Darkness In The Flames

by Kelly, Sahara

  She need not have worried. A side door opened and Gawain’s favorite playmate entered, a grin curving his lips as he took in the scene with a quick glance. “Oh, having fun then, are we? Don’t want to be left out, dearie, do we?”

  Within moments he was half-naked and playing with Gawain’s cock as the two of them watched Isolde enjoying Emily’s attentions.

  “You want her to suck you off?” Charlie nodded at Verity.

  Gawain thought for a moment—the longest moment of Verity’s life thus far. “No, darling. You do it. You know how I like it, don’t you?” He giggled and spread his thighs wide on the couch, positioning himself. “Oh, don’t forget my arse.”

  “Now how could I forget that lovely little arse of yours, dear?”

  Verity wasn’t shocked. She’d seen this before, too many times. She’d gone past outrage at Charlie’s informality with his master. Seen Charlie do things to Gawain that had taken any preconceived notions she’d had about sexual interaction and thrown them out the window.

  “Hmm. You’ve given me a lovely idea Gawain.” Isolde grabbed a handful of Emily’s hair and jerked her head away from her body. “Get a toy, wench. I want to be filled. Fucked and filled.” Her laugh grated on Verity’s ears.

  Slowly Verity backed into the shadows, praying they would forget her existence as they fell deeper into their depravity. She slipped her gown up over her nakedness, unnoticed as Emily produced a dildo for her mistress’s pleasure.

  “Oh good girl.” Isolde laughed as it slid into her welcoming body, wielded with skill by the grinning maid.

  “Like that, Maîtresse?”

  “Yes. Just like that. Oh…oh…harder…”

  Gawain squawked as Charlie did much the same thing to him. The couch rocked a little as the two men played, Charlie sucking Gawain’s cock with enthusiasm while rocking a large dildo in and out of Gawain’s ass.

  “God, Charlie, that’s good man, so good. Fuck me if that isn’t just divine.”

  The room was filled with heat from the fire and the bodies writhing as the two couples took their sexual pleasure in their own particular ways. It was decadent and jarred on Verity’s senses, making her dizzy for a moment, unable to see clearly.

  She blinked away the mists of her own disgust, knowing she must stay alert, in command of her own emotions and responses. She could not make a mistake here, not when Isolde was in this kind of mood.

  It was almost a welcome relief when she heard a faint tap at the door.

  Isolde froze, a frown creasing her face. “What?”

  Verity hurried to the door and opened it a mere crack to see the worried face of a servant. “The Dowager’s awake, Miss Chandler. She’s asking for you.”

  “Very well. Thank you. Tell her I’ll be there in a moment.” She shut the door again, tightened her gown and turned to Isolde. “I must leave, my Lady. The Dowager will demand my presence—or an explanation of my absence.”

  Isolde curled her lip. “Nagging old besom.” She sighed. “Very well. Go. I shan’t need you anyway.” She found Emily’s head and tugged her to her feet. “I have other things to occupy me.”

  Verity struggled to finish tightening her dress before quitting the room. She couldn’t wait to leave, but couldn’t miss seeing Isolde grasp Emily and lower the two of them to the floor, a tangle of soft skin and smooth limbs.

  Locked together, legs intertwined, Emily began to move, to grind herself against the dildo that still protruded from Isolde’s pussy. Isolde moved too, her pants and moans betraying her delight.

  Verity turned, lungs catching on a breath of disgust, glad that she could now leave the orgy behind. For once, the Dowager’s summons had not come amiss. It had spared her from a fate she knew would be hard to dismiss from her mind.

  She swore this would be the last time. No more would she be a participant in their deviant play. Enough was enough and today Isolde had crossed a line that Verity had drawn when this whole mess started.

  Whipping was one thing. Being fucked by another woman…that was not part of the deal and never had been.

  She closed the door behind her and heaved a sigh of relief.

