Immortal Pleasures, page 23
He is my torchbearer. My light.
“What do you want from me, Alex?”
He steps closer to me. “More. I want more of you. I’m hungry. That thirst for it all is strong when I think of you. I want to be more than acquaintances or business partners or friends. Do you?”
I run my fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Good, because I want it all too, from now until the very end of me. You are everything that was ever lost, stolen, or denied to me.”
He leans in to kiss me with trembling lips. But they soon find their confidence and crush me with predatory hunger. His mouth grants me cosmic amnesia: Suddenly it is as if there were no one before him. And there won’t be anyone after him, because this is the start of some adventure neither of us signed up for consciously, but we are now committed to.
He is the one I have been waiting for all my life, with eyes so deep they contain all the moonlight from the beginning of time. He is my destiny. We are the sun and moon, two bodies in perfect harmony that bring light to the world by hunting the darkness. Our kisses bring death, but we are also sources of life.
I pull away from him. “Where do we go from here?”
“You tell me. This is all new. I was not prepared for this.”
“Neither was I, but I don’t want it any other way. Let’s stay alive for starters.”
He laughs at this. “Well, Mr. Cortés likes being in control and also being in the shadows. I think he will stay in England. No way he will leave without getting what he wants. He takes obsession to the next level. He likes his blood and his money.”
He glances at the necklace and pendant around my neck. The one John recognized. Alex leans closer to me.
“You know I don’t have any material wealth to share with you. I hunt other vampires for just enough money that I need to get the jobs done to get by in the modern world. Any more wealth or possessions are pointless for me, since I’m always on the move.”
“You don’t need any. I have all I need and extra for you. Consider your mission fully funded.”
He kisses me, biting my bottom lip. The sensation of the sharp tip of his fang sends snakes the length of my spine. “Take me home, Malinalli, my eternal vampire companion.”
I can’t wait to get him alone. My body is already responding to my arousal. My clit is a burning candlewick and I need him to come closer to singe his tongue on it.
* * *
The flat is dark. It’s raining outside, which makes me wish I was making love to him to “Purple Rain” by Prince. I grab my phone from my bag and do a search in my music. It’s the first song on my playlist entitled “Bed.” I press play and turn the volume all the way up before leaving it on the dining table. Droplets of water stream down the windows.
We both rip off our jackets, discarding them on the floor. Shoes fly everywhere. One of his boots knocks a lamp to the floor. I watch him remove his Black Sabbath T-shirt followed by his black jeans. The streetlights are now streaming across his nude, sculpted six-foot body. A large shadow of a cross from the outline of the windowpane rests in the center of his chest.
Meanwhile, I take my time unbuttoning my cardigan. Each button I undo takes our passion up a degree. His dark eyes hold my own as he approaches me and unbuttons my jeans. Before I can react, he lifts me from the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the spare bedroom. With a swift and delicate motion Alexander lays me on my back on the bed. Then he pulls my jeans from the ankles and tosses them to the corner of the room. I suddenly recall that during one of our work sessions, I had a specific fantasy as I watched him reading from the corner of my eye. Now I can finally fulfill it. “I want to try something with you, Alexander.”
He lies next to me, pushing my long hair away from my breasts. “Anything. I am your apostle. Let me worship you with every part of my body.”
I kiss him and look into his eyes. “Sit in the center of the bed.” He knows I can’t take my eyes off him, nor do I want to. He does as I ask. A devilish half smile forms on his lips.
I crawl to where he is and slide my body onto his erection so we can face each other. My legs wrap around his waist. We are both slippery with excitement, with the wetness of a muggy tropical rain. He shudders as I allow every inch of him to enter me. His mouth is open as he exhales, showing me the sharp points of his teeth. This makes me want him more than before.
He is a beautiful mirror that reflects who I truly am. I don’t have to worry about him seeing the real me. And he in turn is revealing himself, both the danger and the tenderness that live side by side in him—just as the monster and the woman in me are both welcome in his arms. I rest my hands around his neck while his arms instinctively close around my back, pulling me close.
We look into each other’s eyes. The energy we felt at the pub has returned. The magnetic attraction flares between our connected bodies. The flickering light of our passion burns brighter the deeper he thrusts inside of me. We burn for each other. The heat between us almost creates a light seeping from us like the sweat from our pores and the moans from our mouths.
Making love to him makes me feel like stained glass. His beauty, his tender soul, the ecstasy of our union feels like a myriad of colored light streaming into a cold chapel, indigo, red, and yellow illuminating me from the inside.
The rain falls harder. I roll my hips back and forth. Alex’s hands guide the tempo as we flutter into a world of pure physical joy. Nothing else exists. I ride him harder. The blood goddess is unleashed to give to him and take what she needs.
This intimacy of mind, body, and spirit joining brings tears to my eyes. We are making love. For the first time in my life I make true love without the fear of intimacy. I rest my forehead against his.
One of his hands moves to my ass, telling me to grind harder, so I do. Our breaths escape to the other’s mouth. We smile between kisses. Tongues and lips exploring with the wild calm of a jungle at night. The rhythm of this dance sends us into a simultaneous frenzy. My hands are in his hair and his hands in mine. His curved cock thrusts right against my clit. He runs his fingertips down the length of my spine while his tongue simultaneously travels down my neck. I want his mouth on mine again.
Alex is like a Beethoven sonata, rising and falling on top of me with dark emotions.
We rain dance each other to orgasm. Inside I feel like one of those fancy towers of champagne glasses overflowing with the delicious sweet ambrosia that makes life worth living.
I am reminded of the power of being in the present moment. The present is all that matters. Close your eyes in self-defeat or pain for too long and you might miss something. If I had given in to my fear and not ventured so far from home, I might not be right now experiencing the true calling of my body and soul, the fulfillment I never imagined possible only because the human part of my brain was too small to begin to truly understand the universe. But Chantico understood all of this, and that is why she was so calm.
Afterward, I lie in his arms, his hand caressing my forearm, my head on his chest. The deepest part of me is at rest even though we cannot rest much longer. We have real and urgent work to do.
The best part of lying with him is that his body temperature is perfect. He is like that cool stream I bathed in after I became a vampire. I feel at home in my own skin and next to his.
“Alex…Judas, tell me about the desert. I too had a period of drought and doubt.”
He kisses the crown of my head. “I will tell you what I have not told anyone else.”
* * *
Judas walked village to village, living on the goodwill of animals he did not slaughter but that instead offered themselves to him. Hamish did warn him he could only feed off animals for so long before he would need human blood.
Meanwhile, he trusted that this walk through the desert would reveal his purpose. Dust clung to his clothing and in his thick black hair. When he encountered those in need, he helped. What else would he do?
But soon the hunger became too much. Still, the only human he could bear draining was a Roman soldier. When he drained the man, the soldier’s unwashed flesh melted in his mouth. Sweet viscous blood filled his mouth like the sweetest wine he had ever tasted.
Soon after he killed the soldier and returned to his walk, the atmosphere in the desert changed. It had to be a sandstorm coming. He fell to his knees and stretched out his arms. He screamed to the sky, knowing his voice was nothing in comparison to the wind, “If you want me to live, then I will live. But I can’t keep wandering without direction. I can’t do this work without sustenance or understanding. What is any of this?” He screamed hoping God or whatever created humans and vampires would hear. Would what he had become be known to all, or would it have to be kept a secret? There was so much uncertainty he wanted answers for.
Judas closed his eyes, hearing the approaching wind. Small granules of sand tapped his face until gusts of it pummeled his entire body. By some miracle his body did not fly away in the raging storm, yet he felt it all. The storm did not go over or around him. It couldn’t go through him either. Instead it felt like it slammed directly into his entire being. Not an inch of him was left unscathed by the sensation of being consumed by the sky and earth at the same time. Judas kneeled in the face of the storm until he could no longer remain upright. The desert blew across his face and into his nostrils, the sand filling the cavernous spaces inside his body.
Soon he swayed before falling to the side. A blanket of sand followed by another heaped on top of the other until the sand weighed him down. Under the sand, the darkness was a comfort, as was the silence. Only there did he finally feel freedom from his guilt and the constant uncertainty that gave him no peace.
This is where it ends, he thought. Underground without sight or sound. Alone. He drifted into slumber.
Without any sense of time, Judas became aware all at once of a loud banging sound in his mind. A crashing tower of panic struck him. He reached overhead to feel nothing but sand. He wanted to escape the sands. He didn’t want to be entombed in the desert.
With no clear way out, he decided there was nothing he could do but try to pull himself through the heavy sand that was holding his body down. The only idea he had to do so was to swim through the sand—despite the desert being the furthest possible thing from an ocean. His arms pushed, as did his feet. Now. Help me now, God.
With the strength of five men he fought off the sand.
He could open his eyes. Through blurred vision he could see the storm had passed. Only soft dunes remained. Still there was no heaven-sent sign to give him direction on where to go or what to do next.
But he had survived the storm, and that was enough of a sign that he had to continue on despite his doubt, the obsessive thoughts of wondering about the role of vampires in the world of humans. Jesus was a man. He didn’t doubt that. But what would lesser men than Jesus do with vampire power? He had entered the bleak and monotone wasteland of questioning.
When day turned to night over and over again, on those nights he felt like the moon was walking beside him, changing shape as he changed with it. On his long journey, time ceased to exist. He had no idea where he was or how much longer he would go. He surrendered the worry and waited until the desert ended. Each heartbeat was another step into the unknown for an undisclosed time.
That was when he saw the Bedouins.
The following morning we make our way to the clock shop. Maximilian drops a newspaper on the counter in front of us. “More people have been found murdered in North London. Two were found in the park next to Highgate Cemetery. I’m willing to bet it’s Hernán. Expect him to strike soon.”
We sit with Max at the clock shop, drinking pouches of blood, scanning the headlines in front of us. Part of me wishes Hernán would burst through the door so we can just finally have it out and end this stalemate. Someone has to attack first.
And if he is behind the murders—that they happened while he was in London would otherwise be too much of a coincidence—then he must be stopped sooner rather than later.
Before the events of recent weeks, that Hernán was still alive had been unknown to me, even though our work might have meant we should have crossed paths, because my business mostly took me to the southern hemisphere or New York. My Europe work was over the phone, and much of my work was done online now. We would never have been in the same city before, considering he worked from the UK and Europe. I do have one very old connection I am forever tied to who can possibly give me inside information on Hernán. His previous defeat by the Spanish made him want to know everything about everyone who could be a threat to his survival. He never wanted to experience being a captive ever again or lose what was his.
“There is one thing I can try that I haven’t. I’m not close to him, especially now or ever really, but he is very connected to the darker side of the world. His name is Cuauhtémoc. He is the one who made me,” I say.
Alexander looks shocked. “Cuauhtémoc is your creator? Part of me expected that when tracking vampires from that part of the world, but I didn’t want to assume. You couldn’t be more different from him. He is not…I can understand why you stay away. You really think he would know about John and Hernán still being alive? Their worlds are completely different. Both those men pride themselves on having this perception of a spotless human life so they can do his dark deeds behind the scenes. Cuauhtémoc, on the other hand…”
“Doesn’t care. He lost hope long ago. I know. And he leads the most lethal vampire militia in the world. I’ve never seen loyalty like that. Because of Cuauhtémoc, every country below Mexico is impenetrable to vampires looking for trouble.”
“It’s worth a try.”
I take my phone out and scroll until I find the single letter “C.” My index finger hesitates for a moment before I press the contact. There are three rings before a woman answers and asks to know what my business is and how I know this number.
“Just put me through. Tell him it’s Malinalli. I promise he will take the call.”
After she puts me on hold, I put the phone down and press speaker.
His deep voice sounds the same. “Malinalli. It has been a very long time. I have thought of you a lot. There have been a few…incidents here with my business.”
“You know me. I only chase my own dreams and money. Don’t need yours.”
“Then why this call?”
“It’s about two other vampires. Bad motherfuckers in life and now in death. John Hawkins and Hernán Cortés.”
There was a pause. I could hear a low growl.
“Yes, they use the secrets of vampires for their own gain. They know better than to come my way even though they would love my carcass. I’ve often considered if it’s worth the effort to end their existence; however, they have never made a move against me, and I don’t want to draw unnecessary human or vampire attention to myself or my business. Besides, if provoked, Hernán would create all-out war. I would hunt anyone associated with him. I wouldn’t care where they were or if they were human or vampire.”
“It’s anything but quiet now. Hernán is killing humans in London. The papers are reporting the found bodies.”
“Are they giving you trouble? Do they want your body?”
My eyes dart toward Alexander. “Yes.”
“Hmm. That is a predicament. I guess you should kill them first. Do you want my help? You know I mind my own business and don’t interfere with other vampires, so you can’t expect me to just jet over there to Europe. Mexico is my home and where I stay to defend it. My job is ensuring there will never be another genocide here. If they cross the line here, it’s a different story that would not end well for him.”
“I only want any information you might have. No muscle needed.”
“I never offered you muscle, but information I can do. I may not entangle myself with many of our kind outside of my loyal militia, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make it my business to keep very detailed tabs on them. Unlike other vampires with scruples, I have no problem extracting information with ruthless precision.”
I glance at Alexander again. Cuauhtémoc must have been referring to him when he mentioned vampires with scruples.
“Go on.”
“Their main operation is out of L.A., but a few vampires have gone missing in London. He prefers older vampires; however, they are not easily handled, so he takes an increasing number of younger ones for his business.”
“Yes, I have heard.”
“I will text you the address I have where I believe he may have one of his clinics but only used for the purpose of taking what he needs from vampires. There is also another one in Budapest. Be careful. He is not as kind as I am.”
Kind? He was far from kind in his bloody private security business—his militia was composed of the deadliest assassins and bodyguards.
“Thank you, Cuauhtémoc. I would say I owe you one, but I don’t think there is anything I could offer.”
Without pause or hesitation he answers straightaway. “Actually, there is. I want the Penancho. I want the headdress that belonged to an emperor of our land and should be in the hands of a Brown emperor again. Get it for me from Austria in the delicate way you handle all your business matters and we can call it even.”
I almost can’t believe my ears and regret making the offer. I personally believe the Penancho should be in a museum for all to enjoy, not in Austria—and not with a private collector.
“You know governments, Cuauhtémoc. I’ll see what I can do.”
