Shadows in Savannah (6 page)

“Ride me.” Dane lay back on the mattress, one hand wrapping around Jorge’s cock. As Jorge began to move, so did Dane’s hand. They moved in tandem. He found such pleasure in watching Jorge’s hips undulate, in hearing Jorge’s breath catch and release.

Pure and primal, built on sensation after sensation. Nearing the threshold and unable to turn back.

Dane lifted, fucking up into Jorge’s body. He used his free hand to grip Jorge’s hip. He would commit every move, every sound, every look to memory.

His orgasm surged and he fought to keep from going over the edge. He fought to hold on, but he couldn’t. Jorge ground against Dane, rose fast and sank down hard, the pressure sending wave after wave of sensation through him.

He didn’t know what a human orgasm felt like, but for him as a vampire, it felt the way blood flowing into his body did after he had starved himself, only stronger. The more he drank, the more he wanted. The more he came, the more he wanted to come.

“You want to let go,
meu amor
. Do it. Inside my body. Give it to me as I gave mine to you.”

How could Dane deny Jorge when he was so beautiful and so right? Dane did want to let go.

He sat up, Jorge’s cock hard between them, and pulled Jorge’s mouth to his for another kiss, wrapping his arms tight around his lover’s back. He held Jorge down and unloaded inside him, the sounds of his cries, swallowed by Jorge.

Warmth spread between them as Jorge came, his cock jolting until emptied and sated for the time being.

Dane lay back and pulled Jorge with him. He’d soften while still buried within Jorge and he’d relish the closeness, the fulfillment of having made love again, and he would worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

“Do you remember sunrises? From when you were human?” Dane asked Jorge. “I can’t remember them. The warmth. The feeling. The… I remember nothing. And it hurts in a way I can’t even express. In all the years I’ve been here, I haven’t learned how to express the emptiness I feel at having no memory. Of not being able to remember the heat of the sun on my skin.”

Jorge followed his lover’s gaze. The sun was starting to light the sky and it was always one of the most beautiful and one of the most heart-wrenching sights. There were many things he’d missed when he’d chosen to become a vampire, and one thing was that as a human, he’d never really paid attention to the beauty of a sunrise or a sunset. He would never feel it again, never be able to appreciate it the way Dane described.

He pulled Dane close. The comfort of holding another in his arms, of being needed filled him with longing. He couldn’t remember ever being needed or wanting to be needed, but knowing Dane was hurting? Jorge would’ve suffered any discomfort if it meant Dane would be content and happy.

That’s when it struck him. If ever he had a soul mate, it was Dane. It was also in that moment, holding Dane to his chest, both of them watching the sun rise to the east, that Jorge knew Roberto had been right.

He’d spent the night staring at Dane as he’d rested. Vampires could train themselves to sleep whenever they wanted and as Dane kept mostly human hours, it didn’t surprise Jorge that Dane would sleep at night.

He had been asleep, though, when Dane had disappeared from the bed, but Dane’s personal torment had been enough to jolt Jorge awake and bring him to Dane’s side. “How can I help you,” he whispered.

“I don’t know.” The words were so broken, so full of despair that Jorge nearly flung himself away from Dane. “You came into my life two days ago. I was certain then. I was certain about dying, about ending my existence.”

“I will not interfere with your choice,
meu amor
.”

“Don’t you see that you already have? I cannot make this decision based upon myself any longer.”

Jorge’s soul soared, but stopped mid-flight as Dane’s words sunk in. He hadn’t intended to influence Dane and he cursed himself a fool for believing anything about this would be easy once they’d been together. “Shall I go? Tell me, and I will.”

“What good would that do now?”

“I won’t apologize for the last couple of days, Dane. I wouldn’t trade any part of our time together to make things easier for you.”

“I wouldn’t, either. Don’t you understand that? I wouldn’t trade or change any part of the past two days.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Kill me.”

“I cannot. I will not.”

“You can.”

“
Seja cuidadoso com I meu coracao
,” Jorge said softly, his soul rending in two. Dane’s pain was a real, near tangible thing hanging between them. “Be careful with my heart,” he whispered, translating the words against Dane’s lips.

