Merrick (10 page)

I watched him
uncertainly, then slowly shrugged off my jacket and set it aside.

He was before me
in the next moment, lifting my shirt from the hem and pulling it over my head.
“Sit,” he said quietly, and when I dutifully sat on the wooden stool, he sank
to a crouch and pulled my boots off.

My eyes traveled
his muscular shoulders, eagerly taking them in. Why deny this yearning now? It
would all be over soon. Why not yearn as I pleased before I left it all behind?
He left me to remove my stockings myself as he stoked the coals beneath the
wooden wash tub, and I did so without looking away from him. Then I stood and
heard myself say, “I’ll take your boots, sir.”

Merrick turned
from the hearth and fixed me with an inscrutable look, then replaced the poker
and took my place on the stool. His eyes followed me as I knelt before him and
lifted his foot.

The boots came
off, but I did not stand. I stayed kneeling before him, taking in his finely
sculpted chest and stomach, the prominent muscles of his shoulders and upper
arms. My hands took his knees, then moved just above them to where I could
spread my fingers over the muscles of his thighs.

I swallowed. “It
does not offend you, sir?”

“You test my
resolve, William.” His voice, though gentle as ever, now held a dark heat that
sent a not-unpleasant shiver through me.

“It seems stronger
than mine.”

He leaned forward
on the stool and put his hands over mine, pulling them slowly towards himself
until they rested high up on his thighs and his lips were near my ear. “It has
to be.” He rose to his feet.

I stood with him,
and some of my nerve left me as his hands moved to unbutton my breeches. Still,
I simply took a deep breath and released it silently, allowing him to pull them
down my hips so I could step out of them.

Merrick nudged me
closer to the tub. He dipped the pitcher into the water and slowly poured it
over my shoulders, letting it wash over me until I was thoroughly wet. Then he
dipped his own hands in the water and lathered them with soap.

My lips parted
when I felt his slippery hands at my waist, and I felt my eyelids droop as his
palms traveled over me in broad sweeps. He rubbed his soapy fingers over my
ribs, my abdomen, my hips and up to my chest, and he worked the lather down my
arms and back up. For several moments I could only think to gaze drunkenly
ahead at the cluster of herbs and jars on the shelves before me, and then I
turned around.

Merrick stopped
and looked down at me, his hands resting on my shoulders. He still wore his
breeches. I wondered if his body reacted to me the way mine did to his. The
thought of it certainly accelerated the process for me.

“You are too
bold,” Merrick said, his low voice dragging the words over me like heavy silk.

“Forgive me,” I
whispered, and took a breath when his fingers trailed down my chest.

“Are you not
frightened I may lose control?”

The thought had
not occurred to me. Anyway, what did it mean? “What would happen if you lost
control, sir?”

Slowly, Merrick
leaned down until I felt his breath against my neck. God help me, I tipped my
head to expose it to him…

“Such foolishness,”
he breathed, his lips grazing my skin. “How much longer could I stand it?”

“You think me a
fool, sir?” It was hard to speak while his fingers teased and toyed at my
chest, and a moment later I gasped when his hip made contact with my stiff sex.
A flash of embarrassment hit me, and was immediately defeated by a rumble of
lust.

“No. I think you
young, beautiful, clever and careless.” His teeth grazed my neck, making me
shiver. They felt as sharp as glass. “And I am intoxicated by it,” he breathed.

I stepped forward,
startled, as water hit my back. He had reached behind me for the pitcher. There
was a moment of alarming heat between us as my naked and fully aroused body
landed against his, before I recovered a trace of sense and backed up. “Pardon
me, sir.” I had covered him in soap.

He set the pitcher
down and finished undressing, revealing a body so perfect in its maleness, so
powerful in form, so hard and beautiful I could not look away. “Turn around,”
he said.

I obeyed in a
daze, letting him place my hands on the wooden shelf.

Merrick continued
to wash me, lingering on my hips before crouching to bathe my legs from the
ankles upward. He did not stop at my upper thighs, but continued upward until
he gripped my buttocks and kneaded them in his soapy hands.

God help me.
My
head fell forward. His thumbs were slipping dangerously close to places no one
had ever touched. I felt his lips on my lower back, brushing gentle kisses
against my spine as he washed every inch between my legs, even the hard length
of me. I gasped each time his slippery palm rubbed over the sensitive tip,
shuddering with every tug and caress. Each touch was electric, sending
lightning bolts of pleasure crackling through me wherever his skin met mine.

He stood and
continued to stroke me lazily with one hand as he tipped the pitcher over me
with the other, until the soap was all rinsed off. I wanted him to pull me back
against him. I wanted to feel the whole length of him against me. But then he
turned me around to face him again.

