Forever Black (Nightwalkers 2)

by H. N. Sieverding

  "I didn't say that."

  He yanked her hair and halted her words. "Kiss me, you said. Kiss me and blind my eyes from my sins." He kissed her cheek. "My love, take my kiss, and let me give you the paradise you desire. Let me mold the dark clouds into your dreams. I can give you everything. Love me, and I shall never let the sun rise in your presence. In the night, it shall kneel at your feet, only shedding light when you will it."

  This was a side of him she was only familiar with in her nightmares. This thick, heavy presence that choked her. This was his true form, and he felt like the devil. His voice was velvety, yet accompanied by a prick of sin that made her ears bleed.

  Though she was terrified of him, his touch calmed her. It took away all the fight that lined her muscles and made her body numb. He had complete control over her. Her fragile mind was so lost, she couldn't concentrate. She wanted to jump, but in the arms of the devil, her wings were restrained, and she feared soon cut off completely.

  "Sweet, red blood…" His tongue peeked from his parted lips as he admired the coveted skin of her neck. "The taste of it, only heavenly beings like us can savor. Let me make you into what you once were, for with this final bite, you will be as I—forever black—with a soul as dark as the moonless night, and as powerful as the endless sky. I shall make you a god."

  He playfully nipped at her neck. "Take my hand, and I shall make the world bow to you. I will make you forget, and live in a happy bliss that will make every day a paradise."

  "I just want everything to go away."

  "Accept my offer, my queen. Let me take you into the realm of the gods." His hands slipped around her waist. One of his fists was balled, and Ashleigh felt the hard tip of something brushing against her stomach.

  "I want to forget." Her next words were breathless, and she knew once they were released, she couldn't take them back, "Make me forget, Drake."

  "Death will give you all the release you need. You have called death's chariot to your side, and now there is no turning back. The devil has arrived to collect the soul that is mine."

  Ashleigh let out a silent, choked scream as he shoved a knife into her chest. She let go of the railing and tried to pry it out. Her breaths were choked as her body was covered in a thick cloak of pain. So sharp and paralyzing, her vision was slowly clouding.

  "I will blacken your eyes and take you to the paradise that is this world's hell." In an artful twist, he dug the knife deeper and made her belt out a bloodcurdling scream. Her head fell backward and rested on his shoulder. He glanced into her pained face as he licked his lips.

  She tried to speak. Her mouth was open wide as her eyes begged him to stop. All she could see was the yellow light in his eyes—those intense, emerald eyes she had dreamed about.

  Then, everything faded to black. She heard his voice, though he wasn't speaking, "Do not yearn for the heaven you have been barred from. For in my arms, the fabricated paradise in which we live will be far greater."

  Ashleigh's head was swimming as she lost the world around her and was plunged into another. All she could see was swirling smoke, the sound of her own voice cutting through her watery world and filling her ears, "Tell me about our heaven, Drake."

  "No, my love," The Count's voice was soft and light, the sound of it magnified by the nothingness around her. "It is you who will create it. I shall mold heaven as you see fit, and your dreams shall be the only to take form. I am but a servant—humble and admiring. You are the queen who rules me."

  She heard herself giggle. The sound bounced around, as if hitting imaginary walls. "You spoil me."

  "To spoil a beauty such as yourself would be a sin." His deep, malicious chuckle warmed her chest. "And sins I will gladly commit."

  * * * *

  After an hour of searching for Ashleigh, Caleb couldn't find her. Instead of sulking, he attended the meeting with the Count. He arrived late, walking into the room filled with the Council of Elders and taking a seat next to his father. Everyone was quiet, even Caleb. Something didn't seem right. The mood in the room was somber as they waited for the Count to arrive.

  They all turned when a few men came into the room. Caleb's angry eyes searched for the Count. There were four men, one of them Neal, but no Count.

  "Good evening." Neal nodded in greeting. His eyes settled on Caleb. Neal's smile grew larger when he saw the rock star’s anger.

  Anthony's voice was firm, "I'm glad you have come tonight." There was a stern expression painting his features. He looked down at his hands then up to Neal. "Please…" Anthony motioned toward a few chairs set up in front of the Council. "Sit, so we may discuss the issue of Ashleigh Brown."

