The Lost Centurion

by Monica La Porta

  “What am I doing here?” He repeated the motion upward and applied pressure over his temples, trying to ease the growing irritation that wouldn’t let him relax. “I’m just tired and hungry.” He forwent the kitchen and the promise of food in favor of a bed and opened the first door on the left of Diana’s. The three windows in that bedroom were closed and he parted the curtains to take one last look at the grounds below. From that side of the house, he could see the orchards and the pine forest bordering the edge of the cliff. In the distance, he saw the gardeners working at the boxwood edges at the entry of the property. Relieved it must have been them he had heard earlier, he went to rest on the small bed at the center of the room. Although he had felt too keyed up to rest, he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

  The way Aurelia took care of her appearance never ceased to be a source of surprise to Marcus. He would have kissed the ground she walked on even if she had decided not to wear jewelry or makeup or elaborate wigs. With her back to him, wearing her hair in an elaborate style, all tight ringlets surrounding her like a crown, she lay on their triclinium and his heart skipped a few beats remembering the last time they had both shared that seat. If he closed his eyes, he could see where her long, immaculate toga with the silver border had tumbled to the floor. His fingers went to the lower lip she had bitten, the sting mixed with pleasure reverberating through his body as the memory played out for him.

  “Wife.” The word a bitter-sweet reminder of what was now only a contract to Aurelia. He would have taken the crumbs of her love if only she would allow some affection between them. But she had withdrawn in her cults and shut him out of her life, leaving him alone and heartbroken.

  She didn’t answer his call. He hadn’t expected her to, but each and every time he hoped she would turn at his voice and smile at seeing him. The night wasn’t cold, but her shoulders were naked and he leaned to cover her. Only then, he realized how preternaturally still she was. Trembling, he reached out his hand to touch skin he knew in the dream would be cold and stiff. Then he would lean over her and notice the blood cascading down her throat in two twin waterfalls, collecting on her lap.

  This time, a few details were different. He woke to piercing screams.

  “Wake up!”

  Two small hands grabbed a bunch of his shirt and shook him.

  “It’s just a dream.”

  A soothing voice whispered to his ear.

  “I’m here.”

  The screaming receded from the background and he was able to open his eyes.

  “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Diana hugged him tight. “It was only a dream. Nothing more than a bad nightmare.”

  He let her comfort him, her scent wrapping him like a blanket. He snuggled into her embrace and felt her subtle sigh when his lips brushed the spot between her ear and jaw. His hands went to her back, roaming her small frame up and down until his fingers caught the hem of her top and crawled underneath and to the side. She shivered and stilled when he grazed her breasts, then reassured she wasn’t going to stop him, he cupped them. He liked how they fit inside his palms. At her moans, he tugged at her nipples. “Little thing… what are you doing to me?” His mouth took the place of his fingers and he took one nipple between his teeth, gently teasing it, until she was shaking so much he stopped and yanked her top out of the way. He rolled Diana with him until her back was on the bed and he was on top of her, his hands at her shorts, pulling them down to discover the panties he had chosen for her.

  “Marcus…”

  He heard the urgency in her voice and his senses went in overdrive while his fingers hooked through the lace of her white panties and tore them apart. His body was ready to claim hers, but when he raised his eyes to look at her and ask the final permission, he froze.

  “Marcus—” She was crying, her body shaken by the hunger showing through her black-onyx, dead eyes.

  He swore out loud and removed himself from the bed, leaving her doubled over and trembling in the middle of it. She hid her face into the coverlet and rolled into fetal position, her sobs wreaking her body as much as the violent shaking.

  He watched as she became smaller and smaller, her suffering making her disappear, while he was unable to shake himself into action. The last remnants of his nightmare came back to him in terrifying clarity, and he felt himself breaking from the inside when, for the second time, the image of a dead Aurelia was replaced by a dead Diana. And he remembered calling Diana’s name in the sleep, not Aurelia’s as he always did, asking her to never leave him, pleading her not to die.

  Next thing he knew, he was offering his throat to her, and she was feeding from him, still sobbing, still shaking. He wanted her to keep going until he fainted and whispered his request to her.

  “No!” she screamed and removed her fangs, propelling herself to the other end of the narrow bed and slamming her back to the headboard. Both hands over mouth, her fangs peeking through her fingers, she panted as if she had run. “No.” She brought her knees to her chin and hid her face between them. “You must let me go.”

  Finally, the haze holding Marcus hostage dissipated. “No. I won’t.” He moved on the bed until he was sitting side by side with her.

  “You shouldn’t have asked me that.” She didn’t look at him and kept her body angled so that they wouldn’t touch. “I wouldn’t know when to stop and I’d drain you.”

  Marcus poked at her right knee. “I’m fine.”

  “This time.” In the limited space, she found a way to draw her body away from his touch.

  “I am immortal. It takes a lot more than that to kill me.” He scooted alongside her, not wanting to give her respite, his mind reeling with a chaos of clashing images, his body painfully aware of her nearness. “Let me touch you.” His hands were on her bare legs, pulling her closer to him before she would deny him.

