The Vampire & the Reporter

by Foxx, Nia K.

  Kyra entered the parlor where six other guests sat debating the week’s activities.

  “So it seems our final player has arrived,” an older man with an unmistakably British accent stated.

  “Indeed,” a woman, close to Kyra’s own twenty-nine years, added. Her bottle blonde hair, in dire need of a touch up, sat stiffly around her head as if it had been overly moussed. Definitely British as well.

  “May I present, Ms. Kyra Littleton?” Ivan introduced.

  “You must be the American contingent,” a dark haired woman with a thick Spanish accent stated in a friendly tone.

  “I’m not sure about a contingent, but yes, I’m American,” Kyra admitted, quickly perusing the eclectic group assembled. She wasn’t surprised to find herself the only black person represented in the group. In her line of work it had become somewhat expected. Although amongst this European bunch she doubted her race would matter as much as in her country of origin.

  Quick introductions were made and she tallied up two Brits, a French man, the Spanish woman she’d taken an instant liking to, a German man who seemed friendly enough and a short Greek fellow who looked like he’d much rather be any place else but in the castle.

  “So has our illustrious host made an appearance yet?” Kyra asked, not hesitating to pour herself a cup of tea and take an empty seat on the sofa next to the French man, whose eyes seemed to linger on her breasts.

  “Not yet.” Bottle blonde sounded annoyed. “Which is really quite rude when you think of the distance I…we’ve come to participate in this show?”

  Thunder rumbled loudly outside causing the blonde to jump. Kyra smiled into her mug, taking a sip to mask her amusement.

  “You are quite right, Madame Smiley. It appears I have neglected my guests long enough today. I apologize for my absence, there were some pressing matters which required my undivided attention.” The distinctly Romanian accented voice reverberated against the walls, although the man who suddenly appeared had not raised his voice above the average tone. Several gasps went up around the room, mostly female, accompanied by the clanking of goblets and cups.

  Kyra wasn’t sure if the responses were from the unannounced manifestation of the man or from the shock of his overall form. He stood several inches over six feet; what promised to be a slender but muscular physique was shrouded in Renaissance attire. Normally Kyra didn’t go in for costumes but on him it worked. Straight dark hair hung in disarray but instead of looking unkempt and boy bandish it was distinctly masculine on him. A pronounced but rounded nose jutted out from underneath deep-set eyes that appeared to be green in color, although Kyra couldn’t be certain without a closer look.

  Hubba hubba, she didn’t try to harness the thought that came instantly to mind. The man was a hottie with a capital H.

  His gaze fixed on her for several seconds and she paused, wondering if she’d actually communicated her thoughts out loud. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hell, it was how she’d caught William’s attention. He’d walked passed her at a charity function and there, in front of a room full of do gooders, she’d commented on how nicely he filled out a pair of pants.

  Enough!

  Kyra stared unblinkingly at their new arrival. Had he just spoke or was it her imagination?

  “I am glad you could all make it for the week’s festivities. I am Dumitri Dracul, and I personally welcome you to my home.”

  “Mr. Dracul, why exactly have you chosen to open your castle after all this time?” the Spanish woman began.

  “As I have stated in numerous press conferences, I hope to attract tourism to this region of the world, but please, I ask you save your questions until the last day of our adventure. It is my hope that once you have enjoyed your journey in Dracula’s castle you will be able to write up a report based on your firsthand experiences.”

  “What exactly does this journey entail?” Kyra finally found her voice.

  “All in due time, my dear.” He zeroed in on her again.

  All in due time, he repeated, but she could have sworn his mouth hadn’t moved.

  Chapter Two

  Kyra stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, not recognizing the woman in the white chemise who stared back at her. The skintight bodice of the garment pushed her already ample breasts to the forefront. She knew if she breathed too deeply they would spill out over the top.

  You are beautiful.

  She turned to the vaguely familiar voice although she was fairly certain the sound came from within her head. The swift motion caused the material to billow around her ankles as she twirled. Dumitri Dracul stood there minus the filmy white shirt he’d worn earlier. Bare chested he was amazing, trimmed to muscular perfection. He wasn’t large like William’s more bearesque stature but was far from being a slouch.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I could not wait another night to see you, meu dulciuri. I have been denied you far too long, not knowing you had come into existence.”

  “What do you mean come into existence? I don’t understand.”

  “You will, but now is not the time for talking.”

  This isn’t real, she silently chanted as she took cautious steps backward. She didn’t even own a nightgown like that for God’s sake.

  “Please do not attempt to deny me; it is not my wish to cause you harm. Do you understand?”

  Another step back brought her in contact with the smooth surface of the mirror. “This is a dream, you aren’t real.”

