A casual meeting
I jumped down to a curve in the road then casually strolled back to Franz. Hands in pockets to show my contempt for convention.
He saw me, forced himself to straighten up, and drew his sword. It was a beauty. Sharp and gleaming. Well-honed and laced with the blood of many Frenchmen, I was sure. I wanted to touch it. Caress it. Fondle it, if you will. You can learn so much about a man through his sword. He took a wary stance next to his horse, almost holding his breath.
I smiled at him and said, in a perfect Hamburg dialect, "Hello, what a lovely day it has been."
He gave me a vague shrug of confusion. "If you say. Are you German?"
I laughed. "What else could I be?"
"We are in France."
I shrugged. "What are boundaries, today? You've been badly hurt. Were you part of the fighting, a couple leagues over?"
He looked around, shocked. "Are we that far from it?"
"Don't you know where you are?"
He grew weak, again, and leaned against his horse. "I...no, I do not."
"Your horse is also injured. There is a creek just the other side of these trees. Why don't we go there? Clean off the blood. See if I can find some yarrow root."
"I...I must get back. To my regiment."
"Night is falling, and you will not get very far in this condition. Come. Let's clean you up, first. I am Léonidès Taillis."
He almost smiled. "From the Greek."
"You know of the legend?"
"My teachers. Greek. Latin. History."
I switched to Latin. "So you know the classical tongues?"
He responded in Latin that was better than mine. "It is part of my education. I am...I am Franz."
No last name offered. Being cagey. I like that in a man. I switched back to German. "A pleasure to meet you, Franz. Now come, wouldn't fresh water make you feel better?"
"I don't know. I suppose. But to leave the road. The brush is very thick. Will Grünnald would be able to make it."
"Is that the name of your horse?" He nodded. "You're a cuirassier, aren't you?"
He nodded. "The rest. The rest of my company is...is..." He pointed up the road.
I chuckled to myself. The battlefield was at least four leagues away. And his regiment? I did not want him to be part of them, any longer, because I already knew that some had comported themselves in ways cruel, though not at all unusual. Women and girls raped. Villagers killed for daring to try and protect them. Stores of food looted. It was so typical of war. His sword would tell me if he had joined in their festivities.
Then my ear caught the approach of a group of horsemen, from behind us. French chevaliers, to judge by their chatter. If they saw him, he would be the one put to the sword.
So I grinned and said, "Come. I know of a path to the brook, and yarrow will help both you and Grünnald to heal."
"You think so?" Concern for his horse overrode concern for himself.
No, without question I could not allow him to rejoin his compatriots. He was of too fine a character, and they would corrupt him into their evil. Probably. I have to admit that while part of me thought he would never commit rape or murder, a little voice added that it would only be because it was ill-mannered.
"Come," I said. "Keep your sword out, if it makes you feel better. I will lead."
Then I backed into the woods. I caught a glimpse of Gregory across the road, smirking at me. And caressing his groin. I cast him a quick sneer then turned to watch where I was going.
Franz followed, carefully. Not fast, for Grünnald was limping, badly. I quickly found the trail, and had to admit the wood was thicker than I had expected. But that worked out well, for not two minutes later, he heard the soft clatter of horses galloping past on the road.
He hesitated, listening. We couldn't see them, but he could tell. "Five — no, six horse-men."
"Probably French."
"Did the battle go poorly, for us?"
"Considering you were outnumbered six to one, I would not say that."
"But you know the outcome?"
"The fighting has only slowed. It's not over, yet."
He looked around, close to frantic. "I should be with the rest of my men!"
"Your men? That's not a commander's insignia on your jacket."
He nodded. "I brought friends. From home. Men who worked our lands. I...I'm responsible for them."
He was caught with worry and heartache. It took me a moment to speak, his face was so angelic in the soft light of dusk filtering between the thick trees.
"I'm sure they're all right," I said.
In response, he gave me a weak shrug that all but screamed, Maybe. Maybe not. So I had to ask, "Are your friends also of the aristocracy?"
He cast me a sharp glare. "What makes you think I'm high-born?"
"The way you speak, your education, and how you comport yourself. Tell me, haven't you read Cicero's De Re Publica? OR Ovid's Poetics? In Latin, of course."
