Summary: Third Person. Romance.
Disclaimers: The characters from the Chronicles belong to Anne Rice. These stories are purely for pleasure and 'What if's'. Nothing is meant to infringe upon the author's rights. I am doing this for fun and I love sharing my stories with others.
I can sense you, outside. I feel the soft aching in my neck, sensually coming in waves. Almost feels like its beating, like the sound of a heart. Your heart.
Wondering why you don't make your entrance, I allow the feeling to wash over me. The vision of fangs entering my skin pushing all other thoughts from my mind.
Entoxicating. Just the mere presence. Merely knowing you are near to me, and I can sense this.
I send a flurry of wild images to you now - the vivid crimson droplets filling my mind - and I know this will tempt you. I allow the images to overcome me, as drenched in passion, your arms circle around my waist, your neck bends and your kisses penetrate me.
I can almost feel the pain in this vision. The feel of your fangs sliding so delicately into my awaiting and eager flesh. Then the swoon which makes my arms encircle you and hold you close, my hands reaching into your hair and grasping at the fine strands - pulling them closer, deeper.
I realise I have closed my eyes. I sometimes do this when I have visions of such entoxicating splender, and open them quickly. Lest I miss the visitor I am seducing from the shadows.
No-one. The room is dark and I am the only inhabitant. The soft aching in my neck is gone.
Why do you fear death so much? Why does the thought of me dying fill you with such fear that you flee?
Death is a part of life.
Better I know you and die .... than I never know you and live a lifetime without you.
There is a sudden coldness that swells within my heart. The room is warm, but my moist mortal limbs have known no satisfaction from your visitation.
You have gone. As you always do.
You would call me an innocent mortal who doesn't know better.
I would rather say I've made my own choice.
Lestat brushed the snow off his jacket and looked at the cosy little house with a small longing. He had promised himself this opportunity for a long while, but never followed it through. If Marius knew what he intended to do ......
Mind you, Lestat wasn't the type of individual to be discouraged with a simple verbal threat, it took more than that to change the mind of the Brat Prince. He watched the little light in the upstairs bedroom and walked swiftly to the door, glancing around himself to ensure the other vampires or some unscrupulous Talamascan wasn't going to interfere with his plan.
His eyes caught the distant street light, and the brightness of the snow in the cloudless night sky. The trees were bent over with the weight of the snow, and Lestat sighed. It was picture perfect. The darkness of a huge oak tree against the night sky with its twinkling stars. His eyes followed a small animal, perhaps a fox, darting along the pathway, glancing at Lestat with its almost preternatural red eyes before disappearing behind a small gate. Lestat shivered. The cold, although it couldn't hurt him seemed unusually uncomfortable and the fox had the right idea. Time to move swiftly and silently into the little house, without a soul knowing he was there. A trick which he had perfected over his many years as a vampire.
He entered the porch quietly, and glanced at the heavy door before him. It was reasonably old, but the chubb lock provided an interesting challenge. Lestat focused on the lock and heard it open as if obeying a silent command by Lestat and the door swung open.
Lestat climbed the staircase. He quickly glanced at the door behind him which shut instantly, and ascended to the first floor, passing a few doors until he reached the one he sought. The door was wooden, with a little plush stuffed vampire bat on the handle. Lestat smiled to himself. This was the room.
Entering without the slightest noise and quickly moving without being seen to the back of the room, Lestat studied her intently. She was just as he had envisaged in his wandering thoughts, his soul projection. A small blonde with extremely bright eyes which were scanning the end of Merrick intently. In fact, she had not noticed his arrival at all, so wrapped up in the book was she. Lestat heard a faint sigh and listened to her heartbeat increase suddenly. He scanned her thoughts to discover the reason for the increased emotion. One word flashed into his mind .... Louis.
Lestat grimaced, knowing suddenly what had caused her reaction. The cold, lifeless image of Louis burnt and blackened lying in his coffin ... helpless ... alone ..... in agony ...... Lestat shook the image from his mind with a slight shake of his head. Enough. That chapter was over.
The girl looked up, the slight movement of Lestat shaking his head had caught her attention. She looked directly at the vampire, a slight fear descending upon her. Then the cold realisation crept in. She was looking at Lestat de Lioncourt.
"You came to see me?"
She shook her head confused, depositing the book on the small table to her left and stood up. She walked fearlessly over to Lestat and put her hand up to touch his face. He caught her wrist in a single fluid movement, and she gasped at the feel of his icy cold flesh.
"It was cold out there ....." Lestat explained softly.
"Very cold" she agreed, taking his cold hand and putting it between her own hands as if to warm them. He smiled gently. As if she could warm his eternally cold skin.
"Do you love me?" Lestat asked softly.
A warm smile spread across her face and she nodded vigorously "Of course. I've always loved you".
Lestat smiled and sat on the bed, gesturing for her to sit beside him. She studied his snow drenched clothes for a moment. The customary silk shirt and expensive designer jeans. The cuff's of his shirt were made of lace. In sum, it was a fine picture of old and new styles meeting together in a perfect blend of quiet fashionable taste.
"Would you like to change those clothes?" she offered softly, gesturing to her wardrobe.
Lestat laughed and patted the bed. "No thank you. I think I would look a little absurd in female clothes walking through Birmingham late at night. Come and sit with me".
She obliged, sitting next to the blonde vampire. Her eyes were locked onto his, her breathing erratic. Lestat could almost feel her desire slipping through his control, stripping away his discipline. He wanted her. He wanted to feel her blood inside him. He wanted to kill her.
Still smiling, Lestat drew her wrist to his mouth gently. Her beautiful eyes widened in surprise as Lestat bit into her, and started to drink steadily. She sighed in satisfaction and lay down onto the soft down of the bed, and Lestat lay down with her. His eyes and her own still locked together, as if they were a part of each other.
Her blood was magnificent. He found himself slipping easily into her memories which opened to him like a flower blossoming in the spring. Memories of family, of friends .... and of loving him. Lestat had never felt so complete. This mortal knew him, knew now he existed and loved him.
Suddenly he tore himself away, realising he was taking far too much. But it was too late. Her eyes had closed and her breathing ceased. Her pretty features were calm and peaceful, as if she were sleeping beauty and awaiting her prince to come.
But he never came.
Lestat shook her in vain, but he knew the bitter truth already. She was gone. He looked at the book, tears blurring his eyes as he realised she had not finished the ending. Now she would never knew that Louis was still alive, the tragedy of the moment struck Lestat in the heart.
He sighed and gently, as a lover might, placed her inside the bed. He drew the covers up to her nose and kissed her forehead.
"Farewell, beloved ...." he whispered in a torn voice, wishing he could change the past. Change that moment when he let desire consume his judgement. But it was too late. He rose and quickly left the house, the snow stinging his blood stained eyes and saw the distant figure of Marius gazing almost sympathetically at him.
"Now you know why we have rules, Lestat" Marius breathed softly before he disappeared soundlessly into the night.
Lestat sighed, watching his breath take shape in the cool night air. He turned and walked away from the little house, away from the very spot he had seen Marius.
He had been loved. He had been adored. But now, he was once again ..... alone.