  She must succeed tonight. The Midnight Shadows simply had to plunder themselves sufficient bounty to end this nightmare.

  With that thought in mind, she hurried away to tend to the Dowager—and plan for the midnight ride to come.

  *~*~*~*

  The sun had set by the time Nick awoke, groggy and stiff on his uncomfortable bed. Usually he simply returned to consciousness, unaware of the day just passed. But this night he retained full knowledge of Thérèse and her demands. The taste of her lingered, a bitter tang on the back of his tongue.

  A dream perhaps, but one that left strong aftereffects. Such was her power over her victims. And there had to be more than one. More souls wandering in lost agony over the face of the Earth, shunning the light and hiding as best they could from mortal eyes.

  He stretched out his aching limbs, wondering at the sensation. It was strange how he’d forgotten what it was to wake with a sore neck. Something was different now, something had shifted somewhere—he was different perhaps.

  Mentally he checked off his current condition, finding nothing significantly altered in his physical state. His skin was still cool, his fangs a dull sensation within his gums, his heartbeat and pulse undetectable.

  He was still a vampire. And yet…

  Closing his eyes for a moment or two, Nick delved into the darkness within, a trick he’d mastered some months after his “change”. And there he found something new. There were no words he could use to describe it, no comparisons his scientific mind could logically make. But it was there, nonetheless.

  Instead of the bleak, arid landscape of his consciousness he discovered a place where the fogs had thinned. Where a tiny spark flared, a spark that was different and almost warming.

  The best he could do was describe it to himself as some kind of seed that had taken root and was developing, growing perhaps into something he’d not experienced before. Truthfully, he’d never expected anything like this to ever happen. Over the years he’d become resigned to the icy chill of his life, such as it was.

  But this? Nick turned the sensations over in his brain, trying to analyze them, quantify them, give them some sort of name.

  He could not. Perhaps fear held him back. He was afraid that if he delved too deeply, explored this—whatever it was—too closely it would vanish and leave him even more bereft than before. And yet the knowledge of its origin was there, lurking far in the recesses of his head.

  It was Verity.

  She had given him a piece of herself, a piece that had stolen into places he’d thought as dead as he himself could never be. She’d lain with him, surrendered to him, offered him something more precious than he could imagine. She’d offered him her heart.

  He knew, with unwavering certainty, she’d not have taken him into her body if she hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t desired him with every fiber of her being. She was no Isolde and certainly no Thérèse. Verity could never be a woman of casual sexual affairs. She’d responded to his slightest touch with fire and need, giving him a gift of passion he’d never expected nor anticipated. And he’d answered her desires with passion of his own.

  Some sort of barrier had cracked and fallen when they loved, a barrier that had implanted Verity into Nick’s soul and—possibly—a part of him into hers.

  He prayed there would be no damage to her from their loving. If he’d shed one iota of his horror on her, he’d never forgive himself. But it did explain why he was finding it so hard to leave her. Why he could not, no matter how he tried, ride away and never see her again. They shared a link now, it seemed. A link that bound them, whether he wanted it or not.

  Stunned, Nick left the darkness of his lair for the darkness of the forest, going through his routine awakening with only half his thoughts. His horse was easily found and saddled, his belongings stowed casually while his mind whirled an
d became accustomed to this new set of circumstances.

  He had to find her. Speak to her again and make sure she was all right. Tell her—what?

  Nick didn’t know. That was going to be the big question he’d have to face—what to tell her, how much to tell her. He sighed to himself as he swung himself into his saddle. A lot would depend on the woman herself. He had questions for her about her situation, how she’d arrived at the place she found herself in. What had happened to her family and to her brother, Nick’s schoolmate Clive.

  Her responses would lead him, guide him when it came to answering the questions she would inevitably ask in return.

  Idly he steered his horse through the night, having no set goal or place he needed to be. By mutual consent they turned to where the waning moon shone through the canopy of fir trees—a small rise bare of anything but low vegetation.

