The Immortal Blood

Chapter 2

He found himself lying on the sofa in the living room, with only his shirt on and a beginning of headache behind the orbits.
". . . What. . . ?"
"Adam, are you all right?" Todd Valentine's voice had come from miles away.
"Did I. . . pass out?" He asked, confused.
"You went down like a rock, man! Does it happen often?"
"Ah. . . no. . . " it wasn't quite true, not since he started living in that house, at least.
"Do you want me to call someone?"
"No, thanks. " He'd tried to get up, skidding slightly to the right.
"Hey, look out!" Todd had held him up with one arm, like he weighed a couple pounds. He seemed to be carved in marble.
"Oh, sorry. I'm fine. " Adam broke away from him, still feeling shaken up.
"Are you sure? Wouldn't want you to faint behind the wheel. . . " Valentine had addressed him another one of his toothpaste advertising smiles, and that somehow had quickly made Adam come to his senses.
"It's all right. Really. " He had collected the papers and put on his jacket and tie, which had been placed on one of the armrests of the couch. "I'll see you for the key delivery. If you need everything, give me a call. "
"Sure. Let me walk you out. "
Adam had more than willingly agreed to that: to get out he had to enter the corridor that gave straight to the bedroom, so going alone wasn't really an option.
Once reacbed the car, Todd saluted him with a pat on his shoulder a little too long, at least for his tastes, before slipping into a grey Porsche last model and whizzing away.
Adam had stayed a few moments to stare into nothingness, feeling relieved but at the same time frightened by something inexplicable. He finally managed to sell that damn house, now he and Cleo could start living a normal life again. . . so why didn't he feel at all relieved?

Todd Valentine had smiled as he put on a pair of Paul Harris sunglasses, looking in the mirror at Adam's reflection that was moving further and further away from him.
He had a confused air, and it was more than natural: when he had fainted, half an hour before, he had caught him unprepared, then his unmistakably unique smell had hit his nostrils, and he had not been able to resist.
He had partly undressed him and placed him on the couch, while the canines were already beginning to sting his upper lip.
He was a handsome boy, blond, blue eyes, but nothing he hadn't seen before. Then what was it? There was something about him. . . he bent over his neck, breathing in deeply. Yes, it was certainly the smell, the blood that flowed through his veins. . . he had listened carefully to his heartbeat before placing his mouth on the tender part between his shoulder and throat and sinking his fangs.
The blood had conquered him, and it had been almost impossible to stop. He had come off, in the end, looking at that man, surprised: yes, he was different and he was also changing him from what he could perceive.
Adam hadn't shown any signs of recovery, so he bent over him again, drinking lavishly, until he had to force himself to stop, before killing him or to becoming too aroused, as was already happening. Couldn't have fucked him like that on the couch, not yet.
Stopping at a traffic light, Todd had passed a hand on his face, the taste of Adam still invading his mouth worse than an aphrodisiac.
"What the hell are you?" He asked himself, determined to find out.