A silence fell at his words, broken immediately thereafter by questions from Adrian and Nick. It took close on an hour to settle matters and offer explanations. Even then, Sidney felt they’d only touched the surface of what lay between them all.
Rowan had never answered Sidney’s question, but under cover of the general conversation, Sidney had taken a long look at the man. Other than the unusual black eyes, Rowan was a handsome young devil. Sandy hair fell negligently around his sculptured features, his body was firm and strong—and he looked exactly like what he was—a well set-up member of the aristocracy.
But Sidney could not forget the look on his face when Rowan had told of his most recent encounter with Thérèse. Was it possible this young man had given Thérèse more than his blood? That he had done the unthinkable and fallen in love with her, savagely erotic and evil behavior notwithstanding?
Sidney shrugged to himself. Stranger things were possible. Spiders continued to mate even though the female often decapitated the male after achieving her goals. Nature seemed to possess no boundaries when it came to matters of attraction and continuation of the species.
Who was he to say Rowan could not love a monster?
The man himself was staring open-mouthed at Nick. “You mean Verity felt it too?”
Nick nodded. “She felt something, that’s for sure. Quite distinctly. Although she seemed to receive impressions from it, not exactly visions but…” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is all so confusing. I’d say it was a nightmare if I wasn’t living it myself.”
“Hear, hear.” Adrian lifted a glass in a mock toast. “To our group nightmare. May we all wake from it in one piece. And at peace.” He sipped a little of the wine then placed the glass carefully down on the tray.
It was quiet as each man remained busy with his thoughts.
Sidney took stock of the situation, although uppermost in his mind was a sense of family—of community.
With the addition of Marcus and Rowan to their numbers, they were now a formidable little force. But they still had no way of knowing how to end their torture. How to sever the hold Thérèse exerted on those she’d preyed upon. Or if they’d survive should they defeat her for once and for all.
Sidney’s heart ached for his strange family. He wanted nothing more than to protect them, to help them face what lay ahead with all the weapons he could provide. If they failed—God help them all.
His gaze roamed the room, coming to rest on the one person who returned it. Marcus Camberley. It seemed that he too was aware of the importance of this little group of lost souls. Touched by darkness but not devoured by it as the others had been, both Sidney and Marcus had a different perspective, removed a little from the immediacy of the threat.
Marcus’ lips curved slightly and he rose to approach Sidney. “You said you’d like to take a drop of my blood. Perhaps now would be a good time? You and I cannot be part of where this conversation is headed, I’m thinking. Our participation will not be missed.” He extended a hand and helped Sidney rise.
“Thank you. I would indeed be curious to see how your blood differs. Whether it’ll tell us why you left a bad taste in Thérèse’ mouth, I have no idea. But it can’t hurt to look.”
Marcus chuckled. “That depends on your perspective. It’ll probably hurt me a lot more than it’ll hurt you.”
Sidney chuckled back. “No leeches. Word of honor.”
“Thank God for that.” Marcus’ comment was heartfelt as he followed Sidney from the room.
True to his word, Sidney’s ministrations left only the tiniest pinprick on Marcus’ finger, a wound he completely forgot about within a few minutes of quitting the large chamber Sidney had set up for his laboratory.
Weary to the bone, Marcus made for his own room. He would meet the women shortly, but for now he wanted nothing more than to lay his aching body down and rest. The journey had been a hard one, their subsequent arrival and revelations exhausting and despite a night’s rest, Marcus still struggled with a lack of energy.
He knew he’d revive, but it was getting to be a longer process all the time.
He’d barely closed his door behind him when it opened once more on a tap to admit Rowan.
“Marcus, you’re worn out, aren’t you? Sidney said you might need something…’tis my fault.” Worriedly, Rowan crossed the room and took Marcus’ face in his hands, staring intently at him. “I forced the pace of our journey too hard.”
“I’m fine. Don’t fuss.” Marcus smiled. “Yes, I tire more easily these days. But I shall recover. Already I feel stronger than yesterday.”
