William

by Claire Cray

  And then, with sudden clarity, I remembered that strange moment in the coffee shop when I’d stared into Theo’s eyes and felt, for one brief moment, that we were the closest of friends, and that our interests were completely aligned. And I recalled how in that instant he’d been so startled he had averted his eyes in an uncharacteristically awkward fashion. Deciding, I realized now, not to repeat the mistake that had cost him his dearest friend.

  “No,” I said decisively, and shook my head. “Merrick, I’m sure he’s never done it. You may think me foolish, but I’m sure of it. He never used those charms on me. Be gone with that fear.”

  Merrick searched my eyes, and if he was puzzled by the source of my certainty, it didn’t seem to stop him from taking heart in it. “Very well,” he said at last. “I imagine you’d know. It’s not the most difficult thing to sense, in retrospect. Good, William. I’m much relieved.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway,” I murmured, glad to feel the tension leaving his shoulders at last. “I was taken with you from the beginning." I paused. "As you may recall."

  Merrick's lips quirked slightly, amusement warming his ever solemn eyes. "How could I forget?" His hands spread over my shoulder blades. "I was afraid you'd try to flee in the night, you looked so stricken by your own reaction."

  I laughed in chagrin, letting my forehead touch his as I slipped my fingers into his hair again. "I was afraid you'd send me back," I countered, "if you took me for a diver."

  A crease appeared between his brows, and he shook his head.

  "How was I to know?"

  "Indeed." He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear and added in a teasing tone, "Though you do realize, now, how I endeavored to make my tolerance plain?"

  "It's clearer looking back," I admitted with a smile, remembering all his gestures, the gentle touch of his hand on my back, his intimate whispers, his closeness in the darkness of the bedroom, and the night when I'd first seen his face. He had pulled me close against him, then, and I, ever devoted to the art of stupidity, had convinced myself he'd only done it to scold me. As if that made a lick of sense! I laughed sheepishly, shaking my head. "I didn't know," I said. "I didn't know it could be so simple."

  "I understand."

  "Surely it wasn't always simple for you. God, back then!"

  "No," he said softly, trailing his hand up and down my lower spine. "But the desire is no more common now than it has ever been. Men have always loved other men, and women other women, and there have even been those who are neither men nor women, who love with more complexity than the law allows." Merrick's eyes were distant and thoughtful, and he reached up to stroke my cheek. "But in private, things can be simple; at least, for a little while."

  "That's true," I whispered, still studying him as he spoke. I would never tire of the look of him, his firm, smooth skin and his beautifully balanced features, his patient eyes.

  "Though I dare confess," Merrick said, and his eyes cleared as he raised an eyebrow slightly, "I never counted on your attraction to an old man in a hooded robe. That did throw me."

  I burst out laughing. "You? Imagine how I felt!" Shaking my head with a helpless shrug, I said, "I doubt I can ever explain it. Somehow, I just...knew you were in there."

  Merrick smiled and pressed his lips softly to mine, and I kissed him with all the warmth and wonder in my heart, kissed him until it went to my head.

  "It is quite simple," I said somewhat breathlessly, moving my knee between his legs as I unfastened my waistcoat. My lips curved into a smile as I moved to kiss him again. "The best things in life often are, or so they say." I cast the garment aside and turned my attention to his, spreading the light wool vest open so that I could pull his shirt free of his trousers. His ridged abdomen was curled slightly as he sat, and each time he leaned forward or back I felt the muscles pull taut beneath my palm. I dragged the linen up higher as I kissed my way down his throat, until I could press my cheek to his chest. I stayed there a moment, closing my eyes and savoring his solid strength, the beat of his heart.

  "You spoil me," Merrick spoke quietly, kneading my shoulders as I pressed my open mouth to his firm skin, making my way downward, and he leaned back to let me work at the buttons of his trousers. "Are you content with all this, William?"

