Frankenstein's Fair Lady

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Frankenstein couldn’t help himself. He laughed even though it hurt.

  “You have to stay so you can explain all of this.”

  “You were dying from a drug overdose. I wanted to see if I could save you. I did.”

  “And didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t know how.”

  “The belly wound.”

  “You healed on your own within hours. I didn’t do that. You did.”

  “So you brought me back from the dead and gave me healing ability?”

  “Not intentionally.” Frankenstein laughed then winced. “I’m afraid…”

  “Of what?”

  “If I die, I might take you with me.” Frankenstein fumbled around until he found Loren’s hand. “I don’t want you to die.”

  “Then you can’t die either.”

  “Kiss me.”

  Loren hesitated but only for a second. A strange light came into his eyes and then he kissed Frankenstein, making everything in the world disappear but the two of them. Too late, Frankenstein realized what Loren was doing. He wanted to push him away, to tell him to save himself, but he couldn’t do anything other than accept the power that his creature pushed into his body. At that moment, Frankenstein knew he loved him, and then he knew no more.

  Epilogue

  Frankenstein leaned against the railing, drawing in great breaths of clean ocean air. Most of the other passengers had stayed within to avoid the rain and mist, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to see America.

  “Are you sure about this?” Loren stood at his side, dressed as a woman. He’d said he did so only to make their passage together easier, but Frankenstein knew he enjoyed the costumes too.

  “Very.” Frankenstein took his hand. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “At this point, I think they are third and fourth thoughts.” Loren snaked his arm with Frankenstein’s. “But I also know that together we can do anything.”

  “I believe that.” Frankenstein pulled Loren close. “If you change your mind, you know I would never make you stay.”

  “Make me stay?” Loren lifted a brow. “At this point, I think you’d have to hire goons to make me stay away.”

  “No more gambling though, yes?”

  “No more.” Loren traced a finger over his heart. “No more reanimation for you.”

  “No more.” Frankenstein traced his finger over his heart too. “I will only use the talents of my fingers to help those around me. Well, I will once I finish medical school.”

  “It was nice of Adelaide to pay your way.”

  “She only used the money she would have paid for your debts.”

  “Which weren’t really debts.”

  “I know that now.” Frankenstein kissed the back of Loren’s hand. “You really do have amazing luck.”

  “That you now share.”

  “As you share my abilities.”

  Frankenstein might have died from his gunshot, but Loren wouldn’t let him. Loren pressed into him all the energy he had, healing him. Now they shared their powers, but they didn’t reanimate anything or anyone. The danger to them both loomed too large. Danger in discovery, danger in losing too much power to heal themselves. They decided it was better to leave things as they were. Mostly, they relied on their power of luck and their ability to heal.

  “I wonder if we are immortal at this point.” Frankenstein kept his gaze on the horizon.

  “I’d rather not find out.”

  “Why?”

  “The only way would be for one of us to be so injured we die. If we just keep on living then we’ll have a partial answer, at least.”

  “No scientific curiosity?”

  “I’ll leave that to you, dear.”

  “And will you leave other things to me?”

  “Like?”

  “Being your maid.” Frankenstein had found a compulsive fascination for Loren while in his guise of a woman. He could pass effortlessly everywhere they went which excited them both for unknown reasons.

  “Come, my maid. I feel a need to be undressed.”

  With another two days to sail, Frankenstein decided he could leave his post and journey down to their plush room, another gift from Adelaide.

  He closed and locked the door then helped Loren out of his many layers. Only when he stood bare did Frankenstein allow Loren to undress him.

  “Why do you always make me wait?” Loren slipped off Frankenstein’s coat.

  “I like to look at you while I’m undressing you.” He paused. “I like to look at you when you’re completely bare and undressing me. It gives me plenty of time to observe.” Frankenstein cupped his hand against Loren’s buttock and squeezed. “Plenty of time to think of what I will do to you.”

