by Claire Marta
Mina moans quiescent and docile still wrapped in a will-less trance. Her blue eyes enchantingly dazed. One dainty hand lifts to cradle the side of my bearded jaw in an unconscious show of affection.
“You are all that matters to me. My love for you is eternal.” Raising her fragile wrist, I trace the vein just beneath her skin with a fingertip. The blood pumps just below it. It calls to me. Enticing. Inviting.
Breathing becoming ragged, I feel my fangs slip seamlessly free. Bringing my nose to the pulse point I inhale Mina’s scent. All it would take is one tiny nick. One bite just to sample her blood.
No.
Shaking my head, my hand trembles as I lower her arm hastily.
I will not drink from her.
Not my beloved. Her blood is sacred to me.
I’ve already stolen a kiss. Tricked her into giving me something that should have been bestowed freely. Guilt assails me.
This is dangerous.
Madness.
My enemies are close, and I risk exposure.
“The kiss never happened,” I tell her, forcing persuasion into my tone. “Let it lull into your dreams when you sleep tonight. Dream of me, Mina. Dream of your beloved prince.”
Caressing her cheek lovingly, longingly, I slink away. From a safe distance, I watch the spell break. Mina presses a delicate hand to her temples, her lips parting. Confusion washes over her expression. As she glances around her, I stay close until she’s re-joined the Westenras. Taking my leave, I summon my carriage.
Hunger roars through me, the likes I’ve never known before. The urge to quench my thirst dominates my thoughts. It’s too risky to feed here. One slipup and Van Helsing would be on my trail. It is only fitting then that I give them a monster to chase.
The next night, I once more I find myself among the high, green walls of the maze nestled in the Westenra garden. Staring up at the night sky, I take in its beauty. Raw, alive, majestic, painted in so many hues and colors it always brings a sense of awe, even after all this time.
Lucy.
I sense her heed my call amongst the souls slumbering within the grand gothic house. Patiently I wait for her to come to me in a dream like trance. She appears barefoot and willingly enslaved in the darkness. The short-sleeved, white, cotton nightdress she’s wearing flows around her like a virginal wedding gown. Pure. Chaste. It’s not a loving groom she walks toward but damnation.
Running the backs of my knuckles down her bare arms, I feel her shiver with anticipation under my touch. Eager for the pleasures I’ve initiated her into. The sin she’s so readily embraced in her wanton heart.
“You will know terror,” I rumble, pressing my nose to the blonde strands of her hair breathing in the scent of her arousal. “Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood. I curse you with life eternal and all that accompanies it.”
A small whimper leaves her lips, but she remains unmoving.
Gathering the heavy golden fall, I bare her neck, my fangs unsheathing at the sight of the vein I see throbbing. “I bestow on you eternal youth and a never ending thirst for human blood.”
Lowering my head, I embrace her with my free arm, caging her slender body with my own. Blood fills my mouth as I pierce supple flesh. Letting my hunger rein free, I gulp greedily, consuming every drop with no consideration for the female in my grasp.
Lucy cries out in pain finally twisting in my grip. Self-preservation has kicked in. An animal sense that her death approaches.
Guttural growl vibrating in my chest, my superior strength quickly subdues her.
Her breath becomes ragged, shallow gasps. Seconds pass, the fight draining out of her as quickly as the blood I’m gorging myself on. Lucy’s heartbeat thuds slow and stuttering. Only a flimsy thread holds her between this life and the next. One that in the next few seconds will severe.
Raising my head with a hiss, I lick the crimson from my lips. I sense death hovering closely, waiting to claim her. A presence I know well. He won’t be taking this soul tonight.
Ghostly pale, Lucy’s bluish lips are parted, eyes dimmed and staring up at the brilliance of the night sky. Limp as a broken doll, I cradle her in my arms.
Savaging my own wrist, I tear a wound deep enough so my cursed life’s blood streams in rivulets.
“Drink, Lucy, drink,” I urge her, pressing it to her mouth.
