A six hundred year old vampire finds love, but will it, can it, last when AIDS pokes its ugly head up?
Jett is a creature of the night and he’s not happy. In fact, he’s heartbroken and in love. The man who’s torn his world apart has been diagnosed with AIDS.
Jett knows he can save Alex, the man who’s stolen his heart, but for some reason he’s been denied.
After weeks, months of frustrated discussions and fighting, Jett’s determined to give it one last try.
Three months later, they were exclusive to each other. Funny thing was, Alex never asked about being turned. He seemed happy enough to accept the time Jett gave him. Alex did extremely well as a model and was much in demand by some of the more prominent fashion houses. His tall slenderness, the washboard abs and that mop of unruly hair were always sought after. Jett had money enough to keep them both if that’s what he’d wanted, but Alex wanted to work. Secretly, Jett thought he revelled in the attention. Now he’d become more successful, the PR had ramped up and they partied and did the nightclub scene at least four or five nights a week.
For eight years, Alex had been his lover. For eight years, they’d worked hard to learn how to deal with Jett’s difference. Jett was a creature of the night—one of the undead, a vampire.
It all changed when Alex got sick. It wasn’t anything drastic or horrible, at first. He just had a cough that wouldn’t quit. Three weeks ago, after much urging and coaxing, he finally went to a doctor.
“Yes, I know you’re fine,” Jett had told him softly one evening, pushing a lock of blond hair out of Alex’s eyes.
“So what’s the rush? I’ve got one more shoot then I’ll be able to take a little time off.” Alex had turned his back and thrust his hands into the sink full of dirty dishes and hot, soapy water. He pressed his butt against Jett’s crotch, and began washing the dinner dishes.
A few minutes shy of midnight, Jett knew Alex was tired, while his own day was just beginning. “You’ve had this fucking cough for three months. That’s too long, and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, someone has to pay the rent.”
“Listen you stubborn son of a bitch,” Jett growled and took hold of Alex’s shoulders, spinning the man around to face him. “We both know I can buy this building ten times over, so there’s no ‘rent’ issue.”
“Yes, I know. You’re filthy rich. You can buy anything and anyone you want. So why are you bothering with a sicko queer model?” Alex countered.
“Because, I love you.”
There it was. He’d said it out loud and knew it was the truth.
“Dayum!” Alex whispered and bent forward, wet hands slipping along Jett’s forearms. “Okay, I’ll do the damn tests the doctor ordered.”
Jett leaned down and pressed his lips against Alex’s cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Nothing showed on the test results, at first. It was a cold. Then it was bronchitis. Pneumonia. Coughing non-stop scarred his lungs. His eyes sunk from lack of sleep. The specialist he’d begun seeing ordered more tests. He got some results.
For such a small word, AIDS took such an enormous toll on people’s lives.