by Ranae Rose
“I know you’re right, but at times it’s difficult to remember. I feel so out of place here – as if I’m an impostor, pretending to belong to such a grand family.”
Damon made a sound of dismissal. “We may be wealthy, but we are not so grand. Did you know that my father started out as a banker?”
Elsie shook her head.
“He did. Later he decided to take a chance by putting his savings toward the construction of his first textile manufactory. Needless to say, it proved a successful venture.”
Only slightly heartened by this revelation, Elsie turned onto her side as a sudden question struck her. How had she never thought to ask before? “But how did your parents become vampires? That’s what I’d really like to know.”
“That happened scarcely twenty years ago, not long after my father built his second factory.” He frowned as he continued to hold and stroke Elsie’s hand. “He bought his immortality.”
“But I thought there were rules. Won’t one who’s not family to a vampire be destroyed if they’re changed?”
Damon nodded. “Yes, that’s the rule. My father solved that problem by selling his sister to a vampire. He gave her away to be the wicked creature’s bride and paid a fat sum in gold besides.”
“The vampire wanted your aunt that badly?”
“She was a very beautiful woman.” His voice turned bitter. “The vampire she was forced to wed was not beautiful – neither inside nor out. She refused to let him transform her, preferring to die a natural death rather than spend an eternity with him. She died of her own hand when I was a small boy.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
He sighed. “It’s a wicked family I’ve brought you into. Please, don’t give their dissatisfaction another thought. It is not important.”
Disregarding Damon’s parents’ feelings was perhaps easier said than done, but the soul-crushed tone he used to convey his reassurances tugged on Elsie’s heartstrings. “You are a much better husband than I ever could have hoped for, Damon. I love you.”
He eased himself down onto the bed, tucking a hand beneath her chin as he stretched on the mattress beside her. “I hope my love is enough to keep you a happy member of this family.”
She laughed despite his seriousness. “Of course it is.” How could he possibly think otherwise? His love was the one thing she’d craved more than anything else – and the one thing she’d never thought she’d be able to lay claim to.
He lowered his mouth to hers, sighing as he touched the tip of his tongue to her lips. She yielded to him, more than willing to accept whatever intimacy he chose to give her, despite her fatigue. Letting Damon make slow, sweet love to her mouth didn’t seem to drain her depleted energy – rather, it replenished it. As he smoothed his hands over her body, caressing the curves of her breasts and her hips through the airy fabric of her dress, she felt more alive. He pushed his tongue deep into her mouth, as if he sensed her sudden awakening.
She responded by wrapping her arms around his back and her legs around his hips, bringing their bodies as close together as two could be without one being inside the other. Suddenly, their clothes seemed out of place. “Let me help you,” Damon murmured, finally breaking the kiss as Elsie began to lift her skirts.
He pressed nimble fingers to her buttons and helped her out of her dress in record time. She did the same for him, deftly working the front fall of his pantaloons open as if she’d been his wife for a year, rather than just two days. His cock stretched long and hard in her hand, its smoothness irresistible. She caressed its length while he tore off his shirt. Knowing that he was eager to be naked, to feel her hands work over every inch of his body, was every bit as pleasurable as touching him. She paused only to let him peel off his pantaloons, and then resumed stroking him, harder this time. “Does it feel as good when you do it?” she asked, noting his moan and remembering the pose of rapture he’d given in to when he’d brought himself to release.
He groaned. “Not half so good.”
That was almost hard to believe. She’d never seen anything more arousing than him, thrown back on his bed, stroking his cock as if another second of restraint would kill him. When her name had escaped his lips, her core had ached to be filled by him, and yet, she didn’t know if she could have brought herself to do anything that might have stopped the spellbinding display of his solitary pleasure. “It’s lovely to watch, just the same.”
“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” he asked with a wicked smile.
