Highland Vampire

by Deborah Raleigh

  Callum. Maev felt a sudden rush of tenderness that caused her breath to catch. Only he could have left the beast. But Callum was not real. He was merely a fragile illusion of her lonely mind. Yet there was no denying the things she had needed most had definitely materialized—first the venison and now this sturdy little mare.

  How was this possible? Maev shook her head in confusion, knowing there was no time to ponder this latest mystery. Now that she had a horse, she should be able to reach the castle and return before dark.

  Maev briefly stroked the animal's nose, still finding it difficult to believe the animal was real. After getting acquainted, Maev led the horse into the forest. She stopped the moment she found what she needed, and climbing the trunk of a fallen log, Maev was able to reach the stirrups and get up and into the saddle.

  Using her legs and the reins, Maev guided the pretty mare to the path that led out of the forest, unsure how long it would take to reach the castle. She had no memory of arriving at her tower prison three years ago, but she did recall others in the clan speaking about visiting the mysterious stone tower during her childhood, so she reasoned it was not an impossible distance.

  It felt odd to once again be astride a horse, but Maev soon began to relax. For a few miles she was even able to forget the reason she was taking this journey and enjoyed the freedom of riding. After several hours, Maev's stomach rumbled with hunger, but she ignored it, filling her belly with water from the stream that ran near the clearing when she stopped to give the horse a brief rest.

  Her pace was a little slower when she resumed her quest, owing to the steepness of the hills. With only the position of the sun to guide her, Maev worried that she had taken a wrong turn until suddenly the curves of the land began to look familiar. Heart thundering in her chest, she moved steadily forward, each stride of the horse bringing her closer to her childhood home.

  She crested the final hill, and a tear rose in Maev's eye at the sight of the familiar castle walls. Even at that distance she could make out the distinct shapes of men and women as they hurried about their daily chores. It felt as if it had been a lifetime since she, too, had been a part of this life, this community.

  A part of her longed to ride boldly through the open drawbridge, head held high, yet she knew it would be a foolish waste of pride. With certainty she would be stopped long before she reached the chapel steps.

  No, she would be unable to get inside without being caught. But the priest knew no such restraints, and Maev was well aware that he visited the homes of the farmers who tended the outlying fields on most afternoons. All she had to do was wait until he was a safe distance from the castle and then she would waylay him.

  Maev hid her mare in a small cluster of bushes and left the horse contentedly munching on sweet grass. Then she positioned herself just off the main road, allowing a clear view of all who passed upon it.

  Within the hour her patience was rewarded by the sight of the portly priest, his long, dark robes flapping in the wind, walking up the road. She waited until he reached the bend in the path that would shield her from the castle view before stepping from her hiding place.

  "Good afternoon," Maev said, meeting the priest's eye with a boldness she was far from feeling.

  His round face turned an unusual shade of red. He sputtered a few times, then hastily made the sign of the cross. Maev suppressed a wild urge to hiss at him, but good sense stopped her. She needed his cooperation. Antagonizing him would hardly be wise.

  "I was unsure if ye would recognize me," Maev continued. "But I can see that ye know who I am."

  "Ye shouldna be here, lass," the priest answered, a thundering frown upon his forehead. "If the laird hears of it, there'll be no protecting ye from certain death."

  Maev clenched her hands. "I have no wish to cause trouble. I am here not for myself, but for my mother. She is gravely ill and craves the comfort of confession. Will ye accompany me now to administer the last rites?"

  The priest's grim expression deepened, and he gave a weary shake of his head. "I dinna dare disobey the laird's commands. All in the clan know 'tis forbidden to have any contact with ye or yer mother."

  "But we have done nothing wrong! It was all wicked lies!" Maev felt herself getting angry. "Blame me if ye must for something I most assuredly didna do, but no one with a reasonable mind and a fair heart can find my mother guilty of anything. Her only crime has been her selfless love of me and her unconditional loyalty."

