Curse of Dracula

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  He leaned down a little farther, and his hot breath washed over her cheek. She shivered despite his warmth and the blanket.

  His words had left her reeling. I am not the property of the world. I am not. He is wrong. But he made so much sense. And his nearness was doing terrible things to her. Things that felt so good. He tasted like freedom—like bliss. Like there might be another way to live.

  Another life that wasn’t the one she spent trapped in the chains her friends and society itself made her wear. “I shouldn’t…”

  “Shouldn’t. What a stupid word. It means nothing here. Do what you want. What you can.” He closed the distance then, pressing her to the wall with his body, his lips claiming hers. The noise that left her was not one of protest. The kiss was slow, sensual, and skilled. So very skilled.

  He teased her, slowly letting up from the embrace before kissing her again, and again, but it was never enough. It was never deep enough. When he pulled from her the next time, she chased his lips with hers, and he let out a low, pleasured and praising hum.

  It was then that he gave her what she wanted. What she needed. He pressed her harder against the wall, tilting his head to the side to turn the kiss from one that was sultry into one that was nearly bruising. His tongue flicked at her lips, asking for entry.

  Asking. Not taking.

  Not taking like she wanted him to do. It would be easier if he did. It would cure the debate that raged in her mind. But he seemed intent on only taking what he was offered, the bastard. She parted her lips, and he moaned as his tongue slipped in to dance with hers.

  He kissed her until she thought she would have no brain left in her head to give her such turmoil. It was what she needed. But then, it was over, and he pulled his lips away from hers, his chest heaving, his body—all of it—pressed to hers.

  “I want to dance with you again, my beautiful Bella.”

  Suddenly, she wanted to drop the fur pelt. She wanted the pleasure to chase away the guilt.

  Purple eyes glittered as he watched her, lidded and dark with desire. “There is no judgment here. No sin. No shame. Don’t be afraid.”

  Fear.

  That was what it was, wasn’t it? Deep at the core. She was afraid of doing what she wanted, for fear she might like it. For fear that everything she had come to believe had all been a lie. Morals. Society’s expectations. Sin. God. Her friends. Her fight to uphold what was “right.” She wanted to cling to what she had spent so much work on upholding, as if that condoned it.

  Bella never considered herself to be a coward.

  But then again, she had never been free enough to find out what else—who else—she was.

  She dropped the fur blanket and let it pool around her feet.

  Suddenly, she was lifted up the wall, her legs wrapping around his hips. He held her up by her thighs, and he was there at her entrance. Ready, but waiting. He was gazing at her still, searchingly, needing her to give him permission.

  Yes, oh, God above, forgive me. She leaned in to kiss him, unable to form the words, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to support her weight as he moved her down the wall and himself deep inside her, stretching her, filling her, bringing her happiness. Their sounds of bliss mingled as did their bodies.

  Her dreams were once more reality.

  And she did not wish to wake.

  10

  Maxine found herself standing in a throne room and knew she was dreaming. She gazed up at the magnitude of it and felt so very small. So inconsequential. That was the point of places like this, wasn’t it? And none were so effective as this, with all its twisting horrors and crimson tapestries. The fires that blazed in the caldrons that hung from the tortured gargoyles did little to warm the chill air around her.

  “Come here, Maxine.”

  The voice carried easily without trying. It was so deep, and the room was so cavernous. She turned to see Dracula sitting on his throne, looking every inch the austere and aristocratic creature that he was. It was pointless to avoid him, and she did not even know if she wished to try. As she walked to him, he held his hand out to her. She gave him her hand. He gently pulled her forward and guided her to sit on his lap straddling him, the black fabric of her dress pooling around them.

  Even perched on him as she was, he remained inches taller. She bowed her head to his chest and fought off the urge to cry once more. Vlad wrapped his arms around her, his palm stroking up and down her back soothingly. He was a murderer, but she could not help the feeling that this was where she belonged. Her fate was tied to him, one way or another.

  “Zadok sends his regards,” she murmured.

  He chuckled, a low, deep rumble that vibrated in his chest. “Is he behaving himself?”

  “As much as I think he is capable.” She smiled faintly and looked up at the vampire, meeting his crimson gaze, and suddenly wished to kiss those pale lips of his. She tried to keep herself distracted. “I think there is more to that lout than meets the eye. He can be oddly sympathetic.”

  “Only sometimes. Only when there is something worth sympathizing with.” His fingers whispered across her cheek before stroking through her hair, combing it, his sharp nails grazing her scalp. It was wonderful, and it lured her into shutting her eyes. He repeated the motion, and it was as though he could solve all her woes by that one gesture alone. “You are an easy thing to love, my Maxine.”

  “It seems that is true among vampires.”

  “Mortals rarely pay us anything more than hatred. Someone who might look upon us and see the souls that we still own is a jewel worth treasuring.” He pulled her closer until her knees touched the back of the throne.

  She let her hands rest on his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his vest and coat. “I do not know what to do, Vlad.”

  “I know. I wish I could decide for you, but I cannot.”

  “End this massacre. Take me somewhere far from here. Please.”

  “You must see the extent of who I am. Once you have done that, once you truly understand and have chosen, we will go wherever you desire.”