  “If you believe that, then give yourself to me freely. Allow me to pleasure you in a way you have never experience awake or in your dreams.”

  Tempting. “No. Dream or not, I’m involved with someone else.”

  “I am a jealous lover, meu dulciuri. Forget him, we were made to be together.”

  “Uh – no.” He was a demanding little dream suitor although she had to admit part of her was intrigued about giving in to his offer. After all it was just a dream and quite frankly she’d never had a wet one before, why not explore it?

  “Then perhaps I can make you forget.”

  “How arrogant…” Her voice trailed off when his eyes flashed a bright emerald color. Dream or not that was just weird. Her heart jumped in her chest and Kyra willed herself to wake up. It was a pointless effort.

  “You do not want to deny me, do you?” He was in front of her seeming to move at the speed of thought.

  Those eyes. Beautiful. She was drawn to them, could get lost in their shining brilliance. How did they gleam so bright? He was close, too close but she wouldn’t have moved even if the cool glass weren’t pressed against her back. His breath warmed her lips. Never had a dream felt so detailed, so real. His head dipped slowly. It was more than enough time for her to turn away but she didn’t. It was just a kiss, in a dream. No harm. His lips grazed hers and Kyra craned her neck as Dumitri gathered her in his embrace.

  The material of the bodice gave way from behind as he traced one finger down the middle of her back. She gasped in surprise which only provided him further access to her mouth. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, Dumitri plundered the deep recesses, demonstrating just how completely and masterfully he could take her body. He pushed the torn material of her dress down over the swell of her hips until it pooled at her feet.

  Dumitri groaned at the feel of her full plump breasts molded against him, his already aroused cock strained against the snug fit of his pants, threatening to burst through. He tore his mouth away from hers long enough to scoop Kyra up in his arms, cradling her there while he strode to the massive bed. His fangs threatened to burst through at the acceptance reflected in her eyes. He swooped down to taste her again.

  Exquisite, he thought, laying her on the bed and pulling away only to take in the perfection of her dark shapely body. Although slender, she hadn’t conformed to the anorexic style of beauty. His eyes lingered over her round breasts before skimming the flatness of her stomach, traveling further to settle on the hairless juncture bet
ween her thighs.

  This is a dream, she reminded herself. The cool crispness of the sheets was like a lifeline to her drowning senses.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “You can, you belong with me. A da înãuntru, meu dulciuri. Submit to me, my sweet.”

  Without waiting for further protest or her acquiescence, he cupped one breast in a large hand, his eyes eagerly feasting on the firm mound before diving in to sample her flesh.

  Kyra arched her back against the wonderfully hot sensation of his mouth on her sensitive nipple. He strummed the other with his thumb while laving the object of choice with his tongue.

  “A da înãuntru, submit to me. You are mine, meu dulciuri.”

  “This isn’t real,” she denied, all the while digging fingers into his thick mane. He paid homage to her second breast, nipping it between firm teeth until she arched against him in total abandonment.

  Kyra protested when he stepped back long enough to do away with his breeches. His brief departure was soon forgotten after he rejoined her on the bed, pulling both her legs over his shoulders. She recognized the look on his face. Pure lust. Desire rushed through her as he eased down onto his forearms until his nose pressed against the outer folds of her labia. He delved between her nether lips with the tip until he reached her clit. Her breath caught in her throat in anticipation. The thought of what would follow was enough to begin a slow throbbing in her core. When his tongue reached out to gift her with one long lap Kyra felt as if she would come undone.

  More, she begged silently.

  His throaty laughter wafted through her mind.

  Dumitri’s following strokes were deliberately slow. He toyed with her until she crooned. His tongue undulated against her nubbin and she clawed at the bedspread in an effort to keep from holding his head in place. He pushed one finger into her sheath just as his tongue darted out to begin a new program of assault on her sensitized clit. Kyra felt as if she were coming apart, literally. Unable to control her mounting desire, she finally succumbed to the urge to push his face further into her now gyrating mound.

  “Oh yes… yes,” she moaned.

  Just when she thought she could take no more, when she would explode, Dumitri raised his head and leaned forward with glowing predatory eyes.

  “Do you submit, meu dulciuri?”

  “Yes, yes to anything, please.” Was he torturing her on purpose?

  “As you wish.”

  He spread her thighs and anchored himself in between them, then pressed the head of his cock forward until it rested at the threshold of her channel. Dumitri inched forward just enough to tease her with the shallow penetration. Kyra’s world tilted on its axis. Words alone couldn’t describe the sensation. But she had never felt so whole in her entire life. She moaned her encouragement it was the only form of communication she was capable of. In a single thrust he buried himself deep inside her. Kyra let out a protesting yelp as he stretched and filled her in a way she never experienced. The pain of their joining registered through the arousal.

