The Vampire's Vacation

The Vampires of Anarchy 1

The Vampire's Vacation Deserted by the lover who turned him into a vampire, Ethan Collier is nursing a broken heart at the private resort called Anarchy, where privileged bloodsuckers from all over the world escape to relax among their own kind. After a mysterious tropical storm, he is stunned to discover a beautiful young man washed up naked on the beach. Raphael has no memory or who he is or how he ended up in Ethan’s arms. He’s not one of the undead, but he’s not quite human, either, as the other guests at Anarchy quickly discover. Has Ethan found the perfect lover, or something far more dangerous? And how can he protect Raphael from a hotel full of suspicious, not to mention thirsty, vampires? Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Fantasy, Vampires/Werewolves Length: 21,147 words

THE VAMPIRE’S VACATION The Vampires of Anarchy 1

Cassandra Pierce

EROTIC ROMANCE MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

THE VAMPIRE’S VACATION Copyright © 2011 by Cassandra Pierce E-book ISBN: 1-61034-571-1 First E-book Publication: July 2011 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of The Vampire’s Vacation by Cassandra Pierce from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Cassandra Pierce’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Pierce’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

THE VAMPIRE’S VACATION The Vampires of Anarchy 1 CASSANDRA PIERCE Copyright © 2011

Chapter 1 Ethan Collier dug his toes into the icy sand and raised his head as the sea wind whipped his loose black curls across his bare neck and shoulders. Above the dark, choppy waves, the swollen moon seemed to fix him with a cold stare. All around him, his fellow resort guests were enjoying the chill of the night. Men lounged on towels and folding chairs, chattering in various languages between swigs from glass bottles of blood. Two Nordic-looking guys, clad in swimsuits so tiny they needn’t have bothered to put them on, set their liquid refreshments aside and stretched out side by side, unabashedly feeling each other up. Ethan recalled meeting them in the bar earlier that evening. They looked about twenty-five, his own age, but their brief conversation had revealed that they were actually closer to four hundred. Ethan’s delicate hearing picked up a series of whispered endearments, uttered in some old Germanic tongue he couldn’t comprehend. Ethan sighed. He’d been at Anarchy, the finest vampire resort in the northern hemisphere, for less than twenty-four hours, and already he wondered how he was ever going to get through his vacation. Not since he’d turned had he felt so alone. Back then, Paris had been around to take away the sting. When everything had gone sour and

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Paris had vanished into the night, Ethan had come close to canceling their reservation. Maybe he should have. On the other hand, Paris’s centuries-old fortune had already paid for the trip, and he couldn’t deny that part of him had hoped against all logic to find his ex-lover here waiting for him. Instead, he found himself watching other lovers find and enjoy one another. Worse still, he was too apathetic even to experience jealousy. He looked up as two pale legs clad in high tops and baggy, kneelength shorts approached. Izzo was a wiry-framed vampire with scruffy red hair and a carefree grin, who worked in the bar. They became friends years earlier, when Ethan had come here for the first time with Paris, though there had never been a suggestion of anything more between them. Not much chance of that, anyway, when Izzo was always in love with one brooding patron or another. He favored the bad boys, mysterious Heathcliffian types, a mold Ethan would never fit. “You’re still bumming?” Izzo grinned and handed Ethan a capped bottle of blood. “Here. This should help. If it doesn’t, I’ll send Jordy to your room later.” Ethan shook his head. The resort’s all-purpose human valet, Jordy, had built quite a reputation for his varied talents and willingness to serve any guest in virtually any capacity. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass. No sex with humans. I’d just feel worse afterward.” “Oh, please. You need to get this vampire thing down. Enjoy the moment and stop worrying about later.” He dropped onto the sand beside Ethan and watched him uncap the blood and take a delicate sip. The blood tasted good, Ethan had to admit, distilled from the contributions of only the healthiest donors and marked by type. Izzo had remembered that “O” was his favorite. Such attention to detail, among other things, made him a world-class bartender. “Still, it’s only been five years for you,” Izzo went on with a

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shrug. “We have to be patient. But take it from me. You have to get over him sometime. I should know. I spent the entire Renaissance pining for my first love. The trick is to appreciate what’s out there now.” His gaze swept the shadowed figures dotting the beach. “This isn’t a bad place to start. See anything you like? Because I can make things happen. I know everyone here.” Ethan had to admit that some of them, even those in couples, did seem to be on the prowl. The thought of taking an interest in a new man—or maybe more than one—left him more hopeless than ever. “Nah.” Fortunately, the approach of a third person cut off Izzo’s attempt at pandering. Simon McAffrey, the owner and manager of Anarchy, came striding down the steps from the wraparound deck and headed directly toward them. As always, Simon looked relaxed and professional in a light blue shirt, open to the third button, and a pair of hip-hugging white slacks. Ethan was well aware that more than a few pairs of eyes followed Simon across the short stretch of sand, but Simon, as always, seemed oblivious. In the five years since Paris had introduced them, Ethan had never seen Simon take a lover, though the offers probably flowed as freely as the bottled blood he supplied to his guests. Apparently, running Anarchy kept him too busy to involve himself at anything more than a professional level. “Just got a message from the weather service,” he informed Izzo, patting the satellite phone clipped to his belt. “Squall’s coming in fast. Better get everybody inside.” “Inside? Good luck.” Izzo pointed to the crowd on the beach. “They’re pretty into what they’re doing. They won’t want to stop.” Ethan fought back a blush when he saw that one of the German lovers had actually reached into his companion’s thong. His long fingers stroked the other vampire’s growing bulge, clearly outlined by the bathing suit’s sheer fabric. Around them, plenty of other guys were enjoying themselves in a similarly uninhibited fashion. “It’s your job to get them to stop,” Simon barked. “This storm’s a

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bad one. Their fun will end much more abruptly if they get doused by a wave.” “I’ll do my best.” Sighing, Izzo got to his feet and started walking around the clusters of guests, bending down to speak to each of them in turn. As Ethan had predicted, he didn’t have much luck. Some told him to buzz off, while others ignored him. Simon watched for a moment, shook his head in disgust, and trudged off to help. Finally, reluctantly, the moonbathers began to gather their towels and bottles and file back indoors. A tall, shirtless vampire sporting two silver nipple rings flashed Ethan a blatant come-on as he passed. Ethan turned away, mortified. The tall man bared his teeth and moved on. Simon himself brought up the end of the line. He paused to clap Ethan on the shoulder. “You, too, Ethan. Don’t worry. I’ll offer everyone a pint or two on the house to make up for the inconvenience.” “Be right there,” Ethan mumbled. As Simon dropped his hand and walked up the steps, he turned his own eyes upward. The sky seemed every bit as clear and peaceful as it had an hour before when he’d first stepped outside. The storm Simon was expecting must have been an extraordinarily fast-moving one. At least, he hoped so, for Simon’s sake. The guests wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted, rounded up, and ushered inside in response to a false alarm. Then, as if the heavens somehow read his thoughts, the most malevolent shadow he’d ever seen swept over the island. The stars and moon vanished in an instant, swallowed by a rolling blanket of darkness. The sea, too, began to churn under its oppressive presence, the waves surging into black, jagged points. They reared up like rampaging stallions and then crashed down on the beach. Their fury sent sand spraying and rocks flying into the shrieking gusts of hellish wind. Ethan watched, mesmerized, until he felt a sharp tug on his bare arm. He turned to find Izzo staring at him, wide-eyed.

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“What are you doing?” Though they were standing right next to one another, Izzo had to shout for Ethan to hear him. “Simon wants you to come in now!” “Yeah, coming,” he shouted back. He started to turn, but his eyes remained glued to the sea. The storm’s ferocity struck him as more beautiful than dangerous. For some reason, watching the rush and smash of the water energized him more than anything had in a long time. Still, he let Izzo’s insistent grip tug him toward the stairs. He was about to tear himself away and start climbing up after him when a flash of something pale in the water caught his attention. Digging his heels into the sand, he turned from Izzo with such force that his friend was momentarily pulled off balance. “Izzo, wait! Someone’s out there!” “What?” Izzo stopped and squinted. “No way.” “It’s true,” Ethan insisted, pointing. “Look! Right there!” Sure enough, the same white sliver appeared again, lost in the tumult of a particularly nasty breaker. Though he couldn’t get more than a glimpse, his exceptionally focused eyesight convinced him that he had seen a thin, white arm flailing in the dark green surf. This time, Izzo saw it, too. “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone must have wandered off before Simon could get to him.” He started back for the deck steps. “I’d better get him.” “No time. Come on!” Though Izzo looked less than thrilled to become part of a rescue effort, he didn’t object as Ethan seized his wrist and pulled him toward the water. As he ran, Ethan scanned the surge for another glimpse of the swimmer. Simon’s caution had been wise. Though vampires couldn’t drown in the conventional sense, he had heard of them being swept out to sea and lost for years, if not decades or even centuries. Without the ability to float, they would eventually sink to the bottom and remain there, starving and comatose, until currents washed them back ashore or a fishing net or diving expedition disinterred them.

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Ethan felt the frightening drag of the undertow the moment his bare feet splashed into the water. Only a few short years ago, as a human, he would have fearlessly plunged in and hurtled toward a fellow beachgoer in need. Now, thanks to Paris, his entire body instinctively recoiled from the touch of the water. Izzo couldn’t even bring himself to wade in that far. He remained on the sand, racing back and forth and waving his arms. Desperately, Ethan tried to focus on the task at hand. “Hey!” he shouted at the black, churning water. “Hey, where are you? Try to swim toward my voice!” He searched again for a glimpse of the storm-tossed victim. This time he saw nothing. Had he acted too late? A wave hit him suddenly, surging from behind. Both of Ethan’s legs slid out from under him, and icy water engulfed him. Fortunately, it pushed him toward Izzo and not out to the open water. He found himself on his hands and knees in the sand, dazed but unharmed. Izzo was dragging him back up the beach, his own face contorted with revulsion at being sprayed. “We lost him,” Ethan gasped, struggling to wipe the brine from his eyes so he could resume the search. “Have to go back in the water.” “No!” Izzo shrieked. “You can’t! You’ll get washed away. No one’s there, Ethan, believe me! Simon got them all ins—” The last syllable faded from his lips as his face went slack with astonishment. At the same time, he let go of Ethan, who rolled to his knees and wiped his eyes. Confused by Izzo’s reaction, he followed the bartender’s gaze up the beach to where a silhouetted form lay stretched out on the sand. Belatedly, he realized that the storm had begun moving away as quickly as it had come upon them. Already the ocean was calmer, the noise of the wind less strident. “That’s him!” The two of them rushed over to the spot where a young man lay in the wet sand, his head turned to one side and his limbs outstretched

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and still. The storm had stolen whatever he’d been wearing, Ethan noted with a blush. Naked and pale, he lay motionless on the beach with his limbs spread out in different directions. His smooth, bare buttocks curved upward like two white, delicate shells positioned side by side. The moon reappeared, illuminating the stranger’s face. Threads of white-blond hair lay across his smooth brow, trailed over his sculpted cheekbones, and touched his full, half-open lips. Ethan sucked in a breath. This guy, whoever he was, could have modeled for an artist intent on capturing the prototype of perfect male beauty. He looked no older than his early twenties…just a kid, really. “Hey!” Ethan rolled him over and shook him. “Hey, dude! Can you hear me? You okay?” No answer. If he was a vampire, of course, he couldn’t be dead. Ethan tried again, tapping the man’s cheeks with his palms. Again, he received no response. “You know him?” he asked Izzo. Izzo had crouched down, resting on hand on Ethan’s shoulder, staring wide-eyed at their unusual find. “Nope.” “Who is he, then?” “He’s not one of our guests.” Izzo shook his head. “I would have remembered.” No, Ethan realized, this guy wasn’t one of them, not in any sense of the word. That much was clear when he moaned and his fragile, long-lashed eyelids opened. No vampire could have eyes that innocent.

