Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  He lay staring up at the night sky. That last night, he’d left this glen with the promise to her that they would be together. When he returned, she was nowhere to be found. He’d gone after Petrescu thinking the man was responsible, and the bastard claimed no knowledge. His own people believed him and the search for Mihaela began. Marku had returned home to face his father only to be shut down and ordered to forget the gypsy girl and marry Alexandra. His own guilt and shame had answered for him when he agreed to honor his family’s obligation and go through with the wedding, but his heart could not do it. He’d left in the middle of the night to join the search. Each minute that passed meant his Mihaela was in danger, and the longer they waited to find her, the less likely she would survive.

  He’d set out heading for the gypsy camp, fear and anxiety gripping his heart. He never made it. Not far from his destination, he’d flown off his horse and lost consciousness. He still didn’t know exactly what happened, but when he woke the next night, he was filled with a thirst so demanding, he couldn’t ignore it, and what he thirsted for was not water or wine, but blood. His first victim had been his horse. The attack was so savage, the animal was mutilated. But that had not satisfied his bloodlust. He was not far from the Curarya camp, and blind need led him to the site where he massacred nearly the entire tribe including Mihaela’s father, Simion. When some of his thirst had been slaked, he focused on their faces searching for Petrescu. Of all of them, it was his blood he wanted most. Even in his frenzy, his heartbreak was still far more painful.

  “Where is he?” he demanded. The fools ran from him, but he was faster. He leapt upon them, draining them dry. He found Petrescu’s parents, and they refused to tell him what he wanted to know. “Where is your son? Where is that coward? What has he done to Mihaela?” Marku watched as they made the sign of the cross backing up.

  Janus Petrescu shielded his wife. “He is not here, demon! Be gone!”

  Marku laughed, his eyes glowing amber. “Then you will do.” He grabbed the older Petrescu sinking his elongated fangs deep into the old man’s neck. Blood spurted from the vein like a fountain offering life-giving drink. He could hear Janus’s wife screaming behind them, and it only added to the ecstasy. When he tossed the old man’s body away from him, he turned and smiled down upon the mother of his enemy. “Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?” He stepped closer.

  She scrambled backwards, terror in her eyes. “He is not here. My husband did not lie!”

  “Then where is your wayward son, madam?” Marku cornered her, leaning down and placing his hands on the ground at either side of her head. “Tell me and I will spare your life.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks. She glanced at her husband, clearly thinking quickly. “I don’t know where he is now. He was with Magdalena yesterday. That’s all I know. Please!”

  Marku cocked his head sideways like the predator he now was, staring into her eyes. “And who is Magdalena?”

  “She’s the village elder. Our shaman.”

  “Where will I find her?”

  “On the edge of the village, north. She lives apart from us as is her wish.” The woman shrank back.

  He placed a hand on her cheek, caressing softly, and smiled. “There, now. See how easy that was?”

  She held still, not daring to breathe. “Not easy at all. You’ve already taken my life.” Her tortured eyes went to rest on the body of her dead husband.

  “Already?” He looked over his shoulder at Janus. “Well, then, I suppose I should just finish the job.”

  She caught his meaning a half-second too late as Marku gripped her head, twisting it sharply to the left until her neck snapped. She slumped down, dead.

  He left there, heading for the north side of the village. As soon as he found this Magdalena, he would get the information he needed, kill Petrescu, and locate Mihaela. He knew the filthy gypsy dog had something to do with her disappearance. And if he discovered that the man had killed his love, he was going to make Petrescu suffer pain like he’d never imagined.

  Dracula snorted, snuffling the grass at the side of the river. The sound pulled Mark back to the present. He remembered his darkest moments as vividly as if they just happened. He’d never found Petrescu or Mihaela, but he had found Magdalena, and to his astonishment, had been unable to lay hands on her. The gypsy witch possessed powerful magic, had damn near killed him, and he’d had to run away seeking shelter from the rising sun. His life had never been the same since.

  Over the decades, he’d managed to control his bloodlust, matured, one could say, and even mellowed out. He was even appalled by his actions then although not in the least sorry about wanting to kill the man he knew in his heart was responsible for the disappearance of Mihaela. Still, with the reappearance of her in his life reincarnated as Meghan, he was once again moved by the love in his heart, and not the bloodlust inherent in his vampirism. He chuckled. When he realized then what he’d become, he was able to fill in some of the blank spaces in his memory. He must’ve been attacked by a vampire on his way to the gypsy camp that night. It was the only explanation. But what he didn’t understand fully was how Petrescu had survived all these hundreds of years. Magdalena seemed to be the only possible reason. His own mother said he’d visited the shaman the day before, the same night Mark’s life had changed. The bastard must’ve been making a deal with the old devil herself to steal Mihaela’s life and ensure his own. For that alone, he still wanted to kill him. And he was thrilled that he would actually get the chance.

  Mark had long ago given up ever getting his revenge, but Petrescu’s longevity, however he achieved it, was both good news for Mark, and bad news for Petre. But first, he would get his woman.

