The Red Lily (Vampire Blood)

by Juliette Cross

  “Nikolai, please,” she begged, clenching both hands into his jacket and pulling him toward her.

  He didn’t resist but lowered his head and met her feverish kiss with his own. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, wrapping her nape and gripping her waist under the cloak.

  Sienna stroked her tongue inside, meeting his aggression. Her own sensuality rose above the fog of desperation. She grabbed his hand at her waist, pulled up her skirt, and guided him between her legs.

  The thunderous growl that rumbled in his chest raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She bit his lip to press him on. Banding one arm around her waist beneath the cloak, he caged her close. His fingers set to work, sliding into her folds and stroking her sex, already slick with need. She moaned and rocked against him. The pain and soreness had evaporated the moment his fangs had punctured her skin.

  “I want you inside me,” she said in a quick breath before nipping his lip again between her teeth.

  He glanced sideways. “No. It’s too dangerous,” was his defiant and very dominant reply. “You’ll come on my fingers. Right here.” Then he maneuvered a second finger, stroking the bud of her sex with his thumb. She widened her legs for him, dropped her head back, and soaked up the heady feeling of Nikolai giving her pleasure, unable to match the quick rhythm with her hips. Staring skyward at the stars, she let the erotic sensation wrap her into a tight ball and explode apart.

  “Oh, Nikolai,” she cried, trying to keep from screaming to the heavens, her mewling moans a constant roll as the climax rippled through her.

  He brushed her arched neck with his mouth, nipping softly. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He cupped her sex with the warmth of his hand and massaged gently while she came down, her panting breaths puffing out in little white clouds. She still had a firm grip on his coat. He eased her skirts back into place, keeping her steady with his hands wrapping her waist.

  With a tender kiss to her lips then one cheek, the other, her nose, then her forehead, he asked, “Better?”

  She laughed into his chest where she’d lain her cheek. “Much.”

  “Well then.” Without warning, he lifted her up and set her in the saddle. “Pull your hood back up. It will keep your body heat from escaping through your head.”

  She swung her leg back over to sit astride Astrophel, noting that her body was still warm on the inside, a steady buzz thrumming through her veins. Indeed, there was no pain anymore.

  Pulling her hood back up, she fell back in line alongside Nikolai. He kept his eyes forward, except an occasional scan of the woods on either side of them. Still flying from the euphoria of what had happened a moment before, Sienna could do nothing but stare at him, trying to bite back the giddy, infantile smile that kept creeping up.

  He must’ve sensed her, for he finally looked her way. His brooding features slipped into an expression of pure contentment. “I like that look on you.”

  “I hope you’ll provide me the opportunity to look at you this way many times more.”

  “I most certainly plan to.”

  “And to think that I—” She bit her lip. Heavens! His elixir not only loosened her limbs but also her tongue.

  He cleared his throat, sidling Ramiel closer. “To think that you what?”

  She dared a sidelong glance, then shook her head. His devilish smile made her swoon all over again.

  “Oh no. I can see that blush in your cheeks. I’ll bet that pretty pink is flushing your neck all the way down.”

  “Nikolai.”

  “That means this is something good. You’ll tell me, or I’ll stop this horse and wrestle it out of you. To think that you…?” He waved his hand for her to complete the sentence.

  She inhaled a deep breath and let it out on an exasperated sigh. “I used to dream about you. All right?” Though there was nothing ahead but the snowy path under the moonlight and a never-ending line of evergreens, she pretended to be intensely focused.

  He didn’t respond at first, then finally, “What kind of dreams?”

  She arched a brow at him. “What kind of dreams do you think?”

  “I don’t know what sort of dreams a lady has about a vampire. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “The kind of dreams a lady should not have…about a vampire or any other man.”

  “Ah.”

  She chanced another glance his way to find him grinning like a fiend. “Oh, stop it. Now that you know I’ve been…thinking about you for some time. You must divulge to me a secret.”

