Shifters Desire 1: Vampire Fangs & Venom

by Myra Nour

  Two round-shaped towers stood proudly, a connecting wall between them. As Briana had observed, parts of the walls were blackened and some stones were missing along the face of each structure. The tower on the left seemed to be in worse shape, so they headed for the other. They came across an old moat that thankfully had dried up, but a rank, mucky mess still sat in sludge-piles at the bottom.

  Spying a drawbridge nearby, they approached its edge cautiously. It didn’t look very safe—rotten boards were scattered along its length.

  “I don’t know.” She chewed her bottom lip and peered into the moat, a frown of distaste on her lush mouth.

  “Remember, this is a dream.” He laughed. Better to keep the mood light and let her think it was only a dream for now. Perhaps when they got inside, the old tower would provide the secure shelter he sought; then he could properly explain matters to her. He added, “Besides, I think if we walk carefully where it looks intact, we’ll be okay.”

  Chapter Five

  She took his hand without further prompting, and though it was slow going, they made it across with no problem. He was itching to explore the old place, but dusk was falling quickly; they needed to find a secure lodging soon.

  Passing through the gaping doorway was an exhilarating experience. There were no weapons along the walls, no furniture or artifacts, but still, the old entryway was fascinating in itself. The narrow steps on one side had crumbled—going up them to explore would be more dangerous than passing over the drawbridge. Raynor was running his hand along an old stone, examining its construction when Briana called him.

  “Come look.” She stood in a doorway covered with a heavy wool fabric. His hand ran along the makeshift door when they passed through. The fabric on the other side had been hung by several iron spikes being hammered into crevices between the stones overhead; crude, but effective.

  “Strange,” he muttered to himself. If he thought that was odd, he was shocked to find a large, partially furnished room on the other side of the curtain.

  Several heavy-looking chairs, shaped like thrones, were scattered about the room. They looked austere and uncomfortable; fortunately, exquisitely embroidered pillows were placed on their hard seats. Two large tapestries with intricate designs—one a hunting scene, the other a knight on horseback—helped soften the back wall. A long, oak table made of planks, took up a good portion of the far wall. Four brass goblets were set upon its roughly-hewn surface and a large wooden bowl sat in the center, with small apples filling it.

  A strange crunching sound drew his attention downward. The floor was dirt, but over the central area, a thick layer of straw had been laid. It was surprisingly sweet smelling; giving the room an outdoorsy feel. His mate examined the lighting system available and he drew near in curiosity. Several tall, thick candles were placed strategically around the room, held in place by a thin spike stuck into the wax center and attached to a metal pan. Additionally, two thin candles sat on the table, the bottom of each set inside a metal cup. Crude, but quaint, he thought wryly.

  The only other lighting came from thin apertures in the walls, small windows he guessed. The sun had almost set, the feeble light filtering in helped very little. Soon, the room would be pitch black.

  Raynor moved across the room and watched her. She was beautiful before, with her full-figure, but she was bewitching in the Medieval attire. She stopped in front of a small mirror, which couldn’t have been over three feet by five feet in proportion and appeared to be gold gilt with a beveled edge. He only knew this because his grandmother had owned just such a mirror. The looking glass was propped up against a chair, so that most of the person’s body would be visible when they stood in front of it.

  “That dark green makes your eyes look even more lovely.” She blushed and he was happy to see she had a sense of modesty. Women who were unaware of their own attractiveness turned him on. And he liked women who blushed easily; it meant they had a streak of shyness running through them, something he found charming.

  “No wonder I didn’t like this…I think they called it a ‘wimple’.” Briana fiddled with the odd-looking hat, finally taking it off and pitching it onto a chair.

  “It is a gorgeous dress though.” She smoothed one hand down the soft material.

