Love Journal of a King

WARNING: Yaoi (male x male content)

Chapter Four:

The next night, Ray rose from his bed, getting dressed into a red silk shirt and black jeans, and then opened the curtains and the blinds as he always did so that he could always look out at the sky while writing. He thought about whether he should go out to feed first, and then decided he would skip hunting for a while, until the thirst caught up with him. He needed his attention solely focused on his journal, and he could go quite some time without feeding, once he got passed the initial stab of hunger demanding him to hunt. Then it would fade until his body desperately needed the blood to feed his immortality.

He ran his fingertips along the surface of the shiny oak desk, silver gaze skimming across the items scattered across it and then turning to the old fireplace at the opposite end of the room, barely ever used but built into the house many years ago, a feature Ray had liked. Sometimes he liked to light a fire in it and feel the warmth on his hands.

Ray sank down onto the desk chair, which squeaked in slight protest, and once again picked up his pen, determined to carry on with his story after his writer’s block the night before.

 

‘I do think about fifty years went by before I managed to find another love. We moved far away from Japan just days after the terrible massacre of my little family. I picked a cherry blossom from the tree before leaving, holding it to my nose and inhaling its sweet scent. In that moment I remember thinking of the dawn, just a few hours away, and how easy it would be to wait on the hill, arms spread wide ready to embrace it’s searing rays, to feel my skin peel and melt away from my immortal bones and find Ichigo in some other world, full of happy spirits awaiting the arrival of their loved ones.

‘As is obvious, I did not go through with this half-hearted plan. Antonio knew my intentions and kept a sharp eye on me at all times through the years, forcing himself to stay awake in the early hours of sunrise to make sure I did not climb up out of my coffin or hole in the ground, wherever we happened to be at the time, and meet the dawn.

‘Ruby also put effort into reminding me that I was the eldest and responsible for them, despite my suffering. She tried to be sympathetic, but I knew that deep down she did not truly understand the pain I felt, the loss I had suffered.

‘Twenty years must have past before I made sense of my thoughts, and I started to become like my old self again, hunting more often and avoiding any confrontation with mortals. Ruby and Antonio continued to make vampires every now and then, ones that I never looked upon, never knew the names of, for they would flee soon after turning. Ruby would sometimes disappear to dispatch any troublesome vampires, descended from fledglings she’d made in the past, and in doing so it kept our numbers down. I suppose, if I had not have been sensible, if I had not have been sympathetic and respectful of this mortal world which was not ours to control, she would have gladly left those fledglings alone to continue in their  foolish ways, to spread the infection so much that mortals would eventually become an endangered species. For it could have easily been done.

‘So, as I mentioned, fifty years went by, the year 1076 came in the small country of England, and it was on one lonely night under the stars, sitting under a lone oak tree, that a teenage boy approached me. I was leaning back against the tree, lost in thought as always, when I heard his hesitant footsteps approaching across the soft grass.

‘He stopped behind the tree, slowly creeping around but out of sight. I could faintly detect fear emanating from him, and I could easily pick from his slow mortal mind that he intended to slit my throat and rob me of anything I may have had on my person. I waited, patient, listening and letting the quiet anger build in me as it always did on those days when coming into contact with these sorts of mortals.

‘I heard him breathing, now very close, could sense his arm reaching out, the small blade glinting in the moonlight as it descended towards my throat. I whipped around and knocked the blade flying into the shadows shrouding us, and he instantly turned to flee back across the field. With a snarl I ran after him, just a few seconds later and he was on the ground, struggling to wriggle out of my grip and shouting and pleading to be let go. He managed to turn over as I tried to cease his violent movements, and I froze when he did so.

