My Vampire Lover (7 page)

* * * *

 

Later, with Jean-Claude lying still and quiet in my arms, I could not help but be amazed by all that had happened that night. In such a short space of time, my life had gone from humdrum, to Wow!

 

I mean, it's one thing to fall in love with a wonderful guy who's stunning to look at and great in bed, yet it's quite another to find out he's been marked for death and, on top of all that, is a vampire.

 

A vampire...

As I gazed at his pale face, serene now in repose, I could still hardly believe it was true. He seemed so ... normal in so many ways. Yes, he had a strange magical quality about him, and he possessed powers we mortals couldn't come close to, but there was a vulnerability about him that seemed at odds with what one imagines a vampire should be. Of course, I only had scary images to go by—Nosferatu, Vlad the Impaler and all those guys. Jean-Claude didn't come remotely close to those yucky characters. He was beautiful, gentle, tender, and caring.

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He stirred in my arms and smiled up at me. "You are wondering how all this came to be," he said, after kissing my cheek. "I guess I'm still waiting to wake up," I confessed. "To find all of this has been a dream."
"I understand," he murmured.

"You asked me earlier if I knew anything of vampire lore, and I have to admit I'm kinda ignorant on that subject. All I know is it started in Transylvania."

 

He chuckled, his lips tickling my chest. "No, Ron, not in Transylvania. That is just a story. Vampire roots go much further back than medieval times— probably even before the Ancient Egyptians. No one is quite sure, but Marcus believes we have existed since the beginning of time." "But who was the very first vampire?" I asked.

 

"That, my dear Ron, is a conundrum wrapped in a mystery. No one has discovered the answer—and heaven knows, we who are immortal have had more time to search than any others. I think the answer has been long buried in the sands of time, and it is not within our powers to unearth it." He eased himself onto his elbow and gazed at me, his fingers brushing the hair on my chest. "And if we could, what purpose would it now serve? Life is full of mysteries. Debate still rages over when the first man walked the earth. Some things are better left unsolved." "I guess," I said. "Isn't it amazing though, that I've had to wait a hundred years to meet you? Just think, if I'd been alive in your time, we might have met and fallen in love then."

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"And you would have saved me from this existence," he murmured, his lips close to mine.

"And we'd both be dead," I deadpanned. We gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, then together, we both burst out laughing. I pulled him into my arms and covered his face with kisses.

 

"Oh, Ron," Jean-Claude laughed. "Look, you have woken me up completely."

 

"I can see that and feel it, too," I said, grasping his hardening cock. "Oh well, I'll have to take care of that, right now."

 

* * * *

 

Next morning, as I staggered into my apartment just before seven, Jonas and Ted were packed, ready to go and full of questions. But I wasn't giving out too much info.

"Is this serious?"
"Could be..."
"Are you seeing him tonight?"
"Maybe..."
"How come he was so late?"
"He got waylaid. I mean delayed."
"What does he do?"
"He's an artist."

The one giant question, of course, they didn't ask. Why would they? Never in their wildest imaginings could they guess that what they'd joked about was really the truth.

"Well," Jonas said. "He sure is cute."
"Yeah," Ted agreed. "Nice buns."
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"You were scoping out my new boyfriend's buns?" I kidded.
"You bet. They're hard to miss."
"Okay..." My big brother hugged me tight. "We have to go.
Try and hold on to this one, will you, please?"
"Jonas..."
"Really, Jonas." Ted pushed him out of the way to hug me.
"Pay him no heed—but try and hold on to this one, won't you?"
After they left, I called my friend Barney at the LAPD.

Barney and I had a brief but passionate affair a couple of years back. We still saw each other for a drink now and then, and he had offered to help if I ever got in trouble.

Trouble—me?
"Hey, Barney ... Ron." I said when he picked up. "How's it goin'?"
"Good ... you?"

"Yeah, good." I imagined him sitting at his desk in all his blond hunkiness, broad shoulders hunched, shirt sleeves rolled up exposing those great hairy forearms. "Listen," I said, shaking away that vision. "A friend of mine says a friend of his has been getting threats from some creep with the last name, Delaney. You got anything on record?"