He placed a hand over hers, stilling it on his shaft. She relinquished her hold and watched him grip his erection, wrapping his fingers firmly around the stiff flesh. As she watched, he moved his hand slowly from root to tip, his grip less delicate than hers had been. His skin stretched taught over the swollen length of his erection as he jerked his hand back down again.
She moaned as her core tightened, aching for him even as she sat frozen on the mattress, powerless to do anything more than watch as he brought his hand back down the length of his cock, thumbing the rounded tip, showing her the sensual slit that would spill his seed into her body. He joined her, a groan rising from deep within his chest. “You’re what makes it feel good,” he said, his voice low. “Take off your shift.”
She obeyed, pulling the light garment over her head and quickly forgetting it as she buried a fang in the soft flesh of her lower lip, sucking in a breath as Damon forced his fist down the length of his erection to the dark nest of hair below. His eyes gleamed as he took his time admiring her body, his gaze slowing over the swells of her breasts and finally resting between her hips as he gave his cock another slow stroke. “Just a glimpse of you, caught in passing in the hall, used to make me hard,” he said. “After that I’d retire – for the thought of you left me no choice – and dreaming of you before me as you are now would be more than enough to bring me to release.” The blunt head of his cock disappeared inside his fist for a moment as he spoke, meeting her rapt gaze. “Do you understand? I didn’t do it because it felt as good as what I truly desired – it was only a pale imitation of that. My own fist does not compare to your perfect body, but it was all that I had.”
His words, combined with his display of self-pleasuring, set her on fire – there was no other way to describe the effect. Her veins were filled with liquid flame that made every inch of her body burn with desire, and her core smoldered with longing.
“But if watching gives you such satisfaction,” he said, “I suppose I can endure it.” A glistening drop of moisture beaded at the tip of cock. “For a moment longer, anyway.” He spread it over the length of his shaft, causing the turgid flesh to gleam.
It wasn’t satisfaction this voyeurism gave her – more the opposite, really. Watching his tightly-clenched fist glide up and down the length of his cock made her feel as if she might shatter from unfulfilled desire, even as she enjoyed the sight and the anticipation. She moaned and he shuddered, unwrapping his fingers from around his erection. The next moment she was on her back, sinking into the plush mattress beneath his weight.
“I hope you’ve looked your fill,” he said, pressing his hips firmly against hers, causing their legs to become lost together in a tangle of bed sheets, “because I intend to spend the rest of the night inside of you.” His cock slid smoothly into her wet channel, stretching her in a way that made her moan again and seize fistfuls of linen.
He made love to her at a maddening pace; just slow enough that she wanted him to go faster, and just fast enough that she thought she might burst if he didn’t slow down. He did neither – just buried his cock in her again and again until he had her on the brink of release. It was amazing how close she’d been at the first stroke, her body teased to readiness by the show he’d put on for her. She arched beneath him, thrusting her body against his lean torso as her shoulders sank down into the bed.
He gripped one of her raised breasts, kneading it as he massaged the nipple with his fingertips. It sprung up small and hard beneath his touch, sending a thrill through
out her entire body. She gasped as her core tightened, every muscle between her navel and her hips tensing and then relaxing in a wave of exquisite intensity, only to repeat the process again and again. Her moan turned into a ragged sigh as her breath rushed out in short bursts that matched the rhythm of her climax. He pumped his cock into her with strokes that became deeper and deeper as she rode her orgasm to its peak, and then finally collapsed against the mattress again, as if her bones had turned to ash in the wake of the searing heat that had just swept through her.
The weight of his body against hers was reassuring. She wrapped her arms around him as his chest flattened her breasts and he pressed kisses into the hollow of her neck. Below, his strokes became slower but stronger. His cock seemed harder than ever as it pounded into her flesh, an effect of the heightened sensitivity that always beset her after she came. It was easy to feel the tension mounting in his body as he thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, gripping him both inwardly and outwardly, urging him to pour himself into her.
