My Vampire and I by J. P. Bowie Page A

knew I would not.
    I think I knew then that I had gone beyond the mere physical attraction, powerful though that was. Having listened to him tell me something of his life, I couldn't help but feel the most tremendous admiration for him. The sheer willpower and determination it must have taken for him to have survived those first few years after he had been changed was, in a way, mind blowing. When I thought of him waking up that morning to find he was on fire— jeez, how do you cope with something like that? I don't care how butch you are. It's definitely not the way to start your day.
And the sad affair with Thomas. After waiting all those years for the right one to come along, to have some jerk snatch it all from him out of sheer spite.
    I tossed and turned for hours that night. Tired as I was, sleep eluded me. All I could think of was Marcus, and the 88
My Vampire and I
by J. P. Bowie
incredible hours we'd spent together. I could still feel the silky smoothness of his skin that covered the hard muscles of his body. I could taste the sweetness of his lips, smell his intoxicating scent, hear the husky tones as he murmured words of endearment in my ear.
    And then, out of nowhere, something nudged at my mind.
Something nasty, distasteful ... even corrupt. A voice, insidious and evil. I tried, unsuccessfully, to eradicate it from my mind. "Roger," it whispered. "Loving Marcus will bring you death."
I sat up in bed, petrified, staring into the darkness of my bedroom and fumbling with shaking fingers for the switch on my bedside lamp. As light flooded the room, I jumped from my bed, staring wildly about me. At any moment, I expected to feel a violent attack from some malevolent being.
    Nothing happened. I stood in the middle of the room, panting slightly from apprehension, fear of the unknown and the unseen. I wanted Marcus by my side at that moment. His presence would make me strong, unafraid. And suddenly he was there, holding me in his arms, crooning in my ear. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, holding him as if my life depended on it—and at that moment, I felt as though it did.
"Marcus," I sobbed, "I love you. Change me, so we can be together for all eternity."
     
Then I woke up, and I was alone ... and afraid.
    * * * *
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Next morning, I set off for work, dogged by a feeling of despondency I couldn't shake. All day, my depression grew stronger. I wanted to just leave, run to the gym, burn up my frustration on the aerobics machines, but, dedicated worker that I am, I stuck it out to the end of the day. Thank goodness I did. When I called my next customer, not really looking at the line, there he was, standing at my window, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
    "Marcus," I gasped. "Oh gee, it's good to see you."
"Have you been troubled Roger?"
"And how," I exclaimed. I looked out the window. It was still daylight. "How did you...?"
"I managed," he said quietly. "It's a little overcast. That helps. Besides I sensed your despair and wanted to make sure you were all right." "That's so good of you. I get off in a half hour. Can you wait?"
"Of course. I will sit over there," he indicated the guest area, "and read a magazine until you're done."
As he strode away, I admired his cat-like grace and grew hard remembering what those jeans and polo shirt hid.
"Are you open?" An imperious voice broke into my daydream.
I soon will be , I thought with a smirk. "Yes, of course madam," I said with a bright smile, my day suddenly a whole lot rosier. "How may I help you?"
    * * * *
"You had a bad dream last night."
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We were sitting in a bar near the bank where I worked.
Marcus looked across the table at me, his expression a mixture of concern and solicitude.
I nodded. "Yeah. It started out bad, but then you were in it. That made it better."
He touched my hand. "I'm glad I could help."
"Marcus..." I wanted to couch what I had to say as carefully as I could. At