‘It will be forgiven,’ I whispered.
He stared. We were both trembling now. Ghost-pale, his cock sprang out into my grasp. Hot velvet skin moved under my hands as I measured his rigid length. I dared to look down. His prick was big and ruthlessly eager, not sharing his misgivings. A bead of moisture gleamed at the tip: no pearl, but a ruby.
I wanted to take the body and blood in my mouth.
Do this in remembrance of Me.
Stolen clothes. Stolen memories. They were too much for him. This saint had the appetites of a predator, whetted to a razor edge by years of deprivation and darkness. His eyes were scarlet reflective discs of light as he stooped and picked me up, jamming me against the chapel bars. And then he opened my loose pyjama jacket, the last pathetic piece of clothing between me and those jaws, and with immense care bit my breasts, over and over. His teeth were so sharp that the bites hurt comparatively little, but every puncture sent the lightning of Heaven crashing through my body. His tongue burned and soothed me simultaneously, lapping at my flesh. I wrapped my legs around his torso and knotted my hands in his white hair and rode the waves of shock and euphoria, surrendering myself to his strength and his need.
Plot:Emily is a British postgraduate student of materials conservation working in Venice, where she is having an affair with her tutor Paolo. When a church suffers sudden subsidence they are called in to advise on rescue and restoration of the building fabric and contents . They find a gap has opened up into a flooded sub-cellar, and chained against the wall there is the incorrupt body of the medieval saint to whom the church was originally dedicated: Aronne. Only it turns out the saint is not dead: he's a vampire. He wakes, siezes Paolo and drags him off into the Lagoon, leaving Emily temporarily unconscious.
Aronne is a vampire in torment. He's a creature of predatory instinct, but when he feeds from a dying victim he absorbs their memories and emotions. Many centuries ago he fed from a Christian monk and, experiencing his memories of spiritual bliss, was converted and became a Christian. Because his vampiric blood has hallucinogenic qualities when drunk by a human he was hailed as a miracle-working saint . His attempt at meeting a martyr's death by immurement having failed, he has now absorbed Paolo's sexual obsession with Emily ... and he comes back looking for her...
Sexual Themes: Biting.
Notes:The title comes from a quote by Tertullian:"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church."
The setting was due to me having been on a weekend holiday in Venice, a stunningly beautiful city. I happily toured round a dozen churches that weekend: my companions were looking at Renaissance artwork, and I was looking at corpses. The Italian Catholic tradition of keeping the skeletons of saints on display in their churches delighted me beyond words.
It's sort of ironic that I should have written this story, when I've said for years that I don't find vampires a turn-on. Okay, yes, I get the predatory thing. Yes, I like Dracula. Yes, I love the Gothic vibe (not that there's much of it attached to most vamps nowadays). No, I do not feel the appeal of bloodletting, or "young and beautiful forever" or "better than you human cattle," or - dear God no - the interminable personal/inter-clan politicing that seems to have become part of the vampire scene ever since White Wolf ®(TM) did their thing. Dynasty with fangs is something I can live without.
So my first instinct when the call went out for the Lust at First Bite anthology was to ignore it. Then I smacked myself on the head several times and said "This is paranormal erotica - your own genre - get off your arse Janine and find the thing about it that you do find sexy!"
So I started with the fact the vampire would have to be a predator, and the story would have to be told from the point of view of his victim. Fear was vital. Then I asked myself why the vamp wouldn't just kill her after sex ... (which is something I would not write, on the grounds that that would would be no different to serial-killer-porn.)
So I ended up with St Aronne, an albino medieval vampire with toxic vision-inducing blood, who believes he has been rescued from damnation by God and resists his homocidal instincts only through Faith. And then I dragged the poor bastard into the 21st Century, where belief in God is no longer universal, where morality has changed beyond recognition, and I leave him with the question: "Are you sure you're Saved?"
I almost feel guilty.
