Darkness In The Flames

by Kelly, Sahara

  “Yes. This is what I want. This is mine.”

  Her hand released him and she clung to his shoulders, rocking herself on his intrusion, pressing forwards now, urgently seeking his touch all over her body. “Yes. It’s yours. Take it. Take me. Fuck me, Adrian Chesswell. I want your cock in me. I want to come with you inside me. I want to boil around you, squeeze your balls dry. Suck all you have and more from you.” She hissed the words through lips squeezed tight with desire. “Fuck me, damn you. Just fuck me.”

  Adrian’s brain fused into a lump of hunger, and his body followed suit. Hard enough to crack wood, his cock wept tears of anticipation, eager to bury itself in between those soft thighs, to find the darkness that awaited it with a bath of hot juices.

  He seized her, lifting her off her feet and lowering her to the rug. He was on top of her before she’d had chance to breathe. Without fanfare he pushed her knees apart, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders and positioning the head of his cock between her pussy lips, letting her honey bathe him and mingle with his own drops of need.

  He nudged forward an inch or so, then raised his head, meeting her hot blue gaze. “Well, Kat? Shall we proceed? Shall I fuck you like this? Staring at you perhaps? Or watching my cock as I take you?” He pressed forward a little more and lowered his gaze, enjoying the sight of his cock, shining with her liquid silk as he withdrew and re-entered her slick velvet darkness.

  “I want to watch too.” She never surrendered, his Kat. He wondered if she would always demand, always meet his desire with her own, surpassing his needs…his hunger.

  He reached for a cushion and shoved it behind her head, leaning into her as he did so, opening her even more. Her eyelids half closed as she stared at the joining of their bodies.

  Adrian moved. He couldn’t hold back a second longer. One thrust and he was buried to his balls, searing the delicate flesh of his sac against the burning heat of her body. His cool skin met fiery heat with a kiss so sweet and blissful he nearly sobbed aloud in simple pleasure.

  Bathed in the molten lava of her sheath, Adrian plundered the treasure she offered, pounding into her savagely, crushing their bodies together then withdrawing to his limits as they watched each other with hungry desire.

  Her legs clamped against his shoulders and head, her inner muscles spasmed against his cock and when he lowered his head to suckle a full breast, she finally surrendered to his possession and granted him victory in this particular encounter.

  She came, exploding into her orgasm around him, thrashing beneath him, her entire body as involved as he in the culmination of their embrace.

  A cry pushed past her lips, a desperate sob of ecstasy that sang sweeter music in his ears than all the symphonies he’d ever heard. And as the melody reverberated down his spine, he let go.

  He let go of more than just his orgasm.

  He released his hunger, fangs emerging rapidly from a mouth that neared the soft red heat of her neck.

  She reached for him, gathering him close, offering herself with an eagerness that matched his. “Take me. Take it all, Adrian. It’s for you and you alone. Feed from me while you fuck me. Send me somewhere new…”

  Her whisper inflamed his soul.

  His head dipped lower, the sound of her pulse drumming in his ears. His mouth watered at the smell of her, woman and warmth and sweet sweet blood, burgeoning with desire and the onrush of her orgasm.

  He pushed into her yet again, prolonging her climax, feeling the shudders clutching his cock as she struggled to climb higher still along the road to oblivion. Her body seized him, cradling him with a grip of iron, branding him with heat and passion. A passion that was uniquely hers.

  He could withstand her no longer. It was his turn to surrender.

  Opening his mouth, he let his lips slide back from his fangs. There—where the skin flickered with life, a delicate membrane covering the liquid that surged through her veins and would soon surge through his.

  He wished he could hold this miniscule instant of time in his hands. To stay like this, poised at the edge of an abyss so wonderful he could drown in it time and time again yet never cease to wonder at it.

  But he could not.

  He lowered his head to her neck and bit, breaking the skin so gently and finding the hot rush of liquid he so badly desired.

