To Have and to Hold - 2. Chapter 2

And then it all floods back. I sit up feeling dizzy for a moment. I will have to feed soon, I am depleted. But still….it was worth it. I can’t believe that he went through with it. Someone like that, so pure, so warm, so beautiful.

I look down at him. I could sit here all night just staring. I touch his face and something like an electric shock stings my fingers and travels up my arm. A bright bead of blood runs down my forearm and drips on his face. I raise my arm to my lips… well… waste not want not. His face is covered with blood and the temptation to lick it is strong… but this is not the time to be thinking such thoughts. Now, more than ever he needs me, he needs care and not sex.

Sliding from the bed I find that my legs are weak. They shake as I walk across the room but I ignore it and gradually the strength returns. Rummaging in my well stocked medicine chest I find what I need to minister to my arm. I am used to this… well not this exactly but caring for my own wounds, there have been many over the years and it is not long before my arm is neatly bandaged.

Then I take the box over to the bed and cleanse and dress the oozing wounds on his neck. My senses are assailed by him, his scent is musky, he smells of sunlight and soap, and there is still that slight glow about him that speaks of the warmth of sunshine. He has not crossed yet, he is still human. Soon his body will begin to change. Already it has experienced death and rebirth and the change will be hard. Perhaps he will not survive, many don’t. The thought hits me like a blow and I shy away from it.

I wash the blood from his face and I can’t stop looking at it, remembering the first time we met. He has such incredible eyes, like a stormy sea. They change colour from blue to grey and they are so full of emotion, all the time. It is impossible for him to hide the way he is feeling, even if he tries, it is all there in his eyes and it doesn’t take an empath to pick it up.

What I have seen there, what I have always seen there, is love. He loves me and I know it although I can hardly believe it. He is incredible. Unlike most of the vampires…and yes humans too… that I have met in my long life, there is no darkness in his soul. He wraps himself in it, that is true, on the surface there is darkness aplenty but deep down, where it matters, the part that feeds the rest of him is so clean and pure and bright it hurts to touch.

I wonder what that will make him. The change is unpredictable. It takes people in different ways and it is that part of the soul that determines what they come out as at the other end. I am pretty sure that he will not be one of the dark and twisted ones, no one with a soul that bright could walk that path. I am just as sure that he will not be possessed by the blood lust, a slave to his instinct and desires, although it comes to us all at some time. He will not be one of the ones who roam the streets, slaking their thirst for pleasure and not need. He will not be a scavenger, a stalker, a predator. I am sick of them, sick of being prey. He will be my saviour, my salvation.

The first signs of the change are becoming apparent. He is breathing hard and fast, tossing restlessly on the pillows. I know that he is unaware but I am tense, I hate to see this, the suffering, the confusion, the pain. I pull the blankets around him and he moans at the touch when my hand brushes against his skin. Oh gods I long to touch him, to hold him, to love him… but my touch would be unbearable to him, and I cannot make this worse.

I get dressed and find my body curiously stiff and sore. My arm is still throbbing and there is an empty feeling in my stomach as though the Thirst is beginning to make itself known. That can’t be. I have just fed, albeit that I was drained again straight afterwards. That was different. My stomach is still full so why does it feel so empty, why do I feel so strange? I wander into the living room and pour myself a drink. My eyes blur and I blink them clear, taking a long pull on the glass of whiskey. Gods it is good. I needed that.

Marc cries out from the bedroom and I know that it is beginning. I put the glass down carefully almost reluctant to go to him. I do not want to witness his pain but he deserves it, I owe it to him to be there with him all the way.

I can see immediately that he is in pain. His essence is full of it. I can almost taste it. There are some who feed on this… some of the twisted ones, whose souls are filled with darkness. They delight in turning humans only to feed from their pain on crossing and then to slowly drain them while their confusion is at its height, to taste their death as a sweet release of energy. It is like a drug to them, but to me it is a torment.

I have only rarely changed anyone and usually for a good reason. This is the first time I have ever done it for love, and it makes it so much harder. My mind reels away from the possibilities, the things that could go wrong, the agony that I will witness either way. I love him so much and the very thought of his pain twists my guts. No, not that, something else…. something…. The pain is intensifying, in him and in me. It is a great discomfort now, gnawing at my insides and I double over, clutching myself.

Marc screams and I want to go to him, more than anything else in the world I want to go to him but I can’t move. The pain is hitting me in waves and when I try to make a step I fall to my knees and can’t get up. I am so close, so close. I crawl across the floor and try to pull myself up but I can’t, the pain is too great. Oh Gods, what is happening to me? I am burning.

Marc is screaming, over and over, the sound tears through me, worse than the pain, worse than the burning that is turning my guts to liquid fire, worse than the trembling in my body, worse than the confusion in my mind. I can’t get to him. I promised to take care of him and I can’t reach him. I try… oh Gods I try but my arms are too weak to pull me up, my legs to hold me and I fall. My face is pressed against the floor and I can smell blood. There is someone else screaming now… it comes as a surprise to realise that it is me.

The last thing that passes through my mind before the blackness takes me is surprise… I am changing too.

