Blood Moon

A/N: This was originally written as a roleplay between Foxy Digitalis and Neko Aconite, the two halves of Digitalis Aconite Crackfics & Fiction and has not been changed from its original format. If we receive enough comments or complaints about the layout of the fic, we will edit it accordingly. Thank you. :]
Christian Reichert © Foxy Digitalis & Nicholas Rose © Neko Aconite. Characters may not be used without the permission of their respective owners, but fanart is welcomed. X3

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Meanwhile, Christian dreamed.

He saw a raging fire, devouring everything in its path, filling the air with the screams of ghoulish voices that echoed in a starless black night. He saw metal – bullets, bombs, missiles, grenades – raining down upon villages, cities, countries, continents. He saw destruction. He saw death. So much death. He saw war that tore the fabric of the planet apart stitch by stitch, leaving tattered threads and irreparable holes in its wake. He saw a pair of dark eyes – a warm solace in the tumultuous terror of the nightmarish world he envisioned. The eyes burned into him, into his very soul, hotter and brighter than any flame…

Christian jolted awake, startled into consciousness by something he couldn’t name. But that was the last thing he wanted to worry about right now. All six of his senses were screaming at him, demanding that he do SOMETHING to put himself out of his misery and NOW. So the young were promptly yanked the heavy plush blankets over his head and snuggled deeper beneath the silken sheets in an attempt to bury himself in the haven of the bed, so comforting and soft and warm…like those dark eyes in his dream…
Christian sat bolt upright again, this time blocking out his body’s protests; he remembered where he’d seen those eyes before:

They were the eyes of the vampire who had saved his life.

The mere thought of the odd immortal seemed to remind Christian that he wasn’t where he should have been. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he eased himself up, turning his head slowly this way and that to take in the room around him. It was neat and tidy, almost obsessively so. It felt completely unlived in. The sensation made Christian squirm a little.

He preferred houses to be messy and cozy, with at least some indication of the owner’s personality. That was the way his childhood home had been – strewn about with belongings and filled with harvested food or fresh-caught game. Their den was simple and rustic and there was never enough space, but it was safe and warm and comforting nonetheless. Christian smiled in spite of himself, feeling a little homesick. He hadn’t returned to his homeland since he’d met his benefactor and master, a man named Richard Endsley. Mister Endsley had met Christian twenty-five years ago, when Christian had been ninety-eight and still in his youth as far as werewolf standards went. He had appeared about fourteen, and had recently suffered the loss of his father. Mister Endsley was a lawyer who had helped to settle the affairs and sizeable debts of the Reichert family – Christian’s family.

He had swept into the lives of the Reichert siblings and turned everything on its head.

By this time, the elder three Reichert siblings were living on their own, with their respective spouses and children. They returned home to Germany to mourn their father’s death, but ultimately it was Korbinian, the second born of the first Reichert litter, which stayed behind to run the pack in his father’s absence. The three littlest, all girls, were taken in by Megane, who had been a mother to them ever since Mrs. Reichert died shortly after they were born. Markus, the eldest of the Reicherts, left Germany as soon as the funeral had concluded; he said he felt no need to linger in a place that reeked of death and broken dreams. The heartbroken pack disbanded until eventually Christian and his twin brother Franz were the only two left. Korbinian and his wife had three children of their own and could afford to shelter and provide for only one of the twins. And in the eyes of the law, Franz and Christian were still too young to live on their own.

But Mr. Endsley, efficient as always, had a plan for this as well.

He made the boys an offer. One could stay in Germany with Korbinian. The other could come with him, to live in England at his estate and be given a “proper education” free of any charge to their family. Naturally, the Reichert family as a whole balked at this. They had been born and raised in the wilderness of Germany, France, and Poland, shifting the location of their den to smaller townships and villages as it had been too heavily encroached upon by man or other packs. They had never known anything else. This was their territory. Their home! How could they possibly think of leaving it, especially after such a tragedy?

