Bloodgifted

by Tima Maria Lacoba

  He lifted his head and looked at me through hooded, almost drunken eyes; his breath as ragged as my own. Then raising himself slightly, Alec hooked his arms beneath my knees, lifted them and spread my legs as wide as they’d go.

  My heart hammered in my chest like a construction drill. I could almost hear it. I’m sure Alec could, for his eyes blazed just before our mouths meshed once more and he surged forward into me.

  I sighed in sheer relief as his body fit perfectly into mine. There was no discomfort, no hurt, only the sweet friction as he plunged fully into me, moving slowly at first then increasing the pace until my body tightened like a coiled spring, building, building until it broke and my body shuddered with the strength of my release. But Alec continued until another peak washed over me with such intensity I cried out, and only then I felt him tense as he took his own pleasure and spilled deeply within me.

  I lay there breathing heavily, unable to think, unable to move, utterly at bliss with the pleasure my body had just experienced. It was something Matt had never been able to do.

  ‘Oh, no, I’m not finished with you yet,’ he said as he slid down the length of my body again. As he reached the apex of my thighs, he looked up at me, and the hunger in his eyes was clear.

  I nodded, grasped the bars of the bedhead behind me and held on for dear life as Alec dipped his head between my legs. His fingers gripped my thighs and held them apart as his tongue lapped at my sensitive core. It was such exquisite torture that when his fangs penetrated the soft skin of my inner thigh, I came so strongly I nearly ripped the bars from their sockets. The mix of pain and pleasure was exquisite and unlike anything I’d experienced before.

  Alec rolled off me and to the side, taking me with him. I lay cradled in his arms, utterly sated and content and for a while neither of us spoke. Just the sound of our breathing filled the darkened room. Eventually I angled my head up to see him looking at me. His eyes caressed my face then swept down to my mouth, before he lowered his head and kissed me again, long and deep, his tongue stroking and enticing mine into total surrender.

  Soon he was on top of me again, holding my thighs wide apart and plunging even deeper, his groans and sighs mingling with my own. He lifted my hips for even greater penetration, moving within me in a steady, all consuming rhythm and as I threw my head back, his mouth locked onto my nipple, drawing it into his mouth, teasing and sucking till my whole body convulsed with the intensity of the coming climax. And when it did come, I screamed and felt the tears trickle down my face.

  Once again, I lay there panting, exhausted, while Alec rained delicate kisses on my face. ‘Go to sleep…’ he said softly.

  I was sure I heard him say, “my darling” as I closed my eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

  Chapter 41

  “Curiouser and Curiouser”

  LAURA

  I’m not sure how long I slept, but the electric clock on the nearby cabinet showed 1.35 a.m. The room was dark and if not for the glow provided by the Serpent Rings it would have been impossible to know whether it was day or night. Several days could have passed while we made love—for that’s what it was. It had gone beyond the sex-to-end-the-curse bargain we had made. Alec had kissed me with such passion I wondered whether he was as detached as the impression he gave.

  My body felt sore, but wonderfully exhilarated at the same time, although there was still a slight tenderness on my upper thigh where Alec had bitten me. I almost giggled aloud as I recalled the way I reacted when Lora, the young woman I had met at the Ritual, told me where her vampire boyfriend liked to bite. Now I had let Alec do the same. So much for Buckley’s! I thought.

  I gazed at his beautiful face as he slept. He looked so young as he lay next to me, one arm thrown above his head, the other around me, that it was hard to imagine he’d been alive nearly a century. His cheeks were no longer pale as they had been a few hours ago when he had dragged me to his room, but they were now flushed and healthy, and his lips which had been just as colourless, were now stained dark crimson with my blood.

  I wanted to kiss them, wake him and make love all over again. In fact, I wanted to lave my way down the length of his body as he had, so wonderfully, done to me. He brought my body alive, and not only that, but I realised I wanted no other man to touch me, but him.

  That moment, I gave up the fight and completely surrendered my heart to the man who lay sleeping beside me.

