Blood Secret (10 page)
What didn’t he want to do? Mainly he wanted to make their erotic games last. The longer they did, the more they sated his need for blood.
“Relax on the seat, my love, and spread your legs.”
Sinjin lifted a small valise from the other seat and flipped it open. Inside were all the toys he had brought to use on their trip—he had also made a quick stop at his own house before they had left. Taking out a long, slim wand of smooth ivory, he put it to his lips and licked it to moisten it. Lady Lucy breathed in sharply and her eyes widened. Smiling, he laved his tongue up and down the length.
“Lift your skirts,” he commanded.
She did as he bid, drawing up the silk mass of them. She was not wearing drawers and he coaxed her to lift her skirts until she could see the thatch of her dark nether curls. Well, she could barely see them, with the mass of her skirts bunched in front.
“Perfect.” He licked the rod he held once more with the flat of his tongue, then bade her to relax against the velvet back of the seat and simply watch.
She did. His long fingers lightly stroked the curls between her legs, then he touched her nether lips and with small crooks of his finger he coaxed them to part. She was transfixed by the sight of his hands playing. Each jiggle of the coach made his steady hand caress her.
Slowly, he touched the tip of the rod to her passage. She parted her legs wider, moaning, and he took her encouragement and slid it deeply inside.
Gasping at being filled. Moaning. Blushing to have him watching her. Overwhelmed with the eroticism of having her legs spread and her skirts lifted in the carriage to expose her. All these things washed over her.
Then the duke grasped her right leg and lifted it high, forcing her to sit further back. His hand slid beneath the cheeks of her bottom. His finger invaded her anus slightly. It was so good—to have the ivory rod in her quim and the tip of his finger teasing her bottom. She was swaying and not entirely because their carriage was.
He withdrew another toy from his small case and again attended to it by licking it. This one was smaller, with a carved flared end. Watching him suck at it made her pant, made her quim pulse and tug at the toy filling her. Winking at her, he took it from his mouth. Cupping her bottom, he parted her cheeks with one hand, then touched the rounded head to her snug entrance.
She moaned and arched toward his hand, delighting in the teasing, intense sensation.
The toy popped inside her. His eyes glowed like green-glass lanterns as he slid it into her bottom, pulling back, then thrusting again. Oh dear heaven, it was wonderful.
Slowly, he pushed it up inside her until the flare touched her cheeks and held it in place. She was sitting on the soft velvet seat, utterly crammed full. Heavens, each jiggle and jostle of the carriage thrust the toys inside her, teasing both her quim and her bottom. He took out another and after thoroughly licking it, he pressed it to her anus, beside the toy already filling her. She gasped. He worked slowly—they must have covered a mile of road while he nudged the ivory wand in her bottom beside the first.
She was on the brink of an orgasm, yet she wanted to draw it out. She tried not to move, for bouncing would make her climax in an instant. Then he grasped the two toys in her rump and the one in her cunny and thrust vigorously. Desperately she tried to hang on, tried not to surrender, but the orgasm struck her in a long, rolling, exquisite wave.
Her fingers clung to the seat and she was screaming in pleasure.
As the orgasm ebbed, she dazedly met Greystone’s amused gaze. Slowly, gently, he drew the wands from her bottom and her quim.
She was splayed over the velvet seat on her tummy. She wore only her short stays so it was comfortable to lie this way. Her skirts frothed around her waist and her bottom was bared. She half-turned. Some of her hair had fallen from her pins and spilled down her back, and she watched as he clasped his hand around his shaft. He looked so intense. His long hair fell around his face. His lips were parted and his mouth was tense with desire.
“Where—” She broke off. She was not quite courageous enough to ask for what she wanted. It was too naughty. Too embarrassing. Even though she had just let him do it.
“Where do I plan to put it?”
Lucy nodded, blushing.
“Where do you want it?”
“I—” Again embarrassment won out over the desire to request what she wanted.
Greystone lightly stroked her nether lips, making her quiver. “There?”
“Ummm—”
“No, that’s not what you want. You want me in your arse.”
Her blush deepened. Even after everything they had done, her face was on fire and her throat was bone-dry as he spoke of it. “Yes,” she managed.
“My pleasure, my dear Lady Lucy.” He spoke hoarsely, too, as though lust and desire were having the same effect on him.