“That is unfair, Jorge. Beautiful, but unfair.”

“I cannot kill you,
meu amor
. But I will not stop you from ending yourself if you must.”

“I never wanted this. Not to hurt anyone. Not to hurt you. Not to live forever not knowing who I am, where I came from.”

“I know.”

“I don’t even know how old I am today.”

“In vampire years you are one hundred and twenty-seven. You don’t look much older than I was when I was turned at twenty-five. You were full grown, more than a teen, many years younger than middle age.”

“Birthdays are for celebration and mine feels empty.”

“Then perhaps, before…” Jorge couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Perhaps you should try things that most would do on their birthday. You like coffee. Make yourself some. You can have cake or a lavish feast. You can walk in sunlight and sit in the park. You can do anything today that you want.”

“But you can’t. You can’t walk in the park with me or out in the sun and I have no desire to do either of those alone. You cannot celebrate by sharing cake with me or a lavish meal. You cannot be with me and now that I’ve met you, I want you with me.”

“I can be in the shadows of this beautiful city, watching.”

“That is not good enough, Jorge.” Dane rose from Jorge’s arms and paced the floor. “This half life is all wrong and it isn’t good enough. I feel pain and sadness. I feel anger and distress. I feel blood pounding in my veins and my heart beating. I feel alive, gloriously and heartbreakingly alive. And I don’t want it. I don’t know how to exist this way, either.”

“Have you ever tried…? Have you ever asked the angels or the demons if there is a way to get your memories back?”

“The angels have said I was never to speak of it in their presence, that the answers lie in death. The demons have said they have ways to access what was lost, but not without consequences from above and they would not risk it.”

“Then death is what you are left with.” Jorge said the words firmly, strongly. He forced himself to believe them, willed Dane to believe them, too. He stood and crossed to where Dane stood, took the blond vampire’s face in his hands and kissed him with tenderness. “Your businesses and assets are taken care of?”

“Yes. The restaurant goes to Richard, my manager. The bookshop transfers to a holding company owned by Roberto. He will also receive the tapestries. And my other companies will be dispersed among several others, including you.”

“Me?” Jorge was confused at the unexpected gesture.

“Yes. I own a small tailors in little Italian town. The work is excellent and it will become yours. You love a good suit, same as I do. The clientele is an exclusive list that has been years in the making.”

“Dane, I —”

“You should have a hobby, Jorge,” Dane said, cutting Jorge off. “Something to keep you from trouble. The penthouse, too, and the hotel. Also yours. I was going to have it go into Roberto’s holding company, but no. I would want you here, but now that I think about it, I…” Dane shook his head and dropped his gaze.

He had no idea what else to say, so he said the only thing he could. “Thank you,
meu amor
.”

My love.

Jorge had been calling him that for nearly three days now. Inwardly, Dane had balked at it, fear seizing him at the mention of love, but now? Now he relished it, hoarded the phrase, buried it in his heart to keep with him until his last breath.

He’d slept through the night. His body worn out once midnight had struck. Every bit of human exhaustion had washed over him and he’d been unable to fight it. Jorge in his bed, watching him, holding him had lulled him into peace. It was the first time he could remember feeling it in all the years since he’d been turned. It was what he’d been looking for, wanting for so long and in the moment he’d felt it, he’d succumbed to it.

Sunlight glistened on the river’s surface and he longed to step out into it, to feel it on his face. He longed to take Jorge with him, but he couldn’t. And he didn’t want Jorge in the shadows.

“Can a vampire be remade?”

“What?”

“Can a vampire be remade?” Dane didn’t know where the question had come from or why it had taken hold in his mind, but it had and he couldn’t shake it.

“What do you mean? Remade?” Jorge’s tone was wary and Dane couldn’t blame him. It was an unconventional question but his circumstances were becoming more and more unbearable by the day. He wanted a full life or none at all.

Then, there’s Jorge.

“I am human. If I were to choose to become a vampire today, could you do it? Could you remake me? Would the memories of today be intact? Of yesterday? Of my life as it has been since I was turned in eighteen eighty-nine?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would you be willing to try?”

