Read My Vampire and I Vol 3: Blood Resurrection Online
Authors: J. P. Bowie
I was dying, and we both knew it.
“Bernard,” he whispered, his lips close to my ear. “I can save you, but you know what must be done.”
Feebly, I nodded my understanding.
“Is it what you wish?”
“Yes,” I murmured weakly. He raised my withering hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“Then when next you see me,” he said, “you will be whole again.”
* * * *
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When I awoke from my death, he was by my side, holding my hand.
“Marcus,” I whispered. “Am I now like you?”
He nodded, his expression grave and compassionate. “It is five days since we last spoke. How do you feel?”
“Like new,” I replied, sitting up. And it was so. As ill and weak as I had been before I died, I now felt strong and vital, filled with an almost overpowering energy—and an unquenchable thirst.
“It will all feel strange to you at first,” Marcus said as I stretched the muscles in my arms and legs newly filled with strength. “You must go slowly, learn to adapt…” I nodded, but I was only half-listening. I wanted to leap from the bed and experience my new found vigour and vitality. Marcus, sensing this, kept my hand in his and his eyes fixed on mine as he spoke.
“Listen to me, Bernard.” His voice remained gentle, but there was no mistaking the gravity of his words. “You are now immortal, yet you can die. You are powerful, yet you are vulnerable. You can make men fear you, but if they fear you, they will hate you and seek to destroy you. There is much for you to learn of this new life. If you learn well, you will enjoy the best that being a vampire can bring you. If you do not heed my words, you might discover to your cost, and too late, that what you have become can be of more danger to yourself than to anyone else. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Yes,” I whispered, gripped by his intensity.
He smiled. “Good. Now walk about a little. Feel the newfound strength in your muscles…”
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skin sent my senses on fire. For the first time, I felt my incisors extend, and a feral growl escaped my lips. Still, he held me close. “Yes, drink,” he murmured. “I have fed, so that you may take what you need from me tonight.”
the blood he had given so selflessly that I might live and that he now shared with me in my first moments as a vampire. Never had anything tasted as sweet, or as potent, and with it, a tumult of sensation—love, joy, longing, lust…and the comfort his arms provided. Gently, he lifted my head from the wound I had inflicted on him. Our bodies and our thoughts were as one, joined in a perfect harmony with one another.
“Enough for now,” he said quietly, kissing my lips. He passed his fingertips over the wound, and I watched it close instantly. I gazed into his eyes, into their deep green beauty, and my body was suffused with desire for him. Aware of my need, he crushed me to him, his hands caressing my bare skin, his lips taking mine in long, sweet kisses. We had made love before, of course. Not often, for Marcus was seldom at home, but each time had been unforgettable, taking me to heights of ecstasy I could not imagine anyone else being capable of.
Looking at his body anew through my vampire eyes, though once I would have deemed it impossible, his nakedness took on an even more sensual and alluring form. The silken texture of his skin and the tight, sculpted musculature of his chest and abdomen seemed to me to be carved by a gifted artist’s hand. I kissed that smooth skin, licking and nibbling my way across his torso, teasing each nipple with my lips and tongue. I sank between his thighs, my hand grasping the long, thick shaft that rose from its thatch of curly dark hair. My tongue traced the veins on the underside up to the broad tip, wet with the juice of his arousal. My mouth engulfed it, my lips sliding slowly down the hard length. Marcus groaned. His hands caressed my face and stroked my hair. The sound of his pleasure made Blood Resurrection
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me suck all the harder, wishing above all else to bring him the same sweet sensations he had brought to me so many times.
They say that the vampire’s sexual senses are heightened by the taking of blood, that the act of drinking the blood is a sexual experience. I would not argue the point, for indeed the infusion of Marcus’ blood into my veins had set my own blood on fire. A new vampire I might have been, but his powerful blood now filled me with a desire that threatened to overwhelm me. For the first time, I experienced the heightened array of sensations only vampires are privy to. As I let my lust take over, I felt a fierce passion rage within me. The hard flesh that pulsed in my hand became the sole object of my desire. I laved it with my lips and tongue, searing the soft skin with the heat of my mouth. Marcus writhed with pleasure—
I heard his breath catch in his throat and knew he had reached his limit. His hips bucked, pushing his throbbing cock deeper into my mouth. I opened to him, taking him down my throat, my hands clutching at his thighs as I felt the first scorching spurt of his semen explode from deep within him. I held him in my mouth until his last body-racking spasm had subsided. Then gently, I released his cock, licking at the last vestiges of his semen as it slid from my mouth. He drew me up into his arms and kissed me, holding my body pressed tightly to his own.
We made love again and again through that first night of my new life. I wondered then if any other newly born vampire had ever been initiated in such a wondrous manner.
And even now, I seriously doubt it.
* * * *
Of course, some things had to be sacrificed. No longer could I walk through the lush gardens in the morning sunrise nor sit on a bench to look up at the mountains bathed in its golden light. Marcus told me we could catch the last fading vestiges of the setting sun as it sank behind the mountains. For many nights after, I would stand at the window of my room watching the sky change from its rosy hue to a deep purple as dusk fell and the night became mine.
