Blood Life (14 page)

Could she have left him without saying “goodbye?” He could not feel her. He knew in his heart that if she had left him, she would be gone for a while.

The flashing light on the end table caught his attention. He pressed the “messages” button on his answering machine and waited for voices to come through the tiny speaker.

The first message was from Victoria, telling him she would be at the show tonight, and could he please call her if he could put her friend, Eric, on the guest list, also.

Roman nodded, urging the machine on with the button that read, “Fast Fwd >>,” and an anxious wave of his hand. The second message was a hang up, and the third was Victoria again.

Jeezus, he thought, he can get in, all right? I will put him on the list.

Hopefully he shot the mental message to her clearly enough.

The last message caught his attention immediately:                

“Roman, it’s Devendra. First and foremost, I want you to know that no matter happens, I will always love you, and I didn’t mean for things to transpire like this. But it’s time, Roman, it’s time!
She is here.
You are ready now and she is close by.

 “Please, understand that I must leave now. I always promised not to come between the two of you and I shall keep that promise. Go and get her, Roman, find her now! I will go back to my home in the forest; I have neglected it and my pack of wolves long enough. I told you about them, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t!” Roman said aloud to the machine.

“Oh, I guess not,” her voice chuckled over the tiny speaker.

Roman widened his eyes at the machine.

“Anyway, my darling, please, try to wait a while before contacting me. Our paths will cross again soon, but for now, there is much work for you to do. I love you, sweetheart, good luck!”

What? No, he wasn’t ready to be alone! She couldn’t leave him yet. What if he never found Alexandria? What if he did find her and she wouldn’t have anything to do with him? What if mortals discovered his secrets?

He needed Devendra’s wisdom and protection as much as he ever had. He didn’t think that feeling would ever fade. How could she do this?

He found himself rushing out of the office and into the crowd in front of the stage. The club had already opened and music was blaring in his ears. The countless faces of the crowd, pushing at each other and oblivious to his nature, were foreign to him. He knew nobody and he feared for their lives if they so much as looked at him wrong.

“DEVENDRA!!!” his mind cried as he ran out the back doors to his car.

He drove and drove, making turns, hitting potholes and sliding everywhere in the sudden, fresh rain. He stopped his car along side some cliffs and ran out to the edge.

“DEVENDRA!!!” he screamed out over the valley below him. “Please, I cannot lose you, too! Come back to me!”

He opened his eyes and wiped the raindrops away from his face. Thank the heavenly rain to comfort him and hide the tears. He collapsed to the ground and wept.

Images of Lokee shot thorough his mind and he witnessed, for the first time, Alexandria’s last moments of life. Those precious moments had been sucked away by her scorned lover.

There was the steaming bath that Roman had drawn for her. Elizabeth trying in vain trying to stop the dark figure that walked into their home with vengeance staining his face.

He knocked the life out of Elizabeth with a single, fierce blow. Alexandria sat up, startled, looking like a frightened child experiencing a terrible nightmare. Lokee barged into the bathroom and snuffed her life. It was not easy; she fought him with a furious will to survive. But Lokee was just too strong for her; he was a vampire. Alexandria had no chance!

Lokee, the one who set Roman’s destiny in stone—a hopeless immortal who continues to search for something he may never find. A wretch of a man who has not shown his face to either Roman or Devendra in over 200 years.

“You fucking coward!” Roman yelled to nobody.

He clutched at his stomach. Falling forward, his forehead hit the dirt. He writhed there until the images ceased. The pain flooded through him as if it were the night he discovered Alexandria gone.

His heart broke as he made his best attempt to call her with his vampyric voice. If he was lucky, the message would reach her new shell so they could meet again at last.

Twenty One

A few weeks passed where Roman remained locked inside his mansion, receiving no phone calls, no visitors, and especially not Victoria, in fear she may talk him into stopping his “nonsense.” She was a practical one, always offering sound advice to others, but unable to practice what she preached, whatever the cost. She sabotaged many relationships with her passive aggressive nature, yet for the most part, she was timid. She was so weird.

In his solitude, Roman decided he didn’t want to live eternally anymore. He didn’t want to wait for Alexandria to reappear in his life. Besides there was no one there to tell him that she even would anymore, so why not end it now?

He had been waiting long enough and did not deserve to be so alone and isolated from those he cared for. Although Devendra had always warned him of the horrible stages that a vampire must go through to starve itself, at least that would make him comatose and he could just be alone. He was determined to follow through with the pain and go against the rules.

If Lillith grew angry with him, which was inevitable, she could go ahead and destroy him. He just didn’t care anymore. That is what he wanted—peace, eternal rest to rid him of his heartaches, and a good strong deletion of his age-old memories and ambitions.

A soft knock at the front door brought him out of his depressing thoughts.

Who the hell would dare knock on his door?

 He told everyone he associated with to leave him alone. And yes, they did respect his wishes, in fear of him going mad over Devendra’s absence. Talk had spread among his group of friends that she left him for another man.

People could be so stupid and ignorant sometimes. He rose from the bed, infuriated, and stomped across the hardwood floor to the bedroom door. He opened it and listened.

Knock, knock, knock.

“What do you want?” he yelled down the stairs at the door.

No answer.

He could see a dim figure of somebody standing outside on the porch.

“Go away,” he called. “We don’t want any.”

Maybe it was a salesman. A mortal would only tempt him to feed and that would put an end to his plans of death, even if only for a moment.

