The King's Vampire

by Brenda Stinnett

  With a shudder, she felt a white-hot heat flow through her chilled veins, and arched her back so his sharp teeth were better angled over the mound of her breast.

  He lightly ran his teeth across her right breast and his incisors punctured a vein. She drew in a breath. He sucked the blood from her breast, and their hearts hammered with such force, they melded into one single heartbeat, drumming harder and faster, until Elizabeth feared he might actually drain her of every last drop of life.

  “No more. Please stop.” She rolled out from under him and pushed him away. "I can’t breathe."

  His fingers curled beneath her chin, and he forced her to face him. “I’d never hurt you, Elizabeth, you know that.”

  He ripped open his white linen shirt and offered up his own powerful, marble-like neck. “Take me. Take every last drop of blood if you must, but please be mine completely. Stop this futile search to recapture your soul and drink my blood. We belong together forever.” The vein at the base of his neck pulsed.

  She straightened her clothes, jumped up from the bed, and paced the floor. “Why are you doing this, Darius? You’ve never fed on me before. What has changed between us?”

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps I can't bear the thought of the void my life would become again if you cease being a vampire. Once I’ve tasted of your blood and you’ve tasted of mine, we’ll be eternal partners.”

  “Do you know how selfish that sounds? I can never go back to what I once was if I taste your blood. I’ll have been this way for a hundred years come Christmas Day. You know what that means.”

  “What makes you suppose you can change? You went to a priest today. Did he offer any help, or any consolation?”

  “No, but I didn’t have the opportunity to ask him. I think he recognized what I am and it frightened him too badly. Still, I know I can turn back, if I find someone to help me. You know I was tricked into becoming a vampire and never became one willingly.”

  He gave her a tender look, full of yearning and regret. “Don’t you think we were all deceived in one way or another before we became vampires? And yet, it was always our choice to make, because we had free will at one time.”

  She pushed out her bottom lip. “It’s not the same thing. I’ve never drank the blood of anyone or taken a life.”

  “You think I’ve taken lives?” His voice rose in indignation.

  “How did you become the Lord Mayor Vampire of London if you’ve never taken a life?”

  “It has only been other vampires, and only in self-defense when I’ve killed. I’ve never drank enough blood from any human to allow him or her to die by that means.”

  “Yet you admit you sometimes leave humans in a weakened state, weak enough to become prey to the psychic vampire demons.”

  “I don’t have to defend myself to you. I do what must be done to survive.” He stood and started pacing.

  “I’m not blaming you, Darius. The world of the vampire is one of survival. Even I understand that.”

  “Don’t you think I know what I’m capable of?" His quiet voice left her warned. "Don’t you think I know those damned demons are killing people, or even worse, turning them into their own and leaving behind evidence pointing to us?”

  “I know it’s not your fault.”

  “The psychic vampire demons want nothing more than to drive our community of vampires out of London and suck in more souls for hell. My job is to protect our own, no matter the cost, and that’s my purpose.”

  “At least we have no souls, so we are safe from hell.”

  “Then why are you so desperate to go back to the old human ways?”

  She studied him for a moment, wondering if he’d understand. Darius was a man of action, one who took on great responsibility for others. “There is no heaven in our world either. If we are destroyed as vampires, we’ll be forever separated from those we loved in our former life.”

  “What are you saying? Do you think I never had loved ones in the old days? That I’m nothing more than an inhuman monster now?”

  “I don’t think that at all, Darius.” Her thoughts went back to her beautiful older sister who had been full of love and laughter. She remembered how her sister would hold her when she was frightened by storms or when her parents punished her for what they considered Elizabeth’s rebellious nature.

  Her thoughts became more painful, recalling her own lovely little girl with black hair and lavender eyes, whom she’d sworn" to protect. She could still hear the screams of her daughter, her parents, and her sister the night their house went up in roaring, red flames so long ago. How could she bear the thought of never seeing them again throughout eternity?

  A monumental sadness swept over her, so savage it gripped her heart, making it difficult to breathe. She had to leave before she told Darius of her great pain. It hurt too much to think about, and if she spoke of it aloud, her heart would surely break. She spun away from him and took up her cloak and mask. “I must go feed now.”

  “Be careful of the blood of those small creatures," Darius said. "The plague sneaks upon London unexpectedly, and even though there’s less danger when winter approaches, drinking blood of unknown creatures is always dangerous.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She rushed out before her bloodlust overwhelmed her.

  A sliver of moonlight cut through the black, scudding clouds. Unwilling to call for the coach, Elizabeth hugged the shadows when she passed up Legate Hill. She traveled with the unnatural swiftness of a vampire, avoiding the humans whose shouts and laughter filled her ears. They created an intrusive noise against the still coolness of the night. While gnawing hunger crept upon her, she feared what might happen if she came into direct contact with a human in her vulnerable moment of bloodlust. Already the end of November, the damp, cold air caused her to draw her cloak tighter around her chin. She needed the velvety blackness and the misting rain to veil her dark desire.

