New Title 3

by H. T. Night

  Before I could pursue either idea, I heard a man screaming. No, that’s not entirely accurate. I first heard the doors to the main entrance groan as they were forced open and then I heard the screams.

  “Get your fucking hands off me you goddamned blood sucker!!”

  Oh my God…I recognized the voice.

  “…My dad’s a powerful attorney and he’s gonna sue your ass—he’ll make you…Txema? Is that really YOU?? What in the hell’s going on here???”

  Peter…my boyfriend’s back. Somehow, someway he was in France. In France and not at all happy about it. He swung in vain, trying to punch Armando, who easily held him in check.

  Meanwhile, I felt an incredible surge of happiness flow through me. Despite his flushed face and roughed up appearance, I was very happy to see him. Much happier than I would’ve ever dreamed of being—especially after my recent escapades with Racco. Yes, I felt the pangs of guilt, and knew I would have to come to terms with what I had pursued with Racco, and what I had left with Peter. This just wasn’t that time.

  “Peter!!” I shouted, and ran over to him. Armando let him go and I threw my arms around his neck. I prepared to say something…something about missing him so much, and about love. But all I could do was cry while he held me tight.

  When I calmed down enough to talk, I asked him what he was doing here.

  “That Armando sucker and the dude with him took me from campus a few days after you disappeared,” he explained, pausing to look around the room. The expression on his bruised face told me he hadn’t really noticed the couple hundred vampires staring at him until that very moment. “They’ve been keeping me in some fucking dungeon here, after telling me they needed to keep me prisoner for my protection.”

  I could only imagine what his incarceration had been like as compared to mine. Definitely not treated like a princess on an expensive yacht. In addition to the bruises, the leaves and straw stuck in his hair and the mud stains on his trousers confirmed that much.

  “How is Tyreen,” I asked him, thinking this wouldn’t be the time to discuss the obvious reason he was brought here: to mate with me. It seemed so obvious, although I could pretty much guarantee it would take hours—maybe even days and weeks—to get him to buy into the idea—despite his love for me. “Is she okay? What about Johnny too?”

  “Johnny’s in the hospital,” he told me, his voice softening to a mere whisper. “The other monsters—the ugly mothers with the weird teeth and claws? They threw him down the stairs when we tried to outrun em’. They broke his back, and he may never walk again.”

  His beautiful brown eyes glistened, and I thought he might cry. I started crying again.

  “What about Tyreen?” I asked once more, between sobs. A terrible feeling overwhelmed my entire being when all he would do is close his eyes and shake his head. An uneven stream of tears trickled down the right side of his face, soon joined by another on the left.

  “She’s dead,” he told me, gritting his teeth from grief that was still fresh. “She never regained consciousness after she was attacked that night!”

  I suddenly couldn’t breathe, and I could barely think. I wasn’t ready to let her go, this girl whom I felt a closer bond to than most of my family. Tyreen was my family…my new family. And now she was gone, forever.

  I cried even harder. Much, much harder.

  Chapter 21

  It was nearly midnight before I calmed down enough to consider what lay before me…the decision to cooperate or hold fast to what was left of my purity as a human being. Yes, I really considered my participation in an event such as this to be some sort of blasphemy. Maybe it was the little catholic kid coming up for air after being held down in my subconscious for so long.

  I had returned to my room by then, this time completely alone. And when the time came for me to rejoin the others, Chanson would escort me to our destination. I still wasn’t convinced Peter would agree to try and father a child with me—unless on pain of death. No, that’s not an indictment on me as much as it is the weirdness of this whole scene. I mean, it wasn’t like he and I had not had sex before. Maybe not so much in the last few weeks, but definitely several times during the week of Halloween.

  Regardless, this place with its league of vampires and a human lord older than two thousand years really freaked him out.

