by Claire Cray
I stood frozen, my mind swept clear for a moment as his handsome face dominated my vision. With the first thought that returned, I wondered if he would kiss me again. My heart thumped when he stopped before me and slowly reached up to gently slip his hand around the back of my neck.
“Do you want to go back to the city?” he asked quietly.
“The…” Those eyes! “The city, sir?” They were extraordinary. A sparkling ring of copper ran through the amber iris, shimmering like the golden rays of a sunrise more beautiful than any real sunrise ever was.
“I resolved your mother’s situation some weeks past. The courts have forgotten her. She is immune to any form of rebuke regardless of how your story proceeds.” His eyes traveled over my face, then returned to mine before he continued softly. “If you would like me to end your servitude and set you free, I will do so.”
His words hit me like a crack of thunder.
Under his steady gaze, I could not remain silent. I took a breath, confounded. “I…I thank you, sir...” Hearing my mother was free of my predicament lifted a heavy weight from my mind. And he was offering me my own freedom! But…
But, what?
What in God’s name did I want to say?
He spoke before I could try. “Then I will make the arrangements.”
My eyes widened. I had not meant… Had I?
“And I hope you do not feel this experience has set you back significantly.”
“No,” I heard myself whisper even as he finished. I shook my head, speechless, and then repeated with bewildered emphasis, “No.”
“I am much relieved,” he said quietly. His fingers played gently at the nape of my neck, twining in the ends of my hair. He leaned closer then, slowly bringing his face to within a few inches from mine. His index finger trailed down the side of my throat.
A strange feeling of urgency was swelling inside of me. I turned my head upwards slightly, aligning my features with his. I felt I must say something, and so I reached for first clear thought in my mind. “Do you not think of drinking my blood, sir?”
“I ache for it, William,” he whispered, and traced my vein again.
My heart pounded in my chest. “Would it kill me?”
He shook his head slowly, his thumb now stroking my lower lip. He was gazing at my mouth as though fascinated. “But it would affect you,” he said quietly.
I was fascinated in turn. “How, sir?”
“Do not follow your curiosity here,” he murmured.
“I can hardly control it.”
He looked back to my eyes with a strange expression. “Am I correct in thinking that you would allow me to drink your blood, William, out of curiosity?”
I felt every pounding beat of my heart within my ribs. Curiosity? No. It was not merely curiosity I felt. It was something I dared not name – perhaps could not name.
“Does that not seem very foolish?” Merrick asked.
I shook my head stupidly.
There was a faint crease in his lovely brow. He parted his lips to speak and then closed them. Finally he asked, in a tone of hopeless astonishment, “Why are you so open to me?”
I tore my eyes from his, looking down at the few inches of ground between us, and let out a quiet breath. “Certainly I am not the only one, sir.” I closed my eyes when I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. My hands twitched, longing to reach for him.
“I will arrange for a coach tomorrow. You will depart the next day.”
Something twisted in my gut and I opened my eyes, blinking at the ground. My throat worked for a moment before I said, “Sir, I don’t know that the court will…”
“I have more than enough influence with the court.” His voice had turned strangely flat. “I will compensate you for your work.”
“I cannot...” Bewildered, I shook my head. “I cannot accept that.” I was not merely bewildered by the generosity of his offer, but by the entire conversation, which seemed to be racing ahead of me.
Merrick was still stroking my neck. Then, abruptly, he released me and stepped back. “Let’s return.”
I watched him cover his face again, despairing in my confusion. My feet felt like lead as I followed him.
After several minutes, he stopped and turned back to me. “William?”
I realized I was no longer moving. As I stared at the indistinct, dark shape of him ahead of me, that damned Wall was doing me no good at all. My mind and soul were storming.
My voice sounded thin and uncertain in the dark of the forest. “Have I seemed unhappy, sir?”
