Author Note: (5/15/08) Thank you for the feedback everyone! This is my first slash story ever so I really appreciate knowing how it comes across. :)
Almost Grace
It seems I've been carrying it around with me forever, this thing for Mick...
His presence exhilarates me like an exotic drug. Or, to be more…precise… like something that intoxicates you when it shouldn't.
Mick is what it would feel like to take a living breath for the first time in 400 years… a sudden rush of air so cold and exhilarating it shocks as it enters your lungs. Oxygen so rich it makes your head spin. Yeah. That is what I feel every time he enters a room. The chill quickly displaced by a flood of heat that settles in every part of my body like a low persistent pulse. Almost as if I had a beating heart.
I can't – no, I won't call it love. I've known love. I still know love, and I hate it. Every time I sit by her bedside and think how it could have been. How it should have been if I hadn't failed her.
Sarah. My selfishness sealed her fate and that is a mistake I will not repeat.
No… love is like mortality. Fragile as glass. I'll never invite it in again.
Love only leads to weakness, to an ocean of guilt and bitterness. I would've drowned in it long ago, but as Josef Kostan I refuse to exist in a backwash of regret. I prefer to learn from the past. And so I swore never to turn anyone else. I haven't had even half the desire to do so. At least, not until tonight.
It started when Mick came to visit me yesterday, looking tanned and for all the world like he'd just spent an afternoon in the sun… and he had… Damn Coraline and her 'cure'!
Somehow I hid the icy, churning fear that gripped me. The sudden dread that somehow Mick – this renewed mortal incarnation of him – would vanish in a flash of sunlight and become just one more thing that had been mine, but was now lost forever.
Not that I could ever call Mick mine…
And yet, standing there looking into his mortal eyes, sensing the throb of his living heart, watching his chest expand with every breath… I was suddenly struck by the realization that this is exactly how I think of him. My friend. My brother. My comrade at arms. My confidante. The light to my darkness… Yes, mine!
And why the hell shouldn't he belong to me? I saw him through those final years of Coraline. I saw him through the guilt after he thought he incinerated her. I taught him to survive in our world. Me! No one else.
It took only one look in those newly living eyes and I knew… No matter what, I could never allow Mick to live and die as a mortal.
You see… I often tease him that he was born to be a vampire. And if ever anyone could have been born to be damned it was Mick. Immortality fits him like a glove and he uses its gifts better than most.
Turned against his will, he hates our world and our ways… and yet, he loves it too. He would never admit it. He denies it even to himself.
His distaste for every aspect of my life is obvious… especially the hedonistic pleasures I refuse to deny myself. I take great joy in flaunting these things in front of Mick – the excesses we can enjoy when we exploit the fact that we are the predator and mankind is the prey.
It has become a ritual for us… I tempt him. He resists. I like to think – and I like him to think – that I am the cat to his mouse. And yet… in quiet moments of reflection I know… I know… that I am the mouse.
We've always danced around each other. The casual touching. The joking. The camaraderie. It is the "best friend and brother" pretense we play because that is where Mick is comfortable. But I've seen him… the sidelong glances he casts at the women I toy with… Jealousy lurks behind his eyes and it isn't because he wants them. He knows they are his for the asking, just as he can have anything of mine that he wants. No, he hates them for being with me, and he doesn't even realize.
If he did know it isn't something he could easily accept. Even as a vampire he was determined to keep his mortal conscience inviolate.
But I see it. He envies them.
Every time I see that possessiveness in his eyes… I feel an answering need rise up in me. A need to show him, to reassure him, that he is the one I want. Not the human women who are my prey, nor the vampire women who want my money and power. It drives me insane, this hope that someday he'll wake up to the bond between us - to all that it is and all that it could be. Not the weak unions we've formed with mortals. A bond far stronger. Resilient. Eternal.
It is all there inside both of us. So much potential. Waiting.