  “Have I not seen enough?”

  “As much as it pains me, no, you have not. You wish to turn away. You wish to live in willful ignorance. You must watch the hunters fall.”

  She cringed and bowed her head. “Please, don’t force me to watch their fates play out. I do not think I can bear it.”

  He hugged her to his chest. Her tension melted, enjoying the smell of roses that seemed to accompany him, and the strength in his broad frame.

  “You shall see my kindness and my cruelty in equal measure until you decide which half you prefer to accept is the greater part of the whole.”

  “I fear they are equally matched and I will spend the rest of my years wandering in this purgatory you have made for me, weeping over the death you would create only to let you kiss my tears away.”

  “I see no problem with this.” At the dismayed noise she made, he chuckled. “Forgive me, my love. I have an ill sense of humor. This is why I do not joke at all.”

  “What has become of Bella? I do not trust Zadok’s words.”

  “Nor should you. Bella is alive and well. The creature that commands my demons has her safely stored away. I believe he means to court and woo her to his side. Once this is all concluded, if she wishes to go, she will be freed unharmed. But I suspect she will fall for him as he has for her.”

  “I suppose I cannot rightly judge her.”

  “No.” He kissed the top of her head. “I suppose not.”

  “Will you spare the other hunters?”

  “Helsing dies here. The boy might live if he chooses to. I have no grudge with him.”

  “I worry what he will do to save Bella once he learns of her fate.”

  “So be it. It is his right to toss away his life if he wishes.”

  She took in a slow breath and sighed it all out at once, trying to relax. It was easier than perhaps it should be, with the feeling of his soul touching hers, and his arms
cradling her to him. “I hope Bella is enjoying her time with the incubus.”

  “Oh, she is. I assure you. Mordecai did not rise through the ranks because he was inept. And I assume he is a far better lover than he is a tactician.”

  “Promise me one thing, Vlad?”

  “If I can, of course.”

  “I find myself oddly jealous of her. If I must die in all this, please let me not die a virgin.”

  He laughed, clearly deeply amused, and with the crook of a long finger, tipped her head up to meet his as he leaned in to kiss her. One hand cradled the back of her neck as the other pulled her hips to his, letting her feel the outline of his need against her body. His embrace was bruising, eager, and full of the passion she felt roaring away inside him.

  When he broke away from her, she was breathless, her head reeling. She wanted more of it. She wanted him. But she wanted it to be real—not trapped in this vision.

  “That is one wish I am eager to grant you, believe me.” He ran his tongue along the line of her lower lip, swollen as it was from his kiss. “Zadok’s work will soon be done. The hunters will soon fracture and split. And when they abandon you—and they will—wait for the clock to strike midnight. Then I will come for you, my love, and I will quite happily grant your request…as frequently and as ardently as you might desire.”

  Her face grew warm at his words, but it was not the only thing that was suddenly heated. She kissed him back, surprising herself with her own furor. But her heart was aching. She needed him to soothe the wound she had been dealt, even if it was by his own hand.

  He growled, a sound that was both predatory and inhuman. It was not a sound of displeasure—anything but. It was the sound of a wolf ready to sink its teeth into its newest kill. It was a sound of approval, that whispered the word mine and threatened all the ways he would claim her.

  If only things were so simple.

  Vlad ended the kiss and sighed drearily. “As wonderful as this is, I fear I must go. I have business to attend, and I feel Walter calling me. And you, my dear, must rest. You have a trying time ahead of you. Both in what you must witness and what I fear you will have to endure when I have my hands on you once more.”

  He kissed her, and it was with the feeling of his lips on hers that she drifted back into the emptiness of her sleep.

  Morning came, and Maxine marched anew with the three hunters. Well, two hunters and one vampire, as the case was. She was somewhat more put together than she had the night prior, although it was difficult to feel worse.

  No one spoke to her. Not even “Bella,” and she was glad for it. It was one of the few small favors they could give her. Eddie had taken up her chain and walked beside her, and she had nothing to say to the young man. She had nothing to say to any of them.

  The carnage they passed had changed, although the buildings had not. Perhaps changed was not the right word—but many of the bodies she had seen the day before like grotesque and horrifying road signs were now gone. Missing. Either they had been eaten by predators or…they had gotten up and walked away.

  Neither idea was comforting.

  The air was chill, and her breath turned to mist in the air despite it being July. The world was forever painted in the muted tones of red and crimson, with little adding any kind of contrast to the bleakness. Or the hopelessness.

  “Do you think we should leave?” Eddie asked her quietly, trying to keep Alfonzo from hearing. She did not know why he bothered. The city was silent. There were not even the howls of demons and monsters to trouble them. “Honestly?”

  “I do not know how you might succeed. I do not see a path forward for you that does not end in ruin. I have only begun to truly understand the enormity of who Dracula is, and as much as I loathe to admit it, the odds of success are slim.”

  “They aren’t if you decide to destroy him,” Eddie pointed out as if she didn’t already know that.