“Go inside,” he
said quietly. “I will join you.”

I lost the nerve
to look down at him, but I couldn’t bear to move away any more than I could
catch my breath. “May I not help you bathe?”

Something moved
across his gaze then, dark and lustful. “Do as I say,” he murmured. “It is in
your interest.” He leaned down to kiss me, softly and briefly. Then he reached
for the large drying cloth, laid it about my shoulders and gently pushed me
toward the door.

Alone in the chamber,
I stood wrapped in the cloth and blinked down at the bed.

I wanted him.

He wanted me back.

I was free.

He was sending me
away.

Merrick entered
before I had even moved to don my night shirt. He was wearing his robe, the
hood down.

I exhaled in relief
when he pulled me against him and tenderly sealed his lips to mine. I wrapped
my arms around him and clung to him as tightly as I could, and a thrill went
through me when at last I felt the evidence of his arousal against me.

He wanted me. And
I had never felt so drunk on anything in my life.

The cloth fell
from my shoulders and he lifted me easily to lay me back on the bed. His mouth
moved intently down my body, finding every sweet spot to tease and torment as I
shifted and gasped beneath him.

He lifted his head
and loomed over me then, his hand working between my legs. His amber eyes
flashed in the candlelight.

“Your robe, sir,”
I breathed, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I felt it through my body. My
fingers caught the material to pull it from his shoulders, but he moved back
from my hands.

“You must trust
me, William,” he said quietly. “I cannot do everything I please.”

“Let me look at
you,” I whispered before I could stop myself. Lord, I’d really chosen my path.
I reached for his robe again, and he reluctantly allowed me to spread it open
until it fell from his shoulders and hung loosely on his arms.

He stiffened when
I laid my hands on his chest, and I paused uncertainly before moving down his
body. I let out a breath when I felt the hard, finely sculpted muscles of his
stomach. How perfect he was!

When my fingers
trailed below his navel, he reached down and caught my hand. “No.”

I looked up at him
and found his eyes closed, his brow furrowed slightly and his fine lips parted
in an expression of lust that reflected my own – and I could not heed his
refusal.

Something had come
over me, a need so deep and primal that I felt I could stop at nothing to
satisfy it. His grip was like iron on my wrist, but I strained against it
anyway, and at last he relented and allowed me to explore the shape of his
hipbone, the patch of curled hair, the hard base of…

Crystal-sharp
teeth hit my neck, denting my skin, and Merrick turned his face away just
before he may have drawn blood. Quickly he grabbed my hand where I had begun to
grasp him and pulled it away. He was breathing heavily.

Ah
. So that
was what happened.
That
was what he worried about.

The thought of it
was strangely...intriguing. “Would it hurt me, sir?”

He silenced me
with a kiss, his hand moving between my legs again. He stroked and caressed me
in ways I’d never imagined, and beneath his skillful hands and clever tongue I
was soon a gasping, trembling mess.

“Master…” I
moaned, feeling my body strung so tightly that it began to arch off of the bed.
I reached for him, pulling him close to bury my face in his neck. His teeth
were at the junction of my neck and shoulder again, nipping dangerously so that
I cried out from the sheer thrill of it. He dragged his tongue over my skin,
alternating between lapping at my neck and scraping his teeth along it.

“Taste me,” I
breathed, feverish with it. “God, taste it, sir, if it will not kill me then
taste me…”

One hand gripped a
handful of my hair and pulled my head to the side. He sucked at my neck,
drawing my skin between his teeth, and I felt a faint pinch.

Merrick lifted his
head, gasping. His lower lip was moist and smeared with a small drop of red. A
shudder ran through him and he bowed his head again, sucking again where he’d
scratched my skin. Suddenly he moved downward, kissing a path toward where he
held my throbbing sex in his hand.

I cried out in
shock as his mouth enveloped me. His lips were as soft and slick as his teeth
had been sharp. My hands twined in his silken hair, following the obscene motions
of his head moving up and down between my legs. Each stroke of his tongue
tightened the coils of pleasure building deep in my body, and I was soon
sliding quickly toward the edge.

He lifted his head
then, and his hand tightened around my length. He seemed to hesitate for a
moment before he pressed my legs apart. I looked down, breathless, just in time
to see him lower his mouth to my inner thigh.

Pleasure whipped
through my body. I threw my head back in a voiceless scream, arching from the
bed.

The sharp,
stinging sensation where he sucked at my sensitive skin was not pain. I sobbed
with it, clutching the sheets as ecstasy ripped through me like white water,
suspended in the heights and depths of it all at once.

