Blood Rhapsody

by Nancy Morse

  Oh, he was so cruel to call her that, but she didn’t care. It was true. She was a wanton, worse even than the women of the East End who sold their bodies for a tuppence, for unlike them, she had a choice. Unlike them, she loved every maddening moment of it.

  She gave a faintly acquiescing sigh.

  “And what shall I do next?” he asked, his own voice a ragged whisper as he slid his fingers in and out of her. “Shall I taste you?”

  “Yes. Oh yes.”

  She heard him chuckle deviously as he slid slowly down the length of her body, settling himself into the space between her open legs. He ran his tongue in lazy patterns across the smooth flesh of her inner thighs.

  “You smell like perfume,” he murmured. “Sweet, intoxicating perfume.” He kissed and caressed and teased, tickling her skin with anticipation.

  She sucked in her breath when his tongue moved to the source of her most powerful sensations. “Nicolae,” she gasped. She reached for his head, tangling her fingers in his hair as his hands moved beneath her to cup her buttocks and force her harder against his mouth and teasing tongue.

  She tried to smother the great, gasping sounds that came from her throat, but it was no use, her breathless cries and moans filled the garret room, bouncing off the walls and echoing back at her. He took her to the point of explosion, and then stopped, drawing his face back up to hers and kissing her savagely with lips that were wet and sweetly pungent with the taste of her upon them.

  His silky laughter brought a flame to her cheeks. “You think it funny that you can reduce me to this?”

  “Only when I think of the long way you have come,” he smoothly replied. “I told you once you were made for this, and it appears I was right.”

  “Oh, you are a devil,” she said breathlessly. “But one evil deed deserves another, does it not?”

  His green eyes brightened at having his words echoed back at him. “What did you have in mind?”

  Forcing him off of her and onto his back, she said, “You shall soon see.”

  She ran her palm across his chest and past his taut stomach, to the swelling that strained at his trousers. One by one she popped each button open, slowly, maddeningly, until his erection was exposed. She gave him a sly look and then wrapped her fingers around him.

  His breathing quickened. He was not quite so arrogant or amusing now. He was completely and utterly under her command. With strong, smooth strokes she massaged him, and it gave her a different kind of pleasure to know that she could reduce the fierce and powerful vampire to a quivering mass.

  “What shall I do next?” she teased. “Shall I taste you?”

  He answered raggedly, “If you don’t, I shall have to force you to.”

  She lowered her head, her hair brushing the wiry down of pelvis, and heard him suck in his breath sharply when she touched her lips to him. Her mouth opened and closed around him, drawing him in. She could feel his urgency in the way his body strained and in the deep, guttural moans that infiltrated the darkening garret room.

  “Oh, Prudence,” he rasped, “you are a demon, after all. A she-devil after my own heart. Don’t stop, my love. Harder. Harder.”

  She knew by the gathering storm within him and from the glistening drops she tasted at the tip of his member that he was at full arousal and close, so close to the moment of explosion. It was then she slid her lips from him and raised her head. Pushing her voluminous skirts out of the way, she straddled his hips and used her hand to guide him into her.

  Thrilling to the feel of him inside of her, filling her up, she began to move, up and down, up and down, rocking back and forth with motions that began like a slow prelude and built to a pounding crescendo. His hands squeezed the plump breasts that bounced with each movement. Tugging them forward, he buried his face in them, his cries of ecstasy muffled in the warm cleavage. She felt his body shudder and would have ridden him to climax had he not grasped her by the shoulders and flung her onto her back.

  He rolled on top of her, crushing her against the hardwood floor. The stiff swell of his body brushed her thigh seeking entry.

  “Yes,” she cried. “Yes, please…”

  He responded by thrusting into the warm, wet hollow that closed around him.

  Her head sank back against the planks as her legs wrapped themselves around him, hugging him to her. A rush an excitement overtook her. The feel of him, hard and potent, the savage thrusting of his hips, the taste of the salt and desire on his skin, the sound of the animal-like growls that came from his throat lit a fire in her blood that raged out of control. It seemed to go beyond anything physical, to something primal and much more elemental. It was like a dream, and yet not a dream, for she was fully awake and heard every groan and whimper, each cry of satisfaction that came from her throat and his. Somewhere in the mist of ecstasy that enveloped her, a fleeting thought tugged at a far corner of her mind, and she laughed at the crazy irony that the undead could make her feel so alive.

  His shuddering climax was matched by her own that pounded over her like waves on a beaten shore. Only he could ravish her like this. Only he could make her feel violated. And only he could make her burn for every bit of it.

  ***

  Nicolae lay very still, trying not to think, not even to breathe, lest the euphoric spell be broken and he would find himself catapulted back to the dismal reality of what he was and what he could never have. His gaze was fixed upon the beamed ceiling that stared back at him like a petrified forest, as dark and remote as the life he lived.

  For him, choice was a non-existent concept. He’d had no choice in his making. No choice but to go hunting night after endless night, a lonely wanderer in search of the blood he had no choice but to drink. And the most dangerous choice of all, love, had been wrenched from his hands with the intrusion of this woman into his life.

