"No.” He cupped her face. “I'd withhold nothing from you, mo lon dubh. But this isn't you."

  Fever burned her flesh as his lips covered hers. “It's what I want to give you. The one pleasure I've shared with no one. I want to know it with you.” The taste of him mixed with hers on his mouth. She pressed with her tongue to part his lips.

  "You are sure you want this?” he asked.

  She sensed his restraint crumbling. “More than my next breath."

  He lifted her, turned her over and laid her on her stomach. The sound of him removing the condom built her anticipation. Once he put the used one in the trash, he reached in the drawer for another.

  She put her hand on his arm and stopped him.

  "Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  As he knelt between her legs, her clit pulsed. Soft kisses moved up her spine. A cool breeze, the feel of him danced over her, sending solar flares off inside her body.

  "Kieran.” The desperate demand in her voice echoed in the tiny space.

  "I will not disappoint you. Let me savor this union.” He planted soft pecks on her, moving downward. “I too have had the fantasy of sharing this intimacy with you.” Between each word, he licked a trail down the ridge of her buttocks’ cheeks. The moist feel of his tongue lapped her rear opening.

  She quivered at his mastery. “I really like that."

  Back and forth, he licked. Wetting the area with his tongue, he sailed around and around.

  She gripped the covers. Juices slid to her thighs from her body's response to his stimulation, her pussy was so hot with need.

  He groaned, kissing and biting his way up her back to her shoulder. “You taste like perfection.” He spat in his hand, lowered it and stroked his cock. “You must tell me if at any point I'm hurting you."

  The tip of his penis pushed against her tight entrance. She gritted her teeth then relaxed into the discomfort. Pleasure moved through her. “More."

  He pushed deeper, slowly. “Patience, mo lon dubh."

  It wasn't surprising how much care he took with her. He covered her hands with his and locked his fingers with hers. The depth of his intrusion increased with each pass. He barely weighed on her. Her inner folds throbbed with need, quivering from the intensity of sharing this with him.

  "Mo salvation.” She was his salvation. When he spoke Gaelic, it seemed more personal to him. He pushed completely into her.

  Inside, she trembled with liquid need, which rushed in waves against the shores of her bliss. He lifted her back to his chest as he knelt, and so did she.

  The reflection of them in the window was better than any erotic illusion she'd ever fantasized about. His pale skin contrasted with her brown flesh. He took hold of her breast and pinched her nipple. The defined lines of his chiseled body glistened.

  "Aren't we beautiful together?” He sounded hoarse.

  She turned her face to his. “Perfection.” His blue eyes captured her in the ocean of longing she found there. He kissed her as his other hand descended to her folds and rubbed.

  Her thighs quaked from the overload on her senses. He plunged his fingers into her slick canal. Quickly, in and out, he stoked the inner fire raging. Supported by him, she surrendered her body, molding to him. With his thumb, he circled her clit.

  She relinquished herself to the ecstasy, gushing her climax onto his hand. “Kieran."

  "Sephora.” He pumped uncontrollably and brought his fingers to her lips.

  She suckled her release from his fingers as hot cum filled her from his orgasm.

  "Is brea liom tu, Sephora,” he said softly into her ear.

  He loved her. And in her heart, she felt the same for him. Her mind wanted to protest, but her body, heart and soul won out. “Is brea liom tu, Kieran,” she repeated softly.

  "Dtuigeann tu me?” he asked. Do you understand me?

  "Why wouldn't I?” She kissed his cheek. “Can we rest some before we get worked up again?"

  Withdrawing from her, he stared, examining her, then he nodded, laid her down and wrapped an arm around her.

  Tonight, he had showed her such wonders. She kissed his mouth. In the morning she'd speak to him about the future. Their future. Anything was possible. She'd fallen madly in love with a vampire about to become a priest. If that could happen, nothing was beyond reaching for.

  In the warmth and safety of his touch, she drifted...

