'Twas the Darkest Night

by Sophie Avett

  “Distance is irrelevant,” he whispered, hot in her ear. “For fuck’s sake, you’re a witch—I’m sure we’ll manage.”

  She would not be seduced by his pretty words. Not this time. She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about his so-called assurances and he cut her off with a solemn sigh.

  “That being said, you are quite right. I will return to Castle Wingates. And, Elsa, my people…vampires are…” He went silent, it seemed, in search of the right word.

  His people? Had he not met Ingrid? Did he really think a clan of vampires was going to send her screaming into the night? Ha! Her mother decorated her trash cans with fangs.

  Wheeling around to face him, she lifted her eyebrow in wry amusement. “I told you, I have no intention of returning to the Veil—this realm is my home and I am not made out of glass.”

  Marshall held her chin gently. “And so, I thought after you’ve saved Bits and Pieces and it’s flourishing under my brilliant marketing campaign”—she raised her eyebrows and he flashed a smile, only to sober immediately—“would you come stay with me from time to time?”

  She shoved. She couldn’t help it. He was crazy. How could he possibly think to have this conversation right now? Before last night, she’d spent the whole week trying to forget him. And furthermore, he’d spent the whole week being engaged to someone else. Why was he in such a hurry to… She studied his expression, trying to see past his pretty words to his intentions. He wasn’t lying. There was no guile, no charm. He really was asking her.

  Marshall said nothing else on the matter and left her standing in the middle of her living room to fetch a brown package he’d apparently propped at the door. “I have something else for you.”

  She took it with caution and examined the neat black box and braided gold string. “What is this?”

  Marshall braced his arms behind his back. “Just open it.”

  Elsa tore the package open, rending brown paper and twine right down the middle. Inside, she found a white dress. She abandoned the box and it clattered to the floor as she lifted the garment in the air. It was…familiar. She recognized the piece from Madame Cossette’s Emporium. Except, it had changed since she’d first laid eyes on it at the Christmas Market. The simple cotton had been turned into a soft, shifting snow white material, akin to clouds. The front was pleated with lacy ruffles and a large sweet bow adorned the nape.

  “Don’t worry. It will fit. I took the liberty of taking it to Sinister Stitches,” he offered with a reserved, polite smile. “Gillian assures me the bows were a necessary addition.”

  “Why?” she whispered and held the dress against her body like it would shield her from whatever the vampire said next. “Why are you doing all of this?”

  His eyes darkened and he closed the distance between them. Gingerly touching the fabric she held like a ward, he quietly offered, “I can’t…help it.”

  Everything was sliding, tilting—breaking. He was breaking her defenses down one by one, and she just… She didn’t think she could let him. Her arms shook as she offered the garment back. “I…can’t, vampire.”

  “No, witch.” He yanked the dress and flung it away. “You can’t, can you?” He cradled her cheek with slender fingers, lowering his mouth inches from hers. “Tell me, Elsa. Can you help it?”

  “No.” She found herself breathless, clinging to his every word. The world was changing right beneath her feet and she grappled onto the front of the vampire’s shirt. She held onto him because she really didn’t think she could manage the strength to let him go. She lowered her eyes to his lips. “Marshall…”

  He pulled away. “There’s something I need first.”

  Elsa blinked, suddenly confused. “What?”

  He tapped his index finger against her collarbone as a way of signaling her amulet. “This,” he whispered. “I want it off.”

  Elsa reared back and stood stricken. “What?”

  He drew sensual circles on her skin. “Amulet off. Lights on.”

  She reached up to hold her amulet—to keep it safe from his prying eyes as her gaze flitted to the doorway. “Vampire, I can’t.”

  “No, Elsa, I can’t.” Marshall caught the front of her tunic, his knuckles going white. “I can’t do this with you like that. I can’t…” He dropped his chin, coffee strands sweeping over his eyes. “I…feel like you’re hiding something from me and I can’t abide it. I won’t.” He ripped the front of her tunic, the sound of material rending tearing through the tense silence. Elsa jerked and scrabbled for the torn fabric, the mild bite of pain nothing compared to the sudden chill of nudity.