  I looked up from the fascinatingly neat indentation of his navel and lost track of his words for a moment. My left hand was still playing at his chest, holding his white shirt to his collarbone. The candle light cast a delicious glow across the elegant strength of his body, shimmering on his soft lips, still wet from my kiss. The shadows brought his masculine jawline into sharp relief, and his eyes glowed with that deep amber warmth. My gaze wandered down to where I had begun to open the fall of his trousers, exposing the flat plane of muscle between his carved hips, before I remembered the question. "Yes," I said slowly. "I am more than content with this, Merrick." I gathered that had not been the spirit of the question, but his breath of laughter told me he didn't mind.

  Indeed, I was content, kneeling between his open knees, lavishing his body with the most intimate affections I could offer. He was a sporting fellow, I thought, to trust me in such a position, for I had carelessly nipped his lips and his earlobes with my newly sharp teeth more times than I could count. But I tasted him with excruciating care, determined not to mishandle the slow ascent of his pleasure. At times like this I could fathom no greater delight than to feel Merrick's body come under the spell of my hands and lips; it was my greatest desire to dismantle his senses as he so regularly did mine, to watch him come undone with passion. There on my knees, out of reach of his devilish hands, I could really put my mind to it. My reward was the quickening of his breath, the groans that rolled like quiet thunder from his chest, and the tightening of his hips and thighs beneath my hands as I gently devoured his sex. His hands moved feverishly through my hair, along my throat and my hollowed cheeks, and he breathed my name like a conjuring as I coaxed his tension toward the breaking point.

  "William." Merrick's fingers closed in my hair, pulling pleasantly at my scalp, and I groaned as I doubled my efforts. "Will..."

  He fell to his release with a rough cry, and I moaned again at the surge of his pleasure, the uncontrolled quaking of his body beneath my hands. His soft groans were like velvet in my ears as I stroked him through the last traces of his convulsions, and when at last I lifted my head, I felt as dazed as if I'd been in his place.

  Merrick bent down at once to claim my lips in a fiery kiss, and I found myself borne down to the floor, stretched out beneath him as he made short work of my clothing—at least what mattered.

  "Bite me," I gasped against his mouth, raking my hands down his back.

  Merrick grasped my hair and pulled my head back. "Wanton thing," he groaned against my throat, and gave it a hearty nip that reverberated through my neck. "Is that what you want?"

  "Yes!" I tangled my legs with his and shoved my hands beneath his loose waistband, digging my fingers into his muscular buttocks. Merrick dragged his tongue over the cuts his teeth had made before nipping me again, higher on my neck.

  "Your blood," he whispered, "is magnificent." And then, just when I thought he meant to hold me down and torment me all night, he worked his lips below the edge of my jaw and sank his teeth deep into my skin.

  There was no way to speak when he drank. His bite propelled me beyond the realm of words and thoughts, flooding my soul with dark and luscious glory. I went languid beneath him, my fingers tracing small, drunken circles over silken skin. When he finished and held me tenderly against his body, murmuring sweetness into my ear, I could summon no better response than a dazed and peaceful smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  At the end of July, summer was stifling. Away from the waterfront, cut off from the sea breeze, the night air was like a wool blanket. I was standing at the corner of the balcony, an arm on the bannister and a glass of wine in my hand, looking down on the street below as I waited for Merrick to return from the post of
fice. Bostonians of all stripes were out in droves, avoiding the suffocating heat of their houses. Ladies and gentlemen draped themselves on their balconies and porticos, fanning themselves with sluggish languor. On the sidewalks and around the porticos, working people and servants of all colors laughed and loitered, bottles moving from hand to hand. As for me, I was unbothered by the heat, relaxed as a tiger reclined in the shadows, watching the watering hole from the fringes of the jungle green.

  Our coach was ready, and our things were packed. In a matter of hours we would depart for Providence. All that was left was to retrieve our suits from Mr. Beekman, an affair I was determined to see through with poise, despite Merrick's warnings that my thirst for the gentleman would make that rather challenging. He had delicately offered to fetch the suits himself, but I waved off the suggestion. After all, the talented young tailor would surely offer some ingenious nips and tucks in mind once we'd tried on his designs. Two fittings alone was cutting it close already!