  Raynor would love to sleek his hand down her silk-draped skin, but now wasn’t the time. He sighed. She turned this way and that, admiring the form-fitting dress beneath what appeared to be a fuller one over it. The underdress had tight-fitting wrist length sleeves, while the overdress had full sleeves reaching her elbows. Some kind of sexy-looking embroidered belt rode her hips and made her figure more apparent in spite of the full dress covering her. It was a weird-looking get up, but somehow he still found it exciting.

  Thoughtfully, she touched the mirror. “The quality is poor compared to our modern day mirrors, but I believe this would be a very extravagant object for a medieval person to own.”

  “Guess I might as well get it over with.”

  “Huh?”

  “Taking a gander at my costume.”

  She moved aside when he approached and he groaned aloud. It was a ridiculous outfit. Those hose, or leggings, whatever they were called, were the worst. No matter how much he tugged at them, they continually crept downward. Right now, they were doing a great imitation of his granny’s wrinkled knees.

  “I’ve been thinking.” She paused and squeezed in next to him so both were partly visible. “These remind me of costumes I saw at a Renaissance fair last year.”

  Slapping his head, he remarked, “That’s why I look like a clown, you probably saw a jester or something.”

  She laughed. “No, I believe your tunic and hose are reminiscent of a merchant class medieval male, or perhaps a hunter. Think Robin Hood.”

  “Yikes, ‘men in tights’.”

  She giggled.

  “Why couldn’t it have been a knight?” A wide grin stretched his mouth.

  “Hmm. That would have been more interesting, but I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to move about freely.”

  “You’re right, all that metal…”

  Suddenly, she shivered violently. “Are you all right?” Concern edged his voice.

  She nodded, “Just cold.”

  “You’re right, it has gotten chilly since the sun’s almost down.” He opened the pack of food he’d brought and stuck his hand in; it reappeared a few seconds later with a small wooden box. “I don’t know what this is, but I couldn’t find the butane lighter I stuck in here.”

  “You wouldn’t, remember the transference thing with the portal?”

  He chuckled, proud of her for remembering important facts he’d shared about the portal, even though she still acted as though it was all a crazy dream.

  He lifted the lid of the box and dumped an odd assortment of items onto his palm.

  “That looks like a fire-starting kit from the medieval period.” At his look, she added, “I watched many recreations during the fair; one was the primitive way they started fire.” She pointed to each object resting on his palm in succession. “That’s a flint, piece of steel, tinder, and a scrap of cloth.”

  “Hmm. I think you know more about this period than you fessed up to.”

  “Well, I’ve read up on it before; it was a fascinating time.”

  “Fascinating, but frigging cold. Any idea how we’re going to keep warm?”

  “Over here.” She waved him to a small area cleared of straw, situated between two of the massive chairs. “That’s a brazier, if I remember correctly.”

  “A what?”

  “A heater of sorts.” She bent down and picked up a hammered metal bucket near the brazier and tilted it so he could look inside. “See, they used coal.”

  He looked unconvinced, but said, “I guess we won’t freeze our buns off.” He glanced at the faint rays shooting through the tiny windows. “Better hurry or I won’t be able to see what I’m doing.” He squatted and cleared the ashes out of the strange contraption. Readying t
he tender afterwards, he wasn’t sure what to do with the cloth, but with a shrug laid it on top of the tiny, dry sticks.

  Unexpectedly, he asked, “Can you pinpoint our date?”

  “No, but I think we’re in the 14th century.” She knelt down across from him and placed a hand on top of his to stop him. “Raynor, this place doesn’t really look like a home, but it’s been furnished for comfort.”

  He pointed toward one corner. “Did you get a look at that yet?”

  Her breath caught in excitement. “What a wonderful bed.” It was large, with bedposts and heavy drapery on each post. “Who would live in this ruined place?

  “I don’t think anyone does,” he eyed her with humor. “I believe this is a lover’s rendezvous.”

