Reluctant Partnerships

by Ariel Tachna

  “I hope you’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Martin let him go, wondering how a vampire with the confidence to challenge a much older, experienced vampire and win could have such little faith in himself outside that familiar arena. That was a problem for another time, though. For now, he had a trip to Paris to plan.

  Chapter 17

  Denis stood in the doorway of his building, watching the sky lighten above him. He had learned some time ago exactly how long he could stay there before the sunlight became dangerous to him. He was not flirting with death, not really. It was more the need to see, to experience in some small way what he had given up ninety years before to escape death. He did not regret giving his consent to Luc on the battlefield outside Amiens. He did not regret the years he had spent with Noël, but sometimes he missed the feel of sunshine on his face, the warmth of the rays chasing away the chill of the night.

  His traitorous thoughts reminded him he could have that again, for a time at least, if he took the risk of a partnership with Martin. He had rejected it out of hand when it first came up because of his loyalty to Noël and because Martin would be leaving, but a part of him yearned for the companionship again.

  He had thought Martin as disinterested as he where their partnership was concerned, but Martin had not reacted tonight like a disinterested party when they talked about Adèle or about monsieur Lombard. He had reacted the same way Noël always had when anyone denigrated Denis, including Denis himself.

  The sky lightened to the point that Denis began to grow uncomfortable. He opened the door behind him and went inside, the darkness closing around him again. All it would take was feeding from Martin and he would not have to go inside. He could stay in the doorway or even walk out into the garden and soak up the sun’s rays. As tempting as that thought was, it was not a reason to form a partnership, not when they were so much more complicated than the immediate benefits both parties drew from them. If Martin were in France to stay, if he were interested in a partnership, that might be different. Denis enjoyed the man’s company, his quick intelligence, and his understated sense of humor. Not that they had a lot to joke about, but occasionally as they had worked in the library trying to help Pierre, Martin would make a comment that left Denis smiling for hours just thinking about it.

  Newly turned, Denis had preferred a man of maturity rather than someone his own age. Noël had been perfect for him, in his late thirties and already mayor of Amiens, a man of authority and position, the hints of gray at his temples only adding to his appeal. Denis’s mother had always said he had an old soul. It might not have been true when he became a vampire at nineteen, but at one hundred and nine, he felt his age despite his appearance. It made Martin’s youthful exuberance refreshing. Not that Martin was that much younger than some of the other wizards, in his late twenties instead of his mid- to late thirties like Raymond and most of the wizards at l’Institut, but those years, or perhaps not having lived through the war, made a difference. Martin seemed lighter, more energetic where the others were more settled.

  Denis found that incredibly attractive.

  Alone in his bedroom, with no one to see but himself, he could admit the attraction he felt. He had dismissed it as unrequited, but now he wondered. His feeding the night before notwithstanding, his fangs dropped now in response to his thoughts. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror as he undressed for bed. Feeding from Gilles satisfied a physical need, but neither of them had any illusions about what it meant. Denis had never asked what Gilles got out of it, but the man came when Denis called and then went happily home to his wife and children after Denis had fed. The blood sustained Denis without giving him any of the intimacy he had so craved with Noël. Until now, Denis had wanted it exactly that way, but it suddenly seemed empty.

  Feeding from Martin would be nothing like that. It might not be exactly like feeding from Noël had been—no one’s blood since then had come close to leaving Denis as satisfied in mind and body as Noël’s had done—but it would be far more than feeding from Gilles or finding an anonymous body in a club somewhere when he needed release as well as sustenance.

  He had sat through a seminar, had listened to the blunt assessment of how a partnered wizard and vampire reacted to each other. He had not even fed from Martin and he was already starting to react that way, seeking out the wizard’s company, wanting his good opinion, imagining what it would be like to feed from him. The descriptions had ranged from feeling the magic surrounding the vampire like a blanket to the comfort of slipping into a familiar, well-worn jacket, the one that fit like a glove because it had been donned so often. As Denis slid beneath the duvet on his bed, he let himself imagine Martin there beside him, magic surrounding Denis and protecting him from the sunlight.

  Once he lifted the mental prohibition, the thoughts rushed at him relentlessly, of fangs sinking into the stubbled skin of Martin’s neck, hands moving over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong back to the trim hips and curved buttocks. The magic of the partnership would kick in then, making Martin a willing participant in his ravishment, his body yielding to Denis until neither of them knew where one ended and the other began.

  Denis groaned, the lust coursing through him demanding release. He wished he could ignore it, but he needed to rest if he intended to speak with monsieur Lombard that evening, and as worked up as he was, he would never be able to rest without some relief. He slid his hand down his chest, taking his throbbing shaft in hand. He hated that the mere thought of feeding from his partner could cause this reaction, but he could not change it now. Stroking swiftly, he closed his eyes and summoned the vision of Noël’s face the night they had met in Luc’s salon in Amiens. They had connected instantly, something about Noël calling to the depths of Denis’s being. They had not become lovers that night, although it had not been many nights later. That night, Noël had offered his blood, but the newness of it, the power of the connection, had done far more than satisfy Denis’s need. It had wrung a climax out of him the likes of which he had never known before. Since then, yes, every time he and Noël made love, but not that night, when his prior experiences had been as a mortal.

  Relaxing into the familiar safety of his memories, Denis shunted his hand faster along his slick cock. Then the image changed, Martin’s face superimposed over Noël’s. Denis tensed, but his body was too far gone to stop, his release spilling over his hand as the fantasy Martin leaned forward and kissed him.

  “Merde,” Denis cursed, curling around himself. He had no right to think about Martin that way. He had no right to betray Noël that way either. If he had simply fantasized about Martin, that would be one thing, but to have the image of Martin supplant cherished ones of Noël felt like the worst kind of infidelity. He dragged himself from bed and into the shower, needing to wash away the evidence of his cheating, all sense of satiation gone. He had no idea how he would face Martin that night, but he would worry about that later.

  Martin crossed the courtyard to the Hostellerie, surprised to see the sun up. His days and nights were so topsy-turvy after working with Denis and Pierre that he no longer had any sense of what time it was. He thought he still knew what day it was, but time had eluded him. Raymond had been in the réfectoire eating breakfast when Martin wandered in, so he and Martin had discussed the logistics of going to Paris to speak with monsieur Lombard. Raymond had been far more positive about the idea than Denis had been, reassuring Martin that perhaps the old vampire’s reputation was exaggerated.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Raymond had said when Martin shared his thoughts. “He is without a doubt the most formidable, venerable vampire I have ever met, and I have met quite a few in the past two years. That said, he is not a cruel one. He may not agree to help, but if he refuses, he will do so politely. And he may agree right away. That doesn’t mean he can help, but if anyone can, it will be him. He knew how to find Orlando when we had all but given up.”

  That was a problem for tonight, though, afte
r Martin had slept. He was too exhausted right now to do anything except rest. His eyes could barely focus on his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth before bed. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

  Dark images filled his dreams, heated visions of a faceless vampire hovering above him, fangs bared as he leaned down. He tried to pull away, but the vampire held him in place as his fangs pierced deep. Martin’s back arched at the combination of pain and pleasure that accompanied the bite, his head tossing restlessly as he fought for control. Of himself, of the situation, of his dreams. It was not in his nature to lie back and passively accept a lover’s touch without at least returning the pleasure he was receiving, but the vampire of his dreams had no interest in sharing control, keeping his hands pinned as he fed, his body moving over and then into Martin’s with no respite from the steadily building sensations.

  Gasping for air, Martin woke suddenly, his entire body trembling as he tried to separate dream from reality. His hand rubbed at his throat, finding it unmarked. So it had been a dream, all except the lingering arousal. Martin had not seen Denis’s face in the dream, but he knew Denis had been his faceless lover. He recognized the thin, wiry form, the apparent youth belied by the sureness of the vampire’s touch. Denis had never touched Martin in any kind of intimate way, but Martin knew what it would be like, the lovemaking if not the feeding. He had talked to enough paired wizards to know they found it enjoyable, a slight pinch followed by the kind of connection most lovers only dreamed of knowing, even before they were joined in other ways than the vampire’s fangs.

  So now Martin had to decide how to interpret his dream: as prophecy, as premonition, or maybe wishful thinking. He knew what a partnership with Denis would entail, at least in terms of the exchange of blood, but what he had experienced in his dreams was far more potent than he had expected, even having gone through a seminar. Even now, the lingering arousal from the dream had him fully hard, aching for release, for the touch of a hand or the pinch of fangs in his neck. He shivered at the thought. When had being with a vampire gone from something to study to something to desire?

  He had no idea how to answer that question, but it hardly mattered. Far more important was the question of what he intended to do about this epiphany. He had come to France to study, to learn as much as he could, and to take that information home to start his own version of l’Institut Marcel Chavinier and see if the effects were limited to France or if they could be replicated anywhere in the world. From the perspective of seeing if partnerships could form outside of France, his inclusion in one suggested it was possible, but he had found his partner with a French vampire, not one from home. Furthermore, he had found his partner in a vampire who was tied to his current home by responsibilities it would be hard to neglect. Yes, if Denis left, someone would rise to take his place, but Denis had shown no interest in leaving, and it would be unfair of Martin to ask it of him.

  That left Martin with the question of whether he would be willing to either relocate to France or expend the magical and physical energy required to make the trip back and forth to Canada several times a week. If the presenters at the seminar were correct, the boost in magical strength he would gain from a partnership would cover the magical energy. He was not sure how his body would hold up to the physical exertion of constantly changing time zones, but as he weighed different options, he realized one thing for certain.

