Between the Marshal & the Vampire

by Tricia Owens

  "Please," she heard herself repeat, though this time for a much different reason. At the back of her head lingered a question: why are you doing this? But the question was easy enough to answer: she had never felt such keen arousal, as though she might die if this passion wasn't sated.

  The nightwalker moved between her legs. Its form was large and intimidating, and so was the cock it slid between her damp, silky folds. The nightwalker surged into her in one powerful thrust, and yet Mariel felt only a blinding pleasure that tore a cry from her lips. The nightwalker's length filled her to bursting. Her nipples tightened to diamond hardness. The nightwalker began to thrust into her, rocking her in a sensual rhythm against the floor. She curled her legs greedily around the nightwalker's hips, pulling it down and deeper into her, feeling it reach deep into the core of her.

  Take me, take me, she thought, delirious. She'd been pierced as she'd never been pierced before and it still wasn't enough. The lips that seared her breasts only incited more desire in her, more hunger, as though she were becoming a ravenous creature herself…

  "Yes."

  The whisper across her nipple made her shiver violently. Her body clenched around the thick staff that pierced her. The nightwalker responded by surging into her more powerfully, as though it couldn't control itself. That was a wild thought, that she could inspire such passion from a creature so powerful. Mariel liked it and the image it painted of her. She was having sex with a nightwalker! And it was the best sex of her life! Mentally, she was as aroused as it was possible to be. Her body was a lightning rod for pleasure, greedily gathering up every new sensation. When fingers found her clit and gently stroked it, Mariel convulsed and let out a cry of uninhibited pleasure that she hadn't known she was capable of.

  The body atop her gradually slowed and stilled. The lips against her breast glided up to her jawline and the sexual haze began to clear as the nightwalker kissed her there.

  "I'm pleased to meet you," it said.

  Reason dashed against her like a fierce winter wind. Mariel gasped and struggled, but the nightwalker didn't try to hold her down. Freed, she rolled swiftly across the floor, clutching her opened garments to her body as she did so.

  She could just make out the nightwalker's form in the dim lighting, crouching like a hideous monster. But as she watched, it rose to a great height. It possessed the shape of a man, a tall and powerfully built one, the kind that would have turned her head on the streets. He towered above her as he fastened his trousers over his half-hard cock. She couldn't help staring.

  My Lord, it mounted me with that. I wanted it. Yet the recrimination didn't come. Hard for it to do so, since her body tingled with remembered pleasure. Instead, Mariel felt only an illicit thrill, as though she'd ridden her horse off a cliff only to land safely in the ocean far below. Or as though she'd raced across the desert by horseback, as naked as the day she'd been born. This was the feeling she'd always wanted to experience.

  "Be calm," the nightwalker said. It—his voice was deeper than the Marshal's.

  The Marshal!

  Mariel scrambled to her feet. "We're being attacked," she blurted, though why she thought a nightwalker would care, she didn't know. "The Marshals are out there, but…"

  "I can hear them," he said quietly. "I can smell their blood."

  "Clay," she whispered as fear spiked her heart. She worried for him, not to mention without the Marshal protecting her she was a dead woman. She should have been already, considering her present company.

  She wished she could see the nightwalker's expression, or even what he looked like. Why hadn't he sucked her dry? Why had he done what he'd done to her and given her such pleasure without fulfilling his own?

  "What is your name?"

  The question startled her. She thought humans were only food to nightwalkers. Why would he care what her name was? Who named cattle?

  "My name is Vellum," he said as she hesitated.

  "You're a nightwalker," she whispered.

  "I prefer the term vampire." She sensed, rather than saw, the smirk that curled his lips. "Nightwalker sounds so very lonely, don't you think? And at the moment, I am far from lonely." He took a step toward her. "Tell me your name."

  Compelled, she couldn’t refuse. "Mariel. Mariel Johnston. Why did you—why didn't you kill me just now? Isn't that what nightwalkers—I mean, vampires, do?"

  "Do we?" He sounded amused. "Very few humans know anything about my kind. It's refreshing to come upon an expert…and such a lovely one, at that."

