Red As Blood Part 5

"In desire," he growled roughly, shoving his hand down to cup her s.e.x, seeking proof and finding it. Her muscles spasmed on a hard bite of exquisite expectation.

He pulled his hand from her slit, leaving her wanting. "My fingers glisten with the ambrosia of your body." He breathed deeply. She felt a deep wash of shame and excitement, knowing he caught the scent of her arousal.

"How sweet you smell," he murmured thickly, his voice saturated with l.u.s.t. "My c.o.c.k craves the taste of your honeyed core."

The deep, hard sound of his voice made her senses riot out of control.

His hips ground suddenly against her bare cheeks, shocking her in surprise. She felt the abrasion of his hair, the heat of his c.o.c.k nestle in the crevice of her a.s.s. When had he dropped his breeches? The prospect of him taking her from behind made her rigid with fear and forbidden desire.

His thick shaft slipped down her slick cleft, edging against her v.a.g.i.n.al opening. He hit her again, closer to her hip, running his palm in a circle on her a.s.s as he stroked his engorged staff through her wetness.

"Oh G.o.d," she moaned, shuddering violently as the sting vibrated along the surface of her cheek, coiling down in her s.e.x. Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, pounding, pounding down to that aching nub. It was too much, too painfully close to ecstasy.

He slapped her cheek, pus.h.i.+ng his hips hard against her. She felt the slide become a push, and then she was stretching, stretching unbearably tight. His forceful invasion was unendurable, making her hotter and wetter than she ever imagined.

"Don't," she begged on a gasp, unsure if she wanted him to stop or continue. The edge of pain had her clamping down on him, rigid.

"Is it the staff you fear?" he growled, bending over her back, pus.h.i.+ng his c.o.c.k into her until the pain bloomed into pleasure. "Can you take me? All a of a mea?"

She shuddered from his erotic intent, her core convulsing on the hot hardness stretching into her, pus.h.i.+ng her beyond her limits. He was too thick, too hard. Tremors erupted in her womb, seeping her folds with wet arousal.

"You can if I will it so," he groaned, leaning over her, moving his hands to grip her cheeks and spread her as he forged a path inside her, through quaking muscles. He pressed against the virginal barrier sealing her, pus.h.i.+ng until she swore he'd rend it asunder. He groaned, and a shudder rippled through him into her. He withdrew shakily, her v.a.g.i.n.al muscles screaming in pleasurable agony.

Tears wet her face, and she screamed as he withdrew completely and stroked that molten rod against her throbbing c.l.i.t. He rubbed against her, stoking a fire in her blood that left her dizzy, weak.

He pulled back, pus.h.i.+ng his c.o.c.k into her core with a hard slap on one nether cheek. She cried out at the fierce push and pull of pain and pleasure, each fighting to take hold of her. The thick head of his c.o.c.k nudging her entrance was pure torture, pure ecstasy.

He withdrew, raking it down her c.l.i.t furiously, setting a pattern that had her gritting her teeth to keep from crying out. Each time, she thought he would tear her inside, he would pull out and stroke that achy nub. With each thrust, he struck her b.u.t.tocks, until they pulsed with a pleasure all their own.

Her skin sensitized to the rough slide of his hips, the sinful expansion of his shaft stretching her core.

He bent over her suddenly, resting his chest completely against her back, running his hands up her arms to clasp her wrists. His lips pulled at the back of her exposed neck, sucking a mark of possession on her as he thrust into her rapidly with unbelievable precision, each time pus.h.i.+ng that barrier to the limit but never breaking it.

Her s.e.x convulsed on him, clenching rapidly with the shattering waves of bliss climbing over her. The o.r.g.a.s.m rippled through her, leaving her heaving for breath.

Still he pumped, torturing her, bringing her to another furious crescendo. And still, he did not stop.

Cerise whimpered, shaking with the intensity. Her blood sizzled through her body, leaving her achingly sensitive.

A low, guttural cry tore from his throat as he withdrew. He collapsed on her suddenly, as though sapped of all energy, gasping, shuddering. He was still hard against her. She felt his shaft twitch, throb in the crevice of her s.e.x.

