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Daniel had, if not precisely gotten used to Armand appearing wherever and whenever he chose, at least resigned himself to this fact. Within reason.
“Get the hell out of my bathroom, I have to piss!” Daniel tried to shove past Armand— tried being the operative word. He might as well have attempted to shove the Berlin Wall out of his way, though at least the Berlin Wall wouldn’t have blinked innocently at him and smiled like a lost little lamb with wolf’s teeth.
“I am generally familiar with what occurs in these rooms, yes,” Armand said, and did not leave.
“Well then, you don’t need to witness it,” Daniel snapped, turning away and bracing himself on the hotel sink. Damn it, he really had to go, too!
“I don’t need to do anything, Daniel,” Armand said, with maddening serenity. “I want. That’s all.”
“Are you serious?” Daniel gritted his teeth. “What is this then, some new mind game? You want to humiliate me?”
“Nothing of the sort, I assure you.” Armand smiled, leaning against the closed door. “I simply realized I’ve forgotten what it feels like. Tell me, I wish to know.”
Daniel stared at him. “You barged into my hotel bathroom because you can’t remember pissing? How is that even—“ he winced, bracing himself again, “possible? More importantly, why would you care?” This wasn’t exactly the sort of thing Daniel could imagine missing, were he to become a vampire. It was difficult to keep his bitterness in check, particularly when Armand was probably already reading his mind. “You do realize humans don’t consider this a recreational activity?”
Armand’s eyes narrowed. “You appear to be in pain. Why are you resisting? Urinate. I won’t interfere.”
Daniel very much doubted that, even though he couldn’t quite picture what interference would look like in this situation.
“Let me put it another way. If you continue to resist, you will either give yourself an infection or, as the phrase goes, simply ‘piss your pants.’ Are either of those particularly attractive options to you, Daniel?” It never ceased to amaze him how soothing and persuasive Armand’s voice could be, even when the actual words were about as seductive as a doctor’s note. “Wouldn’t it be far more pleasant to simply relieve yourself, as you intended to do before you noticed my presence?”
And then Armand leaned over and turned on the sink’s cold water tap.
“Stop that,” Daniel snapped, shutting it off, even as he winced, unable to think of much else. “And stand further back, unless you want to get splashed.”
He turned away, towards the toilet, and unzipped his fly, though his hands were shaking a little.
If Armand would just shut up, Daniel thought, trying to focus on his anger rather than his shame, maybe he’d be able to forget Armand was there. Just treat it like using a urinal in a public bathroom, with another guy a few feet away doing his own business…
“Flaccid, I see.”
Daniel nearly bit his own tongue. Obviously!
Was he really going to have to explain to Armand basic facts of anatomy? Or was Armand playing dumb deliberately to wind him up? (And how was he supposed to piss with Armand standing right over his shoulder, clearly fixing that intent gaze of his on Daniel’s cock?)
“I have not seen the organ in this state for many years,” Armand remarked. He had Daniel cornered now, between the toilet, the shower and the sink. If either of them moved the slightest inch, they’d brush against each other. And indeed, Daniel felt Armand’s hair— hanging loose in thick chestnut curls, not tied back as it more often was— tickling the back of Daniel’s neck, ghosting against Daniel’s shoulder as Armand leaned in even closer, resting his chin on Daniel’s neck. “How curious it is. Rather pathetic, but… not uninteresting.”
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut in sheer frustration. “Will you please just shut up and let me piss in peace!”
“You may start whenever you like, Daniel. I have no intention of stopping you.”
For a few moments, nothing else happened. Daniel relaxed, a little— just enough to start pissing. And the first few seconds were more of a relief than he could ever remember this being, mostly because he didn’t have to think about it anymore, it was just happening and would be over soon, same as any bathroom function.
But then Armand’s hands were on Daniel’s body, stroking his chest and sliding down his belly, and Daniel stiffened, stopping mid-stream out of instinctual alarm.
“Ah, so you can stop once you’ve started?” Armand’s hand was going lower, and Daniel’s stomach was tight with tension, pain and reluctant arousal. “What happens if I touch it?”
“You get piss on your hand,” Daniel snapped. “What the hell are you playing at now, Armand?”
