He was nothing but a beast in heart and mind, pretending at love when he knew not the first thing about it.
When Johann, a two-hundred-year-old Austrian vampire meets Lucas, an English student at the turn of the twentieth century, it’s love at first sight. The golden-haired beauty is nineteen and bewitches him, becoming an all-consuming obsession. But Johann has vowed never to confer his dark existence on anyone and so he is cursed to walk his immortal path alone, no matter that Lucas returns his feelings.
The two continue to meet once a year and their love remains unrequited until they, and the world, are shattered by war, and life will never be the same again.
A sweeping novella of love and loss taking the reader from the slums of Whitechapel to the battlefields of World War Ⅰ and beyond. HEA guaranteed.
Possible spoilers:
Themes: hurt/comfort, angst
Genre: Historical vampire romance
Warnings: Harrowing scenes and death. Suicidal ideation.
Original Review September 2023:
Paranormal and WW1 . . . EEEEEEP!!!!
Granted the WW1 content is relatively minor in size but since there is just not enough stories that(at least in some part) set during The Great War, I definitely knew I had to read and file away for Veteran's Day finds as well.
You might have noticed I said "minor in size" well that's because I think despite so few pages concerning the war, it does have a huge payoff that I'll admit I could see coming but guessing it and actually reading it is two very different emotions. Any time my emotions run the gauntlet while pretty much knowing what awaits the characters at the end is a mighty fine piece of storytelling IMO.
Johann and Lucas are so wonderful, I just loved watching them navigate meeting again and again. The pain Johann inflicts upon himself by both reaching out the way he wants and his determination not to put the vamp horrors he faces onto such an innocent lad like Lucas rips at your heart. Lucas wars within himself his desires for Johann and his fears at just what Johann actually is also pulls on the heartstrings. Despite at times wanting to bang their heads together at their internal conflicts, it's these kind of character developments that can often get, well not overlooked but glossed over in short novellas but Scarlet Blackwell balances it perfectly.
Do I wish it was longer? Of course.
Do I think it could be better as a full length novel? Perhaps, if only to see more of Johann's past as well as his future.
Can I imagine loving The Golden Haired Boy any stronger with more content? No. Don't get me wrong, I would most definitely love it longer but more than I already love it, that's a no because the lads are already occupying my heart as is.
So to reiterate more succinctly: The Golden Haired Boy is a brilliant tale of wanting, leaving, returning, accepting, and above all else discovering and surviving.
CHAPTER ONE
1900
Spring, and the gaslights were being lit later than usual. The vampire Johann stood in the darkest shadows, watching the man complete his task and hurry over to the opposite side of the square. This was the second time in a month Johann had visited the university quad. He hadn’t had any particular reason to be there the first time other than to feed, but he had more of one to be there the second. The golden-haired boy who lived in room thirteen.
He’d taken a sip that first night from a nice-looking girl of twenty or so and left her in the bushes behind the square, where she would wake in an hour with little more than a headache. Stepping out under the circle of a gaslight, he’d been startled by a boy hurrying past, and drawn back like lightning. Wearing a blazer and carrying a satchel, he moved under the light’s halo, and his hair shone like spun gold. His face was pale, his features fine, his lashes long and delicate over eyes whose colour was concealed by the shadows. Johann remained still until the boy had gone, then stepped out and followed him. He went in the direction of the university accommodation, his shoes ringing on the cobblestones, then ascended a flight of stairs to the first floor. Johann, trailing behind, sprang up the stairs in one leap and arrived at the top just as his quarry let himself into a room, closing the door behind him without looking back.
Johann approached the door with no sound. He stood for a moment, listening, noting the number. He thought about knocking, gaining admittance with some pretext, but it was a bad idea. He would lose control if he was alone with the boy, and he didn’t lose control. Not anymore. He retreated back to the university square.