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  Chapter 8

  Kieran held Sephora tightly against his body. Her warmth worked its way into him. When he'd spoken Gaelic she'd understood his words, but didn't seem to realize she had. How was that even possible? Had sharing his blood with her been the cause? Saying the words back to him must have been reflex. She couldn't have meant to say she loved him. How could she speak his language without an accent? Perhaps he wasn't meant to know.

  The sun would soon rise. That was something else the demon sensed, a method of self-preservation, which he often ignored.

  She had given him more of herself than he ever could have hoped for. It was time for him to set his beautiful blackbird free.

  He was grateful his carelessness with her hadn't cost her mortal life too. The effects of drinking his blood would wear off soon, he hoped. It was in her best interest for him to go through with his ordination. No matter what he wanted to believe, there was evil inside him that could harm her. If he stayed, it was only a matter of time before he claimed her life. Each time he'd drunk from her the need had grown deeper. Eventually he'd completely lose control.

  Perhaps it was an insurance policy between lovers that each time the demon took more until he was forced to turn her to ensure he didn't kill her during an exchange. So one lover couldn't leave the other. Eventually he'd need to choose whether to turn her.

  As he shifted her, she grunted in disapproval.

  Reluctantly he rose from the bed and covered her with a blanket. Sunlight peeked over the horizon. He retreated to the dark corner of her room. A photo of her with an older man and woman holding her hung on the wall. They had similar features. Her parents. He'd nearly taken her from her family.

  As he snatched his clothes from the floor around the bed, sunlight touched him and his hand sizzled with blisters. He clenched his jaw shut.

  Streaks of sun glowed on her skin. He'd feared he had provided her too much of his blood. It was good to know that she was still a child of the light, unlike him. His departure would insure she stayed that way.

  He dressed, walked to the door and stared at the handle. “Forgive me."

  "Kieran,” she mumbled, rolling over. “Mmm."

  The pounding of his heart in his chest pained him as he grabbed the doorknob. Unlike how most believed vampires’ bodies functioned, their souls were caged in flesh unable to move on to the next existence. Feeding on humans nourished the vital systems of their prison so they didn't become like mummies.

  He opened the door, exited and closed it behind him. Hood on his head, he slipped out into the shaded areas, then into the forest. There he moved at the speed of sound. Birds scattered as they sensed a predator. From the side entrance, he slipped into the residence building. Fellow deacons filed down for Morning Prayer. Many were first years, young and eager at the beginning of their journey of faith. Most had never really had their beliefs tested.

  "Kieran,” Father O'Brian called to Kieran and stopped in front of him.

  "Yes, Father,” he said, though he didn't want to speak with him. Another conversation about his situation would only fatigue him. It was now for him and God to work it out.

  "You haven't been home all night.” Father O'Brian frowned.

  The stairwell was now vacant. The other students had gone to Mass. Kieran lowered his head. When he had awakened with the thirst, he hadn't known where to go. That night faded from his memory every day.

  The woman by the side of his jogging route had caught his attention. She had been physically attractive, but something wasn't right about her. She played the damsel in need of help. Something inexplicable drew him to her. It could have been her voice ensnaring him or her willing him to go to her.

  "Do you believe everyone deserves to be forgiven by God?” she had asked him.

  It wasn't for him to judge. “All those who truly seek His absolution, He shall grant it."

  "You are so pure of heart and mind. You know nothing of the true struggle between good and evil.” She launched herself on top of him, overpowering him with ease.

  As Sephora had, he'd pleaded with God that his life be spared, but the price had been too great. Perhaps if he had prayed for his attacker's soul, or worried about those who would be hurt by his death. Rather, he'd thought of himself, of not being ready to go. He'd woken by the bank of the river. No sign of the woman, but he'd had a thirst for blood and flesh that had brought him to the brink of madness and made him a demon.

  Father O'Brian had been out in the seminary's garden, praying, when Kieran had returned to campus. “Kieran,” the father had said. His name had lingered in the air.

