Victoria
Victoria stood there in her family’s chapel beside Christopher. She was wearing the same white dress that she had worn on the night of the voodoo ceremony that bound Wesley and herself back in December. That alone, made her feel like a traitor. Add to the fact that she had only learned of Wesley’s death two days before, and had yet to go through the expected mourning process deemed appropriate for the loss of a fiancé, made matters even worse. Wesley hadn’t even been given a proper burial, partly because his body had somehow disappeared according to the letter from the captain. She hadn’t even had a chance to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Brennan, so she didn’t know if they had been notified; if they were okay. What must they think of her now: standing here, about to marry someone else so shortly after Wesley’s death?
She was trying not to cry, to be fair to Christopher; he was after all only carrying out Wesley’s wishes, since in his last moments he had apparently asked Christopher to take care of her, so she had to do this. Wesley wanted it to be this way. The tears escaped her eyes, anyway. She stood there blubbering in front of the priest as he went through the wedding rites. Christopher squeezed her hand hard, and Victoria did her best to cease the waterworks. She took big gulping gasps of air into her lungs as it came time to exchange vows.
“Victoria, you have always been everything that I wanted. We were meant to be. I think we have both known that since our childhood, but we lost it as things came between us. I love you unconditionally and I promise to give you all that I can to make all of your dreams come true. I promise to be true and faithful to you because you will always be the miracle in my life. That is how I see it. After what I did to you years ago, it is a miracle that you still saw me as a friend just as it is a miracle that you stand here beside me now. You make my life complete. As I look into the future, you are all that I see. I see you, me, and hopefully one day: a handful of healthy kids -- kids that will provide us with a bushel of grandchildren. I love you.”
His vows were over, that meant that it was time for her to say her vows now. Okay, she thought to herself, This is my life now. I guess it's going to hurt. That’s just the way it is. Wesley is never coming back from the war. He is dead. I have cried for him and now it is time to let go of my one true love. I have to get to the other side of this and learn to love Christopher again. So it is goodbye Wesley. I will see you in another life, in just a little while.
“Christopher, we have been friends for as long as I can remember. You have been there beside me whether physically or only in spirit, holding my hand and I come here now to make you my lifelong partner. I take your hand in mine as we start our new life together. From now on when you cry in sad times, I will be there to wipe away all of your tears. In hard times when you scream, I will stand beside you to fight the enemy. I will be a good wife to you, and God willing a good mother to your children. I pledge myself to you. I pledge my body and spirit.”
With the vows exchanged, the rings were placed upon the couples’ fingers. A single gold band was now in the place of the ruby Claddagh, and the Claddagh was tucked away on a single pendant chain, close to Victoria’s heart, where she vowed to keep it until the day that she died.
Chapter Thirteen
A tall, dark and handsome, but pale man paced the length of the sitting room in the elegant home that he now occupied with his creator. It was just on the outskirts of New Orleans (secluded enough for no one to grow suspicious of the occupants, but close enough to a food source). New Orleans was teeming with warm-blooded humans ripe for the picking and with the war; no one questioned missing or dead people. The house was opulent. The previous residents had to have been part of the upper crust. The man didn’t want to know how his creator had acquired the home just prior to his transformation, which took a little over a month, most of which he was in a comatose, dead-like state. He had awakened just a week earlier, there in a bedroom within this house. The transformation had been mostly painless. He simply felt revived, as though he had been in a long, deep rejuvenating sleep.
“Why can’t I go see her?” the man finally stopped pacing and asked of his creator who sat lounging upon a chaise.
“We have been over this, Wesley,” she scolded Victoria’s undead fiancé. “It isn’t safe. There is no guarantee that you wouldn’t kill her, even if you didn’t kill her there is no guarantee that she would be okay with your new, shall we say, living arrangement,” his female companion told him as she serenely sipped thick red liquid from a crystal glass. Her words were lightly accented with French undertones. Everything that she said sounded luxurious and sensual.
She walked so gracefully she nearly appeared to float into the golden colored bedroom all trimmed in white sconces and crown molding. She sat down at a dressing table while Wesley followed in behind her. The woman took the pins out of her red curly hair allowing it to fall down to her waist. White lace trimmed her lavender silk dress, which boasted a dangerously low cut bodice. The redhead licked a droplet of the red liquid from her lips, and smiled at herself in the mirror, revealing her sharp white glinting teeth.
Wesley threw himself into the sling back chair with a huff, banged his fists onto the armrests, and pouted like a young boy who just had his favorite toy taken away. “Now don’t pout,” the redhead scolded. “I’m just looking out for your best interests.”