Christian volunteered to go to England.

His siblings were shocked, outraged and devastated all at once. Korbininan and Megane called him a traitor to his pack. The girls had wept for the loss of their dear big brother. Franz didn’t look him in the eye when he wished him well, but his voice shook with gratitude; Christian knew he was too terrified to be the one to leave. Markus had simply shaken his head, his eyes filled with sorrow. But Christian had made up his mind. He was leaving Germany. For good. What sense was there in staying rooted to one place, never allowing one to see what lay beyond one’s front door? He asked himself. There was a whole wide world out there to roam and explore and discover. All it took was a little courage to set that wanderlust in motion…

A sharp knock at the door startled Christian back from his reverie. This was no time for daydreams! He felt his body tense, regretting the repercussive sting of overexerted muscles. He sniffed the air, but the effort to learn anything about his visitor was useless; every scent that surrounded him was unfamiliar. For a moment, there was still silence, as if whoever had come to the door had given up and left him be. Christian relaxed and turned to the window beside the bed, slipping his fingers between the slightly sheer curtains to peer out at the street below his second-story room. There was a surprising lack of activity on the street; he saw only one or two hansom cabs and a handful of people bustling off in either direction toward some unknown destination. There was a boy on the corner lighting the gas lamps…

Christian blinked in surprise. Lighting the gas lamps already? How could that be? He lifted his gaze to the London skyline and gasped. The bright fingers of sunlight streaking the sky were dimming and receding, leaving dusky twilight in its wake. As he watched, night rolled in to cover the Heavens with an inky blanket scattered with stars. Christian was amazed. How could that much time have passed? It felt as if he had only been asleep for a few hours! He immediately started to scramble out of bed, tripping over his own feet in the process.

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Nicholas had woken on the brink of night, as the sun sunk below the London skyline and left the city a haven for the disparity and crime that normally slunk about, hidden in back allies and pubs. Motivated by the gnawing hunger of days without feeding he’d moved into the slums, where one more dead man would make no difference when no one could say it was anything but an attack of the heart, God’s wrath for his life of sin.

Quicker than any human Nicholas made his way deep into the underbelly of London, instinctually searching out the silent wish for death that plagued the poorer areas of the industrial world. Having waited so long to feed Nicholas had sacrificed his control both mentally and physically to the beast inside; A blood thirsty demon that had haunted the footsteps of humanity for as long as written history. In most cases the host and parasitic blood worked in harmony, one gaining from the other, the host gaining immortal life and immunity to all diseases while the parasite could feed upon a fountain of fresh blood provided by its host. Nicholas had broken the unknown pact and was paying for it in bloodshed, not his own but that of his victim who was chosen on none of his normal requirements but on the whim of the pure vampire who only cared to feast on the ruby blood of humans and for its own wellbeing.

Ironic that one day one of his own employment, a man perhaps with a taste for the drink, might not show up to working having become Nicholas’s meal. Ironic that this metaphorical man would have given everything to his employer, the son of a pioneering mogul who had taken part in the shaping of his employees own prison.

Among the bodies of drunken men in all stages of alcoholic influence Nicholas located his pray.

A man no older than twenty, with skin grey in complexion and a sickly thin look, sat near the back of the pub in the darker recesses, having unknowingly chosen his day of death with his desire for seclusion. The scent of blood, sweat, and alcohol clung to his prey; it was intoxicating in its mortality and weakness. The demon thrived on the hunt as it soon did on the blood of its prey, sweet with its life and salty with its impurity. The alcohol poisoning the victim’s blood rushed into Nicholas in diluted amounts, giving his already warming skin a hearty flush and his mind a light haze. What had put his victim in a stupor only had him on the edge of euphoria.

In the right mind Nicholas could have told the man’s whole life story from the fountain of blood pouring from his being.


How Nicholas had gotten home was lost on himself as he lightly made it up the stairs to his own front door.