  She flowed over his tongue like a waterfall of red fire, hot life and burning passion—he tasted it all as he drank from her. She was the universe condensed into one stream of sweetness that ran freely into his mouth and down his throat.

  He drank her, drank all that she was, and let her soul touch his in that moment out of time.

  The bliss of their orgasm was magnified, intensified beyond the earthly, and they soared, joined in body and blood, souls twining around each other in ecstasy, far beyond mortal dreams and limitations.

  Finally, the pulsing of their muscles eased, and Adrian withdrew his fangs, sated to exhaustion as he slumped onto Kitty’s languid body.

  He wanted to laugh, to shout with joy, to tell the world how wonderful he felt at that moment. He could do none of those things, only lift himself slightly away from his woman and look at her in wonder. “Kat…my Kat…”

  He stilled as she opened her eyes and looked back at him. Her expression was unreadable, but her words were clear as a bell in the silence that rested between them.

  “Oh my God. This is real.”

  *~*~*~*

  Katherine surfaced from her dream in a bath of sweat, shaking uncontrollably and with a heavy lassitude about her legs and body that astounded her.

  She actually felt as if she’d experienced a massive release of sexual passion—something unheard of for her. She’d had the odd dream, known an unexplained longing or two in her youth, and imagined that lovemaking might involve something stirring to the heart—such imaginings being quickly shattered with her marriage to Matthew Byerly.

  Sex had revealed itself to be uncomfortable, hurried, uneventful and—towards the end of their union—an ordeal.

  After Matthew’s death, sex had become a threat held over her head by Arthur Byerly, Matthew’s cousin. Large and bullying, Arthur was determined to wed and bed Katherine, using whatever means lay available to him to achieve his goal.

  He’d held the purse strings thanks to an appallingly awful legal wrangle over Matthew’s will, leaving Katherine exactly where he wanted her—at his mercy. He’d been unwilling to permit her the luxury of a companion, only allowing it when he realized he could not stay under her roof with her unless one was present.

  Jessie had been the fourth such woman, the first three being conscious of their duties as protectors to Widow Byerly and rapidly dismissed by Arthur. Jessie had gone one step further and actively encouraged Katherine to get the hell out of Byerly Grange and away from the greedily lascivious Arthur.

  She’d been the right person at the right time, and Katherine’s lips twisted bitterly every time she remembered the payment Jessie had received.

  It should have been her. It should have been Katherine lying still and cold on the ground of Southern England, not the vibrantly alive Jessie. Death would have brought peace to Katherine, and freedom. Or at least she imagined it would. Certainly it would have ended the monotonous routine of repelling Arthur, of insisting she would not wed, and finally barring her door each night with a large piece of furniture.

  Even now she could hear the screech of wood on wood as she dragged her bureau into place. She should never have had to experience such horrors. Nor should she have had to experience Arthur’s ceaseless lust for her and his clumsy efforts to fondle her. She wondered if her rescuers knew that some of the bruises on her body were not from her accident, but from Arthur’s rough handling.

  No, there was little left for Katherine Edgeworth Byerly to live for. Marriage to Arthur was an utter and complete impossibility and her financial situation would not permit her to live alone.

  Up until a few hours ago, Katherine would probably have gone willing
ly to her grave. Now…now there was something else to consider. Something that had awoken inside her as she dreamed.

  Passion. The promise that her body could respond to the touch of a man—could consume her with a blaze the likes of which was beyond her imaginings.

  She lifted her hand to her neck, recalling the incredible sensation that had streaked through her like lightning when he’d broken her skin and fed on her blood.

  Where the devil had that come from? Was she creating monsters in her mind that were feeding on her fears and insecurities? It was surprising enough that she had indulged in the most wanton sexual fantasy, but when she added in the final culmination—her willing surrender of her body’s fluids—Katherine all but lost her breath.

  He’d seemed so real. So familiar. A man who she barely knew, one who she could probably dislike most strongly thanks to his arrogance, and she’d bared herself before him, called upon him to ravish her body and spread her legs wide for his taking.

