"Forgive me for my cowardice, love." His voice cracked as he held her to him, stroking her hair. "It's not too late, Sarah. You'll have my blood. We'll be together. I'll find some way to take care of Rubius."
He dragged her back into the maelstrom. "Leave me alone," she muttered.
"I will not force you. But there is not much time to decide. You'll become sick, and soon they will be here to stop me. They are searching even now." He rocked her back and forth. Now she did not find the motion soothing. With each passing moment, the peace receded further. She could hear animals moving about under them. They were in some kind of loft. And Julien wanted her to do something, when there should be nothing left to do.
The voice above her was prodding as he rocked her. "Our time is out of joint. When I was sure, you were not ready. When you were certain, I faltered. Now there is no time."
"Like a dance," she murmured.
"Yes," his voice insisted. "We have been dancing. But we are not in step, my love." His hand stroked her forehead, her ear, her neck. The pain flowed into her, and the desire, the anger, and the need. Into this vortex, Julien's voice floated. "We can fall in step, Sarah. You thought so too, right here at Mirso Monastery tonight." The hand around her shoulders stroked her hair, the other encircled her waist. "We must have courage at the same moment." His voice grew more insistent. Its urgency called to the whirling emotions inside her. He turned her face. His eyes overflowed with feeling. "You have shown the way. Now you must decide whether you will take this step with me."
"I will disappoint you," she said, quite clearly now. And though she might regret it, she knew that there was no way back to the peace and the distance.
"We are both afraid," he whispered, moving his lips over her ears and neck. She turned her face up and he kissed her, softly at first, and then with such intensity she thought her soul would be drawn out through her lips. She clung to his neck and felt her breasts pressed to his chest through the rough wool of his robe. Let him do what he would. Let him decide. When at last he drew his mouth away, he looked down, a question in his eyes. He wanted more than acquiescence. He wanted her to do something, long after she thought there was nothing left to do.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. She closed her eyes. There was no peaceful place in which to think what she should do. She had such a little shred of will left in her. She wasn't sure it was enough. She opened her eyes. Had she come across a continent to find him? She could not think why. It had to do with the stones at Avebury, somehow, and a room with mosaics on the floor, and George Upcott in some way, too, and Corina and the boy in Sienna and Madame Gessande and a cellar in the Dower House and a deed from Henry, Rex, and a night in her room in Laura Place. Suddenly all the whirling memories took her and made her shiver and sob. She clenched her eyes tight, but when she opened them his face was still there. He looked at her steadfastly and asked her to be strong. She did not think. Suddenly, she did not need to think.
She took a deep breath. "Dance with me," she demanded, though her voice trembled through her tears. He closed his eyes, and turned his face up in thanks as he gathered her in to him. He kissed her again, tentatively. She clung to him and felt him hard against her, as she had once before. She moved her hands over the muscles and sinew beneath the coarse robe and felt her own flame flicker up, signaling she was alive again, brought back from the smoldering coals she had sought to extinguish. She burned against the night.
Julien pushed Sarah back into the hay of the loft and fell beside her, chewing gently on her ear as he unbuttoned her shirt and slid his hand across the warm flesh of her breasts. He felt the wonder of her decision coursing through him, giving him strength and a welling desire he had not known in all his long life. But now he must go carefully, even though the wolves were at the door. What he would ask of her tonight would be distasteful, frightening to a woman. He could not risk asking too much, now that he asked everything. He could not risk getting out of step again. So he restrained his urge to rush. He wanted this to be a wonderful moment, a rite of passage, not an act of desperation, painful to remember. So he pushed his worry that they would be found out of his mind. He pushed away his fear of Rubius's wrath after the deed was done. He let his mind be filled by the silkiness of her skin, the way her nipples hardened at his touch and drove her mouth to seek his and demand kissing. The rhythm to this dance must be obeyed. He gave himself up to the whirling steps dictated by the time and by the ceremony at hand.
