Page 20 of Vampire Claus

“I know, right? It’s like, I can feel my pulse and your heartbeat while I’m lying here. The noise doesn’t seem overwhelming now but there’s a cat two floors down that’s hungry.”

Taviano was quiet. He didn’t want to end the spell that their lovemaking had woven, but he heard a distant clock chime two. He finally said, “I’m going to have to leave soon. Your memories—”

“No, fuck that,” Paul interrupted severely. “We already talked about this. I don’t want to forget a moment.”

“I think it’s a bad idea, but I’ll respect your decision.”

“Thank you.” Paul twined his arms more tightly around Taviano. “Do you really have to go?”

Taviano kissed the tip of his nose and nodded. “Sunlight burns. That one I confirmed for myself, when I chose the wrong shelter and a shaft of light hit my skin while I was asleep.”

“Huh. It seems weird to think of you doing something as normal as sleeping.” He added with a little smile, “Ninjas shouldn’t sleep.”

Taviano chuckled and carded fingers again through Paul’s too-long blond hair. “I seem to have grown addicted to touching you.”

Paul arched his head happily against Taviano’s fingers. “What happens when you sleep? Do you dream, or know what’s going on around you?”

“I do dream, usually about all the places I’ve traveled. It’s been a long time so I may not remember human dreams accurately, but now they’re sharp. Vivid. It’s more like replaying memories than having fantasies from my subconscious.” Taviano brushed his cheek against Paul’s. “I suspect I’ll dream of you for many years.”

“Could you maybe stay here one more day? Like, if I found a room no sun could reach? I’d love to wake up on Christmas morning and know you’re near, and I’ll see you again come evening.”

Taviano sighed. “It’s a nice wish, and I thank you for that. But it’s too dangerous for everyone. I need to go soon so I can find a place to lair, and I’ll move on when I wake.” He needed to get Paul some money or a coat as well. Damned if he could figure how to do that without altering Paul’s memories. He’d honor his wishes, though. Maybe he should slip back in after Paul slept but before dawn, and leave the items with a note.

Paul raised a finger to Taviano’s mouth, nudged up his lip and stroked one of his sharp canines. “Is it about feeding? I’d let you take some of my blood, if it would help.”

Oh, you sweet and foolish man. “You don’t understand the risk, Paul. When my demon feeds, it’s close to the surface. It’s very strong. Sometimes I can’t force it down in time.” He hid his face as he said in a low voice, “People have died.”

“Oh. I guess you said that before.” Paul tugged on Taviano’s chin, and a stubborn gleam showed in his eyes. “I’d take the risk. I believe you’d never hurt me or letithurt me.”

“It’s out of the question.” Taviano rose from the futon and began to look around for his clothes.

Paul got up as well and brushed a hand over the dried semen matted in his sparse chest hair. “Oof. I should do something about this.” He retrieved a towel from the tiny bathroom to wet in the kitchen sink. After scrubbing it across his body, he tossed it aside and yanked on his underwear.

As if Taviano had not already made his intentions clear, Paul murmured, “Y’know, the basement here has storage lockers for each of the apartments. They’re big enough to hold a couch, so you could lie down. I was in there one time and it’s completely dark. No windows at all. It’s not fancy but—”

“Paul, I can’t stay,” Taviano interrupted gently. He finished dressing as well as he could, with buttons missing from his shirt, then helped Paul settle his sweatshirt.

He rested his hands on Paul’s shoulders. Quietly, Taviano said, “This has been the best night of the past decades, but it isn’t the start of something. It’s the end.” He cringed at the wounded look Paul gave him before dropping his gaze. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you, but you must understand that this is a fantasy for both of us.”

“It’s Christmas,” Paul said to the floor, his voice thick. “Couldn’t we enjoy each other a little longer before we have to face real life?”

The words echoed in Taviano’s memory. “You sound like Calogero,” he said, and Paul’s head shot up.

“Calogero?”

“The friend I told you about, from when I was human.”

“You never mentioned his name.”

“Didn’t I? Anyway, he said something very like that not long before my father caught us and everything changed.”

Paul didn’t seem to hear him but pulled away to rush over to a battered trunk under one of the windows. “Calogero’s a pretty unusual name, isn’t it?” he mumbled as he rummaged in the box, shifting things around. “It’s here somewhere. I know I packed it.”

“I suppose it is. Even in my time, I never heard of another. I believe his parents named him for his grandfather.”

“A-ha!” Paul stood with a scrapbook in his hands and began to flip through pages. He stopped at one and turned to meet Taviano’s eye. “I was seriously into genealogy and my nonna helped me make this for a Boy Scout project. My great-something on my father’s side immigrated to Boston from Italy. His name was Calogero Aligheri.” He offered the scrapbook to Taviano. “I have this one picture of him.”

Calogero Aligheri.The name froze Taviano where he stood. It was a ridiculous coincidence. Impossible. Even if he’d never met another man with that name, it couldn’t possibly behisGero.

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