It wasn’t his intention to return to bite the golden-haired boy. Or maybe it had been—he wasn’t sure. But Johann didn’t do anything as indiscreet as killing. He’d learned his lesson in Vienna and Prague long ago. No, surviving on sips from a few victims per day made his current stay in England much more harmonious. It was just that the boy had captured his imagination in a way no one had done for so long. Johann couldn’t get his beauty out of his mind. The golden hair, the porcelain skin, his long lean figure. Cultivating attractions towards humans only ended in disaster and misery. And the boy appeared barely eighteen or nineteen. He should go. He hesitated at the corner of the square, undecided. Then shoes clicked against the cobblestones and Johann drew back into his hiding place in the bushes.
It was the same time, on the same day of the week, and there he was. He must have a late class on Mondays. He walked quickly again. Perhaps he was cold, or maybe the class was a bore and he was just eager to be back in his room.
Johann clutched at a branch as the boy drew level, and his hair glowed like a halo. Johann fought with himself, because he heard the human’s heart beating like a drum and he wanted a taste. Just a little one. He cursed himself for not feeding before he came. For arriving hungry and putting this boy at such risk.
The boy stopped suddenly, and barely five feet away, Johann held his breath. The object of his attention peered into the shrubbery. His eyes were a pale, silvery blue. To Johann’s heightened vampire vision, they were hypnotic, glittering jewels. Johann caught his scent on the still night air. The smell of his blood, and manmade things, like soap and spicy cologne.
“Who’s there?” The boy seemed to stare right at him. His voice was deep, belying his youthful looks, his accent southern, perhaps Southampton, although Johann wasn’t an expert.
Johann’s mouth filled with saliva. He could have sworn he felt his dead heart stir to life.
“Is there somebody there?” The boy sounded nervous, afraid. Johann wanted to reach out to him, reassure him, but he did not. He remained as still as a cat, not allowing himself to take what he desired.
The boy bit his pale lip, looked around, then hurried on, redoubling his swift pace. Johann stayed where he sat. He put his hand over his chest and expected to feel a hard thudding beneath his ribs. The boy with the golden hair had revived him.
Johann was a model member of his small town community. He lived in a townhouse on the outskirts and was pleasant to his neighbours, if reclusive. He raised his hat at ladies he saw on the streets and politely declined invitations to visit clubs from the local gentlemen. He employed no staff, and his neighbours no doubt gossiped about a single man keeping house for himself. In a locked room at the top of the house, Johann kept a coffin filled with Viennese earth, where he slumbered and could pretend he was still at home. Not that he disliked England, with its sun in fits and starts and cold winters. Its climate was rather ideal for him. If it was overcast enough, he could actually venture outdoors during the day for short periods, providing he wore gloves and the brim of his hat shaded his face. It was risky, though. If the sun happened to peep from behind the clouds unexpectedly, he could expect to receive a nasty burn. He’d learned all this through trial and error, during his two-hundred-year life, and had caused himself damage and pain more times than he could remember. But he liked the daylight too much not to risk it. Liked to remember what it was like to be human.
A week after coming face to face with the golden-haired boy, Johann was still thinking about him. He resolved not to go back to the university, because sooner or later he would attract attention hanging around there.
Spring arrived, daffodils and snowdrops peeping through the winter-hard ground, and Johann rationed his daylight sojourns as the sun put in several appearances. He liked spring—the way everything winter seemed to have killed was slowly reborn, new and stronger than before. The baby birds, the lambs in the fields, and the smell of rain on the revitalized earth.
Johann felt reborn himself. He had a focus for his thoughts and his attention and wished it were not so. It was dangerous to let admiration grow, to let finer feelings take over his hard, abandoned emotions. He had to remember who he was. A creature that no longer had the luxury of feeling, who must remain alert to suspicion in the town and cover his tracks. Becoming soft-hearted would get him killed. Although there were plenty of times when that would have appealed to him. It had been a long and lonely life, and Johann had wished an end to it more times than he could count.
One grey, rainy day, Johann left his house sheltered by his broad umbrella, and walked down to the river. He sat on a bench and watched a little girl and her mother feeding the ducks and swans, while keeping an eye on the clouds for signs of shifting. There were hansom cabs to be hired on the road not far away, which should guarantee him a swift exit before he burst into flames.