  “Mine. All of it.” He crushed his mouth to hers and wide eyes drifted closed.

  She couldn’t breathe. Marshall stole her breath, her sight and she was slowly losing her grasp on her mind. He kissed her deeply. So deeply, she simply forgot her nudity. Her palms flattened against his chest as he groaned into her mouth, hauling her closer. It was the kind of kiss that could’ve lasted for all eternity. Perhaps, if she were lucky, it would.

  A tiny flicker of hope simmered to life in the depths of her soul. She was being carried away, swept up by the tide. Liam had made her feel many things. She had loved him deeply. She still did. He was nothing compared to the vampire. No one would ever compare to him. Marshall was once in a lifetime. She understood that. Somewhere in her lust-addled mind, she knew that the memories trying to free themselves from their chains in the back of her mind were just that—memories. Like pain, they would only matter as long as they were still relevant. But they were still relevant.

  And they did break free and her stolen moment was ruined. Ruined by countless cruel laughs, Liam’s horrified reaction to her appearance—she was swarmed and she just couldn’t let it go.

  Elsa tore her mouth from his, her talisman hummed and shadows flayed from the wall and cuffed the vampire’s ankles and wrists. She forced his arms to his sides, back-stepping as she lifted a hand to cover her bee-stung mouth. Marshall hardly seemed to have a reaction, as if he’d been expecting her hesitation. He didn’t pull at the binds, but nor did the challenge in his eyes dull. “It’s me or the amulet, Elsa.”

  Curse him, Odin. Curse this vampire. Elsa dropped her chin and held up the front of her tunic to shield her nudity. He was going to force her hand. He was going to force her to send him away. Her throat clogged, her heart lurching in her chest at the notion of never waking up to find another picture. She couldn’t—she could not fathom another morning without him. She could not fathom an existence that wasn’t tethered to his. She didn’t want to. “I…” She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her hand, waving away the shadows. “I hate you.”

  Gingerly slipping a finger beneath her chin, he lifted it. “We don’t have to do it this way ever again.” His voice was deep and thick with promise. “Just this once….for me.”

  Elsa ripped her chin out of his hold and dropped her regard to the floor. “Just this once.”

  Reaching up with shaking fingers, she eased out of her torn tunic, letting it pool at her feet. Chill banked across her naked skin and her nipples tightened into pearls. Her nudity no longer bothered her as much as it used to, but this was different. There would be no going back after this. Her gut wrenched with dread as she held her amulet. Carry me…

  She offered a silent prayer and pulled. The clasp popped and the change broke over her body in a harsh wave. Within seconds, a hideous haggraven stood in place of the buxom ginger. Squatting before him, she braced herself against the discomfort of his study. Marshall didn’t move right away, but nor did he seem entirely shocked. He wasn’t even really looking at her. Not her body, anyway. His expression was dark with sadness. It was vaguely familiar. He was looking at her the way she often looked at him—like he couldn’t bear to see her that way.

  Marshall’s eyes flared an unnatural vibrant blue. Desire. His eyes were glowing with true desire and she forgot herself, her mouth dropping open. Was he crazy? She didn’t have time to contemp
late the enigma before her. He slipped his arms beneath hers and hoisted her up into an embrace. Her legs shook from discomfort, but she clung to him, burying her tears in his chest. “Marshall…” she whispered like a prayer.

  He lowered his mouth to her pointed elfish ear. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Touch me,” she cried miserably. “Everywhere. Touch me everywhere, vampire.”

  He did. He flicked her stringy white braid over her shoulder and flattened his palms, smoothing the pain stinging her skin with his touch. They couldn’t kiss properly in this form. The length of her beaked nose didn’t allow it, but he put his lips everywhere. Her legs shook as he dragged his upper lip down the side of her throat, teasing a dangerous path with his fangs.

  Elsa threw her head back, trusting him to catch her when she fell. She trusted him like she trusted no other. Her eyes closed as he banished every cruel word and haunting taunt to the far ends of her mind. His fingers eased down the flare of her hips as he sank them both to their haunches and she turned pink with embarrassment and she struggled to keep from shielding herself.

