by Mara Lee
* * * *
She was four. And she couldn’t remember ever being so happy. Her mommy was home, baking, her uncle, having caught some big fish, was skinning them out back for supper, and it was Barbie’s birthday.
Sheridan had to get everything ready. Her mommy wanted to have Barbie’s birthday celebration during dinner. Sheridan placed cups, saucers, and paper napkins on the little wooden table that Uncle Sam had made especially for her, and seated Barbie comfortably in one of the plastic chairs. She was just getting ready to pour the tea when she heard it. The sound of rushing wind and thunder? There shouldn’t be any thunder. It wasn’t raining. Why was there thunder?
Sheridan, clutching her favorite teddy bear, left her small room for the kitchen. There she found her mommy pressed against the stove by a large man.
“Mommy?”
Althea Duskul’s face went three shades of pale when she heard her daughter’s little voice from the doorway. “Sheri, darling, go back to your room.”
“Oh Althea … perhaps you did do something right?” The large man said. He turned then toward Sheridan.
Sheridan saw nothing but large green eyes. They were so bright, so shiny, so pretty. She stepped forward, barely registering her mother’s cry, and held out one of her tiny hands. “I’m Sheridan.”
The man with the bright green eyes smiled then to reveal sparkling white teeth. He took her small hand in his. “Zinnock.”
“You have a funny name,” Sheridan said.
Zinnock laughed. “Perhaps. And you, your name is lovely. You are certainly a Sheridan…” he frowned at Althea, “never Sheri. Sheri is so common, and this child is anything but common.” Zinnock ignored Althea’s protests and lifted Sheridan up. He cradled her against him. “What are you doing, pretty Sheridan?”
Sheridan played with Zinnock’s white hair. She liked how it felt. It was really soft. “It’s Barbie’s birthday. I’m having a tea party for her. Do you want to come? I don’t have real cookies yet, mommy’s baking them. But I made some pretend cookies out of cardboard, they look real. You can have one.”
Zinnock grinned. “I would love to have a pretend cookie.” Zinnock moved to leave with Sheridan. Just before he exited the kitchen he pierced Althea with a withering glare. “You would have kept her from me. Oh Althea, there is no saving you now.”
* * * *
Sheridan awoke screaming. She took several deep breaths and tried to regain her composure.
She was on the cold floor, and Zinnock was still holding her head within his large hands. “Get your hands off of me,” she said. There was steel in her voice.
Zinnock, surprisingly, complied. He released her and moved back. “Do you remember me now, Sheridan Malaya?”
Sheridan swallowed hard. “I do.” Sheridan could remember everything. The feel of his hair under her hands, the light in his eyes as he smiled at her, the sound of his voice as it lulled her to sleep. He had played tea party with her. Had sat in her plastic chair in his three-piece suit and consumed fake cookies. He had laughed with her and she had thought how funny and nice he was. When he had tucked her into bed he had spoken to her in another language and gotten a strange look in his eyes. It was as if his eyes were burning green fire. It was the first time that evening that little Sheridan Duskul had been frightened of the handsome man. She had called for her mommy, who had come and soothed her immediately. The last thing Sheridan remembered before falling off into a dreamless sleep, was her mommy and the handsome man’s voice arguing at the door. “Who are you?”
He smiled. “I told you, I am Zinnock.”
“No, who are you?”
Zinnock rose and held out his hand to Sheridan. She ignored it and pushed herself off of the ground. “I am a Hedonite, Sheridan, like you.”
Sheridan shook her head. “No way, I am not like you, buster.”
“No, you are not vampire…but you are Hedonite. It is in your blood, Sheridan. You cannot deny blood.”
“I can deny any damn thing I want.”
Zinnock sighed. “So, thought your mother. Your very presence here tonight demonstrates how wrong the both of you were in your thinking.”
“My presence here demonstrates,” Sheridan sneered, “how good you guys are at kidnapping people.”
“Oh, Zinnock.” Willemina cried out, annoyed. “She has a shocking lack of manners. Do just get on with it. Why explain anything?”