‘Large brown eyes gazed up at me from a small youthful face, long black lashes wet with tears of terror. He had a small nose and full lips that trembled as he caught sight of my silver eyes and bared fangs. “W-what are you, devil?” he whispered, voice choked with his fear, but I could not answer him, I could not even move. The only part of me that did move was my eyes, which looked to his thick black hair, long and dirty at that moment, falling almost to his shoulders. He did not have oriental-shaped eyes, they were too large, too rounded, but they were a deep brown that pulled at my heartstrings. I eased my grip on him just slightly, and slowly lowered myself down upon him, fangs piercing his warm neck. He cried out but did not struggle, seeming to accept the fact that death was calling him. But I did not kill him.

‘Lost in thoughts of a love long gone, filled with longing and a re-kindled lust, I moved my hips against him as I fed, my free hand dipping underneath his shirt to feel his bare skin, to rub his hardening nipple. I almost killed him, I admit, if I had not realized what I was doing, that I was getting too carried away, he would have died that night.

‘When I pulled away, he gazed up at me with dreamy eyes, and I could smell his arousal, and looked down to see a stain on the front of his thin, old trousers. “What is your name?” I asked, trailing kisses across his throat and ripping his shirt to get better access to his shoulders and chest. “Anthony White” he mumbled, whimpering slightly as I bit down on a nipple, my fingertips tracing patterns across his stomach. He was soon grinding his crotch against me, and I moved in time with him, locking my mouth to his and letting him taste his own blood in my mouth. Anthony, my little Anthony, the boy that captured my heart with his soft brown eyes and trembling lips, even though he had been so ready to cut that blade across my throat and take everything I had.

‘I took him back to our temporary residence deep in the heart of London, through the stinking streets and filthy alleys. Our house was very small and plain, a place unnoticed by the neighbouring mortals. I lay him on my small bed of blankets in the corner, not even bothering to see whether my siblings were home or not, to cast my senses out and find out where they were, and I made love to him. For hours I worshipped and cherished his slender, soft body with my hands, my mouth, my whole being and then commanded him to sleep when my siblings returned just before dawn. I slept with him in my arms, and no one, mortal or immortal, could have taken him from me, even in my death-like sleep.

        

   

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‘As the years went by, Anthony grew older, baby face shaping slowly into a young adult’s, and he loved me with all his heart, never questioning why I had to drink blood, never asking whether I had killed anyone. The only thing he asked of me was to accompany me on my hunts sometimes. I was slightly uncomfortable with this, but I allowed it simply because I loved to see his big brown eyes light up in excitement.

‘One night, in our fifth year of being together, we lay holding each other close amongst our blankets and he leaned close to my ear, gasping as my fingers stroked his most private place. “Ray…will you not make me like you? I heard Ruby talking of making ‘mortals’ into your kind. Is this true? Could you make me like you? Would I be beautiful forever like you?” he asked in a soft breathless voice. My fingers stilled and moved to his hip, pulling him closer to me, loving the feel of his silky skin. “My sweet Anthony, I cannot make you one of us, never” I replied, fear sending shivers down my spine. He looked up at me, searching my silver gaze to confirm how serious I was. He placed a soft kiss upon my lips, still gazing into my eyes, and then asked “Why not? It is possible, isn’t it?” I sighed and shifted so I could lean on my elbow and look down at him, his pretty face looking so innocent and curious it made my heart ache. “I fear you would go mad with the power I would give to you. I cannot lose you, my sweet Anthony, you must live your life and enjoy all that mortality provides for you. Living forever does not mean ever-lasting happiness, it only brings more suffering. Mortals have no idea how lucky they are that they do not have to live so long”.

‘He stayed quiet after this reply, and did not question me again until a few months later, at which I gave the same answer. For the next two years he questioned and insisted, sometimes angering me to the point where I’d run off into the night to avoid hurting him with my supernatural strength. I would return before dawn, and he would be lying in the blankets fast asleep, awaking when I would crawl next to him and kiss his tempting lips. We would make love as a way of apology to one another, and then I would be off to the crypt in which we stayed in through the day, a place Anthony had visited with me sometimes, when he didn’t want to be left alone in the day, but that wasn’t often for I wouldn’t always allow it. Even when he pouted and his eyes widened with sadness at being left behind, I would not give in no matter how much I wanted to most of the time. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being in the crypt while we slept the day away, as seemingly as lifeless as corpses, for he insisted that I didn’t force him to sleep as well. He claimed he like to watch me sleep and stroke my hair, to kiss my cold skin until I awoke and embraced him.