  He was mocking her. Vampire or not, she wasn't about to let him get away with it. She received enough condescension from men who thought they knew better than she did just because she was a woman.

  "Maybe if you didn't skulk about at night like an opossum we'd know more about you," she retorted.

  When he grinned, the weak light gleamed on teeth that looked surprisingly normal. No fangs that she could see. Not yet.

  "Perhaps the mystery is preferable," Vellum purred. "It grants me a certain…power."

  Oh, he had power. Mariel could sense it filling the train car, a sort of charisma that made her want to draw nearer to him. Her knees trembled as she resisted, even though a voice in her head promised that if she obeyed the summons she'd enjoy carnal delights even more amazing than what she'd already experienced.

  "Stop," she said through gritted teeth.

  "Stop what?"

  He was closer now. Had he moved or had she? Weakness infiltrated her limbs, making her yearn to lie down. Would he lie with her? Would he move on top of her as he had before and touch her, excite her with a touch that seemed to know her inside and out? Funny, she'd thought Marshal Carson would be the first man to touch her that way had he been given the chance.

  "No!" she forced out, her thoughts clearing. "I have to help them. The Marshals are outgunned. I-I came in here looking for a weapon."

  "A weapon won't deter the men outside."

  "Maybe not, but I'm not about to sit here and wait for them to kill me. I'll take as many with me as I can."

  "Is that necessary?" Vellum drawled, suggesting that perhaps it wasn't.

  Just then, the connecting door to the passenger car banged open and Clay stumbled in, carrying with him the smell of dust, gunpowder and blood. He held a crank torch in one hand whose weak yellow light suggested it was on its last breath, much like he and Mariel.

  The sickly light illuminated his desperate expression and the grief in his whiskey-brown eyes. "Thank the Lord. Mariel, you're alive."

  But then Vellum moved, proving he wasn't merely a shadow. Vellum, who was a striking figure of a man despite not being one. No wonder Mariel had thought he was the night. The vampire was dressed all in black: trousers, shirt, and a duster that just brushed the tops of his leather boots. His hair wasn't quite black but was nearly there, and was long, swept back from his face and curling above the collar of his coat.

  Mariel had seen all types of men come through her inn, but she couldn't recall a man like Vellum, whose pale face demanded her attention. From the elegant eyebrows to the strong, high cheekbones and the aquiline nose, Vellum was the antithesis of the typical frontiersman who made a home in Mountain Sky Territory. He wasn't like a dandy, either, because every inch of him radiated power, both mental and physical.

  He cut a gorgeous, masculine figure and yet, his beauty didn't diminish Clay's rugged good looks. Side by side, the two males were very different: Vellum obviously alien, while Clay was salt of the earth. But Mariel found it difficult to choose one man over the other in terms of their effect on her.

  "Nightwalker!" Clay exclaimed, raising his gun to point it at Vellum.

  "Don't waste your bullet, Marshal," Vellum drawled, turning to face the other male. "It's the only defense you possess, isn't it? And you're running low on ammunition."

  Frustration etched lines into Clay's face. "I only need one to put you down. Step away from her."

  "Your bullets won't do anything but inconvenience me. Low
er your weapon, Marshal."

  Vellum spoke the truth, Mariel knew. He could be killed only by beheading or burning by sunlight. Some reports claimed that piercing the heart could also kill a vampire, but no one of any reliability had seen it happen. Clay's gun would do nothing but aggravate Vellum.

  "Listen to him, Clay," she said, pleading with him with her eyes. She was afraid of escalation. If Vellum chose to, he could kill Clay in an instant, leaving Mariel alone with the vampire…and Beaufort's gang.

  "Listen to a nightwalker?!"

  "I thought the Empire Marshals were more intelligent than their law enforcement brethren," Vellum said. He watched Clay with an intensity that would have buckled Mariel's knees had it been aimed at her. But the Marshal glared back, not in the least bit intimidated or affected. "You can't kill me. But neither can those men out there."

  Clay's fingers flexed around the torch's handle. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying I could remove the threat of them, if you like."

  Mariel's jaw fell open. The best she'd hoped of this encounter was to survive it, not to have Vellum assist them in defusing it.

