The Red Collection

by Portia Da Costa

  When she pulled back, Zack was staring at her, his eyes wide and strange. He had his full sensual lower lip snagged in his upper teeth, and in the low light they seemed to glint like polished porcelain, sharp and deadly.

  Almost dazzled, Teresa felt giddiness whirl her feet out from under her, and without knowing quite how, she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Wha–’

  ‘Come on, Teresa, you need rest. It’s late. Why don’t you slip into bed and get some sleep?’ Zack’s voice was matter of fact. He was sitting a decorous distance away from her, inches and inches of clear space between their bodies.

  ‘Er … um … yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  The soft thick duvet was tempting. These funny turns she kept having were worrying, and Zack was right, she’d be better off getting some rest.

  She glanced from the bed to the bathroom. The prospect of getting ready for bed made her feel more tired than ever.

  Zack seemed to read her mind. ‘I think I’ll go for a stroll in the grounds. Give you chance to get settled in.’

  ‘But we’ve only just got here. And it’s nearly midnight.’

  ‘You know me and my nocturnal rambles. And I need to stretch my legs after the drive.’

  Teresa’s heart sank.

  She should have let him go home and stay in his comfort zone. When this stupid wedding was over, it might be best if she looked for her own place again. This situation of liking each other but not being able to do anything about it was bound to become intolerable eventually.

  Unexpectedly, a strong arm came around her shoulders.

  ‘It’s just a walk, Teresa. We’re fine.’ The arm squeezed, the pressure reassuring, but also unnerving. There was so much leashed power in that lean and elegant body, and he was still wound up like steel wire no matter what he said. ‘I’m just giving you space to do your girl things.’

  Emotion rolled over Teresa like a wave. This was all a mess but, even now, Zack was being wonderful.

  ‘Thanks.’ She flashed him a grateful smile as he released her and rose to his feet.

  ‘I’ll just put my bottles away, then I’ll leave you to it.’

  Ah, the mysterious ‘iron shake’. Something picked at Teresa’s tired mind as she watched Zack unpack several bottles from a cool-pack and stow them in the mini-bar fridge. One of these days she was going to have to ask him what was in that peculiar unappetising drink.

  ‘I want you to be fast asleep when I get back,’ said Zack firmly a few moments later. Teresa looked longingly at him, clutching a pair of eggshell-blue satin pyjamas from her case. He looked more relaxed now that he was about to escape the room, and his expression was almost brotherly. At least it seemed to be.

  ‘OK, you’re the boss of this dormitory.’ She pinned on what she thought was a light-hearted, just-buddies smile.

  But Zack was already out of the door and gone.

  The night was beautiful, and the sky full of moon.

  As Zack sped across the great park of Hindlesham Manor, he was aware that anyone watching him from the house would wonder if they were seeing things.

  Things like a human-seeming figure devouring the yards at inhuman speed.

  He was angry with himself. Not only had he muddied the situation between them by admitting his feelings, he’d given in to temptation and put Teresa at risk. And all he could think about now was her lovely body, clad in those blue pyjamas.

  In bed.

  Waiting for him.

  Could he control himself around her for much longer? His cool heart soared at the thought of touching her, caressing her – entering her. Giving her pleasure while she was entirely conscious and her mind was unclouded by his psychic tricks. Making love to her, while she knew exactly what he was.

  Would her natural sympathy allow her to see past his fangs and reddened eyes? Would the attraction he knew she felt towards him be enough?

  Vampires had always had a bad press. Misinformation had extinguished the extended lives of many of his kind who didn’t deserve their demise. As with humanity, there were a thousand different flavours of vampires. They were as different from each other as normal people were, each one’s nature predicated by the life he or she had led before being turned, and the circumstances of how that process had occurred.

  An evil murderous bastard was still an evil murderous bastard as a vampire – only more so. Likewise, a weak-willed person might also take the easy path and bite the neck out of man, woman or child in order to feed.

  But a decent man would find a way to avoid harming others after his turning.