  A dream shouldn’t hurt, the thought seeped into her mind as the pain began to subside. Her fantasy lover had become deathly still, his large hands holding her hips in place while her body adjusted to his size.

  “Tu eºti al me, acum ºi de-a pururi. You are mine now and forever,” he whispered.

  He withdrew only to drive forward again with slow deep thrusts that left her gasping for air. She matched his rhythm, loving the sensual heat generated by their friction. She welcomed the deep thrusts that brought him balls-deep inside her, over and over, until there was no distinction where one began and the other ended.

  “Tu eºti al meu, acum ºi de-a pururi. Tu eºti al meu, acum ºi de-a pururi.”

  He pulled her legs around his waist and leaned further into the thrusts, nipping at her neck.

  Oh yes. She clutched her legs around his waist, holding on tight as her climax washed over her in a burst of vibrant colors. Her pulsing channel throbbed around him, just as she felt two pricks at the base of her neck. She thought she would faint from the pleasure.

  Passing out in a dream would have to be a first.

  She was in the throes of a second orgasm when he finally exploded within her, his seed flooding her womb in a long gush.

  “Drink,” he demanded, offering his wrist, spotted with a trickle of blood where he’d just made a small incision.

  “What?” She was disoriented. Her body felt both light and heavy, both tired and exhilarated at the same time.

  “Drink now.”

  “Ask me another time. I’m too tired.” Was he really offering his blood? What a weird dream.

  “Meu dulciuri, you must drink now.” He forced the wrist to her mouth before she could protest further.

  It’s only a dream, Kyra reminded herself as her mouth latched on to the throbbing vein opened for her. The sweet metallic taste of him flooded her system in a blinding rush of light, bombarding her mind with images that jumbled together in a non-sensible mixture. Her breathing became erratic as her body craved more of him.

  “Enough.” He detached her thirsty mouth. Feral eyes studied her with a possessiveness that should have sent her scurrying off the bed.

  When their bodies finally calmed, Dumitri drew her into the fold of his embrace.

  “Sleep now,” he ordered.

  Kyra giggled, “I already am.” It was her last conscious thought.

  Chapter Three

  She came awake slowly, stretching tired limbs, her stiff body protesting the sudden change in position. She groaned at the soreness radiating from ill-used muscles.

  “Why do I feel like I ran a marathon?” she mumbled, gradually sitting up in the huge bed that threatened to swallow her whole. The curtains were drawn in the room, effectively blocking out most of the light save a beam forcing its way through the sliver of a gap. It was obviously morning but she wondered at the exact time. A quick glance around the darkened room didn’t reveal one solitary clock. She doubted aristocratic women of the Renaissance era cared much about time, probably basking away their mornings in bed while servants tended to their every needs. Well, she most definitely wasn’t a Renaissance woman, she thought, tossing the covers off her naked body.

  Naked! Kyra stared down at her bare flesh in stunned disbelief. She’d put on her favorite red T-shirt before going to bed, she was certain of that much. Riotous curls tumbled wildly about her face while she scanned the floor next to her bed; perhaps she’d tossed it away in the night. Nothing. Frantically, she searched the covers for evidence of the material. Her tender muscles complained again from her hysterical movements.

  It’s got to be here somewhere, she told herself, pushing at the thick coverlet. Long moments later she gave up the search; one thing was for sure besides the covers the only thing in the bed was her. Kyra scanned the area around the bed again thankful for the little ray of light peeking its way through. Her heart stopped when she spotted white material in front of the floor length mirror across the room. Time seemed to slow down around her. Part of her knew, without examination, what the small bundle was.

  “It can’t be,” she muttered. The floor was cool beneath her feet when she slid from the bed.

  It was just a dream, the thought reverberated in her skull. She edged closer. Kyra’s heart sank when she recognized the pale silk as the chemise from her dream.

  * * *

  His future sotie’s extreme distress awakened him from a much needed rest. Dumitri had lain awake for hours watching her sleep at his side, as if she realized her natural place next to him. It wasn’t until well after dawn he retreated to his own rooms for a deep slumber. Now he lay awake in complete darkness, regulating his breathing and making the necessary internal adjustments to his body that would allow him to walk in daylight. Soon he wouldn’t need to go through such measures, but he couldn’t think on it now. Kyra needed him.

  Calm yourself, little one. I am coming.

  * * *

  Up And Coming Repo
rter Cracks Up In Transylvanian Castle!

  That’s what the headline would read if she stayed in the place a moment longer, Kyra thought as she shoved clothes back into suitcases she hadn’t remembered unpacking. Sheila could pitch as many fits as she wanted when she heard about the early return. She didn’t care. Not even her job was worth her sanity.