“That is why I despise your choice of husband even more so than before.”
“Very well,” she accepted, looking deflated. “So, what is next?”
“I am here.”
“For me, I hope?”
“I have no desire to bed your husband.”
She laughed. “You might have come to kill him.”
“That can wait. I would rather have sport with his wife first.”
“Not before time,” she said, her tone admonishing him.
“And for him to know of it.”
She grinned in a manner similar to him. “Yes, I would love to see his face. Be sure you kill him then, before he kills me.”
He began to undress. While he did, she spread herself out on the bed. The sight of her made him ache. He watched as she opened her legs, and touched herself.
She enjoyed the reaction her tease drew from him. “See what you could have had all this time?”
Anya ran her tongue over her lower lip. She moved her fingers from her sex to her mouth. Varkal watched as she licked her juices from them. His erection throbbed. He had stopped to feed on the way here and had a good supply of blood in his veins. She would feel the benefit of that soon enough.
“Open your legs wider,” he said.
“Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.”
“Tell me you need me.”
He squinted his eyes, but liked the game she was playing. “I need you.”
“How much?”
He dropped his breeches for her to see. “As much as this.”
Her jaw dropped almost as far. “My God, why have you been keeping that from me?”
“Perhaps you might open your legs?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, her eyes not leaving his penis. “As wide as you want them.”
“You had best ask nicely then.”
“Damn you!” she cursed him. “Have I not waited long enough?”
He grinned again. “It is the reason I never strangled you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You would have enjoyed it more than I.”
He knelt on the bed between her legs. She looked more beautiful than he ever remembered. They had waited long enough. She was right about that.
“Taste me,” she said. “I want to feel your tongue all over me.”
He found her scent quite heady. As he probed her, she closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. He ran his tongue from her ankle to the back of her knee. Keeping it there, he coaxed groan after groan from her.
“Higher,” she gasped, the ache building inside her.
He planted soft kisses on the insides of both her thighs. She stretched them wide to offer him the perfect view of the treasures that awaited him. He took in a deep breath, her sweet but musky scent filling his nostrils.
She grabbed his hair. “Damn it! Stop torturing me!”
“The torture is as much mine as it is yours.”
He ran his tongue along the line of her groin, her light coat of pubic hair brushing against his cheek. Matted from her juices, the moisture passed to his skin. His ear picked up the faint trickle from her opening. Her clitoris ached from her need for him. It was an invitation he could no longer resist. Moving his head slightly, he slid his long tongue deep inside her.
She pushed against the bed with her feet and arched her back. When her body lifted from the bed, he moved with her. His long, snake-like tongue explored her inside, the sensations driving her wild. She clutched handfuls of his thick long hair and pulled his head tighter to her crotch, groaning hard and describing in short bursts what it was she was feeling. He pushed his palms beneath her buttocks and raised her lower body into the air. She pushed her arms out along the bed as her legs dangled freely. His actions opened her up completely to the attentions of his mouth.
In his excited state, his fangs emerged from their sockets. She gasped when the points pressed against her soft flesh. A slight trickle of blood caught his attention from where they broke her skin. He had to fight the urge to bite her. For fear she might see them, he flipped her over onto her front. The sudden jerk startled her, though he set her at ease once again. Lifting her by the hips, he continued to work her with his tongue.
When her breath caught in her throat, he pressed his tongue hard against her clitoris, sensing the moment. She pushed her face into the mattress, the blanket crumpling on both ends of the bed where she gripped it so hard. Her whole body jerked as he held her firmly in his hands, not letting up.
Anya cried out and bit into the mattress. Her swollen clitoris throbbed against his tongue. He clamped his mouth around her opening to accept her small gush. It coated his tongue. He swallowed it and lowered her back down against the bed, before sliding two fingers inside her.
She sighed hard. “You cannot stop. Finish what you have started.”
He ran his tongue slowly along her spine from its base to her neck. His action drew another long, deep groan from her, and she trembled at the delicacy of his touch. He then pressed his thumbs into the base of her ribs where they joined the spine, and began to massage the area.
“I have to have you,” she gasped, almost imploring him to go further.
His need was as great as hers. He grabbed one of her shoulders and turned her onto her back again. She looked up at him as he leaned over her. Her eyes sparkled, her every sense aroused and alive to him. When he gazed into them, he saw her desire matched his on every level. He positioned himself against her puffed labia, ready to bring her wait to an end.
Her eyes closed again. “Do not be gentle with me,” she whispered, in anticipation of what was to come.
“I shall not be,” he promised.
“I want everything you have.”
“And you shall have it.”
He kissed her on the mouth, his hunger and desire for her almost as powerful as that when he had the need to feed. In this state, he was not sure he would have the ability to control the beast within, but he did not care.
Anya responded with an equal intensity. Her tongue probed his mouth, searching for his. His fangs had still not fully returned to their sockets, and when her tongue brushed over them, she hardly noticed.
She prodded the backs of his thighs with her heels, urging him to take her as she had always wanted. He grabbed her hair hard in both hands and drove himself into her. She tensed her whole body and gasped out loud as he stretched her to her limit, and filled her completely. When he withdrew and pushed in again, she exhaled and groaned with delight.
