Heart of Dracula

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  His heart could beat.

  “We are creatures of hunger. Three things may inspire a vampire’s heart to beat. Lust for violence, for blood, or for flesh.” She felt him smile against her as he settled himself lower over her, his chest against hers, his lips now at that spot where her neck joined her shoulder. “And, in rare joyous moments, more than one.”

  His hand grasped her hair, holding her head still, and he rolled his tongue over her skin once more. She moaned and whimpered in fear in the same breath. “Wait, please—”

  “Shush, Maxine…be still.” He kissed her throat again, slowly, again and again. He was luring her down from her instinctual panic. The hunter was coaxing the deer closer to him with a beckoning hand. It was a lie, but she could not resist it. Little by little, she felt her panic slide away as he lavished her throat with slow, tender, loving kisses.

  “That’s it,” he praised her and moved to cradle her head in one of his hands. “Look to yourself, my beautiful child, and tell me you do not desire this. If you can say the words to me without a lie, I will leave you be.” His fingers threaded into her hair, stroking her skin. He returned his lips to her throat.

  This feels like bliss.

  She could not speak the words. No matter how much she should, she could not. He was right. She had pulled him closer. She had arched into his touch. God help her, she wanted to feel his kiss.

  With a shiver, she took a deep breath and let it out, forcing herself to go lax in his arms as she did. Shutting her eyes, she turned her head and bared her throat fully. This is willful surrender.

  He moaned, a sound that rumbled through her like the call of a bell might resonate the stones around it. And with that, something sharp pierced her throat.

  Maxine cried out.

  14

  His fangs pierced her throat.

  The noise she made was broken off nearly in the same instant. The pain had been total, but it had been brief. For the breadth of the barest second, everything seemed to hang suspended in the air.

  Then everything throbbed.

  Everything moved with the tempo of her heart. Of his dead heart that should not beat, spurred to life now in time with hers. It stole her rhythm, and it became his own.

  She felt him there, his fangs still deep in her skin. But something had risen to take the place of the agony she should have felt from the deep wound. Instead, she could only feel something that was far more dangerous. Far more insidious.

  Far more damning.

  Pleasure.

  Overwhelming, total, and utter pleasure.

  Her body was alive with it. Consumed by it. Her breath came short and shallow in her chest as she lay there beneath him. His weight was against his elbow near her head, and he caged her in on all sides. Escape had been impossible.

  And now, it was undesirable.

  All her will to avoid this had ended the moment his teeth had pierced her skin. Now, heat rushed over her body like she had been doused in a hot bath. It burned in her, reached into her core and lit it on fire.

  Tha-thump.

  Tha-thump.

  Tha-thump.

  Like the beat of a drum, she heard her heart in her ears. But with each moment, with each pounding sound, she felt him pull from her. Take from her. Drink from her.

  And he was in no hurry.

  And still, his thoughts coaxed her. His presence against hers whispered that he would leave her alive, unharmed, and barely the worse for wear. It was not about leaving her a drained husk. This was not meant to kill her. This was not meant to harm her.

  This was a lesson.

  It was to show her what he had promised her. He had sworn she would enjoy it. And now, in the face of it, she could not deny that he had been right.

  The hand she had placed against his throat was now tangled in his hair, holding his head to her throat, begging silently for more. For him to sink his teeth deeper and take her fully. Each time he pulled from her, she felt a wave of bliss wash over her. She had never known anything like it. She surrendered to it once more. Surrendered to him, and whatever he sought to do with her.

  Then he began to purr. It was a low noise, deep in his chest, and she felt it more than it reached her ears. A low, soothing, enticing rumble that vibrated in her and made her wish to sink farther into his grasp. It made her wish he would take it all from her. If she were to die like this, certainly there would be no better way to greet the reaper. It was animalistic, inhuman, and utterly foreign.

  It should scare her. He was consuming her. And she wanted it.

  “Yes. Let go, my beautiful.” Those thoughts were not hers. They belonged to him. Mixing with hers, becoming tangled up in them and indistinguishable. “Surrender to me. Surrender to this. Give me all that you are, and I can give you everything in return.” Still, that beastly, terrible, and wonderful purr continued in his chest.

  She felt a burning need that roared forward with alarming fervor. She wanted him inside her everywhere. Everywhere he could be, she needed him to be. Her mind, her blood, and now her body. Hunger consumed her thoughts.

  As she bent her knees, drawing him deeper between them, she moaned as she felt proof of his own desire pressing against her through their clothing.

  He growled against her throat, loud and primal. “Patience.”

  She did not know which one of them he was scolding. Perhaps both.

  Tha-thump.

  Tha-thump.

  The pleasure did not cease or dampen. It threatened to empty her mind of all other thoughts. He was all that existed to her in this moment.

  The spread of dark wings against a night sky. Stars she did not recognize over a forest of evergreen trees. A castle in some lonesome mountain range. The burning sun overhead as everything had been taken from him. Grief, and pain, and loss, and time filled her. Hunger and desire. Lust for life, desire for death. Passion.

  All that he was, she was.

  And she embraced it all.