  The priest twisted the prayer beads that hung down from his waist After a few moments he cleared his throat "I canna help ye," he replied, casting his gaze downward. "Ye'd best leave before someone sees ye and raises the alarm."

  Maev tried to ignore the sad heaviness of failure that invaded her heart. "Please, ye must reconsider, ye must not allow fear and ignorance to keep ye from doing what ye know is right," she implored, willing to humble herself and beg all day if that was what was necessary to gain the priest's cooperation. "How can ye possibly refuse the request of a dying woman who begs for the Lord's comfort? Even ye wouldna be so cruel as to deny her soul a chance to reunite with her savior."

  For an instant the priest looked contrite, and Maev dared to hope she had convinced him. "Yer mother's fate was sealed by God," he replied. "If He wanted her to have a priest by her side at her final hour, He wouldna have allowed her to be banished. 'Tis God's will and I canna interfere with His dictates."

  A scream of pure frustration lodged itself in Maev's throat. "How can ye be so cruel and still call yourself a man of God? Where is yer famous Christian forgiveness and mercy when it is needed most sorely?"

  The priest dragged in a weary breath, and his face went sickly white. "I leave it to God to be merciful, lass." He reached into his pocket and removed a small wooden cross. "'Tis said this humble crucifix was blessed by the Holy Father himself. Take it to yer mother. I shall pray that it brings her comfort in her hour of need."

  With an audible swallow, Maev took the cross. A part of her wanted to hurl it in the dirt and crush it under the heel of her foot, but she knew it was the only comfort she would be able to bring to her mother. Unless she could somehow overpower the priest and force him to come with her.

  Maev dismissed the notion the moment it came to her, yet it rankled her greatly to return to the tower with so little. "May yer conscience haunt ye for the rest of yer life, Father. And may ye always remember how ye chose to be a coward and turned yer back on an innocent soul when asked to do the Lord's work."

  With the taste of failure filling her mouth, Maev pivoted on her heel and walked stiffly toward the small cluster of bushes where her mare was hidden. In truth, she had expected this very reaction from the priest, but she had dared to hope there might be a chance for salvation.

  Bitter with disappointment, she began the long ride back to the tower, fearful of what she would find.

  Brenda slipped from this world to the next as the dawn approached. Maev arrived in time to cradle her mother in her arms, singing her favorite songs, repeating her favorite stories from Maev's childhood antics. It was a peaceful passing. Maev still felt twinges of guilt that she could not provide the comfort of a priest's blessing, but in her heart she knew that she had done all she could.

  Filled with weary sadness, Maev began the solemn burial tasks. She hauled buckets of water from the stream for over an hour until there was enough clean water to properly wash the body. With that chore reverently completed, she carefully dressed her mother in the beautiful crimson and green wedding gown that they had both spent so many hours together sewing.

  It was the finest garment that Maev owned, and she clearly remembered how proud Brenda had been the day Maev and Callum had married. In Maev's eyes, that made this garment the most appropriate choice in which to bury this very special woman. When the body was at last ready, she placed the cross the priest had given her gently in her mother's folded hands.

  It took Maev a very long time to dig a deep grave. Lacking the appropriate tools, she
worked steadily using a flat rock, first loosening the hard soil and then meticulously lifting it away. After she had gently placed her mother's body within the deep cavity, she slowly reversed the process until a high mound of dirt marked the spot.

  She covered the entire area with small rocks, then fashioned a wooden cross out of sturdy branches. When the grave was complete, Maev fell to her knees and prayed diligently for her mother's soul, begging for God's understanding and mercy.

  Physically and emotionally exhausted, Maev returned to the tower. As if in a trance, she struggled to cleanse the dirt from her body, but the nagging voice reverberating in her head left her nearly paralyzed with fear.

  She was now utterly and completely alone.

  Callum watched from the shadows as she scrubbed away the dirt and grime, her breath catching in small gasps and sobs while she bathed from a shallow wooden bowl. Her grief tore at his heart; her pain caused a tightness to lodge deep in his chest He knew he should wait until she slept, so he could gently call to her in her dreams. But her grief was too extreme, her pain too harsh to ignore.