  He glanced at the moon noticing its position in the night sky. His ears told him that the revelry down by the campfire had died down. He stood up and peered in that direction. His keen sight didn’t reveal anyone walking about. Further down from the glen where he stood was a row of cabins, five in all, and each was filled with its occupants. He wasn’t worried about them. He looked for his horse who stood resting quietly.

  “Stay here and behave. I’ll be back soon…with our woman,” he told the beast.

  Mark set out heading for the main house. His senses, psychically connected to Meghan, led him without fault. When he reached the house, he could see everyone had gone to bed. The fire in the pit was nearly extinguished leaving the scent of burnt wood on the air. He approached the solid double doors. Reaching out, he turned the knob slowly. It wasn’t locked, but when he tried stepping over the threshold, an invisible barrier blocked him. He’d not been invited in so could not enter. He closed the door and walked around the perimeter letting his connection to Meghan guide him. When he came around the back of the house, he looked up. There was a balcony on the second floor. He scaled the wall and perched on the concrete ledge. French-style doors were open letting the breeze inside. He could hear her breathing softly, slowly. She was asleep. Another sound joined hers, another deep breathing. He sniffed the air like a wolf. Curarya. It was the little gypsy. Meghan was not alone, and he could not physically go inside, but he didn’t need to. He sent his thoughts outward and found entry to her dreams through the psychic marks he’d already left imprinted.

  ###

  Meghan sighed. Someone was nuzzling her neck, dropping soft kisses on her tender skin. The tingles running down her spine lit her body on fire with need. She turned her face seeking the lips caressing her. They found hers immediately and claimed her, devouring her mouth, and leaving her breathless. Finally, they pulled away.

  “Have you missed me, Mihaela?”

  Meghan had grown used to hearing him refer to her by this name. It felt right somehow. “Yes. But I don’t understand,” she said.

  “What is it you don’t understand?” His hand cupped her chin as his thumb softly stroked her cheek.

  “The others. They say you want to hurt me. Is it true?” She tried to look up at him, but as always, the shadows hid his fa
ce. Still, the veil had been lifted in her subconscious earlier when Dana revealed his identity to her. She knew who it was.

  “Who says this?” he demanded.

  “The old woman. All of them, the gypsies. They say you’re a monster who wants to kill me.”

  The hurt in her voice pained his heart. He held her face gently with both hands. “Mihaela, I would never hurt you. I’ve only just found you again, and there is no way I will allow anyone between us. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Do you believe me?” He searched her eyes.

  She paused, sorting through her feelings. Finally, “Yes. Yes, I believe you.”

  “And do you love me?” His deep voice held a note of desperation.

  “I do.” Her reply sounded sweet to his ears and touched his desiccated heart.

  “Then come with me. Come be with me, now. There is a place I want to show you.”

  Meghan heard the excitement in his voice and it was infectious. “What is this place?”

  “You’ve seen it many times. I take you there in your dreams, but I want you to see it with your eyes, not just through my memories. Come. Rise up out of your bed and step out onto the balcony.” He stepped back, retreating.

  She felt his loss immediately. “Wait! Don’t go.” She reached for him, but found nothing.

  “I’m right outside.” His voice rumbled deep, soothing her.

  Meghan sat up and placed her feet on the floor. Still caught up inside the dream, she stood and followed the direction that the sound of his words indicated. Each step brought her closer, and as she drew near, the dream began to fade as her mind awakened. She stopped, looking around and wondering how she got where she was.

  “I am here, Mihaela.”

  The familiar voice beckoned and her heart raced. She tip-toed to the door peering through the opening. Her eyes located the tall, dark figure. The man stood leaning casually with his arms crossed over his chest. He wore all black from head to toe, and he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. He was solid, muscular, and real. Meghan opened the door and stepped one foot out onto the balcony. He lifted his head and smiled.

  “It’s really you.” She whispered her words, awe and fear mixed within them.

  He heard it. “Don’t be afraid. I will not hurt you. I would rather die than hurt you.” He searched her face.

  Meghan could see the sincerity in his expression. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes, held hers. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered from the tavern, and her body responded to his presence, desiring his arms around her. The carnal memory of her dreams that past week caused her to blush as she recalled everything they’d done together, every place his hands had touched, every inch of skin his lips had tasted, and the complete possession he took when he entered her willing body, thrusting deep, and wringing unbelievable ecstasy from her soul. The slow, sexy grin that began to spread across his full lips told her he knew where her thoughts wandered.

  The smile disappeared when he caught sight of the locket hanging around her slender neck. He stared at the thing nestled between her breasts just below the neckline of her thin gown. “Do you still love me, Mihaela?” He sought her eyes again, asking the question once more now that she was awake.

  Meghan hesitated, torn between the wild feelings lighting her body on fire, and the warning still ringing in her ears from Adina. “I don’t know what to say. Why is everyone warning me about you? Why do they think you want to hurt me? We’ve met only once. I don’t understand.”

  “Because they don’t understand. They don’t know who I am. They don’t know who you are.”

  “Who am I?” She was confused.

  “You are Mihaela. You are the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe fate would give me a second chance after it snatched you away from me. I don’t deserve it.”

  The anguish in his words ripped at her heart. She reached for his hand, but he pulled away as if she’d burned him. She stopped. “That makes no sense to me,” she waited, and then, “Who are you?”