He huffed and held his sword tighter. "Who are you? What is going on here? Are you leading me into a trap? To hold me for ransom? My family will not pay."
"No, no, no," I said. "I do not know who you are. I am only offering help. Don't you hear the brook, now? Cold clear water beckons you. It will refresh you."
The splashing water was just audible and the shadows were growing deeper. Stars hinted at an appearance, to the east.
He finally nodded and forced himself to stay alert, keeping his sword at the ready as I led him on.
The trees were even thicker, here, but then we came upon a clearing and there was the brook. It was wide and rushing down the side of a hill over a tumble of stones into a small pool that was so clean and clear, you could see through to its bed of flowing reeds and moss. The water then hurried between some exposed rocks to dance the rest of the way down, as if playing. Probably the same stream in which I'd bathed Helffing. And myself, after.
Franz smiled at seeing it. He sat on a large rock and I helped him remove his boots, then he carefully waded into the pool, leading Grünnald. The water came up to his hips, soaking his trousers. He slowly, painfully pulled off his shirt to reveal a torso sculpted by the gods. Trim where it counted, full where it mattered. I could see the entry of a bullet in his left shoulder but no exit. It was still in him. That would need to be taken care of or it would fester.
He dipped his shirt into the water then pressed it to the wound on his head. Seeing bloody water trail through the waves of soft down over his chest and down his taut body made me so very determined to have him agree to join us. Choose to. Gabrielle had mentioned this was a necessity for the ultimate level of attachment to happen. And I wanted him to want me. The thought took a near obsessive hold of me.
Finally, he wet the shirt, again, to daub at the animal's wound. I quickly found some yarrow at the edge of the clearing and crushed the leaves with a couple stones then worked them into a bit of mud, to make a poultice. He accepted it and applied it to the horse's injury. Grünnald just drank from the pond, easy, throughout.
Finally, he led the horse out of the pool and tethered him to a tree. Grünnald began to graze, and that made him smile.
"Thank you," he said to me. "I think he will be well, now."
By the heavens, the way his trousers clung to his thighs and calves. And around his ass. And, of course, the bulge in his crotch. I found it very difficult to concentrate on words, but I managed to say, "Your turn."
He collapsed to where he was, cross-legged and slightly hunched over. "Are you? A surgeon?"
"I know enough medicine to help you."
"I'm so very tired," he murmured, rocking back and forth in what was beginning to look like delirium.
I didn't think. I quickly shifted him to an area of grass, next to the rushing brook, and lay him flat, his arms crossed over his belly. His skin still hinted at warmth and shades of gold, despite the near darkness. His chest so full and rich, with nipples in perfect harmony. His crotch even more inviting. I was almost frozen by the sudden pounding need within me, as if I hadn't fed or taken pleasure in weeks instead of just two hours prior. I knew that if I had seen him before Helffing, he would be in the process of turning, now, and I would have the anger of the Oiym crashing down on me.
Only once before had I experienced anything even close to this rush of want and need and desire and joy. It was when my pack and I had followed Napoleon's march to Russia, feasting like the followers of Bacchus might have, on his rag-tag army. French men can be beautiful, but to have called this crowd of snarling peasants even human would have been a compliment. So whatever pleasures were needed by my lads, we took with each other, after feeding.
They had reached the outskirts of Moscow, and I had sensed Gabrielle was already there, with her court. Of course. She was far more ruthless and opportunistic than I. Always had been. And had always disliked me, for some reason. I had no idea why. Nor any interest to know. I simply chose not to suffer her disdain, so we had not crossed paths since we both had been called before the Oiym, more than seven hundred years earlier.
But then one evening I was atop a roof watching the panicked population, far below. Terrified little rabbits fearing the worst so racing out into the snow-covered land. Not yet knowing, as I did, that Napoleon's forces were spent. They would barely be able to work up the energy to loot, let alone do any raping or ravaging. It was almost pathetic.
I wasn't hungry, having fed on a fat Russian guardsman who had shot three people for no reason. Something else that happens far too regularly in war. I was merely curious. Idle about it. Taken by the beauty of a light snow drifting down in contrast to darkened buildings. So I didn't notice Gabrielle was behind me until she cooed, "Greetings, baby brother."
I hate it when she calls me that.