As Julien's fingers slid over her nipples, Sarah awoke to his touch with a snap of longing and lifted her mouth to his. This time she made no pretense of innocence. There was no fear of judgment from him. He would guide her into a new world. No more questions, no more doubts.
She pushed herself to her knees in the moonlight. Julien looked surprised. But she was not falling out of step. She began to unbuckle the belt at her waist. He knelt in front of her and did the same with his own knotted cord. Slowly, deliberately, they shed their clothes in a moonlit loft, made warm by the beasts below, and musty with the smell of the stable.
When they were naked, they stopped and simply looked at each other, incandescent flesh in the moonlight. Their world scaled itself down to two bodies and the feel of hay and the low noises of the animals moving about.
Below them, suddenly, they heard shouts, and the rush of many feet. Julien pulled Sarah to him, and put a finger to his lips. They knelt, cleaving together, as their sanctuary was invaded. The lanterns below chased away the magic of the moonlight and gave everything a hellish glow. Sarah and Julien could hear the monks make their way through every stall, banging the doors and knocking staffs against the mangers to make certain there were no hiding places left unexplored. The horses neighed in protest. Sarah shuddered. What would happen if they were discovered now? She grew stiff with holding herself motionless and still the noise went on. At last she heard a shouted conclusion that the miscreants were not in the stable and an order to proceed to the creamery. The monks filed out toward their next goal.
Sarah had been holding her breath. "We must get out of here," she whispered.
He shook his head. "We are safe for a while. They were an interruption, no more. You will have need of what I give you tonight." He stroked her back and the warmth of their flesh and the silvering moonlight began to exert their pull once more. Her breasts brushed his chest, the hardening throb against her belly brought an answering roar in her loins. She gave herself up to the demands of the moment, more urgent than any threat from outside. Julien's hands kneaded her buttocks with mounting urgency. His lips brushed her hair. He was silent. They were past words now. She clutched at his back and pressed her breasts against his ribs.
He pulled her backward into the hay and let his tongue open her mouth, caressing her inside and out. Her hands found his erection and stroked it softly, lovingly. She heard him groan under his breath. He rolled onto his back and she rolled with him, not wanting to part from his sweet flesh. He pulled her knee until she was astride him and she sat up, unable to keep from moving a little, rubbing her moist flesh against him. His eyes closed in ecstasy, she was sure, as he lifted her buttocks slightly to ease her down upon him. Sarah took in a long breath of delight. It was so right to feel him inside her. She raised her arms from his chest to stretch them into the air, fingers spread, reveling in the feel of being full of him. His hands on her buttocks showed her how to move with him, slow stroking in the rhythm of a dance everyone discovered one step at a time each time they danced it. She turned her head up to the rough boards of the stable roof and felt her hair cascade down her bare back, swaying to the rhythm of their moving bodies.
Then she couldn't bear not to feel his chest against her breasts and she descended upon him to smother him in kisses, pressing herself into his chest. He held her close and rolled her over until he was on top of her. She could feel his mounting urgency, held in check to match the figures of the dance. She knew what she wanted next. She wanted to give everything to him. When she had nothing sh
e had not given, she would have everything. She pushed her hair from her neck and turned her head away from his kisses. She had offered once before. But this was different. Tonight, she would not take without giving in return.
He raised himself a little. She stared in invitation with all the emotion that churned inside her. His eyes held that mix of passion and gratitude and surprised reverence that result in love. Then he clasped her to him with such ferocity it took her breath away. He murmured her name as he brushed his lips across her ear, her cheek, and moved inside her. She knew what would come next. It was a sharper kiss that signaled her gift was accepted, a sear of pain that made her gasp. His hips moved more urgently now as he sucked at her throat. The peaceful feeling came over her, as it had at the Dower House. She held him to her and arched her back, offering up her neck as he matched the ardor of his kisses to the mounting demand of his passion. He sucked convulsively as the shudder of his release took him.