He growled, his breath blasting hot against her neck as he obliged her, accepting her invitation without hesitation. She moaned along with him as he drove his cock hard and fast into her, his burst of energy accompanied by the hot rush of his seed. After a few rough gasps he slowed, finishing by sliding into her tight, wet channel just a couple more times before withdrawing.
Lying beside her on the bed, he faced her and pulled her close with an arm around her waist, tucking his other hand under her chin and lifting it until her gaze met his. “How do you feel? Is the late hour taking its toll on you yet?”
She shook her head, brushing a light kiss against his lips as she did so. “I feel much better than before.” That was an understatement. Though he’d withdrawn from her body, the effects of the pleasure he’d brought lingered, leaving her feeling warm, sensitive and charged with the passion he’d shown her.
“Good.” He glanced toward the window, where the night sky was the dusky purple Elsie was beginning to grow accustomed to. “We still have a while before dawn.”
He covered her body with kisses, starting at her throat with light brushes of his lips that became stronger and more impassioned as he worked his way down. She sighed when he sucked her nipples, teasing them to instant hardness with his tongue and teeth. He lingered over her curves, pressing tongue and lips over every inch of her skin as he granted his cock the time it needed to grow hard again. By the time he pressed his mouth between her thighs, his erection was standing tall in his lap. He continued to go slowly anyway, working his tongue against her damp folds and the swollen nub above, driving her to another breathless climax before he entered her again.
****
“Toast?” Elsie asked, eyeing the silver tray a maid had just delivered. It was half past noon, but the meal was meant to constitute a breakfast, as she and Damon had just risen.
“Yes,” Damon replied. “I always take a tray of tea and toast in the mornings. It’s the perfect breakfast for a vampire because I can toss it out the window where the birds devour it before it’s discovered.” He smiled conspiratorially at her. “Would you like to do the honors?”
Giggling, she snatched a slice of lightly-burnt, buttered bread from the tray and glided to the window in the silk robe she’d pulled on over her naked body. She’d slept in the nude, tightly snuggled in Damon’s embrace. The bright sunlight set off an instant ache behind her skull as she leaned out the window, but she welcomed the sight of the beautiful day nonetheless. No sooner had she thrown the first square of toast than a starling swooped out of the air, catching it in its beak. The next piece made it to the ground, only to be set upon by three more of the winged breakfasters. Scarcely two minutes after she’d tossed the last piece down, every last crumb was gone. “You’d almost think they were your pets,” Elsie said, watching the puffy little feather-balls hop around, chirping excitedly.
“Not pets, exactly. More like sharks that follow a ship, waiting for scraps to be tossed overboard.”
“You don’t toss the tea out the window too, do you?”
He shook his head, causing a lock of dark, sleep-tousled hair to fall into his eyes. “No.” He pushed it away. “You’re welcome to as much of it as you’d like.”
Elsie poured a cup and brought it to her lips, relishing the familiar warmth. While human food no longer appealed to her, a cup of tea still held all the allure it always had. “What’s that?”
“The Times,” Damon said, lifting the item in question from the tray. It had been bundled beside the toast platter, neatly rolled so that it took up little space. “I always take the paper in the mornings when I’m in London. Father relishes interrogating me on the current news.” He unrolled it and flicked it open with a look of resigned disinterest.
“What is it?” Elsie asked when his eyes widened as he scanned the front page.
His response was a sort of half-disgusted, half-sick groan. Staring down at the paper as if it were some sort of vermin that had been thoroughly squashed beneath a carriage wheel, he handed it to Elsie.
Chapter 15
Brutal Murders Strike London, the headline read. Morbid details flew at Elsie as she scanned the article, trying to absorb as much information as she could. Three were dead. One man and two women. Two had been a young couple, while the other had been a slightly older actress. Elsie’s stomach roiled, forcing her to fight the urge to gasp as she read on. All three victims’ hearts had been cut out of their chests and stuffed into their mouths. They’d been found that way, cold and blood-crusted; their corpses already stiff. The killer’s identity was a mystery that was baffling authorities.
“My God, this is awful,” Elsie said, still staring at the paper in disbelief. “Heinous. What sort of twisted criminal could bear to do such a thing?”
“One of us,” Damon said, his voice low and bitter.
“What?”
“I said ‘one of us’. A vampire.”
“You aren’t serious?”
He gave her a level look that showed her just how dark his eyes and the thoughts behind them were. “I wish I wasn’t, but I am.”
“How can you know?” Elsie asked, searching the article for some sort of confirmation. But nothing was said of bite marks – it seemed that the victims’ blood had drained from their gaping chest wounds to be wasted on their surroundings, not consumed.
“I suppose I don’t know,” he admitted, “but there’s enough information in this article to make me consider the possibility. Did you read about how the murderer cut out the victims’ hearts?”
“Yes.” Elsie nodded, a bitter mix of revulsion and pity for the murdered causing her to frown.
“I suppose you don’t know. That’s my fault, for I’ve neglected to tell you. There is a way to kill a vampire – just one way.”
This revelation didn’t frighten Elsie. She hadn’t grown used to the idea of her own immortality yet. It was more of a shock to think that she’d go on living indefinitely than to think that she’d eventually die. She was, however, curious. “How?”
“You cut out his heart and then burn him to ashes. You must remove the heart first, for a vampire cannot burn with it intact.”
Of course one couldn’t. If vampires were normally susceptible to fire, Damon never would have been able to rescue her from the flames that had destroyed her home and killed her parents. “Can a vampire live without a heart?”
“Yes, the chest wound eventually heals and a heartless vampire can function quite well – normally, in fact, unless they’re exposed to flame.”
Elsie pressed a hand beneath her breast, tracing the hard lines of her ribs beneath as she tried to imagine the agony of having her heart torn out. The absence of her heartbeat struck her for the first time, sending a chill down her spine. “My heart is still. Is that normal?” She tried to sound casual, as if the realization hadn’t shaken her.
Damon nodded, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Haven’t you ever noticed that mine doesn�
�t beat?”
“No,” she answered after considering it for a moment. “I suppose I was distracted by your other…qualities.”
“I noticed your heartbeat the first time I touched you after you arrived in Hertfordshire.”
Another shiver raced down her spine, markedly more pleasant than the last, as she remembered pretending to be unconscious on the library floor. It’d taken all the resistance she’d been able to muster to keep from responding to his touch as he’d pressed his fingers gently into the hollow of her throat, feeling for a pulse. “I suppose you did.”
“I must admit, it broke mine a little to stop yours beating.”
“Doing so had to have been much better than the alternative.” She wasn’t sure if her allusion to the fact that he’d saved her from a slow death cheered him or not.
“Yes. That would have destroyed my lifeless heart.” He laid the paper back down on the tray and took a step toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he rested his chin on the top of her head and faced the window. “Speaking of ruined hearts, I cannot help but feel responsible for what happened to those three innocent people last night.”
Elsie tensed inside his embrace, biting back a sigh of frustration. Though the newspaper headline had shocked her, she’d at least taken a modicum of comfort in the fact that the gruesome deaths were tragedies that Damon couldn’t possibly blame himself for, unlike her own past troubles. “Pray tell, how do their murders have anything to do with you?”
“I didn’t go out last night,” he said, touching his fingertips to the glass. “I wasn’t there to help them.”
His reflection was barely visible in the half-opened window. She cocked an eyebrow at it. “Do you mean to tell me that you patrol the streets of London every night, stopping heinous crimes?”
“Most nights.”
Her own eyes widened, and her expression of surprise was reflected back at her by the window.
“That often? Still?”
“Since I was sixteen. Saving you was so satisfying and so terrifying that I kept on, afraid that another little girl might be choking on ashes somewhere. Usually they’re not. Usually they’re being beaten or raped, but it doesn’t matter. There are always people out there who need help.”