Decadent Master

by Tawny Taylor

  “Wynne?”

  She threw herself forward into his arms and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

  He loved her! It was true. The heartache was over. She would be his forever, and he would be hers, and ohgod, this was the most wonderful, perfect, amazing, beautiful moment of her life and she didn’t want it to end, ever.

  She didn’t know how long he held her as she cried. His embrace was warm and comforting and eventually she stopped weeping and snuffling.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her with worry-riddled eyes.

  “I’m better than okay, now.” She sniffled.

  He wiped a tear away from her eye. “I’m not okay.”

  Her heart stopped. “Why?”

  He smiled. “Because you haven’t given me an answer yet.”

  She laughed. “Yes. Yesyesyesyesyes!”

  His smile brightened and he visibly exhaled. He pulled her into a tight hug, stood, pulling her off her feet, and swung her round and round until she was dizzy and laughing and begging for him to stop.

  He did, but only to kiss her again until her head was spinning even faster than her body had been and it felt like she wasn’t standing in a garden on earth anymore but floating in heaven, cradled in the arms of a strong, beautiful angel.

  “There is one thing I need to tell you, though. Something important.” His voice shook a little as he spoke, and her blood chilled, goose bumps prickling at her nape.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, because there is nothing I fear more than losing you. But I can’t keep the truth from you, not for one more minute.”

  “Dierk? What is it?” No possibilities popped into her head. Absolutely none. She simply couldn’t imagine anything that would be so terrible that she wouldn’t want to marry this man. He was strong and gorgeous and devoted and free, now, free to marry her.

  “I’m not exactly the man you think I am. I told you that before, but I didn’t explain.”

  “So what does it mean?” Again, she came up with nothing, no idea what he might be talking about. She’d met his brother, so she knew he was who he said he was. He was Dierk Sorenson. The family resemblance was too obvious to be denied.

  He helped her back up onto the bench, then sat beside her. And, looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “I’m not mortal. I don’t age like a mortal. I’ve lived for centuries.”

  What? “That’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s very possible.”

  “You’re hundreds of years old?”

  His expression dead serious, he nodded. “Yes. I am a dejenen. I am what you would call a vampire.”

  Wynne’s heart felt like it had been torn from her body. It ached, and she suddenly couldn’t wait to get away from this dark garden with all the shadows and moonlight fast enough. She swallowed a sob and tried to pretend she wasn’t about to fall apart. “Um, can you please take me home?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just a little confused and I think I just need some time to…absorb all of this. It’s a lot to take in all at once.” She was going to cry. Hard. Her stomach was clenching as a big sob gathered in her chest again.

  This wasn’t happening. It was a nightmare. The man she couldn’t stop thinking about was finally free to be with her and now he tells her that he thinks he’s a vampire.

  How cruel was fate, to make such a good, kind, loving man have such a horrible mental illness.

  She didn’t make it into the car before the tears started flowing again.

  Wynne was completely lost, her feelings in such a jumble, she couldn’t sort them out. It felt like someone had ripped her insides out, run them over with a Hummer a few times, and then crammed them back inside.

  Vampires.

  Vampires?

  What was she dealing with? A man who was truly insane, or maybe just a little weird? It didn’t matter, really…did it? She loved him. Loved with a capital L.

  Love was a powerful thing, and it could give her strength to…

  Oh God.

  Now lying on the bathroom floor, curled in a fetal position, she sobbed so hard, she dry heaved. She rolled onto her back, the tile chilling her burning skin.

  Whywhywhy was this happening?

  No matter how she felt about Dierk, how would a relationship with a man who didn’t know the difference between reality and fantasy survive? It couldn’t.

  Her recipe for heartbreak: a dollop of dark good looks, a dash of sensual domination, blended with a pinch of insanity. In other words, Dierk Sorenson.

  Unsteady on legs as rigid as molten marshmallow, Wynne unlocked the bathroom door and stumbled down the hall toward the kitchen. She didn’t bother switching on the light. Already, the first twinges of an oncoming migraine were stabbing through her skull. Better to leave all the lights off.

