Between the Marshal & the Vampire

by Tricia Owens

  A muscle jumped in Clay's jaw. "Glad to know where things stand."

  ~~~~~

  Learning that Vellum could be attracted to him and Mariel without needing to bite them before or after sex changed the situation for Clay.

  Now that he knew Vellum was almost human and by extension could be vulnerable like one, Clay's guard eased lower. A man—a vampire—who wanted something could be weakened by it. Clay didn't exactly have any intention of using Vellum's lust against him. But it was ammunition in a situation where Clay had felt mostly powerless.

  "Now that we know that you want us," Clay drawled one night after setting up camp, "tell us what you think about."

  Mariel's questioning look settled on him, but Clay had eyes only for the vampire standing on the other side of the fire. Vellum had eyes that swallowed the night. Not even the light from the flames could brighten them.

  "Are you asking if I fantasize about you and Mariel?"

  Clay shrugged, trying to appear only casually interested. "I'm curious now that I know you're like us but not like us. What kinds of fantasies cross the mind of a vampire? Blood baths? Killing fields?"

  "Men and women who beg me."

  Clay's mouth dried up. He'd been hoping for something more sentimental that might tip the scales of power in his favor. He should have expected the vampire to be deviant.

  Beside him, Mariel squeaked. "Did you just say…beg?"

  Vellum didn't smile, but the intensity on his face was driven by desire, not bloodlust. Not the killing kind, anyway.

  "It's related to my desire for ultimate dominance," Vellum continued mildly, despite uttering words which stiffened not only Clay's spine, but his prick. "If you beg me, it's proof that I have complete control over your fate. And your pleasure."

  Clay figured he should have guessed as much, but it was still a shock hearing Vellum admit it so boldly.

  "Does that disturb you?" the vampire asked.

  Instead of answering, Clay looked to Mariel. The firelight adored her. Clay found it impossible not to yearn for her.

  "I wouldn't say it disturbs me," she began haltingly. Her cheeks bloomed a rosy pink and she brushed her fingers across her breasts, though Clay wasn't positive that she was consciously aware of doing it. "It's…it makes me think."

  "About what?" Vellum asked, his voice falling away as though over the edge of a cliff.

  Mariel leaned forward as if to follow it down. "About whether I would want to do that for you." She licked her lips. "Beg you, I mean."

  "What if I told you that it would arouse me beyond measure?"

  Clay told himself to breathe deeply and slowly as Vellum's midnight gaze coasted leisurely between him and Mariel, watching to see which of them would be first to break.

  "What would you want us to beg you for?" Mariel whispered.

  Clay cursed and pressed the heel of his hand to his groin, where his cock throbbed in time with his rapidly beating heart.

  Vellum moved, a rippling of the night. One moment he was on the other side of the fire. The next, he towered over Mariel and Clay.

  "Beg me for relief," he whispered.

  Clay groaned beneath his breath.

  Beside him, he heard Mariel lie back. Her voice floated through the air like dust motes. "Please, Vellum. Please help me with this ache."

  Clay closed his eyes. He fisted his hands. He could feel Vellum staring at him.

  "Go ahead," he finally croaked. "Help her."

  The night swooped down.

  ~~~~~

  As the days turned into weeks, Mariel was convinced that by the time they reached Everton Fort she'd be more experienced than any prostitute in the Empire.

  She didn't think this in a self-demeaning way; rather, she was proud and happy with how often she, Clay, and Vellum made love either in pairs or with her as a focus. Nothing about what they did was ugly or humiliating. Mariel was convinced that it was beautiful, and she was sure her lovers felt the same.

  At times, when it was only her and Vellum together, she thought she glimpsed something like love in his dark eyes. Certainly he was obsessed with them, and she was sure the feeling was returned. But she was certain the vampire felt more for them than that, and that the human inside him was trying to push past the creature he'd become to make himself known to them.

