Night Flyer

GIFT OF THE NIGHTFLYER By Sultry Summers

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Chapter One

1873–Deep in the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania. Baffled by the mysterious disabled carriage Ignatio spied ahead, he ordered his driver to slow down. One wheel was broken and one horse gone, but it was the beautiful young woman who stood forlornly beside the carriage that drew his attention. Ignatio judged her to be of medium height. Her empress gown of pale blue seemed to float around her, beneath the heavier deep blue velvet cape she clutched around herself for warmth. His eyes glimpsed her small feet and he saw just a glance of the white hose that covered her ankles. She had thrown the hood of her cape back, which displayed her heavy blonde ringlets dressed high on her head. Ignatio wondered how long her hair truly was. Her crystalline blue eyes were large and round, hinting at the anxiety of the situation. Ignatio, taken with her beauty, was touched by her plight. “Ivan,” Ignatio called to his driver, “Pull over so we may aid the lady.” He knew she could not see him from the outside, but he could see her and he enjoyed the view of her helplessness. “Mademoiselle’, may I offer my assistance?” Ignatio asked from inside his darkened conveyance. His eyes greedily feasted on her fully displayed cleavage; her bodice barely covered the pink areoles of her nipples. “Thank you sir, I sent my driver back to town on the other horse; however, I fear he will not return tonight. ” her voice betrayed her distress at being alone after dark. “I am Count Ignatio Magonoff, Master of these lands.” Pride rang in his voice. “That is my manor in the distance. May I offer the hospitality of my home, until your conveyance is repaired? I assure you, you need not be concerned about propriety, ah, Lady?” “My name is Lady Leslie Anastasia Romanoffski of Muskovich, the daughter of Sir Illya Ivanich Romanoffski.” Her voice was soft and melodic, with an arousing hint of innocence. Ignatio opened the door and offered his hand, and, though she could not see him, she accepted his assistance. Gently, he grasped her cold delicate hand and assisted her into the carriage. "Thank you milord Count,” Lady Leslie said, in a rustle of satin and lace as she settled herself on the opposite side of the carriage. At last, she could see her benefactor. His eyes greedily assessing her, his stare alone was arousing her. Ignatio’s charisma permeated the carriage. Leslie could feel her silk pantaloons grow wet and her appetites sharpen. The coach lurched into motion, her gaze met his amber heavily lidded eyes and she turned only a small amount of her hypnotic abilities on him. Leslie could not say he was handsome but his appearance was noble. Impeccably formal apparel covered a large muscular form that she hoped translated to his cock. It had been days since she had been properly sated. His complexion was ruddy but his smile wide and genuine and he looked as if he enjoyed the outdoors. Leslie smiled demurely. She enjoyed the outdoors too, especially at night under a full moon. “Lady Romanoffski it will be my pleasure to have you as my guest.” The Count’s smile held a hint of his desire. “I have instructed my coachman to leave a note for your driver as to your whereabouts.” “Thank you Count Magonoff.” She smiled demurely, enjoying the lightning bolt his voice sent through her, making her nipples tingle. “How did you come to be on this road?” he questioned. “This late, it can be dangerous. Wolves travel these forests.” His smile resembled that of a wolf. “I fear my driver, who is unfamiliar with this section of the country, took a wrong turn. I do hope he finds his way back to the village,” she sounded concerned. “I should think he will; however, I will send out several of my personal men to search for him, should wolves be on the prowl.” “Again, I thank you, Count.” She pulled her cape around herself with a shiver. Ignatio drew a hand-woven blanket from a cedar-lined drawer located beneath the seat, spread it over her, and took care to tuck it around her, his hands brushing against her intimately. She thanked him with a smile. “Is all of this,” she waved her hand delicately toward the windows, “yours?” Count Magonoff smiled, “Yes, I have been lord of this fief for ten years since the untimely death of my parents. ” he said with a sad sigh. “I grew up in these mountains, running free in the forests. I learned how to hunt and fish and learned the ways of the animals.” his look became far away. “My father taught me well, how to govern, and my mother saw to it that I had the finest tutors of higher learning.” “From what I have observed as we passed through your fief, your people are fine herdsmen.” Lady Leslie remarked. “Yes, yes they are and our dairy products grace the Czar’s table. The timbers from our forests bring the highest prices at

market and you can be sure we selectively log them.” Ignatio smiled. “But this must be boring for you, milady. I am proud of my people. It is their efforts that make this so, not mine.” “Milord Count is a compassionate lord,” Leslie remarked with a little blush. Their small talk made the trip seem short and Lord Magonoff’s carriage pulled to a halt before the doors of his family’s one hundred twenty-five year old manor house. The footman opened the door and the Count stepped out first, turning to assist his guest. “My lady you’re chilled!” He remarked, noticing how cool her body seemed. “Boris,” he called to his manor’s doorman. “See to it the fire is well stoked.” Leslie could see the fire in the Count was. His powerful hands on her slender bodice sent wonderful waves of sensual delight through her. Her original assessment of the Count, Leslie could see, had been correct, he was a powerful and wealthy lord, a fine choice to bestow her gift upon. “Yes milord.” the man replied and instantly ordered two houseboys to the task. “Tell Katrina we have a guest, have her ready the suite across from the master, and set another place at the table. ” Ignatio ordered as he escorted Leslie inside. “Also send out six horsemen to the lady’s carriage and bring it to the manor. Escort her driver if he has returned. Be sure the men are well armed. I do not want to loose a man to a wolf.” “Yes milord.” Boris bowed and went to follow his master’s command. Lady Leslie was impressed how quickly the Count’s orders were obeyed. She smiled alluringly up into his eyes and thought she could control him with ease. Leslie could smell the heady scent of the Count’s warm blood as it coursed through his veins. The smell was strong enough that she could almost taste him, sharpening her appetite. Knowing she would have to wait until after his meal for her own, she steeled herself. “My lady,” his voice was a caress that compelled her toward the mammoth fireplace warming the main audience room, “Allow me to take your cape.” Leslie gazed into his warm eyes and found this mortal too, had the power to compel. Her delicate pink tongue flicking over her naturally red lips as she allowed him to take her cape, letting it slide provocatively from her white shoulders. His hands lightly caressed her creamy pale skin, left bare by the empress blue gown she wore. When he took her cape, Leslie felt his eyes feast on her breasts, then he slipped his own heavy black cloak off and gave them both to Boris. “Are you warmer now mademoiselle?” Ignatio asked. His gaze had warmed her and produced a light blush on her cheeks, which gratified Ignatio. She lowered her eyes coyly, “Yes lord Count, much warmer.” She raised her eyes to look into his, and allowed a sensual promise to fill them. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?” the Count paused, “or perhaps something, ah, stronger?” “Just a little red wine, thank you,” she smiled modestly, trying not to seem too wanton. He gave her a glass of burgundy, a fine vintage from his own vineyard, he claimed and poured a brandy for himself. Ignatio escorted Leslie to the table when Boris announced dinner. “It is fortunate I came along when I did,” he said. “You would not enjoy a night alone in the forest.” “I am sure.” Leslie agreed, just a trace of fright slipping into her voice for the Count’s benefit. A night alone in the forest actually wouldn’t bother her at all, she had many friends there, she thought. Ignatio noticed she ate little, “I am sure you are exhausted. Katrina has prepared your room by now, and if I am not mistaken by the sounds, your coach has arrived. I will escort you to your room so you may bathe and rest,” he suggested, his eyes holding a promise that would make for a more lively night. “Thank you, your lordship,” Leslie said. Ignatio found himself lost in her eyes once again. He led her up the long, wide staircase, casually making comments on the portraits and paintings that hung on the walls. At the top of the grand staircase, he guided her down the wing where their chambers were located and stopped at her door. “My suite is across the hall,” he pointed to his door, “should you need anything.” His eyes held a clear invitation. “I will be fine, thank you, ” Leslie said trying to appear like a proper lady. “However, knowing you are so close is comforting.” she returned, leaving some expectancy in her words and an alluring gleam in her blue eyes. “Goodnight.” He took her delicate hand, kissed her cool fingers but resisted the temptation to kiss her lips. Ignatio retreated toward his own room greatly disturbed by Lady Leslie’s presence. It had been a long time since his wife had died. He rested his head sadly against his bedchamber door. This had been their room until she had died giving birth to a stillborn son. He had held the world in the palm of his hand then, or thought he had. Ignatio drew a deep breath and opened the door to his lonely suite. His valet, Marko, had prepared his bath and the fire blazed in the hearth but it was not the same as when Alexia had been there. “Your jacket, milord?” Marko requested and took the fine garment when Ignatio slipped out of it. He helped Ignatio out of his knee high black leather boots. “Take them, Marko,” Ignatio told his servant. “I can finish here, go to bed.” He dismissed the valet. He knew Lady Leslie was across the hall, beautiful, highly feminine, and tempting. Perhaps he should have made his desire for her clearer.

Ignatio cock grew stiff and hard, a familiar ache. Finally, he strolled outside to the stream that ran so close to the house wolves would not approach. He swam in the frigid waters and commanded his mighty cock to rest. After the ache that had grown in his loins for Leslie abated, Ignatio returned to his chambers. He heard the manor clock chime twelve and dozed. A knock at his door woke him. Ignatio rose and donned his robe to open the door. Leslie stood before him, her long blonde hair loose and flowing down to her hips, she was dressed in a thin cotton shift that revealed more than it covered. With her small bare feet peeking out beneath the gown and her delicate features, she reminded him of an angel. His breath caught in his throat and Ignatio knew to either draw her in or be destined for another night’s swim in the cold stream. “I am so sorry, milord.” Leslie was obviously distressed. “I’ve had a rather disturbing dream.” She looked up at him like an innocent scared child. “Come in, Leslie,” Ignatio said, instinctively placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. She leaned closer to the safety of his masculine physique, and molded her rose scented body to his. He could feel her full breasts press against him. Ignatio sat on the large leather chair near his fireplace, noting how the firelight illuminated her perfect form before he pulled her onto his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and the neckline of her nightgown pulled open to display her breast provocatively. His blood heated, his cock rose, despite his steely control. “It was only a dream. Do you wish to tell me about it?” He offered to listen, trying to distract his lust that was quickly becoming out of control. Ignatio’s hands were around her slim waist and he slowly moved them up toward her breasts without realizing they strayed, and without resistance, he cupped each one gently with his hands. Leslie sighed and leaned back against him. “The images have gone,” she half sobbed. “Now I am just, alone.” Her voice was low, desperate, and childlike. What am I to do? Ignatio wrapped his arms gently around Leslie holding her as she sobbed. “It’s okay, Leslie, no harm will come to you.” Should I return her to her room? He certainly did not want to, her sweet body felt so right. Ignatio knew nothing about her, was she married? He didn’t know. She wore no ring. Would her father set upon him in a few days? Ignatio found he didn’t care. He had been alone too long and she was here. Sighing again, she sat up and looked at him through her tears. “Milord Count,” she whispered, passion in her voice. “You are wonderful.” She slid her long slender arms around his neck, her perfume surrounded him and she kissed him, her tongue brushed his. She felt Ignatio tightened his arms around her as he returned her embrace. His tongue entered her mouth to caress hers, then drew her little organ into his own mouth and sucked it tantalizingly, teasing. He had fallen under her spell so easily. “Lady Leslie,” he said breathlessly, “you should return to---” “No! I am afraid,” she pleaded and placed her lips to his. His hand ran smoothly over her back, slowly, she moved her hands over his chest beneath his robe, running her fingers through the dark chest curls and over the well -formed muscles, feeling the heat of his body as his temperature rose. He rose from the chair, lifting her light form as he did, and carried her to his huge bed and laid her there. “Will you be afraid here?” A smile played on his generous lips, a warm, piercing glow burned in Count Ignatio’s eyes. Those eyes narrowed, thinking of what he would do with her, after gaining her trust, his tongue moistened his lips. “No,” Leslie’s voice was low, her eyes held by Ignatio’s, who sat next to her. Count Ignatio had fallen under her charms and her control so easily. He proved to be a gentle lover, his hands took time to arouse her already heated body, his touch made her breasts feel like they were on fire, and her cunt became warmed honey, her pantaloons were soaked. Leslie had made love to many men. She always did before she took their life’s force from them, but this man was extraordinarily different. He fondled her breasts, one heavy globe in each of his large hands. His tongue teased her nipples. It had been a long time since a man had taken such care with her. Leslie felt his mouth come down hard on her breast and suck each one in turn. Leslie moved her hands over his hips, exploring his swollen cock and lightly tickling his balls with her cool fingers, holding his testicles in both her hands. He was as magnificent as she had hoped and Leslie knew he would fill her cunt to its fullest. Her nether lips swelled with anticipation of his cock inside her. Leslie felt Ignatio push up her nightgown by caressing her legs with his square hands, from her feet, up her inner thighs. His thumbs gently and lightly caressed past her hot vulva, to massage her hooded clit. Leslie groaned, as he used his thumbs to spread her wetness. In slow torturous, repetitious motions over her swollen clit, his rough thumbs rubbed, until Leslie thought she might faint. With her hand wrapped around his engorged cock, she matched the rhythm he set with his thumbs even though she groaned each time he touched her clit and the light in the room seemed to dim. The tight blonde curls of the mound of her sex were drenched in her wetness and looking into Ignatio ’s eyes, she saw a glimpse of a man she had not anticipated. A chill of fright passed through her and she began to climax. She opened her eyes when Ignatio laughed and withdrew from his efforts stopping her climax just as it started, to prolong her tension, and to further torture her, Ignatio blew on her swollen cunt lips. His breath, coming out cool from between his lips, caused Leslie to moan from the sensation and with her hand quickly covered herself to protect her heated sex from the torment of coolness. Ignatio laughed low in his throat and removed her hand to insert a finger deep inside her, teasing her, Leslie groaned. “Ignatio! Please!” Leslie sobbed. “Please what, milady?” He asked, and leaned over her as he moved his finger in and out, giving her just enough

gratification to make her beg for more, his lips close to hers. “I want more!” Leslie begged. Ignatio inserted another finger, “Like this?” “No!” she howled quietly, “You know what I want.” “Ask me for it, my dear!” Ignatio told her. “Beg me for it!” his voice commanded gruffly. “I want your cock, inside me, please, I burn for it!” Leslie’s blue eyes dilated and round. Slowly, Ignatio entered her body, tortuously slow, with his throbbing cock. Too slowly, Leslie could not believe his control. She arched her pelvis toward him to hasten her pleasure. He pulled back. “No, no, Leslie, at my pace.” He teased her and pulled away a little. “Please, Ignatio, you are driving me mad,” Leslie pleaded, close to tears of frustration. Ignatio began again, slowly until he had filled her to the extent of his cock ’s length and her depth. Leslie moaned and almost fainted from the ecstasy of the sensations that coursed through her body. She gasped for breath, only to have Ignatio cover her lips with his. His mouth sucked her little tongue and nipped at her lips. Leslie had never begged for sex, never had she hungered for sex as she did for blood, until now. Ignatio’s ability to arouse her was amazing. No man had ever brought her to such an orgasm. Sex was one pleasure she enjoyed from the mortals that she was glad she had not lost the desire for, when she had become a vampire. Her body responded to Ignatio’s, a moan escaped her. He looked into her hypnotic eyes. His hand explored the sensitive flesh between her legs with a gentle finger, after he had entered her, still teasing her clit. Leslie cried out, as another tremor shook her. Ignatio kissed her breasts again to tease them. Leslie smelled his blood through his skin, she could feel it pulsing through his veins and arteries, and she licked his neck to revel in the shiver her tongue’s caress produced. Tenderly, she kissed his neck, and tasted the spot where she would bite him, he shivered again, and she hugged him closer. He pumped his swollen cock vigorously into her fevered body, as she arched her back to meet his thrusts, pulling him closer, and locking her silken legs around him to prevent his escape. Lady Leslie opened her mouth, her hot breath on his neck quickened his pulse and she unsheathed her fangs. She drove them deep into her Count’s neck and pierced his jugular vein. Ignatio’s hot rich blood pumped into her mouth by his rapid heartbeat. When she pierced his neck and began to draw his blood, he climaxed and the only sound was the roar of his orgasm. It wasn’t Leslie’s intention to drain her Count, and she called on all her willpower to stop. In a series of three nights she would drain him slowly, on the third bite under a full moon she would give him the gift. Ignatio collapsed on top of her, spent, his masculine weight a pleasing pressure distributed over her. Ignatio then rolled to one side and wiped the small amount of blood from his neck. “You’re a blood thirsty little wench.” He remarked with a laugh and fell asleep. Soon after the Count had fallen asleep, Leslie slipped back to her own room. She slept most of the day, as did the Count, but for different reasons. Count Magonoff’s staff knew it was highly unusual for him to sleep late into the day. He never rose later than nine in the morning and now it was after the mid-day hour. Who knew what schedule Lady Leslie kept? Around sundown, she was heard up and moving around. Her driver had been located shortly after the Count retired the night before, and treated hospitably. It had surprised the staff that he was so young, a handsome lad of possibly nineteen. Silent in his nature, loyal to his mistress he only questioned her welfare. Katrina, the housekeeper, sent the upstairs maid to inquire about Lady Leslie ’s needs. The maid knocked on Lady Leslie’s door. “Ma am?” Her voice was a soft summons. “Can I bring you tea or breakfast?” The door opened to reveal the lady dressed in a delicate pink dressing gown, her long wavy blonde hair flowing freely down her back. The maid curtsied. “That would be pleasant, thank you.” she smiled. “Won’t be long, Ma’am.” The maid smiled and was off. Lady Leslie would not of course eat the food, it was not to her taste, but it was important to appear human for a few more days. As the maid had promised, it wasn’t long and she returned with a tray, properly set and a small bouquet of wild flowers gracing it. “Shall I bring it in?” “Yes please,” Lady Leslie smiled. “Would you convey my apologies to Lord Magonoff for having slept all day? I am aghast, but I was exhausted.” “I doubt he would notice, my lady. He has yet to rise himself,” the maid said, a bit of worry in her young voice. “Oh? I trust he is well?” Lady Leslie asked. “His personal valet says he is just tired also, but it is not like him, ” the maid said quietly and Lady Leslie knew his staff cared for the Count. This meant little to her other than a ready source of nourishment. “Thank you, ah?” Lady Leslie didn’t know the girl’s name. “I am called Sascha, milady.” “Thank you, Sascha,” Leslie said as the maid opened the door. “Shall I collect the tray in about an hour?” “I will leave it outside the door, and should the Count rise I would appreciate knowing.” Leslie smiled.

Chapter Two

Ignatio awoke exhausted. From the dim light that filtered thought the thick pane glass windows it appeared to be dawn. A smile crossed his face when he glanced at the indentation left on the pillow next to him from Lady Leslie ’s head. He remembered his midnight visitor fondly. A whiff of her rose and musk scent evoked erotic memories when he smoothed his hand across her pillow. Leslie must have returned to her own room. It would not have looked acceptable if found in his room by the staff. The familiar knock of his valet Marko announced his presence. “Come!” Ignatio called. “I am pleased to see you’re awake, my lord,” Marko remarked with concern in his voice. “Marko,” Ignatio chided in a tired but humorous voice. “It is but day break.” “No your lordship, it is sundown,” Marko explained in a neutral way. “Marko, you jest!” but Ignatio knew he spoke the truth. He wondered what Lady Leslie must think. “Has Lady Leslie left?” “No, milord, she too has only just risen.” The valet informed him with a straight but knowing expression. “I will see to your breakfast, milord.” With a bow, he turned to leave. “Marko, make it a large one please. Oh, has Lady Leslie eaten?” “Yes, milord, just a bit ago.” “Was her driver found?” Ignatio inquired. “Yes, last evening shortly after you both retired for the night. He is fine.” Marko left Ignatio alone with his memories of the previous night. He rose and steadied himself, feeling dizzy. An unaccustomed chill seemed to fill the room and he dressed. He rekindled the fire in the hearth against the chill that seemed to permeate him. “Milord, I would have started the fire.” Marko commented upon his return. “A simple task,” the Count said with a shrug, sitting down to eat. “Would you ask Lady Leslie to join me downstairs in half hour or so please?” “Of course, milord.” Marko left to deliver the message. Dressed in elegant black linen pants, a vest, and a waistcoat over a white silk ruffled shirt, the Count descended the wide stairs and found Lady Leslie waiting for him in the drawing room. “Milady.” He smiled, a warm glimmer of reminiscence in his eyes. “Count.” She smiled seductively. She had chosen her tight bodice gown to cause just the appropriate response, hoping for an arousal from Ignatio. Leslie allowed a slight blush to light her cheeks, while Ignatio feasted his eyes on her low neckline trimmed with white lace that lay enticingly over the areolas of her nipples. Already her nipples were aroused–hard, pink, and grape-sized–sensitive due to the lace that was brushing and restraining them. “I am told your driver was found safe,” Ignatio mentioned, moistening his dry lips with his tongue. “Yes, but I fear I was so tired,” she looked up into his fiery eyes with a coy expression, deliberately running her hand over the smooth, satin lapel of his evening coat. “that I slept most of the day and have taken advantage of your hospitality.” “Lady Leslie, you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. It is pleasant to have your company.” The Count assured her, and though the yellow gown was comely on her, he wondered what she was wearing beneath it. Ignatio liked her hair, styled back from her face and the rest loose, flowing down her back. He drew a long satiny lock from her shoulders and held it to his nose; it smelled of rose and musk, as she did. With his eyes half closed he brought the lock of hair to his lips then placed it over her right breast. His fingers brushed that smooth mound of flesh through the lace. Memories of the previous night shone bright in his eyes, her scent of roses and musk surrounded him. “It was comforting to have you close last night.” She said in a low tremulous voice as if ghosts of her frightful dream had returned. Leslie pressed her body fully against his, her body craving his protection and masculinity. “I am only too delighted to have been a comfort.” His eyes were intense, the promise of passion lighting them. “Feel free to seek my comfort at anytime, Leslie.” Ignatio placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her red lips, as her arms encircled him to pull his mouth closer, warmly submitting to his embrace. He masterfully reminded Leslie of the pleasures he had brought her the night before with his mouth, and would again if given the opportunity. Ignatio led Leslie to a small couch so they could sit and talk. “How is it you came to be on the road to my manor?” Ignatio inquired. “This road has only one destination.” “My driver,” she blushed, “went right, when I suspect, he should have gone left.” She shrugged, “Fate, I guess.”

