I wasn’t worried at all.
In the past year, I’d been able to mend my relationship with Carina. She’d met a nice man named Bernard, and they’d moved in together. He studied butterflies. He thought the moon and sun hung on Carina, and she thought the same thing about him.
She’d apologized for being a brat. I told her I loved her.
Then I told her the truth. All of it. About Maxim. About Didier. About what I planned to do now.
She’d cried, told me she didn’t like it, but told me she loved me and she’d support whatever made me happy.
I wanted to be with Didier forever. For fifteen lifetimes. Not just one.
One wouldn’t be enough.
In the past year, I’d painted more than I’d ever painted in my life. Once I’d painted the six paintings Didier initially hired me for, he took them away. Then there were six more paintings in the gallery in the basement. I made him return the Degas sketch, anonymously, so I felt I’d done what I could. At least the Gardner museum could have one of its works back. I wasn’t involved in the robbery of his father’s work. I refused to have anything to do with it. I’d been part of that life for too long, and I wasn’t going to return to it. I did make him promise not to steal any others. Art was there for everyone. Eventually, I was going to get him to open a gallery just of his father’s work. It was all right that he wasn’t in agreement now. We had time.
As for my original work, first I painted scenes in the sun, and then gradually, scenes of the night, of all the facets of the nighttime sky, of the creatures around us who only came out at night. I had an exhibit coming up of my paintings of bats. They were beautiful and fascinating and I couldn’t wait to get them out into the world.
Life was perfect, except for one thing. The idea that I would have to leave Didier.
He wasn’t willing, at first. But I talked him into it, over a month. What decided him was the same thing that decided me—one lifetime would not be enough.
“This is going to hurt.” His eyes searched my face, bringing me back to the present.
“Let’s do it.” I partially closed my eyes, letting my lips fall open just a bit, and turned my head to the side, exposing my neck. Knowing as I did so this was an expression that drove him bananas.
“Witch.” I heard his chuckle.
Then his teeth grazed my skin, and bit down.
I arched against him, feeling the pleasure his bite always brought. He sucked at my neck hard.
“Oh, god. Oh, Didier.” I moaned. Good hell. I was going to die, and have an orgasm while dying.
He sucked harder.
I cried out, my words nonsense, clawing at his back, my body pressed against him. I couldn’t get close enough, no matter what I did. Then, as though a candle had blown out, I was tired. Didier was holding me, but he seemed far away. It was too difficult to hold my eyes open, and I let them close. I felt cold.
Red.
Everything was red and black and sharp and pain.
Too much red. I cried out for release.
There was no one around to hear me.
Blue.
My eyes cooled, my brain quieted. The red and black faded, leaving… peace.
I opened my eyes.
Didier was near me, his eyes bright and sparkling. His lips were the perfect red of the summer rose. When he smiled, his fangs gleamed.
Desire for him exploded through me.
Thump-thump.
I looked at him. What was that?
“It was the last beat of my heart. Now that you’re like me, neither of us will have a beating heart.” His hands came to my face and lips touched mine, a question, a hope, a slight tear of a fang. “It only ever beat for you, my Clara.”
“My love.” Finally I was able to speak, and I heard the cool silk in my voice I’d always admired in his.
“Come with me.” He stepped back, helping me from the bed where I’d been lying for hours.
Didier gave me a look of love desire need want love. “Welcome home.”
The End