  Despite everything, it was easy to love her. She was pure and innocent, untouched by the evil that consumed him. The sexual appetite he had awakened in her was matched only by his own. She was beautiful, even if she did not think herself to be, which, ironically, only made her that much more beautiful to him. He wondered if there was a more perfect blue in the world than the blue of her eyes, like the cloudless blue sky he remembered from a time almost beyond reckoning when he had been human and had been able to gaze at its clarity without fear or pain. What need did he have now of blue skies when he had only to gaze into her beautiful eyes?

  He had not planned on loving her, or wanting her as desperately as he did. It was, he supposed, another cruel irony in a life that seemed one long mockery.

  It would have been so easy to grant her wish, no matter how foolish she’d been to suggest it. She was an innocent mortal with no idea of what her life would be like if he succumbed not to her wish but to his own hopeless need. She would hate herself for becoming a creature of the night and a slave to the blood thirst, just as he hated himself for it. But worse, she would hate him, and that was a chance he could not…would not…take. No, it was better to have her like this, a consenting mortal partner, for as long as it lasted. For the time would come, he knew, when she would feel for another man the love he wished she felt for him, and he would lose her. Then, too, she would grow old and die, as all mortals did, and he would be left alone in this dark abyss. But even that was better than her hatred. Besides, he thought with a flash of annoyance, one did not seek to become the undead for any reason, least of all out of some misguided sense of gratitude.

  His body, cold to the outward touch, burned within like an inferno as he struggled with his emotions. A touch as light as a feather stroked the sleeve of his shirt, forcing the pragmatic thought that in their haste to satisfy their carnal hungers, they had not even bothered to completely remove their clothing. He tried to tell himself that this was the way he would take any common whore, inflicting his brutal lust in some back alley, tossing her a coin and then disappearing into the night without a glance back. But this was not some nameless harlot. This was Prudence, the woman
who imagined she’d seen a soul in him. A part of him wanted to get up and walk away from her and never see her again, while another part, this one stronger—or perhaps weaker—made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her tight against him, and protect her from everything, but mostly from himself.

  He turned his head to look at her nestled in the crook of his arm and found her eyes upon him, the lazy look of fulfillment in the blue depths. Her voice, husky with satisfied desire, drifted like the chords of a sweet sonata to his ears.

  “How can I thank you for all you have given me?”

  A long, silky smile spread over his lips. “Your body speaks quite elegantly.” Through the night shadows that filled the room he saw her blush. “Sweet Prudence, you are such a contradiction. Boiling over with passion one minute, embarrassed by it the next. When will you learn to embrace all the wonders of your body without shame or embarrassment?”

  Lashes swooping down to conceal her eyes, she confessed, “When we are together like this, it is so easy to lose myself in the moment, to become something I never thought I could be. I feel like crying out to the whole world, this is me, this is the real Prudence Hightower, not that timid little mouse who was afraid to as much as squeak.”

  He caught her face in his hand. “You must never tell anyone about what we do together.”

  “I am not ashamed.”

  “Nor should you be,” he said. “But the day will come when you will want to give yourself to another man, and men are, well, let’s just say, possessive about such things.”

  She drew away from him into a sitting position, frowning. “But won’t he know that he wasn’t the first?”

  “You can make something up. If he loves you enough, he will believe anything.”

  “Aunt Vivienne said the same thing.”

  “There, you see. It’s entirely possible.”

  The moonlight that whispered through the garret room window fell across her milk-white breasts as she straightened her stays and tied what was left of the laces. “But it is not possible, for there will never be anyone for me.”

  Nicolae swallowed hard at hearing her bleak pronouncement. “What makes you say that?”

  “I am beyond the age at which most women marry. I am not beautiful. And thus far I have had appalling luck with men.”

  Nicolae scowled. “If you are referring to Edmund de Vere, you should consider yourself lucky that you did not marry that scoundrel.”

  “I am referring to Edmund and…to you.”

  “Me? How so?”

  She heaved a dismal sigh, and said, “I will grow old and infirm and you will not want me like this any more.”

  There was no disputing the truth. “I want you now, Prudence. That will have to be enough for the both of us. Beyond that…” He lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug.

  She bit her lip. “But if you were to make me immortal, then we could be together forever.”

  A slow dawning brightened his eyes to a fierce glow. “Ah, I see it now,” he said, familiar cold, like ice, hardening his tone. “Your reason for wanting immortality has nothing to do with gratitude. You’re afraid of being alone. If I don’t turn your father into a vampire and he dies of whatever is slowly killing him, and if you never find a man who will love you for who you really are, you will be completely and utterly alone.”

  He got to his feet, buttoned his pants and stood now looking down at her. The pained expression on her face told him his words had cut deeply. She pulled in her breath in a sound of despair that should have made him feel bad, but it didn’t. “I will not do what you ask just to save you from yourself. Life is a risk for all of us. Every night when I go out in search of blood I do so at great risk to myself. There could be a stake to my heart waiting around any corner. But I do it because I must. You will have to take the risk that no man will ever love you for who you are. And if you are not, well, believe me, there are worse things than that.” Like loving and not being loved back, he wanted to say, but his immortal pride had sustained enough bruising at her mortal hands.

