Seized by the Vampire Lord (Dark Lords) (2 page)

He didn’t await her answer, but leaned close as though to kiss her.  Cerise snapped her teeth at him, missing him by inches.  He pulled back in surprise, and she shoved at his chest, wedging her knee between him, pushing with all her might.  His impetus rolled him off of her.  He grabbed at her feet as she rolled to her knees.  She kicked backwards like a horse, striking soft flesh.

Cerise scrambled away, getting to her feet.  Heedless of all else, she picked up her skirts and ran through the meadow toward the dark shadow of trees.  She dashed past the trunks, heading into blackness absolute, ignoring the tear of limbs and brambles.  Her thighs burned as if afire, taxed to the limit of endurance.  Her sides felt ready to split, and her feet felt heavy, as though she traveled a bog rather than dry, wintry woods.  She felt that at any moment, her beleaguered heart would give out.

Her pace unconsciously slowed as she melted deeper into the woods.  She would never find the path now.  Even the moonlight deserted her in her need.  That devil had pursued her until she scarce had a notion of what was up or down.

Ahead, a light shone suddenly, pouring from the sky like liquid silver.  Cerise chased it with a last burst of energy, pushing through the trees into a meadow.  She stopped at the edge, looking around in confusion.  She dropped her skirts, clutching her chest as she caught her breath.  This couldn’t be the same clearing.  She couldn’t have traveled in a circle.  It just wasn’t possible.

“Confused?” an annoyingly familiar voice said behind her.

Cerise whirled around, found him studying her with amusement.  Rage overtook her.  She wanted to see blood … and not her own.  “You bastard!  You, you … you just
let
me think I could escape!”

“I cannot help that you cannot accept the consequences of your actions, my dear.  I gave you warning you couldn’t leave unless I allow it.”

With a growl that came from some forgotten place deep inside her, she curled her hands into talons and lunged for his throat.

He stepped aside, catching her arms as she sailed past him, twirling her around until she was ensnared in his arms and helpless to escape or shred the hide from his bones.  Cerise gave him a murderous look as he regarded her like a child throwing a tantrum.  If she thought her head could withstand it, she would have butted the smug smile from his face.

“Such violence,” he murmured, tsking with disapproval.  He sighed, rolling one shoulder in a stretch.  “I believe we’ve played enough now,” he said, lazily regarding her.

The heat of anger was too much combined with the exhaustion of her flight.  She was so tired—tired and ready to admit she’d been defeated.  Had he played fair as any decent man would, she was certain he would not be the victor.  If she lived past this day, he would regret it, though she rather doubted she would.  Didn’t all hunters toy with their prey before killing?

“Just be done with it,” she said with a breathless voice, full of exhaustion.  She tilted her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

He chuckled, mild laughter rumbling in his chest.  She felt it seep through her own.  He seemed to take great delight in her misery.

She startled as one arm moved from her back and his fingers cupped her jaw.  He tipped her back, arching her neck, brushing his fingers across her lips and down her throat.  Tingles spread from his fingertips like a spiraling web, warm, soothing.  She thought he would be cold, not vibrantly heated like a living man.  Languor twined through her limbs.

“I’m honored you give yourself to me, fair Cerise,” he whispered, spreading warmth across her collarbone.

His heat seeped into her skin, into her muscles, paralyzing her to his touch.  She should have been alarmed, frightened, but she couldn’t conjure such rabid emotions, only a vague curiosity.  “How did you know … my…,” she murmured as a haze enveloped her in its embrace.

Chapter Two

Cerise rolled onto her back and arched as the fangs sank deep in her throat.  Her lungs stilled as the rapture flooded her and pooled between her thighs with biting intensity.  Blood throbbed in her clit, a pounding that begged the soothing rough touch of his fingers.  Wet arousal dampened her thighs, making her feel slippery with want.  She squeezed her thighs together, enjoying the pleasurable cramp the movement created in her womb.