  “Oh.” Her look changed from curious to worried. “What if they find us here? What if they don’t like us being here? What if—”

  He placed one finger gently over her lips. “Let’s worry about that when the time comes.” He nodded toward the curtained doorway, “We can’t very well go back outside and search out a new place. It’s getting cold in here, what do you think the night air is like?”

  She sighed. “You’re right. Maybe the people will be thoughtful. It was the age of chivalry.”

  He kept his eyes on the flint in his hand; he didn’t put much faith in people’s kindness to strangers, especially when sex or some other important activities were involved.

  A shiver ripped through him and Raynor struck the flint hard against the steel, repeatedly, to no avail. A soft hand touched his.

  “I think you’re supposed to strike the steel at an angle, about a foot away, and you don’t have to act like you’re beating it up.” She pushed his hands toward the tinder. “And closer, a little underneath it too, I think.”

  He gave her an inscrutable look and then repositioned himself. It took some effort, but finally a small spark jumped onto the tinder; he blew on it, but it went out anyway. After a few more such attempts, he was becoming very frustrated, and cold.

  He struck the flint again. This time a few showering sparks flew onto the cloth and he blew gently. It burst into tiny flames.

  “That’s right, that’s how the man did it.” She clapped her hands in glee.

  “It would have helped if you remembered that earlier,” he grumbled.

  She shoved his shoulder. “Keep blowing gently before it goes out.”

  They watched in wonder when the small flame lit the tinder.

  “Quick, put those small twigs onto it.” He grabbed the small broken branches lying near the coal bucket and did just that, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you want to do this?”

  “Oh no, you’re doing just fine.”

  After a few minutes, the blaze was strong enough that he added pieces of black coal. It was surprisingly effective, as long as they didn’t stray too far away. They stood for a long time in front of the fire warming their bodies. “It’s getting dark. Better light a few candles.” Following that statement, he lit the end of a small branch and carefully walked with a cupped hand around the flame, to one of the tall candles. It lit greedily and Raynor put the flame to the other candle before the flame went out.

  Afterwards, he squatted by the fire, warming his hands, then asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

  She nodded cheerfully.

  Ever the gentleman, he jumped up, but while he strode to the chair in which he’d plopped the food bag, his body started trembling.

  “Quick, come back to the fire,” she said with alarm. “You’ve caught a chill.”

  “No, it’s not that.” He turned to her with anxious eyes. He didn’t want her to be terrified of him.

  “I’m shifting.”

  She stumbled back a step, bumping into one of the hard chairs. “The werewolf!”

  He moaned. Trying to hold back the metamorphosis was painful. Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t know. It depends what is influencing me in this time period.”

  She grabbed one of the thick pillows and held it in front of her breast, in a protective gesture.

  “Know this, Briana, I will not hurt you.”

  “How do you know?” Her statement was laced with anger and fright.

  “Arrgh,” he clutched his stomach. “I told you, a shifter would never harm his mate.”

  She stuck her fists into her waist. “Here you go again with that mate—” Briana cut herself off when he went into spasms. Abruptly a mist appeared around his form. Should she run? But where? It was true he hadn’t hurt her before; besides, this was a dream, she reminded herself.

  Waiting anxiously in spite of her self-reassurance, she stared intently to see what appeared once the fog lifted. Perhaps a nail-biting minute later, Raynor’s muscular physique stood in front of her, unchanged as far as she could tell. She was so relieved. He was still dressed too; guess he didn’t have time to strip.

  Gazing down at his body, he lifted his hands to his face, running them all over it. His expression was as puzzled as she’d first felt but seconds ago. He glanced at her.

  “I don’t see any difference, Raynor, except…you’re paler than you were.”

  “That’s odd.”

  Her eyes opened in a startled reflex. “Say something.”

  “What?”

  “Anything, just more than two words.”

  He looked at her with humor, then said, “You’re the most beautiful, sexy woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of running into, and I’m so glad you’re my—”

  Holding up her hand to halt him, she let a trembling breath out. “You’ve got long, sharp teeth.” She placed two of her fingers to her upper mouth. “Right there. That’s what’s different, that and the pale color.”