  “What kind of secret?” he asked, his voice grave and cautious.

  “When were you first attracted to me?”

  “Woman, I wanted to tumble you to the ground and take you the second I saw you.”

  Her belly flip-flopped at the intensity in his words. “And when was that?”

  He continued, his voice taking a dreamlike quality as he remembered. “You were riding Duchess through the rain in the dark into Sylus. The night-watch and I saw you from a distance, barreling into town with that fierce look of determination, the rain soaking you through. I drank in the sight of you. I thought how remarkable you were rushing into a circle of vampire Legionnaires at night when there was talk of the blood madness, straight into danger, your head high, without a fear at all. Your white hart wolf wouldn’t come all the way to us so you stopped, slipped off her back and marched right up in our circle with your chin up in defiance. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

  Sienna swallowed hard at that confession. “I wasn’t fearless. I was scared to death. But I had to help Arabelle and Marius.”

  “All the more reason to admire you for it.”

  They continued on, Sienna’s memory wandering back to that time many months ago. Her fateful encounter with Arabelle that night in Silvane Forest had changed her life forever. And though her path had been treacherous ever since, she wouldn’t change one moment. Especially not now with the man at her side. But her heart ached for those who’d come to peril, reminding her why her mission was so important.

  “Poor Kathleen.” She finally broke the silence. “Mina’s lady-in-waiting was more than her servant. She was Mina’s blood host and dear friend.” Sienna shook her head as if trying to wipe away the image the duke had put in her mind. “I can’t imagine being murdered in cold blood that way. And poor Mina having to watch it.”

  “That queen is a cruel bitch. And to put Mina in a bloodless sleep. Pure evil.”

  “What is a bloodless sleep like for a vampire? You said to the duke it’s an old practice. What did you mean?”

  Steering Ramiel closer so that they rode mere inches from each other, he spoke in a melancholy tone. “It was long before my lifetime. But my father, he was alive during the Thorn Wars. Do you know of them?”

  “Yes. Grandmother used to tell me all kinds of stories. Fairytales, legends, even stories of times gone by.”

  “Mm. Do you know the Tale of Breeton’s Bluff?” he asked, tightening his fist around his reins.

  “Oh yes! Grandmother told me that one often.”

  “I’d like to hear her version of the story. In brief, if you will.”

  Sienna paused, letting her mind wander back. She could see her grandmother, a fiery redhead like herself, though her hair was streaked with gray and had turned almost white in the end. They’d sit by the fire together after a good dinner, and Sienna would listen. This tale had always been one of Sienna’s favorites. Perhaps, it should’ve been a warning that she’d fall for her own vampire one day.

  “Well, I remember it was about a heroic vampire general named Soren who stood up against a pack of rogue vampires terrorizing the villages. Soren and his Legionnaires tracked them to the town of Breeton’s Bluff and defeated them, saving everyone. The lord’s daughter who lived in the mansion overlooking Breeton’s Bluff watched from on high and fell in love with the vampire general. The story ends with Soren sweeping her off her feet and carrying her away to marry her where they lived happily ever after.”

  N
ikolai heaved out a sigh. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A twig snapped in the dark off to Sienna’s right. She jumped and scanned the woods, unable to make out what was walking close beside them.

  “It’s all right,” assured Nikolai. “It’s just a deer. I can see him.” Then he veered back to their conversation. “General Soren was infected with sanguine furorem. The blood madness. He was the one who had gone rogue, ordering those men who had remained loyal to him to take whatever they wanted from the humans. So they went on a killing spree. When they got to Breeton’s Bluff, the royal Legionnaires killed most of his men and the rest surrendered. But the general had spotted the mansion on high. The lord’s daughter did indeed watch what was happening below. She was carried away by General Soren as the tale claims and was forced to marry him. He thought to tie himself to the daughter of an important human would save his life. Her father was the king’s most loyal human ambassador in the eastern provinces.”

  Sienna’s stomach twisted into a knot, the fairytale unraveling into a warped reality. “So what happened to the daughter? To General Soren?”

