Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

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  Copyright © 2015 Michele E. Gwynn

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  1356 A.D. Moldova

  Perfume is never so sweet, so delicate as when it blends with the heat of her skin, the scent of her blood. Like the night sky, her memory intoxicates me, sitting upon my tongue like the finest wine, purifying my soul with her very essence. The craving to taste her red nectar overwhelms my sanity like waves from the deepest ocean, and the need to satisfy my craving sanctifies my spirit like darkest communion. However will I spend eternity without her by my side, without her light and her love? I am lost inside this hell without my sweet Mihaela…

  Marku Andrei Anghelescu

  Chapter One

  Bucharest, Romania

  Present Day

  MARK ANGEL SAT brooding over his computer. It was 2:00 a.m. and the worry line between his dark brows seemed more pronounced than usual. He was reading an article online about a group of students who had come to Romania to teach English at the University of Bucharest. The story itself was not interesting, but what kept Mark glued to the monitor was the picture posted of the students.

  She stood in the center of the frame, surrounded by four others. Her face, radiant. Her eyes staring back at him seemed luminous, dark, and deep. Her smile promised laughter. He knew this face; knew it well although he hadn’t gazed upon it for almost eight hundred years. Mark lifted a finger to trace a lock of her honey-colored hair that fell over her shoulder. The LCD screen distorted at the point of his touch.

  It just couldn’t be her, he thought. This vision from a long forgotten past couldn’t possibly be her. But the pain in his chest, the one that threatened to suffocate him with its intensity, told him otherwise. He felt…something; something both foreign and familiar, and he didn’t like it. He hadn’t felt anything for so long that the shock of feeling such pain…what was it? Grief! This feeling of grief was ripping him in two.

  Memories bombarded him without mercy. Mihaela pressed against his flesh, locked onto him in passion. The sound of her pleasure being ripped from her as he mastered her body, driving himself deep within her womanhood. The taste of her kiss as she licked his lips, nibbled his jaw, and whispered hotly in his ear, “More!” It had sounded more like a moan than a command. But he accommodated her regardless, cradling her head in his hand and hiking her hips higher while burying himself deeper, pushing harder. Her lust had matched his own, fanning flames of passion so hot they consumed them both. And like two phoenixes, they arose from their own ashes in the morning and started the fire all over again.

  “Mihaela” whispered Mark. “My Mihaela”. He ran his hands through his wavy dark hair before covering his face with them. There he sat, statue still, for nearly half an hour. His body shook subtly as if sobbing, but no tears fell. He had none to shed.

  Finally, Mark slid his hands down to his chin, resting his face on the heels of both and gazed once again at her image. “I lost you once, but not this time. Fate, Mihaela, has brought you back to me.” A slow smile spread across his ruggedly handsome face. An unholy light began to glow amber in his black eyes. He stood and stretched up to his full height of six foot five inches and flexed his broad shoulders. He began to plan.

  Centuries of experience in strategy would provide Mark with all he needed to bring her to him. After all, it worked in his business, bringing him more wealth than any man needed in one lifetime. But one lifetime’s worth of wealth could never be enough for a man with unlimited life. It was why he worked so hard, that and boredom. Work had kept him busy, kept him from noticing his loneliness. Until tonight, at this moment, he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d become. He’d managed to put all that behind him long ago, when she had disappeared without a trace.

  He glanced again at the screen, noting her graceful neck, high, pert breasts, and long blue-jean clad legs. The clothing was different, but everything about her brought forth a familiar hunger. It was raw and needy. “Soon, my love. Soon I’ll have you in my arms again. And this time, I won’t let you go.”

  Mark walked away toward the master suite of his family home. His footsteps might have echoed off the floor had he been like other men. Instead, barely a whisper could be heard as this large and lethal man quickly left the study. There was much to do and he didn’t wish to waste a single moment of time. Funny, he thought, all I have is time!

  ###

  Meghan Hartley sat on the edge of her bed and surveyed her new domicile for the next year. Signing up as an exchange student in Romania had been the greatest decision of her life so far. In exchange for her dormitory style room and a school year’s-worth of classes, she would teach one class on conversational English per semester. She had her own classes in the mornings, and would teach class in the afternoon five days a week. It was a great deal to handle, but well worth it. She knew she would be able to explore Bucharest on the weekends and experience the Romanian culture first hand.

  Her family had asked her why in the world she wanted to go to Romania. She didn’t have a concrete answer to their query. She only knew that from the first moment she studied Eastern European history, she had been fascinated by the politics and culture of Romania. She’d always thought of herself as something of a gypsy, a free-spirited wanderer, and the lure of their mystical, bohemian lifestyle called to her blood. As far as she knew, she had never stepped foot onto this land, but here she was, as if summoned. From the first minute she had stepped off the plane, she felt as if she’d come home. It was weird.

  A giggle burst out of her and she smiled, looking around and out her window. The old architecture of the university and the surrounding city seemed to welcome her. “I can’t wait to get out and see you.”