  "Why would you do such a thing?" Clay's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Nightwalkers don't typically involve themselves in our business."

  "Vampires," Vellum said distinctly, "are possessed of a keen sense of self-interest, as you've noted. I need to get to Scar Tooth Mountain. This train will no longer transport me there in a state of hibernation. Therefore I must ride by horseback, but it's a long journey."

  "Over a month," Clay agreed warily.

  Vellum's mouth curled. "During that time, I'll need to feed."

  Mariel clapped a hand over her mouth once the vampire's meaning sunk in. Though her neck no longer hurt, the memory of that insane moment of being pierced and sucked on lingered in her mind. Clay was better than she at hiding what he felt.

  "You want to feed on Mariel?" He cocked his revolver. "That isn't happening, nightwalker."

  "Correction: I want to feed on both of you." Vellum shrugged and spread his hands. "I'll need to alternate between you two to avoid too much blood loss in one. In this way, I'll be able to maintain my forward progress."

  "You're mad," Clay stated, his face hard. There was blood on his shoulder, Mariel just now noticed, and more smeared on his left thigh, though none looked to be his.

  "Where's Darrell?" she demanded fearfully.

  His grim eyes flicked to her. "Dead."

  "As you and the lovely lady will be if you attempt to fight them on your own." Vellum's tone remained silken, unconcerned, as though Clay's decision mattered little to him. But Mariel sorely doubted that. The vampire needed them. "Give me your word, Marshal, and I'll dispatch the threat outside for you. Then you and Mariel will accompany me as far as Everton Fort, which is your destination, is it not? We'll part company then."

  Clay frowned at the vampire's use of Mariel's name and he shot her a quick, confused look. What would the Marshal think if he learned that Vellum had lain with her and she had welcomed it? Would he consider her a victim? Or would he understand the truth: that the vampire's allure had melded perfectly with her own desire and curiosity?

  Gunshots rang out, but the sounds were muted because they'd come from within one of the passenger cars. The dying torch light glimmered on Clay's angry, stressed expression.

  "I offer Mariel's only chance of survival," Vellum said softly. "As a Marshal of the Empire, haven't you given your word to keep her alive? No matter what sacrifice this demands?"

  "I've sworn to keep her alive, not to become food!" But Clay's brow creased with uncertainty.

  "Clay, we have no choice." Mariel knew she'd have to push him to make the decision. "I'm…fine with this. I want to live. No matter how."

  It was unfair to place guilt on his shoulders, but the gunshots and screaming said Beaufort's gang were nearly upon them.

  Clay aimed his pistol at Vellum's face. "If you hurt her I'll see to it you burn in Hell."

  "Hurting her is the last thing I intend, Marshal."

  The seconds stretched. With a curse, Clay eased the hammer back on his gun and lowered it. "Get her safely to Everton Fort and we have a deal."

  "You're coming with us," Vellum said mildly. "I need to feed from both of you."

  A shudder visibly wracked Clay's body but he nodded. "Both of us. Now do what you said."

  Vellum smiled almost cheerfully. "It will be my pleasure. Stay here."

  Clay stepped back quickly as the vampire swept past him. The car doors slammed shut behind the black-clad figure.

  "We're going now!" Clay said, holding out his hand to Mariel. "Come on!"

  "But we told Vellum—"

  He blinked. "You know his name?" He quickly shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Come on."

  "He'll come after us!"

  "Better than being his food, Mariel." Impatient, he ran forward and grabbed her by the arm. "We stand a better chance on our own. Never trust a nightwalker. Never. The things I've seen…" He trailed off. "I won't let that happen to you."

  He dragged her down the end of the car to the opposite door. This one opened into another cargo car and through it they reached a door that admitted them to the desert. Mariel thought she heard a sudden burst of gunfire from within the train as she and Clay ran through the moonlight, heading deeper into the desert.

  "We'll die out here," she gasped.

  "It won't be comfortable, but I'll keep us alive," he panted as they ran.