In 400 years I've learned to see past all kinds of masks. What I saw in Mick's eyes when he let his mask slip… the night he was mourning me, when he walked into that room and saw me sitting there at the desk, as alive as anyone undead can be… Only Beth's presence kept him motionless. Everything within him was pushing him to fly over that desk and wrap me in his arms. For the space of a heartbeat it was all there in those dark eyes.
Yes, his charade won out in that moment, but it was a near miss. That knowledge and the joy it brings have to be enough for me. And I suppose they are. For now.
Part of me, whatever tiny part of me isn't selfish, is relieved that he continues to deny himself the truth. I realize just how helpless I would be in the face of a Mick who knows the power he could wield over me.
If Mick ever does wake up to this thing between us, he would have only to crook his finger to make me his slave. I would give anything to him, give up everything for him. He holds my world in the palm of his hand. Me! Josef Kostan… Konstantin… Charles… All the incarnations I've been or ever will be are his. Did I mention he has no idea?
And then – damn him – he has the audacity to walk into my office and tell me – as casually as if he were telling me the time – that he is mortal again.
Even knowing Coraline's 'cure' is temporary, that Mick's humanity couldn't last, I was still staggered by the frailty of his human form. Everything inside me felt tight, constricted. For a creature who doesn't breathe it is startling to feel you might die because you can't draw breath.
Outwardly I was as calm and collected as four centuries perfecting my own mask could make me. Inside was another matter entirely. All the repercussions of Mick's new mortality were crushing me. The careless admission that he'd spent a day at the beach shook me to the core.
I played it so cool. I always do. Hell, I even said he should enjoy his time in her bed even as the fear of losing him forever clawed at my gut. As if imagining Mick burying himself in her body wasn't costing me my sanity.
Accepting his feelings for her - his love – hasn't been difficult until now. Mortal love doesn't threaten me. As I've already said, that emotion is frail and doomed to failure. I've always rested comfortably in the knowledge that Mick would never, ever, turn Beth. It doesn't matter how much he loves her or how much she begs.
No, Beth has never been a threat because I always knew that I will be here for Mick, be here with him, long after Beth Turner turns to ashes.
Then suddenly I found myself face to face with a human Mick. A weak, defenseless shadow of what his vampire self had been. Prey to a world of predators he could never be strong enough to fight. Vulnerable to even me…
That was the core of it. That was the realization that filled me with paralyzing fear.
How could I resign myself to feeling his heart beating every time we are together? I could already feel his humanity calling me, sparking the need deep within me, a very real hunger to taste him in some elemental way. To feed. To claim him in every way a vampire can claim a mortal being.
This thing between us, I can fight it one piece at a time. The physical desire for Mick is strong, but it isn't new. I remember the first time I felt it… that night I took him to Venice. We went to a special supper club that catered to our kind. The host – a long acquaintance of mine who adores my money – brought us a bottle of rare vintage blood. Mick was in a rare mood that night. He was truly one of us, enjoying our world.
He took the freshly opened bottle and raised it to appreciate the scent, as if it were a fine wine. Then he horrified the waiter by taking a drink directly from the bottle. He savored the mouthful for a second then swallowed and passed me the bottle. The shocked expression on the waiter's face seemed to fill Mick with a wicked delight and he laughed. It was an amazing, full bodied laugh. So full of joy. The kind Mick rarely offers.
I don't do men, but he was so unexpectedly sexy…
Suddenly his dark vampire eyes were smiling into mine as my lips touched where his had just been. And I wanted him.
It has been the same every damn day in his presence ever since. The lust I've managed to withstand. In fact, I've done an admirable job of burying it so deep that no one knows, least of all Mick.
Then he had to go and throw a wrench into the works by rediscovering his mortality. It added a deeper temptation to the mix. The warm richness of the blood flowing through his veins, I can feel it and it calls to me. Within seconds I knew – I could resist the sexual desire, but this craving would destroy us both.
I've never been so glad to see him leave as I was yesterday. The new hunger driving me demanded to be satisfied. My hands shook with it as I stood there pouring a goblet of blood. I didn't want to admit it, but I'd finally met a temptation beyond even my ironclad control.