Over her shoulder, she watched as he guided his shaft between her cheeks. She gasped as she felt him stroke the head in the valley. She felt the slickness of his juices. And she could tell the head was taut but soft, and the thick shaft as rigid as ivory.
With his customary gentleness, he eased the head inside her. She closed her eyes, feeling everything. The exquisite pop as he pushed in. The glide of his thick shaft past her sensitive ring. The hot, full feeling of taking him inside.
He thrust into her, panting, moaning, and she rose up to meet him. They began slowly, then moved faster and faster. He was braced over her, holding the seat, and she was gripping it, too.
She pounded wildly back against him, taking him deep, and wanting it fast and hard. It was incredible. Her bottom was slick from his strokes, tingling and sensitive. She loved feeling his hips slam against her cheeks. Loved it. Needed it.
Her fingers played with her slippery clit. Until she was so close, she could not move her fingers anymore. She held them steady and rubbed against them.
“Ooooh,” she cried, and her entire body tensed then seemed to turn to molten liquid. She was coming. Surrendering completely.
He gave a long, harsh moan, and his hips bucked against her.
“Yes,” she cried. She loved having him come. Her bottom felt hot, full. His body pressed more heavily on her as he drank in ragged breaths, but he supported most of his weight. She liked having him lie on her, knowing he was weak with pleasure, too. But he withdrew from her rump and patted her rear lightly.
She saw him pluck a handkerchief from a pocket. With gentle swipes of the soft cloth, he cleaned her bottom with the square of ivory linen.
“When we reach the next inn, we will stop, engage a room to clean up. And you, my dear, will need to eat.”
She sighed. Not quite words of love. But he was thinking of her. Taking care of her. He couldn’t be a dragon slayer. She simply couldn’t believe it.
10
Maiden Flight
“Y
ou are going to fall off the seat. Stop trying to stay awake with me at night, my dear. You need your rest.”
ou are going to fall off the seat. Stop trying to stay awake with me at night, my dear. You need your rest.”
The duke held out his arm. Sighing, Lucy fell into his embrace. She was exhausted. They had traveled day and night for three days. In daylight, they kept the shades pulled down on the carriage, and Greystone slept on the seat opposite her. At night, she had wanted to help him keep his feeding under control. So they had engaged in a lot of sex and had not shared very much conversation. They had mostly traded moans and groans while licking, sucking, and pounding. It was their own private sinful world, where they did all kinds of erotic things. It was a wild fantasy that Lucy could have never even dreamed of experiencing.
But after three days of many orgasms and almost no sleep, she was tired.
The duke kissed the top of her head. “Relax against me and go to sleep, love.”
She intended only to rest, not sleep, for she knew he would want to make love again. But her lids were heavy, his strong body felt so wonderful against hers, and she couldn’t fight the droop of her eyelids.
She trusted him. Enough to relax completely in his arms. Enough to snuggle, to shut her eyes, to promise she would stay awake so they could make love again ...
Lucy woke with a start. Something soft and wet pressed against her cheek. Her mouth was slack and open. Her neck ached and she felt as though twisted in a large knot. An arm slid around her, and she was drawn against the duke’s chest once more.
Blearily, she focused on his handsome face.
A soft smile curved his mouth. “You were asleep,” he murmured. “And you were sleeping in the most uncomfortable position. But when I tried to move you and hold you in my arms again, you hit me away.”
Oh dear. The soft, wet thing had been the back of the seat. She’d drooled on it in her sleep. She felt strange, and disoriented. It had to be because she was sleeping. Normally she didn’t feel so dizzy and odd in a carriage, even one swaying on a rough road—
The carriage was not swaying. The wheels were not rumbling. There was no jostling.
“We’ve stopped? Why? Are we at an inn?”
“No. We’ve reached the moors. I thought you might want to stretch your wings.”
“You mean my legs.”
He flashed a grin. “No. Come outside, Lady Lucy.” Greystone stood, though he was too tall to straighten in the carriage. He pushed open the door. She could see nothing but blackness beyond. It was quiet, except for a rush of wind.