He knew Armand had been a living man once, even if those years were dwarfed in number by the centuries he’d spent as a vampire. And Armand was no fool, no matter what he pretended. Armand liked to study— he could go through the entire World Book Encyclopedia in less than two hours if he was in the mood for it, and probably at some point or another he had been. There was just no possible way that Armand was as clueless in this matter as he claimed.
“If you need to relieve yourself that badly, why have you stopped?” Armand’s fingers continued to creep south, even as his voice carried a purely innocent tone of bemusement. “What difference does it make if it’s my hand holding you or your own?”
“If you give me a damn handjob then I won’t be able to finish pissing!” Daniel snarled, fruitlessly shoving back to try to make some space between their bodies. “You were what, eighteen when you died? Not eight! Stop pretending you don’t know that nobody can piss with an erection!”
“Nobody?” The word itself was not ominous, but the way Armand said it was. Daniel could tell without looking that Armand was getting one of his devilishly wicked smiles.
I didn’t mean it as a challenge!
“But this could be an educational experience for you too, Daniel. Aren’t you at all curious?” And just like that, Armand’s cool hand— not ice cold, no, for Armand always seemed to feed before he visited Daniel, merely as cold as a human’s hand might be after sitting outside without a jacket on a breezy night— nudged aside Daniel’s, wrapping around Daniel’s cock with uncomfortable authority.
Damn it, he was already feeling the blood going south and Armand hadn’t done much more than touch him.
“Not really,” Daniel said, more hoarsely than he would have liked. Armand’s grip was loose, casual, but not in the least impersonal. Claiming this was mere intellectual curiosity didn’t square with Armand’s thumb rubbing tender circles on the underside of Daniel’s cock, especially when Armand was pressed up against Daniel’s back. “What about your cock, though?” It was hard not to think about, considering Daniel was fairly certain he could feel its hardness from behind.
Armand laughed softly, breath tickling Daniel’s exposed neck as his hand continued to steadily coax Daniel into an entirely different state of need. “Purely ornamental under most circumstances, unfortunately. But your concern is touching.”
Daniel bit back a groan which turned to a startled hiss when Armand’s index finger brushed over his slit. “I’m not concerned,” he snapped, squirming reflexively. “But it sure doesn’t feel like you’re not getting a thrill from this!”
“Who said I wasn’t?” Armand nuzzled against Daniel’s neck, sending a shiver of fear down his spine— which, to be perfectly frank, did nothing to deter his erection. “I merely explained that, to use a modern euphemism, my… equipment is no longer functional in any conventional sense. It simply lies there, dead. Not uninterested, however.” His lips trailed up to Daniel’s ear. “I suppose you could say much the same of me in general.”
The tender, deliberate caresses of Armand’s elegant fingers had started to feel more like a maddening tease, not enough to make Daniel wholly forget himself and his objections leading into this. Enough to keep him from struggling or protesting too much… though in his deepest heart, Daniel knew it wouldn’t matter at all if he did, because Armand only ever seemed to be one whim away from snapping his neck or draining him dry. As Armand’s loose grip showed no signs of tightening, Daniel found himself unable to avoid thinking of which death would be worse, even though he knew full well Armand was listening.
Armand snorted, a light burst of air on Daniel’s right ear— not the response Daniel (and his churning stomach) had expected. “You can’t be serious. What kind of absurd exercise in sophistry is that? Need I remind you that the reason we met was because you went looking for a vampire willing to turn you?”
“That…” Daniel swallowed, licking his dry lips and trying to focus despite the fact that Armand’s grip had shifted, signaling a change in approach. “Turn me. Not kill me. If you were just going to kill me anyway, then…”
“No, I don’t believe you would. You’re an optimist, Daniel. A dog with a bone. With your dying breath, you’d still want to cling to that last bit of hope that I might have changed my mind.” Armand’s fingers tightened almost painfully around the base of Daniel’s cock, making him cry out. “And besides…” His strokes became ruthlessly fast and rough, even as he continued to ramble on, not that Daniel could really focus on the words or even hear all of them in the moment. “You must realize that snapping your neck would be an unthinkable waste of death. I would never kill you in that way… not unless I’d really come to despise you! Even so…” Armand’s hand stilled completely, and the whiny, pathetic noise that oozed out of Daniel’s open mouth at that was the most humiliating thing that had happened yet. “You’re too delicious to let go to waste, in every sense of the word. If I ever kill you, Daniel, rest assured— it will not be sudden or surprising, and I will most certainly drink my fill.”