  Yes, I told Peter everything. Everything, that is, except my intimacies with Racco. That will have to wait until some other time…if there is another time to do it. Also unknown to my college beau is the fact he would be dispatched to America sometime the following afternoon. He and I would be separated by even more miles, as Gustav told me it would no longer be safe to stay in the castle beyond this night. My destination would remain secret until after Peter left, to ensure no one close to me tried to find my new location.

  All of this weighed heavily on my heart, along with the horrific events going on throughout the world—events I could possibly stop by cooperating with the vampires’ wish to keep the sacred bloodline going. To not literally become, in Gustav’s words, “the vampires’ last lover.”

  If I needed additional motivation to consider his ‘official vampire’ point of view, just a glance outside through either one of my bedchamber’s windows would suffice. Shadows and glowing eyes flitted back and forth in the adjacent forest, where miles and miles of virgin timber separated us from any other farms or chateaus. Even so, Gustav had already confirmed twice for me that we would be safe for the time being—that the assault planned by Ralu would happen no earlier than the next sunset. The rogue vampires might be more evolved now than ever before, but they still took time to organize.

  Then there was the issue of Tyreen’s death. I hadn’t finished with the first real wave of tears before Peter told me more disturbing news. Shortly after her death, her body disappeared. I fear the demons that killed her must’ve come back for her corpse and taken it from the Knoxville morgue. Garvan confirmed this is possible, and he reminded me of one of our first conversations, when he and Armando openly wondered why the fiends were leaving behind body parts to not snack on later.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of my dear friend as an ongoing meal for some horrific fiend. Not to mention, there could never be any closure for her family back in Atlanta as long as her corpse remained missing.

  Anyway, Chanson told me she would return for me around 3:30 a.m., and that the ceremony—the Relance de sang—would begin soon after. It could be as brief as fifteen to twenty minutes, or longer than several hours, depending on the male’s cooperation. Yeah, just what I was afraid of.

  I worried about who the vampire would be, as Garvan had already requested the honor. But he was not alone, as Armando and Raquel had also approached Gustav for the honor. And, yes, they consider it an ‘honor’ since apparently this is the equivalent of a complete face and body lift among vampires. Draining the ‘blood of life’ in such a large quantity at one time means no necessary ‘tune ups’ for several centuries. Hell, I was surprised they didn’t all line up for this. But in the end it was my choice, and despite the possible hurt feelings, I chose someone else. Someone I had already learned to trust more than any other vampire. A vampire who seemed to understand me and cared for my best interests.

  Chanson.

  Maybe a little weird having a girl do it instead of a guy, but she is kin—even if removed by a dozen generations.

  That settled, it left me with a few hours to kill before this event. Sleep would be nearly impossible, but I tried anyway. At least my eyes were rested. Then, around 2:45 a.m., I decided to take another luxurious bath to ensure my body would be at its ravishing best. My desire to minimize Peter’s reservations overrode all else, although I must admit the requirement of complete nudity beneath an ornate gown similar to the robes worn by Gustav made things more intriguing. If this had been an excursion into a secluded cabin or chalet someplace, and alone with either Peter or Racco, I’m certain neither one would have an issue with me coming to bed similarly attired.


  At 3:30 a.m., Chanson arrived as promised, rapping lightly on my door.

  “Txema? Are you ready?” she asked, her musical voice a tad more excited than usual.

  “Yes,” I answered, and then opened the door.

  She was dressed similar to me, only instead of the white lilies on a golden splash for my gown, hers was crimson and covered with a variety of colorful anemones. Like me, she appeared to have recently bathed. The lilac scent seemed stronger and more potent than before. Her ruddy complexion indicated she had recently fed, which made me feel even better about choosing her as the one to drink my blood. Less danger of being drained to death.

  “Shall we go?” She reached out her right arm for me to take, and I locked my left one inside it. Then together we began our trek to our destination.

  I thought the location might be near the dining hall, maybe a small room where a few vampires would also attend. At least that’s what I expected. Maybe Gustav and a few witnesses? A little freaky, but not as bad as it would be if everyone in the castle showed up. Of course, Peter only understood it would be me, him, and Chanson. He’s not happy about the prospect of more vamps in attendance. But, I’m sure he’ll be there, since he prides himself on keeping his word.