  He was not ready to simply walk away from the partnership without seeing what could come of it. He was not ready to commit to it fully, but he wanted the chance to see how things would work with Denis on a personal as well as a professional level. Everything he had seen so far had impressed him. Denis had ambition, dedication, and a profound sense of justice that appealed to Martin deeply. They worked together easily on a professional level, but a partnership would be more than that. It would require a personal level as well. Even if they managed to keep the relationship from taking over their lives, Martin’s dreams proved how intimate an act he already considered Denis feeding to be. Going into that relationship, that depth of intimacy without some reasonable assurance that they could make it work seemed the height of folly. That assurance could only come from spending time together outside of work, getting to know each other as people rather than as colleagues. Martin found he did not mind the idea of that at all.

  Now he had to see if Denis felt the same way.

  Despite his confidence during the afternoon, Martin had trouble meeting Denis’s gaze when they met that evening for their trip to Paris. It had seemed so simple lying in bed, but actually proposing any step toward making his thoughts a reality tied his guts in knots. He found it easier to focus on the professional problem instead. “Raymond said he’d send you to Paris,” Martin said, “and he gave me the number for l’ANS. He said we could call there when we’re done and ask someone to send you back.”

  “I thought he wasn’t associated with l’ANS anymore,” Denis replied.

  “He’s no longer the president,” Martin explained, “but l’Institut is an arm of l’ANS, so Raymond is still under their auspices. My impression is that everyone there is so in awe of him that they’d do whatever he asked even if he had no association with them anymore. As it is, though, what we’re doing impacts l’ANS in the sense that we’re trying to protect law-abiding vampires by catching the one who’s endangering them.”

  “It must get tiresome having everyone in awe of you all the time,” Denis mused aloud. “Is there anyone who says no to Raymond?”

  “Jean does,” Martin said with a laugh, “any time Raymond tries to do anything dangerous or that would overextend himself. Beyond that, I’m not sure there is. Jean’s the same way, though. When was the last time anyone besides Raymond said no to him?”

  “Renaud tried,” Denis said with an amused snort. “It cost him his Cour.”

  “I thought you said that came from inside.”

  “It did, but it happened because most of the vampires agreed with Jean’s perspective on the association between wizards and vampires, or at least wanted the chance to listen to Jean’s perspective,” Denis recounted. “Renaud refused to allow anyone from Autun to participate in the seminars and tried to stop them from establishing l’Institut here. He claimed Jean was horning in on his territory, as if Jean cared about the tiny little Cour in Autun.”

  “As much as he’s here, I’m not sure he even cares all that much about the Cour in Paris,” Martin said.

  Denis shook his head. “Don’t let him fool you. The only thing more important to Jean than his Cour is his Consort. The difference is that he is well established as chef de la Cour and is popular with his vampires. They see him, and rightly so, as the one who changed their situations for the better by pushing for the anti-discrimination laws. Even those who didn’t support the alliance actively have benefited from the laws. I would have a very hard time imagining anyone even thinking of replacing him right now. In a few hundred years when everyone has forgotten what it was like before, maybe, but not now.”

  “I guess I never really thought about it that way,” Martin admitted. “So much of your experience, of everyone’s experiences here, really, are things I’ve only read about in the paper. L’émeutte des Sorciers didn’t happen to me, you know?”

  “I know,” Denis agreed. “It didn’t really happen to me either, not all the way out here in Autun, but the new laws have affected every vampire. We no longer have to hide in fear of being evicted or persecuted for our natures. When Noël moved with me to Autun, he opened a small bookstore. He never got rich off it, but the money let him feel he wasn’t dependent on me. After he died, I hid the fact that I owned it for fear I would lose the lease because I was a vampire. I don’t have to hide anymore. I still employ a manager to run it for me since I can’t be there during the day, but my name is on the paperwork now instead of Noël’s.”

  “I can see that being a very powerful change,” Martin agreed. A knock at the door to Martin’s office interrupted their
conversation. “That would be Raymond. Shall we go to Paris?”

  Denis nodded as Martin opened the door and invited Raymond inside. “All set?” Raymond asked.

  Both men gave their assent and Raymond cast the spell, sending them both to the park on the quai des Célestins. At this hour of the night, the park was deserted, guaranteeing them safe arrival and relative privacy. “L’île St-Louis is right across the river,” Denis said with a wave of his hand. “Monsieur Lombard’s house is on the island.”

  “When we have time, we should come back to Paris for an actual visit,” Martin said as they walked across the pont Marie and onto l’île St-Louis. As they neared the address Jean had given them, a silver-haired man appeared on the doorstep.

  “Where did he come from?” Denis muttered.

  “Magic,” Martin replied, feeling the traces of the other wizard’s displacement spell skitter along his skin. “I don’t know who he is, but that’s what he is.”

  The man did not even knock, simply opening the door and walking inside. “And whoever he is, he’s obviously sure of his welcome.”