Each time he
sucked and swallowed from my vein, his strong, silky hand moved up and came
twisting back down. My hands were clenched in his hair, and my body shook and
bucked beneath him as I cried out again and again.

Just when I
thought it would never end, my body exploded.

It was like shattering
into a million stars. Every fiber, every atom of my being went flying in all
directions through a vast pleasure so perfect, so complete, that it seemed
nothing else would ever be.

I was limp and
quaking when I realized I was cradled upright in his arms and he was stroking
my hair, whispering something I was too dazed to comprehend. I turned my face
up to his, needing his kiss, and tasted my own blood on his tongue.

Still breathing
heavily, I opened my eyes to see his amber gaze churning like liquid fire. When
he reached up to brush a lock of hair from my brow, his fingers trembled.

“Let me…” I
whispered dazedly, shifting against the hard shape beneath me.

“I’m already
pleased,” he whispered, and kissed me again.

My eyelids were
heavy. My thigh was throbbing and tingling where he’d bitten me – a trace of
pleasure left behind.

“Sleep,” he
whispered.

Though I wanted
desperately to refuse, to relish the safety of his strong arms around me for as
long as I could, I was fading quickly. My body and mind were exhausted from the
pleasure he’d given me – and, perhaps, from the blood he’d taken. I could only
wrap my arms about him as tightly as I could and hope to hold on as I sank down
into the velvet folds of sleep.

Merrick was absent
in the morning.

I sat at the table
in my nightshirt, uninterested in breakfast or tea. He had bandaged my thigh. I
could not help looking down and lifting the gauze again to examine the neat
wound, a fresh red circle marked by four deeper punctures.

When Merrick did
not return within an hour, I decided to get on with my chores. Perhaps he had
been called out on some emergency. After I had dressed, I finally went to start
a pot of tea.

There by the
teapot I saw a note.

William –

I must leave
for awhile. Please forgive me.

Rest today.
Your coach will arrive tomorrow morning.

—Silas

The edge of the
paper crumpled in my hand.

My face burned,
and my chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.

William –

I must leave
for awhile. Please forgive me.

Rest today.
Your coach will arrive tomorrow morning.

—Silas

I read it again
and again, and finally I crushed the paper in my fist.

I stormed back
into the cottage, wild with… with what? Shock? Anger? It mattered not.

Before I knew it,
I was throwing back the leather covering from the mouth of the cave.

The black darkness
startled me, and I turned back to fetch a lantern before I returned and plunged
into the passage.

I must leave
for awhile. Please forgive me. Rest today. Your coach will arrive tomorrow morning.

My coach would
arrive in the morning!
Rest?
I turned the corner of the tunnel and held
the lantern ahead, facing a narrow path that descended farther than the light
could reach. I marched on, fearless in my determination.

There was a door
ahead, barred and locked.

I stood before it,
my lips thin, and then reared back and kicked it as hard as I could. My stomp
echoed through the passage.

“Merrick!” I
shouted. “Silas Merrick!”

There was no
answer, of course. I lifted the padlock in my palm, inspecting it, then turned
and stalked back up to the cottage. It only took me a few minutes to gather the
tools I needed from the lean-to, and then I was crouched before the door
wiggling knife and nail into the keyhole.

It took nearly
half an hour, as I was no better at picking locks than the average savvy
schoolboy, but finally the heavy padlock popped open. I took it from the latch
and dropped it into my pocket, then shoved at the heavy door with a grunt. It
took all my weight to open it enough to slip through, and the effort left me
damp and breathless.

The tunnel
gradually widened enough for three men to walk abreast, and then at once it
opened up.

The stone walls
stretched up to twice my height before curving into a dome. The chamber had an
irregular oblong shape, and it was larger than the entire cottage. Bookshelves
stood along one side. There were gaps between some of them large enough for a
man to pass through, and through the gaps I saw black crevices in the rock that
seemed to lead into deeper caves.

There were a few
hides and tapestries hung about the room at irregular intervals, presumably
covering more clefts and passageways. The number of dark tunnels leading in and
out of the room sent a shiver of vague paranoia down my spine.

A large woven mat covered
the stone floor in the center of the chamber. Scattered along the walls were
several chests, a wardrobe, and, in one corner, a strange, long, heavy wooden
trunk.

My heart was
pounding, my blood chilled. It was difficult to convince myself to step deeper
into the cavern, and I held the lantern out as far ahead of me as I could in an
attempt to see more. But I couldn’t stop glancing at the dark cracks in the
stone and the black darkness within them.

I was quickly
losing my nerve when I noticed, tucked beside a bookcase in the narrowest end
of the cavern, a writing desk. I squinted at it for a moment and then
cautiously approached.