  Touching his mouth, he gave her an inscrutable look, and then strode quickly to the mirror. Grinning widely, Raynor nodded to himself. It was as he thought. He turned to her.

  “I’m a vampire.”

  “What?! I thought you were a werewolf?”

  He sighed. “Remember, I am influenced by the environment around me,” he waved to the stoned room. “I guess this old castle did the trick.”

  She edged backwards a few steps. “Are vampires or werewolves more dangerous?”

  “Neither, to you.” He waved in her direction, “Come back to the fire, you’re starting to tremble.”

  “I’m not cold, I feel sick. I think I’m scared to death.”

  He chuckled. “You’re not going to die. Come warm up, my sweet.”

  Suddenly, she clutched her stomach with both arms. “I’m telling you I’m sick, like I’m going to throw up.”

  He became concerned and then alarmed when her trembles turned into violent spasms.

  “Help me!” She reached one arm toward him with a panicked expression.

  Raynor bounded across the room, gripped both her arms and tried to capture her gaze. He must explain, must guide her, for she was on the verge of her first shift. Probably it was the fear of being thrown into this chaotic world. She almost pitched from his hands so terrible were her spasms; her eyes were glazed and wild. There’d be no getting through to her in this state.

  Quickly, he flipped her around and started unlacing her dress. Even in her fugue state she tried to fight his undressing, but this swiftly faded when the sharp pains of the first shifting struck her. It took a few minutes to struggle with the strange clothing and divest her of it.

  The mist had enveloped her by the time he kicked the material aside; he’d get no clear view of her lovely form like he’d been dying to all along. He fumbled and found her hands within the fog, determined to hold on and give her what support he could. Regret hit him like a brick. No time to explain the process to her, or even tell her she was a shifter and what was about to happen to her. No time to reassure her that everything would be all right.

  Briana’s grip became stronger as she changed. It seemed she sensed his presence and was holding on with every fiber of her being. Only once did a scream emit from the protective veil, o
ne that shot through him with an emotional agony. When the haze began to dissipate some minutes later, Raynor was shocked. He’d seen many shifters in his time, but never one as magnificent in his estimation, or as wild, as his mate standing before him.

  Chapter Six

  She stood a good two feet taller than him…at least with the way she balanced on her tail. For some reason, the old B movie “Lair of the White Worm” came to mind.

  His beloved was a very enticing snakewoman.

  Still the same fascinating face. Her sharp cheekbones, large eyes, and lush mouth gave her an extremely sexy look. The shiny brown hair was as it was before, creating a pixie sort of effect, on top of the sensual one—a strange, but very effective pairing. But those lovely, pale green eyes were different; the pupils slit-shaped and wicked.

  The upper body…he was positive was the same. Looked like the same D-cup breasts, which jutted out proudly from her chest earlier, but the small dark pink nipples were hard nubs. And the same gently curving waist that flared into womanly hips. Only, those hips were now covered from the waist down with snake-patterned skin, an intriguing python-like composition. The dull red coloring matched well with her tanned skin and brown hair. The length of her snake body was nine to ten feet, the tail slimming down gradually, the end barely larger than his wrist.

  “Do you like what you see?” While she spoke, her body swayed gently from side to side.

  “Yes.” Sexual desire laced his voice; he wanted her badly. Even noticing the long fangs when she spoke didn’t deter his arousal. She could now match him fang for fang, he thought with humor. Those lips. God. Full and ruby red, as if she’d applied deep lipstick.

  Her form slid closer, her head dipped and she rubbed it against his neck; then backed off. Lowering her body slightly, they were eye to eye. “You smell good. What are you?”

  He smiled broadly and her reptilian eyes glued to his mouth.

  Her tongue flicked out to touch her bottom lip and she answered for him, “A vampire, most exciting.”