by Chris Lange
He uttered a sharp grunt. Brow creased, lips pressed together, he looked on the verge of losing control. A ripple coursed through him from the tendons of his neck down to the base of his fingernails. His pecs flexed and hardened, sticking out like iron squares. His biceps bulged, contracting the muscles of his forearms.
On both sides of her, she heard a cracking noise as his clawed fingers dug into the now deformed ledge. Watching him, a sense of wonder filled her at the thought of the power she held in her hands. The power she held over him. But something else caught her attention.
Open-mouthed, she watched his features shift. She stroked the tip of his cock and the skin over his cheekbones appeared to strain while his face acquired a radiant golden shade. She masturbated him a fraction faster and watched with delight two long fangs appearing out of his mouth. When his elongated eyes flew open, the freckles seemed to swim in the surrounding darkness.
With his intense gaze boring into hers, devouring her, she became a shrine of desire. Placing one of his hands around hers to halt her movements he licked his fangs with his tongue.
“I want to be inside you. I need to feel your tight little cunt wrapped around my cock. I’m so hard for you.”
Her heart lurched. Her clitoris throbbed. The muscles in her pussy quivered. Letting go of his rigid sex, she started at the abrupt hammering of her heart when he cocked his head towards the handles behind her.
Reminded of the tremendous orgasm she had already experienced, a fierce jag of excitement ran down her spine when the term ‘handles’ crossed her mind. Lying back, she grasped them while he moved between her open thighs, his erection aimed at her hole.
When his tip touched her, tremors of anticipation made her shiver. When he breached her, the forceful sensation of his unyielding cock shook her whole body. In unison, his hands contracted around her waist as he uttered, “Hell, this feels so fucking good!”
She couldn’t have found a better way to put it. As he began going in and out of her vibrating hot sheath, her mind relinquished all control and her emotions took charge. His deep thrusts affecting her very core, she became a ball of flame in his hands.
Unable to take her eyes off his striking vampiric features, she stopped blinking. His rigid dick kneading her damp flesh, the thought of making love to him for the rest of her life hit her. To top it all, the idea of spending her days and nights by his side excited her even more. His words hit home when he cursed.
“Fuck! You’re so damn hot I could make love to you forever.”
Her body contracted as he slightly shifted to shove his sex deeper into her. With each thrust his cock grazed her feverish clit. With each thump he gave her a pound of his love.
She heard her own cries blended with his raw grunts of pleasure, as if from far away. Just as the vibe began meshing with a surge of wild sensations rising from her loins, she perceived a decrease in his physical intensity. Like stars twinkling in the night sky, the freckles in his eyes seemed to caress her face and his ragged voice penetrated her bubble of happiness.
“Hang on, kitten!”
“Why?”
Without waiting for an answer, she had already tightened her hold on the handles.
“Because you’re in for a hell of a ride, baby.”
She felt his firm grip on her hips, a second of hesitation, and her world exploded with mind-numbing pleasure. Consumed from the inside out like a living torch, she writhed in his hands, her body thrashing about, her heart reeling, her spirit submerged in the realms of an inconceivable orgasm. And as a torturing bliss conquered her, she heard his blissful outcry just before words of love flowed out of her mouth. Her love for him.
Time lost reality. Reality lost meaning. Like a feather gliding down from the vault of heaven, she came back to her senses. When she opened her eyes, he was licking the spot on her neck where he had bitten her. He raised his head and a mellow sensation infused her with love. Eyes elongated, skin colour matching the precious stars in his gaze, he regarded her.
“You love me?”
His tone only conveyed sobriety and something else that she didn’t dare call hope. Although his question sounded genuine, she had been treated offhandedly too often to acknowledge it out loud just yet.
She blinked. Looking around she realised she was sitting in the tub again, not holding the handles anymore. He knelt between her spread legs, and she hadn’t even felt him come out of her.
“What happened? I mean, what was that?”