The cool air wrapped around her. The duke held out her cloak. She took it; then he jumped down from the carriage. Pulling on the cloak, she followed. She stepped down onto soft grass. Stars twinkled above in a vast, purplish-black sky. The lamps of the carriage sent fingers of light into the darkness, a feeble glow that quickly disappeared. A full moon gleamed in the sky, white and blue, and small. She shivered. The moors were desolate and almost completely empty. Hills surrounded them. Moonlight fell on the ruins of an ancient village, with circles of granite blocks the only thing left behind of a settlement several thousands of years old.
The duke drew her close. Even though he was undead, his body was warm against hers. Her breath made a puff of white in the air. It was March, but cold here, where the wind blew without anything to stop it. The hills were covered in new grass and dollops of snow.
Greystone rubbed his hands over her through her cloak. “A little colder than I’d intended.”
“Should we go back into the carriage?” But the overheated compartment had left her groggy. Lucy enjoyed her breaths of bracing air.
The duke regarded her. “How often do you shift, love?”
“I never shift,” she said quickly. But then she hesitated. “No, that isn’t true. I try to control it, to ensure it doesn’t happen, but sometimes I can’t stop it. That was what happened in your bedroom.”
“But you must let yourself shift at times. You must do it deliberately.”
Against his chest, she shook her head. “No. I would
never
willingly do it.”
never
willingly do it.”
He tipped up her chin. His eyes were pale and green, reflecting the carriage light into the darkness. “Why not?”
“I am not supposed to be a beast. I am supposed to be a human being.” She put her hand to her mouth. How could she have called herself a “beast,” drawing his attention to what she truly was?
“You are human, but you are a unique human, love. Just as I am.”
Why was he speaking of this? “You said you try to control your feeding because you do not want to feed on people. That is how I feel—I don’t want to do the awful things that dragons are capable of doing. I am afraid, when I shift shape, that I will lose control. That I will attack and kill.” She gazed around at the emptiness surrounding her. This was why shape-shifters liked the moors. There were almost no people around to bother them.
Slowly, she asked, “You do feed on mortals sometimes, don’t you? From what you said, I thought you tried, at all times, to control your cravings.”
“I try to avoid it as much as I can. But my bad side is something I cannot completely evade. I have to drink blood. But you can shift shape and not hurt humans.”
She shook her head. “When I shift, I become something different. I don’t have the same control. The same ... conscience.”
He had no idea what an unleashed dragon could do. If she let down her control—heavens, she could destroy a village. She could burn innocent people alive. She could bite people in half, tear them to pieces with her claws. She could do everything it was feared mythical dragons could do.
Greystone clasped her hand. “Come with me.”
Lucy let him lead her, though she did not like to be taken somewhere without knowing where it would be. He walked off the road, while she tried to become accustomed to the dark.
“There are bogs everywhere,” she warned.
“I know. I can smell them. And, since vampires have excellent vision, I can see them. There is a track here. I assume if we stay on it we will be safe.”
“Where are we going?”
“Trust me.”
The moors were open, with dark quiet hills sloping beneath a wide, endless velvet black sky. Above, the countless stars glittered and winked. Lucy was accustomed to Town, to Mayfair, to streets illuminated at night with artificial light. It was so vast and quiet it felt heavy.
Finally, he stopped on a hillside. The road and carriage were many yards away and almost impossible to see.
“There’s no one around,” Greystone said. “No one to see. Why not shift into your dragon form and fly? You would find it would ease the tension and pain inside you. Fighting your true nature is difficult, Lady Lucy. In the end, it will destroy you.”
“That’s not true. It can’t be.” She frowned. No one had ever said that to her before. “If that were true, my father would have told me. He always approved of me controlling my shape-shifting.”
“Tonight, just let yourself go. Be who you are.”
“Are you planning to do that?” she demanded, her heart thudding in her throat. “Are you planning to be a vampire tonight?”
“Do I intend to find an innocent maiden and drink her blood? No, my dear, you do not have to worry about that. You’ve pleasured me well.”
Lucy did not particularly like having the intimate things they had done likened to a good supper. And ... well, she was stalling for time.
“Go ahead,” the duke coaxed, and he might as well have been pointing at the juiciest apple on the forbidden tree. “You can fly here. Let yourself go.”
“I have to ... get into the appropriate position,” she lied primly. Lucy stalked a few yards from him. She stepped into spongy grass and hissed as the cool damp seeped into her boot.
She did not want to do this. Why on earth should she shift shape just to fly about in the dark? He was
wrong.
She did
not
need this—
wrong.