  “Wynnie, is that you?” The sleepy voice came from the general direction of the couch.

  “Kristy, why are you sleeping in the living room?”

  “Because my bed’s wet.”

  After Wynne got a glass of cold water and a couple of Tylenols, she flopped into the chair positioned next to the couch and kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. “Why is your bed wet?” She pulled the afghan off the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “Long story.” Kristy yawned. “How was your night? Better than mine, I hope?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Kristy jerked upright. “What? Why?”

  Wynne watched her shadowy form lean to one side, and knowing what she was about to do, said, “Please, leave the light off. I have a migraine.”

  “Okay. Is that why you had a bad time with Dierk?”

  “No, not exactly.” Wynne didn’t bother suppressing the heavy sigh surging up her chest. “Tell me you had no idea Dierk is insane. I mean, certifiable. Because if you say otherwise, I might have to hold it against you.”

  “Insane? Hell no, I didn’t know. What makes you think he’s crazy?”

  Wynne dragged her hand over her eyes. “He thinks he’s a vampire.”

  “Oh.”

  Silence.

  After a while, Wynne felt an awkward vibe arcing between them. She wondered why Kristy hadn’t said another word, hadn’t offered any kind of sympathy or support. She found herself trying to hide the hurt under a wave of chatter, “I feel bad for him. He has so much going for him. To be delusional—”

  “He isn’t.”

  “A vampire? I know.”

  “No, he isn’t delusional.” Kristy leaned forward. “At least, not if what I’ve heard is true.”

  What? Her words stung like a slap on the face. Wynne literally gasped. “You’ve heard rumors about him thinking he’s a vampire and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Nope, I didn’t hear rumors. I heard honest-to-God proof, provided by credible witnesses.”

  “What?”

  “I know, it sounds crazy, but—”

  “Kristy!”

  “Vampires are real. And not only is Dierk a vampire, but so is his brother Rolf.”

  What was this? She’d never known Kristy to be gullible. Quite the opposite, Kristy was übercynical, almost impossible to convince of anything. “I’m not hearing you say that Dierk and Rolf are real-life Draculas. I’m dreaming. No, it’s a nightmare.”

  “Nope, it’s not, and I am saying just that.” Kristy moved, sitting right beside her. “Think, Wynnie. You’ve spent some time with both Rolf and Dierk. Have you ever seen either one eat anything?”

  That was something she’d noticed. When Dierk had taken her to dinner, she hadn’t seen him eat a single bite, but she’d assumed it was because he was nervous. “No.”

  “Have you seen them during daylight hours?”

  Now that one was tough. She had to think some. “Um, no, well, maybe. But most of the time it was dark outside. I assumed that was because they worked during the day, like most normal people do…?”

 
; “Dierk’s job is managing the dungeon. The dungeon’s hours are from sundown to sunrise,” Kristy pointed out.

  Wynne pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders. “Yeah, but I figured that was just a marketing ploy; they’re playing with the dungeon’s name. That, and I assumed there weren’t very many folks interested in coming to a bondage dungeon during the day.”

  “It’s not a ploy. The Sorenson brothers are all vampires, and Twilight is their playground, but it’s more than that. It’s their hunting territory, too.”

  So far, she hadn’t heard anything convincing. Weird. Bizarre. Startling. But not logical. Not persuasive. “I can’t believe you’re buying what has to be tall tales and rumors. So far your arguments can be easily and rationally explained.”

  Kristy gave her a squinty glare. “I can’t believe you’re so unwilling to be objective and look at the facts.” She extended an index finger. “One, neither man eats.”

  “That we’ve seen,” Wynne interjected. “It doesn’t mean they never eat. Oh, and they drink. I’ve seen them do that much.”