  Of course, that was hardly the main reason. Ever since Merrick had described the mysterious nuances of thirst, proposing that it was bound to one's character and perceptions, I was keen to feel out the boundaries of my own. It was all too clear that Merrick had thus far sheltered me from the full range of vampire experiences, keeping me close, choosing and descending upon our prey with swift efficiency. They had all been sailors, travelers, thieves, ruffians, and other solitary creatures of the night; in short, all easy pickings, all men who would not be missed. But though they satisfied my thirst, my eyes wandered more intently with each passing night, and I had come to realize that I'd soon outgrow the routine into which I'd been initiated.

  Now, alone on the balcony with the full range of prospects below me, I felt that truth more keenly than ever. Though it was early in the evening—I did not feel the demands of thirst until the later hours of the night had settled in—my eyes lingered on those creatures I found particularly alluring. Dandies, students, low-born women with mischievous eyes. I knew that I would think of them, later, that their images would reappear in my mind's eye with the first twinge of thirst, and my teeth would ring for them until I bit the throat of whichever poor creature Merrick led me to.

  For the time being, that was all right. I had not yet lived a month as a vampire; my thirst was young and restless, but easily sated. I had a premonition, however, that sooner or later these budding desires would be fully grown, and I might not be so easily placated by Merrick's selections, by these shabby strangers with calloused palms.

  Ah, well. I sighed lightly, propping my chin on my hand. At least I was no longer so afraid of Merrick's expectations. Learning about his life had done me a world of good, deepening my confidence in our friendship and assuring me that he would not be easily disappointed in me, so long as I endeavored to maintain what good habits I’d cultivated so far.

  The ivory moon was above the rooftops already, full and glowing, and my gaze settled upon it fondly. Lovely world! I'd never realized the full scope of nature's beauty before I became a vampire. Now I was in constant awe of its wonders, marveling at the basic elements of life, the grandeur of the Earth and the unknown scale of its history. In fact these natural glories struck me so profoundly at times that I was dumbfounded by the lowliness of the animal races—vampires, too—in comparison with the ancient mysteries of stones and stars. But this was not a sad thought, not in the least. In fact, the idea of my own life as a minute speck amid a universe of such infinite beauty and power was so delightful as to send my mind into paroxysms of joy, to the extent that my heart began to race, and I had to shake my head and think of something else before I lost my mind.

  But how marvelous, how marvelous to know that the ivory moon would hang in the night long after I'd turned to dust, ineffable, out of reach. How marvelous that I could not drink it!

  I closed my eyes with a smile and drained the last of my wine. Just as I was about to go inside for more, I spotted Merrick walking up the road. Pleased with the view, I crossed my arms over the railing again and followed his approach. And I wasn't the only one. Not a few heads turned to watch this tall, dark-haired gentleman make his way through the drowsy teem of the sidewalks, moving with the steady glide of one who knew his way about the world better than most others ever would. Christ, that face. I smirked as a cluster of working girls were drawn out of the porch where they'd been gathered, their eyes fixed upon him in dreamy wonder. When I looked back at him, his warm eyes were upon me, and I slowly grinned. Damn, but I'd done well for myself this year.

  When Merrick stepped into the house, I was descending the stairs with another glass of wine for him. He took it with a look of amused surprise, but leaned in and kissed my lips before he raised his glass and took a drink, his amber eyes regarding me over the edge of the glass. "Has something happened? You're practically glowing."

  I shrugged, grinning. "Just enjoying the evening."

  Merrick returned my smile, his eyes crinkling slightly in the way that always made my knees weak. "I'm glad to hear it." But then he looked down and sobered slightly. "I have news to share before we visit the tailor."

  "Is anything the matter?"

  "No." He paused. "Not especially. Come, let's move to the parlor for a spell."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  We turned up a few of the lamps and settled down at the small round table in the corner of the room, where Merrick laid down his sheaf of letters.

