For 300 years

I’ve never told anyone this before. Everyone around me thinks they know me so well, like I’m their best friend or something. In reality, nobody knows me and I am their worst nightmare. My name is Delilah and I am a vampire. My bite is intoxicating even as it takes the last drop of blood from your veins. You love me. You beg for me. You wish it would never end. I hate you. I’m incapable of anything other than lust and satisfying my own needs. Or at least that’s what I always told myself… until James came along, when everything I thought was right was turned upside down.

James and I met in a bar. That’s where I used to meet a lot of my “dates” and I figured he wouldn’t be any different. The first night he said hi to me in passing. The second night, he completely ignored me. That irritated me; nobody ignored me if I didn’t want them to. I tried to get close to him, to learn his story, find out who he was, but every time I tried, he moved further away. Finally, a week had gone by and then another and I knew as much about James as I did the first night we said hi. I knew I needed a different approach.

So I peeked into his mind and found out where he lived. I started haunting his apartment building, waiting for an opportunity to approach him. I had to have him – I had to know him! Due to the lack of contact, he’d become an obsession. He had to be MINE! And I was going to make it so.

Finally, after another month of haunting his apartment building and anywhere else I knew him to be, he let me approach him. After six agonizing weeks of being left out in the cold every night until dawn, his eyes met mine and I knew he’d finally relented. He nodded as he passed the shadowed doorway where I hid and my hungry gaze followed him into the building, where he left the door ajar instead of pulling it closed tight. Swiftly, I raced to the door and followed him up to his fourth floor apartment. Though I’d never stepped foot inside, I’d spent plenty of time in the hallway outside. This door was also ajar and I pushed it open with ease. It never occurred to me to take caution. He was letting me in! After what felt like a small eternity, he was letting me into his home – his life. And now his life would be mine!

The apartment was brightly lit and sparsely furnished. A low couch and a table made up the front room. I stepped around both, listening for sounds of him throughout the apartment. The kitchen was straight ahead and I thought I heard something from that direction. Or was it the bedroom down the short hallway? I just didn’t know. I stopped in the middle of the living room and closed my eyes to better concentrate. Now that I was surrounded by him, I couldn’t keep my mind on the task at hand.

I felt him enter the room the same moment I heard the whisper of his bare feet on the plush carpet. My eyes popped open to find him standing just inches in front of me. Surprised, I stumbled back, catching myself on the corner of the table. I would have fallen if not for his quick reflexes. He reached out and kept me steadily on my feet. I was eternally grateful.

“Who are you?” he whispered, his voice raspy. His slate blue eyes stared at me hard as though he was trying to answer his own question without giving me a chance to. I narrowed my eyes at him and flipped my long mane over one shoulder, but his grip on my arm stayed strong and kept me within kissing distance. He shook me a bit, enough to set my hair fluttering around my face.

“Who are you?” he repeated, his voice stronger now that he had an edge of anger in there. I planted my feet and stood my ground.

“I am Delilah,” I told him regally. He studied me another moment before doing the one thing I’d never had done. He threw his head back and laughed in my face. Anger warred with awe at the beautiful sound and I debated whether to punch him or pull him closer.

“Seriously; that’s what you’re calling yourself these days?” he asked still chuckling. I cocked my head at him. Did I know him? I took in his torn, ratty jeans and faded shirt, his white hair that looked in need of a trim and wash and the slate blue eyes that never left mine. Unease settled in the pit of my stomach as I thought back over my 300 years, trying to place his face. It all took a matter of seconds, but it felt like a year. I shook my head. I didn’t know him.

“Who are you?” I asked in return. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he finally let go of my arm and took a step back to put some distance between us.

“I am Gideon,” he announced. My heart pounded in my chest as I blindly stumbled back from him. Gideon! My love! Shakily, I sank onto the corner of the worn couch and stared up at him with renewed interest. This couldn’t be the strong man I’d loved. The Gideon I’d known had long dark hair and eyes the color of the summer sky. Gideon had been human; even after my own desertion into becoming a monster, I’d made sure he stayed safe. No one was supposed to touch what was mine. Anger bubbled within me as Gideon sat down next to me.

“What happened to you?” I asked brokenly. It was impossible to deny who he claimed to be; what reason would he have to lie? I forced my nose to wrinkle. “Why are you old?”

“I’m dying,” he declared and I recoiled as though he’d hit me. Dying? He wasn’t supposed to die!

“How?” I barked. “Why are you here now?”

“I sought out another after you became a vampire,” he admitted. “I knew you wouldn’t like it, but you couldn’t stop me if you weren’t around. It wasn’t until after the transformation that I was told about the curse of my existence. Not only did I have to drink blood to survive, but I also had a deadline. After 300 years, if my true love did not die before me, I would die. It’s been 299 years and nine months. I have only three months to live.”

My world crashed down around me. Three months to live? After finding my true love again, all I would get was three months of happiness before Death took him from me for good? NO! It couldn’t happen! There had to be a way to stop it!

“What can I do?” I whispered, horrified but knowing I would do whatever possible to restore him to his former self. He shook his head, averting his eyes to his hands clasped on his lap.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he declared and I glared as I grabbed his arm and forced him to look at me.

“What do I have to do?” I repeated vehemently. “I don’t care if I die; knowing you’re still alive is enough.”

His eyes narrowed again. “I won’t lose you again the moment I regain you.”

“Then we need a solution. You have to tell me how to help you. Please. I can’t lose you again.” Bloody tears streamed down my face and neither of us made a move to wipe them away. We sat staring at each other for several minutes, lost in the memories of what we would never have again. Finally, he grasped my hands as he sighed. His eyes met mine and they were kind, the eyes of the man I’d fallen in love with more than 300 years ago.

“You have to die,” he whispered and I nodded.

“I will,” I agreed and pulled him close for our final kiss.