The Tale Of The Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride #1)

The Tale Of The Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride #1) Page 46

“Where are we?”

“A simple mausoleum. It lies at the edge of a churchyard. No dhamphir will seek us out here. They cannot feel that the ground is not blessed. They will assume it is and that we could not enter.”

He lifted me up in his arms and carried me behind the hewn stone resting place. Obviously, he had stayed here before, a thick feather mattress was nestled between the wall and the platform the stone coffin lay upon. A great many pillows and coverlets of fine quality were strewn across it. He set me down with extreme gentleness and once my head was rested on a pile of pillows, he settled beside me.

I wept tears filled with blood as the pain steadily worsened. I writhed in agony, my hands pulling open my bodice, drawing it back from the ugly gash that the horrible creature's knives had inflicted upon me.

“I need to go home,” I whispered unreasonably. “I cannot stay here!”

The vampire pressed me back down onto the pillows. “But you must stay. The sun is on the horizon. The night has left us and we must stay here.” His long, cold hand pressed against my fevered forehead. “You are poisoned.”

“I burn inside! I burn!” I tried to rise up, for what purpose, I do not know, and he gently pushed me back down.

“I know you do. His knives are blessed and therefore deadly. He did not deal you a killing blow, but the wound is severe.”

“I cannot heal. I try, but I cannot.” I gripped his arms in a fierce grip. “Please, I cannot stay here, My Master--”

His face clouded, then he answered, “Yes, I know, but you cannot return to your Master now. And your Master cannot help you.”

“But he could, could he not?” My fingers dug into the vampire's flesh.

“Yes, he...” his voice caught on the pronoun, “Yes, he could help you. But he is not here, but I may be able to.”

My body arched as another wave of excruciating agony washed over me. “Please, help me!”

“I am old enough and strong enough, but your Master...he may sense my blood in your veins.”

I languished beneath him and he held me tightly. I cried out in agony and he leaned down to press soft kisses to my brow. “Please,” I whispered. “Please, I fear I shall die!”

Pressing his forehead to mine, his fingers stroked my cheek. “Yes, I fear it also.” He drew back his narrow face, his eyes straying to my wound. “I can do this if you wish.”

I rose up, my hand gripping his coat, my body trembling. “Please, I beg of you. In this moment, I care not what my Master will do to me.”

The vampire nodded solemnly and lowered me back down to the pillows. Gently, he pushed back my damp hair and then, with ever so gentle fingers, opened my bodice to view the damage.

“I have to cut away the poisoned flesh. Then I shall pour my blood onto the wound, then I will drink of you and then you will drink of me. My blood can heal you. Do you understand?”

“With all clarity, sir. I implore you, please!” I arched my back as a scream tore free of my lips.

Drawing a small dagger from a hidden sheath in his boot, he leaned over me. “Bear with me, Glynis.” He then cut into my flesh as I gripped the mattress tightly.

I knew not what was worse: the wounds or his dagger slicing away my dead flesh. Flinging away the dead, blackened flesh, he then sliced his hand and poured his blood into my wounds. It felt cold, soothing, and wonderful, yet the pain was there. Perhaps not as harsh, but still throbbing.

Tucking his hand beneath my neck, he lifted me to him. I felt weak as my head lolled about on my slim neck. He hesitated as his mouth drew near my flesh.

“Do what you must,” I whispered to him.

He bit deeply and my hands gripped his arms tightly. I felt his lips pulling on my tender flesh, and I pressed my body up against his. The rapture of his bite was pure and complete. Never had the bite of a vampire brought such pleasure to me. His tongue slid over the wound, then he tore himself away. I saw his lips, dark with my blood, and I did a rash, flagrantly lascivious thing. I licked the blood from his mouth and found myself kissing him deeply.

His hands tangled in my hair as he answered my kiss, then he drew me away. “Drink,” he said.

I wrapped my arms around him and sank my teeth sharply into his throat. He shuddered against me while I drank, swiftly, deeply, and desperately. His blood was rich, thick and cold, far different from mortal blood. And yet, I knew, it was powerful. That power filled me until I was writhing with its fierceness as I felt my wounds close and heal.

Abruptly, he shoved me away. He was flustered and flushed. Awkwardly, he rose to his feet and stood over me.

My fingers slid over my breast, finding it whole as he watched me.

Words, hot, torrid and desperate were not spoken with our lips, but raged in our eyes.

And then we spoke, but not of what we felt.

“Your clothes are soaked.”

“So are yours, sir.”

He nodded.

I rested on his bed, my body propped on my elbows, my damp hair falling darkly over my shoulder.

“We have only just met,” he said after a moment.

“And yet?”

He laughed. “I dare not come close to you.”

Call me what you will. Perhaps I am a wanton woman. I do not care. I loved him and I knew it. Yes, he was beautiful to behold, but his eyes, the story that lingered deep in their recesses…those eyes, spoke to me and I knew his soul. And I knew I loved him.

Standing, I slid off my cloak, heavy with the wet of the rain, then my dress. Trying to look as innocent as possible as I stood in my underclothes, I handed him my clothing. He took them and carefully hung them from an ornate candelabra tucked in a corner. Then he took off his coat and paused.

The sun was rising. I could see that it would shed its deadly rays into the mausoleum. Behind the crypt, we would be quite safe.