  He took a step closer. Maev had finished removing the soil from her body and now rested upon her pallet. She was on her back, naked, with her hands at her sides. Her eyes were shut tight. There were streaks of tears still visible on her face. She looked like a corpse.

  Callum knelt beside her and reached for her hand. She gasped when their hands touched. Her fingers were cold. He rubbed them gently in a reassuring manner. Maev's eyes flickered open.

  "Oh, thank God ye have come to me tonight," she sobbed, turning toward him.

  "I am here, lass," he assured her huskily.

  "She's gone," Maev muttered between sobbing gulps. "She's gone and now there is no one left on this earth that I love. Or who loves or cares about me."

  "I am here," Callum replied.

  Maev let out a shriek of hysterical laughter. "Aye, I have ye, along with my madness, to bring me comfort. 'Tis a match made in heaven, is it not?"

  Callum did not know how to respond. He knew she thought him a ghost, but would revealing the truth of what he had become bring her comfort or cause her even greater distress?

  Her expression of worry and fear tore at his heart. Callum hunched his shoulders around her and tightened his embrace, pressing his face against Maev's hair. She had left it unbound, and Callum could not deny himself the pleasure of lifting a thick section of it to his lips. It ran through his hands like a golden waterfall, smooth and silky with the sweet scent of lavender teasing his nostrils.

  Her sobs subsided, and gradually he felt the tension ease from her body. He meant only to give her a kiss of comfort. But one kiss begot two, then three, and somehow his clothes were gone and they were both naked and straining toward each other, caught up in their mutual passion and need.

  Everything happened very quickly. Within minutes Callum found himself kneeling between Maev's silken thighs, his throbbing penis poised at her entrance. He looked down at the glistening folds of her femininity, so delicate and sweet, so moist and ready. One thrust forward and she would be his. Finally he would be able to claim what had been stolen from him; finally he would be able to recapture part of his humanity.

  He lifted his gaze up to her face. She was staring at him with sightless eyes. There was no fear reflected in their depths, yet no recognition either.

  "Say my name," he whispered.

  Her lashes fluttered and a look of pure agony crossed her beautiful face. "Callum. Ye are my Callum."

  Every muscle in his body tightened and he began to shake. Her pain was almost a living entity. She thought him a ghost, a being of mist and imagination, but that was not true. From deep within the edges of his mind, a small voice urged him to continue, to take what she offered, what he so desperately needed.

  But he couldn't. So much had already been taken from her. He rolled away, landing on his back beside her. He angled an arm over his eyes, sick with shame.

  How could he corrupt the last decent, pure, beautiful thing from his former life? How could he use her trust and her love to try to escape the living hell his existence had become? Had he truly sunk to such a decadent level?

  He felt her move. "Callum?" Her trembling body pressed against his side; her slender arm moved over his chest. She ran her fingers lightly over his muscles, then snuggled her face against the hollow of his shoulder. The hardened tips of her nipples branded his skin like burning embers. "I know ye're not real, yet ye feel solid and warm and alive. I can even hear yer heart beating." She let out a small, startled laugh. "The madness is overtaking me now, but I no longer fear it. Nay, I welcome it, because it brings ye to me."

  Callum squeezed his eyes closed. His body screamed with wanting her, her silken softness beckoned him, but he controlled himself. He had to tell her the truth. All of it. There was no other choice. And when she learned what had happened, what he had become, he could only pray that she would turn to him instead of running away.

  He dragged in a deep breath, drawing her fully against his chest. Her body continued to tremble, and he realized she had reached the near breaking point of emotional and physical exhaustion. His confession might very well destroy her mind. Though he knew a cowardly part of him was relieved at the excuse for a delay, it would be best to wait until she had slept and recovered a bit from all this turmoil.

  "Go to sleep, Maev. I'll keep ye safe."

