Darkness In The Flames

by Kelly, Sahara

  Her hips were shaking, her legs parted wide and he could feel the ripples of her orgasm as they began.

  Keeping the whip buried in her arse, Nick positioned his cock between her thighs, blessing her height and his strength.

  He thrust.

  The force of his movement lifted her clean off her feet and buried his cock deeply within her.

  “Yes, oh yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard…”

  Verity’s legs clamped around him, writhing to get him even deeper as he plunged and thrust only to ease back then thrust again.

  “Beg me,” choked Nick. “Beg me.”

  “Niiiiiiick…I beg of you…pleeeease…”

  Her fangs were out, driven by her arousal and her onrushing orgasm. Nick’s fangs were free too, aching for the taste of her.

  “Yesssss…” He hammered into her and let his cock penetrate as far into her as possible while he braced her between his body and the wall. The handle of the whip was still buried inside her arse, clenched by muscles that were already beginning to spasm.

  “Now Verity.” He roared the command as he bit her, hard and deep in the throbbing vein of her neck.

  She lashed her head at him simultaneously, finding his shoulder and sinking her fangs sharply into his flesh.

  Verity’s body shook with the force of her climax, muscles rushing to spasm around every part of his body she touched. She devoured him—drinking his blood as her inner ripples sucked the come from his balls, clamping him tight with thighs that had turned to bands of iron as her orgasm hit.

  He devoured her in his turn, sucking on her rich and sweet life fluid with all the hunger of a babe at its mother’s breast. His cock thudded savagely inside her, spewing jets of seed in a flood of desire. His body shook too, shudders of release rippling from his heels to his eyebrows and back again, centering on his balls and his cock as he filled her over and over again.

  Finally, when he knew he could take no more, had no more to give, they parted. Fangs withdrew, loving licks healing their passage.

  Loath to part from her, Nick kept his cock tucked between her thighs as he rested his forehead to hers. “Ahhhhh, Verity…”

  “Mmmm.” She lingered, soft now, putty in his embrace.

  He took her weight fully, easing the tension in her arms as he freed her from her bindings and let the whip drop from her body. “That was incredible.”

  “Yes. I know.” She opened her eyes and stared at him, reaching for him and cupping his face with her palms. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “For what?”

  “For making my dream come true. This…” She glanced at the whip and where their bodies were still joined. “This was always a desire of mine. A dark and secret desire I could share with no one. Until you.”

  “I want to share your desires. No matter how dark or how forbidden. I always will.” He finally eased them free of each other with a regretful sigh, rubbing himself over her softened nipples as they moved independently once more.

  Verity’s gaze met his. “Just as I shall share yours, Nick. Whatever they may be, I want to share them.” She reached for their water vessel and dampened a cloth, cleansing herself without a thought to modesty.

  It was a trait that had charmed Nick immediately. She was aware of him on all the levels that mattered—setting aside those that did not.

  “You don’t need to share anything. You are my desires made flesh. Or sort of flesh.” He chuckled. “And I doubt I shall ever tire of playing with my fantasy woman.”

  “I’m glad.” She tossed the cloth aside and lay down on their makeshift bed. “Could we talk, do you think? I have questions, Nick.”

  “Of course.” He joined her, drawing her close. “What questions?”

  She was unusually silent for a moment or two, as if choosing her words with care. Then she spoke. “About Thérèse.”

  Nick’s senses immediately went on the alert. “What about her?”

  “Well, I know she—she made you what you are. So she must, logically, have a great deal of power, since you said she’d probably made others.”

  “I did?” He thought about it. “I may have. I’m sure I wasn’t her only victim, ‘tis true.”

  “And there have been brief moments—times when we are making love—that I’ve felt…something.”

  Nick chilled. “Have you seen her, Verity?”

  “No.” The answer was immediate. “No, I’ve not seen her. But you have. Should I expect to?”

  This was a question Nick could not answer with any degree of certainty. A question he should have guessed his bright mate might pose.

