Note: I wrote this when I was lazy and bored, so it's not the greatest. And I didn't want to write Teen Fiction style. If anyone has ever read Anne Rice novels, I was making an obviously poor attempt to write like her.

"Why the need to veil your thoughts?" her voice was soft, barely audible. He needn't to look at her to know she was watching him. "It was you who had ran away, not me. Why didn't you come back to me? You never even left a reason as to why you had left. Jirard, look at me. Show an ounce of decency and look at me as I speak to you!"

"It's dangerous for me to be so near to you," he hissed, finally directing his gaze at her. For a human, she was only in her middle ages. Young compared to the years of a vampire.

Ah, how he loved stroking her brown hair while gazing into her cerulean eyes. He wanted to touch her. His eyes drifted upon the pulsing vein in her neck. He wanted her; he wanted blood. He could practically taste her� He closed his eyes as if to rid of his ill thoughts of his beloved Charlotte.

"You kept me waiting for so long," she whispered, her voice wavering. "You didn't say goodbye. Five years passed since I had last seen you. Never a day you hadn't crossed my mind."

He had never experienced emotional stress over love. There were things he wished to say, but couldn't find the strength in him to tell her. Centuries had passed, and yet he couldn't find the words to say to a mortal. He remembered walking the lonely streets of London, or strolling through the jungles of Africa thinking, 'If only Charlotte were here by my side' or 'Where is Charlotte now?'

He noticed he had opened his thoughts for he sensed Charlotte reading them.

"If you were thinking of me, why didn't you return to me sooner, my love," she advanced towards him, shivering against the cold. He eyed her pitiful clothing against the snowy winters of Colorado. She should have been wrapped in layers, but only wore a light sweater above her clothing.

Jirard had a firm hold on her before she took a fourth step. He heard her heartbeat quicken as he had her against the wall, his warm breath on her cold neck sent chills throughout her body. Her skin began to prickle as his cold hand caressed her bare arm where the sleeve of her sweater had slipped. He came closer to her, their bodies becoming a perfect fit. He could hear the beating of her heart becoming rapid; the smell of her blood was more than sensational.

He stared into her sad cerulean eyes as she gazed into his gold cat eyes. He saw the lust in her as surely as she sensed his need to have her.

His vampire senses were telling him, 'Take her, Jirard.'

"I want you, Charlotte," he said. "I want to taste the sweetness of your blood, I want my blood to become one with yours. I want you to be with me for eternity. But I cannot do it! As much as I want you mine, I cannot do it. Imagine dancing through the centuries together, you and I. Soon our decades together will be over if I shall let your beautiful youth waste away. Come with me, Charlotte. I love you."

Tears were coming to her eyes, her expression softened as she listened. He let her lean in to kiss him, but she drew back and sighed. "I am filled with lust. Not to be your companion, but to be your lover. I wish I could satisfy you as a woman would with a man. I want to feel you."

He nodded. She wanted to love him, to bed him.

"I love you, Jirard." She kissed his cold lips and slowly pulled away, sadly knowing he felt no different. She slipped away from his grip and began walking home. Jirard could only watch her disappear into the night. He could feel the blood tears slowly roll down his pale cheeks, staining them a dim red.

He wanted her! He wanted her as a vampire and now as a lover. He hated how immortality stole away his life and his ability to be a man. He lived and died as a man. Why not be able to be a man in his afterlife? She wanted to stay with him as two mortal beings would. She wanted to wed, to make love whenever, wherever, and to never mind daylight. To have a mortal family! Oh, this angered him. If only he could find his maker and kill him for all he's worth, to push him into the morning's sun and watch as he perishes.

He wept in the alley. The sad Vampire Jirard weeping in a dirty alley somewhere in England. Years of watching and loving Charlotte grow up from a young, foolish mortal into a successful middle-aged woman finally wasted away as dawn broke, the sun's death rays piercing him.

I love you, Jirard.