"Please," she whimpered. "Please take me now."
He lifted his head and smiled lightly, teasingly. "Ah, you want me inside you?"
"You know I do." Her body throbbed for him, a need so great she thought she'd burst. Ah, please don't make me wait any longer.
He raised himself up and across her, then pressed inside her slowly, taunting her to madness. He whispered in her ear, "Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes, yes!"
"You like to have me inside you, don't you?" He nuzzled her neck.
"Yes!" She could barely speak and had to bite her lip to keep from reaching a climax too soon. This beautiful feeling was building within her, a liquid fire creeping over her, an overwhelming need for fulfillment.
"Am I big enough for you?"
"Ah, yes!"
He eased back and forth inside her. "And you like this, don't you?"
"Please!" She was going out of her mind from wanting him.
Another thrust. "Does this feel good?"
"Please, love, don't do this to me."
He stopped, giving her a long, lazy look. "You don't want me making love to you?"
"You know I do." She couldn't hold back much longer.
He moved inside her with deliberate slowness, as if to torment her. She moved against him, faster, faster, unable to wait any longer. He matched her movements, his breathing heavy as they both reached a crest of pleasure. Climbing higher, higher, reaching the top, she gasped and moaned as pure rapture erupted inside her, Gaderian's and hers, together. Countless moments later, she sighed with an ecstasy she never wanted to end. [nice]
* * *
The following evening, Gaderian dressed to ride into Moytura. "I've forced a meeting at Orrick's apartment," he explained after their lovemaking. "As usual, Orrick wanted to go his own way and ignore the rest of the undead." He sat on the bench and pulled on his boots. "Well, the days of ignoring the rest of us are over. We need a strong leader, such as I." He grinned with mock humility.
Naked, Fianna reached down to pull the bedspread over her and wondered if her husband would ever get used to a mortal's sense of hot and cold. The temperature obviously remained the same for him, no matter the season. "But if you–we–have defeated the bandregas . . .?"
"More problems may arise . . . do arise. Every now and then we may have a maverick vampire who doesn't follow the rules, who kills a mortal. Not often, mind you, but even once is one time too many." He stood to buckle on his belt, then raked his fingers through his hair. "Only a few moonphases ago, I had to reprimand such a one, a task Orrick should have performed, but didn't. We must not, can not, have such problems, for therein lies trouble for all of us. I told you about my audience with Queen Keriam and Prince Roric. Several of the undead still languish in the magistrate's dungeon, hostages until the queen is certain of our innocence. So the last thing we need is a new charge of guilt."
Gaderian sat on the bed to kiss her, his hand roaming down her body, his fingers tracing every curve. He felt himself hardening, ready to make love again. "Doubtless it will be quite late when I return and seek my own slumber in the cellar." He sighed deeply. "Ah, I will wait for better things tomorrow night."
Dampening his passion, he rose from the bed and blew her a kiss before he opened the door. He walked down the long flagstone hallway, then on down the winding stairs. Outside, a fierce wind howled, the bare trees thrashing. Heading along the graveled path to the stable, he found the stable boy dozing on a bundle of hay. The boy jumped from his perch as soon as Gaderian entered. It seemed as if Brendan had a sixth sense that awakened him whenever Gaderian entered the stable.
Brendan saddled and bridled the horse, holding the reins while Gaderian placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted Bryce. "I may be quite late returning," he said. "Don't wait up for me."
Brendan nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Trotting the horse, Gaderian headed north to the capital, as always aware that he didn't need a horse for traveling. But Bryce needed the exercise and he needed a chance to think, to plan his strategy for the meeting. As he increased his speed, he scarcely noticed the trees or landscape as he followed the twisting dirt road to Moytura, for he knew Orrick would not willingly surrender his position as head of the vampires.
Inside Orrick's splendid apartment a short while later, Gaderian greeted the other fourteen representatives, knowing them all by name and wondering how many would back him in his attempt to oust the leader. Ensconced in chairs arranged around the room, some were dressed finely and others in plain garb, their faces revealing nothing of their thoughts or feelings as they chatted among themselves. He wondered if the realized the purpose of the meeting.
Gaderian found an empty chair and nodded at Orrick, who sat in a velvet-backed chair, a look of pained inquiry on his face. He knows what I have planned, Gaderian thought, but what will he do about it?
Orrick clapped his hands and the chatter stopped. His expression darkened as he looked Gaderian's way. "Perhaps you will explain the reason for calling this meeting."
"Ah, yes," Gaderian replied, gathering his wits for the ordeal ahead. "In the first place, those of us who represent all of the undead in Avador are supposed to meet at the beginning of every moonphase. Or had you forgotten?" he asked sarcastically. Before Orrick could react, he went on, getting right to the main point, with no hesitation. "Secondly, I believe it is time you stepped down as our leader–"
Gasps and whistles met this pronouncement, which led Gaderian to wonder if surprise alone met this statement, or if he would have no supporters in his endeavor to supplant Orrick.
Orrick's eyes bulged. "What is the meaning of this insolence," he spat. "Who do you think you are to defy me?"
