Curse of Dracula

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  “It is shockingly callous. That does not sound like the woman I met.”

  “She does not see it as so. She does not view what has been done to her as a tragedy, but a revelation.” He gently kissed the top of her head. “I wonder if you would not feel the same should you accept my immortal kiss. Or would you loathe me for what I had done, turning you into a monster and a predator?”

  “I cannot imagine what would become of my empathic gift were I to do such a thing.” Maxine shuddered. “I fear what would happen to my sanity.”

  “It is for that reason alone that I have not already turned you, I admit.”

  “Was my opinion not to feature into the arrangement?” She laughed.

  “As you so aptly pointed out, I am not one who much asks for anything.” He turned her around in his arms. In one step and with the grasp of his hands on her hips, she was suddenly seated on the balcony railing. Squeaking in fear, she clung to the front of his coat tightly. It drew a genuine and soft laugh from him. “Do you think I would let you fall?”

  “I—”

  “This is simply easier on my neck.” He was smiling at her fondly. There was such a warmth in those crimson eyes that it soothed her fear of falling. Sitting on the railing did give her over half a foot of height. And as he stepped in between her knees to wrap an arm behind her back, she understood why he had sought to even them.

  The fingers of his other hand drifted up over her knee and began to ride her dress up to her thighs. She squeaked again and tried to stop his progress. “We’re outdoors.”

  “And?”

  “Someone will see!”

  “No. No one is near.” He stepped into her and pulled her hips against his. She gasped at the feeling of him there, already eager. Already wanting. He captured her gasp with a kiss that was feverish and needy. Bloodlust. His heart was beating with it, his lips warm against her. His violence against the hunter had turned into a different form of need.

  He cradled her head in his hand as he devoured her lips. It was bruising. It demanded she give him control, and she was more than happy to relinquish it. She surrendered to him and the invasion of the warlord who was bent on conquering her.

  Victory rang through him like the toll of the bell. His enemy had fallen. There was a violence in his yearning for her. He may not have come from the battlefield of the slain, but the celebration was still there.

  When he finally broke from her, she was gasping for air. She clung to him, feeling lightheaded. It was as though her body had been set ablaze. Fire pooled in her. He watched her, heavy-lidded crimson eyes dark with the promise of something sinful. He had been a gentleman to her last night. She knew she would likely not receive the same care tonight.

  Or right now, if the feeling of him pressed against her core, his pants and her undergarments the only thing separating them. The thought of him taking her like this on the railing of the balcony made her cheeks grow hot.

  A slow smile bloomed over him. He traced his thumb over her cheek, clearly relishing her blush. “Such a shy little creature you are. I wonder if that will change.”

  “You assume I have not made the decision to destroy your soul.”

  “Have you?”

  She paused. “No. I have not made my choice yet.”

  “Hm. Well. In the absence of my imminent demise, I think I would like to invite you to dinner. That is…before I lose what is left of my restraint and bend you over this railing and rut you here and now.”

  Her face exploded in heat once more. “You are a passionate thing tonight.”

  “I am taking pride in my successes. I return to my encampment of war as a victorious soldier. I find the need to celebrate. I enjoy what triumphs I can garner.” He stepped back, adjusted her dress back down to her ankles, and helped her from the railing. “I also enjoy making you blush.”

  “You are quite skilled in that regard.” She smoothed the folds of her dress.

  “Come.” He held his hand out. “Unless you wish to take me up on my offer.”

  She placed her hand into his. “I think it best if I eat. I would not like to faint at an inappropriate time.”

  “Hm. It might not stop me if you did.” He grinned wickedly and pulled her into him. With that, the world exploded into the weightless sensation of flying through the sky as a multitude of bats. It still made her ill, even if it did not frighten her anymore.

  At least not terribly.

  When she came back to herself, she was standing on the roof of the library. She gasped. The view was gorgeous, even if she did feel somewhat precarious standing on the copper sheets, even if this portion was perfectly flat.

  A table was set up near them, using the beautiful view of Boston, cast in red light as it was, as the backdrop. Draped in a white cloth, a candelabra was burning in the center of it. The food was already set out and two glasses of red wine already poured.

  It looked so wonderfully cliché that she had to laugh.

  “What is funny?”

  “You have outdone yourself.” She shook her head. “All we need now is some soft violin music and we would have the perfect date.”

  “It can be arranged.”

  “I am joking, you great oaf.” She turned to him and batted him playfully on the arm. “I am not going to make some pack of vampires sit up here and play in a chamber ensemble for our amusement.”

  “For shame.” His smile revealed how much he seemed to enjoy their candor. “I suppose I shall have to tell them their evening is freed up. Now, whatever shall we do without the accompaniment? And here I had been looking forward to a dance. I suppose we must make do, regardless.” He offered her his hand, and she was struck by the image of it. It was not the first time had done such a thing, and she doubted it would be the last. She hoped not. She slipped her hand into his, and he brought her into the position for a waltz.

  It seemed he was remembering how they met. He danced with her to a silent tune, careful to avoid the ledges of the roof.