  And felt a rush of need, of desire, that had astounded her even while it heated her flesh. Involuntarily her thighs parted beneath the sheets and she blushed. Really, this man had opened something within her she’d not suspected was there. She was wet with her own liquids, slick and sticky moisture coating her skin.

  It was time to move, to do something about this situation. To make some serious decisions about where and what she was going to do, and most probably to get far away from St. Chesswell and a man with disturbing eyes.

  Katherine sighed and moved from the bed, swaying a little as a slight dizziness swept over her. Not surprising given the time she’d spent recuperating. It wasn’t like her to malinger lazily in her boudoir.

  She stroked her neck idly and straightened her shoulders. Perhaps there was something she could use as a robe to cover the froth of insubstantial lace. If she was going adventuring she needed to be covered.

  Her eye fell on a thick blanket. That would do for the time being. And it was warm, offering snug protection from the damp chill she’d probably find outside her room. She reached for it and froze.

  Slowly, she turned her hand to the light. The hand that had touched her neck.

  There was something glistening on the palm—something red and shiny. She stared closely, unable to accept what she was seeing.

  Katherine blinked in horror. It was blood. Her blood.

  It was coming from her neck where her dream man had bitten her.

  It was no dream…

  Chapter Nine

  “You’ve fed.”

  Sidney stared at Adrian, amazed at the energy blazing from his eyes, the flush of heat coloring his cheek and the lithe stride with which he paced the floor.

  “Of course not. I just woke up.” Adrian dismissed his father’s statement with a shake of his head.

  “There’s no ‘of course not’ about it. Look at yourself.” Sidney reached out and grasped the other man’s hand, turning it upwards and showing Adrian the pinkness that characterized his normally white skin.

  Adrian wrenched his hand free. “I have not fed, Father. I would not do such a thing. I merely dreamed…” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I dreamed a dream the likes of which stunned me.”

  Sidney shook his head. “A dream like that, to produce such physical symptoms? I’m not sure, Adrian…”

  Adrian drifted to the window and stared into the darkness. The clouds were lifting, scudding out to sea, clearing the way for the full moon to rise within the hour, and he was clearly silhouetted against the brightening of the night sky.

  “It’s her isn’t it?” Sidney leaned back in his chair. “Our guest.”

  Adrian didn’t acknowledge the question for a few moments, then he sighed. “Yes. It’s her.”

  Sidney nodded. “Tell me?”

  A snort sounded from the window. “A gentleman really shouldn’t discuss those kinds of dreams. Not even with his father.”

  “Ahh.” Sidney pursed his lips. “Then let me ask this. How real did it seem to you?”

  The broad shoulders tensed beneath the well-cut jacket as Adrian’s body moved uncomfortably. “Too real.”

  “Was Thérèse there?”

  The question seemed to stop Adrian in his tracks, and he turned to Sidney, an arrested expression on his face. “No. No, she wasn’t. It was all Kat. Nothing but Kat.”

  “And you both—er—participated?”

  “Yes.” The answer was bitten off hastily.

  “Look, Adrian, I’m not asking from some prurient desire to probe your intimate activities. Every experience you have, every dream, every hunger, could be important. Could provide the clue to finding the answer we both seek.” Sidney leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at his son.

  Adrian sighed. “I know, Father. Believe me, I know. It’s just that this particular…dream, vision--whatever it was--shook me. There’s something about her…”

  “What? What is it about her that’s different? Let’s start there…”

  Adrian closed his eyes in thought for a moment, obviously trying to find an answer to the question.

  Sidney watched him. How dear this lad had become to him and how important. Sidney knew his every mood, his every expression. There was a fundamental goodness within his heart that Adrian clearly doubted. The conflict of what he was and what he felt he should be tore at him regularly, Sidney knew.

  How could he be a demon of darkness and yet not wish to hurt or kill? Why had he been so afflicted when all he’d wanted was to live a simple and happy life? Had there been some terrible devil of inhumanity lurking in his soul that had resulted in his present condition?