"You got a first name?"
"No. Just Delaney."
"Well, let me fire up my trusty computer, and we'll see ...

Hmm, looks like there are a few Delaneys here. A Tom, a Jack, a Justine and a William ... Small potatoes, though. Petty larceny, fraud, that kind of thing."

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"No threatening?"
"People don't generally get booked for threatening, Ron.
They have to carry out the threats, first. If your friend's friend feels he's in danger, he should report it."
"Right. He doesn't want to do that."
"Then it can't be too serious, can it?"
"I guess. Well, thanks for looking anyway."
"No problem. Hey, let's have a drink real soon."
"Sure. I'll call you." I put the phone down, thinking hard.

Maybe it wasn't Delaney. Jean-Claude had said it
sounded
like Delaney. What sounds like Delaney? I picked up the phone book and flipped to the D's.

 

Delane, Delaney, Delani, Delano ...
Delano
... Rev. Jerry Delano. Why did that name ring a bell? Right, he was that right-wing asshole always pontificating about homosexuals going straight to hell. I ran to my computer and Googled him.

 

And there he was. The Reverend Jerry Delano, staunch advocate of imprisoning all homosexuals, and in some cases, executing them. Likens homosexuals to vampires, preying on the innocents of this world.

Likens us to vampires
, I thought. What if Delano had wanted to make an example of Jean-Claude—someone he thought was gay—by staking him like a vampire. Only, he didn't know Jean-Claude really was a vampire, just told his hit men to stab him with a sharp stake. Of course, that would have been enough to kill an ordinary man. But why pick on Jean-Claude? What was the connection there? If there
was
a connection.

I called Barney again.
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"Hi," he said, sounding surprised. "You wanna go for that drink tonight?"
"No ... I mean, that'd be good, but I have another question. The Reverend Jerry Delano. D'you have anything on him?"
"That freak? Nothing concrete but a heap of complaints from the gay community, of course."
"Of which you are a part," I reminded him.
"Uh, yeah ... well, like I said, nothing we can act on. Why'd you ask?"
"Oh, I'm still trying to help a friend of a friend—Delaney, Delano, y'know?"
"Gotcha. Well, like I said—"
"Nothing concrete," I interrupted.
"Right. So, how about that drink?"
He sounded needy. At any other time, I'd have been happy to oblige, but right then I had other priorities. "I'll call you," I said, and hung up.

A half hour later, I was at Jean-Claude's door. I hoped he wouldn't mind my arriving unannounced—but this was an emergency. He opened the door almost immediately after I knocked. He didn't look at all surprised, just stood aside and waved me in.

"You shouldn't open the door to just anyone," I told him, with a reproving look, after he'd kissed me hello and made me feel warm all over. "I knew it was you," he said, kissing me again. He wore a dark blue cashmere robe that felt so darned sexy to the touch. 68
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"How? You don't have a peep-hole."
"I just knew."
"Oh, right. You have extra-sensory powers."
"Some. They take a long time to fully develop, but I'm working on them every day."
"You look wonderful," I said. "Did you ... uh ... go
out
after I left this morning?"
"No. You didn't leave until almost sunrise. Would you like some coffee?"
"You have coffee?"
"For guests, of course. You think I don't know my manners?"

I grinned at him. "Perish the thought, as they say. I'd love a cup of coffee." I followed him into the kitchen, which was all shining stainless steel and porcelain.

"Jean-Claude ... have you ever heard of a guy by the name of Jerry Delano?"
"You mean the rabid, self-proclaimed scourge of immorality?"
"That sounds about right."
"What about him?"
"I think he might have had something to do with last night's attack."
He gave me a mug of steaming coffee, along with a steely-eyed look from those dark blue eyes of his.
"Ron, I do not want you getting involved in this. You promised me you would not. Remember?
I nodded. "You said we had to have a clear plan of action and now's the time for that plan."
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"I said that to get you off the subject."
"You want me to stand around and do nothing about the man I love getting hurt—and almost killed?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do."
"Well, sorry. No can do!"
"Ron, don't make me take stronger measures."
"What d'you mean?"
"I can make you forget it ever happened."