“To fate then!” he toasted with laughter in his voice, and they sipped the wine he had poured. “Come, the moon isn’t quite full but it is bright enough, let us walk in the garden.” Tonight, Leslie knew she would have to find her meal elsewhere, as the Count must regain his strength before she drew her second sip. She could however, look forward to the carnal pleasures of his bed, since she found him to be such a satisfying, if a bit sadistic, lover. After all, she thought, I’ve never had an orgasm as intense as the one he drove me to last night. “You have a lovely garden, Ignatio,” Leslie commented and stopped to draw in the scent of a bright red rose. “The night air is alive with the flower’s perfume.” “Tomorrow you shall tour it in the sun!” he said, pride ringing in his voice. “Oh, but I enjoy the evening. I’ve never been much of a day person, my skin is so fair.” She sighed. They rounded a tall row of hedges. “What a charming gazebo!” Leslie exclaimed with glee and hurried inside. The interior of the open-air structure was a wide deck complete with a thickly padded seat strewn with cushions. “How delightful!” “I shall have to speak with my housekeeper. These aren’t to be left out at night,” Ignatio said distracted that the normally efficient staff had slipped a bit. “Oh, don’t.” Leslie pouted and looked up alluringly. “It is so much more comfortable this way.” Her laugh was a low, throaty sound purposefully pitched to act on his male hormones and bring Ignatio further under her vampire’s spell. The Count’s eyes searched hers and, though he joined her on the bench as Leslie asked him, Ignatio was not under her control, as she perceived. Their lips joined and he gathered her desirable, pliable body into his arms. Leslie was like a puff of pure, scented arousal. His lips moved quickly down to tease the soft flesh of her breasts through the lace of her gown. Leslie cried out. “Not so hard!” she protested. “I prefer a gentler touch,” Leslie said, as if she instructed an inexperienced lover. Ignatio’s response of a low, throaty laugh sent a rush of flame down her body. “Oh you do? I shall remember that.” His laugh sent a hot surge through her, because of the slight tremor he sensed her trying to quell. “I hate the gowns women wear.” His voice was husky with ardor and he peeled the lace from her breast with his teeth and allowed her nipples their freedom. Her quiet sigh was his reward, as he loosed the laces in the back of her bodice. That task accomplished, he allowed each full breast total freedom and he nuzzled them both tenderly rolling the nipples with his thumb. He exercised great restraint in his urge not to pinch them. That would come later. He allowed Leslie to strip his coat off, then his vest. With fire in his amber eyes, Ignatio watched as she opened the silk shirt he wore and returned the pleasure he had given her, nipping one of his nipples hard enough to bring a drop of blood only to suck and lick it away. Ignatio didn’t protest, but the fire in his eyes was burning fiercely when she looked up. His hands stroked her legs beneath her skirts and, to his surprise and delight, found she had not worn hose or undergarments of any kind. His surprise turned to pleasure when he looked into her mischievous eyes, now sparkling with merriment. “After last night,” she shrugged, “I must admit, milord, you pleasured me so well that I too, slept most of the day. Except the pleasure made me want you yet again. Just the thought of your mighty cock burrowing inside me leaves me weak, wet, and wanting more of you.” In abandon, Ignatio quickly tossed two pillows onto the wooden floor of the gazebo and gallantly knelt between her knees, spreading them as he arranged a bed of pillows behind and around her back. A wicked grin played upon his lips. “Then, milady, I will pleasure you even more.” He tossed her skirts over her head, which she pushed down enough to meet his strangely hypnotic eyes. “But, Leslie, you must allow me to do as I will, ” Ignatio told her, as his fingers began to rhythmically stroke the thick hair outside of her cunny lips to tease her. Their eyes locked, Ignatio knew she wouldn’t–couldn’t–resist him. One finger found her wet vagina and almost entered her. She groaned and Ignatio knew she didn’t have the ability to deny him, at least not until he satisfied the hunger he had already aroused in her. His eyes watched her as desire spread over her pale features. Leslie was not sure when Ignatio had taken control over her, but he had. She would do anything he asked of her to keep him from denying her his masterful cock. Her sex was on fire. For the first time in over a hundred and fifty years, she forgot about blood as a primary drive. His fingers teased her clit, as he caressed her cunny lips, occasionally plucking a hair from her, causing her to jump and moans to escape her. She felt him gently pinch each nether lip between his fingers and pull them open. The cool night air on her hot and stimulated cunt caused Leslie to groan and her head to swim. She gasped when his mouth came down over her clit and she covered her mouth so as not to cry out in her pleasure and invite disaster, should one of the servants hear and investigate. She placed the other hand lightly atop his head, lest he leave, her fingers entwining in his heavy dark waves. She sighed, only to gasp again, when he pierced her with his tongue. She heard him chuckle at her reaction. Ignatio began a rhythm, several strokes with his tongue, then a gentle nip at the hood of her clit. After a few of these repetitions, Leslie sobbed in climax. “Oh, milord, take me now.” she begged, her voice a sob of heated desire. “Not yet,” Ignatio growled and inserted his middle finger deep inside her vagina. Leslie groaned as he moved it back and forth in her creamy cum, only to withdraw it and massage her puckered little anus with the lubricant. “No!” Leslie said firmly, her eyes wide. “As I will, remember?” Ignatio laughed harshly. “Relax, you will enjoy it.” Again, he drove his finger deep into her

vagina then massaged her anus until she relaxed and gently started to enter her, she stiffened. “Relax,” he told her and lubricated his finger again. This time he fully inserted his finger inside her. Leslie moaned, amazed that the slight amount of discomfort caused such intense arousal. Scarlet spots glowed on her cheeks. Ignatio hungrily began to tug at her cunt lips with his teeth, inserting another finger in her vagina and brought Leslie to yet another climax. She didn’t believe it was possible to feel such pleasure, tears from his exquisite torture pooled in her eyes. She gulped air refusing to cry out. “Please, Ignatio,” she begged. “Take me now.” The tears she had held in-check streamed down her face. Ignatio’s look was intense and he could see a little fear in her eyes from his unexpected play as he drew his cock from his codpiece. It stood proudly erect and angry, because of its cruel captivity in his breeches. He leaned toward her, towering over her as if she were his victim, his eyes continued to hold hers. He rested an arm against the back of the gazebo bench for support. Now positioned to enter her tortured cunt, he leaned forward to take possession of her lips, the taste of her own musk on his mouth, as he merged with her body. Leslie was somehow afraid of him now, but that fear brought its own kind of excitement. It had been many years since a mere human male had compelled such feelings from her. Ignatio’s kiss tasted of her own cum, her wetness still fresh on his lips as he entered her body. Challenged, Leslie tried to match him and she did, with frenzy, as Ignatio drove her to meet his climax. Exhausted, they lay together for long minutes before they could straighten their clothes and return to the manor. Both retired to their separate rooms for the night, after heated goodnight kisses.

Chapter Three

Ravenously hungry from her sexual romp with Ignatio, Lady Leslie waited until the manor's servants retired for the night before she sought her nightly nourishment. Under a ripening moon, she changed into a powerful great horned owl, soaring on the air currents of the cool night. Leslie found the ability to fly one of the most enjoyable of her powers. She could change into any animal she wished, a wolf was often a favorite, or a hawk, but the powerful hunter of the night skies fit her mood this evening. She took a deep breath, stepped from her bedroom window, and changed into the creature she visualized in her mind, feeling the exuberance of the transformation take her as she fell. Her full-feathered wings picked up the air currents and she glided moments before she would have hit the ground. She flew until she spotted Carloff waiting beside her carriage he had hidden just off the main road. Changing back into the beautiful woman she was as she landed, Leslie could feel Carloff's eyes on her, his desire for her a burning fire in his eyes. Carloff assisted her into the conveyance but not before she tenderly touched his handsome face. Their eyes met briefly, Carloff held her blue eyes easily. Leslie realized he had become more than a servant to her. She settled into the seat, confident of the safety of the of Carloff's care. She pondered her servant as they drove towards town. She knew little about the handsome young man who had so willingly come into her service and obeyed her every command without question. He spoke little, knew what she was though she had never tasted him, yet he had tasted her carnally and she briefly thought of the times he had satisfied her sexual needs. Leslie found it excited her thinking about him but her hunger grew sharp as they drew to a stop on the bawdy side of town. He assisted her to exit, and she began her hunt for her nightly nourishment. Leslie knew it was important to choose her victim with care. A woman of the streets, a thief, or a beggar, someone the public would not miss. With the blooms of spring heavy in the night air, Lady Leslie moved gracefully through the streets of the small city that belonged to Count Magonoff. From all appearances, he was a wealthy businessman, not just nobility. Loud laughter and music drew her attention to a tavern. A shabbily dressed man with his arm around a strumpet, a bottle in his free hand staggered out the open door. His bawdy singing and loud voice exhibited his drunken condition. Leslie unknowingly flicked her tongue daintily over her pale pink lips. She needed to feed and soon. “Come on, Surge!” the woman’s voice was rough, her accent attested to an uneducated background. “Lead the way, milady, with your beauty I’d follow you anywhere.” he took a long drink from his bottle and offered it to her, and she took a sip. Leslie wondered if she took a drink at all as she watched them cross the dirty, muddy main street. She laughed as she watched the strumpet maneuver the man she called Surge away from the bigger puddles and almost fell into one. “Surge, I’ll take you to me room upstairs.” She laughed and they walked directly toward Leslie, past her, and up the short stairs to the woman’s room, without seeing the beautiful vampire. When Leslie desired to, she could blend with the background. Leslie followed them up the stairs closely and moved through the door before they could close it, and settled on a chair almost in the closet. From here, she could watch until the time she could feed on her victims. Leslie watched Surge plop down on the woman’s bed, taking another hearty swig from his bottle, as the woman let her dress fall to the floor. For her profession, she was a beauty. Young and slender, yet her small breasts were firm and well shaped. Leslie’s mouth watered, her hunger gnawed. Leslie practiced patience but, she gave the girl credit, she knew her business. She watched the girl saunter over and stand between Surge’s legs, take his bottle, and set it on the bedside table. Leslie waited, expecting to see the man pass out or for the woman to turn down the lights, but to her surprise, and delight, neither happened. Leslie now sat motionless in the corner closet of the small room. It wasn’t so much that she was invisible, but she was surrounded with an aura that made her unnoticed to the minds of people such as these. Leslie loved to watch and, even after the wonderful affair with the Count, she was beginning to feel a familiar need causing wetness between her legs, despite her hunger. When Surge reached up to fondle the girl’s breasts, his rough dark hands made an erotic contrast against her pale white breasts. The strumpet placed her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes to relax, and enjoy her occupation. He licked her nipples and lightly nipped at them. Leslie felt her own knees weaken and her cunt grow wetter from her voyeurism. “Ouch, Surge!” she popped him on the head, “be easy.” The girl’s protests brought back memories to Leslie of Ignatio’s roughness with her, and she felt a surge of heat race through her. Surge smirked, “Sorry, Lorra.” “Do it again and I’ll charge ya double for it,” not really minding the pain but always after an extra coin.

They both laughed and Leslie smiled. Surge pulled the woman onto the bed and crawled over her. His rough hand going between her thighs he rubbed her roughly then pushed a finger inside her. “Got you wet, it did,” he said before he planted his mouth over hers inserting another finger inside her, at the same time smothering her gasp. Surge moved to suck her ripe breasts, pulling on her nipples with his lips this time, careful not to nip her, he couldn’t afford to pay double. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his long, swollen cock. Lorra wrapped her long legs around Surge pulling him in closer until his dick was fully inside her. Surge rode her well and groaned as she climaxed, not having to pretend. Surge reached his orgasm moments later, Lorra gasped, tremors running through her from the force of Surge’s ejaculation causing her to peak again. His size surprised Leslie and that in his condition he could still wield it. Leslie could smell the musk of their lovemaking and knew she too was sopping wet. She waited for her opportunity and knew it would have to wait until after the couples love play. Leslie’s blood hunger was biting now, and she was hungry for the Count’s long plump dick again, but feeding was her first concern. Surge satisfied Lorra well, although he was drunk, but before he could roll off her, he passed out on top of Lorra. She swore and tried to push Surge off, but his heavy body trapped her. Using her powers, Leslie caused the oil lamp to go out and quickly moved on the pair, first on Lorra who thought Surge had awakened. Leslie began stroking Lorra’s breasts. “Surge you’ll have to pay for two!” Lorra demanded. Leslie allowed Lorra to continue the illusion. She enjoyed caressing the girl’s small firm breasts. While she fed on Surge, she rolled Lorra’s nipples between her fingers. Moving her hand down to Lorra’s cunt, still wet from her earlier climax. Leslie began stimulating her again, until she moaned near orgasm. Leslie moved from Surge to Lorra as Lorra began to climax. Lorra would have cried out when Leslie’s fangs pierced her neck, if Surge had not been on top of her and had Leslie not brought her to climax as she drank from her. Leslie didn’t kill either of her victims; however, she left them both unconscious. They had provided such good entertainment. Leslie decided to let them live. Besides, there would be fewer questions this way. With her hunger for blood satiated, Lady Leslie returned to the Count’s manor not long before dawn. Carloff let her into the house quietly, escorting her to her rooms. Normally she would have gone to rest; but after watching the two she had fed on, and her arousal of the woman as she fed, Leslie drew her young driver into her room, as she sometimes did when she was stimulated. Carloff had been with her for a short time; however, he knew her secrets and served her well in his devotion. Young, brawny, and handsome, Leslie would caress his well-endowed penis boldly and rarely did more than present herself to him in a leaning position and he would service her as she needed. Carloff knew what his Mistress wanted and was eager to please the beautiful lady vampire he loved. He would pleasure her in whatever manner she desired. From working with the horses and the carriage, Carloff’s hands were rough and when he slid a calloused hand over her sensitive labia, he heard Leslie gasp, then moan. Carloff chuckled and rubbed the head of his cock against his Mistress’ heated sex. He slipped his massive member into her wet vagina slowly, filling her to the top as he held her slender hips. Slowly he built his tempo, until he roughly slammed into her from behind rapidly and for many minutes. “My Lady,” Carloff gasped and slipped a powerful arm around her waist, “your body is perfect.” He found release in her beautiful body while her powerful vaginal muscles clamped down on his throbbing cock as he came, only his stamina kept him from collapsing. He caught his breath and withdrew from the body he worshipped; and, as was his duty, had already prepared her bath beforehand. “Thank you, Carloff.” Leslie presented him with her warmest smile as he assisted her into the comfortable, warm tub. “Allow me.” Carloff gently sponged his Mistress’ body then dried her with a large warm bath sheet. “Thank you, Carloff.” Leslie yawned. Carloff is a good servant, she thought, as she climbed into bed and fell asleep, a smile playing on her lips. One day she would bestow her gift on him, she felt he deserved it. The Count arose more at his accustomed time the next day and hoped Lady Leslie would join him for breakfast; but when she failed to appear, he went about his normal routine. Lunch passed and still Lady Leslie had not risen. He became concerned and tentatively knocked on her door. “Lady Leslie?” Ignatio called “Mademoiselle, are you awake?” “Forgive my poor manners, my lord Count. I fear I have a terrible headache, even the slightest sunlight is piercing. ” Leslie said through a slightly open door. Ignatio was immediately concerned. Already he was strongly attracted to this beautiful young woman and he found she bent to his sexual preferences easily. It had been a long time since he had a woman companion. His Alexis had enjoyed their love play games and Ignatio hoped Leslie would too. “Shall I send for a doctor?” “No.” Leslie allowed her voice to sound weak. “I occasionally get these headaches. I should be up by dinner.” “I shall leave you to rest. Summon a maid should you need anything.” “Thank you, milord. You are most kind, Ignatio.” she managed a weak smile. Shortly before dinner, as the sun slipped behind the Carpathian Mountains, Lady Leslie slowly descended the stairs to join Ignatio. The Count gallantly went to assist her and Leslie smiled her thanks. Ignatio found he could not draw his eyes from the

deep pink empress gown cut daringly low with only thin lace provocatively obscuring her breasts. He remembered those rosebud nipples and the golden chain with a rose quartz pendant Leslie wore only served to tease him and inflame his imagination. “You are so kind, Ignatio.” Leslie looked up at him with warm eyes and allowed him to escort her to the dinner table. “I hope your headache is better.” he commented, noticing she ate little. “Thank you, yes, it is much better. My physician calls these headaches migraines, because the pain moves and affects my eyes. Sunlight is especially painful,” Leslie explained. After dinner they strolled in the moonlight, but Ignatio didn ’t press her, instead he gently kissed her pale pink lips and temples where she said the pain had been most of the time. As they turned back toward the house, Leslie leaned her head on Ignatio’s shoulder, putting his arm around her shoulders; he guided her until they reached the terrace. He escorted her to the drawing room where they shared a small glass of sherry and Lady Leslie complained of the headache returning. That’s what I get for feeding from a drunken man, she thought. “You’re coloring is pale, allow me to see you to your room.” With his strong arm around her, they started toward the stairs but just before reaching them, Lady Leslie’s legs gave and the Count swept her into his arms, carrying her upstairs to her door. His eyes straying to look down her cleavage where the quartz pendant had taken residence. “Do not leave me alone tonight,” she pleaded weakly, opening her blue eyes to gaze innocently up at him. Ignatio kissed her, his lips lingered, and he turned with her high in his strong arms and took her instead to his own bed. “I will leave you only long enough to fetch a sleeping gown for you,” he told her. “No!” she protested weakly. “I shan’t need it. Stay.” “You are sure? Your headache?” Ignatio asked his eyes greedy. “Will be cured by your lovemaking,” she said. “Where you take me when you love me is…healing.” Count Magonoff smiled tenderly, but passion burned in his eyes. Slowly he removed his jacket trousers and unbuttoned several buttons on his fine linen shirt. “Allow me,” he said, deftly turning Lady Leslie over. He untied the laces on her gown and helped her out of the deep pink frock. She lay on the bed in a white lace chemise. He pulled the gold clips from her hair, allowing it to flow around her shoulders like a heavy blonde curtain. Ignatio drew a long lock to his nose and smelled the rose and musk scent. He gathered her close, kissing her lips then nibbling on her earlobes and wrapped her in his arms as shivers shook her body. “It has been so long, Leslie…” Ignatio said in a hoarse whisper. “Surely not since you’ve had a woman?” she said with a bit of amusement. “No–but since I’ve…wanted someone,” Ignatio told her and drew back to look into her eyes. “Stay with me? I don’t care about your past. I want you to stay.” Leslie covered his lips before he could say more, she did not want to refuse a possible marriage proposal. Their kissing intensified. His teeth tugging at her lips brought back memories of last night and the heights of pleasure he had propelled her to. She sucked on his tongue, thinking of how she would take the second bite tonight. He moaned when she released his mouth. Stopping only briefly to draw her lace chemise off her slender, rounded form; her breasts peaked, aroused, and stood proud and defiant. Leslie reveled in the way Ignatio’s penis stood when he stared at her, stretched out lithely on the quilt of his huge bed. Leslie was by any measure perfectly made for a man’s hand, Ignatio thought. He found himself wishing to have her under his complete control. Ignatio smiled, but didn’t realize that some of his thoughts transferred to his eyes. Starting at her feet, he kissed her toes, then her long legs. Using his hands before his lips, he spread her legs and found her blonde nest of curls wet with love’s fluid, the scent of rose and musk mixed with her body’s scent filling his head, sending him reeling! Gently he touched his tongue to her clitoris, teasing, each of his hands holding her dainty, pouting, purple labia open. When he had known her long enough, he would give her a pair of rings for these lips, he thought. She wouldn’t like that…at first…certainly not the night he would bestow them on her. He licked tenderly and heard Leslie gasp. Her fingers ran through his heavy dark hair as he pleasured her cunt with his mouth and his hands fondled her heavy breasts. Leslie’s scent was driving him and he touched the tip of his tongue to the outer edge of her vagina, slowly inserting it into her wet canal, not knowing that for him, it was hell’s gate. He pulled her cunt lips further apart, stretching them. Her hands suddenly stopped him. “You pull too hard, Ignatio,” Leslie protested. Their eyes met and Leslie wondered who was truly in command. “Last night you protested and I told you then, and I tell you now, you will do as I say. ” His voice sounded amused but commanding. “Use your hands yourself, if you must, but you will leave them there until I say differently.” Ignatio smiled and took her small hand, lightly moving one over her vulva. Leslie gasped, but he did not let up his pull on her cunny lips. “You have never explored yourself?” he asked. “No!” Leslie admitted, never in all the years she had lived had she thought to do that. She always found a man to sate her desires. Leslie amazed herself and blushed. Ignatio smiled slyly. “Oh, but you must!” He moved her delicate fingers over her own sex teaching her, she moaned. “Now Leslie, put a finger inside your cunt.” “No!” She protested, embarrassed that she had brought herself pleasure, but he insistently pushed one of her dainty