  “Sure, their bodies can digest a liquid diet. Blood is, after all, a liquid.” Kristy added her middle finger. “Two, they don’t ever go out during the day. Not for anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “No, you’re not. Have you ever tried to coax one of them out during the day? I could test Dierk. Tell him I need him to come over right away.”

  Kristy scowled. “Sure you could do that, but I’m telling you he won’t go outside in the sun, not even if you were in danger. Well, maybe if you were in danger he would. But it wouldn’t be a good thing.” After a beat, she added, “Let’s say you staged something, so he was led to believe you were in mortal danger. If he tried to save you, it would kill him—”

  “But only if he was a real vampire.” Wynne dropped her face into her hands and shook her head. “I can’t believe I even spoke those words aloud. It can’t be. Vampires aren’t real. I repeat, vampires do not exist, outside of movie theaters and bookstores.”

  “Yes, they are. They do. And I know this because”—Kristy extended her ring finger—“three, one of them fed from someone I know personally, and she told me. You need to hear her story. Seriously. Dierk and Rolf Sorenson are honest-to-God vampires. If I can’t convince you, she will.”

  The next night, Kristy jumped up at the sound of someone knocking on their apartment door. “She’s here! Wynne, Adeline’s here, the woman I told you about.”

  Wynne, fully expecting to find a very interesting, most likely bizarre individual on the other side of the door, slowly made her way across the living room.

  Kristy pulled open the door, hugged the attractive woman at the door, and then stepped to one side. “Adeline, this is my friend Wynne. Thank you for coming.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Adeline, who looked nothing like Wynne expected, with her expensive clothes and dignified demeanor, stepped into the living room.

  “Please have a seat.” Kristy waved her toward the couch. Once their guest was sitting, Kristy perched on the nearby chair. “I was hoping you might share a certain story with my roommate. I promise, she won’t tell anyone.”

  Adeline met Wynne’s gaze and smiled. “You’ve fallen in love with one of them?”

  “Dierk Sorenson,” Kristy said.

  “Dierk.” Adeline’s smile turned wistful. She was very lovely. “I’ve heard about him, but never had the pleasure.”

  “He’s everything his reputation suggests.” Kristy hopped up. “Something to drink, Adeline?”

  Wynne gave them both questioning glances. “What reputation? Kristy, you never mentioned a reputation.”

  “No, thank you,” Adeline answered.

  Kristy shrugged, returning to her seat. “I didn’t lie to you, Wynne. He’s everything I told you.” She turned her attention to their visitor. “From what I heard, Dierk’s settled down quite a bit lately, because of Wynnie here.” Kristy leaned closer. “He’s in love with her.”

  “Oh?” Adeline’s meticulously groomed brows shot to the top of her forehead. But just as quickly, and before Wynne could talk herself into serious insult, all signs of shock vanished from her face. “I see now why you might ask me to share my story. “I meant no insult,” she said to Wynne. “The dejenen don’t fall in love easily, especially with a mortal.”

  Wynne gave a weak smile. “I think Kristy’s exaggerating. Love is a very strong word. Lust is probably more appropriate,” she lied.

  Kristy gave an emphatic shake of the head. She poked an index finger at Wynne. “Don’t lie.” Then she turned to Adeline. “He told her his secret.”

  Adeline nodded. “They don’t tell anyone about their true nature. Quite the opposite, they go to great lengths to hide it.”

  “And yet you learned,” Wynne pointed out. “If they are so good at hiding their ‘true nature,’ would you know?”

  “There was no way to hide it from me. I was the companion to a dejenen for almost three decades, and some things couldn’t be hidden from me after some time had passed.” She smoothed her hair back from her face and leaned close. “Can you guess my age? Please, don’t be afraid you’ll insult me. You won’t.”

  Wynne took a look at the woman’s face. There were some very faint signs of age, thinning of the skin under her eyes, little crinkles at the corners, a slight indentation between her brows. She guessed the woman was in her mid to late thirties.

  Then again, plastic surgeons had a powerful arsenal against the effects of aging these days.

