Blood Life (13 page)

“Lillith chose me?”

Devendra didn’t answer, she just put her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. He accepted, enveloping her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said to her softly.

“I know you are.”

“But I don’t understand why—”

“We must go now and rest. I am so tired,” she interjected, avoiding his remark. “There is a cave back in the trees that goes down into the ground. Go there and find shelter; you will be safe and I will follow in a few minutes.”

Letting it go, Roman rubbed her back before releasing his hold on her. He turned to leave, without looking back into her sorrowful face. He disappeared into the density of trees, found the cave, and disappeared.

Devendra turned back to the cliff and closed her eyes, letting the first rays of sunlight caress her face, warming it with kisses.

Please, beloved Lillith, bring Alexandria back into this realm. Prove to Roman the powers of the Vrykolakas, the powers beyond any mortal understanding. He is ready to fulfill his destiny; the Combined must survive!

 
“Sacrifices are concerned with the feelings

of devotion and longing.”

–Xun Zi

Nineteen

Roman lay on the Earth of the cave thinking of Alexandria. So many images raced through his mind. Images and memories that he couldn’t recall. Was this his future? No, it couldn’t be, not this soon after her death.

Devendra walked in and lay down beside him, taking hold of him by the neck. She curled in and kissed it softly. He clutched her hair in his hands and pulled her wet mouth up to his.

How could he feel love and arousal for Devendra when all his heart belonged to Alexandria?

He could not understand his confusion of feelings, but he wanted Devendra, every ounce of her. She was moving her head down to his chest, keeping eye contact on her way down. He helped her pull off his vest and shirt roughly.

She smiled at the flush in his cheeks, the desire in his eyes for her. She bit his nipple causing a moan to escape his slightly parted lips. A few droplets of blood formed around his areola. She licked them, suckling at him while he removed her clothing and then the rest of his.

Beginning to lose control, he wanted to devour her, hurt her, love her and dominate her all at the same instant. She sensed his arousal increasing and teased a little with her hands around his sex and on his thigh, squeezing him.

He looked into her exotic face, taking in her feline features. Her sapphire eyes shone in the darkness of the cave. He caught a faint glimpse of Alexandria returning his gaze.

He closed his eyes tight, then opened them up again to see Devendra’s long dark hair encircling her bowed head like a veil. Images and memories of Alexandria flooded his mind, but not taking him away from the moment. He felt only ecstasy as he put his hands firmly under Devendra’s arms and pulled her up to his face.

Her breasts rubbed his abdomen and chest on the way up, hardening him to the point of pain. He kissed her face all over, with his hands holding fast to the back of her head.

She started laughing as if she had victory over his love. She let him slide inside of her, moaning at the first shot of pressure, then let the pleasure sink in. They made love feverishly, tumbling about.

No longer able to control himself, he filled her as she rode him, her hands grasping his pecks and releasing with her movements. She collapsed on top of him.

Exhaustion put her to sleep quickly after their contact. Roman lay there thinking again of Alexandria and whispering her name, inaudible to Devendra’s sleeping grace.

Twenty

Two centuries passed since that night in the cave. Roman and Devendra spent all their time together killing, hunting, learning, and loving each other. But he never forgot his dear Alexandria.

Devendra continued to speak of Alexandria’s rebirth into the mortal world as if it were to happen any day. Tired of the same empty promise, he would simply agree and grieve once again for his great loss.

Should he believe it? After all, it had been so long since their last time together, and Alexandria had been dead for over two hundred years. How could she come back to him now?

Even if she could, why would she do it? Devendra had been a fine companion for Roman, managing to keep him sane. If Alexandria did come back, what would become of Devendra? Would she go home to Lillith or whatever her life was before she met Roman? He didn’t know much of her previous life; he never thought to ask.

So many questions remained unanswered. In fact, whenever he would attempt to ask Devendra about any of his lingering concerns, she would put her hand up and wave them away. She was so wise, so content, and so wonderfully evil. But he loved her, that much he knew, and this made him want to just forget about Alexandria; however, he knew that was impossible. Whenever he would try, Devendra would remind him of her pending reincarnation. Devendra was determined to give Roman back what he had lost so many years ago. After all, she did promise that she would.

It was 1982. Roman sat on his bed in his historic Burgundy mansion, watching the numbers on his digital clock change every sixty seconds. It was an electronic device he still couldn’t master. It irritated him, but then again, why should he care? He was alive and had seen the world change drastically over the years.