  His own situation was unusual.

  In 1932, as a novice in a Benedictine monastery, he’d fallen prey to a band of hungry vampires of questionable ethics who’d broken in and attacked the brothers. A beautiful female had sensed the diffidence of his faith, and zeroed in on him. Barely ten minutes later he’d lost that faith, and his human life forever, but unfortunately not his virginity. Swooping away, she’d laughed and taunted him, leaving him shattered, terrified, confused – and yet still aroused.

  In the aftermath, he’d waited for the inevitable revulsion of his community, and received the surprise of his young, but altered, life. His brothers had been modern, forward-thinking twentieth-century monks and, far from casting him out or turning a Vatican vampire hunter on him, they’d helped him.

  A new cynicism suggested that their kindness towards a bloodsucker in their midst wasn’t entirely altruistic. His family was immensely wealthy, with old, old money, and the community wasn’t about to pass up such patronage in times when other houses were closing. But, Christian charity or no, they’d made it possible for him to adjust and it seemed that the Church had been secretly handling cases like his for centuries.

  And so here I am, Zack thought, a virgin vampire, who’s in love for the first time in his long ridiculous life.

  Hindlesham Manor was possessed of a large, traditional box hedge maze, and as Zack entered its perimeter, his enhanced senses savoured the delicious dewy air. Cool scents of wood sap, pine and moss were balsamic and intoxicating. They assaulted him like nocturnal elixirs, provoking and stirring.

  But not as much as Teresa stirred him.

  The journey had been agony, requiring a constant intense focus on the act of driving. Her perfume was delicate and floral, a beautiful expression of her natural sweetness and purity. Yes, he knew that she’d slept with men, but deep in her heart he detected a central innocence that no man had breached – an untouched and pristine state that mirrored his own.

  But it was more than an artificial odour that had plagued him.

  The fresh green smells of the night faded and were replaced with warmer richer human aromas. The lush musky scent of Teresa’s body that had kept his penis stiff and his fangs right on the point of descent for mile after mile.

  Haunting female sweat. Sex musk, from between her legs. And her blood, just beneath the surface of her smooth heated skin. It had called to him constantly, and it called to him still, demanding more self-control than he’d ever had to exert in all his years.

  Plunging on between the tall hedges, he had no fear of losing his way. A natural sense of direction was one of his special gifts. The way was cool and dark, but it didn’t chill his passions. He was erect again and he touched himself lightly as he walked, his mind flying back to the hotel room and the sight of Teresa in that huge tempting bed, her body twisting in sleep, her soft brown hair tousled endearingly.

  Perhaps the jacket of her pyjamas might come unfastened as she tossed and turned, revealing her rounded breasts to his unholy gaze. With his psi abilities, it would be easy to touch her and pleasure her without her even waking. The remnants of his religious morality, never quite shaken off, abhorred such thievery, but when the blood fever in him was rampant, it would be hard to resist.

  Teresa was exquisite, the crystallised embodiment of the perfect dream woman he’d wanted all these years. The woman he’d wanted even while he wa
s an imperfect novice, struggling with his faith, before his change.

  The only consolation was that she would enjoy the sensual dreams that he induced.

  Connecting with his surroundings again, he found himself at the centre of the maze. He stepped into an open area, a spacious oval ringed by benches where explorers could sit and get their breath back, while they tried to work out how to get out again.

  Zack didn’t sit. Instead he walked across the central turf to the deep ornamental pond that shimmered like a dark eye reflecting the moon.

  Staring into the water, he laughed softly, his lust muted by the perennial amusement of another shattered vampire myth.

  In the black water, he saw his own face, and his chest and shoulders, clad in his dark shirt.

  He was distinctly visible, although not quite as clearly as Teresa would have been if she had been standing beside him. His image was impressionistic, far less substantial than that of a normal person, expressing the remnants of his humanity. On the continuum of vampirism, he was at the ‘light’ end, complete with spirit, soul and conscience – and it was these that created his reflection in the water. A black-hearted villain probably wouldn’t see a thing.