  Meghan hummed to herself as she continued to put away her clothes. Her blonde hair bounced around her face in large curls. In the way, as usual, she thought, pushing it back over her shoulders. When the task was complete, she selected clean pajamas, and walked into her bathroom. Lucky me. I have my own bathroom. Thank God, no sharing.

  The bathroom had an old, white claw-foot tub with a shower handle mounted on the wall. A soak would be nice after that long flight. Meghan turned on the faucet and waited until the temperature was just right. She dropped the plug into the drain and let the warm water fill the tub. The sun sank below the horizon as she stripped off her travel clothes and stepped in.

  “Mmmn. This feels nice.” She sat down carefully, letting the warm liquid envelop her in its heat. Laying back, she stretched out as far as she could to soak away the stiffness in her muscles left over from the long flight. Steam fogged up the mirror above the sink. The white subway tiles gleamed in the fluorescent lighting. Outside, the last rays of sunlight faded away leaving a growing darkness in its wake.

  ###

  To the northeast, he awakened, eyes flying open. A slow smile spread over his lips. A tingling sensation thrummed throughout his body. He felt like a live wire flowing with electricity. She’s here, he thought. I can feel her.

  Mark arose, muscles bunching and rippling on his naked frame. He still slept nude, a habit from his long-dead humanity that he never lost. If the mirror by his bed could hold his reflection, it would reveal the hardened body of a warrior complete with a light trail of black chest hair leading a teasing path downwards toward a lance well used to slaying females with deadly intent, a backside that looked sculpted of marble, and the handsome visage of a Greek God.

  Donning his clothing with precision, Marku Andrei Anghelescu made his way out of his family estate. The night beckoned him, embrac
ed him, and then swallowed him whole as he disappeared from sight. The hunt was on, but first, he must slake his thirst before indulging the desire that burned within him. “Mihaela, I’m coming for you.”

  ###

  In her small bathroom in the university dormitory, Meghan’s skin puckered as if cold. Goose flesh covered her body and stiffened her nipples. It was not a wholly unpleasant feeling, but she wondered at the sudden chill. Lifting her washcloth, she grabbed her body wash and began to bathe, sliding the cloth over her neck, then her breasts, and down to her belly, soothing away all her tension. She felt as if something exciting was coming her way here in Romania, something extraordinary. She smiled and completed her ablutions before stepping out of the tub to dry off.

  Chapter Two

  DREAMS OF A wild and foreign nature plagued Meghan’s rest. She tossed and turned in the twin bed of her dorm room. She was standing in the middle of a vast courtyard in the dead of night. A tall man stood in front of her. She could feel the menace of his intent. She searched for his face, but it remained in shadows. He lifted his arm reaching out his hand to grab her. The grip was painful. Fingers slid around her neck, choking, and then he lifted her up over his shoulder carrying her off. She felt terror and tried to fight back, but her body would not respond. In her mind, she kept thinking ‘He must come! Surely he would find her. Please God!’

  A black mist shifted the dynamics of the dream and she was alone in a glade, one she knew as she’d somehow determined she’d grown up not far from it. It was evening, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, and about to disappear altogether. The last rays of warmth ebbed away and a chill tip-toed up and over her skin. Meghan realized she was naked. Looking down, she wondered where her clothes had gone, and why she was alone.

  A twig cracked behind her. Whirling around, she searched the brush for the intruder. He stepped out, tall, dark, handsome, and dangerous. A smile spread across her lips. “It’s you!” she said. “Where have you been? You’ve been gone so long that I thought you were dead!”

  He said nothing, only walked steadily toward her with a gleam in his eyes. They glowed a strange amber in a face mostly hidden in shadow, and seemed to burn her to her soul. His tread was as quiet as a panther stalking its prey. A shiver of a different kind stole over her skin. He looked...hungry.

  When at last he stopped before her, Meghan threw her arms around his neck. He stopped her midway, grasping her wrists and lifting them above her head. He glanced down at her upturned breasts now thrusting up and toward him, hard from excitement and the chill of the night air, and spun her around facing away from his gaze. He kept his hands locked on her wrists, crossing her arms over her ribcage and yanking her back against the solid wall of muscle of his chest and abdomen. She moaned.

  With slow deliberation, He leaned down, nuzzling her neck through the thick strands of her hair. “Please!” she said. And he obliged. He placed both her wrists in one of his large hands so he could lift her hair away from the warm fragrance of her neck. Barely whispering his lips across her sensitive skin from the soft lobe of her ear down to the spot where her shoulder begins, he teased her. Her excitement increased the heat rising off of her body. Her salty-sweet aroma ignited the beast within him. Flicking his tongue out, he tasted her.

  The look of ecstasy on his face went unnoticed by Meghan who was tightly held to this magnificent man. Something hard and insistent rubbed against her backside and she pressed further back, her body seeking closer communion.

  He could no longer resist her sweet temptation. Wrapping both his arms around her soft frame, he leaned in, an unholy light peeking through his slitted lids. She felt this was the moment. He’ll take me now. Yes! He’ll take me now. Her body both clenched and expanded in womanly anticipation. A low, animalistic growl escaped his lips. He was holding her too tight! “Marku, I can’t breathe” she said, suddenly frantic.