  Oh, did I have a problem!

  I needed time to think and work things out, and I couldn’t do that with him so close. Alec completely scattered my thoughts.

  Careful so as not to wake him, I moved out from under his arm, got out of bed and searched for my clothes. They lay on the floor where he had stripped me and the pleasant butterflies went off in my stomach at the memory. I quickly put them on, tiptoed to the door and slipped out, then made my way down the hall toward my room.

  I reached the staircase that separated the two wings and noticed light coming from the next level. As far as I knew, no one usually ventured up there. I guessed that was where the ballroom Luc and Alec had spoken about, would be.

  From my knowledge of Victorian houses, the more ostentatious ones had ornate domed ceilings and long galleries their wealthy owners used to showcase their latest acquisitions. Guests would usually ascend an elaborate staircases that led to grand ballrooms for Coming-Out Parties and Christmas pageants. It was all part of the show.

  I was standing on just such a grand staircase.

  Something beckoned me onwards and I ascended the stairs to the very top. Ornate rose plaster mouldings adorned the ceiling and the fine-veined marble on the stairs and balustrade stood out in the glare from the overhead lights. Pity it’s night, I thought, as the darkness hid the glorious colours on the tall, narrow, lead-lined windows.

  I have to see this during the day. It must be beautiful. It needed airing, though. I wrinkled my nose; the closer I got to the top, the mustier the smell. I wondered if the cleaners ever came here.

  On reaching the top level, I was confronted by a gilt-framed mirror spanning the width of the wall. My reflection gazed back at me.

  Well. Now what? I looked down one length of the corridor. It led to the west wing while another led to the east. It was odd, for unless the ballroom was somewhere behind this mirror, it was simply a dead end.

  Curiouser and curiouser. I crouched down and ran my hand along the base of the mirror.

  I remembered reading somewhere that occasionally these old mansions had trick walls, as the owners liked to impress their guests. But my fingers detected nothing unusual. What I did find strange was that although this level hadn’t been visited in who-knows-how-many-years, there was no dust. I slid my finger along the mirror to be sure. It was clean. Maybe the cleaner did know about it.

  I stood in front of its wide expanse with hands on hips. Here was a mystery I was dying to solve. Then as I moved I noticed a barely perceptible aberration in my reflection. I peered at it more closely, moving a little to the left and then to the right. It was definitely there. Placing my finger where it began, I could feel a hairline join. Bullseye! Now all I needed was to find how to open it. There was no indication anywhere near the mirror—I checked that already. If the original owner had wanted to surprise his guests and create the desired effect, the mirror would have had to open as they reached the top—as if by magic.

  I scanned the ground for a hidden button or pedal that could be tripped by foot. Nothing. Perhaps it was somewhere on or under the balustrade. Running my hands under the smooth marble, my fingers brushed against a small metal lever. I pushed it up. Bingo! My reflection widened as the mirror slid apart and flooded the corridor with light.

  ‘Laura! Are you up there?’ Alec called out.

  ‘Yeah. The ballroom’s incredible!’ I called back down to him.

  Slowly the ballroom appeared. I had the impression of sunlight bouncing off more mirrors, crystal and brass chandeliers, parquetry flooring, then a hand covered my mouth and
another dragged me in.

  Jean’s face loomed inches from my own. At the same instant I heard the mirrored doors snap closed behind me.

  Chapter 42

  Hidden Doors

  ALEC

  I woke to find Laura gone. The fact I had fallen asleep surprised me, as that hadn’t happened in nearly a century.

  At first I thought she may have gone to the bathroom, but I had no sense of her there, nor anywhere on this level, although I knew she was in the house. I homed in on Luc and Judith. She wasn’t with them and it was then my scalp started to prickle.

  I jumped out of bed, located my jeans on the floor—where I’d dropped them only hours earlier—slipped them on and headed out the door. Halfway down the corridor I stopped, closed my eyes and picked up her scent. It led to the staircase and up to the next level which contained nothing but a mirrored wall. Why would she go up there?

