Dark Studies (Arcaneology)

by C. P. Foster

  Now, alone for the first time in nearly a month, Angie waited for Steffen in a small beach house he had rented for the weekend on Orcas Island. A thick fleece bathrobe hugged her from throat to ankle. With carefully applied makeup, her face looked almost normal, and if she held still, the ribs hardly bothered her at all.

  Clouds loomed dark and heavy over the Pacific Ocean, except along the horizon where a sliver of sky turned purple with the setting sun. Gingerly, she settled herself onto the cushions of an oversized armchair and curled her legs under her. It was time to bring Grace to life. Angie closed her eyes and concentrated on the story she had constructed for this session. She let herself soften, becoming more fragile. Emotions rose to the surface: worry her lover would be repulsed by what had been done to her, fear she would break down into tears, misery over the violation of body and soul. And hope, as well, for Grace had that in abundance. Hope he would hold her and tell her it was all right, kiss away her concerns, and heal the wounds that hurt the most, even though they could not be seen.

  When she opened her eyes, the thin line of color defining the edges of the sky had faded to a deep blue. It was almost black when she heard him come into the cottage. Grace wanted to greet him, but couldn’t bring herself to look up, at the last second unable to meet his gaze.

  He moved with the eerie speed and silence of his kind, so one moment he stood in the doorway and the next he knelt beside the chair, crouching to see her face. One large hand touched her shoulder, only to draw back when she flinched. Instead, he lifted her chin with his fingertips. The intensity of his expression frightened her.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, his voice low.

  Grace took his hand and moved it so she could lower her head. His skin felt cold. “Please don’t ask me to.”

  When she didn’t say anything more, he eased his arms around her until she relaxed against his body. Grace sighed. It felt good to rest there. He nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek and waited for her to move first before drawing back. She looked up at him again, less afraid now, and gave him a small smile. “You came without feeding.”

  “I was in a hurry.”

  “I won’t be able to give you as much as I usually do, so I picked up several bottles. Would you like me to warm some for you?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “I’ve set a pot of water heating on the stove. Take it off the burner and put a bottle in it for a while. It’s better than using a microwave.”

  Steffen rose and moved into the kitchen. He did as she’d suggested, first uncorking the bottle of human blood, and then placing it in the pot of water. Grace maneuvered herself out of the chair and joined him, sliding her arms around his waist. They waited until the blood was warm enough to suit him, then he wiped the bottle with a dish towel and raised it to his lips.

  “Drink up,” she said. “When you’re full, we’re going to the beach to build a nice, big fire. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  They sat on the sand, he resting his back on a huge log, she between his legs and settled against his chest. The onyx ocean spread before them, fringed with the pale lace of sea foam. Driftwood, infused with salt, made their fire a kaleidoscope of color. It crackled and occasionally shifted with a shower of sparks, and its acrid smoke blended with the more mellow scent of the sea.

  It hurt to twist around so she could kiss him, but it was worth it. He bent his head and let her do as she wished, not making any move of his own. Grace slid her hands over him. The muscles beneath her palms flexed in reaction to her caresses. She loved the feel of him. Her mouth trailed down the side of his neck, breath warm on his cool skin. When her tongue crept out to tease the curve of his ear, he growled.

  “Steffen,” she whispered, “if you don’t take me inside and make love to me right now, I’m going to have to ravish you here on the beach.”

  “Ravish?” He choked back a laugh and nudged her away so he could study her face. “I’d hurt you. It looks like at least one rib was broken and the shoulder probably dislocated. What else?”

  “One rib’s broken, the other bruised,” she answered lightly, as though it didn’t matter. “Those hurt worse than anything else. You’re right about the shoulder, too. My face got cut up a bit, you can see the marks if you look close, but the doctors say there won’t be any scars. The rest was just scrapes and contusions. Except—” She broke off.

  “Except?”

  Grace looked away. Thinking about it was hard enough; saying it was harder. She had to start over twice before managing to get the words out. “He raped my ass. There was some damage, but the treatment they used made it heal fast.”

  When he said nothing, she looked up to search for a reaction. A muscle in his jaw flexed, but that was all.

  “Can you tell me about it now?” he asked after a while.

  Grace shivered. “Not the details. I don’t want to relive it.”

  “Of course not. Just whatever you’re willing to tell.”

  “Hold me first.”

  He did as she asked, careful not to press too tightly. Grace wrapped her arms over his and encouraged him to squeeze a little harder, because it felt good to be held close even if it did make her ribs and shoulder protest.

  “I was in a bar, up in Anchorage, checking out the local color for my next article,” she said. “A guy started hitting on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I had to get the bouncer to kick him out.”

  Steffen grunted.

  “I stayed a little longer because they gave me a couple of drinks on the house, then I decided to call it a night. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that he might have stuck around. I’m usually not so stupid.”

  “He grabbed you in the parking lot?”