Gaderian crossed one leg over the other. "I am the one who discovered the secret of the bandregas. Correction! Moreen discovered their secret, but at my instigation. The bandregas are no longer threatening us, nor are they killing the mortals. They are all dead, or were you not aware of this?" he said in Orrick's direction. "And how did they die? We poisoned their sacred well. And that is no secret. Moreen explained what happened at the gathering last moonphase."
Orrick snickered. "Ah, yes, I remember. A mortal woman poisoned the well. What was the matter? Were you too afraid to do it your–?"
"I was too sick!" Gaderian struggled for calmness. "Bitten by a bandrega when I was weak and hungry. Sick for days afterward." He softened his voice. "Believe me, I would have ridden to Magh Eamhainn and poisoned the well had I not been too weak to stand." A stab of resentment erupted inside him. "Moreen told you this."
A heavy silence followed, all eyes shifting from Gaderian to Orrick.
One of the undead whom Gaderian recognized as Killian cleared his throat. Tall and thin, he'd been a vampire for centuries, one Gaderian knew as a friend. "Gaderian has given us some very good arguments in his favor." He looked at the others, his gaze flitting from one representative to another, then back to Orrick. "All these years that we have suffered at the hands of the bandregas, when we were blamed for the killing of the mortals–Orrick, what did you do about it?"
"How was I to know about their Goddess-damned sacred well or magic rings?" the leader sputtered. "The mortals weren't even aware they still existed. The way they made themselves look human had been a secret for years."
"A secret that Gaderian and Moreen uncovered." Nola fixed the leader with a penetrating gaze, her black hair gleaming by the lamplight. "The problem cried out for leadership, yet you did nothing." Others nodded in agreement, voices chiming in with their opinions, chatter that filled the room.
Orrick exploded. "Goddess-damn all of you! After all that I have done–"
"That's just it," Kearnan said. Only a hundred years old, still he'd shown intelligence and maturity in the time Gaderian had known him. "What have you done?" His gaze searched the others. "As a matter of fact, I don't know why we put up with this situation for so long."
"Why don't we vote on it?" Ronan, another old
vampire, asked.
"Never mind a vote!" Orrick's face was beet red. He waved a beefy hand. "Just get out, all of you! Let Wade take over as leader of the undead, if that is what everyone wants, all of you ungrateful nightwalkers. Just get out! I don't want to see you again!"
Without a word, the vampires rose from their chairs and filed out of the room, Gaderian leaving last. Once outside, they all began talking, congratulating him, making plans for the meeting the next moonphase. Immersed in mixed emotions, Gaderian smiled and made the correct rejoinders. He should be happy that he had replaced Orrick as leader, but his intuition told him he hadn't heard the last from the former leader.
He feared he had made an enemy for life.
* * *
Refusing to relinquish his search for Fianna, Angus brooded in the Snow Leopard. He knew Gaderian Wade frequented this tavern–or used to–this very place where Fianna had once been employed as a scryer. He scoffed to himself. Fianna–a fortune teller!
Men and women filled almost every table in the dining room, and voices swelled within the room, the usual laughter and chatter, sounds he was heartily sick of. After all this time, he'd learned nothing about Fianna or Wade, for the patrons remained tight-lipped, recognizing him as an outsider and protecting their own, for apparently they held Fianna in much esteem. Obviously, the bitch had moved in with Wade, but had she married him? He fingered the sheathed dagger at his waist. Goddess-damn her. If she had married him . . .
Angus's head snapped up as a newcomer stepped inside, a customer he hadn't seen here before. Tall and beefy, the man took a table by himself, the only empty one left. A tangle of brown bushy hair augmented his fat head and fell to his shoulders. The stranger raised his thick fingers to get the waitress's attention, then settled back in his chair to look around, a scowl fixed on his wrinkled face. Clad in a black woolen tunic and trousers, he unpinned the plaid cloak around his shoulders and tossed it over an empty chair. When the waitress returned with his drink, he raised the mug to his mouth and downed the drink with one gulp.
Angus's gaze met that of the stranger, then Angus looked away, willing to bide his time. He had no idea what troubled the stranger, and he didn't care, but he'd found throughout the years that people with anger in their gut–whatever the reason–could easily be persuaded to talk, if given an incentive. Angus had several gold pieces in his tunic pocket and more at this room at the inn. Maybe this man knew Gaderian Wade and maybe he didn't. But it might be worth his while to find out.
* * *
"Must go into Moytura this evening." Gaderian held Fianna's chair as they both rose from the dining room table, she finished with her evening meal and he with a glass of red wine.
"Again?" Disappointment grabbed Fianna. She never wanted him out of her sight, never tired of his lovemaking. She knew her attitude was selfish, but she loved him beyond reason. Afraid she sounded snappish, she smiled and placed a hand on his chest. "You know I'll miss you."
