Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (58 page)

She knew her father didn’t give credit to those old stories, or he would have acted on them. But she believed. And people like Nedda believed.

So she walked eastwards, past cottages and farmyards filled with the stench of death, where the Digons had slaughtered the people and the animals. When her feet ached and her legs refused to carry her further, she found  a tangle of brambles where she could rest.

After a meagre meal from her provisions, she set off again more cautiously than before. It was dangerous out here with the sun up. But she knew that the further east she travelled the less likely she would be to  meet anyone. People stayed away from  Garon’s stronghold.

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She travelled for three days, singing was songs to keep up her spirits and thinking about her parents and her younger brother, Kerwin. If he survived, she believed he would make a better king than her father. When she let herself think about the monster, she almost lost her nerve. But somehow she kept walking into the mountains.

Gradually the trees grew shorter and more scraggly, and the low vegetation more compact. The sun was dipping behind a tallpeak when she came to a place where the ground was scorched and rocky. The old legends said that this was where Garon lived and they told what she must do to make herself acceptable to him.

What form would the monster take? She had heard he might look like a man. Or maybe some fearsome creature. But whatever his appearance, she must throw herself on his mercy.

She retraced her steps to a mountain stream she had crossed, then pulled off her travel clothing and washed her body in the cold water. Colder than the river. She used the shirt for a washcloth, with a bit of soap she had brought along, then dried herself with the pants.

When she was clean, she opened her bag again. With trembling hands, she took out the other clothing she had brought

–  the white gown that Nedda had sewn for her wedding night.  She pulled it over her head, feeling the silky fabric cup her  breasts. The waist was snug, with the skirt flaring out over her  hips. She had seen herself in this gown. She knew her nipples  showed indecently through the cups of the bodice. And the skirt  did nothing to hide the golden triangle of hair at the top of her  legs. Only her husband and her serving women should see her  like this, but here she was, out in the open air.

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Next she pulled out a gold chain, with the King’s crest of a laurel branch and a sword worked onto a flat disc. Quickly she slipped the token around her neck, so that the crest lay flat against her chest.

Would she please the monster?

Would he accept her as a sacrifice?

Her heart pounding wildly inside her chest, she went back to the scorched earth and continued on to a little field where the rocks were small and sharply pointed, covering the ground with a treacherous carpet. The legends said she must slip of her sandals now. But her hands trembled as she untied the straps.

Teeth clenched, she took a tentative step onto the shifting surface. A sharp rock dug into her sole, but she took another step, and another, ignoring the pain. She was halfway across the terrible field when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Who dares approach this place?”

She looked up and saw a man standing stiffly at the opposite side of the rocks, about 20 yards away, with his back to a mountain cliff. He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes fixed on her like a  hawk watching a rabbit. He wore black trousers and a black shirt open at the neck.

She raised her chin. “You are Garon?”

He made a dismissive sound. “What of it? I asked who
 
you

are.”

“I am Morgan of Balacord.”

His voice turned derisive. “What half-cracked father would

give his daughter a man’s name?”

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“King Farral of Balacord. I am Princess Morgan.”

His gaze drilled into her. “Well Princess Morgan, you

should not be here  –  dressed like that.”

“I have come in the old way  –  to ask your help for my

kingdom.”

“You won’t get it. Go back before it is too late.”

She would not simply turn around and go home. Defiantly,

she took another step forwards, then another.

“I can smell your blood. Leave this place,” he said in a

harsh voice.

She looked down at her  feet, then back at the bloody footprints she had left on the rocks. Ignoring him, she kept walking forwards until the pain was so great that she wavered on unsteady legs. She swayed to the side, and he sprinted forwards, his boots crunching on the rocks.  Swiftly, he caught her before she fell and gathered her into his arms. She felt his body tremble. Looking up, she saw his face, pale and rigid above  her. Clenching his teeth, he turned and carried her the rest of the way across the rocks and into an opening in the side of the mountain.

Beyond the doorway was a cave, but like no cave she had ever seen. The rock walls were squared off. Tapers flickered on candelabra set about a huge room with beautifully carved furniture and marble statues on low pedestals.  The rugs were richly patterned and the walls were lined with tall shelves full of more books and scrolls than she had ever seen in her life.

He laid her on a couch, looking down at her feet.

“Your blood . . .” he said in a thick voice.

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“Take it. I have  come to make the sacrifice demanded for

your help.”

She saw his nostrils flare as his gaze swept her, travelling over her neck, her breasts, her hips and down to her bleeding feet.

She tried to lie still. Tried to keep her body from shaking.  But she was  frightened now. More frightened than she had ever been in her life.

He knelt on the rug beside the couch, taking one of her feet

in his hand, lifting it to his lips.

In a kind of haze, she watched his tongue flick out and stroke over the sole of her foot, taking the blood with it. His tongue was rough and it sent a tingling feeling over her foot where it laved her. But it did more than effect one spot. Other parts of her body responded. She felt an ache kindled high up between her legs.

She had heard stories of this creature who craved mortal blood and she had hardly believed them. But she had come here hoping that they were true.

