Second Cup 4

“It was a pleasure to share our moments. But forgive me, I
must partake in the feast. The gambling feast”
He took Mora’s hand to bestow a kiss. But he jolted erect at
their touch, his face registering shock. Mora sucked in her
breath. Attuned to the warmth of blood flowing through a body,
she detected none. He stirred no hunger within her. Yet a spark
ignited, a longing from a far distant past.
“Come. You must stroll the deck with me,” Striga insisted,
gripping her elbow and drawing her through the crowd.
Stunned by the current surging into her, she allowed him to
lead her outside. At a desolate stretch of handrail, he at last
released his hold.
He whispered, “I know you.”
Mora gasped. Was this a past mark unremembered? A
vampire hunter who’d escaped detection? She turned to flee. He
caught her wrist.
“Do not leave,” he said, his voice husky. “I know you.
Because we are the same, thriving in the dark on the blood of
others.”
Again, Striga’s touch burned through her, heating the cold
flesh of the undead and igniting a flicker of life and lust left
dormant for centuries. She shivered in the soft Caribbean air.
“This can’t be happening to me. My feelings died centuries
ago.”
Striga stepped closer. He cupped her chin, bringing an
unnatural flush to her pale skin.
“In all my years of thirsting for blood, I have never
considered the soul I once was. Yet since embarking upon this
cruise, I have had a sense of disquiet. Now your touch incites an
awakening in me for what has been long lost. I see in your eyes
that you, too, have been stirred.”
Entranced by his silvery voice and penetrating stare, she
uttered the secret shared only with Anya.