The sex was intense, rough and exciting. She clawed and bit him throughout. He had never felt anything as good. She aroused him in a way that both scared and excited him. For the very first time, he had met a woman he wanted to do this with over and over again. She was so different to all the others, and it never entered his head to end the act the way he always did. Once with her could never be enough.
After climaxing, they lay side by side on their backs, the intensity of the act leaving them both breathless. A thousand images flashed through his mind, and an idea that had entered his head during intercourse. It began to eat away at him now that he knew what he was in possession of. If he saw it through, he knew it would incur the wrath of his father. He weighed the prospect of that against his need for her. Is she worth flirting with the forbidden? Over the years, he had bedded or taken hundreds of women. None could rival this one. It was not even close.
He played with her long blonde hair and curled her locks in his fingers. She smiled when their eyes met, prompting him to brush her hair aside and reveal the inviting flesh of her neck.
She giggled when he ran his tongue against the underside of her chin. “That was so worth waiting for.”
“I know,” he said. “I want more of it.”
“Then take me,” she said. “I am hardly about to deny you.”
His tongue moved slowly to her neck, and she shivered with delight when he gently nibbled on her earlobe. The scent of her blood was strong. Mingled with the aroma of
sex in the room, it made his every sinew strain to contain himself.
“You are so perfect for me,” she said. “I care not what they say of you.”
Her gentle pulse vibrated against his lips. He pressed them against her skin, breathing in deep. “I know,” he said, emitting a gentle sigh. “So perfect.”
She turned on her side to face him, offering him easier access to her neck. It was her hope that, by moving position, it would encourage him to resume. The feel of his lips and tongue there only served to increase her state of arousal. Her idea paid dividends, and she groaned as his tongue moistened her skin still further. Reaching down, she stroked and teased his semi-hard penis. Her hand worked its way down a little more to test the heaviness of his scrotum. “They are still full,” she said, a trifle surprised. “I must try and remedy that.”
He ran his tongue over her jugular, his primal instincts coming to the fore. Her words did not filter through to him. When she tried to move, intent on using her tongue to restore him to full size, he held her down. Before she could react, he pressed his fangs into her soft skin. They opened two holes straight into the artery.
She gasped in horror, her whole body tensing as the first drops of her blood passed through his lips. The notion gripped her that she was about to die. Her eyes widened with the terror of that prospect. She made a feeble attempt to fight him off, but he held her down with ease and continued to drink.
Varkal felt a murmur in her heart. When her body fell limp against him, he withdrew at once, afraid he had drunk too much from her. He looked down at her as she lay still on the bed with her eyes closed. A slight panic tugged at his heart when he noticed her chest heaved no longer. Have I gone too far?
She was comatose, and Death had her within its grasp. Varkal cut his wrist and pressed it to her lips. He waited anxiously for his blood to run into her mouth. The repercussions of his actions weighed on his mind. Yet he felt alive with an excitement greater than any he had ever known.
Her eyelids flickered. His heart raced when her tongue slowly licked the blood from her lips. She moaned in pain and clutched at her stomach with both hands. Bringing her knees up, she curled into the foetal position.
He held his wrist over her face as she turned onto her side. His blood dripped into her hair and down her back. He grabbed her chin and yanked her head sideways. Pressing his wrist up against her mouth, he forced her to drink.
Anya needed no further prompting. Once his wrist touched against her tongue, she could not get enough. She drank with the same fervour as he when his father had changed him. In the end, he had to pull away. He knew of the insatiable need of the first thirst. If he did not stop it there, she could kill him.
She fell back on the bed. Weak and near death, she slowly opened her eyes. “Give me more,” she begged. “I beseech you.”
He stepped away from the bed. In desperation, she found the strength to drag herself up. She got onto all fours to face him, every fibre in her body in need of his blood. Gasping for breath, while trying to cope with the intense jolts of pain ripping through her entire being, she reached out to him. “Help me,” she pleaded. “The pain is more than I can bear, my love. Oh God, but it hurts.”
Even for one as cold and as heartless as him, it was hard to stand there and do nothing. He knew he had to remain firm, and allow events to take their course. Memories of his own change flashed before his eyes as clearly as if it were the day before. He remembered the agony, and the desperation, as death approached. Her pain was no different and no less than his, as her soul tried in vain to cling onto its last shreds of humanity.
Then another jolt of pain ran through her, this one so severe that it lifted her off her knees and dumped her down onto the bed. She cried out for it to end as wave after wave rippled through her stomach and coursed to every nerve ending in her body. He could no longer bear to look and turned away, knowing the stomach cramps had hit her. The very memory of it made him shudder.
“Varkal!” she cried out. “Do not leave me this way! Help me!”
“It shall not last,” he said, wanting to intervene. “Try to be strong. You must endure it, as I had to.”
Anya fought hard for breath. Choking, she leaned over the edge of the bed. She cried out again and writhed about, her insides beginning to dissolve. The sounds coming from her made Varkal drop his head in anguish, each one like a blade cutting through him.