  “He held her captive in his fort, taking his husbandly privileges. My father says it was known he was trying to sire a child on her to save himself from imminent death. He’d gone utterly mad, the disease addling his mind. He was lucid enough apparently to never drink too long from his wife. He needed her alive.”

  “My God. What a nightmare for her.” Sienna shivered. “Did she become with child?”

  “Yes. She did indeed. When the soldiers finally arrived, she was full with child. General Soren demanded they could not kill him as he was the child’s father.”

  “Why would that make a difference?” asked Sienna, confused.

  “Vampire children are rare,” he said, his gaze shifting from the road to her, seeming to gauge her response. “Many vampires are incapable of having children at all. So when it happens, it is a precious gift. Even a half breed.”

  “I see.” Sienna had a feeling the way he said this had a deeper purpose than the telling of the story. “But it could not save him from his crimes, I’m sure. What did the Legionnaires do?”

  “They took him prisoner back to the Glass Tower where the king agreed he would not die. Instead, he and the rest of his rebellious army were sentenced to a bloodless sleep in the dungeons. My father said it was the worst kind of torture. Those that had lived through it and had awoken when their sentence was finished claimed they could hear everything that happened around them. But they could not move or speak or even open their eyes. It’s a form of induced paralysis for a vampire. They could last years, decades, even longer in such a state.”

  “And what happened to General Soren? Did he ever awaken? How long was his sentence?”

  “Father said he died, for he was never heard of again.” Nikolai glanced her way with a sad smile. “You see, we immortals are mortal after all.”

  “I know,” she said with a reassuring smile. “But Nikolai, think of poor Mina. Paralyzed and captive in her own home. We must tell Arabelle.”

  “I spoke with Friedrich. He’s already sent a courier with the news to her and Marius.”

  “Good.”

  “We’d best pick up the pace while we have the advantage of night,” he said with a subtle click of his tongue and kick of his heel.

  Sienna loosened her reins, and Astrophel quickened her step, falling into a steady gallop alongside Ramiel. The four of them headed swiftly on down the path.

  The wind gusted through the trees. The leaves rustled, and a layer of snow drifted in a swirl across the road, sparkling like faerie dust. The night was silent and lovely. The world seemed at peace. But Sienna felt the coming storm, whirling in her breast and building for the dark days ahead. For now, she would try to savor this time with Nikolai. Heaven only knew what fate had in store for them around the bend.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The hare roasting on the spit was nearly done by Nikolai’s sense of smell. The sky teetered between day and night, a pale glow softening the eastern edge. Sienna had sat quietly, saying little since they’d stopped to rest. She nibbled absently on the bread he’d found packed in her saddlebag with a dazed expression fixed on the fire.

  He took the tin plate he’d also found in the saddlebag and pulled some of the meat off the bone and passed it to her before resuming his position with his back to the tree, arms crossed, facing the trail in the near distance.

  “That doesn’t burn your fingers?” she asked, then blew on the rabbit meat, still steaming.

  “No.”

  “Why doesn’t a vampire feel hot and cold?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You never wear gloves or seem affected by the extreme cold as I am. And you put your fingers over that red-hot fire. I can’t even touch the rabbit right now, it’s so hot.”

  “We feel hot and cold. Just not like humans. Or I should say, it doesn’t hurt as much.”

  “Seems odd to me.”

  She finally fingered a bite of food into her mouth, and for some reason, that relaxed some of the tension stiffening Nikolai’s shoulders.

  “How so?”

  She took a second to swallow. “Well, most of your senses are heightened, right? Sight, sound, smell. What of the others?”

  She had his attention then. “All of our senses are heightened, including touch and taste.”

  She gulped, drawing his gaze to her slender throat. The prick of his fangs reminded him how wonderful she tasted.

  “I see,” she said, setting her near-empty plate to the side and wiping her hands on a handkerchief. “Then why don’t you feel the cold and heat as humans do?”

