by Kathryn Moon
Outside they continued, the woman shouting with one high peak before slowly gasping her way to another. I panted against the bed cover, still wanting, still missing, and rose up on my elbows to start again, racing her to the next finish.
Chapter Three
Dreaming of Amon
Outside the next morning, I stood over the very spot where I’d watched the couple the night before. The grass was matted into the earth, but there was no other evidence of their union. I hadn’t found any peace when they’d finally finished. The manor had come alive as I’d chased need alone, and by the time I was peeling out of sweaty clothes, I could hear laughter in the halls. The ceiling above my bed creaked rhythmically for most of the night, and whoever my neighbors were, they were having an altogether better time of it than I was.
Now I walked down to the water, a layer of fog thick over the loch and creeping up to the grass. I pulled my sweater tighter around my chest and stared out. Living in London, growing up in the city, I’d never seen such a sight. I didn’t know there was so much color in the sky as the shredded streaks of pink and purple and gold above me, a red sun rising behind the manor. I walked around the edge of the loch, bending to look at spiders' webs covered in dew and finding animal foot trails along the thin strip of mud around the edge of the water. Was that little paw print the wolf-man’s or a real animal’s?
I was a quarter of the way around the edge of the loch when I found a long bench sitting out with a good view of the manor, the water, and the large hills rolling out beyond. The fog was burning away as the sun rose higher, and birds were singing in the trees behind me. I stretched myself out on the bench, and while it was hard against my back, the air was warm enough and I was tired enough to let my eyelids drift shut and drowse that way.
When would my gentlemen come? Would Dr. Underwood arrive before the others? I’d gladly take Mr. Tanner for another roll in the sheets if I could, and maybe this time, he would let me look at him, really look. My skin was hot at the thought, the sun beating down on me in my daydream. My mouth felt dry, parched, and I licked my lips, finding an unfamiliar, dusty flavor there.
“Esther.”
The voice, whispering in my ear, turned my name into something prettier than it was. Ey-ztar. A star, tongue tripping over the syllables. Something soft brushed across my arm, and I opened heavy eyes.
The world was golden. The loch was gone, and all around me were hills like fire-orange snow. A desert. I’d seen a picture once, but I’d imagined it as something flat and innocent, where this was like…like an enormous sea of sand around me. I looked down, and it was not the bench from the loch beneath me, but instead a wide, long altar, carved with unfamiliar symbols.
“Esther.”
I spun in my seat and swallowed a scream. There was a man that was not a man in front of me. He had a man’s face, the most beautiful one I’d ever seen, with skin like baked earth and thick dark eyebrows and a mane of glossy black hair. But his eyebrows stretched up into a feline brow, softly furred, and his long neck led down to wide shoulders covered with more golden-brown fur. Those shoulders led to a chest that was not a man’s, and long arms stretched down to the sand below, ending with huge, furred paws and glimmering black claws. Behind him stretched wings, feathers glittering in shades of black and gold, rust and copper.
“Wha—” I swallowed and looked him over again. That was the body of a great cat, like a lion’s, and those were wings huge enough to allow him to take flight. He was not a man, but the fog of my nap was starting to fade and I realized what he might be to me. “Who are you?” I asked.
He smiled, and it was human and friendly and brilliantly bright and wide. I felt my cheeks flushing, and I knew it wasn’t the sun above us, the heat billowing off the sandhills around us.
“My name is Amon,” he said, tongue just buzzing a little over the ‘is.’ “As for what I am…”
He stretched back on those feline haunches, and when he rose up again, the heat shimmered over him so much that he blurred in front of me. When the wave cleared, there were no paws, no feline shoulders. His features still had a hint of the cat, but the fur was hidden, unless I was counting the dark hair running down his bare chest to the white trousers he wore. Still, the wings stretched out behind him, and a dark tail swayed and curled around his hip.