“I just don’t understand why you think that I would be a danger to her… And you don’t understand the bond that we have. She would accept me like this. She would be happy just to know that I wasn’t dead. I mean, yes, technically, I am dead, but I am not lost to her. Do you know what it does to me to know that she is with the guy who shot me when there is something that I could do about it?” Wesley was up pacing again. Élisabet told him that the ceaseless energy was a side effect of being a vampire. As long as you fed regularly, you would never tire. He wished he could tire himself out. Maybe if he could burn up some of this energy he wouldn’t feel like a caged animal. He wouldn’t feel the constant need to do something, the constant need to see her. He could feel the bond that Polly had given to them through her voodoo magic now more than ever. It was as if a tangible rope tied them together now -- just as a real rope had tied them together during the ceremony. All he had to do was follow it. He needed to follow it because the rope was pulling him and it was growing tighter and tighter.
Despite everything that Worthington had done, he knew that Christopher would take care of Victoria and that Christopher loved her. Christopher could give her a normal life, a life without a vampire fiancé, a life full of children and grandchildren who were all able to go outside together in the broad daylight. But with all of the knowledge that Wesley held, it didn’t make it hurt any less when he thought about the fact that Victoria and Christopher were now husband and wife. If Élisabet would just let him see her and check to see that she is okay, to see if she is happy, maybe then he could rest.
“Oh my dear,” Élisabet shook her head with the sigh of a weary teacher. “I swear sometimes it is like you have listened to and learned nothing that I have been trying to teach you. All of your emotions are heightened now. All of your needs, all of your desires, your wants, your feelings are all so much stronger. What do you really think that would mean when you see her? How easy was it for you to resist acting on your desires with her when you were a human? Was it easy? When you see her, will you be able to resist kissing her? Resist touching her?
“And if not, say she accepts you, accepts you with her body. In the heat of your passion, will you manage not to bite her? When her heart is pounding and blood is pulsing hot and fierce through her veins will you be able to resist biting and tasting her? You know that biting her like that would be the most erotic moment of your existence, but it would end her life. Either she will become a vampire or you won’t be able to stop yourself from sucking her dry. Will you be able to live with yourself if that happened, in either situation? Or do you have one-hundred percent certainty in yourself, in your self-control? Is your passio
n for her so weak that you can say that you would not want to act upon it? Are you willing to risk her life on it?”
Élisabet stared at Wesley the way he recalled his old governess would when she was expecting an answer, an answer that he should have known but was lacking. He gulped, he felt thoroughly and well rebuked. She was right. He hated to admit it, but it was true. He had barely been able to keep his hands off of Victoria as a human. They had broken societal propriety on more than one occasion. He couldn’t do that to Victoria now. Élisabet was right. He couldn’t trust himself not to hurt Victoria. Élisabet was his creator and she knew what was best for him. She had been a vampire for longer than he had, and she knew how to handle it.
Élisabet had been teaching him a lot of things the past week since the moment that he had awakened. He vaguely remembered the night that she came to him as he lay dying in the hospital tent. In that moment, she was the most beautiful creature that he had ever seen. She had saved him and taken him under her wing. After he had gone through the month long transition, he had been so thirsty upon awakening, in addition to being a bit confused. She had begun teaching him how to hunt and how to survive as a vampire right away.
He could live forever now, much as he had as human, though the sunlight was a bit of a problem, he had to stay inside hidden away from the sunlight, for now, though Elizabeth said that there would be a way around that, but she wouldn’t explain anymore to him on that subject yet. Then there was the bit about the fact that he had to drink blood. He could still eat though -- well some things anyways. Red meat made him violently ill.
Hunting was the first thing that he had to learn, according to Élisabet. How to tell which humans had good blood and which were not safe to consume. You didn’t want to consume someone who drank a lot of hard spirits, or someone with a disease that infected the blood. Also, it was important to know how to actually go about the hunting process -- how to stalk the prey, if you will. He needed to know how to get the humans alone and how drink from them without the human struggling and drawing attention. There were certain aspects about feeding from humans with which Wesley did not like and was not particularly comfortable.
The big issue was the fact that a bite of a vampire would change a human being into a vampire, unless the vampire drained that human of blood, which of course would kill the human. Therefore, after learning this, Wesley refused to drink from anyone other than the dregs of society. He made Élisabet take him to the docks, to the whorehouses, and gambling halls where he could drink from vile and dangerous men, in essence doing a favor to society as he drained them to nothingness. Of course, there were a good many of these types to choose from, but it took a lot of time to pick out the right one, because so many of these humans had unsafe blood.
As Wesley stood back up and continued to pace, he began unbuttoning his white shirt. He was getting hot; at least he thought he was getting hot. Can vampires get hot? Maybe it was just a human habit. You pace around a lot, you get all worked up, and then you get hot. He peeled the shirt off one sleeve at a time. He tossed it on the back of a chair as he walked by. He was finely built, muscular and athletic but not large, it was the body of a gentleman farmer. The removal of his shirt exposed a tattoo upon his left arm. Black ink stood out from his fair Irish skin. The ink decorated his arm with Celtic knots that interlaced with doves all swirling about and surrounding the image of an Irish Claddagh, similar to Victoria’s ring. The tattoo matched a tapestry that hung in his family home back in Ireland. The design was his family crest. It was tradition for all the Brennan men to get the crest tattooed upon their body when they met the woman that they would take as their wife.
