by Minda Webber
Asher caught Dracul's look of utter disgust and disbelief. He added, "I didn't realize it before. Not until Jane came into my life." His wife was like a breath of fresh air, stirring the dankness crypt's cold, musty air. He lifted his eyes and looked at her, love filling his eyes.
The count cursed, the ferocity of his rage revealing his profound evil. "You are a fool, Asher! Man is but a breath of shadow, while we are lords of all things. Mankind is a doomed species, and we are its rightful rulers. We shall be here long after their race is dust in the wind. It is our purpose to make them so."
"That's blind, Dracul." Asher shook his head. "Without food, how will we survive? Your vision is shortsighted at best."
The count glowered at him and motioned Rudolph to secure Asher's hands above him, to attach him to a long iron hook suspended from the ceiling beams. "You're a fool, Asher!" he snarled. "A sentimental, human-loving fool. A disgrace to our kind."
Asher struggled in vain, his strength rapidly draining. His arms were lifted high above his head, and he had to stretch out fully so that they did not bear the whole weight of his body. His back arched from the uncomfortable position.
Once he was in place, Dracul approached him, pulling Jane alongside. For one moment Asher thought he might pass out from pain and loss of blood, but gallantly he managed to shove the encroaching darkness away.
"You shall watch me make her mine," Dracul jeered, pulling Jane into his arms. "You shall go to your grave forever, knowing your wife is now my consort." He encircled her from behind, his arms locking hers as he caressed her breasts. Lady Veronique clapped her hands, smiling.
Asher growled, forgetting his chains in his anger. Unable to watch such a creature of evil touch his wife, he tried to launch himself at Dracul.
The attempt caused Asher to lose his balance. He barely managed to keep his feet beneath him as fresh blood leaked from his numerous wounds, adding to the stains already on his white shirt. He hated being helpless. He hated seeing the fear in his wife's eyes. He should be protecting her, not chained to this bloody hook.
Dracul watched with nefarious enjoyment. "Such lovely, lush breasts—and they shall be mine to suckle from this night forth," the count prodded ruthlessly. Leaning back to study Jane's profile, he added, "But no great beauty like Yvette was."
He was wrong, Asher thought. Jane was the first stirring of breath in his body when he woke from the sleep of the dead. She was the melodic music of the night wind, and the twinkling stars at deep midnight. His wife might be a calamity, but she was his calamity. She might own a great big bird that ran amok in his household, but not every earl had a real ostrich in residence who could save his wife's life. His wife's family might be the cursed Van Helsings, but at least they were successful at what they did, and she loved him despite that.
"You are quite mistaken," Asher said, gazing adoringly upon his wife. "Jane is the most beautiful woman in the world, and quite extraordinary." How could anyone alive not see that? How had he missed it for so long?
Stunned, Jane raised her eyes to meet Asher's. What she saw there made her heart sing. Her husband thought she was beautiful. He thought she was extraordinary. Jane felt something break inside her, slowly cracking open to reveal the heart of the woman she really was. Never again would she feel unattractive, for the ugly duckling had at last realized she was a swan.
She felt tears filling her eyes, and at the same time she had an insane urge to laugh. For once in her life, in this miserable, frightening struggle, she felt truly radiant.
"How droll. She must be an acquired taste," Dracul mocked, his voice laced with condescension. "Perhaps, she will be at least be tasty—a fine vintage from the age-old keg of Van Helsing."
"You wish you knew," Asher muttered, his blood heating to the boiling point, the point of explosion, as Dracul's hand's roamed over his wife's voluptuous form. He would break the count's fingers one by one. No vampire touched what was his and lived to tell the tale.
Lady Veronique retorted smugly, "I bet she won't taste as sweet as I did, Count."
Dracul laughed again. "Oh, but she will. Revenge is the sweetest taste of all."
Lady Veronique frowned at her lord and master as Jane struggled against her foe's humiliating hold, trying to break free, her hands outstretched to touch her husband. In this stronghold of fear, Asher was her protection against Dracul's dark obsessions and dangerous liaison.
The count smiled again, an expression devoid of all kindness. "Stop that, Jane. You are mine now. Soon your loyalty to him will be bestowed upon a much worthier object.