  “Marcus, don’t—” She pushed at his chest when his fingers moved up her legs, but her try lacked intention. “I don’t know how I would react if you take me like this—”

  “I won’t. Don’t worry.” He took her wrists and lowered her hands on the duvet, then leaned over and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve never had a woman who didn’t beg me for it and I won’t start now.” She was naked before him, the faint outline of his hands glowing over her bikini line where he had tugged at her panties. All the painful marks etched on her body laid out for him to see. He wanted to ask who had done that to her, and at the same time, he wanted to kiss each scar to make her forget. Her chest raised and lowered as his did, too fast, but he forced himself to slow his breathing, while he kept both their hands intertwined. “Are you still hungry?”

  She shook her head, but he could feel she was working hard to keep the shivering subdued.

  “Do not lie to me.” He squeezed her hands, not to hurt her, but to let her know he could read through her deception.

  She shivered. “I’ve had enough.”

  Frustration built inside of him. “You’ll soon develop the equivalent of vampire anorexia if you refuse to take from me what you need.”

  “I’ll deal with it when the time comes.” She jerked her shoulders backward to free her hands from his hold and he let her.

  He regretted it right away, missing even that small contact with her. “Do not even think to bring up your former clients as your solution.”

  “But you would be safer—”

  “I would be in agony.” Marcus’s need to hold her grew to such intensity he couldn’t remember if he had ever ached that much for a woman. When all his senses screamed for him to take her, he stood and walked out of the bedroom.

  ****

  Her mind reeling, Diana watched as Marcus closed a door on her once again. She looked down at her nudity and pulled up the shorts stranded at her ankles, then looked for her top which had landed near her panties. She pocketed the torn lace, then stretched the top over her breasts. Finally, she laid on her side, her back to the door, her eyes on the window. The pine fores
t was a dark shadow taking over most of the visible landscape. The moon wasn’t out yet, but the sun had set, and the blisters that had immediately appeared when she had stormed inside his room were rapidly healing.

  She was sleeping when his screams had woken her. She had followed the keening to the next room and found him seating on the bed, covered in sweat. His eyes open to a terror only he could see, he had called her name and cried until his voice had strained to the point she couldn’t understand his words anymore. The sunlight had blistered her skin, but she hadn’t let him go. She would have burnt for him. Then she had almost granted his request to drain him. With his blood, she had drunk his thoughts, his most hidden desires, and she had found herself hidden among the ones he wished to deny the most. The hate for her race was a sentiment deeply rooted at his very core and it scared her.

  Soft sounds, like light steps on the beach’s gravel, interrupted her brooding. Marcus must have gone for a walk, and she felt free to leave the bedroom he had vacated in such a hurry to escape her. As she had expected, he wasn’t in the apartment. The pastel green hues of the atrium a soothing palette for her frayed nerves, she sat on the ivory wicker chair facing the French doors. From a sitting position, she could only see the blue ocean and the rapidly darkening sky. The beach and the gardens had disappeared from her line of sight. Long, white waves rippled the waters, swelling and showing the schools of fish swimming beneath the surface.

  The sounds and smells associated to the ocean had always relaxed Diana. She could easily link her happiest memories to her time spent at her grandmother’s villa by the sea. Grandma Lavinia had lived in Rome, but had always spent her summers at the house her parents had left her in Ponza. It was a two-story, white plaster, rectangular villa always in need of maintenance. Fiery red and orange bougainvillea plants crept up the stucco and helped destroy the plaster already ruined by the saltiness in the air. Grandma had the house repainted once every two years, but it was never enough. Inside, the most beautiful Art Deco furniture lived side by side with the bright colored, industrial materials of the fifties fixtures.

  Diana brought her legs up and folded them under her body. She wasn’t cold, but could have used a blanket to hug. The atrium door clicked open and she saw Marcus entering from the reflection on the French doors’ glass. His steps were hesitant. He walked toward his bedroom, then his head turned her way and he stopped.

  Still facing outside, she raised one hand over her head. “Hi.”

  “Diana—” He stood in the middle of the atrium, massaging one fisted hand with the other. “Would you like to go out?”

  “I’d love to.” She jumped out of the chair, passed him on her way to the door, and was pleased by the smile her decision had put on his face. “Where to?”

  “I thought it would be nice to take Alexander’s yacht for a ride.” He followed her outside.

  “That yacht?” She pointed at the imaginary place beyond the wall where she had seen the cruiser harbored. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” She slowed her stride to face Marcus. “I mean, I know you are good friends and all, and he does seem a nice guy, but taking his yacht for a ride? I don’t know.”

  Instead of answering her, Marcus took his cell phone out from one of the pockets in his faded dark gray jeans. He tapped the screen, then brought the phone to his left ear, stretching his neck from shoulder to shoulder as he waited for his caller to answer.

  Diana noticed he had changed his clothes and showered. His hair was still damp, and his black V-neck shirt clung to his damp skin. She gave herself a brief mental assessment and decided she should have taken the time to at least splash water on her face.

