's pallid complexion.

"Eventually. He was not changed. As I told you, that takes some time to complete. Whoever did this to him—d'Arcy probably—drank some of his blood and placed him under a hypnotic trance. Your friend
believed
himself to be a vampire."

"Enough to come here to do me in," I said.
"Under instructions to do so. He had no will of his own. Nor will he have any memory of it. I have seen to that."
"You mean he won't know about you, even after all that happened in here?"

"No. In the morning, you will tell him he came here, very drunk. You put him to bed, rather than let him go home in that state. He will believe every word you say. I would advise that he not go to work tomorrow. He will not feel very well."

I sat on the couch and took Mark's hand in mine. "This is all my fault," I moaned. "I put his life in danger today, and I will never forgive myself for it." "That seems to be one of your more peculiar traits,"
Marcus said, a hint of impatience in his voice.
"Excuse me?" I lifted my head and glared at him.
He met my glare with a cool eye. "You tend to blame yourself for a great many things over which you have no control."
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"But I had control over this," I blurted. "I could've ...
could've..."

"You could have rejected my advances and not allowed me to fall in love with you. That is how you could have controlled this," he said gently. "That would have been the only way."

 

I sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch's soft pillows. "You're right," I told him. "Everything, from the moment I met you, has been spinning out of control."

"Roger..." He came and knelt at my feet, his emerald eyes filled with remorse. "If all this is too painful for you, I can end it right now." "What?" I gaped at him. "How?"

"Listen to me carefully before saying anything." He took both my hands in his. "I know that all of this..." He lowered his voice to a gentle murmur. "...Our meeting, our love making, the danger that now surrounds you—all of these things may have become overpowering, and perhaps you now wish to relinquish them. Believe me, I will understand if you do. Just say the word. I will use my powers of hypnosis, just as I did for Mark. You would forget ever having met me."

"Don't you dare!" I roared, springing to my feet, nearly knocking him over. He jumped up, looking a little surprised at my reaction. I stood, panting slightly, glaring at him, and then, I did the unthinkable. I smacked him. A good hard smack on his chest. "How could you even
suggest
such a thing?" I raged at him. "Do I mean so little to you? After all your oh so fucking eloquent words of love and devotion, this is how it would end? You would erase yourself from my mind?

I don't think so,
buster
!"
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His great shout of laughter incensed me even more. I opened my mouth to yell some more, but found myself captured in his strong arms, his tongue invading my mouth. I melted into his arms, unable to resist him or stay mad for one second longer. I practically climbed over him, wrapping my legs round his waist, my arms round his neck, crushing him to me, desperate to never let him go. He carried me into the bedroom with me clinging to him as though my life depended on it, covering his face and neck with wet kisses. He laid me on the bed, lying over me, gazing into my eyes with a kind of surprised tenderness. I guess he hadn't expected such a strong reaction to his proposal that he make me forget all about him. Right then, I couldn't imagine anything worse than that. I would rather be chased down a dark alley by the hounds of hell than lose him now.

"The hounds of hell?" he murmured against my lips. "You do have an overactive imagination."
"Stop reading my mind," I managed to mumble into his mouth. "You might hear things you shouldn't."

"My beloved Roger," he whispered. "You and I will have no secrets from one another." His teeth nipped at my throat, and I stretched my neck to give him greater access. It hurt just a little, but the overpowering sexual rush I felt as he took my blood made the pain fade away. I pushed against his lips and tongue as he sucked, willing him to take it all, but again he pulled back.

"Not yet," he whispered, cutting himself then pressing my lips to the wound that flowed with his rich, powerful blood.
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"Oh, my God," I gasped when he pulled away from me and, once more, healed the cut with a stroke of his finger.
"That was incredible, Marcus."

He bent his head to mine, filling my mouth with his tongue, mingling the combined taste of our blood. I clung to him, my hand grasping his rock hard erection, guiding it to where I longed for it to be. I had just enough presence of mind to reach for the lube on my nightstand. I coated his cock with it then let him drive it deep inside me. My overpowering need for him made me forget, for the moment, his size, but I gritted my teeth against the initial pain and pushed back against his Herculean thrusts, wanting to give him the fuck of his long, long lifetime.