Demon of Mine

by Ranae Rose

  “Wish I could spend the morning in the garden staring ’round at the rosebushes and sipping tea,” the girl said, her tone half wistful and half resentful.

  Elsie’s cheeks heated. “I find it difficult to enjoy the sight of the blossoms with my vision so afflicted,” she said tersely, “but yes, they smell lovely.”

  The girl made a small sound in the back of her throat that might have meant anything and turned in a flurry of skirts. Elsie listened to the soft sound of her retreating footsteps with relief.

  What seemed at least half an hour passed before another voice interrupted her solitude. “Elsie.”

  She recognized the velvety tone at once. Her heart began to beat in double time as she clutched her teacup as tightly as she dared. “Yes?” Her reply was little more than a gasp.

  “How do you fare this morning?” Damon asked from close behind her, touching her shoulder ever so lightly.

  She stifled a sigh, knowing he couldn’t possibly realize how the little bit of contact affected her. He’d probably touched her out of courtesy for her impaired vision, to let her know where he stood. The gesture shouldn’t have set her heart racing, but it had. “My vision was somewhat improved when I awoke. I can see now out of both my eyes, though everything appears blurred to me.” She waited for him to remove his hand from her shoulder.

  He kept it there, exerting a gentle pressure with the tips of his fingers. “I am glad to hear of your improvement.” He didn’t sound glad. There was a note of weariness that rang in the deeper pitch of his voice. Was he tired? There was no question that he had a habit of staying up late every night. Perhaps this was an early morning for him. Had he risen just to speak with her?

  She didn’t let herself consider it. That sort of idle speculation would only set her up for disappointment. Besides, it was foolish. Of course he hadn’t. The Remington heir would not rise early just to converse with a maidservant.

  He bent low, his smooth jaw brushing her cheek. The intimacy of the gesture sent fresh heat rushing through Elsie as she wrestled with the realization that his touch had strayed irrefutably beyond the bounds of deference to her handicap. She hoped to God that they were alone in the garden. If one of the maids saw this… But she couldn’t think of that, not while Damon’s lips brushed her ear, causing the blood to sing in her veins and her nipples to tighten instantly beneath her dress. “Can you meet me here again tonight?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, without pausing to weigh the difficulties. Whatever it took, she’d be here.

  “I think I can help you,” he whispered. “Your illness… I think I have a solution. Meet me here at half-past midnight and I’ll explain. Will that be late enough for you to escape undetected?”

  She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and nodded.

  “I look forward to seeing you then.” He straightened, withdrew his touch and strode away, leaving Elsie alone with a feeling of profound sadness. What could he possibly do to help – what could he possibly know that the physician didn’t? She would gladly meet him, but she did not look forward to crushing whatever hope he’d found for her in the night.

  ****

  By the time midnight struck, heralded by the rich notes of a grandfather clock chiming from the floor below, Elsie was thoroughly restless. After a relatively pleasant morning spent in the garden, Mrs. Hughes had steered Elsie back into bed. The hours had ticked by slowly, and night had eventually claimed the room in a blurry blend of moonlight and shadows. She’d spent the day anxiously daydreaming about what might happen at half past twelve. Now that it was so close, she could hardly bear to hold still. Her legs tingled and ached with the desire to climb out of bed. For once, she wished she couldn’t feel them.

  When she estimated that twenty minutes had passed, she climbed out of bed, taking painstaking care to be silent. The quiet of the room was broken only by the soft sounds of snoring, but any of the maids might be awake. With her impaired vision, she could make out only the dark shapes of their bodies in their beds. There was nothing for it though – she’d just have to risk it. Failing to meet Damon was out of the question. She stuffed her pillow beneath the blankets and crept toward the door.

  She breathed a small sigh of relief when she reached the hall. In just minutes she’d be alone with Damon again. Her heart began to speed. Even if she had to destroy whatever hope he had, it would be worth it just to see him once more. Her lips burned with the remembered kiss.

  They were still tingling by the time she reached the outdoors. The cool caress of night air against her cheek greeted her as she trod slowly, wary of tripping.

  “Here, let me guide you.” Damon appeared out of the darkness and took her arm.

  Elsie held onto him as a wave of anxious heat washed over her. He led her to the bench she’d rested on that morning and they sat together. “Did anyone see you leave?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good.” He took one of her hands and folded it between his own. “Elsie, what I’m about to tell you will reveal a family secret. You must promise not to share it with anyone.”

  A family secret? Did the Remingtons have some access to some special medical knowledge or medicine? Perhaps it was possible. They were, after all, very wealthy. She hardly dared to let herself hope. “Of course. You have my word.”

  “Very well.” He paused for a moment, as if considering how to begin. “You’ve heard the things people say about my family. They call us demons.”

  She spoke honestly, thinking of the kindness the Remingtons had shown her, a simple housemaid. “Jealousy drives people to say things they wouldn’t otherwise. I know better than to put any stock in those rumors.”

  “I’m afraid the rumors are true, or close to it.” He spoke calmly, but there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. “We Remingtons are indeed wicked creatures.”

