The Curse of the Vampire (Cursed Book 6)

by Dean Drinkel

  “I…I…I don’t remember.” A seriously perplexed look on his face, she hoped he wasn’t going to burst into tears.

  “Okay, don’t worry about that…why don’t you touch me?”

  “Touch you?”

  “We haven’t got all night. Touch me now.” She dragged her hand up his belly, then back down again. “Do that.”

  Agathe lay on her back. Louvois didn’t move but then repeated her action.

  “Not so hard, not so clumsy…haven’t you touched a woman before?” She grabbed his hand. “Like this…more softly…yes, that’s it, that’s better.” It wasn’t perfect but at least he was starting to get into it.

  “Lick my nipples, they yearn for you.”

  “Nipples?” he enquired.

  “For Christ’s sake, yes, my nipples, look, here.” She grasped him; put a hand on her left breast. “Squeeze it, are you really not getting this?”

  “Sorry,” he apologised. “My maste...”

  Agathe shrugged. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m your mas...well, your mistress. And therefore I order you to lick my nipple. Yes, that thing you are holding between your fingers.”

  Louvois whispered something but she wasn’t listening, her eyes were closed. She was listening to the music she could hear in her head. She wasn’t entirely sure when it had started but it was there now. She didn’t recognise it, but whatever it was, it was certainly enjoyable. She began to hum along to it, she wondered where she had heard it before – perhaps she hadn’t, perhaps it was just her imagination, perhaps it was because of the drugs…

  ...she groaned in pleasure. She felt lips on her mouth, then her chin, down her body, to her breasts...further still.

  “Yes, yes, now you’re getting the hang of it...see I knew it wouldn’t take much.”

  There was a fizzing sound, Agathe opened her eyes, the room was in complete darkness. Must have been something wrong with the generator because it looked like all the power was out. There was a shifting on the bed, but that was okay – perhaps that was all it took, the lights to go out and suddenly he understood what was going on.

  He started to kiss her, every inch of her breasts, her stomach, the top of her thighs. She widened her legs. He couldn’t get enough of her. Fingers stroked her flesh, the space between her...she groaned.

  “FUCK!” she cried. “That is fucking amazing.”

  There were fingers, there were lips, there were tongues...her back arched, shit, he was hitting the right buttons now. All that before, it was like it was another person.

  “I want to touch you,” she stated.

  “Be my guest,” he replied.

  Movement beside her as he lay back. She ran her hands over his stomach, so taught, through his trimmed pubic hair, located his penis, it hardened in her hands. Wow, it did certainly reach a size when it erected, the others had been right.

  “I want you in my mouth,” she whispered and she did just that. She took as much as she could between her lips, down her throat, all the time running a tongue up, along and over his shaft.

  That was odd.

  She went to pull away but he then held the back of her head so she just got back on with it – anyway, it was probably just her imagination anyway.

  “I want to fuck you, you whore,” he said.

  Perhaps a bit too far too early, but she motioned that she wanted that too. He released her head; she ran the back of her hand across her mouth.

  “From behind. I want to take you from behind.”

  “Yes,” she panted.

  She moved to the end of the bed, got onto her knees, leant forward. She could feel him behind her, moving into the right position for entry. She quietly chuckled to herself, imagining if she got caught now. What would she say? Nothing probably...

  ...he gripped her body. The head of his penis between her legs.

  “Put it in, put it in,” she commanded.

  He teased her entrance and then he did. She moaned so loudly, it was fucking mind-blowing. His hips gyrated, his hold tightened, but she moved with him.

  “Let’s try something different,” he stated as his penis left her.

  Agathe didn’t know what he had in mind but suddenly she did. It hurt to begin with but then again it wasn’t the first time she’d taken a cock in the ass, so once her muscles adjusted she more than went with it. It was slightly uncomfortable but she did get some enjoyment.

  It must have been that pill because something had changed within Louvois. His dick was so hard, so thick, so rigid, she couldn’t get enough of it – she hoped she would be able to take him in her mouth again and swallow him whole once he was ready to shoot his seed.

  He slowed; she wanted more so she pushed back onto his dick. She fingered herself, rubbed her clitoris. He was so quiet; the only sounds were of his breathing and that of their bodies colliding in passion. She turned her head, the moon was shining through the window, with the illumination she noticed that the door was open...Louvois there naked by the wall...she turned... then looked back.

  What the hell?

  Louvois by the door?!!!!!!

  Then who...the hands moved from her hips to the back of her head. Now she realised what was different. The dick she had in her mouth was cut, the pubes trimmed...she remembered when she had touched Louvois earlier there definitely was a foreskin and he had been so damn hairy...

  ...the hands on her were rough, as was the fucking, had sped up...in out, in out, in out...

  Against the wall, Louvois was rocking backwards, forwards, backwards, forwards.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Agathe was frightened but tried not to show it. She tried to move, tried to fight, but those hands, they had her vise-like, tightened around her neck. The way he pushed and pulled in and against her, suggested that it would only be a matter of seconds before he ejaculated but then suddenly the back of her head, her hair, she was thrown off the bed, to the floor, where she went sprawling.