  And yet dark passions surged inside him. His sleeping lust was red and violent, roused by Teresa, and whipped to boiling point by their enforced proximity. It had been insanity to come on this trip, but he’d done it all the same. He was still human in some senses, and subject to the wayward foibles of human nature. And a human need for love that compelled him to grasp at the fleeting chance for intimacy, both emotional and physical.

  With Teresa safe in her bed, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, Zack surrendered to the chaos of his senses.

  His fangs descended – a rush of sensation in itself. And as the truth of his condition was revealed he rhythmically cupped and caressed his genitals, fantasising that his own large hand was her smaller daintier one. His chilly skin seemed to burn with an icy fire and become painfully hyper-sensitive. His clothes irritated every nerve-end.

  Ignoring the possibility of other insomniac explorers, he slid off his clothing, undressing far faster than any human could have.

  Within seconds he was naked in the moonlight, but still his pale skin tingled. He moaned, knowing that only the gentle caressing touch of Teresa’s hands could soothe him. Only her hands could both rouse and give ease to the fury of desire. His own hands, running over his limbs, his torso and his belly, only seemed to aggravate his need.

  Yet he couldn’t stop. He stroked his body, fingertips tracking over his dense musculature, imagining it was her fingers that were moving, sliding and tantalising. His cock was aching and heavy, standing out from his body now, a bar of darker flesh in the blue-white light of the moon, a strangely human phenomenon taking over the body of an other than human male.

  At last, he took himself in hand, growling at the impact of his own touch, baring his fangs and tipping back his head, eyes closed.

  ‘Teresa!’ His voice was a low rumble of feeling as he began to stroke and pump his flesh. He knew it was not her hand, but in a state of passionate fugue, his own touch was the next best thing. His mind was able to trick him, and he seemed to see her beside him, and hear her breathing and smell her myriad delicious scents.

  She was touching him, fondling him, loving him, making him moan with delight, his thighs flexing as he pushed and pushed into the delicious enclosure of warm, skilled fingers. He wrapped his free hand around his torso, but in his imagination, he was clasping her to him, even as she clasped and caressed his cock.

  The sensations built and spiralled, the intensity mounting. His sharp fangs pricked at his own lips as he fought to contain his vampire roar of pleasure. He tasted his own blood, the flavour sweet but inert. It was no substitute for fresh warm, living blood, but the fact that it had once had life goaded and lifted him to the point of no return.

  ‘Teresa,’ he shouted again, no longer able to contain himself as his penis leapt and his spine felt as if it were melting in a white flame of climax.

  Chilly semen jetted from between his fingers, creating a silvery arc that glittered momentarily in the light of the moon. And as it hit the dark surface of the pond, Zack groaned and swayed, his spent body crumpling as he collapsed and curled up on the damp turf, stunned and sobbing with release and renewed longing.

  4

  It was so hot. Longing for cool, and not sure whether she was awake or asleep, Teresa kicked off the covers.

  Her eyelids felt heavy and it was an effort to open them. Blinking, she surveyed the unfamiliar room.

  Yes, right. She was at Hindlesham Manor and she was sharing this room with Zack. Who was currently nowhere to be seen.

  He likes me. I like him. But we can’t do anything about it for some reason.

  Groaning, she turned over again. Knowing what the deal was only made her want him more. When something was forbidden, it automatically became the most desirable thing in the entire world. Sod’s Law.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured his lean male body and wished that he hadn’t shot away for a walk in the middle of the night. Even if they couldn’t make love, it would have been comforting to sense his sleeping presence across the room.

  She imagined his return. And that he’d changed his mind. She imagined him gazing at her, his beautiful blue eyes on fire with lust. He’d lick his lips and his sharp white teeth would glint.

  Why on earth am I always thinking about his teeth? Teresa wondered.

  Her hand flew to her neck. She seemed to feel the sharp prick of him nipping her there.