  “I don’t know. She does seem to appear when the physical emotions are at their highest. She knows, Verity. Knows when I’m in the throes of passion. It’s as if—as if my desire calls her, summons her to watch. Sometimes she summons me when she’s in the same state.”

  “Does she know about me?”

  Nick thought back to the moment he’d last seen Thérèse. There was no point in lying to Verity. It was too important. “Yes. She knows.”

  Silence greeted his statement.

  “Verity, make no mistake…this creature is evil through and through. She seems to exist, to thrive on sex. But the sex she craves is dissolute, depraved—satisfying to her but not necessarily to those she chooses to play with.”

  “Like Isolde.”

  Nick shrugged. “Yes. I suppose so. If Isolde had been what we are and had generations to practice her wanton ways, then yes. She and Thérèse would be much alike.”

  “Strange.” Verity sounded thoughtful.

  “What is?”

  “How the need to love can manifest itself.”

  “Love?” Nick snorted. “Love has nothing to do with Thérèse.”

  “Are you sure?” Verity snuggled close. “All creatures need to be loved, Nick. Babies need to be held or they wither away. We all need the closeness that comes from loving and being loved, however we choose to express that need.”

  Nick raised one eyebrow. “If you are going to try and convince me Thérèse is just suffering from a lonely childhood and a need for kisses, you’re fair and far out, my darling.”

  “No, of course not.” Verity chuckled into his neck. “She’s evil, yes, without question. Even though I haven’t seen her, I can tell. But…” She paused. “I do wonder what made her that way. Somebody must have turned her into a vampire, don’t you think? Vampires aren’t born, they’re made.”

  Nick turned this over in his mind for a while, realizing that Verity was essentially correct. Thérèse had to have been turned into a vampire. Had she been wicked before? When and who had made her a creature of darkness? How long ago?

  “She has a sexual link too. I wonder if she appears to her other prey at the same time?” Verity continued her train of thought, analyzing, questioning—it was something Nick was learning to appreciate more and more.

  They thought alike. They quantized arguments, discarded improbabilities, arrived at solutions—truly he could not have loved a more fitting woman. In so many more ways than the physical.

  “Oh well. It will be dawn soon, I think.” She yawned. “These are questions we should keep in mind, Nick. If I am to meet her at some point, I would like to have a chance to find answers to them.”

  The mere idea of Verity sitting down and having a nice chat with Thérèse made Nick want to laugh even as he wanted to hide Verity in the deepest cave he could find, far away from the vicious demon’s reach.

  “I don’t doubt that if there’s a way, you will find it, love.” He kissed her nose. “But I will also tell you I’ll be a damn sight happier if she never ever comes near you.”

  A sleepy chuckle answered him. “Me too. But with the kind of loving we share and the delightfully decadent things I have planned… It’s probably going to happen whether you want it or not.” She sighed. “I will be ready. And you’ll be with me. Together…we’re invincible.”

  Nick wasn’t so sure, but simply held Verity as her body sli
d into rest.

  His would soon follow, but Verity’s words nagged at him. He cast his mind back to that last “visitation” from Thérèse. Instead of following the usual pattern—she would watch him, orgasm, toy with his mind a little then leave, only to return in agonizing dreams—this had been different.

  She had not returned. Had not revealed herself to Verity either. Something had changed. Was it Thérèse?

  Could it be the blood that had splattered across her spirit? Verity’s blood? Why had she vanished with that strange expression of shock on her face?

  So many damn questions and so few answers.

  The next night they would rest in an inn if they could find a suitable one and the following night reach their destination if all went according to plan.

  Perhaps when they did, when they finally visited this St. Chesswell’s place, Nick would find some of the answers he sought.

  The sense that they were on the right path was growing stronger with every mile, something he’d not mentioned to Verity since he had no clue how to explain it. He’d never been very good at describing instincts or certainties in his gut, but this time—the feeling was nearly solid within him.

  Something wanted him at St. Chesswell’s.