The blood took the edge off somewhat and I could return to the vexing business of renovating my office. Years of practice allowed me to push Mick from my mind.
Right up to Guillermo calling me from the morgue.
He tells me that Dr. Anders has taken Beth. Of course, Mick is royally pissed off about it and planning some foolish kind of rescue. Anders… I know him well as the foremost supplier for rare blood in Los Angeles. If he took Beth three things were certain: Anders wanted to sell her blood for profit, she would have to die, and Mick would be furious at this plan.
My grace period was over. Waiting to see Mick again, to show him how weak he is as a mortal, could not wait.
You see, Anders is an old vamp. Not as old as I am, but several centuries anyway. And he has cronies with him every minute to guard his back. No way can Mick invade his sanctum, steal a valuable commodity and walk away to tell about it. Not a mortal Mick.
I rushed to his apartment to try and make him see reason. He had to understand how pathetically weak he is; how pointless it would be for him to go to Anders.
Well… I made my point.
In spades.
Once Mick sets his mind on a course, especially a noble cause like rescuing his true love, he won't be dissuaded by words. One look at his face told me that no amount of reason would make him understand. I would need to show him just how fated he was to fail. And I did – but I forgot to count the cost. I didn't appreciate the risk I was taking where my own control was concerned.
In seconds I had him overpowered and pinned against the wall. He was helpless and he knew it. I could see that understanding in his eyes. There, with my body pressed against his, so close even a breath couldn't move between us…the rush of my fury…the swelling of Mick's fear… it was an epiphany moment for us both.
The knowledge that I could overwhelm him, take anything I wanted, even his life, was a heady, exhilarating thing. The rush of it, the feel of Mick defenseless under my hands, was too much. Too intense. My anger dissolved and I found myself staring at his neck. A strong pulse throbbed there, his blood so close I could taste it.
Then there was the ridiculous urge to rip off his clothes and bury myself in him. My physical arousal and the hunger to feed… I hadn't felt the lust of a combination like that ever. Not in 400 years. Not even with Sarah.
He saw both desires, recognized them for what they were and instantly shoved me away. And rightly so.
Yes, I had proven my point, and Mick agreed. He was powerless to save Beth while wearing the illusion of humanity.
I could see the fear in him, but the fear filling me was far greater. How close I had come only moments before to taking what he had not offered.
Mick knew it too. He had seen the longing in me. What is more, he had felt it against him. How many times had I tried to teach him, power is having what your opponent wants.
And I thought he never listened.
I could sense the moment the knowledge drove out his fear. I could see resolve filling him. He knew, damn him, he knew that I was fighting my vampire self. He knew I was at his mercy.
Then he turned the tables on me completely.
"You have to turn me back."
If he'd been trying he couldn't have manipulated me any better. Right down to the tears in his eyes.
Mick was asking me… me… to turn him…
I was both thrilled and terrified. Mick had been a vampire before. He could be turned again. I wouldn't fail him as I had Sarah. I almost reached for him before sanity reasserted itself.
If I turned Mick he would never forgive me. Mortality was the thing he prized most in the world. Yes, I wanted Mick back in my world – wanted it so desperately I ached with it – but not at this price. Surely if I sired him our friendship would be over.
I tried somewhat inarticulately to talk him out of it only to find myself shoved back against the same wall I'd held him against only moments before.
He pressed close, his face inches from my own… I was shaking then, and he was too.
Then he begged… begged me to help him save his Beth. The reminder of her was almost enough to strengthen my resolve not to turn him… until he whispered to me…
"Please. Please brother."
Mick was pleading with me to take what in that moment I wanted more than anything.
I stood there knowing I was both the all-powerful vampire and Mick's helpless victim. Our motivations were vastly different, but they all ended in the same place… Mick back with me…
Mick was no stranger to vampire ways. He knew what he was inviting. Knew the bond it would create between us. The passion that would flare. He had to feel it already. Turning is always sensual, always sexual. I felt his heartbeat as if it were my own. My cock hardened painfully. My fangs sharpened, lengthened. It was all I could do not to pull him to me and rub against him like a cat…
There was no choice for me. I couldn't deny him. Instead, I did the only thing I could do before taking what I wanted. What I needed. What was mine.
