Immortal Fire: Out Of Time - Clare London

Ambrus travels in space and time, a mature and confident vampire, not looking for any permanent companion. Then in the bloody trenches of WWI, he meets Edward, a beautiful young soldier turned vampire against his will and fighting his fate with bitter anger and resentment. Ambrus is irresistibly drawn to him but Edward rejects him at first. What then follows is a strange, anguished courtship throughout the century, as Ambrus seeks to help Edward find his own way to peace as an immortal, and Edward learns what real love - and a real lover - is.

Excerpt:

And then I saw him.

He caught my eye from across the room. Couples skittered across the floor between us but his gaze never lost contact with me. My breath quickened. I didn’t forget how he had taken me unawares before, and I tried to keep my gaze steady in return. He was so different from that first time, yet still the same beautiful young man. Of course he was. He was clean-shaven now and his hair was longer, styled elegantly and slicked back behind his ears. His skin was still pale but this time I knew it would be clean and smell of fresh cologne. Standing at the side of the dance floor, he appeared the epitome of health and assured well-being. Different, and yet the same. Beautiful. His clothes mattered very little, of course, because they were just an illusion, but I admired the cut of his precisely fashionable suit. Many people passed him, but none stood by him. I raised my senses, smelling for his trail, but there was little evidence. The music faded into the background as I waited to hear him.
“Ambrus. That’s what they call you.” The whole tone of his voice had changed. “They know you, lots of them do. Think highly of you.”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, quietly. He would never have heard the actual words across the floor, above the screech of human excitement and the labouring music, but we talked nonetheless. “We have not been properly introduced.”

He appeared next to me: it took only that second. No one noticed the movement or remarked upon us. His shoulder nudged mine and I shivered with instinctive pleasure. Careful.
“My name’s Edward,” he said. He wasn’t shy, but there was some hesitancy in his voice. Then he grinned, crimson eyes glittering with mischief. “It wasn’t much of a social call that day, was it?”

I smiled with genuine pleasure at his impudence. His accent was smoother than before, though he looked no older. I was right about the cologne but there was a sultry, sweet smell to him that attracted me more. And I wanted to touch him. Of course, I always had, but that night I realized just how consumed I was by that need. Too late to be careful? The air tightened around me, the flavour of it both blossoming and burning. “You have come a long way since then, Edward.”

He frowned slightly and his fingertips brushed the hem of my jacket. I could have dispensed with it at once – to have him touch my skin – but I couldn’t risk someone in the room being attuned to my reality rather than their own. Edward knew that, too. But then, I’d always liked a man who could tease.

“I’ve grown more…accustomed to it, Ambrus. I’ve had to.” His eyes met mine again, shining with a dark yet wary delight. “Is that what you see?”

I inclined my head. His breath was warm on my neck. “I see a lot of things.” I glanced at his clothing. “You have the skills to clothe yourself appropriately. You are well fed. You’ve mastered the art of moving through the years. Where have you learned all this, Edward? From whom?”

He laughed then, a loud and musical sound, though no one’s head turned but mine. “Are you jealous, Ambrus? Don’t worry, I’ve never met him again. The man who took my life. Who turned me.”

“I am just concerned that you have the right guidance.”

Edward snorted. “I’ve asked and I’ve watched and I’ve worked. That’s how I’ve got where I am today. No master, no mentor, just my own fucking hard work.”

I was disturbed by his harshness. When I took his arm, he didn’t pull away. His expression remained calm but I could feel the pulse running through him, fast and angry. “And tonight?” I ran my hand down to his wrist, gripping it. “Why have you come here?”

He looked at me as if I were simple. “The same reason you have. To feed. To survive.”

I shook my head. “There are less conspicuous places, better for the newly turned. Individuals you can find on the streets; quiet clubs where you can find social outcasts and refugees.”

Edward shifted uneasily. “I can’t do that,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. For a second, I heard the underlying fear of the aggressive, scared young soldier, fighting his fate. “I can’t face a person on their own. Here…” He nodded back to the room and the people dancing behind us. “Here they don’t know what the hell they’re doing, where they’re going in life. For them, it’s just a night, a mess of pain and pleasure. They won’t remember tomorrow what they did, they won’t recall me or what I do to them.”

“But you will remember.”

He scowled. His gaze was fierce; pleading. “You’re the same as me, Ambrus.”

“Not quite.” I couldn’t resist the desire any longer. I reached forward and kissed him on the lips. His flesh was firm, the taste was tantalizing. It was like a sip of addiction. He hesitated but then relaxed, accepting it. I felt a stutter in his heart beat, the vein of his wrist pumping beneath my hand. He wants me. “I will take them, too, Edward, but I will care for them when I do it. Will you do that?”

He stared at me, his expression pained. The red glimmered in his pupils. He was still so new; still untutored.
“How many?” I asked.

He grimaced. “Tonight? Few. I… can’t manage it so well and I’m scared of…” He growled in the back of his throat. “I’ve messed up a few times.”

“And you?” When he stared at me dumbly, I explained further. “Has anyone fed from you in return?”
The shock in his eyes was so vivid, I drew back a step. “Never! Not since… the first time. They won’t have any more of me, you know?”

They…

“Edward.” I sighed his name and pressed myself against his mind, wanting him, and hoping he would respond. He was strong in spirit, I might have guessed that and it thrilled me. But he was that mess of pain and pleasure, too, just as he’d described the humans. For a few moments he resisted me, his thoughts darting like startled rabbits, his hostility a small but fierce flame at the core. Then the scattering emotions gathered their courage and met me head-on.

“Not scared at all,” I said, encouragingly. “You will be magnificent.” With me. When I leaned forward again, his mouth opened in welcome. I took his head in my hands and kissed him deeply. He moaned into me and his hands slipped around my waist, pulling me to him. His tongue was fast and hungry, and for something other than food.

“I’ve thought of you since that night.” He whispered into my mouth, seemingly unwilling to move away, even to talk. “Who you were; why you stopped by me. What you meant by helping me.”

I laughed softly. “And I thought you were just drawn to my good looks.” I slid my hand down his back, tracing his spine, caressing the taut skin. When my finger pressed down between his buttocks, he shivered.

“They’ll see.”

“They won’t. You have learned enough to know they only see what we want them to.” The music played louder, the bodies sweating and swinging in an ebb and flow, yet never touching us. Over by the bar, someone shrieked with the advent of another drinking game. In my mind’s eye, I saw Cherry with an equally nervous and lustful young man, embracing by the fountain in the garden. I kissed Edward more fiercely, tasting him, my tongue skimming over his sharp little teeth. So sweet. My cock was hardening fast, heavy and hot against my thigh. I was lustful too, of course, but this was something more. I concentrated on keeping the illusion around us, so that no one would interfere – but I was surprisingly distracted.

He laughed again, breathless, his mouth firm and wet on mine. He sounded younger and happier than before.

"You asked that night, did I want you.”
“Can you remember everything I said?” Why did my voice sound so hoarse? Needy? “I meant every word.”
“I remember,” he whispered. “Take me with you.”

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Author Bio:

Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash, waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.
Website: http://www.clarelondon.co.uk
Blog: http://clarelondon.livejournal.com/

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