"She's on tour."

"On tour... " he mused.

"She's not my lover," I finally confessed. "It's a six-month sublet."

Relieved, he took in the tiny apartment. "You should have a decent flat. I'll set up an account for your upkeep."

"I don't want Brovik's money."

Male ego took over. "It's my my money." money."

"No one puts a leash on me." puts a leash on me."

"Ethan left you penniless."

"My suitors pay well."

He winced. "There's no need to- prost.i.tute yourself." Frowning, he tilted his head slightly to the side. "It's wrong, that they use you so. You're not a bird of prey, Mee-ya, Mee-ya, but a woman in a very strange set of circ.u.mstances." but a woman in a very strange set of circ.u.mstances."

He lightly brushed my cheek with his fingers. Tenderness was a lash and he laid it on hard, not out of cruelty, but it had the same effect. I pulled away.

"Don't."

His expression fell with his hand, distraught and sincere. "Forgive me. I want only to help."

"No barter between friends, Kurt."

His eyes, if possible, became wider. I treated myself to a good long look. Zing! Zing!

A shadow of a smile escaped him. "Friends then?"

"Sure could use one."

I tentatively stepped toward him. He turned away, examining the piano in the corner. Opening it, he ran his left hand over the keys. His face relaxed subtly, as he struck a chord. "You play?"

"No, it came with the apartment."

He tried another chord. "I could teach you. You are musical. Philip says you have a lovely singing voice."

"I'd be far too intimidated. You played great concert halls."

"A world ago... " he muttered, turning his attention back to the keys, tinkling, fooling. He longed to play but was too modest to show off.

"I'd love to hear you play."

His face curved into a bittersweet smile. "Sometime perhaps... "

"It would mean so much to me."

He looked up, a kaleidoscope of emotion playing in his eyes. "Truly?"

"Truly."

"In that case it will be my pleasure." He sat down, touching the keys lightly, getting a better feel for the instrument. I shivered, imagining those beautiful hands on me. Suddenly, Kurt was transported into another realm, where the pain and bloodshed of our world was left far behind, a place of infinite peace and beauty. Caught as I was in this nightmare, I marveled at how simply this act of sitting down at an instrument could take him so far out of himself. Or did it lead him back to his true self? Wherever it was, I longed to go with him.

"What would you like? Perhaps... " He c.o.c.ked his head slightly to the side. "Chopin?" "Chopin?" He blissfully launched into a nocturne. "Yes, Chopin, I think." He blissfully launched into a nocturne. "Yes, Chopin, I think."

I closed my eyes. The nocturne washed over me, beyond gorgeous, liquid notes dancing in my veins like blood. I collapsed onto the futon and lay back with my eyes closed. It went on and on through every part of me. I sucked it inside, but it was too powerful and lovely. Only an angel could distill the essence of heaven and I was too far from a state of grace to receive it. I tried to hold on and wrestle it, but it eluded my grasp leaving me breathless. Was the victim's blood that tainted with drugs? I opened my eyes again to see if I were hallucinating, but there he was as lovely as the dawn. "Amazing."

He shrugged. "The instrument is only fair, for you I would do better."

I rose to my feet, shaking. Surprisingly, I was able to place one foot in front of the other and cross the room to the piano. If I couldn't hold the music, I could could hold the musician. Despite the ethereal appearance, hold the musician. Despite the ethereal appearance, he he was flesh and blood. I laid my hand on his arm. It was warm. I leaned my head against his and reached out to his face. His eyes closed as I caressed his eyelids and cheekbones, tracing the graceful line of his nose and lips down his throat, drinking him through my fingers. was flesh and blood. I laid my hand on his arm. It was warm. I leaned my head against his and reached out to his face. His eyes closed as I caressed his eyelids and cheekbones, tracing the graceful line of his nose and lips down his throat, drinking him through my fingers.

"You're beautiful, Kurt," I whispered, like a prayer.

"So they tell me," he muttered.

My lips touched the artery on his throat, pulsing warm against my mouth as the engine of his heart pumped the blood through his body. His breath came harder as my mouth explored.