  When she lay with Clay, she was absolutely certain of the Marshal's love. He made no secret of it, expressing it in words and in touch, making her blush and feel giddy in a way she'd always dreamed. His forthrightness sometimes inspired him and Vellum to compete against each other, as each male tried their hardest to make Mariel respond the most passionately. Being trapped between the two determined alpha males was both a pleasure and the most exquisite torture imaginable.

  The fort was less than a week away, though, and it seemed the more Mariel enjoyed herself, the more she dreaded finally reaching Everton. Once at the fort, Mariel would be escorted by Clay to testify at Rhody Beaufort's trial. Vellum would continue his journey without them, feeding off desert animals until he reached Scar Tooth Mountain. The three of them would likely never see each other again, and even though that was how it must be on account of Vellum's vampirism, it made her stomach sore all the same. Mariel was a dreamer, but this was one dream that had to end, and she hated knowing that.

  The sun sank toward the horizon. Mariel watched its progress, more than a little maudlin, while Clay finished packing away their camp in anticipation of Vellum waking.

  When he finally came up behind her, sliding his strong arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, he asked, "What's on your mind, beautiful lady? I can tell you're troubled."

  "I'm thinking impossible thoughts, Clay."

  "Such as what? Tell me." He chuckled. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've been open to a lot of seemingly impossible things lately."

  She smiled, her eyes on the spill of the sun. "I was thinking about how it's unfair that humans are so afraid of vampires."

  "People fear what they don't know or understand, Mariel. Think about the hysteria that arises whenever the wind ghosts blow in, for example. Once, I investigated a man who'd shot himself just because he couldn't get to shelter before the gusts began. He was terrified he'd get swept up by a ghost. The medicine men say the ghosts are real, but I'm not convinced. I think it's only strong wind. But there are towns in Mountain Sky that make offerings to the wind ghosts every fall in the hopes that their skirts aren't lifted."

  "Fear of wind ghosts is old-fashioned and besides, it doesn't inspire people to arm themselves the way talk of nightwalkers does."

  "That's because nightwalkers—vampires—are real."

  Mariel turned in his arms. "What if people met Vellum? What if we introduced him to small groups at a time so they didn't get worked up? If they could talk to him and see that he's just like us—"

  "But he's not just like us," Clay said somberly. "Mariel, I'm on your side about this. My opinion of Vellum has been flipped on its head. But the truth of the matter is he drinks our blood every day. He sleeps in a coffin—"

  "It's not a coffin."

  "You thought so at first, and other people will, too. I'm all for integration and people getting along. Hell, half my job is stopping people from fighting because of misunderstandings. But this is something else. If we brought Vellum into Everton Fort, which I know is what you're considering, you'll only ensure that he's staked out and burned."

  She was horrified, but she had to admit that he was right. Unless they were given the opportunity of time that she and Clay had been given, people wouldn't trust a vampire long enough to exchange ten words with one. The fear and mystery were just too great.

  "I don't want to leave him," she told Clay.

  But the reaction she'd expected—agreement and sympathy—didn't happen. Instead, Clay tensed up, and an invisible wall went up between them. Clay lowered his arms and stepped back a pace.

  "That's a mighty big decision," he said, his tone neutral, as though he we
re speaking to a stranger.

  "Can you blame me? The connection I have with him—"

  He held up his hand. "No, I understand. Trust me, I do. I've been here all along, Mariel. I've got eyes."

  She frowned, realizing what was happening. "I'm not choosing him over you."

  "Aren't you? If he can't come into Everton Fort that means you stay out here with him."

  She struggled. "That's not—but surely—"

  "No, Mariel." This time his voice hardened. "It's the only way."

  "I prefer to believe there are always options, Clay," Vellum drawled from behind them.

  Clay whirled. For the first time in nearly three weeks he reacted as a Marshal, his hands flying to his empty holster. Vellum's gaze flicked down to the action, then lifted slowly to Clay's face. Something dark moved behind the vampire's eyes.

  "Is there a problem, Marshal?"

  "I want my gun back."

  Vellum didn't flinch beneath Clay's hard tone. "I told you I'd return it to you once we reached the fort."

