Duet in Blood

by J. P. Bowie

  “What about right here? I can order room service.”

  “That sounds great. How about seven?”

  “Seven is fine.” Joseph smiled at me. “I will live for the moment when I see you again.”

  I grinned at him. “Me too.” I pulled my tee over my head. “You talk so nicely. I love your accent.”

  “I had a very formal education.”

  “In France?”

  “There and Germany…and some other places.”

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  “I didn’t notice your tattoo last night.” I rubbed my hand over his chest. “I guess we were too busy. Can I see it?”

  He slipped the robe from his shoulders so I could inspect the strange design imprinted on his smooth skin.

  “What is it?” I murmured, tracing the scroll-like pattern with my finger.

  “The sign of the Master,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Master? What Master?”

  “When I was a young boy, I joined a secret society. All who joined had to have this sign tattooed on their skin. It was foolish of me, but it seemed exciting at the time. The older boys called it the sign of the Master.”

  “Hmm, sounds kinky,” I said, chuckling.

  “It wasn’t, and of course, there was no Master. Just little boys’ fantasies.” He shrugged the robe over his shoulders and took me in his arms. “Last night was very special for me, Micah.”

  “Yeah, it was.” We kissed, and again, I felt an instant erection coming my way. I groaned. “I gotta go, Joseph.”

  “I know…” He walked with me to the door. “A bientot,” he whispered, kissing my cheek.

  My French is sketchy at best. “A bientot—what’s that?”

  “See you soon.”

  “Mmm…” I kissed his lips. “You bet you will.”

  Joseph

  After Micah left, the suite seemed cold and empty. Even more cold and empty was the bed I now had to lie in. The memory of his sweet, warm body pressed to mine filled me with longing. I regretted my earlier outburst, of course, and the fact that I had lied to him. It was not my eyes that had an aversion to sunlight—at least, not just my eyes. But it was too soon for him to know the truth about me. When the time came to tell him, it would be after much DUET IN BLOOD

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  more intimacy had passed between us. It would be done gently…not like the soul-searing experience I had endured.

  Willingly, I let myself remember the hours Micah and I had spent together. I already knew he was to be mine, and it had been hard for me to let him leave. I could have been more persuasive and made him stay. Even though he would have thought it all his idea, I still did not want to put any undue pressure on his mind. I would be patient and let him come to me when the time was right.

  I smiled as I brought a clear vision of his sweet face into focus in my mind. When I had first seen him in the bar the previous night, it was as if I recognised him from some bygone age. We had not met before, but there had been a connection when our eyes first had met. He had felt it too, I know, for in his thoughts I had sensed he knew our meeting had been preordained. Out of all the young men in LA who had offered themselves to me in one form or another, he was the first to truly touch my heart. From the others I accepted the gift of their blood, given willingly and taken with gratitude—and given a gift of my own – the memory of a moment of intense rapture, though with whom they would not recall.

  Of course, I had been tempted by the scent of Micah’s blood, but the self-control I have willed upon myself over the years served me well while in his company. He had asked about the tattoo—not a tattoo really, but the cursed emblem of which I never can rid myself even after all the years that have passed since the night those monsters branded it into me. To this day, I am seized with a sense of outrage at the degradation they subjected me to—all for their own perverse satisfaction. The later realisation that, in fact, they could have induced in me a degree of pleasure during those vile moments, made me hate them all the more. Instead, my pain and humiliation added to their enjoyment.

  Now, I fingered the blemish they had burned into my skin. The sign of the Master—

  that’s what I had told Micah it was, a young boy’s fantasy. How could I ever have told him what it really represented? Not the sign of a Master but of a slave. A plaything for the vile creatures who had enslaved me, keeping me for their wicked purposes year after long year, locked away from everything I had once known, condemned to live in darkness and survive on the cup of blood they fed me now and then to keep me aware of how they had debased me.

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  After they had told me of Bernard’s death, I had fallen into despair. Apart from the desolation I felt at the thought that I would never see him again, any hope I had of ever leaving that wretched place had now been taken from me. He had been my one hope of salvation—and they had killed him. They had also lied to me, for with each passing day I felt a change within me. I grew weak and nauseous. Where was their magic they had claimed would keep me eternally young? My face in the mirror exposed their lies. I was aging—and with a rapidity that defied explanation.

  The wizards were baffled. For the first time since I had been brought to that house of horrors, I saw them vexed and uncertain. Then one night, they brought another vampire to my cell. Under torture, he had told them what ailed me. To avoid his further torture, I confessed that I had drunk deeper from Bernard than I probably should have, and that we had indulged in a sexual union, during which he had climaxed inside me.

  Because of that, the vampire said, Bernard’s powerful blood and semen had initiated the change in me and even the wizard’s magic could not stop it. I had to die and be reborn.

  That was the only way now to save me, he told them. What had been begun must now be finished.

  I would be a vampire.

