“Eyes of Amber, Eyes of Gold “
Ikeman Vampire - Leonardo/OC, Leonardo/Comte
Excerpt Chapter 5 - Fluff
After a hot bath, Evayne donned a dressing gown and ladies robe provided by the very generous Le Comte de Saint-Germain and sprawled in front of the library fireplace to dry her hair. She had found a book of poetry by Veronica Franco, and while her Italian was quite good, she still had a bit of puzzling to do over the translation. She had left the library door cracked open to enjoy listening to Mozart working on his new piece down the hall. Life wasn’t that bad all in all. Sure, she was in a house full of bloodthirsty vampires, but so far, it seemed they preferred pancakes and tarts or black English tea. She grinned to herself, carefully turning another page.
Leonardo had passed by the door earlier, his mouth had gone dry at the sight. Pillows were piled nest like before the hearth with a thick quilt tossed onto the floor. She lay there, reading, lips moving slowly as if puzzling out the words. Her hair damp, drying into ringlet curls. He stepped away before she saw him…he needed his tools, his canvas…but it had been years. Ah, Vincent would have what he needed. Off he dashed to Vincent’s room, praying silently, she would still be in the library when he returned.
“Mi Compagna, I hope you weren’t too lonely!” Evayne startled as Leonardo entered the library, arms full of what looked like an easel and canvas plus several satchels and boxes. He produced a bottle and two small glasses. “An evening nightcap of a port wine I’ve been saving for a special time.” His grin was a bit infectious.
“And what special time might that be?” Evayne sat up, careful to make sure she was covered, she marked the page she was translating with a ribbon and smiled at Leonardo’s antics.
“Why the night that I break my artistic dry spell and begin painting again. You will, of course, agree to be the subject?” Evayne guppied as he handed her the glass of sweet wine. Her painted by Leonardo da Vinci? She took a sip of the wine.
“Well, I guess I could…”
“Nude?”
“Absolutely not!”
He grinned behind the canvas as he adjusted the easel’s height, well he couldn’t be blamed for trying.
“Would you let me arrange your hair?” She paused a moment, that seemed reasonable although she had to admit she had never had a man ask to do her hair. He peered out from behind the canvas in time to see her nod affirmatively. Within minutes he kneeled before her, fingers combing through still damp hair, braiding ribbons and pearls through it. He was obviously confident she’d say yes. He glanced down at the book she had been reading. Then intoned softly, his deep voice making her tremble slightly even in the warmth of the fireplace.
We danced our youth in a dreamed-of-city
Venice, Paradise proud and pretty
We lived for love and lust and beauty
Pleasure then our only duty
Floating then twixt heaven and earth
And drunk on plenty’s blessed mirth
We thought ourselves eternal then
Our glory sealed by God’s own pen
But paradise we found is always frail
Against man’s fear will always fail*
“Did you know her?” Evayne tilted her head up, her eyes shining bright. The cherry blossom scent tickled his senses, the beast in his chest circled restlessly. He paused, hands still in her dark curls. Never had he desired a drink from a vein so badly. Leonardo turned his head, not wanting to frighten her. His tongue traced his fangs lightly, as he relaxed, they receded.
“It was a long time ago, cara mia, but yes, I was in Venice then.”
“It must be amazing, being so long-lived and having the opportunity to travel everywhere.”
He touched her cheek, she gazed upwards into those dark gold eyes. “The world goes grey when there is no one to share it with, the pain of lost loved ones over the centuries is difficult to bear.” She touched his hand on her cheek, dark green eyes bright with unspoken compassion.
He blinked a few times, removing his hands from her. “Yes, then. Are you ready? Turn yourself a bit like this, yeah? You can continue to read while I work.” He gently positioned her, making sure she would be comfortable. Leonardo thoughtfully placed the drink and a small plate of cheeses within her reach. Then he disappeared behind the canvas, the intimate moment gone.
It was well after two in the morning when Le Comte entered the library seeking Leonardo’s company. Evayne lay on the floor sound asleep, the fire burned low now, a blanket was draped over her supine form. Leonardo sprawled on the couch, sipping the port, gazing at the finished painting. It had been barely a day, but the brushstrokes made it obvious how he felt. His soul was on the canvas. Le Comte picked the girl’s glass up from the floor and refilled it. Sitting next to his oldest friend, he drank deeply, studied the painting, and sighed. The smell of turpentine and linseed oil did little to drown out the enticing scent that was hers alone.
“She’s ensnared you as well?”
“It seems that way does it not?”
Comte rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. Leonardo laced his fingers through Comte’s, sharing the warmth of understanding through touch and said nothing more.
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Read More on A03
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957771/chapters/49829651