Daniel shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. The arousal had ebbed just long enough for his body to remember that it still hadn’t finished relieving itself, and in turn he had remembered why he had wanted Armand to get out. Armand’s touch was becoming maddening and invasive again, and yet… and yet he was reassured by Armand’s words, as demented and cruel as they were. He wanted to believe that he was worth something, that his life hadn’t become an endless cat-and-mouse game only for the cat to lose interest and slaughter the mouse overnight without the mouse ever understanding why the rules had changed.
“That’s right,” Armand cooed in his ear, his fingers toying with the head of Daniel’s cock. “You tell yourself that you hate and fear me, but you’re equally flattered by my interest. Not that I mind your hating and fearing me, understand… but if that was all there was to it, that would have become tiresome quickly.”
…He wanted to piss. Preferably in private, but that was becoming less of a priority with every additional second of urgency.
Damn it, how the hell had he ended up like this?
“As if you didn’t know!” Armand laughed, the vibrations resonating through Daniel’s body as his stomach cramped painfully with the effort of trying to hold it in.
Damn it!
He was going to have to just try to let it out again, even if Armand was far too excited by the prospect. It was simply unendurable to remain in this state.
So Daniel closed his eyes, tried to block out Armand’s invasive, prodding thoughts (and fingers) and succumb to the urge that had brought him to this damned bathroom in the first place. The first dribble was tentative, as though his system didn’t quite trust that this was acceptable yet. He managed to relax a bit more, to allow himself to believe that relief was within his grasp...
Only to feel Armand’s other hand slide down between their bodies, underneath the back of Daniel’s jeans and briefs to fondle the bare skin of Daniel’s rear.
Daniel tensed immediately, but it did not dissuade Armand in the least— the fingers of his immortal seducer parted his buttocks, mercilessly probing him in the most intimate of ways without so much as a word of warning or explanation.
“You’re not a virgin, Daniel,” Armand said soothingly, as though the very fact that he knew this— and what else it seemed to imply he might know — was not every bit as alarming as Armand’s cool fingertip tracing the circumference of Daniel’s hole.
“That doesn’t mean I’m willing to—“ Daniel bit back a noise, his heart pounding as his stomach clenched again. “Damn it, what does that even matter?! I’m trying to piss, I thought you wanted to watch me piss, what the hell are you fingering me for?”
“You were going soft.” This was said in such a trivial, matter-of-fact tone that it left Daniel utterly unprepared for Armand’s voice to drop in the next moment. “Three nights ago, I watched you drop to your knees in a filthy nightclub bathroom and wrap your lips around a stranger’s cock.”
A chill ran down Daniel’s spine. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I didn’t want you to. He was Greek and barely spoke any English— at least, to you. But you weren’t exactly seeking out Socratic debate, and so the two of you managed to communicate well enough. After he used you for his pleasure, however, you were left with a pervasive feeling of dissatisfaction. You left the club alone.”
“Apparently not, since it seems you were right behind me!” And how often had that happened, Daniel was now forced to wonder. He knew Armand was never far away, could and would appear at any moment in any location, but somehow he’d still clung to the illusion that when he couldn’t see or hear Armand in his head, he wasn’t there.
“Later that night,” Armand continued, as though Daniel had not spoken, “you lay in bed in your hotel room. When you touched yourself, you shifted your hips and pressed two fingers inside, just like this.”
Armand’s fingers plunged into Daniel, startling a moan out of him even as he reflexively clenched, struggling against what he now realized was an exceptionally well calculated assault on Daniel’s willpower as much as his body. Armand had left nothing to chance, studying Daniel’s sexual proclivities like they were just another subject in his library.
“Shall I tell you what else you did? Or is it enough to show you?” Armand’s voice was a well-strung instrument, perfectly tuned to send shivers down Daniel’s spine. Combined with Armand’s fingers thrusting and curling inside him, Daniel could hardly string a sentence together even in his mind. Later he would be seized with horror at all the images and feelings he must have unwittingly shared with Armand in that unguarded moment.