He stroked the bite on her neck one last time before straightening up. Raising an eyebrow, he grinned.
“High-speed vampire love.”
Eyes wide, she stared at him until he took her in his arms and stood her up on her feet. Naked, he strode to the closet to bring back two bath towels. Then he enveloped her shivering body before resuming.
“You know… In and out, but vampire speed. Too fast for a human eye to perceive, yet very intense.”
“Intense is a weak word to describe it.”
“Does it mean I pleased you, kitten?”
She stepped out of the tub to dry herself off. When she didn’t answer his question, he let his towel fall to the floor to cup her face in his hands, his smile warming her heart.
“I will take your silence as a yes.”
Then he picked up his towel and began rubbing his dark hair. By the time Liv felt dry enough to put the black robe on, Raskhan looked human again and he was fully dressed. He escorted her to the door before leading the way towards what she assumed would be her bedroom. As it happened they never reached their intended destination.
They were following an open gallery situated on a higher level above the main hallway when shouts broke out. Raskhan stopped walking to lean over the railing. A tall statue obstructing her view, Liv stepped aside to get a drift of what the sudden commotion was about.
For the first time since she had set foot in the Overworld, she witnessed a gathering of vampires and a disturbance in their quiet, routine activity. Downstairs, a crowd had assembled around one man. Right by her side, Raskhan sighed deeply.
Twisting her head, Liv finally caught a glimpse of the newcomer, and her heart stuttered. Rogan was back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
He lay unconscious in the arms of two vampires carrying him. Before Liv could blink, the crowd had spread out a little, and Raskhan already stood beside Rogan. A hush fell over the grand hallway. All staring at the king of the Overworld, they awaited his orders.
“Zontag!”
The older vampire came forward. Bending over Rogan, he lifted his stained white shirt to reveal his side. What he saw there mustn’t have agreed with him because he looked at the king and shook his head.
“He’s in very bad shape. I’ll see what I can do for him, but it’s a wonder he’s still alive.”
As he let go of the shirt, Zontag seemed to be unable to stop shaking his head. On the other side of Rogan’s body, the king didn’t waste his breath with small talk, but snapped his fingers.
“He is of royal blood. Have a cremation ceremony arranged.”
What? What was he saying? He couldn’t let his brother die without at least trying to save him. Did Raskhan hate him that much? Would he be happy with Rogan dead? Yet, just like that, the captivating Raskhan who had shown her the meaning of the word ecstasy had vanished, and the cruel, authoritative king had reappeared.
Clutching the railing until her knuckles whitened, Liv ignored a sudden bitter taste in her mouth. Heart heavy, she swallowed her blooming hopes and desires while Rogan’s body was carried away, and Raskhan took off in the opposite direction. Most of all, she wondered if she had it in her to love someone who rejoiced in his brother’s death.
She stood for painful seconds. The vibe beat for Raskhan and Raskhan alone, loud and clear inside her. Not so loud and not so clear, her feelings for Rogan made her want to cower down. Her mind ripped with guilt, she forced herself to breathe evenly.
She had betrayed him. He had confess
ed his love for her, he had asked her to wait for him and she had run into his brother’s arms. Hold on, that wasn’t exactly true. In her defence, the first time with Raskhan she had been misled into thinking he was Rogan.
But what of the other times she had raved with passion under Raskhan’s blazing touch? She knew by then. She had offered her body and heart to the king of the Overworld with full knowledge of the facts. In her book this was betrayal.
Liv winced with pain when she loosened her tight grip on the railing. She watched the carriers climb up the stairs leading onto the first floor landing. She needed to see where they were taking Rogan. Her Rogan—the cherished vampire who had saved her life. The man she had professed to love it seemed a lifetime ago.
As they mounted the steps, Liv crouched and hid behind the statue. Invisible from below, she felt like a mouse in a lion’s den. From the direction they were going she gathered Rogan would end up in the room she had exited moments ago. Of course, it must be the only place with a table long enough to accommodate an unconscious body. Ironically it was also the room where Raskhan had just made blinding love to her.
