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  “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 murde
rous.

  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.

  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 cou
ld 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.