As he stood behind the velvet drapes in the great room, his alabaster skin glimmered in the pale moonlight. He noticed, and draped the bottom half of the curtain tightly around himself. It wouldn't do to have the human see him too soon, he thought. He needed time to prepare.

"Come to me," he whispered to himself, lost in dreams of long needed companionship.

The dreams had begun a few weeks ago. Dreams of a slender, youthful man. light-complected and fair of hair. A human who was so innocent and beautiful, that it had made him sigh with desire. He had still been lying in his musty coffin when he had sent out the first silent response to the dream.

How long he had been alone, in this state of limbo, he could not tell. Hundreds of years had passed since he had become one of them. An animated corpse, devoid of most desires he had once focused on. And yet...Vincent ran an opaque blue-veined hand through his long, dark hair whilst remembering.

And yet, he was not so different from the human he had once been. He still desired companionship and love. The isolation he felt was so encompassing that it became physical in nature at times. It had become a constant deep gnawing inside of his form.

Vincent knew he wanted desperately to recapture who he had once been, but wispy fragments were all he could remember now. He knew that as a human, he had been sensitive--almost painfully so, and that he had cared about a great many things. But as the creature he had become, he cared little about anyone or anything. It was a mercy, he supposed, not to care. Vincent realized that in his parasitic state, caring for people would be excruciating and he had to survive.

He hadn't expected to care about the young one either. But the images of him beckoned, and he couldn't resist. The man had unconsciously drawn Vincent closer to his youthful energy, like a flame draws the unwilling moth.

And so he waited. But now, after standing at the window, and gazing into the nightfall, his hopes were dwindling. Perhaps, the one he yearned for, was only a dream or a figment of a maddened mind. Maybe at last, his loneliness was goading him into believing in illusions. Time could do that, he knew. And then another thought came into Vincent's mind. What if the young human had sent out the call in his sleep, and then when dream time was over, had subconsciously forgotten it?

The vampire steadied himself, planting his hands firmly on the low windowsill for support, his imaginings making him weak with fear.

He'd already made so many plans for the future, in these past weeks. Plans made in exquisite detail. Hope had filled the darkness of the villa, as anticipation filled his nights. What would he do if it was all just fantasy? But no, he thought as he shook his head with resolve, he knew the difference. It had been precognition that had given him the visions of the young one. And yet, the lingering doubts remained.

He bowed his dark head, and when he raised his eyes once more to the window, he saw a figure walking along the dirt path that led to his home.

His full bow-shaped lips curved into a smile of victory.

Whirling around, but without moving from his position behind the curtain, Vincent used telepathic powers to light the candelabra on the dining table. Surely now the human would notice that a light was on in the house and would make his way to him.

He suddenly quivered, close to frenzy, but forced himself to remain still. He knew that the man was going to come up to the villa, but it took all of his resolve not to rush outdoors, pounce on him, and drag him inside.

He watched as the man gazed toward the the house, his eyes shielded with one hand, and even at hundreds of yards away, he could see the features of the face: wide sea-green eyes, a soft gentle curve to the mouth. He could also recognize the exhaustion that made the slender shoulders slump, and his smile broadened. "Mmm, yes, you're tired, very tired," he murmured.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, using his powers of mesmerization to lure the human. He knew in his soul that the man was going to come to him, and yet, there was no point in taking unnecessary chances.

From behind the curtain he gazed on as the man made his way up the long walkway that led to the tree surrounded villa, and he swallowed, trying to contain his anticipation.

Soon there was a light rapping at the front door.

Vincent looked himself over to make sure he would not seem unusual to the man. His nails were clipped. He wore a pair of navy corduroy pants and a modern-style, long sleeved-shirt. He ran his hand over his face a few times to make sure it had no unearthly sheen about it. Of course the candle-light would help in that regard, but he wanted to be very careful so as not to frighten the young one.

He walked slowly to the oaken door, and opened it, cautious to mask his feelings and the smile of pure victory he had worn only moments before.

"Hello," he said in greeting, the trace of a soft, Spanish drawl evident in his voice.

Exhaustion was apparent in the young man's stance, as he leaned against the villa. "Hi," he said with a touch of formality in his tone. "I've been traveling all day, and I'm really tired. I was wondering if I could rest here for a few hours?"

Vincent noticed the slight rosy flush that crept into the young man's face at the request, and realized that asking favors did not come easily to this one.