Merrick was silent. After a moment, he pushed his hood back again. His golden eyes shined brightly in the blue and gray darkness, and they were fixed on me. “You are young,” he said at length. “And full of life. You should be back in the city with your friends.”
“I’ve said nothing like that,” I protested. I was protesting. I was arguing with him. I was arguing against my own freedom! “What do you mean by sending me back? Aren’t you afraid I might reveal your secret?”
“That is not in your character.”
“But I…have I displeased you? Is it because I…because I behaved so…”
“No, William,” he interrupted, and approached me slowly, stopping just a few feet away. “But I cannot uphold your sentence. Go back to the city and carry on with your business. You have a fine life ahead of you, and I will not see five years of your youth squandered in servitude.”
The inarguable practicality of it tightened around my throat like a noose.
Merrick was giving me a chance to reverse this entire catastrophe and put me back in the city while my business contacts and partners were still fresh. With a bit of money in my pocket I would be back on my feet quickly enough.
Was I trying to refuse such a miraculous opportunity for the sake of this strange and sudden desire? Was I thinking of committing the next five years of my life to this cottage, these woods, this mysterious creature who treated me kindly and taught me of nature and kept me in peace and comfort while he drank men’s blood at night?
“Come,” he said quietly, and waited for me to start walking before he turned ahead and led me back towards the cottage.
So that was it, then. The strange tale was drawing to an end.
I would return to my life in the city. I would never see Merrick again.
I would be free of these godforsaken feelings that had pulled at me constantly all these weeks.
At the cottage, Merrick put his hand between my shoulders and guided me towards the lean-to, where he removed his robe and then his shirt.
I watched him uncertainly, then slowly shrugged off my jacket and set it aside.
He was before me in the next moment, lifting my shirt from the hem and pulling it over my head. “Sit,” he said quietly, and when I dutifully sat on the wooden stool, he sank to a crouch and pulled my boots off.
My eyes traveled his muscular shoulders, eagerly taking them in. Why deny this yearning now? It would all be over soon. Why not yearn as I pleased before I left it all behind? He left me to remove my stockings myself as he stoked the coals beneath the wooden wash tub, and I did so without looking away from him. Then I stood and heard myself say, “I’ll take your boots, sir.”
Merrick turned from the hearth and fixed me with an inscrutable look, then replaced the poker and took my place on the stool. His eyes followed me as I knelt before him and lifted his foot.
The boots came off, but I did not stand. I stayed kneeling before him, taking in his finely sculpted chest and stomach, the prominent muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. My hands took his knees, then moved just above them to where I could spread my fingers over the muscles of his thighs.
I swallowed. “It does not offend you, sir?”
“You test my resolve, William.” His voice, though gentle as ever, now held a dark heat that sent a not-unpleasant shiver through me.
“It seems stronger than mine.”
He leaned forward on the stool and put hi
s hands over mine, pulling them slowly towards himself until they rested high up on his thighs and his lips were near my ear. “It has to be.” He rose to his feet.
I stood with him, and some of my nerve left me as his hands moved to unbutton my breeches. Still, I simply took a deep breath and released it silently, allowing him to pull them down my hips so I could step out of them.
Merrick nudged me closer to the tub. He dipped the pitcher into the water and slowly poured it over my shoulders, letting it wash over me until I was thoroughly wet. Then he dipped his own hands in the water and lathered them with soap.
My lips parted when I felt his slippery hands at my waist, and I felt my eyelids droop as his palms traveled over me in broad sweeps. He rubbed his soapy fingers over my ribs, my abdomen, my hips and up to my chest, and he worked the lather down my arms and back up. For several moments I could only think to gaze drunkenly ahead at the cluster of herbs and jars on the shelves before me, and then I turned around.
Merrick stopped and looked down at me, his hands resting on my shoulders. He still wore his breeches. I wondered if his body reacted to me the way mine did to his. The thought of it certainly accelerated the process for me.
“You are too bold,” Merrick said, his low voice dragging the words over me like heavy silk.