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Chapter 2 More comfortable now in a dry T-shirt and shorts, Ethan perched on the edge of his bed and gazed down at his unexpected guest. Some quick thinking on Izzo’s part had prompted them to sneak their discovery in through a side entrance. Ethan shuddered to imagine the hungry stares of the resort’s other patrons had they carried him via a more direct route. For now, at least, he was safe, snug in a quilt and breathing steadily. His eyes were closed again. “Guess he’s unconscious,” Izzo ventured. “Hope Simon doesn’t find out about this. I don’t think the others saw us. Did you see anyone around when we came in?” “Never mind that for now. We have to help him.” “How? Vampires can't give mouth-to-mouth, as you well know.” Izzo began to pace around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. “This is a disaster. I can’t believe you got me involved in this.” Ignoring him, Ethan bent to touch the young man’s forehead, pushing back a few strands of sea-dampened hair. “Should we send for a doctor? There must be someone staying here who studied medicine sometime within the last four centuries.” “A vampire doctor? Yeah, great idea. First thing he’d want is a blood sample.” “Well, we need to do something!” A knock at the door interrupted them. Izzo went to open it while Ethan positioned himself in front of the bed. Simon McAffrey stood in the hall. His arms were crossed, and his face resembled the dark clouds that had assaulted the beach earlier. “Please tell me Jordy didn’t see you two sneaking a human up

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here a few minutes ago,” he said wearily. “You know I don’t mind how my guests get their kicks, but despite this resort’s name, we do have rules.” Ethan and Izzo exchanged a glance. “Told you someone would spot us,” Izzo hissed. “We didn’t plan it,” Ethan said. Though he knew it would be best to come clean, he continued to shield the figure on the bed with his body. “He washed up on the beach during the storm. Must have fallen out of a boat or something. He’s lucky to have survived.” One of McCaffrey’s silky eyebrows performed a slow crawl up his forehead. “Really, Ethan? Not even your own mother would believe that.” “I swear it’s what happened. Ask Izzo.” Izzo shrugged with an exaggerated innocence that Ethan thought did their case more harm than good. “It’s true, Simon. I was there. Guy just came up out of nowhere. Ethan spotted him a few minutes before he landed on the beach.” Simon paused to consider their story, looking from one to the other as if willing one of them to crack. When neither did, he let out a slow whistle. “We haven’t experienced a boat wreck here in decades. This human’s timing may well be worse than his luck. If word of his existence gets around, he might wish he’d simply drowned.” “I found him, so he’s my responsibility,” Ethan announced in what he hoped was a forceful voice. “No one’s going to feed on him if I can stop it.” “That’s just my point, foolish boy. You might not be able to.” McAffrey shook his head and sighed. “Very well. Better let me take a look.” Reluctantly, Ethan stepped aside as McCaffrey pulled back the blanket and paused, clearly stunned by what lay beneath. The naked young man murmured and kicked his legs as the rush of cool air blew over him. “We can’t tell if he’s half dead or what,” Izzo said.

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McAffrey conducted a quick visual examination of the patient, discreetly turning the boy’s head to check for bite marks. “Nothing wrong with him that I can see,” he decided. “Your specimen appears to be a normal human male in every way…which is exactly why he shouldn’t be here.” The boy murmured again, writhing, and McAffrey pulled the blankets back over him. “While he’s unconscious, we don’t have a problem. When he wakes up and starts demanding explanations, we will.” “Ethan and I can handle everything,” Izzo reassured him, though he didn’t sound too convinced himself. “We’ll keep him here until he revives. Jordy can take care of him during the day. Maybe someone will come by and pick him up, or we’ll find his boat on the rocks somewhere. Like you said, this isn’t the first time this has happened.” “True—but that doesn’t mean it always ended well.” “Did Jordy tell anyone else what he saw?” Ethan asked. “No. Fortunately, he has the good sense to be discreet—a rare quality in humans, but essential among my staff. He’ll say nothing, rest assured.” Grumbling under his breath, McAffrey stalked to the door. “You two think you can handle it? Fine. But this better not come back to bite me, if you know what I mean.” Too nervous to laugh at the joke, Ethan and Izzo looked at each other again and nodded. Soon they resumed their vigil by the bed. At last, the castaway started to come around. He murmured, shaking his head as if lost in a troubling dream. “Hey,” Ethan whispered, bending closer. “Can you hear me? I’m Ethan. This is Izzo. We found you washed up on the beach. Do you have any idea what happened to you? Did you fall off a boat?” Those clear blue eyes opened and blinked at him, but Ethan saw no gleam of comprehension in them. “Maybe he doesn’t speak English,” Izzo suggested. Since McAffrey’s island lay in close proximity to Greece, Ethan had to admit that was a real possibility. Unfortunately, aside from a few

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required Spanish classes in college, he didn’t have much of a linguistic storehouse to draw from. “You know, something just occurred to me,” Izzo went on. “What if he’s some kind of a spy? You think someone sent him here to infiltrate Simon’s resort? I’ll bet plenty of our guests have enemies. This would be the perfect bait.” “Sounds like your imagination is running away with you.” Sighing, Ethan got up and fetched a chair. He set it next to the bed and slumped into it. “You can go, Izzo. Simon probably needs help in the bar. I’ll take care of things at this end. Thanks for your help.” Relief flickered across Izzo’s face. “Let me know the minute you find anything out,” he said, hurrying toward the door. “And I promise I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” “I know you won’t,” Ethan said. Secretly, he was far less sure of Izzo’s ability to still his tongue once he returned to the bar and the gossip and blood began to flow. He just hoped McAffrey would have the same misgivings and keep an eye on his boisterous employee. As for the castaway, he had turned his body to the left, sinking one side of his face into the pillow. His breathing seemed strong and steady, each breath deeper and more robust than the last. Ethan sat and watched him rest, envying his peace as he drifted through some relaxing dreamworld. Had he really saved a life this evening? It seemed ironic—vampires were reputed to cause violent deaths, not prevent them. Ethan had never killed anyone, but he’d never rescued anyone either. The prospect of taking responsibility for this human unsettled him—but at the same time, he couldn’t turn away. **** The hours melted together as Ethan sat and kept watch over the barely conscious young man. The more he stared, the more his charge’s delicate face, pale skin, and fine gold hair reminded him of the sensual angels in the Renaissance paintings he’d admired in

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museums and in art history books. Though he felt a little foolish, at one point he bent close and inspected Raphael’s smooth bare back for stubs where wings had once been attached. He saw nothing. Did angels wash up in the sea as well as drop from the sky? Maybe in some cases, they did. “Raphael,” he whispered, leaning close. “That’s what I should call you.” It was a fitting name for an angel. Izzo came back a few hours before sunrise. “No change?” He craned his neck to peer at the sleeping figure. Ethan knew what he was trying to see—the same thing McAffrey had checked for earlier. “Nothing. And no, I didn’t bite him. Don’t even bother to ask.” “Okay—I won’t. Listen, when he does wake up, Simon sent this.” Ethan accepted the paper bag Izzo handed him and peered inside to find a wrapped sandwich and some prepackaged chips from the storeroom. Anarchy maintained a small human staff to take care of the daily chores, and occasionally a vampire got permission to bring a mortal lover, so McAffrey kept a well-stocked pantry and functional kitchen. This wasn’t exactly a gourmet feast, but it would have to do. “Okay, then. See you tonight.” Already Izzo was backing out of the room. Ethan surmised that the concern in his eyes wasn’t just for Raphael. “Yeah. Good luck. And McAffrey says to be careful.” “I will.” Alone again, Ethan resumed his post in the chair. When he looked down at his lap, he grimaced. The bulge between his legs was huge, and growing more painful by the second. It grew worse when Raphael began moving around. Kicking the blankets off to the side, he twitched his hips back and forth in what resembled a swimming motion. Ethan leaned closer, listening as his breathing quickened. Was he reliving his last moments in the surf? “Hey,” he whispered, resting a tentative hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “Can you hear me? You’re safe. You’re on land. The storm’s gone.”

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He felt the muscles in Raphael’s shoulders tense, then relax. His innocent face crumpled in a moment of confusion or possibly despair. Soon the moment passed. The surge of lust that tore through Ethan’s body passed nowhere near as quickly, though. True, he was a vampire now, but first and foremost he was still a man—a man who had loved other men for as long as he could remember. Raphael had what Ethan’s human friends back in California would have called a swimmer’s body, with broad shoulders, starkly defined abs, and strong legs shaded by ridges of hard muscle. Except for a tiny swatch of flaxen curls around his cock, he was utterly hairless. Was it wrong to be overcome with lust for an angel? Groaning with need, he moved one hand over the straining bulge in his shorts and trailed the other down Raphael’s chest. His fingers felt as though they were gliding through butter as they moved lower, lower, coming to rest in the soft patch between Raphael’s legs. Guilt warred with yearning as he cupped that soft ball sac in his hand and rubbed his thumb around the base of Raphael’s shaft. It hardened the moment he touched the warm flesh, lifting to nuzzle Ethan’s wrist. Raphael murmured as Ethan continued stroking, using his other hand to open his zipper and mimicking the movements in his own lap. Although his vampire state barred him from the ultimate satisfaction a human male could enjoy, his hyper-attuned senses provided certain compensations. He heard every thud of Raphael’s excited heart as it began to race inside his chest, felt the pores on Raphael’s cock skin flare and gape, and smelled the hot rush of seed he coaxed up Raphael’s shaft even before he saw the first tiny bead bubble out. He half-closed his own eyes, pumping his own cock faster. He was working toward no specific goal, or at least not one that could be satisfied without a mouthful of fresh blood to go with it. He would just have to share Raphael’s pleasure as best he could. It wouldn’t be long now. The rapid pulse in Raphael’s cock thrummed against his fingers, and his tiny slit was drooling. Just…a few…more…strokes….

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The moment his orgasm erupted, wet and sticky and excitingly human, Raphael’s hand shot between his parted thighs and seized Ethan’s wrist. The contact caught Ethan off guard, jolting his own hand from the open front of his shorts. He might have lost his grip on Raphael’s, too, but the kid held him in place until he finished jacking him to completion. Ethan obliged, his cheeks ablaze and his body taut with embarrassment. To his relief, Raphael didn’t bother to open his eyes until it was all over. He let go of Ethan’s seed-spattered wrist and settled back with a deep sigh. “I’m…uh…sorry,” Ethan stammered. “I was just…uh….” Horrified at being caught with his hand in something far worse than the cookie jar, Ethan searched those wide blue eyes for any sign of revulsion or anger. Luckily, he found nothing but contentment. “That’s all right,” Raphael answered—in perfect English, Ethan noted, though his diction seemed a little stiff and formal. Had he learned it as a second language? “I liked it. It felt good. I think it helped me.” “I’m glad you feel that way,” Ethan said with relief. Raphael sat up, pushing the bedclothes farther away with his feet, unconcerned about his disheveled state. “You rescued me,” he said. Ethan nodded. “Yes. That’s right. Do you remember what happened?” A frown creased Raphael’s tender forehead. “No. Nothing. Just— water. Then your face.” “Well, I guess that’s good enough for now. We’ll figure the rest out later.” Raphael began looking around. His expression grew bewildered, though Ethan chalked that up to shock at being suddenly transported from the beach to a stranger’s room. He apparently had missed everything that had transpired during the interim. “What is this place?” “It’s a resort called Anarchy,” Ethan explained. “We’re on a…a private island. You’ll be safe here until we can figure out where you

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came from.” I hope, he added silently. Raphael nodded blankly. Ethan wasn’t sure what to make of his confused manner. Could he have sustained a head injury? “Thank you for rescuing me,” he said. “It’s okay. I was happy to do it.” Oddly enough, he realized, they’d just shared some pretty hot moments without knowing each other’s name. “I’m Ethan, by the way.” Instinctively, he put his hand forward, but blushed and quickly let it drop. “E–than,” Raphael repeated, pronouncing the word as though he found it difficult. “So what’s your name?” he asked, realizing it was hardly fair of him to keep thinking of the kid as Raphael now that he was capable of communicating. Good-bye, Raphael, he thought with a twinge of sadness. The fantasy had been fun while it lasted. Once again, though, Raphael merely stared straight ahead, baffled. “I don’t know,” he murmured. Crap, Ethan thought. Head injury for sure. This thing was spiraling way out of control. He had to find this kid a doctor, no matter what McAffrey or Izzo said. “Listen, I think you should lie down again. You might be hurt, and I don’t want to make things worse.” Ethan’s heart had ceased to beat many years earlier, but had it still been a functioning organ, he knew it would have stopped at the moment when Raphael stretched up, half-turned, and kissed him squarely—and hungrily—on the mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fresh and stunning erection, framed in cloudy gold hair, curving up between those marble-white thighs. Ethan was blushing when Raphael ended the kiss. He didn’t bother to cover himself up. Instead, he took Ethan’s wrist and guided his hand back down a familiar path. “Is…uh…this for me?” Ethan managed to croak as his fingers closed around hot, rigid flesh. Raphael looked up at him with what Ethan could only characterize

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as a worshipful gaze. For a moment he wondered if he were the one with the head injury. No way could this be happening to him. “Yes,” Raphael whispered. “What you did for me before…I want you to do it again.” They kissed again, even harder this time. Trembling, Ethan moved onto the bed.

