My definition of romance may be slightly skewed compared to most mortals. I have no need for material possessions. Romantic dinners are lost on me. Flowers wither and die before my eyes. Candles and fires are better for sex and death than romance. For something to be romantic in my eyes, it has to be spectacular. It has to be amazing. It has to be paradigm shifting.
For me, that moment occurred one night not long after I had told Daniel of my love for him. I had not lied; I did love him as a vampire can love a mortal. I thought it might be a fleeting infatuation, one that would fade as he faded in front of me. I knew what he wanted from me, that the blood and immortality was what he sought more than companionship. Yet I loved him, I followed him around the world, completely fascinated by the way he saw things and how he navigated this modern world which confounded me still, yet ever expectant of his impending death.
I was sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing and utterly still as vampires could be. We had yet another fight about him wishing for me to turn him and my absolute refusal to do so. He was still in the house – his heartbeat sounded strong and true nearby – but I had blocked my mind from his, not wanting to hear his angry thoughts about me. I do not know how much time had passed but it must have been significant because the sky was starting to lighten when I felt him climb into my lap. You must understand that my Daniel is a tall man, to situate himself in such a way was awkward and uncomfortable for him. But he did so, bent at strange angles in order to fit our bodies together.
Automatically my hands came to his waist, holding him in place while I waited for the apology that almost always came following one of those fights. However, I did not hear those words. Instead, he brought his neck in front of my throat. “Daniel,” I growled lightly, wondering what he was thinking to put himself in such a position. That I would lose my resolve and give him what he wanted?
“Drink,” he offered, his voice sounding hollow and broken. “If my life and mortality means so much to you, take it all. I have belonged to you since the night in New Orleans. If you will not make me one of you, take everything you can and carry my memories with you forever.”
The most romantic gesture anyone has ever done for me? My Daniel, my lovely Daniel, offering me his entire life, everything that he was and would ever be. A man who wished for nothing more than to live forever, offered his life at my lips. I do not know if he meant it as a romantic gesture but I took it as such. That was the night my love for him shifted to something more, the night I realized that losing him was not an option I was willing to entertain, even if I was not yet strong enough to bring him over. The night he truly became my lover, my beloved, as I was already his.