He stopped playing. "You want this?"

"I've wanted you from the first night I saw you."

He took my face in his hands. "I'm not like Ethan, or the others. I swear. I'll never hurt you, Mia."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Our mouths found each other, long, deep, his slight frame blending perfectly into mine. Ethan once accused me of falling for a memory of my first love, and yes he did feel like the boy I loved as a girl. I slipped off his shirt and caressed him, sweet, smooth and slender, skin creamy rose petals touched with pink."

Joe coughed, uncomfortably. "Mia. I really don't need to hear this."

"Jesus, what a prude. I will tell you this, I've been with hundreds of men and he's by far the best lover. It was amazing to be made love to by someone who also depended on this skill for his survival. For once I wasn't taken. I was gifted gifted.

Afterward, he fell into a peaceful slumber, bittersweet smile on his lips. I just sat there looking at him for hours, Psyche gazing on her Eros. I'd never seen anything so lovely.

Notes on the piano, not in rhythm, no particular order. My eyes opened on Kurt, shirt thrown over his arm as if had been in the act of dressing, but had been distracted by the piano, idly tapping at the keys, slender muscles fluttering under smooth skin, eyes darting over the keys, lush lower lip bitten in concentration. Oh my Oh my.

I sat up, the sheet falling in loose folds around my body. "h.e.l.lo."

"h.e.l.lo," he answered, not looking up as his fingers picked out an unfamiliar bit of music.

"What's that?"

"My own composition."

"Beautiful."

He scowled. "If I ever finish... "

"Brovik's made an accountant of a great artist."

Kurt smiled slightly. "I'm much more than that that. I thought perhaps I should go back to my hotel and not inconvenience you?"

"You kidding? I want you to inconvenience me, again and again again and again. Do you have to go back soon?"

He fixed on that distant point where all the marble hardness of his features melted away, until he was vulnerable as the boy I once knew. He found the notes he was looking for and began to play softly as he spoke, "Brovik called before you woke. I told him I've- uh- found you. I'm free to stay awhile."

"How long?"

He looked up, smiling impishly. "How does eternity eternity sound?" sound?"

I was sucked too dry by Ethan to offer him much. It was too easy for him to fall victim and I drain him of all I lacked. "Kurt, I don't like men very much."

Amus.e.m.e.nt played over his face. "This is a warning?"

"You know what I am."

He shrugged. "I'm not as callow as I look."

"But your body is forever eighteen years old, and feels all the immediacy of that age."

He looked up from the keys with an ironic little gleam. "Well- lucky you."

"Lucky me."

One moment he was all he looked, a lovely, charming boy, the next something else entirely, wise, knowing and deep, an ancient elf of the forest whose solemn eyes concealed a wellspring of pa.s.sion and oceans of rage, that escaped in tantalizing drops when he played or made love. Yet, I couldn't taste all he contained, because he was Brovik's slave and I was forbidden to trespa.s.s there. I had to be content with his body, but believe me Joe, it was a great consolation prize.

I held out my hand. "Come back to bed."

He lay down on his back. I raised myself over him, tracing the tattoo on his forearm with my fingertip. "The blood didn't fade it."

"Brovik said it could be removed. I refused."

"Why?"

Shadows fell over his face. "To remind me... "

"Of what?"

Kurt looked into a very different place than the one he saw when he played. "Bargains with the devil. It's too painful to speak of." He pulled me down to him, whispering into my neck, "For now, let's forget... "

SIXTEEN.

Kurt held some major demons at bay, but respecting his wishes, I didn't question him further and thoroughly enjoyed his company. Longing for the experiences we'd both missed as mortal kids, we'd hang out in the Village among the students, not to hunt but to hear their banter and feel their excitement. Here Kurt wasn't his usual solemn and dignified self, but frenetic and playful, as we ran from shops and restaurants to downtown clubs, and then back to my bed.

He liked rock music, which surprised me, spending hours searching out stores where he bought piles of records that he paid for with an American Express card, while I looked enviously on.

"Must be nice to buy whatever you want," I said, on one of those occasions.