  Once Loren had him undressed, Frankenstein pulled him close, pressing their bodies together. He sighed. He loved the feel of him. The scent of him. The everything of him.

  “What will you do to me?” Loren asked, his tone suggestive yet coy.

  “I will have you.” Frankenstein eased him onto the couch then lifted and parted his legs. He enjoyed the sight of his love spread before him as a sensual banquet, then lowered his head and teased his tongue around the delicate skin of his opening.

  “Frank.” Loren gasped and teased his fingers through Frankenstein’s hair as he worked his tongue around and in. “You know what that does to me.”

  “Indeed I do.” Frankenstein had to pin him down when he squirmed and bucked, but he’d discovered his love enjoyed that too. Loren enjoyed struggling against the passions Frankenstein evoked. Using tongue and fingers, Frankenstein pushed Loren to the very edge of madness but still, he would not relent.

  “Please.”

  Finally, he’d heard what he’d been waiting to hear, what he most desperately needed to hear. Frankenstein lifted his head triumphantly, but he didn’t let Loren move. Instead, he held him pinned, gazing at that tight hole quivering with need.

  “Fill me.”

  Pleasure surged at his begging tone. Frankenstein never would have thought himself a man to crave such things, yet here he was. Reaching back, he slipped his fingers in the oil from their luncheon, using that to slick up his cock, which he then rubbed against his mate’s tender opening.

  “Frank.” Loren pleaded with his words, voice, and his eyes. It was the eyes that got Frankenstein every time. When Loren looked at him that way, Frankenstein couldn’t say no. But he could say something else.

  Instead of mounting, him Frankenstein settled on the couch, and said, “Show me.”

  “Show you?” Loren asked.

  Frankenstein patted his lap and then stroked the oil over his rigid cock again. “Show me how badly you need it.”

  Loren bit his bottom lip, a gesture that he knew drove Frankenstein to distraction. Then, with the movements of a seductive feline, Loren straddled Frankenstein’s lap and slowly impaled himself on his cock.

  They moaned in unison.

  Watching him take that jutting pole of flesh into his body never ceased to entrance Frankenstein. The heat that wrapped around his shaft never ceased to inflame his passions. But what drove him to madness was the way Loren tightened around him, crushing him with heat.

  Instead of helping him rise and fall, Frankenstein stretched his arms out along the back of the couch so he could watch his mate ride him. Loren took his time, holding Frankenstein’s gaze as he worked himself slowly up and down. Always there came a point when the sensual dance wasn’t enough and—there.

  Frankenstein tightened his grip on the back of the couch when Loren closed his eyes and moaned as he worked himself faster. His breath grew harsh, almost a series of panting growls.

  “Please, Frank. Help me.”

  Frankenstein grasped his lover’s hips but instead of helping him, he lifted him off and put him back on the couch.

  “What—”

  Frankenstein didn’t let him finish the question. He got on his knees between Loren’s spread legs and rammed his cock back into t
his mate’s tight hole, loving the way he wrapped his legs around his hips.

  “Fuck me. Oh, God, Frank. Fuck me.”

  The vulgar word had the intended effect, catapulting Frankenstein into a frenzy. He thrust his hips and pinned his mate and then arched over him so that he could bite the tender skin along his neck.

  “I’m almost—I’m so close. So very—ah!”

  Frankenstein knew the very instant of his release because his channel clenched around hi cock. Another thrust, perhaps two, and Frankenstein slammed himself to the hilt and released deep inside his love.

  Breathless, they clung together.

  Needing to feel him closer, Frankenstein slipped his hands beneath Loren’s buttocks, lifting him against his chest before standing and taking him over to their bed. There, they lay entwined, kissing and idly touching.

  “You always make me feel so wickedly alive,” Loren said.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It is a very good thing.” Loren kissed him then rested his head against Frankenstein’s chest. “This is a good world to be alive in.”

  “But we are leaving behind our old world.”

  “Are we?”