  She pulled in a breath, held it, and let it out. She had nothing to lose by telling them the truth. “Vlad wishes me to decide whether I shall embrace him for what he is or try to kill him. I do not yet know the answer, or if destroying him is even truly possible. He intends to force me to walk this carnage and see it with my own eyes until I decide. He will not let me—or any of us—progress any farther than we have already walked unless I do so alone.”

  Alfonzo pulled up his steps abruptly and turned to face her. “What?”

  “He wishes me to judge him. I do not think he will let me do so until you have left me behind. He has reiterated the threat that Zadok issued. They intend to split you apart. I would rather this not come to pass. I want you to leave this city. I want you all to leave. I want to save yourselves before it’s too late and I have even more blood on my hands.”

  “No. I am going to find a way through this illusion, and I will drag you to the foot of that vampire’s throne.” Alfonzo stormed up to her, and she froze as he fisted a hand into the collar of her coat and dragged her to him. “You said yourself you love him! If I do not ensure that you kill him, you are too weak to do what needs to be done.”

  “Al, enough. Back off.” Eddie put his hand on the older man’s arm and tried to tug him away.

  Alfonzo whirled to face the younger hunter and shoved him back with a sweep of his arm. But he released her in the process. She backed up as far as she could, but the chain that tethered her to Eddie ensured she could not go far.

  “You are not in charge, boy.” Alfonzo was not done with his angry rant. “And I have had enough of your soft-hearted whimpering. Both of you.” He glared at Zadok-Bella, who only raised her hands as if to say she wanted no part in this. “We keep going. We find a way through this. We take her to that wretch, and we do not stop until she tears him apart!”

  Hatred. It poured from the older hunter. Hatred and loathing. There was no arguing with that kind of zealous blindness. There would be no convincing him. She let out a wavering breath. The vampires would have their way. The hunters would be torn apart.

  Alfonzo began walking once more. Reluctantly, Eddie followed, pulling Maxine along with him. Shaking her head, Maxine cast a baleful and knowing look at the form of Bella who walked close beside her.

  The false huntress only smiled sweetly and shrugged as if to say, “I told you so.”

  Bella awoke once more in Mordecai’s arms. Although, this time, she had willingly put herself there. She stretched and lifted her head to look up at him. He was asleep. The lines of his face were smoothed, and he looked peaceful. Happy.

  Almost innocent.

  That wasn’t possible. The things they had done together had proven that to be quite clearly a lie. And they had indeed done them together. With each round, with each embrace, he gave her the chance to turn away and protest. But she had thrown herself into his affections headlong and seemed to find a fire in her that answered his own.

  She had enjoyed it.

  There was no denying that.

  Guilt pulled at her, trying to tug her down into the world of regret. Just because she could now accept his affection and her willing part in it did not mean it was “right.”

  His words echoed in her mind. What was right? What was to say she was not living in a backward way of thinking as he claimed?

  Perhaps it was her opportunity now to choose which world she wished to live in. Hers…or his. She ran her hand along his chest, exploring the warm expanse of it. He was muscular but not bulky. Warm, and soft, with the promise of strength underneath. Strength she’d tested and used several times over.

  He felt so good. She never knew it could be this nice to have someone beside her, beneath her, and in every other way she figured a man and woman could know each other.

  His face bloomed in a slow smile. “Good morning. Or evening. Or whatever time it is.”

  “I am sorry to wake you.”

  “You’re sweet.” He yawned, stretched, and wrapped an arm around her to rest a hand idly on her lower back. “I was awake.”

  “Have you n
ot slept?”

  “Hm? No.”

  “Why not? Do you not trust me?”

  He paused as he opened a purple eye to peer at her both mischievously and sleepily at the same time before shutting it. “If I fall asleep, my charade will fall apart, and I fear this will all be for naught.”

  “What do you mean?” She pushed up onto her elbows. He was lying on his back, still stretched out like a damn cat. There was something deeply feline about him.

  “This is not my true appearance. I have taken the shape of what I can sense you would desire the most. It is a gift my ilk has mastered.” Purple eyes were watching her now with a surprising amount of sadness.

  She sat up and gathered the blanket over herself. More out of the chillness of the air and less out of modesty, she discovered. She had already shown him every part of herself that he could witness without gutting her open. He did not seem offended. He was lying there with a hand across his bare stomach, his other toying with the edge of the blanket by her knee. Now she was curious. “Show me.”

  He furrowed his brow. “I had hoped to wait. I wanted to give you more time in my presence before I revealed myself to you.”

  “Why?”

  “I had hoped to win your heart before scaring you.”

  “Are you truly that revolting?” She smiled faintly. She had a hard time believing it.

  “Pah. Hardly. But you are a woman of righteousness. I doubt you would take to my demonic self so readily.”

  “I was a woman of righteousness. I am not so certain anymore.” She paused and made up her mind. Nodding once, she sat back to give him more room. “Go on. Show me.”

  Mordecai let out a groan that was partially a whine. “But I don’t want to.”

  She laughed at his childishness. It was more endearing than it had any right to be.

  “Fine.” He grunted and climbed out of bed. Simply watching him move was captivating. The smoothness and gracefulness to his lithe muscles made her mouth water. It pooled a dangerous fire in her once more, and she tried to shove it away before she acted on it.