  Their first dance had been exhilarating, terrifying, and wonderful. She had so much enjoyed their debate, even if she had been an utter fool for not seeing his inhumanity hidden behind the façade of a living man.

  Now, here they were. Together. She had been hunted by a monster, and now she willingly danced with him atop the library of a city he had ruined. “We have come a long way, Count.” For better or worse.

  “So we have, Miss Parker. So we have.”

  The dance ended when he drew her close to him and pressed his lips to hers. Cold but wonderfully inviting. She chased his lips as he pulled away, and she stole one more embrace from him before he finally drew back with a dusky growl. He laced his fingers through her hair, combing the strands with his sharp nails. His fingers wandered along her jawline, and he tiled her head back and let his thumb rest against the hollow beneath her lip. He watched her as if he would burn the image into his mind. Perhaps he was trying to do simply that.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I thought I would mourn the day you no longer feared me. But I find myself with the need to celebrate the occasion instead.”

  “You will always scare me, Vampire King. You needn’t worry.” She took his hands. They were so different. Ashen and pale, not olive. Cold, not warm. The nails were long and pointed, dangerous and sharp. She lowered her head to kiss his palms one at a time. “I think have come to accept that I enjoy the fear.”

  “Good.” He lifted his hands from hers to trail a sharp nail through her hair again, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. The feeling brought a shiver out of her, and a wicked grin ghosted across him. “Come. Dinner is growing cold.”

  She followed him to the table and sat as he pulled out a chair for her. Steak—her favorite—prepared flawlessly. Yes, it would be a shame to let it go to waste. They ate in silence for a long time as she turned over her thoughts in her mind. She tried to keep them quiet. She did not wish to overturn the applecart and send it all rolling over the road.

  Bu
t he seemed to sense her unease. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You are a poor liar.”

  She smiled faintly and sipped her wine. “Nothing is wrong.”

  An arch of an eyebrow challenged her words. “The city lies in ruin around you. One of your brief companions has become a succubus, the other is my prisoner to be tortured horrifically, and the third remains doomed. After all you have witnessed, I challenge your assertion that nothing is wrong.”

  “I will amend, then. Nothing new is wrong.”

  “Fair.”

  They ate in companionable silence. It did not feel strange—it felt right. She sighed, sitting back, looking down at the glass of red wine she held and watching the red moon shine off the surface.

  “There you are again. What is wrong?” he pressed.

  “It would be so easy for me to forget. In your presence, it is so simple to ignore all that you have done…all that you are. I can see why others would be lulled into the quiet moments you might gift them. Moments where you are not the demon, but the man.”

  “And such is the challenge I have placed in front of you. Tomorrow, I will take you to see what will become of Alfonzo. I will show you his fate. If, when it is done, you can look in my eyes and tell me that you accept your love for me, then I will be satisfied, and I will release this city.”

  She stood from the table and reached for his hand. When he gave it to her, she tugged gently, urging him to follow her. He did, wordlessly standing and letting her lead them across the roof to the far side where she could see the bay. The harbor was beautiful, even if it was a little hard to see from where they were due the slowly growing buildings.

  Everything glinted in the crimson light.

  He walked up behind her and wound his arms around her, holding her to his chest. She once more leaned back against him and let out a wavering breath. She rested her hands atop his where they clasped around her waist.

  All may come and go, but she now knew the one thing she wished to remain her constant. “I thought I would never come to think of anywhere as home again. I thought after I left Virginia, I would never want one. The life of the Roma was attractive to me at the time. Never staying in one place—making the hearth wherever you were. It was about those who lived around you, not the walls you structured there in an attempt to make it permanent. When they sent me away, I was convinced I would never have a family. Never have a home. Then I came here. I never thought much of this city. It was simply a place to conduct business. But after all the cities I’ve seen, after all the places to which I’ve traveled, this one always was my favorite.”

  He let her speak uninterrupted, his arms tightening around her slightly.

  “Life had become routine the past few years. I had income. I had a reputation. My life has never been normal—not by any stretch of the imagination. But it was beginning to feel comfortable.”

  “Then I arrived.”

  “Then you arrived. My life has always seemed to have one purpose—to collect the suffering of others. To feel the pain of all those around me, and to sympathize with all that I witnessed. I should not have been surprised when the very King of Dread and Suffering himself came to call.”

  She turned in his arms to face him and laid her hands on his chest. “The King of Vampires came and demanded everything from me—my body, my heart, my soul, and my mind. You have successfully earned the first three. Could I give you the fourth in this moment—could you even rip it from me—there is little else I would wish for more. But I do not know how. I am sorry for my turmoil.”

  “If that is all I receive before I meet the grave, I will die happy, Maxine. Know that I will be content with either path you choose. But tonight belongs to us.” To her surprise, he sank to his knees in front of her. “Maxine Parker, I give you my body, my heart, and my mind. I give you my soul—what little remains of the wretched thing.” He lifted a hand to cradle her cheek in his palm. “I offer you all that I am in return for what I demand from you. All my horror, all my death, and all the love in my blackened heart. My existence is in your hands. I lay myself at your feet, my angel of death. My angel of mercy.”

