The following months were a joy for both men. The announcement that the long-lost heir to the St. Chesswell estate had been found and reunited with his father had brought much local interest and gossip, as Sidney had predicted.
The ladies of the area found Adrian to be fascinatingly handsome, but after the initial surprise and newness of his presence wore off, they returned to their pursuit of others more sociable and inclined to flirt.
Adrian had the looks, but his personality was unique. He knew he should play the game—tease and laugh at the small local gatherings he and his father attended. He was sought out often enough, and not only by eligible misses. Several older, more sophisticated women had done their best to cast out lures, but Adrian refused to respond, sending them on their way with a disappointed sigh.
There was that rumored disease, too. The mysterious ailment that made the poor man allergic to strong sunshine. Who could consider seriously pursuing someone not able to attend the myriad daily excursions and functions? His appearance was wickedly delightful, but his constitution rendered him pretty much ineligible.
He was one of those people who was a pleasure to look at, but who managed to hold the world away from him. He had effectively created a barrier through which none could reach him.
No one, that is, except his father.
The initial distrust that had permeated Adrian’s existence soon melted before Sidney’s obvious affection. And truthfully, there were times when Adrian admitted to himself he could have asked for no better father. He did not remember much about his own—in that very formalized style so typical of mid-European aristocracy, the man had left his children to their mother and a series of nannies, tutors and educators. He knew that to them he was certainly dead.
So exploring a father-son relationship with the delightfully open Sidney Chesswell brought a light into Adrian’s life that he would have deemed impossible while on the Continent.
It was, as Sir Sidney had said at the beginning, a case of give-and-take.
Adrian didn’t have to feed from him to recognize his loneliness. The act of taking his blood had cemented that fact, though, and interspersed it with visions of a petite and laughing woman. The woman who had apparently deserted Sidney—leaving behind her a man with a broken heart.
But his mind was sound as a bell, and Adrian spent many evening hours happily watching his new father as he pottered amongst his herbs, his potions and what Adrian considered to be delightfully foolish experiments.
The younger man could put no faith in them at all. But Sidney did. Several months after their new relationship had settled down, Sidney had politely requested blood from Adrian, and shortly thereafter had appeared one night with a glass vial in his hand and an excited smile on his face.
“Here, lad. Drink this.”
Adrian eyed it with suspicion. “I do not drink much, Father. Just wine and water occasionally. ‘Tis all I need.”
Sidney clicked his tongue. “I know that, Adrian. This is something different. Something that I hope will address your condition.”
Adrian’s eyebrow rose. “What’s in it?”
“Do you care?”
After due consideration, Adrian shook his head. “I suppose not.”
He accepted the glass vial and tossed off the greenish liquid inside. “Bleeeccchhhh—“ The taste was fouler than the stench of the foulest privy. “Dear God.” Adrian hacked and hissed and stuck out his tongue, desperate to rid himself of the appallingly awful taste. It was a rather shockingly horrible surprise, since the sense of taste had been dulled and diminished by Adrian’s condition. Now it seemed to have recovered. In full.
“It’s a special mixture of herbs that is designed to affect your blood.” Sidney nodded, ignoring Adrian’s distress. “Now we shall wait.”
“Well, this will either cure me or kill me, that’s for sure.” Adrian still grimaced, swallowing furiously. “I think I need wine now. Or water. Anything.”
Sidney sighed and poured him a small glass of wine from the decanter on the sideboard. “Here. What does the taste matter if it will assist you?”
Adrian thankfully sipped the wine and swirled it over his traumatized taste buds. “Father, I believe several of my senses have been enhanced somewhat by my experiences. I can smell the smallest odor, hear the slightest sound, my vision at night is faultless, but my taste? Well, I sensed your blood was sweet and wonderful, but this stuff…ugh.”
“Hmm.” Sidney crossed to his ever-present notes and scribbled something. “What about your otherworldly senses? Have you experienced anything that could be called mystical since your…er…conversion?”