You will never have to ask for anything again, he thought as he gazed at the man. 'I will give you everything that I have the power to give to you.'

Vincent forced his voice to sound casual. "Yes, please come in. You're certainly welcome to rest in my home for as long as you want."

Vincent moved lithely, careful to keep his movements slow and human like. Standing to one side of the massive oak door, he motioned the man inside.

As the human passed Vincent, the vampire nearly reeled with the aroma that emanated from the young one, an aroma complex and rare. Mingled notes, so exotic and captivating, that Vincent knew that the man would never leave the villa; that he could never allow it.

As the young man crossed the thresh-hold, he stopped, and said hesitantly. "It's awfully dark in here."

Vincent chuckled, then trying to put the man at ease he responded very casually, "I've been napping this evening, and I just haven't had the chance to turn all the lights on yet," he answered as he flipped the light switch in the foyer causing the rarely used lamps on the wall to flicker and buzz before illuminating the entryway.

The young one peered into Vincent's face for a moment, and Vincent sensed the trepidation the youth was feeling.

He walked past the young man and kneeling down before the fireplace in the Great Room, began to ignite a fire in the massive stone fireplace. When the fire was blazing brightly, Vincent smiled over at the human who was standing and shifting from foot to foot, only a few feet away.

It's rather chilly tonight," he said conversationally. "Won't you a have a seat and warm yourself?"

The human hesitated, and then slowly made his way over to the soft, brown-suede couch. He sat down, and then turned his gaze back to Vincent. "It's weird," he said in what seemed a puzzled tone, "but this house seems so familiar."

Aware of his guest's discomfort, and sensing that an awareness was tickling at the edges of his subconscious, Vincent gently changed the subject.

"Have you been traveling for long, my friend?" He questioned, as he prodded the logs in the fireplace with a poker, trying to appear only minimally interested. In truth he had zoned into the youth's mind and would be able to read his every secret thought.

"Not too long," the young man replied as he stretched his legs toward the fireplace. "I'm trying to get to California. I've been hitching off and on for the last couple of weeks, but tonight no one would pick me up."

Vincent sensed all the pain and frustration that lay beneath the guarded words, as multi-layered synesthetic images flooded through. Images of the young one painting by the roadside... An older man yelling at the young human as tears of frustration coursed down the young ones flushed face... A slap, and the young man packing in a small bedroom... Tissue paper being carefully wrapped around slender, sable paintbrushes... Feelings of resentment and of being misunderstood. Despair came through the imagery as jagged brown points, points that filled Vincent's mouth with unusual intensity, and cried out to him with their primal urgency.

With a vampire's ease, he immediately pieced together the fragments, while still kneeling before the crackling fire. The man was a painter, and the older man was some sort of authority figure. Perhaps the man's father, Vincent surmised, because of the slap. The argument had something to do with the father's dissatisfaction with painting, as a vocation, somehow. The young man's leaving, was not just about this one argument, but about a wall that had been in place for many years. An image of a soft-spoken blond woman, came to Vincent then. The woman had the same classic features as the young one, and the same desire for self-expression. The golden-haired woman had been dead for years now, and the young one and the father still grieved. And with that grief, grew a smoldering resentment between the two men. The slap had simply been the final straw.

Vincent put the poker back in its place and stood up. He realized he hadn't said anything in the past few minutes and he smiled gently over at the young one. "Forgive me," he said quietly, "I'm being rude. I'm sure you must be quite hungry, after your travels. Let me ring for cook."

The young man shook his head, and the firelight danced across the planes of his delicately handsome face. "No, don't go to any trouble," he replied quietly.

Vincent heard the gastric juices that flowed in the young one's belly and likened his guest's ravishing hunger to his own blood-thirst. He listened as the blood swooshed rhythmically through the veins of the human, and was very tempted to feast on the warm, crimson tide that raged just below the surface of his guest. But, he also knew that he would never do that. He hadn't waited all of this time to do something so wasteful, he would not sabotage this for any reason, not even the basest of reasons, hunger.

The vampire cocked his head slightly, almost quizzically. "Trouble? Why it's no trouble at all my young friend," Vincent assured as he pulled a red-tassled cord near the fireplace.

He heard the young one clearing his throat, and glanced enquiringly at him.

"Um... I don't know if this is rude or...you um...didn't tell me your name." The human said, and then dipped his fair head in obvious embarrassment

Vincent smiled affectionately at the youth's uncertainty. "I'm sorry. My name is Vincent De'Leon. May I ask your name?"