fingers inside her vagina. Soon his finger joined hers but only to lubricate it until he inserted it into her still tight anus. “No more,” she gasped, pleading to be allowed to stop. “Not yet, Leslie, not until you cum,” Ignatio told her. “You must learn to pleasure yourself, Leslie. I shall enjoy watching from time-to-time.” Onward he pushed her to pleasure herself until she begged him for mercy from the ecstasy she brought herself. But Ignatio afforded her no mercy. Ignatio could not restrain his own need any longer. He positioned himself over Leslie to look deeply into her eyes, hypnotized. She was unusually pale except for the scarlet spots on her cheeks. His engorged cock was poised to enter her. Leaning forward, he kissed her, pushing his cock slowly into her body, only to withdraw it teasingly. “Please, Ignatio, please,” Leslie sobbed. After only a few of his powerful thrusts, Ignatio saw a lecherous gleam in Leslie ’s eyes. Suddenly she rolled them both over, surprising him with her sudden strength. “Now, I will pleasure you as you have me,” Leslie told him with an evil gleam in her eye. “What are you about, girl?” He questioned, amazed at her. Only moments ago, she had been a total slave to him. “I was raised by a Hindu nanny,” she lied smoothly, “who taught me the ways that their women pleasured their men.” Her face changed and became unsure. “If you do not like this…I will stop.” Slowly she lowered her face to his pulsing cock, wet with her cum and gently blew on the engorged head, causing Ignatio to gasp. She gently kissed the head of his penis, licking the wetness. He moaned, Leslie opened her mouth, careful to cover her fangs with her pale lips, and drew him in. When Leslie knew he was ready to climax, she withdrew his engorged penis from her mouth and let her delicate hands continued the rhythm her warm lips had begun. Now she unsheathed her fangs and pierced the vital vein that flowed next to his groan, while she gently but firmly pumped his dick. Leslie drew his blood in long delicious gulps. Blood so sweet she almost went too far until she felt him climax, his moaning brought her to climax, which as Ignatio had instructed, she aided with her own hand. Leslie again covered his penis with her mouth to drink down each precious drop of his cum. Careful to leave no traces of blood on the white sheets she kissed her half-conscious Count. “Sleep, my love, and recover from our love play. In two nights the moon will be full and on that night I have a great gift for you, my Count.” Leslie left him sleeping soundly. Ignatio slept the entire next day and night to awaken at the dawn of the second day and eat an enormous breakfast. Still tired he refused to waste a beautiful morning and was determined to enjoy it for some unfathomable reason. After a deep breath of the crisp morning air, he decided a ride was what he wanted and ordered his horse saddled. He loved the fine stallion, between them there had developed a bond of affection. Ignatio had raised him from birth and still owned his mother. He had named the colt Thor because when he ran, even at an early age, his hooves sounded like thunder. He strode up to Thor but the animal cast him a wild look and shied away. “Thor,” Ignatio’s voice was soft, caressing, as it would be with a lover, and he held out his customary treat, an apple, yet Thor would not come close. “Thor, my pet, what is it?” Count Ignatio wondered if possibly some of Lady Leslie’s perfume lingered on his clothes, perhaps making Thor jealous. Horses were known to become that familiar with their masters and; of course, he had not taken Thor out in several days. No amount of coaxing would convince the horse to be mounted. Disappointed, Ignatio returned to the manor after he ordered his groom to walk Thor for exercise and then to see him groomed. Perhaps tomorrow the animal would be in a better temper. Ignatio ventured into town, the people there cast him strange glances where as before they were friendly and open. He wondered about that change too. He had the midday meal at the tavern and listened to the gossip. One of the local ladies of the evening had entertained a gentleman from the tavern and both had been attacked by something during the night and no one knew what. Both had awakened two days later with bite marks on their necks. Ignatio laughed to himself at the ridiculous tale, which was followed by a similar tale of a shepherd that had been found dead early this very morning with similar bite marks on his neck, not one drop of blood was left in the man ’s body. The sheep were all there, herded together by the shepherd’s dogs, but none of them would go near the body. With the mood of the tavern heavy on Ignatio’s mind, he paid the waitress and left. He made several purchases, visited his accountants, and headed back to his home. Ignatio wondered at the suspicious glances people were casting his way. Certainly, he thought, they couldn’t blame me for these strange occurrences. He shrugged and his thoughts turned to Lady Leslie and the gifts he had bought for her. Count Ignatio would arrive soon for dinner, and the housekeeper sent the young upstairs maid Tara, to awaken Lady Leslie prior to his arrival. Tara was young--seeing only eighteen summers. Tara climbed the main stairs with nervous trepidation. A full arm of towels and bed-sheets covered her left arm. She knocked lightly on the door and waited for what seemed like an hour. She knocked again, still no answer! Dubious, she reached for the door handle with a trembling hand; afraid to knock again, she started to open the private door. Just as she started to twist the handle, a rough, tanned, male hand covered her delicate white one. It took all her strength not to scream. “And why would you be going into Lady Leslie’s room while she sleeps?” The driver’s voice was rough with a thick Slavic accent, his handsome, rugged face inches from her delicate pale one.

“I, ah, was told…” she stammered, “to bring these up and…” her voice shook, “and leave them, even if Lady Leslie didn’t answer.” To Tara it seemed like he studied her for five minutes. With sudden movements, the driver opened the door took the linens and placed them in a chair close by the door and quietly closed the portal. His intense gray eyes bored into the petite maid’s. “Your instructions have been taken care of,” he said in the same quiet tone, his deep gray eyes holding her wide blue ones. “Ah, thank you,” Tara whispered, turned and hurried way, then the hairs on her neck bristled, turning she found the hall empty. Where did he go she asked herself, and where did he come from? The latter being the more important question. On this floor, in this wing of the manor, there were only two doors and she knew neither had opened or closed since she had been up here, except when the linens were placed in Lady Leslie’s room. Frightened, Tara ran down the stairs. Katrina, the housekeeper was waiting on her. “What did you see in her room? Was Lady Leslie awake?” Katrina asked. After ten minutes and a glass of sherry, Tara had calmed down enough to tell Katrina what had happened. In that time one of the boys who worked around the manor came running in with the news the Count’s coach had been spotted coming. Marko met him at the door. “How was your trip into town milord?” “A bit strange Marko, have you heard the gossip about the odd occurrences?” “You refer to the harlot and the drunk’s bite marks? Then of course, the poor shepherd?” Marko asked. “Yes! For some reason the town’s people seem a bit standoffish, is there any reason they would think I should have something to do with these bizarre events?” The Count asked with a half-laugh. “No, your lordship, the people are peasants and superstitious.” Marko assured him. “Is Lady Leslie up?” The Count asked after a pause. “Not as yet, milord.” “I shall wake her, it is possible she has another–ah, migraine,” the Count said and started up the stairs. Leslie was awake and had been when the maid had knocked. Most of her days were spent in seclusion. She needed little rest, but had to avoid the purity of direct sunlight; it would burn her to death. She hoped someday that a way would be found to move freely in the daylight. Stretched out on a low table for Carloff to massage her lithe body, a knock came at her door. Leslie drew on a long, lacy, dressing robe as Carloff backed out of sight into the shadows of her large room. “Leslie, are you awake?” It was Ignatio. “Yes I am, but my head is trying to hurt again so I stayed in the darkness of my room. “May I come in?” Ignatio asked. “Of course,” Leslie told him straightening her long hair. He opened the door, but only enough to enter, and closed it quickly. Several candles burned low. Ignatio took her in his arms and held her close, kissing her temples then her eyes through her body, enflaming her sex and wetting her blonde cunt hairs. Leslie looked at Ignatio, arousal clear in her eyes. This is one I might stay with for a time, she thought. He wasn’t really handsome but he wasn’t unattractive either. Leslie stared temptingly up into his eyes. He certainly is a good lover, if a bit on the demanding side, she thought, but he did things that made her climax, as she never had in her long life. Remembering him forcing her to stimulate herself caused her face to turn red and she grinned, a glow in her eyes. “What are you thinking, Leslie, that your face turns scarlet?” Ignatio asked quietly, but demandingly, his eyes intense. “Only…ah…when you…ah…made me…” her face burned, “touch my self.” “Did you not enjoy that?” Ignatio kissed each finger of her hand. “Yes,” she said shyly. “Did you enjoy what I did?” Her free hand stroked his penis through his pants. “Yes, it was very pleasurable, Leslie. I have heard of the practices of the East.” Ignatio said. “Now I see they are as satisfying as they are acclaimed.” Ignatio took her in his arms and held her for a time. Leslie felt comfortable and safe in his arms, an unusual feeling for a vampire. Tonight she would give him the gift. She wondered if he would love her for it, or hate her. It had happened once, that a man had hated her for her gift, and she remembered it all too well. He had been a highly principled man, so good looking, kind, and generous. Yet he had failed to consider immortality a gift and had railed at her. He had called her names such as a whore, a demon, the wife of Satan. Leslie had explained that he did not have to kill humans to feed. He had threatened to tie her to a tree and leave her until the sun came up. Leslie had left him. The last she had heard he had sat on a high cliff and waited for his last sunrise. Tonight she would find out how her Count would react; soon now, for the sun was setting. It had rained earlier, but now the air smelled clean and the moon would be full, a perfect night for such a beginning. Leslie slipped her arms around Ignatio’s neck and kissed him. “Can you come down for dinner, Leslie?” The Count asked. “When?” she asked. “Oh in about an hour I would imagine,” Ignatio told her. “I should be okay by then if the headache doesn’t return,” she smiled. “I shall go and prepare then. Just one other thing,” Ignatio smiled. “I want you to marry me, Leslie.” From his breast

pocket, he withdrew a small box with a large blood ruby red ring nestled in black satin. “Will you?” Leslie smiled, “Yes, Ignatio, I will.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him heatedly. All this time Carloff watched; Leslie wondered what he was thinking. “You have made me very happy,” Ignatio told her. Smiling, he placed the ring on her left ring-finger. “Let us wait until tomorrow to tell the staff.” Leslie said with a beguiling smile. “As you wish, Leslie,” Ignatio would deny her nothing and she knew it. “I must go and change now.” He left to go to his own rooms. Yes, Leslie thought, I will stay with this one for a time. Marriage with a vampire was an unheard of union. Since their lifespan was on the range of immortality, the term “till death do us part” just didn’t apply. But Leslie could consider a long relationship with her Count during the 1800’s it could be quite comfortable. A short time later, Ignatio accompanied Leslie to dinner. Over the years, Lady Leslie had become an expert at appearing to eat and had managed to deceive Ignatio, but after tonight it would no longer matter. Already the changes in him had begun. She noticed that Ignatio had ordered his roast beef very rare this evening. When she had arrived at the manor, he had eaten his meat well done. After dinner, they walked in the light of the full moon. A howl from a wolf split the quiet of the night. Leslie stifled her desire to join the animal in his song. A dark cloud blew over the full moon followed quickly by several more. “Come, my love,” the Count said, “the night grows cooler and the clouds are returning. Even the wolf knows when to call his pack in.” Leslie saw more evidence of his transformation in his affinity with the wolf and she knew the change would be easy for him. He would be a great and powerful vampire. She slid her arms around his neck pulling his lips to hers. “One more kiss in the moonlight before we go in,” she smiled provocatively. Their lips touched, her tongue boldly sucked his as she had the head of his cock before. His arms tightened and as the first raindrops began to fall, they didn’t feel them until the gale pelted them full force. Laughing they ran in doors. Marko was waiting with large warm linen wraps to ward off a chill and a board covered with sweet brown bread and cheese, accompanied by a decanter of warm wine as a light repast. “Oh, thank you, Marko.” They wrapped themselves in the linen. “Would you leave the rest in my chambers?” “Of course, milord,” Marko mounted the grand staircase and returned a few moments later, “your bath also awaits milord. Shall I have Lady Leslie’s prepared?” “I will see to the Lady.” The Count smiled. “As you will, milord,” Marko excused himself trying to keep the smile from his lips. Leslie was more than excited this night but maintained a calm demeanor. Tonight her Count would receive what, to her, was the greatest gift she could ever give to another. Leslie would only give such a gift to one she cared for. Hand-in-hand they retired to Ignatio’s chambers. After her Count closed and locked their bedroom door, Leslie kissed him and with a seductive look in her eyes slowly and gracefully peeled off her clothing. With a sultry laugh, she knew she had his full attention. While he removed his wet jacket and pants, his eyes were on her constantly. “Ignatio, would you undo my buttons?” Leslie began by turning about, so he could unbutton the daring black gown she had worn. She stepped away and let the satin garment slowly slip from her shoulders. This evening she had worn an exceptionally lacy, black chemise that fit her body snuggly. Unlacing the strings, she stepped from the underskirt and stood before him in a black silk camisole and pantaloons. Slowly, Leslie walked toward him, pulling the clips from her hair, allowing the long blonde tresses to fall around her, and came to a stop before him, then encircled his neck with her milk -white arms. Her breasts pressed against his half-unbuttoned silk shirt, his dark chest hairs poking through to tease her sensitive skin. Ignatio kissed her neck and Leslie felt him hesitate where her pulse was rapid, his lips pressed against her pulsating flow of blood. His lips on her pulse brought back the vivid memory from deep inside Leslie of the brutal night she was changed. She shivered and pushed the thought away, it wasn’t a pleasant thought, and her Master at that time had not been gentle with her. “Does that feel inviting?” Leslie asked him. Leslie’s voice had taken on a hypnotic low, sultry tone as she felt her control over Ignatio grow. “Yes,” he answered with an equally low moan. Ignatio’s head was reeling he could almost smell her blood coursing through her veins. It was a heady smell; one he found sexually arousing. Ignatio’s lips touched the place where her pulse was the strongest and he sucked a little on her silken skin, almost expecting a taste of her life’s fluid and licked her reddened flesh, feeling a bit dizzy. Leslie knew the signs of change and they were going on inside him quickly, after one bite more, they would rapidly complete. With his breath hot on her neck and her own legs growing weak, she turned to look into his eyes. Ignatio wet his lips with his tongue, his eyes predatory and on fire with a new passion that he did not yet understand. She briefly kissed his lips then slowly glided away. Subtly aware that her slow movements teased his desires, Leslie tugged at the satin ribbon that loosened the bodice of her camisole letting it fall from her shoulders. Her breasts were aroused, their nipples standing rigid. Lady Leslie stood

proudly before the Count, her heavy, long, blonde hair covering her otherwise bare breasts to revel in the desire she saw in his eyes. “Leslie, you are exquisite.” Ignatio told her, his erection confirming her sexuality affecting him. “My lord is generous.” She glowed proudly, noting the hoarseness of his voice and the golden amber of his eyes. She sauntered up to him and with her cool delicate hands, began removing his clothes, caressing his erection through the silk of his undergarments; and kissing his chest with a nip here and there, as she did. Leslie knelt before him, kissed his thighs, flat stomach, and looked up at him while she removed his undergarments. Lovingly, she rained kisses on his erect penis and looked up at him again, smiling coyly. Without hesitation, but with eagerness, she took him lovingly into her mouth. He placed a gentle hand on her head. His legs threatened to buckle from the sensations she sent surging through him with her strong suction on his erection. Never had he experienced such pleasure and he drew his breath in raspy gasps of air. “Leslie,” he said in a husky voice, “to bed my love, where we both may pleasure the other.” Ignatio raised Leslie to her feet and took her by the hand, to draw her to his bed. They stretched out, each raining kisses and love nips on the other’s body. Leslie soon resumed her previous actions, her need of him more than simple sex. Taking him deeper into her mouth, until she knew he was close to his orgasm. Now for the gift, my love, she thought. Leslie subtly smoothed her hand over his body and caressed her own sex with her slender fingers, where his mouth had pleasured her, to draw some of her love’s nectar. With her warm, wet hand, she replaced her skilled mouth, as her Count was ready to spend his life’s seed, and sank her fangs deep into the artery that runs through the groin for the second time. She continued the smooth, erotic rhythm with her gentle wet hand on his heated, engorged cock and slipped her fangs into Ignatio ’s groin with the gentleness of a lover who had taken a beloved virgin’s maidenhead. Ignatio, wrapped in the ecstasy of the most spectacular climax he had ever experienced, uttered a cry of pain mixed with rapture as Leslie drew his life from him. Leslie sheathed her fangs, careful not to draw the last of his blood. She replaced her hand with her mouth, covering his cock to receive his ejaculation, so as not to waist one drop of his precious honey. “Leslie, what have you done?” he asked. Ignatio’s voice was full of passion, desire, and astonishment, yet weak, as he lay on the verge of death. “I have given you a gift. I have made you immortal, my love.” Leslie said and with her own fangs she pierced her wrist and lovingly placed it to his lips. “Drink, my love, so that you do not die.” Bewildered, Ignatio did as she instructed, as he was suddenly compelled to do, he sucked. As he did, his strength returned and the roar in his head subsided. Lady Leslie again kissed his still aroused cock, her sweet mouth wrapped around his staff and sucked, pulling her arm from him, lest Ignatio drain her. He grabbed a handful of her blonde hair to stop her. Ignatio rolled on top of her, looking intensely at her. Many emotions ran through him, but he knew how he would deal with her. Before, he had enjoyed being a little commanding and restraining with his lovers, his Alexis had enjoyed such play as fun. Now, though, Ignatio could feel himself in command of many new powers and in union with the powers of the universe. He smiled down at Leslie, a smile that sent fear straight through her and brought with it a terrible chill. Pushing a knee between her legs, he entered her body savagely, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle any outcry, but none came. “So you’ve given me a gift! ” He laughed victoriously, savoring the feel of the powers now at his command. Her triumphant smile as he drove his steel hard dick into her hot, wet, and swollen cunt, served only to incense the void left inside his humanity that was screaming with rage at the loss of his soul. Leslie’s eyes were half-open with ecstasy while her vagina tensed around his organ, pulling him back in as he drew it from her body only to again bury his cock to the hilt. Leslie cried out groaning, whether from pleasure or pain Ignatio found he didn’t care. Onward he drove Leslie and she intertwined her legs around his hips. Ignatio moved so that she was more open to him allowing him further entrance. Leslie feared he would split her he spread her so far. “No! Oh I can’t again.” Leslie was sobbing in her climax as Ignatio was just beginning his. “Yes, more!” Ignatio commanded. His eyes burned into hers, his thrusts became more intense, more demanding until Ignatio roared out his release. “You are mine, Leslie, no on else’s ever–I will not permit it,” he told her. “Remember that! For this gift you’ve given me, you will not leave me and you will do as I tell you, especially in bed!” “I knew you would be a great and powerful vampire.” Leslie told him breathlessly several silent minutes later. His words haunted her in a frightening manner. Ignatio pulled Lady Leslie roughly to him, his intense amber eyes looking into her suddenly frightened blue ones. “I hunger!” he said plainly. “What do we do to feed?” “Come, I will show you!” Leslie answered, her body quaking with fear, but she dressed quickly. Count Ignatio Magonoff would be worse than the one who had sat on the cliff and waited for his last sunrise. He would never let her go and Leslie knew it. She caught his eyes as he watched her dress, a sadistic gleam in his intense eyes. “Let us go, I hunger also.”

Leslie told him, dawn not far away

Chapter Four

Leslie stood next to Ignatio on the ledge of the open window, in his bedroom suite. Not far in the distance, a lead wolf called to his pack in the full moon’s light. Leslie joined his call this time, surprised when Ignatio added his own voice. He smiled and his new fangs gleamed. “I have always wanted to do that,” Ignatio said with satisfaction. He scanned the darkness, amazed at the things he could now see, that last night had been invisible to him. A great horned owl landed on a nearby branch, their eyes met, one predator to another. Ignatio felt a new sense of respect for the animal. A mouse scampered across the yard and the owl dove, killing the rodent instantly, then flew away with his dinner. “So it is with us, Ignatio,” Leslie said softly. “However, we hold the power of life and death, tempered with compassion. We do not need to kill to feed.” Her hand touched him tenderly. “Remember the gossip of the strumpet and the drunk who were found unconscious in their bed? I stood and watched them frolic before I fed from both of them. I didn’t have the heart to kill them, so I let them live. They did not see me because it was dark,” she explained. “They suffered no harm other than a long sleep in each other’s arms.” “Why did you kill the shepherd?” Ignatio asked. “That wasn’t me it was one of the others.” Leslie told him. “How many of us are there?” Ignatio was incredulous. “Many in our world, but only ten or so in this area, one more now,” she smiled sweetly. “But you hunger, as do I, we should go before the sun catches us and besides you have much to learn. First and most importantly, the sun means sure death to us.” Before he could stop her Leslie dove from the window and changed before his amazed eyes into a graceful, delicate buff colored bat. She swooped before him invitingly. “Come” her tiny voice invited, “you will change the minute your feet leave the window, it is most pleasant.” Ignatio bravely stepped off the window ledge and felt the change overtake him. He had expected to fall, but instead he floated. “Leslie?” he called. “What do we do now?” “Land on the ground,” Leslie told him and she lightly touched the ground, instantly returning to the beautiful lady that she was. Moments later Ignatio stood beside her dressed in his impeccable style his cloak billowing around him. Lady Leslie’s carriage pulled up beside them and both climbed in. Leslie’s driver stopped the carriage on the outskirts of town. Leslie and Ignatio left the carriage. Ignatio followed Leslie’s lead. She kept to the shadows, occasionally stopping to be sure they ‘blended’ with their surroundings and remained hidden. She stopped to watch two obscene, bawdy men who came running from the same tavern that Leslie had found the couple leaving. The tavern owner came running after them, yelling for help saying that the two had robbed him. Both ran down the alley where Leslie and Ignatio had hidden. When the two men approached they couldn’t pass either Leslie or Ignatio and were stopped cold, each man grasped by the throat. Ignatio looked hypnotically into his victim’s eyes, seeing disbelief in the man’s eyes quickly changing to realization, then terror. His victim mesmerized by the pure bloodlust in the Count’s eyes dropped his ill-gotten gains, his hands numbed by sheer fear. Ignatio had been a strong human, now his strength was tremendous. He picked the man up by his neck with one hand, the criminal’s feet dangling, as Ignatio drew his victim toward an isolated niche between two structures. Ignatio looked up quickly, to see that Leslie had done the same thing with her victim. The Count’s eyes changed, taking on a glassy, animal-like appearance of one about to feed. Ignatio opened his mouth, his enlarged canines now becoming hollow, elongated fangs. With the force of a hungry lion, Ignatio drove his fangs into the criminal ’s neck. He felt a surge as the man’s warm blood filled his mouth and he gulped down the rich fluid. Pumped by his heart, the man’s life fluid drained, when he reached unconsciousness, Ignatio eased his grasp as his victim’s body went limp. He then lowered him to the ground. Ignatio stood, straightened his apparel, and stared, amazed at how pale the man had become. “Did you take his last drop?” Leslie asked, as she came to stand next to Ignatio. “I don’t know,” Ignatio said. As if to answer their question, the man drew a breath, groaning. “I guess not.” “Good, it’s always better not to kill your victim,” Leslie commented. “In that manner, their death will not be on your conscience.” Leslie took Ignatio’s hand and led him back to their carriage. Not far away, Leslie’s driver waited to drive them home. After she seated herself in the carriage, Leslie cast Ignatio an unnoticed glance. She wondered if he would want another