"So let the games begin. We will let Asher play with Lady Montcrief. She has confided to me that she owes your husband for four long months spent in a coffin without a hint of fresh air or blood." Dracul laughed, clearly enjoying the fear emanating off Jane and Asher's helpless bodies. "Can we guess that she was not a happy vampire, being locked in a coffin for months without being fed? Such a harsh punishment for such a trifling offense," the count mocked.
Asher spoke with a hint of his old hauteur, in spite of the gravity of his injuries. "She tried to kill me, the master of her nest. You know full well I could have put her to the death for that 'trifling offense.'"
Again the Prince of Darkness shrugged. "It is lucky for me that she didn't succeed. I do so love torture. And I have such fine things planned for you," he added mercilessly. "Don't we, my pet?" Dracul directed the last statement to Lady Montcrief, who had just entered the room. Lady Veronique's frown grew grim with jealousy.
Jane flinched when she saw the treacherous vampiress. Lady Montcrief wore a revealing black gown, better suited to the boudoir than this place, with a décolletage that plunged nearly to her waist. The wicked vamp was accompanied by two others of clearly Slavic origin.
As the vampiress approached, Jane saw Lady Montcrief's hand rise to slap Asher. The blow knocked Neil's head to the side, and her palm left a vivid red print against his pale cheek.
"Stop!" Jane cried in terror and anger.
Ignoring her, Lady Montcrief lifted her hand and touched the blood dripping down Asher's face. He jerked back.
She laughed, a shrill sound, and turned around, slowly licking his blood off her fingers. She kept her vile gaze focused on Jane, enjoying the anguish and disgust she evoked. Raising her hand, she lifted her fingers. "Care for a taste?" she asked.
Jane's stomach rumbled in reproach. She knew she would be mortified to cast up her accounts, but all this blood was sickening, even if it was her beloved husband's.
The blood-tipped fingers moved closer and closer, and soon were a mere inch from Jane's face. She swooned, only to be revived a few moments later by Dracul's cold hand on her head and his grotesque comment: "Jane, wake up and smell the blood."
Finding herself in the count's arms, with Lady Montcrief and Lady Veronique watching anxiously, Jane shuddered. Where were the troops when you needed them? Where were her annoying, barbaric cousins? She was going to kill her entire family if they didn't arrive soon, and if this army of the undead didn't kill her and her husband first.
Stiffly, she pushed away from the Prince of Darkness. Lady Montcrief leaned in, running her fingers over Dracul's lips. He kissed the blood from them.
Becoming utterly entranced, Dracul released Jane. She immediately and with great relief eased away, moving nearer to her husband in careful, tiny steps, while Lady Veronique turned to Rudolph and ran her fingers over his chest.
Asher leaned toward Jane as Dracul continued sucking on Lady Montcrief's fingers, whispering, "Never let them see you sweat." He laughed deliriously.
Jane gave him a frosty look. "Of course not! Ladies don't sweat. And I'll have you know that I was brought up to be a lady, even in the face of death."
"In the very midst of life, we are always just a step away from death," Asher said.
"You can say that again!" Jane agreed. Looking around the room at the many frightening faces of the undead, she gave a sigh of defeat.
Asher cocke
d a brow. His hauteur looked ridiculous with all the blood on his face. "Oh, don't give me that look of icy disdain," Jane complained.
"I do that look best," came Asher's protest.
"How well I know. But now is not the time," Jane said, her hands on her hips. "You know, Asher, sometimes you can be a real pain in the neck."
Asher smiled, amused. Yes, for once in his depraved life, Dracul was correct. Jane was definitely an acquired taste—a bit funny, a bit spicy, a bit unsure of herself, a bit cowardly. But a lot of brave. Yes, she was a fine vintage indeed. His cup ranneth over with love for her.
"Actually, my love, I think that will soon be true of you too," he teased. "I hope when I am dead and gone, and you are out sucking down little children, you'll remember what a good guy I was," he added lightly. Then he paused to watch Lady Montcrief unbutton the count's dark breeches.