  In two days he’d find out what that something was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The inn was small, tucked away on the outskirts of a small village not far from the coast and the sun had set a couple of hours before they arrived.

  Verity could almost smell the salt tang of the air, but in spite of sensing Nick’s eagerness to reach their destination, she agreed to a respite from their journey.

  “My wife and I need a room. As dark as possible since we intend to sleep the day away. We are weary.”

  The landlord glanced at the two of them. What a picture they must present. Verity nearly giggled. Travel stained, clad in clothes that had seen better days, both showed the effects of a long journey, that was certain.

  The gown Verity wore—her only dress—was muddied and dusty, in spite of her efforts to brush it down. She yearned for soap and hot water, knew her hair was worse than ratty and did her best to look the part of a demure and exhausted wife.

  “We are most appreciative, sir.” She gave the landlord her most appealingly pathetic smile. “‘Tis not often my husband and I travel so far so quickly. We had barely the chance to pack a few things. A room and perhaps a bath would be most welcome indeed.”

  “Ed? What’s the delay with those glasses?” A stout woman bustled to the door and the landlord rolled his eyes.

  “These two. Want a room for a bath and a long sleep it seems.”

  The sharp eyes of the woman took in Nick and Verity with a single glance, then she smiled. “Well, give them one, you dullock.” She wrenched the door from his hand and motioned for them to enter.

  “Husbands. Only good for one thing.” She bustled down the passageway. “You two look weary nigh to the bone. Come you right in. I’ll put you in the back. ‘Tis quiet, though this whole place might well be described as such.”

  “You are very kind.” Verity smiled back and followed her, knowing Nick would let her take the lead. Sometimes it helped to offer the feminine touch to matters such as this.

  “Here. This should suit.” At the top of the ancient stairs, the landlady opened a door. “And I’ll have young Tom bring up some hot water for you. You’ll have to make do with one tub though. He’s needed for other chores as well.”

  “Anything you have will be a treat. Thank you.” Verity sighed, unconsciously adding to their pretense of weary travelers.

  The landlady looked at Nick. “You can settle with Ed when you leave. Staying long?”

  “Just the night. We’re traveling to St. Chesswell’s to…to…visit friends there. Perhaps you’ve heard of the place?”

  The woman fluffed up the quilt and patted the pillows into place on the bed. “Not many round here hasn’t heard of St. Chesswell’s. Odd place, that. But Sir Sidney—he’s well liked down there, I understand. Got himself reunited with his long lost son a while ago, so ‘tis said.” She nodded in satisfaction. “Good thing, family.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Verity put her small reticule on the cracked dresser.

  “I’ll send Tom up rightaways with the tub if that suits you.”

  “Absolutely. I shall sleep better after tidying myself.” Verity caught a glimpse of herself in the stained glass that teetered precariously on a small table. “My goodness. I am truly a wreck.”

  With a motherly pat to the shoulder the landlady headed for the door. “Nothing a bath won’t fix, dear. And I doubt your man there cares a whole lot. He’s got love in them black eyes of his if I’ve ever seen it.”

  Nick grinned and charmed her by lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it courteously. “A woman of enormous perspicacity.”

  “Mebbe. Whatever them fancy words mean.” Blushing, she headed to the hall. “You want something to eat, come down to the pub and Ed’ll fix you up.”

  The door closed behind her.

  “Nick. You shameless flirt.” Verity giggled and pulled at her hair. “Mind you, after catching a look at myself, I’m not surprised your eyes have turned elsewhere.”

  “As if they ever could.” Nick moved behind her and helped her untangle the strands of her makeshift coiffeur.

  She leaned against him for a moment, comforted by his presence. A simple exercise in one man, one woman, sharing a time and space that was just for them.

  She pulled away at the sound of a knock. “That’ll be Tom, I suppose.”

  Indeed it was. “Here’s yer water then, ma’am. Sir.” Tom nodded. “You’ll be wanting the tub set up.” He put the water down and moved to a wall where doors indicated hidden cupboards. “I’ll light the fire too. ‘Tis chilly now with the days drawing in.”