romp in bed before they retired for their rest. Leslie kept her silence and her distance. She was tired and he was a demanding partner, his words after he was changed, still haunted her mind. Leslie had not expected him to be so possessive. Lady Leslie had known Count Ignatio Magonoff would view his new ‘world’ from a different perspective the next day, she had just not expected how differently. He rose late and re-evaluated his situation and place in the universe. He dismissed all his staff but his valet, housekeeper, a stable keeper and two maids who had been in his service since childhood. He gave the other servants a year’s wages each and a good letter of reference. Shocked, his faithful servants failed to understand why the Count had done such a thing. He closed most of the manor, now his needs were simple. He could not bring himself to sell Thor or Thor’s mother and he kept his coach horses but all the others he sold to a well-known breeder who was thrilled to own such fine animals. Since the arrival of the beautiful Lady Leslie, rumors and gossip had dispersed rampantly through the small busy township. When the highly social Count had dismissed his long time servants and become suddenly reclusive, new rumors had flourished. Then, with the resignation of his personal valet accompanied by that of another maid, the townsfolk had become fearful of their once-respected Count, not knowing which rumor could be true. Many thought that the Count was bankrupt; but that theory didn’t explain the blood-drained deaths or the attacks on the locals. With the exception of his housekeeper, a maid, and Leslie’s driver Carloff, the manor now had no other servants. Ignatio’s shepherds were ordered to sell his flocks of sheep or told they could purchase them if they had the coin. Either way, the Count wanted to be rid of the responsibility. He ordered his accountants to settle his other affairs and provide him with a summary of his wealth, which was appreciable. Ignatio had always been a simple man, his breeding, and his station in life dictating the image he presented. Now there was no longer a need for that image. Finally, Count Magonoff had always been one to attend Mass and church regularly, he had been raised in the Orthodox Church, and he had always been devout. He had been serious about marriage when he had asked Leslie to marry him, now that was no longer an issue. Occasionally he would miss a Sunday, but he had always set an example for his people. By the third missed Sunday, the Bishop of the Church paid the manor a visit late one afternoon. However, Bishop Rasputov’s reception was cold. Katrina, the housekeeper, answered the door, her anxious expression should have warned him. However, as a man of God his duty was to attend to the souls of his flock. “You’re Grace,” the housekeeper greeted him and he detected a hint of fear and trepidation in her voice. She did not stand aside to allow him entrance, which would have been the normal custom. He noticed a chill about the manor that had not been present on his last visit and felt the hand of the Evil one present. “I am here to see his lordship, Count Magonoff, if he is home? ” His Grace was not to be dissuaded by such a presence he was protected by the Cross. “He is and in the study, I shall announce you, please wait here.” She allowed him into the foyer. She hesitantly walked away, stopped, cast him a weary eye over her shoulder, and wondered if she should warn him, then continued. “Milord,” Katrina, the housekeeper said to the Count, nervousness crept into her voice, “His Grace, the Bishop is here to see you.” Ignatio looked up slowly from a book he had been reading. Lady Leslie, startled, looked up also from a sampler she had just finished. A slow gleeful smile lit the Count’s face. The Bishop was a pompous man, overly full of himself and this afternoon the Count would deflate him a bit. “Show the good Bishop in, Katrina, and do not worry, I certainly would not harm a man of God. ” He assured. The Bishop was unaware of his new situation in life. She turned and went to fetch the Bishop. Bishop Rasputov walked into the study pompously, his gaze shifting left and right, his robes flowing slightly above the floor tiles, just touching the heavy Persian rugs. The Count rose from his heavy, leather-covered chair, his eyes fixed on the holy man, drawing the Bishop’s eyes to his. Inwardly the Bishop recoiled when he looked into the Count’s eyes, never had he seen eyes like that. His eyes reflected the low light of the study like an animal’s eyes, with a red reflective sheen in them. Bishop Rasputov shivered and crossed himself. “Good evening your, Grace,” the Count greeted him. “Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Lady Leslie Anastasia Romanoffski.” “Lady,” the Bishop said politely and shivered again, her eyes were the same. “Perhaps Lady Leslie is the reason we haven’t seen you in Church lately?” the Bishop smiled. “And, perhaps we will have a wedding to celebrate soon?” “Perhaps,” the Count granted with a toothy smile, not quite revealing his fangs. “As the Bishop of the Church, I was becoming concerned with your absences, your lordship.” “Your concern is admirable, Your Grace; however, we won’t be attending services any longer.” The Count told him firmly. “May I inquire as to why?” The Bishop drew himself up with indignation. “Lady Leslie and I will no longer rise early enough to attend,” the Count smiled arrogantly. “Surely you can arise one morning a week to attend church,” the Bishop said haughtily.

“Your Grace, our kind does not go into the sun. It is dangerous for us,” the Count smirked. “Now you have my answer, do not overstay your welcome.” The Count’s eyes had taken on more of a glassy, red animal glow. The Count stifled the urge to laugh in the Bishop’s face and reveal his full fangs. The Bishop turned and left, unable to put voice to his suspicions but knowing the Count and Lady Leslie were no longer human. Had this been a hundred years earlier, the Bishop would have had the power to kill the Count with the Church ’s blessings. The Count managed to restrain his urge to laugh until the Bishop had left, then he and Leslie began to laugh, both knowing the man had no power over them. Travelers, who had often made their township a welcome stop on their tourist route through the beautiful Carpathian Mountains, rarely stopped any longer. The township no longer prospered and people began to move away, but Count Magonoff and Lady Leslie failed to really notice. They were careful to find their victims in the surrounding countryside, well away from their home, and, unlike many of their kind, generally left their victims alive. As Leslie had foreseen, Ignatio had become a powerful vampire but her vision had not prepared her for his increased sexual appetite or his growing need for dominance and control over her. Leslie never knew when Ignatio would demand her obedience, or to what extent he would compel her desire for sex. He seemed to know instinctively how to coerce the responses he demanded from her body and she had no control to deny him. Leslie entered Ignatio’s study late in the evening and, as usual, he was intently studying a medical journal. He had expressed his intention of finding a “cure” for being a vampire, shortly after Leslie had changed him. She knew he blamed her for his state rather than realizing it was a gift, or at least that had been her intent. Leslie hesitated to interrupt him; but it was drawing near the time they would normally go for their nightly feed. “Come here, Leslie.” Ignatio said when he heard her enter the room. Leslie drew a deep resigned breath; his voice sending both sexual arousal, accompanied by fear, through her. Since she had given him her gift, she had learned to dread that tone in his voice, knowing it meant that before they went out for the evening, she would spend some time satiating his heightened male needs. With slow feet, Leslie went to stand next to Ignatio, remembering a time she would have done so gladly. Ignatio slipped his hand beneath her deep red skirt and stroked her bare leg just above her knee all the way up to her now cleanly-shaven cunt. Shortly after his change, Ignatio insisted in keeping her nether lips shaved of all pubic hairs. He had left a short puff of blonde above her clit but none below. Ignatio complained they were in his way when he wanted to feed on her sex. Leslie remembered that night well, he had bound her to their bed. “Just for play,” he had said. Ignatio had taken out the shaving cup, mixed up the soap, and using his shaving brush, began lathering her pussy lips with a spicy smelling soap. The feathers of the brush had proved her undoing. He had teased her with the brush until she had almost climaxed. Ignatio had inserted two fingers inside her and moved them in-and-out. The soap was not particularly painful; but had stung and caused her to have a strong climax Ignatio had sucked on her breasts the entire time. Leslie had begged him to stop, but he had laughed and reminded her that some pain with sex was good. The glint of the straight razor had stilled her tremors from her orgasm and she had begged him not to shave her mound. Ignatio had laughed at her, his cock fully erect and threatening. That night had started much as this one. Leslie shivered as he fondled her shaved sex. He forbade her underwear now, as she must always be exposed for him. If she were not wet and ready, he sometimes would pinch her a bit, until her cunt would be red, swollen, and wet. Tonight he sat and read as he inserted two fingers inside her already wet vagina then drew them out, and again began rubbing her clit, bringing her to the threshold of an orgasm, stopping just before she came. Ignatio closed the book he held and stood. “Kneel, Leslie,” Ignatio commanded. His cold voice sending chills through her. Leslie did as he instructed. “Now release my cock and service me.” He seemed to enjoy the customs of the East that Leslie had introduced to him. Leslie kneeled before him, and did as she was ordered, just as he had once told her she would. She could refuse, as Ignatio had never forced, struck, or harmed her in any way. In their play, he had spanked her, never hard, but playfully. To her amazement, she enjoyed it. Leslie also enjoyed sucking his steel hard dick too and when he came, as he was ready to do now, she loved to drink down his creamy cum. Leslie heard him groan and as he spent himself, she gulped down the thick mass, licking the last drops, refastened his codpiece, wiping her mouth with the back of her delicate hand, she stood. “Let us go and feed,” Ignatio said to her with an affectionate smile. “When we come back, I have a treat for you." Leslie smiled seductively, “What?” “When we return, I shall return your favors, plus I have a treat for you. But I will not tell you, you must wait.” Ignatio said with an inscrutable smile. Hand-in-hand they left the manor in the carriage for their nightly feed, careful as they always were, to drive to a village some miles away, to chose their meal from the lower of the street people. They were also careful to not take the lives of their victims but only to draw enough of their blood to satisfy their feeding needs, sometimes choosing more than one person, but always careful to leave the victim where they would be found and cared for. “Dawn draws near, Leslie,” Ignatio reminded Leslie as they sat in their carriage. He fondled her breasts, as the sky began

to lighten. His sensitive hearing caught short, quiet, little gasps, telling him that her body was on fire with lust, still smoldering from Ignatio’s earlier play. He had fueled her passion intentionally, with the anticipation of the mysterious promised treat, and knew that he had heightened her arousal, when he stroked her with his cool hands, to find her sex already wet. Ignatio drew her mouth to his and kissed her deeply, suckling her tongue and leaving her weak and breathless. The promise of a pleasurable romp to come in his kiss, assuring that her body stayed aroused and ready for what he had planned. Inwardly he laughed, Leslie would not really like this treat at first, it would cause her some discomfort. Ignatio wanted her to have these two new pieces of jewelry before the next meeting of the “Vampires Anonymous Club,” as Ignatio liked to call the small group of other vampire that Leslie had introduced him too. The carriage stopped before the manor doors and Ignatio assisted Leslie’s exiting the conveyance. As any couple who had been out on the town, they walked arm-in-arm back into the house. “Okay,” Leslie said, “I want my treat,” she demanded like a spoiled child. Ignatio smiled indulgently “Soon my dear, go up and bathe. I’ll be up to join you and then you shall be given your treat.” Ignatio gave her a few minutes and joined her. “Leslie, you look lovely as always,” he told her. She wore a skimpy see-through robe tied in front. Perfect Ignatio thought. He went to her and kissed her passionately, smoothing his hands gently over her perfect body. Ignatio picked her up and placed her on the bed. He began kissing her neck, then down to her breasts, already aroused, her nipples were like hard marbles. He sucked on the deep fuchsia rosebuds through the thin fabric, waiting until her first moans of pleasure began and he knew she was under the spell of passion. He quickly slipped braided satin ropes around her delicate wrists before she could protest. Suddenly, Leslie panicked with the realization that she was restrained. “Not again, Ignatio!” Leslie almost screamed. “You have already shaved me. You promised a treat! What will you do this time?” “Why give you your treat, of course,” Ignatio laughed. “Lay still my pet, you will enjoy this. I have two new golden rings for you.” He held them up for her to see. “I cannot wear those on my fingers!” Leslie said in frustration, “They are much too small.” “They are not for your fingers, nor your beautiful pierced ears,” Ignatio told her kissing her ear. “Then…where?” She asked warily, fear in her voice. Ignatio leaned close to her ear, “They are for your labia , my dear, so when I wish to taste you, I can hold your nether lips open as far as I wish.” “No!” Leslie protested her voice almost a howl. “I will pierce one small hole in each lip and insert a ring, and the ring will be fused so that it may never be taken out. ” Ignatio began to explore her body, placing kisses where he knew they would be the most effective. He assaulted her cunt with his mouth, exciting her and causing her labia to swell, pulling on them gently with his teeth, chuckling when he heard her groans of pleasure. Suddenly Ignatio stopped and tied a length of black satin around her eyes. “I don’t want you to know when each lip will be pierced, that way the pain will be more unexpected and intense.” He chuckled. “Don’t, please,” Leslie pleaded but Ignatio only added to her consternation by restraining each leg, tying her ankles apart with the same satin braided rope. “Leslie, this will not harm you, after you wear these and get accustomed to them, they will bring you great pleasure, and they will mark you as mine to all the others who might happen to see your cunt, ” Ignatio’s voice grew cold. “I will bind them together with a little golden chain and a small lock, to which I shall retain the key. In that manner no other man may enter my playground.” “No one else will ever see them, if that is why you are doing this!” she swore. “I would do this anyway. I‘ve seen the way the others look at you and you at them. Therefore I shall mark you as mine.” He chuckled, “There are other methods I could chose to brand you as mine.” She understood the threat. “Leslie, you are so lovely,” Ignatio told her with a sigh. Ignatio continued to arouse her body until she was on the edge of an orgasm, his mouth always bringing her sensations of pleasure. Tonight he pulled her labia between his fingers tightly. Unknown to Leslie, positioning one between his fangs with the same swiftness that he took his victims, Ignatio pierced the thin skin, making a neat small hole. Leslie cried out but Ignatio ignored her and slipped the ring through the newly formed hole. Instantly, Ignatio fused the ring with a small white hot rod from the fireplace, careful not to burn Leslie. Leslie froze when she felt the heat from the rod so close to her sex, and immediately climaxed. Ignatio merged with her intensely aroused body driving her to a stronger orgasm, the small pain of the pierced lip now forgotten. Leslie was in a state of euphoria. Ignatio had again driven her further than she had gone before and she hated to admit to him but he was right, the pain had intensified the pleasure. She lay quiet, a dull little pain in her groin reminding her of her new piece of jewelry. Her vanity caused her to wonder how it looked. She felt Ignatio rise from the bed. “Now, milady, you will again service me.” he commanded. “What?” Leslie wasn’t sure she had understood, wasn’t he finished? She felt his dick touch her lips. In the haze

remaining from her orgasm, she was unresponsive. “Suck!” Ignatio commanded, less politely. “Ignatio, enough,” Leslie begged. “You will do as I say, all that I say, now get to it, my dear!” Ignatio told her. Leslie then began licking, the taste of their orgasm was still fresh on his organ. It wasn’t long before he was hard again, and Leslie knew from past experience that the second time for him meant a longer session. Her own body responded, the freshly pierced ring tingled, then she realized he was going to put the other one in tonight and she began to tremble. It had been a fantastic orgasm, one like she had never experienced before, but it was painful and now she was aware of what was coming. Leslie felt Ignatio’s fingers begin to play with the ring. It was sore and she grimaced when he began to suck on it. She felt him turn the ring in the hole and wondered how much precious blood she had lost; but it had been to him and she had given him her blood before. He sucked the other slightly smaller lip. She was wet from their lovemaking and now she was getting even wetter with fresh arousal. Ignatio slipped two fingers inside her. Leslie groaned, her body demanding more of the pleasure she had already experienced. “Ignatio, please don’t do that to me again,” she pleaded flimsily. “Why, you seemed to enjoy it. I’ve never seen you explode like that.” He answered, his voice teasing. “You know, Leslie, I told you that you would do all that I commanded, just like a slave to her master. ” His mouth covered hers before she could reply, demanding her response only to leave her when he did. “And you are my little sex slave, Leslie, these rings mark you as that. Now continue.” He presented his cock to her lips. Though still blindfolded, she knew his smell and touch. “It is extremely painful,” Leslie complained. “And I am not your slave!” “I told you to continue, Leslie,” his voice growled a bit, she returned to her slave’s duty and Ignatio tugged slightly on her new ring. His will enforced, Ignatio removed his cock from Leslie’s wonderful mouth, and knelt between her thighs, slowly inserting his swollen dick inside her. Ignatio rode her roughly for a while, until her vagina began to clamp hard on his cock in rhythm with his thrusts and her body began building to a strong climax. He suddenly stopped, smoothed his hands over her heavy breasts. She did not know what he would do next. He pinched her nipples causing her to cry out. The unexpected discomfort caused her body to spasm and his hands continued down to her cunt. “Did you think I had forgotten your other ring? I would not want you to only have one,” Ignatio’s voice teased. He pinched the other smaller lip hard, causing her to moan. Ignatio laughed and pulled it out as he had the first one. He positioned his fangs and slowly, more carefully this time, pierced the lip. Leslie only sobbed as Ignatio slipped the second gold ring through and fused it as he had the first. He stood back to observe his handy work. “Beautiful!” he exclaimed and pulled both of them apart to run his tongue between them. Leslie jolted and began moaning as he tongued her clit. “I told you that it would bring you pleasure.” Ignatio pulled the blindfold from her to gaze into a mixture of fear, hate, and lust in her eyes. He pushed his hard cock back inside her wet vagina beginning to build their climax. “Admit it, Leslie, you enjoy it.” She would not answer him. He stopped his movement. Ignatio laughed at her and leaned over her, an arm on either side, his cock buried deep inside of her pulsating cunt. “I am your Master my dear, though you thought the night you made me a vampire you would be my Mistress, I am sure.” He withdrew and pushed hard back into her, she groaned in ecstasy. “Tell me the truth, Leslie, say it,” Ignatio demanded, releasing her bound arms. “I am yours, Ignatio.” Leslie’s arms now free, pulled him closer and he drove his cock deep inside her, the way he knew would make Leslie beg for more and forget the minor discomfort of the rings he had gifted her with. Leslie’s orgasm was hard and long as Ignatio drove her until he found his own release in her impassioned body. He drew her into his arms and they slept. Leslie was angry with him; but had to admit, if only to herself, she had never been so satiated. Before he rose, she slipped from their bed to take her hand mirror and examine her new jewelry. They were really quite lovely and unique, but had made her a bit sore.

Chapter Five

Leslie had seen to it, soon after Ignatio had changed, that she introduced him to others of their kind, in the realm they lived in. Many of the females of their kind sought after Ignatio, one or two making it plain they would willingly submit to his desires, but he always stayed loyal to Leslie. Her eyes however, tended to roam, preferring a gentle touch, though she failed to act on her coquetry. Count Magonoff had noticed Leslie's flirtatious behavior around the other male vampires. This and his need to control Leslie had resulted in his gift to her of the two golden rings. Their group would meet at odd and infrequent times, but before their group gathered, Ignatio would make sure Leslie wore her golden rings locked together with a small gold lock and he would wear the gold key on a chain around his neck. Ignatio’s powerful personality he had had as a normal human set him apart. As a vampire, he was even more charismatic. His title of Count carried weight in their circle, but his personal magnetism commanded respect and obedience. Leslie was proud to be his woman, his wife. Though they had never been officially married, she remained with him and tolerated his sexual preferences. After one such group assembly, Ignatio and Leslie were late. Another hour and the sun would be up. Already the sky was lighting when they came upon a stranded couple, their carriage disabled. The Count ordered their driver, originally Leslie's driver, Carloff, to stop. “What has happened?” Count Magonoff inquired. “I say, we’ve broken a wheel,” the man replied with a Scottish brogue. He was a young man in his mid-twenties. “Who is it, Jamie?” A delicate and refined Scottish voice inquired. “Help, I hope my love,” Jamie replied. Count Magonoff saw her face peek out of the window of the carriage, and his breath caught. A fragile, Celtic white complexion, with eyes so green they reminded him of the spring grass with morning dew on it. Suddenly the thought of such a simple delight unseen in months, accompanied with the knowledge that he would never see it again, overcame him. As he stared into her eyes as she peered at him quizzically from the carriage window, Ignatio was briefly silent. Her red hair appeared to have had just been brushed and the heavy mass tumbled forward to frame a heart -shaped face, the brush still in her delicate hand. Ignatio forgot Lady Leslie existed. “Come, join us,” he told them cordially. “My manor is the one you see in the distance. You may rest there, and I will send my driver back to repair your carriage.” Shocked, Leslie wondered if Ignatio had some plan for a convenient feed. She had to admit the man looked ruggedly handsome, his bright brown eyes intense as he looked at his wife with love and concern. Leslie ran her tongue over her red lips in anticipation of the taste of him. Her nostrils flared. She could almost smell his blood from where she sat inside the warmth of their carriage. “Thank ye.” Jamie nodded, as he helped his wife from their carriage. It was then that Ignatio noticed Margaret was pregnant, and he became suddenly protective of this unknown woman and resentful of Leslie just as swiftly. She had gifted him with immortality and robbed him of the only thing he truly had wanted–a wife and family. Mortality didn’t frighten Ignatio, but life without love did. Her husband opened the door to the carriage and Ignatio held his hand out to assist her inside. Margaret placed her delicate, warm hand in his and stepped in. Ignatio felt his blood heat to a level he had not experienced since before Leslie had bestowed her gift upon him. He smiled and his eyes again enjoyed the glorious color of hers. “Allow me to introduce Lady Leslie.” After Margaret had seated herself, Ignatio said, “Pardon my poor manners. I am Count Ignatio Magonoff.” “I am so happy to meet you. I am Margaret Stuart and this would be Jamie Stuart, my husband.” Margaret smiled, and Jamie joined them after tossing their baggage up onto the baggage compartment behind the driver. “Sure ‘tis glad we are that you happened by.” Margaret said in her brogue. “I have no fancy to be in these woods all night as we have been, and I’m sure there were wolves about.” Margaret placed her hands on her rounded stomach. “How far along are you, Mrs. Stuart?” Leslie asked. “It cannot be easy for one in your condition to be traveling.” “True, it isn’t. We had planned to be home before our child arrives in another month.” She smiled, her face held a glow only pregnant women radiate. “We planned a late honeymoon.” Jamie explained, “And we're well into our trip before we knew Margaret was carrying the wee one. We cut our trip short, but it is a long trip back to bonnie Scotland from the South Pacific.” “My, but you are the adventurous type,” Leslie said smoothly, earning her a sharp glance from Ignatio, one she returned

