“Do you want to live?”
The cold steel and velvet voice came from somewhere above me. In the thin, pale glow of the moon I could see the angel standing over me. Her softly curling hair was the same pale, pale gray as her skin and robes. She looked down at me with great sorrow in her shadowed eyes, holding her deathly pale hands out to me.
“I sense the strength of your will. Your appetite for life,” the voice came again from somewhere nearer. “Evangeline, do you want to live?”
“Yes,” I whispered hoarsely.
The angel wept as the shadow kneeling at my side rose over me and lifted me into his arms. Even through his clothing I could feel the coldness of his skin. It was a welcome relief to the oppressive heat. Even at night the air was heavy with humidity.
As he turned I reached toward the angel and our hands touched. Her marble skin was warmer than that of the solid shadow carrying me away from her. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head against his shoulder, my forehead resting against the icy skin of his neck. We flew straight up into the nearly black sky.
I woke in a bed much grander my own. Fine, white netting hung around the sides and there was an ornately painted, wooden canopy above me. The netting made it seem as though I were viewing the room through a fog.
I sat up to look for an opening. My head throbbed painfully and I laid back against the pillows. The pain subsided.
“You’ll feel better once it’s done.”
The voice from the night before, more velvet, now, than cold steel. I sat up again. Frowning at the pain in my head, but determined to to see the face this seductive voice belonged to, I grasped the netting and pulled it back.
He leaned against the wall in a dark corner, a tall, slender figure. His face was pale. My marble angel come to life, perhaps. His eyes were shadowed.
“Tell me your name,” I demanded.
He laughed softly. “I don’t remember it,” he said. “Give me a new name.”
“How does one forget their name?” I asked him sliding my legs over the side of the bed.
“No one has spoken it to me in the last millennium,” he said starting slowly toward me.
He avoided the slanting rays of sunlight that shone through the slats of the shutters. His progress didn’t stir the dust that lay thick on the wooden floor. He seemed to glide across the space between us.
He knelt at my feet and turned his face up to mine. I stared mutely, awestruck by his beauty. He was, most certainly, an angel sent to rescue me from my despair. Though I had never taked a white man as a lover before, I wanted to touch his pale cheek, to wind my fingers into his silky, auburn hair and pull him up to meet his full, perfectly curved lips with mine.
A slight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. I met his pale blue eyes. He knew where my thoughts had taken me.
“What is my name?” he asked gently pushing my knees apart so he could kneel between my thighs.
“Henri,” I breathed softly.
He chuckled. It was the dry rustling of dead leaves in a hot, late summer breeze. “Call me after your dead lover?” he asked wryly. “I think not. What is my name?”
I reached out and laid my hand against his cheek. It was as smooth as polished marble and as cold as winter in some far northern clime. “Gabriel,” I said.
“How romantic,” he said, his voice slightly mocking. “Gabriel will do.”
He rose to his feet in one gracefully fluid movement, and his hands under my arms lifted me as though I were a child and set me farther back on the mattress. With one knee on the bed, he leaned toward me. I laid back and reached up to pull the hem of his loose shirt from the waist of his tight trousers. He untied the drawstrings at his wrists and pulled the fine cotton garment off over his head as I undid the laces on the front of his pants.
“No zippers?” I asked as I pushed the soft black fabric down over his hips.
“No,” he answered as he straightened to remove them. He untied the drawstring at the waist of his linen under shorts.
“No elastic,” I said.
His ashen hands paused in their task, amusement lit his eyes. He fingered the small, round pieces of carved shell adorning the fly on the front of his shorts. “Buttons,” he offered with a quietly musical laugh.
He let the shorts fall and stepped out of them as he rejoined me on the bed. “Why so fascinated with my garments?” he asked as he hovered over me.
I would have pointed out to him that I was no longer intrigued by his fashion sense, but my voice had deserted me. His cock, only half erect, was the largest I’d ever seen. His eyes followed my gaze and as he looked back up his cold fingers under my chin raised my eyes to meet his.
“Frightened?” he asked with a slightly unpleasant smile.
I didn’t flinch. “Excited,” I replied.
He turned his head slightly and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Yes,“ he said looking down at me as he exhaled through his mouth. “I can smell it on you.”
His breath, a cool breeze, stirred my hair and caressed my heated cheek. I breathed in bayou cypress, sweet grass and freshly opened graves. I wanted his lips on mine. I reached for him and he came willingly into my arms.