“Please,” he whispered, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the doorframe.

The sweet, flowery smell of a woman filled his head, swimming through his nostrils.

 Knock, knock, knock.

He flung the bedroom door back so hard that it slammed into the wall. Then he ran down the steps and waited a moment before opening the door. He was so hungry. It was still daylight outside; the sun coming through the cracks of the door stung his eyes.

I hate you, whoever you are, he thought, bitterly, before opening the door.

A young woman stood apologetically on his porch. She had long, slightly wavy hair, the color of deep red wine, or the richest plum tree leaves, with streaks of soft black spilling over her shoulders. The hair color paled her skin to the purest, and the shape of her animated eyes reminded him of a cat. Dark emerald eyes laid into him, sparkling with his reflection.

His stomach was suddenly on the floor and his heart leapt into his throat. What did this lovely creature want and why did she make him so nervous?

“Can I help you?” he asked, studying her closely.

He pushed gently at the outer barriers of her mind. It looked like she needed help with something.

The woman bowed her head and cleared her throat. She had a smooth, pale throat, with fine veins defining each breath she took; her jugular pulsed lightly with every beat of her heart.

Her heartbeat filled his ears, deafening him momentarily. When she lifted her eyes, thoughts flew out at him in a disorganized blur.

“I-I need . . . um—” she waved her hand in front of him, trying to clear her mind. Her nervousness angered her; he could see that.

She had a bedroom voice.

“My car broke down out here in front. It seems to be out of oil.”

He continued to look at her, unaware of his hungry expression.

She continued, unphased by him. “I heard the engine knocking earlier today, but thought I’d make it through my errands. I had planned to stop and have the oil changed, but then this happened before I could.”

She stopped talking, biting her lip and searching him for some sort of response. “I was . . . um . . . wondering if you could—” she stopped again, smiling as if to say, Yeah, I’m an idiot! Please excuse me while I run off and die of embarrassment.             

On the contrary, Roman felt the foolish one for not responding. But her voice sang like an angel in his ears. He couldn’t believe this blessed creature stood shining like a star on his doorstep.

A gentle breeze lifted her hair a little, sending sweet herbal smells of lavender and yarrow in his direction. “Pardon me, miss, come in and have a seat,” he offered, opening the door wider to allow her to come through.

She smelled . . . familiar.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly intrude,” she insisted. “I just need some oil for my Nissan and wondered if, by chance, you had any that I could purchase from you.”

She reached for the bag that hung from her shoulder and unzipped it.

“I have money to give you,” she offered, “and I happened to notice all the vehicles parked outside.” She started to fumble around in her purse, apparently unable to locate the money. “So, naturally, I figured maybe you were a mechanic or something like that and could save me.” She flashed a smile at him, then continued to search her bag.

“You don’t need to pay me. I will give you the oil. It’s no problem.” he said, flatly.

“What?” she asked without looking up. Blood rushed to her beautiful cheeks. “I couldn’t possibly—” she started.

“Please. Come in.”

She was not 100% at ease with the handsome stranger. None of her words came out right and she was flustered. She was never like this with men! Usually, she was the bitchy type having to constantly fend off their advances. What the hell was her problem?

Finally, after retrieving a small leather wallet, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before lifting her head to meet Roman’s gaze.

He took his time studying her features, not hiding the fact that he enjoyed looking at her. The fine definition of her cheeks and her plump, pouting lips enticed him. Her eyes held a recognizable innocence, and moving his eyes down a little, he noted the rounded hips lying beneath the thin material of the soft, purple chiffon dress she wore.

His heart began to thump harder in his chest. The curve in her tiny waist was fantastic and her flesh was supple and soft.

Maybe she would prove to be a good visitor, if only he could convince her to stay a while.

“Come on in. Would you like some tea?”

“Well, I don’t know.” She was trembling slightly.

“Oh, no need to be afraid, my lady.” He reached out to take her hand and lead her inside the warm shelter. She stood in the foyer for a moment before advancing into the living room area. The fireplace burned with a comforting red glow against the dark backdrop of the chimney.

She looked around the room, studying the antique furnishings. She took in another deep, refreshing breath and sighed to show her admiration of the house. It was so warm; not just from the fireplace, but the whole feel of the décor. It all intrigued her enough to make her forget she was not at home.

Roman left her to retreat to the kitchen for tea.

“What do you take in your tea?” he called from halfway down the hall.

No answer.

He stopped at her silence and walked backwards toward the living room, peering through the doorway. “Hello?” he said, smiling.

She spun around to face him. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked you what you took in your tea,” he said.

She stood with her back to him, admiring his wall of gothic art, including Henry Fuseli’s
The Nightmare,
William Blakes’
Hecate
and
The Blasphemer,
Edvard Munch’s
Scream,
and Gustav Klimt’s
Love
—Roman’s personal favorite.

He moved next to her. “You like art?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t know much about it, really, but I love to admire it.” She smiled, coyly.

He returned the smile. “I think this one might be my favorite of all time,” he said, nodding toward the Klimt. “I’d be happy to give you the story surrounding that one someday, if you’d like.” He winked at her.

She blushed. She was easy to fluster; he loved it.

“I thought you were getting tea?” she said, moving her eyes back to the painting.

“I was, but you didn’t answer me.”

“Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry.” She giggled—a soft, sexy sound. “If it’s black tea, then milk and sugar, please.”

“What if it’s green tea?” he countered.