I leapt into his arms and kissed him all over his face. To hear he’d taken the chance of talking to my father first, of asking for his approval and risking that my father would say no, made me feel cherished and loved. His main concern, his only concern, was my happiness. “When will we be married? I don’t want to wait another day.”
“I’m immortal, and there’s no one I fear,” he replied with confidence. “Except your mother where your wedding is concerned. That date, my love, will be up to you two.”
The rest of the day and evening were more than I could’ve asked for. Slade was loving, thoughtful, and romantic in every gesture. Our walks by the river, the stroll through the woods, the time we spent alone in the extravagant tent. The way he refused to make love to me, even though I begged him without a shred of modesty or self-respect.
He admitted to the nights he snuck into my room. Some were times he entered my dreams. Some were times I was actually under his trance and I only thought it was a dream. When he confessed, I found I couldn’t even be mad at him for the intrusion. Every dream and every encounter had just been too delicious and incredible to have an instant of regret.
When we returned and he said good night to my parents, I jumped into my father’s arms and thanked him for his approval. He grinned and said he’d sent a letter to Sean’s family when he first saw Slade and me together. He knew Slade was the man for me at first sight and knew he should break the ties of my betrothal immediately. Then I kept my mom up half the night making wedding plans. I want to marry Slade as soon as possible—as quickly as we can pull everything together. Tomorrow sounded great to me, but for some reason, Mother refused to accept my request.
She did agree to one week, however, since the bulk of our family and friends are in the London area. The ceremony will be intimate and elegant, small and personal, quick and timeless. For the past week, my days have had new purpose and my nights have had new meaning. Every detail of my nuptials has been planned, every invitation has been hand-delivered, and every second hand of the clock seems to take longer to tick by.
Our wedding is tomorrow!
Ramses Barnett, 1790
Months. I’ve been gone for months. First, I tried feeding on animals in the forest, living like a wild animal myself. When that didn’t satiate me, I resorted stalking people in the streets of the surrounding cities like a raving lunatic. All to try to get her scent out of my head. All to keep from ruining any chance of happiness and success for my brother and me. All to keep from drinking every last drop of that girl’s blood, to keep from sinking my teeth into her perfectly smooth skin and getting off on the feel of it, and to hold on to the last shred of “human decency” I had in me. After all, she was still too young to turn—even too young to feed on unless there was no other option.
And I’d finally achieved my goal. I’d finally gotten her out of my system.
Until I returned to our city.
The scent of her blood hung over the streets like a heavy fog rolling in from the ocean. It wrapped around me like a thick cocoon and pushed my impulsiveness over the top. I had to have her. I couldn’t fight it any longer. I couldn’t wait another second. I couldn’t survive one more night without the taste of her sweet blood in my mouth.
Like a moth to a flame, the pull to her family home drew me in, and I couldn’t stop it. Even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t. I moved silently through the house like a stealthy animal stalking my prey. I loved the hunt—creeping up on my victim, pouncing when they least suspected it, watching the shock drain from their eyes as life left them. I loved it even more when they fought me tooth and nail, trying to hold on to life with every shred of strength they possessed. It makes it even sweeter when I win.
And I always win.
When I reached her room, she wasn’t there. She hadn’t slept there in weeks—her scent was barely distinguishable. She didn’t live there anymore.
My feet seemed to move faster than light or sound in my quest to find her. On my obsessed hunt, I spent most of the night tracking her scent from place to place until it finally led me to the house where the scent was the strongest. It was her unique scent, mixed with the aromatic scent of feminine arousal.
When I finally stopped, it took several heartbeats—her heartbeats, to be exact—to realize exactly where I stood.
I watched as another man enjoyed the pleasures she provided in his bed. She straddled his hips, rolling hers back and forth as she rode him with her head thrown back in ecstasy. He reveled in the sensations her perfect body provided. He relished every whimper and wisp of her scent.
He was my brother.
She was my obsession.
My brother Slade was fucking Alea, my immortal obsession.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ramses Barnett, 1790
In the haze of lunacy surrounding me during my search for Alea, I didn’t even notice where I was until I saw Slade’s face. There was no recognition of his house. There was nothing familiar about his street. My only focus was to find Alea—following her scent wherever it led me. When I was able to think clearly again, the sight of my brother with the object of my affection pushed me over the edge of sanity and into a place I’ve never been.
And where I hope never to be again.
The rage built inside me to unbelievable levels. All I could think about was killing my brother for betraying me and how good the last drop of his little whore’s blood would taste as it slid down my throat. They could spend eternity in hell together for all I cared. The only reason I didn’t barge in and exact my revenge on the spot was because the heavy fog surrounding my brain cleared enough for me to remember my brother’s strength far exceeded mine. As do his focus and determination. Had I ambushed him and his little wife, he would’ve killed me before I could inflict any damage on him.
No. My revenge took some planning to effectively carry out. When I make my move, every aspect must be so carefully calculated that every possible scenario has been considered. It had to be so thorough that nothing would be left of them to piece back together.