“There’s still a full decanter of brandy in my room. I certainly won’t be drinking any of it. Come—you could call for your own, which I notice you’ve almost finished—or you could have some of mine before you sleep…”
Rowan opened the door between their rooms and Marcus found himself following his friend into a similar suite. St. Chesswell’s hospitality included spacious rooms and fires burning in the old stone fireplaces—most likely a necessity if the nights grew cold and damp.
“I doubt that donating blood to Sidney’s research did you any good either…” Glass clinked as Rowan poured a healthy draught of brandy into a snifter and passed it to Marcus.
“A mere pinprick and he was done.” Marcus sipped thoughtfully. “He’s a fascinating and knowledgeable man, Rowan. Dedicated too.”
“I can understand why. ‘Tis his adopted son who is afflicted with this darkness, Marcus. And also his daughter-in-law. Sidney’s a man who values his family. A good man, I think, don’t you?”
Marcus nodded. “Yes. We’ve come to the right place. If there are any answers to be had about this whole Thérèse situation, this is where they will be discovered.”
Rowan sat on the edge of the bed and motioned Marcus to the space beside him. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? The variety of experiences we’ve all had. The similarities between our visions of Thérèse—and also the differences.”
Marcus nodded. “Rowan, you do understand that Sidney and this little coterie of ours has but one goal. To destroy Thérèse.”
Rowan sighed. “I know. Believe me I know.” He stared into the flames. “And they’re right. I also know that too. But…”
“Yes. But.” Marcus put his glass down and rested a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “But if any kind of success is achieved, you will pay a huge price. More than anybody else.”
Rowan lifted his hand and covered Marcus’, gripping his fingers tightly for a second. “You understand.”
“I do. If there was anything I could do to change things, I would.” His throat closed a little at the thought of the pain Rowan would suffer at losing the one woman he loved.
Rowan’s shoulder moved beneath his palm as the man shrugged a little. “I may not survive the experience myself, Marcus. Your concerns may be moot.”
“I hope to God that is not so.”
Black eyes turned to Marcus, filled with a variety of emotions. “You are a good man, Marcus. I’m glad we met. I’m glad we’ve…shared what we’ve shared.” He frowned a little. “And you are weary. Lie down. Let me tend to you for a while and take my mind off what might come to pass…”
Marcus found himself pushed back on the bed and efficiently stripped of his clothes. Rowan’s touch was comforting, cool and gentle as he rolled Marcus onto his stomach. “You are very tense, my friend.”
Marcus snorted. “Are you surprised? This isn’t exactly a stroll in St. James’s Park, you know.”
Rowan chuckled as he slipped from his own clothing. “It’s not, is it? Life can be very strange at times.”
The bed dipped as Rowan knelt beside Marcus, then straddled him, knees either side of his hips. “Just relax for a while, hmm?”
With a soft movement, Rowan began to stroke Marcus’ back and shoulders, a rhythmic massage that was soothing and did much to ease the tension of the last few days.
Slowly, Marcus let the worries seep away, enjoying the fe
el of Rowan’s hands caressing his spine, finding the hard knots of muscles in his back and working them loose once more.
“You are very good at this…” Marcus huffed the words into the pillow beneath his head.
“My animals think so. To be honest, I’ve never done this to a person before. But the principle is the same, I believe. Encourage the stiff muscles to unwind, replace the cold taut areas with loose warm ones…”
“You must have happy spaniels.”
“They grin a lot, yes.”
Marcus laughed. Incredible though it seemed, he felt comfortable—no longer tense or worried about the future. What ever happened would happen. Right at this moment, he felt—good.
And as the delightful massage continued, he began to feel other things as well. Rowan’s hands strayed farther down his back, occasionally kneading the swells of his buttocks. His touch turned sensual at last, arousing now instead of calming.
Marcus hungered for more. His cock was stiffening uncomfortably beneath him, digging into the quilt. He parted his thighs a fraction, pressing outward against Rowan’s legs.