Some geese arrived, raucous and taking control of the rations, chasing the other birds greedily away. Johann closed up his umbrella because the rain had tapered off to mere drips, and relaxed back against his bench. He felt peaceful today, even if he was still haunted by the image of the golden-haired boy. He was hungry, a sullen ache that muttered at him, but it was nothing which couldn’t wait until nightfall. He was used to the hunger; it was part of him.
A group of students made their way along the riverbank, chattering animatedly. Johann froze in place as one golden head stood out among a sea of dark hair. He bowed his head so his hat would obscure his face, irrationally convinced the boy would recognize him even though he was sure he had not been seen that night in the bushes. His blood seemed to pound in his veins and drum in his ears. Impossible. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t hide like this, not when he needed to set his eyes on this beautiful creature again. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything, apart from blood.
He lifted his head. The students stopped level with the child and her mother. A couple of them pushed each other playfully towards the water. The golden-haired boy took a shiny, red apple from his satchel and polished it on his blazer. Johann saw a flash of pearly teeth as he bit into the flesh with a crunch which reverberated in the vampire’s sensitive ears. He said something to one of the other students as he chewed, and then nodded at the reply without smiling.
The group continued on their way, coming close to Johann. Did he dare make eye contact? Oh God, he had to. He felt as if his life depended on it. He kept his head up, his eyes fixed on the boy, and waited for the student to notice he was being looked at.
The boy noticed. His gaze drifted to Johann, idly swept over him, then came back, fixed rigidly, staring. The hand, which had been about to bring the apple back to his mouth, remained hovering in the air. He blushed, the rosy glow beautiful on his snowy skin. Johann didn’t look away. His throat felt tight and closed. His fingertips tingled. These feelings of attraction were so unfamiliar to him they distressed him rather than excited him. He didn’t like the way his stomach seemed to lurch as if he would commit that very human act of vomiting, or the way his hands became clammy when he didn’t normally perspire.
He hadn’t been wrong about the boy. He was as beautiful as Johann remembered from his two glimpses in the university quad. The jewel-like eyes glowed from the flushed skin. His features were delicate and measured, the cheekbones sculpted, the nose small and upturned. His mouth, while small, was full-lipped, but pale, almost without colour. He was of good height, but not as tall as some of his friends—perhaps about five-feet-eleven, and his body was lean and well-proportioned.
One of the other students nudged him. The golden-haired boy looked away. His dark-haired friend laughed, but sent a cold glance in Johann’s direction.
The students passed by him and were gone. Johann let his gaze follow the golden-haired boy. “Look back,” he said, under his breath. “Please look back.”
Johann could hypnotize some humans, but he didn’t believe his magic could work at such a distance, nor had he set out to deliberately bewitch the boy. Nonetheless, the object of his affection turned around and looked at Johann once more, the expression on his face intent and unreadable.
Johann was possessed. He thought he saw the golden-haired boy everywhere he went. He dreamed of him while lying in his coffin during sunlit days. He smarted with remembrance as he thought of others loved and lost, and unrequited desire, and he vowed he would never approach the boy and make himself known.
Spring marched into full bloom, and Johann was relegated to the coffin during daylight hours. Perversely, he thirsted for the sun. He remembered its warm caress on his human skin, and swimming in Austrian lakes during endless summers. For the first time in an age, his skin ached for another’s touch. His vampire skin prickled and burned as though the sun had possession of it. He imagined the press of another body beside him in the coffin, and it almost made him weep. There was only this. There would only ever be this.
Scarlet Blackwell's jam is m/m enemies-to-lovers romance. Her stories are usually small town contemporary but she has been known to throw the odd historical or paranormal into the mix and a hot cop fairly often.
She likes unusual settings and atypical, flawed heroes. Her stories are dark and gritty and her themes are not for the faint-hearted, but a HEA is always assured.
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO
PAYHIP / GOOGLE PLAY / iTUNES
B&N / INSTAGRAM / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: scarlet.blackwell@hotmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment