by Karen Dales
With a shuddering sigh, he closed his eyes, and she felt him stir beneath her.
“I think I like your surprises,” he mumbled.
Rubbing her hands together, she placed them on his chest and began the long strokes to distribute the oil. Her hands glided over the skin of his smooth chest and abdomen, delighting her as she felt the contours of each muscle before running her hands down his sides, feeling the ribs beneath. She heard his breath catch as her hands gently grazed over his nipples, feeling them erect under her careful ministration.
Oh how she wanted to have her lips discover what her hands had found and she leaned over. Cinnamon waves cascaded over to caress his skin and she felt his breath catch as she placed her lips at the base of his collarbone, the shift in movement causing her to lie fully onto top of his firm body. She set her arms to his sides, supporting her weight as the cinnamon oil fired her lips.
Slowly, meticulously she worked lips and tongue across and down, feeling his breath come in halting gasps at each pull of his skin. She wanted to devour him, draw him into the centre of her being and keep him there. She moaned when her mouth found his, his fingers entangling themselves in her hair. This time she was the invader and she opened her mouth, finding him willing to allow for her exploration.
He tasted faintly of metal and though not entirely unpleasant, it was still a surprise. She pressed further, tongues caressing until she felt the needle sharpness of his teeth. The promise of what those teeth could do pulled her back and she lifted her face from his.
Crimson eyes wide and dilated, his breath heavy, the need for her naked on his face, Jeanie knew she wanted what he offered without hesitation. It was the promise of ecstasy that drove her as each kiss kindled a fire that shot to her groin, driving a moan from her lips. Her need for him consumed her and she sat up, impaling herself on his rigid member with a sigh until she could not take any more. The suddenness of her movement drove a cry from his lips, urging her on as she slowly rocked.
Eyes closed, head thrown back, shocks of pleasure trembled her body. Each thrust drove a cry from her as she tried to take him deeper with herself. She wanted all of him and he did not begrudge her desires.
A shift in position made her gasp and she found herself gazing up at him. Strong pale arms wrapped around her, guiding her movements. Bending his head, his lips a butterfly’s touch against hers as his hair spilled to caress her face. Reaching up, she brushed his hair from their faces and trailed deep kisses along his jaw, tasting him with her tongue. There was no roughness, just soft smooth skin.
He cocked his head to the side, allowing Jeanie to work herself down as they moved together. She found the pulsing vessel in his neck and kissed, pulling at the skin, grazing it with her dull teeth. She knew what this would do to him and was rewarded with a growl. His thrust went deep, forcing a gasp to escape her lips.
His movements became more urgent within her and she moaned, her mouth against his neck. Jeanie wanted all of him. Each thrust causing her to tighten in the precursor of exquisite release. Teasing the sensitive spot on his neck, she suckled and then bit not caring that he had told her not to do this.
His deep shuddering cry brought her head up and she stared into his eyes, their bodies fully entwined. The ruby iris was nearly gone against the dark blood red of his pupils and she instantly knew she had pushed him too far. Fear percolated up. She wanted to move, but she could not tear her eyes away from his and realized his hand pinned her.
He moved beneath her, never taking his eyes off of her. Each thrust found their limit, igniting her in pleasure borne pain that threatened to steal her soul. Her breath came in gasps matched by his, and she felt her head tilted back. She could not move except for what he allowed and she wanted it all, everything that he could give her.
Needle sharp teeth grazed against her neck and then sank deep within in unison with his thrust, breaking skin. Her cry of release rocked her body, shuddering, feeling his orgasm deep within, matching her own. Each pull on her blood renewed the never-ending spasms and she held him tightly, never desiring to let go as she rode each intoxicating wave.
Suddenly, she was sent flying backwards to land bouncing against the bed. Shocked and confused, the moment completely shattered, Jeanie rolled over in a tangle of sheet and blankets and got to her knees, her shift twisted around her legs.
Pain and terror contorted his beautiful face. His body tensed and curled as he sat on the edge over the bed, a spasm of agony ripping through him.
Something was horribly wrong. Scrambling over the covers, Jeanie knelt beside him afraid to touch him as another paroxysm twisted him.
“Oh my God, Gwyn, what’s wrong?” she yelled, panicked.
His eyes squeezed tight as his body seized again. Once past he opened his eyes and she realized he could not catch his breath. His pleading gaze froze her to the core, ripping into her heart. She did not know what was wrong. She did not know what to do.
Another seizure racked his body and she watched in horror as his eyes rolled back and he fell limply to the floor. Her scream rang deafly in her ears as she rushed to his side, tears streaming down her face.
The bedroom door slammed open its crystal handle shattering as it embedded in the wall behind. Fernando stood wearing only his black silk robe, its hem swung against his bare calves, one hand on the doorframe, the other on the remaining knob. Dark brown waves normally neat and tidy now gave evidence of disrupted sleep.
Jeanie jumped at the bang, her eyes wide at seeing the Noble’s face twisted with concern and rising anger.
“What the hell happened?” roared Fernando, taking quick steps into the bedroom to kneel beside the prone Angel, his dark hand looking for a pulse and finding none.
Jeanie shuffled back on her knees, pushed out of the way. Fernando turned to glare at her after taking quick stock of the situation, his large brown eyes filled with menace.
“What did you do?” The threat in his tone was explicit through his clenched jaw.
She had not expected the Noble to come into the room. Now he was here, maybe, just maybe he could help. After all he was a vampire.
Hiccoughing back her sobs, Jeanie stammered, “I dinna ken.” She shrunk into herself as the brown eyes bore into her, filling her with fear. “One moment –“
“I know that!” spat Fernando, sneering. “I can smell it.” Jeanie paled. Ignoring her, Fernando pressed, lifting her up by her upper arms until they were standing. “Answer my question.”
“I dinna ken,” sobbed Jeanie. Her arms throbbed painfully, her hands pressing against soft silk. Fernando was supposed to know what to do.
His eyes drove into her and she felt the tension leak from her legs, leaving them rubbery and unable to withstand her weight. He caught her before she could fall. Heart hammering in her chest, Jeanie watched his gaze slide down to her neck. Fear redoubled and she futilely tried to break from his grasp. His hand gripped hard enough to make her gasp. She stumbled as one hand released her arm and brushed the mark on her neck. The sensation sent her trembling. She could not pull her gaze from his.
Drawing his hand away from her neck, a glistening red bead quivered on his index finger. Jeanie watched in horror as he brought the taste of her blood to his lips. Never taking his eyes off of her, he licked the red jewel, testing its bouquet.
Brown eyes flashing darkly were the only precursor to the pain of being slammed up against the wall. Blackness popped in her vision as her head bounced against the paper covered plaster. No longer supported by Fernando’s iron grip Jeanie slumped to the ground, her tears momentarily halted by the stunning action.
“You stupid little bitch,” roared Fernando, bearing down on her. “You’re contaminated. You poisoned him.”
Realization widened Jeanie’s eyes and dropped her jaw. This could not be happening. There was no way she could have eaten anything with the spice. It was in England. Not here. Not France. Wasn’t it? She had not eaten anything with the spice mixture. It was being given out
in soup kitchens and she did not eat there. Then she remembered the breakfast and she burst into tears. Those delicious sausages and the fact that the hotel knew the address of the shipping house, it was too late to put two and two together. She had poisoned the man she loved.
Scrabbling out from under Fernando’s grasp, Jeanie made a mad dash across the floor. He could not be dead. She grasped his pale shoulder and gave it a rough shake, tears spilled down her face. “Please Gwyn, please, dinna be dead. Wake up, damn it.”
She felt a presence next to her and she looked up to see through watery eyes, Fernando kneeling beside her, his jaw tight in restrained fury. “Is he?” She hated how small her voice seemed as she pleaded with the Noble.
“I can’t tell.” His voice slid through his sneer. “I’ll get a knife. If he heals he’s alive, if not...” He let the sentence hang as he stood.
Panic flared up. “No!” she exclaimed. Fernando could not use a knife on the Angel. If he were still alive it would burn him and that would give him away. She had promised to keep his secret. She released a heavy sigh as the Noble stood over her, his hatred burning.
“There must be another way,” she implored.
Reluctantly, Fernando knelt back down. After shooting her another threatening glare he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jeanie had no clue what he was doing and flinched when his hand landed against the scarred back, his hand almost brown against the Angel’s white skin.
“Back away,” ordered Fernando, his eyes still closed. “I can’t hear.”
Clambering to her feet, Jeanie haltingly backed up until she felt the wall with a thump. She did not know what Fernando was doing, but if it meant that the Angel would live, she would do it.
An eternity pressed forward and she forgot to breathe. Jeanie watched in silence as the Noble knelt over the Angel with eyes closed, his face tight in concentration. Without warning Fernando opened his eyes, turned the Angel over and scooped him up only to be placed onto the bed.
Jeanie sucked in a deep breath and took a cautious step forward. The Angel lay askew on the bed, his hair splayed over and around his face. Fernando turned to her, bearing down on her and she scampered back up against the wall, terror billowing up.
“You are a very lucky mortal.” She could hear the contempt in his whisper. His breath feathered against her face. Jeanie could not tear her frightened gaze from his. “He’s alive – barely. If he were dead, you would be too.”
Finding a spark of courage, Jeanie needed to know, “Why d’ye care?”
He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “He’s Chosen. You’re not.” He stepped away from her and stopped as he reached the door. “Not to mention you foolishly nearly cost me a valuable partner. Next time you eat remember this: if he dies, the Good Father you care about dies too.”
Jeanie watched in horrific realization as the Noble left the bedroom. Running to the bed, she collapsed to her knees and clutched the Angel’s pale cold hand to her face as she wept.
Chapter XXVI
The bathwater luxuriated against her skin. Her dark brown hair hung in water-plastered ropes against her face as she stared up to the shadowed ceiling. Opalescent bubbles glittered in the candle light, making musical pops as the tension left their skin. Smiling, she closed her eyes enjoying the relaxation her nightly constitutional always brought her. The only thing that was missing was the songs of her little bird.
Languidly, she ran a petite hand down her face and neck to gently caress her breast. There would be no reaction. Her little bird was across the channel with Violet making sure that her flower blossomed with the responsibilities she bestowed.
She dropped her hand back into the water with a splash and opened her eyes. She had not imagined that she would miss Corbie, but now he had flown she could not wait for his return. The others were no match to his ability to run the operation. He was the perfect successor to the control of the British Isles when all was in place and the extermination of the Chosen complete. Then she would be able to make her journey home, leaving the cold dampness to warmer climates. There she would rule as a Goddess.
Gazing down at the dark waters, the bubbles all but gone, she called out to the woman waiting behind the door.
The dark stained wood door opened, revealing a young woman with mouse brown hair and small eyes.
“Lydia, if you would.” She pointed to the blood red robe sitting folded on the vanity. It was hard to find good help.
With a bob of her head Lydia quickly traversed the red and black speckled tile. Snapping the robe open, she held it for her lady at the edge of the black enamelled tub.
Lifting out of the tepid water, she stepped out of the tub, allowing Lydia to gently wrap her as if she were a child. She did not like the fact that she had to look up at her body servant. She would have to have a little talk with her absent bird when he flew home.
Water dripped little puddles as she went to sit in front of her vanity. Silver combs and brushes lined perfectly against the red stained wood. Picking her favourite, she passed it to Lydia who carefully began to work out the tangles. Closing her eyes with enjoyment, she ignored the occasional tug. This was one thing that Lydia seemed to be able to do better than her little bird.