My eyes wandered
over the top of the desk, where several sheets of paper lay along with a
leather bound book.

All of this, I
knew, was Merrick’s very private business.

Please forgive
me.

Your coach will
arrive tomorrow morning.

I lifted one of
the papers.

March 23rd, 1799, Paris

My dearest friend,

It is with GREAT disgust and irritation
that I inform you I am in danger of being cut off from all the world’s finest
pleasures and sensations. Why? Because thanks to your shit stubbornness, my
every waking moment is now spent worrying over your welfare. ‘Has Silas eaten
today?’ I ask myself as I suck on a supple wrist. ‘Is Silas sprawled in his
coffin in that damned filthy cave, wallowing in his immortal despair, so wasted
by thirst that he shrivels and shrinks with each passing hour?’ I mutter into
another Countess’s snatch. ‘
MERDE! –
what if he has immolated himself???’
– I throw my pipe against the wall! Damn you, Silas! Your terrifying melancholy
is a stiletto in my shapely side!!!

Listen well, my friend, for I can say
no more than this – I will have said it all. I ache when I think you may never
return to me. Not to Paris, no! – but to the realm of the LIVING – as WE know
it, and make no mistake, Silas, we are LIVING, whether it be a Living to your
liking or not. There is Pleasure for us, my darling friend, as I have told you
again and again, and I seethe each time I fail to convince you that you once
knew this Pleasure, only you have forgotten; and I quake in despair at your
denial that this Darkness has a solution – We all visit this chamber of Hell,
and we all emerge with the same Remedy, and you know what it is! Why do you
resist???

Silas! WHY do you resist? This is a
Season we all face. You CANNOT carry on alone. You must share your Gift. I am
losing my patience. You must take a protégé, Silas. Cut off your damned shit
morals and do what must be done! You have put this off for a century too long,
and it is killing your Soul. (Yes! Your Soul. You have a finer Soul than
any!!!)

You cannot refuse the Cure, my strange,
tender, twisted friend. You must do this.

Consult your Indian Spirits, if you
must. Let your bizarre (I do not say shit!) smokes and flames provide you with
a vision, guide you to the One who will coax you from this Darkness.

I will seek you, soon. It had best be
done, or mark my words, Silas, I will chain you down and force you to it. My
friend, my brother, my Love, my only worthy companion, I only beg you to keep
walking this Earth with me – if not at my side, if only in that pitiful little
mud shit hole of a New World you seem to love so much – I cannot bear to
imagine the world without you. Yes, selfish! I admit it, but do not pretend it
diminishes the sentiment. (And you will join me again, I am sure, I wager in
the new century – but you must come through this Darkness first. You see I am a
pragmatist. You NEVER give me credit for this.)

Find your protégé. Do as I say, and you
will thank me. Do otherwise, and… I shall not tell you again. I vow, Silas, you
will not cease to walk this Earth until I say so. And I tire of this limbo. It
is the shit of all shit.

Your GREATEST Love and most
EXTRAORDINARY True Friend,

Theo

I miss you so!

I dropped the
letter, twice as confused as I was intrigued. I was about to reach for another
when my eyes caught that strange, long trunk again. I froze.

A coffin.

It was a damned
coffin.

I backed up from
the desk, my eyes flitting to one of the dark crevices between the bookshelves,
and then to another, before returning to the coffin.

Of course.
Vampires were supposed to sleep in coffins, weren’t they?

Was Merrick
inside?

The lantern
trembled in my unsteady hand. Slowly, I dragged my feet toward the dark box.

No one but Merrick
would be inside, I told myself. And yet my hand shook terribly as I reached
down to lift the lid.

Empty.

I stared,
wide-eyed, at the velvet interior, the plush pillow bearing the faint indentation
that proved someone had lain there.

Did Merrick sleep
in a
coffin
? Did…

A shrill squeak
shot out from one of the crevices, and I dropped the coffin lid. The slam
echoed through the chamber, and I nearly lost my grip on the lantern.

A mouse.

I didn’t care. It
was too much for me.

I could not leave
the chamber behind fast enough, my heart gripped by the threat of panic as I
rushed toward the wooden door. I struggled to drag it shut, panting, and hooked
the padlock back through the latch. I could not lock it again, but I didn’t
care. I raced back up to the cottage, into the blessed bedroom and straight
through the main room to the outside.

I collapsed
outside the front door, struggling to catch my breath. I was still holding the
lantern in my clammy, trembling hand, and I set it down on the sunny stoop.

My head hit the
door behind me, and I closed my eyes.

Your coach will
arrive tomorrow morning.

Please forgive
me.