  “It would be easier to show you. The story is long and complicated.” He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides.

  “Then show me,” she demanded.

  He looked at the necklace. Her eyes followed.

  “What? This?” She pulled it out from her gown and he backed up. “You mean this actually works?” She saw the truth in his retreat. She lifted an eyebrow.

  “I can show you, but you will have to remove that.” He pointed at the jewelry.

  “Adina said I was never to remove this. Why?” Meghan looked up at him.

  “Because it hurts me. It can kill me, because of what I am.” The sadness in his tone touched her.

  “A vampire.” Meghan said the words out loud feeling completely silly.

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  “You’re really a vampire?” The incredulity in her voice rose.

  “Sssh,” he whispered. “Yes, I am a vampire, and no, I am not going to kill you. I can show you everything with a touch,” he held out his hand, “but only if you remove the talisman. Otherwise, you, and only you will be the death of me, and after eight-hundred years, that is saying something.”

  “Eight-hundred?” The shock in her eyes caused him to chuckle.

  “Yes. I guess you could say I’m the proverbial older man to you. But at one time, we were the same age.”

  Meghan blew out a breath. This was getting weirder than it already was. She fingered the locket while she considered her options. He leaned back against the wall, his hand still out, palm up, waiting.

  “What’s your name?”

  He stood straighter. “Marku Andrei Anghelescu or, just Mark at your service.” He proffered a courtly bow.

  The name sank in, and something inside Meghan unlocked by one tumbler. There were more tumblers to go, but she needed answers to get them to fall into place. She made her decision, and reaching up, she unclasped the chain and set the necklace on the balcony ledge. Without further hesitation, she placed her hand in his and stepped inside the circle of his arms.

  It was electric. The simple touch of his skin against hers felt like a current running throughout her entire body. Meghan looked at their clasped hands in wonder, but when she looked at Mark’s face, she was stunned. He was staring at her in complete awe. There was both happiness and pain in his dark eyes, and the smile that trembled on his lips slowly spread into a full-fledged expression of pure joy.

  His fingers entangled in her own even as his free hand came up to caress her cheek gently. “Finally, after so long, you are here.”

  His deep whisper sent shivers down Meghan’s spine. Her skin instantly puckered with gooseflesh and when his thumb skimmed her lower lip, tingles danced over her body. “How is this possible?” she asked.

  “Because you are mine,” he growled, “And I am yours!” And then his lips found hers. The kiss exploded as his tongue sought the innermost warmth of her mouth sweeping, delving deep, and drowning Meghan in desire. His arms reached around and pulled her close. His hands roamed her back, gripping and caressing, kneading and molding her softness into his hardness.

  Heat spread out from her core like a wildfire. As close as she already was, her body wanted to be closer. Mark nibbled her lips and then soothed them with soft kisses. His large, strong hands slid down to cup her rounded derriere, his fingers gently squeezing as he lifted her up onto her toes until her center rested against his growing desire. She moaned into his mouth as he thrust his hips forward while he gripped her pliable flesh. The rubbing motion had Meghan wrapping one leg around his waist. His hand slid to her knee lifting it higher creating the opening he needed to hit her sweet spot.

  His lips left hers to trail down her neck nipping here and there. Meghan wanted more. She needed to remove the barriers between them.

  “Mark, please,” she whimpered.

  He smiled into her fragrant hair. “Please what, Mihaela?”

  “Please!” she panted.


  He knew she was close. He knew her body then, and he knew it now after a week of erotic dreams. He stopped. “Not here.”

  “What? No!” Meghan stared at him, shocked.

  Mark tried to keep the smile from his face. “Not with your friend inside. Come with me.” He stepped back.

  “Where?” Meghan felt frustrated. Her body was filled with heat, her blood thick and pulsing between her legs.

  “Trust me. We’ll be there in no time at all, and then we will have all the time in the world for this.” He pulled her against him again, his erection pressed against her through both of their clothing. Mark could see her lower lip protruding in an unconscious pout. “It’s as painful for me as well, my love, I promise, but it will be worth it. We’ll finally be together.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers, and Meghan’s resolve melted away. She trusted him. In their short and strange time together, he’d only ever brought her pleasure, had only ever been kind, sweet, and tender.

  “Okay. I’ll go grab my clothes and shoes, and meet you out front.” She dropped a quick kiss on his lips and ran inside on tip-toes.

  Mark waited until she was out of sight, and then in one quick motion, leapt over the side and landed two stories below. He ran around to the front and when she appeared coming out the main door, he took her hand and led her off to the woods. Behind them, the house slept on.

  Chapter Nine

  “THIS IS IT.” After walking for nearly twenty minutes, they arrived in a clearing. Mark spread his arms wide and spun around to face her.

  Meghan took it all in. She had a strong feeling of déjà vu. “I’ve been here before,” she said. She walked to a grassy spot and sat down feeling the ground with her hands. She looked up at the night sky, listening. “There’s a stream around here, a small river.” She glanced over her shoulder, and then pointed. “Back there.” She turned quickly to look at him. “How do I know that? How could I have ever been here before?”