Of love and blood.

could old vampire tales of soul mates be true?

He looked down at the sleeping form that was locked against his right side and sighed. How he could feel this way toward her made no logical sense to him. He had never fallen in such a cliche romance way in his many lives. A damsel in distress in a most unusual manner, and him, being the dark knight to save her. The irony of the idea made me chuckle out loud, causing her to stir momentarily beside him.
         

He had never meant for any type of relationship to bloom from what he initially thought was simply business as usual. He moved the woman's silver white hair off of her tanned shoulder and grimaced at the two pin prick marks on her breast. He'd forgotten humans take much longer to heal than his kind. He also hadn't thought that he'd continue to keep her with him after he had saved her over a month ago.
When Istoph found her, she was cold and laying in a pool of her own aromatic blood, multiple stabbing wound marred her tanned and otherwise flawless skin. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, her chest barley moving under her ripped band shirt. Her bangs were matted to her forehead with blood and sweat.
         

Istoph moved closer to her cautiously, he didn't quite trust the situation he had stumbled upon, yet his urge to help the poor woman was unbearable to deny. As he took a step closer the smell of her blood brought his fangs thrusting from his gums and stabbed his pouty lower lip. The woman writhed in obvious pain as he fought to control himself. He lifted her easily from the pool of fragrant blood, O- he noted, one of the purest blood types to come across, and took her to the parking ramp where his SUV was parked.
         

Just by looking at Istoph, you would never quite guess he was a vampire in his either tenth or eleventh life, he could never keep track of time anymore it seemed. Often times the people he associated himself with just chalked it up to him being charming, and having a way with ladies, though, his fellow vampires knew it was more of a curse, rather than a charm. Women, straight or lesbian would follow him like a love sick teenager. Begging for his attention, which is the exact opposite of what Istoph wanted in life.
         

He had been alone in his love life, even has a mortal. He set his standards much too high for the women of his time era. Flappers came and went around him, offering him nights of pure passion without any strings attached, then the hippy women who never wore their undergarments and frequently forgot to bathe would throw themselves at him, half naked and stinking of drugs and mud.
With a shudder he unlocked the car door and laid her on the back seat careful not to lean to close to her yet.

He was still blood lusting from the over powering scent of her blood mixed with the lovely scent of adrenaline left from the attack and from her body struggling to keep her alive. Without looking back he sped from the ramp, throwing a few dollars at the pimply parking attendant, whose voice cracked to another octave when he tried to shout after Istoph about his forgotten change. He had no concern for money in the present moment. He had to save this woman. Why he felt so compelled, he didn't understand, but that would soon enough be clear.
         

His speedometer read ninety miles per hour, yet the drive to his secluded condo felt as if it took half a life time. He could feel the life seeping from her wounds as if she were a part of him. This fact concerned him. He had hard the legends of vampiric men having a soul twin somewhere out there in the world, and that the bond would be instant, even without blood sharing; but Istoph thought it all to be the old legends, merely meant to keep the vampire community from going mad with misery and loneliness. But now, the nameless woman in his back seat, he began to wonder.
         

He pounded his fist on his black jean covered knee as the red light changed to green and he squealed forward, the smell of burning rubber assaulting his sensitive nose. He made a face and shook his head in an attempt to calm his thoughts, but it was no use. Hundreds of ideas sprang into his mind.
         

What if the woman dies, he thought. What if she lives, though. What will I tell her? Oh, yes, I am a vampire, no, no. I don't sparkle, though I do have a sister whose glitter makes it all over my belongings. 
         

"Oh, what am I thinking?" Istoph thought out loud, looking back at the woman in the rear view mirror before slamming on the gas pedal one more time for the final few miles home.
         

"We're almost safe, who ever you are," he said, trying to make small talk with a dying woman. He rolled his eyes at himself. "You have gone insane, old man."
         

Istoph fumbled with his keys as he clumsily draped the woman over his shoulder in a fireman carry. It had never occurred to Istoph to check her for any form of identification, although he thought about it once he was carrying her to the dining room where he laid her on the table.
         

"Okay, so... When she wakes up," he thought out loud again, "I'm going to tell her... What am I going to tell her?" Shaking his head he removed his jacket and threw it over one of the empty chairs and stood over her, examining her wounds a little closer.
         

Nodding to himself he walked over to a large china cabinet and opened the second drawer from the top and extracted a package of medical needles and sutures. He smiled, the members of his clan always made jokes at his expense for his vast array of medical supplies.
         

"You don't live two hundred years and not learn a thing or two. I will have you know that in World War Two, I was a wonderful surgeon," he would boast proudly, becoming used to the eye rolls and the whispers of "old man" that would come.
         

He didn't care though, it were the times like this that he was glad that he was a touch of a pack rat. As Istoph injected each wound with a small amount of local anesthetic and began to stitch the wounds, most of which were quite shallow and would heal within a month; the woman began to stir. He finished the last wound and sat near her head, running his hand over her arm, trying to find a vein, but most of her blood had been lost, he noticed.
         

"Please, I am willing to..." the woman whispered, her hand reaching blindly to his face and cupping his cheek.
         

"I know what you are, I know who you are. You should know who," she coughed violently, and tried to sit up only to collapse back on the table with a thud as her head hit the oak. Istoph winced, she'd feel that in the morning.
         

A sense of protectiveness washed over him. A feeling that he had never experienced before. Not in this degree. Wrapping his arms around her he carried her up the spiral staircase, the sound of his shoes the only noise in the house. He opened a heavy looking door and revealed a simply decorated bedroom with an unmade bed, which he laid her on almost lovingly.
         

"What is your name, sweet love?" He whispered to her, sitting beside her on the bed as he covered her with the silk and goose feather coverlet; gently pushing her long silver hair over the pillow with his hand. Her exposed neck was still red and wounded, as his eyes wandered lower to her low cut top. It would have to do, he thought.
         

"My name," she said, and she turned to face him, her eyes bright ice blue and clear, "is Vinessa. And I have been assured by my goddesses that you are the man that I am meant to be with. Please," she suddenly sounded weak and small, "it hurts."
         

"My name is Istoph, and while I fully believe I am losing my mind, I think I have found my soul mate," he lowered his head and breathed in her lovely scent. Lilac and honeysuckle, he thought as his fangs brushed her skin tenderly. Vinessa nodded slowly as he sank his fangs into her supple flesh, savoring the taste of her warm blood rushing against his tongue and down his throat where it seemed to swirl around and warm his once icy heart.
         

Istoph fought the urge to continue feeding, as he realized somehow he knew there would be more time for play later, now it was business.
He bit his forearm easily and placed it to her lips and kissed her temple as she hesitantly accepted his life. She pulled away before he had to tell her, and she smiled a small smile up at him before tugging him next to her where she fell asleep.
This was the beginning of everything, Istoph thought. He couldn't quite believe it yet, but he knew he would grow to love it.