Adrian chuckled. “I wasn’t exactly converted. More like conscripted.”
Sidney dismissed the comment. “Semantics.” He looked steadily at Adrian. “Do you have visions? Premonitions? Anything like that?”
Adrian took a breath. “I have…nightmares.”
“Ah.” Sidney waited patiently, as always, seeming to sense that there was more to come. He was beginning to know Adrian’s ways. Adrian couldn’t decide how comfortable he was with that yet.
“I see her. I see Thérèse.” He struggled. These were nightmares that would not be easily described. “She tantalizes me. Teases me to an uncomfortable degree. And denies me my ultimate fulfillment. It’s worse when I need to feed.” He turned away from Sidney. “She is lascivious, evil and sexually depraved. It’s as if she wants me to know what she’s doing. That she knows my hunger is great and uses that fact to cause me distress.” He swallowed. “I watch her as she feeds, I ache to climax and I cannot. Even though she does both. Feed and…” His voice tapered off.
“She comes, does she?” Sidney’s matter-of-fact tone helped Adrian over the embarrassment.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Sidney made more notes and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It sounds as though this feeding between the two of you established a mental link of sorts—a sexual bond.”
Adrian turned back. “Exactly. Yes—it’s as if she won’t let me go. She has to keep her eye on me all the time. To lure me further down the road of darkness. She uses her body, her sexuality, her incredible breasts—“
To his horror, Adrian felt himself hardening rapidly. “Father. I must—I cannot—“ His erection surprised him and his gaze dropped to the bulge between his legs. Usually he didn’t get this rigid until it was time to feed.
Sidney nodded. “’Tis probably a combination of my potion and your recollection, Adrian. I have things to do in my study. You will not be disturbed, but feel free to lock the door after me if it will make you feel more comfortable. And if there are any other effects to this dose, you will tell me please.”
He produced one more vial. “This is pig’s blood. Should you feel the need, it is not dissimilar in structure to human blood. Perhaps it will help.”
In a businesslike fashion, Sidney gathered his papers and left the room, totally ignoring the aroused and embarrassed Adrian.
*~*~*~*
There was no choice.
Adrian’s cock was achingly hard, his balls on fire and he needed to release his urges. Now.
He crossed the room and opened the window onto the darkness of the night, lit only by the soft gleam of moonlight on waves. This whole thing had caught him by surprise. He did not feel the urge to feed tonight—just to fuck. It had been longer than he could remember since those desires had been distinct and separated.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as he awkwardly fumbled with the fastenings of his breeches. Strangely, his fangs lay dormant, something else he was unused to when approaching this state of arousal.
Then he raised his eyelids and gasped. She was there, shimmering in front of him, a clear vision of creamy naked skin and fiery hair.
And she was not alone.
For once, Thérèse did not turn her head and look at him. Perhaps his intrusion was unexpected, or even undesired. She was stroking and caressing a body, naked and soft—a woman’s body.
The two
were entwined, breasts and nipples colliding in a colorful melding of strawberries and cream, and hands sliding softly around the luscious curves and valleys of their bodies.
They moaned, shifted and caressed again, Thérèse nipping softly at one budded peak while her hands slipped between the other woman’s thighs.
It was erotically stimulating—something Adrian certainly didn’t need in his current condition. Without conscious thought he grasped his cock, jumping a little at the sensation of his own cold hand instead of a hot woman.
There would be no woman at all for him this night, hot or otherwise. He could only stroke himself hard, and watch the two writhe before his mind’s eye in a waking dream. They kissed, a lingering passionate pressing of lips to lips, of hearts to hearts, and he watched their hands as they slid to each other’s buttocks and squeezed.
Kneading and stroking, they moaned once more and this time thighs parted, bodies moved in an age-old dance and the woman knelt between Thérèse’s legs. She dipped her head to the fiery curls and now Thérèse turned her head to see Adrian staring at the two of them.
