The Beast in Man (Vampires in Berlin: Book One)

The Beast in Man Part 7

That night Richard and Paul barely slept, although they lay beside each other, bedcovers pulled up to their chins to keep the cold at bay; at first they lay there silently, staring up at the ceiling. Paul reached out and found Richard's hand with his own, twined his fingers through those of his lover's. He heard the rustle of the pillows as Richard moved his head, and Paul glanced at his way to see that the other man was smiling at him.

"You know a thank you would have been nice," Richard said, slyly, smile broadening into a grin to reveal his newly grown fangs.

"What the hell for?" Paul asked, in surprise.

"Saving your life," Richard said. "You could have been dead by now."

"Well, that's a good way to be romantic, Kruspe," Paul growled out.

Richard merely laughed but otherwise remained silent. They didn't speak for a while longer, the only noises they made were while they made love, odd groans interspersed with the sounds of each other's names, hands gentle and caressing whilst their bodies moved beneath the trapping cover of the blankets. Each movement, each kiss and caress and thrust seemed magnified and more intense and Richard couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier or more in love.

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Richard was laying on his side a couple of hours later, staring at nothing on the far wall when he heard the sounds of crying emanating from the en-suite bathroom. He sat up, alarm shooting through his body as he turned to look over his shoulder at where Paul had been laying. The other man was no longer there, and the sound of crying was a little louder, although the sobs were choked, then turned muffled as though Paul was trying desperately to hide the noises behind the cover of his hand.

"Paul?" Richard asked, and the sobbing abated a little. "Paulchen? Honey, are you okay?"

"No," Paul finally managed, but he didn't appear in the bathroom doorway.

Richard frowned and got up, feet moving silently over the floor as he made his way into the bathroom.

"What is it?" Richard asked, as he knelt down before where Paul was huddled in the corner of the room, beside where the towels and the dirty linen basket were kept. Paulchen, please tell me."

"What the hell are we gonna do, Reesh?" Paul asked. "Are we both suffering from some kind of delusion or what? Why the hell is this happening?"

"It's all painfully real, darling; it all started the night you found me unconscious by the forest's edge the other night," Richard said. "Whoever knocked me the fuck out also bit me."

Paul merely stared at him, eyes huge and wounded, lips turned down at the corners; whilst he wasn't crying outright, tears still shimmered at the edges of his vision, visible possibly only to Richard, with his freshly keen eyesight.

"But why?" Paul asked, voice as lost as his eyes.

"I don't know," Richard admitted. "Trust me, I've thought long and hard about this, but I can't figure out an answer to it. Maliciousness, perhaps? Just being evil to the random dude outside the cabin? Who knows? Whatever it was, it was probably born out of hatred, not love."

"Love?" Paul repeated, and his expression turned confused. "Whoever said these things happen out of love?"

"They do," Richard said, fiercely. "I saved you, didn't I? I didn't do it 'cos I fucking hate you, Paul."

Paul at least laughed at that, before his grin turned wobbly at the edges.

"I feel lost, Reesh," he admitted. "How the fuck are we gonna deal with this?"