That time had come at last. It took weeks of waiting and watching. But finally, I made my move. Slade still hadn’t turned Alea. I had no idea why he’d waited, but I smelled her blood long before I reached their house. It was almost as if fate herself had smiled down on me. The one thing I wanted so badly I could barely function—especially all the weeks when I was in her presence—was now within my grasp.
Slade was out of town on one of his business trips. Alea had planned to go with him, but her mother became ill with influenza. Such a serious condition these days without the proper care. Alea couldn’t leave her in good conscience. Slade, being the man he’s always been, insisted she stay home, and he’d cut his trip short to rush back as soon as he could.
That still left plenty of time for me to carry out my plan.
On my command, my personal army of vampires moved in on the Dunns’ residence. Alea had been staying there at her mother’s bedside since the morning Slade left. This is where she’d become mine—where it all started, where I put all the time in to win her trust, to capture her heart, and eventually take all I wanted from her.
We moved through the walls and windows as wisps of smoke. Our normal movements are too fast for the human eye to register, making it all too easy to move among the staff without being detected. I followed her scent to her parents’ bedroom. Behind that closed door was the one woman who hadn’t left my thoughts from the first day I locked on to her scent. With my anticipation at an all-time high, I moved through the door and prepared to drink my fill.
Clarence and Frances were in the bed asleep. But Alea was nowhere to be found. Her scent was still so strong in the room I would’ve sworn she was still there. The only explanation was I’d missed her by mere seconds. The clip-clop of horse’s feet echoed from the driveway below the master bedroom windows. Clarence turned over, wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, and pulled her close to him.
“I’m glad you fe
el better now, my dear,” he told Frances. “Alea hasn’t slept in the room with us since she was a toddler. I haven’t slept well in the last several nights, knowing she was likely awake and watching you. It was unnerving.”
They both laughed, the love and appreciation for their only child still evident in their tones, before Frances replied. “She helped me get over it much faster than I would’ve without her. Still, I’m glad she was able to go home tonight. She wanted to be there when her husband gets home.”
That was all I needed to hear.
The telepathic connection I have with my army of changelings is strong. I can send out a command through a single thought, and they will obey. When Frances referred to Slade with such a loving, approving tone after they’d shunned me as a suitor for their daughter, I issued the command.
My family, my clan, swooped in on the Dunn household staff and ripped their throats out. Not one of them stopped until the very last drop of blood remained in their veins. Until every servant had one foot in the grave and the other on sinking sand. Then they turned them—each and every one of them—and added them to our clan. The entire household, except for Clarence and Frances. They were mine, and I’m not one for sharing what’s mine.
Frances was frozen in terror as she watched me feed on her husband. Her eyes were wide open, along with her mouth. She wanted to scream, but physically couldn’t. She tried to make sense of what was happening, but mentally couldn’t. She tried to reason with her rational mind that she was in a horrible nightmare, but realistically couldn’t.
Though my vampiric features change my appearance to a degree, I’m still easily identified by those who know me. Frances and Clarence knew me well—but they still couldn’t fully appreciate the irony of the situation. Because they couldn’t fully believe it was actually me. They lost all capacity for logical analysis of the situation when they watched me change before their eyes.
Clarence fell limp on the bed, his body completely drained of blood. His eyes were open and fixed in death. Frances stared at him, slack-jawed and trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes strayed up to my face, and she started shaking her head from side to side. Denial took over as she shut down mentally. She could only whisper “no” repeatedly.
It made me smile.
“Yes, Frances. This is happening. It’s not a terrible nightmare you’ll tell Clarence all about tomorrow morning. It’s not your imagination playing tricks on you. You’re not going insane. In fact, you’re not going anywhere. Ever again. If it’s any consolation, neither is your daughter. You’ll all meet again in the afterlife. Nothing to worry your pretty little head over.”
Before she could respond, I sank my fangs into her neck and pulled her blood through the hollow points of my teeth. Her fingers curled into my shirt and gripped tightly—the epitome of the term “death grip”—until I’d drained so much of her life that she was unable to maintain her hold on me any longer. Her hands fell to her sides, and her body became lax in my arms. I listened with enraptured attention as her thundering heartbeat slowed to barely a crawl before it stopped completely. I released my hold on her, and she slumped to the bed, landing partly on top of Clarence.
Fitting—they lived together, died together, and rested in peace together.
My clan and I left the Dunns’ and sprinted to Slade’s house. His staff was immortal, so we’d have more of a fight when we converged on them. But after our thorough feeding, I felt ready to take on anyone and anything.
While my clan surprised Slade’s servants with their strategic attacks, I went straight for my immortal obsession. Alea slept in their bedroom, unaware of the war that raged in the rest of her home. I moved through the door and froze in my tracks. She was scantily dressed in the sexiest see-through nightgown I’d ever seen. Her perky round breasts were on full display, her nipples already hard from the cool night breeze that wafted through the partially opened window. Her long hair was fanned out on the pillow under her head, and her beautiful neck was fully bared, just for my taking.