‘It worried me, because we Vampires have an instinct in us to defend ourselves even in our sleep. I worried one day I would accidentally hurt him, but the few times he did stay with me through the daylight hours, I never had struck out at him, and I assumed it was because he presented no threat that my supernatural body could detect.

‘By our seventh year together, I was on the verge of panic, for my sweet Anthony was becoming desperate and frantic for the power that flowed in my veins. He became obsessed with the idea of immortality, of being able to have power over people for once in his life, to be able to live forever by my side. It became so bad that he asked me almost every night, and began to have this crazed look in his once innocent eyes. My heart grieved for that lost innocence, for the mind swirling with tortured thoughts I could hear whenever I dared to listen. He had only just turned twenty-two and already his mind was clouded.

‘My siblings warned me of his madness, of this obsession consuming him but I always insisted that he was fine, that I was handling it and did not need their advice on the matter. They would look at me knowingly, but say no more, only nod and retreat back to their own lives amongst the mortals around us, Ruby off seducing men and women who she could so easily charm, while Antonio merely wandered around watching, and listening to the story of the mortal’s lives. He sometimes liked to play the hero and help people in need if he was passing by, a woman being attacked by a heartless man perhaps, or a starving child begging for just a slice of bread. Even though he was a man of few words and emotions, especially in those days, I knew that it grieved him to see children suffering while the adults busied themselves with trivial matters. He could not understand their ways, no matter how much he watched and listened. His eyes could not see, his ears could not hear. He looked all over London to find love and sympathy and caring, something he knew the human race was capable of, but in that dark and dreary city, he found none. He would wander the streets all night, sometimes feeding, sometimes not, and return with an expression of slight confusion and a haunting sadness that I wished with all my heart that I could erase somehow.

‘Then one night, I took Anthony with me to the crypt, concerned about him being alone. I covered his face with kisses, a face that was still pretty but had gone slightly gaunt in his days of raving and not feeding himself while I had been gone, and then scooped him up into my arms. I then departed with my siblings to our crypt and settled down in my corner with a heavy heart weighing down my chest, Anthony lying numbly by my side. As the sun rose in the sky, my lids fell heavily and I gave in to the sleep beckoning me to surrender.

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‘The night that followed, I arose first as usual, relief flooding through me at the thought that I could hold Anthony again. At that thought is when the smell hit my nose. My siblings were just stirring awake, but none of them were injured. I sat up and looked to see Anthony across the small stone room, lying against the wall in an awkward position. Antonio was nearest to him, and frowned in puzzlement upon seeing his small form so close. I shot to my feet and ran across to him, knowing he was long dead but still fumbling to feel his neck and wrist to try and find a pulse. It was as I checked his wrist that I noticed his other hand was curled around a short, thick wooden stick that had one end hastily sharpened into a point. I slumped back on my heels when I realised what his intentions had been, and I vaguely wondered how long he had been carrying that stake, waiting for his moment.

‘I knew it was my own fault, I should never have let him know my true nature, it was too much for a mortal to handle, for what mortal wouldn’t jump at the chance to be powerful and never die of old age or sickness? Mortals were known for their greed, forever striving for more and to climb to the top.

‘Tears stung my eyes as I studied the blood running from his head, matted into his dark hair. When I gently pulled him forwards, he slumped into me and I gasped as his head fell onto my shoulder and I saw that the back of his skull had completely caved in. When my body reacted to the threat and knocked him away, he must have smacked so hard into the wall that it shattered most of his head. The only comfort I could find was knowing he had died instantly. I held his cold, stiff body close and rocked back and forth, my blood tears mingling into the blood in his hair as I cried. For nights on end I shed those blood-filled tears, for my sweet, doomed Anthony’.