He turned her foot to the side and found a place where the sharp rocks had cur her deeply. He sucked at the wound, drawing more blood from her, increasing the frisson coursing through her body. She felt his small, sharp fangs graze her skin as he licked at her blood. Then he swabbed  his tongue over her wounds before placing her foot back on the couch.

As he broke the contact, she made a sound low in her throat.  He raised his head and looked up at her, then clasped his hand around the opposite ankle before stroking upwards with his

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long, delicate fingers to her calf, then her inner thigh, leaving a

trail of heat.

Once again, she  watched him lick at her wounds before finding a place where the puncture was deep. When he sucked strongly, the pull increased the fire in her body. He drew on her for long moments before licking at her wounds.

She looked down, seeing that blood no longer  flowed from her cuts. In fact, her skin felt whole  –  as though she had never been injured.

He raised his head, his eyes bright as he stared down at her.  When he started to stand, she reached out and grabbed his hand, holding him where he was.

“I must leave you,” he said in a thick voice.

“No,” she answered, as she gathered the courage to hold  him there, to make him finish this. Lifting his hand, she brought  it to her breast and rubbed his fingers against her through the  delicate fabric of her gown. As she felt a dart of sensation, she  heard his indrawn breath.

His gaze bored into her. “What do you know of this?”

“Nothing. I am a virgin. But I know what I feel now.”

“And I am a monster who has just taken of your blood.

What do you say to that?”

“That  you’re also a man who will give me pleasure.” She

said it boldly, not even knowing if it was true.

“You are much too . . . forward.”

“I have been told all my life that I do not know how to obey

the rules.”

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“You have displeased your father, the King?”

“Many times.”

“And you have been punished for your wilfulness?”

“Yes.”

Defiantly, she dropped her gaze to the front of his pants.  She had never seen a naked man, but she had heard the maids whispering and giggling about what they did with their lovers.  When she reached out a trembling hand towards him, he jerked away from her and moved back until he was standing a few feet away.

His voice was harsh. “If we go any further with this, no man

will have you for his wife.”

“I know.”

“You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

As she watched, he suddenly changed  –  from a man to a creature with horns, a long thin face, claws instead of hand and a forked tail that whipped back and forth across the rug.

A devil. From the legends. And from the nightmares  of her

childhood.

Morgan gasped and pressed back against the sofa cushions, her heart pounding as she fought to catch her breath. She knew that he was trying to frighten her into fleeing, but she wasn’t going to do it. Not when she had come this far. Gathering her

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courage, she sprang off the couch. With her eyes closed, she

reached for him, clasped him in her arms and held tight.

He roared his anger, but she stayed where she was. She felt him changing again, to a creature with skin that was rough and scaly. Again, she kept her eyes squeezed closed.

This time when he roared, his face was inches from hers.

And she felt his breath turn hot, burning her cheek.

Still, she held on to him.

And then he changed a third time. Feeling the shape of his

body, she could tell he was a man again.

“You are brave,” he said, awe in his voice.

“I have to be,” she answered.

As they spoke, his embrace changed. He had been holding her in a punishing grip. Now his touch turned gentle as he stroked his hands up and down her back. He took her by the shoulders, rocking her breast against the rough fabric of his shirt, making her nipples ache.

Overcome, Morgan pressed her face to his shoulder. One of his hands found her chin and tipped it up so that his lips could come down on hers. Earlier, his mouth had sent powerful sensations through her body, but that was  nothing compared to what he was doing now. He moved his lips against hers, brushing, sliding, settling.

“Oh!”

She felt him smile as his tongue slipped into her mouth,

playing with the line of her teeth and the sensitive tissue on the

inside of her lips.

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While she was absorbing the sensations, he picked her up in his arms again and carried her further back into his dwelling, through a massive door, which he shut behind them, closing them into a bedroom lit by more of his candelabra. In the flickering light, he set her down beside a wide bed, then pulled her gown and the gold chain over her head and dropped them on the floor so that she stood naked in front of him.

When he  pulled off his shirt, her breath caught. His chest

was magnificent, well muscled and smooth.

As she watched, he worked the buckle at the top of his pants. When it was opened, he pulled his trousers down and stepped out of them. Her gaze settled on his male part. In all her  27 years, she had never been alone in a room with a man, except her father and her brother. And certainly not with a naked one.  She forced herself not to gasp as she took in the size of him. She kept her head bent, unable to look him in  the eye and show him her fear.

And because she couldn’t simply stand there, she stepped

forwards and clasped her arms around his shoulders.

He made a rough sound as his arms came up to cradle her

body against his.

Electricity arched between them. But his words tore at her.

“You should be afraid of me. Why are you not afraid?”

“I want to be your lover,” she managed to say.

“I haven’t done this . . . in a long time. Perhaps I’ll be too

rough. Perhaps I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

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When he started to speak again, she brought her mouth back to his, moving her lips the way he had done to her, then playing with the seam and sliding her tongue into his mouth.

He made a surprised sound as she imitated what he had taught her. He stroked his hand down her body,  then cupped her bottom and pulled her against the hard shaft rising between them.