While I was musing on this the couple excused themselves, leaving me alone with Geoffrey. I asked about that glow.
“It is that they have not died, Christopher, and we have. They possess what we need to survive, and we see it, you may call it the life-force, as that glow, although the longer you are . . . undead, the less you will notice it unless you actively desire to.”
“What we need to survive?”
“It is not just a question of blood, you see, but of the vitality, the life. We can survive on the blood of animals, but it is repugnant, suggestive of bestiality, and, at any rate, cannot fill our needs for long. Our feeding is a sensual experience, for ourselves no less than for our chosen, and we are very sensual beings, though this can lead us into danger. We must be very careful when we feed, neither to take too much, nor yet too often, from one person. We do not require much, a few ounces only, but we must feed at least twice a week, more if we are injured. As the experience is pleasurable to us as well, the temptation is always with us, to feed more often than need requires. When you were with Rózsa, how often did you lie with her?”
“Two or three times a week,” I answered, feeling my face flush.
“And how often did she feed from you, do you think?”
“Uh, not so often after the first two times, but later—” I broke off.
“Yes, later she fed more and more often, a need that comes upon us if an exchange is to be made. I fed from Nicolas every night in the week before I killed him. He feeds from Anneke only once or twice a month, now, but if she decides to join him, to become one of us, he will feed more often until they make the exchange.
“We cannot, of course, feed for nourishment from one another, there being none of the requisite life-force we require, but such a feeding, undead from undead, confers dominance among us, sapping the will of the fed-upon, bending him toward obedience. It will do the same with mortals, and to a much stronger degree, though it should not be exploited, used rather only for our safety.
“We can still take the pleasure of our bodies. Our afterlife would be bleak indeed if we could no longer enjoy our changed loves!” Geoffrey made a sound deep in his throat, and reached out to caress the back of my hand, then took it, and finding no resistance, raised it to his lips. His piercing grey eyes held mine as he pressed his lips to my acquiescent palm. “While I lived, I would have slain anyone who suggested that I, like my brother Richard, might enjoy the taking of a man in my bed as much as a woman,” he murmured in a voice suddenly grown hoarse. I found myself leaning towards him, my breath coming faster, the desire spreading from the pit of my stomach, making me feel light-headed and weak-kneed. Geoffrey also leaned forward, catching my chin in his hand and kissing me, gently at first, then deeply. “Share my bed, Christopher,” he said softly, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine as he stroked my hair. Not trusting my voice, I nodded dumbly, and followed him from the room.
Later, naked and nervous in his bed, I laughed softly, startling an inquiring look from the disrobing Geoffrey. “I was—remembering,” I said.
“Tell me.”
“No, it’s gone again,” I said in distress. “It was something about a lover, something unpleasant, I think. Will I ever remember everything? Or will it always just come like this, in sudden shards? Ice, piercing and melting away.” Geoffrey turned to me, shaking his head.
“You are healing, Christopher, but how far it will take you, no one may say. These things that you do remember are the things that are the most likely to rankle. We cannot allow these things to fester within us, for over as many years as we have to live, these things can drive us mad, and a mad vampire is a fearful creature indeed, I assure you.” The merest echo of a threat hovered between us, and I shivered. “But now,” he added, and took my chin in his hand, forcing my head back, silencing me with his lips. I smiled and leaned into an intense kiss, closing my eyes against the pleasure I felt at that touch, and of