His hands slipped along her skin like roughened silk, moving across her shoulders to her breasts.  He squeezed her gently then flicked his fingertips over her nipples, his short nails slightly abrasive, making them harden in response.  Tingles spread from her nipples through her breasts, winding down to the secret place of her.

His mouth broke from her neck with a slight sucking sound, and then his lips followed the trail of his hands, nibbling, fangs scraping.  He nipped her nipple with his teeth, stroking a hand down her belly, smoothing through the short hair that covered her sex.  Cerise trembled at the touch, so close to what she needed.  She arched as he suckled her breast to the point of pain, rubbing his tongue against her distended nipple.  He freed her suddenly.  She wanted to moan at the loss of heat but couldn’t find her voice.

Her belly jerked as his teeth scored her ribcage.  Her breath grew harsh as he moved lower, down past her navel.  The heat of his breath stirred the fine hair at her apex, almost tickling but far, far worse.  He wedged his hands between her thighs, parting them, scraping her flesh in maddening circles as he breathed hotly against her cleft.

A sharpness dragged against the inside of one thigh, up to the crease of her leg.  Slowly it moved, pressure increasing until pain and pleasure exploded as he sank his fangs into her thigh.

She gasped at the ecstasy, to have him inside her, sucking her life’s essence for his own.  She wanted more of him, to feel him deeper.  She wanted to feel him inside the tight core of her femininity.  He sensed her weakness, exploited it, moving his tongue against her to increase the languorous flow.  It was wrong to want this so much, to crave his feeding.  Her clit begged attention, aching at his neglect.  She wanted to resist him, but she couldn’t move her body.  Only over her eyes had she any power.  She wanted to see him nestled between her thighs—needed to with a sudden desperation.  She opened her lids to look upon her lover, her murderer.

There was no one above her.  She was alone.

A sense of ease drenched her.  It had only been a nightmare.  Cerise mentally collapsed in relief, sighing as she closed her eyes against the proof that she was half insane.  Never had a dream been so vivid.  She could almost feel the heat of his touch on her skin, smell the scent of blood.  Her nipples ached as though bitten, and her womb cramped with unfulfilled longing.  Moreover, her entire body ached.  It hurt even to think too hard.

Cerise’s eyes popped open as that realization and another dawned in the sluggish workings of her exhausted brain.

She had no canopy above her bed.

Cerise swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat, easing the covers up to her nose as if they’d protected her from devils unseen.  Eyes slanted, almost closed, she peered around from her supine position, hoping the slight movements wouldn’t betray her.

Gauzy drapery surrounded her like a tent, barely checking the wash of candle light in the room.

This wasn’t her bed.

The simple, juvenile thought echoed in haunting resonance through her soul.  She’d been captured by … by that … beast.

Was he in here?  Had he just left her, or did he watch her even now, gauging her reactions and enjoying her terror.  Strangely, she didn’t feel nearly as frightened as she should have, which only lent credence to the fact that he possessed some power over the mind.  She should’ve been frightened silly, but the fact that she still lived meant he had some use for her, though what, she couldn’t imagine.  Nefarious, most likely.  As long as she was valuable in some way, she had hope of hanging to life.  Of course, that might also mean he had no intention of allowing her to leave.  The thought made her shudder.

Her peripheral vision was cut off by layers of pillows closed in on her flanks.  Toward her feet through the mist of drapes, she could make out a dark, arched window beside which sat an upholstered chair, turned to face the bed rather than the window.  She wondered if he’d sat there and watched her sleep, gloating over her vulnerability.  She could think of no other motive for a centuries old being to possess other than wanting morbid amusements.  She refused to think of the way he had looked at her in the wood, that glint in his eyes, the way he’d caused her bodice to be torn.

She frowned, giving the chair a thunderous look.

To see anything else, she’d have to sit up … and possibly alert anyone—him—that she was awake.  She decided it was worth the risk and struggled up onto her elbows.