Opening her eyes, she considered her appearance in the mirror and smiled. She cocked her head to the side, studying Lydia’s drawn grey face.
“Lydia, child, when was the last time you ate?” she asked. It was unusual for her to care about the well being of those beneath her. If Lydia were not seeing to her own needs, she would be unable to serve properly and that would mean termination. Something that she could ill afford to do until Corbie came back.
“A day or so, ma’am,” replied Lydia, her voice quiet yet strong.
She frowned. “That’s my Lady.”
Grey eyes widened and then dropped to her task. “Yes, my Lady.”
Dismissing Lydia’s disconcertment with a wave of her hand, she continued. “Tomorrow night, before you come to me, make sure that you are fed. I will not have you falling apart because you did not eat. Is that understood, Lydia?”
Lydia dipped her head, a slight smile on her face. “Yes, my Lady.”
“Good.” She relaxed into Lydia’s careful ministrations of her tresses. “Has there been any word from Mr. Vale?”
“No, my Lady.” Lydia pulled at a stubborn tangle. “Nothing so far.”
Her face twisted in disapproval. She had hoped some word would have traveled to her by now. This was taking far too long. Agitated by the news, she stood, surprising Lydia by taking the brush from her.
Making quick work, she walked out of the bathroom, Lydia trailing behind. A knock at the door halted her and she swung around as Lydia nearly walked into her.
“Don’t just stand there,” she barked. “Go see who it is.”
Yes, she would definitely have to talk with Corbie about his choices for body servants.
Lydia quickly walked to the door, opening it slightly. Hushed tones were exchanged and then she closed the door, a manila envelope in her hand. With the same urgency, she swept over to her lady and handed the letter over.
She frowned at the lack of writing on the envelope. Turning it over, a large waxen red seal remained unbroken. Her eyes went wide at the impression. Slipping in a finger, she snapped the seal and pulled out the folded parchment. The thick vellum crinkled and her eyes went wide with the recognition at the flourished script. Snatching the paper to her breast, she harshly dismissed the body servant to the bedroom to make it ready. Once alone, she cautiously lifted the parchment and read:
My Dearest Bastia,
How long has it been since I have laid eyes upon you, O my daughter? I know I have been remiss in my care and treatment of you over these many years as I choose to carve a different path; one that has taken me across the globe in search of the answers you know the questions to, but enough of that.
I am not here to lament our disconnection but to speak of concerns rumours have brou
ght to my sensitive ears.
Your war upon the Chosen must cease. I understand the reasons for this, my little cat, but there will be nothing to be gained in educating the Chosen to your existence. Their ignorance of you is your bliss. I wish you could see this for the truth, but alas, I know your heart.
It has also come to my attention that you have found the Angel and his Chooser. My congratulations. Long have I searched for them. Do not presume to drag them into your crusade. Leave them alone. Do not harm them, for the Angel, I pray, will have the answers I crave.
I am returning to London as quick as I may. I do not presume to usurp your position. That has never been my wish. I am coming to seek an end to my searching. If my seeking has availed me not due to the vengeance you are inflicting upon the Chosen, then take care. My wrath will be complete.
Leave the Angel and his Chooser alone!
Thanatos
Fear sparked anger bubbled up as she reread the letter. How dare he order her around? That time was long past. She scrunched the expensive paper into a tight ball, her knuckles whitening with tension. She would not give up the destruction of the Chosen because of him. She had set her own path and she would follow it through to the bitter end.
The image of Notus’ mock crucifixion flashed a warning in her mind, coupled with Corbie’s report of the Angel having followed Violet to the continent. A growing sense of self-preservation flooded her face. It was too late to leave the Angel and the Good Father alone, they were firmly ensconced in her machinations and if all went as plan they would be disposed of in a matter of a fortnight.
Damning Thanatos for his interference, she whirled around with a shriek, demolishing every breakable in her rage.