Cured By Blood: A Vampire Pregnancy Romance

by Samantha Snow

  She wanted to travel, but the need to be close to the hospital in case something went wrong and to have easy access to her pharmacy for her pain, nausea, insomnia, anxiety, and depression medication was a problem as well. She was taking so much for so many things. Part of her wanted to cut that off too, but to what end? That would only make her time more painful, more difficult, and more unbearable. There was no reason for that.

  Tara inadvertently found herself looking up death, and came across an article from a well-known vampire, listing the benefits of death and how the world necessitates death. The irony wasn’t lost on Tara. Then again, who better to discuss how people needed to die then someone who technically did and now was nearly impossible to succumb to the inevitable?

  The more Tara read and contemplated the article, the more she began to think about the conversations that would occur between someone who wouldn’t necessarily deal with death for centuries and someone who was on the very cusp.

  She started researching sites that served as a meeting place between vampires and humans. The difficulty was weeding out all the sites for people begging to be fed upon or turned, or vampires looking for willing slave labor or something similar. The growth of the fetish genre had seriously gotten out of control. Eventually, she finally found a site that seemed much more vague, and only suggested “meet ups” between a human and a vampire.

  She spent the next twenty minutes making her profile, and after a bit of deliberation, decided to include the fact that she was dying and was not interested in being turned, and that she was just looking for some company and conversation. Tara found herself intrigued. She hadn’t really thought about having a sexual relationship with a vampire, but then again, she wasn’t looking to have any relationship with anyone.

  A vampire would probably be much less attached, and probably a much more interesting experience. As a phlebotomist, drawing blood was everyday life for her, so the idea of possibly being bitten and fed upon was also something she wasn’t beyond, but she didn’t know how that would work.

  Would her blood taste bad? Poisonous? Dead? She didn’t know. But with her days numbered, now was as good of time as any to answer so many questions, weird or not, and to delve into an area she hadn’t yet experienced.

  * * *

  Druian Kablarian often found himself torn between hilarity and disgust at reading his messages from the various meet-up sites and apps. Technology still baffled him at times, and the willingness of women in the present day was astounding. In some ways, he found himself baffled at the modern acceptance and obsession with vampirism. Perhaps their species should have come out long ago, and then again, this was a day and age where people changed their sex and skin tone like they did their hairstyle.

  Regardless of the reasons, the fact that his heightened sexual appetite could be so easily placated, that it took nothing more than a few lines of text or even a symbol of appreciation in the form of an “electronic sticker,” was enough to have a woman in his arms or bed, was something he very much appreciated.

  Then again, as he browsed through the profiles on one of the sites that tended to provide him with more intellectual company, he found himself somewhat disgusted by the “please” and begging and ridiculous requests of people. He could feel his anger stir as line after line of people wanting to be bitten, turned, or a “sex slave,” something that also used to be an unaccepted title.

  And then something caught his attention, just a few lines next to a simple photo. She was beautiful, golden hair and emerald eyes, an olive skin tone that could easily darken in the sun or fade in the night, and a smile unsure of the camera, or whoever was holding it.

  I have recently discovered that I do not have much time left. I am not asking to be turned, and in fact, am not interested in becoming a vampire. I am, however, interested in good conversation, temporary companionship, and a possible relief from the pain of my life.

  Dru read the lines over again and again. He could almost feel her sadness and loneliness and he was intrigued. He didn’t hesitate as he wrote a response, for once not having to write something vulgar or some sexual innuendos to interest her. Although he did plan to take care of some of needs before meeting her.

  She seemed too genuine, and he wouldn’t want to spoil their meeting with blood lust, or any other kind, from the start. He didn’t think she would be the type of woman who expected sex on the first meeting, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t think that was what he was after.

  In this day and age, someone to have a decent conversation with, one not plagued with begging to be bitten or the mopey sadness of days long since gone, as many of his fellow vampires seemed to do, was hard to come by.

  Dearest Tara, My name is Dru. I am a man who has lived over 800 years. I am intrigued by your request and interested in a meeting, perhaps. Let me know if you would consider this and where and when you would prefer to engage in social niceties.

  Dru growled as his finger finished the motion to send the message. He sounded old and out of date, something he had been trying to remedy. His frustration was mostly building due to his need to feed; it had been a few days. Trying to put Tara out of his mind, he shot a message to one of the women who were always eager to please him.

  He was careful to keep several weeks between each meeting with them, he didn’t want the attachment, any accidental turnings (his disgust at the government involvement in that was a whole other issue), and his tolerance often grew short after only a few hours around them. The response was quick, and gave him an hour to prepare for company. At least this would also distract him from eagerly awaiting Tara’s reply.

  * * *

  Tara stretched as she slowly began to wake up. Her pain had been getting to her, and she wasn’t eager to sit around hurting waiting for a response. Yawning, she grabbed her comfy, drawstring cotton pants and pulled them on. In the kitchen, she booted up the laptop as she grabbed a glass of tea. Her phone’s LED flashed green. Tara couldn’t help but sigh as she replied to Cyndi’s text. Yes, she was fine. Yes, she was hurting a bit. She missed Cyndi too. As she sent off the text, she saw the icon saying she had an email. The title was a response from the web site she had used earlier. In fact, she had several of them.