  "There is nothing to discuss." Neal clasped his hands together in front of him. His shoulders rolled inward slightly and showed off his bulky frame. "I come to tell you what is to be done."

  "We have some terms to—"

  "The Count doesn't work on terms. He is our authority, and his words must not be questioned." One of Neal's eyebrows raised as a challenging look appeared in his eyes. "You should know that."

  "Yes…" Anthony slowly sat down. He glanced briefly toward Caleb then back to Neal. "I do."

  "The Countess will return to Krest and this…" He motioned with his head toward Caleb. "Boy and the rest of the Morgan vampires are not to make any contact with her. If anyone challenges this order, then the Count will make sure there is no living vampire left in Morgan."

  "How long will she stay in Krest?" Caleb stood. His hands held onto the ledge of the table in front of him.

  Neal laughed as he uncrossed his arms. He opened them wide as he spoke sarcastically. "Eternity. She belongs to the Count and will never leave."

  Caleb continued to speak, "The deal was two months." He ignored his father, who was trying to get him to sit down. "Why can't she keep the original conditions and then return home? She's my—"

  "Those terms no longer apply." Neal glanced at Anthony and then back at Caleb. "The Count has turned her, and she will no longer remember you or anyone else. She is no longer the girl you know."

  "Turned her?" Caleb looked to his father, confused. "What's that mean? I already—"

  "Learn your history, boy." Neal's brow lowered, and his eyes narrowed on Caleb. "The Countess is the only living pure blood other than our Count."

  "Pure blood?" Caleb was still confused, and because he had no idea what Neal was talking about, he didn't know how to argue. So, he changed the subject, "She's pregnant." He pointed to himself, his voice deepening as he glared at Neal. "With my baby."

  "You are wrong." Neal's bald head shone under the lights. The tattoo under his eyelid wrinkled with his glare. "The child belongs to the Count."

  "He's my son." Caleb was going to raise his voice, but he refrained. The stress showed in his tone, but he didn't snap. "The Count can't have my child or my fiancé."

  "You misunderstand," Neal sounded annoyed. "The Count fathered her child."

  "No." Caleb's breath quickened. It was clear from the change of his tone that he was on the verge of starting a fight.

  "You didn't know?" Neal snickered. A cocky expression filled his hardened features. "She and the Count are lovers."

  "I don't believe you." Caleb was going to jump over the table, but his father quickly stood and held him back. "You're lying! She wouldn't do that to me!"

  Neal ignored Caleb's outburst and addressed the rest of the Council. "Please control that boy. For if we find out he even attempts to contact the Countess, all of you will suffer." Neal then walked toward the door.

  Caleb shouted at Neal as Lucas tried to calm him down. "You fucking—" Caleb's words were quickly silenced by his father's hand.

  "This fight is over, Caleb." Lucas' voice was stern, but it hid his own sadness. "She's a pure blood. She can't ever come back."

  Caleb pulled away from his father. He wiped at his lips as he glanced toward the door. "What’s a pure blood?"

  "It means she's not like us anymore. Her blood is pure." Anthony
ran his hand through his hair. His voice was soft, "He killed her, Caleb."

  "I don't believe you." Caleb tried to make a run for the door, but his father restrained him again. "Fuck!" Caleb struggled, trying to break free. "We can't let them do this! Let me go! I'll get her back!"

  "It's no use," Anthony sighed. "She's dead, Caleb. She's like him now—a demon."

  Caleb's voice softened, "But my son—"

  "Your son is dead." Anthony looked away from Caleb as he spoke, "To become a pure blood Ashleigh has to die to be reborn as a demon. When she dies, so will your son."

  Caleb slowly settled down. "They'll…" He gritted his teeth to dam his tears. "Both…die?"

  "Come, Caleb." Lucas put his arm around Caleb's shoulders and led him toward the door. He spoke softly as Caleb stared at his feet. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could help you."

  "There has to be a way to save her." Caleb's voice was low, and even though his words seemed strong, his voice was weak and beaten. "I know there is. I won't stop until I get her back, even if it means taking on the Count himself."

