She could not believe he had weakened so in only three days. “My lord?”
“I am starved,” he started, and swayed to the side in proof, though he could not prevent it. His body craved the blood, yet his muscles could not react in kind. “And you…I see my sacrifice helped greatly.”
“I am much better. Thank you, my lord. You truly are kind of heart to sacrifice so much.”
“I did not do it without a fight.” He fell to his knees before her and Esmarelda rushed to him. He encircled her hips and pressed his cheek into her soft belly. “Forgive me for my cruel words and actions, my lady. I could not help it. It was the blood hunger.”
“There is nothing to forgive, beloved husband.”
“But now…you see…I am at your mercy, dear one. I feel I cannot rise even to take from you the sustenance I desperately need. Though, this is good...I know now it was love that allowed me to keep from having your door broken down. I love you so much, Esmarelda.” His tears seeped into her night robe and spread across her stomach, hot and painful.
“I will not deny you your needs.” She pushed her palm along the side of his face. The bones were prominent and his face gaunt. She tilted his chin up and cleared away the hair from his lashes. “But I ask one thing of you before that.”
“You may ask me a thousand requests. I shall grant them all if I am able. What is it that would please you, my lady? How can I redeem my dark desperation in your eyes?”
Esmarelda fell to her knees and cupped her husband’s hands inside of hers, kissing his fingertips before she spoke. “Kiss me.”
His eyelids fell over the sparkling darkness she had grown to crave. He nodded, a simple resolute decision to break his vow of the decades. “Sí. I shall give myself to you completely. For only you have had the power to enchant this cursed beast. You have looked beyond the vicious superstitions and the truths that are so cruelly foul, and you have uncovered the mortal soul that shelters deep inside me. For you, my lady, I give you my love.”
And for the first time in her eighteen years, Esmarelda felt the greatest passion as her husband’s lips touched to hers. He was weak and so she pushed her fingers through his hair and held his head to hers. In all her dreams she could never have imagined a kiss to envelop her so completely. Her entire body warmed and began to tingle. And when Adriano parted her lips it seemed their contact increased his strength, as if he were feeding off her energy. His hot tongue delved across her lower lip to dance with her own.
She thought sure she would swoon, but Adriano clutched her to his body as they knelt there in the silver ray of moonlight that beamed through the narrow window.
“My desire,” he whispered into her mouth. “You are my salvation, and at the same time…my darkest temptation.”
Esmarelda broke contact and looked into her husband’s dark eyes. Beads of sweat had formed above his brow. He needed her badly. More than just the physical touch. He needed her blood. She recognized the hunger lust in his eyes. “Kiss me again. Quickly, before it is too late.”
His smile carved deep into his blood-drained cheeks. Adriano took Esmarelda’s hand and kissed the knuckles, flicking his tongue teasingly across her flesh. “I am weak and starved for your blood, this is true. But, dear wife, I wish you to take your pleasures before my own tonight. Hold the devil back in chains, I’ll not deny you your rightful pleasures. I think I can manage that.” He spread his arms wide, offering up his shuddering body. “Do as you wish, my lady. Tonight I am your slave.”
Beads of glimmering sweat had sealed his shirt to his body. Esmarelda stripped away the soaked linen with tender urgency. Adriano drew a surprised breath through his teeth as Esmarelda’s kiss touched his chest. He twined his fingers into the golden softness of her hair and when she commanded in a gentle tone, he stood shakily before her, her master and her slave.
“Sit on the bed so I may remove your boots,” she said.
Adriano did, though he fell back across the crimson velvet as her fingers trailed down from his knees and to the tender insides of his calves, covered only in thin black hose. Her touch acted as an elixir of power and pleasure combined. His strength was growing, he could feel the blood hunger begin to stab at his patience.
But he would persevere. He must for Esmarelda.
Wanting only to fulfill her deepest desires before Adriano could no longer control his need, Esmarelda worked deftly to remove his hose, tossing them to the floor, the left leg falling across his boot toe, the right leg landing far off near the end of the bed.
