by Claire Marta
To my pleasure, I find myself seated between them. Helping each one into her chair, I quickly take my own.
Across from me, Dorian smirks. A knowing look plays over his expression before he hides it.
Mina has bewitched me. I’m sure he has no trouble seeing that. A heart that has remained dead for centuries now awakens behind my ribs. It has beaten for no other. Not with true love. Burdened with my grief for my dead Elizabeth, I had thought it as lost as my soul. All I can do is stare at the captivating creature beside me. She has rendered me so utterly helpless. Still stunned I am yet to finally react.
The room buzzes around us with conversation. Servants hurry in to place dishes before us.
I’ve all but forgotten the taste of food. It’s like ash in my mouth. In the first months of my affliction, I could keep nothing down even though I tried. It did not take long before my hunger rose. That night I discovered it was blood that sustained me.
I make the effort to fake enjoyment. Each scrap that passes my lips sends my stomach churning. Later, when I’m alone, I’ll rid myself of it.
“How are you finding your first experience of Whitby, Mr. Tepes?”
Tilting my head, I smile at Mina. “More enchanting than I imagined it would be.”
Pink spreads through her cheeks in a delicate blush as she witnesses the heat of my gaze.
A tempest of emotion more profound than I’ve ever known storms through me. Am I fooling myself into believing she is my Elizabeth? The lost true love of my once human life.
Chapter 4
Hazy ringlets of cigar smoke float upward, twisting to join the murmur of voices. Cradling the crystal glass of brandy in one hand, I survey the men around me. The women have been sent off to amuse themselves elsewhere in the house while we talk and play cards. I’d rather be pursuing Mina. Now that I have found her, I don’t intend to let her go. The mystery of her very existence has me enthralled. No human has ever had such power over me. One glance is all that it’s taken with this young woman.
Movement draws my attention toward the doorway.
“Abraham, I’m so glad you could join us. Your wife isn’t with you?” Westenra greets a silver haired, elderly gentleman.
“Hannah has been unwell and did not want to face the travel by coach.” The newcomer informs him in a thick accented voice as he shakes his hand. Dutch. I recognize the pronunciation as he speaks in English.
The map of wrinkles on his face tells a journey of hardship, but the lines around his eyes speak of smiles and laughter. He has stories to tell. Observing him more closely, I take in the well-worn suit. Nothing expensive but still holding an air of old-fashioned sophistication.
Sir Westenra turns to the rest us with a beaming smile. “I’d like to introduce you all to Professor Van Helsing.”
The old man’s gaze sweeps the room calm and piercing. There’s no mistaking the sharp intelligence behind his blue eyes. I sense a strength of will the other humans around us lack.
A murmur of greetings echoes around the room as our host introduces us one by one.
“The Professor leads a less than normal life,” Westenra continues, gesturing at the older man with the cigar wedged between his chubby fingers.
The Professor shakes his head modestly. “I study anomalies in the blood and human abnormalities.”
That catches my attention. “Abnormalities?”
Van Helsing turns taking the measure of him with one curious look. “Things that usually aren’t found in nature, Mr. Tepes.”
“How intriguing and what brings you here tonight?”
Accepting the glass of brandy, he thanks our host for the drink before answering. “Ah now that is my interest in the occult. I’m hoping the séance tomorrow evening will be fruitful in furthering my knowledge of such things.”
That piques Dorian’s interest beside me where he’s talking to Henry. “You believe in ghosts, Professor Van Helsing?”
“I do, Mr. Gray, and other forms of creatures not of this world. Evil is a seductive thing. It’s easy to fall prey to, and sometimes it can come in the guise of something other than monstrous.”
Centuries of practice keeps my facial muscles unchanging, carved in aloofness as my senses sharpen to knife-like precision at the other man’s words. “Forgive me, Sir Westenra, but I sense there’s another reason you asked us all here for the weekend other than the séance.”
