Dark Rapture

by Hauf, Michele

  “Well, yes, but—” Also French and Italian, from his mother’s side, she remembered. His father, whom he had never known, had been a Portuguese musician.

  “I also speak Spanish and a little bit of Rumanian, but that is a very complicated language to understand. I never use it.”

  Scarlet leant back on her hands, looking him over as he spoke so casually of his many talents. There was still so much she did not know about this beautiful vampire she called lover. He had lived for over two centuries before meeting her. Besides knowing he had been born and raised as a nobleman in Paris—circa the eighteenth century, by his mother and a reluctant step-father—and was currently a much celebrated musician on the rock n’ roll circuit, she knew little else of his life.

  What had he done for those two centuries after being transformed into a vampire? Where had he gone? Had he loved others? The questions clung to the back of her throat, but she had yet to find a delicate way to broach the subject for Sebastian valued his privacy.

  He leaned forward and kissed the warmth where the sun shimmered on her dark curls. His nose nuzzled into the slope of her neck as he playfully bit through her hair and nibbled. “Scarlet Rose, my escurido anjo, my dark angel.” He drew his tongue up her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His hand found the curve of her breast and he began to work his skillful magic.

  “Ahem.” Anthony’s voice jarred them both from their explorations. “The dress has arrived.”

  Scarlet peeked over Sebastian’s shoulder. Anthony’s short crop of blonde hair was the only thing visible above the load in his arms. “Oh, that’s gorgeous!”

  Leaving Sebastian with his mouth hanging open, Scarlet rushed to free their house servant from the jumble of red and black ruffles that splashed before his face and tumbled down to his knees.

  “Did they deliver the shoes too?” Sebastian asked.

  “Yes.” Scarlet lifted the dress from Anthony’s outstretched arms to reveal the footwear in question. “They’re here.”

  After Anthony’s exit, Sebastian set Lucia aside with a frustrated groan and a quick adjustment to the front of his jeans to ease the pressure. “That man has the most impeccable timing.”

  Eager to try on the costume, Scarlet kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her dress before the approving eyes of her lover. “Yes, but how many other mortals do you know who would knowingly work for a couple of vampires?”

  Sebastian sighed and absently plucked Lucia’s E string. “Good help is so hard to find nowadays.”

  He lay back on the bed and stared up at the waves of diaphanous white chiffon strung across the canopy while Scarlet wiggled and adjusted the ruffles around her shoulders.

  “This is so sexy.” Scarlet shimmied her shoulders and admired the bata de cola, the flamenco dancing dress, in the mirror.

  Two layers of thick red and black ruffles were set off the shoulder, melting into a smoothly gathered waistline. A triple row of ruffles started above her knee, trailing down into a long train that flowed across the stone floor. She was going to pose for the cover of Sebastian’s next CD, having been convinced by Sebastian that if he were to have a woman on his cover, it could only be her.

  “Mon dieu,” Sebastian drawled out as his eyes fixed on the vision he had seen so many times in his nightmares. The beautiful woman dancing in a stranger’s arms. Scarlet was the exact image of the woman.

  “What?” Scarlet spun around playfully, testing the movement of the ruffles with her bare toes.

  “Uh…it’s…lovely.”

  The dress had been red in his dream, identical to the one Scarlet wore now. He had no idea who the strange man had been. And he had no intention of finding out. Scarlet would never betray him. Bound by the very joining of their souls, their love was too strong.

  Refusing to dwell on his nocturnal visions, Sebastian changed the subject. “Do a zapateado.”

  “A zappa-what?”

  “It is a very fast stamping of the feet—ah—perhaps something more graceful would suit you. Stretch your arm over your head.”

  Scarlet obliged, gracefully reaching up with one hand and tilting her head back slightly as she imagined a seductive kohl-eyed señorita would do.

  “Mmm,” Sebastian’s deep growl birthed from his groin. “You are a most exquisite vampire, chèrie. Why don’t you come over here and let me nibble on your neck?”

  She laughed, losing her graceful pose. “Your nibbles never stop at that. Besides, I don’t want to get blood on this dress. Wouldn’t look very good on your CD cover.” She fluffed the ruffles circling her shoulders and turned back to the mirror.

