A Greater Gift

Critically, Alexa examined Dougray's work-in progress, her head tilting this way and that, knowing that whatever suggestion or praise she offered would be unwelcome.

“It's as if something inside of me still believes that you're only a dream.”

“After all this time,” she chided gently, “You still think of me as some delusion, don't you?"

“You're supposed to be dead.”

Alexa raised an elegantly arched eyebrow. “Obviously, I'm not.”

“I still don't know why you came to me, Alexa Wilding.”

“And does there always have to be a reason, Dougray Sebastian,” she asked, mimicking his tone perfectly.

“There are so many better established painters out there.” Dougray hated himself when he got that way, knowing how pitying and irrational he sounded, but unable to stop himself.

Alexa waved a careless hand, waving away his feeble protests. “You are quite correct, Dougray. There are indeed many artists whom I could have chosen. But the fact of it is that I chose you because you truly believe in your work. I can feel it. I saw it several years ago at your first gallery showing.”

That gave him slight pause. His first showing had been a small, intimate affair in the Mission District. He was certain he'd been introduced to everyone in attendance.

“I didn't see you there.”

Alexa smiled cryptically. “No one else did either. There's something to be said for walking in the shadows.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, my dearest Dougray, that if I wish not to be seen, then I am not.” Alexa’s emerald gaze drew him in, held him fast. “I fell in love with the work, Dougray. It spoke to me in a way that nothing has in a very long time. As time went on, I fell in love with the man.”

Dougray had been more than certain that whatever tender feelings were manifest were solely his alone. “How is that possible? It’s been less than a month since you first appeared on my doorstep. Unless you’ve been watching me.”

The moment the words fell from his lips, the moment he met her eyes, he knew. Those nights he’d felt her touch upon his skin, heard her voice from the shadows had not been just passionate dreams.

Turning away from the enchantment of her gaze, he looked to the half-finished canvas he said, “I think I might as well give up. Start all over.” His tone was one of artistic recrimination.

“You will do no such thing,” she challenged, facing him with golden anger in her deep green eyes. “You've put far too much into it to give up now.”

Running agitated fingers through his thick hair, Dougray shook his head with resignation. “Look at it, Alexa. It's just a piece of canvas with paint splashed on it. There's no soul, no essence. Nothing!”

Alexa's own frustration grew. “It is there, but you won’t open your eyes to see it! You still look upon me as a dream, even though I’ve been as much a part of you as your own heartbeat.”

Before his next breath, the gown fell from her shoulders, fluttering to the floor in a shower of silk. “I may be a vampire, Dougray, but I am also a woman. I exist and I feel!”

There was nothing he could say that would make any sense, especially as the heated curves of her body beckoned to him once again. “I know, I know, but I daren’t hope…” With a strangled groan of both want and desperation, he crushed his lips hard against her own, hoping to finally taste the certainty of her. “Alexa, damn you, damn you...”

Hands and mouth ruthlessly laid claim to every silken inch of her body; from the womanly heaviness of her breasts, skimming over the pliant mound of her hips and the soft swell of her belly. Their mouths tasted of blood; she'd drawn it from him again. He kissed her as if his life and his art depended upon it, opening himself fully to the reality of her, lost in the heat and sweetness of her mouth. His mouth devoured hers, hungry for her soul, that part of her that still eluded him.

The pillows cradled their naked bodies, shifting and rocking to their every movement. Dougray wrapped handfuls of her hair in his hands, pulling closer to him, holding her fast, raining kisses upon her upturned face. If he could die with her kiss on his lips, it would be a death far sweeter than any man could ever know. He felt her hands exploring him, nails raking him from shoulders to buttocks. He gasped as her lips found and grazed a nipple with her fangs. The sensation of the tiny incisors piercing one of the most sensitive parts of his body shook him to the core.

Alexa swept over his body with that sinfully rich hair, a living red sable brush that did not paint pictures, but sensations. Dougray's erection strained against his stomach, leapt at the first touch of her cinnabar lips upon it. She took him deep into her mouth, stroking him, her teeth lightly grazing the skin. She gently pierced him, adding a far more interesting twist to the idea being sucked dry. He groaned and drowned in bliss, as she seemingly drained his very soul.