  No matter how Sidney tried to reassure Adrian, to let him know that his “condition” was not linked to any defect in his personality, there was still doubt. Adrian still fought demons of his own on a regular basis. Demons that were borne of his vampire nature, his fangs and his thirst for blood. They were not borne of his soul.

  Sidney knew that there was still light within that soul—but he had little or no hope of convincing Adrian himself. It was one more battle Sidney fought on behalf of his son.

  He sighed. And now there was a new wrinkle, a shapely one, in the form of this woman who seemed to have breached some wall around Adrian. Perhaps it would be a good thing, perhaps not. That remained to be seen.

  A crash from across the room distracted both men as the doors were savagely pushed apart.

  It looked as though Sidney’s questions might be answered sooner rather than later, since the woman herself stood there like an avenging angel, all frothy nightgown, dark green blanket, wild red hair and blazingly furious blue eyes.

  Those eyes found Adrian. She strode towards him, lace foaming behind her like a wake on the surface of the ocean. Sidney vaguely remembered that nightgown, but found himself distracted by the woman’s evident fury.

  She stopped in front of Adrian, who was staring at her with one eyebrow slightly raised. It was a sardonic expression when coupled with the curl to his lips.

  She clearly did not like it.

  The whole force of her body was behind her arm as she swung at Adrian and slapped him across the face. Very hard indeed.

  *~*~*~*

  “You—bastard.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She never swore. Never got emotional in front of people, but there was something about this man that stripped away her façade of gentility to reveal the passionate woman beneath. “You came to my room and violated me.”

  His eyebrows snapped together in a sharp frown. “I did no such thing.”

  “Yes you did. I suppose you thought the laudanum would render me unconscious. Well let me tell you…” Her finger poked his chest, sharply digging into muscles that flexed as she touched him. “Let me tell you that no amount of laudanum could prevent my knowing when I am…” She faltered.

  “Do not say raped.” His lips hissed the words at her. “That was not rape, and you know it.”

  “Aha.” She jumped on t
hat immediately. “So you admit it. You were in my bed.”

  “I was not. I was dreaming. And so, by the sounds of things, were you.” He strolled away from her. “I will not claim any responsibility for my presence in the nightmares or longings of a frustrated female.”

  “What?” Her shriek of fury shocked even herself. “Frustrated? Is that what you think? That you are so appealing, one look—one conversation, can turn me into a wanton woman ready to…to…do whatever to appease some deep-seated urges that only you could awaken?” She widened her eyes. “You astound me. Your arrogance astounds me. And I suppose you’re going to try and tell me that this…this is only a dream, too.” She gestured at her neck. “I bleed, you vile fiend. You bit me.”

  Katherine’s anger exploded. “You not only fucked me, you bit me. What kind of monster are you?”

  A stunned silence fell as Adrian and Sidney stared at her neck, exchanging a brief glance and then returning to gaze at where she pointed with similar expressions of disbelief.

  “Oh my God.” Adrian slumped, his shoulders sagging.

  “This is…interesting.” Sidney stood and crossed the room to Katherine, reaching for her neck. “May I see, my dear?”

  Uncertainly, Katherine searched his face. “What is happening? What the devil is going on?”

  “That’s what I’d like to ascertain. If you’ll permit me?” He delicately eased the blanket away from her shoulder and moved her head this way and that, lightly touching the skin around the two small marks.

  “Hmm.” He moved away and then returned carrying a small damp cloth. “This is simply to cleanse your injury. ‘Tis a small scratch, no more, but it did perhaps bleed more than is usual.” He dabbed lightly at her skin. “I apologize for the laudanum, my dear. You sustained a nasty head wound. Since the rest of you was merely bruised, I believed that sleep would be the best medicine. I had no idea the drug would stimulate such terrible nightmares, but perhaps I should’ve guessed…”

  He glanced at Adrian. “Laudanum is a tincture of opium. The effects can sometimes be similar to that of the poppy.”