“Indeed, I did, Mr. Tepes,” our host confirms as he nods his head eagerly. “You are all exceptional and wealthy men. I have a proposal for you. There is a League of us who have dedicated our lives to combating evil in all its forms. We would like to invite you to join us.”
I detect a ripple of unease through the group. Certain members who are not quite as human as they appear. Is this an elaborate trap or does our host truly not realize who he has under his roof this evening?
Finishing off draining his glass of brandy, Dorian makes a scoffing sound. “Let me guess, you’d have us to chasing ghouls and phantoms? Things that go bump in the night and scare children?”
“No, Mr. Gray, these creatures are very real and a threat to mankind. It is completely your choice if you wish to join our venture or simply walk away. We will not mention this again nor invite you a second time to our ranks.” Van Helsing watches us in silence. The gleam in his blue eyes taking in each individual in the room. A ploy to flush us out then. Gauge which of us are the monsters they seek. The hunters have become the prey.
Ridding myself of my glass on a small table, I’m free to play with the signet ring on my finger, my mind alert for danger.
“I am not meant for the work I believe your club would entail. Bedrooms and scandals are more my forte,” Dorian tells Sir Westenra with a mock smile, cocking an eyebrow still managing to look angelic. “Besides I still don’t believe in such nonsense.”
“And yet these horrors exist in the world,” Van Helsing replies quietly. “Since the dawn of time, they have been trying to corrupt us and bring darkness to us all. I have hunted many in my long career like those of my ancestors before me.”
“If they have existed as long as you say, then why haven’t they succeeded yet?” Dorian counters. “Perhaps like the rest of us, they want to be left alone to live their lives.”
Sir Westenra’s expression drifts to impatience. “You’re not taking this seriously are you, Sir?”
“Of course not! This is ridiculous. I wage you’re more interested in what doors our wealth and status can open for you.”
“Then perhaps you would leave us and let those who are have a say.”
The tall, watchful Amon discards his untouched drink on the nearest surface. “I will join you, Mr. Gray. I am new to this land and would rather settle into normality then hunt for ghosts and spirits.”
Dorian turns with an air of resolve. “Vladimir? Henry?”
“I think I’ll stay,” Dr. Jekyll murmurs, raking a hand through his silver sprinkled hair. “I’m interested to see what they have to propose.”
The weight of the Professor Van Helsing’s gaze lands on me with the considerable will that lays behind it. A steel trap ready to spring closed.
I meet his observation unwaveringly. “I am with Dorian on this. A witch hunt is something that can only lead innocent lives to slaughter. I have seen it in my homeland and will not be party to it here.”
Sir Westenra motions his butler who is hovering near the door. “I’ll bid you a good evening then, gentlemen.”
Chapter 5
Darkness encompasses the silent garden. The scent of damp rain-kissed earth and flowers wind themselves around my senses. Standing at the far end as not to be seen, I observe the quiet house with new eyes. The hour is late, and all under its roof have finally retired for the night.
They have no idea of the forces they are dealing with. This inner circle of men. Hunters. Not just me but the others who are gathered. Sir Westenra and Van Helsing have become marked men. I am more than sure, though, no one will strike tonigh
t. Not so close to home and this evening’s discussion. If there is truly a league of mortals set on our destruction, eradicating them will have to be dealt with carefully.
Where others would destroy them outright, I prefer subtler methods. They have murdered my offspring in the name of righteousness, and so, I shall take theirs.
Lucy. Hear me. Come to me.
My call ripples out unseen and unheard by those not intended for it. I sense the female I’m after huddled in her warm bed. Her dreams laced with light and laughter. In such an innocent repose, she’s easily susceptible to my insidious whispers to isolated her.
Patiently, I wait.
The storm clouds of the day have passed, allowing the full moon to shine in her radiant glory among the stars above. Somewhere behind me, the sound of the waves washing onto the beach reaches my sensitive hearing.
A flash of white catches my attention. Walking slowly in a trance, the lovely Miss Westenra pads barefoot from the house. How lovely she looks bathed in the silvery moonlight. Hair loose and rumpled, her skin radiant. A beautiful ghost.