Chapter 8
“Good afternoon, Mina.” It’s been three days since we spoke. So much has happened in that space of time.
Alarmed the woman who I’ve been shadowing stealthily the last hour turns to confront me on the sandy beach. “Mr. Tepes, I thought you’d gone back to London.”
Dressed in black, her cheeks are wan with more than the chill in the sea air. There’s a rawness about her eyes from crying. Sadness is etched deep into her expression, a heaviness to her limbs as she moves. Hair loose, it whips around her head in the wind.
“And leave such a beautiful place after only a handful of days?” I reply, knowing the source of her grief but pretending to be unaware. “Your young man is not with you?”
Glancing out to watch the waves, she shakes her head sadly. “Jonathan had to go back to London on business. We buried Lucy this morning.”
“I heard of her untimely death. I am sorry for your loss.”
A shimmer of tears glitter in her eyes as she fishes a crisp white handkerchief from a pocket. “I loved her so much. I don’t understand how it could have happened.”
Her words grip my heart. I’ve caused her pain. So, intent on taunting my enemies I did not give thought how it would affect her.
“Do not weep, dragă mea,” I croon softly. “Come, let me walk you home.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” She sniffs mournfully.
Threading my arm through hers, we amble away from the sea. The day is grey and drab, heralding the coming of rain. She guides me up along a path. I know the scenery well now. Whitby Abbey is in my possession. Situated on the eastern cliffs above the bay. A perfect place to make my home.
“No one’s ever looked at me the way you do.” Mina abruptly tells me brushing a loose lock of hair from her face where it’s escaped from beneath her hat.
Slicing her a sideways glance, I find her watching me. “Which way?”
“Like you really see me. Who I am inside.”
I do.
All of her.
Through the layers, this life has shaped her down to the soul that resides.
Duality. Both light and dark. I feel the constant pull between the two around her.
Emotion clogs my throat, preventing me from answering.
A squat cottage sits perched on a grassy rolling hillside above the beach. Rustic and old, it looks like something out of a fairy-tale. Grey stone bricks make up the walls, the slanted roof made of red slate. A low hedge encircles the property. With its welcoming boundaries, a garden has been well-tended to even in autumn.
“You live here alone?” I question.
Strolling to the wooden gate, Mina pushes it open glancing at me over her shoulder. “Yes. It may not be as grand as the Westenra’s estate, but I’m quite comfortable here.”
“There are dangers for those who live so isolated, Miss Murray.”
Her blue eyes roll defiantly. “You sound like my Fiancé, Jonathan. He disapproves of me living so far away from the village. I find the peace and quiet most agreeable.”
Chapter 9
The presence I’ve sensed before dances at the edge of my senses. A brief awareness of something unnatural. Skimming my surroundings sharply, I see no signs of danger. Between the blackening clouds and the churning grey sea, Mina’s cottage shines like a beacon. If it hunts what I covet, I will kill it without hesitation. Knowing I can no longer leave this woman alone, my attention flicks skyward. The swollen clouds unleash their torrent at my bidding as we make it to Mina’s door.
Gasping in surprise, she thrusts it open hurrying inside the dark interior before we become too soaked.
“I can’t
possibly let you walk back in the rain,” Mina tells me closing the door and bolting it behind us. “You’ll have to stay until it passes.”
Rain-washed light slices the dimness through the glass of the windows. A stove is in the corner, two chairs, and a circular table cluttered with books. A door at the rear indicates more rooms yet to be seen. A narrow staircase leads to an upper floor. It’s not the home I pictured this woman to have. There’s none of the finery or wealth of the Westenra’s here. Mina is not frivolous.
“You read,” I comment as she lights candles to bring some brightness to the dimness of the room.
Mina slices me a sharp glance over her shoulder. “Yes. I have a love of books. Do you disapprove of women reading?”
“Women are powerful and dangerous creatures. Englishmen have the strange delusion that they are weak and inferior. I am not under such a misconception.”
“Dangerous?” She smiles, wrinkling her little pert freckled nose.