Finally, she felt his body relax over her. He kissed her neck one final time, gently, and raised himself upon his elbow to look into her eyes. A faint smile touched a single corner of her lips and was answered by his own.
Julien's eyes never left her, as he moved his wrist to his mouth. The prickle of the hay was the only thing that told her this was not a dream. It was his turn to give, hers to receive. This dance required balance. She saw him draw the power, just a vagueness in his outline and a glow in his eyes. His canines flashed. He did not cry out as she had done when the teeth pierced his flesh. His outline merely sharpened once again, and when he bent to kiss her gently, her tongue found no trace of sharper teeth. He moved his wrist to her lips. A gash there seeped blood against the pale skin. She kissed his wounds and licked the blood slowly from her lips as she looked into his eyes. A softness was there, an indescribable tenderness. He moved off of her, and caressed her with his other hand, first her breasts, then down to her belly, as she licked his wound. The blood welled quickly now. She felt the beat of his heart push it into her mouth, warm and salty tasting. He began to rub her gently there in the moistness between her legs. She thought she might faint. She was locked within her body, conscious only of the urgency in her loins and the warm blood seeping over her lips and tongue.
"Drink, my love," he whispered as he brought her inevitably toward ecstasy. "The blood is the life. Life everlasting. We share the Sacrament of Blood tonight." She sucked at his bleeding wrist, the blood spurting into her mouth as the wracking moans of pleasure took her.
When the dance was done, they lay together in the ghostly light of the moon coming through a dusty window in the loft. Somewhere wolves howled, but they did not bother her. She was beyond their reach in a place from which there was no retreat. Julien pulled his robe over her like a blanket and cradled her against his shoulder. "We will have to leave this place in a moment, love," he murmured. "We are not safe here. Later, I can deal with Rubius."
Sarah thought she heard a doubt in his voice. "Is it done?" She felt no different, though she felt sure of herself, perhaps for the first time ever. She had made her decision.
"Not quite. You will grow sick soon, Sarah. You will need more of my blood until you have your own immunity," he whispered.
"Where will we go?" she asked, without real curiosity. Their adventure was not to be a journey of where.
"I will take care of everything." But his eyes snapped away from her face, all tenderness gone, as they heard the rustle of feet below them. She grabbed for his robe and scrambled to her knees as Julien gathered her into his arms.
A familiar voice in the corner of the loft behind them said, "Well, Davinoff, your fall from grace is now complete."
Julien tried to blink out once again. He drew the power from the loft. It gathered about him slowly, a whirling darkness. Too slowly. Then the power and the darkness drained away. Julien was shaken. Rubius had not been able to stop him before, but now the damn monks below were creating a wall of will at Rubius's command, sucking all the power out of the immediate vicinity, to prevent Julien from drawing off enough to escape.
"Effective, Rubius," he drawled with mock calm, as he clutched Sarah to his naked body. He could feel her trembling.
Rubius smiled grimly. "I regret I find the need for such a ploy, but better safe than sorry. Now, young lady, why don't you give that robe to Davinoff, and get back into your clothes? We have some matters of mutual interest to discuss."
Sarah started as Rubius slammed the door. She and Julien were alone with him now in the chambers where she had dined with him last night. It seemed eons ago. The fire had died out, the lamps had guttered, and the room was chill. Rubius left the monks outside in the corridor with specific instructions to contain Julien in shifts so their circle of will was never broken, even for an instant. Sarah's heart sank. Apparently, Julien would not be able to thwart them if they worked together, no matter how strong he was.
The moment the echo of the slamming door died, the old monk turned his wrath on Julien, who stood ramrod straight by her side.
"You fool, Davinoff! The blood is the life! You disobey the most primal of our Rules for the third time, and within the Sanctuary of Mirso itself! Have you no shame?" He did not wait for an answer, but stormed on. "You are a threat to the very order of our lives here. If you had your way, the regularity, the simplicity that comfort us would all be torn to shreds. There would be nothing left to protect us against the ravages of our nature."
