“And you are the most amazing lover I’ve ever had. That was indescribable, Nikola,” I said some five minutes later, when I managed to get my brain working again. “I keep thinking you can’t possibly get any better, and yet you do. You’re going to kill me with sex one of these days, you know that, don’t you?”
“I can but try,” he said, rolling off me to lie on the floor, his chest damp with exertion.
“Hey!” I reached a languid hand over to pinch him. “It’s rude to tell the person you just pleasured to the moon and back that you want her dead.”
He didn’t smile and make a joke, as I expected him to. Instead he opened his eyes and gave me a curious look. “How attached are you to your soul?”
“What?” I sat up and turned to look at him. He lay before me like a statue of one of those Greek gods come to life, all lines of thick muscles, and sculpted expanses of flesh that, even sated as I was, made my mouth water. “What the hell sort of question is that?”
“A straightforward one. How attached are you to the idea of having a soul?”
“I… I… I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about my soul. In fact, I didn’t really think it existed until you said you lost yours when—hey! You don’t mean—”
He nodded. “If you would not miss it, I could locate a demon lord, and arrange it so that you, too, could become a Dark One.”
“You want me to become a vampire?” I was shocked by that statement, shocked and horrified, and for a second terrified.
“I want you to stay with me.” The words were spoken with simple honesty, which in itself might have given me pause, but it was the emotion behind the words that kept me from recoiling from him. “If you were as I am, then you would not die, and we would never be separated.”
“Are you… Nikola, are you saying you’re in love with me?”
He looked thoughtful, one hand absently scratching his chest. “I came to the conclusion many years ago that I do not know how to love a woman. I love my daughter, of course, but she is my child. I tried to love my wife, since she was due that honor, but…there was something lacking in me. I enjoy being with you, Io. I enjoy your mind, and the times when our bodies join together. It pleases me that you enjoy me, as well, and I wish for you to remain at my side for as many years as I can envision being granted to me, but I am a Dark One. I will not die of old age, and you will. I do not wish for you to do so. I would that you were like Imogen, immortal, and able to accompany me through the path of life. If that is love, then yes, I am capable of love for you.”
I sat silent for a few minutes, trying to work through everything he said.
“What of you?” he asked, suddenly looking very vulnerable and unsure.
I leaned down to kiss him, allowing my lips to linger on his warm, so very sweet mouth. “I don’t know what I feel, either, Nikola. I like you a lot, more than any other man I’ve ever known. I want to be with you, too, and I think that it would probably be very easy for me to fall in love with you, but I don’t want to become a vampire. I just… I just don’t think that’s for me.”
His expression grew shuttered, and he started to roll away from me, the hurt so deep in him that it made tears sting my eyes. “No, wait,” I said, grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn back toward me. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend my life with you. I think I do, I really think I do. But not at the cost of my soul. If there was a way I could become like Imogen, but keep my soul—”
“Imogen has her soul,” he interrupted.
I stared down at him, his eyes once again a pale frosty blue. “She does? But I thought she’s a vamp, too?”
“She is a Moravian, but she has her soul. My son does not, but she does.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “I have wondered if it was due to her gender that she was allowed to retain her soul, while Benedikt was not. I have long meant to contact the Moravian Society to inquire about that, but more important studies always seemed to claim my time. However, I shall make the time to contact the society when we return home.”
I let that subject go in favor of one more important. “So you think maybe there’s a way I can be like Imogen? Because I would do that. So long as I could keep my soul, I would do that. It would hurt to see the few family members I have, like Gretl, grow old and eventually die, but that can happen at any time, and…and…well, to be honest, I can see myself spending a long, long time with you.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said, one hand sliding down my back to my behind. “We will find a way for you to become a Moravian like Imogen—without sacrificing your soul—and you will return with me to my home.”
“Nice try to slip that last bit in while distracting me with a butt grope,” I said, leaning down to kiss him again.
He pulled me across his body, his legs capturing mine, erotic thoughts dancing once again in his brain. I let him fulfill all his smutty thoughts, content that, at least for the moment, we were of one mind.