  Once we reached the main floor, Chanson led me through an alcove beneath the stairs. It opened to a large room, and at the end of this room was an open doorway that led to a narrow stone staircase.

  “We’re almost there, Txema,” she advised, picking up her pace as we moved toward the doorway. “The next stairs will take us to the chamber where the ceremony will be held. Your man, Peter, is already there.”

  We separated from one another to climb the narrow stairs, forced to lift our gowns as we ascended to the top where a soft yellow glow emanated. A series of wall torches were also lit to illuminate our way. Frankly, it surprised me Chanson didn’t just whisk me up to the very top. But maybe this was all part of the ceremony, to ascend as true humans must.

  A climb of several stories, once we approached the top I heard hushed voices. Lots of them. I started to worry about how many souls would be watching me get it on with Peter for the sake of pretty vampire survival. I could handle a few eyes in attendance, since really these creatures had been watching me my whole life. But if the number of voyeurs quadrupled…let’s just say the gates that needed to be open for this copulation to happen might not be so cooperative. And there wouldn’t be a damned thing I could do about that. Not to mention this could mean heightened anxiety for Peter as well.

  “Do not fear…I will make sure this goes the way it should,” Chanson whispered to me, just before leading me into what looked like a large auditorium.

  Classical instruments hung on the walls and wooden chairs were stacked on either end of the room, barely discernable in the dim torchlight. But the fact two hundred pairs of eyes were here was not so hard to discern. At least they all seemed to be vampires, their colorful eyes aglow. Some wore hoods, but all wore colorful gowns and robes similar to me and Chanson. Including Peter, and his attendant ‘protectors’, Franz and Armando. A few carried lanterns and lighted candles.

  The scene prompted me to remember a jest my father once made when I dressed as a naughty nurse for a Halloween party my junior year in high school. ‘You look like a porn queen that’s been invited to a stag party!’ he had said, which nearly ruined my evening. I wore my long winter coat that night as a result, too ashamed to reveal anything more.

  This was worse.

  I really did feel like a porn queen, only this was more like a troupe of perverts invited to the making of a XXX film. Mortified, my pulse began to race.

  “Shhh…It will be all right,” Chanson sought to assure me. “There are no humans here right now—not even Racco or his trusted staff. Sacred vampire rites like Relance de sang are off limits to humans, unless they are partaking in the ceremony. This is strictly enforced—often on pain of death to intruders.”

  Okay, so that makes things a tad easier. It’s not like a vampire is going to post film footage of an event like this on YouTube.

  “Welcome, Txema!” Gustav exalted, moving toward me as the other vampires made way for his presence. A path was cleared along the wooden floor, the varnished planks glistening under the collective candle and torch lights. “Come this way. Your bed is warm and ready.”

  Yep, just like a porn set. A big round bed without blankets, and a single institutional white sheet. Oh Joy.

  At least there were a couple of pillows.

  Armando guided Peter over to the bed, whose shuffling feet told me the vampire literally dragged my partner to his station, although Armando’s grasp appeared subtle, with minimal exertion on his part.

  Chanson and I arrived a moment later, moving to the left side of the bed, while Peter remained at the foot.

  “Now just relax and try to forget about them,” Chanson advised, motioning to the crowd gathered nearby, but far enough away to allow for very slight privacy.

  Okay, I admit they were still too close for my comfort. But, I had already decided this could be either uncomfortable or excruciatingly bad, depending on how long the damned thing took. Really, she should’ve smooth-talked Peter, since it appeared that Armando offered no encouragement to him. I detected a slight flutter just below Peter’s right eye, a nervous tic I had seen before on a couple of occasions—most recently while studying for his chemistry exam last week.

  “Txema, remove your robe, my dear, and then climb up on the bed,” Gustav directed, and then looked over at Armando. “As soon as she is ready, then assist Peter in removing his robe.”