How uncouth, he thought, to copulate before an audience! But, then, Dracul was like that; whenever an urge took him, he acquiesced. Asher remembered one time the count had fornicated in front of a whole regiment of English troops. Over in the corner, Lady Veronique was sucking on Rudolph's neck while he caressed her bottom.
Jane started to seek out what had caught her husband's attention, but Asher shook his head. "Don't look now, Jane."
Accepting his words, she leaned in close, scolding her husband quietly, "If you die tonight…" Then, realizing what she had said, she quickly amended her comment: "I mean, really die. I will never forgive you. Never, ever."
Asher smiled. Jane meant every word. She had risked life and limb to save him. Her loyalty was to him alone. What a fool he had been! If he had tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, he would let his dearly beloved wife know just how much she meant to him.
"For I am a dead thing," Asher said, his eyes alight with the fires of love.
"Yes, I know that," Jane replied, bewildered.
Asher shook his head, explaining, "Jane, I am quoting poetry to you."
She stared in horror at him. "Now? In the midst of all this bloody danger, you're quoting poetry to me? Are you insane from blood loss?"
Asher ignored her. " 'I am every dead thing, in whom love wrought new alchemy. For his art did express a quintessence even from nothingness.'"
"Shakespeare?" Jane questioned, intrigued in spite of their dire situation. Her husband was not just quoting poetry; he was quoting love poetry.
Asher shook his head. "Donne."
"You're done?"
"No. John Donne," Asher said.
"John's done doing what?"
"John Donne, the poet!" Asher snapped.
"Are you sure? It sounded like Shakespeare to me."
"Of course I'm sure!" Asher retorted in a huff. No one should question his ability to recall the written word, not even his wife. Why couldn't she get it through her thick skull? "I said that it's Donne and it's Donne."
"Fine. It's done. But it sounds like Shakespeare to me," she replied. When Asher started to speak, Jane shook her head. "I can't believe we're arguing over poetry now, when Count Dracul is preparing to make me a bride and put you six feet under."
"I'm used to it," he joked.
"Not these six feet you aren't," Jane argued, glancing back at their amorous enemies, who were fondling each other. Revulsion covered her face at such behind-closed-door antics being conducted in plain view.
"I didn't know you could do that standing up," she said curiously.
Asher rolled his eyes. "Jane, pay attention here. I don't suppose you have a plan?" he asked. Then he added, "And of course you can do it standing up. I'll show you later if we make it out of here alive. Now, about that plan?"
Jane smiled. "My family is coming to rescue you."
That he would dearly like to see: a Van Helsing rushing to his rescue. "When elephants fly," he muttered.
Jane blushed a becoming pink, remembering the night she lost her virginity. "Why, I believe the elephants must be forming an air force."
She could tell from her husband's heated gaze that he was remembering as well. He tried to reach out and touch her, but the chains kept him bound.
Watching his tortured movements, Jane gently caressed his arm, frowning at the damage the silver chains were doing to him. Asher's wrists were scorched badly, the chains' links beginning to dig into the puffy, raw spots. "I'm sorry, my love, for what they have done to you," she said sadly. "But we will have you free soon. Just as soon as my family arrives. I was the diversion until the troops arrive."
Asher shook his head angrily. "Jane, why did you risk your life for me? Why did your family allow you to employ this dangerous stratagem?" If he left Dracul's alive tonight, he was going to have a long, harsh talk with the major.
"I came to save you! The Van Helsings are coming to destroy the Prince of Darkness. Well… Brandon actually wants to save you too—for me."
Asher glanced over at Dracul and Lady Montcrief, who had just finished copulating. "Then where are the troops?" he asked, clearly unconvinced.
"You don't believe me," Jane said.
"You, I believe, Jane. Don't you realize that my bond to you is stronger than these chains of silver? What I do believe is that I love you, in spite of this crazy world going to pieces around us. But your family is…" Asher halted abruptly as Count Dracul turned his attention back to them.
"Oh, Asher, I really could kill you," Jane murmured, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Now you tell me you love me, when death is at the door." Tenderly, she stroked his cheek.
"Kiss me, Jane, and let this memory carry me through eternity," her husband whispered softly.