for his failure to introduce her as his wife. “Mrs. Stuart, you are certainly welcome to rest at our home as long as needed,” Ignatio assured them as their carriage drove through the gates and drew to a stop. “We have a small staff now.” Ignatio went on to explain, “Our driver Carloff,” the man never smiled but bowed slightly before he climbed up to retrieve their baggage. “And my housekeeper who is also our cook and one other maid are all we need.” “We thank ye for your kindness, but we should just stay the night, ” Jamie assured the Count, “until we can get our carriage repaired, then we’ll be on our way.” It was apparent when the Count introduced the couple to his housekeeper Katrina that she was surprised and unprepared for such company. Her trepidation well maintained, Katrina ushered the couple to a comfortable chamber. “Ignatio!” Leslie fumed when they were alone. “Have you lost your senses?” “Leslie, I may be gifted,” Ignatio said with some sarcasm “but I’m not without some pity. As I remember, you were once in such a situation, though I now suspect it was contrived.” He strode ahead of her to their chambers, the thought of the Scottish girl in his head and the smell of her in his senses. Ignatio felt Leslie's presence behind him as he made his way to their rooms. This day they would be late in their sleep Leslie always needed her desires satisfied before they rested. Ignatio was not in the mood. He was annoyed with her lack of courtesy to the couple. Ignatio had grown tired of Leslie. Though he would never release her, he considered her his as he did Thor, a possession but with less affection. Her gift was not what he considered a gift and he intended to take his pleasure with her in whatever manner he chose. “How do you intend to explain our late hours to these humans?” Leslie persisted. “I don’t. Undoubtedly they will sleep most of the day themselves.” Ignatio roughly pulled Leslie to him and his lips were no less gentle. Tired of her, yes, but he still desired her. He knew her eyes wandered despite her vow to stay with him. He pondered how long it would be before she tried to leave, or he caught her with another. Ignatio felt his blood surge at that thought. What would he do when that happened? His embrace tightened, Ignatio was jealous of his possessions. His eyes became fierce. She dropped to her knees and with deft fingers undid the fastening on his expensive pants. With a sweet smile, she took his aroused cock into her mouth. Instantly his dick became rigid. It was no wonder that her victims succumbed so quickly as hard as she sucked, he thought. Ignatio felt his climax was imminent and placed his hands gently on her head, to force her to take his ejaculation into her mouth. A low groan of pleasure rumbled deep in his throat. “Now I expect you plan to see to my pleasure as well!” Leslie said as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and then sipped a glass of red wine, the only thing she drank other than blood and his cum. Ignatio’s eyes still held his lust for her. “Oh you’ll get your turn. Go take your bath and relax, I’ll even scrub your back this morning,” his smile hid his distaste for her. They had both feasted well on their way home before they had found the young couple or the couple might not have been as lucky; though Ignatio would never have taken the life of a woman carrying a child. Now Leslie, as she always did, wanted her sexual appetite sated. Ignatio’s appetite was sharp too, but no longer gentle and tender as it had been before the change. Now he took Leslie with such urgency that, his lust more than filled her needs; but it wasn’t the way she fondly remembered the tender and loving Count, and she missed him that way. Perhaps this morning he’d be a little more considerate since she had taken the edge off his immediate lust. She enjoyed her bath and the back scrub he had promised. She drew on her prettiest nightgown, treated herself to her best cologne, and found Ignatio waiting for her in bed. His eyes were flames. Leslie thought that look held a promise and she eagerly climbed into their bed. She had never been able to rest in a coffin as some vampires did. Really, there was no need, plus they were uncomfortable. When she had given Ignatio the gift Leslie knew she had released the beast in him. Soon it would be time to look elsewhere as she had many times before in the years upon years that she had been a vampire. Oh, but he was sweet with his cock in her mouth, he groaned and she knew he was close, so she stopped. He took her in his arms and kissed her, their fencing tongues no longer a dance of love, but a battle of lubricity. Ignatio teased her breasts, nipping at her hard nipples until she cried out. Before she knew what he did, she found he had bound her arms to the bedposts above her head. “Ignatio! What are you doing?” There was pure fright in her voice, she feared he would again torture her and pierce some other part of her body. “Spread your legs Leslie!” Ignatio commanded and though she was hot for him and wanted his engorged shaft inside her, she was frightened and failed to do as he instructed her. Leslie knew how it would be. Ignatio slid his big hand between her legs and forced them apart, only to slide his fingers between her nether lips to find them hot, wet and ready. He tugged on her golden rings. He laughed at her. “I knew you were ready for me but first I have a few things to, ah, pleasure us with.” “Ignatio, I don’t like this,” Leslie said coldly. “What you have done already is enough.” “I don’t care. Did you ask if I wanted your gift? No! So now I’m going to give you a little gift and I suspect you will enjoy it.” He produced a reed and struck her across her flat stomach. She cried out and he struck her again. “Each time you cry out or do something that displeases me you will feel the reed ’s bite.” Ignatio kissed her. He lay the thin reed aside. Ignatio

fingers pinched her nipples cruelly and watched as she bit her lips to keep from crying out. He began to suck them and nipped at the now sensitive nipples. Ignatio nicked one slightly and caused a droplet of blood to ooze from it. He tongued it up. “Ah, a lady vampire’s own blood,” Ignatio teased. Slowly he kissed her down her stomach to her navel over her flat abdomen to her wet sex. Ignatio pulled her cunny lips apart by the gold rings, ignoring her tears, he turned his tongue and teeth on her pussy lips. He plunged his tongue deep into her vagina. She could feel his fangs nicking her, not hard enough to pierce the skin, just enough to let her know they touched her. Despite herself, Leslie’s body arched to meet his tongue and sobbed for more. Her body was on fire, craving him. “Please, Ignatio, please, take me now, please I am on fire for your cock. No more teasing please,” Leslie begged. Ignatio stopped and Leslie thought he wasn't going to satisfy her. Instead, he forced a knotted piece of lace between her red lips after he had kissed her and tied it quickly behind her head. “Not yet my sweet, but I grow tired of your pleas.” Ignatio knew she could see his fully aroused cock and hungered for it. His mighty organ stood straight and proud, arrayed in fuchsia glory ready to satisfy her. Ignatio pushed a finger deep inside her swollen and sodden vagina. Leslie groaned and closed her eyes, thankful for some release. Ignatio withdrew the finger and massaged her anus. Leslie tried to move away. “Leslie, will I need to tie your legs also?” Her eyes flew open wide. She shook her head no. Now she suspected what he had in mind for her. “Good, lay still and do try and relax.” He inserted his finger deep into her vagina to lubricate it and withdrew the digit to massage her anus stretching the pouting, tight orifice. He withdrew it and pushed two inside her vagina, then stimulated her with the two. Leslie wasn’t surprised when he removed them and began to work them inside her anus. She forced herself to relax, tears streaming down her face. Something hard and cold touched her nether lips. She could not see what it was. Ignatio rubbed her cunt lips with it. It was round and not very big. Oh, what was he doing to her and with what? Leslie wondered but could not ask. She felt him insert it inside her. Closing her eyes, she moaned. She fought not to admit to herself how good the phallus soothed her burning sex. Ignatio laughed at her, and she hated him at that moment, but her hips began to move as he gently moved it inside her, his fingers remained embedded in her anus. “Feels good doesn’t it Leslie?” Ignatio asked. “Oh I’m sorry.” He said with another cruel laugh. “You can’t answer.” He withdrew his fingers and the device in her vagina and slowly began to work it into her anus. “This little gift” he stressed “is called a butt plug. I obtained it in the last large city we visited. Get accustomed to it Leslie, there will be times I will require you to wear it.” He smiled when she opened her eyes in amazement and denial. “Yes my dear you will wear it.” Ignatio assured her as I have told you. You will do as I say.” With a cruel laugh, he pushed her legs further apart, and buried himself inside her and ignored her muted cry of protest. Ignatio rode her hard. Her body responded to him, and the foreign toy he had placed securely in her anus fulfilling his predictions of her enjoyment. He was right; he controlled her. What he did humiliated her, but she loved it. Since Ignatio had restrained her, any guilt at enjoyment was taken from her, and she was free to indulge in the perversity of his actions. Suddenly he stopped, just as she climaxed, Leslie knew he had held back and he withdrew from her. Her body was screaming for more. He smiled down at her and slowly eased the torturous butt plug from her body, she felt relief flood her; but the smile on Ignatio’s face was told her what was to come. She whimpered a little and moved. “I will tie you, Leslie, that is your last warning,” Ignatio said coldly as he positioned himself and raised her hips. With a quick couple of strokes inside her vagina to lubricate his cock, he positioned himself at the opening to her virginal anus and began to push. Gagged though she was, she cried out and tears streamed down her face. “Hurt?” he asked cruelly. She nodded, he pushed a little more and withdrew, to again enter her vagina and wet his throbbing cock, then push back into her anus. He repeated this procedure several times until he embedded his massive dick completely inside her rear opening. Ignatio stopped and lay full on Leslie to allow her to adjust to him. She sobbed, he licked her tears away, kissed her face and sucked her breasts to sooth her. His hands massaged her clit to stimulate her, until she was again on the verge of climax and when she was, he slowly began to move. Ignatio plunged two fingers back inside her vagina, first removing the gag from her mouth. “I think I hate you,” were Leslie’s first words to him. Ignatio laughed. “No you don’t, you’ve never climaxed like this before, but I promise you will again and again.” “You hurt me!” Leslie protested. “There are some forms of pain that bring sexual pleasure, Leslie. This is one of them. Tell me true, have you ever had an orgasm like this before?” “No,” she admitted grudgingly. “Good, my dear, I am glad you enjoyed it after all because I have other surprises for you in the future.” Ignatio laughed.

“Are not these rings enough?” Leslie asked. “I will not permit any other.” “Oh but you will my dear,” Ignatio smiled and Leslie knew she would permit whatever he wanted. “Can you no longer make simple love to me?” Leslie gasped between his driving strokes into her body, even as she reached her orgasm and Ignatio pushed her further until he reached his own release. Drawing a great breath, his dark eyes glistening down into hers, he growled. “You achieved your pleasure, madam, as I promised.” He withdrew from her and went to bathe. Ignatio had, when Leslie bestowed this gift upon him, felt the power and strength of it, and enjoyed her endowment. Now, however, the lack of daylight rides through the clover on Thor and the look of terror on his victim ’s faces, only served to dull the pain of his lost humanity, and he hated it. Today when he had seen the young couple, even before he’d seen the woman’s condition, sympathy had touched Ignatio. Their lack of instant fear of him had moved him to compassion for their plight. It had been a long time since he had talked with another person who didn’t immediately fear him and by nightfall they would possibly be gone. Carloff would repair their conveyance and it would be for the best. The couple was safe from him, but not from Leslie. Ignatio had seen the way she looked at Jamie Stuart and knew Leslie would not hesitate to take him. He would make a point to forbid her to touch either one of them. He returned to his bed, found Leslie already asleep and he stretched out next to her. As the sun began its daily ascent, the Count fell into a restless slumber. Carloff was unable to repair the carriage as the Count had hoped. A new wheel had to be obtained and this took Carloff the better part of the day to locate. He rode hard to the next largest town, returning shortly after sundown. Ignatio’s housekeeper had prepared a proper dinner for his guests and explained that the Master and his Lady had not risen yet. “Are they well?” Margaret Stuart inquired. “Oh yes, Ma’am,” she explained. “In the social season they frequently get their days and nights rearranged. You just make yourselves at home and don’t worry about them.” Margaret looked at her husband and shrugged. A short time later, as they finished their dinner, the Lord and Lady of the house joined them. Jamie Stuart rose as their hosts joined them. “Good evening,” Count Magonoff said in his Slavic accent, bowing slightly and giving them his most winning smile. Lady Magonoff on his arm smiled warmly. “I am sorry to report your carriage will not be repaired until possibly tomorrow. “Aye!” Jamie agreed. “Your driver Carloff had told us this earlier.” “You are most welcome to remain here until the carriage is in working order. ” Leslie extended, her eyes traveled over Jamie. “Thank ye, milady,” Jamie said. “We appreciate your hospitality. Hopefully it will not be more than a day.” “Stay as long as you need to, of course,” Leslie assured them graciously. "Mrs. Stuart, you are welcome. Please,” Ignatio said, “do not allow our late night hours to alarm you. Our local social season sometimes has functions that continue until the early hours of the mornings. We were returning from one of these when we spotted your carriage.” “We surely would not want to dictate your lives, sir.” Margaret said courteously. “Jamie and I both have been to court ourselves and understand the late hours.” “To which court do you refer, Mrs. Stuart?” Leslie was immediately interested. “Me family has long been part of Parliament and on occasion has attended the Court of Saint James.” Jamie explained. “How interesting,” Leslie smiled sweetly and looked directly into Jamie's eyes. Ignatio knew that look and that smile, and he knew where it would lead. “Lady Leslie,” Margaret drew her attention away from her husband. She knew that look too, but not to the extent, “I am sure that you have attended the Czar’s court.” “Of course!” Leslie said raising her chin a notch, her pride slightly wounded. It had been many, many years since she had attended court. “Many times, now Ignatio and I have a simple lifestyle,” she added. “As we will, when we return home to Scotland,” Jamie agreed. “Me father gifted us with a generous holding on Clan lands upon our marriage. I shall be happy to manage them,” Jamie smiled when he looked to his wife, “and be a father to many children.” Ignatio found himself jealous of Jamie Stuart. Remembering his now long-dead wife and son and what would have been– what for a short time he had thought he had found again with Leslie. “You are a blessed man,” the Count said, with only a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Please, you must excuse Lady Leslie and I for a short time this evening. Relax, enjoy a glass or so of brandy, Mr. Stuart, we must attend a function, then we will return.” Ignatio and Leslie left, not for a social engagement but for their nightly repast. Both Jamie and Margaret chose a book from the Count’s extensive library and settled into the parlor. “Jamie,” Margaret said around ten, “I am tired still, I think I’ll retire, please give my excuses to the Count and Lady Leslie when they return, if they do before you join me.”

“Of course, Margaret.” Rising, Jamie escorted his wife up the long, grand staircase to their rooms. An hour later, he too was about to retire, when the Count and Lady returned. “I was just about to retire,” Jamie said. “I hope your evening was pleasant.” “It was,” the Count assured him evenly. Remembering too freshly the look on the thug's face when he had dragged him from the young woman he was about to assault. She had run into the night, grateful someone had saved her. He and Leslie had drained him, leaving him in the alley dead. He wouldn’t bother anyone else again. Ignatio hated killing. Only by taking the life of a criminal or some other low scoundrel could he rationalize it. “Please excuse Margaret, she has retired already. In her condition she tires easily.” Jamie explained. “I am sure,” Leslie said in an understanding manner. “My love,” she turned to Ignatio, “I too am going up. I find I am tired also.” “Very well, Leslie, I shall not be long,” Ignatio said. “Good,” Leslie said with a sultry and knowing smile, as she looked over her shoulder and ascended the stairs. “Your lady looks forward to your company,” Jamie said with a knowing smile. Ignatio smiled himself, “Yes, milady demands my attentions. Now, if you will excuse me.” Jamie watched the Count mount the stairs. It occurred to Jamie that the Count seemed to be an unhappy man. Jamie downed the last of the fine brandy he had poured and followed the Count, but not too closely. Margaret was still awake when he entered their room, but barely. He kissed her mouth tenderly. In her last month of pregnancy, Jamie was reluctant to make love to her, though he sorely missed their passionate play. Margaret was a warm-blooded Highland lass and wasn’t hesitant about her nature. She slipped her pure white arms around her husband's neck to return his kiss and to pull him closer for more. Her little tongue brushed his. “Ah, Maggie, my girl,” Jamie said, “I fear we must wait till after the wee one comes.” “No!” She pouted, “If we are easy, twill will do no harm.” Margaret hugged Jamie closer and he couldn’t resist. From the moment Jamie had seen Margaret he had loved her, arranged though their marriage had been. It had been the same for her. Their marriage had joined their Clans and their lands. The portions Jamie had spoken of to the Count sat squarely on both Clans’ lands. Jamie cradled Maggie, as only she allowed him to call her, close to his broad, muscular chest, his fiery kiss setting her blood on fire. Jamie’s gentle hands moved over her small body, only where she held his child was she large. At the heat of his touch the child kicked. “Shhh, quiet, wee one,” Jamie said and continued with his tender love play. Maggie giggled. He kissed her breasts, tasting the bit of milk that escaped those ripe vessels. He carefully caressed her nether lips covered in thick red hair, only slightly darker than the hair on her head, until she moaned in her pleasure. Before they knew of the baby, Jamie had taken his own comb one evening and “styled” her cunt hairs, they were so thick. His love play had left Margaret laughing so hard her sides had hurt. Margaret was careful not to make loud noises that might be heard by the Count or his Lady; as her husband gently caressed her cunt and clit until she was ready for his hardened shaft. Jamie mounted her slowly and deliberately, entering her with care and setting a rhythm that brought them both to a heightened climax, fulfilling them, but was gentle and sweet, cautious not to disturb their unborn child. Margaret had, on their wedding night, seen Jamie’s huge shaft after he had taken many long minutes in delicate foreplay and almost run from fright, but Jamie had eased her fears and taken her gently. Margaret had loved him at first sight, but his tenderness on their wedding night had sealed their love more securely than any vow could. Kissing each other, Maggie soon fell asleep in Jamie’s arms. Jamie lay still for a long while and gazed down at his slumbering wife he enjoyed her glorious beauty. He longed to be home in his own manor, for they had a fine home. In Jamie’s restless need to be home, he slowly slipped from their bed, dressed to go downstairs, and went out onto the garden terrace. It was late summer in the Carpathian Mountains and there was a chill in the air. Jamie breathed in the musky night air and the Scott in him sensed a presence behind him. “Lady Leslie!” he said with some amazement. “I should think your Count will miss you.” “My Count is sound asleep and snoring,” she said with some displeasure in her voice, then laughed. “I too needed some night air.” Leslie had worn a dressing gown made of ivory lace overlaid on pale rose satin material and wrapped around her slender form, tying in the front. When she walked, the matching gown beneath it was visible and Jamie knew the gown revealed far more than the dressing gown. She came to stand close to him. “It is cool out here for a summer’s night.” “Aye, that it is, I was going in myself. I will say goodnight to you.” Jamie turned to go, but found her delicate hand on his arm, stopping him. “Don’t go yet,” Leslie’s voice was low, her entrancing power strong. Jamie looked into her blue eyes and felt their hypnotic effect. Her will was powerful and he felt his will was no longer his own. Her hands were cold and now he held them both, or did she hold his? “I should go…” Jamie protested weakly. He felt her sensual body pressed against his. She smelled of spring flowers and musk. A part of his mind screamed at him to leave but he couldn’t. He could hear Maggie’s voice call to him as if from a great

distance but her voice grew fainter. Now he could not hear her words only a lonely, sad cry. “Please!” he said in a whisper just before her red lips covered his. Those were the sweetest lips he had ever tasted. Jamie pulled her possessively to himself, molding her form to his. Her tongue brushed his and he stroked hers gently, probing her sweet mouth. He began to kiss her neck, down her throat toward her breasts where that wonderful scent seemed to be hiding between the soft globes of velvety flesh. Leslie knew she had him. He was all hers. Perhaps she would not take him all at once tonight and kill him. He was gentle, like the Count used to be. Oh, how long it had been since she had love made to her by a gentle lover. His hands were on her breasts, and she felt alive again. She could smell his blood coursing through his veins. She licked his neck, and felt his pulse grow rapid. “Oh, Jamie, I knew when I saw you that I wanted you!” Leslie told him. “I was hungry for you. I didn’t think I would ever get you alone.” She let her hands rove over his body, stopping to fondle his aroused cock. It strained to escape his pants and she realized it was as large as Ignatio’s. Maybe she would give him her gift and escape from Ignatio with this man. Leslie could care less about his wife and unborn child. Jamie fought himself. He had never been unfaithful to his Maggie. No woman had ever been able to tempt him away from her. He loved her and had since the moment he had seen her. He didn’t love this woman. He really didn’t even want her; something was compelling him. What he didn’t know, was that he had no control over himself, he had to have her. She had loosened the fastening on his breeches. Oh! Her cold hands were on his hot cock, now in her hot mouth! Jamie had never experienced that before, his head swam, and the light–had grown dark. “Leslie!” Count Magonoff’s voice broke the silence like the crack of a rifle. Jamie was lying on the cold tiles of the terrace and Leslie was bent over him at his crotch. When Ignatio called her name her head snapped up, blood dripping from her fangs her eyes dilated, her facial features cold and pale, made even more so by the red contrast of the blood on her mouth. He watched as she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand and licked away the precious liquid as a cat would lick her paws. Ignatio hated her at that moment. He had seen her feed before, many times. Never on an innocent and he knew what she had done to get Jamie to that point. She had betrayed him. She had beguiled Jamie; this wasn’t his fault. Recent memory of Leslie’s wandering eyes at the gathering earlier reminded Ignatio of what he had known for sometime, that Leslie would soon betray him, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What have you done, Leslie?” Ignatio demanded. “Have you killed him?” Leslie, still somewhat caught in the feeding fever, hissed then caught herself, straightening she stood. “Of course not!” She looked at him coldly. “He was gentle,” she proclaimed accusingly, referring to Ignatio’s more aggressive style of lovemaking. “And that is your reason to take his life?” Ignatio asked. “I had no intention of killing him.” Leslie stated. “Were you intending to give him your gift also?” Ignatio laughed coldly. “Possibly,” she said haughtily, unrepentantly. “Leslie,” Ignatio’s voice was cold as the winters in the mountains, “leave us. Go to our room and wait for me there. He is beginning to awaken, if we are lucky he will not remember any of this. I will deal with you later.” Leslie drew herself up and swept past the Count with her head smugly in the air. “Jamie, my friend!” the Count said after he had quickly closed up his pants. “You slipped and bumped your head, are you, alright?” “Yes, I think so?” Jamie said, a little unsure of himself and weak from the loss of blood. “Slowly, my friend, slowly,” the Count said as he helped Jamie to his feet, and eased him down to sit on one of the benches. “Let me get you some brandy.” The Count left, shortly returning with a brandy for each of them. They talked for a little while until Jamie had regained his strength, then Count helped him to his room. “You should be fine by morning. Sleep in, Jamie, I will tell the housekeeper not to disturb you.” Margaret awakened when the door opened. “Jamie?” she said sleepily. “What has happened?” “I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs and out onto the terrace, I slipped and hit my head. Luckily, the Count found me and brought me up.” Jamie explained. “Mrs. Stuart, he should be fine by morning.” The Count told her, drinking in every ounce of her body dressed only in a cotton shift, her long red hair flowing down around her hips, the look of love for her husband in her beautiful green eyes almost causing his heart to break. Then he remembered what Leslie had almost done. “I must go now.” He closed the door, leaving Margaret to tend to Jamie. Ignatio went back down to the salon and poured himself another brandy. Unusual though it was for a vampire to retain the desire and ability to drink anything other than blood, Ignatio still loved brandy and occasionally wine. He drank one glass straight down then another, his anger becoming greater than he could tolerate. Leslie! He had only wanted her love, not this accursed gift. A home, a wife and family, he had lands, he had money and a title. Now he had only eternity to spend with a