"Oh! Sorry about that. My name's Gage Armstead."

As the young man stood and held out his hand to shake, Vincent hesitated momentarily. His hands were like ice, and he chided himself for not warming them by the fire for a few moments. When he went out to feed, he always wore gloves, but that would not have been appropriate to do in his home, and so Vincent had decided against it.

Sticking out his chalky hand he looked directly into Gage's sea-green eyes, and smiled warmly. "Pleased to meet you Gage," he said.

"Vincent," Gage murmured, as he furrowed his finely drawn brows, "it's so funny but I think I had a dream recently about someone named Vincent."

Vincent watched as the young one rubbed at his palm where it had made contact with his own frigid hand then looked directly into Vincent's eyes with a flicker of fear registering in his own.

Vincent snapped his long, willowy fingers and Gage's face went blank. "There is no reason to fear," he murmured silkily, as he began walking around his guest's mesmerized form. He licked his lips with longing as he looked at every curve and sinew that could be seen with clothing still intact. The straight lines of the back, the muscular biceps, the firm, yet soft curves of the buttocks, all were exquisitely perfect.

The human's soft, golden hair was just brushing the back of his collar, he noticed, and the sides of the young man's neck were clearly visible. As Vincent took all of it in, the faintly musky, and yet richly-layered scent of Gage, the soft flutter of slightly damp hair at the base of the neck, and strong veins pulsing rhythmically beneath the fair-skin, he bit his lip to regain the tenuous hold he had on himself.

"If you had dream, Gage, it was only a dream of good-tidings. I am your friend and you don't have to see anything unusual about me, if you don't want to. If you allow yourself, you can have a safe haven here."

After speaking the gentle words, Vincent walked back to stand directly in front of Gage and then snapped his fingers again. He watched carefully as the sea-green eyes before him re-focused and became animated and aware.

"What did you say?" Gage asked in obvious confusion.

"You must be famished. I'm sure Richard has dinner prepared and served, Shall we go to the dining room?" Vincent asked cordially.

Gage nodded his fair head, and then a small smile passed over his delicately curved mouth. "I am hungry." Vincent didn't miss the wary tone in the youth's voice. "Is Richard your cook?"

Vincent, who led the way to the dining hall, turned to make sure the human was still following and then answered the question.

"Richard is many things. He is what I would call a caretaker, but indeed, he also cooks."

"That must be cool to have someone cook your food for you."

"Yes, it is nice," Vincent casually lied. He had informed Richard about his expected guest earlier, and had warned what would happen if he didn't comply with the ruse Vincent had so carefully planned. Richard had never prepared a meal for Vincent, because food made Vincent ill. Even the smallest morsal would make his body convulse wretchedly until it was expelled. But in his vision of his guest, he had known the youngster would be hungry, and he had taken great delight in planning the dinner out in detail, down too making a list of Gage's favorites.

As they approached the long maple table, complete with brass candlesticks, crystal wine goblets, and formal place settings, Gage stopped dead in his tracks and his delicate brows furrowed. "Are you having company tonight?" he asked with a tinge of anxiety in his rich, soft voice. "I don't want to interfere with your plans."

Vincent watched as Gage turned on one heel and took a quick step toward the doorway.

His mind raced for an appropriate response as he realized his miscalculation. The human was obviously frightened now. Was sensing somehow that a trap had been laid for him. But, what to do?

"No, no, My friend!" he heard the volume of his voice rising uncontrollably with each word, as he saw Gage's pace quicken.

Gage fell to his knees in agony and covered his ears, his face scrunched against the pain of the decibels.

In an instant, Vincent stood beside him, and gently helped Gage to his feet. "That didn't happen," he soothed after clicking his papery fingers.

Gage looked into Vincent's smoky eyes for a few seconds, then turned and made a dash toward the front door. He stumbled as he ran through the fire-lit Great Room, and in an instant Vincent was upon him.

Vincent didn't have time to question why the mesmerization didn't work, he only knew that he couldn't allow the only being he had ever really desired to escape into the shadows of the night.

Effortlessly, Vincent scooped the pathetically afraid human into his massive arms. Gage felt like thistledown as Vincent held him close. Vincent marveled at the lightness of the man, even through his useless struggles, that were so easy to contain. As he held the warm body close, and felt the blood pulsing through the veins, his incisors descended.