16 July 2012“Hey, Mr. Sleepyhead, wake up or we’re going to miss the fair, and it’s the last night for it, so we really should go so you can see Imogen and Ben.”
The voice that woke Nikola was filled with warmth and happiness, and made him think of pleasurable afternoons spent in bedsport. “I’m sleeping. You have exhausted me with your demands for sensual delights, and I, being a mere man, have used up all my strength ensuring the fulfillment of your many needs.”
“You’re a vampire, and everyone knows vampires don’t take naps. Besides, you’ve slept for three hours, and if Mr. Pokey down there is any indicator, you’re more than rarin’ to go again.”
“I may be a Dark One, you insatiably sassy wench, but I am also a man, and thus I need copious amounts of sleep after pleasuring my woman to the tips of her toes. What is that?” He squinted at a large yellow glossy object she set next to him on the edge of the bed.
“It’s a present.”
“For me?” He sat up, anticipation driving away the need to sleep. He had a secret love of receiving unexpected presents, something he’d never before told another person, but here was Io handing him some sort of slippery yellow paper that evidently contained a present. He was extraordinarily pleased.
“You haven’t even opened it,” Io laughed, pushing the object toward him. “I don’t know why you look so happy about it when you haven’t seen what I got you. I had to guess your size, and you may not like them, but if we want to go out and about, you need something a little more conventional to wear.”
“Garments?” he asked, pulling out of the slippery yellow substance an item that was clearly meant to be a shirt, although it lacked attributes with which he was familiar. It was followed by a clear slippery package that contained other objects, some sort of abbreviated black stockings that looked as if they’d barely go over his ankles, a somewhat worn pair of blue breeches, and an odd pair of shoes that had no laces whatsoever.
He loved them all. They were presents that she had picked out just for him, not for any other man, but for him. She had put much thought into them, considered what he might like, and chosen items that she knew would satisfy his needs and desires and wants.
She had brought him presents, surprise presents, presents he wasn’t in the least bit anticipating. He wanted to touch all the presents, wanted to lay her out on the bed and show them to her before stripping her naked and licking every inch of her supple, silky body. He was, in fact, trying to work out a way to combine the special joy of both touching his presents and engaging in lovemaking with her when she asked, in a hesitant voice, “Do you like them?”
“They are tolerable,” he said, going for a lofty, disinterested tone, as befitted a man of his stature.
“Man of your stature, my shiny pink butt,” she said, smacking him on the arm, her smile belying the words. “Do you like the color of the shirt? I wanted to get a red one, because red silk is just so yummy, but then I saw this blue one that matches your eyes, and I couldn’t resist it. And it goes nicely with the jeans.”
“The jeans are perfect,” he said, holding up the shoes to examine them.
“Those are the loafers, silly. These are the jeans.” She held up the long breeches. “They’re stonewashed, which I don’t particularly care for, but they were all the store had that I thought would fit you. Oh, there’s a belt, too.”
She handed him a slim black leather belt.
“There are castles on it,” he said, examining the embossing on the leather.
“Yeah, kind of touristy, but I figured no one would look too closely at it, so you wouldn’t mind—Nikola, what’s wrong?”
His throat tightened painfully. He had to swallow three times before he could finally get out, “Nothing is wrong. I am simply admiring the castles on the belt that you have given me.”
She watched him for a moment, her eyes concerned; then to his surprise she took the belt and shoes from his hands, pushed him onto his back, and leaned down, taking his face in her hands. “You are the sweetest man I know. I can’t believe you’re all verklempt because I bought you a few things to wear. Surely you must have received presents in the past?”
“Imogen embroidered handkerchiefs for me each Twelfth Night,” he admitted. “My wife would sometimes make me stockings.”
“And that’s it? Socks and hankies? No one ever gave you anything else?”
“My wife gave me children.”
“That doesn’t count. Oh, my poor, sweet darling—” He allowed her to kiss his face and chest, enjoying greatly the little murmurs she made as she did so.
He was ready and willing to make love to her right then and there, but Io had other ideas.
“Later, punkin, later. Right now, we need to get you dressed so you can take me out and feed me, because I’m so famished I could just about eat your belt.”