Regaining his right mind whilst in the early stages of alcohol’s effects had put his world into a dizzy haze all the way through the return to his official residence, where he met potential business partners from around Europe but never spent much time otherwise, except in a small room turned office across from the room he had put Christian in. Nicholas knocked on the door hardly remembering the key in his coat pocket or the fact that most doors, including his own, were left unlocked in his neighborhood meaning he could just walk in on his own free will. In the silence while waiting for someone to answer he worked on what to say to the boy, werewolf, that he had left in what would have been considered his room had it not been for its lack of use and personal touches; when you can buy anything and live forever you seem to buy less and live less, at least that’s how Nicholas had started to feel. He was curious about the beautiful male he’d left in his room, wanting to know about him, about werewolves even if that was possible. Christian was his chance to feel alive, like he hadn’t since taking over his father’s factory business as a newly created vampire.

Rustling behind the door stirred Nicholas out of his thoughts and back to reality, which was his maid Aleera poking her head out the front door, obviously confused by the untimely knock and the door.

Her eyes widened for a moment at her boss standing outside the front door of his house but quickly move to the side, gave him a soft smile and disappeared through the servants’ passage. She was a sweet girl Nicholas thought to himself, knowing the day would come for him to disappear into oblivion and he’d have to leave some of his money to someone so that his “death” seemed legitimate. It only made sense to leave it to those who would have done anything for him and could use it to live their lives, no matter how short it would be.

Nicholas was about to start hopping up the stairs to see his temporary ward when Alfred, looking composed as any proper English butler, cleared his throat to catch his attention.

“Is there anything I can get you sir?”

Alfred made it his mission to see to Nicholas’s needs, most likely because he was bored of having nothing to take care of with the maids doing all of the house work and having very few visitors to take care of, most all guest being business related.

After assuring Alfred that he only required a hot bath be drawn for himself, Nicholas returned his focus to climbing the stairs, two at a time. Alfred sighing quietly and shook his head as he watched the retreating form of his odd employer.

Arriving at the top of the stairwell Nicholas gave his appearance a once over, in true form of any man trying to make a good impression but knowing, subconsciously, that it was a ditch effort and only really wasted time that was used to mentally prepare oneself. He really wasn’t sure how to present himself in this situation but instead of worry over the details he knocked on his bedroom door and waited for a response, rather than throwing open the door; which even in his slightly impaired prospective seemed a decent idea.

He shifted nervously waiting for Christian to allow him entry or for any type of reply. Really it seemed odd to wait outside one’s on room, waiting for permission to enter. After a few minutes of waiting for some type of reply Nicholas started to worry. Instead of continuing to wait he pushed the heavy mahogany door wide open.

"La mia bella mannaro, are you alright?"

By the time the door opened, Christian had managed to free himself to stand upon solid ground despite the efforts of the tangled bedclothes and the ill-fitted nightshirt he had apparently been leant sometime last evening. It must have belonged to the vampire or perhaps to one of his servants; it was at least one size too big and brushed Christian’s ankles like a sort of white gown. He smiled self-consciously at the vampire as he entered the room, bowing from the waist with practiced elegance. Christian did not speak; he had been taught by Mister Endsley that children spoke only when spoken to. Even now, appearing to be about eighteen, he was considered a child in his Master’s eyes. But the good thing about his lack of speech was that it granted him better circumstances for listening. And listening was something that Christian was pleased to do when it came to the vampire.

Christian’s brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he listened to the musical lilt of Nicholas’ voice, trying to pick out what exactly had been said. He understood the question – the tone of concern was enough in itself to clue him in – but whatever had been said prior confused him. The language it was spoken in was foreign to Christian, but it reminded him nonetheless of French, his mother’s language. Especially that one word – bella. It sounded so much like the French belle. Perhaps then the meaning was one in the same.

Perhaps the vampire had called him beautiful.