A look of pure terror spread across Gage's features as he looked up into Vincent's face. "Let me go," he moaned, then stared open-mouthed at Vincent's teeth, "I won't tell anyone! Just let me go!" Gage's voice rose in pitch until the last words were nearly a shriek.

It was nearly midnight when Vincent turned the key in the lock to the basement, where his quest was being held captive. The door creaked on its rusty hinges as the vampire peered into the shadowy room. When he spied the huddled man in a corner, he took a step inside.

Yhe young man cried out at the sight of him. "Please, don't kill me! Just let me go! Please." The plea was pitiful, and Vincent felt compassion.

In the blink of an eye, Vincent scooped Gage up into his arms and carried him quickly out of the dank, musty basement and whisked his way to the upstairs bathroom.

Once there, he laid the boy gently on the tiled floor, then stepped away and turned on the faucet in the old claw-foot bathtub, Vincent glanced over at the trembling figure who was cowering in the corner, and considered trying to mesmerize Gage again, but, not knowing why it hadn't worked the last time, he refrained. There was no use taking a chance of frightening the poor human more than necessary.

When Vincent smelled the acrid scent of fear wafting off of Gage, he felt truly regretful that things had not gone according to his plans. Still, he felt a sense of growing excitement as he looked at the smooth-skinned youth. He had the one he wanted, and he was positive that he could make the young man desire to stay with him.

But, regardless of whether Gage agreed or not, he was going to stay at the Villa and be Vincent's companion. There was no doubt in Vincent's mind of this.

He smiled gleefully at his victory and the power that he felt, even while a small bitterness clawed at his brain. He wanted to win the young human's love fairly, wanted the affection of his captive. He was quite aware of what a bitter victory it would be if he had to detain the beautiful young man by force. The worst, most selfish, part of him also knew that he would do it if need be.

Walking over to Gage he knelt beside the young man, and looked at the blue- tinged lips and the shivering body that was completely at his mercy. "I'm preparing a bath for you," he said quietly, calmly.

Vincent could hear the chattering of Gage's teeth, as the young man practically moaned out his next words. " I..I don't want a.. bath. Please just let me go. I won't tell anyone about you. Please!"

Kneeling before Gage, Vincent Reached out and began unbuttoning Gage's shirt. "You're cold," he murmured, trying to soothe, "The bath will warm you. I will add some rosemary to energize you, and-"

Gage began to push ineffectually at Vincent's hands. "No! Leave me alone!" He cried out frantically.

"STOP IT!!!" Vincent deliberately made his voice come out extremely loud to try to control the human without using actual physical force. The mirror above the sink cracked as the decibels crashed across the room, Causing Gage's hands to fly to his ears."

"Ooooooohhh," Gage moaned as he closed his eyes and tried to scrabble even closer to the wall that he was resting against.

Vincent quickly and deftly unbuttoned Gage's shirt, staring fixedly at the small pink nipples that were revealed as the fabric parted. He began to tremble uncontrollably. Vulnerable, the young human was so very vulnerable, and the sight of those flat, delicate, rosebud-nipples, pointed it out so vividly to Vincent that he could hardly breathe for a moment.

The monstrousness of what he was came back to him as he stared at the human's chest, and the dividing line between himself and Gage was thrown into his face, once again

'He needs me as much as I need him,' he reminded himself silently, as he adeptly unfastened the youngster's jeans, but he knew that what he told himself was a lie. There wasn't any doubt that he needed Gage in a lonely, desperate way that the youth could never even comprehend. The innocent nature of the being cowering in the corner, was something he not only sensed, but could taste and smell, and Vincent unconsciously licked his incisors.

As he gently lifted the now naked and shivering human into the tub, he focused on trying to read Gage's mind, but felt an invisible block barring his entrance there.

Frustrated, he set the youth into the steaming bath, and then in a flash, reached over to the fair head. Grasping at a strand of the shiny, golden-hair, he tugged hard.

He heard a whimper emerge from Gage, and immediately felt remorse at his petty gesture. Why was he behaving like this? he asked himself, when he had what he wanted?

A blood-tear made its way down his cold cheek as he vigorously applied soap to a wash cloth. Yes, he had what he wanted, but he had imagined it to be so different. He had honestly believed that the man needed him as well. Had believed it with every fiber of his being, and now the realization was clear, he had been building castles in the air out of desperation. The young man had no need of him, and he himself was nothing more than a common kidnapper. And now that he knew the truth, what was left except disintegration into force and coercion?