  They had both known he wasn't himself anymore. Together they had worked to keep the illusion alive, to hide his true nature. He'd bought Kieran time to try to make sense of his curse. Father O'Brian had helped him find a source of nourishment that his body didn't reject. Pigs’ blood was the closest genetically to humans.

  "Have you given into the pull? Hurt another or claimed a life?” Father O'Brian asked. It was a matter of time before the demon won out. The barrage of questions were further proof that Father O'Brian knew this too.

  It was not as simple as that to answer his question. “Its strength nearly overwhelmed me. I could have killed her."

  "Her? Who is this her you speak of?” Father O'Brian stepped closer. “Is there a woman out there, injured?"

  "No.” Though her heart might be wounded, as his was. “Mo lon dubh, but I've set her free. Physically restored.” He sighed. Still she slept, he sensed it. If when she woke she came to him before he completed the ceremony, he wouldn't have the strength to send her away. Since that wasn't likely, he'd cherish the time they'd had.

  "Did she want to be set free?"

  "I'm not sure I understand your question. Do you think it was easy for me? Every part of me wanted to stay.” Hurt burned the corner of his eyes. She would wake alone without a reason why. “I'm not a man. I did it for her own good."

  "She believes you to be a man?"

  One answer only led to another question. He needed to end this conversation. The last thing Kieran wanted was to justify his decision, when he struggled to remain committed to it. Father O'Brian might change his mind. He was doing this to protect her.

  "Kieran, this isn't how God means for your life to end. If you do this, you are taking your own life. You know what happens to the souls of those who die at their own hand."

  "They burn in Hell for eternity. Perhaps that's where those like me belong. I want her to have all my earthly belongings.” Once he burst into flames his life would end. She'd sense it because he'd shared his blood with her. She would come there to find out what happened—for closure. How he knew this he wasn't sure, but he did. “You'll know who she is the moment you set eyes on her.” It was pointless to try to convince Father O'Brian. He had never agreed with Kieran's decision. “I've got to wash up and change for my ordination. Please, excuse me."

  Before Father O'Brian could protest, Kieran moved at the speed of sound to his room and closed the door. The scent of Sephora lingered on his skin. He smiled, turned on the shower and undressed. Steam filled the washroom. He stepped under the water, lathered a facecloth and cleaned away mo lon dubh, her scent and taste as though last night had never happened. His entire body ached to the bone, and he rested on the wall for support. Blood changed the color of the water. He checked for wounds, reached his face and found blood. He was crying. Not even at his parents’ funeral, when he was eighteen, had he shed a tear. But walking away from Sephora hollowed him.

  He rinsed the soap from his body, which had fit perfectly with Sephora's. If it could, the demon inside would give him reason not to go through with this. The fiend wanted to return to her and, if he were honest with himself, so did he. But she was better off without him.

  The black soutane hung on the front door of his wardrobe with the sash and the white clerical collar. Thirty-three buttons adorned the front to symbolize the length of Jesus's earthly life. His own would only be shorter by five. He'd experienced more than many. One by one, he put the layers on, and then adjusted his collar in the mirror. He picked up the rosary beads his godfather had given him for his confirmation. They had been blessed by John Paul II. Heat burned his flesh. Jaw clenched, he lowered them to the neck of his soutane, making sure they didn't touch his skin. He picked up the Bible his grandmother had handed down to him, wrapped in a handkerchief. He could not be late to his own ordination.

  "Lord help me find the strength to do what is right, to hear when you speak to me and be guided by your hand.” He made the sign of the cross, exited his room and headed for the church.

  The path was deserted. He stuck to the sides of the buildings to avoid direct sunlight. The other ten deacons being ordained leaned on the wall outside the back of the church.

  "Kieran,” Martin Burke said. “Is it just me or did you not return last night?” The short man's face turned deep red, his beady eyes shone with interest.

  "I didn't know you cared. What of it?” Kieran was trying not to think of Sephora.