  In answer, Marshall caught her wrists. The long black stalks that had become her fingers nicked him, leaving superficial cuts on his inner arms—he continued completely unfazed. He kissed every inch of her body. He touched everything. He saw everything. Every ugly dry patch of skin, wrinkle and bulb of fat—he devoured all of it.

  “Marshall,” she squeaked, “you don’t have to.”

  “Shut up, witch,” he groaned, rolling his tongue. “I’m busy.”

  Even in her most hideous form, he forced every molecule of her being to vibrate with sensuality, with raw feminine power. And she quickly forgot herself. Somewhere in the rising lust and urgency, she wondered whether he was going to kiss her until she wept. Need raced through her veins. Need and something else—it smacked of the deepest gratitude a poor little soul like herself could offer.

  “Elsa,” Marshall tore his mouth away and pressed the heel of his palm to his erection like he was seeking relief. “I…”

  She couldn’t have denied him. She wasn’t sure if she could ever deny him anything ever again. Elsa dropped her eyes between her splayed thighs to the vampire. He could’ve read her Desires. He could’ve done any number of things, but he’d chosen to lower himself in deference. Not true submission. Her vampire would never be that kind of submissive, but he would always show deference to her. He would always surrender to her. She was special. He needed her. He needed her like she needed him.

  Elsa didn’t trust herself to speak, so she tapped his shoulder with her beaked nose and waddled around to brace herself on the wall. She mashed her breasts to the cool stone, arching her spine to offer him clear access. They would mate as trolls did.

  Marshall studied her position as he undid his zipper, freeing his gorgeous cock from the confines of the jeans. “Have you missed me?” he asked quietly as he squatted behind her, bracing her thighs with his. He reached between them and centered his cock between her ass cheeks. It brushed against her slick opening and her hips jumped. “Tell me, Mistress,” he pleaded, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “Please.”

  “Yes,” her voice was hoarse and grave like a raven’s squawk, “I missed you.”

  Marshall filled her in one sure stroke, burying himself as far as he could. Pleasure pulsed as her pussy suckled greedily, drawing him deeper. “I missed you,” she whispered through the tears. She didn’t know why she cried. She didn’t know why this moment was so wholly special. But it was.

  Marshall made love to her, holding and kissing her like a breathless and most precious piece of art. He didn’t offer pretty words, or promises. He simply offered himself. His honesty. Every stroke, thrust and kiss was nothing but the physical expression of what was already branded on his heart. This vampire loved her. He loved her from the ugly graying hair and splotches of rotting skin to the cake and riddles. He just…loved her.

  Elsa cried out as she shook with release. Marshall followed shortly afterwards, sinking his fangs into her shoulder as he fucked her through another wave of ecstasy. And when it was over, he cradled her shaking frame against his, pulling her closer and closer until she was sure he was sealing them both in a coffin. No one would ever be able to hurt her again.

  When she finally managed to curtail her raging emotions, he dangled the amulet over her shoulder, a jagged slit in his palm showering it with blood. The ruby and silver inked with metallic splotches of crimson. Elsa’s eyes widened as the energy began to change, grow, and morph within the gem. Black beads of magic pooled in the center of the ruby until finally it became a wholly black jewel. A glittering onyx painted in blood.

  The first thing that came was the blistering awareness of his presence. He was no longer just behind her. He was within her. She could feel his demonic silhouette in the folds of her mind. She could feel his heart beat as if it were her own. She would always know where this vampire was. She would know the moment he died.

  Her skin shifted and she let out a startled cry as she was forced through another change. Bones broke and rearranged, she doubled over as her entire body restructured from the inside out. When the pain finally ebbed, she opened her eyes and found herself a woman again.

  He’d charmed himself. He made himself her knight, her drengr. She would know a fraction more of her true power now.

  Elsa gaped at a woman’s hands and attempted to shift seamlessly between witch and haggraven. She could. Amazement struck her and for a while, she simply stared, turning her hands over, watching them shift between monster and man. “I…” Elsa whispered, almost afraid to believe what she was seeing. “You charmed…yourself.” She looked over her shoulder, suddenly very aware that he was still braced behind her.