"What is it?" she asked on a moan, knowing something was wrong.

He breathed raggedly against her ear, his breath hot. "The punishment is ever mine more than yours," he said in a tortured voice, releasing her as he stood.

Cerise pushed herself off the table weakly, dropping her skirts. She turned and looked at him, half afraid of what she'd see.

He'd enclosed his s.e.x, but it strained against his breeches like a wild thing. His eyes were closed, his hair untamed about his shoulders. Pain etched his features in a grim mask.

Slowly, as if he felt her eyes on him, he opened his lids and looked on her. "I can bear the torment of you no longer. Go, prepare yourself and I will take you home."

Finally faced with what she'd wanted all along, Cerise felt ill. She didn't know what was wrong with her, to feel desire and pleasure from a creature of evil.

Yet, he did not seem so to her.

He was tormented by something more than her presence. Some darkness held sway in his lifea"in his existence. She ached to know the secret he held so dearly. It held her mind captive. She knew the answers lay in his study, but he was sending her away, never to discover the answer.

Cerise raced up the stairs. At the top, she halted, turning to face the direction his study lay, wondering if she dareda.

She did. She had to try to get in.

Within minutes, she reached the door, praying to whatever G.o.ds still held sway that she could force the door open somehow or pick the lock with her hair pins. When she touched the k.n.o.b, however, the door swung open on oiled hinges, coming to rest against the wall.

Did he think it useless to keep her from here, or was the lack of obstruction an invitation to discover his secrets?

Cerise held her breath, looking inside as though something would jump out at her. A dusk laden sun lent a warm haze to the room, reflecting in the golden gilding on the book spines. She stepped inside, heart pounding as she moved to retrieve the thirtieth journal. She pulled it from the shelf, clutching it to her chest, waiting for exposure.

She couldn't help but wonder if her thoughts were true, if this was his way of inviting her into the darkness of his mind. Whether yes or no, she had the book now, and she would not relinquish it.

She hurried out, closing the study up behind her. Back in her room, she discovered he'd returned her corset, stockings, and shoes.

She stripped her gown off and laid the journal on the back of the corset, struggling to get it around her. With the added inches, she barely got the garment fastened around her, but she felt confident despite her discomfort, that he would not discover she had his journal until it was too late. She didn't feel so confident about his invitation to risk asking him and chance losing her one opportunity.

Knowing she'd done all she could, Cerise put the gown back on, as well as her own shoes, then went down to the foyer.

Daegon awaited her, his face coldly impa.s.sive. A pain swelled inside her, to see him so changed. She stopped in front of him, resisting the overwhelming urge to s.h.i.+ver.

"Ready?" he asked, then paused as if he was going to say something else.

He did not. And she felt the lack of an endearment sharply. She nodded. "Take me home."

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. A haze formed in front of her eyes, clouding them. His face swam before her eyes. As darkness closed over her, she realized this was probably the last time he would ever hold her, and tears formed in her eyes.

Cerise woke with a start and looked around at the room she found herself in. Nothing about it was familiar. Try though she might, however, she couldn't recall how she had come to be there. As she sat up in bed, she discovered her younger sister, Adriana, was sitting in a chair across from the bed, watching her.

"Have you had a nightmare, sister?" Adriana asked, looking worried.

Cerise clutched at her pounding heart, wondering a little wildly if that was all that it had been. That simply was not possible, however. She had known Daegon. "How did I come to be here? And where are we?"

Adriana sniffed. "Father has locked us in the tower and vows never to let us leave."

Cerise stared at her in horror. "This cannot be! Why would father do such a thing?"

"It is all Bianca's fault. She escaped from that terrible demon knight and came home. But then she took into her head that she was madly in love with him and ran off again. Father swears that she was ensorceled and vowed never to let that happen to another one of his daughters. He will not see reason. I've done my best to convince him that it was not something that he need worry about, and then you wandered off and got lost in the wood."

Cerise looked at her guiltily. "You know I couldn't help it. I've never been able to find my way, but no one else would go to look for Bianca. We couldn't just abandon her. I had to try. But then that hateful horse threw me, silly thing, and ran off, and before I quite knew it, I was hopelessly lost."