  As they broke from the shadows, Nick realized he could see the surrounding area quite well and he rested a moment, letting his mount crop the grass at its feet contentedly.

  In the far distance he could just make out the lights of FitzAdams Towers. It dominated the skyline perhaps three or maybe even four miles away—distance was hard even for him at this time of night. The road stretched down from the buildings through woods and past streams, a twisting ribbon he could barely discern. There were several places where it disappeared completely and one long stretch where it burrowed its way through the center of the forest.

  Nick remembered riding through there when he first arrived.

  With Verity in the coach beside him.

  It was an effort to shift his thoughts away from her. He simply could not spend the hours of darkness lost in memories, much though he would have enjoyed the little holiday. He was still what he was—still a lost creature of the night. He had to be cautious always, never letting down his guard and alert for potential threats or trouble.

  Even so, he sat for quite some time, watching the stars as they slowly moved in their prescribed passage above his head. It was a rare period of reflection for one who had, up until now, forbidden himself the luxury.

  Gradually, unbidden, a plan began to take shape in Nick’s mind. There were a whole lot of variables involved, more than he cared to admit. Scientists disliked variables on principle since they tended to be unpredictable and affect the outcome in ways that didn’t always suit the experiment.

  But—all things considered—it was a sort of outline of things to come. The first time anything resembling a future might possibly come to pass for the vampire Nick had become.

  Of course it included Verity. Somehow, someway, she must be persuaded to leave FitzAdams Towers. And somehow, some other way, he must find the words to tell her what he was. If she rejected him, so be it. He would move heaven and earth to see her settled in a situation more suited to her personality. Nick had never resorted to crime, he’d never needed to. His physical requirements were few and thievery had never become necessary.

  But he’d do it if he had to. Saving Verity from the FitzAdamses and their perversions would take priority over whatever scruples he had left. Lacking resources of his own, he’d investigate others. All of which might not be necessary if only she’d accept him for what he was.

  And then—if she did—well, that took things down another path. Traveling together, perhaps they could find this place in Hampshire where Nick sensed he eventually needed to be. Would there be others of his kind there? Had Thérèse left her mark on more innocent and unwary travelers?

  It was highly possible. She visited him only occasionally in his sleep. Where was she the rest of the time? When it came to a being with her level of sexual needs, Nick thought it illogical to assume he was the only one she mind-fucked. Perhaps, with Verity at his side, Nick could withstand Thérèse’s invasion of his thoughts. He didn’t know. That was a huge variable in his newly formulated equation.

  But to have and to keep Verity with him, for as long as God granted them each an existence—it would be worth any risk, any daring assumption, to make that come to pass.

  Finally surrendering to the tiny flame of hope, Nick straightened his shoulders and gathered the reins. Just in time to catch the faintest sound. Hoofbeats. Muffled—perhaps riding across soft grass.

  The sound was unmistakable to his sensitive hearing and he cocked his head, listening. There—the slight jangle of a harness, the creak of saddle leather.

  More than one rider too.

  Who would be abroad, moving with stealth, at this time of night? Nick swallowed as an uncomfortable notion blossomed in his mind. Highwaymen.

  Verity’s highwaymen.

  Quietly he turned his own mount toward the sounds. If she was indeed their leader, she might need his protection. If not, he would simply blend with the darkness and let the riders pass unmolested.

  Whatever the case, something was afoot in the forest. Nick intended to find out exactly what that something was.

  *~*~*~*

  As if driven by a whirlwind, Verity flew around her tiny room gathering the few belongings that defined her life. She’d settled the Dowager at last and was now free. As if in answer to her prayers, the guests had not yet arrived but were assumed to be on their way.

  Which would put their coach exactly where the Midnight Shadows needed it to be—on the darkest part of the road to FitzAdams Towers—at the time just past moonset.