Wesley had the tattoo made shortly after he had taken Victoria on the buggy ride around Caherbrennan that first time. He knew he wanted to make her his wife from that very day on. Even now, as a vampire, his thoughts were only of her. She was his one and only consuming desire. It wasn’t blood that drove him on, it was her. Shirtless, he ran out the door. He had to clear his mind before he lost it completely, before he did something that he would regret.
Élisabet sat listening after Wesley, trying to track in which direction it was that he had run off to. That boy is going to make a mess of things. I wish he would listen to me. If he wasn’t so damn handsome I would smack him into submission, but I don’t want to mar that Adonis figure of his. Élisabet tried to think up a way to get her plan to work for both her and her new acquisition. A wicked gleam crossed her eye. She stood from the bench at her dressing table and gracefully and ambidextrously removed her gown, a job that for human women would have required at least one other woman. Élisabet’s long red hair slowly began to grow longer and longer, growing lighter in color as it grew, and it began to cover her body. She began to shrink and then collapsed down to all fours. Her body twisted and her face morphed as a long whining meow escaped from her whiskered mouth. Now standing where Élisabet had just stood was a dark orange tabby cat with glowing green eyes.
The feline Élisabet mewed and leapt onto the chair where Wesley had been sitting earlier. An open window was just above the chair. She jumped up and out to track down Wesley. It was important for her to keep him away from the friends and family of his past life, lest they ruin her plans for him, plans that had been in the making for longer than Élisabet cared to admit, because she hated giving away her age. Plans that had been put into play long ago, and she just needed the right player. Wesley was the one that she had been waiting for, but this fiancée of his was really putting a hitch in the execution of these plans.
He wasn’t hard to track. As a newly changed vampire, he was stealthier than the average human was, but not stealthy enough to keep Élisabet off of his trail. He was fast too, but not as fast as the ancient Élisabet. She caught up with him in no time at all and cut him off, crossing his path. She morphed back into human form just before Wesley could leap over the cat he saw in his pathway.
“Holy Jesus!” he shouted as he saw the orange cat turn into his creator.
“Get back to the house now!” Élisabet hissed from behind clenched fangs. She stood there naked in front of Wesley, her eyes glowing red, challenging him to defy her.
“How did you do that?” His body began to shake under the weight of her order. If he could only be strong enough. If only his will was great enough to defy her. He struggled and fought to move his foot another step forward, but he succumbed to the power of her being his creator, and fell to the floor in submission.
“That is not for you to know yet, mon ange. Now go to the house. I know you didn’t set off to see her, but that is where you were headed. You obviously can’t be trusted outside of the house, so you must stay inside.”
With his head hanging, he turned and ran back to the house. His thoughts of seeing Victoria were banished from his mind and replaced with the pain of trying to betray the orders of Élisabet. He never should have crossed her. She was his creator. More thoughts began to fill his head. She is doing this because she loves me. She only wants what is best for me. She knows what is best for me. She is my creator and I must obey her. She does not want me to live with the pain of seeing my family and friends hurt at my hand. She cares for me and therefore cares for the well-being of those I loved. These thoughts filled Wesley’s head, and he knew that they were all true.
That should keep him hold up for a while now. Élisabet thought with a smug smile. She relished the power and control that being a creator gave her. Now to hunt! She transformed back into her cat form because it was less conspicuous. I must find someone to feed on that is delicate and delicious. These disgusting villains that Wesley has a penchant for are really growing old.
Chapter Fourteen
Christopher’s plantation property came into sight many hours after he and Victoria had ridden off from Mossy Oak Manor. It was just the outskirts of Hillhead Acres that came into view, which consisted of fields that were filled with the dead crops that had perished from the lack of attention over the year of war. The Worthingto
ns’ slaves had long since run off to freedom. And honestly, who could blame them? Victoria thought. No noises came from the property creating an eerie echo as the horses’ hooves thudded on the dirt road, reverberating with no other sounds to drown out the noise.
There were no farm animals to be seen and no smoke rose from the chimneys. The trees that remained rooted in the ground were bare and fruitless. The majority, however, were uprooted and toppled over. There was evidence that someone had chopped up many of the trees that once shaded the property and used the subsequent logs for firewood. Victoria now understood Christopher’s urgent need to purchase and transport so many goods from the market with them here now. Had he not bought the cows, pigs, chickens, and seeds, they would have had no hope in surviving out here. It appeared that there was nothing left but a shell of what had once been.
The house came into view then, standing as empty, desolate, and dilapidated as the rest of the property. It had been years since Victoria had been to Hillhead Acres. It had to have been probably about two years prior to the start of the war. When she saw it last, the plantation was vibrant, lively, and well kept, the envy of many locals. Hundreds of slaves hustled about and sang their strange songs while they worked. Ladies in multicolored hooped skirts glided along the fragrant gardens under parasols with their male escorts. Now everything was grey, dead, and rank with rotting plants and encampment trash.
The Possessive Kiss: Victoria's Story: Book Two of The Kiss Series Page 13