I spun to face her, angry...but then gasped at the sight of an impossibly good-looking man standing next to her. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Exquisitely proportioned. Eyes as deep and dark as the ocean. And secretly Jewish, to my surprise, because he was of the same lineage as Gabrielle and myself. Of course she'd noticed my interest, the little bitch. I think that was why she brought him.
"I take it you approve of my new companion?" Her voice dripped with condescension, which also let me quickly know he was not mine to have. "This is Dmitriy." She turned and almost sneered at him, saying in French, "And this is Léonidès, my baby brother."
Baby brother. She was twenty-two years old when Prior Pious turned her. I was almost twenty-three. But to be fair, I wasn't turned until six years after her.
Dmitriy had clicked his heels and bowed, showing he was very well-bred and, without question, was more than pleased to see me. Which had brought a nasty sneer to Gabrielle's lips.
"Yes, as I thought," she'd half-growled, in Norman.
I had never bothered trying to follow my sister's shifts in emotion, so I'd ignored the comment and offered him as glorious a smile as I could, saying "You're one of us."
"He's one of you," Gabrielle had snapped, in French.
Dmitriy had cast her cool glance and added, "But only recently." Also in French.
It seemed Gabrielle had sensed a fellow Blood Angel in the midst of the city's chaos, the night before my pack and I had arrived, and allowed him to seduce her. She had turned him as he ejaculated inside her, which bound him to her, forever. Which would have been well and good except for one small problem.
His true nature was aimed towards men. He'd been sleeping with women to help himself deny this. Once he was turned, all lies were cast aside, and he was unable to sleep with her, again.
"I tried," Dmitriy had said, in French, "but could not rise to the occasion, no matter how many lies I told myself."
"It was a mistake on my part," Gabrielle had admitted, albeit reluctantly. "I was so positive he would be the one for me, I neglected to follow the full ritual. Which would have prevented the situation."
"What ritual?" I'd asked. By this point I'd understood Dmitriy only spoke French and Russian, the latter of which I did not know.
"You truly are ill-informed." Spoken in our Norman dialect, and with more than a little exasperation. That was ill-mannered to do in front of Dmitriy, since he could not have understood it. Our father had been insistent that, for example, when a Saxon was speaking with him he spoke only in the Saxon English.
"I know all I need to know," I'd snapped back.
Dmitriy had caught the anger between us and carefully made certain Gabrielle did not see his little smirk. A smirk that looked perfect on his perfect face.
"Do you know that when and if you find one you want as a mate," she had sighed, "you must ask them three questions? Do you want to be with me? Will you forsake all others? Will this be for eternity? All three must be answered in the positive before intercourse begins, and if any response is a lie, you will know. Even if they are lying unto themselves. I did not do this until after I had turned him, and his answer to the first two was no. That is when he revealed his true inclination. It was arrogant of me not to verify beforehand. I will not repeat the error."
"Can it be reversed?"
"I can release him, but only to another like us."
"Is that why you brought him to me? As a gift? Or perhaps a blind date?"
She had taken in a deep breath and said, "I wanted to see how he responds to one like you."
"You already knew."
"Be certain. In every way."
"What are you saying, Gabrielle? Do you want to watch us, in bed?"
That had not been a serious question on my part, but then she had nodded.
I'd almost laughed, incredulous. "I knew you were more advanced than I in many ways, but this borders on De Sade."
"I don't know who that is," had been her cold, deliberately casual response.
So I had said, in French, "Dmitriy, has my sister told you what she wants?"
He had turned his breathtaking eyes on me and replied, "It was a mutual decision. I have been with men, before, but after was always the feeling of revulsion and self-loathing. And the need to find a woman to prove to myself I was not a depraved creature. I would like to see if that version of myself still holds true."
"And you think being with me will somehow make you feel better about yourself?"
"I can see you hold none of the same guilt and confusion in yourself, that I do in myself."
"We are Blood Angels. Guilt does not apply."
"So I am told. But still...
I nodded. "Have you fed?"
Before he could answer, Gabrielle snapped, "Only on my blood. Before I allow him to feed on humans, I want to see what he does to them. I will not have disgrace brought to my court."
"No, but you would have your baby brother be your prostitute," I'd muttered.