  Stuffing her meager bundle to the brim, Verity adjusted her black breeches and pulled on the old black coat she’d retrieved from the back of her closet. A mask and knit cap hung from one large pocket. It was old fashioned, but unremarkable and had served her well.

  Slipping unnoticed from the Towers was simple, given the rabbit warren of passageways and stairwells. Most of the servants were busy anyway. She was in the stables shortly thereafter, rapidly saddling her favorite mare. Fortunately, the stable hands were as decadent as the rest of this household. She knew from experience that as soon as their work was done, they’d be off to their own pursuits.

  Some would remain alert for the arriving carriage, but there was nobody tending the few riding horses in their stalls at this time of night. None had ever noticed the one empty stall at the far end of the barn and she doubted they’d start now. The mare she’d chosen seemed to enjoy these nighttime forays and obediently stepped lightly through a small rear door out to the grazing field and open air.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Verity lifted her boot into the stirrup and once again blessed the height that allowed her to mount without a block. Carefully picking her way across the field she was into the forest before she knew it and following the almost hidden paths to the rendezvous point.

  Her heart beat rapidly as it always did. The surge of fear and—yes—excitement thrummed through her veins. She quelled it sternly, knowing she needed every ounce of her wits about her. These were ladies and gentlemen of the Ton, but they might well be armed. The drawback to being a highwayman, besides the obvious, was that too many raids alerted travelers and made them better prepared to defend themselves. There’d been one shooting already. She did not want another one. Not now when her goals were so close.

  A mere fifteen minutes or so and she reached the bend in the road. Pausing, she placed two fingers in her mouth and let out a small chirrup, easily mistaken for the soft call of a night bird.

  Two chirrups answered her and she moved to join her companions in crime.

  “A coach.” She kept her voice pitched low. “On its way to the Towers. Four people inside and plenty of jewelry. Driver, second coachman, possibly a tiger up behind…I’m not sure…”

  “Any outriders?” One of her fellows whispered the question.

  “Again, I’m not sure. Best we be prepared though. Two men across the road in the trees. Watch for anything untoward.”

  That was all it took to set the plan into motion and riders taking up their positions silently in the darkness.

  The waiting was the worst, as far as Verity was concerned. Everybody knew what to do
and when to do it, but actually waiting to do it was nerve-racking. Sweat beaded up on her forehead and she risked a quick swipe at the moisture, noting with some pride that although her tension level was off the scale, her hands were still steady in their black leather gloves.

  Glancing around, she nodded. There was absolutely no sign that her band of highwaymen lay in wait. They’d disliked this as much as she, but been forced to take this route by circumstances beyond their control.

  Charlie Swain, for example. Broad of shoulder and strong of arm, Charlie had fought like the devil in Europe and survived Waterloo. But he’d returned to a country that could not continue to afford him and his fellows.

  The summer before had been vile, crops had failed and Verity had heard tales of famine abroad. It was close to that here in rural England where simple folk lived off what they grew and farmed. Charlie’s wife and four children would have surely starved had he not been able to supplement his meager income with the occasional guinea or two quietly passed along from their cache. More than that would have brought unwanted comments or attention. They all knew it and were grateful for whatever they could get.

  Verity reminded herself to make sure the proceeds were equitably distributed since this would be her last night as their leader. Mick Donnell would probably be the best to take over if the group wished to continue without her. An older ex-soldier, he’d led a platoon at the siege of Cuidad Rodrigo and still rode well even though his wounds had sent him home before the fight was done.

  Wryly, Verity considered that thought. From what she’d gleaned of the siege, Mick had been one of the lucky ones. Wounds notwithstanding, the aftermath of that siege had set a new standard for brutality that would long outlive the participants.

  A quick hoot from what sounded like an owl brought her thoughts back to the present—and she recognized their prearranged signal. The coach was approaching.

  Verity adjusted her mask. It was time. The Midnight Shadows were about to make a farewell appearance.