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Chapter 3 Raphael’s confusion evaporated as he stripped Ethan of his shirt and shorts. He slid his hand between Ethan’s legs. Long, delicate fingers probed past coils of rough hair and caressed his balls. “You feel…nice.” “You do, too.” With a burst of surprising strength, Raphael settled Ethan on top of him, wrapped both legs around his waist, and pulled him closer. “You helped me before,” he whispered against Ethan’s ear “Maybe you can help me again. To remember…maybe.” “Maybe.” Ethan moaned as Raphael’s flesh warmed and aroused his own body. Thanks to the bottled nutrition Izzo had supplied, his physical responses were fully functional. Except for the lack of a pulse, he knew his body would feel normal and alive to Raphael. Raphael arched his groin until the tips of their cocks brushed together, the domed heads kissing. An electric current raced through Ethan’s middle as Raphael tightened his legs around Ethan and stroked his whole body against him. Resting his weight against the smaller man, Ethan allowed himself to toy with one of Raphael’s cinnamon-colored nipples. He pinched the nib until Raphael gasped and opened his lips as if begging for a kiss. Ethan experienced a surge of panic. With Paris, controlling himself had never been an issue. Both of them were vampires—what difference did it make if they bit one another in the heat of passion? Since Paris, though, he hadn’t been with anyone. And he wasn’t at all sure he’d be able to resist tasting the sweet, vein-streaked throat right

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in front of him. In an effort to divert Raphael’s attention, he pivoted around and dipped his head between Raphael’s thighs. He set about covering the downy flesh as well as the underside of his scrotum with a string of wet kisses. From there, he slicked his tongue over Raphael’s distended crown. Raphael shuddered as he bent down to suck on it, sweeping up the tangy pearls that gathered at the tip. Ethan reveled in his taste—as fresh as the sea, as clean as the night wind. No doubt his blood would prove equally delightful. Already he could hear it thundering down through Raphael’s groin, pumped through his rapidly beating heart, filling the veins that bloated his cock. A swelling sensation distorted his mouth. He pulled back just as his fangs began to lengthen and sharpen, his throat contracting with thirst. A piercing buzz erupted in his head, focusing every shred of his consciousness on one task—feeding. His burning eyes fixed on a spot just to the left of Raphael’s tight sac. It would take him only a moment to dart down and plunge his fangs inside. Already he could imagine the texture and taste of that soft flesh in his mouth, the warmth of the blood flowing over his tongue and sating his senses. Through the haze of his need, he was aware of Raphael stirring and moaning. He tilted his head and found the younger man gazing at him, his expression one of hopeful naïveté. Fortunately, the angle of Ethan’s head prevented him from seeing the fangs or catching on to exactly what he was planning to do to his tender young cock. You feel nice. Raphael’s earlier words intruded over the ringing in his ears. Ethan grimaced. What he was about to do wouldn’t feel anywhere near as nice. With a growl, Ethan turned away, every muscle in his body shrieking in protest. Puzzled, Raphael sat up. One of his hands went to Ethan’s shoulder. He rested it there in a comforting manner, strumming Ethan’s cool skin.

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“What’s wrong?” Raphael asked. It took every ounce of self-control Ethan had not to whirl and clamp down on his pale, succulent wrist. Instead, he crawled back to the head of the bed. Kneeling, he cupped Raphael’s chin in both hands and forced his face upward. His own eyes, still flaming with bloodlust, met Raphael’s with intensity that made the younger man gasp. “You must sleep now,” Ethan commanded. The words came out in a hoarse, strained whisper. “Sleep deeply, without dreams.” Raphael’s blue eyes glazed over. The pale lids fluttered with only the faintest suggestion of resistance. Then his body relaxed, and his head sank into the pillows. Releasing him, Ethan slid off the bed and wiped away the tears of shame and frustration that smeared his cheeks. Not for the first time, he cursed Paris for his false promises and selfish motives. How much better things would be if he had simply killed Ethan when he’d had the chance. The thought of Paris and his transformation caused him to glance up at the picture windows in front of the bed. He could tell from the shade of the night sky that dawn was a bit closer than he’d predicted. Quickly, he crossed to the night table and thumbed a switch wired into its surface. The metal sun-blotting shades slammed into place, sealing him away until the timer on the wall notified him that dusk had come again. Reaching down, he brushed his hand over Raphael’s forehead. Yes…a long, healing sleep would do Raphael good. He grabbed the top blanket, rolled himself up in it, and retreated to the chair he’d occupied during his vigil. Vampire hypnosis should keep Raphael knocked out until sundown, but there was always a chance the spell would fail and the kid would come around early. After everything he’d been through, Ethan thought it better not to let him wake up beside an apparently dead body.

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**** When the timer on the night table went off, signaling the end of daylight, Raphael was still in the same position Ethan had left him. Shedding the blanket, Ethan headed to the shower, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, and then rummaged around in his duffel bag for something suitable for Raphael. He settled on tan cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt. These he laid out on the nightstand, along with a pair of boxers and the snacks Izzo had delivered the night before. Though the sight of human food didn’t tempt him, his roiling stomach was a definite distraction. Quickly, he made his way to the tiny refrigerator set into the wall and spun the combination lock until it popped open. He downed the blood cold, unwilling to risk even the small delay needed to warm it in the kitchenette. The taste was dull and metallic, but it served the purpose and took the edge off his hunger. Only then did he return to Raphael’s side and touch the younger man’s forehead. He moved his hand slowly up, raising Raphael’s eyelids in the process. “Wake now,” he murmured, fixing the open but unseeing eyes with a powerful stare of his own. Raphael sat up and pushed the sheet aside, as totally unconscious of his beautiful nudity as Ethan was painfully aware of it. The kid scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head to clear his senses. Ethan knew from experience that coming out of a vampire-induced trance could be a little rough, so he leaned against the wall and waited. “Feeling better?” he asked after a few moments, trying to sound casual. He pointed to the supplies on the table. “I’ve got clothes and food for you. You want to take a shower first? Get all that salt water out of your hair?” Raphael frowned, threading his fingers through his sea-stiffened locks. He seemed unsure what Ethan was talking about. Finally, he

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raised himself on shaky legs and gathered the clothing in his arms. “Better,” he said in a halting tone. He wandered around the room a little before stumbling into the bathroom and shutting the door. Ethan heard the water turn on, stop, and then come on again. This kid is seriously messed up, he thought. It sickened him to recall how he’d almost taken advantage of his helplessness the night before. Half an hour later, the bathroom door opened and Raphael walked out wearing the shorts and T-shirt. The fabric was plastered to his chest and thighs as though he’d neglected to dry himself off first. Ethan motioned for him to sit down by the picture window, the shades open now to reveal a stunning view of the rising moon over the ocean. When he brought the sandwich to him, Raphael turned it around in his hands as though not sure what to do. When he bit down, he made a face. So much for McAffrey and Izzo’s culinary skills, Ethan thought. Still, Raphael finished it without complaining. Next, he stood up and plucked at the clothes Ethan had given him. “Must I wear these?” he asked with a pained expression. “They feel…scratchy.” “For now. Maybe you can take them off later. We’ll see.” Raphael’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Will you take yours off, too? Don’t they itch the same way?” Ethan returned the grin. He couldn’t tell if Raphael was flirting with him, but his carefree manner was contagious. “Yeah. As a matter of fact they do. But we have to keep them on for now. I want to talk to you, Raphael.” He sat down on the bed and patted a spot beside him. “Raphael?” The kid sat down and rolled out the syllables as slowly as he’d repeated Ethan’s earlier. “Is that my name?” “Well, that’s just the thing. I don’t know your name. I just made one up because I had to call you something. I was hoping you could tell me what it really is.” Another shrug, another wan and vaguely puzzled smile. “‘Raphael’ sounds nice. You can call me that all you want.” That word again. Nice. Accident or not, this guy was really an odd

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specimen—he had no appetite for human food, found even baggy, casual clothes itchy and unpleasant, and seemed comfortable with only the simplest English words. Briefly, he thought back to Izzo’s theory of a plant or a spy. Could the whole innocent-waif thing be an act to gain his confidence? To what end? “Can you tell me anything about your past?” he pressed. “Where you came from? How you ended up on the beach out there?” Raphael fell silent and rubbed the back of his neck. “When I try to remember, there’s nothing. I only see darkness…and waves…and you.” His chin snapped up. He gazed at Ethan’s face with such trusting admiration that Ethan felt his newly filled stomach contract. Heat suffused his groin, too, when Raphael placed his right hand on Ethan’s thigh. “I know you rescued me. From what, I’m not sure.” “A storm,” Ethan reminded him. “I found you floating in the ocean. I think the waves washed you off a boat, or maybe you swam out too far. Are you sure you can’t remember?” “No. I can’t.” Ethan sensed Raphael’s frustration and struggled not to show his own. He couldn’t imagine how weird it must feel to have no recollection of one’s name, history, or anything else. At the same time…it had to be incredibly liberating. No guilt, no pain over past mistakes or unwanted connections. In a way, he kind of envied Raphael—or whoever he really was. “Look,” he said with a sigh, “we need to find out if someone’s looking for you. The guy who runs this place has short-wave radios and stuff. He can check for reports of missing boats and people. We ought to go downstairs and talk to him.” He paused, but Raphael didn’t respond. “Besides, I think we should get out of this room for a while.” “Why?” Ethan shifted on the bed. His erection had swelled to almost

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painful proportions and was jabbing at the rigid metal teeth of his fly. All he could think about was Raphael reaching over to unzip him and take his straining flesh in his hand, or even his mouth, but no. That would be a terrible idea…wouldn’t it? He groped for a suitable answer. “Because, like I said, we have to talk to McAffrey. He wouldn’t like it if someone showed up here asking about you. He…uh…values his privacy too much.” At Raphael’s dejected look, he hastily added, “But we don’t have to do that right away. We could take a walk along the beach first. Who knows? Maybe you’ll remember something then.” “Maybe.” The answer sounded anything but enthusiastic. “Don’t worry.” Ethan took Raphael’s hand and stood up. “I’ll make sure you don’t get washed away again. I’ll be a perfect gentleman in every way.” He made that last promise mostly as a reminder to himself. He just hoped that single, foul-tasting bottle from the fridge would last him for another hour or two. He started forward, thinking Raphael would move with him, but to his surprise he found himself pulled off balance instead. He looked up to find Raphael frozen in place, staring out the window at the darkened beach as if he’d been mesmerized all over again. His blue eyes followed the rhythmic surge and collapse of the waves far below. “Hey,” Ethan ventured, squeezing the hand he still held. “What is it? Does the water remind you of something?” For a moment longer, Raphael’s expression remained dreamy and faraway. Then he seemed to shake off his reverie and turned calmly toward Ethan. “No,” he said. “Nothing.”

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Chapter 4 “We’ll find a quiet place to sit for a while. Maybe something will occur to you,” Ethan said as they made their way down the back staircase. Recalling how Jordy had spied on him and Izzo when they’d carried Raphael upstairs, Ethan kept a careful watch for any movement in the shadows even after they’d reached the ground floor. Clutching Raphael’s hand, he steered him toward a darkened path lined by scruffy trees. Behind them lay a secluded spot overlooking the sea, which Ethan had discovered during a solitary walk. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, he’d longed to curl up on one of the large, flat rocks with Paris beside him. Never had he imaged he would soon be leading a new man to the very same place. To his relief, he found the site in question unoccupied. He climbed up and stretched out, wishing he’d brought along a blanket. “Come on,” he invited Raphael. “We can look at the water for a while. Maybe it’ll jar your memory.” A faraway expression stole over Raphael’s face as he gazed out at the choppy waves. Ethan watched and waited, torn between wanting him to recover some shred of identity and worrying that once he did, their time together would be over. Finally, Raphael found his voice. “I want to swim,” he announced. “Not a good idea. The water’s deep here, and the current’s pretty strong.” Raphael ignored him and headed toward a ragged wall of rock that bordered a steep drop-off, more suited to tying boats or fishing— activities few vampires cared for—than wading. His strides were

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long, rapid, and purposeful. He shed the clothes Ethan had loaned him as he walked. Alarmed, Ethan slid off the rock and started after him. “Hey! Come back here!” He grabbed each piece of clothing as Raphael tossed it. Terrifying images of Raphael being swept out to sea—or over to the beach where McAffrey’s thirsty guests had gathered again—rioted through his mind. By the time Ethan reached the water’s edge, Raphael was already naked and thigh-deep in the water. Strong, foamy currents bubbled and eddied around him. His arms were outstretched, as though he were preparing to dive in headfirst. Shouting to him might catch the attention of others besides Raphael, which was precisely what he had come here to avoid. Bundling the clothes he’d retrieved, Ethan tossed them onto dry land and charged toward the water. He stopped short at the edge of the rocks. Powerful breakers churned only inches from his body. The sight and smell of the ocean filled him with a numbing panic that froze his limbs and sapped his resolve. Desperately, he scanned the choppy black water for any sign of Raphael. He spotted him about fifty yards out. As he watched that pale body crest and dip in the powerful swell, Ethan’s eyes widened—not with fear this time, but with awe. Far from being tossed and controlled by the sea, he was clearly in control of it. Raphael moved with the grace and precision of a dolphin, riding the current and pushing against it by turns. His lean arms split the waves, and his lithe back flashed silvery in the moonlight. For long periods, he would disappear from sight, only to re-emerge and plunge beneath the surface again. Whenever Ethan caught glimpses of his face, he seemed to be laughing with pure, unaffected delight. Eventually, he waded back to Ethan, grinning and tossing his long, wet hair away from his eyes. Ethan forgot about his own nervewracking proximity to the sea when he saw how Raphael’s entire

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body seemed to glow with exhilaration. The enormous erection protruding from between Raphael’s legs didn’t escape his attention, either. “You’re…amazing in the water,” he stammered. And outside of it, too, he added privately. “How did you do that?” “I don’t know.” Raphael cheerfully clambered over the rocks and onto shore. His stiff cock bobbed in front of him, slapping the insides of his thighs. Ethan swallowed hard. “I just could. And also…I felt I needed to. I don’t know why.” He headed back to the flat rock Ethan had rested on earlier and vaulted effortlessly onto it. Ethan followed. “Maybe I didn’t need to rescue you after all,” he mused, crawling up to sit beside Raphael. The ache between his legs intensified when Raphael casually reached down and grabbed himself. Ethan tried not to look as those long fingers rubbed up and down the hard shaft as if trying to relieve an itch or some other discomfort. Ethan knew the feeling all too well. “Looks like you do okay on your own.” “I guess so.” Raphael’s cheeks colored. The moonlight made his face shimmer with an almost unworldly radiance. His hand dropped from his cock and slid over to Ethan’s knee instead. “But I’m glad you did.” He tilted his head. “Do you swim, Ethan?” “I used to…a long time ago.” Sensing that Raphael was waiting for an explanation, he added, “I’m just not graceful in the water.” “If you swam more, you might get better at it.” “I won’t.” He shook his head in frustration. This kid had no idea what he was up against. “Look, Raphael, there are plenty of things you don’t know about me.” Raphael’s hand tightened around Ethan’s knee. Then it slid up the inseam of his jeans toward his fly. “That’s okay. There are plenty of things I don’t know about me.” “You’re…different. You just can’t remember. I can remember all too well. What’s worse is I can’t bring myself to tell you.”