For an instant of time, Adrian could have sworn she was surprised to meet his gaze. But then that sensual smile he knew so well crept over her lips and she opened her mouth wide to let the low light glimmer from her fangs. She also parted her thighs even wider, allowing him a clear view of her partner and what she was doing with her tongue.
Adrian burned.
His mouth watered to taste that pussy, to plunder the richly moist depths of that slick darkness. He could still taste her, still feel that cool wetness bathing his senses. He wanted his head to be the one nestled into Thérèse’s flesh. He wanted his lips to be the ones suckling her pussy, and his tongue to be the one plundering the swollen folds in search of that hard clit. To drive her up and beyond the limits of her own desires.
A gasp from Thérèse told him that it was happening, and for once Adrian could share. As Thérèse grabbed a handful of soft silken hair and buried her partner’s face savagely in her pussy, Adrian rapidly stroked himself, squeezing hard now, letting his breath out in short puffs of arousal.
Thérèse ripped the woman’s head away, pulling her body up over her own and twining their legs together so that their mounds touched. She thrust, pushing roughly, making her partner cry out with desire and need as their bodies abraded each other, climbing the last few steps to fulfillment.
Adrian’s balls clenched, his buttocks tightened and he knew the moment was upon him. He relished it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes on the naked women crying out their orgasm in his vision.
He was coming, his seed flowing from his balls through his engorged cock to fly freely into his hand. He was not feeding, had no desire to feed, and yet he was still coming. It was blissfully magnificent, an orgasm that shook him to his eyebrows and he cried out over the darkened ocean.
“Yesssss…”
He opened his eyes.
The image of Thérèse was fading, but not before he had one final glimpse of her. Blood stained her mouth as she fed on the limp body of the woman she’d just fucked.
Adrian shuddered and cleaned himself. He was still a vampire. Still the creature he abhorred. He had faith in his new father, and had just come without the need to feed, but…
He was still not human.
*~*~*~*
And so the pattern was set for Sir Sidney Chesswell and the young Mr. Chesswell, his newly-recovered son. Months became a year and more, and still Sidney labored on within his study, emerging with new potions, liquids and foul mixtures with which to torture Adrian.
Or so he said, teasingly, one evening. “I swear, Father. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were definitely trying to poison me.” He held a glass to the candle. “This has a lethal herb in it, doesn’t it? It must. It tastes…deadly.” He grinned.
Sidney grinned back tiredly. “Yes. Drink it and die, damn you.”
Adrian chuckled. “Long day?”
“Not really.” Sidney ran a hand through the thick grey hair, tousling it into disarray. “I truly think I’m close, Adrian. Your feedings are down to minimum now, and you’re existing on pig’s blood, not human blood. You are beginning to take in a little solid nourishment, and more liquids. This is marked progress, you’ll agree?”
Adrian sighed. “It is, Father. It is and I am more grateful than I can say.”
“But?” Sidney raised an eyebrow.
“But.” Adrian rose and paced the floor. “My heart does not beat as yours does. My flesh is cool to the touch. My fangs have not disappeared, though I use them so seldom. I still cannot tolerate the light of the sun, and I confess that my one time with a woman was—difficult.”
Sidney nodded. He knew that Adrian had taken his release with a local whore. In fact, he’d encouraged it, giving Adrian a special bottle of wine with a small dose of tranquilizing herbs in it. Just in case.
It hadn’t been needed. Adrian had kept himself under control, no small accomplishment. But it had been frustrating for him, Sidney knew. Adrian had no sooner arrived home than he’d thrown himself onto the bare back of his favorite horse and ridden away the remaining hours of darkness.
“We shall continue, Adrian. We shall succeed.” He nodded his head assertively. “I shall accept no less.”
“Father…” Adrian sounded unusually hesitant. “Are there not other tasks that you should be doing? Isn’t this project taking up too much of your time?”
Sidney watched him affectionately, understanding what he wasn’t saying. “I won’t give up on you, Adrian. You have become too important to me.”