He frowned. “If she is to adapt to our ways … she must understand them.”
“We have never gone so far for one before,” Willemina shot back.
“No, we haven’t. But we have never had Sheridan before,” he replied.
Willemina went silent.
“What is going on? If you’re going to explain something to me, oh, and by the way I really should be getting an explanation right about now,” she sighed, “then explain, because I want to go home. I miss my boyfriend,” Sheridan whispered that last under her breath.
Zinnock’s eyes grew hard and cold. “Alexethre,” he tossed Willemina a frigid look, “never my first choice to Turn her.”
“Yes, Xethre, I want to get home to him.” Sheridan cried out. She gasped when Zinnock grabbed her by her throat. The grip was not strong, but it was steady.
“He has taken your blood, but he hasn’t Turned you. I would know if he had Turned you.”
“I … I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zinnock’s eyes glowed and became bright with fervor. “You love him?” It was more awed statement then question.
Sheridan tried to take a breath. It was difficult to do with Zinnock holding her by her throat. “I do.” She said quietly.
Zinnock laughed then. “Well, well, well, what an odd turn of events.” Zinnock snapped his fingers and instantly a pale young boy was by his side. “Take our guest to her room,” he shuddered, “and do get her something appropriate to wear.”
The boy grabbed her arm and began to drag her away.
“Hey, hey, let go, ouch…” Sheridan tugged, but wow, the kid had a really good grip. “What is going on here?” She scowled when Zinnock merely smiled at her before blowing her a kiss.
* * * *
“He took her. He took her right from under my nose.” Xethre paced the length of his floor. “Goddamn it! I should have taken her with me. I should have insisted that she come with me.”
“She didn’t want to go,” Michaela answered simply.
“It shouldn’t have mattered what she wanted. I should have…”
“Oh … Oh … do you hear yourself, Xethre?” Michaela said between her laughter. “It shouldn’t have mattered … of course it matters. Your Sheridan is a strong-willed creature, a strong-willed human. She has a mind of her own. What’s more, she has free will. She will do what she wants. It is one of the reasons that you love her, Xethre.” Her eyes softened, “One of the reasons that she loves you. You are a creature of incredible strength, power, and dominant will, and yet you give her the space to be free. You are matched perfectly.”
Xethre’s composure crumbled. “Oh God, Michaela, she is my world.”
“I know, Xethre, I know. We will get her back.”
“She is with them. Pathos has taken her to the lions’ den … the vampires’ den.”
Michaela clenched her hands into tight fists. “Yes.”
“We will have to stand against the entire Council.”
“I know.”
“They will not relinquish her, Michaela, not without a fight. They will not lose their prize.”
“We will find a way, Xethre.” Michaela drew him into her oddly comforting embrace. “We will find a way.”
* * * *
Sheridan looked out of the small window and swore again. She was holed up in some ancient castle, surrounded by bloodsuckers, and she supposed to wear this reject from the movie, ‘Elizabeth’.
She pushed the gown away. There was no way she was wearing this dress. It was bright, it was garish, and it was impossibly heavy.
Not to mention there were layers and layers of garments that went on under the monstrosity. She had thought she would be happy as a kid in a candy store to get out of her shark costume … now, now, she wasn’t too sure. Trading one disaster for another.
“I want out of this hell hole.”
“Calm yourself, my love, we are coming for you.”
She gasped. “Xethre, Xethre, is that you?”
“Yes, my love, open your mind to me…”
“Whoa…” Sheridan let out a deep breath, “you are talking to my mind.”
“Telepathy, my love, I did not dare to try it before, else you would think I was invading your privacy. I had hoped to break it to you gently,” Xethre laughed mirthlessly, “however, certain events have made the ‘breaking it to you gently’, rather impossible.”
“Oh my God, so you … always know what I’m thinking?”
“Not always. Sometimes you shield, you may not know you are shielding, but you are. Your mind is closed. But when you are open, as you are tonight, it is easy to speak to you thus.”
