The Maestro's Maker (13 page)

into me with a groan of intense pleasure and began to thrust. In a moment, Claude-Michel

had him, with a hand clamped over his mouth. Bernardo’s eyes grew wide. He froze.

“What are you doing with my wife, eh?” Claude-Michel whispered in silky tones.

Bernardo whimpered. I could feel him soften inside me. “Shh,” Claude-Michel said.

“Don’t answer. It is not your fault. You don’t know what she is.”

I waited for waves of disgust to wash over me, but they did not come. In spite of

my anger at Claude-Michel for being such an unrepentant libertine, I felt intrigued by

watching him take control of the boy, and enjoyed the sensation of the boy’s trembling

atop my belly and against my bare inner thighs. I saw by the way Claude-Michel held his

mouth that his teeth had grown also. He pursed his lips around his fangs, an expression I

found excruciatingly beautiful on his face. Bernardo’s entire body went limp.

“You have such a lovely sister,” Claude-Michel purred. “François and I could do such

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things to her.”

From somewhere deep inside the young man, an enraged scream formed, forcing its

way up through his throat, only to die against Claude-Michel’s unyielding hand. It made

me want to beg Claude-Michel to fuck me right there on the ground. Bernardo tried to

fight his way free, but could not move his captor.

“Shh,” Claude-Michel said. “If you are silent, we will not harm your sister. But if

you scream, we could do such things.” The boy held still, breathing heavily, casting his

eyes about wildly in the darkness. “Your sister is alone with François and Jean,” Claude-

Michel said. “If they hear your screams they will have their way with her. Do I have your

word?”

Bernardo nodded.

“Very nice,” Claude-Michel said, and let go of his mouth. Bernardo hung his head

like a winded animal, panting.

I reached up to soothe his head with my fingers in his curls. He jumped as though

he’d forgotten I was there. “There now,” I said. “It will be all right.”

“What do you want?” he whispered.

“It’s all right,” I repeated. “I’m here.” Behind him, Claude-Michel was unfastening

his own breeches. It occurs to me now that I should have been horrified. But I wasn’t. I

wanted to see Claude-Michel take this frightened young man.

“A man of breeding learns that there are many pleasures in life,” Claude-Michel

said. “Beautiful women are one of our greatest joys. But one can not forget the pleasure

young men discover together, and the sight of a beautiful boy never fails to stir the old

longings.”

“Please,” Bernardo whispered. “Don’t do this.” He blinked rapidly. His eyes filled

with tears.

“Surely you have been taken by a man before,” Claude-Michel whispered.

“Never,” Bernardo said. His tone was defiant, but I could hear a sob welling up in his

throat.

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Claude-Michel, now looming in the darkness behind him, smiled. “The pleasure of

deflowering a virgin,” he said. “This is an exquisite thing.”

“Please,” Bernardo said frantically, trying to twist around to see Claude-Michel,

though it was almost completely dark now.

Claude-Michel grasped the young man’s hips and pressed against him with the head

of his erection. “Remember,” he said. “If you scream, your sister will suffer the same

fate.”

Impulsively, I grabbed the boy’s head and covered his mouth with mine as Claude-

Michel pressed into him. Bernardo bucked and struggled wildly but we held him tightly

between us. When his erection returned, Claude-Michel encircled him around the

abdomen with one arm and ordered him to enter me again.

“You’re killing me,” he gasped.

“Do it,” Claude-Michel growled. Bernardo obeyed with trembling hands, and Claude-

Michel supported his own weight on his palms as he ground his hips into him. I gasped

and held Bernardo tightly. Claude-Michel’s hair curled just a little, beautifully, against

his cheeks. Finally, Bernardo widened his eyes and gasped. I felt his hips give a few little

thrusts before he collapsed on top of me as Claude-Michel growled with the force of his

own climax.

“Now you have been taken by a man,” Claude-Michel whispered, raising himself to

his knees and using his handkerchief to clean himself before closing his breeches. “Or

more than a man.”

Bernardo began to cry against me. I was thankful he could not see my fangs in the

darkness. Finally, Claude-Michel pulled him off of me and pinned him to the ground with

a self-satisfied smile. “Do you know what I am?” he asked, taking no pains to hide his

fangs. It was dark enough, I knew, for the boy to assume his eyes were playing tricks on

him if he saw them now.

“You’re a bastard and a sodomite,” Bernardo said without conviction.

“Yes,” Claude-Michel said. “True. But I am something else as well.” He nosed

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around the collar of Bernardo’s blouse. “Remember your promise not to scream,” he said.

“Remember your sister.” And with that he plunged his fangs deep into the boy’s throat.

I watched Bernardo struggle. I knew it was not his will alone that allowed him to

fight so hard. This time, in the jaws of a predator who wanted his blood, he instinctively

drew upon the will of his distant ancestors, perhaps reliving the last memories of some.

He cried out, but the sound he made was not a scream, nor did it sound like any human

utterance I had ever heard. It was similar to the keening of a dying rabbit, primal and

haunting.

Before long, the struggling stopped, and the boy lay docile on the forest floor as

Claude-Michel drank his fill.

* * * *

damsel in his arms. I forced myself to look at Florentine as she spied her brother. Her

forehead wrinkled and she cried out, trying to jump up to go to him. François, sitting next

to her on a blanket, grabbed her arm.

“It looks like he was bitten,” François said softly into her ear. “He will be fine in a

day or two.”

“Bitten?” she asked, her tone rising in pitch. She remained on her knees, in spite of

François’s restraining hold on her arm. On her other side, Jean rose into a crouch and

turned toward her as if to block her path.

“Floren—” the boy gasped, reaching for her as Claude-Michel carried him past.

