In the Blood [AO3]

Armand/Daniel - Mature - 4,874 words

A few months post-Queen of the Damned, Armand finds Daniel alone, avoiding everyone inside the Villa. He and Daniel navigate a night together now that he's gotten what he wanted: immortality.

Excerpt:

“Daniel.” He approached him, moving beside him up to the railing. Daniel’s arm fell around his shoulders, solid and strong, as Daniel pulled him close. His body was cool against him. He hadn’t fed. 

Daniel stared out at the black water, the lights of Miami glowing the distance. Armand watched him, trying to scrutinize the face he knew so well to work out what he was thinking. Daniel’s mind was locked against him, now and for eternity, and he loathed his inability to hear Daniel’s thoughts, when before he’d always known them. Daniel had always been so open and he could read him like a book. Now he was forced to rely on the tiny changes in his face, the way his eyes scanned the horizon and his lips were slightly parted. 

Daniel turned to him. “What?” 

Armand shook his head. 

Daniel sighed. “Don’t do that. Tell me what it is. You keep staring at me like that.” 

Armand felt his pulse quicken. How did he explain that he couldn’t stop staring at the way Daniel looked and moved now, preternaturally pale with an inhuman light radiating from him, all from Armand’s own blood? He’d seen the transformation countless times but never at his own hand. Incredible the power of it, to see how the blood had worked its magic in Daniel, who had died at the young age of thirty-two and now would exist this way forever. 

Daniel’s arm fell from his shoulders and he ran his hand through his ashen hair, a sure tell that he was agitated. “Do you like me this way?” he asked. There was that familiar desperation, back again with new purpose. He’d asked the question before, at least twice, but this time the question held more weight, his violet eyes burning intensely as he stared at Armand. “Well?” 

Armand reached over and brushed his fingers down Daniel’s cheek, feather-light, just the fingertips. “How could I not?” 

Daniel sighed again, heavily, and suddenly his shoulders sank beneath the weight of some invisible burden. He reached for the pocket of his shirt, where he used to keep cigarettes, and found it empty, hand falling listlessly to his side. Armand tried again to read his thoughts out of habit, only to slam himself against the mental wall. “Forget it.” 

vampire weed