“Forgive me,” I whispered, and took a breath when his fingers trailed down my chest.
“Are you not frightened I may lose control?”
The thought had not occurred to me. Anyway, what did it mean? “What would happen if you lost control, sir?”
Slowly, Merrick leaned down until I felt his breath against my neck. God help me, I tipped my head to expose it to him…
“Such foolishness,” he breathed, his lips grazing my skin. “How much longer could I stand it?”
“You think me a fool, sir?” It was hard to speak while his fingers teased and toyed at my chest, and a moment later I gasped when his hip made contact with my stiff sex. A flash of embarrassment hit me, and was immediately defeated by a rumble of lust.
“No. I think you young, beautiful, clever and careless.” His teeth grazed my neck, making me shiver. They felt as sharp as glass. “And I am intoxicated by it,” he breathed.
I stepped forward, startled, as water hit my back. He had reached behind me for the pitcher. There was a moment of alarming heat between us as my naked and fully aroused body landed against his, before I recovered a trace of sense and backed up. “Pardon me, sir.” I had covered him in soap.
He set the pitcher down and finished undressing, revealing a body so perfect in its maleness, so powerful in form, so hard and beautiful I could not look away. “Turn around,” he said.
I obeyed in a daze, letting him place my hands on the wooden shelf.
Merrick continued to wash me, lingering on my hips before crouching to bathe my legs from the ankles upward. He did not stop at my upper thighs, but continued upward until he gripped my buttocks and kneaded them in his soapy hands.
God help me. My head fell forward. His thumbs were slipping dangerously close to places no one had ever touched. I felt his lips on my lower back, brushing gentle kisses against my spine as he washed every inch between my legs, even the hard length of me. I gasped each time his slippery palm rubbed over the sensitive tip, shuddering with every tug and caress. Each touch was electric, sending lightning bolts of pleasure crackling through me wherever his skin met mine.
He stood and continued to stroke me lazily with one hand as he tipped the pitcher over me with the other, until the soap was all rinsed off. I wanted him to pull me back against him. I wanted to feel the whole length of him against me. But then he turned me around to face him again.
“Go inside,” he said quietly. “I will join you.”
I lost the nerve to look down at him, but I couldn’t bear to move away any more than I could catch my breath. “May I not help you bathe?”
Something moved across his gaze then, dark and lustful. “Do as I say,” he murmured. “It is in your interest.” He leaned down to kiss me, softly and briefly. Then he reached for the large drying cloth, laid it about my shoulders and gently pushed me toward the door.
Chapter 17
Alone in the chamber, I stood wrapped in the cloth and blinked down at the bed.
I wanted him.
He wanted me back.
I was free.
He was sending me away.
Merrick entered before I had even moved to don my night shirt. He was wearing his robe, the hood down.
I exhaled in relief when he pulled me against him and tenderly sealed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around him and clung to him as tightly as I could, and a thrill went through me when at last I felt the evidence of his arousal against me.
He wanted me. And I had never felt so drunk on anything in my life.
The cloth fell from my shoulders and he lifted me easily to lay me back on the bed. His mouth moved intently down my body, finding every sweet spot to tease and torment as I shifted and gasped beneath him.
He lifted his head and loomed over me then, his hand working between my legs. His amber eyes flashed in the candlelight.
“Your robe, sir,” I breathed, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I felt it through my body. My fingers caught the material to pull it from his shoulders, but he moved back from my hands.
“You must trust me, William,” he said quietly. “I cannot do everything I please.”
“Let me look at you,” I whispered before I could stop myself. Lord, I’d really chosen my path. I reached for his robe again, and he reluctantly allowed me to spread it open until it fell from his shoulders and hung loosely on his arms.
He stiffened when I laid my hands on his chest, and I paused uncertainly before moving down his body. I let out a breath when I felt the hard, finely sculpted muscles of his stomach. How perfect he was!
