Dark Studies (Arcaneology)

by C. P. Foster

  “Have you ever had a girlfriend before?”

  “Is that relevant?”

  “I need to know what you’re expecting.”

  “I’ve seen relationships portrayed in films and on television, but I don’t know how realistic they are.”

  Interesting. Apparently he’d never been in one. Perhaps he wanted to see what it was like before attempting the real thing.

  “Most couples go out together. Dinner, movies, dancing, concerts, but our sessions need to be private. We can make up a reason for us to keep our rendezvous secret, if you don’t mind being a little unconventional.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Very well. I’ll e-mail you questions about their history, her personality, and the details of the fantasy. The more thorough your answers, the more authentic the experience. I’ll craft her based on what you tell me, and let you know when I am ready to begin.”

  * * *

  He had booked a suite in a hotel that catered to vampires. Its windowless walls provided protection from the sun. Coffins were available for those who wished, but Scott had chosen a bed instead. The linen sheets and spread were black, probably to hide the blood stains inevitable in such a place.

  Angie sprayed a mist of lavender perfume into the air and stepped through it so the scent settled lightly onto her skin and hair. Then she studied herself in the mirror to make sure she had every detail right. Her hair was black now and layered to coax its natural wave into loose curls. With her tan, she looked like a gypsy or perhaps a Creole. She wore a white halter dress splashed with bright red and orange poppies, something Steffen had picked out, and it provided her with additional clues as to the sort of woman he wanted. Someone playful, she thought, confident but no femme fatale. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on becoming that woman, and played over the character’s back story in her mind until it began to feel real.

  Her name was Grace Hamilton. The sun had just set, and her lover was on his way.

  The sound of the door opening made her heart skip a beat. If this was going to work, they both had to buy into it from the start, without hesitation. Neither of them could test the waters first. These were the last things Angie thought before letting Grace take over. With a cry of welcome, she ran to Steffen and pulled him down for a kiss. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around her. He responded carefully, then his reserve gave way to passion, and he tightened his hold to press her body hard against his.

  She gasped in a breath when they eased back. An attack of shyness caught her by surprise. She tipped her head to look at him. “Are you hungry?”

  His gaze lowered a few inches. One fingertip traced the path of her jugular vein. “Yes.”

  Grace took his hand and led him to the bed. He watched her crawl onto it and settle against the pillows. His expression was softer than she had ever seen, but his posture seemed wary. Beneath the character of Grace, Angie began to think this wasn’t going to work, that he couldn’t submerge himself in the fantasy.

  “You’re beautiful.” He said it like a lover, low and intimate. Angie stepped back into the shadows of her mind, satisfied.

  Steffen sat on the side of the bed to remove his shoes before joining her. Instead of leaning over to strike, he took her shoulders and guided her to lie across his lap, cradling her in with one arm while his other hand positioned her head the way he wanted. He paused. Was something wrong? Grace turned to look at him and saw an unguarded expression cross his features. He said nothing, only tugged her back into place. Then he raised her higher so he could reach her throat with his cold lips. They rested there. Caressed the soft skin. His teeth transformed into fangs that drew thin lines over her pulse, making her shiver, and at last he sank them in deep.

  She hardly had time to feel the pain before pleasure overwhelmed it. She arched against him as he sucked blood from the wounds. Her breath caught. Warmth seeped out of her and into his mouth to spread throughout his body. It worked its way across his chest, down his arms, and lower. This was no fast-food meal—he took time to savor her, and she sensed his regret when he slowed to a stop.

  Grace opened her eyes to find a puzzled, almost vulnerable look on his face. She wanted to explore whatever lay behind it, but he had made her want something else more. Curling an arm around his neck, she raised her head to kiss him.

  A growl vibrated into her mouth. He eased her onto her back, stretched out so they lay close together, and deepened the kiss until her jaw ached. He’d grown hard against her thigh. Neither of them bothered to undress, simply pushed clothing out of the way enough for him to enter her. He was too tall to lie on top—it would have crushed her face under his chest—so while his hips pinned hers to the bed he kept his upper body twisted to the side, and he squeezed one breast, then the other with his large hand. When she bent a knee to wrap her leg around him, he reached down and held it there.

  “God.” Her fingernails bit into him as he pulled out a little ways, then pushed back in, finding a slow rhythm. How could she be so close so quickly? Fine tremors rippled through her, making him groan and move faster. That was all it took to send her over the edge. An instant later he followed.

  Even after he had gone soft, he stayed inside her. It took a little while for her breathing to slow to its normal pace. When it did, she whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  Grace giggled. “Are you still hungry?”

  “No. But you should eat.” As he slipped out of her, she murmured a protest. Steffen got to his feet and fastened his pants. “I’ll call room service.”

  “That’s all right. I brought a bottle of apple juice.”

  “I want you to have something more substantial.” He picked up the phone.

  “Hey! Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not one of your minions.”

  “My minions?” Steffen raised an eyebrow.

  Rolling onto her stomach, she propped her chin in her hands. “You know what I mean.”