Adrian’s quick smile was reward enough. “Thank you.”
“And besides, you take care of much of the Chesswell business now, and that was truly a chore I deplored. We progress nicely together, do we not?”
“We do. We do indeed.”
And later that same night, as Adrian strolled along the shoreline and breathed in the soft early summer scents of grass and ocean, he recalled his father’s words.
They did go along “nicely” together. Adrian might have been cursed in Europe but he’d been blessed in England. Perhaps the Almighty had designed it to be that way—one evil being offset by one act of kindness.
He resolved to be the best son Sidney could ever hope for. It never crossed his mind that this act of kindness might merit a reward all its own.
Chapter Five
“Hell and devil confound it—“
The woman with a death grip on the reins of the small carriage swore fluidly as her maid grasped at the strings of her bonnet and hung on for dear life. Spooked by a shrieking owl in full pursuit of a fox right across the lane in front of them, the horses had panicked and there was nothing she could do to pull them up.
“Mrs. Byerly—“ It was a scream of terror and preceded a rather nasty turn in the country road that the darkness had concealed. The frightened cry only made things worse, spurring the poor beasts into a galloping frenzy.
Katherine battled the runaway pair, rising to her feet and bracing herself as the small vehicle swung wildly. The brake would have been useless even had she been able to reach the handle. The road sloped—their momentum was accelerating—there could only be one outcome.
They weren’t going to make it.
“Jessie—jump. Jump now.” Katherine kept the carriage steady as best she could but there was no way she could see if her maid had followed her instructions. She felt the offside wheels leave the rutted surface and she swayed precariously, trying to give Jessie a few more seconds to find a soft spot to land.
Then she jumped, a moment of free falling terror that seemed to last an eternity. The ground rose up to meet her, hard and unforgiving.
And blackness descended upon the mind and body of Mrs. Katherine Byerly. Before she succumbed, a flash of insight crossed her mind. This was retribution for her appallingly awful actions.
She should never have run away.
*~*~*~*
&n
bsp; “Sir Sidney,do come, sir. It’s right dreadful is what it is…“
Sidney’s housekeeper shouted at him through his half open study door, jerking him out of his snooze. The sun had not yet risen, but as was his habit these days, he’d dozed off over some book or other.
Usually he’d head off to his bed at this time, sleeping away some of the daylight hours like his son. But apparently that was not going to occur today. Something—in the words of Mrs. Tooting—right dreadful had happened.
He followed her from the house into the curved gravel driveway that graced his own front door.
There he found a scene of chaos, with several voices raised at once. They seemed to be clustered around an open wagon, which held what could well be a corpse. “If you’d all be quiet for a moment…”
Silence fell. Sidney recognized his stable boy. “Tommy, tell me what is going on?”
The lad respectfully touched his forelock. “I was comin’ back from me Mam’s, Sir. Went over yestereve’ and stayed the night with ‘er, since she’s a bit poorly-like.”
That earned him an approving look from Mrs. Tooting, and he blushed. “So as I was a’comin’ down the road yon, the one that curves over the down near the Chyne, I heard horses whinnying and crying something awful.”
Another man stepped forward. “I was headin’ out for me fields, Sir Sidney.”
Sidney recognized a local farmer and nodded. “Go on.”
“I heard ‘em too, and when we got there, well…” He looked down. “’T’were just terrible.”
Sidney looked at the wagon. “An accident?”
Both men nodded and the small crowd moved aside so that Sidney could near the body. Or bodies. It seemed there were two unmoving bundles in the shadows of the cart.
“We didn’t know what else to do wi’ her, Sir.” Tommy chewed his lip. “T’other one was gone, she was. Neck snapped clean as a whistle.”
Sidney sighed. One of the women lying wrapped in some loose thing was alive, that was for sure, since her pulse throbbed beneath his questing fingers. But she was injured too. How extensively remained to be seen.
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