So many women have fallen for my allure. A thief in the night. For centuries, this is how I have fed and wallowed in a gluttonous succession to sate my appetites.
Without hesitation she moves through the entrance of the maze. Its secluded passages grant me the privacy I need, yet still, I am bold for executing my plan in front of my enemies’ noses. I still must be careful. Just like the predator I am, I stalk her in the shadows. A demon cursed with the powers of the night. She’s veiled in red through my vision. The blood flowing in her veins transparent through her delicate skin. I can see it pumping, moving, fueled by her heart.
Reaching the center of the maze, she halts entranced before me.
“Lucy.” Trailing my fingers from the softness of her cheek down the column of her throat, I settle at the pulse point. Young and strong, the beat of her heart is a melodious sound. It sends my hunger roaring. She trembles beneath my touch, caught in a waking dream she won’t remember by the morning.
I will slake my thirst and carnal desires on this female. Defile her as they have defiled my kindred. Use her and debase her. Turn her into a wanton thing. Dracula’s whore.
Tugging the ties free at the front of her nightdress, I flip the material aside to bare her breasts. Large, heavy, the nipples are a dusky rose, already pert and straining.
“You are mine now,” I tell her softly. “My plaything. I am your Master. You will know all the secret pleasures of the flesh, debauchery of the likes you cannot imagine.”
Cupping one of her breasts, I sample the weight of it in my palm. The globe is soft and warm. Blood pulses beneath the surface, which calls to my hunger so sharply my fangs throb in my gums with the instinct to feed. Not yet, though. Before I satisfy my need for sustenance on Miss Westenra, I have other plans in mind.
A presence flutters at the edge of my awareness. Just as unnatural as I am hovering between life and death. With a quick scan of the surrounding area, I see nothing. It’s fast and fleeting. Something or someone leaving the estate perhaps, but it leaves me on my guard.
Sweeping Lucy up in my arms as if she weighs nothing I lay her on the stone bench. Raking up her skirts, I bare her lower half for my inspection, spreading her thighs wide. Blonde curls cover her pretty cunt. Bending her knees, I arrange her for my enjoyment. Lucy lays quiescent, serene, any outrage or embarrassment in such a thing quelled by the dream-like state.
What would her father think of her now? His friends? Van Helsing? The guests staying under his roof? Many of the males covet her. I saw the looks tonight. The lust barely concealed. They are all slaves to their desires. Predictable. Drape it in finery and wealth, but it’s still there, seething just below the surface.
Fingers dipping between her legs, I find the feminine heart of her. Soft curls meet my touch, then the slickness of her pussy. Plunging a finger inside her, I push as deep as it will allow.
Lucy whimpers, her body writhing and quivering. So innocent. So pure. A blushing virgin. The apple of her father’s eye.
I smile, my fangs elongating smoothly.
I’m going to own her every hole. Each depraved fantasy she has ever secretly harbored will be mine to corrupt.
Continuing to finger her, I insert another digit. Already her wetness drenches my hand with a wantonness her body is unable to hide. Bringing it to my face, I suck them into my mouth. Her musky taste bursts on my taste buds.
Unbuttoning my breeches, I pull my hard cock free. Forcing her legs wider, I settle myself on top of her driving into her deep and hard, pinning her to the cold, uncaring stone until my hips are flush against hers.
Lucy cries out, eyes wide and unseeing. Every line of her body locked with the pain of her first time.
Satisfaction rises with the act of stealing her purity. Stripping away every aspect of her innocence will become my favorite pastime and bring shame upon her family. A curse for all the suffering her father has bestowed on my kind and others who live in the shadows.
Thrusting I give her no time to recover.
Her little cries soon become moans of sensual pleasure. Moving she finds the rhythm I teach her. I don’t relent in fucking her. She will not remember this tomorrow, but she will still feel me inside her like a brand. It will awaken wants and needs that she will not be able to deny. Carnal desires she will not be able to resist.