  Kiss me. Please. I need you.

  His fangs slid free of her throat. She felt him pull his head away from her enough that he turned her to look at him. Crimson eyes were glittering with pleasure and that all-consuming intensity she had felt. He was not immune to what had passed between them.

  But he had heard her thoughts. He had heard her command.

  And he obeyed.

  The poor little thing had fainted.

  To be truthful, Vlad was not entirely surprised. Gifted with power such as she was, she was still a mortal child. She had endured much in the past two days, and it was clear she had not slept or eaten very much in the time that had passed. And he was not easy on her. He pushed her at every opportunity to see what might happen. And it had been very worth it. Oh, what he had felt from her as they embraced!

  He could feel her soul in the darkness of his, pressed against him like a lover in the shadows of the night. Like honey and apples. Like the crisp fall wind. Like life itself, the moment before it blazed and fell away.

  He did love the autumn months. They were a celebration of both life and death. The glory of what came before and the remind of what would follow. And she was just that. She was a warm hearth, and he was so cold.

  He could feel her need, her desire, her curiosity, and her compassion. And such a compassionate thing she was. Drawn to comfort the monster in the darkness, even as it snapped its teeth at her. My creatures will adore you. They will worship you. You will be a balm to us all. I vow it.

  Even as his fangs had been buried in her throat, even as he had threatened to take her life, she was the invading army. He felt her there, inside his mind, pervasive and total in her presence. No one had stepped inside his thoughts in all his years. Let alone some bright-eyed, fiendishly intelligent girl. She rummaged through his memories, dredging up sights he had long since forgotten. He was nothing but an unlocked warehouse to the child. Even as he drank her blood, he was her victim.

  It triggered in him a desire that transcended wanting and now was firmly needin
g. She needed to be his. And he would have her. She was a dangerous toy to play with, and it did little to dissuade him. Indeed, all the opposite. She could undo him, and that thrilled him.

  You think you cannot destroy me, my darling. Oh, no. You can. My soul still sits in your hand. Too strong for you to destroy unwittingly, yes. But you could still cast me upon the stones if you wished, cannonball as I might be. He tried not to laugh and kept it to a quiet chuckle. Yes. His little empath was far more than met the eye.

  Not that what met his eye was displeasing in any way.

  And now he was certain she wanted him. Her pleasure had echoed in his, reflecting at him like a candle in a mirror. Their minds had twisted together and joined as one as he had fed from her. How she had writhed beneath him, as her desire became tangled with his and became too much for her to battle.

  It was delicious to watch her succumb to not only her passion, but his. Even as she had pulled open the darkest corners of his mind to peer inside, the gates had opened wide both ways. He was not certain how much of her lust was truly her own or for how much of it he was to blame. If she had not fainted, he was certain he could have taken her here on the cold stone of a stranger’s grave and she would have begged him for more.

  Sadly, she had not been able to withstand all he levied against her. A setback or an opportunity, he was not sure.

  This is a game best played slowly.

  But he would not complain with what he had won already.

  What a joy it would be when he could strip away those layers of fabric one by one and take her as he wished to do. As his body demanded he do in this moment, throbbing painfully as it did, trapped in the confines of his clothing. It was so rare that his heart ever beat at all, but it was not that particular organ that felt as slighted as the other. But he would not have her for the first time when she was unconscious beneath him. He wanted to watch her face as his conquest was complete.

  It would not be complete, though…of that he was now quite convinced.

  It was not her body he now realized would be the greatest challenge, as it was for most. For most, the body fell last—the mind surrendered first. For her, he knew it would be the opposite. It would be her heart that would remain closed to him. And farther than that, it would be her mind that would be the ultimate prize. If she could love him, would she ever not feel regret for doing so?

  Those would be the battlegrounds of their war. And what a wonderful fight it would be.

  He had heard her command echo in his mind. Kiss me. She had demanded it from him. And who was he to resist such a thing? And so, he had granted it to her in full. Released of his bite, the pleasure that had been forced over her like a poison had faded, and with it she had become overwhelmed.

  He had kissed her until she slipped into unconsciousness. Now he lay with his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, careful to keep his weight from crushing her.

  Beautiful child. Wonderful child.

  He had barely taken more than a few mouthfuls from her. She would not even be dizzy come the dawn. He grinned to himself and turned his head to plant a kiss against her collarbone. She was so very warm. So very soft. He growled in his unsated desires and tried to take solace in those that had been fed this night.

  You are mine, Maxine. The threat he had paid her had not been an idle one. It had not been a vain statement to scare her. It was the simple truth.

  This surprising child—this mistress of souls—belonged to him now.

  And no one would pry her from his hands.

  Maxine was dreaming.

  She would have expected a nightmare. Flashes of being chased by a ghoul through the streets, perhaps. The cruel laugh of a Vampire King, threatening to steal her and consume her.

  “You are mine, Maxine.”

  The words echoed in her mind, the dream whispering close to her ear. But it was not a cackling laugh from the shadows. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

  She moaned in her dream. Her hands twisted in crimson sheets. He was there above her, caging her in, dark tendrils of hair draping around his alabaster features and brushing over her skin. She felt him there between her legs, lying against her, as he had been atop the tomb when he had fed from her. When his fangs had been buried in her throat.