Boyish mischief sparkled in his smile. "What would you like? I'll buy it. Anything. How about the entire store?" He picked up an alb.u.m from a display. "Here, Chopin, I will buy for you- yes?" I shook my head no. "Why is it wrong to accept gifts from your lover?"

"That's what my suitors call the jewelry they give. I consider it payment for services rendered."

"Not from me. You liked the books I used to give, didn't you?"

"Books are different. You were sharing a part of your soul." I pressed up against him. "You're the only gift I desire. The gift that keeps on giving giving, and giving giving and and giving giving."

He choked back laughter. "Please, you embarra.s.s me."

We pa.s.sed a bodega bodega on the way out of the record store, where large buckets full of red roses and other flowers stood reminding me of the night Ethan had danced with me in the ballroom full of roses, presenting me with rubies. Now that was barter. But it also reminded me of the last moment I stood in the sun. I brushed away the demon whispering in my ear, as Kurt searched among the flowers, until he was satisfied with one perfect, blood red rose. on the way out of the record store, where large buckets full of red roses and other flowers stood reminding me of the night Ethan had danced with me in the ballroom full of roses, presenting me with rubies. Now that was barter. But it also reminded me of the last moment I stood in the sun. I brushed away the demon whispering in my ear, as Kurt searched among the flowers, until he was satisfied with one perfect, blood red rose.

He kissed me softly and presented it. "This won't offend?"

"No, it's lovely. Thanks."

We wandered hand-in-hand down Bleeker Street, among crowds of unsuspecting kids, blending in perfectly, old enough to be their grandparents and not quite human.

I'd often waken during the day to find Kurt talking business on the phone, with mortals in Brovik's employ. He'd sometimes leave at twilight to meet them dressed in a dark suit, and tinted gla.s.ses, his golden curls gelled darker. He appeared slightly older, if hardly his true age. I'd wrinkle my nose, telling him he looked like a nerd. But, on those evenings when he was free, I'd wake to find him at the piano composing.

He still responded evasively whenever I attempted to draw him out about his past and we never discussed our condition. We acted as mortal lovers do, went out, had fun, and then fell onto my futon to make fevered love. But finally one night, vampirism rudely b.u.t.ted in.

A light burned in the bathroom when I awoke. The rest of the apartment was dark, the heavy blinds and curtains still closed. Drowsily aroused, I rolled over to snuggle up to Kurt, but he was gone. The sun hadn't set yet. Where was he?

Rising from the tangle of bedclothes, I crept up on him as he stood naked before the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection, skin blanched yellow-white as the inner flesh of an almond. His shoulder was icy cold, but he didn't even flinch when I touched him.

He turned to me. "The beast awakens."

He was a ghastly caricature of himself, his lush mouth gray and drawn, face etched stone hard, usually luminous eyes flat, blue b.u.t.tons, hair brittle and dull. Pushing me aside, he grabbed his clothes. I switched on the lights. He covered his eyes like a movie Dracula when sunlight floods in on him, snarling- literally, "Shut them, d.a.m.n you!" "Shut them, d.a.m.n you!"

I snapped them off, and lit one of the hundreds of votive candles we'd bought the night before. A small flame furtively licked up the sides of the gla.s.s as Kurt pulled on his jeans and shirt. He glanced at the tattoo on his forearm for a moment, noticed me looking and snapped, "Why do you stare?"

"I know the best spots... "

"You want to see this? It arouses you s.e.xually?" He pressed his body against me, for once not raring to go. "By all means accompany me. See what I am." He pushed me away. "Get dressed! Can't stand it much longer."

A delayed feeder. He'd waited until the last possible moment to feed, when instinct pushed one mercilessly to become a ravenous, mindless beast. Why? Ethan said this was dangerous. He'd waited until the last possible moment to feed, when instinct pushed one mercilessly to become a ravenous, mindless beast. Why? Ethan said this was dangerous.

We finally emerged into the street. "The piers? The river is good for dumping them."

"No." He set out at a brisk walk. "My flavor has a distinctive smell."