“Give me your neck, your blood.” The words are a grunt as I feel her inner walls tighten around my cock.
Without hesitation, she rolls her head to the side, baring her neck, creamy and pale in the moonlight. Sinking my fangs into the vein, blood rushes into my mouth as I drink deeply. It sends a heady blast through my limbs straight down to my balls. My cock swells harder with the sensation as I fill Lucy with my cum.
Chapter 6
“You look pale, Lucy. Are you unwell?” Mina’s sweet voice asks as I stroll into the parlor the next morning. Dainty china cups are set before the women at the table. Remnants of food left on their plates indicate I’ve caught them at the end of their breakfast.
“I didn’t sleep very well.” Dark smudges lay beneath Miss Westenra’s eyes. Her cheeks are wan. The collar of the extravagant embroidered dress she wears is high concealing my bite. It would have been a compulsion. Even now my power dominates her mind, compelling her to keep the secret.
Moving from the doorway, I join them. “Good Morning, ladies.”
“Mr. Tepes.” Lucy smiles in delight. “You’re calling on us early this morning, My father is down at the stables, inspecting the horses, but you’re welcome to join us.”
Removing my leather gloves, I return her smile. “I must confess I was hoping to steal Miss Murray away from you.”
Lucy pats her companion’s hand, which is resting on her own affectionately. “At your pleasure, Mr. Tepes. She is always such an enchanting creature. We’ve lived in Whitby all our lives, but she is the one who knows all of its secrets.”
A look of reluctance sweeps Mina’s radiant expression at her friend’s words. “I can’t possibly leave you.”
“Yes, you can. Be a dear, Mina, and show him around the gardens. I would myself, but I have no energy today. You know I’ll only hound you until you do,” Lucy requests, fed by the whispers I send creeping into her mind. How vulnerable she is to my suggestion. I supress a grin.
Mina’s heart beats erratically for a moment at the touch looking torn. Then her blue eyes soften with a look of love.
“All right, Lucy.” Leaning down she presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “Just promise me you’ll go straight back to bed after breakfast.”
“I promise.” Rolling her eyes, Miss Westenra lifts the china cup before her to take a sip of tea. “I’ll bid you a good day, Mr. Tepes.”
I incline my head in answer. “I hope you feel better soon, Miss Westenra.”
I watch Mina fluster as we move to the door, gathering our coats and hats from the maid to venture out into the regal expan
sive garden. The irony isn’t missed on me when she guides me in the direction of the maze. A place only last night I took her friend’s virginity and blood. Above us the sun peeks from behind white vast clouds, bringing some brightness to the autumn day.
“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me on a walk and take in some morning air,” I tell her, conscious of her light steps on the path beside me. How she wears her hair in a fashionable braid, curled up beneath her prim little blue hat, which matches her dress.
Tilting her chin, she gives me a glance. “Forgive me; I’m worried about Lucy. She’s usually so full of life.”
Life that even now flows through my veins, warming my skin and keeps me well fed.
“Perhaps she has taken a chill,” I comment, stroking my beard thoughtfully.
Mina makes a small humming sound in her throat, her freckled nose wrinkling as if unsure my theory is sound. “The weather has been ghastly. I supposed you could be right.”
“Do you have family here, Miss Murray?”
“No. Not anymore. My parents died when I was young. The Westenras were dear aquaintances and took me in.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And you, Mr. Tepes? Do you have family where you’re from?”
I drink in her beauty, the pain of losing my beloved Elizabeth centuries before this woman was even born still fresh as the day it happened. “Long ago when I lived in Transylvania, but I also have known loss.”
We lull into silence, the only sounds to be heard our footsteps and the random cry of the birds. It gives me a chance to study Mina closer. She is a spark of life that has changed the course of my existence. I see untapped passion. Showing a side of my wife that was only hinted at when she was alive. Yet we all have many facets to who we are. If she is indeed reborn, other traits to her soul are stronger than before. A perfectly cut diamond reflecting the light in different ways but all just as magnificent.