  “I—”

  He interrupted her protest. “If we are to accomplish anything tonight, you must believe me.” After a short pause he spoke again. “I am prepared to show you just what I am if I must, though to say that I would prefer not to is an understatement.”

  Curiosity superseded Elsie’s stalwart loyalty. What family secret could merit such graveness? She didn’t consider Damon prone to melodramatics. Unless she was wrong, the Remingtons must indeed have some unsavory secret. But how could a hidden fault possibly improve her health? “What are you, Damon?” It was the first time she’d dared to call him by his Christian name. Her lips tingled with the novelty of it, and a slight shiver raced down her spine.

  He did not rebuke her. Sighing, he lifted her hand. It appeared paler than usual in the moonlight, even to her damaged eyes. When his lips brushed the back of it, she trembled. She expected a kiss, perhaps to feel the tip of his tongue trace the fine bones of her hand, dampening her fair skin. He surprised her by turning her hand over and moving his mouth instead to the underside of her wrist, where her pulse fluttered beneath soft skin that was whiter still. “Do you feel it?” he whispered.

  Every inch of her body tingled in anticipation. “Feel what?” She was feeling quite a lot, as she always did when she was near him, or even when she thought of him, but which individual sensation he meant to pinpoint was a mystery.

  “Your blood. It calls to me.”

  It was true. It thrummed in her veins, heightening her awareness of every bodily sensation, from the smooth coolness of the stone bench beneath her skirts to the delicious brush of his full lips against her wrist. Most of all, it surged between her thighs, soliciting a primal ache that made her mouth water. “Yes.” She swallowed. “It always does that when I am near you.”

  He laughed softly and humorlessly. The rush of his breath against her skin made her nipples tighten against the fabric of her shift. “I’m flattered, but that’s not what I mean. I suppose I will have to show you after all.”

  Some neglected intuition told her she should be wary, but she couldn’t bring herself to fear. Not when Damon was pressin
g his mouth flush against her wrist and her body was responding with a flood of fiery sensations. The ache in her core flared and throbbed. Her nipples were as hard as the stone beneath her, which hadn’t managed to cool the heat between her thighs. The two pinpricks of pain that came next seemed nothing next to the unchecked desire that coursed through her, even as she felt liquid being drawn from her veins.

  Her blood. Damon was drawing it into his mouth, swallowing it with surprising speed, as if he were terribly thirsty. She stared in surprise at the blurred vision of his dark head bowed over her slender wrist. His eyes were pressed shut in a look that she recognized as ecstasy. It didn’t make any sense, but she knew her face must look the same. Only a small part of her mind, located somewhere in the very back, had the sense to question what he was doing. The rest of her simply melted, and she slumped promptly against his side, sighing breathlessly.

  He pulled his mouth from her wrist at once, and two warm streams of liquid began coursing from the small punctures he’d made in her flesh. “Are you all right?” he asked, halfway breathless as he squeezed her hand.

  “Yes.” She made no effort to straighten, preferring the feel of Damon’s fine tailcoat against her cheek and his musky scent to sitting on her own.

  He tensed against her, his muscles going hard. “Are you sure? You aren’t going to faint from the shock?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s what I always imagined a lady’s reaction would be if she saw, if she knew…”

  “I’m no lady. In fact, I’m about as far from being one as possible.” She plucked at her plain, practical skirts in demonstration.

  “A woman, then,” he corrected himself.

  “I suppose a lady would have fainted. But as a housemaid, I have seen – and cleaned up – far worse.” What was a bit of blood compared to some of the colossal messes she’d tidied up during her seven years of domestic employment? It would take much more than this to put her into a faint, or even turn her stomach, though it certainly had roused her curiosity.

  “Well,” he said, lowering her hand. It fell naturally on his thigh, and he said nothing when she let it remain there. Her blood thrummed in her fingertips, making them itch to move, to feel every inch of him. Clearly, she still had plenty of the stuff left. “Your beautiful face makes it easy to forget that you’re no shrinking violet.”

  She smiled faintly, unable to help herself.

  “I’m afraid I might be the one in shock now,” he continued. “I expected fainting or shouting, maybe even tears. I was prepared for that, but I don’t know quite how to face this calmness. I thought for sure that when you saw my true nature, you’d be terrified.”

  “I didn’t see much, to tell the truth.” She gestured toward her eyes. “Perhaps that explains my state of collection.” She scoffed at herself inwardly. ‘Collected’ was hardly the term she’d use to describe her current state. She felt as if she might melt if she didn’t burst with desire first. “Mostly, I just felt.” She sighed, remembering the soft, hungry press of his lips against her skin.

  “Even worse, I should think.”

  She turned a searching gaze to his eyes, though her poor vision kept her from seeing their usual breathtaking gleam. “No. Not at all.”

  He was silent for half a moment. “Truly?”

  She nodded. “I almost wish you’d do it again.”

  A sound that could only be described as a growl rose from somewhere deep in his chest, surprising her. “Don’t tempt me. Please.”

