Alexandre - A Fragment

17 March 1828

I have managed to hide what I am from my dear William for just over a year now, but as was expected, my secret has been discovered.

...

“Alexandre…” A light touch upon my hand. So we were back to formalities were we? Fine then, I had mastered that art a long time ago and was willing to play this little game.

“Yes, Mr. Bennett?” He was stung, I could feel it. The touch was gone. A triumph and a tragedy for me all at once.

“Emile…” I flinched, not having expected that. Why did he have to insist on calling me that when he knew very well I didn’t like it? I hated him for it just as I loved him. Arms twined round my waist and I did nothing to hinder them but gave no response to the motion.

“I don’t care what you are or what you do… you are so very important to me and I don’t want to lose that.”

The words of one so young as he, who did not understand. He had to know. I had turned in his embrace and my lips were at his ear whispering that he needed to know everything and before I could stop myself or he could make a move my fangs had pierced the flesh of his neck and I was drawing his blood out of him. Sweet and so gently forced, he melted in my arms as I held him against me, the sheer ecstasy of such an embrace threatening to overwhelm me. I did not take much, though I longed to, and when I pulled back he reeled a moment in silence.

“Emile, I still don’t care.” Defiant to the last.

In that moment I knew for sure that my heart was no longer my own.