  “Let me try again. Will you please eat some real food?”

  “That’s better.”

  “Well?”

  “Order me a slice of cheesecake, if they have it.” At his frown she said, “I had dinner a couple of hours ago. This is dessert.”

  He gave in and dialed.

  When she finished, Steffen set the plate outside their door and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob. He turned to look her over. The vulnerability she had glimpsed earlier was gone now, replaced by a determination she did not understand.

  “Take off your clothes,” he commanded.

  A shiver went through her. She stood and started to obey, then stopped. “I think we covered this. Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Take off your clothes,” he repeated, stalking toward her.

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “Then I’ll take them off for you.”

  “In that case, I definitely don’t want to.”

  She stood her ground as he stepped into her personal space. He laced his fingers through her hair and clenched them into a fist. Tipping her head, he lowered his so their faces nearly touched. Steffen stared into her eyes. With his other hand he found where the dress fastened behind her neck, and he worked it open so the halter came loose and fell to her waist. She wore no bra—you couldn’t in a halter dress—and her naked breasts distracted him. Steffen slid his palm over one. With the ball of his thumb he drew circles around her nipple until it stiffened.

  Deep beneath the character of Grace, Angie stirred. The urge to surrender overwhelmed her. She hoped this was what he wanted in his fantasy woman, because she couldn’t help her reaction. Domination and submission had not been a part of the plan, so she couldn’t be certain what he expected. The best she could do was incorporate her own response into the role and see what happened. His mouth curved up at the corners the tiniest bit. Leaving her breast, he trailed his fingertips over her ribs and down her bare back until they found the zipper of her dress, and she heard it ra
sp open. The garment dropped to the floor.

  His grip on her hair tightened and pulled her onto her toes. He brushed her lips with his. “I’m going to tell you what to do, and this time you’re going to do it.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Steffen rewarded her with a soft kiss. “Take off your underwear. Then undress me.”

  It wasn’t easy to wriggle out of her panties in that position, but he didn’t let go, just drew back enough to stare into her eyes again. Once she had managed it, she felt her way to the bottom of his shirt. Grace pushed it up his chest. When she couldn’t go any farther, he released his hold on her and raised his arms over his head. She struggled to reach high enough to get the shirt off. The corners of his eyes creased until he finally took mercy and finished the job for her.

  Instead of taking her by the hair again, he wrapped one hand around her throat, not squeezing or causing pain, just resting it there. She fumbled to open his pants, and when she did she couldn’t resist the urge to slide her hand inside. He was already growing hard.

  “Did I say you could do that?” His tone sharpened.

  Grace shook her head.

  “Do what you were told.”

  The pressure of his fingers around her neck increased, making her conscious of each breath she took. She hooked her thumbs into his waistband and tugged the pants down until she couldn’t reach any farther. His hand moved to the top of one shoulder. A nudge was all it took to communicate what he wanted, and she eased onto her knees, taking his pants to the floor.

  As he stepped out of them, his erection grazed her cheek. She tilted her head to look all the way up into his face, silently asking permission. Steffen nodded. He brushed his fingers over her hair as she closed her eyes and took him into her mouth. A few seconds were all he allowed before drawing back. Grace made a frustrated sound.

  “Get on the edge of the bed,” he ordered. “On your hands and knees, with your back to me.”

  She obeyed.

  Steffen moved in close, bent over her, and propped himself up with one arm. His palm settled between her shoulder blades, and he pressed down until she lowered herself onto her forearms and bent her head to the mattress. The angle tilted her ass higher. With the lightest of touches, he caressed its curves. Then he straightened and slid his fingers between her thighs. Grace clutched the bedding as he explored. He found the place that made her cry out and stroked it until he had her wet and desperate for more. Then he withdrew, not touching her at all.

  “Steffen?” she rasped.

  “What do you want?”

  He settled the tip of his cock between the lips of her sex, just resting there.

  “Please take me!”

  Her lover chuckled. He teased her a moment, then pushed inside to the hilt. Bending over her again, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t hold back.”

  Grace rolled her hips and rocked against him. His growl encouraged her. When he reached around to pinch her nipples, she let out a strangled sound, and as she moved faster Steffen found her rhythm and met it. Muscles tensed as she concentrated on the building pleasure, reaching for it, and at last she screamed her release.

  It had barely begun to fade when his fingers left her nipples and slipped between her legs to flick over her bud while he continued to slide in and out. The orgasm flared again, higher this time, making her writhe so hard he had to press in deep and stay there or else risk slipping out altogether. He held still until she began to settle down. Then he started again, not letting the orgasm end.

  Grace turned her head to one side and choked, “God, Steffen, please!”

  “Please what?”

  She had no idea what she was begging for. Did she want him to stop or to go on forever?

  “Tell me what you want.” He slowed so she was conscious of every inch moving inside her.

  “I don’t know!” she wailed.

  He let out a startled laugh. Straightening, he grasped her hips with both hands and pulled her in counterpoint to his quickening thrusts. He pushed deep, almost hard enough to hurt, and suddenly fell still as his cock twitched in release.