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“So don’t,” Raphael said in a husky voice. He grasped the thick brass button on Ethan’s waistband and popped it open. His next target was the tab of his zipper. “I don’t care.” “Maybe you should, though. I feel like I’m…taking advantage of you.” “No.” The zipper came down, and Raphael snuggled close enough to insert his hand in the gap. “You’re not. That is something I do know.” Ethan sighed as Raphael began to stroke him, sliding his fingertips up until they encircled his crown. “You’re…you’re sure you don’t remember anything?” Raphael shook his head. “Nothing. But I know I want you. Isn’t that enough for now?” “I guess so. Yeah.” Without a moment’s pause, Raphael peeled away Ethan’s T-shirt and began working his jeans down over his hips. As his cock sprang free, needs he had denied too long erupted inside Ethan’s body with a force he could no longer resist. Thankfully, the sensations proved so intense that he didn’t connect the desire for sex with the need for fresh blood—at least not for the moment. That made things a lot easier for him—and besides, how could he keep worrying about destroying Raphael’s innocence when the guy in question was once again stripping him like a pro? “Your skin is so cold,” Raphael observed as he got on top of Ethan. He ran his hands down his sides and then cupped his rear end in both palms. “It’s from the wind,” Ethan said. His explanation seemed to satisfy Raphael, even though the air felt balmy and there was almost no breeze. With a brief grunt of acknowledgement, he went to work on Ethan’s cock. He started off by slowly tracing his tongue around the root. Then he raised his head and slid his lips up and down the length of Ethan’s

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stalk. By the time he took the domed head into his mouth, Ethan was shuddering with excitement. Up and down, up and down, Raphael bobbed with increasing speed and suction. On each downstroke, he drew a little more of Ethan into the depths of his throat. The sensation felt like rubbing a silk cloth up and down his shaft. Ethan bit his own tongue to keep from unleashing a cry that would have brought every vampire from Anarchy running. He also noticed his fangs growing again. The arousal was too much to manage. “Damn,” he growled, turning his face away so Raphael wouldn’t see. Much as he wanted to continue, he knew he had to act fast. Hastily he reached down, grabbed Raphael by the shoulders, and rolled him onto his hands and knees. Raphael didn’t protest, having no time to react. “Hold still,” he rasped, positioning himself against Raphael’s upturned ass. “I’m going to fuck you. Don’t resist.” “I won’t,” Raphael promised, opening his legs in surrender. He braced his palms against the rock and angled his back to give Ethan a clear shot at his ass. “It’s what I want.” Still, he was shaking a little. Ethan wanted to tell him not to worry, that if it hurt, the pain would be only momentary. But the urge that gripped him made speech impossible. He used one hand to steady himself and squeezed the other into Raphael’s crack. He skimmed his fingers over the tiny ring, noticing its tightness. He was about to ask Raphael if he’d ever had a man inside him before when he realized that Raphael probably couldn’t remember one way or the other. The only means to find out was to perform a little one-on-one research. He worked his index finger inside, less cautiously than he might have under less pressing circumstances. The invasion caused Raphael to twitch and moan. “Do it,” he wheezed, rocking his rear end back and forth. “Patience.” Ethan gritted his newly sharpened teeth, angry at his hypocrisy. Nonetheless, he tried to pace himself. He aligned the head

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of his cock, lubed to the point of dripping with Raphael’s own spit, alongside his finger. He pressed it inside slowly, pausing every now and then to let Raphael adjust to his size. Then he would push forward again. Whatever discomfort Raphael might have experienced, he shook off quickly. Ethan felt his muscles clench and pull along with his shallow thrusts as Raphael tried to help him in. The head of his cock was now imbedded in a tight pouch of flesh that felt every bit as silky as Raphael’s throat. He had to go in deeper, had to experience being swallowed completely. “It’s time,” he said, rearing back a little. Raphael’s body tensed as Ethan positioned himself for a more powerful thrust. Silently, Ethan counted to three. On the last beat, he shoved his hips forward. He slalomed along a trail of saliva, seawater, and sweat, finding his way home in a single, determined push. Soon he was inside. Raphael groaned, bucking his torso as Ethan began sawing in and out of him with increasing speed. The tightness he’d felt earlier became even more apparent now, suggesting that Raphael may indeed have been a virgin before this moment. Well, there was no going back now. He began to pump his hips faster, every thrust tearing another ragged moan from Raphael’s lungs. Reaching around, Ethan grasped the younger man’s cock and began to yank it in time with his hipthrusts. In no time, he felt it swell and then explode, coating his cold fingers in hot seed. Raphael shuddered when Ethan eased his cock, still hard, out of that snug channel. It took everything he had not to throw himself onto Raphael’s back, push the golden curls from his neck, and drink his way to the only sort of climax a dead man could enjoy. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to center himself, willing away the hunger that burned in his gut. Eventually, he was able to master it enough to risk contact with Raphael again.

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They lay back on the rock and stretched out under a ripe, healing moon. Raphael tucked his head against Ethan’s shoulder, licking Ethan’s left nipple. Ethan struggled to remain calm and enjoy the pleasurable sensation. After a while, to Ethan’s relief, Raphael stopped and looked up. “Are you…well?” “Yes,” Ethan grumbled. His voice was hoarse with the strain of controlling himself, “Of course I am. Why do you ask?” “You didn’t…uh…do what I did.” “No. I didn’t come. But it’s all right. Don’t worry about it.” Ethan rested a calming hand on Raphael’s forehead and eased him back against his chest. He saw no need to tell Raphael how vampires didn’t experience orgasm in the same way humans did. What he did feel was pleasurable and satisfying, though in a way no human could understand. Not as pleasurable and satisfying as a hearty gulp of blood would be, of course. “Let’s get dressed and go inside,” he suggested as the urge grew worse. “I want you to wait in the room while I talk to someone downstairs. The good news is that you can take the clothes back off as soon as you get up there.” Raphael grinned. “Promise?” “Yeah. Promise.” Reluctantly, they struggled into their pants and shirts and made their way up the path, holding hands. “Your fingers are cold,” Raphael observed. “I told you. It’s the wind.” A shadowed figure met them halfway. Ethan stopped in midstep, ready to shove Raphael behind him and assume a defensive stance. Then the figure stepped into the light. Ethan relaxed. “I went up to your room,” McAffrey said, blocking the trail by standing in the center and spreading his feet. “I was surprised to find neither of you there.”

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“I thought a walk on the beach might jog his memory.” “And were you successful?” Ethan shrugged. “Afraid not.” “I see.” McAffrey nodded. His cold eyes flicked from Ethan to Raphael and traveled down to their joined hands. “Why don’t you come to my office for a bit?” Ethan knew he wasn’t really asking a question. “I’d like to speak to both of you.”

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Chapter 5 Seated at the private bar outside McAffrey’s office, Ethan watched Izzo pour him a fragrant glass of fine French blood. “See what you think,” Izzo said as he pushed the glass toward him. “Just a hint of Merlot. Should calm your nerves.” “Thanks.” Ethan stole a glance at the door to McAffrey’s office. “Don’t worry. Simon won’t hurt him.” “I know.” Grimacing, Ethan downed a mouthful of blood. Any other time, the drink would have refreshed him. At the moment, he was too worried about Raphael, sequestered in McAffrey’s office, to register more than a temporary relief of his grinding thirst. “Of course, we all know bottled can’t compare to the real thing,” Izzo prodded. “He looks like a tasty little morsel.” “I didn’t bite him. Couldn’t do it.” Ethan finished the rest of the glass and held it out. “I haven’t done fresh in over a year, and I don’t want to start again.” Izzo poured him a refill. “Since you and Paris broke up, you mean.” “We fought about that the most…hunting. I couldn’t get used to it, and he couldn’t leave it behind.” “Yeah, they get set in their ways after the first hundred years or so. The vampire world was a different place in his day.” “You’re older than he is, and you gave it up.” “And I still miss it every day.” Izzo’s eyes took on a wistful expression. “The difference is, I’ve come to believe, really believe, that feasting on a human without his consent is wrong. Paris hasn’t reached that stage yet. He probably never will.”

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“I’d have to agree there.” Ethan sighed and looked down at his hands. “I really loved him, you know.” “I know. But you’ll get over it.” Izzo folded his arms and leaned on the bar. “What about your little friend in there? Do you think you could love him? The way you keep glancing at the door tells me something’s going on.” “Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to go down that route?” Ethan replied a bit too forcefully. “I mean, we don’t even know his real name.” “Most vampires would consider that a pretty minor thing.” Izzo shrugged. “Trust me, some of the guests here have changed their own names a hundred times or more.” “But Raphael isn’t a vampire.” A chilling smile parted Izzo’s lips. “Not yet, anyway.” The two looked up as McAffrey’s door opened and the man himself appeared. He motioned for Ethan to come inside. He was about to ask where Raphael was when he spotted him at the far end of McAffrey’s plush office. Raphael lay sprawled in a cushioned swivel chair, his head tilted back and his mouth half open. His expression was blank and vacant. Panic tore through Ethan as he dashed across the room. “What the hell did you do to him?” he cried as he knelt beside the chair and turned Raphael to face him. McAffrey snorted. “Relax. I didn’t hurt him. I simply helped him drift into a more…open state of mind while I asked him some questions.” Ethan checked Raphael’s pulse and found it steady. Relieved, he dropped his wrist and stood to face McAffrey, who had perched on the edge of his enormous glass-topped desk and crossed his arms. “Believe me now? Don’t worry, I can rouse him as soon as I’m ready. He’ll think he’s been sitting here wide awake the whole time.” “Okay, but you still should have talked to me first. I’m the one who’s responsible for him.”

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“And I’m responsible for a great deal more than that.” McAffrey’s steely eyes flashed. “Never mind that now. The point is that I put him under so I could probe his subconscious and get some answers from him. Even if he can’t remember details, I’d hoped for some general information, or at least impressions that would allow me to draw conclusions. Bear in mind that I spent most of last night, and the earlier part of this evening, scanning the airwaves for reports of a missing sailor or swimmer, all to no avail.” “And?” “And I got nothing. I don’t just mean nothing useful, I mean nothing at all. It’s literally as if your little friend here has no memories because he has no past or point of origin. I’ve invaded a lot of minds over the past two hundred years, yet I’ve never seen anything like this.” Ethan scowled. “What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying that maybe he isn’t human after all.” “Not human?” Ethan blinked, stunned. “Well, he’s not a vampire. I can tell you that for sure.” “Agreed. He’s not a vampire. But there may be other possibilities we haven’t considered.” “Like what?” “I have no idea.” McAffrey didn’t bother to hide his amusement at Ethan’s incredulous expression. “Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me everything you remember about finding him. Don’t leave any detail out, even if you think I’ve heard it before.” “Well…he washed up during the storm. He was caught in a wave. Izzo and I spotted him, and I waded in and pulled him out. You know all that.” McAffrey pursed his lips. “The storm. Yeah. Funny thing. Came out of nowhere.” “Surely you’re not implying that Raphael caused it somehow?” Uncrossing his arms, McAffrey slid from the desk and paced the room. “Sometimes the ocean looks perfectly normal to those of us

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confined to land. Yet we can never really know what’s happening below the surface. I learned that simple truth during my seafaring days.” Ethan nodded. He would never challenge McAffrey’s understanding of the ocean, knowing the man in front of him had once sailed with some of the fiercest pirate crews known to history. This island, in fact, had been among the spoils he’d taken so long ago. “In the old days,” McAffrey continued somewhat wistfully, “the pirates traded stories. We believed all sorts of creatures dwelt in the sea, including some that appeared quite human. They’d climb on the rocks and wave, calling for help. When the ships got close enough…wham!” Abruptly he brought both hands up and smashed them together. The sound made Ethan jump. “We heard the stories from the few who survived.” Ethan bent and brushed a protective hand over Raphael’s forehead. He stirred, murmuring contentedly. Asleep in McAffrey’s chair, he looked anything but dangerous. Apparently caught up in a pleasant dream, he moved his right hand toward his waistband and slid it inside. The front of the khaki shorts tented as Raphael kneaded himself, his lips puckering as he enacted whatever fantasy was flitting through his detached mind. Swallowing, Ethan stood and backed away. “But isn’t that all they were—stories? What people thought were mermaids singing turned out to be manatees or whales, or the sailors’ imaginations.” “Humans weren’t as arrogant then as they are nowadays. We made no pretense of knowing and understanding everything.” McAffrey smirked. “You and I once thought vampires were imaginary, too, didn’t we? I’m simply saying we can’t discount any possibility.” Ethan fell silent. He couldn’t deny that McAffrey had a point. In most ways, Raphael was as much a mystery now as he’d been when he and Izzo had first pulled him from the surf…totally unharmed.