He longed for it to end, and tugged at his hair in frustration. Where he had initially thought he would enjoy this spectacle, he felt almost sick to his stomach. She then fell silent, and it seemed her ordeal had come to an end at last. When he looked at her again, she lay still. He waited, pitying her, knowing there was more to come.
It was then that he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Still, he did not take his eyes from her. Even when Gales and two of his men burst into the room, he kept his focus. He moved away and took a position around the bed, closer to her.
Gales just stood there. He put a hand to his mouth, overcome with shock at the image of his wife. She lay there as a corpse with her legs splayed wide, her body smeared with blood and vomit.
Her open crotch showed the evidence of her sexual encounter with the stranger stood over her. Gales’s focus turned to him. The beast has raped and killed her. His blood boiled inside.
Varkal waited for the moment. Standing there naked, it was obvious Gales would draw the conclusion running through his mind.
“You bastard!” Gales cried, drawing his sword. “I shall gut you like a fish!”
Varkal reacted faster than the eye. The boyar could do nothing to fend off the punch that struck him full in the mouth. He fell down to the floor, spitting out blood and a few dislodged teeth.
His men moved quickly to defend him. With swords drawn, they closed in on the intruder. They did not get near him. Varkal deftly dodged their lunges and struck them both down. They fell close to Gales, too stunned to get back up. He stood over the three of them, ready to strike again the moment any of them moved.
Gales looked up at him. The face looked very familiar. When he realised the identity of the stranger, he recoiled in horror. “Varkal Gabrul?”
Varkal grimaced at him. “Be quiet, Gales.”
Gales recalled the stories about the women Varkal had killed. He looked towards the bed, tears welling in his eyes, unable to believe his wife had endured the same fate. It crushed him, and he made no attempt to reach again for his sword.
Varkal forgot him for a moment, and looked again to Anya. She still did not move. He worried about the delay as she had not yet suffered her mortal death.
Gales had lost the will to live. “Why not kill me too?” he said, dropping his head between his knees.
“I said, be quiet!”
“You have taken everything from me,” he whined. “Put me out of my misery. I beseech you.”
Varkal walked up to him and kicked him hard in the stomach. Gales groaned and doubled over in pain. He coughed and choked, all the wind knocked out of him.
“She was never yours to begin with.”
Varkal moved away from him and returned to the side of the bed. He gazed down at the object of his affection, hoping she would soon resume the process.
Gales recovered, and got to his feet. Anya began to stir once more. When she did, Varkal grabbed ahold of her husband.
He dragged Gales by the hair and forced the boyar to stand at the foot of the bed. “I want you to witness this.”
With tears in his eyes, Gales looked on as his wife began to show signs of life again. “She is not dead?” he gasped with relief. “She is not dead.”
Anya started to shake and convulse in the most violent manner. Her nose erupted moments later, and an avalanche of blood gushed down over her breasts and stomach. Gales watched it all. He shrank in horror when she threw her head back and screamed.
The last of the internal organs she did not need dissolved to liquid, leaving her in unimaginable pain. Gales broke down in tears. He could
not bear to watch for another moment.
Varkal held him firm. “If you look away, I shall carve you up one piece at a time.”
“Why do you not kill her? And me! It is what you do best. Put us both out of our misery.”
The fluids from Anya’s body flowed out of every orifice. The smell was nauseating. A grisly mixture of blood, fluid, and human waste formed a pool around her on the bed. Her cries deafened them both. Soon she lay still once more.
Gales passed out, though Varkal continued to hold him there. His eyes remained fixed on Anya. “Come on, my love,” he whispered. “Wake up and come to me.”
Her eyes slowly opened. They glowed a bright green and hinted at the wonders she felt inside. Varkal slapped Gales hard about the face. He wanted the boyar to witness his wife’s re-birth as one of the living dead.
Gales came around to see her on all fours on the bed, the murky pool covering her hands and knees. She glared at her husband, oblivious to the mess around her. Eyeing him up as her first meal, she hissed to show her evil intent.
Two long fangs protruded from her mouth. They dripped with the mucous that had forced its way out during her change.
The image of her terrified him. He knew she was no longer his wife. Trembling, he looked to Varkal. “Dear God, what have you done to her?”
Varkal grinned, though his eyes were stone cold. “Who did you say?”
Anya looked at Gales with hate in her eyes. She felt all the years of resentment and discontent building inside. When she was seventeen, she never had much choice. She was a Craioveanu. Her father wanted the union with the Gales family.
Everything had changed now, and she was in total control. Never again would she have to share a bed with this pitiable man. Never again would she feel the sharp end of his tongue, or his fist. The memories festered inside her. He was going to pay for it all. She intended to tear him limb from limb.
“Anya?” he said, seeing the look in her eyes.
In an instant, she was upon him. She bit hard into his throat, his blood pumping fast into her veins and through her body. Every muscle and sinew in her small frame tightened. Her breasts swelled larger than they had ever been before. She groaned as her nipples grew large, and firm, and erect. Highly aroused, juices leaked from between her legs.
The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood Page 27