In tender retaliation, Dougray rolled her onto her back, parting Alexa's creamy white thighs, knelt before her, and blew teasing siroccos of heated breath upon her vulva. His eyes fell upon a silky camelhair paintbrush that had rolled away from its brothers.

“Rossetti never thought of using a brush for this, I'm sure,” He used the soft bristles to dab and add his own textures to Alexa's clitoris. He took gentle strokes, slow and long, sweeping over her wet and swollen pussy. She writhed beneath its touch, and with a certain amount of male satisfaction, he watched her, caught up in the sensuous grasp of a slowly growing climax.

Moments before she crested, Dougray tossed the brush aside, and entered her, a fast and insistent coupling as they strove to be closer to each other. Where her teeth had bitten his cock was incredibly sensitive, making him almost faint from the insensate pleasure. They rode each other mercilessly, Alexa's teeth at his throat, Dougray’s teeth sinking into her shoulder, the blood flowing faster and thicker. His body turned treacherous with a powerful urgency, wanting to lose himself within her eager body. Her nails sank into his back as Dougray slid inside her moist, redolent depths, the lips of her labia opening and receiving him with all the same honeyed sweetness of her kisses.

He was torn between wanting to explode and wanting to stay deep and hard within her.

Alexa's mouth fastened upon his shoulder, the blood a ruby mélange richer and sweeter than she'd ever known it to be.

Those twin punctures in his flesh was all it took for Dougray to silently demand that they surrender everything together.

With a cry wrested from the bottom of her very being, Alexa came hard and raw, her body in the throes of a death far more wondrous than that which had made her. Dougray joined her only a heartbeat later, knowing that he'd finally gained evidence of heaven.

And now, the reality of Alexa Wilding could never be denied.

‘The Gnosis of Eve’ as well as several other nudes featuring Alexa created a minor sensation in the otherwise insular art world. Dougray figured that he would indeed have to wait until he was dead for his work to be truly appreciated, but there was a certain Cheshire-cat satisfaction in having stayed true to his vision.

Of course, everyone was curious to know the identity of the woman who bore such an uncanny resemblance to the famed Alexa Wilding. Dougray's enigmatic silence only fueled their curiosity. At a few showings, Dougray was seen with a mysterious veiled woman on his arm, whom he would only introduce as ‘his muse’.

Time passed and Dougray Sebastian aged with dignity and grace. His luxurious brown hair slowly turned white, though it remained long and as thick as ever. If his fingers weren't as nimble as they had been in his salad days, the brush still commanded allegiance from both colour and canvas.

As he'd expected, his dear Alexa remained forever young, her strawberry tresses unchanged. Dougray accepted this state of affairs without complaint, for his life had been a rich one, and he lacked for nothing. Their lovemaking was slower but no less passionate. Alexa would lay upon his chest afterwards, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart, and of the blood sighing in his veins.

She offered him immortality only once and he refused her gift gently but emphatically. “Oh, my dearest love, how can you understand that this one lifetime has been sufficient enough for me? I lived life on my own terms, and found a love greater than any man has ever known.” He placed a gentle finger beneath her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet his eyes, as clear and brown and full of the fire of youth, as they had been when she first appeared at his door.

“’For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings/That then I scorn to change my state with kings’.”

Alexa turned away from him, so that Dougray would not see her tears.

Death came for him with a serene brow. Eyes closed and peaceful, with his last few breaths, Dougray whispered, “My blood is yours. Take it and let my soul sustain you forever.” Alexa held the body of her once vibrant lover in her arms, as his soul took its final flight.

Her last kiss drew out both his blood and his essence.

“Good night, sweet Dougray. Rest you gentle, my love.”

He came to her at the first touch of the evening sky upon the horizon, a spectral figure of the young man he'd been so long ago.

Sometimes they were simply content to lie in each other’s arms, listening to the sounds of the night.

Sometimes, he accompanied her on her nighttime forays for sustenance.

Sometimes they made love, his hands and lips swirling and skimming over her body like a tempestuous summer wind.

“I promised you that you wouldn't be alone, did I not,” Dougray murmured, his voice a gentle smile in the dark.

After loving, they would talk for hours, two lovers dwelling between light and shadow.