Blood, Wine, and Roses

by Lark Westerly

  launched himself on the wind, his cloak like wings.

  He left me unassuaged and I touched the place that throbbed for him, and could not

  ease the ache.

  He came before the dawn, and closed and barred the window, then poured a glass of

  wine.

  “Where have you been?” I cried.

  “Go out to the roses, Dove,” he said, and he did not look on me.

  “I will not go!”

  “I order you, body and soul. Have you forgotten?”

  “You were hunting maids to sup upon,” I flung.

  “I do what I must and shall.”

  He had taken off his shirt, and I screamed with rage and bared my teeth, my fingers

  clawed his breast. A trickle of blood welled forth and it was black. The sight struck shock

  in me. I stemmed the flow with my finger and raised it to my lips. Raven struck away my

  hand with a force that sent me reeling. He dashed the wine across my face, then drew

  me to his breast. “Dove, ah Dove, I do it to spare your strength.”

  “Cut out my heart, but do not hunt other maids!” I sobbed.

  He held me close and soothed me, but he held to his resolution and left me be. He

  kept to another chamber and did not take me again for many days. I was mad with

  unslaked lust, but my strength returned.

  A sister of darkness came to the castle and said she’d sup with us. I drew back in

  sudden distaste, but Raven laughed. “My cousin does not suck maids, my dove, she

  beguiles red-blooded men.”

  The vampiress nodded. “And they so willing to be beguiled,” she said. “No sour cold

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  blood for me. They plunder my sex while I plunder their throats, and so both are

  satisfied.”

  I believed her boast, for Mathilde was a glowing beauty. Her hair was fire, her eyes

  were green, her lips were bright as roses. “I may sup with you, Dove?” she asked. “Since

  I have no lust for your blood?”

  “We have beef and wine to offer,” I replied.

  We supped and Raven went to fetch me roses. Mathilde leaned forward and took my

  hand. She turned it in her grasp and her eyes were grave. “My Lady Dove,” she said,

  “may I offer advice?’ She did not wait for my answer, but continued with a smile. “Your

  lord is a brother of night. His appetites are mighty.”

  “I match his appetites,’ I cried. “I welcome them!”

  “And there is your undoing and maybe his. He fears to drain you and abstinence

  may turn him cruel. Few of our kind wed for just this reason. Let him roam, my Lady

  Dove. Let his sup from village maidens. No harm to them, he’ll pay them for his

  pleasures as I do.”

  “No!” I cried, and I overturned my stool. I felt my face was twisted in a snarl. “I’ll

  never share my lord, and he’ll not share me!”

  “He must sup maidens if you love your life.”

  “Never!’ I shrieked again. “Dare to say this to him, and I’ll stab you to the heart!”

  Mathilde recoiled, her fangs showed in a hiss. “Then your doom is on you,” she said

  simply. “You are more damned than we.”

  When Raven brought the roses, I doffed my gown, I snatched the dark blooms from

  him, and clasped them so the thorns plunged through my flesh. My breasts and belly

  were oozing blood and I flung the roses down and bared my throat.

  “Take me, Raven!” I screamed, and there, before Mathilde’s green gaze, I offered

  him blood. I flung myself on the floor and I saw his eyes grow wide with dark desire. He

  dragged apart his breeches, then his cloaked form fell upon me, and he lapped my blood

  from the oozing puncture wounds. I writhed beneath his weight, and flung back my

  head. I knew he could not resist me, the fangs struck home, and while he supped, my

  eyes met those of the vampiress.

  “He is mine,” I said, and I screamed as his sex found mine.

  I woke alone in our chamber, my body bruised and sore. My triumph burned. I

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  knew he’d sup no maids while I held him thralled. I rose and slowly clad myself, then

  descended to our hall. Mathilde was there with my husband.

  “You have supped, now take your leave,” I said.

  Her eyes were cold. “The dawn is coming soon.”

  “Then you must surely fly or turn to ashes.”

  Raven hushed me gently. “Mathilde remains with us.” He smiled. “I must be gone

  on my business and I swear, I’ll sup neither men nor maids. I’d not leave you alone, my

  dove, nor trust the brothers. The word is out and envy running high.”

  We slept that day, and the next night he was gone. Day after night he left me, and I

  would have mourned alone were it not for Mathilde. I had not known how much I

  missed society. I would not befriend a maid for fear of tempting Raven, but with

  Mathilde I could be at ease. We spoke of many things, but upon as many more we did

  not touch.

  She never warned me again and in return I was civil. She would speak neither of

  Raven’s past nor of hers, and she would not tell how they’d joined the brotherhood.

  “You are so young and fair,” I said. “And yet you must live by night.”

  “And so do you, Lady Dove.”

  “I choose to live by night,” I said. “You have it thrust upon you.”

  “One price we pay for the length of our days.” She sighed. “And the other price is

  blood.”

  I thought her my friend, but she could not console me.

  Raven was gone for seven days and nights, and then he returned and we slaked our

  lust again in a kind of madness. And again he drank too deeply, and again I swooned.

  I woke alone in the dawn, and I heard him groan. “I have sworn I’ll suck no maidens

  and no men.”

  “Then perhaps I have the answer,” said Mathilde.

  I feared she would say I must return to my father. I feared that in his remorse Raven

  might agree. I dragged myself from our bed and crawled from the chamber. I was white

  and thin, the punctures in my neck barely sealed. I should have gowned myself, but I

  had to prove I held him still in thrall.

  I staggered to our hall, and at first I thought it empty. Then I saw them tangled on

  the floor. She lay below and he above, and he drank deeply of her blood. He had cast

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  aside his cloak and I saw her nakedness. Her eyes were closed, her head flung back, her

  mouth was open in a silent scream, her white fangs raked the air. And I saw his body

  spasm and heard his gulping sighs as he spent his seed.

  And then I went quite mad.

  I caught up a crystal goblet and flung it against the wall. Roses were crushed and the

  crimson wine was splattered. I took the greatest shard and I drove it through his heart

  as he spasmed still. Again and again I drove it home in an ecstasy of passion. Red blood

  flowed from my wounded hands and black blood ran down his marble sides.

  The vampiress screamed and scrabbled free, and I turned my lord on his back. His

  night-dark eyes were dimming as his cursed blood gushed free. And I fell upon the

  bounty and drank my fill of blood. Then I kissed his mouth for the first and only time.

  There is little more to tell. Mathilde fled out in the dawning, and the sunlight struck

  her to ashes. I felt a sharpness in my mouth, and knew w
hat I had become. And now I sit

  in the starlit garden, and cannot bear the day. Around we go again in an age-old story.

  There is blood and wine and roses, and I must fly tonight. I must find a lord and slake

  my thirst and my lust together. He will scream and so shall I. Screams of pain or ecstasy,

  and what’s to choose between them?

  The hunger is upon me.

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  Blood and Wine and Roses

  TuÉâà à{x Tâà{ÉÜ

  Lark Westerly comes from the dark side. She loves roses and

  velvet, and prowling the starlit forests. Visit Lark at

  http://wordgarland.com/lark.htm.

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