  “Indeed.” Marshall slipped the chain around his neck with a shameless smile. “Punish me later, Ms. Karr.”

  Elsa barely managed another breath before she found herself cradled in his arms. “Where are we going?” she huffed and kicked.

  “Punishment or no, I’m not doing this floor nonsense again.”

  He covered them with shadows, couriering them in a stampede of darkness up the stairs to his apartment. She barely caught a glimpse of the oddly bare surroundings before he dropped her back in the middle of a large, modern bed.

  Elsa grappled at the black Egyptian cotton sheets and sat up. The room was empty save for the bed. No pictures. Nothing but a briefcase and bed. She opened her mouth to ask just what he thought he was doing but was silenced as a black T-shirt sailed to the floor. She bunched the soft, downy sheet under her chin and narrowed her eyes on the vampire slowly disrobing at the foot of the bed. “Is it yours?”

  “The bed?” His mouth curved as he shucked out of his jeans. “Yes, Elsa. Just mine.” Nude, he climbed onto the bed, crawling over her until she was forced to lie back. She ignored the discomfort in her chest, her heart full near to bursting as he eased down between her legs and pressed his mouth to hers in a deep, languid kiss. She was still throbbing with release, and still, he found a way to tease her body into wild fire with a simple kiss.

  It could not stand. She was his Mistress now. It was her duty to be consistent. Lifting her legs to cradle him, she broke the kiss. “Just what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  “Oh, I never have the slightest idea what I’m doing.” The vampire wound his fingers through her hair. “If I had to wager, I’d guess I was seducing you? Asking for an ass-kicking?”

  She seated the instep of her foot on the curve of said ass and hid a smile behind the sheet. “Well, which is it?”

  Marshall didn’t answer for a long time. He seemed to be taken with his own thoughts. His eyes darkened with adoration as he drew his knuckles over the curve of her cheek. “I don’t know yet…”

  Late that night, Elsa found herself seated with her back to the leather headboard and Marshall’s head resting on her lap as she idly combed her fingers through his hair. She peered out of the windows, watching the starlight illum
inate the bridge over the inky black water. “Marshall,” she whispered, “…what if you tire of me?”

  The vampire chuckled and pressed his lips to her thigh. “Impossible.”

  Snowflakes licked at the window panes, howling wind rattled the glass and she smiled at the bridge, her eyes and heart beaming with the heat of the sun. Merry Christmas, Da. She pressed a soft kiss to the vampire’s head. “I told you Christmas could change.”

  * * * *

  Marshall never did grow tired of her.

  Not that night. Not the next. Not come the brightest of dawns or the darkest of nights. Elsa would never fall. She would stand the test of time. And he would stand next to her. Ever at her side. Ocean greeting the mountain in an epic song that lasted the rest of their lives. And when the witching hour came and went, even in death, their love carried on.

  The End

  (Or is it? You know me, full of surprises. ~Mrs. Potts)

  Epilogue

  Marshall rose like the vengeful dead. He’d missed work. Again. Goddamn that witch and her feminine wiles. His cell chimed and he dove off the bed and nearly killed himself—twice—wrestling his phone out of his jeans. The building was on fire as he suspected. He massaged the vein pulsing in his temple and ordered everyone to stop, drop, and roll until tomorrow dusk.

  After checking in with the office, he showered, pulled on fresh clothes and took the narrow stairs from his apartment. Cigarette hanging from his lips, he stormed to the door of Bits and Pieces and raised his mug of tea like a gauntlet. “Elsa.”

  “Well, I’m happy to see everything worked out.”

  Marshall went taut and rolled his eyes heavenwards. What fresh hell is this? He turned to find Mrs. Potts. She stood in the snow, bundled in a thick red winter coat, two black ravens perched on either shoulder. The raven on the left narrowed its eyes on him through tiny spectacles. The raven on the right wore a tiny purple turban on its crown and batted surprisingly thick and full eyelashes. Wonderful—the whole gang was here. Fantastic.