Forever Broken

Paul closed his eyes, feeling his cock go instantly hard at the soft words. “Dios, Laurent, don’t talk like that. You know how I feel…that’s too much. Too far.”

“Sometimes too far is not far enough,” Laurent murmured. “But I will drop the subject if you wish.”

“Please.” Paul took a sip of his Coke. “Look, there’s a sign—Asheville the next two exits.”

“Excellent.” But Laurent didn’t sound pleased and through the imperfect connection they shared Paul could feel the other man’s desire, as strongly as he felt his own. *

Nana, as Laurent called her, lived on one of the winding backstreets of Asheville’s historic district. The house was a beautiful old antebellum mansion set well back from the main road with graceful white pillars and dark green shutters. It was also completely dark inside with not a single light showing through its many windows.

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s home,” Paul murmured as Laurent pulled the Spyder into the graveled driveway and killed the engine.

“Let us not give up hope just yet. Nana was always a private person—perhaps she prefers not to announce her presence to the world. Come.” Laurent got out of the tiny sports car gracefully, making it look like a dance move.

Paul followed reluctantly. “Look, ’mano, maybe you better go up without me. She might not like it if she looks out the peephole and sees a were on her front porch.”

“Nonsense.” Laurent took him firmly by the hand, entwining their fingers as though they had been holding hands for years. “Nana will love you. She always valued difference and individuality.”

“If you say so.” With a sigh, Paul allowed himself to be pulled up onto the front porch and waited patiently as Laurent rapped on the broad front door. It was painted the same dark green as the shutters but the paint was peeling away in strips, adding to the illusion that nobody lived there. Or maybe it wasn’t an illusion. Maybe Laurent’s old nurse was dead or just moved away. Maybe— “Laurent? Is that you? Is it really you after all these years, mein liebling?” The door opened to reveal possibly the smallest person Paul had ever seen. She couldn’t have been more than four-foot-five at the most and she had a crazy cap of curly grayish-brown hair that was twisted into a bun at the nape of her skinny neck. She might have been any age from forty-five to sixty when she was turned—Paul couldn’t tell—but her bright blue eyes didn’t look a day over sixteen.

“Nana!” Laurent seemed positively delighted. He grabbed the tiny woman up in his arms and swung her around, making her giggle like a girl.

“Stop it now! Stop it, mein liebling. You’re making me dizzy—I’m an old woman.”

She had a strong Germanic accent and pronounced it “vooman”.

“You’ll never be old to me.” Laurent sat her down gently. “I am so very glad to see you again.”

“And I, you, dearest boy. But why are you here after all these years? And who is your friend?” She eyed Paul with a sharp curiosity that made him feel somehow undressed.

“I thought you dead. My father only told me a few days ago that he turned you. If I had known earlier, please believe that I would have come much sooner, dearest Nana.”

Laurent took her hand and kissed it fondly.

“Of course I believe you.” She smiled at him. “But you still haven’t introduced your friend.” “Forgive me. Nana, this is Paul, my…” Laurent hesitated, clearly uncertain of what to say. “Well, I believe he is my Coeur de Sang.”

“Laurent!” Nana’s bright blue eyes opened wide in surprise and interest. “But this is wonderful, mein liebling! You have found your true love—congratulations are in order.”

“Uh…” Paul shifted uneasily. “You might want to hold off on that a little bit.”

“Paul is uncertain as to if we really belong together,” Laurent explained. “Although I am doing my best to convince him.”

“Well, of course you are.” Nana gave Paul another sharp look. “Well come in, come in, my darlings. We have much to discuss and we can’t do it standing out in the open for God and everyone to see.” Turning, she led the way into her house.

Inside it was beautiful. Polished teak floors shone in the glow of antique hurricane lamps and a broad entryway led up to a vast, sweeping staircase that reminded Paul of something out of Gone with the Wind. Fucking girly movie. Lucia had talked him into watching it with her although he’d made her promise not to tell anyone. He hadn’t cared for it much but that was her price for sitting through The Fast and the Furious with him. Their weekly movie exchange night was one thing Paul kind of missed when he was away from his stepmother. He wondered what she would think of him now, going on a road trip with a vamp to find another vamp. Somehow, he didn’t think it would bother her as much as it would his dad—but that could be said of almost anything.