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The darkness brought me strength, and a clear mind, after the almost death-like sleep I endured during the daylight hours. For the first few months after I had been changed, Marcus was there to guide me in all things. With infinite patience he showed me how to react to my newfound power— and how to control it when necessary. The first time I took human blood, he instilled in me the creed he had lived by for all his hundreds of years.
“Be gentle,” he told me. “There is no need to tear at the flesh. Take only as much as you need. Human blood will replenish itself, and who knows, you may wish to drink from that same human again. The vampire bite does not kill of itself. In fact, it adds a year or two to a mortal’s lifespan. Always make sure they have no memory of the encounter. I prefer to give them the vague remembrance of a fleeting rapturous moment.”
“Almost always. Blood is life to us, imbuing us with its vitality, feeding the libido that controls all lust and desire. That is why you must be careful, Bernard,” he said, his strong grip on my shoulder. “Although most mortals fear us, there are those who might wish to bond with you. That should not be done without great forethought. To bind a mortal to your side can sometimes have dire consequences for both of you.” I listened to all that he said, for where would I find another as wise as he in the ways of the vampire? And in truth, I had no wish to hurt anyone. To drink the blood was essential to my existence, but to maim or kill in the process was not something I craved. Of course, in my eagerness to heed his advice, I was clumsy in my first attempt, and my ‘victim’ put up a struggle and punched me so hard on the mouth. If Marcus had not been there to control the situation, things might have turned ugly. Fortunately, he was there to take the young man in his arms, to soothe his anger with one look from those deep green eyes, and after he had gifted his blood, to make him forget all that had occurred.
But I was to discover that Marcus had many responsibilities beyond my need for mentoring. Many years before he came into my life, he had led an army of vampires against the forces of evil and had been victorious. Since then, he had been called upon to settle disputes between the various vampire factions, his loyal followers forever advocating his wisdom and impartiality in these matters. For long periods of time, sometimes for years, I would not see him and had to make my own way in life. All was well for many years until, Blood Resurrection
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They caught me with my pants down—I’m ashamed to say, quite literally. Over the years, I had honed my hunting skills and could feed and disappear in a flash, the young man or woman from whom I fed having no recollection of ever being in my arms. But this night, the young man I held and drank from beguiled me. I rather think this was the work of the Wizards. Whatever it was, I was completely lost in the youth’s kisses and caresses, fired up as I was by his sweet blood, and he, eager to bring me ecstasy, dropped to his knees to take my aching erection into his mouth. I had closed my eyes, giving in to the sweet sensation of his lips on my throbbing flesh, when suddenly, he was rudely thrown to one side and we were surrounded by men in dark cloaks, their faces shrouded by large hoods. I was to wish they’d kept their faces hidden at all times, for they were without doubt the ugliest men I had ever seen in my life. Fortunately, the young man escaped, running into the darkness of the forest.
They were holding him prisoner and forced us to exchange blood. Joseph Meyer has already recounted this episode in his journal, so I will not repeat all of it here, except to say that using wizardry and my vampire blood, they sought to retain his beauty for all time, for their own pleasure. But their plans came to naught when Joseph and I exchanged much more than that.
Outraged, the monsters threw me outside into the daylight to die. Fortunately for me, the sky was filled with clouds that day, allowing me to get to the shadows and the safety of the nearby forest, where I hid until nightfall. I had promised Joseph I would tell Marcus of his plight, but it was many more years before I could do so—years in which Joseph was subjected to the Wizards’ vile ministrations and hideous pleasure. The day came at last when Marcus rescued Joseph from his humiliation, and with the aid of his vampire army, drove the Wizards into oblivion, destroying their stronghold, and slaying any who resisted. Following that victory, the world seemed a safer place for we vampires—for a time, at least.
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Since my changing, I had been fascinated by the lore that surrounded our creation. So many of the tales I knew to be no more than myths, perpetuated mostly by the church. It taught that we were soulless monsters, doomed to wander the earth, only at night, in search of blood. ‘Beware, young men and ladies, lest you be taken in by vampire charms and condemned to live like the undead, banished from hearth and home—your grave your only resting place!’
I decided I would rewrite the vampire history, try to dispel the many myths and legends that superstition and ignorance had laid at our door, and in doing so, perhaps allay some of the fear with which mortal men and women perceived us. No small task, I can assure you, and one that I am undertaking to this very day, some five hundred years since I began.
My frustration came from the fact that the tomes housed in these halls of learning told me nothing that I did not already know. The same tired old stories, myths, legends and tales of horror were recounted over and over until I despaired of ever finding writings that stripped away the myths and were based on fact. I had heard it said that manuscripts existed in the Vatican in Rome. Some hundreds of years before, one of the Popes had begun a vendetta against the Vampire world in order to, as he saw it, rid the earth of the ‘vampire pestilence’. Obviously, he had been unsuccessful, but much of the fear mortals have for us can be attributed to him. It was even rumoured that he had been in league with the Wizard Brotherhood and Darius, the leader of the Dark Forces and Marcus’ most powerful enemy. Those manuscripts I longed to read…
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So it was that in the year 1904, I became an archival scholar in no less a place than the Vatican in Rome. I had long sought this position—of course, changing my surname and age every so often so as not to cause any alarm among those with whom I interviewed. On my first night there, I was greeted and given the grand tour of the library by a comely young man with dark, close-cropped curls and a winning smile.