  He squeezed tighter. She began to struggle, to try and break his hold. Her panicked movement only excited him further. “You are mine” he said, laughing low. She turned her head enough to catch the bone white gleam of a sharp fang seconds before it plunged into her neck!

  Meghan awoke on a half-choked scream!

  She sat up slowly, her hands around her neck. Her heart pounded as she searched the dim room. Nothing greeted her. The moonlight shown in through a crack in the curtain over her window. A breeze rippled the fabric. Meghan started.

  She didn’t remember leaving that window open. Slowly she rose and walked on tip toes to the billowing curtains. Carefully, she lifted the edge of the material. The window was cracked open slightly as if the old-fashioned latch had come loose. She refastened it, tested it for security, then backed away to her bed. She sat there momentarily trying to recall the dream. It faded quickly away on soft gray wisps. After a few moments, she couldn’t recall it at all.

  She lay back down, pulling her comforter over her. In minutes, she was asleep. Meghan turned her head dreamily into the pillow, unconsciously exposing two tiny pinpricks in her neck. As she slept on, they disappeared leaving only a vague, pinkish pucker.

  The next day was very busy for Meghan. She had two classes in the morning, and had to prepare for her first afternoon class teaching English over a light lunch of fruit and cheese. It was an exciting day.

  The crisp autumn air didn’t bite, but nibbled through her sweater. It was a pleasant coolness. A breeze whipped leaves of all colors around her landing on the grass creating a beautiful patchwork covering. The old architecture surrounding the quad where she sat at a stone picnic table elicited a happy smile from her lips.

  Today, she wore charcoal gray slacks, black boots, and a dark, hunter green sweater. She’d elected to leave her hair down to keep her neck warm although wearing it up might have added a little more age and maturity to her appearance. Oh well, she thought. Not a big deal.

  Students of all ages walked around her going here and there. One young man was playing an acoustic guitar while sitting under a tree. Three girls were gathered around him, listening, giggling, and just goofing around. The young man seemed to be eating up all the female attention.

  “Excuse me. You’re Meghan Hartley?” Meghan turned quickly, feeling startled. A tall blond man was standing next to her. He wore his long hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Yes?” she replied.

  “Sorry to scare you” he said in English with a heavy Romanian accent. “I’m Petre Petrescu, Professor of Sociology.” He held out his hand to her.

  “Oh. Nice to meet you. How did you know who I was?” she asked. Meghan hesitated, then shook his hand. His touch was cold, as was the metal that made contact with her skin. She glanced down and saw a heavy gold ring inset with a ruby on his pinky. It was somewhat delicate for a man’s ring, but she never cared for rings on men either way outside of a wedding band.

  “Everyone on faculty knows who you and your friends are. A few of the professors will be attending your English class to polish up on their language skills.”

  He looked at her with an unnerving intensity. She didn’t like it. He made her feel as if she were under a microscope, like an insect. His long nose and gaunt cheeks were framed by a strong jawline. His brown eyes were set deep under heavy blond brows. His height gave illusion to his size which, under closer scrutiny, was muscular. He simply struck her as long and lean at first until he moved his wide shoulders in a shrug.

  “Well,” she said, “that’s a little intimidating knowing I’ll be teaching tenured instructors. Now I’m really nervous.”

  “Don’t be. You’ll be fine. So how are you settling in? Everything to your liking? No bad experiences so far?” He said this as if interrogating her for information. It was weird. He seemed to be staring a hole through her.

  “Everything is fine so far. Thank you.”

  He stared a half second longer before pulling himself to his full height. “Then I’ll leave you to your planning. It was good to meet you, Miss Hartley.” With that, he reached for her hand
sitting on top of the table, lifted it, and kissed the back of it like a throwback to another time.

  “Nice to meet you, too” she said with a lack of feeling. His lips on her skin felt revolting. She couldn’t explain why she took such an instant dislike to this man, but she did.

  He noticed, and blinked. Recovering, Petrescu smiled and turned to leave. “I shall be seeing you around” he said as he walked away.

  She hoped not. He was creepy. How could such a creepy man be a professor of sociology? She shivered as if someone had danced over her grave. Noticing the feeling, she crossed herself like her grandmother used to do.

  Trying to forget that meeting, Meghan went back to her lesson plan. Today was going to be a good day, and no creepy stranger was going to spoil it for her.

  ###

  The first class went well. Meghan had a total of twenty-four students, ten of which were faculty who were trying to better their English. Everyone had been courteous and eager. She started off by stating the class would be a total emersion into English. Only English would be spoken during class time. Meghan had taken two years of the Romanian language and could hold a simple conversation so if anyone faltered, she could help get them back on track.

  She spent half the class speaking their language before starting to work in baby steps toward Basic English. It had been great fun.

  One of her new students was a woman named Dana Veleru. Dana was one of the mathematics professors. Short, dark-haired, and round, she had an open and expressive face. Meghan liked her straight off.

  “So, you are liking it here in Bucharest so far, yes?” said Dana with a big smile. Her English was a little better than most having taken a year of study three years prior. “My apology if my English is not so good. I have no one to practice with me.”