“They call my kind sphinx,” he said, bare feet padding over the hot sand to where I was perched. “I’ve been waiting for you, my little star.” He leaned across the platform, one hand reaching out and cupping my cheek. I softened at the touch, leaning into the warmth, a softer feeling than the sun scorching above us.
“How did I get here?” I asked, watching his mouth and wishing for it to come closer.
“You are only dreaming,” he said. I liked the way his voice seemed to take an extra leap over every ‘r.’ “I felt you calling to me all night, but I could not reach you until now.”
I grinned at that. “The manor makes a racket at night,” I said. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
Amon grinned as well and rounded the corner of the platform to stand in front of me. My fingers itched to touch his skin. “You won’t be alone for long, my star,” he said. “One more night.”
“You’re coming?” I asked, but instead of answering, Amon dove forward, his full mouth surrounding mine in a kiss.
All the tension of the night before eased out of me under his lips. His hands held my face to his, and I lifted my own to clutch at him. His skin was warm and firm under my hands, and I ran them across his back, tracing thick muscles to the downy roots of his wings. He groaned into the kiss as I explored them, feathers rustling as I experimented.
“I am on the sea now,” Amon said, stroking my nose with his and pulling away enough for me to see his dark eyes. “But there are others closer than me. You’ll see them soon. Now let me taste you, little star.”
Amon pulled me in again, sucking at my lips until I moaned and opened my mouth to him. They were long, drinking kisses, like he was drawing life from me, and I felt myself collapsing under his spell. His teeth dragged sharply over my bottom lip until he was nibbling along my chin and then lapping his tongue over my pulse. He hadn’t meant to taste just my mouth, I realized, but everywhere. I fell back fully onto the altar, and Amon followed me up with a lithe jump, landing between my parted knees, the puff of fur at the end of his tail teasing my ankle. He held himself above me, his palms on either side of my head. His hair swung forward, and the sunlight shone through it, turning the black locks almost red, the same glow bleeding through his wings.
“Would you like a little relief now?” Amon asked, stroking the words over the curve of my shoulder as he lowered his hips to press against mine.
“Oh lord, please,” I said, a whimper at the back of my throat. My hands ran up his back again and into his hair, which I thought was unjustly silky to touch. My fingers tightened in the strands as he bent down, lips wrapping around one nipple. I was wearing too many layers so the feeling was dulled, until he traded lips for teeth and I shouted out, arching my back to him.
“More, more,” I begged, trying to lift my hips, but they only bumped against his stomach and it wasn’t nearly enough friction.
“Miss.”
“Amon,” I sighed, trying to push him farther down me to offer that relief he promised, but his hair was sliding through my fingers.
“An interruption. Take care, little star,” Amon whispered. “Soon.”
“Miss.”
I sat up with an abbreviated shout as the heat of the desert was wiped away with a breeze off the loch. Amon was gone and I was back on the little bench, without any of the relief my sphinx had promised me and all my earlier frustrations returned. I blamed the man in front of me.
“Well, who are you then?” I asked, my tone sour and sharp from the interruption.
He was quite tall, though nothing like my giant, Mr. Tanner, or the butler, Booker, and his shoulders were bulky. He had dark blond hair that looked as if he migh
t have cut it himself, or someone with very poor eyesight had, and his skin was browned with sun.
“Jacob Coombs, miss,” he said, grinning. His smile was crooked, and he stepped close, looming over me so that I had to tilt my head back to see him, but the sun was behind him and it hurt my neck and eyes to look at him. “I was havin’ a walk and found you here moaning. Wanted to make sure you weren’t ill or nothin’.”
I swallowed, hoping very hard I was not blushing. If I’d been moaning in my sleep, dreaming of Amon, I could be fairly certain I hadn’t sounded sick and there was a tone in Jacob’s voice that seemed to say as much. I stood up from the bench, but he didn’t move an inch and it put us too close together.
“A bad dream,” I said, feeling my teeth clench.