And then she knelt over her husband’s inert figure and touched the lovely shaft that pulsed madly for entrance into her dark paradise. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed, finding it was firm and very hard, yet its texture was of velvet, rivaling the smoothness of the flesh on the inside of her elbow.
Adriano’s tormented groan alerted her of his sacrifice. She mustn’t take too long. She didn’t want him to suffer more than he already had. Oh, but this pulsing hardness in her hands was truly lovely. So temptingly wicked. She touched the tip of her tongue to the velvet shaft and with Adriano’s encouraging moans she began to devour his lust.
When he felt he could hold back no longer, Adriano lifted his wife to her feet. “You serve me well, my lady. But it is your pleasure that must come now.” And he laid her back across the bed, the tense hardness of his muscles pushing the veins in his arms and neck out like earthworms.
A drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto Esmarelda’s stomach, sending a blaze of goose bumps rippling across her flesh. He parted her legs and his fingers found the pulsing pearl that would grant her the bliss he so wished to give her. Esmarelda’s body arched and she pressed her groin up to meet his touch, begging to be controlled by him.
Adriano laid his cheek against Esmarelda’s stomach, listening intently to the fervent cry of her heart. He could sense the imminent wave that would soon shudder through her body. “Do you love me?” he asked.
“Forever!” she screamed as her body sailed over the edge where darkness meets dazzle and pain and happiness join into bliss.
Unable to control his rampant thirst, Adriano pinned Esmarelda’s arms above her head and for a moment, watched as her face melted into a quiet satiation. Her eyelids closed. Her lips pursed and parted. A deep sigh was the final release. “Take me now, my love,” she whispered, the remnants of delight curling her lips into a satisfied smile.
And he did. Adriano opened the vein and drank heartily of his wife’s hot blood.
***
Los Angeles, present
“Forever.” Scarlet released a pent-up sigh. The very same thing she had cried to Sebastian days ago.
The dreams had invaded her thoughts again. Only this time they had come while she was fully awake, her mind in a sort of relaxed reverie as she sat in the back of the car.
They had arrived for the benefit concert. Anthony waited directions to park.
“You’re speaking to me, aren’t you, Esmarelda?” Scarlet whispered. “You want me to know your story.”
The love between Esmarelda and Adriano had been a precious jewel they hoarded away from public eyes. Saved only for themselves. It was so perfect. It gave Scarlet hope her love for Sebastian would survive their current difficulties. No matter if she found some great secrets of the vampire or if she came away knowing nothing more than she now knew, Scarlet knew one thing. She would always love Sebastian.
She stepped outside and followed Anthony across the oil-spotted car port and inside the arena.
“You don’t have to do this, Anthony.” Scarlet acknowledged the backstage bouncer as they passed by his hulking physique. He knew she was girlfriend and smiled widely, revealing a missing front tooth, and then stepped aside as she and Anthony passed.
“I would feel much better knowing you made it backstage. Sebastian would never forgive me if he knew I had just dropped you off.” Anthony skipped ahead to keep up with Scarlet’s rapid pace. “I’ll be back around one to pick up bot
h of you. And this time I promise I won’t be late.” They reached the backstage area, which was hung with long black curtains.
“Thanks, Anthony. I think I’ll just slip close to stage and let Sebastian see I’m here.
***
His fingers danced in frantic grace as the opening notes of the concert called the red spotlight across the black background, subduing his figure in crimson light, a gentle lull before the storm.
As was the routine, Sebastian started acoustic. He had his cherished flamenco guitar, Lucia, to make the evening go smoothly. Lucia gave little objection to his manipulation of her strings in effort to reproduce the elegance and festive mood of the Spanish flamenco song.