  Tears stung her eyes. She leaned down and kissed him. She spoke to him of her love in silence, in her touch, in her embrace, and in her soul. If she had to destroy him to save the lives of others, she knew she would throw herself from a cliff shortly after. She did not wish to live without him.

  Moisture touched her fingers. When she looked down at him, she expected that her own tears had broken loose. But crimson stained her thumbs. He was the one crying. He smiled up at her, a sad and somewhat embarrassed expression. He stood and swiped his sleeve across his face before she could stroke away the tears. “Forgive me. I can hear your thoughts, do not forget. They are quiet now, for that I have not drunk from you in some time. But that…that was hard to miss.”

  “If I commit you to the grave, I—”

  “No. Do not say it.” He stood and gathered her into his arms, pressing her close to him. “I wallow in grief enough. I do not wish to do it more than necessary.” He caught her face in his hands and held her. His crimson gaze was intense. It bored through her and pinned her to the spot. “Say that you love me.”

  She would have laughed if not for his intensity. Instead she was only left to whisper. “Vlad Tepes Dracula—I love you.”

  She squeaked in surprise as she was suddenly lifted off the ground—and to a considerable height, no less. Damn his height! He had picked her up off her feet, and for the second time that day she was twirled about in a circle. She squealed in laughter and clung desperately to him. “Put me down at once, you fiend!”

  “Fiend?” He growled playfully. “A fiend, am I?” One of his hands caressed half of her rear before squeezing it tightly. “I will show you a fiend.” His gaze shadowed with dark promise and hunger. “Remember my words to you. Kill me or obey me. And as you have not decided to kill me yet, then you are forced to do the other.”

  “Wait—”

  23

  His little empath had wanted it all. And Vlad had eagerly given it to her. He had twisted together their bodies. He had drunk her blood. And she had mingled their souls. She was so careful with him; he could feel it. Tender and delicate as if afraid to break him.

  If she did, he would greet the void, and she would take a piece of himself into her. But if he died in such a way, he would go quite happily.

  Vlad had never known such contentment. And if he had…he could not remember it. She lay in his arms, the poor, well-worn, well-loved creature. She was fast asleep in his coffin. There was no part of her that he had not reached. No part of her that he had not defiled. He had ridden her like a man possessed.

  He had been possessed by her. She had been the demon in his mind driving him to continue, to show her everything he wanted to do to her. Sadly, she had only begun to imagine the depravity he enjoyed.

  One thing at a time.

  They would have plenty of evenings for him to teach her the darker side of love, should she choose to embrace him permanently. For now, he held her in her peaceful sleep. Her thoughts were quiet. She dreamed of pleasant things. Of love.

  Tomorrow, he would force her to witness what would become of Van Helsing. Tomorrow, he would force her to decide whether to kill him or to accept his embrace. Tonight had been about love; tomorrow would be about death.

  He was a cruel master.

  Perhaps, she might even come to love that part of his soul. He smiled and held her close and dreamed of what might become of them if she accepted him. He would let Maxine stay mortal for a few years more. He would let her become fully inured to his ways before he turned her. He did not look forward to the day she became as cold as he. He did not relish the idea of her taking pleasure in the pain of others.

  It was so very much against her nature.

  But it was inevitable. All his kind became deaf to the pain of those they fed from. It would break his heart to see her change. But if it
would mean he could hold her for a hundred years? Two? Ten? Then he would do it. It was a sacrifice he had paid before, and for her he would happily pay it again. She was his. She belonged to him. And in turn, he had given her all that he was.

  I love you, Maxine.

  And for as long as I walk this Earth, I will never, ever let you go.

  Eddie looked down at the body of the vampiress he had fought. She had claimed to be an elder vampire, and she was right in warning him that she was stronger than anything he had faced before.

  “Fuck.” He coughed. He was bruised everywhere. But that wasn’t the biggest problem.

  He looked down at his left hand. He was missing a finger. He had already bandaged it up as tightly as he could after he had picked himself up off the ground. He had lost a finger, but in the end, Elizabeth was dead, and he had won. He fired off one more round of holy ammunition into her corpse and watched her begin to ignite and burn away into dust.

  His hand stung like a bitch. He looked down at the strip of cloth that was already turning red, but slowly. He had seared it shut with the hot muzzle of his gun when it had happened in the fight. He figured he wasn’t going to bleed to death. It had hurt. A lot. But he was going to be okay.

  Whatever. It didn’t matter. It was only a finger. He had nine more, right?

  Who knew what Alfonzo had already lost by now, if he was even still alive? Or Bella? He wasn’t going to whine about the finger he didn’t need to shoot. Poor Bella…He couldn’t believe she had become a succubus willingly. He couldn’t. It had to be a lie. He was going to get to the bottom of it. He was going to save her.

  Or…or kill her.

  No. There must be a cure. He shoved the thought out of his head. He wouldn’t let himself even consider having to bury a bullet in her head. Even if it was the right thing to do.