  I called out to her as I made my way up the staircase.

  She sounded excited, but something was wrong.

  It was then I sensed Jean’s presence. I ran up the steps in semi-panic, only to see light spill out of an opening and Laura staring, rapt, as it widened. Too late, I saw him step out, clamp his hand over her mouth and drag her in.

  ‘Laura!’ I called out as I raced to her side. But the entrance closed just as I reached it.

  An almost infinitesimal crack spliced the mirror in two from top to bottom. Even using full strength I couldn’t pry it apart. Why hadn’t anyone else seen it before?

  Jean! I knew he was in love with her and had been since she was eighteen. Surely he wouldn’t try to rekindle… the Serpent Ring on my finger flashed. The eyes of the serpent had darkened. Holy mother of…

  ‘Laura!’ I yelled and hammered at the mirror’s surface. Whatever substance it was made from didn’t even crack under my relentless assault. Nothing. Not even a fracture, but I could hear what was going on behind it. In fact, I heard every word in my head, as if our minds were linked. The telepathic bond between us was growing stronger. It was then I remembered the secret lever beneath the balustrade.

  I spun around, groped with my fingers beneath the cold marble till I located the metal and pushed it upwards. Nothing happened. I did it again and still the doors remained sealed. Jean must have somehow locked it from within.

  I had to reach her!

  I sensed a new presence and whirled around to see Luc emerge from a wooden panel in the wall.

  ‘Alec! What are you doing up here?’

  ‘Never mind that! Jean’s in there—’ I pointed to the mirror with my thumb ‘—and he’s dragged Laura in!’

  Luc’s eyes widened. ‘Merde!’ he swore. ‘Have you tried the lever?’

  ‘Of course I did! It’s not working. He must have done something to the locking mechanism.’

  He stared for a moment at the mirror then turned around and bolted back through the panel. ‘This way!’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I’ve been checking the old servant’s passages. Refitting the lights.’

  I ran behind him along a musty, narrow passage that curved gently to the right, all the while listening to what was happening in there. Laura called him Philippe and he appeared to be showing her something. My stomach tightened as I sensed her anxiety. Whatever she saw made her uneasy.

  ‘What was she doing up there?’ Luc called over his shoulder.

  ‘Exploring.’

  Luc groaned. ‘Just like her mother.’

  The passage ahead of us split in two directions. Luc veered to the left—following the sound of Laura’s voice—sweeping veils of cobwebs out of the way as we darted toward a distant doorway. The closer we got, the more I felt her fear and Jean’s deep hatred of me became clear. He’d loved her first and, in his mind, she belonged to him.

  I yanked the door open… and swore loudly. The exit had been bricked up! ‘I thought you knew the way!’

  Behind me, Luc cursed. ‘I haven’t been up here for over a hundred years. Got the damn passages confused! This way. Quick.’

  As we turned and raced back to the other tunnel, which veered to the right, I tried to keep track of what was going on between Laura and Jean.

  Laura! Laura, are you all right? I had to know if he’d hurt her.

  We reached the end of the tunnel, but another closed doorway loomed ahead. Laura, answer me!

  Her response caused my fists to clench and I promised myself that Jean would pay! When I heard her cry out I barged past Luc and crashed through the thick wooden door. What I saw froze me in place and my incisors slid out.

  Chapter 43

  Past Loves

  LAURA

  My initial shock at being confronted by Jean turned to anger. I slapped his hand off my face. ‘Don’t you ever place your hand on my mouth!’ The last time someone did that I had been terrified and terrorised. The memory made me shiver.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want anyone to disturb me up here. No one comes to this part of the house anymore. It’s become my secret place,’ he said as he reached up behind me and pulled down a hook on the wall. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ He spoke lightly but there was a strange edge to his voice.

  It was incredible the way he reminded me of Philippe. Even his voice was similar—from what I remembered, but it was so long ago.

  I twisted out of his hold and moved away from him. ‘Wandered up here to take a look. Alec and Papa mentioned the ballroom as the perfect place to hold the Pledge.’