With slow, languid movements that concealed his frantic state of mind, Vincent ran the wash cloth down the pale skin of Gage's muscular, yet slender back. He marveled at the beauty and suppleness, and also that the young one, though still trembling, was allowing his ministrations.

The water dripped off the porcelain skin and made gentle plopping sounds as it hit the water. When a whiff of Rosemary entered his nose, he sighed and tentatively reached out his spidery fingers to stroke Gage's skin.

Gage gasped at the contact and Vincent watched as he wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, as if for protection, then quickly buried his head against them.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Vincent said with a mixture of exasperation and sadness.

When he heard the soft sob of response, he reeled away from the bathtub as if sunlight had entered the curtains.

"I thought you searched for me." Vincent felt utterly hopeless as he whispered the words. "I thought you searched for me," he repeated. "You were meant to come to me, my beloved. Don't you understand that?"

The pale, sweet face of the young man lifted from it's hiding place and gazed in horror at Vincent. Tears glided down the fair cheeks as Gage shook his head adamantly. "No!" Sobs wracked the small frame as Vincent bitterly watched. "You're some kind of monster," Gage finally choked out between sobs. "Please, don't kill me. Just let me go!"

Vincent cringed slightly at the pain that the words caused, then hardened himself to the sobs and pleas. 'Of course,' he thought as he smiled a tight, caustic smile. Of course, he had deluded himself that the young man needed him. 'Of course.'

Abruptly ending the bath, Vincent reached down and lifted the young man up into his arms, and without a word, carried him, still dripping wet, into the guest bedroom.

There was fierce struggling on the part of the human, but it mattered little. With the fragments of his lost dream still clinging to him, Vincent sat down on the bed, the man clasped firmly against his cold, hard chest, and rocked back and forth with his treasure. Like a child whose only toy has been broken beyond repair, he clung desperately to the precious human who both abhorred and feared him, and for a long blissful moment, allowed himself to believe that Gage was returning the embrace.

A shaky sob broke the brief moment of unreality and Vincent sighed. "Stop that!" he said harshly as he tightened his grip on Gage. He heard a whimper of pain but ignored it. Rubbing his frigid lips across the warm, damp tendril's of the young man's golden hair, he again caught the faintest whiff of rosemary. "Gage Armstead, you belong here. There is no use struggling against it, because you are mine now." he whispered.

As Vincent felt the useless struggles grow more urgent, he was reminded of when he himself had been human and had watched in horror as a pet parakeet had become entangled in its perch swing. It's fragile wings had beaten uselessly, until he had released it. Afterward, it lay in the palm of his hand, small breast heaving as he'd ministered to it.

"You'll be well cared for," He whispered to Gage, the memory of the bird still lingering. "I will never harm you. Stop struggling now, please."

The whispered words seemed to have some effect, for the young man ceased his urgent struggles and lay limply against the vampire, panting for breath.

"Good boy," Vincent murmured quietly, as if speaking to a small child. "I don't expect you will trust me immediately, but if you obey me, things will go much easier for us both."

A thrill of power coursed through him then, and he brushed his lips against the golden head once more. While inhaling the intoxicating aroma of life, and youth, and Gage he lovingly rubbed his cheek across the satiny hair. "I'm stronger than you, you see, and I can punish you." the words were uttered in a velvety tone that was filled with wonder, as the thought of slapping the tender, soft skin--at the thought of any form of close contact, really--made him nearly mad with longing.

In that one brief moment of tenderness. He knew without any doubt that he had tremendous power over the young man, He possessed the power! He mustn't ever forget that.

Gage shuddered at his words, and Vincent nodded with a wicked sense of delight. "Yes, this is how it will be with us. You will obey me, and I will fill your life with delights that you have never imagined possible. But, you must obey, or I will punish you until you acquiesce. Do you understand?"

He heard the small sound of assent, and he was pleased. "I will dress you now, and then I will feed you. Do not fight against me, because you cannot win."

With that, he stood with the man still in his arms and walked over to the wardrobe, then stood him solidly on his feet. "Pick out some clothing," he ordered as he opened the doors, to reveal shirts, trousers, and jackets of every size and color. He had picked them out long ago, at a time when the texture and design of fabric had been important to him.

The vampire stood and waited to see if Gage was going to comply with his orders. When he saw the boy begin to fumble amongst the garments, the smile of the victor crept across his lips.

To be continued.
Copyright © 2005 by Tris