Sheridan shivered. “Xethre, I’m … I’m a little frightened. This place is really creepy, and the vampires, even creepier…”
“I know, my love … but I will be with you soon…I am with you now.”
Suddenly Sheridan felt it; the languid pull of desire … lust. Her nipples went taut and her pussy began to ache … grow moist with want. “Xethre,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”
“Seducing you, my love.”
She gasped as phantom hands began to pull at her nipples and shivers began to wrack her body. She slid to the floor as her legs had turned to water. “This isn’t real.” She moaned when she felt a hot, moist, mouth cover her nipple, and begin to suck.
“It is as real as you wish it to be, my love…”
“You’re in my head … you’re in my body,” Sheridan groaned. She trailed her fingers down her stomach and stopped when she reached the soft thatch of curls that shaded her moist pussy.
“I am… I can feel you, my love, I can …taste you.”
She spread her legs and dipped one of her slim fingers into her hot, wet, channel. She moaned and immediately added a second finger to the play. She pushed her two fingers in and out, and when the heat began to build she found the hard kernel of her clit and circled it enticingly.
“Let me taste you … let me know you…”
She withdrew her glistening fingers from her pussy and brought them to her mouth. She trailed each one lightly over her lips, kissing the air with each soft stroke. She could feel him … she could feel her Xethre. His tongue was licking the sweet juice from her lips, caressing and plumping her. His mouth was dominating her. He all but ate at her lips, biting, surging, begging for more. He was everywhere … he was upon her.
Her breath came out in hiccups now. She arched her hips and thrust her breasts forward … needing more of his touch … needing more of his mind on hers.
“You feel like satin, my love. And you’re so beautiful. You look like a plump ripe peach…all split open and dripping juice. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? Just begging to be eaten…”
“Yes,” Sheridan hissed. “Yes … please…” She spread her legs as wide as they would go and plunged three fingers deep inside her pussy. She let her long, tapered, fingers stroke, tease and discover. Each finger caressed the warm, slick, walls of her passage and brought her to a new peak. She located her clit, hard and plump and began to squeeze it tightly between her two fingers. “Oh God … ohhhhh…”
“Blood is rushing to that hard tight stone of yours … blood is filling the hood, plumping it, ripening it for me. I can feel it, my love, feel it quivering … feel it readying itself. The tremors are coming now. And they’re burning, shocking … unbearable. I can taste your cream under my tongue and I can hear your heartbeat as blood rushes through that beautiful body of yours. I know you…I know how close…”
She squeezed, plunged, twisted, and then exploded. Her whole body was taken away … flown to a place where pleasure dominated. Her body felt like a million nerve endings, all of which were on fire. And she felt shakes and shivers wrack her from head to toe. Her breath was raspy. Her heart beat like a drum, and her flesh felt alive with the most intense sensations.
“My love … my beautiful Sheridan … so good … so very good.”
She blew out a long breath and swiped a strand of damp hair away from her flushed face. “Are you telling me we could have been doing this before?”
“Mental sex? Well, yes.” Xethre’s voice was tinged with amusement.
Sheridan’s smile was cat-like. “What the hell is your problem, Roistkauff? Privacy-Shmivacy, anytime you want to fuck my mind … go right ahead.”
His laughter was clear and resonant within her orgasm-ridden mind.
Chapter Eleven:
Xethre and Michaela arrived at Castle Dunlock at the witching hour. The sky was black and the moon was out in full.
“They are waiting for us within, Michaela.” Xethre said, heading for the gates.
She nodded. “I know, I too, feel them.” Michaela swept her eyes around the parameter. “I hate this place. I have always hated this place. It reminds me of … things I do not wish to be reminded of.”
“I understand.” Xethre’s face was set in a hard, tight, mask. “All I see is Catherine … and…”
“Do not,” Michaela said, placing a finger to his white lips, “do not speak of it. We will not think of those dark times.”
He nodded curtly.
Neither was surprised that when they reached the front of the castle, the gates swung open.
They shared a long hard look, before they entered the gates of hell.