  His longer legs made her struggle to keep up with him, but Mariel was determined not to slow them down even though the scrub dragged at her skirts. With his torch to guide them, they crossed a dry river bed, their footsteps drowning out the last sounds of gunfire from behind them. Mariel wished she could look back, but Clay was determined to increase the distance between them and the train. She appreciated his urgency. Now that she was removed from Vellum's presence her head felt clearer, her will sharpened.

  "I felt strange with him," she said as they ran, feeling the need to explain. "I should have known better, but I felt safe with him."

  "Because he put you under his thrall," Clay told her as he helped her over a large crack in the ground. "He steals your will and makes it his own. It's how they lure people to them so they can suck them dry."

  She touched her neck with her free hand. Thankfully she felt nothing marring her skin. . Maybe she could keep what had happened between her and Vellum a secret from Clay. She felt suddenly ashamed of what she had allowed…and how much she had enjoyed it.

  They ran for what felt like an hour, the torch long since discarded. With the darkness shielding their escape, Mariel began to relax, convinced they were beyond the reach of the vampire. That was until she heard the sound of horses. Clay tugged her along faster, but when she tripped, he stopped them and spun, his gun raised as he faced whoever approached them.

  Clay must have lost his hat somewhere during the earlier fight, and it struck her how vulnerable he looked without it. She looked about anxiously for a stick or something to use as a weapon but they were surrounded by tumbleweed. She found a pair of rocks and gripped them in both hands. She'd do what she could to help Clay.

  The oncoming horses slowed. There were three of them. Two were rider-less. Vellum rode the first, his black duster billowing dramatically around his hips. Hitched behind his horse was the wooden, tar-lined crate that Mariel had discovered him in.

  "That wasn't very kind of you, Marshal," Vellum said conversationally as he pulled up his horse. "We had a deal."

  "You're a nightwalker. I know better than to trust you."

  Vellum's smile came and went. He settled his hands atop the pommel of the stolen saddle. "I'm a vampire. I held up my end of the deal. That means I'm trustworthy and that you owe me. And now you've also irritated me, so this won't go as easily as I'd intended it to."

  Clay cocked his gun and whispered from the side of his mouth, "As soon as I shoot, you run."

  "Don't waste your energ
y, Mariel." Vellum shrugged. "I have exceptional hearing. If you know so much about me, Marshal, you should know that."

  "You're not laying a hand on her, nightwalker."

  "They'd be your last words if you could help it, wouldn't they, Marshal? Even a despicable vampire has to admire a gallant, courageous man." His dark eyes glittered. "Perhaps this will go differently."

  His words sounded ominous, but Mariel wasn’t afraid for herself, only for Clay. Vellum would see Clay as the greater threat, as well he should.

  "Let him go and I'll go with you peacefully," she told Vellum quickly. "Feed from me all you need."

  Clay glanced askance at her in shock. "Mariel!"

  It was all the distraction Vellum needed. In one blink he was seated atop his stolen horse. In the next, he stood before Clay. The Marshal took a surprised step backwards but he was no match for the vampire's speed. The two males struggled. Clay's gun fired twice. However within seconds Clay lay slumped against Vellum's chest, the vampire's arm holding the other man up as though he were a sleepy child.

  "He's alive," Vellum told Mariel, reading her fear. "I need him so, just as I need you. I meant what I said when I made that deal. I won't hurt you."

  Mariel's hands trembled. "You won't hurt him either? He's a good man. He only wants to protect me."

  "You both will live to reach Everton Fort."

  Could she trust a vampire? Did she have a choice? Vellum could truss them both and take them along with him like sacks of flour, feeding from them at his leisure. At least this way she and Clay would have some measure of free will.

  She dropped the rocks she'd been holding in her damp hands. "Then we'll go. Willingly."

  Vellum nodded. He didn't smile, but she could see the satisfaction on his handsome face. "An excellent choice, Mariel. I promise you: you won't regret it."

  3

  Whatever Vellum had done to Clay to stop him from fighting didn't affect him for long. Mariel mounted the horse Vellum had provided for her and from her perch watched as the vampire guided a disoriented Clay to the other horse.

  "Your foot in the stirrup, please," Vellum said with surprising patience. He helped Clay groggily obey and then gave the Marshal a helpful push on the buttocks to boost him into the saddle.