Assuming her guess was right she stood up and started walking away from them. Raskhan might spot her but hiding behind a statue was pointless. And as much as she wanted to she couldn’t follow Rogan. Not yet.
Liv reached her bedroom without anyone halting her. Inside, Zontag sat on the bed, waiting. A small, sad smile creased his features when she came in the room.
Apart from the royal twin brothers, he was the only familiar face. For some reason Liv had trusted him on sight, even when he had taken fluids out of her. Did he remind her of a father figure? Tears wetting her cheeks, she sat by him and choked on her tears when he held her hand.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Is he really dying?”
“I’m afraid he is. There’s nothing I can do for him. If I had the skills to save him, I promise you I would.”
Vision blurred, she smiled at him. Here was an immortal willing to defy his king to save another, and she believed him. Opening the handbag she had left on the bed earlier, Liv took out some paper tissues. She wiped her cheeks before blowing her nose.
“Does Raskhan know you’re here with me?”
“He sent me. He thought you might need a shoulder to cry on.”
She snorted. Her mouth twisted in a disappointed, bitter scorn, she looked at Zontag straight in the eye.
“Oh, yeah, as if he cared! He just killed his brother, for crying out loud! What does he expect from me? Sympathy? Understanding? Forgiveness, maybe? Well, let me tell you something, Zontag. As far as I’m concerned, your high and mighty king can go to hell!”
Unfazed by her outburst, Zontag patted her hand. “Hush, my dear, walls have ears around here.”
“I don’t give a shit if he can hear me or not, and I’d gladly repeat it to his face. He had no right to do that.”
“You know, Raskhan didn’t kill Rogan. Khord did. With the help of his hunters’ team, he finally located Rogan in your world.”
Khord again. That freakish bastard must have been delighted to act on his king’s orders. He should be rotting in hell, but instead he might well be promoted for his undying loyalty. She felt like screaming from frustration, but just then Zontag did something strange.
Raising a finger to his lips to indicate some kind of secret, he shook a clean tissue open and brought it to her face. Trusting her instincts, Liv took the offering to apply it on her face. When he nodded she uttered whiny noises, and made a great show of blowing her empty nose.
Meanwhile Zontag used the crossword book and the pen lying on the bed. She watched him scribble something on a page. As he raised the book in front of her eyes, she feigned a bout of coughing—but when she read the words, her coughing turned real.
Rogan has been shot with a silver bullet. You can save him.
A wild hope surged from the darkness of her despair. She cleared her throat as the older vampire got up.
“Let me fetch you some water.”
While he walked to the bathroom, she reread the magic words. Rogan was dying, but she possessed the power to save him. She had done it before, she could do it again. Forgetting all about her misery, she looked at Zontag with a brilliant smile as he handed her a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
Liv took a sip, fresh water cooling her irritated throat. When she saw Zontag reaching for the book again, she made sure to drink the whole glass with a lot of noise. Still, the silence between them was lengthening, and if walls had ears one of them should speak.
“Can I see Rogan?”
“I’m afraid not. You are to stay in his room, king’s orders.”
“His room?”
“Yes, this is Rogan’s bedroom. Didn’t you know?”
Definitely the worst trick Raskhan had played on her. Fully aware she’d find out at some point, he had chosen to let her stay in his brother’s bedroom. As a vivid reminder of Rogan’s absence? To torture her? To fuck her in his brother’s bed? Dear God, what a bastard!
As the lump in her throat hardened to the size of a small stone, Zontag held out the crossword book for her. She grabbed it with renewed strength, her heart going haywire. To give her some time to read it, Zontag launched into a clever monologue ranging from “I know this has been shocking news but…” to reassuring sentences like “Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon.” Listening with only one ear, Liv read his neat handwriting.