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But some kind of sea creature? That was just plain insane. Wasn’t it? McAffrey studied him grimly. “Here’s another question—does Raphael know what you are? What all of us are?” “Of course not!” “Well, how do you think he’ll react when he finds out? Perhaps more to the point, how will you?” “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.” “Then I suggest you do give it some thought. In my opinion, that’s the sort of thing one ought to address directly. Of course, it’s up to you.” Ethan raked a hand though his already tousled hair. This whole escapade was turning into a real mess. Would Raphael even know what a vampire was? And once he found out, would he flee in revulsion—or do something more drastic? “What should we do?” he finally asked. “I’ll have to think about it.” McAffrey began pacing again. “For now, I’m just asking you to be careful. I don’t need any trouble. And my guests have a right to feel safe.” “Raphael’s no threat to anyone here,” Ethan bristled. “I’m willing to believe you. All I ask is that you keep it that way.” The warning hung in the air, unspoken but clear enough to make Ethan scowl. McAffrey walked toward Raphael, now swiveling the chair back and forth as his hand worked at the hard-on struggling against his pants. He was about to bend and rouse him when a sharp knock sounded on the office door. Cursing, McAffrey crossed the room and flung it open. Izzo stood there. He licked his lips when he saw Raphael pleasuring himself in the chair, but maintained his usual discretion and refrained from comment. “What is it?” “Boat’s coming in,” Izzo said, tearing his gaze away from Raphael with a visible effort. “They radioed ahead. Dinghy, two

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passengers. One human, one vampire. Security just called from the dock.” “Could they be looking for Raphael?” Ethan inquired. He and McAffrey exchanged a glance that told him McAffrey was wondering the same thing. Izzo shook his head. “Doubt it.” “How do you know?” Ethan asked. “You talked to them?” “No, but I’m pretty sure.” McAffrey’s patience with the entire evening’s events had clearly come to an end. Ethan stepped back as he gripped the door, looking as though he might slam it in his employee’s face. “What are you blathering on about?” he demanded. “Say what you mean, assuming you have some meaning to impart, or direct your concerns to another staff member.” “Oh, I’ve already done that,” Izzo said, darting Ethan a meaningful glance. “I just think this is something you’ll want to attend to personally.” “Fine.” McAffrey suppressed his anger with a visible effort. “We’ll leave your little friend here for now, Ethan. You come with me. Izzo, lock this door and make sure no one enters or leaves.” “You got it.” Izzo’s mysterious smile never dimmed as McAffrey charged past him, motioning for Ethan to follow. The two of them hurried out to the dock, where a small speedboat was pulling up. A human in a bathing suit was tossing a rope to the group of vampires waiting there. Just offshore, a beautiful yacht rocked gently on the water. “Must be a whole crew of them on board,” McAffrey groused as he strode down the dock. Ethan had to hurry to keep up. “I see this all the time. They don’t want to pay for rooms, but they’ll guzzle down every last bottle of blood and barely leave my staff a tip. Just watch.” “If they’ve brought humans, they might not be into the bottled stuff,” Ethan suggested. “Maybe they’re looking for a place to party.”

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“That’s every bit as bad. They’ll trash the place and then take off. Might even leave some of their feeders behind. Then I’ll have to figure out a way to get them back to the mainland, and half the time they don’t have a passport or a single Euro on them.” They reached the crowd that had gathered on the dock. McAffrey elbowed his way through and stepped up to the small boat. The human holding the rope stood in the bow, waiting for assistance. Ethan raised an eyebrow at the man’s attire, or lack thereof, since he wore nothing but a tiny black thong that left little to the imagination. No wonder the vampires were all jostling each other and snickering. If anything, though, the human took obvious pride in the attention he was drawing to himself. His resemblance to a tasty beachside snack seemed of little consequence to him. The other passenger, presumably his vampire master, sat in the rear of the boat, making no effort to join in the docking effort. He, at least, seemed respectably dressed in a light-colored suit with a widebrimmed, fedora-style hat pulled low over his face. The human spoke to McAffrey in a foreign language, and McAffrey answered in kind. Finally, two vampires from Anarchy’s security team reached out to accept the rope. The nearly naked human leapt onto the dock, prompting a good many exclamations from the assembled crowd. He turned and extended his hand to help the vampire up after him. When the vampire stood, Ethan felt his stomach shrivel. A familiar, overly broad smile flashed beneath the shadow of the jaunty hat. “Why, Ethan,” Paris exclaimed in a jovial voice. “I was wondering if you’d be here! What a delicious surprise!”

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Chapter 6 “You’re looking well, Ethan.” Paris flashed his perfect white teeth. “A little pale. Still, it’s good look for you. Goes with your dark hair. Rosy complexions have always been overrated, in my opinion.” He perched on a bar stool in Simon’s large underground lounge, surrounded by a curious crowd of fawning vampires and doted on by the muscular human in the thong. As usual, Paris basked in the attention. His sudden interest in Ethan was just another way to promote himself, Ethan realized. Perhaps that was all their relationship had ever been. “In any case, I’m glad you had the sense to use my reservation. Hate to see a good deposit go to waste.” “I’d be happy to reimburse you,” Ethan said through clenched teeth. “I would have done it sooner, but I had no way of reaching you once you left L.A.” “Nonsense. I owe you something after I treated you so barbarously. All I require in the way of repayment is to know you are having fun here. Are you seeing to that, Simon?” “Of course,” McAffrey replied in a clipped tone. Ethan was relieved to see that he, at least, seemed immune to Paris’s spurious charms. “I consider it part of my job to ensure that everyone enjoys himself here. But another part is keeping the peace. You aren’t here to make trouble, are you, Paris?” Paris raised his golden brows in a perfect imitation of shock. “Me? When have I ever been known to make trouble? I simply want to anchor my yacht offshore and come in now and then to party a little. I won’t bother anyone. Promise.”

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“How many are on board?” Simon asked skeptically. “Oh, just me and a few friends. Twelve altogether, including Kristor here, and three other humans. The vampires are fun, but two are from the eighteenth century, and you know how that goes, Simon. Still, we make do. How dull the Age of Reason must have been. Luckily, I came into my own among the Decadents.” The assembled audience murmured with excitement when Paris launched into a story Ethan had heard many times before, about how he had partied with Oscar Wilde in the last years of Queen Victoria’s reign. This group of vampires lapped up his tale like fresh blood as he prattled on about the reams of poetry he had inspired and the famous works of art created in his image. They laughed when he described how men had drawn lots to have the pleasure of ruining him only to have their apparently innocent protégé turn on them with glistening fangs. Even Kristor nodded and smiled, not in the least disturbed by the sordid details. McAffrey waited patiently for him to finish. “Tell me more about the humans you have on board,” he said when Paris’s story, and the resulting commotion, had died down. “All perfectly harmless. Came with the yacht when I rented it. We needed someone to steer in the daytime, but they come in handy for other things, too. Limited English, but years of experience, if you know what I mean.” Paris winked. “People are much more openminded in Europe. In other words, we won’t deplete your bar. And if any of your colleagues prefer to take a meal fresh, we’re willing to share.” He punctuated this statement by slapping his left thigh. Kristor reacted by dropping to kneel between Paris’s spread legs. Quickly he reached up to knead the bulge in those pale linen trousers. Then he leaned forward to work the button fly open with his teeth. Ethan watched, stunned, as Kristor nuzzled his face deeper into the gap in the fabric. Without a trace of hesitation or shame, he tilted his head and drew Paris’ cock all the way out with his tongue. He slid

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his lips up and down the pale shaft a few times, keeping a steady rhythm while Paris closed his eyes and sighed. The assembled crowd began to prod and jostle one another, snickering and whispering. They stopped when Paris’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright on the stool. Placing the heel of his right hand against Kristor’s forehead, he pushed him away until his wet cock popped free. Dazed with lust, the human rocked back on his heels and gazed up at Paris. Paris smiled, his teeth glinting sharp and white against his full, red lips. Then he lunged forward and sank his fangs into the man’s neck. Ethan’s mind reeled as Paris drank greedily, sucking and lapping until the blood smeared his face and dripped from his chin. He heard someone moaning, though he had no idea if it was Paris, Kristor, or one of the onlookers. “Enough.” McAffrey stepped forward, clamping down on Paris’s shoulder. The onlookers hissed and snarled with disappointment. “We don’t do public feedings in here. You’ll have to take it to a room or back to your boat.” With a grimace, Paris extracted his teeth from the human, who whimpered and pressed a hand to his dripping wound. He looked up, glassy-eyed, but didn’t appear seriously harmed. “Apologies, dear boy,” Paris smirked as he buttoned up his pants. “I thought such prudery had died out a hundred years ago. My mistake, obviously.” “It’s not a matter of prudery,” McAffrey said. “It goes back to what I said before—about causing trouble.” He swept a stern gaze over the agitated gaggle of vampires standing behind him. “I want my guests to feel peaceful and secure.” “Of course. I want the same thing.” Paris extracted a handkerchief from inside his jacket and handed it to Kristor, who obligingly mopped at his neck with it. “And I want Ethan to be happy most of all. So tell me, dear boy, will you row out and join us on the yacht tomorrow night? We’ll share a drink for old times’ sake. I have a

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delightful lad from Corfu who should do nicely for you. Flawless skin—speaks even less English than Kristor. Perfect, don’t you think?” “No, thanks.” As soon as he’d said it, Ethan realized that he shouldn’t have refused so quickly. He had never been able to hide much from Paris. Sure enough, Paris’s grin returned. “Don’t tell me you’ve found another lover already? You must bring him along, too. I can’t wait to meet him!” Ethan winced. “No! I mean, no, there’s no one.” “Such mystery! Now I am intrigued.” Paris scanned the room, pivoting on the barstool, as if he were trying to decide which of the men could be Ethan’s new love interest. Finally, he gave up and shrugged. “Well, no matter. This is cause for celebration. Shall I buy everyone a round, on Ethan’s behalf?” As the crowd surged toward the bar, their angry snarls turning to boisterous cheers, Ethan took the opportunity to slip away. McAffrey was right behind him. “They’ll be busy in here for a while,” he said. “This might be the perfect time to get your friend back to your room.” “Good thinking,” Ethan whispered. When Izzo let him back into the office, he found Raphael sitting up in the swivel chair, blinking. He and Izzo exchanged a surprised glance. Normally, it would take a vampire’s touch to arouse a bespelled human. Another clue? “Are you all right?” he asked, hurrying to kneel in front of the chair as Izzo discreetly withdrew and closed the door. Raphael blinked, looking around. “What happened?” “You fell asleep,” Ethan said in what he hoped was a convincing voice. “Oh.” Raphael leaned back in the chair and half-closed his eyes again. His hands reached for Ethan’s and pulled him close. “It was a good sleep. Deep. I feel rested now.”

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“That’s good.” “I mean...I feel really good. Stronger.” The strength was apparent in his kiss. His lips crushed Ethan’s while his tongue poked around curiously. Meanwhile, his hand moved to squeeze Ethan’s fly. His fingers were playful, but they sparked an erection so intense it became painful. Nervously, Ethan brushed his hand away. He broke the kiss with an effort, mindful of his fangs. “Let me.” Before Raphael could protest, Ethan reached for the waistband of the khaki shorts and wrenched them open with a single flick. Raphael was already stiff and eager. Ethan heard the throbbing of his cock and saw the plum-like head moisten with anticipation. In no time Ethan’s expert strokes had it drooling. “I’m glad you came back,” Raphael whispered. He opened his legs and settled back. His breath shuddered in his lungs. “You know I couldn’t stay away.” He used his own hand to finish off what Raphael had started by himself. When the first spurts of wet heat hit his wrist, his mind flashed back on Paris in the bar, watching Kristor suck him while he readied his fangs for penetration. Leaping to his feet, he left Raphael shivering with pleasure in the chair and stalked away. “Where are you going?” Raphael called after him. His hands fumbled to refasten the shorts. Ethan kept McAffrey’s huge desk between them as he raked his hands through his hair and shook his head. His stomach churned and clenched, not with hunger this time, but with fear. “Raphael, there’s a problem…with us. With me.” “What do you mean? I thought we were…” he paused as if groping for the right word. “Happy.” “Yes. That’s the problem. Being happy means I let my guard down. You have no idea what you’re fooling around with here. I

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could kill you, Raphael. I’d never forgive myself, but it could happen.” “No. You’d never hurt me.” “Raphael…do you know what a vampire is?” Raphael frowned. “No.” “Well, they’re…they’re different. They live forever. They exist on blood. They bite other people to get it. And I’m one of them.” Raphael sat in silence, turning the words over in his mind. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.” Though he thought that reaction a bit underwhelming, Ethan forged on. “I used to be a regular guy once, like all vampires. I lived in a place called California. Ever heard of it?” “I don’t think so.” “Well, it’s pretty cool. Plenty of guys to party with and plenty of clubs to meet them in. Anyway, one night I met this guy. His name was Paris. He was rich, handsome…” He sighed. “I thought he loved me. I wanted to be with him. So I let them turn me into what he was…what I am now. That was almost six years ago. I’ve been alone for the last ten months. He told me he wanted to be with me forever. Instead, I have forever to get through without him.” “You’ll find a way.” Raphael reached up to touch his face. “Yeah…maybe I will.” Ethan didn’t pull away as Raphael crossed the room and pulled him into another kiss. This one felt different—sweeter, somehow, and less invasive. Arousal moved gently through his body. It felt more like a gradual warming than a sudden bolt of electricity to his balls. He liked it. Best of all, he experienced no urge to grab or bite. Raphael pulled away and peered at him. “Where did you and Simon go…you know, before? When I fell asleep?” Ethan forced himself to laugh. “Oh, some stuck-up guys just sailed in on a yacht. Simon thought I should meet them.” “Are they…vampires?”

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“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” Ethan paused, and his expression turned serious. “They’ll probably be here for a few days. I want you to stay away from them, Raphael. I mean that. Promise me.” “If you say so.” “I do.” Ten minutes later they were back in Ethan’s room. Ethan lay on the bed while Raphael straddled him. He bit his lip with concentration as he pumped his ass up and down on Ethan’s straining cock. Every downstroke was harder and faster than the one before it. Soon his chest glistened with sweat, and his hair hung loose in his eyes. He paused in mid-stoke, his ass-muscles gripping Ethan’s cock and his shoulders trembling. “Can…can you…?” he stuttered. Ethan knew what he was asking. He shook his head sadly. “Vampires can’t,” he said. “At least, not in the way humans do. I’m sorry.” Raphael smiled, undaunted. “That’s okay. I can come for both of us.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself against Ethan’s chest with his left hand and gripped his own hard-on in his right. Furiously, he moved his fist up and down, keeping pace with his plunging hips. He and Ethan let out matching sighs as he sprayed his milky seed over their joined bodies. They curled up together under the sheets. Ethan reached over to close the shades before pressing the front of his body tight against Raphael’s smooth back. Although they had a few hours until sunrise, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Paris might somehow be able to identify his window and crawl up the side of building to peer inside. This vacation had turned out to be a lot more complicated than he had ever expected. Like all vacations, though, this one had to end eventually. What would become of Raphael when the time came for the chartered plane to take him and a few other vampire guests back to the States? Leaving Raphael with Simon seemed a less-than-satisfactory option,

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and bringing him home without a memory or a single clue as to his identity didn’t seem particularly wise, either. Then there was Paris to consider. Now that he suspected Ethan of having a lover, he would stop at nothing to uncover the details. He knew his ex all too well. Why couldn’t anything ever be easy? He only hoped he’d figure out what to do before his week at Anarchy was up.

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Chapter 7 “When you wake up tomorrow, whatever you do, don’t try to open those shades,” Ethan cautioned him as they lay curled up together. “They’re specially engineered to keep the sun out. You wouldn’t like the way I’d look if the light got in here.” “What would happen?” “Same thing that would happen if you walked through a six-foot wall of fire. You ever seen third-degree burns?” Raphael shook his head. Ethan laughed. “You really are like someone from another world. I wonder if…” “What?” Raphael prompted. “Nothing. Just a silly thought about flying saucers crashing into the ocean. Don’t worry. We’ll figure out who you are. We’ll find an explanation.” Raphael wasn’t quite sure what Ethan was talking about, but he was getting used to that. He’d discovered that if he nodded every once in a while, Ethan and his friend Simon assumed he could understand. Raphael also found he could pick up a lot of new words and expressions that way, too. Ethan’s arm tightened around his middle, his hand moving toward Raphael’s cock. A few light caresses, and it was hard and ready again. Raphael still wasn’t sure how Ethan managed to have that effect on him every time they came close, but Ethan didn’t seem to find anything wrong with his reactions. In fact, he seemed happy when Raphael touched him back.

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“Lie still,” Ethan whispered against his cheek. “Let me do this for you. Then we’ll sleep.” Expertly, Ethan’s fingers slid over his shaft, squeezing the thick veins that pulsed along the sides. It felt so good that Raphael’s balls drew up tight and started to throb. He could hardly keep from letting go, but once he did, he knew Ethan would stop, and he wanted him to keep going as long as possible. Too bad vampires—though he still wasn’t sure exactly what those were—couldn’t enjoy the last stage of touching the way he did. Although he couldn’t remember his life before the storm, he doubted anything he’d ever experienced had been anywhere near that wondrous. Soon Ethan’s hand took him to that special place again, where his mind and body joined together and became a burning ball of pure pleasure. Maybe his skin was a little cold, but Raphael didn’t care. He more than made up for it by rubbing and pulling in all the right ways, his fingertips pressing down at exactly the right moment in exactly the right places. The seed came quick and hot, coating Ethan’s hand and Raphael’s thighs and belly. Sure, it was messy, but Ethan didn’t seem to mind. Neither did Raphael. Exhausted, he slept. **** Raphael woke to find the window shades sealed and Ethan motionless and silent beside him. The sun was out, he figured. Ethan was right about the special shades making it impossible to tell. Someone was rapping on the door. Raphael slid out of bed and walked over to turn the handle. A man stood in the hall, wearing the same kind of clothes Ethan had given him the night before. Raphael blushed to realize he’d forgotten to put his own clothes on before going to the door. Maybe

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that was why his visitor’s eyes widened and he made a kind of coughing sound. “Hi. I’m Jordy. Simon told me to check on you this morning. He figured Ethan would forget to bring you some food. Tell me what you want, and I’ll carry up a tray.” Raphael frowned. Food? The foul-tasting substances he’d tried the day before had filled his stomach but given him no pleasure. He didn’t think he could force himself to fill his mouth with such matter again. Yet he did feel a vague ache in his middle—different than the ache he got for Ethan. This, he supposed, was hunger. “Well? At least give me a hint. I’ve got eggs, toast, oatmeal…” The visitor listed a bewildering array of items, tapping his fingertips one a time. None of them sounded familiar, much less appetizing, to Raphael. “I do not know,” he said when Jordy finally stopped talking. Jordy didn’t look pleased. “You’ll have to come to the kitchen with me, then. I can’t stand here all day jawing about it. The sun only stays up so long, and I have a shitload of stuff to do.” The mention of the sun made Raphael frown at Jordy. “Are you a…vampire?” “Of course not. It’s daytime, right? And I’m walking around, right?” He waved an arm over himself to emphasize his upright state. “None of the vamps will be out for hours. This is the time us humans do what we want. You’re free to join us. Now come on, and I’ll make you breakfast.” Raphael started forward, but Jordy stopped him. “Wait a sec.” Jordy walked over to a large wheeled object parked in the corner of the hall, the top shelf stacked with various squares of folded cloth. He grabbed one of the cloths and wrapped it around Raphael’s waist. “Have to get you decent before you do down to the kitchen. Sanitary rules and all.”

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“Good?” Raphael asked, looking down at himself. The cloth pinched and scratched, but he didn’t want to hurt Jordy’s feelings by complaining. “Yeah. That’s fine.” Jordy raised his eyebrows. “Boy, Simon wasn’t kidding. You really are a strange one. Now, come on.” They walked for what seemed a long time, down hallways and stairs. Raphael wondered how he would ever find his way back to Ethan. Finally, Jordy led him into a big, open space with lots of shiny metal surfaces. A table with several chairs dominated the middle of the room, its surface piled with a variety of items. Raphael supposed these were the foodstuffs Jordy had mentioned. Two humans sat at opposite sides of the table with full plates and colorful drinking vessels in front of them. They laughed and whispered to each other when Raphael walked in. Jordy flashed them a warning look, and they fell silent. He motioned toward a narrow door. “See if you like anything in the pantry. Meanwhile, what do you want to drink? I have coffee, herbal tea, and hot chocolate.” “I…don’t know.” “Suit yourself, then.” Bewildered, Raphael examined the door. He understood that he was supposed to open it, though he had no idea how to identify any the items Jordy had named. He pulled the handle, and the door folded double, nearly pinching his hand between the panels. He jumped back when he heard Jordy let out a yelp. Had he done something wrong? He froze. A moment later, he realized they were focusing on two different things. He stood staring at the door, while Jordy stared at the two people hidden behind it. One was a large, thickly muscled man with beautiful dark hair that curled around his ears and hung over his sweaty forehead. The other was much paler and smaller, his head covered only with stiff gold bristles. The smaller man was bent over at the waist with both hands braced on the floor, while the larger man

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was holding his hips in place and leaning forward to grind against him. Raphael stared, mesmerized. Apparently, he and Ethan weren’t the only ones who had discovered the wonderful secret of touching that way. When the two noticed their audience, they smiled and kept right on with what they were doing. The big man slammed his cock in and out of the smaller one a few times, grunting with obvious enjoyment. Jordy, however, sounded a lot less happy. “For crying out loud, Rick, this is the pantry! Can’t you take him to your room or something?” The big, dark man laughed, pulled himself free, and bent to pick up a scrap of black cloth from the floor. In the moment before he slipped it over his waist, Raphael’s eyes widened at the size of what swung between his legs. The other man slumped to his knees with a silly smile on his face. “We are sorry,” the dark man said, though Raphael sensed he didn’t mean it. He was getting better at detecting when the people around him were lying, though he was still puzzled why they did it so much. “The urge seized us, and there was no time.” Casually, he strolled out of the small room and took a seat at the table. The other two men stared as he reached out, grabbed a hunk of what looked like a sea sponge, and stuffed it into his mouth. No, it wasn’t a sea sponge. “You’re Kristor, right?” Jordy asked. “I thought you didn’t speak English.” “I know more than the vampires think,” Kristor said with his mouth full. “I find it useful to deceive them at times.” The others laughed, but Raphael felt more confused than ever. He had assumed, based on what he had heard, that deceiving others was a bad thing. Yet they seemed to consider it funny. The big dark man swallowed his food and turned his attention toward Raphael. “Who are you?” he demanded.

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“We don’t know too much about him,” Jordy said. “Simon says to call him Raphael. He just washed up on the beach one night. Shipwreck victim, maybe. Nobody knows yet. Simon’s going crazy trying to figure it all out.” Kristor’s thick brows shot up. “He came from the sea?” “I guess you could put it like that.” Jordy shrugged. “Ethan says so, anyway.” “Ethan—I have heard this name before.” Jordy made a cutting motion with his hand. “Forget I said anything. We’re not allowed to talk about the guests during the day. Simon’s policy.” “As you like.” Unconcerned, Kristor helped himself to another piece of the spongy foodstuff. This time, he picked up a huge, sharplooking knife and began slathering the sponge with grease. “It is none of my concern.” Feeling his stomach turn and deciding nothing Jordy could offer would appeal to him, Raphael wandered out of the room, down a short hallway, and through a sliding door that led outside. The beach looked dazzling in the morning light. Bright sunshine sparkled off rolling green waves, and balmy breezes caressed the sand and trees. Instantly, Raphael’s spirits lifted, and the anxiety melted from his body. Flinging off the itchy cloth around his waist, he ran for the water and plunged in. The warm water swallowed and cocooned him, welcoming him like a soft bed. At first, he simply rode the waves and floated on the current, luxuriating in its comforting strength. Soon, he kicked his way underneath and headed for deeper water. His nose and mouth filled with strong-tasting, salty froth. Happily, he drank it down and breathed it in, absorbing the sea while the sea absorbed him. Yes, this was home. Eventually, he resurfaced and turned back to shore. The man called Kristor stood at the edge of the surf, watching him. He shouted

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at Raphael, but he couldn’t quite make out the words over the hiss of the waves and his own excited pulse thudding in his head. In this hand was the thick knife he’d used at the table. Holding the blade out in front of him, he waded into the water. “You will come with me,” he said. **** The moment he awoke and found both his bed and his room empty, Ethan suspected a problem. When Jordy and McAffrey showed up soon afterward, he knew it was something far worse. As he listened to their report, the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach turned into outright fury. “You let Paris’s human take Raphael?” he bellowed as Jordy stepped behind McAffrey for protection. “Why didn’t you—or someone—stop him?” “Jordy could hardly assault a guest, which is what the human was at that point,” McAffrey retorted. “Nor could he inform any of us until sundown. As you can see, it is dark now. The moment I awoke, he came to me. Please stop this ranting, Ethan. Overreacting will accomplish nothing.” “You think I’m overreacting? Paris could be getting ready to feast on him right now!” McAffrey folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything about Raphael, in fact. How can you be so certain he wasn’t acquainted with Paris all along? As a way to get to you, perhaps?” Ethan’s whole body turned even paler and colder than usual. Such a scheme would be in keeping with what he now recognized in Paris’s character. Yet he couldn’t bear to think that everything he and Raphael had shared, not to mention the whole amnesia routine, had been a scam.

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No. He refused to believe it. “Impossible,” he told McAffrey. “What Raphael and I had— have—together is real. No way was he lying. You’ll just have to trust me.” “I was afraid you’d insist on that,” McAffrey said with a sigh. “Well, I suppose there’s no way around it, then. We’ll have to motor out to the yacht and get him back. Jordy, go and make the arrangements.” Ethan waited until Jordy had scurried off. Then he reached up and squeezed McAffrey’s shoulder. Traversing water, especially in a small craft, wasn’t something vampires enjoyed. For McAffrey to arrange a boating expedition on his behalf meant that, deep down, he was equally convinced both of Raphael’s blamelessness and Paris’s guilt. “Thanks, man. I owe you big for this one.” “I’ve protected this island for nearly three hundred years, and I won’t have random intruders stopping off here to pilfer my guests, either vampire or human. Paris should know better.” McAffrey clenched his jaw. “At the same time, don’t close your mind to all the possibilities. We need more to go on before we can say anything for certain.” “Agreed,” Ethan had to admit. “Better get yourself some nourishment. I don’t want anyone acting rashly. Under no circumstances are you to attack any of Paris’s humans. Got it?” “Yeah.” Grumbling, Ethan headed to the locked fridge and opened a bottle of blood. He downed the liquid cold, too agitated to taste or enjoy it. He just hoped Paris wasn’t enjoying a much warmer meal out in the middle of the sea somewhere. ****

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Raphael spent most of the day in a room similar in style and furnishings to Ethan’s, but nowhere near as comfortable. A single round pane of glass afforded a view of the water that made his heart race and his limbs ache. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force it and slip through, nor could he find any other means of escape. The door remained locked until the sky outside began to darken. Finally, it swung open to reveal the man from the beach. Again he waved the knife at him, grumbling something Raphael sort of understood, but not exactly. He obeyed, as he had before, when Kristor motioned him out of the room. They walked to another door, which Kristor opened and pushed him through. A beautiful man sat in a soft chair in the corner, wrapped in a shiny-looking garment tied at the waist. One of his bare legs was raised to hook over the chair’s armrest. His right hand dangled close to the opening in his clothes. Raphael saw his brows lift a little and his hand dip closer to the swelling between his thighs. Perhaps that was because Kristor had not yet provided him with anything to wear. For some reason, the people here seemed to respond to natural bodies as though they were something out of the ordinary. “How delightful to meet you at last,” the man in the chair said. “I am Paris. Ethan would never have bothered to introduce us properly, so I had to take matters into my own…ah…hands. I knew Kristor would find you.” He flicked his gaze over Raphael’s shoulder. “You did well, Kristor. I suppose I should have guessed Ethan would turn to dating humans. He has this pathological need to feel superior. Pity, really.” Kristor spoke rapidly. His words sounded vaguely familiar to Raphael. “He is not human,” he thought Kristor was saying in an odd, almost musical voice. “They say he came from the sea. I think he is one of the ancient ones. Tritones. Sons of Poseidon. Sea daimones. In Greece we remember these things, even if you and your friends do not.”

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The man called Paris scowled and dropped his upraised foot to the floor. “Not human? How is that possible? I can see most of him, and he certainly looks human enough.” “So do you, unless one knows what to look for. But you see what I mean? He is watching us. He understands what we are saying. He knows Greek. I can tell.” “That hardly proves he belongs to a different species, though I confess your own habits perplex me at times, Kristor.” Rising from the chair, Paris cupped Raphael’s chin in his hand. “Is this true? Are you something other than human?” Raphael felt those powerful eyes burning into his own. He could see nothing but Paris’s face, hovering only inches from his. For a moment, his surroundings seemed to ebb away, and he thought he had left his body to float somewhere far above the room. Then he was back in the same place, shaking his head while Paris tried to hold his chin in place. “I don’t know,” he told Paris, who awaited an answer. “I don’t remember.” Paris let his hand drop and turned to Kristor. “So Ethan is wiping minds now. Interesting. I suppose that’s one way to make his lovers utterly dependent on him.” Kristor shook his head. “You will see I am right. Daimones. We should set him free. It is not wise to interfere with what we do not understand.” “Nonsense. Whoever or whatever he might be, he seems harmless enough. Why don’t you go and get him dressed for the party? Much as I like him the way he is, he might prove too tempting for my other guests.” Grunting, Kristor stepped forward and brought up the knife again. Before Raphael had time to flinch, Paris snatched the weapon away and flung it to the floor. “There is no need to be crude!” he declared. Then he laid a hand on Raphael’s arm and lowered his voice. “Relax, my friend. You are

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our guest, not our prisoner. Kristor will show you better manners from now on. Do you understand me?” “Yes,” Raphael said. He followed Kristor back out of the room. As they walked, he focused less on the unfamiliar surroundings and more on the strange pictures that had begun to form inside his head. He saw pictures of buildings and people he knew, yet at the same time did not know. They spoke to him using words that sounded like what Kristor and Paris had called Greek. And everywhere, surrounding everything and every one of them, stretched an endless plane of dark green water.

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Chapter 8 When they walked out again, Raphael was wearing a loose shirt and shorts that itched as badly as the ones Ethan had given him. Kristor led him to an open space on the top deck of the boat, where loud noises blared from a black box and a crowd of men were milling around. As soon as he and Kristor stepped among them, they swooped in closer as if they wanted to touch him. Kristor acted as a shield. “Are they vampires?” Raphael asked in a whisper. In response, Kristor only grunted. They moved through the room until once again they stood in front of the man who called himself Paris. This time, he was dressed in a shiny gold shirt and white pants that clung so tightly to his legs that Raphael could make out every muscle. He was reclining on a seat large enough for two people, watching the others. When he saw Raphael, he sat up and patted the space beside him. Kristor pushed him into the spot, and Paris leaned over to rest a hand on Raphael’s knee. He didn’t like the way it felt, but he tried to hold still and hide his discomfort. “I’m glad you could come to my party,” he said, moving his lips close to Raphael’s ear. Raphael supposed he had to do that since the noise coming from the black box was so loud. “We should get to know one another. Why don’t you tell me how you met Ethan? You can be quite open with me. Ethan and I are very old friends, and I hope you and I will become close as well.” “He found me in the sea.” “So Kristor maintains. And how delightfully poetic. My old friend Oscar would have loved it.” Paris sighed. “I do regret not turning him

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when I had the chance. He was far ahead of his time—as was I, I suppose. Luckily, the rest of the world has finally caught up.” He made a motion above his head, and Kristor returned bearing two drinking vessels. He handed Raphael one filled with frothy, clear liquid. Paris’s was filled with something thick and red. “Drink up,” Paris said. “Then tell me about yourself.” Raphael lifted the glass to his lips and sniffed the contents. The smell was awful, so he quickly lowered it. Instead, he tried to concentrate on answering Paris’s question. Again, dark shapes and blurry faces, surrounded by water, contracted and faded in his mind. “There is nothing,” he said at last. “I remember nothing.” “I’m sure Ethan would love for you to believe that. Well, never mind. It’s a matter of curiosity to me, not necessity. You and I will get along fine whatever your past or genetic makeup may be.” His wide mouth curved in a smile. “Chances are you wouldn’t have remembered much when I was done with you, anyway.” Raphael didn’t understand what he meant, so he just nodded while Paris laughed and touched his own glass to his moist, red lips. **** The boat trip to the yacht, though anxiety-producing, thankfully proved uneventful. As they approached, they could hear the thunderous pounding of music, combined with a few flutters of laughter carried on the night winds. “They’re certainly having fun,” McAffrey remarked as they pulled up alongside. “With Raphael as one of the party favors, no doubt,” Ethan fretted. “Play things cool,” McAffrey ordered. “Be glad he’s entertaining. No one will question our presence.” “I’m sure he’s expecting us,” Ethan said. “He knew I’d come looking for Raphael. It’s part of his game. He wants to take Raphael

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from me, but he’ll enjoy it that much more if he knows I’m watching.” Sure enough, two members of Paris’s rented human crew hurried over with ropes and an extendable ladder to help them aboard. Jordy, who had steered the small craft owned by the resort, remained behind while McAffrey and Ethan made their way up to the party. As they crested the steps, the harsh music grew louder. Ethan had grown used to Paris’s love of parties and crowds during their time together, but he was unprepared for the virtual orgy he and McAffrey came upon. A group consisting of vampires and humans were spread out over the upper deck, gyrating wildly to the pulsing beat. Most wore thong bathing suits or baggy shorts, and a few wore nothing at all. Men danced in couples and threesomes, some combining their moves with more intimate acts. A human crew member off to one side of the floor scooped blood from an open vat and handed it out to any dancers who whirled past him. The deck itself was splotchy and slick with the overflow. For a moment, he simply stared. The sight and smell of the fresh blood mesmerized him, while so much uninhibited revelry both appalled and fascinated him. He didn’t move until McAffrey touched his arm and pointed. Ethan’s body tensed in rage. At the far end of the deck, Paris and Raphael huddled together on a small sofa while Kristor, still in his skimpy black thong, hovered nearby. At first, it appeared that the two were merely immersed in conversation. Paris sported his usual smirk, while Raphael looked nervous and uncomfortable. “It’s okay. He hasn’t been harmed,” McAffrey said. His fingers relaxed on Ethan’s arm. The moment the words left his lips, both of them realized he’d spoken too soon. They watched as Paris opened his mouth, reared back, and aimed his glistening fangs at Raphael’s throat. A guttural roar exploded from his chest, drowning out the mix of music and voices, as he pulled away from McAffrey. He sprang

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forward, propelled by a rush of emotion that carried him across the deck in a single mad leap. When they saw him bearing down on them, Kristor and two youthful vampires stepped together to form a barrier between him and Paris. The four of them collided, sending Kristor sprawling and the vampires into an awkward tangle of limbs and spilled drinks. As he went down, Ethan saw Paris’s face contort as he plunged his teeth into Raphael’s pliant flesh. His eyes shone with triumph and he raised them to meet Ethan’s. Ethan knew that he had failed. Raphael would belong to Paris now, along with any hope Ethan had ever held for his long, lonely future. Helplessly, he looked up from the floor, expecting to see Raphael twitching in pain while a scarlet ribbon draped Paris’s chin. The real scene unfolded quite differently. No sooner had Paris pressed his lips to Raphael’s throat than he pulled away and leapt up, gasping and covering his mouth with one hand. Raphael, too, jumped up from the sofa and assumed a defensive stance, his shoulders tilted forward and his fists at his sides. Ethan rolled to his feet and started toward Raphael, but the other vampires were crowding in, surging around him and pushing him backward. They stopped just short of where Paris stood, coughing and staggering. When he let his hand drop, a gasp of shock rippled through the group. The lower part of his face was dark and raw, as though someone had held a torch to his flesh. Kristor, who had also risen, began babbling in Greek. “His blood,” Paris gasped when he found his voice. “It burns!” “Looks like we were right,” McAffrey said. “He isn’t human.” Suddenly, the deck was alive with conversation. The vampires began edging closer, whispering to each other. Ethan took the opportunity to hurl himself between them and Raphael. He spread his arms, knowing all the while how ineffective his small frame would be against a full-scale assault by Paris’s toadies.

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“Leave him alone,” he snarled as the partygoers closed in around him. “What is he, Ethan?” Paris demanded, wincing in pain. “What did you bring among us?” “I didn’t bring him anywhere, if you want to get technical! You were the one who kidnapped him from the island!” “I told you before,” Kristor put in. “Daimones. They come from the sea. My ancestors were wise enough to fear them.” “Then perhaps we should, too,” a tall, silver-haired vampire responded. The others murmured in agreement. At last, McAffrey came forward, holding up his hands for quiet. “Let’s all calm down for a moment. I’m sure we can sort this out. It’s true that Raphael’s origins are a bit…questionable, but I see no need to jump to conclusions. There could be many reasons his blood isn’t palatable.” “Why don’t you screen your guests a little better, Simon?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd. Ethan wasn’t sure if the man was referring to Raphael or to him. “You’re not blameless in this!” “Maybe they’re trying to poison us,” another voice rang out. “Don’t forget how Simon got this island in the first place—by killing and looting any ship that sailed past him! Maybe he’s just found a new weapon!” A flicker in the corner of his eye told Ethan than Raphael had started inching away, preparing to remove himself from the increasingly hostile throng. He shifted his own position in an attempt to block Raphael from the others’ view. Too late, he realized he had only altered them. “Grab him!” Paris shouted. “If he goes free, he could kill us all!” “No!” Ethan knew the situation was hopeless even before he braced his feet against the deck and readied himself for their attack. Still, he had to try. “He wouldn’t—he’s not—he doesn’t remember—”

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No one listened. The vampires surged forward in a blur of gnashing teeth and claw-like fingernails. Only McAffrey held back. The two of them clung together to avoid being trampled. Ethan strained to reach Raphael. “Don’t,” McAffrey warned, wrapping both arms around his waist. “You can’t help him. They’ll tear you to pieces.” “Let me go! I have to try!” The more he struggled, the tighter McAffrey clung to him. “Not a chance. I’m sorry, Ethan.” What happened next seemed to shock McAffrey as much as it did Ethan. Just as the vampires reached Raphael, the boat began to rock violently from side to side. By hanging onto one another, Ethan and McAffrey barely managed to remain upright as ferocious waves assaulted the yacht first from one side, then the other. The boom box, speakers, and deck furniture overturned and skidded in different directions, glasses and bottles rolled and shattered, and the tub of blood the partygoers had been drinking from tipped over and painted the deck crimson. Yet through it all, the sky remained clear, and the wind barely stirred. It was as though the sea itself had gone into a frenzy in an effort to save Raphael. “What the living hell—?” McAffrey barked, but Ethan was no longer paying any attention to him. Instead, he watched Raphael smash his way through the vampire mob with a burst of strength and speed that left Ethan openmouthed. He raced for the stairs and vaulted down them, easily slipping past several pairs of grasping hands and sprinting toward the lower deck’s rail. Ethan, too, took advantage of the distraction to break free of McAffrey and run toward Raphael. The yacht continued to roll, making it nearly impossible to retain his balance, and the slicks of blood under his feet didn’t help. Long before either he or the other vampires could get within an arm’s length of their quarry, Raphael reached the starboard railing. Without so much as a glance backward, he placed his right hand on

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the rail, hoisted himself up, and plunged into the black, thrashing water below. Ethan hit the same rail a moment after he’d jumped. He’d been moving so fast that only his lightning-fast vampire reflexes stopped him from going over the edge. In a near panic, he looked down at the waves, hoping for a last glimpse of Raphael. He was stunned to see not only a pale man-like shape sinking into the depths, but an assembly of other shapes as well—dozens of them, white and graceful, with long, flowing tendrils that might have been arms and legs. They seemed to be pressing against the hull of the boat, pushing and tipping it back and forth in unison. In the briefest flash of an instant, some of the figures turned milky, surreal faces up to the surface. He could have sworn he saw an entire row of them, complete with wide, dark eyes and grinning mouths. Then, just as quickly, they were gone. The choppy waves went still, and the sea grew as quiet as the bewildered vampires on the deck. Kristor stood beside him, nodding as he looked out over the water. “He is safe, don’t worry. His own kind will protect him,” he said. “Are you still going on about those crazy sea demons? Honestly, Kristor.” Paris made his way to the rail and stood beside Ethan, also gazing down. “Not demons. Daimones,” McAffrey corrected. “Two different things. Better brush up on your Greek mythology.” “Whatever,” Paris said with a shrug. His face had already begun to heal, Ethan noticed with a flare of outrage. His old lover had almost had his new one killed over a minor abrasion. Paris, of course, remained oblivious to Ethan’s disgusted expression. “Well, so much for our little friend. I’m sorry I ruined your vacation, Ethan. On the other hand, maybe I saved you from a fate worse than death. The boy seemed awfully clingy. And what foul-tasting blood. You would have tired of him pretty quickly, I’d say.”

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Ethan was about to lunge for Paris’s throat when Simon McAffrey wedged himself between them and steered Ethan away from the rail. “It’s over,” he said, glancing from Paris’s arrogant expression to Ethan’s grief-stricken one. “Let’s have Jordy take us back to the island. Paris, I’m afraid I’ll have to close Anarchy to new guests for a few nights. The currents are too strong, and I must address some…ah…security breaches. Therefore, I’ll expect you to have sailed on your way by daybreak.” “As you wish,” Paris sniffed. “I admit, your facilities are not quite as appealing as I remembered them. Perhaps that’s the problem with coming to the same vacation spot year after year, century after century. Eventually, the excitement fades, and the thrill is gone.” He turned away and motioned to his friends, who followed him back up the stairs. Soon, the music began blasting again. Though his head throbbed with pain, Ethan’s body felt numb from the shoulders down. “Gone,” he repeated.

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Chapter 9 Simon’s hand was resting on Ethan’s shoulder as he sat on the cold sand, huddled in the same spot where it had all unfolded a week ago. “You can always stay here,” McAffrey was saying. “I need an assistant. In spite of your little dust-up with Jordy, I know I can trust you with humans. That’s important, not to mention kind of rare these days.” “I appreciate the offer.” Ethan’s eyes remained glued to the shadowed surf. He knew he’d remember his last night at Anarchy as starless and dark, holding little appeal even for the gaggle of moonbathers who usually gathered on the beach. Tonight, aside from a few prowling seagulls, it was just him and McAffrey. McAffrey’s gaze followed Ethan’s out over the water. “We don’t know what happened for sure,” he said, not for the first time. “Maybe he made it safely back to whatever world he came from.” “Yeah. I hope so.” “Well, at least think about what I said. Running this place is a lot of work, and I can only explain the computer system to Izzo so many times before I totally lose my mind.” “I will. I promise.” “Okay, then.” He was relieved when McAffrey left him alone and headed back inside. Not wanting to be observed from the windows of the bar, Ethan got up and wandered down the beach. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel worse than he had the night he’d discovered

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Raphael, but four nights of endless and fruitless searching and worrying had proven him wrong. Against his better judgment, he headed down the path to the rocky ledge where he and Raphael had first enjoyed one another. Things had seemed so much simpler then…before all the wild talk of Greek myths, acidic blood, and psychotic exes had derailed his last shot at happiness. Paris had a lot to answer for, he thought as he trudged along the gravel thread. Taking Ethan’s human life had been only the first step. No doubt he planned to destroy his vampire one as well. He’d certainly done an efficient job so far. Ethan reached the clearing, and the big rock loomed into view, its silhouette muted against the moonless sky. He clambered onto it and stretched out on his back. As he recalled the details of his time there with Raphael, his chest grew tight, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. Maybe this was what he needed…to relive and then purge the memories themselves. To say good-bye to them, even if he couldn’t say it to Raphael himself. Still, they were strong. Even now, with his eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to feel Raphael’s graceful hands tracing the outline of his chest and hear his playful voice echoing in his mind. Join me, the voice seemed to whisper. Ethan could almost feel the flutter of warm breath on his own icy lips. Swim with me. Then came a kiss, so real he could actually taste Raphael’s familiar sweetness and feel the pressure on his mouth… With a startled cry, he jerked into a seated position and found Raphael crouching beside him, his bare skin dripping with fragrant salt water. “You haven’t answered me. I asked if you were going to join me.” He drew back a little, frowning. “I’ve been looking for you all night, Ethan. Last night, too. And the one before that.” “This can’t be true,” Ethan said, his voice dull with shock. “You went under…I saw the others take you. You belonged with them. I thought you’d gone forever!”

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“No. I went into the water because I knew I’d be safe there. The vampires couldn’t follow me.” “And I couldn’t, either.” “I know. That’s why I came back.” He leaned forward, and they spent the next few minutes kissing both deeply and desperately. Raphael’s wet body pressed tightly against his, drenching his clothes. Raphael’s rapidly thickening cock coaxed his back to life, too, for the first time since they’d been apart. “I figured out something else, too,” Raphael said when at last they eased apart. “I finally remembered who I was.” “Tell me.” “That man…Kristor…he was right. The sea is my home. Or at least, it was until I got washed ashore that night. It turns out I’d been watching the people on this island for a long time…many, many years, according to my brothers.” “Brothers? So I was right. There are others like you.” “Yes. Our world exists deep under the waves, too deep for mortals to visit. We don’t let them see us. My people took a chance by interfering with Paris’s boat the way they did. They wanted to help me, though. Eventually, I explained to them that you weren’t mortals and could never follow us into the water. They felt better after that.” Ethan could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. Then again, he reasoned, why was it so strange? To most people, tales of vampires would seem equally bizarre. And he had seen the daimones with his own eyes. “Anyway,” Raphael continued, “it turns out I’ve always been curious about what was happening up here. I’ve been studying the people on this island since your friend, McAffrey, first arrived.” Ethan shook his head. “He’s lived here for two hundred years, at least. That’s impossible…isn’t it?” “Apparently not. He looked different then, and he had other people with him, people who eventually went away. But I could watch them from the beach, and I could listen to them talk. That’s

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how I learned your language, though some of your customs are still strange to me. I came back again and again, keeping myself hidden, until that night I saw you. I thought you looked so sad, just sitting there alone…I wanted to get closer, to see if I could talk to you somehow. I’d never done that before.” He shook his head and shrugged. “And then I got careless. I swam too close, and the storm came and washed me ashore. I must have hit my head on the beach…that’s why I couldn’t remember.” “That’s an incredible story.” Ethan reached out and framed Raphael’s face in his hands. He stroked his fingertips over those damp cheeks, those silky brows, and finally, those soft, inviting lips. “I don’t know what to make of it exactly…but I’m just so glad you’re back.” “Come swim with me,” Raphael said suddenly. “You know I don’t swim. I explained all that to you. Vampires can’t.” “Let me teach you, then. I want to share the ocean with you, just as you’ve shared your island with me. I know you can do it.” “I don’t see how,” Ethan said, but he didn’t protest as Raphael, beaming, pulled him to his feet and began unbuttoning his shirt. “You’ll like it, I promise.” They left their clothes on the rock, like before, and walked handin-hand toward the water. Unexpectedly, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and covered them in its silvery glow as they stepped into the surf. The water was cold and unyielding. Ethan’s body had no buoyancy. He sank like a stone the moment Raphael led him past the shallows. “Trust me,” he urged. Soon, they were both in far over their heads. Though he knew he couldn’t drown, Ethan felt a ripple of panic brush along his spine as they walked together over the seabed. As casually as two human lovers strolling through a park, they passed vast beds of mussels and

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languid, waving sea plants. Every now and then, a fish darted past their faces and startled crustaceans zipped out of their way. They walked until they came to a sunken Doric column, a remnant from a shipwreck or one of McAffrey’s eighteenth-century raids. Raphael guided Ethan’s back against a section worn smooth by the current. Then, half floating and half kneeling, he positioned himself between Ethan’s legs. His fingers stroked Ethan’s cock and guided it into his open mouth. As he began to suck, Ethan moaned with pleasure. The sound left his lips as a bubble that drifted to the surface far, far above them and eventually disappeared. Faster and harder, with increasing pressure and precision, Raphael’s teeth, tongue, and lips took Ethan to a strange otherworld of pleasure he had never visited before. Every time he started to tense up, signaling inevitable disappointment, Raphael would ease off and then start up again. Had he been human, the repeated denial of orgasm would have proved frustrating and perhaps painful. As a vampire, he found the possibility of endless, unconsummated pleasure glorious and unspeakably exciting. He didn’t know how long it went on—perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. All he knew was that they were in a world of their own making, enjoying pleasures of their own devising. Soon, even his dislike of being submerged in water faded and was replaced with a total sensual awareness that felt more exhilarating than human life ever had. Eventually, they surfaced and climbed back onto the rock where everything had started. “You were right,” Ethan said, shaking the water from his curly hair. “I did like it. Much more than I could have imagined.” As they kissed, his hand groped between Raphael’s legs. He was about to go further when he drew back, troubled. “I just have one question for you—now what? Will you return to the sea? Will you swim off and leave me here?”

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“That’s up to you,” Raphael said. “As long as the island and the sea touch one another, we can do the same.” “We’ll have to talk to Simon, you know. He’d probably agree that it would do vampires good to practice a little tolerance toward other species for a change. And we know that they can’t bite you.” Raphael nodded and touched his neck. The wound Paris had inflicted had almost healed, save for a semicircular pink splotch. “An ancient defense mechanism. Not unlike the way some sea creatures fire ink at predators.” They laughed together, easily and naturally. “I want to ask you one other thing,” Ethan said, his hand sliding back to its former position. “When you remembered your past…you must have remembered your real name, too.” Raphael grew serious for a moment. He nodded. “I did…but I’m not going to use it anymore. The being who owned that name is gone. He is a part of the past. Raphael will be part of the future…for many centuries to come.” “It’s funny you should say that,” Ethan said as his fingers closed around Raphael’s thick erection and began to rub it gently. “Coming is just what I was thinking about.”

THE END WWW.CASSANDRAPIERCE.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Cassandra Pierce is a longtime fan of vampire fiction and erotica. She has written several novels for Siren between teaching classes on writing at a small New England college. She would enjoy hearing from her readers anytime. Please visit her on Facebook too!

Also by Cassandra Pierce Siren Classic: Darkisle 1: Heirs to Darkisle PolyAmour: Darkisle 2: Loving Two Vampires PolyAmour: Terran Border Patrol: Captain Gareth’s Mates Siren LoveXtreme: The Aquans 1: Jewels from the Sea

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com