A low chuckle greeted his move. “I understand your message, dear friend.”
Marcus felt Rowan’s cock slip along his body, a silky iron rod caressing him. Sure fingers delved between his thighs and found his balls, touching them delicately but firmly enough to drive his excitement higher.
“Mmm, Rowan…”
“Mmm, Marcus…” Rowan laughed as he repeated the words. “You have the best arse in the world, you know.”
“I do?”
Rowan slid down and Marcus felt a quick nip on one buttock. “Oh yes. Without question the best arse.”
“Er…thank you.” He blinked, then sighed as his cheeks were parted and Rowan found the tight little ring of muscles within the cleft.
Skillfully, Rowan played with Marcus, sometimes penetrating a little, other times brushing his cock against that most sensitive spot. Marcus could feel the dampness from the other man, the drops of moisture seeping free in readiness for the pleasures ahead.
It would be but a fleeting touch, Marcus knew. Their time together was not of a sort to become permanent. Each had found something he sought in the other—and each took great pleasure from the genuine affectionate emotions they shared. Sex was a way to express that pleasure, along with a degree of trust and honesty that neither had expected.
Marcus groaned as Rowan lay fully along his prone body. The delight of his caresses and the thrust of a hard cock between his legs—they were but a part of this odd relationship. A pleasant digression, of course, but something that could be easily discarded. The friendship, the bonds between them—those would always remain.
Marcus moved his thighs, allowing Rowan room to settle himself.
Let tomorrow bring whatever Fate decreed. Tonight was just for them.
Chapter Eight
Rowan relished the slide of Marcus’ firm body beneath his. It was a rare pleasure—this joining, this passion they shared. So much more than the simple sexual act, it was more of a pledge, an affection that went deeper into both their souls than Rowan could ever have believed.
He wondered if this would be the last time they would share such a pleasure.
His world was changing, he knew. By traveling to St. Chesswell’s, Rowan and Marcus had altered the course of their lives, set their feet on a path that would lead to…to what?
Rowan had no idea. But he felt deep in his heart that nothing would ever be the same for him. He sensed the stirring of his fangs, but held them back. He could not feed from Marcus. Nor would he, even if circumstances were different. Not now, not when there was such a strong bond between them.
He would feed again soon, but at this moment he could simply surrender to the delights of being with Marcus in this most intimate of ways.
Rowan let his cock slide back and forth within the cleft of Marcus’ arse, delighting in the mounds that clasped him as taut muscles tightened in response to his touch.
“Bloody hell, Marcus. If things were different…” He bit back the words that he could so easily have spoken. Words that would have changed matters between them even more.
He could have loved this man. Given his life and his soul into Marcus’ keeping.
Had he not already done so with Thérèse.
“I know. But they are what they are.” Marcus shifted a little, lifting himself, presenting himself to Rowan like the gift he so certainly was. “Take what is now and enjoy it. I certainly shall. Let tomorrow be. No matter what lies ahead, we will ever and always be friends.”
Rowan’s brain eased and he obeyed, determined to bring Marcus as much satisfaction as possible, knowing that by doing so he would satisfy himself as well. Once more he dotted kisses down Marcus’ spine, adding to the tension by pressing his cock against the tight ring of muscles he knew would be soaring with sensation within his friend.
A groan told him how much Marcus was enjoying it. But this time, Rowan needed more.
He shifted away and encouraged Marcus to roll over onto his back. “I would see your face as you come, Marcus.”
The other man quickly turned. “And I would see yours too.”
They positioned themselves carefully; Rowan’s arse poised over Marcus’ cock as he shuffled his knees up and straddled the firm belly. “Hold me. Stroke me. Let’s do this together.”
Willingly, Marcus reached for Rowan, taking his cock in a firm grasp, caressing it with just the right amount of strength and tenderness. As he began his strokes, Rowan lowered himself, piercing his body with Marcus’ erect length. He was ready—oh-so ready—to be filled by this man and to share an orgasm with him that would sate them both.