* * * *
The dining hall was massive and set out in splendor. The long wooden tables were laden with crystal goblets and golden plates. There were trenchers and serving bowls, filled to brimming with blood. And each Council member had dressed as in the days of old. At the end of the far table, Pathos sat. Beside him was a small, frail-looking, human woman. His eyes narrowed when Xethre entered the room, and widened when he saw Michaela. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Zinnock whose voice shook the room first.
“Welcome, Xethre, welcome to our home.” Zinnock’s eyes grew brighter and more appreciative when they came to rest upon Michaela’s form. “And, Michaela, how long has it been since we have been graced with your presence?”
“Oh, only about one thousand years … give or take a decade,” Michaela answered dryly.
Zinnock laughed. “You have only grown more beautiful.”
“And you have only grown … older,” she said maliciously.
Zinnock tensed and fire flashed in his eyes, a moment before his face took that smooth, perfect, mask once again. “What brings you to our home…?”
Xethre growled. “I have come for my mate.
Zinnock smiled and joined the rest of the Council in their chuckles. “Your mate?”
“Yes,” Xethre snarled, “my mate. Sheridan Malaya Duskul … is mine. The fates have decreed it so.”
Zinnock surged to his feet. “THE FATES! The fates have decreed it so? You are mistaken, Xethre. We decree. The fates have nothing to do with it.” He sat back down. “You were never my first choice,” he skewered Willemina with a cool look, “but some were certain that a more … enlightened perspective would prove wise in this situation. Some believed that to Turn Sheridan among us would … diminish her powers. The lines have grown too mixed … too … close. And we all know that lineage is all important,” He smiled at Michaela, “All important,” and leaned back in his golden chair. “Do you even know what she is, fool, do you even know what she could be?”
Xethre made a move toward Zinnock but Michaela stopped him with a hand to his forearm. She shook her head.
Zinnock laughed, then. “Some blood diminishes … some lines grow … weak … diluted after the many centuries they must endure.” Zinnock made a motion to his side.
“Vlad’s line is strong due to enormous numbers. His capacity for,” he grinned, “spreading his seed, before his Turning, guaranteed him a legacy. But the purity of his blood?” He growled. “The blood is no longer pure. His offspring have mated and tainted the blood. They have twisted the line until little remains of the original strain but him.” Zinnock’s eyes burned brightly, and Xethre and Michaela stiffened. “I would have a legacy. But sadly, unlike Vlad, I did not have the numbers to assure one.” Zinnock’s smile was twisted, “until now. Sheridan Malaya is mine, fool, mine. Her stupid human mother could not even conceive of the power her daughter could have if she was Turned. Her mother’s blood is pure; her daughter’s even purer. But Althea ran. She ran, she ran from me, she ran from all of us. Taking with her something that belonged to us. When I first saw the child I knew … I knew that she was a Hedonite and that she was one of my line. I could not risk taking the child from her mother, and I would never have Turned her at such a young age. But now … now … she has been cultivated into the perfect vessel and she will make the perfect vampire companion. Her strength will add to our numbers and she will take a seat here … beside me. One of my own … one of me.” He grinned and beckoned his servant forward. “Bring the girl…”
“She is not like you … not like us, Zinnock,” Xethre began, “Her humanity, it is part of her … it is part of what makes her special.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Zinnock spat, “As a vampire she will have legions to command. Her power will be beyond reckoning. Her blood demands it.”
“Her blood demands nothing. Only you demand it of her, Zinnock.” Xethre’s face was hard. “You commanded me to study, to learn of Sheridan Malaya. I did. I did learn, Zinnock. I learned that she is a good person, a kind, gentle, sweet, pure, soul, and that her human nature … it is stronger than her vampire one could ever be.”
“Do you love her then, Alexethre?” This came from Pathos. “Do you love your target?”
There was no hesitation on Xethre’s part. “Yes. Yes, Pathos. I love her.”
The Council broke out in heated murmurs, gasps, laughter, and furious whispers. The hall was crowded with voices, some spoken, most mental, and within the fury stood Xethre, full of love, and unafraid of their dark glory.