"Don't be absurd," Gabrielle had snapped. "You are hardly discerning in your choice of bed partners. I've seen you with the ones named Gregory and Stephane, neither of whom is even of the same caste as us. And with humans?"
"SEEN me?!"
She had rolled her eyes. "You really should visit with the Oiym, little brother, and learn more about the tricks we have at our disposal."
"You do not have sex with human men?"
"I do not play with my food!"
So...I'd finally understood that my dear sister did not understand why I fed on men after having sex with them, and she'd been trying to cover it, with this revelation. I could also tell she had some other plan in mind, and I did not know her well enough to work out what it might be.
Of course, I'd had to admit to myself that she was right, in a way. None of my pack were of the same level as myself, and while having sex with was nice and fun, it was not as fulfilling as I would like. And to finally be with a fellow Blood Angel like Dmitriy might show me if contentment was even possible.
Besides, his beauty was overwhelming.
So I had deliberately drawn him close and kissed him, full and deep as Gabrielle watched. His response had been so needy and demanding and wanton, I took him right there on the roof. If my sister wanted a show, she would have one.
No need to undress. Just pull your trousers out of the way, shift your shirt aside, feast on his nipples, plunge hard on his dick as he did the same to you, throw him on his back, his legs in the air and fuck like beasts in the wild as his hands clawed at me and our lips remained locked together, before we reversed positions.
His body had not disappointed. His muscles were taut. His legs well-formed. The hair around his groin trailing up to spread across his full chest. His ass as greedy for me as mine was for him. I must say, we certainly gave Gabrielle a true spectacle of male-on-male lewdness.
Once we'd finished our assignment, I'd found the inner peace I'd been missing after rutting with my pack. It was nirvana. I caressed his chin and murmured, "I'll be happy to take him off your hands."
His smile told me he agreed.
Instead, Gabrielle had snarled, "Come, Dmitriy. We're done, here."
He'd looked at her with such complete betrayal I'd gone face to face with her. "I said I'd take him!"
I think I might have had more authority in the situation had I bothered to first pull up my pants.
She didn't even bother to look at me as she'd snapped, "I never said I'd let you have him. Pull yourself together, Dmitriy. We're leaving."
"I don't understand," I'd snarled, in Norman. "What game are you playing here?"
"You're still a boy, Léon, thinking with the wrong part of your body, like most men. I arranged for this to verify what Dmitry claimed. Now I see for myself there is no chance he was the one for me. Had he been honest with me, we would not be in this situation. So I will keep him aligned with me until I find one who can replace him. If you still want him, then..." She'd shrugged. "We'll see."
Dmitriy slowly rose, not bothering to adjust the disarray in his clothing. "You show me beauty then take it away from me. You do this to punish me. I am glad we will never be as one."
I had pulled my clothing back in order as she'd spoken, so now I could stand just as imperiously as she. "And why am I being punished?"
"How is it punishment to you? Baby brother. He was never yours to begin with."
"I see." I'd shaken my head then let my fangs grow and bitten my left wrist. I motioned for Dmitriy to do the same.
He'd hesitated, then done so, and I pressed our wrists together. He gasped as our blood mingled, and his eyes grew larger and deeper.
I smiled at him then turned to my sister. "Now he and I are also bonded. You can keep him bound to you, but you cannot keep us from being together. Did the Oiym tell you of this little practice?"
Her eyes were cold and hard as she said, "Why would they need to, with me? Had the roles been reversed, I'd have known what you were up to and dealt with it, then. Baby brother."
Still, I could tell Gabrielle was not best pleased, so I simply turned back to him and said, "I enjoyed what we did. Next time, let's not rush through it."
He'd leaned over and kissed me, whispering, "Whenever our paths may cross."
Then she and he had vanished.
It was after that I had made my visit to the Oiym and suggested limiting the turning of humans into vampires. A rule that would apply even to Blood Angels. I'd heard through the gossip channels Gabrielle was not at all happy about it. She had moved on to St. Petersburg after Napoleon's retreat, planning to expand her court with a couple of the Russian Gentry's male children, once they were grown. They would have suited her sense of importance, even as mere vampires.
But her requests were denied.
I loved it.
If Gabrielle wanted to play games, I was happy to play.