He started with a quick-paced fandango that captured the audience and showcased his skills, his speed, his pure understanding of the flamenco sound. Though ninety percent of the audience were young kids, heavy metal headbangers who knew him only for his electric guitar work, he created a new interest and wonder in them with the speed and nervous notes that worked the flamenco mystique.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against Lucia’s body, accentuating the turns and twists of the flamenco dancer as behind him appeared a woman dressed in a bata de cola with castanets on her fingers. She twirled, arched, and bent to the seduction of his music and the audience roared their approval.
Sebastian stood an icon in black suede pants and ruffled silk shirt, his steel-toed boots tapping to the beat as his fingers were invisible to the eyes of his admirers. He stepped to the front of the stage, the spotlights showering him in sparkling reds and blues, and his fans screamed. The music grew frantic, faster, challenging the dancer to match his speed.
A flip of his head splayed sweat across the stage, his hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. As the song slowed and he became more paced, the dancer twirled off the stage.
He stood alone, concentrating on the intensity of the sound only he and Lucia could create. His mind drowned out the screams, the yells, the cries of adoration as the notes vibrated from the strings, through his fingers, and to his heart where all music began and ended. He closed his eyes and found himself, for the moment, in the quiet room above the shoe shop in Córdoba where he first began to study the flamenco traditions. The breeze kissed his cheek, the summer days sweet with fresh grass, and the perfume of the ladies…
Rosita, my tragic one.
Ah...but the memories are bittersweet. Better to bury them away.
Grasping back reality, Sebastian easily slipped into the soul of Lucia.
It was at this moment he achieved duende. The inner spirituality where all music was born. He fell into a trance. Music flowed from his heart, bringing all happiness and pain to his fingers, where it was interpreted for the masses. Lucia sang a happy tremolo for the memory of his mother, her pizzicato danced the carefree years of Sebastian’s youth, her brisk and fancy chords emulated Scarlet’s laughter, and her moans screamed out for the death of Sebastian’s mortal soul.
His cue from off-stage jarred Sebastian from the trance and alerted him to prepare for the switch. As his song slowed and the fans had begun to sway in time to its rhythm, Sebastian stepped to the metal stand where his electric guitar awaited his instruction. This was the tricky part of the show. Until his specially designed guitar was built—the double one with the acoustic on top and the electric on the bottom—he had to do it this way.
He began a rapid scale of bass notes that sounded like a drummer’s waking call. With his left hand he plucked out the beat on the acoustic and his right hand tapped out harmonics on the electric guitar, blending the two sounds in careful harmony and sending the fans into a cheering roar as he commanded both instruments.
As the electric won out to the acoustic, Lucia was removed by a stagehand and Sebastian slid fully into electric mode.
He continued to work the crowd into a frenzy as he displayed his intricate talent. His fingers raced along the narrow guitar neck, flying through the air and dive-bombing attempts to get his message across. The guitar obeyed its master’s commands, singing and screaming, crying, and finally rejoicing into the final number in which the backdrop danced with vibrant turquoise and magenta spotlights.
In a moment of elation, Sebastian stepped to the edge of the stage. He looked across the crowd, his mind connected to his fingers as he played, his eyes seeing the masses, the fans, the blind-followers of a man who would be a monster in their eyes if their hearts were not captive to his music.
The last song, To Dance With Immortality, finished in a flurry of tremolo scales, taking the audience once again back to the flamenco sound, but this time electrified.
A white rose was tossed on-stage. Where it had come from, Sebastian did not see. Without missing a note, he fell to his knees, bent over and plucked the stem up with his teeth, much to the approval of the roaring crowd.
He finished in grand flurry and held his guitar high as he received the adulation. Cheers and applause rained over him, maddening and frightful as Sebastian’s soul was jerked back to reality, and finally he could feel the recognition and acceptance from the blind worshippers.
Chapter Thirteen
Spain, 13th century
“It won’t be long.” Paquita gestured to the chamber maid to bring another wet cloth and then turned to press the one she held to her mistress’s forehead.
