Darkness In The Flames

by Kelly, Sahara

  “And that was…” Rowan eagerly encouraged Marcus to continue.

  “A red-haired woman.” He sighed. “Twould seem that it all begins and ends with her.”

  There was silence for a few moments as Marcus waited for Rowan to digest his words, body taut with some kind of emotion, some energy that almost shone from him. Had Marcus tapped into a strange and isolated place within this man? He considered it possible.

  Rowan’s reactions had been predictable to a point, but Marcus could sense more beneath them, a turbulence of thought and passion that surpassed any he himself had expected. He waited patiently.

  Finally Rowan spoke. “It might well begin for us with Thérèse. But for her—I believe there was a beginning for her too.” He lifted his chin. “I must know, however, why you are apparently immune to her bite. Why she did not—for the only time I am aware of—take her prey to one of the only two options she seems to consider. Death or eternal damnation.”

  “Hell of a price to pay for a good fuck, isn’t it?” Marcus grinned.

  Rowan’s laugh erupted, breaking the tension within the room. Then he looked surprised at himself. “Yes. Yes I suppose it is. Never really considered it that way before.”

  “I can believe that.”

  “Marcus—” Rowan leaned from his chair, extending his hand. “I seem to be finding new experiences here tonight. New possibilities, new ideas… I’m sharing a part of my existence in a way I’d never dreamed possible. For that, I thank you. And I have a request.”

  Marcus watched the beautiful face across from him. “Name it.”

  “Always stay my friend?”

  It was a simple plea but one that Marcus knew Rowan would not make easily. And his answer was equally difficult. But it was one he knew he could now make.

  “Yes.”

  Two hands linked across the hearth in a pledge that encompassed so much more than a simple grasp of palm to palm. Two men were promising something to each other, something that went beyond the sexual heat flickering between them. They each offered what neither had expected to find.

  Marcus sighed, a quiet sound that carried his emotions with it. “For whatever brief time I have left, I shall always be your friend.”

  Rowan stilled, his hand still held fast by Marcus’ strong grip as the import of the words made itself clear within his mind. “I think you’d better explain that.”

  Marcus released his hold and leaned back once more. “In the interests of sharing our secrets, I suppose I should.”

  Rowan waited, knowing from the words and the tone that there was something dark and troubling to come.

  “I am…ill. I have a sickness, Rowan.” He looked up quickly. “Nothing I can share with you, fortunately. This is not a disease that is carried from person to person, no matter how—intimate they may be.” A brief smile followed his words.

  “A disease?” Rowan thought for a moment, rapidly adding up the parts to a whole. “A disease of the blood?”

  “Yes. My physicians—and there have been many—are unanimous that I cannot be cured. They are not sure, even after all the cupping, the bloodletting, the leeches…good God, I could’ve fed an army of vampires on what’s been taken by doctors alone.” He chuckled, yet there was little humor in the sound. “They do not know what it is. Only that it slowly but surely killing me. How long have I left?” He spread his hands. “That’s for the Almighty to know, not me. Or them.”

  Rowan swallowed. Words choked in his throat, an inexpressible sadness overwhelming him. “Marcus, I-I—” He stuttered, at a loss.

  “It’s all right. I understand, believe me. Few know the truth and there are even fewer I would share the facts with. I have come to terms with my mortality just as you have come to terms with your immortality. Perhaps that’s where our initial attraction lay—a recognition of another with burdens almost too great to bear alone.”

  Rowan nodded. “That may be.” He risked a quick smile. “Of course, you’re also damned attractive, whatever the state of your health.”

  Marcus grinned back. “Thank you for that. I won’t tell you of your beauty. I’m sure you’ve been made aware of it often enough.”

  They shared a laugh, a companionable moment that did much to cement the odd relationship between them. Rowan felt as if a weight was gone from his shoulders, one he’d not realized he carried or that bore down on him so heavily.

  The simple fact of sitting with a mortal and talking of things he’d kept unsaid for so long—it was as intoxicating as a large glass of that fine cognac would have been a few years before.

  “So, Rowan. I have given you my sordid tale. ‘Tis time for you to share yours.” Marcus finished off his drink and set the glass down beside his chair. “Now you know you can tell me all. Hold nothing back, my friend.”

  Rowan rolled his eyes. Such a thing was easier said than done. Where to start?

  As if reading his thoughts, Marcus gently encouraged him. “Start in Rogaška. With Thérèse. Our stories both seem to have a beginning there, don’t they?”

  “Yes, they do.” Rowan steeled himself. “Very well. I met her much as you tell me you did—in that place where steam swirls into the dark night and tired guests occasionally seek to refresh themselves under the stars…”

  *~*~*~*

  It was warm, warm and welcoming as a mother’s embrace.

  The water lapped around Rowan’s thighs, kissed his cock with wet ripples and finally cradled his body as he slid wearily into the small steaming pool. It had been a long day, riding hard through the rough terrain surrounding Rogaška, hunting the wild boar they knew lurked in the deep woods not far from the estate.

  His companions were drinking, there was music and dancing in one of the several ballrooms, but for Rowan—there was only a need for quiet. For a time to let his muscles ache comfortably as they unwound.