  "I canna sleep. Ye've made me all restless and tingly."

  He smiled in the darkness, hardly believing that this time he was the one who was refusing to consummate their union.

  "Shall I dump ye in the cold stream, lass? 'Tis exactly what I had to do on far too many a night when ye left me feeling all restless and tingly."

  He felt her smile against his chest. "A dunk in frigid water is exactly what I deserve, for I realize now that I surely tried yer patience."

  "Ye tried far more than my patience," he said with a chuckle.

  Then wrapping his hands around her thighs, Callum gently spread Maev's legs. He rolled her onto her back, before settling himself on top of her, letting his erect penis slide across her wetness. She whimpered and squirmed and he repeated the motion, sliding the warm silken head against her cleft, teasing her where she was so moist.

  "What are ye doing to me?" she panted.

  "Do ye like it?"

  "Too much." She moaned and pushed herself forward. "Put yerself inside me. Please. I need to feel that ye are a part of me."

  He gritted his teeth, knowing he could not answer her plea. But he could bring her satisfaction. With one hand, Callum reached between their bodies. Finding the damp nest of curls, he slowly slid one finger inside, searching for the core of her desire. He found it and she gasped.

  Then he leaned over and covered her mouth in a desperate kiss. Drawing the tip of her tongue into his mouth, Callum sucked hard until he felt the urgency in her build, felt the sexual rhythm moving through her body.

  He touched her more intently, circling her sex with his fingertip until he felt her whole body seize. Her hips came up off the pallet, seeking his touch. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her entire body shuddering.

  "That's it, love," he murmured, pressing his lips to the damp flesh of her neck. "Let it happen, let it happen."

  Her hands slid around to cradle his buttocks, urging him closer. Then suddenly, Maev cried out, and at the sound of her pleasure, Callum felt his seed explode from his body. It covered her femininity and mingled with the moisture of her own desire.

  His lips thinned, then relaxed. He felt like a randy lad, losing control so shamefully, but Maev seemed unaware of his discomfort. She had fallen into a deep, sated, unconscious sleep. Callum rolled to his side, collapsing onto the hard pallet. The fire in the hearth sputtered and went out Maev whispered something and snuggled closer.

  Callum kissed the top of her head. He drew the blanket more snugly around them and tucked himself even closer to Maev. He wondered if he had done the right thin
g by her, for she now seemed to need him more desperately than ever.

  Yet his need for her was as great. He needed her passion and her love. He needed simply to talk with her and to have her listen to him. He needed the comfort only she could bring him. Going back to an existence without Maev no longer seemed possible.

  And yet being together presented a challenge he did not fully understand. How would she react once she learned the truth about what he had become? He dared not speculate, knowing the pain would be extreme for both of them if she could not accept it.

  Callum sighed heavily. Though he had not slept during the nighttime hours for three years, he nevertheless closed his eyes and waited for the reckoning that would come with the morning light.

  Chapter Five

  As morning drew closer, Callum became restless. He left Maev asleep on her pallet and began to prepare the tower. Rummaging through her trunks, he searched for gowns made from the heaviest material. He was surprised to discover that most of the clothing was in excellent condition—clearly she had not worn these garments at all, choosing instead to don her simplest and oldest outfits.

  Callum removed an assortment of Maev's gowns and then carefully positioned the dresses across the small, high windows that ran along the inner circle of the tower, effectively blocking out the possibility of any natural light entering the room.

  The fire had died to a few glowing sticks, but he could see well enough. He decided to wait until Maev awoke before lighting any torches. He added some fresh water to the pot Maev had simmering near the fire to prevent it from scorching. The cooked meat smelled foul to his sensitive nose, and he wondered briefly if it would make him sick if he ate it.

  He decided it was not worth the risk, even though he had not eaten since yesterday. Callum knew from experience he could go for days without feasting on a fresh kill. The lack of nourishment would diminish his physical strength, but his mental capacity would remain intact and that was what he would need most—his wits.