There was something handsome to Jacob, I saw that. He was certainly the kind of bloke I’d have picked my skirts up for a month ago. But he was distinctly human in every way. Which meant he wasn’t meant to be here, or I had wandered too far from the manor.
“I should be getting back,” I said, trying to step around his broad frame, but he stepped with me.
“You’re one of them manor girls,” he said, and I could feel his stare fixed on my face. “Whatchu’ all come up here for? S’no finishing school.”
“It’s…it’s a home for ladies,” I said, shrugging and trying to sound firm. I didn’t really understand what that meant either, but it was what Dr. Underwood told me the house called itself.
“Pretty young ladies who don’t want to talk to none in the village,” Jacob said, with a sharp edge of bitterness.
“Don’t want to talk to you, maybe,” I said, and then bit down hard on my lip. I hadn’t meant to say that. I knew better than to poke surly young men. They had twice the ego of everyone and were more sensitive than a girl during her monthly.
“Hey,” Jacob snapped, grabbing up my arm in his fist before I could jump away. He shook me a little, and when he snarled down at me, all that boyish farm charm turned mean. “I was being nice, checkin’ in on you. Now I’ll escort you back to your ladies' house.”
“Oh, all right then,” I said, pulling my arm back from him.
“Miss.”
Both Jacob and I jumped at the gravelly tone. Booker stood under the dark shade of a tree, a glare fixed on Jacob, who reared back from the force of the stare.
“Hello, Booker!” I said, voice too bright to be normal, but I felt a wave of relief at seeing him. “Will you walk me back to the manor, please? That way Mr. Coombs can be on his way back to the village.” I hurried over to Booker before Jacob could answer. Booker stepped in front of me as soon as I reached him, and I was happy not to see Jacob’s face.
I heard a few grumbled words and then, clearer, “Just come to see the loch in the morning.”
I peeked around Booker’s broad back and Jacob’s back was to us, quickly retreating.
“He found me sleeping,” I whispered. Booker grunted, and we waited for Jacob to disappear through the trees, heading away from the loch.
“Come,” Booker said, walking onto the path.
Under the bright sunlight, I realized why Booker had waited under the cover of the tree. The shadows of the leaves had disguised the marble white of his skin and the blue-gray threads that ran under his skin.
“You’re not human, are you?” I asked, finding his arm at his side and wrapping mine around it.
Booker looked down at where I’d linked us, and for a moment, did nothing, then he bent his arm so it was easier for me to hold onto. He looked back up, straight ahead, and shook his head.
“And do you have a lady at the manor of your own?” I asked. “Like the gentlemen that come to visit?”
His brow furrowed at that, and he looked at me, a quiet sort of bafflement in his eyes. Then he shook his head again. A wicked thought began to brew in my head.
“Can you feel, Booker?” I asked. When he remained frowning out at the scenery, I lifted my free hand up to touch at his hand. He looked down to where I touched, and I unfolded his fingers from the loose fist he held against his chest. I turned his hand over and tapped at the center of his palm. My fingernail made a clinking sound. He was polished stone.
“Yes,” he answered.
The puzzlement was gone when I looked up at him, and I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a shadow of sunlight that made it look like he had the faintest curl of a smile on his lips, or if it was really there. Either way, I beamed up at him. I would have to ask Magdalena if I was allowed to play with the butler, I suspected, but if she said yes, I was going to have a grand time finding out how a man of stone might like to be touched.
We walked back to the house through the hush of tall grass and lapping water, and when we were close enough, I saw Magdalena standing on the patio in a black evening gown. I let go of Booker and ran up to her.
“I didn’t mean to attract any attention,” I said in a rush. “I just sat down for a little nap, and then the sphinx came for me, and well…I made a bit of noise and—”
Madame Magdalena’s eyebrows rose higher on her forehead with every word until she was laughing and raising her hands in surrender. “Calm yourself, Esther,” she said, smiling. “I sent Booker when I felt that hay bale sneaking onto our property. You are perfectly welcome to wander, but that young man, in particular, has been a thorn in the manor’s side for almost two decades. You’re all right?”