  This journey had been an excellent idea—a last-minute notion inspired by his family’s nagging at him. Get married, Rowan. Find a wife, Rowan. It’s time for you to wed, Rowan. His mother’s words rang in his ears until he was ready to scream from the constant clamor.

  The casual invitation to join a party heading to Europe seemed like a lifeline thrown to him at his time of utmost need. He didn’t know his fellow travelers that well, but didn’t care. He just wanted out.

  Rowan closed his eyes and let his tensions seep away into the warm water. He didn’t want to wed. Not yet. He hadn’t met the right woman and didn’t think he would find her amidst the simpering muddle of flounces and silks paraded before his eyes on a nightly basis in London’s salons.

  It was not his responsibility to produce an heir—his older brother had taken care of that. Several times over. Rowan was the second son, free of the title and its associated duties. His sister was engaged to an Earl.

  He considered himself at liberty to choose his own bride and couldn’t figure out why the rest of the family didn’t see matters the same way. So he’d begun the process of separating himself from them, little by little, first setting up a small house just outside London—a bachelor establishment where he could live as it suited him.

  Still he could not escape, however. Thoughts of marriage plagued him and Rowan took the quiet relaxing moments away from it all to ask himself what he wanted in a woman. Whether he would know when he found the one with whom he could spend the rest of his life.

  She would be beautiful, of course. That was a foregone conclusion. He had no illusions about his own appearance—he’d heard it whispered about often enough. Blessed with striking good looks, he’d found himself the target of more languishing glances than he cared to confess, in spite of his unruly light-colored hair and gray-green eyes. Decidedly non-Byronic, not dark in the current fashion, yet apparently appealing to an awful lot of silly misses.

  No, he definitely wanted more than a sizeable estate, a virgin and a giggle or two.

  He wanted—what?

  “Good evening.”

  The voice startled him and he
opened his eyes to see a woman standing on the other side of the pool.

  God. He wanted her.

  Clad in a simple gown of white, her fiery red hair tumbled in loose shining waves down past her shoulders almost to her waist. Full breasts pressed against the silky fabric, nipples poking tight beads through her bodice. They lifted and fell with her breath as she spoke.

  “May I take the liberty of joining you?”

  There was a slight accent to her words, an entrancing lilt that tugged at his cock every bit as much as did the sensuality radiating from her body.

  He gathered his thoughts and cleared his throat. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “I do hope so.” She reached behind her and loosened her gown, smiling as she let it fall into a silken pool at her feet.

  She was naked beneath, a sight that branded itself into Rowan’s brain. Legs that were long, firm and shapely led upward to a body that made his mouth water. Curly red shadows dappled her mound beneath a softly curved belly and the luscious breasts were tipped with dusky rose peaks, distended a little over her chest as if pulled down by their own weight.

  Her smile grew as she casually walked into the pool, stepping easily into the water and stopping for a moment as it caressed her thighs and her pussy. “The water feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Dragging his gaze from her mound to her face, Rowan blinked. She was lovely—incredibly lovely. The full awareness of her womanhood radiated from her like an aura, sexual, sensual and ripe with promise. This was a woman at the confident peak of her appeal, desire shining from her lips—her eyes—

  Rowan blinked. With hair that color, he’d expected a green glitter to flash from beneath her dark red brows. But no, her eyes were dark, very dark. So dark he could not make out a pupil. They were strange eyes, but in keeping with the stunningly unusual beauty of the rest of her.

  “What is your name?” She lowered herself beneath the ripples, still clearly visible and quite unconcerned by her nudity.

  “Er…” Rowan struggled to find his tongue. His mouth had turned dry, his cock was suddenly harder than it had ever been and words were temporarily beyond him.

  Her light laugh recalled him from his stupor. “Surely you know your name?”

  He recalled himself. “Of course. Rowan Selkirk at your service.” He smiled at her, testing her. “I hope.”

  She smiled back. “So do I, Rowan Selkirk.” The black eyes glanced down into the water, deliberately focusing between his thighs where his cock shifted with the light current. “You are—handsome, Rowan. Handsome and well-named.”

  “Well-named?”

  She licked her lips. “There would appear to be a supple tree growing from you.” A hand reached beneath the surface and stroked his cock. “Yes, indeed. This is no twig, but a full trunk. You are, as I said, well-named.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Rowan fought for control. He would not surrender lightly to this—this pleasure. Women did not behave like this, only whores.

  And yet something about her made Rowan positive she was no whore. A courtesan, perhaps? A mistress?

  Boldly he reached for her pussy, cupping her, fondling her carefully, watching for her reaction.

  It was immediate. She sighed and parted her thighs, allowing him access to her cool folds. “And are you well-named, sweetheart?” Rowan slid his fingers around her pussy lips, watching as she smiled and sighed at his treatment.

  Her black gaze drifted to his face. “I do not know. I am Thérèse…” The name drifted softly between them as he found her clit and gently coaxed it into hardness. “And I like what you are doing to me, Rowan.” Her breasts moved with the water, breaking the surface as she slithered closer. “Do more.”