"Is that where you've been so long?" Adriana asked. "Lost in the wood? How ever did you survive so long?"

"Well," Cerise said, glancing away guiltily. "I was not lost all of that time."

"Where were you?"

"I met, upon the road, the most charming gentleman. Actually, he wasn't terribly charming right at first, but he was so very handsome. I just a couldn't seem to resist him."

Adriana frowned. "You met a charming man in the h.e.l.lsing woods? But, Cerise, there is no one there but the d.a.m.ned!"

Cerise was thoughtful a moment. "It is possible that he might have had the tiniest curse laid upon him, but I'm entirely convinced he didn't deserve it."

"What sort of curse?"

Cerise got out of the bed and walked to the window, staring down forlornly at the moonlight on the grounds below them. "He wasn't actually a vampire."

"Oh my G.o.d!" Adriana exclaimed. "You don't mean to say that you were captured by Daegon Erlansson, the vampire lord?"

"I have already said he was not precisely a vampire."

"But it was Daegon?"

"Actually, I only called him *my lord.' I suppose it might have been Daegon. But he was certainly nothing at all like the nasty stories I've heard tell of him."

Adriana gasped. "You've fallen in love with Daegon, the vampire lord?"

Cerise thought it over and realized that her sister was right. She did love him, desperately. And she knew suddenly that he must love her as well, for he had freed her, after all. Nothing more surely spoke of love than a willingness to sacrifice one's own happiness for the happiness of the one a person loved.

"You would've denied it," Adriana said shrewedly, "if that had been the case. He has mesmerized you and stolen your soul."

Cerise sniffed. "He did no such thinga. At least, I do love him with all my heart and soul, and I suppose one could say he has stolen my heart. There was no dark magic used upon me. I have said he was not a vampire. He did not bite me. He did not drink my blood."

"He is accursed or he would not dwell in h.e.l.lsing."

Cerise moved back to the bed and sat upon it. "I fear that you may be right. Something terrible happened to him long ago. If only I knew how to free him, I would do it, whatever the cost."

She thought then about the journal and began to search a little desperately for it, fearful that she had only dreamed that she'd taken it, or that Daegon had realized the theft and taken it back. To her relief she found it and hugged it to her chest.

"What is it?" Adriana asked.

"One of his journals," Cerise replied, opening it and tracing the writing on the page lovingly. "I know I shouldn't have taken it, but I simply couldn't bear to leave without taking some token to keep him near to me. I have his thoughts to keep me company now, if I can have nothing else."

Adriana shook her head. "Poor comfort if you ask me, and I'm not at all convinced that you're quite yourself. Perhaps it was wise of father, after all, to lock us away in the tower where we will be safe."

Rising, she stretched and yawned and finally climbed into the bed. "Go to sleep. I'm sure a good night's rest will help your feelings."

Cerise didn't think so. She was fairly certain that she would never be happy again without Daegon, but she found that sadness was as wearisome as a full day's tasks. Finally, she slept.

Chapter Nine.

When Cerise woke the following morning, she pulled his journal from beneath her pillow where she'd placed it the night before for safe keeping, and moved to the seat beneath the window and began to read. She could almost feel that he was with her as she read of his life so long ago. She could almost hear his voice.

At first, she only read to be near him, but as she read, she began to become deeply involved in the story that was unfolding.

He had wed, while still a young man, a woman he considered to be his true love, and for several years had enjoyed more happiness than he could recall in all his life before. But the day came when the king summoned him to help to defend the kingdom from enemy forces, and he had left his beloved to honor his service to his king. When he had joined the king and the armies the king had ama.s.sed, he met the king's sorcerer, Morveresson. He distrusted him at once. Many times, it seemed to him, the sorcerer advised the king to do things that angered his loyal subjects. Finally, realizing that the sorcerer's loyalties must lie with their enemies, he tried to convince the king that he should seek a new advisor. The king had not been convinced. He had been certain that Daegon must be wrong, for Morveresson had been with him for many years.