His mouth was sweet, like chewing on sugar cane. In his arms my skin cooled and I could breathe again. The air around him was clean and free of the oppressive humidity of summer in the deep south. I would have been content to spend the next few hours feeling his cooling weight pressing against me and his mouth moving softly on mine.
I sighed and murmured my protest when he pushed up onto his knees. He only left me long enough to slide his long fingers along the low neckline of the sleeveless shift I was wearing. He grasped the thin cotton in his fists and ripped it from the bodice to the hem.
I didn’t really care. It wasn’t mine. “You could have just pushed it up,” I said as he laid down on me again.
“I want your skin against me,” he said as his lips captured mine.
He thrust his tongue into my mouth and pushed his hard cock insistently against the tender flesh between my thighs. “Put it in,” he demanded as his mouth left mine to explore the contours of my throat. They were familiar words.
“I’m not ready,” I said, slightly alarmed. “You’re huge. If I’m not wet enough you’ll tear . . .”
I cried out in pain as his fingers gripped my chin tightly. He rubbed his icy cheek against mine, his lips close to my ear. “Put it in,” he said coldly.
I reached between our bodies to close my trembling fingers around his thick, rock hard staff and guide the head of his massive cock to my cunt. I rubbed the tip against the tight opening in my body, but there was no lubricating pre-cum oozing from his prick to ease his entrance.
“Gabriel, please . . .” My plea became a long scream as he shoved himself roughly into my unprepared vagina.
He pulled back and slammed into me. I gasped as his pelvis hit mine hard. In two savage thrusts he had impaled me on the length of his monstrous cock. He began to fuck me violently, not caring that his pleasure was causing me agony. He slid easily in and out of my ravaged body, his exquisitely fierce strokes eased now by my blood.
“Intoxicating,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against mine. “The way you feel . . . so tight, so warm . . . and the scent of your blood.”
His thrusts slowed as though he were savoring the sensations. His lips searched blindly for mine and I turned my head away. He laughed knowing that I was denying myself as much as I was him.
“You’re angry with me,” he whispered against my ear.
“You didn’t need to be so rough,” I said petulantly.
“But I did,” he insisted. “Your last human experience should be memorable. This is what you want. What you need.”
He was right, but there was no way he could have known that. His hand moved to my firm, round breast and my back arched as he squeezed it mercilessly before twisting my nipple cruelly.
“Gabriel,” I groaned and he pounded my cunt with renewed force using his huge cock like a battering ram.
I rocked against him, meeting his brutal thrusts. He wrapped his left hand in my dark, wavy hair and pulled hard until, with tears of pain streaming from my eyes, I turned my head and accepted his kiss. He continued to torture my breast with his right hand and fucked me like a demon until I couldn’t hold back any longer.
My hands slid frantically down his back to clutch at his clenching buttocks as I attempted to draw him deeper. My body trembled violently on the edge of my orgasm for what felt like an eternity before I plummeted into the swirling chaos of pain and extreme pleasure.
He moaned as he felt my tight pussy convulse around his massive cock. He wrapped me in his arms and fucked me through an endless climax. When I was completely spent I felt him pull out and murmured my protest at his sudden abandonment.
My disappointment was short lived. He pushed my thighs apart and lifted my hips to lap hungrily at the mixture of my fragrant juices and the blood still flowing from my ravaged cunt. I laid still and limp while he moaned between my thighs, pushing his cold tongue as far into me as he could. His winter frigid hands on my vulva and his icy tongue licking at the walls of my swollen pussy were soothing and my hips started moving of their own volition as he continued in his devotions to my femininity.
I wound my fingers into his silky hair and thrust my cunt against his mouth as he licked me to another earth shattering orgasm. While my body was still wracked by the spasms his mouth had caused he slid up my body trailing arctic kisses across my heated skin.
He pushed into me again, grunting as he glided easily into my still convulsing cunt. “You’re wet enough, now,” he murmured against my lips.
I thrust my tongue into his mouth wanting to taste myself on him. His tongue circled mine as he began to thrust his cock into me slowly. I wrapped my arms around him and rocked my hips in unison with his.
“You don’t cum,” I said softly.
“I don’t ejaculate,” he said, “but have no doubt that your body affords me a great deal of pleasure.”
I smiled and moved one hand to stroke his smooth cheek. “How did you know?” I asked him. “Did you read my mind?”
“No,” he said, his cold hands sliding over my ribs to explore the curve of my waist. “It was in his mind.”
“Whose mind?” I asked frowning in confusion.
“Your man,” he said, his hands gliding over my hips and down my thighs. Wordlessly he urged me to wrap my legs around his waist and I obliged.