  Taut nipples begged for his mouth and he obliged, suckling one deeply, tonguing it to a ripe blush. She tasted—exotic, different and exciting. Rowan was fast losing himself in the entire experience.

  He pulled back a little, aware of this woman and his need for her, but feeling the restraints of his conventional background. “I want you. I want to fuck you. To have you crying out my name, coming for me—around me. Tell me that you share this…this madness that has stolen my mind…”

  Her white hands reached for his cock once more, grasping it firmly as she slid onto his lap. She rubbed the swollen head against her folds and moaned. “Yes, Rowan. Oh yes I want you too.”

  Still he was cautious. “I have to inquire—should I expect a bill? Or a visit from a jealous husband?”

  She laughed, throwing her head back and letting the sound free to echo into the night air. “No, my careful Rowan. I do this because—because I love to. I love to fuck. Here, in the water, on the smooth stones there—any way at all. It is the ultimate sensation, Rowan. The moment when a woman and a man share all that there is to be shared between them.”

  She toyed with his nipple, scratching it gently with a fingernail then kissing it quickly. “I like the feel of a man’s body against mine. The fullness when his cock enters me. I like fucking any way at all—any way there is. It makes me—oh, how can I tell you? It just makes me—feel alive.”

  Rowan agreed. He felt more than alive with this woman so near. He felt energized, thrumming with desire, with lust to fill her sheath, to explore her limits and push her past them.

  He reached for her then, an abrupt tug that brought their bodies clashing against each other. He pushed her legs wide and found the slick entrance to her body, plunging deep without further ado.

  She moaned as he stretched her, his length burying itself within her like a sword into its scabbard. Her inner muscles clung to him, tugging the soft skin as he moved, letting the water serve as their rhythm for the moment. There would be a savage claiming, he knew, but at this point he was simply enjoying their unity.

  “You feel so good inside me.” Black eyes gazed solemnly at him. “You fill me so well.” She went to rise up, but he held her in place.

  “No, don’t move. Not yet. Let me relish you, savor you. Squeeze me, Thérèse. Love me with that slick darkness. ‘Twill arouse you as much as it will me, I promise.”

  She tilted her head to the side and obeyed him, experimentally tightening her muscles then laughing as the sensation traveled through them both. “Oh my goodness, Rowan. This is—interesting.”

  He smiled back, fascinated at the simple joy he could see on her face. “It is, is it not?”

  She was almost childlike in her fascination with this sensation, experimenting with various combinations of moves, rippling her inner muscles, finding her own individual preference and sighing as the pleasure grew. “How—how unique.” Her lips parted. “Oh—oh—Rowan. I think I’m going to come—”

  “Then come. Let it happen.”

  He held her as the spasms rocked her, gentle but strong, sending delight down his cock still hard within her.

  Her lips parted on a sigh and she blinked, almost in astonishment.

  Rowan watched her. “Have you never come before, Thérèse?”

  “Oh yes, I have come. Many times.” She seemed stunned. “But never quite like this.” Buttocks shifted on his lap. “And you have not. You are still aroused. How can this be?”

  He grinned then, enjoying her confusion. “I like to take my time. To enjoy a woman’s pleasure to the fullest.”

  “’Tis strange. I have come and yet I still have not sated my desires. I still tremble, still feel your cock, still want…”

  “What?” He caressed her breasts, noting her shivers. “What do you want, my sweet? Tell me…tell me all there is to know about you.”

  “I-I cannot.” Her sheath gripped him once more. “I can only fuck…”

  “Not true.” He kissed her, a lingering kiss that melded tongues and strange tastes that excited him. “There are shadows in your eyes. Secrets in your heart.”

  He lifted his hips a little, seating his cock in a slightly different position, noting her gasp of pleasure. “We are joined, linked even closer by our sex. I would share more… I wou
ld know more. You are…”

  “I am what?”

  “Special.” Rowan inhaled her, knowing he spoke no less than the truth. This woman had come from nowhere into his world and the first moment he set eyes on her he was certain nothing would ever be the same.

  “Do you think so?” The black eyes opened wide and stared intently at him.

  “I know so.” His hands found her breasts once more. “These—are beautiful. Round, full, womanly—see how they fit into my hands? How the nipples are responding even now to my touch?”

  He strummed the tiny beads as he lifted the white globes in his palms. “You react to my every movement, Thérèse, like an instrument in the hands of a musician. Just as I react to your body in the same way. Can you not feel it?”

  “Yes…yes, I feel it, Rowan. But usually…”

  “Usually what?” His words came out more sharply than he intended. He was not happy to know there had been others before him, but wasn’t quite sure why. Of course he wasn’t her first. No woman with her sensuality could be untouched.

  “I am not—accustomed to such restraint from men.”

  At that moment, Rowan promised himself that she would know what restraint was. At least from him.

  He loved her again and again, with hands and mouth, fucking her gently, bringing her to her peak, letting her experience as many orgasms as she wished. Incredibly, his fascination with her distracted him enough that he could hold his own climax in check—waiting, always waiting—until the heat between them grew too much for even his sexual skills.