*-*-*

I open my eyes and it is cold and silent. I am lying on the floor, weak as a kitten. There is no sound, no movement. For a moment I am disoriented, wondering what I am doing on the ground and then memory slams back to me and I scramble to my feet.

The bed is a mess. There is blood, so much blood, everywhere. How? Why?

“Oh my Gods. Marc. Marc!”

I am afraid to touch him, afraid that… He stirs and moans and relief floods through me so fast and furiously that my legs are suddenly weak again and I have to sit down. I pull away the blankets to see that the dressing has come off and the blood must have come from the wounds on his neck, although there is dry blood on his face too, running from his nose and mouth. It is all dry, old. How long? How long have I been out of it, while he fought for his life alone?

I touch his face and he turns his head towards my hand. My angel. He is alive. Laying my hand on his chest I feel the steady beat of his heart and I am reborn.

“Marc?”

With a deep sigh he opens his eyes and stares up at me. I can see that he is disoriented, confused but still he smiles, the beauty of his eyes glorious, shining in the darkness.

“What… happened?”

“It is as it should be, my love. You have crossed over, you are one of us now, like me. Now we can be together and nothing will ever separate us, ever.”

“Am I…. am I…?”

I smile, feeling my lips curve gently, almost of their own volition. “Vampire? Yes you are vampire. You are like me.”

“It hurt.”

It was a simple statement, blunt and direct. There was no rancour in it, no complaint. I feel my smile broadening.

“I know. It hurt me too.”

He smiles and I know that he thinks that I am speaking of emotional pain. It is not the time to disillusion him. This is his time, his pain. I stroke his face and he closes his eyes pressing his face against my hand. I see tears on his cheek and it is hard, but so sweet.

“Hold me.”

I am shaking as I lie besides him and he thinks it is because of his pain, because of his fear… but he is wrong.

We are both trembling and the warmth of his embrace is almost too much to bear. He clings to me and I to him. Neither of us speaks and neither cries, not on the outside. For the longest time we just lie there, side by side, my head on his shoulder, his cheek brushing the top of my head. I feel safe, as I have never felt safe before, never.

He is so young, so new, how can he make me feel like this, how can he make me feel safe? Yet he does. I throw my arm around him and hold on so tight that it makes him grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I am just so glad to be here… with you. I am so glad it is over and we are both alright.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” He pushes me away so he can look into my face. I try to smile, to keep my face blank and neutral but he must see something there because he frowns and pushes me further away so that he can sit up. His eyes are glowing slightly and I know that he can see, like I can see, and what he sees is the blood. It is everywhere. I have had no chance, no energy to clean it up.

“What…? What….?”

“Marc, it isn’t as bad as it seems. It isn’t easy… the crossing. I told you that some people don’t make it, some… some… go wrong. But I knew… I KNEW that you would be alright… that I could make it alright with you.”

He wipes his hand across his face, feeling the thick stickiness, registering the taste in his mouth. He tries to run a hand through his hair but it is too stiff, too matted.

“Oh my god.”

I can feel his panic build, sense it, taste it, and it is frightening me.

“What did you expect?” I sound so cool, so calm, that is NOT what I feel. My heart is thudding against my ribs… he must be able to hear it.”

“What did you DO to me?”

“What do you think?”

“But…”

“Not all of that is yours.”

I can’t bear the accusation in his eyes, it slices through me like a knife and suddenly I am angry. I remember the pain, the agony that ripped through me as I tried to crawl to him. I remember the sharpness of his teeth in my arm, the feeling of sinking, of fading and not being able to fight him off for fear of hurting him… the pain in my chest, the thunder in my head… and I am angry.

It is not fair of me to be angry with him. Of course he is afraid. There is a lot of blood after all, a shocking amount. He is human , he is not used to it. It has been a very long time since I was squeamish about something like this. But what the fuck do I care about being fair? He wanted this, he asked for it; goddamit he begged for it… and he is not the only one who has been shocked tonight.

I roll away from him and stand up. I am still fully clothed and there is a half finished glass of whiskey in the other room waiting for me. The snivelling little shit can take care of himself. I turn to look at him, feeling the anger lash out, and he winces, shrinking back. He looks so hurt, confused and so damned beautiful. My anger rebounds, stabs me with a sword of contrition and there is only one thing I can do.

I throw myself into his arms and kiss him. It is not a gentle kiss. It pours out the fear, the pain, the anger, the longing and it is returned in exactly the same way. He is usually so gentle and hesitant but tonight he is on fire. He tears off my clothes, literally, I hear buttons hit the wall and denim tear. To a human he is now frighteningly strong but to me…

I am naked now and we are still locked in that kiss, our bodies pressed against each other. He is revelling in the new strength and I know it, I can feel it as he presses himself against me, raising his body from the bed.

I have to be careful. The scent of blood is making me dizzy and I cannot afford to lose control. He is strong but not that strong, not yet. I am sensitive enough to know that some of his passion comes from fear. He is fragile, his new identity still forming and I have to be careful that I do not push it in the wrong direction.