It wasn't until much later that he realized that he had earned a deadly enemy, for it was shortly after that, that he began to have terrible visions. In these visions, he saw his beloved wife betraying him over and over again. Always in these visions, it was she who opened the gates to his castle and invited his enemies in. Finally, he could bear the torment no longer. He'd become convinced that the visions were true and that if he did not return, he would lose all. And so, in a moment of madness, he withdrew his army and raced homeward, refusing to believe anyone who tried to convince him that his fears were groundless. His lady loved him, she would never betray him.

When he reached the plain that lay outside his castle gates, he saw that it had been sacked. Such rage filled him, that he threw caution to the wind and charged upon the castle. His enemies had not expected to be fallen upon from behind, and he and his men slew them, regaining the keep.

The fight had not cooled his anger, however, and he rushed up the castle stairs to find his faithless wife. When he burst into her chambers, he found her lying beneath a window, a stray arrow in her chest. In that moment, he hated her as much as he had once loved her. She had betrayed him and died swiftly, escaping his wrath. As he turned away, he heard her gasp his name.

Turning once more, he discovered that she was not dead as he had thought. She reached for him. *Daegon, my love. You have come back to me.'

He had stared at her coldly. *With your dying breath, you lie to me, you faithless harlot? You betrayed me. You opened my castle to my enemies so that my people were slaughtered.'

She began to weep. *Nay, my lord. I would not. How could you think such a thing of me? I love you with all of my heart.'

He had looked upon her with contempt. *I have seen it in my visions. I know you are lying. It was the visions that guided me here. It was the visions that thwarted your plans, for I have come and fallen upon my enemies and slaughtered them, and taken back that which is mine.'

She had stared at him piteously, begging him with her eyes to believe in her. Almost, he had succ.u.mbed to that pleading look, and it had sickened him that he still loved her despite what she had done to him. Instead of going to her, he had turned away and strode from the room.

But as he reached the door, she called out to him once more. *Someone has poisoned your mind. You could not love me or you would never believe that I could do such a thing. With my dying breath, I curse you, and pray G.o.d will grant me this. That you will remain forever as you are today. Never again will you feel the joy of life, the joy of love. If you cannot trust, then you cannot be trusted, and you do not deserve the love of a woman.'

Cerise sat the book aside, horrified by what she had read. His wife had cursed him. She understood now why Daegon trusted no one. It was true that the sorcerer had blinded him to what he must have known, but the woman who had cursed him could not have truly loved him. If she had, she would have forgiven him, not cursed him to a life of unhappiness.

Cerise set the book aside. She didn't want to read any more. She felt like weeping for his pain, but she knew that would not give him ease. There was only one thing that coulda"unconditional love. The more she thought about it as the days pa.s.sed, the more certain she became that she had to find a way to go back to him.

She loved him. She knew that he must love her too. Perhaps, if she could go to him, in time she could teach him to trust. Perhaps that was his only salvation.

For days she paced the tower, trying to think of a way to escape. The servants could not be convinced--she had spent days attempting it. Finally, she realized that she had succeeded in doing nothing but alerting her father to the fact that she was determined to return. As difficult as it was, she settled back to bide her time.

Weeks pa.s.sed, but Cerise did not spend them idly. Her nimble mind was busy devising a means of escape. When she saw that enough time had pa.s.sed and the servants no longer looked upon her with suspicion, she put her plan in motion.

Stripping the linens from the bed one night, she began to tear them in thin strips, braiding the strips together frantically, for she knew she must make her rope before dawn.

Adriana was aghast, of course. Cerise thought, for a time, that she would be forced to bind and gag her sister. Finally, however, she told her sister Daegon's tale, and as she had hoped, it appealed to Adriana's soft heart. Adriana stripped the rest of the linens from the bed and began helping her to weave her rope.

The morning lark was singing when at last they finished the rope and tied it to the bed. Cerise tossed the free end out the window and stared down at the darkness, unnerved now that the moment had come.

After staring in terror at the rope for some moments, she turned to her sister and hugged her tightly. "Tell father I love him, and I'm terribly sorry to be such a disobedient daughter, but I love Daegon. I cannot bear not to be without him."