  He shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s always been so for vampires. I’d say it’s part of our genes’ resistance to mortality. But how it happens? I don’t know. We feel cold. And heat. But our skin is simply more…durable, I suppose is the best word.”

  “Hmm.” She stood and brushed the crumbs from her skirt. “We’d best be getting on to Dale’s Peak. How much farther do you think?”

  She ambled over to where Astrophel and Ramiel were munching on a bag of oats he’d set on the ground for them to share. This, too, had been stored in his saddlebag. Friedrich, or perhaps Grant, had thought of everything.

  “Are you worried about returning to Dale’s Peak?” he asked, stomping out the small fire with his boot.

  He wrapped a portion of the rabbit in a kerchief of his own, knowing they’d need to make one more stop before they reached the town. He threw the rest away in the woods for the beasts of the wild.

  “No.” She stroked Astrophel’s neck while the horse continued to munch on the oats. “As I said before, my mother and her new husband moved away years ago.”

  “But the memories are still there.” He stashed the bit of rabbit in his saddlebag for her later and cinched it tight, then moved around Astrophel to her.

  “Yes. But they don’t haunt me as I suppose they should.”

  “How do you mean?” He gripped the horn of Astrophel’s saddle and angled toward Sienna.

  She stroked underneath Astrophel’s pale blond mane, then glanced up at him. “I suppose there’s something wrong with me, but I never fit in at the home of my birth. I was raised by a strict nurse who never showed affection.” She continued to stroke Astrophel. “I only ever saw my mother for formal occasions or when she demanded I sit with her at tea to receive suitors. You know, I don’t recall us ever even touching one another?” She frowned up at him, seeming to recall the shock of it. “Not once.”

  Nikolai tried to imagine this beautiful young girl raised in such cold isolation. Never receiving a gentle embrace at the end of the day. His own mother had been a nurturing woman. His memories were vivid—the gentle sweep of her hand across his brow, combing back an unruly lock of hair, the melody of her voice when she sang a lullaby. Her death in childbirth with his stillborn sister was keenly felt by him and his fat
her. But they clung to one another in their grief, forging a tight father-and-son bond. He wondered what his father would think of his red-haired beauty. Actually, he knew quite well what he would think of her, the old bastard.

  “What of your father?”

  Sienna gave a sad little laugh. “My father was kind to me. But he died when I was young, leaving me in my mother’s care. And she was more interested in the alliance a good match would bring her. I was certainly her greatest disappointment when I fled to live with Grandmother.”

  Nikolai’s jaw tightened at the mention of her being sold off into marriage. He finally hit the reason for her absconding from wealth and luxury to confinement in the dark woods of Silvane Forest. A subject she seemed to tiptoe around.

  “And so you did not favor the match your mother had made for you.” A statement. Not a question. He wouldn’t let her wiggle out of this before he had answers. Not this time.

  Her hand stilled for a brief moment, then she began combing her fingers through Astrophel’s mane, her long, delicate fingers untangling the mass. “No,” she said quietly. “I was not in favor.”

  “What was this man like?”

  “Rich. Handsome. Sophisticated. And arrogant. Cold. Brutal.”

  Nikolai stopped her hand by taking it in his own, gently rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. She watched the gesture rather than meet his gaze.

  “Did he ever hurt you?” His question was soft, but the timbre of his voice rolled with menace.

  “No.” An immediate reply. And an honest one from what he could sense of her steady heartbeat. “I saw how he treated his servants. Once, on one of our weekly visits, there were Legionnaires staying in his home. I heard him speaking to them in the corridor as I waited in the parlor. The Legionnaires complained that they were thirsty. For blood. He told them to take two of the maids and do as they pleased.” She paused and cast him a pitiable look. “You see, it’s not just the vampires that the working class must fear. He is one of many humans loyal to the crown. Anyway, I couldn’t help those poor maids, even if I had married him. The only thing I could think to do was…run.”