“Henri?” I asked even more confused.
He lifted his head to look down at me. “Everything in his mind, everything he was feeling, it was all mine when I took him.”
“You murdered Henri?” I asked as he continued to thrust into me with long, slow strokes.
“I thirsted. He stumbled into my path. You’ll be no more discriminating than I once you’re changed.”
I still held him in my arms and met his thrusts. His admission to having killed the man I’d loved since I was a child did nothing to lessen the pleasure of his body moving with mine.
“I should probably be troubled by that,” I said.
He laughed. “You’re living in the half light now. You won’t be troubled by much.”
“The half light?”
“It’s what a human is left to after a vampire feeds without finishing,” he said. “Am I too cold for you?”
I laughed. “In this heat?” I asked stroking his cheek. “You feel like heaven.”
He grinned wolfishly. “More like hell,” he said. “You’re an odd human. Most people are repelled by our touch.”
I looked into his beautiful face as I ran my hands over the smooth muscles flexing in his back. “There’s nothing about you that repels me,” I assured him. “You’re trying to change the subject.”
He rose onto his knees and sat back on his heels while lifting me so I was upright, straddling his hips, deeply impaled on his enormous cock. I clasped my hands behind his neck and started to slide up and down on him enjoying this new angle of penetration immensely. Every downward stroke brought my engorged clit in contact with the base of his massive member.
“I wasn’t,” he said softly as I began to move faster.
“Wasn’t what?” I mumbled, having trouble focusing on anything other than than the orgasm building in my loins.
“Trying to change the subject,” he said smiling as his hands glided over my hips to cup my ass.
“Mmmmm hmmmm.” It was all I could manage to get out at the moment.
He leaned away from me and let his head fall back. He was breathing as rapidly as I was, his blue eyes glazed with pleasure as I moved up and down on his huge pole, rocking and rotating my hips as I ground my clit against him.
I rode him to a thundering orgasm and as my cunt began to contract around his cock, his head came up and his eyes opened wide. He looked stunned and his breathing was ragged as he lifted me on his rampant penis and laid me back on the the bed to thrust wildly into my convulsing pussy.
The growl that issued from his throat started as a low rumble and built until it roared from is lips as he pushed so far into me that it felt as though her were trying to crawl up into my womb. He collapsed onto me and I held him as he trembled from the force of his climax.
His breathing slowed and stopped completely as he lay spent in my arms. After a long while he lifted his head and kissed me tenderly before looking into my eyes with aching wonder.
“That never happens,” he said stroking my hair reverently. “I feel the desire, the longing, and it’s always pleasurable, but that . . . I haven’t felt anything like that since I became this thing that I am now.”
“It will always be this way for us,” I said and I knew with absolute certainty that it would.
“Stay with me,” he said fiercely. “Be my lover, my eternal companion. And I will worship at the altar of your body every day until the last star burns out.”
“You need only promise me one thing more, my sweet angel, and I’m yours until time ends,” I said caressing his face.
“Anything,” he breathed huskily. “You have but to ask.”
“Say my name to me often. Don’t let me forget it.”
He planted quick, light kisses over my face. “Evangeline,” he murmured. “Evangeline. Evangeline, my love. My Evangeline.”
I laughed. It was pure joy. “Will I still love you?” I asked. “After.”
“Do you love me?” he asked smiling softly.
“I do. I love you, Gabriel.”
“I’m death,” he whispered in awe, “and you love me.”
“Will I still love you?” I asked again.
“I don’t know, cherie. We’ll be surprised together,” he said chuckling.
“Will you tell me first? About the half light? When we don’t finish them?” I was already speaking as though I belonged to his world.
He rolled onto his side and pulled me into his arms. His left hand closed around my right and he raised it to his lips before pressing my first two fingers against my throat as though teaching me to take my pulse. I felt the two raised puncture wounds.
“They never heal,” he said.
I continued to run my fingers lightly over the tiny holes. The skin surrounding them was cool to my touch.
“You think we feed on human blood,” he said.
I nodded and he shook his head slowly.
“Blood is just the medium. We feed on human souls. When a vampire finishes a soul, when we snuff that last spark of life, everything that mortal was, everything they knew, everything they ever thought or felt, we draw into ourselves.”
His eyes were troubled and I held his face between my hands and kissed his soft, cold lips. He sighed and smiled sadly at me.
“There are some of us that are more tender. They can’t bear to take it all in and will leave their victim living. It’s cruel, really. The wound never heals and their souls leech out leaving them in a void between the mortal world and eternity.”