  Squirming against the sheets, she touched the place where she imagined him biting her, and with her other hand she massaged between her legs through her pyjamas.

  A low moan echoed through the room, and Teresa’s eyes flew open again.

  It wasn’t her!

  Across at the window, but looking into the room rather than out of it, stood Zack.

  She opened her mouth to speak to him, but he made a shushing gesture with one forefinger across his lips. A fraction of a second later, he was beside her, and she felt too mesmerised to wonder how he could move so quickly and so soundlessly. The bed dipped as he sat down beside her.

  Heavy inertia flooded her limbs. She couldn’t move or speak, yet her senses were acute and the entire surface of her skin felt electrified, receptive, and tingling with an almost sentient longing to be touched. Her hand was still between her thighs, pressing against her sex, her clit. With her other hand she was still touching her own neck.

  Zack just stared at her, as if the effort of speeding across the room had drained him and he was resting, restoring himself, feeding on the sight of her touching herself.

  His hair was awry, his curls wild and beautiful. They appeared to float as he tipped his head on one side, even now hesitating. To Teresa’s horror, he began to edge away.

  No … No, I shouldn’t do this, she seemed to hear him say.

  But, as he made to rise and leave, Teresa willed him to hear her silent command.

  Stay!

  Moving closer again, Zack smiled almost shyly, and the teeth she’d been so fixated upon glinted whitely in the moonlight filtering in through the fine gauze curtains. She wanted to sit up, reach out and run a fingertip over their sharp biting surfaces and test their keen edge. In her imagination, blood welled from the pad of her forefinger – and, like fate, Zack lunged forwards, grasped her hands away from her body and pinned them in one of his, above her head.

  Then he kissed her while his other hand searched and found her breast.

  Oh yes … Oh hell yes …

  There was an exquisite roughness about both the kiss and the caress. A fugitive lack of finesse that excited her senses even more. The way Zack’s cool tongue probed, and his long fingers squeezed and fondled her only heightened her impression that these explorations were fresh and new to him. She mewled beneath his lips, her virgin lover fantasy surging up and taking flight.

  Her response
electrified him. Still kissing hard, and massaging her breast, he threw one long leg across her and angled his hips to rub his crotch against her thigh through her silky pyjama bottoms. He was hard as iron, cool and unyielding as he rocked his hips and circled his erection against her flesh.

  Teresa began to wriggle in his hold, wanting to press more of herself against as much of Zack as she could reach. She could feel the chilly nature of his body through her pyjamas and the shirt and trousers he wore, but the near contact set flames of lust surging.

  He was unusual. He was special. He was like no man she’d ever been with or wanted to be with before. Being kissed and touched and rubbed up against like this was driving her to madness.

  ‘Zack, please …’ she finally managed to gasp when he allowed her mouth a moment of freedom and turned away, pressing his face into the pillow as if he were hiding it. ‘Please let me free. I want to touch you.’ She twisted towards him, trying to kiss him again, nuzzling his face. ‘Let me look at you. I want to kiss you … Please, Zack.’

  ‘No!’

  The word was extraordinarily loud and shocking. As if a lion had roared in her ear, Teresa shrank back, fearful yet more impossibly turned on than ever.

  Zack released her hands, but with that strange, unnatural turn of speed of his, he was over her again, half lying on her before she could draw breath. With one long, cool hand he covered her eyes.

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  Teresa obeyed him instantly and without question. A part of herself – floating high above the proceedings – was outraged at such submissiveness, but the woman who lay beneath Zack accepted dreamily and complied.

  Even when he took away his hand, her leaden eyelids didn’t lift. She felt him move off her, but she couldn’t follow. It was as if she were pinned to the bed by some force she didn’t understand. Even her arms, free now, lay inert at her sides.

  Moments seemed to stretch out like elastic as she lay there, and she could feel his cool gaze coasting over her satin-clad limbs. Obediently blind, she still seemed to see his dark head tilt again, in slow contemplation.