  Justly admonished, Sebastian absently wiped at his cheek and then looked at his hand. No blood. Just a dream.

  Setting aside his haunting dreams, he eyed the letter sitting on the night stand next to the picture of he and Scarlet. It was scribbled in rushed script, which made it a difficult read. “This is the letter Gary sent a week ago, before Wild Child returned from tour?”

  “Yes,” Scarlet spoke to Sebastian’s reflection in the mirror. “After reading that I was a little worried about Vince. But when he arrived last night, I stopped. He seemed quite normal and happy, the way a guy should be when he’s just found out his band’s first album went gold. I am surprised that he left so early, though.”

  Sebastian lazily scanned the letter, mumbling parts of it out loud.

  “Are things going well with Sebastian? I’m sure he’s told you we’ve run into each other a couple times on the road. He’s an all right guy, Scarlet, and I’m sorry for the way I treated him early on. I’ve come to accept him for what he is and I’m glad to say I once again consider him a friend. He’s a good man, stay with him. He’ll protect you and care for you like I’ll never be able to do. Besides, I’ve only a normal lifetime to take care of you, Sebastian has eternity....

  “Smart guy, your brother,” Sebastian added.

  Scarlet smirked at her reflection and tufted the ruffles up around her shoulders.

  “I’m worried about Vince,” Sebastian continued. “He’s not the same guy he used to be. I know being a vampire is probably enough to drastically change any sane man, but Scarlet, I don’t know anymore. You told me vampires generally feed only a few times a month. Right? So why is Vince gone every night after the concert? He doesn’t come in till around three or four and sometimes he seems almost drunk, though I know the man doesn’t drink. He never smells of alcohol.

  “Sometimes I wonder if he hasn’t killed because I’ll find a bloody t-shirt shredded and thrown in the trash.”

  “Stupid bastard,” Sebastian muttered.

  “He’s even threatened to leave the band a couple times. I’m scared for him, Scarlet. This man I share my life and the stage with is not Vince Lyons. He’s been drastically changed and I don’t know what to do. Maybe you or Sebastian could talk to him? Maybe it’s just me and my crazy imagination. God knows having a vampire for a best friend could work havoc on a man’s mind.”

  The crinkle of note paper caused Sebastian to waver back into his frazzled thoughts. Was Vince addicted to the kill and the powerful rapture one experiences with the death of a mortal? Something he himself would never do and had strictly forbidden Scarlet to do. A victim’s death wasn’t necessary for survival, with only a small amount of blood needed to satisfy.

  The ruffles on Scarlet’s dress swished softly as she moved before the mirror. There was something between them. He felt it as a minute fissure at the center of his heart. Insignificant and barely there, yet…it was there. He knew she loved him dearly, but, for some unexplainable reason, not unconditionally as he loved her. The thought pained him deep in his heart.

  “I think I’ll have it taken in.” Scarlet held out a portion of fabric from her waist. “It hangs a little loose.”

  “Sebastian?” Anthony appeared in the doorway with a manila folder. “The courier is waiting for these.”

  “Oh yes, I’ll take care of them right now, Anthony.” Sebastian jumped from the
bed and on his way to the door stopped to brush Scarlet’s hair to the side to kiss her below her earlobe. Her shiver pleased him immensely. “I want to match this contract to the old one, check for changes before I sign. It should be about ten minutes.”

  “Hurry back.”

  The sound of a zipper unbinding stopped Sebastian in the doorway. He turned to catch Scarlet’s wink as she began to slip the dress from her shoulders.

  “Hold that pose,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  Spain, 13th Century

  “What is his name?” Esmarelda asked as a chambermaid stripped her of her ruined clothing. “I don’t even know the name of my husband-to-be.” She had forgotten her earlier embarrassment and now jittered with a certain excitement. She was to be princess of this great castle. And her husband was…well, not so very ugly as she thought he might be. In fact, he was quite handsome in an oddly wicked sort of way.