  When he withdrew, she crumpled and made a soft, purring sound. Steffen chuckled as he climbed onto the bed, stretched out, and gathered her to him. Warm and limp, she snuggled in to his body.

  Afterglow fogged her mind. Grace was content to drift, but Angie needed to think. This was not what they had negotiated. Sometimes, in the middle of a session, the client discovered unexpected desires and veered off course. The trick was to know whether to guide the scene back to what was originally intended or to follow the client’s lead and see where it went. What should she do in this case? Steffen had asked for a certain type of woman. Perhaps she should continue to be that woman and react in character to what had just happened.

  With one fingertip, Grace drew meaningless patterns over Steffen’s chest. He stirred.

  “You’ve never done that before,” she said.

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Didn’t you like it?”

  Her face flushed. “You know I did.”

  “Then…?”

  “Is that what you want? All the time?”

  He was quiet for a while. She waited as he considered the question.

  “No,” he mused, “I just needed it tonight.”

  “Maybe…,” she began. He raised his head to give her a questioning look, and she hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “Maybe we could do it again. Not always. But…sometimes.”

  She heard the smile in his voice when he answered, “Yes.”

  After that, they talked about other things. Idle, intimate conversation. The night went by before they knew it, and at last he said what she least wanted to hear.

  “It’s almost dawn.”

  Grace turned her face and pressed it against his shoulder to stifle a protest. It would do no good. The dawn could not be stopped, and with it he would leave her. His life would fall away to wherever it went when darkness fled the sky. Steffen eased her out of his arms and got up long enough to put on a pair of jeans, then returned to the bed.

  “I’ll stay with you a while,” she told him. He had rented the room for two nights so he wouldn’t have to hurry to his own stronghold at the rising of the sun. “But I won’t be here when you wake. My flight leaves at noon.”

  “You and your gallivanting,” he murmured.

  “If you’re going to write books on travel, you sort of have to do it.” They had decided Grace would be a travel writer, to give them a reason for meeting so infrequently.

  “I know.” He touched a kiss to the top of her head.

  As the life drained out of his body, Grace stretched up to whisper into his ear, “Dream of me.”

  Two days later, Angie received an e-mail. Just one word: Perfect.

  Chapter Six

  Some people just won’t take no for an answer. Sometimes that’s good. Sometimes it’s psychotic.

  —Dick O’Rourke, radio talk show host

  Professor Benotti’s office was barely more than a broom closet, so cluttered with books and souvenirs of his travels that navigating to and from his desk nearly always resulted in a minor avalanche. Perched on the one chair she was able to excavate, Angie waited for her adviser to finish looking over her latest dissertation proposal.

  Benotti leaned forward and tipped his head to look at his computer screen through the bottom half of his bifocals, then drew back and ducked his chin to look through the top half. Every so often he would switch again. Finally, he took the glasses off and sighed.

  “It’s still too broad. You want to compare four different species—human, vampire, elves, and the Fallen—but in order to effectively make a comparison, you have to have mastered each subject. You’ve got enough material on humans and vampires, but there simply isn’t much information out there on elves and the Fallen. You’re going to have to do some field research.”

  Angie frowned. “Ethnographic research is out of the question, for the Fallen, at le
ast. For one thing, they would make me forget all about the dissertation. For another, I would only be able to study one at a time. From the anecdotal evidence I’ve seen, they don’t interact with each other much.”

  “Elves are a possibility. Not in their world, of course. If you spent a couple of weeks there, a couple of hundred years would pass here. I doubt the university would extend your time limit that long.” He chuckled. The university only allowed doctoral students ten years to finish before booting them out of the program. “But that wouldn’t be a problem at one of the elfhaemes they’ve established in our world.”

  “It would be vastly different from how they live in their own world.”

  “True. However, it would be more than we know about them now. And you can at least interview them about their own world.”

  “I thought of doing that,” Angie admitted. “But how would I get access? They don’t have much contact with humans, and it’s almost always through the federal government. I tried reaching out to congressmen and senators who have supported elven causes, but I couldn’t find anyone who would negotiate on my behalf. I got the impression they would only consider it worth their while if I was someone well known, or at least a published author in the field.”

  “You’ll have to do corporate fieldwork, then.”

  Corporate fieldwork did not require living among the subjects. It involved interviews and possibly shadowing someone for a short period in order to observe their day-to-day life. There were a few elves who spent a lot of time among humans. If she was lucky, she might be able to convince one to give her a day or two. Angie nodded in agreement. “I’ll try the senators and congressmen again. Maybe they’d be more willing to help set up interviews.”

  “Good. It won’t be easy, but it won’t be as difficult as finding some of the Fallen. There are far fewer of them, and most manage to pass for human. And interviewing them will be tricky. It’s hard for them…er, I mean, they get too distracted for prolonged interviews.” Benotti blushed. The Fallen’s constant hunger for pleasure made it difficult for them to focus on anything else, and they spread that hunger to anyone who got near them. Talking to one at length was almost impossible.