I sat back down on the bed and waited for him to return. I was well aware that we both knew that once he returned to me our passion would speak.

The vampire returned and slowly stretched out beside me, still in his damp clothes, save his coat. He closed his eyes, a pretense to sleep.

“You, sir, are a liar,” I chided him.

His eyes flashed open and he regarded me for a long moment. “Am I?”

I smiled at him softly while I gathered myself in my most demure pose.

“I could say the same of you,” he responded, gesturing to my false modesty.

“Then do,” I said boldly.

Instantly his hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine. We kissed ravenously, his body pressing me against the wall. Never had I felt such hunger and our kisses consumed me. I was barely aware of my hands undressing him as he undressed me.

“Your name,” I gasped between kisses.

He laughed and flung me down then covered my mouth with his. “Why ask now?”

Sliding my hands into his hair, I pulled him back from me. “Because, sir, I am about to make you my lover.”

“I am already your lover,” was his taunting response.

“Then I am truly a wanton woman,” I decided as his mouth deliciously tormented my neck with small, shallow bites.

“And would you deny me if I did not tell you my name?” His voice was teasing and his eyes keen.

I shoved him over onto his back and straddled him, my long hair falling around him. He gazed up at me calmly, his hands resting lightly on my waist. I pondered for a moment, and then frowned at him. “You should not know me thus! We have only met.”

“And yet,” he said.

“And yet,” I answered.

We kissed once more and suddenly names were of no consequence. We were mad and the madness was grand. It was as consuming as any vampire emotion may be, fierce and unfettered.

Ridding ourselves of the rest of our clothes, we relished the feel of skin against skin. I wrapped myself around him, legs and arms all tangled in his, and feasted on his deep kisses with wondrous pleasure. My fingers traced the lines of his masculine body, then rose to brush softly over the contours of his face. I was mesmerized by him and impassioned by his sensuous kisses.

This is what it must be to truly make love.

My arms cradled his head and my fingers tangled in his hair when he kissed my breasts. The sunlight was a pale stroke against the stone countenance of the mausoleum, but I was not afraid. We were sheltered in the shadows, hidden from the world.

His body was heavy and firm against mine and when his tongue and lips brushed over the tips of my breasts, a deep moan fell from my lips as I closed my eyes in rapture.

Despite our acute need for each other, despite our wild writhing, he was gentle. Not once did I feel overpowered, but his equal. When I gripped him firmly with my hand, his rewarding kiss made my legs curl and the world spin.

We were impassioned lovers and our fangs drew blood as we explored each other’s pale, cool bodies in the pool of darkness in the crypt. Thick, heavy, wanting, I could feel his manhood resting against my thigh as my fingers stroked him, yet he did not force himself on me.

I loved him all the more for that.

It was not until he had me beyond the edges of my senses and I pleaded with him did he enter me and make our union complete. Wrapping my legs around him, I rocked him deep within me, holding his gaze with my own. His long raven locks swayed against my check and I raised one hand to his lips. Softly, he kissed my fingertips, then lowered himself to kiss me with fervent ardor.

Skin against skin, his limbs tangled with mine, our bodies locked together in a sacred union. It was perfect. He was thick and hard within me and never had I felt such pleasure. I tossed back my head and he bit my neck lightly. It was as though the world spun around me, and my body drowned in the vibrant pleasure of his lovemaking.

Never had I felt such extreme voluptuousness of senses and yet his body continued to ride mine. My back arched as my nails drew hard down his back. His mouth still pressed against my throat while I whispered to him, begged him, to bite once more.

Pulling me up with him, he sat back on his heels and held me tightly against his chest. Nuzzling my neck, he drew my body in sensuous movement against his. My hair fell about him, covering him, but he did not mind it. In fact, he seemed to relish the feel of it against his skin. Then his bite came, sharp and beautiful and I was lost to all reason.

I admit, I am but a novice lover, but he transcended all I had dreamed of. Continuously, he drew me high upon a mountain of luxurious pleasure then drove me into the depths of blinding sensation. I returned his bites and our kisses were at times quite bloody. At last, when I felt that my body had reached the pinnacle of its sensation, he gripped my legs tightly around him and pressed firmly into me.

I had the wildest thought in that instant, when I felt the cool rush of his seed filling me. If he were my husband, and I his wife, and we still breathed and lived as mortals, perhaps our child would be conceived in this moment.

Tears came to my eyes as he kissed me softly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him. The fever broken between us, we slowly kissed and stroked each other’s flesh, our bodies still locked together.

Brushing my hair back from my face he laid soft kisses on my forehead then down the bridge of my nose to my mouth.

“You are intoxicating,” he finally said.

I laughed softly and my fingers gently stroked his cheek. “As are you.”

His well-shaped mouth smiled and his eyes, his so very serene eyes that had been filled with such fire, seemed to carry a smile in them. This warmed my heart as I kissed him with infinite tenderness.

I lay back on the pillows as he slipped free from my body. A beam of sunlight struck just above the edge of the crypt, and I stared up at it solemnly. He drew a silken coverlet over our bodies and kissed the slope of my breast lightly.

“Glynis,” he said softly against my skin as his eyes flicked a gaze toward my face.

Lightly stroking his back, I granted him a soft smile. “Yes?”

“Ignatius. My name is Ignatius.” He pressed a kiss over my heart, then slid up so he could cradle my face.