And perhaps help them put aside the shadows that darkened both their lives. At least for a little while.
Marcus’ gaze clashed with Rowan’s as both men began to move, a look filled with emotions that flickered behind his eyes like summer lightning. Heat, lust, pain and affection—they chased themselves in circles, clear to Rowan as he raised and fell, massaging Marcus’ cock and being massaged in his turn.
It was quick—both men were ready to let go and seek forgetfulness in the few blissful moments of climax. Rowan could feel Marcus’ body tensing beneath him, even as his own muscles knotted and his spine began to throb in anticipation. Balls tight, Rowan laid aside his worries, simply focusing on the feel of Marcus’ hands and the fullness of his cock within them.
Marcus parted his lips, grimacing a little as he thrust hard, hips lifting Rowan even as Rowan pushed down. They moved more rapidly, Marcus panting and grunting with the effort of fucking Rowan this way.
It was soon accomplished.
Rowan cried out, his cock throbbing within Marcus’ hands even as Marcus’ cock exploded inside Rowan’s arse.
Together, both men rode the orgasm, trembling and shuddering through the climactic shocks to their bodies, linked together by so much more than just their sex.
As Rowan eased down from his peak, he was astonished to see the traces of tears on Marcus’ cheeks.
Gently, still seated on Marcus’ softening cock, he leaned forward and touched them with the tip of one finger. “Marcus?”
“I’m all right.” The brown eyes were somber now, no traces of emotion behind them. “Thank you, Rowan. Thank you for everything.”
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
“That we shall not do this again? Yes. With a certainty I can’t put a name to. And I’m sad in some ways, yet in others…”
Rowan sighed and let their bodies fall apart, lying next to Marcus, but not touching him anymore. “I understand.” Gently he reached for Marcus’ hand and twined their fingers together.
The crushing grip he received was enough to let him know that his emotions were shared. Whatever lay ahead, neither man knew. That their friendship would withstand it, neither was in doubt.
Rowan knew his heart would always belong to Thérèse. It was the one part of himself he could not sha
re with Marcus, or anybody else. It was the greatest curse he could imagine, greater than being turned into a creature of darkness. And yet it was the only thing that sustained him in that darkness.
With a sigh, he released Marcus’ hand, knowing his friend was drifting into sleep. Comforted by the knowledge they’d both shared such complete intimacy—and without any prevarication on either of their parts—Rowan closed his eyes.
Total honesty was rare. Total honesty between lovers was even rarer.
He might be cursed, but in this strange way he’d been blessed too. What would come of it…
He drifted away into his world of total nothingness. And as always, his last thoughts were of Thérèse.
*~*~*~*
Marcus’ dream came to him softly, an unfolding of images, blurred visions, drifting fogs that cleared at last to reveal a rocky coastline. He did not recognize the location, but in that odd way of dreams he did not particularly care.
What did surprise him was the woman standing on top of the cliffs, staring out over the dark ocean and letting the wind play with her hair.
It was Thérèse.
He recognized her easily. Her image had never fully deserted his memory since their first eventful encounter and her appearance in his recent dream with Rowan simply reinforced it.
She was astoundingly beautiful. Skin like cream, hair the flame red color of portraits by old Masters. Her body, molded now by some flimsy silk gown as it fluttered in the wind—well, if God himself had created woman, then this was probably as close as Marcus could get to seeing what the Almighty had in mind.
Proud full breasts stood out from her chest, sloped to the beaded tips exactly as they were meant to be. Beneath them was a soft belly, curved slightly, leading the eye downward to thighs that were shapely and firm above calves and ankles that could clasp around a man’s waist as she held him tightly within her.
Every pore of her body radiated a unique sensual appeal—and Marcus found he was not immune. His cock stirred and his balls ached as she turned her black gaze toward him, an expression of puzzlement briefly crossing her delicately perfect features.
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