  But now, one thing had changed.

  He was hilted deep in a very different way.

  It was a dream. Only a desperate fantasy of her sleeping mind. The world around her was fuzzy and unreal. Intangible at the edges, like a watercolor painting left in the rain. But what was close to her—near to her—was very real.

  His lips claimed hers, and she whimpered. Her stomach twisted in excitement. Despite her entire inexperience in the act itself, that didn’t stop her body from dreaming up what it might be like. From imagining the primal truth that creatures knew and desired. That was before one counted the memories she had gathered from others. Those dreams of other lives had shown her what it was like to experience intimacy from both partners’ perspectives.

  But she had never known it herself. It had been an impossibility.

  Until now.

  When his lips trailed to her ear, she felt something change. Something shifted. The dream became…sharper. Clearer.

  She was not alone.

  “My, my…What a pleasant surprise.”

  She went rigid and tried to push him away. Embarrassment rushed through her. But his hand caught hers. He carefully pressed it to the silk sheets beside her head. She stammered. “I—”

  “Shush.” He kissed her, silencing her protests, and she cried out as he pressed his hips into hers, deeper than she had imagined the dance might possibly go. Her body might not know what it felt like—but his did. Taking from his memories, she felt the pleasure tear through her.

  She moaned as he withdrew slowly, nearly all the way, before repeating the gesture and filling her. He was slow. Gentle, but unstoppable. Unwavering as he stretched her and withdrew. Moving with the same patient tempo as when he had fed from her, he was once more proving to her what he could offer her.

  Pleasure.

  And by the gods, it felt astonishing.

  With each easy stroke into her, she felt the tension melt from her limbs. She felt him lure her to open to him, easing her fears, just as he had done before his bite.

  When she once more lay beneath him willing and supple, only then did he break his kiss. Crimson eyes watched her, heavy-lidded and thick with passion. With his own pleasure. There was a slight twist to his lips. “You never cease to amaze.”

  “This is only a dream. An illusion. You’re not here. You’re—Ah!” Her words cut off as he sank himself deep into her, somehow farther than before. She didn’t even know it was possible. She knew she had lied when she had said it. He was in her mind. He was in her dreams. He was in her body. He was everywhere.

  “This is a fantasy. One I would be happy to make real, my beautiful Maxine.” His voice was a dark, dusky rumble as he pressed into her, a little harder than before, but still no faster. Her mind reeled with what it did to her. She was squeezing his hand in hers. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t fight it. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “This isn’t my fantasy,” she gasped.

  “Oh, but it is. You called me here. We are sleeping, and I felt you call for me. And here I am.” He pressed inside of her, and she moaned. She turned her head away in embarrassment. “No, Maxine. Do not turn away from this. There is no shame here. Dreams are honest. They are a window to the soul. In this place, there is no hiding from what you really are. What you really need.”

  “I shouldn’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He pressed into her and withdrew nearly all the way again.

  The friction was bliss. The feeling of him inside her was more than she could have ever even hoped. “You’re my enemy.”

  “No, Maxine. I am not. You wish I would be such, but it is hardly that simple. Accept it.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can
.” He leaned down and kissed the hollow of her throat beneath her ear. “You can, and you shall.” Still he moved in her, never faltering, never speeding. Deep, consuming, tearing away all the shadowy parts of her soul and making them his. She struggled to keep hold of some private parts of her mind, and he growled over her. “Feel me, Maxine. Stop shutting me out.”

  “I can’t shut you out…”

  “You are stronger than you think. Let me in. Let me touch you.”

  He pressed again. She arched her back, his bare skin against hers. She cried out as he seemed to reach a part of her that she had never known existed, and it sang for him.

  Just as her body had opened to him, she felt her mind follow suit. She felt his soul rush toward hers and he was filling her in more ways than one. She heard his desire, heard his hunger, heard his need for her. He wanted this as badly as she did. More so, if it were possible.

  An image of him lying her down on her bed once more, fingers trailing over the wound on her neck, played in front of her eyes. A second rose joined the first in the glass vase upon her nightstand. He had left her there to sleep in her own home. But how he had wanted to take her. To steal her. To do this to her.

  But he was patient. He would wait.

  His hand released hers to trail down her naked body. His touch was hot, his blood pumping in his veins. Lust was what drove it forward, he had said—for blood, for violence, or for flesh.

  “Do not be afraid of this.” His voice was a breathy whisper by her ear. “Embrace it. Embrace me, my beautiful one.”

  She could only whimper beneath him as he pressed himself into her, and she felt him there now to the hilt. He throbbed, surged, and she could feel something hot inside her body. A growl left his throat, eager and feral.

  He felt impossible inside of her. Too much of him, too deep. She felt split wide, broken in two, left helpless in his hands. She whimpered as the feeling of him was too much. She came undone, feeling ecstasy threaten to wipe her mind empty of all thoughts. Of anything that was not him. It was only a dream, yet she had never felt anything like it before in her life.