“Bernardo?” she called, now straining against François and Jean, who grabbed her

upper arms. For a moment the determined look on Jean’s face caught me by surprise, and

I thought the young man who fell to his knees before Claude-Michel at a moment’s notice

might ravish the girl himself. “What’s wrong, Bernardo?” she called helplessly.

“Vam—” was all Bernardo could manage before Claude-Michel got him into the

carriage.

I went to the girl, who had stopped struggling against François and Jean, but who still

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stared pitifully in the direction of the carriage. Claude-Michel emerged with a look of

lecherous triumph on his face. Jean stepped aside as his master approached.

“You will be all right,” I said gently, and maybe foolishly. “You won’t die. I promise

you won’t die.”

Florentine turned to me with a pained look on her face and streaming tears. “Die?”

she said. “What? What’s wrong with Bernardo?” she almost screamed.

François held her tighter and pressed his cheek against her ear. “Shh,” he said. “No

screaming.”

Claude-Michel crouched in front of her and lightly stroked her cheek. She watched

his hands like a frightened animal, periodically trying to pull away, but managing only

to press against François. “Your brother is sleeping,” Claude-Michel said. “He will wake

up tomorrow.”

Florentine looked up at Claude-Michel. He reached around and began to unfasten

her hairpins. Her flushed cheeks made her look like a child. “What are you doing?” she

asked, but no longer tried to escape.

“Do you know what I am?” he cooed.

A confused expression came over her face.

“Do you know what I am?” he repeated, smiling carelessly. She shook her head slowly

and watched him warily. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Vampire.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head again, frantically this time. “No,” she said,

and tried to wrench her body out of François’ grasp.

“We are all vampires,” he said. “Except for Jean, who has been providing most of our

meals. He needs a rest.”

Her gaze flicked from Claude-Michel to me to Jean and back to Claude-Michel.

Then she tried again to get away, straining toward the carriage. “Bernardo!” she called.

“Bernardo!” But her brother did not answer.

Claude-Michel turned her face roughly toward him. “We are hungry,” he said. “And

our loins are on fire.”

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When François let go of her arms and reached around to untie the lace of her bodice,

she tried to bolt toward the carriage. Claude-Michel grabbed her upper arms and shook

her. “Would you open your virgin flower to a mere mortal?”

“But my wedding—”

“Will take place on this forest floor,” he said. “With me.”

Those words had such an effect on her. She did not struggle as he and François

undressed her and lay out the dress on the ground so she would have something to lie

upon. I went to her and pet her hair as he touched and kissed her, and let her see his fangs.

I smiled carefully, because I was quickly learning to become aroused whenever I saw

Claude-Michel take some poor, innocent creature.

Jean sat nearby, watching with interest, turning a stone over and over in the fingers of

one hand. François got up and stretched, glancing back at them from time to time, finally

standing with his back against a tree, arms crossed, watching me. I shivered as I thought

about what was to happen to me at his hands, but pushed the images out of my mind and

focused my attention on what was happening to Florentine.

As Claude-Michel kissed her small, creamy breasts, she turned her turquoise eyes up

to me. I smiled, to put her at ease. “It will be all right,” I whispered, as much for my own

benefit as for hers. “This is necessary.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, gasping from time to time as Claude-Michel’s fangs

grazed her skin, or as his tongue lapped at a particularly sensitive part of her body.

He was much gentler with Florentine than he had been with Bernardo, perhaps because

he knew she wanted him. Perhaps because she was a virgin. He teased the soft folds

between her legs with the tip of his tongue. She took in breath like a corpse reanimated.

Her eyes popped open. For a moment, I thought she would try to get up, but she only

looked at me. I bent down and kissed her forehead.

“Let yourself enjoy it,” I whispered.

Claude-Michel suddenly raised himself on his knees and removed his blouse, smiling

down at her, letting her see him. When he freed his erection, I could tell by the way her

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face crumpled she had never seen a man’s nude crotch before. She whimpered.

Claude-Michel positioned himself at her opening and gently shushed her. It didn’t

take him long to get it in. Florentine yelped when he filled her, but he settled on top

of her body and began to whisper as he worked his hips slowly, getting her used to the

sensation, letting her find her pleasure. He kissed away her tears and called her beautiful.

I watched him pumping her for many minutes, growing aroused myself, and wondering

if I could tempt him in my direction when he was finished making feeders.

Finally, he lowered his head and began to nuzzle her neck. All at once, she realized

what he was doing and began to lose her nerve. “No,” she whined. “Please.”

But it was too late. Her eyes widened and she gasped and I knew he had pierced her.

Her struggles ceased and her eyes glazed over as Bernardo’s had, as Claude-Michel took

her blood.

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Claude-Michel promised to be mine the very next night, but it was his turn to guard

us as we slept. I, however, couldn’t sleep, though I tried very hard, in Jean’s arms on the

floor of the carriage. François napped on the bench above us. I could tell he was aware

of me, watching me somehow.

After Jean started snoring, I whispered to François, “Why do you hate me so

much?”

“My dear, I don’t hate you,” he said without opening his eyes. “I simply want you

firmly in your place.”

I turned my body toward him.

He sat up, propping his back against the side of the carriage, and glanced out the

window at Claude-Michel. François almost smiled and turned lazily back to me. “Claude-

Michel and I have known each other all of our lives, and I have adored him every minute.

We did everything together, and of course I was much too young to know what my

feelings meant. I didn’t know until later, and then I stupidly waited around for him to take

me. He took other boys, why not me? Then he was married, and by then, I had fallen into

a habit. There was a certain way we existed and I thought then, that if I changed any little

thing, the whole universe we’d created would destroy itself.”