Authors: Maya DeLeina
Ryan wasted no time slipping right into his daily routine as if he hadn’t missed a beat, meeting with potential clients, studying the market with his analyst and establishing daily teleconference routines since he would only be in the office two days of the week. He evaluated his team that would be handling the day-to-day operations. The staff was well educated, talented, and qualified to manage the business that bore his initials.
Downtown Denver was alive, a mass of people and commotion. Ryan loved the energy and newness the vibrant city sparked in him. Everything was faster, edgier. It kept him on his toes. It moved him with purpose. The people, shops, architecture were modern and hip. Everything about the city seemed to blend right to his very core. But there was also the side of him that longed for the serenity of his retreat, where Anya was.
It was a longing he could not ignore.
As he settled into his drive back to Ambrose Heights, Ryan glanced in the rearview mirror. The vertical silhouettes loomed against the natural horizon. A light haze hovered over the city, glowing in the setting sun. The drive was quiet. The snow-capped Rocky Mountain Range dotted the landscape to his right. The terrain of rolling hills and endless plains stood on his left. He was still a little less than fifty miles away from Manitou Springs, but in the distance, the peak stood majestic, renewing his sense of calm and tranquility that had faded in the heart of the city.
* * * *
Steffan and Anya stood in a perfect stance, facing the wall of mirrors. They were drenched in sweat as Steffan led her through a rigorous session of Kenpo Karate.
“Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty,” Steffan counted.
His muscular arms simulated a succession of rapid punches and blocks as Anya followed his movements. Her thighs were on fire from her stance. Her arms ached with every sequence of movement.
“Good, Anya!”
Steffan changed his position and stood tall with one leg slightly in front of the other. “Ready? Last set, then we rest.”
“Ready!” Anya said, breathless, and took the same position as Steffan.
“Front, side, back. Front, side, back. Don’t let your leg touch the ground. Fight for balance and stability with your movement,” Steffan instructed.
They were synchronized in a pattern of kicks, never letting their kicking legs touch the ground.
“Ahh!” Anya sighed as they completed the routine that ended with a rewarding stretching session. “That wasn’t easy, but definitely a fun routine. You do this daily?” she asked as she sat with Steffan on the floor.
“I work out at least five days a week, mixing martial arts, weight training, and yoga.”
“Those are all physically and mentally demanding. I mean, you’re forced to be so focused. It’s not like running on the treadmill and watching a movie to pass the time.”
“Exactly why I do them. Like with karate, I love the theory behind it. It teaches you self-defense without weapons, to be smarter than your opponent. It forces you to allow your body to become a weapon by overwhelming your opponent with methodical and rapid movements in anticipation of their attack. In yoga, mind conquers the body. You have to fight against what your body thinks it cannot do or wants to do naturally.”
“I guess weight training is in-line with the same concept too,” Anya said as she wiped away of trickle of sweat from her forehead before it ran into her eyes. “Is tomorrow yoga for us then?”
“Yes. And I must say, it’ll be very
hard
for me to complete the routine with you. Some of the moves will be visually sensual for me.” Steffan admitted with a devilish look in his eye.
“Oh really? Like cat stretch maybe?”
Anya got on all fours as she tilted her head up to the ceiling and then arched her back, pulling her chest and stomach in.
Steffan laid back and propped himself with one elbow on the floor mat. “Yes, that would definitely be one of them. What else?” He encouraged Anya to give him a sneak preview to their session.
Anya stood up, her pinky finger nestled between her teeth as she thought of the next move. “Downward dog?” Anya went back down on her hands and knees and pushed upward. Her legs were spread a hip-width apart as her hands held her position in place, her plump ass vaulting high in the air.
Steffan tilted his head sideways and examined the triangle form her body took with the pose. “Go on.”
“Or maybe you’re a cobra man.” Anya brought her knees to the floor and lay down on her stomach. She pushed up on her hands, raising her chest and head as high as she could go.
From the corner of her eye, Anya saw Steffan move swiftly behind her.
“Cobra is good. Anything else, my love?” he asked as he crouched behind her.
Anya moved to her hands and knees, crawling herself up to standing position, delighting in the erotic play that was unfolding.
Steffan kneeled on the ground and sat back on his heels.
Anya walked right up to Steffan and sat on the floor directly in front of him. She spread her legs around him and lay back on the floor. She raised her hips and tilted from side to side. “Pelvic tilt, that’s what you like.”
Steffan watched as Anya’s rocking movements put him in a trance. “Well, you’ve clearly demonstrated you can reduce me to a quivering shell of man in no time flat. But, love, this is still not the one I was thinking of.”
Anya lowered on her back to imagine what he was thinking when the pose popped into her head.
This will send him over the edge for sure
.
“I got it!” she exclaimed as she firmly pushed her feet into the floor and gently raised her buttocks, hips, and spine in the air and clasped her hands under her back.
“Oh, yes…that is the one.” Steffan moaned. His lips puckered and his face strained at the sight.
In an instant, he stood up between her legs and lifted her from the ground by her waist. Anya clung to Steffan, wrapping her legs around him. A series of hot flashes trickled down her spine to her pelvis as he fervently kissed her.