“Oh. Sure,” I said, waving a hand through the air. “I’ve dealt with that kind of man for years,” I said.
“Hmm, well you shouldn’t have to deal with them now,” Magdalena said. “And you mentioned a sphinx? Was it—”
“Amon,” I said, feeling myself blush. “It was a dream.”
“Ahh,” Magdalena said, nodding knowingly. “Well, I’m glad you’re introduced. You have another gentleman arriving tomorrow evening. Auguste Thibodeaux. He’s…well, I’d like for you to talk to one of our girls, actually. Come inside for breakfast.”
I followed Magdalena inside, Booker trailing us like a shadow, and she led me to an enormous dining room. A little less than half the seats were filled with women in their dressing gowns. They were all smiling, eyes half-lidded still with sleep, and I couldn’t blame them. I heard the kind of evening they’d had and envied not having one of my own.
I scanned the table, looking for the woman I’d seen the night before in the grass, and there she was! A hand lifted to her mouth as she yawned widely, bright bruises littering her throat like colorful jewelry.
“Cassie, darling,” Magdalena said, stopping at a seat where a plump girl with riotous red curls sat, spreading brilliant jam over an English muffin. “This is Esther, she’s new just yesterday. I was wondering if you could tell her about your George. She has her own gentleman coming to meet her tomorrow.”
The girl’s bright blue eyes widened, cheeks filling with breakfast and a smile, and she nodded eagerly, patting the seat of the chair next to her.
I sat, and before Magdalena had really moved away, Cassie was talking, fast and cheerful. “There are vampires, you know, just like in the stories. But much more handsome and sweet, actually,” Cassie said, wobbling her head and taking another bite.
I liked that she talked while she ate, as if she was used to rushing a meal like the other maids and I had been. I was not the only woman here who was less than a lady.
“George is ancient,” Cassie said, grinning, “but he looks about my age. It’s wonderful. He knows ever so much about how to please a woman.”
I thought of the painting in the hall I’d seen the day before, white fangs tipped in red. “And does he bite you?”
“Oh yes,” Cassie said, nodding. Then she reached up to the front of her robe and pulled it aside just enough to reveal a pair of small puncture wounds, perfectly clean and not at all irritated. “He’ll heal them if you ask him to, but I like a little reminder here and there.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Just a little,” Cassie said.
“Then it feels wonderful,” another woman, older and with better table manners said, raising a dark eyebrow and grinning at the pair of us from across the dining table.
“Wonderful,” Cassie asserted. “There’s so many more…places for them than I’d thought of and each one feels different. And it’s not much they take. Just licks.”
“Is it just blood they want?” I asked. There was food steaming in front of me, but I was far more interested in the information.
“Lord no,” Cassie said laughing. “George has twice the appetite for…other things as he does for blood. You’ll see. I practically beg him to bite me by the end.”
My thighs clenched together, and I forced my eyes to the stacks of food to try and distract myself from yet another wave of wanting I couldn’t fulfill yet.
“Take the fruit,” said the woman on the other side of the table.
“Oh, yes, Sally is right. They love sweet flavors in the blood. Especially fresh ones. And chocolate,” Cassie said, snatching up a bowl of strawberries and dropping them onto the table in front of me. “Try not to eat any garlic, although if yours is as sweet as George, he won’t complain.”
Auguste Thibodeaux, that was what Magdalena had said. I wanted to say his name aloud, try it out on my tongue. Instead, I ran it through my head as I filled my plate with strawberries, and the women around me passed sweet rolls and pancakes and syrups down to me.
“So, who else have you got?” I asked Cassie.
She beamed with closed lips, humming as she chewed. “Oh I’ve got a fellow with great black wings, like an angel but he isn’t of course,” she said and then giggled into her teacup. “And a fire spirit. We’ve got to go to a special room together where he can’t burn anything up. But he feels wonderful on the skin,” she whispered.