He stopped to breathe.
"What would you have had me do?" Julien asked quietly.
"The girl made her choice, Davinoff. You should have honored it."
"She made that choice as a result of my cowardice, Rubius." Sarah heard Julien's voice grow hard above her. "I could not let both our lives be lost when I could make it right."
"You of all of us should know the results of this particular sin." Rubius began to pace.
Julien spread his hands over the ancient wood of dining table. "Have you been an hour in Sarah's company without knowing she is more worthy of the Companion than either of us are?"
That stopped Rubius in his tracks. "I do not deny you chose well, but such talk is sacrilege. Exactly the sort of behavior that makes you dangerous."
"One more of our kind will not break the bank." Julien pressed on. "You know that."
"It is the principle," Rubius insisted. "I cannot even appear to sanction such a violation."
"But the deed is done. She is infected. I have given her my blood. By morning she will need more. What then?" Sarah moved close enough to touch her shoulder to Julien's arm.
"There will be no more blood." Rubius closed his face against them. "We can perhaps make her passing more merciful."
Sarah looked up to see Julien casting about for some solution to their dilemma. She felt helpless. Her head seemed muddied.
A burning in her veins tingled along her extremities.
"You will have to rend me limb from limb to keep me from giving her the protection of my blood," Julien warned. "I'll take lives and the peace of the Sanctuary with me."
Rubius looked thoughtful. But he said, "So be it."
Sarah was outraged. "You want to murder us? Is that what your beliefs dictate? Safety over kindness? Violence used to combat love?"
"You left me no choice, young woman," Rubius barked. "You stole the Companion, and your prince consort here disobeys me in front of the entire population of the monastery! We will have a hundred more mistakes like you if I do not stop it here."
"This is not a mistake and you know it, Rubius!" Julien insisted.
Sarah saw a struggle take place in the monk's face between duty and inclination. He did not want violence and death. He wanted to be well out of the whole matter and rid of them both. But neither could he condone their sin. What would sway him? She must fan his inclination. She lifted a hand to her forehead, trying to think. Her face was clammy with sweat. There was a key here somewhere. It was the final question on the test that Rubius had set for her.
Sh
e blurted a question into the tense silence. "Why are you old, Father Rubius?"
"I am the Eldest," he said stiffly.
Julien looked at her strangely. She knew it seemed irrelevant. But Rubius was different than the others. Perhaps that was why he was secretly in sympathy with her and Julien. "You are, all of you, old," she pressed on. "But everyone else here looks as if they are in the prime of their lives." She looked at Julien. "Would you ever grow to look like Father Rubius?"
Realization dawned in Julien's face. He snapped his gaze to Rubius, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "You were old already when you became one of us, Rubius," he speculated. "I cannot think why I did not see the significance before. Perhaps you did drink the Companion at the Source, but that doesn't matter. An old man would never have survived the ravages of the sickness without blood from one of us." Julien straightened, and looked down at the wizened monk accusingly. "You were made, weren't you, Rubius?"
Sarah could see the Eldest consider. Was he thinking to lie? Or was he considering what would happen if they should spread their knowledge about? What prohibition could there be against making vampires, if their own leader had been made? His carefully constructed sanctuary might be at risk. Would that make him more inclined to let them go, or less? She couldn't think.
"Come, Rubius," Julien said slowly. "It is your turn for a confession."
Sarah could feel the tension growing in the room. Rubius's eyes had gone stony. She glanced up at Julien, and saw that they were locked in a channel of will, struggling for supremacy. Here was the moment that would tell their fate. All was up to . Julien. She shuddered, as chills began to rack her, though her veins burned. With effort, she focused her eyes on Rubius, as though her small share of will could help Julien against a creature such as he.
All at once, Rubius turned away. Had he given up the battle? Had Julien won?
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