Morgan was long dead—assassinated by his own Duke. The Queen committed suicide—she blew her brains out with her lover, the Duke’s, handgun. She put the cold steel right into her mouth, aiming straight for her brains, which were scattered in abstract patterns on the wall behind her. They looked kind of pretty, actually, Roman recalled.

Devendra had changed along with the times, especially in the present century. She dressed in strange, colorful clothing in the 60s, then the cackiest possible materials in the 70s. At least now she had calmed down and chosen a more sophisticated wardrobe to ponder through. Sort of old fashioned and flowy, usually consisting velvet, lace, leather, or chiffon.

He only wore the nicest velvet and silk garments, just like he always had. Nothing would change that. Most of his clothing was custom-made by his seamstress, Victoria.

Victoria could create magnificent styles easily, all to Roman’s liking, with her talented hands. She was the only woman Roman had ever come across whom asked him few questions about his lifestyle and delivered to him the finest services. She was a quiet, submissive girl of 22. She was fair-skinned and had deep brown eyes that could put a sword through your heart, but still, she was no comparison to Roman’s great love.

The only thing that unnerved him about her was that she was too vocal in bed. It seemed as though her repressed attitude hid during sex and it annoyed him. She changed completely under the covers, into a sex-starved madwoman with no fear. He didn’t mind whimpering, or soft groans of gratification, but Victoria would scream as if she were terrified, like a bunny rabbit being skinned alive, or a bird taking flight and squawking to others of danger.

Still, she was lovable the rest of the time, and Roman grew attached to her. He trusted her well enough, but never told her of his secret life. He let her live seeing him merely as a wealthy man with a kind heart.

He bought her a sewing studio in town, and a cute little flat about a mile away from his. She had really made a life for herself through her studio, but remained loyal and concentrated on Roman and was at his side whenever he beckoned.

The phone on the night table rang, bringing him out of his thoughts. He got up from the bed to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Roman, you must come quick!” the voice on the other end of the line exclaimed, out of breath.

“Devendra?” he asked, unsure if it was even her. The voice didn’t sound quite right to him. “Where are you?”

“Roman, I—”

The line went dead.

He quickly dressed and ran from his house. Mentally he started receiving messages from Devendra. They were short and unsatisfying. He had no idea where to go.

Where are you, he thought, concentrating on her as hard as he could.

Just drive, Roman, you will find me.

Must find Devendra!

He climbed into the front seat of his freshly waxed 1968 Chevrolet Camaro Super Sport, slamming it into gear. He cut through the night, surrounded by blood red steel with thick black racing stripes on the hood, catching the eye of people everywhere.

He made his way to the nightclub he had purchased,
Dusk
, in the hopes that she would be there. He parked in the Loading Zone and swiftly walked up to his doormen.

One of the men, the heftier of the two, looked up at his boss’ exasperated face and jumped off his stool. “What is it, boss?” he asked.

“One of you park my car out back,” he said, absently.

“I’ll do it,” the skinnier of the two said, happily taking the keys from Roman.

“Everything okay?” the chubbier one asked, concerned.

“Devendra—” he paused, trying to listen for her. He thought his heart might burst out of his chest and attack the doorman, even though he did nothing wrong. Anxiety made him murderous.

Who was he kidding? Everything made him murderous.

“Have you seen her here tonight?” he asked, looking into the man’s face.

The doorman shook his head, putting out his arm to steady Roman’s swaying body. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

“Fine, I will be fine.”

Roman put his fingers to his temple as he walked past him into the club. He stopped, just inside the double doors, panning the building for any clues.

The bartender, Carl Lightfoot, looked up in Roman’s direction as he wiped the bar clean with a wet rag.

“Hey boss,” he called, waving and smiling.

His name always humored Roman. Lightfoot would indicate somebody being light on their feet, if you really thought about it, but Carl was quite the contrary. He was a jolly, fat, friendly fellow. Roman liked him a lot.

He moved toward Carl, shaking his head sadly. “It’s Devendra; she’s . . . gone.”

“What do you mean she’s gone? I saw her go into your office just before you walked in here; she passed right by me.” He stopped, reading Roman’s excitement. He furrowed his brows. “Actually, you should have seen her; it was only a second ago.”

Without answering the confused Carl, Roman ran in the direction of his office, up the stairs and plummeted through the heavy steel doors.

“DEVENDRA!” he called out to the empty room.

He moved around, listening, trying to detect her presence. “Devendra? Are you in here?” he said in a quieter voice, looking around all the walls and finding nobody there.

He walked over to his eggplant-colored, velvet sofa and slumped down in frustration. He wasn’t so afraid now, he knew what was going on, but he did not want to believe it.