They had discovered Esmarelda earlier this morning, lying motionless upon the bed. At first Paquita had thought her dead from her pallor and stillness. But Esmarelda had whispered softly, setting the chatelaine’s heart back at pace. “Water,” she’d requested.
“The fiend,” Paquita sneered as she held the pewter tankard to Esmarelda’s lips. “You were fresh and gay yesterday eve. I thought it a miracle. And then he does this!”
Paquita set the tankard on the rushes and pressed the cloth over her mistress’s forehead.
Ah well, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected it. It was that all the others hadn’t lasted so long. Two and a half months! This girl had been so strong. She’d almost had everyone believing she would live forever. And now this.
“Watch the mistress.” Paquita rose and gathered the soiled towels into her arms. “I must alert Rogero and…the coffin maker. See to it she is kept as comfortable as possible.” She glanced back over Esmarelda’s body, so thin and pale and inches from death. “Such a waste, such a precious waste.”
***
Los Angeles, present
Esmarelda was near death. But she couldn’t be! Unless it really was Adriano who had been the father of Vince’s bloodline. No. Scarlet did not want to believe that. It had to be Esmarelda. There was goodness in Vince. It had been planted by Esmarelda. Hopefully.
Slipping away after Sebastian’s first set, Scarlet had called a cab. Compelled by unknown reason’s, Scarlet gave the driver Vince’s address. Since she’d been reading the diaries, her mind was being invaded by some…one. Someone who wanted her to now go to Vince.
Save him, the soundless voice beckoned. You are right. He is good.
It was Esmarelda who pleaded with her. Scarlet sensed it like she could sense the shimmer from of another of her kind.
She had called Vince from the pay phone after calling a cab.
“Come to me tonight, Scarlet,” he had whispered.
“I’ll be right there,” she said as if hypnotized by the magician’s voice.
Vince waited outside on the steps of Rico’s mansion. A misty rain dressed his body in delicate translucent jewels.
“I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d come.”
Taking in the vast facade of the white mansion, Scarlet murmured, “I wanted to.” I need to.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Sebastian tonight?”
She exhaled. “He’s at the benefit concert. He’d be pissed if he knew where I was but I’ll be back before he misses me. Besides, I need to be here.”
“Need to?”
“Don’t ask for explanations. You wouldn’t understand where my mind ha
s been lately. So what’s up with you? You look a little depressed.”
“Yeah.” Vince gestured his hands through the misted air. “It’s Gary. He told me to take a hike tonight. Doesn’t want me in the band anymore.”
“I can’t believe he would—”
Vince shook off his announcement with a sweeping wave of his hand. “No biggie. I could see this one coming for a long time. I just hope this doesn’t turn you against me now.” His eyes met hers and Scarlet swallowed to see the pleading innocence.
“God, things are such a mess lately.” She looked out across the lot. Moonlight shimmered across the black pebbles paving the driveway. “I’m so confused. I love Gary dearly. But I would never stop being your friend, Vince. “ She turned and walked to the white doric column that supported the porch.
What am I doing here? Sebastian would never forgive me. Is this you, Esmarelda? What do you want me to know?
Her decision to learn more about herself and the vampire condition had all been triggered by watching Vince kill. She had come here by means of an unforced coercion.
“After what happened the other night…” Flashes of Vince feeding on the woman in the alleyway pushed into Scarlet’s mind. “Watching you kill… You must understand Vince, there is this blood bond between Sebastian and I. We will always be one, no matter what happens, and should we part I feel we will always be together. In the blood, you know? I hate to hear the words come out of my mouth but…I am a vampire...and I was so tempted. Vince…”He tipped her chin up with his finger. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But I’m so confused. I know you’ve told me it is my nature, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s the values my family instilled in me all my life, they’re battling with my sense of right and wrong. Even though I’ve changed and I’m very different from the common mortals who must obey the rules of the land, I still feel very much a part of the mortal race. And that’s the whole problem. Why am I so normal? What’s missing, Vince? Can you tell me? Do you possess the answers?”
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