My mind warred with my thirst. Her body was as perfect and as tempting as her blood. The intense lust I felt toward her in no way stopped with the fluid flowing through her veins. I thought I might die if I didn’t fuck her before I killed her. At least once, I needed to feel my cock buried deep in her perfect, tight pussy before I watched the light fade from her eyes.
Did I say just once? One time would have only made me want more. Since time was of the essence and Slade could show up at any time, I knew I had to control myself and my libido, or I’d get us both killed.
It would take my entire clan and me to restrain Slade once he realized what had happened; I knew that deep down in my psyche. Regret filled me over the loss of the pleasure of Alea’s body. I’d never know it. I’d never experience it firsthand. My only consolation was the different kind of pleasure I’d have with her. In the blink of an eye, I covered her body with mine. In her sleep-filled state, she understandably confused me for her husband.
“Slade, I’m so glad you’re home early,” she purred, her eyes still closed. “I waited up for you as long as I could. But I’m glad you woke me.”
“Tell me something, Alea. Do you let Slade drink your blood when he’s fucking your pussy? Has he tasted all of you? I do wish I had time to do it myself. But since you expect him home any second now, I suppose I’ve missed my chance.”
Her eyes flew open in shock and horror then quickly changed to anger and determination. Though she knew what I was and what I could do—what I would do—she wasn’t going down without a fight. She’d do her best to inflict her own kind of damage, even though I knew she couldn’t hurt me.
“Your feistiness turns me on even more, Alea. I do wish I could show you just how much. It’s really a shame how your friend Sean can’t be with us.”
Her face blanched as her eyes darted between mine.
“How do you know that name?”
“I know more than his name. It’s sad, really. Somehow, his little secret got out, and they hanged him just a few days ago. Do you think they would hang me for ‘unnatural acts’ if they knew all the things I wanted to do to you?”
With an angry scream, she swung her fist toward my face as she lifted her upper body off the bed. I grabbed her arm and easily stopped her struggle. While she was suspended in midair, I took the perfect opportunity to finish what I’d started.
My fangs slid out.
My fingers skimmed across her scalp and gripped the base of her hair.
With a gentle tug, I pulled her head to the side and exposed her long, smooth neck.
Then I leaned down, taking an extra second or two to rub my nose along her skin and inhale her intoxicating scent.
With painstaking control and precision, I sank my fangs into her neck, puncturing her skin with my needle-sharp teeth, and drew her heady and invigorating blood into my mouth.
That was heaven. Pure bliss. Nirvana.
That was where all the lore and tales originated from—the pure ecstasy of her taste, her scent, and her energy was what heaven must be made of. There’s no other explanation. With Alea, I didn’t want it to end. I never wanted to stop. I wanted to keep her for all time and drink from her whenever I desired, which would be daily at a minimum. I wanted all of her blood all to myself for the rest of her life.
That idea had merit. I could make it work. I could keep her, along with others, and establish a new system. A new way of feeding and living as a vampire could be so easy to establish. These thoughts flew through my mind at lightning speed as her blood slid down my throat.
Then my question from just a minute before reverberated through my mind and rang in my ears. The fury it evoked rose up inside me and fueled my original plan even more.
Do you let Slade drink your blood when he’s fucking your pussy?
Had he tasted her blood yet?
Had he taken all of what was supposed to be mine?
Had she willingly given him all of what was mine—what should have always been
mine?
At that moment, I decided she couldn’t live. I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t keep her if he’d tasted her blood before me. So I increased my efforts and drained her blood faster. Much like with her mother, I listened as her heartbeat changed. The fast, scared thumping started first, then it slowed as the volume of fluid in her body decreased, until the end drew near and it became barely audible.
Without warning, I found myself flying through the air and slamming into the wall on the opposite side of the room. Caught off guard from the surprise attack, my eyes first darted back to where Alea lay still on the bed. Thomas, Slade’s right-hand man, was covering her body with a blanket and lifting her off the bed. In my confusion, at first, I thought he was trying to take her for himself. A sharp jab to my face followed by a searing hot pain in my neck nearly brought me to my knees.
That pain could only come from the silver blade of a knife at my throat.
There’s only one man on earth who could do that to me.
My brother.
Thomas and Alea were gone, and Slade was so angry, so vicious, he moved faster than even I could see. The cries from my clan streamed through my mind, and I immediately ordered their retreat. They didn’t stand a chance against him in his blind rage.
Regret and shame filled me as I came out of my crazed state and realized the full ramifications of my actions. Though I hated to add more pain to my brother, distracting him was the only way I could keep him from killing me.
“Slade, I know you’re in here and you want to kill me. I can’t blame you for that. But your wife is close to death, and I think you should go to her before it’s too late. You’ll never forgive yourself if you’re in here fighting with me rather than at her side when she breathes her last. I’m immortal. I have all the time in the world. I’ll always be around later if you want to resume this.”
Once Upon A Midnight Page 100