The room was empty.  Candles glowed from ornate sconces resembling climbing rose vines clinging to the wood paneled walls.  A candelabra sat on the bedside table, as if it had just been set down.  On the far wall near the window, a tall mirror embraced the corner, reflecting the glowing light with mellow softness.  To its right was a wash stand with a basin set in the rich wood and a pitcher beside it.

There was no doubt in her mind where she was and who had taken her.  She startled mentally as a thought struck—had the dream merely been that, a nightmare and not real?  Or had he actually done those …
things
to her.  More disturbing than that, had she responded to him as she had in the dream?

Cerise gasped in horror even thinking about it.  Her father would tan her hide if he knew.  Moreover, how could she face a … man … who had such intimate knowledge of her?  Cerise felt a blush creep up to her hairline.  She wasn’t entirely certain, even if he had not touched her, that she could look him in the eye and not remember the dream. Why would she even dream such a thing if not inspired by actual events?

She was sore all over, from her hairline to her toes.  There was no way of knowing if something had happened unless she examined herself for bite marks.

Cerise caught the curtains and flung them aside, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.  A pained groan escaped her as her poor, abused muscles were put into action once more.  She felt like hunting him down and hammering a stake through his heart just for chasing her into exhaustion, never mind him feeding off her.

Cerise dropped down to the floor and swayed on weak knees.  Exertion never affected her thus before.  The weakness worried her.  How much blood had he taken to leave her this way?  It couldn’t all be resultant from the running.  She hated to think she was so out of sorts that she lacked any stamina.

A door stood a short distance from her bed, directly to its right.  She straightened and staggered toward it, leaning heavily against the wood as she tried the knob.  It was locked, of course.  A pity he wasn’t more trusting of her incapacitation.

Grunting with frustration and giving the knob a final try, she turned and stumbled to the wash stand.  She poured out some water and splashed her face, feeling a little more alert.  It was still hot, a rare luxury indeed.  He couldn’t have left her long ago, which likely meant he wouldn’t be returning for a while.  That would leave her enough time to prepare some sort of ambush.  But first she had to make sure she wasn’t compromised.

Cerise faced the full length mirror and gaped at herself.  That blackguard had removed her clothing!  Of all the—!  No doubt it had been drenched by her own blood.  Then again, her gown was irreparably torn from briars.  Her hair was a mess too, though not as bad as she’d supposed.  He’d taken a comb to it, for there were no leaves or sticks in her hair, and she distinctly remembered picking some up along the way.

The thought of a vampire lord doing something so mundane as brushing her hair while she slept did odd little things to her belly, invoking unpleasant memories of his hands touching her neck, her jaw, her breasts.  Cerise pushed the annoyance to the back of her mind.  He’d probably been stuck by a bramble and removed them only for his own comfort.  She was certain he’d enjoyed seeing her displayed naked and vulnerable before him.

That villain.

Anger was better.  It would keep her alive.  She had to focus so she’d have some chance of fighting him.

The gown, she saw when she finally looked, fastened in the front, and she quickly shrugged out of it.  She was surprised to find her own undergarments beneath.  He still had no honor, but it made her feel a little better to know he hadn’t seen her without them.

Unless, he’d taken them off and put them on again.

Cerise felt a glimmer of panic.  She stood closer to the mirror, lifting the heavy mass of her hair from her neck as she examined her skin.  There was nothing but a few mild scratches.  She rubbed the back of her neck, but the results were the same.

In the dream, he’d touched her all over.

She sucked in a deep breath and unfastened her corset with effort, dropping it to the floor along with her shift.  Her skin itched from its confinement, and she absently scratched herself as she searched.  She rubbed her hands over her breasts and belly, checking her sides for the slightest wound.  She saw nothing.

He’d gone down
there
though.

She shuddered, feeling his hot breath between her thighs all over again.  It had seemed so real….  Cerise looked at herself in the mirror, swallowing hard.  Surely to god he wouldn’t have done anything
there
.  She flushed pink all over just thinking about it.  She had no choice but to proceed.