Christian’s stomach twisted sharply and fell in a sickening way. Beauty had been the cause of much of his pain – of his family’s pain. His mother had been antagonized and murdered for beauty, at least in part. He himself had been chosen and imprisoned for beauty.

And now, he had been saved for beauty.

As the realization struck him, Christian jolted upright, his spine ramrod straight and his golden eyes flashing. “Please forgive me,” he began in a rush, his English perfect despite his anxiety, “I have not yet had the chance to properly thank you for rescuing me. I must do something to duly repay the kindness you have bestowed upon me…” He trailed off awkwardly, his features contorting briefly into a grimace as if he was displeased with the implications of what he’d said. Stuttering, he began again.

“P-perhaps I can interest you in dining with my Master and I; he will want to thank you personally, of course. My absence will have caused him a great deal of distress, you understand. It is already suppertime and he will be very cross as I am rarely allowed to…

“Oh,” he murmured, frowning. “Oh, but of course. M-my sincerest apologies. I hadn’t even considered until now that…Vampires don’t eat supper, do they? Well, of course they eat, but I mean rather than food it’s…erm…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word on the tip of his tongue and his face paled, his courage faltering. “Yes. Well…I suppose we’ll have to think of something else, then.” He said. The words sounded much more decisive than he felt. There was an air of defeat about the young were and the light in his downcast eyes had begun to dim. A sudden bout of dizziness made his head swim.

Christian sat heavily back down on the edge of the bed, his legs suddenly feeling very unsteady as the room seemed to tilt wildly about him. He put a hand to his head with a soft groan. His head throbbed, his eyes feeling as if they were attempting to squeeze out of his skull. All at once the room seemed too bright and the rhythm of their heartbeats too loud. Glancing up through his tangled mop of curls, Christian smiled weakly.

“I suppose I’ve overestimated my strength,” he explained, laughing drily. “Or perhaps my endurance. The morning after a full moon is Hell on Earth for my kind, you understand.”

Nicholas watched Christian’s face cutely scrunch up ever so slightly. Understanding flashed through the werewolf’s face only to have pain cross his eyes as well. Nicholas’s quick perception picked up on the changes in expression even as they were hidden away.

Had something he said caused the string of emotions in Christian?

The last thing Nicholas wanted to do was upset Christian. He was lucky the werewolf had trusted him at all; it was the most Nicholas could ask for. If he upset him now he would feel even guiltier for causing Christian so much trouble.

The sudden transition that his words caused in the atmosphere of the room was unpleasant to say the least, for Nicholas. As Christian blurted out an apology and rambled on about dinning with him and his “master” Nicholas thought over his words desperate to figure out what part of them had upset the younger male. It couldn’t have been the werewolf part since it was obvious that he was indeed a werewolf, most likely had been one from birth as he had heard it worked most often. So then maybe his claiming Christian to be “his” werewolf, it had only been meant jest he supposed and for the fact that he knew no other werewolves. But he felt he should explain himself, try and fix his mistake of upsetting the already weary werewolf.

When the words Christian had said worked their way through his thoughts to the forefront of his mind Nicholas stopped from acting immediately, it was funny that Christian had offered but at the same time it would not bother him to do so since he was well used to “dining” with mortals when his father’s business (now his) clients insisted upon it occasionally.

Making to take a step forward Nicholas failed to notice the horribly misplaced pile of books he had left out from maybe a month ago on the floor of his rarely used bedroom.

He clumsily tripped over the pile, flailing his arms in a most undignified manner, trying with all his will to stop himself from falling into an embarrassing position.

Of course it was all for naught since the alcohol inhibited his thoughts enough for him not to remember the simple fact that he was a vampire.

Nicholas had expected to hit the floor, right next to the bed, but with the help of his frantic flailing and perhaps the fact that he had been closer to the bed then he’d thought because instead of planting his face into the hard wooden floor he landed on something soft. With a sigh a grateful acceptance Nicholas relaxed for a moment, his head swimming from the fall and the alcohol in his blood.