“Tigresses when you choose to be,” I tease. “I also enjoy the pursuit of reading. Perhaps we have read the same books…”
Thunder booms above us, cutting off my words, a streak of lightening sharpening the homely room.
“You aren’t frightened of the storm?” I ask as Mina moves toward the nearest window.
“No. I’ve always found them fascinating. There’s something truly primordial about them.” She can’t hide the hint of excitement in her voice under all the sorrow.
Joining her I keep my attention riveted to the wonder on her expression. “Nature unleashing herself on the world.”
“Yes.”
The urge to touch her surges through me. To let our bodies mesh as one. As if she’s sensed my thoughts, Mina turns to look up me.
I don’t bother to hide the naked lust in my eyes. “I have traversed the dawn of more eras than I care to count to find you.”
Cupping her jaw gently, my mouth finds hers. The kiss is sweet but firm. A claiming and a promise. Moaning in her throat, Mina’s trembles. Sliding my fingers into her hair beneath her hat, I gently hold her still as if luring in a little wild bird. Not to imprison simply to reassure.
I sense the churning emotions within her. The pain, loss, and grief. Working the hairpins loose, I toss her hat aside trailing my fingers over her scalp in a languid massage. Mina’s hair is like silk beneath my touch.
As the lazy tender kiss continues, her taut muscles ease. I taste her innocence seduced by my coaxing tongue and mouth. Drawing her downward onto the floor, she goes without a struggle, caught in the undertow of desire, lost beyond heeding anything but the pleasure. Mina feels soft and feminine beneath my weight as I pin her below me. Dragging my hands over the silken layers of her dress, my palm closes in brazen possession over her breast.
“Mina,” I mutter hotly, ravishing her with impatient kisses along her cheek, jaw, and the column of her throat. My little innocent.
Large, blue, dazed eyes meet my gaze. “Vladimir…”
“We have our own language you and I. We share a connection. Every interaction binds the ever-lasting link between us tighter. It transcends death and time.”
Her kiss swollen lips part on a ragged breath. “I know you. How do I know you?”
“I am your Prince. I was and remain utterly and completely in love with you. I dream of you. I’ve never stopped dreaming of you,” I tell her, a swell of elation at her words. I’m savage for her. The need to have her sends the darkness within me surging to claim what’s mine. Pinned as she is, I have all the power. Gums tingling my fangs burn with the need to descend.
It would be so easy to drink from her pale throat.
Devour her.
Damn her.
A shudder runs through me as I gather the remnants of my control. Not this woman. I won’t let my curse taint her. I won’t set her on the dark path I have done with others.
Raking my hands down, I roughly cup her hips. Pushing against Mina, I let her feel the thrust of my cock through the frustrating barriers of our clothing. I sense the fleeting impressions of her thoughts and feelings. How she wants me inside her. Overpowering. Possessing. Drowning in rapture and yet fearful of these surfacing emotions deep within her reborn soul.
“Are you afraid?” I ask Mina when I feel her shiver.
She nods her ebony hair rippling against the floor. “Yes. But I don’t care. Not anymore.”
Dragging up her skirts, I tear away the flimsy garments beneath. Mina whimpers clutching at my shoulders, not pushing me away but bringing me closer. With one quick touch, I find her wet and ready. Growling in my throat, I drive into her throbbing heat and tightness, stealing her virginity.
A sob breaks from her throat. “My Vladimir.”
I take her fiercely, with hard, relentless strokes. A passionate rage knowing the first time between us could be no other way. Next time, I promise myself. Next time I’ll pleasure her until she begs me to take her. Teach her all the different ways I can make her writhe and squirm. Show her all the secret places she doesn’t know exists.
Branding her mouth with mine, I swallow her shattering climax. Unable to contain my own, I come with such ferocity I know for certain she’ll be feeling me inside her for days afterward.
Chapter 10
The hiss of the rain and the sound of the storm still raging outside the cottage penetrates beyond the walls. Mina stirs sleepily on the bed as I nuzzle the soft tangle of her hair.