  “Haven’t you heard? America is the new world.” Frankenstein kissed the top of Loren’s head. “A new world for new men with strange new powers.”

  “Are you counting my ability to pass for a woman as a strange new power?”

  “Shouldn’t I?”

  “Well, for all we know, there are hundreds of men like me.”

  “Sweetheart, there isn’t another man alive like you.” Frankenstein lifted Loren’s chin then kissed his lips. “You are one of a kind.”

  “Am I?”

  “You, my dear, are Frankenstein’s fair lady and there will never be another.”

  “Good.” Loren rested his head against Frankenstein’s chest again. Soon they would enter the new world and they’d carve out a place for themselves. Frankenstein had never been one to look forward to the future, but he did now. With Loren by his side, in his arms, and in his bed, he knew there was nothing he couldn’t do.

  END

  Enjoy this Sample from Far Too Human

  If you build it, love will come...

  Jonathan P. Quiverbotton freely admits he is fussy, punctual…and terribly lonely. All his attempts to build a companion have failed miserably. Desperate, he rents a man-of-all-work bot from a local factory, intent on uncovering its secrets. When the manbot arrives, though, it bears a stunningly familiar face, that of a notorious con man—with whom Jonathan once had a fleeting assignation.

  Marcus isn’t quite certain why this doorstep seems so familiar, but once he lays eyes on Jonathan, memories flood back so strong only one thing matters. He must convince Jonathan that he’s a changed man. Raw sexual passion quickly forges a deep emotional bond, fueled by the knowledge that Marcus must soon return to the factory. Before their time ticks down, another man emerges from Marcus’s murky past, reminding him of his unfulfilled part in a blackmail scheme.

  Marcus wants no part of his old life, but refusal not only exposes Jonathan to danger, it puts him at the mercy of those who would use his illegal enhancements at the cost of his humanity.

  This previously published erotic M/M steampunk romance contains one very fussy inventor, a decidedly wicked man-of-all-work bot, clockwork homecare creatures, and blazing hot sex between a man and his mechanical manservant. 30,000 words or 120 pages.

  Far Too Human, Chapter One

  Black Rock Colony, North American League, 1910

  That his delivery was late annoyed Jonathan P. Quiverbottom beyond rationality. He glared at the oversized clock precisely placed at the apex of the sweeping staircases, but watching the second hand tick across the face only increased his distress.

  Time was everything.

  As he waited, he wanted to cross his arms, but he would never do so, not when such a stance would ruin the crisp lines of his custom-tailored suit. Most clothing was fashioned of pedestrian faux fibers, but Jonathan could afford the best natural fabrics. Nothing looked as good as wool, cotton, silk, and leather, but nothing marred quite as easily either. So Jonathan didn’t cross his arms, but he did tap his foot. Bouncing his foot against the thick carpet wouldn’t harm his polished shoes or the rug, but the motion made him more aware of the passage of time.

  A thousand scenarios marched through his mind of what might have gone wrong. Perhaps the delivery mobile had run afoul of a whirling dervish. Jonathan hated the high-speed single-people movers favored by the young and those who cared little for their own mortal flesh. However, without the fresh bodies such dangerous modes of transport provided, he would not be expecting a man-of-all-work bot in the first place.

  Normally, anything that disrupted his exacting schedule was dismissed and forgotten. Late guests were not afforded entry to his home. It only took a time or two of being coldly ignored on his doorstep for them to stop coming. After ten years in Black Rock Colony, not a soul came to his door but delivery men, and they never tarried long.

  “Rushing about again?” Jonathan would ask, stamping his thumb to confirm receipt of whatever goods they had delivered.

  “Yes, GoodSirQuiverbottom.”

  They mashed the words together until he took the phrase to mean both greeting and dismissal.

  Not that Jonathan was lonely. Praise the paragons of science, no! He did as he pleased. He spent his time and considerable fortune pursuing activities he most thoroughly enjoyed. His home was his castle, his haven, and his workshop. Here, the world moved in an orderly fashion. Every aspect occurred at a specific time.