  "We're nearly there, Vellum." Clay narrowed his eyes in a way Mariel didn't like. "Or are you saying you don't trust me after all we've done?"

  "And we have done a lot, haven't we, Marshal?" Vellum cocked a dark eyebrow. "But maybe not quite enough."

  Mariel didn't like the sound of that. She squeezed between the two alpha males. "What are you doing? We're all on the same side. What are you going to do? Fight?"

  "I want my gun," Clay stated, ignoring her as he attempted to stare down the vampire.

  "I'll give it to you," Vellum said pleasantly. "After I've fed from you."

  "No, feed from me," Mariel argued. "It's my turn."

  Vellum's smile was a sliver. "Don't be greedy, Mariel. Let's show the good Marshal some love. After all, he's asking for it."

  It was Clay who gently but firmly steered her out of the way. Angry at being treated like a child by them, she glared at them both.

  "Sure. Butt heads like the big bad males you are. See how much good that does you. We've gotten this far because we've banded together!"

  "We're not banded together any longer," Clay said softly. "You told me so yourself." As Mariel stared at him in shock, realizing how terribly he'd misunderstood her, he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. "You don't need to drink from my neck, vampire. Any old vein will do."

  "So it is."

  Before Mariel could stop him—not that she stood a chance of preventing a vampire from doing anything—Vellum took hold of Clay's bared forearm and brought his wrist to his lips. Vellum smirked and dragged his tongue across the skin. When Clay fisted his free hand, Vellum sank his teeth in.

  Clay didn't react, though Mariel suspected the bite must have hurt. She watched closely as Vellum's throat began to work as he swallowed the Marshal's blood. It took only a few moments for Clay to show how he was affected.

  He swayed where he stood and instantly Vellum moved closer. With his eyes on Clay, he reached between them, sliding his palm down the other man's torso and abdomen. Clay shook his head, but then let it fall back on his shoulders as a masculine moan rolled from his lips. Though Mariel was an outsider to the scene, she felt herself growing moist as she watched Vellum seduce Clay. She didn't know if she was supposed to step forward and join in as she had every other time that Vellum had drank from him. She was Clay's safety net, the only reason he probably put up with having Vellum drink from him and caress him. Never had it been only the two males during a feeding. She was nervous.

  She heard the jangle of the Marshal's belt before it fell to the ground around his boots. Next, she saw the seat of his trousers sag as Vellum efficiently opened the garment and reached inside.

  Clay gasped and his head snapped up. He grabbed hold of Vellum's shoulder as if to push him off. But Vellum's power overcame him, and soon Clay clutched at the vampire's shoulder for a different reason.

  Vellum lifted his blood red lips from Clay's wrist long enough to murmur, "Take me out and stroke us both, Clay. Give in to the curiosity that's been tying your guts into knots."

  With a shudder, Clay released Vellum's shoulder and reached between them. Mariel, wide-eyed with lust and surprise, shuffled closer, enough to see that Clay had done as Vellum bade and gripped their cocks in his hand. With a groan, Clay began to stroke them.

  "No, he doesn't want this," Mariel said weakly.

  Vellum looked at her from over Clay's wrist. "He's as hard as when he drives into your body, Mariel. He's wanted both of us for the longest time."

  Mariel opened her mouth to refute this, then stopped herself. This was what she wanted, she realized. Here was the means to convince Clay to find a solution for introducing Vellum to society. If Clay cared as much as she did, he would find a way.

  And it became clear that he did care. With his hips rocking forward, driving his cock against Vellum's within the enclosure of his fist, Clay was a picture of passionate abandon. Even after Vellum had drunk his fill and stopped feeding, Clay continued to thrust against him. With a lustful growl, Vellum caught the Marshal behind the neck and yanked him into a kiss. Clay stiffened with shock, but then groaned and kissed back ferociously. Neither was willing to yield or submit to the other. Their passion left Mariel weak at the knees with desire for them both. Never would she have imagined that two such powerful men could become even more powerful when giving in to their desires for each other like this.