Ask for some food. Take your time to eat while I’ll be doing everything I can to clear the way for you. Rogan is in the spa room. Be quick and discreet.
She closed her book to give him the thumbs up. Playing her part, she snivelled loudly before cutting him short.
“Listen, Zontag, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone for a while.”
“I understand. I’ll check on you later.”
He stood up and squeezed her hand a final time, his blue gaze conveying an expression that could only be translated as ‘Good luck!’ Taking a deep breath, Liv waited for him to reach the bedroom door before acting on the instructions he had given her.
“By the way, Zontag, do you think I could get some food? I’m beginning to feel hungry.”
“Sure. I’ll have something sent to you very shortly.”
“Thanks.”
“Have some rest now.”
She waved at him before he disappeared into the hallway, feeling like a little girl about to embark on a mysterious voyage. But this was no game. Now that the council knew she hadn’t committed a crime of lese-majesty, her death sentence had to be null and void. Yet, somehow, she believed it wouldn’t change their minds about her being a deadly threat to their race.
True to his word, Zontag proved very efficient. Less than five minutes later a servant brought her an aromatic paper bag. As usual in this place, he left her room without delay. Although her hopes had soared, the greasy smell wafting from the bag didn’t appeal to her.
She couldn’t eat while Rogan was dying. Glancing up, she observed what she now knew to be his bedroom. Not huge, but comfortable. Not a king’s room. Her gaze coming to rest on the writing desk, she then figured out why she had found the book of ancient prophecies lying in the drawer.
She had believed her discovery convenient and once more she had been so wrong. The manuscript hadn’t been stashed there on her account, but it was in its rightful place. Rogan’s book. Rogan’s bedroom. And in a deep corner of her mind, she pictured a sly smile on Raskhan’s face.
Angry at herself for not understanding sooner, Liv retrieved the small hairbrush she kept in her purse for emergencies. Grooming relaxed her frayed nerves as she attempted to give her hair a semblance of order. If she succeeded in saving Rogan she wanted to look good for him.
And what about Raskhan? Did she want to be beautiful for him? No, she wouldn’t think of the king. Although the thought of him tugged at her heartstrings, she f
orced it back. Too hurtful to dwell on it now.
When she felt confident that enough time had elapsed, Liv opened her bedroom door with as much stealth as she could muster. Adrenaline jabbing her muscles, she stepped out and checked both ways.
The hallway appeared empty. Praying to God to let her accomplish her mission, she moved furtively to the end of the corridor—and stopped dead in her tracks. Too late she felt the vibe stir within her stomach. Way too late she heard his ice-cold voice right behind her.
“Where are you going?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He must have used his vampire speed to sneak up on her, and the vibration hadn’t had enough time to warn her. Wheeling round, Liv raised her gaze to the king’s impassive face. The amusement and playfulness he had shown in the spa room had been eradicated with Rogan’s return.
“I was looking for you.”
“What for?”
Although she didn’t enjoy lying, she’d have to suck it up for Rogan’s sake. Her mind faster than a racing car, she grasped at the first plausible excuse.
“I wanna go home.”
“I forbid it.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. Dressed in black from head to toe, he did look like a beautiful angel of death. If going home had been her real intention, she wouldn’t have swayed him one jot. As things stood, she simply needed him to believe her.
“Why not? What’s it to you, anyway? What do you care?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Oh, yeah, like what? Do you want me here to satisfy your lust? Do you really think I could let you touch me now that you’ve had Rogan killed? For Christ’s sake, he’s your brother!”
Liv had started out meaning to deceive him, but, to her surprise genuine, let-down and resentment tumbled out of her mouth. Even the sight of his icy stare and knitted lips couldn’t stop her.
“Damn the day you trespassed on my life. I could have…” She trailed off to inhale loudly. “I could have had feelings for you, but you’ve ruined everything. You’re not a king to me. You’re just a petty, lousy murderer, and Rogan is way out of your league.”