She could feel raging need reverberate through his body.
“Let’s make love in the shower,” he whispered as he whisked her through the tunnels and up to their master bath.
* * * *
Steffan sat on the barstool as he watched Anya prepare dinner. She retrieved a brown-colored bottle from the fridge, popped off the top, and sat it in the microwave for a minute then returned to fixing the antipasto platter. The pasta noodles continued to boil and the sauce simmered. When the microwave rang, she retrieved the bottle and handed it to Steffan.
“Warm enough?”
“Perfect,” said Steffan testing the bottle’s temperature. Anya dropped a Consumption pill into his palm. Steffan popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed it down with the entire contents of the bottle.
“And this doesn’t gross you out?” Steffan asked as he discarded the bottle in the recycling bin.
“You take unnecessary measures just to share meals with me. My body needs the food for sustenance. I can’t share in blood intake with you, but the least I can do is not think twice about what your body needs,” Anya said.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself in the kitchen,” Steffan said as he situated himself behind Anya, wrapping his hands around her waist.
“I enjoy cooking, especially Italiano. And this is an amazing gourmet kitchen to work in,” she said as she lifted the pot cover and began to stir the sauce. The aromas of herbs and spices filled the air.
“Oh, that smells terrific.”
“Now do you see why I started the sauce earlier today? The flavor needed time to develop. And you wanted to use sauce from a jar!”
“Can I help you with anything?”
“Actually, we’re just about ready,” Anya said as she removed warm pieces of bread from the oven. “I’ll plate the pasta. Can you get our wine and put the antipasto and bread on the table?”
Anya walked into the dining room. Steffan had lit the entire length of the table with candlelight.
“Steffan, this table can seat ten. Is there an expectation for company?” Anya said as Steffan took the pasta from her and placed it on the table.
“So I went a little overboard,” Steffan admitted as he held the chair out for Anya.
They sat at the corner of the table, close to one another. The amber glow of the candles was like earthshine, highlighting Steffan’s magnificence that lay hidden in the darkness. The flame flickered in his silver eyes as he held his gaze, spellbound and steady on Anya. Steffan’s aristocratic features and the sepia tone that drenched his skin took center stage. He reminded Anya of an old-fashioned portrait, the kind that she would get lost in, full of reverie and wonder what that person had witnessed in their lifetime, what a life meant in that time.
“Anya. The second phase can begin this evening. Will you accept me once again and allow me to drink?”
“Each time we’ve been together, I’ve been waiting for it. Of course I accept.”
“To us,” Steffan smiled as he raised his glass of wine.
“To us,” Anya said meeting his glass with her own.
Steffan looked at his watch. Nodding, he indulged in a long sip of the wine and immediately moved to the bread and antipasto platter.
“Tell me, what type of wine are we to drink once I’m turned?” Anya asked.
“Our special blend, of course. We’ll pack the cellar full of our blood wine,” Steffan said as he savored a taste from the antipasto platter. “My god, Eilian and I have got to really work on extending Consumption past six hours. I don’t remember food tasting this good when I was human.”
“Steffan?” Anya spoke quietly.
“Yes?” responded Steffan as he remained focused, deciding upon a pairing of smoked mozzarella and prosciutto from the platter.
“What did you remember when you turned?”
* * * *
Steffan stopped midbite.
He paused for a second and then swallowed the half-bitten piece of food down hard. He balanced his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands together in deep thought.
“I remembered everything except my name. My wife, my child I had yet to meet, the war…that all consumed me.”
“Where were you when you lost your human life?”
“Passchendaele, Belgium, in 1917,” Steffan whispered with no emotion. His hands moved nonchalantly to his plate, twirling the pasta fork against spoon.
“I was a colonel with the Royal Welch regiment of the British army.”
“What happened? Can you talk about it?” Anya asked softly.
Steffan nodded and he gulped down his pasta. “I need to talk about it. I’ve never told anyone the story before.” He placed his fork on the plate as he reached for his wine.
The images he had fought to bury came rolling in like a storm. As if playing out on the silver screen, it started hazy, a mist that blurred the chaotic opening scene. He saw himself, walking tall, full of life, penetrating through the thickness of the smoke and debris. He was dirty, his face smeared with soot and blood. His eyes were wild and frantic in the pandemonium.
“Most of the fighting occurred in the marshlands. The thick mud…it was everywhere. Blood and ash mixed in with it, turning it to the deepest black I had ever seen. And it smelled. God did it smell. It had staleness to it at first, but the rotten stench would overpower you, engulf you. It smelled like death.” Steffan broke his recollection as he tried to regain his composure. “The weather was always gray, cold, and wet. Food was an issue. It was always scarce. It was miserable. No sleep, no food, no warmth…no sun. We used duckboards to maneuver troops around the swamp land. But the Germans used explosive shells in their attacks. If you weren’t killed by a direct hit by a shell, it would’ve probably knocked you from the duckboard into the liquid mud, engulfing you. I saw many men die from drowning in the thickness. The Germans also used mustard gas for the first time.”