  They gripped and writhed against each other, cursing and groaning. To an outsider it probably appeared as though they were fighting. But Mariel could see it was all passion, pent-up for weeks and finally released explosively. When Clay tossed his head back and groaned deeply with his climax, Vellum bared his fangs and sliced them across the Marshal's bared throat just enough to draw parallel lines of blood across his skin. Then the vampire shuddered hard and stilled as his own pleasure found its release.

  She was desperate to run to them and embrace them—and hopefully coax them both to take care of her next—when Clay abruptly stiffened and stepped back far enough to give him room to punch Vellum in the stomach. The vampire grunted and bent over at the waist, but only for a moment. When he raised his head, he looked alien and frightening. He looked like the monster of Mariel's nightmares.

  "You want us both," Vellum hissed. "Don't deny it."

  "I want Mariel!" Clay shot back as he backed away. Pale-cheeked, he hastily fixed his pants and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, symbolically wiping Vellum from his skin. He pointed at the vampire. "You touch me again and I'll take her away, deal or no deal."

  Vellum's eyes narrowed to dark slits. When he turned away from Clay, Mariel glimpsed his face. What she saw there made her breath stutter in her lungs.

  "Please don't fight!" she cried out. "I need you both."

  "You'll have us until Everton," Clay muttered. He stabbed a hand through his hair. "I'm riding ahead. The company's not to my taste any longer."

  She watched with despair and frustration as he mounted up and rode off into the dark night.

  She whirled on Vellum. "You're letting him go? You're letting things lie like this? It'll fester. You know it will."

  "The Marshal's his own man. If he's content to be a coward, I can't stop him from being one."

  Vellum's blithe reply filled her with fury. Men were such ignorant bastards. It was a miracle this was their first fight between them. Her shoulders slumped. But why did it have to be so devastating, and this near to the end of the journey, when it mattered most? It was time to decide on a future, but right now they were torn apart.

  This is why people told you not to dream of a life outside Willowtown. Fantasies are meant for your head. They can't survive outside of it. They're not meant to.

  She and Vellum mounted and followed the path that Clay had taken. Mariel tried to engage Vellum in conversation in hopes of getting him to open up about what she'd glimpsed on his face after his fight with Clay, but the vampire was as elusive and unknowable as the night shadows. She eventua
lly gave up, and rode through the desert as though she were alone, which was exactly how it felt.

  It was a relief when sunrise neared and they came upon Clay, who'd already set up a camp for them. The Marshal barely glanced at Vellum, but he was polite and attentive toward Mariel, which only served to aggravate her since she could tell he was behaving that way just to irritate the vampire. Vellum, for his part, remained disengaged, interacting only briefly when he set a canteen on the ground beside Clay and Mariel's bedroll. Though he typically bade them goodnight, this time he climbed into his crate and pulled the lid over himself like a sulking boy hiding beneath a blanket.

  "You two are impossible," Mariel grated out as she turned her back on Clay and closed her eyes.

  He snorted where he lay beside her. "A few more days, Mariel. Then things will be the way they should be. I'll prove it to you."

  She kept her silence, not sure she agreed with his opinion on how things "should" be.

  She didn't expect to sleep after all the drama, but apparently it wore her out, because the next thing she knew, an elbow jabbed into her side, shocking her awake.

  "Gave me a good run, you did," said a voice she didn't recognize.

  Heart pounding, she slowly rose onto an elbow. Clay had done the same, most likely to shield her from the view of the bandit who stood a few paces away.

  She didn't recognize him, but she knew who he must be: a surviving member of Beaufort's gang. The man was covered with dirt, and his scraggly beard was dusted with burrs. But the pistol in his hand was shiny enough to catch the red glow of sundown. The gun looked like blood in his hand. He cocked its hammer back ominously.

  "You gonna make me waste a bullet on you, Marshal?" the man spat a dark stream of tobacco across Clay's boot.

  "I'd like to save you two bullets by advising you to turn around and ride off as though you never found us," Clay replied evenly. "A smart man would do just that. Your leader's on the verge of certain hanging and the rest of your gang are dead. Just ride away, and no one will know who you once were and what you did."