“Dane, I don’t understand. Why this? Why now?”

“Like you, I don’t know. I want to know if it will work.”

“It may kill you and I have said I cannot do that.”

“It may save me. It may be the only way to save me. Take me to Roberto. Maybe he will know.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“You may want to bring one of those tapestries with you, then. And we’re not taking the long way.” Jorge pulled Dane’s face in and kissed his lips, punishingly and Dane welcomed the sharp bite of pain. He closed his eyes as Jorge kissed him again, this time with sweet tenderness and an achingly fierce embrace. “We’re here,” Jorge whispered.

When Dane opened his eyes, they were in a tunnel, dark and dank. Jorge took his hand and started walking. Candlelight and oil lamps lit alcoves and rooms. More tunnels broke off and wound in mazes farther than Dane’s eyes could see. “I wasn’t aware we left the penthouse. And I’ve never been down here.”

“You should’ve tried your vampire powers for more than just crossing oceans. They’re pretty amazing. And if you’ve never been down here, how did you get the barrels of blood?”

“Roberto has people.”

Jorge laughed. “Of course he does.”

They turned a corner and at the end of a short tunnel was the first tapestry Dane had traded. “This is where he lives?”

“Yes, but I imagine if you leave him that bookshop, he’ll find a tunnel that leads him under it and he’ll live there.”

“Seems likely, now that I think about it and have seen this place.”

“Roberto?” Jorge called out. In seconds, the Italian vampire appeared. Dane had only seen him a few times, but he was always struck by Roberto’s raw masculine beauty. He was the epitome of the romanticized Italian.

“Ah,
mi amico
. And Dane.” Roberto smiled and Dane’s breath caught. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

“Dane has a question and you are the only one we could think to ask.”

“Please. Ask me anything. Come, have a seat.” Roberto led them into a room filled with wine casks. The walls were lined with three of the other tapestries and Dane marveled at the warmth, at the comfort in the small stone space.

Jorge wedged a hip onto one of the barrels leaving Dane to sit across from Roberto at a large ornately carved table. “How did you get this down here?”

Robert gave him a puzzled look. “That is your question?”

“No, I was curious. My apologies.”

“Not at all. It was not easy, I will say. My men cursed me for a month after they got it in here, but they have since found other things to curse me for.”

“Right. My question… Can a vampire be remade on their birthday?”

“Such as you? Today?”

“Yes.”

“Will it kill him?” Jorge asked from where he sat.

“I am afraid, I do not know. I have never met anyone who has tried or who has even thought to try. How serious a request is this?”

“Very,” Dane uttered quickly.

Roberto stared at Dane for a long moment. “You would willingly seek to be turned?”

“Yes.” The reply came swift and sure.

“Why? Why would you do this when you have wished to die for so long?”

Dane turned his head in Jorge’s direction. “Because I met him.”

“Ah,
amore
.”

“No, but the possibility is there. I want to know peace and I want to know if I can have it by being turned on this one day, by choice.”

“I am afraid I cannot answer you, but I will offer you whatever assistance you need. You wish to be turned by Jorge?”

“Yes,” Dane answered without hesitation.

“And what do you say to that?” Roberto asked, looking over Dane’s head at Jorge.

“I can’t kill him.”

“Perhaps it will not, Jorge. You can’t —”

Jorge scoffed. “And perhaps it will.” His voice held ae mixture of fear and hope, two feelings Dane understood well. But if he were to live with any sort of peace and find out if love could bloom between the two of them, this was the only way. “Dane,” Jorge said on a sigh. “It may not work.”

Roberto glanced at Dane in confusion and Dane smiled. “He likes to read my thoughts from time to time.”

“That is a bad boy.”

Dane laughed. “Yes, he is.”

“
Mi amico
,” Roberto started, standing and walking toward Jorge, “You are not interfering if this is what he is asking of you. Do you want him to stay?”

“Yes, of course, I do.”

“Then we will try here. We will make him comfortable and I will be with you. We will do this together.”

“But what if he dies?”

“Then he will have found what he has sought all these years. And if he survives, he may also have found it.”