Perhaps he gasped out Armand’s name, or perhaps he merely thought it in such a way that left no doubt that he had wanted Armand for some time… since the beginning? Perhaps even before the beginning, when he had only known Armand through Louis du Point du Lac’s disillusioned yet enthralling descriptions…
“You’re wondering if this is how it was with Louis at first,” Armand murmured, his lips grazing Daniel’s ear. “The answer is no. It is never the same between two immortals as it is between vampire and human.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been thinking that, and it startled him out of the fog of pure pleasure, giving him something coherent to cling to: resentment.
“…Didn’t anyone ever teach you the meaning of the word privacy?”
It was a sarcastic, bitter retort that Daniel didn’t expect to receive an answer for. But again Armand surprised him.
“The dictionary definition, yes, of course. I am not an imbecile, Daniel. But what you really mean to ask is whether I was given the luxury of private moments, which I was not. Privacy is a profoundly modern invention.”
That did not sound entirely correct, but frankly Daniel was in no state to argue the point. Armand’s fingers were relentlessly precise, fucking Daniel like he hadn’t been fucked since… had he ever been fucked this well outside of his own fantasies?
“I know all your fantasies,” Armand said, his soft voice almost hypnotically soothing (and utterly at odds with the rest). “No one else will ever know your desires like I do. So naturally it follows that this is the best sex you’ve ever had.”
Daniel cried out, just as his bladder released a spurt of— well, not what he’d expected. It would have been humiliating— should have been humiliating, only Armand was clearly doing this to him on purpose and most of it had landed in the toilet, so… what the hell. Honestly, it had felt pretty good.
Don’t stop…
“I knew you’d come around in the end.” Armand laughed, and pressed a kiss to Daniel’s neck that made his pulse skyrocket. “And now you’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”
Daniel shuddered, caught between the desire to snap back a retort and not surrender completely and the need to keep Armand doing exactly what he was doing and not interfere with his own imminent orgasm. Because Armand could turn on a dime sometimes, and he absolutely did not want to irritate Armand into one of his crueler fits of manipulation.
Another release, another spurt of piss. Armand let out an obscene little sigh, as though it was him getting off on this.
“You were thinking of me that night, Daniel. Do you remember?”
Quite honestly, he didn’t. The memory was hazy— he’d had too much to drink and it wasn’t like jerking off alone in a hotel room on any particular evening was a notable experience for Daniel. But it was always plausible that he was thinking of Armand. Well, who the hell else would he think about?
Half his fantasies about Armand were about outwitting him, impressing him, proving himself worthy in some undefinable way. As if there was some invisible switch he could flip that would get Armand to change his mind and turn Daniel into a vampire like him. Sometimes he wondered if he actually wanted it after all, or if he just wanted an end to this endless chase, this constant state of surveillance and interference. He couldn’t understand why Armand hadn’t gotten bored with him yet.
The other half, well, did he even need to explain?
“God damn you!” Daniel moaned, pushing back against Armand’s fingers as Armand laughed and laughed. Piss kept squirting out of him in short, increasingly frequent bursts, and he could tell that Armand was fascinated by the sight, sometimes running a thumb over Daniel’s overstimulated head and slit, which very nearly made him convulse.
When he finally did come, it was almost too much— Armand’s fingers inside him, Armand’s hand jerking him off and pushing him through one release after the other as he writhed in ecstatic agony.
What was left in his bladder emptied itself all at once after, and Armand held him through it, rubbing soothing circles on his stomach until nothing else came out of him.
“Well done,” Armand purred in his ear, and Daniel wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but he was exhausted, almost to the point of not being able to stand on his own power.
Somehow or other he got out of the bathroom— maybe he stumbled out, maybe Armand carried him, maybe some combination of the two. Either way his trousers were around his ankles when he collapsed onto the king-sized hotel bed, and it was Armand who knelt to slip them off and lifted Daniel’s legs fully onto the bed before joining him.
Armand, of course, looked as though he had never initiated anything sordid in his life, let alone less than five minutes ago. He was perfectly composed, posture upright, his face radiant in the moonlight from the nearby window. His elegant navy blue suit was scarcely wrinkled, as though he’d dressed to walk a red carpet, not break into hotel rooms and make a guy piss for him.