After taking her like a barbarian, I’d carried her up the stairs to her bed chamber. Leisurely I had enjoyed my conquest. Toyed and tantalized her, savoring the desire I’d drawn from her. Mina brings a richness to my life. A purpose. It’s then I’d realized this woman is my heart. My conscience and the last spark of humanity within my cursed soul.
“It feels like we’ve lain like this a thousand times before.” Mina’s whisper is soft.
“We have,” I tell her, stroking the tips of my fingers along her bare arm. “High up in our castle beneath thick furs in the winter and entwined skin to skin in the sultry summer nights.”
“And a thick green carpet of moss when you took me hunting.” Her words are slow as if she’s piecing together images in her head. “The dappled sunlight touching our naked bodies like liquid gold.”
A deep laugh vibrates through my chest. “You were frightened a wolf might come upon us, but I assured you we were safe. That the only beast that would eat you that day would be me.”
Mina’s cheeks flood with color. “Surely this is all a dream.”
Skimming my finger down over the gentle swell of her belly, I watch her eyes widen. “Does this feel like a dream, dragostea mea?”
“Vlad, I won’t survive another one,” Mina moans as my fingers graze her tender folds. With feather like strokes, I tease her watching as she arches into my persuasive touch. I don’t stop until she finds her pleasure, sobbing, shaking, adrift in bliss.
Admiring her flushed skin and breasts, I bestow a kiss on the tip of her freckled nose. “I will never tire of watching you fly apart in my arms.”
Her index finger finds my chest and traces small circles over my heart. “I can’t possibly marry Jonathan now. I doubt he’ll even have me after this disgrace.”
I must proceed gently. My raven-haired beauty is human after all. So fragile. Memories from our past life together are surfacing, but how much of it does she truly believe yet?
“Then may I have your hand in marriage instead?” I ask capturing her wrist and placing a kiss in the center of her palm.
Her fingers curls around it as if sealing it in to keep the show of affection safe. “You don’t mean that? Please don’t jest.”
“Oh, but I do. There is no disgrace in what we have done, Mina. What we have done numerous times since yesterday eve.”
Tension snakes through Mina’s body, her shock at my proposal clear. “You live in London, Vladimir…”
“My place is at your side wherever that is, here or London. It always has been. Wherever you cho
ose. I will not put you in a cage like a pretty bird for my own amusement when you would thrive better free and at home here.”
I mean every word to her. I’ve hunted smaller villages before. Feeding, I would have to roam far not to be led back to her, but it is doable if I am careful.
Her touch seeks me out, her fingertips discovering the cool metal of the signet ring on my finger. The tiny dragon engraved on the surface. A link to our past life and love. As if somehow deep down she knows of its meaning.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes, Mina. Be my wife. Listen to your soul.”
“It’s so sudden.”
“We can have a long engagement.” Lightly I caress her breast, teasing the nipple with gentle strokes.
Mina moans her eyes glazing over. “I…I need time to think.”
“As you wish. Take as long as you need. I am a very patient man, draga mea.”
I will not push her. If she loved the boy, she would not have welcomed me to her bed. The fact Elizabeth’s memories have begun to stir gives me hope that I will not have to wait long.
Moving over her, I ease between her thighs. I take her painstakingly slowly this time. Drawing out every sweet sound and whimper from her. Mina is an eager pupil. Embracing the sensual rhythm I set. Her passion races through my blood, making me drunk on the need for her. When rapture finally washes over me with my release, it blazes like a star.
Renfield is awaiting me when I return to the hotel just before daybreak.
Worry is etched on his pale face, grey eyes troubled as he takes my coat. “Master.”
“What is it Renfield? Is something wrong?” I question. Weariness grips me. Sleep calls to renew my drained powers away from the rays of the sun. To maintain my strength and ability to walk in the daylight hours I’m forced to feed much more than normal.
“Sir Westenra’s daughter’s body is missing from the family crypt,” he informs me trailing me through the rooms. “A servant saw her in the gardens of the house last night, according to one of the kitchen staff.”