  The stones of the sidewalk glistened with moisture, while the stench of rotting garbage, along with raw sewage, assaulted her senses. She threaded her way through narrow streets and alleyways, keeping close to the walls and doors for shelter. Her keen eyes spotted the lantern-like glow of yellow eyes gazing up at her. She swooped down on the poor creature before it had time to mewl. Lifting it to her lips, her eyeteeth elongated and she bit down, firmly and surely, sucking the blood from the poor cat, letting the warm blood trickle down her throat. A sense of shame washed over her at the thought of the monster she’d become.

  Once she finished feeding, she carried the cat into the middle of the road, knowing an unsuspecting carriage would run over the poor creature. At least then the cat’s death would seem a natural act, and not caused by an unnatural, pathetic, soulless creature such as herself.

  Strangely, her hunger remained unabated, and an even greater need filled her. She continued on through the mist-shrouded streets, until reaching the ruins of St. Paul’s Cathedral, still a massive pile of rubble since the Great Fire nine years earlier. Its devastation matched her mood, and she wandered through the charred debris without fear.

  Rumor had flown through London that King Charles II had appointed an architect, Christopher Wren, to design a new cathedral, but nothing much had happened. The Church authorities spent all their time disagreeing and dithering with any plans presented to them. So the towering pillars loomed large, ghostly in the shifting mist, while a scurrying sound led her into what had once been the nave of the church. The noise of the rodents sharpened her hunger because she was not yet fully satiated. The thought of feeding on rats repulsed her, but she’d do anything in order to leave humans alone.

  A sudden powerful wave of rage and malice permeated the ruins and surrounded her. Darkness deepened inside the remains of the church, and she sensed that corruption lurked within. She had no desire to go farther, but her hunger drew her closer to what had been the altar. Something brushed past her, causing her petticoat to rustle. Whatever ran by was much larger than a rat. Her heart pounded, but curiosity pul
led her deeper inside the ruins.

  A shuffling came from the north transept. Her eyesight, keen as a cat’s at night, saw a human-like form clinging to the remains of an old tomb shoved against the wall. Perhaps a beggar or a thief lingered in the ruins?

  Moss sprung up between the stones, causing them to disintegrate while the growth increased. A figure emerged from the moss, giving a sharp, inhuman shriek. The stone crumbled faster and created a deep chasm across the floor.

  More figures appeared from the ramshackle tombs, and the rotting creatures surrounded her. An evil smell of corrupted flesh almost suffocated her. The creatures took several forms, but all were long and lean, either brown or gray, with mummified skin shredded from their bones, and skeletal fingers that grasped and reached toward her. Some of them possessed leathered wings, while others had reptilian skin and a more snake-like appearance.

  They slithered, or flew, or crawled nearer, until a denizen of demon-like beings surrounded her. No escape seemed possible. Elizabeth took a step forward, but one of the creatures grabbed her arm. Opening her mouth to scream, no sound came out. She shook her arm free of his bony fingers.

  She kicked at another larger, figure that appeared to control the others by his inhuman shrieks. “Who are you?” she managed to cry out, while her heart pounded and sweat dripped down her ribcage.

  It lunged at her. She looked around but had nowhere to go. She took a step forward and part of the floor of the ancient church crumbled further into the blackened moss-covered pit. “What do you want from me?”

  Clinging to the edge of the floor, she was pulled over the precipice. Her body dangled, while her nails dug into stone crevices, until she managed to use her high heels to dig into indentations along the side of the chasm. The smell of rotting death streamed from the abyss, nearly making her faint, but she remained conscious. Concentrating on her vampire abilities, she clung to the side with one hand, using the other to unfasten her cloak and rip away the satin gown she wore.

  All she remained wearing was a low-cut, lace-trimmed smock made of the sheerest of linens, and even with its elbow-length sleeves and a long full skirt, maneuvering was easier. Digging in with her nails, she drew herself up the sides of the slippery, moss-covered chasm, thralling four demon-like creatures when they got too close. Once they became trancelike, she scrabbled back up from the chasm.

  The leader of the creatures drew nearer. It gripped her ankle with its claw-like hand, making her ankle burn like fury. She remained laying against the rubble-filled floor, her cheek pressed against a cool stone.

  It breathed with a horrible gurgling sound and thick ropes of blood rose and fell from its nose and mouth. Outstretched leathered wings spanned at least eight feet and a residue of evil surrounded the creature, while the smell of decayed flesh emanated from its body.

  She felt the power of her thralling aura being siphoned off and felt like she’d been kicked in the chest. She understood what she had stumbled upon. This was a nest of psychic vampire demons, and one was sucking psychic energy from her. If he didn’t release her soon she’d die, and so kicking his claw-like hand away from her ankle, she scrabbled away from the moss-covered floor, and then jumped up and ran down the rubble-strewn nave.

  She tried to reach the stone archway that led outside, before he connected psychically with her again. He wasn’t close, but his psychic tentacles extended out and a force pressed down hard on her chest, paralyzing her to the spot while the demon headed toward her. Gasping, she cried out, “What do you want from me? Can’t you speak at all?”

  Elizabeth tried to thrall him, but he was too powerful, and she too drained. It was move, or be killed by this vampire demon. At least he couldn’t steal her soul, since she had none to give. Instead of comfort, this thought swept her into the darkest despair, realizing how easy it would be to die before regaining her soul.