  She nodded and was startled to find herself on the verge of tears. Underneath the character of Grace Hamilton, Angie experienced a surge of emotion so strong she almost could not control it. She was overwhelmed by things she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. Things that would have stayed buried if she hadn’t tapped them for this session. Was that what she’d secretly wanted when she agreed to the appointment? Was that the reason she’d chosen to create his fantasy woman in the first place, so she would have an excuse to feel again? Steffen stroked her hair. His silence was a relief. It gave her time to regain some measure of control.

  “Do you still want me?” Her voice was barely audible even for a vampire’s hearing.

  His drew back, startled. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Some men can’t handle it when their girl has been raped. It’s like she’s tainted. Or they can’t stand feeling like they’ve failed her. And I…I feel dirty. Like you couldn’t possibly want me anymore.”

  “Humans may think that way, but I don’t.” He tipped his head and kissed her so gently it made her heart ache. After a moment of hesitation he added, “I wish you would let me heal you. It would only take a little bit of my blood.”

  Angie went still. Again, she remembered overhearing his conversation with James. The thought of her protector’s betrayal triggered the walls she had built around herself and closed off the emotions that had risen to the surface moments ago. As her mind cleared, she tried to decide whether Scott would force the issue. Probably not, but he needed Grace to explain why she wouldn’t allow her lover to do what he was suggesting. Otherwise it would weaken the fantasy.

  “Steffen,” she said slowly, “if I did, it would change us. I know what vampire’s blood does, how it makes humans fall in love. If I drank yours, how could we ever be sure my feelings for you were anything more than the blood manipulating them? Is that what you want? To take away my choice, to make me love you?”

  “No.” He frowned.

  “Then please don’t ask again.” With the crisis averted, Angie retreated into her character. Grace pulled him down for a kiss. She clenched her fingers in his hair, but straining to bring him closer made her ribs and shoulder ache and she couldn’t help wincing. He drew back in concern.


  “Stop worrying,” she chided. “Yes, you will probably hurt me some, but I don’t care. Not having you inside me would hurt worse.”

  Steffen gathered her in his arms and stood. He carried her back to the cottage and laid her very carefully on the bed. “Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too painful.”

  “Keep your weight off of me and I’ll worry about the rest.”

  When they had finished, Steffen left the bed to warm some more blood. Grace waited a while before getting up to see why he had not returned. She found him at the sliding glass door that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. He had put on a pair of jeans and stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “The man who attacked you,” he said. “Has he been caught?”

  “He wasn’t hard to find.”

  Steffen nodded. “And your human justice system, will it punish him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How severe is the penalty for what he did?”

  Grace moved to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders and tipping her head to study his face. He gave her nothing but a flicker of his eyelids. “Steffen, this is a matter for human courts. Promise me you won’t interfere.”

  “All right,” he said reluctantly. “I promise not to take revenge on the human who did this to you. I will let your legal system carry out his punishment. Satisfied?”

  “Thank you.”

  Perhaps she wasn’t the only one confusing reality with fiction. His emotions, what she could see of them, seemed all too real. Was he thinking about Rimbeau? For the first time, it occurred to her he might intend to track down the other vampire and mete out punishment himself. A part of her shuddered at the idea of what he might do. There were other parts, though, that liked the idea very, very much.

  This wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Angie brought herself back to the job at hand and submerged her own personality beneath Grace’s.

  “Would you do me a favor?” she whispered.

  “Ask.”

  “Make love to me all weekend. I need you to erase what he did to me. Wipe away the hate, the humiliation. Replace it. With…”

  “Love.” His mouth formed the word, but he couldn’t say it out loud.

  Grace reached up to cradle his head in her hands. “Yes.”

  Deep inside, Angie felt the thrill of triumph. She had made a vampire fall in love. It was the power she had sought these last few years, the thing that motivated her to choose this dangerous career. She hadn’t understood that until recently. All her demands for respect and self-determination at last boiled down to one thing: the power to do what had been done to her, even if she chose not to exercise it. It had, she admitted, awakened feelings within her as well, but they did not control her. She was free. Free to explore or ignore them, and what harm was there in exploring them through the character of Grace?

  His eyes filled with sorrow and more tenderness than she could have imagined possible. Steffen bent and caressed her lips with his. When tears spilled down her cheeks, the salt seeped into their mouths. A tremor went through his big frame. His kiss turned hard and passionate, so she was gasping for breath when he drew away just enough to untie her robe and eased to his knees in front of her. One strong arm slid around her waist and hips to hold her still while he squeezed her breast and closed his mouth over the nipple. He grazed it with his teeth as he sucked. Pleasure weakened her legs, and if he hadn’t held her up, she would have sunk to the floor. When he moved his mouth to the other breast, he kept his hand on the first, pinching the nipple, caressing her soft flesh. She held on to his shoulders and let her head fall back.

  “Take me to bed,” Grace whispered.

  He stood and led her out of the living room, and she stayed still while he slipped her bathrobe off. He hadn’t looked closely when they made love earlier, but now he examined every bruise, every laceration. With the backs of his fingers, he brushed over the worst of them. Grace shook her head. She guided his hand away from the injuries and kissed his palm, then brought it to rest along her jaw. When he ran his thumb over her lower lip, she drew it into her mouth and watched his eyes darken.