With cold sweat running down my neck, near to cursing him for leaving me no way out, I asked his forgiveness. Then I fell upon him, ravenous with hungers I hadn't felt in all my un-life.
The instant I felt the hot, thick gush of his blood in my mouth control became a tenuous thing.
Lust surged through my body. And Mick's too. I felt him hard against my thigh and gloried in the knowledge that he wasn't any more immune than I was. He shuddered at the sensual heat my feeding sparked in him and those tremors were almost my undoing.
I could feel consciousness leaving him and my fragile control slipped a notch. Two passions warred within me, one visceral, one sexual. I couldn't fight them both. I gave in to the one that would leave Mick undead and in my world…
He was unconscious by then. He didn't feel the sudden tension that gripped me, the explosion that rocked my body. He didn't feel the lassitude that weakened my knees afterward. But even if he had been awake he wouldn't have seen. Nobody is better at hiding what they feel than I am. The hunger for blood receded almost immediately and sheer willpower kept me standing. I felt the moments ticking by, the precious window of seconds in which Mick's change could be completed. His future was in my veins.
I have no idea how I completed the task at hand, but I did complete it. I laid Mick's unconscious body on the table behind him, calmly removed my jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair. Opening veins in your arm is actually quite easy when your incisors are razor sharp. The cuts are clean and quick, almost painless, and I watched clinically as the blood dripped onto Mick's lips.
For just an instant I wondered if he would remain still, as Sarah had. But Mick – and now he truly was my Mick – he didn't disappoint me.
Even as drained as I was, I still found the sight of his tongue sneaking out to taste the red liquid unbearably erotic. I coaxed him a bit.
"Come on Mick… Rise and shine…"
And he did. He took to my blood like an addict, grabbing my forearm and pulling it to his lips.
The tug of his mouth on my skin, the strong suction of his feeding, sent sensual aftershocks rippling through my body. I felt every pull. Every vital mouthful of blood he took until I felt myself growing weaker. Reluctantly I twisted my arm out of his grasp and he didn't protest the loss. He fell back to the table and I watched him.
The fang marks I'd just given him, the old scratch on his face, both faded along with the gash on my arm. As if waking from sleep Mick sat up and I could sense him now, could feel his influence as a second vampire in the room. Mick could feel that side of me too – the predatory nature we shared.
The rush of his new power was primal. He could no more resist baring his fangs on a snarl than I could miss feeling an answering call deep within me. Such was my empathy that I almost answered his roar with one of my own. I resisted the urge, but I couldn't control the impulse to flash my lengthening fangs.
It seems ridiculous now, but at that moment I was elated. If it wouldn't have contradicted everything I'd worked so hard to become – and if I hadn't known Mick would tease me mercilessly for the next few lifetimes – I might have giggled with the euphoria.
The vampire Mick was back! Here, beside me, reborn from me. Even though our first act would be to save the human he loves, we'd be doing it together. He was immortal again, and that was death to the fear that I might do him harm.
The knowledge was exhilarating, so much so that I almost missed the tear that tracked down his cheek. I saw it, but it was easy to pretend I hadn't. My heart was celebrating Mick's rebirth into darkness and I wouldn't waste a moment mourning his worthless humanity. He would do enough of that for both of us.
Within the hour we had rescued his damsel in distress. It wasn't even difficult. I'm home now and he is with her.
But… someday… when Beth is gone and Mick has only me… long years from now… the time will come when I can show him how I really feel.
I'll taste for the first time the mouth that drank my own blood. I'll press my body to his without guilt and give him a glimpse of the dazzling hunger that burns inside me bright enough to blind.
Until then… well, I can wait. I won't settle for less.
Perhaps when the years have passed I can forgive him for sacrificing the very thing he wanted most - life itself, and for being willing to leave me to be with her. I can almost imagine forgiving him that.
Almost.