  She quieted, thinking through the sensual haze he’d put her in, trying to decide what all this meant. With a start, she realized she’d forgotten all about the original purpose of this midnight visit, which had been to discuss whatever he hoped would help her medical condition. When she’d agreed to meet him here, she hadn’t harbored any hope of her own. But that had changed. If Damon Remington could drink her blood – and even more amazingly, if she could enjoy it – perhaps he harbored other shocking surprises as well.

  “Well,” he said, his tone still unusually low and rough. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

  “Ask what?”

  “What I am.”

  “I thought you’d shown me.”

  He grasped her arms and pulled her close to him, peering intently into her eyes. His face was blurry around the edges, but beautiful nonetheless. His eyes searched hers, seeming darker than ever. “I thought so too, but you act as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Elsie, I am the demon people call me, even if they don’t know the full truth of what they say. I don’t just drink blood, I live on it. I am a vampire.”

  Vampire. It was an old word from even older legends, some ancient superstition she couldn’t quite bring herself to associate with the breathtakingly sensual man who was holding her so close, practically pleading with her to think him a monster. Feeling vaguely dazed, she said the first thing that came to mind. “If I’d thought them real, I would have imagined them much more frightening.”

  He laughed, breathily and humorlessly. “Most find me adequately frightening.”

  That seemed to be true enough. She remembered Jenny’s blue eyes and how they’d pleaded with her as she’d begged Elsie to abandon her fascination with Damon. As if that were possible. She herself could not quite manage to summon any fear of him. If he were truly a monster, he wouldn’t have brought her here to discuss healing – wouldn’t, in fact, care two pence about her illness. “And what if I had?” she asked. “You said you were prepared to handle me if I burst into hysterics. What would you have done?”

  He answered without hesitation. “I would have silenced you with a kiss. A thousand of them if I’d had to. And if that had failed to calm you, I would have made love to you, to show you that I’m not just a demon, but a man, too.” Elsie’s nerves buzzed as a moment of tense silence stretched between them. “It would have been wicked of me, wouldn’t it?”

  “Positively, demonically wicked.” She laughed breathlessly, trying to feign humor, not wanting to let on that his words had stirred her to the point that she felt dangerously near collapsing. She could smell the sweet perfume of rose petals that would be released as their writhing bodies crushed them. Mixed with Damon’s heady, spicy scent, it made her heart quiver and her core dampen. She almost wished she could be afraid.

  “Would you have liked that?” His voice was almost a whisper, but bold still, low and sensual.

  Elsie’s breath caught in her throat. Perhaps he was a demon. He certainly possessed the devil’s own skill when it came to temptation. Her core clenched and her mouth watered, hungry for some taste of his body. It never occurred to her to lie. “Yes.”

  He growled again, sounding almost feral and desperate for something – for her, she realized as their mouths crushed together, merging at once into a dance of twisting tongues. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see well. Her other senses were all she needed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed herself against him and moaned.

  Several minutes later, he pulled his mouth from hers, breathing hard. They were still entwined on the bench, and her heart beat against his chest while her hardened nipples pressed against him, straining against the front of her dress. Every inch of her body burned for him.

  “It could be like this,” he said. “I could change you, make you like me, and it could be like this. I could make love to you, and you wouldn’t even feel the pain of the transformation.”

  Her mouth went dry as realization struck her. “Change me? Into a vampire?”

  He gripped her tightly, and his answer was half-groan. “Yes. It would heal you, Elsie. You would no longer be ill. You could live forever, or close to it.”

  Her heart soared for a moment as she imagined the healing he offered her. There would be no more episodes for the other servants to whisper about when they thought she was asleep, no more fainting spells or broken china. Her vision would clear, and she’d never live in the wretched shadow of invalidis
m again.

  But was all this really, truly possible? Her mind whirled. Within a few sensual moments, old tales she’d never given any credence to had come wonderfully, startlingly alive. She was being held in the arms of a living legend now, if she could only bring herself to believe it. “Do you mean it, Damon? This isn’t all some horrible prank, or a dream, or…” What else could it be, if not either of those things or the truth?

  He gently lifted her hand from his thigh and pressed it against his mouth. Parting his lips, he touched the tip of his tongue to her fingertips. She let him guide her, allowing him to draw her touch across his teeth. His canines were long, sharp and wickedly tapered. She felt them with awe. They were not false, but smooth and still warm from the meeting of their mouths. Eventually, they disappeared into his gums, as much a part of him as his raven-black hair and dark eyes. She’d felt them brush her tongue as she’d kissed him, but hadn’t realized how long they truly were. She gasped as he pressed the tip of one finger lightly to the end of a fang and sucked the resulting blood away. “It’s all real. This is what I really am.”

  Though she breathed a sigh of relief, reality brought with it a whole new slew of worries. The old vampire legends were dark things, full of macabre details and morbid deaths. But Damon didn’t seem at all like the creatures they told of, so perhaps other details had been skewed as well. She had to know. “Is it like in the old stories? Must you take the lives of others to live?” She couldn’t stomach the thought of sucking the life out of others, keeping it greedily for herself. Dying seemed preferable.