  “Can you lie on your side?” he asked.

  “The one that wasn’t injured, yes.”

  Steffen stepped away to peel off his jeans. Naked, he stretched out on the bed and helped her settle into place, facing him, their bodies pressed together. He positioned her so neither of them would have to move much in order for him to enter her, and she felt him beginning to stiffen. One arm curled around her shoulders. He spread his hand open over the uppermost curve of her ass to hold her still while he shifted his hips, rubbing against her so the friction would bring him fully erect, at the same time massaging the most sensitive parts of her, making her grow wet. His shaft was soon slick and hard. With a groan, he eased back and set the tip of his cock at her opening.

  The feel of him parting her lower lips made her breath catch. She held it until he pushed inside. He fell still, giving them both time to savor that sweet first moment of joining. Then he began to rock gently forward and back. His hand pressed in counterpoint so there was no need for her to use core muscles that would tug at her ribs, and she relaxed, giving herself over to him. As he stroked in and out, she realized he never quite sank to the hilt.

  “All of it,” she demanded. “As far as you can go.”

  He hesitated, but when she wriggled with frustration he gave in and buried himself completely. It felt good, so good that she wanted more. Putting a hand on his hip, she urged him to pick up the pace. Again he hesitated, and this time she dug her nails into him until he complied. She was too short to reach any higher than the curve of his shoulder, so she nestled her head there and closed her eyes. Deliberately, she squeezed inner muscles around him. His rhythm faltered, and she smiled, knowing she had caused it. The arm he had curled around her tightened.

  It still wasn’t enough. Gasping, she said, “Harder.”

  “I’ll hurt you.” She heard the strain in his voice.

  “Harder.”

  “But—”

  “Harder!”

  By the way he shuddered, she knew he wanted this as much as she did. Steffen plunged into her. His hand countered the force of his thrusts, pulling her to meet him, and the first hint of orgasm began to build. She cried out and begged him to come so she could feel him flood her deep inside. He resisted, murmuring that he wanted to bring her with him, but again she used inner muscles to squeeze, and it was too much. He sank in one more time as far as he could go and stayed there, his cock pulsing with orgasm.

  “Yes,” she breathed, and followed him over the edge.

  They stayed still long after the last echoes had faded, their bodies joined even though he had gone soft. Now that he no longer needed to steady her, he skimmed his hand up her back and into her hair, fingers combing through the strands.

  “You haven’t tasted me yet tonight,” she said.

  He moved his thumb to caress her throat. Her pulse beat against it, beckoning, but he protested, “You’re too weak.”

  “You don’t have to take much. Unless you’re too hungry to control it?”

  “No.” His voice thickened.

  “Then drink.”

  Grace tipped her head and stretched out her neck for him. He fell still. Then the fingers in her hair closed so he gripped it with his fist. He had to move lower in order to reach the right spot, so he slipped out of her and eased down the length of her body until he could settle his mouth over the vein. She felt his teeth extend into long, thin points. Fangs pierced her skin, not hard, only sinking far enough to nick the edge of the vein. The pleasure came with them, as gentle as the lips that sealed over her wound. Grace sighed and listened to the quiet sounds of him feeding.

  They talked very little the rest of the night. He kept his promise and made love to every inch of her until dawn came and stole him away.

  She woke before noon, bathed in sweat, her own scream echoing in her ears.

 
; The nightmares didn’t happen all the time anymore. This was the worst she’d had in days. It was always Rimbeau, laughing at her useless attempts to escape. She still felt his fangs slashing her skin to shreds.

  Nothing chased the dreams away completely, but sunlight helped. Steffen would not rise for hours yet. Getting out of bed, she eased herself into jeans and a T-shirt, slipped on a warm sweater, and headed out for a walk on the beach. This early in the year, there was no one else in sight. She had the sand, sea, and sky to herself. She got back to the cottage an hour before sunset, intending to eat dinner while she waited for Steffen to rise.

  Halfway to the kitchen, she heard a quiet thump. Angie froze in her tracks. She listened intently but heard nothing other than the white noise of the ocean and the faraway calls of seagulls. A gust of wind made the windowpanes rattle. She shook her head and continued on her way. Just as she reached the stove, she heard it again, louder.

  Angie grabbed the largest knife from a set mounted on the wall. With her other hand, she fumbled for her cell phone. She glanced at it. No bars. Tucking it into her pocket, she edged toward the back door on the other side of the kitchen. How had they found her after all the precautions she’d taken? At least she could be sure the intruder wasn’t a vampire. The sun was still above the horizon, so it must be something that did not fear daylight. Vampires rarely made alliances with other supernatural creatures, so chances were good it was a human. That improved her odds considerably. The car was right outside, only a few yards from the door. Whoever had made that noise was nowhere in sight, so she might be able to get to it fast enough to get away. Angie crouched and moved as silently as she could. Another sound made her flinch. It seemed to come from the bedroom. What were they doing, searching the room? The person had to have heard her come in. What were they waiting for?