As calmly as I could, I put down my coffee mug on the counter and pulled him into my arms. "Jean-Claude, please don't do that. I know you can, but I beg you, don't shut me out of this. It's too important—
you
are too important."

He nuzzled my throat with his lips, causing great ripples of desire to course through me. I tightened my arms around him... "Then please do not put yourself in any danger," he whispered, close to my ear. "Allow me to take care of it."
"How do you propose to do that?"
He sighed and stepped back from my embrace. "The Reverend Delano and I are already acquainted."

I gaped at him. "So you knew it was his guys who attacked you. Why did you tell me they mentioned a name that
sounded
like Delaney, when you already knew?"

 

"I said too much, and I now regret it. I was foolish enough to hand you a clue, and you were clever enough to work it out." He looked away for a moment, thinking. "I suppose some form of explanation is necessary, although I am still adamant that you will take no action whatsoever."

"Okay."
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"Some weeks ago," he began, "I met a very attractive young man—a mortal like yourself. I sensed he wanted to get to know me better, and so I agreed to meet him at a place of his choosing. We had a drink at a little bar on Melrose then went for a walk together. He completely opened up to me. He told me of his unhappiness at home, and that he was the son of a religious leader, a man who railed against gays and lesbians at every opportunity, even advocating the death penalty."

"Delano's son is gay?" I gasped. Why hadn't I heard about that?

"Yes, and of course, completely in the closet. I will make this short. What the young man did not know was that his father was having him followed— not that he suspected him of being gay but of having some kind of clandestine affair with a woman. Delano had to be certain his son was not involved with some woman he could not approve of.

"When his spies reported back that Jerry Delano Junior had in fact seen, not a woman, but another man, the result was predictable. I often wish I had my friend Marcus's extraordinary powers of perception. He would have known all was not as it should be. I, however, still have much to learn, and so I walked into the trap Delano set for me.

On a night I was to meet his son, Delano showed up with two of his henchmen. He called me every filthy name he could dredge up from his own twisted soul then set his men on me.

Fortunately, I was prepared for this, and
they
were totally unprepared for my vampire strength. I beat them off and 71
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escaped, the sound of Delano's fury echoing in my ears. I knew he would try again."
"But he doesn't know you're a vampire. He just thinks you're gay, right?"
"Right."
"So, if they'd managed to kill you, the stake through the heart was a warning to gays, in a way."
"Yes, it's his analogy—gays are like vampires and should die like vampires. Fortunately for me, his men were clumsy." "And how did you feel about Delano Junior?" I asked, my voice sounding tense in my own ears.
He shrugged. "As I said, he was very attractive, but there was no future in it. He is completely dominated by his father. He has no will of his own."
"But if things had been different," I pressed.
"But they are not different. They are what they are. You are here with me, and I love you. Is that not enough?"
"Absolutely enough," I said, pulling him back into my arms. "But what d'you suppose will happen if Delano discovers his men didn't finish the job?" "It might prove too dangerous for him to try again."
"But they drove a stake into your chest, Jean-Claude. You don't think they might find it hard to believe you survived that?" "The last thing they would suspect is what I really am.
They will be surprised I survived, but that is all."
"My friend, Barney, the cop I told you about? He says they get complaints about Delano all the time."
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Jean-Claude stiffened in my arms. "You told someone at the LAPD about what happened?" He broke free from my arms again. "I asked you not to involve the police!"

"I didn't. He's an old friend of mine, and I kept it totally generic—a friend of a friend and all that. I didn't tell him about the attack, just the threats. He said there was nothing they could do, anyway."
He looked angry. "Ron, I know you have the best of intentions, but I wonder about your judgment. I think it would be simpler if I relieved your mind of this burden." He raised his hand in that motion I had seen him use before.

I grabbed his wrist. "No wait, Jean-Claude, please. If you do that, I won't remember anything of last night and it was incredibly special to me. Please don't take away those memories. It'll change things between us."