  Louvois whimpered. “Leave,” he whispered. “You must leave.”

  The nurse quickly tried to work out what was happening but it was all too swift, well, whatever it was there on the bed, was moving too fast. Of course that could have been because of the lack of light (the moon was disappearing behind some clouds, a storm was brewing) or because of the pill.

  There on the floor, a puddle formed underneath her. Because she was near Louvois she thought for a second that he must have pissed himself for a second time but it had a different smell, a sickly sweet aroma. It was there between her legs. She felt about, yes, she was wet but that wasn’t...she sniffed then licked her gloved fingers.

  Blood.

  There was so much blood.

  What had he done to her?

  Agathe didn’t feel sexy anymore, she didn’t feel turned on. She felt dirty, used...she felt ugly.

  Back on the bed, the man grunted as he finished jerking himself off. The satisfaction as he ejaculated onto the bed.

  “No...no...” Louvois sobbed.

  “It will be alright,” she whispered. “Now he’s shot his bolt, it’ll be...”

  She screamed as she was lifted to her feet, then high into the air.

  “What will be alright? You? Do you really think so?” The voice asked.

  “Please, please put me down,” she wept.

  And then she squealed, like a wounded animal, as she felt his mouth at her neck, his teeth exposed, punctured her skin and more of her blood began to flow. She went to fight, to punch, to brawl, to kick out but he was far too strong – she danced like a marionette in his hands. Those teeth tore, those teeth ripped at her skin. Talons, claws, pulled at her flesh. Bones were dislocated, bones were broken then after she died he really started to work on her.

  When he finished, he dropped her onto her knee, snapping her spine – not that she cared. He threw her used carcass on the bed.

  He wiped his face. He looked down, he still had an erection.

  “Shall we dance Louvois? I can hear the opera...i
t is loud, it is hear inside my head. Can you hear it?”

  Louvois had one hand over his eyes, the other over his mouth.

  “It’s okay, it’s me Lucien, you wanted to see me, well here I am, see me!” He leant down, picked up his friend then he jumped up to the window, knocking away easily the iron bars. He smashed the glass with his fist; the cold air hit them both.

  “I did tell you to leave, but you didn’t...shall we see if you can fly Louvois, like your precious butterflies? I know I can, but you, let’s see shall we?”

  And with that Lucien stepped forward, and whilst he took flight he let go of Louvois’ hand – there was an enormous crash of thunder and lightning...

  Interlude

  “Does that child never stop bloody crying?”

  “Don’t be like that and don’t swear...that’s your brother you’re slagging off.”

  “Your point being? It’s gone seven o’clock surely he should be asleep by now?”

  Mother folded the corner of the page she was reading, laid the book down on the sofa beside her and sighed. She picked up the baby monitor. “If only life was as easy as that Lucien, it wasn’t that long ago I seem to remember that you were a baby and...” She didn’t finish her sentence because he had snatched away the remote control and zapped up the volume. Whatever her last words were going to be, they would have been drowned out by the hip-hop music blaring out of the television anyway.

  “Will you turn that down please? I don’t want any problems with the neighbours.” She put the monitor back on the table, got up and went to the door. “You’ve made your point so I will ask you politely: please turn that music down.”

  He stared at her, she returned his glare but he did as she asked, if only a little (and actually the music was a little more pleasant now – an opera of some kind).

  “Thank you,” she opened the door and headed out. “And take a look at your neck will you, you appear to be bleeding.”

  “I can still hear that brat crying!” he retorted staring at the space she previously occupied. Outside, there was a massive crash of thunder which almost caused him to catapult right off the sofa.

  He did admire his mother even if he had never told her – he knew how hard it had been for her, especially as it was just the two – well three if you included the baby – of them now.

  But he couldn’t help cursing Romain – he was positive there was something wrong with that child - he never stopped snivelling, even on those rare occasions when he was asleep! More than once Lucien had told her to get him checked out – he had never known a baby to cry so fucking much, though she assured him it was nothing unusual...he was just expressing himself.

  Lucien put a hand to his neck, what was she talking about? It was true that his old scar had been smarting the last few hours but then when he looked at his fingers...damn it she was right, they were covered in the sickly red stuff – what the fuck? He didn’t remember scratching himself...

  ...he groaned as he got up, went to the kitchen, grabbed a towel, wet it under the tap...dabbed it on his neck...shit some of the blood had even dripped down onto his white PSG shirt, he hoped it wouldn’t stain...it’d be murder to get it out and then she’d be moaning at him…would it never end?

  There was a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder...the room was plunged into darkness and the television fell silent.

  “Fucking hell!” he hissed – that had scared the living shit out of him. The lightning must have hit a power cable or something – it would be out for hours now. That was all he bloody needed.

  Lucien leant up against the door frame, tried to calm his breathing, his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. He was anxious, sweating too, his balls had tightened.

  But there was one godsend – the whole house was silent...she must have worked her magic and got Romain off to sleep. He could make out the red and green lights on the monitor: so that was working (yeah that’s right it was battery powered)…

  ...Lucien frowned, there was something...something he could hear...what was that? He keened his hearing.