I slide my hand down to dig my fingers into the soft flesh of his buttocks as I lick the blood from his face. His body arches under me and he moans, his eyes closed, head thrown back, wild and abandoned, my angel.

My head moves down, trailing kisses over his cheek and chin, my tongue tasting the sweetness of blood. I have to be so careful, so careful now. My nostrils flare and my pupils dilate as the catch the scent of fresh blood from the still oozing wounds in his neck. They are healing fast, faster than any human wound would heal but there are still tiny drops of fresh blood, squeezed free by his writhing, beads that join and become a slow trickle. It would be so easy to re open those wounds, I feel my teeth ache, my stomach churn… and I tear my head away, rearing over him, my eyes burning and my brain aflame.

I channel the blood lust into something different and I roar. I thought that it might frighten him but he opens his beautiful eyes and they are red and filled with flames. He snarls and flings himself up off the bed. I am caught off guard and fall backwards onto the floor. He is on me before I can move, pinning me to the floor with the weight of his body, his soft, warm body.

Our eyes are inches apart. They glow darkly and I know that he is beyond control, it makes me smile. My angel, my sweet, hesitant, restrained angel has fire in him and he knows how to use it. He grinds his hips into mine, the hardness of his erection exciting me. I throw back my head and growl, my body burning, raging. There is nothing gentle in this, no tenderness just need, a deep need in both of us to prove that we are alive, that the blood still pumps in our veins.

He grabs me, his nails digging into the tender flesh. I welcome the pain, it does not put me off but rather excites me even more. I thrust into his hand, the seeds of release already building in my throbbing belly. Too soon, too soon.

With a savage growl I heave upwards catching him unawares and flipping him onto his back. He looks startled, his glorious eyes wide, still brimming with red fire. I am grinning and I know that I look like some kind of demon but I can’t help it. He is so beautiful that I just can’t fucking help it. I have wanted him for so long and now… now….

He whimpers as I lower myself onto him but he is not weak, nor regretful. When he throws back his head and arches his back there is power in him, it smells sweet, sweeter even than his blood which still inflames me. Bending forwards I begin the slow build towards ecstasy, filling my eyes with the sight of him, my nostrils with his musky smell, my ears with the beat of his heart and his panting breath. Every sense is straining, filled with him and my body moves slowly at first… I know how to do this, I have had plenty of practice and I intend to use it all to make his first time something special, something good.

Marc is trembling, I can feel his body shaking, he is barely breathing, every muscle and tendon straining, caught in the grip of pleasure so deep as to be painful. I know how it feels, I am feeling it too but he is new to all this and I must be careful not to frighten him. Perhaps I have taken it too far, perhaps I should withdraw, be more gentle.

Almost as though he reads my mind…. which on reflection he probably did… he raises his head, the red light spilling from his eyes to run like fiery tears down his face, and snarls, raising his hips to thrust more deeply within me. At the same time he grasps my erection and strokes me with long fingers, long strokes, longing so deep I am lost.

There is no more thought, no more conscious control. I ride him hard and fast and he moans, clawing at me, grinding into me, until the feelings, the desperation, the need, the fear, the dread, the loss, the pain within us builds to a point it can no longer be contained and we explode, letting it all burst from us in shocking jet and it all flows away and leaves us……empty.

My vision darkens and my arms can no longer support me. I allow my body to collapse and I roll away from him, fearing to crush him. For a moment he lies perfectly still and I am stabbed by a vague fear that I have somehow hurt him. I turn my head to look at him. He is so still, lying on his back with his head to one side, carelessly sprawled. His eyes are open, wide and shocked, unseeing. I feel that stab of fear again, have I hurt him?

Then slowly, as though his body is made of lead, he turns over and crawls to me. I take him in my arms and he rests his head on my chest. He is shaking and I know he is crying…. I just don’t know why.

“Are you alright?”

I am surprised by how unsteady my voice sounds. It isn’t as if this is the first time….. or maybe it is. Maybe….

I touch his hair. Matted though it is, it is still soft. Almost of its own volition my hand strokes his head and he raises it to look into my face. He is crying. His eyes are blue, the red light faded although it still flickers occasionally, deep within. I am lost in his eyes and my empty soul slowly begins to fill, at first with a sense of wonder at the beauty, the purity, the intenseness of the look, and then faster and faster with something else, something deeper than I have ever known before.

My eyes widen and he tilts his head, curious as to what it is I have seen but it is what I have realised that shocks me. In that instant I have felt something touch me, something that in all my long years I have never felt before. There had been others before him, not that many considering… but there had been others who had touched my body, my heart, my soul but never, never have I ever felt like this for someone so soon, so completely.

“I love you.”

He smiles at how shocked I sound, at the stupid, starry look in my eyes. He fills with a golden light that pours out of his eyes and warms parts of me that have been cold and dead for a long time, possibly for as long as I have been alive…. Touching my face, gently with trembling fingers he allows two tears, sparkling like crystal in the dark light, to fall onto my face and I feel them scour my dusty soul, bleeding pain until there is nothing left but peace.

“I love you too. I must do, I died for you.”