  ‘You know Luc’s your father? When?’

  ‘After the Ritual. They told me everything.’

  ‘Ah.’ He cocked his head to one side, the way Alec did sometimes.

  A nervous tingle ran through me. I recalled the strange way Jean stared at me at the time and his lingering touch on my face in the hospital.

  ‘You kept the locket I gave you in Sorrento.’

  I froze. How did he know? Philippe had bought me a silver heart-shaped locket and asked me to wear it always. I promised I would, but I’d been only eighteen. I’d kept it all these years as a memento and it hung on my dresser-mirror alongside my other pieces of jewellery. Had he been in my bedroom?

  My stomach plummeted as the realisation hit me. He’d been in my flat, in my room, with the others the night I was taken. Jean… No! The anxious face gazing at me now was not Jean. It was Philippe. Philippe!

  I had no doubt. Here before me was the young man I’d met in Italy when I was eighteen. He was handsome and I’d had the biggest crush.

  Compared to the boys I had known in high school, his was the first manly kiss I had experienced. It was the most wonderful holiday of my life and I didn’t want it to end, but it did, suddenly. He disappeared—never showed up on our last date. I thought I would die, but I didn’t. I grew up and he eventually receded to the memories-you-treasure part of my mind.

  ‘Philippe?’ I stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘You do remember.’

  ‘Yes, but…you had blue eyes then.’ Had he become a vampire after we’d met?

  ‘I wore contacts.’

  ‘Why? So I wouldn’t be curious, you having the same eye colour as myself?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  He smiled and became the handsome young man I’d known all those decades ago. Yet seeing him again didn’t resurrect those same powerful emotions. I was no longer the adolescent girl he met and kissed in Sorrento.

  ‘Do you want to see what I do up here?’ he asked, just as I was about to bombard him with a million questions.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let me show you.’

  He took my hand and led me to the other end of the ballroom, to a small raised area with a wooden railing all around. Presumably, this was where the orchestra had played in the days of grand parties. Candles flickered in ornamental brass holders attached to wall sockets, illuminating—what appeared to be—a number of pictures and drawings.

  In the centre of the stage sat an easel covered with a dark blue cloth. The floor around it was litte
red with sketches, boxes of artist’s charcoal and pencils of various thicknesses and sizes. A fold up stool leaned against the wall.

  ‘Go ahead, have a look,’ he said.

  I stepped into his makeshift studio and picked up one of the discarded drawings. It was a sketch portrait of me, my hair loose and draped over one shoulder. He had captured my image perfectly. Philippe had talent.

  I dropped it and scanned the floor around me. All the others were the same—different scenes, some coloured, some black and white, but they all portrayed one face—mine.

  I sucked in a shocked breath as I remembered him once telling me he was a portrait artist; that he’d wanted to paint me. But over and over again?

  He stood behind me. ‘No one bothers me up here and I spend most of my time drawing.’

  I gazed up at the wall. Between the candles were pinned hundreds of photographs of me, all taken at various times and on different nights—out shopping, evening school functions, going to the theatre with friends, entering and leaving my unit… and many more. The shock gave way to fear. How long had he secretly watched me?

  ‘Do you like them?’ I turned to look at him, unsure what to say. His eyes were bright with excitement. ‘This is my latest one.’

  He whipped the dark blue cloth from the easel to reveal a coloured drawing of me. But unlike the others, this one was more than a portrait. It showed my upper body, hair flowing down over my breasts, my head turned slightly to the side, lips parted, gazing longingly up at someone outside the picture. My left hand appeared to be poised ready to sweep the hair away from my neck. It was beautiful, but somehow disturbing.

  ‘Who am I looking at?’ I asked nervously.

  Philippe didn’t answer. He lifted the picture and exposed another beneath. I gasped. It was a sequel to the one before and Philippe had drawn himself into it. It showed him standing behind me, having gathered my hair in his hands and exposing the curve of my breasts. My head was angled back onto his shoulder, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his mouth at my throat.