  “Before you ask,” Adeline offered, “you have my word that I’ve had no plastic surgery. No lifts, acid peels, fillers, nothing.” She chuckled. “If you’ve seen photos of some of the celebrities these days, you know plastic surgery has its limits.”

  Doubting her initial guess, Wynne took another long, hard look and decided, despite any lack of evidence, to bump up her guess to forty. “You won’t be insulted?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Forty.”

  The woman smiled, slipped her hand into her purse, and pulled out her driver’s license. Without saying a word, she handed it to Wynne.

  Wynne checked the photograph first then read the age.

  That couldn’t be right. Either the woman had lied, and made herself about thirty years older than she was (why?!) or she was using someone else’s identity.

  Adeline’s smile was wry. “I can guess what you’re thinking, but I have photographs at home that prove that driver’s license is mine, and that I am as old as it says.”

  And I’m supposed to believe you, just because you say so? “This is too bizarre to believe.”

  “I didn’t believe any of it at first either.” Adeline smiled. “But after a while, I couldn’t deny the truth. My friends were all aging, getting wrinkles, various parts of their anatomies moving south, while I remained young and strong. It’s the venom in their bite. If they only bite you once, there isn’t much change. But if you get regular “injections,” as I liked to call them, you’ll age very slowly, if at all. It’s a nice perk, though it comes at a price. One does become a little sensitive to the sun.” She dug a card and pen out of her purse, wrote something on the back, and handed it to Wynne. “In case you’d like to call me.”

  Wynne glanced at the card. “Thanks.”

  “I have to get going. I have an appointment in LA in the morning.” The seventy-one-year-old woman, who didn’t look a day over thirty, stood, gave Wynne one last smile, and then gave Kristy a hug. “It’s good seeing you again.”

  “You, too. I hope it won’t be three years before I see you next.”

  “It’s hard to say. Business has been keeping me busy. But I’ll try to get back before too long.” She glanced at her wristwatch.

  “Good. And congratulations on your new line,” Kristy said as she followed Adeline to the door. “Looks like it’s doing very well.”

  “Thank you. I’m quite pleased with it.”
She waved at Wynne. “Your friend won’t be needing my products anytime soon, but I’d be happy to send you some more samples.”

  Kristy’s nod was exuberant. “Oh yes, I’d love that. Thanks.”

  “I’m very glad to do it. Good-bye, now.”

  It struck Wynne the moment Adeline had stepped through the door, after she flipped the card over and read it. “That’s Adeline Landgre? As in, the Adeline Landgre?”

  “Sure.”

  “The Adeline Landgre who owns Jeunesse éternelle Cosmetics?”

  Kristy grinned. “In case you haven’t guessed it by now…Her secret formula? Vampire spit. Injections might keep a girl from aging almost entirely, but rubbing a little on the skin works wonders for crow’s-feet and laugh lines. No pesky side effects either, like an unnatural sensitivity to the sun, if you get my drift.” She winked. “Oh, and for God’s sake, don’t tell anyone.”

  “Do you honestly think they’d believe me if I did?”

  Kristy gave her an I-told-you-so smile. “It’s possible. Not everyone is as closed minded as you.”

  21

  It was here.

  And Dierk would be here soon, too.

  Wynne was so excited she was practically jumping up and down.

  Money was such a small price to pay, even if the volume of money she’d had to gather to buy his gift hadn’t been exactly miniscule. It had taken a fairly hefty dose of creativity, a little luck, and the willingness to sacrifice to come up with enough cash to buy Dierk his heart’s desire, but she’d done it and she couldn’t wait for him to see what she had for him.

  She held a 1937 first edition signed copy of Tolkien’s The Hobbit in her hands. It smelled so good, like an old house with dark secrets. The dust jacket was absolutely perfect, the blue and green colors still vibrant. The inside pages were slightly yellowed but still nicely preserved. This was truly a once-in-a-lifetime find, but then again so was the man who was about to receive it.

  Her wonderful, kind, loving, immortal vampire would be here any moment.