She did
not
need this—
“You don’t have to be afraid. There is no one to see you.”
“That doesn’t matter.” It was though he had poked and poked her, and finally she had lashed out. But he hadn’t really goaded her. She was doing it to herself. This was who she was. For once, why not revel in it?
But it was wrong to do it. She wasn’t normal, and she had spent her whole life fighting to behave as though she was. She could not just let go now and fly around the moors as though she had been wrong all her life, and in a few mere days, he had come into her life and brought in things that were right.
Everything she had done with him was wrong, by the eyes of Society, the eyes of her world. Greystone was wrong about this, too. But correct about one thing. She was afraid.
Lucy had never willingly shifted before. Even in her adolescence, she had never done so. Father had taught her what she was when she was a child. He’d warned her she would begin to shift when she began to transform into a woman. She had not been afraid, really, the very first time it happened, since she knew what it was. But she had fought it even then.
She’d never thought it was dangerous to keep tight control over her body’s need to change to dragon form; she’d thought it was for the best.
If resisting her shape-shifting would ultimately kill her, wouldn’t Father have told her?
Lucy took a deep breath. It was true that it was a constant battle. It was like wearing a full corset, and lacing it as tightly as possible. She was trying to hold everything in, and half the time it did feel like she would burst.
She bit her lip, let it start, but then she stopped before she changed. Suddenly, she did not want to do this alone. “Can’t you shift shape and fly? Vampires can turn into bats, can’t they?”
“I can’t,” the duke said, and even though she was yards away, she heard him distinctly. “I’m a vampire who cannot do any of the fun things. But you do it—I want to watch you.”
She could do this. How could she be so afraid of it? Perhaps he was correct. Perhaps it was her fear of what she really was that could hurt her.
The duke came over to her. Slowly, carefully, he took off her clothing. Her heartbeat raced as his hands moved over her. Soon she was naked on the hill.
Naked. Out in the open. Where anyone could see. Except they were alone here. The carriage was so far away, surely the servants couldn’t see her. And the duke stood between her and the sight line of their vehicle. He would have to do so, otherwise the servants might see her transform.
She was going to do it. Her heart thundered, but she was going to try.
Lucy closed her eyes, and in the magical way she never understood, she began the change.
Heat began to gather around her heart. The warmth flowed through her blood, slowly leaching everywhere under her skin. Here was the point where she should start to fight. Gritting her teeth hard, she fought against herself. Instead of trying to will the change to stop, she stopped her body from battling. She let herself change.
It was a strange feeling, as though her body was being wobbled apart. It didn’t feel bad, but it felt like she was losing control of her limbs. The wobbling made them longer, as though giants were stretching her. Her body grew—or rather, the ground got farther away. It happened so quickly, she only knew she had become a dragon by the way she tingled and the way the jutting granite rock and waving grass receded in a swift blur. She stretched. The sound that rumbled from her throat was a little-used roar.
Her arms were longer and tipped with claws that glowed blue-white in the moonlight. Scales glittered, catching the light, and they looked blue and green and silver all at the same time. Her legs were strong, muscled. Her body was slender and her face had changed completely. She now had a muzzle, a snaking tongue, and large, heavy-lidded eyes with long, curling eyelashes.
She had wings on her back—large wings that spanned ten feet across, and were made of gossamer-thin, shimmering panels of skin stretched on a bone-like structure. She gave her wings a flick, feeling the way they stirred the air. Her tail lifted behind her. It was a beautiful thing, long and sinuous, and the spine of it was marked with diamond-shaped scales that stood upright in a line. The end held a flat, silvery, arrow-shaped piece that glinted when she moved her tail.
Female dragons could use their tales to draw a mate. They used their tails for playful flirting the way human ladies plied their fans in the ballroom. Though Lucy couldn’t—she’d never learned. She had never spent much time as a dragon.
But here, in the velvety dark and the amazing stillness of the moors, she felt like stretching out. She let her tail drift through the air, drawing patterns in the dark with the reflectivity of her scales.
Then, her dragon’s heart beating swiftly, she looked to the duke.
He was watching her, a soft smile on his mouth. “You are beautiful,” he said. “I would like to see you fly.”
“All right,” she whispered, but as a dragon, she could not speak in English. She used a language of whispers and snorts that was more musical that it sounded.
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