Why are you still here? Daniel wondered, forgetting for a moment that Armand could hear him.
“Unlike your Greek friend, I must confess to some small measure of concern for your well-being.” Armand’s expression did not change, though his gaze grew unfocused for a moment. “Or perhaps I’d simply rather be here with you than out among humans on my own.” His eyes focused on Daniel again, with the slightest curl of his lip. “Choose whichever explanation satisfies your incessant curiosity.”
Daniel let out a bitter laugh. “You’re one to talk about curiosity, you dirty old vampire!”
“I washed my hands,” Armand said, with a slow, innocent blink that Daniel knew to be pure bullshit. “You, on the other hand…”
“Not the point!” Daniel groaned. “And I would’ve washed my hands if you’d let me just go normally!”
“Oh, don’t bicker with me, Daniel. It’s terribly tedious.”
Daniel rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the mattress. Since this was a small, relatively inexpensive European hotel there was only one pillow on the bed and it was less voluminous than the kind he associated with hotels in the States. Certainly less satisfying to plant his face in, or to attempt to smother Armand with.
“And don’t pretend you don’t want me to stay, either. You’ve made yourself a very lonely man.”
That pissed Daniel off enough to get him to sit up again, glaring at Armand. “What do you mean I’ve made myself? You did this to me! You’re the reason I haven’t got a real home anymore, or friends! How the hell am I supposed to build lasting relationships with you tailing me all over the world and interfering?”
“You didn’t have friends to begin with,” Armand replied, with cold, merciless precision.
(It was true, but that didn’t mean he had to say it!)
“Whenever I get involved with someone, you show up,” Daniel snapped. “You steal them away from me. Or scare them off.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. I want to know if they are worthy companions.”
“For me or for you?” Daniel retorted.
There was a glimmer of teeth in Armand’s smile. “I see no difference.”
It would have been easier if Daniel hadn’t believed he meant that in complete earnest. Easier to hate Armand if Armand viewed Daniel entirely as a puppet on strings. But by now, willingly or unwillingly, Daniel had begun to understand certain things about Armand, like when he was being provocative for provocation’s sake and when there was a thread of honesty laced through the barbs and the interrogations. And at the moment, Armand seemed more sincere than adversarial.
You really mean that, don’t you? You don’t understand why I’d want friends that aren’t interested in you too.
Armand’s expression darkened. “I understand that you want secrets, Daniel. To keep things and people to yourself—”
“Wanting some boundaries isn’t the same as wanting to keep secrets!” Daniel protested, even as the hairs stood up on his arms in anticipation of Armand’s mounting fury. “It’s not as though you tell me everything about yourself! What do I know about your history, beyond what Louis already told me and the vaguest of hints from you? How did you end up running a vampire theater? Who was your maker? You keep those things to yourself, things that actually matter, but I can’t have a single friend you don’t personally vet?”
Shouting at Armand rarely led to anything good, and yet once again Armand surprised him. Though his expression scarcely softened, the air of menace gradually dissipated as Armand’s unblinking stare studied Daniel.
If you truly wish to know…
“Of course I do,” Daniel said, bewildered. Couldn’t Armand tell that much from reading his mind?
And then, inexplicably, a glimmer of happiness, gone as quickly as it had bled over into Daniel’s head.
“You will not be putting what I tell you into a second book,” Armand said sharply, even as he slid closer on the bed, coaxing Daniel into sitting up. “There will be no sequel to Interview with the Vampire.”
Daniel gestured around him. “See any tape recorders? Besides, what would I call it? Interview with Another Vampire? Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
His attempt at humor fell flat, but at least Armand was looking at him with fond bemusement now, his hand gently cupping Daniel’s cheek. It was such an unusually tender touch that it made Daniel tense up with unease— or uncertainty, perhaps, was the more accurate word.
“How is this for a bargain?” Armand said softly. “I will answer one question about my personal history tonight, in exchange for a taste of your blood.”
Daniel’s breath caught, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“If you wish to ask another such question,” Armand added, as though he did not hear— though his other hand stroking the column of Daniel’s throat suggested that he very much did, “then you must wait until you have recovered from the first answer. I have no intention of letting curiosity be the death of you just yet.” A laugh, exposing all his teeth as he leaned in even closer, as though to whisper the most intimate of secrets. “So Daniel… I suggest you make it a very good question. After all, it may yet be your last.”
He couldn’t seem to get enough breath back in his lungs, not with Armand hovering so near to kissing him, one thumb purposefully rubbing against Daniel’s neck. How was he supposed to think when he couldn’t breathe?
“I’ll wait,” Armand said, with obvious amusement that bordered on smugness. “I want you to choose carefully. And a question I refuse to answer does not count.”
That broke through the frenzied panic in Daniel’s mind. “Wait, you’re still saying there are questions that are off-limits?”
“Only questions I find boring, irrelevant, or impossible to answer,” Armand said dismissively. “This is not a trap, Daniel. If I will not answer, I will tell you so immediately and you may ask another question.”
He must have briefly thought of Faust and the devil, or perhaps fairies and goblins and their tricks which revolved around carefully phrased promises. Still— for all the horrors he had wrought, Armand did not often lie outright to Daniel. If he said he intended to stop at a taste, he probably did.
Probably.
Armand’s thumb ran over the spot where Louis had bitten Daniel, almost two years ago now (how had it been that long?) and Daniel flinched reflexively.
Louis hurt you on purpose, you know. Not that he’s ever gained the control, the finesse that most of us pride ourselves on. Armand smiled, the moonlight doing strange things in the reflection of his eyes— like a wolf, or a fox. Come now, where is that journalistic courage you so pride yourself on? You want this too, Daniel. I’ve seen it in your mind.
It was true. Of course it was true. Still… he couldn’t let himself get sucked down into the whirlpool of Armand’s persuasive voice and compliments, couldn’t lose track of the one victory he’d actually managed to attain.
So Daniel lifted his head and forced himself to meet Armand’s gaze with something resembling boldness.
“Your maker,” he said, swallowing down his fear. “Who were they? Tell me how it happened.”
Something shimmered across Armand’s face, an emotion too quick and intense for Daniel to read, though at least it suggested this was neither a boring nor irrelevant topic in Armand’s opinion. Was it anger, perhaps? Or something altogether more complex?
“His name…” Armand said softly, so softly that he very nearly sounded like a different person. A glimpse of the youth he had been hundreds of years ago, perhaps. “I have not said it out loud in centuries.” A long pause, as though he could not help but marvel at that fact. “I wonder if he will hear it when I do.”
“So he’s still alive?” Daniel was unable to conceal his excitement at the thought.
“One question, I said,” Armand retorted, himself again, though his hand on Daniel’s mouth felt almost playful. “You’ve already tried to ask three.”
But he liked it, Daniel realized. Armand liked Daniel taking an interest in him. In his own way, he really did want to be interviewed.
Armand wasn’t listening as closely as he usually did. His gaze had gone a little unfocused, as though he were too deep in his own memories to notice anything around him.
“His name was Marius.” There was reverence in the way he spoke the name. “My maker, my Master. My savior and my damnation.” And then his eyes locked onto Daniel again. “I was seventeen, but I had lived and worked in his household for many years by then. I knew what he was— and like you, I was envious. But then I scarcely remembered my life before him… and I was afraid if he did not turn me that he would send me away and no longer want me.”
The back of Daniel’s scalp prickled. “You were… raised by a vampire?” Hastily he added, “That’s not a question.”
Armand smiled wryly. “What a very modern phrasing. No, Daniel, I was purchased, bought as a slave from an establishment of utter depravity the likes of which I know you can scarcely begin to imagine. That my Master chose to regard me as an apprentice after this, gifting me a life of luxury and freedom alongside boys my own age, was entirely due to his own generous spirit.”
Armand, a slave? The idea was inconceivable to Daniel.
“I do not remember it well,” Armand said, though his gaze had gone distant again and his voice was unusually flat and devoid of emotion. “I was very young, younger than I appear now.”
“Then you really would have been a child when Marius took you in!” Involuntarily, Daniel found himself thinking of Claudia, who had been made at such a tender age and later killed at Armand’s own command…
Had Armand looked at her and seen a fate he’d barely averted himself?