  "Don't be foolish." His father's whisper grew sharper. "You cannot see her again. Didn't you hear the Count's warning? If you even speak to her, he'll wipe us all out. I know you love her…" He stopped walking and put his hands on Caleb's shoulders. "And I know how much this hurts you, but is just one more glimpse of her worth your own death…and mine as well? You can't think this way, Caleb. You have to accept this."

  "But I love her, Dad." Caleb stared at his sneakers, the tongue of his untied shoes overlapping his baggy jeans. "I love her more than anything. I'll let her down, if I don't." He looked up at his father, his eyes glassy. "She wants me to rescue her, I know it."

  "You can't." Shaking his head, Lucas had to look away from Caleb's pleading eyes.

  "I know that." Caleb turned to the side and sniffled back the thickness that had gathered in his nose. "I'm nothing but a helpless little bitch that has to sit at that fucker's feet while he keeps my girl hostage. It's not fair."

  "Caleb—"

  "Don't touch me." He pushed his father's hands off his shoulders then quickly disappeared.

  * * * *

  Wearing a giant smile, Ashleigh sat up in bed and stretched her arms. She felt amazing. That feeling of the Count's bite was extended, but instead of leaving her with an intense longing for him, all she could feel was happiness.

  She'd never felt this good. Her body felt as light as a feather, and as she stood, she could barely feel the floor at her feet. This amazing new feeling kept her preoccupied for a few more seconds. Her arms stretched toward the ceiling as she kept her eyes closed. She was afraid to open them—afraid that all this was a dream, and if she opened her eyes, this wonderful feeling would disappear.

  A dream. The thought made her expression brighten. Her fangs kissed her bottom lip, but didn't pierce them. She yawned then slowly opened her eyes, scanning the Count's bedroom. Her gaze settled on the mirror in the far corner, and she moved toward it.

  She had a newfound gracefulness to her gait and a black dress hugged her slender figure. Everything felt different, including Ashleigh. Her mind wasn't focused on what had happened. She could barely recall the day before or any of her recent memories. All she could see were her past memories with the Count. Everything was focused on this incredible happiness and her previous love for him.

  She studied at her reflection and smiled. Her tight dress accentuated her curvaceous figure. Her large breasts were cradled perfectly and showed the perfect amount of cleavage. Her skin was much paler than normal, her olive complexion now the color of soft buttermilk. Not an imperfection could be found—no love handles, no slightly forming double chin, nothing.

  Her lips were painted a bright red that was striking against her pale skin. Her blue eyes had lightened and now reflected the same yellow light as the Count's. She looked just like the coveted vampire princess from her imagination.

  "Ah…my beautiful queen has finally graced me with her eternal presence."

  Ashleigh spun when she heard his voice. Her gaze settled on the Count, who was watching her from the bed. She smiled. It was as if not a single day had passed since she had seen him in her previous lifetime. Something had snapped inside her. She had wanted to forget all her pain so badly and live in a dream world that she had forgotten who she was. Buried it.

  "It is unfair to sneak up on a lady, my love." Ashleigh glanced at the mirror. Her expression twisted slightly as her hands rested on her stomach. She seemed severely confused as she stared at it. "I feel…" Her eyes narrowed on her belly as she gently stroked it. "Like I'm missing something. I can't remember…"

  "Our child." The Count appeared behind her. His arms slowly slipped around her and covered her hands. "Remember, my love?"

  Her words were soft as she tried to remember, "Our child. My son." She glanced at the diamond wedding band on her finger. The large gem was set off by deep, red rubies. "But he's…" Her eyes widened as her breath quickened. "Oh, Drake. He's dead, isn't he?"

  "Do not worry, my queen." He smiled at their reflection. Resting his cheek against hers, he delighted in the soft touch of her skin. "Our son is alive."

  "I had a dream that I lost him…that I—"

  "It was only a dream. Everything is fine."

  "But it felt so real." She slowly turned around in his arms. "The pain was unbearable. I can still feel the thickness of my tears—the sadness. I can't lose another child, Drake." A gentle hand reached up to his face as Ashleigh caressed his cheek. Her eyes were large and full of innocence, yet they shined with the yellow light of hell. "Are you sure he's all right?"