  "It appears that this damp summer may bring peril to the coastal towns," Merrick said. "There was a deadly outbreak in Virginia, said to be yellow fever. Now there are rumors of illness around the ports as far north as Baltimore. A ship carrying goods from there was turned away from Boston yesterday, and remains now anchored in quarantine offshore."

  "Oh," I said, caught off guard. Frankly, I had nearly forgotten such worries as deadly fevers existed. "Isn't it early in the season for that?"

  "The weather has been unusual this year."

  "I suppose the air's been rather thick."

  Merrick nodded, turning one of the envelopes slowly on the table. "Yes. I fear this could be a devastating year for many."

  As he spoke, it dawned on me what might be on his mind. "Are you thinking of your duties as a doctor? I would be happy to assist you."

  Merrick looked at me quickly. "Heavens, no."

  I frowned. "All right."

  "Pardon me," he apologized. "I only intend for you to keep a reasonable distance from the general public for a while, until you feel confident in your new circumstances."

  "Yes, of course." I wasn't offended, merely caught off guard. "Well, then, is something else the matter?"

  "Nothing is the matter." Merrick said. “But perhaps you should write to your mother soon."

  I blinked, squinted, and then screwed up my face in confusion. "Very well. But what has she got to do with it?" My eyes went to the stack of letters, and I drew a sharp breath. "Is she ill?"

  "No. Not to my knowledge."

  A strange feeling had gripped my chest, as though my heart had tried to jump out of it and knocked itself for a loop. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling. "I think you just gave me a fright."

  Merrick sat back in his chair, looking at me solemnly. "You still think of her fondly, do you?"

  "Yes. Well," I corrected, "in all honesty, I haven't thought of her much at all. But yes. Now that you bring her to mind, yes, I am, well, I hate to think of...if anything...I hope no ill befalls her." There was something bewildering about the whole idea.

  "Do you miss her?"

  "Do I miss her? No. Yes. That is, I will. I might. Will I?" I sighed, slumping helplessly.

  Merrick gave a rueful smile. "At the very least, you will remain fond, and somewhat protective. The ones we knew before are different from the ones we meet now. We still feel for their well-being, the ones we loved."

  "That's what it is," I realized. "Indeed. Is she well? Have you got word of her?"

  "No. I'm only suggesting that you write to her." M
errick leaned forward slowly, clasping his hands on the table. "You see how quickly time passes for you now. One day, when you've become accustomed to all this novelty and pleasure, you will begin to reflect on the life you led before. But that could be years from now, and you may find that the people you've held in your heart..."

  "I see." I thought of Jeremy, too. It was nice, thinking of them. I had no urge to be with them now—perhaps out of instinct for their safety—but I did hope they were well.

  "Now is as good a time as any to send your regards." Merrick reached for his wine. "You may be glad for it later."

  "You thought of this because of the fever? Because you’re afraid for New York?"

  "Because of the fever; because of any number of dangers you and I may all too easily forget."

  "I see," I said thoughtfully. Yes, I understood how many perils I had left behind when I drank Merrick's blood, and I could feel how easy it was to forget the commonness of death—despite the fact that I myself brought death upon them, night after night.

  "And finally, there is this." Merrick drew a letter from the pile and handed it to me. "For you."

  "Me?" I frowned. "But no one knows I'm here." And then my face went smooth. There, indeed, was my name, penned in a sharp and swooping script that I had seen on only one other occasion, in upstate New York, in a letter I had once uncovered in Merrick's underground study. And turning the envelope over, I found it sealed with an ornately styled T. "It isn't."

  "It is."

  Well, this was awkward. "What..." I grimaced, pinching the envelope. At least it wasn't fat. "Did he write you one?"

  "Of course he did. I did have word sent the day after you arrived, to save him the trouble of verifying for himself. They just arrived today.” Merrick gave me a dry look as he rose from the table. “And to think we might have left for Providence none the wiser."