“You understand nothing.” Armand’s tone was soft as the caress of his hand on Daniel’s cheek, but there was a simmering anger underneath that sent a chill down Daniel’s spine. “For Claudia, there never would have been a future. She was fortunate to live so long as she did… I pitied her, truly.” After a charged pause, that anger seemed to evaporate, or at least subside as Armand returned to his preferred subject. “I lived many happy years in my Master’s care, not understanding what made him so different from other men. He wished me to go to university, to experience all that life had to offer.“
“But you didn’t.”
There was a bitter edge to Armand’s smile. “No,” he agreed. “I did not. That was his dream for me, not my own.”
Daniel frowned. “And what was your dream?”
“I’ve already told you. I wanted to stay with him.”
This seemed an awfully small dream for any young man of seventeen, or even sixteen, particularly when Daniel considered that this would’ve been the sixteenth (“Fifteenth,” Armand corrected him) fifteenth century, a time when university admission was surely a marker of great status and wealth in… what country was this?
“City-state,” Armand informed him. “The country you know as Italy did not yet exist. We were citizens of Serenìsima Repùblega de Venèsia, or as you English speakers call it today, Venice.”
Venice! How could Armand, Armand who came alive for art, music and beautiful things have come of age in Renaissance Italy and not wanted to go to university and see the world? Daniel tried to imagine it and failed utterly.
“Ah, but you see, I was not Armand then.” There it was again, that strange bittersweet look. “My Master gave me a different name, a name he thought suited me better than the one I was born with. I would not choose to call myself Armand until I had been a vampire for some time.”
Daniel’s head was spinning. There was too much he didn’t know, too much that Armand wasn’t saying but he wouldn’t take questions and it wasn’t like Daniel knew what to ask either! Who was this vampire Marius, that he held such sway over Armand even now? Armand as a child… something terrible had happened, clearly, that Armand did not wish to speak of. What had happened to his parents, the rest of his family? Were they slaves too, or had Armand been abducted? Did Marius never ask for them? What kind of a man bought a child slave for an apprentice? If he was really so noble, why would he go to a place like that? Why would he even know it existed?
If Armand hadn’t been practically in Daniel’s lap, he wasn’t sure he’d have noticed the subtlest shift of tension that ran through him at that question. “You forget the Mind Gift, Daniel.”
“I didn’t mean to ask—“ Daniel started to say, but he’d misunderstood Armand’s objection.
“I mean,” Armand said icily, “that my Master heard the thoughts of every gutter rat and lowlife just as easily as if they had confided in him personally. He was a powerful vampire, older then than any you have met. There were no secrets in his presence.”
“Right.” Daniel swallowed. Privacy is a modern invention. Better change the subject before his thoughts betrayed him again. But how could they not? He was no saint, and Armand could twist anything to suit his ends. He was so sick of feeling like struggling prey batted around by a master predator, having even his feelings and thoughts used against him—
Unexpectedly, Armand chose this moment to kiss Daniel. A chaste kiss, Armand’s cool lips only moving the slightest inch against Daniel’s, and almost as soon as Daniel’s mind had processed it was happening it was over.
Daniel stared at Armand, his heart pounding and his hands shaking and all he could manage was an outraged, “What was that for?”
Armand’s face had taken on that look of angelic grace again, with a soft smile that Daniel didn’t trust for a minute. “For reminding me of what it is to be human.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Weak. Fallible. At the mercy of so many dueling urges.” Armand smiled, and it sent a shiver down Daniel’s spine. “I am not made of unfeeling stone, Daniel, I promise you that. I want you. And I want you to surrender to me of your own free will.”
Daniel swallowed again, acutely aware of the dryness of his own mouth. Surrender… he could not fathom it, not to the level he expected Armand meant. Surrendering not just his body but his heart and soul as well, until he was as consumed by Armand as Armand could consume him.
“Why does that frighten you so?” Armand seemed genuinely perplexed, his brown eyes wide and bright in the moonlight. “Haven’t you ever loved, Daniel? Truly loved?”
And there it was again, that cold uneasy feeling, that sense that there was something going unsaid that Daniel really ought to know by now. “I wouldn’t call that love,” he said slowly. “More like slavery.”