She did just that, letting her lips and heart speak all the wondrous things in her heart. Things too new and special for words.
"How touching. Lovers," Dracul sneered, causing them to break apart.
"Oh, how it shall hurt when I take her with my eternal kiss, Asher. You shall know the agony of defeat, of wanting what you can no longer have. Of knowing I have taken your wife in every elemental way there is." The Prince of Evil's eyes sparkled with hate and blood-lust, and he yanked Jane back into his arms.
"I don't think so. I don't want to be a bride of someone who's always hissing at people like they're under-cooked steaks," Jane snapped, her voice quavering. Why was her family so late for this very important date? Where in bloody hell were her cousins, the barbarians at the gate?
The Barbarians at the Gate
"You have no choice, you foolish creature. You're going to be my immortal bride," Dracul snarled, all semblance of humanity gone. Jane's scorn had fallen upon him like drops of holy water, burning hot. His fangs were some of the finest of all vampires, two and a half or three inches in length. A length to be proud of.
Jane yanked on her arm in vain; the count's strength was too great. Terror tore through her, ripping at her with its sharp talons.
Dracul savored her fear like a rich dessert, holding her arm tightly in his grasp. "Soon you will be my blushing bride," he warned spitefully, an evil leer on his handsome features. He motioned for O'Hara to take a firm hold on Asher. "Make sure the Earl of Wolverton enjoys the view," he commanded.
Slowly, he drew Jane adjacent to him, toying with her, enjoying her terror and Asher's rage. Pulling both of Jane's hands behind her back, he caught them in one of his hands, despite her struggles. This left him one hand free to toy with her breasts.
"Wait! Count Dracul," Jane shouted, knowing that it was a deadly thing to provoke the undead—rather like stirring a nest of hornets with a small stick. "I prefer my husband to you any day of the week," she said.
Dracul glared at her, his eyes blazing.
Jane smiled. "You know the old adage: 'A vampire in hand is worth two in chains.' " She quoted fearfully, shivering in repressed revulsion at the hungry expression on the count's face. He wrapped her in his arms, hurting her with his cruel strength.
"I'll give you another saying. 'When a Van Helsing knocks, open the door,'" he said slyly.
"I always heard it w
as, 'When a vampire knocks, open the coffin,'" Jane argued, her heart beating furiously against her ribs.
Dracul arched a brow. He was beauty incarnate, if very, very evil. " 'To kill a Van Helsing a day keeps the stakes away,' " he taunted.
" 'A vampire a day is the Van Helsing way,' " Jane replied, struggling against his vastly superior strength even though she knew it was useless. Yet fear gave her both courage and strength. Unfortunately, she only managed to hurt her foot when she kicked his leg.
He chuckled, amused by her attempt. "Such a feisty little human."
"I do believe I was feistier," Lady Veronique spoke up from the corner. Only Rudolph paid attention.
In sick horror, Jane watched Dracul's face move closer, and time seemed to slow down. "There is one pertinent adage," he remarked. "'Never look a gift vampire in the mouth.' " His fangs were glistening a deadly white in the glow from the Venetian chandeliers. Jane did not want to be the Prince of Darkness's bride in any form or fashion. She really was going to have to speak to her family about their terrible timing. The diversion she had created had become her downfall.
"Wait!" she heard herself call. "Isn't that the children of the night calling you?"
Dracul cocked his head, listening. "I hear nothing."
Jane shook her head back and forth like a rag doll. "I thought I heard wolves."
"No," Dracul said coldly. "But I like the sound of that. The children of the night. I'll have to use that little saying for my own." He bent back toward Jane, fangs extended.
"No! Halt!" Asher shouted, enraged, his eyes glowing a fierce blue. He struggled against hook, chains and the skeletal butler. In this grave moment of loss and fear, guilt seemed to extend time, causing it to slow down. So many shallow moments in his life flashed past, and he realized Jane was everything he could ever hope for in a true vampire mate. She should be by his side in eternity, not Dracul's. And if he was right about the sound he thought he'd detected a moment earlier, then the Van Helsing cavalry was at the door. He had to stall his archenemy. "The condemned man requests a last favor."