  Perhaps this used to work as motivation in centuries past, but this sterile and almost scientific insensitivity toward two people about to screw wasn’t going to cut it. I might be able to ready myself through a variety of fantasy practices I knew well. Thinking about yesterday’s aborted fling with Racco would work for me if all else failed. As long as I could make an emotional connection to that memory, I should be fine. I just prayed that when I arched my back to accentuate my breasts—a posture that drove Peter nuts under normal circumstances—he would be ready and we could get this thing over and done with. Provided that Chanson had time to get her fangs imbedded into my throat without a hitch.

  I removed my gown, surprised at the room’s sudden coolness that caused my gooseflesh to rise and nipples to harden—good and bad effects, I guess. It was like the warmth was suddenly removed by a collective gasp among my vampire audience. Indeed, so much was riding on what happened in the next half hour.

  I climbed onto the bed, and positioned myself with as much ‘come and get me’ moxy as I could muster. But the promising bulge protruding from Peter’s robe disappeared soon after Armando helped him take it off. Once the coolness I mentioned touched his skin, his manhood continued to shrink, and the murmur that followed among the vampires all but sealed its death. His face flushed crimson from embarrassment that I’m sure will last a lifetime in retrospect.

  Thinking there was no point to continue this debacle, I started to get up. But Chanson stopped me, firmly grasping my arm. Her touch was still warm, and it flowed into me, easing the effects from the coolness surrounding me.

  “Wait, I have an idea,” she whispered in my ear, and then motioned for Armando to keep Peter from reaching for his robe. “Trust me on this.”

  She winked wickedly at me, and then sauntered over to my boyfriend. I’m sure it had to mess with his head to see a girl who so strongly resembled me—and keep in mind at that point he had no idea she and I are related by blood. I’m sure if he’d noticed her birthmark, he might’ve seen things differently, but I’m pretty sure the path from her face to her generous bosom and proportionate sexy curves kept him from noticing much else. There isn’t much mystery to the mind of the typical American male.

  Chanson brushed up against him, allowing her hand to linger upon his powerful chest before she sauntered over to the other side of the bed. Then, with her back to him and eyeing hi
m coyly over her shoulder, in one smooth movement she loosened her gown and let it fall to her ankles. Completely naked, she arched her butt just enough for him to see the inviting folds of her sex and then she whirled around, wearing a predatory expression as she approached him again, strutting sultry and allowing her firm breasts to hang just slightly.

  No doubt every naughty thought filed away in his head was accessed, as I could perform no better than she, despite our physical similarities. Yet in less than a minute, embarrassed soft became raging hard and fully aroused. And it remained that way as she made her way over to me. Continuing to eye him seductively, she placed her hand under my neck and lifted my head to where I could see him clearly. I wasn’t about to blow what she had successfully created—despite the intense curiosity I sensed in the surrounding throng that had encroached a step or two from their previous distance.

  Meanwhile, Chanson’s heat—almost fully human—warmed me again as she moved closer. Her fangs looked like they had grown an inch longer.

  “Come over and fuck her, Peter, while she’s hot for you!” she cooed, her husky tone carrying a level of seductiveness I hoped someday to attain. It damn near made me want her too—and I don’t swing that way at all. “Do it now, Peter!”

  Surely her exaggerated French accent didn’t hurt matters. Something told me that if he and I did survive this misadventure romantically, dressing up like a naughty French chamber maid might be a regular requirement to appease his sexual appetite.

  Excitement danced in his eyes and without any further delay he clambered upon the bed. I prepared myself to receive him inside me, allowing him to push my legs open. But before I actually felt his penetration, Chanson buried her fangs in my throat.

  After the initial sting from her bite, an incredible rush of adrenaline flowed through me, encompassing my entire being. I felt an odd tingling sensation along the top of my head that quickly traveled to the soles of my feet. My heart pounded heavily, pumping my blood out of my body and into Chanson. Along with this, Peter’s steady thrusts inside me began to bring me to orgasm, though his climax had yet to come.