“The half light,” I whispered.
“Most of them seek their own end. Some linger in the void. None of them are really alive.” He stared into the space beyond the net that cocooned us in what had become, in my mind, our marriage bed.
I was startled by his voice when he began to speak again. “Your man . . . Henri,” he said softly. “Your scent was still on him when I took him. On his body and in his mouth. It’s how I found you.”
His long fingers played with my curls. I curved my leg over his hip, noticing for the first time how dark my cafe au lait skin looked against the pallor of his and wondered if it would be so noticeable after he had given me the gift of eternal night.
“He was very cruel to you,” he remarked off handedly, “but the last thing in his mind was, ‘Evangeline, mo laime toi.’ And the love he felt for you . . . It drove me to my knees.”
I frowned and started to roll away from him, but he refused to let me go. “Is that all this is? You felt what he felt for me?”
“No,” he said fervently. “It’s part of me. You’re part of me.”
He kissed me, a deep, soul shattering kiss, then rested his forehead against mine. “I forget how young you are. Don’t pout, cherie. This love I feel for you, it is infused into my very core.”
I sighed and relaxed into his arms. “I’m not so young,” I said petulantly.
“You’re only fifteen,” he said smiling.
“Old enough for you to want me,” I said smiling at him seductively.
“Indeed,” he said as he rolled me onto my back and pushed my thighs up until my knees were next to my shoulders.
With his hands on the back of my thighs, he positioned the tip of his huge cock against the opening of my cunt and pushed into me.
“You feel even tighter when I hold your legs like this,” he groaned watching his monstrous prick split the lips of my pussy as he thrust into me over and over again.
“Do you ever get tired?” I asked gasping for breath as he began the pleasant business of pounding my cunt mercilessly.
“No,” he said grinning down at me. “And neither will you.”
He released my thighs and lowered himself into my waiting arms. I closed my eyes as he nuzzled my neck. I wound my fingers into his hair and rocked my hips to meet his thrusts.
“Gabriel,” I moaned as his mouth closed over the punctures on my throat
He drew hard against the tender flesh of my throat I felt something deep inside me give way and flow into him as he continued to pump himself into me. With a sigh I gave myself over to the sensation of floating into the dark void of a starless sky. All that tethered me to the earth was Gabriel thrusting into me while he drank.
“Evangeline.” It was the velvet and steel voice from the night before calling me back into myself.
“Evangeline, take it back from me, my love,” he said urgently.
My eyelids fluttered. “I don’t know how,” I murmured.
“You do, cherie,” he said, his hand on the back of my head guided my mouth to the punctures on his own throat. “It never heals.”
My mouth closed over the wound and I pulled hard. His blood, as sweet and viscous as first molasses, filled my mouth and with it something even sweeter. Pieces of my own soul, fractured like a broken mirror, not always fitting together perfectly. Where there were gaps in my soul, bits of his flowed into me and filled them, cementing cracks and making mine whole.
I stood at the bank of a roaring river, the sun warm on my fair skin, aware of the chilled breeze flowing off a massive glacier. It was his last human memory. I felt the crushing lonliness of millions of dark nights and the horrifying despair of facing an eternity of nights to come. I counted every one of his joys and shed tears for his every sorrow.
I tasted the bitter fear he’d felt when he carried me from my narrow bed to Henri’s grave. I felt his indecision when he started to take me. I knew his longing and desire. His hopelessness when I, fascinated with the marble angel looking down on me, hadn’t answered his voice right away and he thought that I had chosen Henri and death over him.
I tore my mouth from his throat and he gasped. He was still fucking me and I began to meet his thrusts with a passion I’d never felt before. His breath was ragged and I held him tightly. My back arched, my body tensed.
“Gabriel,” I moaned as the tension broke and pulsing waves of pure ecstasy flowed through me and washed over him.
He roared again and pushed himself as far into me as he could. I held him and my angel wept. I kissed his face and stroked his hair as I cooed softly to him.
“It isn’t supposed to be like this,” he whispered huskily as he lay spent in my arms once more.
“Because it never was before, it doesn’t mean that it’s not supposed to be now,” I said smiling softly.
“My sweet Evangeline. You’ve brought me up from the darkness,” he said pressing his lips to mine.
“Gabriel, I love you.”
“Still,” he said kissing me.
“My love,” I said burningly, “I thirst.”
“Yes, bebe,” he said gazing down at me. “Let’s hunt.”