  As he parted the lace privacy sheers covering the doorway glass, he wondered if the delivery mobile hadn’t been delayed at all. Perhaps they had never left the factory. What if they had deduced his intent? Jonathan’s heart hammered hard, and a light sweat beaded on his brow. If Man-o-War Limited knew why he’d ordered one of their most talked-about bots, it could explain why his delivery was late. Jonathan mopped his face with a pristine handkerchief that smelled of sandalwood. Perhaps this was for the best. He could not be held to trial if he did not commit the wrong in the first place. But then he would be left to his own devices, and that had not served him well.

  When a tall man with blond hair the exact color of butterscotch toffee paused at the base of his steps, Jonathan let the sheers drop. What was that man searching for? He appeared to be checking the numbers placed above his entryway.

  Jonathan didn’t think the young man was looking for him. He would not let him enter anyway, what with his ill-fitting clothing clearly fashioned from inferior-grade textiles and his jacket hooked by his finger and tossed casually over his shoulder. His very wide shoulder. Which seemed exactly wide enough for his beautifully shaped head and terribly informal jacket gesture.

  Frowning, Jonathan tried to move away from the doorway, but the curious man held him riveted. Why were the slovenly always so indifferently beautiful? Even with all his meticulous care, Jonathan had never exuded half the appeal this creature did without effort. If he were a religious man, he might believe that God tested him in some way, but he was not, so he did not think he was being held to a divine trial.

  “Oh, stop my brain from dithering!”

  Another thing Jonathan could not abide was mental blather. The only time he indulged in such nonsense was when something or someone disrupted his schedule. He ordered himself to leave the foyer and refuse delivery, but he knew he could not. He had to know what Man-o-War Limited knew that he did not know. Once he had the secret of their manbots, he would vehemently decry the company for wasting his time on a delivery. But first, he had to pick apart their creation in order to duplicate their science.

  Casting his gaze through the lace curtains again, he discovered the man was still there. Perhaps if he had a hat, he would appear more polished. He should do something to cover up the unruly waves of butterscotch hair. Those strands were simply too long for a man and far too pretty. Clean
ed up, trimmed back, and dressed in an appropriate suit, the man would be most fetching. Terribly so. Why, Jonathan could see their heads together as they discussed the latest happenings over tea and pastries. If he had a friend who looked like this, he would surely go out of his house and socialize more.

  But he didn’t.

  And he wouldn’t.

  Jonathan would not make such a friend again. Once had been enough. But, to be fair, that man hadn’t actually been his friend. More of a fleeting acquaintance. Jonathan only wanted him to be his companion. In all honesty, such an alliance would have been most foolish, and yet Jonathan had never stopped thinking of—

  “He is still there!”

  What if the delivery mobile came and found this ruffian wandering about? In the pale light of morning, with the skies darkly overcast and heavy with pending snow, what was technically morning was rather gloomy enough to appear almost as sinister as evening. If the delivery men feared being accosted, they would not stop, and then Jonathan’s plans for the day would be ruined.

  “Move along,” he whispered, flicking his fingers at the man behind the lace.

  Rather than going, he took the steps two at a time, displaying remarkably strong thighs below worn black fabric. Dressed properly, he would be a most intriguing gentleman, what with that stunning hair and powerful body and his hands—as he moved his work-worn hand toward the chime, Jonathan yanked the door open.

  “Be off with you now. There is nothing for you here.”

  Rather than turn tail and run or even display a modicum of shock at Jonathan’s sudden leaping out, the man allowed a smile to spread over his chiseled features. His smile was like the rest of him—unfairly handsome and almost indecently compelling.

  This close, Jonathan saw that his eyes were molten gold. Liquid and striking, they reflected a tiny image of Jonathan back at himself, jarring his sense of not only where he stood, but who he was. Something he had never questioned. Jonathan knew precisely who he was and always had.