  Taking the laptop to the couch, she flicked on her favorite investigation channel on the TV before checking through the various messages. A few were immediate deletes. Vulgar and crude, she rolled her eyes. She had expected a few of them. Some were polite, but still hinted at a strictly sexual encounter.

  Finally, about 2/3 of the way down the list, she saw a message from Druian Kabalarian. She couldn’t help but giggle at the formal wording and sincere invitation. Nodding to herself, she quickly replied, giving him her phone number to text her, if he wished.

  Tara read over the message again, wondering to herself how it must feel to have been around for so long and to then find yourself sending a few lines of a note to someone immediately. She always got caught up in the “what-ifs” of vampirism. She had seen plenty of shows and interviews and read articles and stories, and had heard some hilarious and some sad stories of how the changing of society and technology had been for many of these people.

  Regardless of all of that, she couldn’t help but be intrigued and excited about meeting one face to face and asking him questions about his life, what he loved and hated about the present day, what he missed, what it was like to watch people you loved or knew die as you stayed the same.

  The green LED pulled her out of her inner thoughts. She swiped the screen to see an unknown number. A thrilling shiver shot down her spine.

  Of course I would love to meet you this evening. Would you be interested in a stroll in the Sakeny Park, a viewing at the Pulatte Art Gallery, a beverage at a tea house or coffee shop? Your choice.

  Tara bit her lip, quickly running through a self-evaluation. She hadn’t eaten much, and food is something she needed to take care of soon, if she could. But she wasn’t sure how it would be, eating in front of someon
e that didn’t need to. Walking in the park would be a bit strenuous for her. The art gallery was intriguing. She heard they had some glass pieces from an artist who used sand and lightning to make the base sculptures, and then added his own flare with his artistic skill in glass work.

  Will the gallery be open this evening?

  It will be if I ask them to.

  Tara raised her brow, was he going to intimidate them or did he own the place or something?

  Ok, how about 8 PM?

  I’ll be there. Look for the man on the bench with the purple flower.

  I see you read my profile. I look forward to meeting you, Dru.

  And I you, Tara. Till then.

  Tara sat down her phone, smiling for the first time in weeks. She eyed her pill bottles, the smile fading with the possibility of her health impeding on her night. Shaking off the negative vibes, she headed to the shower. It was time to wash off her shut-in grunge and get ready to meet a vampire.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dru buttoned the cuffs of his long-sleeved, black dress shirt. Looking in the mirror, he shrugged at his attempt to be semi-casual in modern garb. He still wasn’t comfortable tucking a shirt in, so that wasn’t going to happen. The dark grey slacks were made of a lightweight material that he found fairly comfortable. His white-blonde hair hung past his shoulders, the shortest he ever wore it. Even after all of these years, the image of his pale blue eyes was almost unnerving.

  His footfalls echoed in the stone hall as he made his way to the garage. Regardless of the current era, he wouldn’t feel his proper Viking heritage if he didn’t live in a stone and log home, even if it was larger than most.

  In the garage he went to his black ’76 Corvette Stingray. The car was a classic and one of his few materialistic indulgences that went along well with the modern age. As he slid behind the wheel, he checked his phone. He would arrive about ten minutes prior to their meeting time, and if there was one thing a very old vampire was good at, it was patience. He gently placed the dark purple Iris from his own garden.

  He couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Tara’s responses on her information page. She wasn’t a roses and diamonds girl, but she loved dark chocolate. Her favorite colors were black and dark purple and her flowers were Irises, Lilacs, and Orchids. He couldn’t help but feel eagerness at meeting a woman who saw technology as a “communication burden” rather than benefit, preferred sitting by a fire with a book then going to a movie, and her dream vacation was to go to rural Scandinavian locations that still sported the castles of the old days.

  During the drive to the gallery, he tried to remember the last time he had a companion in which conversation and company was more significant than the blood and the sexual gratification. Though he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admire that her beauty, as well as her sophistication, was very attractive to him. In fact, as sexually active as he was, it had been a very long time since he felt something more than just primal need. This woman had his curiosity piqued as well, as hopes for something more than an occasional roll in the hay.

  Dru parked the car on the side of the gallery in the small area reserved for special guests. He had texted the instructions to Tara as well, so that she wouldn’t have far to walk. He was somewhat concerned, as well as very curious, as to what her medical condition was that had such a deadline on her life. He sat himself on the second bench, holding the stem of the Iris in his cupped hands, and waited.

  * * *

  Tara felt flustered now that she was cleaned up, dressed, and almost to the gallery. Her mind was suddenly flitting from every scenario, most not pleasant, of how wrong this could all go.

  Everything from her stumbling or being at a loss of words, to him pouncing on her and draining her dry, to her just suddenly dropping dead a few feet from him and he never noticing, kept flashing through her brain. All were equally ridiculous, and yet all would not go the hell away either. She tried focusing on her breathing or just shrugging off any feelings, but that too was never very effective.