He kissed the top of her head. "It is the same with me. I wouldn't make this journey were it not absolutely necessary. But there is one of the undead who recently crossed over, and he's having difficulty adjusting to his new life." A trace of reflection touched Gaderian's face. "It is that way with many of us, I believe." He embraced her and kissed her on the mouth. "Don't know when I'll be back. It may be quite late, but then again, I may accomplish this mission sooner than expected. Remember, stay in the house while I'm gone. Tomorrow we can go for a long ride before the evening meal. You enjoy that, don't you? And after the evening meal, well, that's something else you enjoy."
She pretended embarrassment by pressing her head against his shoulder, yet even now, her body ached for him.
After he left, she headed for the library, there to finish a book she'd recently started. Since she had remarked to Gaderian how little light two oil lamps emitted, he'd instructed one of the maids to place two more lamps in the room, all of them using paraffin oil. If she sat close to the fireplace with its roaring fire, she'd have plenty of heat and light. Inside the spacious room, she drew her shawl closer about her shoulders and settled into a comfortable chair next to the fireplace, her book lying on a table beside her. Outside, crickets sang their nightly song, a melody she missed from home.
She picked up the book and found her place, then began reading a beautiful love story titled The Love of Geal about a woman of the fairie world who liked to play tricks on mortals.
But bitter irony! She fell in love with a mortal man, only to find he was playing tricks on her. An old book, the pages crackled as she turned them, the parchment yellowed with age, the binding loose. Almost to the end of the story, Fianna turned the pages carefully but quickly, hoping the romance would have a happy ending.
As enticing as the story was, her thoughts drifted back to Gaderian's question about crossing over. To be a vampire–what would that be like? To live forever, to share eternity with Gaderian. But her mother and brother, she lamented–she would never see them again. After a few moments of silent thought, she returned to her book, telling herself it was a moot question.
Time passed, and she glanced at the hourglass on the table, wondering when Gaderian would arrive home. She sighed, missing him so much. She gazed around the room at all the books, volumes Gaderian must have collected for years, stacks that filled the floor-to-ceiling shelves, many of the books with gold binding and some she had glanced through had colorful illustrations.
Outside the closed library window, she heard kittens meowing. Only a few days ago, a servant had discovered one of the stray cats of the neighborhood had given birth to a litter of kittens, within the protection of a spreading earthberry bush, right below the window. As the meowing became louder, Fianna set her book down, unable to concentrate, worried that one of the kittens might be in trouble. The sound continued, and she sprang from her chair and rushed to the window to look outside. She saw nothing but darkness, the trees thrashing in the wind. The servants had long since sought their own sleeping quarters, so she had no one to call for help.
Don't go outside. Gaderian's warning reverberated inside her head, but she could no longer ignore the kittens' plight, for the constant loud meowing told her that whatever the problem was, it involved more than just one kitten. Perhaps one of the kittens was injured, she agonized, and all of them howled in sympathy. She set her book down and rushed down the hallway, her heart beating frantically with every step. She turned the key at the front door and went outside, then dashed down the steps. Shivering in the chill air, she rushed to the side of the mansion, where the sound came from.
A loud screech from an oak tree drew her attention in that direction, even while the meowing persisted from the bush. Poor little thing, the kitten must have wandered away from its mother and climbed up the tree. Now it couldn't get back down. She thought she saw a movement near another oak, but assumed it was only the wind brushing against the tree. She hesitated for only a moment, and then with purposeful strides, she hurried across the spacious lawn and looked up into the oak tree. Her eyes, now accustomed to the dark, saw that, sure enough, the kitten was stuck in one of the upper branches of the tree, its meowing enough to wake the dead. She wondered why the mother cat hadn't ventured out from the earthberry bush to check on her offspring.
Fianna placed her foot on one of the lower branches and began to climb. "I'll get you down, sweetheart." She climbed higher and reached for the kitten, its claws scratching against her skin. "Poor little thing, you're frightened, aren't you? But I won't hurt you," she murmured as she clutched the bundle of fur to her chest and moved cautiously back down, branch by branch. Back on the ground, she carried the kitten to the bush, to hide it among its mother and siblings.
Now, that wasn't so difficult, after all. Her teeth chattering in the night chill, Fianna headed for the mansion–
"Ah, I have you now!"
That harsh voice, she'd know it anywhere. No! Angus! Her heart pounded, her skin ice cold. No, no! She turned to flee, but he gripped her
arm. Pain ripped through her as his hand tightened on her arm, as if to crush her bones.
"No use calling your lover. I saw him ride off a while ago." He laughed, a harsh sound. "Ever since I found out where your lover lived, I've watched the house, night after night, waiting to find you by yourself. And wasn't it clever how I lured you outside, putting that damned piece of vermin in the tree! Now you're coming with me, and to hell with your lover!"
"My husband!" she cried. "Gaderian and I are married now." Angus had to let her go now; why capture her when she was married to another man?
"Why, you bitch! You're coming back to Ros Creda, no matter what. Who there will know you're married to another man? No one, my dear. I intend to make you my wife."
"I'll tell them! They'll believe me! And why do you want me as your wife, when you know I love another? When you know I can't bear your touch?" Fianna's pulse raced. She prayed harder than she'd ever prayed in her life. Gaderian, please come back to me.
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