  "Yes."

  "Promise?" She stared hard into his eyes.

  "I promise." He took her hand from his cheek and held it in both of his. He touched her as if she were a breakable treasure, a look of awe and love in his eyes.

  "Then, a nightmare it ’twas." Her long, butterfly lashes fluttered as she studied his face. "Tell me again how much you love me." A sweet smile graced her lips. Her steady hands straightened his tie.

  "Such a thing cannot be measured by any means." He pulled her body closer.

  Her movements were all slow and methodic. They were almost ghostlike as she reached her hands up to his neck. "Please, try."

  "As you wish." He gazed into her adoring eyes. These were the eyes of his tamed princess. "My love for you is deeper than any rift—vaster than the ocean that disappears into the eternity that lies beyond horizon."

  "I beg you, my prince," she beamed. There was playfulness to her voice as she pulled on his tie. "Kiss me before I die of longing."

  "A kiss?" He cradled the side of her face as he stroked it with his thumb.

  "All good things…" She moved closer, her lips barely touching his own. "Begin with a kiss."

  "No. Everything begins with you."

  Leaning closer, she kissed him. It was a full, loving kiss that she had never given to him before in this lifetime. He responded by caressing her back, the fabric of her dress cold and of the softest silk. His fingers took hold of the zipper and slowly pulled it down.

  When she felt his action, she pulled away from him. Her eyelids were heavy as she stared into his hungry eyes. There was no resistance anymore. Her hands slowly reached up to her shoulders and took hold of the straps of her dress.

  "Does your grace wish to make love to me?" A sweet laugh escaped her lips. Her chin lifted gracefully as she turned her head to the side. Her agile fingers slowly pushed the straps down her shoulders. The slippery fabric fell the rest of the way, as if her body was shedding it like molted skin. She now stood in front of him naked.

  Slowly, she reached to his jacket. Her hands slid under the collar and gently pushed it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor behind him. The Count stood still and was mesmerized by his love. She took off his tie, and her long, slender fingers slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

  "Such a tease, you are." He laughed as he stopped her fingers. He folded them
inward and forced her hand into a fist. "Let me assist you. My queen need not cater so to me."

  He slipped off his dress shirt and revealed his bare chest. He had a muscular frame, his skin the same pale color as Ashleigh's. His agile fingers worked on unbuckling his belt, the thick leather sliding quickly through his grasp.

  Her eyes slowly wandered to his crotch when she saw the flash of his boxers. There was a great delay in her actions. Like a crocodile, she quietly observed her prey before jumping out and devouring it. To her, time felt like it had slowed. Every second ticked by slower than normal. She watched him drop his pants, and her eyes fixated on his manhood.

  He grinned when he saw where her eyes were aimed. Then, he kicked off his shoes and his pants. His nakedness was striking, everything about him sinfully perfect. His stomach and abs were rock hard. That sexy vee between his hips and stomach led to the prize he had revealed to her.

  Her hand reached out and grabbed what her eyes were glued on. Her fingers squeezed tightly around it as they moved up and down the shaft slowly. She pushed her body up against his. Her tongue made a slow pass over her top lip as she glanced down at her hand and then up again.

  His hand moved to her face, where he cupped her cheek gently and pulled her in for a kiss. Taking a few deep, slow kisses from her willing lips, his hips thrust toward her hand.

  Gripping his bare shoulder, she slowly pulled away from him. She licked her lips deliberately. There was a liquid evil in her soft words, a coldness in them that made him shiver with delight, "Beg me."

  "Beg, I will, my love." He squeezed the side of her face gently, leaning in for one more kiss. "Surround me with your lips, and sink your fangs into the engorged flesh that begs to delve into the warmth that only you can give."

  "Harder." Her lips filled with a slow, poisonous smile. Her tongue paused under one of her fangs as she took her hand from his shoulder.

  "Harder?" His breath quickened as he watched her descend. His hands paused on her shoulders as she knelt on her knees. "Bestow upon me the kiss—" His words halted when he felt her lips surround his tip, both her hands wrapping around his shaft. He paused as he tried to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, his fingers gently rested on the top of her head. "The—" He tried to speak, but she had stolen his words.