  "Talk about leaving it to the last moment. I gather you bit the bullet and took my advice to hire some companionship. At least you aren't doing this blind to what you are giving up."

  Much like Martin and the others some weeks ago, Kieran had no idea what a true test of faith was. “It's not like that. I didn't hire someone."

  "But there was someone ... Does this temptress of the flesh have a name?"

  Kieran frowned. It hadn't been just about the flesh. What they'd shared was perfection until he'd lost control. If he hadn't gone too far, perhaps they could have had something. He'd realized his weakness and the demon's strength. It was good he'd realized before he'd truly hurt her. Who was he kidding? She was beautiful, intelligent and strong, with a wonderful life ahead of her. Involvement with him would only ruin her future. In another life or before he'd been turned, he could have offered her so much. Now there was him, the demon and the hunger. Soon he'd be distant memory to her.

  "Sephora.” Though it was the name of Abraham's wife, the name was uncommon.

  "Zipporah or Tsipora, Hebrew Old Testament, maybe not even a Christian, ay? Possibly a Jewish girl?” Martin's brow shot up. “See? We really can get along. Nostra Aetate of Vatican II has reached the masses of the Roman Catholic faith."

  "She was raised without religion.” Kieran smiled. No indoctrination of good and evil, just an open heart to what felt right and wrong.

  "A heathen. Of all of us, I wouldn't have thought you'd have—"

  "You are about to represent God. Consider your words carefully..."

  Martin had some strange interpretations of scripture better left to God for sorting out.

  The door into the back of the church swung open.

  "It's time,” the young altar boy blurted out.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 9

  Sephora sat up in bed, gasping. The image of Kieran burning to death was still imprinted in her mind. She couldn't lose him.

  The bed was empty. Sunlight shone on her. She shielded her eyes. Inside, the pull and connection to him had deepened. She was sure he wasn't dead yet. In the nightmare, the church clock stopped at 10:10. Kieran placed his hand on the Bible and said his vows. The man in a purple robe blessed him and Kieran had burst into flames. She couldn't allow that to happen. It could all be in her imagination, but she didn't care. If she made a fool of herself, he was worth it.

  She tossed the covers off. The scars on her legs were gone. His blood had healed the markings those demons had tried to make her live with her entire life. He'd given her back her body. Why didn't he see the good that she saw shining through him? Tears filled the surface of her eyes.

  Jumping out of bed, she grabbed a blouse and skirt. She hadn't been to a church since she was a child, but she was sure that jeans or tight pants wouldn't do. There was no time to fuss over her hair, so she tossed it up into a ponytail. Her suede, clunky heeled boots were the only footwear that would allow her to run and would go with what she wore. Not a Sunday hat in her closet to save her life. Best she not make note of it to her mama.

  "Are you really going to burst into a church and try to talk him out of his plan?” she said, staring at her reflection. “If I don't try, I'll regret it forever.” The four love-bite marks on her neck from the night she'd shared with Kieran looked raw. She covered the area with Band-Aids, not to arouse anyone's suspicions. She didn't want to alert anyone to what Kieran was.

  She dressed, and grabbed her shades before running out. Fog settled on the path to the seminary. Her heart pounded in her chest. What if she was too late? No, she could sense him and the mix of emotions, but didn't seem able to speak to him as he had with her. It didn't make any sense that he thought he was doing this for her. She wanted him as he was.

  "Please don't let him die in such a painful way,” she prayed between breaths. Aside from her own selfish desire not to lose him, she couldn't fathom the agony of such a death. No god could want his child to suffer in this way. Not when his son had already suffered for our sins.

  As she reached the property's edge, she couldn't figure out how to get to the church, which seemed to be moving farther away. A number of students followed a man they called Father O'Brian.

  "Excuse me, Father.” Her voice was unexpectedly steady.

  "Yes, my child.” He eyed the Band-Aids on her neck.

  "I'm looking for a friend. He is being ordained today. Deacon Lorcan Kieran."

  "The ceremony has begun,” he said.