Back In Time

Chapter 4: In Which I Ogle 16th Century Vampires

I stood outside the brothel, waiting for Godric and Eric to join me. I assumed they were paying for the dress I was wearing. I looked casually up and down the street, trying to keep the growing panic from taking me over. I had no idea how I'd ended up here; nothing made sense. Everything about my current situation was freaking me the hell out. Especially Eric. I couldn't seem to grasp the fact that he was Eric, but not Eric. I certainly wasn't happy seeing him interact with that girl inside the brothel, but couldn't expect him to fall madly in love with me just because we would fall in love 500 years from now. He wasn't even the same guy I knew. Would know? This seriously was going to drive me insane. If I wasn't already; I still hadn't ruled that out as a possible explanation for all this. I heard the door opening to my right and glanced over to watch Eric and Godric emerge onto the cobblestones.

They had both been wearing linen shirts and knicker type pants when we'd arrived, a casual kind of look I guess. Now they both had on fancy jackets, lots more frills, and leotards. Ok, I doubt they were called leotards but that's what they were. Again, I had the urge to giggle, but at the same time they looked kind of dashing. I'd always been a big fan of romance novels, especially ones set in 'knight in shining Armor' times, and they both could have just walked off the cover of any of the books I'd read.

Eric shot a smouldering look over at me and I returned it as best I could. He might not be my Eric but he was still Eric and that meant he was still the sexiest son of a bitch I'd ever laid eyes (or anything else) on in my life. Tall, broad shouldered, literally oozing sexual energy. His face was ruggedly handsome with bold lines and strong edges. His perfectly straight nose knifing between those ice blue eyes of his, a smirk playing on the corners of his lovely mouth. I had to consciously stop myself from swooning. I noticed that his jacket was a blue comparable to the colour of my dress, with silver accents. I peeled my eyes away from him and looked over at his maker, surprised to note that he was shooting me a little smoulder of his own. Hm.

Now, my dating history isn't a big secret to anyone who knows me. It's tough trying to date when you can hear every thought the other person has. Part of what drew me to vampires in the first place was their mental silence. Of course, that got shot to hell when I became a vampire, since I could hear them now too. However, I was also much more in control of my shields against hearing things I didn't want to hear. In fact, quite a few things had changed about me since I became a vampire. First of all, I was a lot less grossed out by blood. Obviously. I was also a lot more open to glamouring. The thing is, sometimes you just had to do it. I figured it like this: If we weren't supposed to do it, we wouldn't be able to do it. Yes, I was aware that my logic on that one had more holes than an afghan in the attic during rodent breeding season, but I stuck to it. One thing I'd been learning from Eric was that eternity is an awful long time to feel bad about yourself. I had decided a couple months after turning that if I couldn't help it, I wasn't going to worry about it.

Things I couldn't help, were feeding on people (Pam was right, that synthetic blood tasted worse than shit), glamouring sometimes, thinking of myself before others (though I still tried to reverse that when I was able to), and having an increased libido. Like, way increased. One thing I was perpetually mortified by when I was first turned was how hot and bothered everything got me. Not that I'd been with anybody but Eric, but I could see how inhibition was easy to let go of, let me put it that way. My point here is, Godric's attractiveness was not lost on me. At all.

He was truly handsome. He had lustrous dark hair, cropped close to his head. His brow was broad and clear, punctuated by thick, dark brows and deep, dark eyes. His lashes were dark and lovely, framing those extraordinary eyes, and curling slightly at the tips. His lips were meticulously shaped, full, wide, with a perfect Cupid's bow dipping in the centre beneath a strong, straight nose, slightly broad but attractively so. His chin was pointed, not too much, not too little, and strong (I hate a man with a weak chin, and have found that their character usually matches). His jaw was also strong, with hard edges, and in the uncertain light on the street it appeared that his flat cheeks were slightly flushed. His clothes were a rich burgundy colour, accented with gold.