  “I’ll do it, lad. Just set up the bath.” Nick moved to strike a taper and touch it to the kindling in the fireplace.

  Tom dragged a large copper container from the cupboard. Something, which, in Verity’s opinion, might possibly hold a child under the age of eight. Oh well. ‘Twould suffice.

  “Missus thought ye might like this a’fore she puts it in outhouse.” He pulled a crumpled and folded newspaper from one grubby pocket. “‘Tis old, mind ye. But summat to read for yer.”

  “How kind of her. Will you thank her for me?” Verity gave Tom a broad smile that got even broader as he tripped over his feet.

  “Er—yes—yes I will. Thank ye, ma’am.” He touched his forelock and backed out of the room.

  “Here, Tom. Thanks.” A coin passed from Nick’s hand to Tom’s.

  “Oh. Well—er, thank you, sir.” Blushing, Tom fled.

  Verity chuckled. “Just a fountain of charm this evening, aren’t we? Sir?”

  Nick grinned. “One does what one must.” He lifted the buckets and poured the hot water into the tub. “Your bath awaits, my lady.” He looked at it. “Such as it is.”

  “Anything will be good at this moment…” Verity paused as her gaze fell on the front page of the newspaper. A name had jumped out at her and she eased down on the bed, unfolding the sheets and straightening them out so that she could read further.

  “Nick?”

  He looked at her. “Yes?”

  “Nick, there’s an article here. About FitzAdams.”

  “Really?”

  Verity nodded. “On the front page too.” She quickly skimmed the paragraphs. “Good God.”

  “What?”

  “This is from…let’s see…” She glanced at the top of the page. “A week or so ago, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve lost track of the days…”

  “And?”

  “Well, it says here that Gawain has had a seizure. And…” She read on. “And several members of the household have been stricken by a mystery ailment. Oh Lord, Nick.” She looked up. “Gawain is not expected to recover and Isolde…”

  “What about her?” Nick’s voice was quite calm.

&n
bsp; Verity’s voice was jumping all over the place as she finished the piece. “Isolde is apparently paralyzed.”

  “Well, well. A just retribution, I’d say.” Nick waved at the tub. “The water’s getting cold. Since you get to use it first, would you mind doing so before it turns to ice?” He grinned.

  Absently, Verity shed her clothes, her mind still reeling from the revelations in the newspaper. Gingerly she stepped into the tub and wriggled down as far as she could. Nick’s joke notwithstanding the water was still quite hot and she sighed with delight as she washed herself.

  “What do you think could have happened?” The hair was dunked satisfactorily and the miniscule piece of soap used with great enthusiasm.

  “I couldn’t begin to imagine.”

  Verity paused. Nick was entirely too nonchalant in his responses. “Nick?”

  “Would you like a towel? I’ve put them by the fire to warm.”

  “Nick?”

  “Yes dear?”

  “What did you do?”

  “Me?” Nick’s face was all outraged innocence as he held the towel up for Verity to wrap herself in. “What makes you think I did anything?”

  She wasn’t fooled for a moment. “Because I know you. Because over these past days I have learned a lot about you. I’m still learning. But I do know that look.”

  He stripped and stepped into the tub, taking his time and busying himself with the task. “What look is that?”

  “That look. The one that says even though I’ve got the apple hidden behind me in my hand and there’s a mouthful of it on my tongue I absolutely did not touch it.”

  “Oh. That look.”

  “Yes.” She slid between the covers and pulled the quilt around her shoulders as she rubbed her hair dry with the towel. “Tell me, Nick. I want to know. Please. You fetched my clothes. You must have been there at some point.”

  He glanced up at her, a flash of anger crossing his face. “They hurt you, Verity. They intended it to be fatal. Such a deed could not go unpunished. You know that.”

  She stared at him. His honor—his sense of commitment—he was right. Such a deed would not pass unnoticed by a man of his character. “So tell me what happened.”