  She couldn’t understand the flickering throb of her heart or the pressure of someone against her back. It wasn’t a feeling of fear, but rather a sense of relief. She darted a look behind her to see Darius’s broad shoulders straining against a velvet jacket. Even in the semi-darkness, the wave of his black hair and the glint in his gray eyes were visible. He hugged her to his chest with one arm and managed to thrall the demon with the other.

  Darius froze the main demon, but the others kept coming toward them, until he lifted one arm and shot scorching flames in their direction. The demons stopped in their tracks. She looked at Darius in surprise. By his expression, she knew he’d surprised himself.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I felt your danger and followed your scent. Can you hold onto me?”

  Her heartbeat quickened when she felt his body pressed against her like a suit of armor. “Try and stop me,” she said, locking her arms around his waist, aware she wore only her smock and was practically naked.

  He seemed to realize the fact at the same time. He looked down at her breasts, and gave a wicked grin.

  “Darius, we’re in a nest of psychic vampire demons who look none too pleased to have us here.”

  “Well then, we’d better get out of here, hadn’t we? Don’t let go.”

  She had no intention of letting go. He moved them out of the ruins and through the fog-shrouded night with a speed that left her breathless. Back inside her suite of rooms at the inn, Elizabeth slipped behind the Oriental black lacquered screen in the corner of her room, putting on a chaste, white nightgown fastened up to her chin.

  She removed the bodkins that held up her auburn hair, allowing it to tumble down her back. Hands trembling so badly, she found it hard to run the brush through her long tresses, so Darius brushed her hair until it shone like burnished autumn leaves. For the briefest moment, his tender care enveloped her and she smiled.

  He gently pulled the brush through the strands of her hair. “What did you get yourself into tonight? Tell me everything that happened.”

  Her relaxation ended and she stiffened. “When I got to the ruins of the church, I heard noises. At first, I thought it was the sound of rats, so I followed the noise inside the remains of the church because I wasn’t satisfied.”

  “I understand. Go on.”

  “I spotted a human-like form near a tomb in the north transept and I followed it. Moss grew out of all the crevices and then several demons appeared. The moss broke up the stone and formed a deep chasm within the floor.”

  “You saw an abyss at St. Paul’s?”

  The sound of fear in his voice made her pause. She frowned and thought for a moment.

  “Continue,” he urged. “How many demons did you see?”

  She shook her head, trying to remember. “There could have been eight demons, but there was one larger, more powerful than the others. He appeared to be orchestrating the attack, and when he grabbed me, he started sucking psychic energy from me, making me unable to thrall the demons. He’s the one you managed to thrall on the way out.”

  Darius drew in a deep breath. “What else happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did this psychic vampire harm you?” Darius stopped brushing her hair, wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, and drew her close. “You were in a state of undress when I found you. Did this vampire rape you when he was drawing off your energy?”

  Elizabeth struggled to steady her voice, but it cracked anyway. “I ripped off my own dress so I could move more easily. He did rob me of energy so I couldn’t fight him, but no, he didn’t rape me. I asked what he wanted of me, but he didn’t say anything.”

  He put his arms around her and pulled her tighter. For just a moment, she let his warmth and strength enfold her. The vein in her neck pulsed to the beat of his heart, and she tilted her head so he’d have a better angle to bite down.

  When she didn’t feel anything, she looked at him, feeling a twinge of disappointment. She’d been amazed by her strong response to him when he'd fed on her the first time. He pulled away a little, and this time, she noticed
his teeth weren’t elongated. It was his soft lips poised above her mouth.

  “That’s not what I want most from you, my darling. I thirst more for your love, rather than your blood.”

  Her mouth formed a surprised “o” when his lips pressed down hard on hers. A tingling thrill galloped down her spine while his mouth probed her own with a heated passion that seared through her. The power of his kiss made her blood pulse, throbbing in a constant fashion, almost as though he was drinking her blood. She couldn’t remember ever being kissed like this, or perhaps she’d never been kissed in this way.

  The buttons of her nightgown imprinted against her skin when his powerful, muscular body pressed against her, causing her nipples to harden, in the same way the fabric of his trousers hardened, leaving her with a sense of feminine power over his unrestrained reaction to her.

  She reminded herself she was kissing an immortal vampire and forced herself to pull away. Her goal for the past hundred years had been to find a way to recapture her soul, and wouldn’t allow herself to get distracted now. She couldn’t let her guard down with Darius again, pushing him away in order to breathe properly. “Love is not possible between us.”

  His look of amazement must have mirrored her own surprise. “I understand what you’re saying, but I haven’t kissed a woman for over eight hundred years. I’ve coupled with women in a mindless craving since becoming a vampire, but I’ve never felt the urge to kiss anyone before.”

  “Well, Lord Mayor, how did it feel?” She attempted to keep her tone light and teasing, even though her heart tightened in her chest, and she watched and weighed each word he spoke.

  “If I’d known that a kiss would feel like this, I don’t believe I’d have waited quite so long,” he said, grinning.