  Lucien.

  He looked about him - that must have been his imagination surely.

  Lucien.

  Could only have been the wind outside.

  I know you can hear me.

  There was something...there was something...familiar...about that voice.

  He felt sick, nauseous, giddy…his legs were going to give way...he reached out for the doorframe for support – if he wasn’t careful he was going to collapse right there and then.

  This couldn’t be happening. Someone must have been trying to play a joke on him, on them...but who?

  A terrible thought then – there must be a stranger in the house!!! They must have broken in, upstairs somehow...but hang on, if that was the case, how would they know his name? His mind was running away with him, he needed to calm down.

  Breathe.

  Slowly.

  Lightning.

  A third crash of thunder.

  She’s dead Lucien, your mother is dead.

  Before he really knew what he was doing, he ran through the lounge, throwing the door open, sprinted up the stairs, past his bedroom, past his mother’s…a fourth crash of thunder, a flash of lightning…

  “What the fuck?!” he screamed as he stumbled into Romain’s room.

  The only light was that that came through the skylight and the large window. Mother always kept it open when Romain was in his cot, perhaps that was how this…beast got in.

  Beast was the only word that defined what stood in front of him. In the shadows it seemed gigantic, dressed all in black - though he could also make out two piercing red eyes, elongated fingers, those ghastly (but razor-sharp) nails…and that stench: death, flowers, cigars…

  “Mother!” Lucien whined. She was on the floor. A dark puddle had formed underneath her. Thank fuck, she wasn’t dead. She stared up at him. Her fear was palpable but he couldn’t blame her for it. A very pained expression on her face.

  She wasn’t in a great way but at least she was alive.

  “Romain,” she whispered.

  Lucien didn’t need telling twice but he was unsure what to do and it was that uncertainty which rooted him to the spot.

  The beast was leaning over the cot, its talons reaching for the baby. There was something shiny in the palm of its hand.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Lucien shouted. “Stay away from him!”

  The beast turned, it moved extremely fast and before he knew it, Lucien was knocked off his feet – he went flying across the room, colliding with the wall.

  Romain began crying again.

  “Please…Lucien…no…” Mother uttered, her eyes closed, her breathing slowed. There was a wound to her stomach which appeared to be bleeding heavily. Lucien could smell it from where he lay.

  He felt around for a weapon but all he found were baby toys and they weren’t going to do much damage.

  There was a tennis racquet in his cupboard but there wasn’t enough time for that so the only advantage he had over the assailant was himself.

  Lucien got to his feet and then using his head as a battering ram he propelled himself at the creature.

  He was so damn lucky - perhaps the beast hadn’t realised what his intentions were but he landed true and sent the monstrosity hurtling off to one side, missing the baby’s cot altogether. It smacked into Romain’s book shelf and crumpled to the floor.

  Lucien fell too, hitting the side of his head on the side of the large wooden dresser his mother kept there as there was no space in her own bedroom.

  “Jesus Christ,” Lucien sighed, something wet there on his forehead, near the eyebrow…he wiped it away, instinctively licking his fingers.

  Sickly. Sweet.

  Blood…

  Tastes divine doesn’t it?

  Thunder. Lightning.

  Lucien turned away. In the light, the beast looked worse than he could have originally imagined. It was a looming blac
k blur. It was slowly getting to its feet. When it fell dark again, Lucien tried to focus completely on it but it was moving so fast (what the hell could move at that speed?) and he was distracted by the pain in his neck.

  Damn. More blood.

  He put it to his lips.

  Fuck, it did taste good he could even feel his dick hardening.

  He stared at his fingers…the darkness must have been playing tricks on him because they seemed thinner somehow…his nails had grown, more pointed. His eyes narrowed, it was as if he was seeing this room for the first time – in the blackness everything appeared different, more alive…

  …Lucien was hoisted to his feet and tossed across the room. Whilst he’d been concentrating on himself, the beast had gathered its wits and attacked again. Mother screamed which seemed so piercing and Romain’s crying...the noise, the tension was building up inside Lucien’s head…it begged release. As he hit the floor, he rolled and was up on his haunches ready for anything the beast could throw at him.

  You learn quickly.

  Lucien sprung, flew through the air, landing on the beast’s shoulders, he punched, he kicked but it retaliated hard and fast, scratching at Lucien’s face, his neck, tearing at his clothes…

  …but then just as the attack begun, it ended. Lucien was thrown off its back; it rushed to the door let out a howl-like laugh…

  I will remember you

  …before running down the stairs, the front door opened and was slammed shut.

  More thunder. More lightning.

  Lucien crawled along the floor towards his mother.

  “Ro…Romain…” she stuttered. Lucien took a quick glance over towards the cot – for once it appeared that the baby was sleeping soundly. “He’s fine,” he said distracted, he got up, there was something there glinting on the floor by the cot. He bent down, picked it up – it was a silver coin, a butterfly on the reverse side…

  “Let me get that ambulance.” As he went to leave she reached out, grabbed his arm. “Why Lucien, why?”

  The way she said it? He wondered exactly what she was getting at.

  Didn’t she know he had Transformed and things were going to be different now.