The Vampire Armand was a name that had been changed a thousand times over, lived hundreds of lives in the time that he had been walking the earth, living out a miserable existence occasionally tempered by the touch of a lover or the taste of wine. They began to blur and fade.

He could remember where his life started, vaguely. There were no childhood memories. Not really. Not after the brothel. He doesn't remember the faces of his parents anymore. How could he? His mind protected him from every memory he had from back then.

He remembered the name they gave him. If just barely. Arun. He doesn't remember the way it sounded when they said it, or the feelings that the name inspired in him. Those memories were all gone now, lost like the books in the Library of Alexandria.

Armand didn't like to think about it. Didn't like to feel the yawning maw that lived inside his heart. After losing Louis, he had no interest in facing it. A revolving door of lovers didn't make it better. You were his latest. Perhaps the one he wanted the most.

He felt arms around him from behind soft skin against a silken shirt. "You're here." His voice was quiet.