It took a little while before he noticed the rise and fall of the surface he was laying on and the fact that the surface was rather warm. Slowly in apprehension Nicholas raised his head up, eyes growing wide as they looked up to see Christian under him, the werewolf’s face not far from his own.

“I… I’m,” He struggled with his words failing to get any words past his own lips. His face flushed in embarrassment with that night’s fresh blood. Nicholas averted his eyes away from Christian, ashamed that he may have offended him again and that he had hurt his chances of fixing the earlier problem by once again messing up in his actions this time instead of with his words.

Christian, for one, couldn’t seem to comprehend how he came to be in this position.

One minute he was trying to overcome an incredible headache, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger in an attempt to massage away the pain. The next he was laying flat on the bed with his toes still brushing the floor and his rescuer atop him, nestling into Christian’s chest.

It wasn’t an unusual or unfamiliar feeling to Christian. He was used to having men on top of him, as odd as it may be for the time. But none quite so gentlemanly or as handsome as Nicholas. The familiar sensual position and his admitted attraction to the handsome vampire were beginning to have an effect on the young werewolf. Christian felt his heart begin to race, thudding away sharply at his ribs. He drew in his breath sharply as Nicholas raised himself up to look his “human pillow” in the eye. Within that single breath, Christian could smell adrenaline and pheromones and the faintly overhanging smell of alcohol atop the musk of human blood that seemed to oddly comprise the whole of Nicholas’ smell. It was nonetheless enough to send desire coursing through him with each frenzied beat of his heart and without thinking, Christian raised a hand to press two fingers to Nicholas’ lips to quiet him.

“Shhh…” he soothed in a whisper-quiet hiss.

Pulling his hand back, Christian traced his fingertips lightly down the tender ridge of Nicholas’ brow, then his cheekbones, finally cradling his jaw gingerly in his hand. His touches were fleeting and cautious, on the borderline between inquisitive and knowing. Other men would have laughed this off and been on their feet in an instant. Nicholas hesitated. Nicholas blushed. And Nicholas stayed.

To someone like Christian, that meant something.

Glancing between Nicholas’ lips and his stunning eyes, Christian slowly lifted his torso up slightly while at the same time gently tugging Nicholas’ head down close enough that their noses touched. With his mouth parted slightly, Christian savored the feeling of warm breath mingling and rebounding against his lips. He glanced up one last time through his lashes at Nicholas before closing his mouth and very lightly pressing his lips against those of the vampire in a chaste, surprisingly innocent kiss.

The trail Christian was leaving along Nicholas’s skin with his finger tips tingled pleasantly. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away if he had wanted to. The increased pumping of Christian’s heart so close to him was obvious and exhilarating.

Nicholas knew what was expected and considered normal for a man like himself. He knew that actions like this were forbidden by the majority of the British population, his father had taught him that, but in this moment and in any more emotional ones he was not English but Italian and his senses told him to soak in the warmth Christian was giving off in his touches.

If anything he should have been and had been afraid of Christian reacting badly to his foolish fall but this was something different. It was what he’d heard whispers of in some of the darkest pubs and more commonly in the dining halls of well known restaurants. Something rich men spoke in hushed voices about while sitting across from each other thinking no one could hear them. Nicholas had heard though, the vampiric blood giving his senses five times the strength of mortals.

Not now, nor ever would he comprehend the negative stigma placed on the act.

Without Nicholas noticing, too caught up in emotions, Christian rose up towards him. The werewolf’s breath was sweet, his body radiated heat against Nicholas’s sensitive skin.

When Christian’s lips gently pushed up against his, he gasped quietly. The other male’s lips were soft, warm and melted sweetly against his own.

It was not that he had never kissed or been kissed by anyone else before. Before being taken to England by his father he had had a small something with a beautiful flower girl who sold the most amazing flowers. He couldn’t place her face anymore but the sunflowers and lilies were still vivid and the kiss he’d shared with her, if not already dwindling in his memory, was now more or less lost. That memory had been washed away as soon as Christian had placed his lips over his.

Lost in the heat of the moment Nicholas put more of his weight onto Christian, using his elbows to prop himself up just enough to keep some of it off him, but he still pushed him back down as he moved up the smaller body. Without thinking of the consciences he ran his tongue over Christian’s lips, resting his body in between Christian’s thighs and chest. The contact was hypnotically sensual and his senses centered in on the werewolf underneath him.

Nicholas did not register the first knocks at the bedroom door and almost missed the second one had it not been for the increased volume of the pounding.

Slowly, then rather suddenly, the situation he was in hit him. Before Nicholas could push away from Christian the door was pushed open and Alfred stood in the door way. He tilted his head to the side catching Christian’s eyes before looking over towards Alfred, giving the elder butler an innocent grin his cheeks already flushed with blood.

For a moment he was about to scramble for an excuse for their situation but then he didn’t have to. He was not ashamed of his position.

“Master Nicholas,” Alfred cleared his throat before continuing. “Master Christian’s keeper is here to collect him.” Without another word the proper butler left closing the door behind him.

Nicholas slowly turned his head back to Christian an innocent smile lightly touching his lips. “I suppose we should get you down stairs then.” He didn’t want him to leave but it was not his call and he couldn’t make him stay.


Christian hummed lowly, the sound reverberating pleasantly through him. Nicholas’ body was heavy and surprisingly warm (Christian didn’t want to think about whose blood was allowing the vampire’s face to flush so becomingly) atop his and their innocent kiss was quickly turning into anything but.

He slid his arms around the vampire’s neck and eagerly responded to Nicholas’ bold lick, parting his lips and opening his mouth slightly to allow their tongues to dance, briefly swirling together in a manner that left Christian breathless by the time they were interrupted. A soft whine of annoyance slipped past Christian’s lips as Nicholas drew back slightly and looked away, but his attention was quickly drawn to the opening door as he realized what was happening.

Grinning unashamedly past Nicholas’ shoulder at Alfred, his arms still draped across the taller man’s shoulders, Christian listened with growing dismay to the butler’s announcement.

His master had come for him? That was most definitely not a good sign. It meant he was worried. But not necessarily about Christian’s well-being; his master knew Christian could handle himself, given his werewolf heritage. Rather, this meant that Mister Endsley was worried about Christian being left alone with his rescuer and what Christian may or may not have divulged. The young werewolf gritted his teeth against the overwhelming wave of hatred that crashed over him. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, he thought with a great deal of bitterness. The phrase described his current situation almost perfectly. Mister Endsley may have saved him from a living Hell in Germany, being taunted and persecuted as the “son of a witch,” but he had rescued Christian from one Hell only to throw him into another. One which Christian was now extremely reluctant to return to now that he had been given a taste of what his life could have been…and could still possibly become.

A life where love was deeper than beauty.

But as soon as Nicholas looked back down at him, however, the hardness in his eyes immediately softened into sorrow. He looked away and nodded, slowly sitting up so as to ease Nicholas’ weight off of him before standing. The young werewolf seemed to shrink into himself, reverting into that which a proper young English gentleman should be: demure, refined, and polite. The playful, spirited personality which had radiated from him like beams of light was abruptly cut off as if by a dark curtain. Christian stood awkwardly near the bed, looking down at his bare toes and brushing at the borrowed nightshirt he wore.

“Can you please ask Alfred to bring me my clothes?” He asked quietly, unable to lift his gaze lest he say or do something he would most surely regret later. “I mustn’t keep my Master waiting any longer. He’ll be very cross with me.”

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A/N: Ooh, cliffhanger! XD Thank you to everyone who reviewed our first chapter; you're the much-needed encouragement that keeps us writing. ;3 We apologize for the late release of this chapter, but college has its way of sucking away one's precious spare time... D: