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Meeting of Power
Paris
Armand
sensed his presence, even though he was still far away.
Another
master vampire. A really old one. Maybe even older than himself. The thought
about that fact gave even him some kind of goose bumps.
He’d never
met someone with that much experience of life. His anticipation grew. He hoped
it wouldn’t be an enemy. He hoped they’d go along well to talk a bit, maybe
even hunt a few mortals together.
Not to kill
them, but to drink a few sips of their delicious blood and then have a bit of
fun with them and then let them go in the morning.
In fact, he
yearned for a partner, a friend. He hadn’t had any contact with another vampire
for about five years.
Finally the
other one came into view. He was much taller than himself. A fact he was used
to already. So he must have been turned when he was a fully grown man.
The other
hesitated. Of course he had sensed him as well.
He was
wearing a long black cloak, leather pants just like Armand himself and a black
T-shirt. Armand prefered a white, old-fashioned shirt, which was not so
old-fashioned any more, so it seemed.
The
stranger wore his curly black hair shoulder length and open. Armand had decided
to wear his in a ponytail, after shortly considering cutting it. But one of his
lovers had convinced him that it wasn’t such a good idea, since it would never
grow again.
It wasn’t
cold hate that greeted him in the silver-grey eyes when they finally looked at
each other. It was curiosity, interest.
Armand
stared back, arms crossed, holding his head high.
The other
one rounded him and Armand couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“Never seen
another vampire as old as you?” He cocked his head, meeting the other’s gaze
again.
His voice
was very hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while. “None in a hundred
years.”
Armand
swallowed. That didn’t sound good at all. But he didn’t ask. Not yet.
“You
haven’t fed yet.” The other one had sniffed his neck so fast, Armand just
noticed it when he drew back.
“No, I don’t
have to each night.”
“This is
Halloween.” A tiny grin appeared on the other’s face. “We could go and scare
some mortals, have some fun.” He bent his head and got right into Armand’s
personal space. It was a test of strength, of will power.
Armand didn’t
draw back. His amber eyes locked with the grey ones. Flashes of centuries of
pain and lust and love and wanting surged through him. The last sensation was a
terrible one of utter loneliness for a very long time. The same loneliness he
had felt since Luis left him a hundred years ago.
The other’s
eyes became slits for a split second and he grabbed Armand’s collar.
“Or we
could have some fun without mortals, Armand, just the two of us…” The grey eyes
turned to almost dark blue, the voice didn’t hide what must be his preferred
accent. Scottish.
Armand’s Spanish
accent was even heavier then before, when he loosened the other’s grip with
only his willpower, growling, “We could, Dracula.”
Index