He was on his back in the next second, half his face stinging from Armand’s sudden, vicious slap. Armand was on top of him, snarling angry sentences in a language Daniel didn’t understand and violently shaking Daniel by the shoulders. Daniel fought back as best he could in a blind panic, but it wasn’t until he managed to slug Armand in the jaw (which probably did more damage to Daniel’s hand than Armand’s face, but at least it startled Armand into stopping) that he realized what he’d done to set Armand off so badly.
“Of your own free will,” Armand repeated serenely, his fury vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Burned out like a Roman candle. He even smiled, at what Daniel wasn’t sure. “You say I’ve upended your life. You fear losing this dream of independence, which you never really had, the way men used to fear for their immortal souls. And yet, it was you who begun this dance. Why is it that you would eagerly give up your mortal life to become one of us, yet you shrink back in fear of giving away your heart? You may pretend there is a difference, but clearly you did not hold your freedom in such high regard before. No one leading a happy, fulfilling life goes chasing after vampires, Daniel.”
Daniel’s stomach churned; he had no answer for that statement. He felt hollowed out, an empty vessel waiting to be poured full of Armand’s desires. After all, what were Daniel’s desires? Maybe he was just too exhausted to remember them, but they seemed to be petty, distant things, far less real than the creature straddling him.
Armand smiled, and touched his own cheek, one finger pressing into the bruise that already looked no worse than a sunburn. “You punch hard for a mortal. I shall have to goad you to do it again some other night.” His grin widened, and Daniel truly could not tell if he was joking or being sincere.
(Or perhaps sincerity was simply too unsettling a thing to accept in this moment)
“You said ‘a taste’ of my blood.” Daniel swallowed, wishing he could sit up— the position was making him mildly nauseous— but Armand was perched on Daniel’s thighs, leaning forward over him and any sudden movements felt… inadvisable. “How much blood is that?”
“Would you like an estimate in the metric system or the imperial?” Armand’s eyes gleamed with mirth. “You’re asking the wrong questions again. What you really want to know is whether you’ll feel it— and whether it’s possible for me to stop without hurting you. The answer is yes, naturally.”
“To… which question?” Daniel’s head hurt, even as his pulse pounded helplessly in his ears. His entire mouth was dry, dry as a desert— it felt like he hadn’t drunk water in years.
“Both,” Armand breathed, his face so close that his exhalation made Daniel shiver. When had Armand’s hands closed around Daniel’s wrists? He couldn’t move, even if he wanted to… but in all honesty, Daniel wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Don’t surrender. It was the only thought he had left to cling to, even if he had no idea how to manage it other than telling himself over and over. Don’t give in. Don’t let him consume all of you.
In the morning he would not be able to remember exactly how it had happened, if it had happened. Armand’s hands had been warm when he pulled down Daniel’s briefs again, as had his mouth…He thought he remembered Armand’s mouth, flushed and so very red… but then it had been so dark in the hotel room. Could Daniel really have seen that well?
Had Armand moaned, or had Daniel? Had he imagined a chorus of sighs, a thundering feeling of ecstasy like nothing he’d ever experienced, culminating in Armand lifting his head and licking his lips with obscene relish?
Dizziness overtook him when he sat up— dehydration? Or something worse?
He had to drink some water. Drink some water, and get the hell out of this place.
Now, while the sun was out, he could run without looking over his shoulder. There were some limits, after all. For now, his thoughts were his own.
Still, Daniel could almost hear Armand laughing as he stumbled around the room, stuffing his few vital belongings into his suitcases, digging around for his passport as though there were any escape for him, any lengths to which Armand would not go to find him. Well, let the chase continue. But for now he still had some free will.
I won’t surrender. I won’t.
For now, he was still Daniel Molloy, more or less recognizable as the person he had been in San Francisco when he first followed Louis to that house on Divisadero Street. Even if he didn't always want to meet his own reflection's gaze in the mirror.
No going back now. Don't linger in the bathroom. Daniel could clean up somewhere else, somewhere without the memory of Armand's body pressing in around him like a cage.
What time was sunset? Count the hours. Hurry up. Keep moving.
On the train to Copenhagen, Daniel jotted down more questions for Armand as he ate a late breakfast.
Well, he was still a journalist, after all.