  Marcus opened his mouth to say something, then a voice resonated through the phone, and he mouthed to her, “Never mind.” Then he said out loud, “Alexander?” A small pause. “Yes, everything is fine.” Another pause, longer this time. “Speaking of which, would you mind if I take the Sirena for a ride?” He raised his eyes to the ceiling and laughed. “Of course. Thank you.” He closed the call with a tap, then gave her a big, white-toothed smile. “We have Alexander’s blessing.”

  He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the big atrium, across and out through the large French doors opening to the gardens. Then they walked down the big, white-and-pink marble flight of steps leading to the lower terraces. Diana felt light and energized as she kept his fast pace. The lower they descended toward the pier, the darker the night became, but she could see as if it were midday. Soon she was the one leading them along the treacherous and narrow path excavated through the cliff.

  He thanked her when she told him there was a missing step right ahead of him. “Your change is coming along fast.”

  She shrugged. “You’re the expert.” The yacht was in sight around the bend. She focused on the path that became harder and harder to navigate. A sudden noise made her pause in her stride. “Did you hear that?”

  He stopped a hair breath from her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Probably just wildlife.”

  She found his touch reassuring and nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Probably.” They had reached the beginning of the wooden pier, and her flat-soled espadrilles proved to be inappropriate for the stroll. “Be careful, it’s slippery.” Her new and improved body would have kept her upright in any case, but his hands were immediately at her waist when—despite her own warning—she slid on the flooring.

  His fingers were splayed over her exposed skin, between the shorts and the top, slightly pressing in an intimate hold. She found herself staring into his dark, liquid eyes, and she wondered not for the first time what it would feel to be loved by this unpredictable man. He leaned over her and she heard his intake of breath matching her own. His hands inched under the top and upward, his fingers grazing the side of her breasts. Underneath the hazy cloud of thoughts whirling inside her mind, a sense of déjà vu told her this wasn’t the first time they danced that tune. She ignored it, closed her eyes, and parted her lips.

  “What—?” Marcus abruptly let her go.

  Taken by surprise, she staggered to her feet. “Marcus?”

  He had already run to the end of the pier and had jumped down to the shore. At her call, Marcus turned and made a sign to stay put, then she heard the sound of foliage being disturbed and he disappeared into the pine forest bordering the beach. She ran after him, following his scent through the natural maze provided by the dense woods and exited to the other side to find a small cove surrounded by white vertical walls cut into the rock. At the corner of her eyes, something moved, but when she turned, nothing was visible, just the undergrowth of the forest receding into the sea where the tide had swollen part of the shore. The loud caws of a solitary seagull flying in long circles over the inlet startled her.

  “Marcus, where are you?” She pivoted on her espadrilles as cold, wet sand and pebbles entered her shoes.

  He had disappeared.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus heard Diana’s frantic call, but when he scanned the cove, there wasn’t enough light for him to make out her form. The sound he had heard had proved to be the scurrying of rodents and now he was regretting having left her alone for nothing. In his blind run, he had reached the opposite wall flanking the cove and noticed the set of crudely carved steps semi-hidden by the vegetation. He should have checked where they led, but the idea of Diana waiting for him to come back stopped him.

  “Diana?” He squinted and finally saw her running toward him.

  “What happened? Did you see anything? Are you okay?” She started firing the questions when she was several feet away, worry in her voice.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing. Sorry.” He passed his hand through his damp hair, stiffened by the waves of salty sprays coming from the sea.

  She came to a halt before him, her chin raised to look at him in the eyes. “But you’re okay, right?”

  Marcus couldn’t help but feel overjoyed at her concern for him. “I’m perfectly fine.” She was so s
mall. Her head barely reached his shoulders and she was standing on tiptoes to lock eyes with him.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  “I won’t.” He held out a hand for her to take, and when she wrapped her small fingers around his, he felt a tug at his heart that resembled what he had once known as happiness. He blinked away the moistness from his eyes and smiled down at her. “The night is short. Let’s have our outing before the sun comes out.”

  They walked through the forest and back to the pier in comfortable silence. He tried to voice his thoughts once or twice, but was too scared he would later regret telling her how much he enjoyed her presence. So he kept quiet, savoring the light pressure of her fingers on his, her womanly scent, the way her eyelashes blinked like butterflies when she caught him looking at her, the arch of her nose, and the fullness of her lips. Her top, the one he had chosen for her because he wanted to see her wearing purple—his favorite color—adhered to her contours and left nothing to the imagination. Yet, he had to fight the urge to yank it away altogether.

  “So, you do know how to drive this thing?” She pointed at the Sirena gently bobbing ahead.

  “Yes, ma’am. I picked up a skill or two along the way.” He realized if he were a peacock that would have been the occasion to display his tail. Once back on the pier, he helped her navigate the plank, then took her by the waist, raised her up, and deposited her on the yacht. A sudden doubt hit him. “Do you get seasickness?”