  They bade him to change me. He was not as gentle as Bernard, and this time, they did not leave us alone. When it was done, and I lay dying, I gazed into the vampire’s eyes and said, “Tell Marcus Verano how I died.”

  “One day, you may tell him yourself,” he murmured, holding his bleeding wrist to my lips.

  The vampire had told the truth. When I awoke from my death, my face and body were, once more, young, smooth and supple. But what did I care? I was still there, a slave to the monsters who would now revile me as well as defile me.

  I was a beautiful vampire, to debase and humiliate.

  “He is even more beautiful,” I overheard Tito telling one of the other wizards before bringing him in to peer at me.

  I was like a pet to them, but a pet they abused like malicious children would a stray puppy or a kitten. Their abuse went beyond the mentionable.

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  My only salvation during that terrible time was the young man who tended me after each visit, when my captors would leave me violated and sickened. With gentle hands, he would wash the sweat and the product of their vileness from my naked flesh, and he would speak soothing words of comfort in his own tongue—a language that I quickly learned from listening to him over time.

  His name was Angelo, and I told him he was well named, for indeed he was an angel.

  He would smile, his pretty lips parting to reveal his small lovely teeth. They had not changed him. He was still mortal, but I knew that one day they take him to the other side, just as they had taken me from all I knew and loved so many years before. I tried to warn him, begged him to escape before my fate became his, but he would lightly laugh at my pleadings, placing his finger upon my lips to silence me.

  It was obvious they had spun him some tale of how perfectly safe he was amongst

  them, and that my ranting was not to be believed. Often I would wonder just what it was he thought was happening there, and why I was chained and kept only for their pleasur
e. It was not long before his caring and tenderness made me love him, even though I could never tell him of it. If my captors ever guessed, they would forbid his visits, and I would be left to lie in my own filth until their needs necessitated my cleanliness. But Angelo sensed my feelings for him, and his soothing hands became instruments of pleasure, caressing my naked body while his mouth lent its own magic, bringing me an ecstasy that I deluded myself into thinking was happiness.

  Of course, eventually the monsters discovered our secret, and Angelo, despite trying to cling to me, was dragged from my cell. When next I saw him, they had changed him and branded him with the identical devilish mark they had scarred me with years before. But his punishment did not match mine. He came to me, tears flooding his eyes, to tell me that he was being taken to another of their strongholds to learn the way of the Dark Arts. He was to be one of them.

  As the deep sleep began to take me away, I pushed all those tormenting thoughts of the past to the back of my mind.

  It was the present I lived for, and I smiled at the thought that when I awoke, there would be only a few hours before I would see Micah again. Perhaps I could conjure up the dream we had shared together.

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  Chapter Three

  Micah

  It seemed as though I had been rushing all day. From the time I’d left Joseph’s hotel, caught a bus to my apartment, showered then run the six blocks to the bookstore, I hadn’t stopped to catch a breath. For some reason, Sundays tended to be one of the busiest days in the bookstore, and this Sunday was no exception. And of course, my assistant, Alice, called in sick, like she always did on Sundays.

  “Liar,” I told her. “You’re hung over. I can hear the pain in your head from here.”

  “Sorry,” she groaned. “Ramon and I went to a party. Is Jesse there?”

  “He’s on his way. He tried to pull that shit too, but I told him I’d fire his ass if he didn’t show.”

  “Sorry,” she whined again. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Once Jesse arrived, all pissed off that I’d forced him to come in, I took a short coffee break in the back room. It gave me time to think about the wonderful night I’d spent with Joseph. God, but he was great. What a hunk—and so nice…pity about his eyes. I shivered as I considered how awful it would have been if I’d actually opened the drapes and blinded him.

  Jeez, I’d have to be more careful in future.

  In future. Funny but that word really seemed to apply to Joseph and I—at least, I hoped it did. There had been something special about the way he’d looked at me, how we’d fitted so well together, and how sweet yet wild our lovemaking had been.

  “Micah!” Jesse’s sharp voice brought me from my reverie. “It’s busy out here!”

  Yeah, yeah. What a whiner. The rest of the day sped by. At least, on a Sunday, we closed earlier—five o’clock to be exact—and I began to get excited about my date with Joseph. I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  On the way to my apartment, I made two stops—the first at the twenty-four hour clinic.

  Joseph had said he was negative, and I had no reason to not believe him, but we’d only just DUET IN BLOOD

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  met—and you can’t be too careful. After they’d taken my blood and told me to call in a couple of days, I made another stop at the drugstore and bought a pair of dark glasses. Just a little gift that I hoped showed I cared about his eyesight and was still a little guilty about what I’d almost done.

  The red light on my answering machine was flashing when I pushed my way in

  through the door. My heart sank. Oh, don’t tell me he cancelled. I pressed the play button, expecting to hear Joseph’s apologetic explanation. But instead…

  “Hey, Micah. It’s, uh, Robert.”

  Robert.

  “How are ya? Listen, I know this is short notice, but I’ve got two tickets for tonight’s performance of ‘ Wicked’. I can pick you up around seven if you’d like to go. Call me. Uh, hope you’re okay. Bye.”

  For a full minute, I stood frozen to the spot. Robert had called me—he’d actually called me and wanted to take me to the theatre. How great is that? Wait a minute… He hadn’t bought two tickets on the off chance I’d be available.

  Somebody had cancelled—and guess what? I wasn’t available. I had date.

  I picked up the phone and punched in the speed dial for his cell—I hadn’t erased it. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Micah.” His voice in my ear still gave me goose bumps.

  “Robert.”

  “How you doin’?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So, can you make it?”

  I hesitated. Wasn’t this what I wanted—Robert asking me out? But come on, Micah, you know it’s only because he couldn’t find anyone else.

  Despite that thought, I felt myself weakening. Then the memory of the fantastic night I’d spent in Joseph’s arms plus the prospect of it all happening again in just another hour or two gave me strength.

  Taking a deep breath, I said, “No, I’m afraid I can’t”

  “Why not?” His voice took on a sharp edge. “You still mad at me?”

  “No, I’m not mad at you. I have a date.”

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  “Oh. Anyone I know?”

  “His name’s Joseph. And no, you don’t know him.”

  “So, how long have you been dating?”

  “I met him last night.”

  “Oh well then, it’s hardly serious.” He sounded relieved. “Call him and reschedule.

  You know you’d rather go out with me, anyway.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tell him you forgot you were meeting a friend, but you can see him tomorrow night.”

  “Robert, I’m meeting him in about an hour. I can’t be that rude and inconsiderate.

  Besides, you only called me ‘cause whoever you were going with originally, cancelled on you. Right?”

  “Well, yeah…but I’d rather go with you, and—”

  “As your second choice,” I interrupted. “Look Robert, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I think I’ll pass. Enjoy the show.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  I hung up and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door with a fair imitation of the crashing noise he’d made the night he’d left. Too bad, he couldn’t hear it, I told myself as I threw off my clothes.

  “Damn him,” I muttered, stepping under the hot shower spray. Of all the nights to call…my first date since he walked out on me, and he wants me to cancel and go out with him.

  You know you’d rather go out with me, he’d said.

  God, but he was arrogant—and only half right. As much as I’d missed him and moped around for the last three months, I knew that going out with him would be a big mistake. I would merely be filler while he looked around for another boyfriend.

  And besides, I was really looking forward to seeing Joseph again. It had given me a deal of satisfaction to say the words, “I have a date”…and actually be telling the truth. I closed my eyes and let the hot water beat down on me as I remembered how Joseph looked and smiled and smelled. What was that cologne he wore? It had some kind of smoky, spicy base—very masculine. It wasn’t something I was familiar with. I’d meant to ask him but had forgotten in my hurry to leave. I inhaled, trying to capture the memory of his scent, and wished he was in DUET IN BLOOD

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  the shower with me, holding me in those powerful arms of his and thrilling me again with his kisses.

  Whoa. Getting hard here—better save it!

  Drying my hair and peering at myself in the mirror, I figured I looked—or felt maybe—

  better than I had the night before when I was getting ready to hit the bars. Meeting Joseph had, without a doubt, been a big plus—the icing on the cake, so to
speak. I mean, it could have been just one more eventless evening in a succession of eventless evenings. But he had truly given me a well-needed boost—in more ways than one—and had made me feel better about myself and the future. Something, if I really wanted to get petty, Robert had never been able to do. With Robert, I’d always felt like the second fiddle…always slightly in his shadow.

  I smiled as I picked out the clothes to wear on my date with Joseph. Why bother? I thought, with a little smirk. With any luck, they were going to hit the floor within minutes of my walking into his room.

  At seven on the dot, I knocked on Joseph’s hotel room door, and at seven and five seconds, the door swung open, and there he was, just as hunky as I remembered him. We stood grinning at each other for a long moment, then he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms.

  “Micah,” he breathed into my hair. “So good to see you again.”

  “Mmm…” I pressed myself against him and took a deep breath. “So good to smell you again.”

  He chuckled from deep inside his chest. “Smell me?”

  “Yes, I just love your cologne. What is it?”

  “Uh…it’s just me, I guess.”

  “Wow…that makes it even sexier,” I murmured, tilting my hips and rubbing my crotch against his. Jeez, when did I get to be this much of a slut? It used to take me several dates to get this brazen. There was just something about him that drove me a little crazy, and what was really nice was that I seemed to have the same effect on him. I could feel his hard cock DUET IN BLOOD

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  pressing against mine as we held each other. I wanted to melt into him, to climb inside him, to get as close as possible, to get us both out of these stupid clothes that kept us from being completely fused as one.

  “You look and feel beautiful, Micah,” he whispered.

  “You make me feel that way,” I whispered back, nipping at his earlobe. “And speaking of beautiful, you win.”