When my fingers trailed below his navel, he reached down and caught my hand. “No.”
I looked up at him and found his eyes closed, his brow furrowed slightly and his fine lips parted in an expression of lust that reflected my own – and I could not heed his refusal.
Something had come over me, a need so deep and primal that I felt I could stop at nothing to satisfy it. His grip was like iron on my wrist, but I strained against it anyway, and at last he relented and allowed me to explore the shape of his hipbone, the patch of curled hair, the hard base of…
Crystal-sharp teeth hit my neck, denting my skin, and Merrick turned his face away just before he may have drawn blood. Quickly he grabbed my hand where I had begun to grasp him and pulled it away. He was breathing heavily.
Ah. So that was what happened. That was what he worried about.
The thought of it was strangely...intriguing. “Would it hurt me, sir?”
He silenced me with a kiss, his hand moving between my legs again. He stroked and caressed me in ways I’d never imagined, and beneath his skillful hands and clever tongue I was soon a gasping, trembling mess.
“Master…” I moaned, feeling my body strung so tightly that it began to arch off of the bed. I reached for him, pulling him close to bury my face in his neck. His teeth were at the junction of my neck and shoulder again, nipping dangerously so that I cried out from the sheer thrill of it. He dragged his tongue over my skin, alternating between lapping at my neck and scraping his teeth along it.
“Taste me,” I breathed, feverish with it. “God, taste it, sir, if it will not kill me then taste me…”
One hand gripped a handful of my hair and pulled my head to the side. He sucked at my neck, drawing my skin between his teeth, and I felt a faint pinch.
Merrick lifted his head, gasping. His lower lip was moist and smeared with a small drop of red. A shudder ran through him and he bowed his head again, sucking again where he’d scratched my skin. Suddenly he moved downward, kissing a path toward where he held my throbbing sex in his hand.
I cried out in shock as his mouth enveloped me. His lips were as soft and s
lick as his teeth had been sharp. My hands twined in his silken hair, following the obscene motions of his head moving up and down between my legs. Each stroke of his tongue tightened the coils of pleasure building deep in my body, and I was soon sliding quickly toward the edge.
He lifted his head then, and his hand tightened around my length. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he pressed my legs apart. I looked down, breathless, just in time to see him lower his mouth to my inner thigh.
Pleasure whipped through my body. I threw my head back in a voiceless scream, arching from the bed.
The sharp, stinging sensation where he sucked at my sensitive skin was not pain. I sobbed with it, clutching the sheets as ecstasy ripped through me like white water, suspended in the heights and depths of it all at once.
Each time he sucked and swallowed from my vein, his strong, silky hand moved up and came twisting back down. My hands were clenched in his hair, and my body shook and bucked beneath him as I cried out again and again.
Just when I thought it would never end, my body exploded.
It was like shattering into a million stars. Every fiber, every atom of my being went flying in all directions through a vast pleasure so perfect, so complete, that it seemed nothing else would ever be.
I was limp and quaking when I realized I was cradled upright in his arms and he was stroking my hair, whispering something I was too dazed to comprehend. I turned my face up to his, needing his kiss, and tasted my own blood on his tongue.
Still breathing heavily, I opened my eyes to see his amber gaze churning like liquid fire. When he reached up to brush a lock of hair from my brow, his fingers trembled.
“Let me…” I whispered dazedly, shifting against the hard shape beneath me.
“I’m already pleased,” he whispered, and kissed me again.
My eyelids were heavy. My thigh was throbbing and tingling where he’d bitten me – a trace of pleasure left behind.
“Sleep,” he whispered.
Though I wanted desperately to refuse, to relish the safety of his strong arms around me for as long as I could, I was fading quickly. My body and mind were exhausted from the pleasure he’d given me – and, perhaps, from the blood he’d taken. I could only wrap my arms about him as tightly as I could and hope to hold on as I sank down into the velvet folds of sleep.