  “I hope your heightened mood remains,” Paquita muttered bleakly as she pulled a carved tortoiseshell comb through Esmarelda’s hair. “Heaven knows you’ll need that to keep your spirits after becoming wife to the ‘ole devil below. His name, my dear, is Adriano el Sangriento, Prince of Castle Trastamara. But he’s the prince of darkness if you ask me. Now, turn around so I can put your gown on ye.”

  Esmeralda turned and raised her arms over her head. She gasped when she saw the dress Paquita had in mind for her to wear. “`Tis black!”

  “Of course it is, child. Black is what milord requests of his bride. Don’t balk, be a love and cooperate.”

  The soft black velvet fell over Esmarelda’s eyes and across her shoulders. “Why such a horrid color? It’s not even a color, `tis—”

  “The color of darkness. Prince Adriano doesn’t like colors, you’ll find. Do not expect to be seeing any spring-like greens or flowery reds in your wardrobe. Not much for brown myself,” she said of her own drab dress. “But `twill serve. You’ve such lovely sunny hair.” Paquita pulled splayed fingers through Esmarelda’s tresses. “But then, they all do,” she added under her breath.

  The color of darkness. Why didn’t he like colors? Esmarelda wondered as Paquita bustled about her. Why was Paquita so ill towards her master? Adriano el Sangriento? The Bloody?

  A cruel shiver traced Esmarelda’s neck and spread across her back. She did not know much about the world and how things were supposed to be, having lived on the farm all her life, but...things seemed to be going quite oddly for one about to wed.

  ***

  Los Angeles – Present Day

  “This is coming along well, ” Scarlet said.

  Sebastian had provided Gary with a working copy of Wild Child’s video. There was still work to be done on it, but he wanted the band members to review the video and check for discrepancies like mismatched lip-synching or anything else they might think wrong.

  “Yeah, it’s looking pretty cool.” Gary watched, along with Scarlet, as Vince pranced across the TV screen, jumping from the castle battlements to the tower ledge. An amazing stunt that had surprised the crew members—though he and Scarlet knew better. “I like the gothic touch. The castle was the perfect place for filming. Now, if I could get Vince to take a look at it…”

  He gestured toward the yellow legal pad near Scarlet’s hand and she handed it to him.

  “Where is Vince anyway? I was going to update him on those diaries he found.”

  “If he’s still around, he should be up in his room. The jerk,” Gary muttered.

  Scarlet gave him a wondering lift of her brow.

  “He pisses me off constantly as of late. He’s never around— Here, toss this for me, will ya?” He tore a page from the tablet he had been making notes on and handed it to Scarlet. “He’s always gone and when he is around he’s trying to get me to let him sing these new songs of his. They’re sickening, Scarlet. Like death metal. One of them is called Screams From Below. It’s about people buried alive. Can you believe that?”

  Scarlet shrugged. Coming from a vampire it didn’t sound so odd.

  “Wild Child is mainstream rock n’ roll. Vince is moving in all the wrong directions lately. Ouch!”

  Gary splayed his hand open. Scarlet bent to examine it, but quickly pulled back. For a paper cut, he had really been slashed.

  Seeing her distress, Gary eyed her for a nervous second, then pressed his palm to his t-shirt. “It’s nothing. You’d better hurry if you’re going to catch Vince.”

  Sensing his distrust, Scarlet nodded. “You don’t have to worry,” she said. “I’m not an animal. I can control myself.”

  A weak smile was all he managed.

  Scarlet turned and left him to himself. She never pushed when it came to her vampirism and Gary’s very obvious mortality. They were brother and sister, and Gary’s love for her would never falter nor would hers for him. But they were not of the same blood anymore, and though Gary had accepted her new lifestyle, their differences still caused him some discomfort.

  From the top of the stairs, Scarlet could see Vince’s bedroom door ajar. The lights were out. She peeked inside his room.

  “Scarlet!”

  “Vince! Oh—“

  Caught off guard, for a moment Vince just stood there, towel in hand, naked body dripping, until he realized his exposure.

  Scarlet shuffled back to the doorway, clutching the oak trim as Vince wrapped a towel around his naked hips. “I’m sorry!”