  Her gaze dropped to the knotted planks as she toyed with the rumpled fabric of her dress. After a while, she said quietly, “Does it matter so much what the reasons are? You are lonely. I am lonely.”

  “Not lonely enough to damn you to this eternal hell.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “Back to being noble again?”

  He turned and stalked away, unable to bear that accusing look in her eyes. “Damn it, Prudence, stop trying to see in me something that is not there. I am not noble. I have no soul. I am a man without convictions.”

  “That’s not true,” she said, scrambling to her feet and rushing toward him in a swish of ruffled skirts. “You saved me from the fire.”

  “I told you, it was for my own self-preservation.”

  He wished she would get angry. It would have made hurting her more palatable. As it was, his words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He whirled around to face her, staring at her long and hard and desperately. She looked so utterly pitiful. So utterly human. And suddenly, he hated her for it.

  “You want to know what it’s like for me? What you will become? Very well, my sweet little fool.” He grasped her by the hand and yanked her toward the door. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

  CHAPTER 22

  The lamplighter was lighting the lamps along Hanover Square as Nicolae rushed down the street, pulling Prudence along after him. Her shoes clicked frantically against the cobblestones in an attempt to keep up with his ferocious pace.

  He dragged her clear across town, past the fetid rookeries where cutpurses and cheaters dwelled and the stench of crime and poverty made her gasp. Past the bawdy-house door-keepers who called to them at the lurid pleasures that waited within, flaming her cheeks. Past packs of scavenging dogs that greeted them with bared teeth and threatening growls, and decrepit old watchmen lost in their immense coats. Down the winding alleys of the East End they went, splashing through puddles of muck and refuse, until they came at last to the wharf.

  When they stopped, Prudence nearly doubled over in an attempt to catch her breath, but the stink made her hold her hand over her mouth to keep from gagging. The wharf was alive with activity. Watermen plowed through the dark water, fish were landed, colliers docked and ferrymen pulled against the tide.

  He led her to a ramshackle building and pushed her into the shadows. “Wait here,” he ordered, “and don’t make a sound no matter what you see.” These last words were spoken purposefully with a strong, threatening look until she nodded her agreement.

  Pru watched him walk off with that silky smooth gait of his and disappear into the fog. After many long, disquieting minutes a figure emerged into the lamplight, not that of a man, but of a creature that walked on four legs with a loping gait. A dog? She drew back in fear, her back pressed against the splintered wood of the building. The animal came nearer, then stopped and turned its magnificent head toward her. It was a bristling black creature, broader and more massive than an ordinary dog, with front paws that looked to be larger than those in the rear, and eyes of yellow-gold. Pru sucked in her breath. Those were not the eyes of an ordinary dog. A soundless word formed on her lips.

  Wolf.

  She watched with widened eyes as it loped off. Her eyes scanned the night searching for a sign of it and spotted it crouched at the corner of the neighboring building. What was it doing? Where was Nicolae? Oh God, why did she have this sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach?

  Her fearful thoughts were disrupted by a sound from somewhere in the fog. She turned her attention toward it. A man approached, becoming more visible the nearer he came. He was whistling. The tune sounded vaguely familiar. It was, she realized, from the Beggar’s Opera. Had she really attended with Edmund and Aunt Vivienne in what seemed now like another lifetime? So much had changed. She had changed. Who could have guessed back then that she would find herself standing in the shadows by the murky wharf waiting for God
knew what to happen?

  From the corners of her eyes she saw a movement. The whistling stopped as another figure emerged into the sputtering light of an oil lamp. The two men seemed to greet each other. She was too far away to hear the words they exchanged, but there was no mistaking what happened next.

  The whistler suddenly drew a knife from his coat and lunged at the other man who crumbled to the ground. Bending over his fallen victim, the whistler rifled through his coat. Then, looking about in all directions, unaware of the horrified blue eyes watching from the shadows, he stepped over his victim and continued on his way, his pockets jangling with the shillings he stole. Pru tried to scream, but before the sound could gather strength in her throat, another form flew past her in a blinding fast movement.

  It was the wolf, fangs gleaming in the lamplight as it pounced on the whistler. The night suddenly filled with sounds of terror—growling, snarling, the shriek that faded into choked silence, a muffled cry, a protracted howl that split the night, sending violent shivers over her flesh.

  No! No! This could not be happening. Please let this be a dream.

  She shut her eyes tight and put her fists to her ears to block out the hideous sight and sounds. She had no idea how long she remained thus, pinned to the wall of the building, quaking, her lips mouthing a desperate prayer. There soon came to her ears the sounds of the wharf—the fisherman loading their hauls onto the landing, the shouts of the ferrymen, the calls of the colliers. Familiar sounds. Safe sounds. Yes, it must have been a dream after all.

  Sucking in a deep breath of air, she opened her eyes. A man stood in the foggy distance, a prostrate body hanging limp in his arms. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. His green eyes were molten with a viciousness that chilled her to the bone. His mouth was crimson-stained. Dropping the body to the ground, he stepped over it and wiped the blood from his lips as he came toward her.