  She pulled around to the side of the gallery and parked next to the shiny black corvette. With no other cars here, she could only assume it was Druian’s. Exiting her own car, she went through a last second inspection. She brushed her black, knee length skirt down and tugged at the bottom of the dark purple silk blouse.

  Her heels were a modest 2”, black tights, and her hair left down. She only wore light eye make-up and didn’t really need to check it, though she did anyway. After feeling ridiculous for the frantic grooming, she walked around to the front of the gallery.

  Cast iron gates covered with different flowering vines stood open. The sidewalk went between two small gardens of trimmed Bermuda grass, a fountain on each side, and small beds lining the wall around the area and the front of the gallery. The first bench she saw was empty, but as she made her way closer to the doors, she saw him sitting on the second, as he said, the dark purple Irish in his hands.

  He smiled gently, his angular face giving only the minimal changes around his lips to denote his feelings. His hair was the color of sun-bleached straw, but softly flowing past his shoulders. But it was his eyes that made her falter, the eerily pale eyes of a vampire. His must have been a vibrant blue when he was human, but now they reminded Tara of the pictures of glaciers you see, where the ice is so white it has the tinges of blue in all the shadows and crevasses.

  “Hello, Druian. I’m Tara.” She held out her hand, unsure of the meeting protocol in this situation.

  “Dru, please. It is a pleasure to meet you, Tara,” he reached for her hand, his own felt cool and soft as he lifted her hand to his mouth, “Definitely a pleasure.”

  Tara’s mouth opened slightly and she almost sighed as those pale pink lips grazed her knuckles. His nose flared the slightest amount, his brown furrowing for only a split second, before he lifted his head and released her hand.

  “So you really are terminal,” his question caught her off guard, she was beginning to wonder if he would just try to seduce her all night until those words.

  “Um, yes, I am. I did mention on my profile-thingy, though, about that.”

  “Yes, so you did. And you also mentioned that you didn’t have an interest in being turned, and yet here you are with a vampire.”

  “Furthermore, I said I was looking for good conversation and perhaps a temporary companion.”

  “Ah, I remember that as well.” He suddenly stood, fluidly and flawlessly, and held up the Iris, “it matches your blouse almost perfectly.”

  “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

  “From my own garden.”

  Tara arched a brow in surprise. She lifted the flower and inhaled its faint, floral aroma.

  “Shall we go in?” Tara nodded and took Dru’s arm as he offered it to her.

  Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the gallery and ushered her in.

  “Wait here a moment.” Dru walked down the dimly lit corridor. Shortly after, the lights came on throughout the gallery. He returned with a smile, “Now we can appreciate the art without bumping into them and destroying everything. I do own the place, but not the treasures it holds.”

  Tara had figured as much, but she was too awed by the beautiful kaleidoscope of colored glass to ask about that. The artist had done a perfect job of combining something created in a random and rough pattern and then adding his own details in an organic fashion. The resulting pieces were amazing. Jagged crystal towers, the base created when the lightning shot through the pure sand crystals, were transformed into so many amazing visions.

  One looked like a giant ice spire, with little windows and a glass drawbridge, banners seemingly to flow in the wind more like water than the solid structure of glass. Tiny people were fully covered in fur cloaks, and animals made of darker shades of glass were so detailed for their minute size.

  As Tara looked up from inspecting the ice palace, she saw several of the lightning-made pieces, using whichever material made the glass result in a brown color
, adhered in a circle, forming a tree trunk about three feet tall. Once again, using glass in shades of green, brown, yellow, and black, the piece resembled a massive fairy castle complete with fragile butterflies, tiny windows, miniature archers patrolling the lichen and mushroom walkways that wrapped around the entire trunk, passing archways and windows set into the glass.

  Tara glanced at Dru, her smile wide and sparkling with excitement as she walked around to each exhibit, exploring every fantastical little world forever memorialized in the colorful glass. Tara’s imagination spun as the worlds created by the artist collided with the fairy tales and fantasy stories she had read.

  The coincidence at admiring these creations with a vampire as a companion was not lost on her. Although, despite the fascinating surroundings Dru seemed to only be focused on Tara. He barely glanced at the glass as his eyes followed her around the room, the eerie color making it difficult to discern his expression.

  “This is all so beautiful. I saw the adverts about the current exhibit and was hoping I could find a way to come see it.”

  “The pieces are very lovely, and each quite unique.”

  Tara finished her walk around the gallery, pleased to exchange conversation about the different forms of art and the expressions of the artists. As they completed their circuit and returned to the entrance, Tara wasn’t sure how to proceed. She wanted to spend more time with Dru and to get to know him a bit better, but she was also worried about her pain after spending an hour walking around the gallery.

  She waited by the bench where Dru had first been sitting, as he turned off the lights and locked the gallery back up. The cool air had her thinking of her jacket in the car. She hadn’t been out much lately and the fact that it was fall had almost been forgotten about.