  “Chill, Scarlet.” He tossed a mop of wet hair over his shoulder and put his hands on his now-covered hips. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” He opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a t-shirt, cracking a wide grin as she peeked around the corner.

  Thoroughly embarrassed, but finding herself more angry at Vince’s snide remark, Scarlet ground her jaw together. Her fingers did not relax and release the doorknob until he wandered into his walk-in closet. Only then did Scarlet release her held breath.

  She had certainly gotten an eyeful. And at the moment the eyeful was causing her more than a little discomfort. She had always thought Vince to be quite a stick physically, his six-foot-plus frame and lanky gate had never attracted her attention before. But the appearance of a well toned, iron-ribbed chest, and a very well hung—

  “So what do you want?” Vince called from the caverns of his closet.

  Want?

  Scarlet shook her head to clear the debauched thoughts from her mind. Yes, the reason she had come here. “I think I’ll be ready for another of the diaries soon. I’m almost finished with the first volume, it was pretty thin.”

  “Cool. There are more in my drawer by the bed. You read anything about my father?”

  Scarlet pulled the drawer open. “Not yet. The diaries were written by an Alexandre Lyons II, whom I believe might be your great great—possibly another great—grandfather. He starts writing about the thirteenth century and this chick called Esmarelda. Fascinating stuff. I’m just to the part where she’s being forced to marry this evil Adriano dude.”

  “What was that?” Vince called from the depths of the walk-in closet.

  Vince wouldn’t care about a couple of ancient ancestors. He probably thought the thirteenth century was in the thirteen hundreds. “Oh nothing. I really want to read through the whole thing, not skip ahead. Just in case I miss something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She cast her gaze into the depths of the closet, seeing only Vince’s feet beneath a curtain of shirts and jackets. “Well, you know, something important.” Like the meaning of my life!

  “Whatever. Why don’t you take a couple of them with you this time?”

  Vince appeared, dressed in his trademark hip-hugging suede pants with long fringes that shimmied along the seams from hip to hem. He hadn’t put a shirt on yet.

  Scarlet bit her lower lip. Suddenly the patchwork cotton bedspread interested her immensely. Since when could Vince strike a chord in her?

  Vince pulled a black t-shirt out of the drawer and flicked it sharply
to remove the wrinkles. He held it up to examine Wild Child’s logo slashed in white letters. “I gotta cruise.”

  “Where are you going in such a hurry? Gary needs you to go over the video with him.”

  “I’ll do it later,” Vince replied. “I’m on my way to The Decadence, a place sweet little Scarlet would never go.”

  “Really.” He had developed an attitude, a complete turnaround from his pre-vampire personality when he used to be puppy-eyed over her and barely spoke more than a few words to anyone.

  He has changed, she thought, looking over his body as he breezed out of the bedroom.

  Though, this change, strange as it seemed, had its appeal.

  ***

  Vince smoothed spread fingers through his hair and inhaled the sweet flavor of patchouli incense. The Decadence offered a sanctum of darkness and candlelight that Vince had grown to crave. Its dark-clad inhabitants came for the sensual, gothic music, for the illicit sex found in its many secluded alcoves and shadows, or just to sit and observe as the beautiful and morbidly glamorous lingered.

  Vince knew he could find what he needed here. A silent companion for the evening, a woman more intent on pleasing him than knowing what the latest fashion was, or who’s doing who, or one who can’t keep her eyes off the band members. All he wanted was someone to curl into his arms and follow his commands for sex, if he wished, and then slip slowly away as he pulled his fangs from her neck.

  He had already spotted tonight’s victim. She clung to the finger-print-smeared acrylic bar, shyly sipping a clear concoction that glittered in the candlelight. He caught her interest and jerked his head, signaling she come over, but she turned away, batting thick lashes over her green eyes before she did.

  Those mysterious green-eyed women. Vince smiled as he recalled the shocked look on Scarlet’s face when she’d caught him sans clothes earlier. But she had stayed…she hadn’t run away. Yes, she was interested. He could tell.

  He had tried once before to capture her attention, but Sebastian had distracted her.