cheating bitch such as her. No! He would not do it with her. With resolve in his soul-less heart he climbed the grand staircase to their bedroom. Leslie had bathed and changed her clothes. She was all sweetness and desirable. She came to him and slowly encircled his neck with her long, slender arms. “What took you so long, Ignatio?” she asked the fire of desire clear in her eyes. She had come to love his sadistic lovemaking, even though still longing for a tender touch too He looked down at her, disgust in his heart, the picture of how she looked at him when he had called her name, as she bent over Jamie still fresh in his mind. Ignatio reached up and took both of her arms from around his neck. He smiled at her, a cold smile, but Leslie was blind to it. “Come with me, Leslie, I have something I wish to show you.” Ignatio told her. “What is it?” She asked with a smile. “A special place in the manor you have never visited before. You will like this place, come along.” Ignatio took her by the hand. At the end of the hallway on their wing of the manor was a trick door. He depressed the hidden lock and they climbed the stairs. Leslie found they were in the open tower at the top of the manor. He was right, she had seen the tower from outside, but one would never guess it was actually in use. High atop the four stories of the manor was an old observation tower. At one time, it was used to watch for invaders or visitors coming, so that the castle, as it was then, would not be surprised. “I thought this would be a grand place to make love.” He saw her eyes flash, eager for sex. “Oh yes, Ignatio, but another time, the dawn comes soon.” Leslie agreed. “I know.” Ignatio said and drew her closer to kiss her. He felt her relax, lost in their love play and it was then that he slipped the rope he had brought with him around her small waist. She had come to enjoy being tied before they had sex. “What game is this?” She asked with a sparkle in her eyes. Ignatio kissed her again and pushed her against the support in the center of the observation tower quickly securing the rope to the support. “Ignatio,” she said when he stepped back, “what are you doing?” “Leslie, you swore to stay with me, and be true to me. I have watched you with the others in our small group of, shall we say, peers. It is clear you will not honor those vows. It is also clear this gift as you call it is nothing more than a curse. I have lost my soul because of you and any chance of happiness as a normal man. I will not allow you to do this to another man. Today, my dear, you will see your last sunrise. I hope it is a beautiful one. Goodbye, Leslie.” Ignatio left her and went back down the darkened stairs into the manor. Leslie finally stopped screaming. She knew Ignatio would not come back for her. Entranced, she watched the sky brighten. How many years had it been, she asked herself, since she had seen a sunrise? In a flash, she remembered her childhood, when she had gotten up early to run outside and watch the sun come up. Bright reds and gold filled the sky then would come mauves and blues, if she lived to see the blue. A slight crescent appeared just above the distant mountains. Absently she wondered if she would feel pain. Leslie attempted a prayer, but it had been over two hundred years since she had said a prayer and she really could not remember how. How many souls she had taken with her gift since then she could not recall. A prayer from her childhood came to mind… Suddenly blackness surrounded Leslie. She screamed again one horrible last scream. A heavy dark blanket was placed over her. The rope around her waist was slit. At first, she thought Ignatio had come back for her, but no, he could not have taken the sunlight anymore than she could have. “Carloff?” Leslie asked, her voice a hoarse, shocked whisper. “Yes, milady, I will get you into the darkness.” Leslie felt Carloff lift her off her feet and take her into the darkness of the passageway, holding her safe in his massive, muscular arms.

Chapter Six

Count Ignatio Magonoff turned and walked back down the stairs. Leslie’s screams and cries echoing in his ears, but no one else would hear her. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the sun had just begun to light the sky. He opened the panel, stepped into the main house, and went to his bedroom. He bathed and prepared for bed, expectantly. Suddenly his head snapped up. He heard her one last horrible scream. She was gone at last. Lady Leslie Ann Romanoffski, who was over two hundred years old, was at peace. Jamie sat straight up in bed at that moment, because Leslie had taken his blood, he too had heard her horrible cry and awakened from a sound sleep. He did not know what had awakened him, or its source, frightening though it was, in the swirling and dark mists that claimed it. He decided that he had had a dream. Jamie attributed his shaking to the inexplicable dream of a woman’s screaming at the point of sunrise and it had left him feeling unsettled. Margaret stirred when he rose from bed. “Jamie,” she said, sleep heavy in her voice, “what ‘tis wrong?” “Nothing, lass, go back to sleep,” Jamie told her. He stood before the window looking out over the mountains. A red disk burned through the mountain's mist in the sky, as if it warned of events to come. Jamie stood before the window and watched the sun begin to brighten the day. Count Magonoff climbed into his now solitary bed and it struck him that he did not miss Leslie. He drew his first peaceful breath in many months. He was a wealthy--man. Was that the correct term, he wondered? Perhaps he could manage a way to return to some of his old ways. Ignatio was hopeful, but deep inside he knew it wasn’t possible, but he allowed a false hope to lull him to sleep. Margaret was fully awake now, more accustomed to getting up early than late in the day. “What woke you, Jamie?” she asked, lovingly running her soft hands over his naked broad shoulders. Jamie drew her hands to his lip, kissing them and looked down into her green eyes. “Margaret,” Jamie said quietly to his wife, “there is something very strange about this house and that man. I wish me old mother were here. She’d know what it was that is not just right.” Jamie commented. “I can almost hear her voice, but I can’t understand her words. Count Magonoff has a powerful presence. Almost,” Jamie’s voice dropping off, a far away look came over his face. “I wish to leave here as soon as it is possible,” he announced. “I wonder why it has taken their man, ah, Carloff, so long to change that wheel.” “He could not find the correct one to fit it,” Margaret said, her voice sounding tight. “Are you alright?” Jamie said, going to stand next to her. “Yes, just the wee one moving about,” she assured him. She struggled to remain standing without Jamie’s assistance. “I need to go outside for some air.” Jamie escorted her outside into the morning air. After a short time Jamie escorted Margaret back inside and told her, “I am going down to the stables and have a look at our carriage, perhaps I can get it back on the road again.” He kissed her lips. “You are to stay inside lest you catch a chill, my love.” Jamie left her alone, but not before he assembled several books from the Count’s library for Margaret to amuse herself with reading and placed her sewing nearby. Margaret was well attended by the household’s small staff and the day grew late. Count Magonoff's mood had been dark when he awoke and had forgotten his houseguests when he strode boldly into the salon. His disposition was so black that he startled the Scottish girl badly, causing her to drop her sewing when she stood. His eyes glanced over her and instantly remembered her and those spring -green eyes. She stood, unsteady before him, one hand beneath her rounded stomach, supporting her unborn child. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Stuart,” the Count immediately apologized. “I had forgotten your presence.” Her face pale, she drew a quick breath, “'Tis understandable that you would forget with your wife missing. Your housekeeper told us earlier,” Margaret said simply, not realizing she had begun to tremble, until her child moved and she cried out. One of the many attributes gained from Ignatio’s change was the ability to move quickly, so fast, in fact, that the Count could appear as a shimmering blur. In such a blur, he stood beside Margaret, to lend her his great strength and support her before she could collapse. Gently, he eased her back to the chair that she had been sitting in. “Where is your husband, Mrs. Stuart?” Ignatio inquired in a gentle voice. “He is in the stables. He went to repair the carriage,” Margaret told him, breathless. “My wife has gone to visit her family, ” he said in a tone to soothe Margaret and to distract her from the show of his abilities.

Ignatio had not fed this night but that could be put off. His attraction to Margaret went past his need for food–he had fallen in love with her. His feelings went deeper than they had for Leslie. Ignatio looked into her eyes, concern for her and her unborn child growing in them. He loved her more than he had his first wife and that realization came as a blow that almost knocked the air from him. “I will go and get your husband,” Ignatio said, watching her face grow paler. “Wait, don’t leave me alone,” Margaret begged. She was terribly frightened. The child was moving violently. Her closeness was becoming unbearable to Ignatio. He wanted to kiss her and was disgusted with himself at the thought. What had this gift done to him? She was another man’s wife. She was heavy with that man’s child and possibly going into early labor. Faintly, Margaret laid her head on his shoulder. Ignatio could smell her blood and hear her pulse. He prayed for strength and wondered if God would hear his plea. It was too much, the temptation too great. As gently as he would take the virginity of a beloved bride, his fangs pierced her neck, causing her no pain but a sigh of pleasure. The child quieted when her anxiety eased. Ignatio barely drew any of her life’s blood, only a slight sip then he withdrew. He touched the two tiny marks with his finger and they closed to blend with the freckles on her fair neck. Margaret slept quietly, peacefully. The Count drew several locks of her beautiful long red hair over the tiny new freckle-marks on her white neck. He went to fetch the housekeeper to sit with her until he could get Margaret’s husband. Jamie came at once to his wife’s aid. Margaret awoke to smile into his face. Jamie carried her to bed and came back down to speak with the Count. “I say,” Jamie addressed Ignatio, “I am grateful you were here to care for Maggie.” “I had only just come down,” the Count explained. “I fear it was I who startled her and set the episode in motion.” “This last month has been stressful for the lass.” Jamie sighed sadly, “I was hoping to get back home before the child’s birth, but now I don’t know?” “You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish,” Ignatio told him. “Thank you lord Count, but you have your own problems. What word of your Lady, sir?” Jamie asked. “Lady Leslie has gone to visit with her family, she sent word earlier,” Ignatio made an excuse. “No problems I hope?” Jamie asked in a concerned tone. “No, nothing serious,” he lied. “Did you have any success with your carriage, I am sorry my man could not get it repaired for you.” “Yes, the wheel is back on and sturdy, but it will depend on Margaret’s condition now,” Jamie explained. “I’ll be going up now. I don’t want to leave her alone too long. Goodnight Count.”

Chapter Seven

Lady Leslie sat securely wrapped in the heavy blanket Carloff had covered her with, to protect her from the sun. His strong arms held her close to his broad chest as she wept. Carloff would protect his Lady from any harm, including the most recent man she had chosen to bestow her gift on, Count Magonoff. Carloff had known from the first day, that the man was not worth her attentions, but she was his mistress, he loved her and would do her bidding. Her tears had subsided and only an occasional sob racked her body now. “Do not fear, Lady Leslie,” he assured her, “you are safe here. I will not allow him to harm you should he come here.” “Carloff,” Leslie looked at him through her tears, “you have always been so loyal, so obedient and,” her soft hand touched his cheek “such a comfort and gentle whenever I’ve needed you.” She smiled sadly, “Perhaps I’ve always looked too far for my mates.” Carloff was embarrassed and cleared his throat. “You are my Mistress, I am yours. You know this, milady.” For one of the few times he met her eyes. “You should rest, my Lady.” When at last she slept, he gently laid her on a landing where she would not roll down the steps and went to check how late the day had grown. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was no longer clear. In another two hours, if the sky stayed overcast, Carloff would be able to sneak his Lady from the secret passage and safely whisk her away in her carriage that he had sequestered in the dense forest. He returned to sit with her and possibly sleep a little himself. He knew the Count would not be up-and-about until later, when the day was done and the sun was set. Until then, they should be safe. Leslie’s internal time clock was set on a vampire ’s true need for darkness and feeding. She awoke with a start, remembering the events leading up to her present situation. Anger flared deep inside her being. She had given the proud and arrogant Count Ignatio Magonoff the greatest gift, that to her, anyone could give someone, immortality! He had taken her gift, then turned on her. She had seen the way he looked at the pregnant Scottish woman. Would Ignatio take a woman about to give life? Leslie wondered. Leslie’s eyes fell on Carloff, asleep from exhaustion. He is younger than I look but only by a year of two. Leslie thought as she ran her fingers through his white blonde hair and watched him while he slept. In reality, Leslie was over two hundred years old. Carloff is so handsome, she thought, and he has more than once proven his loyalty. Today he risked his life to save mine. Leslie gazed at him. She smoothed his blonde hair from his face. He would be a deserving partner to go through life with. Leslie realized that she had found a warm place in her heart for him. She also thought that never had she seen a mean side to him. When he had satisfied her needs, he had always been gentle and serviced her well. We've never made love, she thought, it has always been just…sex. Now her curiosity was peeked. How would he make love? Leslie caressed his body gently, so as not to awaken him, her sexual appetite aroused. Sudden noises from inside the manor drew her attention away from her thoughts of her newly found love. Leslie carefully opened the secret door a fraction of an inch to listen. She could hear Margaret Stuart and she was in distress. Possibly the baby was about to be born too soon. In a blur of speed, Leslie moved to observe what had happened in the Count’s study. She watched as Ignatio gently pierced the Scot’s woman’s neck to drink but a sip of her blood. Only enough to provide the effect that could tranquilize a victim, if the vampire wished to be kind. Instant jealousy flooded Leslie’s heart and she quickly slipped back into the safety of the dark, secret passageway. “My Lady, where did you go?” Carloff asked alarmed, fearing for her safety. “Where I should not have gone,” Leslie replied. “We must leave here.” “Yes, milady, I will go first. When darkness falls, go up and change yourself into that cute little bat, then you will find our carriage deep in the forest,” Carloff explained. “Carloff, you have always cared for me” she smiled and touched his handsome face. “Yes, my Lady.” Carloff turned and left through the secret door, careful not to be seen. Lady Leslie waited and she came to a decision. “If it takes me eternity,” she said to herself, “I will have vengeance on you Count Ignatio Magonoff, for the humiliation you have fostered on me and your treachery.” Leslie knew eternity was a long time, but to a vampire eternity was only tomorrow. She smelled the night, climbed the stairs, and changed into her little winged creature to fly away and find her carriage where Carloff said it would be.

Chapter Eight

Count Ignatio left for a time and followed his drive to feed for the night. That necessity satisfied he returned home. He sequestered himself in the library and began reading and drawing on all the knowledge, he could about human physiology, anatomy, pathology, and any medical condition that seemed similar to his “condition.” He kept a journal of the things he felt pertinent to his situation. During the day, he slept, as he was accustomed. Jamie and Margaret stayed, Jamie fearing Margaret would go into labor early and wanted to give her a few days to rest. After three days had passed and Margaret had no further problems, Jamie explained to the Count they would take their leave the next day. “We certainly appreciate your hospitality, Your Lordship,” Jamie said in a gentlemanly manner. “We will not forget it.” “It has been my pleasure Jamie,” Ignatio said. “You know you could stay until after the baby comes. It might be safer that way.” “Oh we’ve talked of that, but we can be home in a week to ten days and our family is there,” Jamie explained. “I definitely understand,” Ignatio smiled. He did understand but would miss the couple, specifically Margaret the most. He knew he had come to love the gentle, beautiful woman, but would not take Jamie’s life to keep her. I must not have lost all my humanity, he thought. Ignatio returned early that night from his nightly repast, to find Margaret sitting by the fire in his salon. Her beautiful face pale and her hands shook while Jamie talked quietly to her, trying to calm her. “What is wrong?” Ignatio asked concern in his voice. “Tis the babe,” Jamie said, “its acting up again.” “Mrs. Stuart is there anything I can do to assist you?” the Count asked. “I don’t know,” Margaret’s voice was shaky, the strain evident. “Jamie,” the Count said, “go and awaken my housekeeper, she was a midwife at one time and may know of something that could help.” Without questioning why the Count would send him instead of going himself, Jamie went to find the woman. As soon as Ignatio was sure Jamie had left, he again quieted Margaret in the same manner he had before. When Jamie returned with the housekeeper, Margaret was asleep and the baby had quieted. “What did ye do Count?” Jamie asked. “Nothing, Mrs. Stuart just took a deep breath and fell asleep,” Ignatio lied. “Perhaps you should take her to bed now.” Jamie carried her up the long staircase and Margaret stayed in bed the next day. True to his word, the Count’s housekeeper had, at one time been a midwife, and had watched Margaret closely since her arrival. When asked to, she examined Margaret. “You are to stay in bed,” the wise woman told her. “Your baby is fine, but you are not. You do too much, too late in your time. It will bring your baby soon.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And keep your husband close,” she advised her and left. Jamie returned, “What did the woman say Maggie?” Margaret repeated what the woman had said to Jamie. “What do you think she meant by that?” “I don’t know,” he said, “but I won’t be far.” Ignatio was spending much of his time in the library, trying hard to research a solution to his enigma and to keep his distance from Margaret. One more episode and she would become what he was and to do this to a pregnant woman would be the worst sacrilege he could think of. What would the child become, when and if, it were born alive? He could not begin to consider such a thing. He pushed the thought from his mind and again buried his thoughts in the vast books of his library. Soon he would exhaust what he had and he planned to travel to a larger city where he could find more information. It was late into the night and a scream broke the silence. Ignatio flew from his library to find Jamie unconscious at the foot of the staircase. Margaret stood on the third step from the bottom in her nightgown. “What happened?” Ignatio demanded. “Jamie was helping me down the stairs, on the third one from the bottom he tripped. ” Margaret sobbed tears flowed down her face. Jamie groaned. The Count bent down over Jamie as he came to and eased him into a sitting position. “Margaret!” he called. “Oh Jamie!” She was standing beside him, too big to kneel. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’m fine, Maggie,” Jamie assured her. “Let me get you both back to bed. Why were you up, Mrs. Stuart?” Ignatio asked. “I was having leg cramps and needed to walk, I thought some fresh air might help” she stifled her sobs. Ignatio picked her up and carried her back to her room, where he gently set her down. He feared that to take her further into the room would be catastrophic. He assisted Jamie who had regained himself and was just a little shaken. Several hours later Margaret went into full labor. The housekeeper assisted her but the labor was long and Margaret was weak. Jamie paced downstairs throughout the day. Evening approached and the Count joined him as early as his nature would permit. Finally, Margaret gave birth to a healthy son. Jamie was thrilled until the housekeeper drew him aside. “Your wife is bleeding badly, Mr. Stuart. If I cannot stop it, or it does not stop on its own,” the woman paused, “she’ll not make it, sir.” He held his newborn son, tears of joy in his eyes one minute, only to have his life so horribly dashed the next. The Count watched and remembered. He knew that feeling, but at least Jamie had his son. Had the Count not killed Leslie, Jamie might not have had that. Ignatio watched as Jamie handed his son to the housekeeper and went to see his wife. “Hello, my love,” Jamie said sitting on a chair next to her, taking her white hand into his own and kissing her pale lips. “You’ve given us a beautiful son, my bonnie lass.” “I know, Jamie, but,” she sniffed, “Oh Jamie, I don’t want to…go!” “There now, you’re not going anywhere. Not until you’re better,” Jamie told her. “No, my Jamie, you know what I’m a saying,” Maggie said. “You’ll take care of our son, call him Jamie after you.” “Oh Maggie, Maggie, don’t talk like this,” Jamie begged. “I know what I know, Jamie,” Maggie sighed and fell asleep weakened from the loss of blood. Jamie came back downstairs. The man’s face looked ten years older. With sadness on his face, he took his son from the housekeeper. Margaret had fed the baby and possibly would be able to again. Jamie sat and stared at his perfect son who nursed his little fist and stared back at him with trusting eyes. “Little Jamie,” his father said softly, “how will we manage without the woman we both need and love?” Count Ignatio stood by the fireplace, a glass of brandy in one hand as he stared into the flames of the fire. He heard the soft words Jamie had spoken. A deep sadness fell upon him, old memories burdened him, a similar fate had befallen him, but Jamie had a healthy son to console his grief. His housekeeper entered the room and beckoned him away from the fire. “Milord,” she said respectfully, “Lady Stuart hasn’t long; I have tried everything I know of to stop her bleeding. She knows. It would be best if she would nurse her son again.” “I will tell him.” Ignatio turned back to the man and his son. “Jamie,” he said softly. “Yes?” Jamie looked up. “My housekeeper says you should allow your wife to nurse your son again, she, ah, Jamie, she is worse and the child would be better off to have his mother’s milk at least one more time.” Ignatio could not explain it any easier. Tears appeared in Jamie’s eyes as he rose with the infant in his arms, he went up the stairs. Margaret was awake, her face pale, her hands shook when she took the baby and put him to her breast. Jamie sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Jamie,” Margaret said weakly, “promise me you will remarry.” “Oh, Maggie, let us not talk of this now,” Jamie sobbed. “No, little Jamie will need a mother and you, my Jamie, are a young man and need a wife. I love you and wish you to be happy. Now promise me,” Maggie insisted. “I will promise ye anything, Maggie.” he kissed her as the baby finished and he took his son from her for the last time. “Take him down to the housekeeper, she has promised to care for him until you are ready to go back home, there are goats here for his milk,” Margaret said and Jamie did as she asked. While the housekeeper explained to Jamie how he would need to care for the child until he could get home to Scotland, as a way of distracting him, Count Magonoff slipped up the stairs. Margaret dozed but when he entered, she awoke, though he made no sound she was aware of his presence. Margaret looked around the room and saw nothing. She lay back among the pillows too weak to keep up her vigilance. She closed her eyes with a sigh. Ignatio stood in the shadows; pale as she was, Margaret was beautiful though she was dying. Only he could give her some hope of a life. Would she accept a life with him? He wondered? She could not go with her husband and son if he changed her, but Ignatio would be happy to have her with him. He loved her and would love her–gently–not like it had been with Leslie, but would she love him? Now he would find out. Ignatio stepped from the shadows. “Margaret,” Ignatio said her name. “Who is there?” Margaret asked opening her eyes slowly. “Margaret it is I, Ignatio.” He came to stand and look down at her.

“Count? What is it you want?” Margaret asked perplexed at why he was in her room. “Margaret you know that you are dying?” Ignatio said rather than asked. “Aye, I know,” she replied with a stifled sob. “I have a way to give you life, of a sort,” Ignatio said hesitantly, unsure of how to explain to her what he was and could do. Unable to explain what the limitations would be for her if he did change her and the sacrifices she would have to make. She looked at him for a long moment, “I know what you are,” Margaret said. “How would you know?” Ignatio asked, surprised. “I know,” was all she would say. Their eyes locked together. “Then you must realize I can save your life, in a manner of speaking. But if I do you will live, however, you will not be able to go with your husband and son.” Margaret watched him through half-closed eyes. “You give me a choice between life as a vampire or no life at all. But this life is as one damned. How do you propose to explain this to Jamie?” “I don’t, he cannot know. Margaret, you will stay here with me. It will not be easy for you at first. I know it will be hard to give up your husband and child. I know you love your husband and of course your son. But Margaret you will be alive, there is no other way,” Ignatio said gently, he sat in the chair next to the bed. “And I am sorry but you have little time to make the decision.” He could see the pain of indecision in her eyes. Ignatio knew he would have to tell her, “Margaret, I love you.” It was important to him that she did not doubt his sincerity. “Count, you may be a vampire but you are a married vampire,” she exclaimed. Her expression suddenly changed. “You killed her!” she accused. “Yes,” he admitted. “I caught her being unfaithful and she would have killed an innocent. I could not live with either sin. And, in truth, we were not married. I had known Lady Leslie for only a short time.” Margaret looked at him and she could feel her life slipping away. It would do no one any good for her to die, she didn’t want to die. If she were alive she could occasionally check on her son and her husband, but he would no longer be her husband, because in a way she would die. Tears streaked her face and she sobbed. “Margaret, you must decide, not only does your body limit your time, but your husband will return soon,” Ignatio told her. “I know,” she replied. “Do it,” Margaret exclaimed! “Quickly before I change my mind,” and she pulled her long hair away from her lovely neck. Ignatio looked deeply into her spring green eyes thinking how beautiful they were and he would be able to look into them for eternity. He allowed his full hypnotic effect to flow from his mind into hers. He wanted her to feel no discomfort but only the pleasure his bite could bring. When he had her mind under his full command, he leaned over her and kissed her pale lips cradling her in his arms. He kissed her closed eyes, her face, and then her neck. He could feel her weak pulse and knew he must be quick. Ignatio kissed the spot he would pierce. Gently, he drove his fangs deep into her jugular vein, knowing he was almost too late, as there was little blood. He drew her blood until she was so close to death that her breath was ragged and shallow. Ignatio cradled her in his arms and slit his wrist with his own fangs to put his wrist to her white lips. “Drink, Margaret, and live.” he told her, at first she would not. “Margaret you must, or you will die, it is the way of it. I command you, drink!” A few drops fell into her mouth and she swallowed. Slowly she began to suck until some color returned to her face and the change took place. Because she was so weak when the change took place, it would be a few days until she could leave the bed and she still looked on the verge of death. “Now, Margaret,” Ignatio explained, “Jamie will come again. You are so weak that he will know you will not live, and it is most important that he must believe you have gone. This is for his sake and that of your son. Can you do this?” “I can, but I do not wish too,” Margaret said sadly. “I must go, I shall return shortly.” Ignatio left and as he had said, Jamie came soon after. “Maggie?” Jamie’s voice sounded like an angle’s voice. “Jamie, I am glad you’ve come, my time is near, my love,” Margaret told him. “Maggie, please!” “Jamie, I cannot fight nature,” she told him. “Sit with me.” Jamie took her hand and sat in the chair, after a time Margaret closed her eyes as if she slept but Jamie knew she had left him. He sat and wept, until the Count found him and helped him from the room. “Jamie, you must think of your son now,” Ignatio told him. “The little lad needs you.” “I cannot even take her home to bury her.” Jamie said and shook his head. “You can bury her in our family crypt, I would deem it a honor.” the Count said. “Thank you, your lordship.” Jamie’s voice was that of a broken man, the same way the count’s voice had sounded a little more than a year before.

Chapter Nine

It had rained most of the next day and Margaret had slept the sleep of one dead. She had been aware of Jamie’s presence once or twice when he had visited her lying in bed her white hands crossed over her breasts, her hair arranged on the pillow. He had cried and it had torn at her heart to know he was so grieved. She yearned to comfort him and knew she could not. When he had left, she had heard her baby cry and could not contain her own grief and cried too. Ignatio rose at dusk to appear from the shadows and comforted her as best he could. “Margaret,” he told her, “had I not done what I did, you would not have lived to hear the simple cry of your son for his dinner. I will see that he is brought up in a while, so that you may have some time with him before the services.” “When is Jamie leaving?” she asked between sobs. “He is leaving at dawn.” Ignatio said in a toneless voice. “It is good, should he stay any longer I don’t think I could bear it.” Margaret shook her head, her rust-colored hair swinging across her shoulders. “You are to stay in bed,” Ignatio said. “I must go downstairs now and you are too weak to learn how to hunt and feed on your own. I will return later and see to it that you are well fed.” He smiled down into her summer green eyes he loved. “At dusk the minister will come to perform the services your Jamie requested, normally an Orthodox Priest would do this, at least for my family, but the Bishop and I had a falling out shortly after Lady Leslie’s arrival.” Ignatio smiled ruefully. By dusk the rain had stopped long enough for a short service by the Protestant minister, who served several of the small towns in the surrounding communities. Most of the people were Orthodox in the area, so the minister was rarely called to preside over such events. Now that Ignatio was no longer a member of any church, and Jamie and Margaret Stuart were Protestants, his services were welcome. It was a solemn occasion, made more so by the wails of little Jamie and nothing would quiet him. Margaret was laid to rest in the aboveground crypt of the Magonoff family. The housekeeper took little Jamie back to the manor, escorted by Ignatio and the minister, leaving Jamie to a few minutes of privacy to say his goodbyes. Ignatio watched anxiously until he saw Jamie walk up to the manor from the family’s graveyard. Then a pang of sympathy assaulted him. The man looked broken, his face was haggard, his shoulders slumped, and it had begun to rain again. Whether it was tears of grief or rain that streaked Jamie’s face, Ignatio would not wager. “Come, Jamie,” Ignatio handed him a healthy portion of brandy in a glass. “Stand here by the fire so you can warm and dry. It would do your son no good for you to take ill. You are all he has now.” The Count put his arm around the distraught man and drew him near the fire. “I had her for such a short time,” Jamie sighed. “When my father announced that he wished us to marry, I was not happy about marrying a woman I had never met. One from a Clan, my Clan, had been at odds with for many generations. But, well, you don’t go against your father’s wishes where I come from and part of the terms of the agreement was a fine home that sat on both Clans’ lands, a way to unite us.” Jamie sat down, his legs wobbly. “Oh, then came the spring morning of our wedding and I saw my bonnie Maggie for the first time. I could not speak. She was so beautiful in a lavender dress with a crown of woven wildflowers in her hair and a pink blush on her fair cheeks. She would hardly look at me for awhile. She was shy and not any more pleased about the arranged marriage than I had been. Finally, she looked at me, and neither one of us could look away. I think we both fell in love at the first look.” Jamie shook his head, “I don’t know how I will tell her parents. I do so hope little Jamie has her eyes to remind me of her.” Terrible guilt assaulted Ignatio. He loved Margaret and was more than happy to have her as his own, but he remembered the pain Jamie was feeling from his own unhappy experience. He wasn’t sure that had his own son lived, he would have faired much better. It had taken him months to be able to function after Alexis and his son had died. Thankfully, his staff had carried the weight of running the fief he was responsible for. Now look at it, he thought bitterly, ‘since this damnable so-called “gift,” he had reduced it to nothing. His people had left and moved to prosperous fiefs. Once a thriving town, his township now was a dirty, rundown stopover for poor lost wayward souls such as these. Ignatio was sickened by what he had become. He hoped Margaret could help him, she was pure goodness, and, with her aid, maybe they could find a cure for this condition. Ignatio refused to give up hope that there must be a solution to his condition, perhaps no one had tried before. He drained his brandy. “Jamie, go on up to bed. If you are truly going to leave as early as dawn, you need to get some sleep. I know you are exhausted,” Ignatio said sympathetically. “You are, of course, correct, Count,” Jamie said without argument. Ignatio’s will was strong, but in Jamie’s current

condition, that had little to do with Jamie’s capitulation. He too drained his glass of brandy and, with dread in his steps, ascended the stairs to sleep in a different room than the one he had shared with Margaret. Ignatio had felt it would be easier on the man not to sleep where his wife had died. In truth Margaret still occupied those rooms and was spending the last hours possible with her son. Little Jamie was thriving on goat’s milk. Margaret didn’t dare breastfeed the child for fear of further exposing him to what she had become. Already she worried about the two bites Ignatio had given her before she delivered him. When he came to check on her, Margaret planned on asking him about that. It would be horrible if one day Jamie changed into a vampire. The thought sickened her and she was anxious about it. The click of a key in the door lock made her jump. Either Ignatio or the housekeeper was coming to visit. “Margaret, how are you?” Ignatio asked concern in his voice. “Still a little weak but stronger than…” She paused as a tear ran down her face and he gently wiped it away, “before,” she finished the sentence. “Soon you will be amazed at the power at your control,” Ignatio explained, hoping to cheer her, but as he watched her holding her child nursing his bottle, he knew it was a ridiculous effort. “Ignatio,” Margaret’s voice held a question Ignatio feared she would ask, “will the two times you bit me before Jamie’s birth effect him?” “Margaret, I truthfully do not know. I have gathered every book I can find in this general area on vampire lore. There are many legends, but not many facts. I have also collected all the medical books I can find on conditions of the blood, but on that there is little. In a short time we will close the manor and travel to all the great centers of learning and try to find an answer in one of the great medical universities.” “Ignatio, I must know what you know.” She looked down at her two-day old son. “Because if he will turn into one of us someday, he must be warned, so that he too can be on the watch for a cure. Please Ignatio, bring me some of the books you have and allow me to look through them.” “Margaret, my library is at your disposal and I will bring what books might be most informative to you this night but can you read them? They are mostly in Latin.” Ignatio did not wish to insult Margaret but it was uncommon for a woman to be well educated enough to read, much less to read Latin. “Yes, Ignatio, I can read English, Latin, French, and German. ” She smiled. “Does this surprise you? My family is wealthy, I was sent to college.” Suddenly her smile changed, tears welled up in her eyes and began rolling down her cheeks. “I wish to go home. I will never see Scotland again.” “You will see Scotland again, Margaret, I swear it to you,” Ignatio told her. “I will take you there. Actually, one of the medical schools we will visit is in Scotland. You may check on your family when we go, from a distance, and for that I am sorry, but you will be able to see them.” “Promise me?” Margaret said, wiping her tears away. “Yes, I promise you.” Ignatio took a linen handkerchief and gently blotted her tears away. “I must go now.” “You have to feed, don’t you?” Margaret asked tentatively. “Yes and for both of us, he told her and gently took Jamie to give the child to his father. “I will bring him to you before it is time for him to leave in the morning and I will be back so that you may feed. ” He saw a peculiar look cross her face and realized it was an effort to disguise her disgust at the thought of what she must now do in order to live. Ignatio turned and left her, with his ultra -sensitive hearing he heard Margaret’s weeping as he walked down the hall. Ignatio did not regret in any way his decision to change Margaret, he could not have stood by and allowed her to die, but he had hoped she would except her fate and handle it better. Ignatio knocked on the bedroom door where Jamie had been moved. At Jamie’s acknowledgement, the Count opened the door and entered then laid the sleeping child in his crib. “I will bid you goodnight, Jamie.” The Count said and made to leave until Jamie stopped him. “Count, I believe your manor is haunted,” Jamie told him. “Really. How so?” Ignatio asked. “I’ve heard weeping several times. Your ghost is unhappy.” Jamie said with a funny, suspicious look in his eyes. Since he had come to this house strange things had happened. Jamie had been so concerned over his wife’s condition that he had dismissed them. Now, however, they were coming back to him with clarity and now he was hearing strange weeping coming from the upstairs room he and Margaret had occupied. Had he not seen her body and knew her to be dead, he would not be convinced. “Jamie, you have been through a terrible experience, perhaps this has influenced what you ’ve heard,” the Count suggested. “I must go and you, my friend, need to rest. I have arranged a driver for your carriage. He will take you as far as Vienna from there you can take a train through the countryside to the coast, then a ship on to Scotland.” “Thank you, Count,” Jamie said rubbing his neck. He was tired, heartbroken, and homesick. Maybe when he got back

to Scotland some of this pain would subside. “Till the morning then,” Ignatio said and left, closing the door gently so as not to wake the baby.

Chapter Ten

With a heavy heart, Count Magonoff left his home for his nightly feed. Tonight he would choose a donor with a healthy supply of blood. Margaret would feed from him, his system would have already cleansed the blood. Ignatio would be sure that she only got what would build her weak body up. Since he had disposed of Lady Leslie, her driver Carloff, had left. He had not questioned her disappearance, or asked to take his leave, but on the day Leslie had died, Carloff had just left. The Count no longer had a driver he could trust with what he was. He had hired Jamie’s driver for the sole purpose of transporting Jamie and the baby. To feed, Ignatio would change into one of several forms and go out into the countryside, then change back into his true form when necessary. This night he chose to become a wolf and on his four trustworthy paws, he came upon one of the shepherds who had worked for him at one time. Resuming his true form, he approached the young man who recognized him immediately. “Count,” he said bowing slightly. “What are you doing out so late and alone?” “Ah, after all the rain it has turned out to be a fine evening and I was tired of being indoors.” The Count sighed and sat on a rock, thinking about this young man whom he had known since he was a boy. He wouldn’t kill him, but he was a healthy, robust man who could provide a goodnight’s feed. Already his dogs were close by and they would keep the real wolves from bothering him once he was unconscious. The shepherd looked into the Count’s eyes and found he was mesmerized, unable to look away, his will was no longer his own. He saw peace in his Count’s eyes, lulled by that peace he sat motionless as the Count moved slowly closer to him. One of his dogs howled, he listened to the sound, each note the animal made seemed to float on the air before him. The cool hand of the Count touched his neck and soothed the young man’s pulse that had raced upon Count Magonoff’s unexpected arrival. The shepherd drew a deep, easy breath, the air smelling heavy of clover after the rain. Peaceful, the shepherd didn’t feel the Count’s fangs pierce his neck, just an overwhelming sense of contentment and peace as he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep to be safely watched over by his trustworthy dogs. Count Magonoff walked a distance away from his victim, mainly to distance himself from the shepherd ’s dogs and changed into a wolf again. He was always amazed at the freedom he felt in the animal form. The wolf was his favorite and he wondered if there might be a way to remain in this form. Perhaps that would be his solution. Just outside his manor’s gate he resumed his true form and quietly entered his home. He climbed the stairs to see Margaret, knowing she needed to feed. He unlocked the door with some trepidation, wondering what condition he would find Margaret in and hoping she had not cried more during his absence. After her husband left at dawn, she would be able to freely move about the manor and be the grand house’s Mistress. Intuition told him she would be a far superior one to Lady Leslie. He hoped the responsibility of running the house would fill her time and take her mind from the devastating events that had brought her to this situation in her life. He found her asleep, her long red hair spread out over the white sheets, she was still so pale she almost blended with them. “Margaret,” Ignatio said gently, “Margaret.” She awakened. “I’m sorry, I’m still so tired,” Margaret said, apologetically. “Margaret, you need not apologize for anything.” Ignatio sat on the bed next to her. He pulled a lock of hair from her face. “This will help you feel more alive.” Ignatio opened his wrist as he had the night before and put it to her lips. He saw the same look of thinly disguised revulsion flash over her face; but she drew his blood and drank. She had not discovered her own fangs yet, they were there, Ignatio could feel them against his skin. She drank little and pulled away. “Margaret, you must drink more than that, do not fear you will drain me, there is plenty.” “Did you kill to take this?” She asked him in a quiet voice. “No, I did not. I have yet to kill but one donor and he was a rapist,” he told her truthfully. This young man felt nothing but pleasure and his sheep dogs will protect him. “Now, Margaret, you must drink more, you must regain your strength. It would be nice to have you accompany me on my nightly feeds and I could use help finding a cure for our situation. ” He put his wrist back to her mouth but a vampire’s wounds close quickly. She pierced his wrist with her own fangs, the sensation to Ignatio was pure pleasure and he sank to the chair beside her bed. “Did I hurt you?” She asked instantly concerned. “No,” his voice was low and throaty, “to bite another vampire causes pleasure.”

“Oh!” Margaret returned to finish her feed and, as he had promised, Margaret did feel better. “Thank you, Ignatio,” she told him. “How long will it be until dawn and Jamie’s departure?” “A few hours, Margaret. Now that you are more alert let us talk about our future,” Ignatio said gently, seeing a guarded look come into her eyes. “Margaret, I love you. I’ve known it almost from the first time I saw you. ” She looked at him skeptically. “Did you have no feelings for Lady Leslie at all?” Margaret asked. “At first there was a great physical attraction, sexually intense,” he said, then, looking into her kind and sympathetic eyes, Ignatio told Margaret the whole story.

Chapter Eleven

Lady Leslie watched from her perch atop a high tree near the manor each night since Carloff had saved her. She changed herself into an owl after her feed and watched through the huge windows, staring down into the study and into the parlor. She had seen the second little bite Magonoff had bestowed on Margaret to calm her and keep her from going into labor. Afterward she had flown to her new lodgings with Carloff. She had sold the magnificent ruby ring Ignatio had given her and, with those funds she would live well for a number of years. Carloff, ever the faithful servant, had been waiting for her, but their relationship had begun to change. After he had saved her, Leslie had decided Carloff worthy of her gift. She had, with his consent, begun the transformation. Carloff had proven to be the gentlest of all the lovers she had ever taken. He loved her body and, could she say, soul? He had never kissed her. Before she would always stand for him to satisfy her when she was in need and that was all. Now, he truly made love to her. When he kissed her for the first time, he had taken his place as a man, not a servant and Leslie knew that the one she had looked for so long, had been always close at hand. He had pulled her to him, when she cried after seeing the Count with Margaret for the first time, and held her close. He had kissed her tears away then taken her lips with his, his tongue stroked hers. “I grow tired of seeing these unworthy males take advantage of you, milady,” Carloff said when he released her lips. “I have stayed with you, watching them, and wanting you, not just to satiate you when they didn’t, but all the time. I wanted to make love to you.” He kissed her again, his hands gentle, as they had moved over her breasts fondling them. He kissed her neck and nipped her with his normal teeth just a little, sending tingles down her body. He kissed her nipples and sucked each one, worshiping them. He continued to kiss her body until she trembled as his rough, masculine hands explored her soft form. He found her wet cunt and slid his fingers between the lips, his thumb massaged her clit and left her breathless. Carloff soon replaced his hand with his tongue, but not before he questioned the jewelry he found in such an unusual place. Leslie had sobbed. She remembered clearly the night that Ignatio had given her those gold rings. Carloff kissed her, soothing her distress, his tongue moving down to her nether lips to resume teasing her cunt, until she was groaning under his tender love strokes. Carloff slid one of his rough fingers deep inside her velvety wet vagina. She sighed and began to meet his rhythm and he slid in another one. Leslie couldn’t believe the waves of pleasure Carloff was gently sending through her so recently misused body. Leslie’s hands were not still, she began exploring the hard muscles of Carloff’s hardworking body. He was solid muscle and she found she loved them. To kiss his broad chest and get lost in his blond curls, Leslie found exquisitely arousing. Her hands found his massive cock that had satisfied her on many occasions. Carloff’s tongue brought her to the edge of a tremendous orgasm and Leslie was ready for his cock to fill her. He moved to kiss her lips, Leslie’s own musk fresh on his lips. Positioning his cock on the edge of her vagina, Carloff slowly merged with her body while staring down into her blue eyes, filling Leslie’s cunt to her full measure. He didn’t begin to move immediately but held her to kiss her face. With torturously slow, sweet movements, he built their climax until Leslie was compelled to meet his rhythm. Her hips arching to meet his, as he propelled her onward through one orgasm and into a second. Driven by her instincts, Leslie licked his neck and with her most gentle, yet powerful efforts, drove her fangs deep into his neck to find his blood rich and plentiful. The harder she drew his blood, the harder he drove into her. Carloff seemed invigorated by her bite of love and she finished before he did, something that had never happened to Leslie before. With just a trickle of blood on his neck, Carloff looked down at his Lady and smiled. “I have loved you, Leslie, for so long. I am your true mate; not these others who have all treated you so badly. I will defend you and take care of you. No one will ever hurt you again.” Carloff rolled off to lie next to her, holding her close until they both slept. Lady Leslie knew she had at last found the man who was her mate. Despite her revelation, the next night she sat on her perch outside the manor and watched the Count again. She would have her revenge. Knowing it would take many years, she wanted as much information as she could gather and until Carloff was changed she would collect it. This night she saw Margaret go into labor; but had to leave before the baby was born, the dawn came first. She had found her feed out this night, because she would not bite Carloff two nights in a row. She looked forward to the comfort found in Carloff’s arms when she returned to the warmth of their cottage. He didn’t ask where she had been; he was forever faithful in his trust and love of her. Carloff greeted her with a passionate kiss and a hot bath. Carloff towel-dried his ladylove and massaged her perfect body with a sweet smelling lotion he

had bought as a surprise for her. “Carloff, you are a wonder. Where did you find such a wonderful lotion?” Leslie asked. “In a shop not far from here,” he smiled. “Still being human I have to eat and while I was at the market I passed a shop that sells such things, I also bought this.” He gave her an old book, its binding battered and beaten, the title hardly readable. Tales of the Nightflyer she read, “What’s it about?” Leslie asked and rolled over. “From what I could tell, it is about vampires and how to become one and how not to be one. ” Carloff told her, as he smoothed the lotion over her naked breasts. “Carloff,” Leslie asked, “Do you really wish to become a vampire?” “Yes, Leslie, I do. I bought the book to keep your Count from finding it. I saw him in town just before dusk. He stayed in the shadows and would have bought the book, had he found it. Rumor has it around town, that a certain Count is buying any book that has information on vampires. He is trying to find a cure.” Carloff laughed and smoothed lotion over her stomach and down between her legs teasing her labia. “Oh, Carloff, that feels good,” Leslie purred. “Have you read any of this book?” “Yes, some, but basically what it says is folklore. There are certain people born every so often who are marked with a birthmark, a small bat, women bear this mark on their breast, men on their inner thigh near their groin. Someone with this mark can save a vampire or save someone who is destined to become one.” Carloff said a bit cryptically, he leaned over her naked body and licked her nipples, tenderly pulling at them with his teeth, only to kiss each one a moment later. “I am happy to see that lady told me the truth, this lotion does have a pleasant taste. He began to lick her all over her body, you taste like berries.” “What kind of berries?” Leslies asked, it had been many, many years since she had tasted berries of any kind. She was so lost in his touch and her love of sex, that it didn’t occur to Leslie how rare it was that Carloff could not only read, but read a book written in Latin. “Strawberries,” Carloff answered and continued to apply the cream to her body, occasionally licking certain areas when she didn’t expect it. He finished applying lotion to her toes. Carloff moved back up to her mound and concentrated his attention there, finding her sex already wet and aroused. Then there were those two golden rings, “Leslie why don’t you allow me to remove these?” Carloff suggested. “No, they stay,” Leslie said. “Until I have my revenge on the Count, then I will remove them or you may remove them.” “Very well, milady,” he smiled and continued tonguing her cunt for a few moments, then plunged his tongue deep inside her repeatedly until she climaxed. Crying out her passion, Leslie arched her hips to meet his mouth until she trembled beneath him on their bed. Carloff climbed over her, slowly nipping here and there, to kiss her lips as he merged with her body and settled his cock deep inside her. He rode her hard for a time until Leslie stopped him. Leslie rolled him over to assume the upper position and setting her own rhythm rode him as she would a wild stallion. At the height of their passion, Leslie bent over him and sank her fangs in his neck to draw his blood in great gulps, amazed at how much he had replenished his supply from her previous bite. With the next bite when the change would take place, Leslie knew she would need to be ravenous, to draw his blood low enough to bring him to the brink of death. When they at last climaxed, Carloff drifted off to sleep his quiet snores lulling Leslie to join him. Night fell and Leslie was so satisfied, she slept late. Upon rising, she took wing and perched herself to watch the activities at the manor. Tonight she would not feed in order to be prepared to change Carloff the next night. Tonight she would observe. Leslie had arrived late, too late to observe the funeral service, but not too late to watch Jamie walk up the path from the graveyard to the manor house with tears streaming down his face. He looked haggard and Leslie knew that Margaret had either died or Ignatio had changed her and Jamie believed her dead. In her owl form, she looked at the windows of the great manor and saw Margaret, who stood slightly behind a curtained window. Ignatio had changed her. Now Margaret was lady of the manor and at Ignatio’s tender mercies. Leslie almost felt sorry for the woman. She knew how bad he could be, but an inner sense warned her that Ignatio would be different with Margaret. When she saw the Count appear behind Margaret at the window, Leslie flew off, she had seen enough. Near dawn she happened to wing by again, just in time to see Jamie board a hired carriage with the baby and they were gone, destined for Scotland. Margaret remained behind. Jamie believed she was dead. Leslie returned to her cottage and to Carloff, tonight he would be one of the gifted. “Carloff, my true love,” Leslie said slowly placing her long slender arms around his thick muscular neck, “tonight will be the night you will change and we must be sure that is what you want.” “Yes, milady Leslie, that is what I have wanted since I came into your service. ” Carloff said and drew her into a long, heated kiss that Leslie felt down to her toes. They drew apart and Leslie looked into his eyes “I have some questions I want you to answer.” “Of course. Milady,” Carloff agreed with a sly look in his eyes. He knew he could not keep his secrets from her any longer. “How would a man who is the servant and driver for a Russian viscount come to learn how to read and write not only Russian but German and Latin?” She smiled at her handsome lover. “And how would you come to know the ways of the

noblemen and women at court as I have often noticed you do?” “I was not born a servant, milady, nor raised as one; but the son of a count, such as your Count Magonoff, but the second son and then disinherited because I would not bow to a false czar as your Count did. Yes I saw him many years ago, when I was a child of sixteen and he had lost his parents. My family comes from a fief many miles from here. I would not bow to a czar who proposed he was the rightful heir. Out of fear, my family turned their back on me and bade me leave their house.” Carloff pulled her closer. “And now I am your servant and yes I do wish to be a vampire and your mate.” Leslie searched his deep gray eyes, their lips met and their passion flowed through their lips. Carloff lifted Leslie and bore her to their bed. Her cool hands only further aroused his desire for her and his cock grew in her grasp. Her lips bent to kiss his mighty cock, that had pleasured her so many times in their past together. She had never taken the time to return that pleasure, tonight she would. She gently tongued the head of his cock, putting her lips around it, sucking him in and drawing him deeper into her mouth to fill her throat. She contracted her throat around the head of his cock in a rhythmic motion. Carloff moaned his gratification, as she milked his thick cock until he thought he might cum in her mouth. He stopped her, wanting to save that pleasure for her cunt, but she had other plans. She began to lick his shaft and his balls, and kissed the spot where she would bite him the third time. Carloff, ever mindful of Leslie’s pleasure, had tongued her cunny into a frenzy of heated wetness, bringing Leslie to her own state of climax. Leslie gently drove her fangs deep into the vein that ran beside his staff of pleasure and completed the transformation of Carloff into a vampire. Carloff would become an immortal that would be more than equal to Ignatio Magonoff in strength and power, but would not change into the sadistic, vengeful being that the Count had become. When Leslie had drunk the blood from Carloff necessary to complete the change, Carloff lay still beneath her for a moment. Leslie started to open her wrist to allow Carloff to renew himself from his own blood and become strengthened. She was startled when he took her wrist and using his new fangs for the first time, gently plunged them into her delicate wrist and began to draw blood from her on his own. Leslie groaned at the feeling of pleasure that flowed through her, as it did all vampires when another drew blood from them. A bite more heightening than sexual pleasure, yet connected to sex, in a way a mortal could never understand in the intensity of gratification. To Leslie’s further arousal, Carloff moved over her, his cock still steel hard and positioned himself at the entrance to her hot, wet tunnel, plunging his thick organ into her, drawing a raw, raspy gasp from her throat. Carloff smiled down into her ecstasy-swept face. He propelled his lady vampire until she cried out, her release begging him to find his, tears rolling from her eyes, as she found her body again matched his while he roared his relief. Carloff rolled to her side, gathering her in his giant arms to hold her precious body close to his own for long moments, until their breathing returned to normal. “Let us both go now and find my first feed together, my love,” he said and kissed her lips lightly. A haunted memory came to Leslie of Count Ignatio’s demand for his first feed after his change and how it contrasted with Carloff's. She kissed Carloff sweetly. Together they both changed into mated birds of prey, and on strong wings, by the light of a full moon, found their dinner. Afterwards, from their soaring vantage, they watched as Ignatio did the same on pawed feet. They returned to their cottage to rest for the day and Leslie slept with Carloff’s assurance that Ignatio would one day pay for the humiliation and pain he had heaped upon her. Count Magonoff and Carloff had been in town earlier in the evening at the same time, though Carloff had been careful the Count didn't see him, and Magonoff would have bought the book had Carloff not purchased it first. As fate would have it, Count Magonoff entered the same shop shortly after Carloff had left, looking for presents that would make Margaret feel more comfortable and ease her depression. The old woman that owned and ran the shop was a devious businesswoman and had two copies of the same book, though she only displayed one at a time. Count Magonoff purchased the second copy, and a few other things that he thought Margaret would enjoy, then he returned to his manor. He fed on his way home, unaware he was being observed in his wolf guise. His observers unaware he had hidden the second copy along with his other purchases. He retrieved them when he changed back into human form and took them home.

Chapter Twelve

Ignatio was pleased with the book he had found and with all the purchases that he had made for Margaret. It had been several weeks since Margaret had been changed, and whereas he had not expected her to emotionally get over the loss of her husband and particularly her son quickly; he was hoping that she would soon begin to see him in a more loving light. He had done all he could think of to sway her affections to him, from presents, to being there when she was in need of companionship and comfort. She had finally begun to go with him to feed. This had been incredibly difficult for her, but she had done well the first time. From time--to–time, Ignatio had the feeling he was being watched when he went on his nightly feeds, even when Margaret was with him. His senses being so keen, if it were a human he would know for sure, but another of his own kind could disguise himself or herself, and he would not necessarily be able to pinpoint the being. On his way from his feed this night, he had felt it even after he had also changed. He shrugged the sensation away and entered his home. Margaret was not there. Ignatio was a bit panicky until he heard a howl in the front of the manor and opened the door to watch a beautiful silver-gray female wolf change into the human form of Margaret. She laughed. An emotion he had not seen since her arrival with Jamie, one he hoped indicated she had begun to accept her future with him. “I became hungry,” she shrugged. “It truly is a freeing sensation to change into a beast and run at top speed through the forest, hearing things you are normally unable to hear and smell what you normally cannot.” “And did you feed?” Ignatio asked. “Yes,” she said a bit shyly. “I came upon man who had kidnapped a little girl from her home. His intentions were not honorable. I separated them as a wolf. Him I fed from, I did not kill him, but I would imagine the pack of wolves close by did. Then as a woman I took the little girl home and, after she was safely inside, I changed back into a wolf and came home.” “You did well for yourself this evening, my love, ” Ignatio told her, leading her inside. “I have brought you a few things from town. I hope you like them.” They entered the manor together, his arm around her waist. Ignatio smiled to himself, happy to see Margaret start to live again. She liked the sweet smelling bath soaps he had brought her, as well as the dress and nightgowns he had purchased. Unlike Lady Leslie, Ignatio had no intention of any rough sex games with Margaret, but the more gentle ones that he had enjoyed with his wife. Sweet little games that would heighten their mutual enjoyment of each other, but only if Margaret was of that nature. It had been a long seven weeks since she had given birth and been changed into a vampire. Her body had now returned to the slender womanly curves of her normal shape before the birth of her child. They had not shared a room and Ignatio had not pushed her. He had kissed her gently; she knew he desired her, for now, that was pressure enough. Soon he would take the next step. “Thank you, Ignatio, for the gifts, but what is the book you bought?” she asked curious of its contents. Ignatio handed her the book. She took it and gently smoothed her hand over the leather of the cover. She wondered if the answer to her most poignant question might be in this little book. Margaret opened the book and carefully turned the old parchment, looking forward to translating the script. She thought of the little pink bundle she had kissed goodbye several weeks ago. How she had carried him for nine months and never dreamed she would part with him for many years. Would the answers to his future be found as well? And, if not here, in some other manuscript so that she might warn him before it was too late? A tear dropped on the leather of the old book as she sobbed and Ignatio drew her into his arms to hold her tightly. “Oh Ig..gy,” she hiccupped. “Will I ever know if my wee Jamie will turn into one of us?” “I don’t know Margaret. But if we find out that he will, I swear we will warn him and do everything we can to find a solution,” Ignatio promised then he laughed. She looked at him astonished that he would laugh at her sorrow, “What, may I ask is so funny?” her temper flaring. “Iggy?” the Count asked. “Oh!” Margaret flushed. “Now I have a nickname for you–Iggy.” “A vampire named Iggy,” Ignatio repeated the name. Then they both laughed. Ignatio drew Margaret to him, held her close, and wiped away her tears. “Margaret, I love you. I have since the day I saw you.” He saw the questions in her eyes. “Yes even though you were pregnant–I still do. I know now that I did not love Leslie. I might have in time, but when she did this to me, it became something else, something–tainted.” Ignatio bent his lips to Margaret’s and kissed her. Not as he had before but with the passion that burned in him for her. She didn’t pull away, but returned his kiss with a passion she had begun to feel for him. Margaret had read all the books

Ignatio had accumulated on vampires and it led her to the conclusion, she had found true from her own experience. The act of the vampire biting and drawing the victim’s blood was erotic and tied directly to the passions of sex. She found herself drawn to Ignatio and had been since before she had given birth to her son. Margaret laced her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts to his masculine chest, lightly teasing his tongue with her own. Ignatio swept her legs from beneath her and carried her to his bed. “Margaret, I want you so badly. Are you sure this is what you want?” Ignatio asked her. “Yes, I am sure, come to me my Count,” Margaret said and began stripping his clothes off, Ignatio finished removing them. Then he slowly undressed Margaret, nuzzling her breasts as he teased her large nipples then sucking on them. He took his time, not wanting to rush–they had the rest of eternity. Margaret’s hands smoothed over his body, over his hips to run her fingers through his pubic hairs and grasp his cock in her hand. Fully aroused, Margaret was amazed at the size of his organ and the passion he displayed for her. Margaret reverently massaged his dick, as Ignatio kissed her body down to her pubic mound, to kiss her cunt and lick her labia, causing Margaret to spasm under his tender touch. Ignatio knew she was close to climax, so he moved to mount her and gently positioned his cock at her nether mouth. While he kissed her, he merged with her hot and wanting body. Slowly he built their cadence into a frenzied pace, until both climaxed then lay complete in each other arms, exhausted, falling asleep for the remainder of the day. Each woke with the resolve to find a cure to their situation. Margaret for fear that her son would suffer their fate and Ignatio wanting a normal man’s life with Margaret and a family of his own. Together, they vowed to search through the great knowledge centers of the world. Both eager to read the book that the Count had found at the little shop, hoping it would be a foundation in their efforts for a cure. Neither aware their efforts were being monitored. Lady Leslie and Carloff found they were truly happy in each other’s arms. After a time, they only kept loose track of their avowed adversary, Count Magonoff. They waited for a time in the future when they would avenge the wrongs done to Leslie but held no ill-will for Margaret. They found their time better spent in each other’s arms. Perceptively they knew their time would come. After all, they both thought–what did a vampire have more of than time?

Chapter Thirteen

Jamie saw the towers of his father’s castle from a far distance, he was bone weary, and his soul was past the point of exhaustion. Little Jamie stirred in the crook of his arms and woke as if he knew he was home. “Poor wee lad,” Jamie said. “Now we have to tell your mother’s family she is gone and buried in a far away country, her poor mother. And for you my fine, brave, little son, a wet nurse and no more goats’ milk.” “Lord Jamie!” the driver called down. “There be a gypsy’s wagon in the road.” “Pass it by man, give it plenty of room,” Jamie called back. As they passed it, an old voice called out for them to stop. “Stop,” called Jamie up to his driver. “What is your trouble old woman?” Jamie asked, not particularly fond of gypsies but he did not want to incur their disfavor either and risk an ill spell from one. “It is not my troubles that worry me, milord,” the woman said, “but yours.” “What do you mean?” Jamie asked confused. “Even without me cards, I can see what your past has been and what your future holds. It is that clear to my powers.” Her voice was serious and Jamie could feel the hairs on his neck and arms stand up. “You’ve met a vampire!” she said without preamble. “Beware your son’s future, for his mother, God help her, was bitten twice while she carried your son. Only a woman with the mark of the Nightflyer on her right breast can save him. He will live a long life before he finds such a woman, and only then just before the change takes him will he find her.” “Old woman what are you talking about?” Jamie asked, still confused but something queer and familiar stirred in his soul. “Heed my words," she railed at Jamie. "Tell your son, when he is old enough, to be careful of his future. He will live many long years into the future.” The wagon carrying her picked up speed and was quickly gone. Jamie was left behind to wonder what she meant. Her wagon disappeared even though there were no turn offs, and the road led to his home. Still some distance from home, though he could occasionally glimpse the towers growing closer, Jamie ’s mind would no longer allow him to deny his thoughts about what had transpired over the past two months. It made little logical sense in the modern world of the late eighteen hundreds. People didn’t believe in witches, ghosts, and vampires anymore. Science was the new belief. Jamie remembered he had accused Count Magonoff of having a sad ghost, but he had not been truly serious. Now he wondered who had been weeping. Perhaps he should have investigated the sound, but to go and explore another man’s home was unthinkable. He remembered the night he fell and hit his head and the Count had found him unconscious. It had seemed odd that his head had not been sore from an impact. He remembered Lady Leslie had been on the terrace for a short period before he was unconscious. Of course, there were the two unexplained times when Margaret had been having extreme problems with the baby and the Count had calmed her. None of it added up. Jamie sighed, he only knew that he was without the only woman he had ever loved. The perfect woman now gone, but she had given him a beautiful son to carry on the Stuart family line. Now Jamie could see the Castle clearly. He had sent a dispatch ahead over a week ago, so they knew his arrival was imminent. By his dispatch, they knew Margaret was gone and roughly what had occurred. As Laird of his Clan, his father’s lookouts would have had spotted the carriage by now, and the household would be waiting for them. Jamie didn’t look forward to their questions, but it was unavoidable and he had few real answers. The carriage pulled to a halt in the Castle courtyard, before the great double doors. A footman opened the carriage door and Jamie handed his son into the waiting arms of his own mother, who took the child with tears of sad joy. She gave her own son a hug of mute compassion, her eyes full of sympathy at his loss, as soon as he stepped from the carriage. His father, Lord Stuart, forwent his usual handshake and hugged his son, then turned to gaze upon the first child born to the Stuart Clan of the next generation. “His name is Jamie, father, Margaret named him before she died.” Jamie, Sr. said simply, his voice cracked. “Tis glad I am you’re home son,” James Stuart said firmly. “Had we known Margaret was with child when you left…” He shook his head. “We talked about it father, Maggie and I, when we discovered she was pregnant. We started to remain in the South Pacific until after the child came, but decided we would have time to make it home. So many things happened on the way back. It was not a normal trip, and nothing went as it should. It was as if fate directed our feet where it wanted us to go.” “Let us go inside and get you and the baby settled, then you can tell the story to us all at once. Margaret’s family will be here soon,” Jamie’s mother explained. “We thought it would be easier for you to tell it once and get it over with.”

“Do they know?” Jamie asked. “Yes, they know Margaret is gone, but not what happened. Really not much more than we do,” James told him. “You still retain the house and the lands, they will be for little Jamie and his heirs. We all agree on that. You two were married for that reason and it was a valid reason.” The sound of carriage wheels interrupted their conversation. The Kirk’s had arrived. Jamie stood and walked out to meet them. It was tense. He looked into the eyes of Margaret’s parents, her father’s face was stern, but he was a minister and that was normal for him. Her mother had been crying. No surprise there, Jamie’s mother placed little Jamie in her arms and the tears started to roll down her face, but she cooed to the baby and held him close. Margaret’s older brother shook his hand and her sister, just a year younger, stepped down from the carriage she too showed signs of weeping. “I am so sorry,” was all Jamie could say. It was a sad homecoming. It couldn’t be any other. Drinks were poured, then everyone found comfortable chairs. The maids placed trays of refreshments close at hand. Little Jamie was placed in an antique cradle, to be watched over by all and Jamie began his story of their trip home. He answered their questions as best he could. It had taken almost a month to reach home after Margaret's death and though that month had been much less eventful, it still made for a remarkable story. Afterwards they sat down to dinner and Margaret’s parents remained for several days to get to know their grandson. Margaret’s younger sister, Beatrice, caught Jamie's eye during the time they stayed. No two sisters could be so different. Where Margaret was a redheaded lass, her sister had dark brunette hair and a medium complexion compared to Margaret’s fair complexion. Margaret was slight and short, Beatrice taller and of more a sturdy build. Both girls were beautiful but in different ways. Margaret had a sweet disposition with a temper of fire. Beatrice’s disposition was mild and easy going, taking what life offered and handling the ups -and-downs, with only the most-extreme situations angering her. Over the next several months, Jamie was well cared for in his home by the staff and little Jamie’s nanny took good care of him. Beatrice, escorted by her brother or mother would call on Jamie to see the baby and the attraction between them grew. Jamie came to know that he cared for Beatrice and he approached her father for her hand in marriage. Moses Kirk was somewhat leery to allow his last daughter to marry Jamie Stuart but it was obvious she loved Jamie and the young man swore his days of travel were over. With her father’s consent, Beatrice and Jamie married. This time they celebrated their honeymoon at home. Jamie, Sr. found the two were alike in the bedroom. Both girls were tigresses when it came to sex. Beatrice was a virgin, as Jamie knew and was gentle with her on their wedding night. “Beatrice, my love,” Jamie said to her when he entered the bedroom after the bride had been ritually put to bed by both mothers and the other ladies of the wedding party. “You are truly beautiful.” She blushed bright red. “Jamie,” she said shyly, “I only will ask one thing of you. I loved my sister very much and I miss her. I wish she had not died, but please do not compare her to me. Most of my life people have done that, she was always the older, more beautiful one with her bright red hair and fair complexion and her being so small. I have always been thought of as the plain one.” Beatrice looked down at her hands that were shaking as a tear fell on them. “Oh, Bea,” Jamie shortened her name as he had Margaret’s, “you are beautiful and most definitely not plain. I will not compare you to your sister, you are two separate women.” Jamie sat on the bed possessively placing an arm across her. He bent to kiss her lips his tongue teasing hers. He had kissed Bea before, but he had never gone farther with her, it wasn’t considered proper, and her father kept her well chaperoned. His lips traveled down her throat to her breasts that were ripe and full, she gasped. Jamie stopped to look at her. “Does this frighten you?” “No, my Jamie,” Beatrice said and though she was shaking she put her arms around him and pulled him closer. Jamie held her breasts in each hand and licked the nipples, then kissed each one before he began to suckle them. Bea sighed in pleasure and lay back to enjoy her new husband’s attentions. His hands searched her body, over her round curves and down to her mound. She gasped when his hands touched her cunt. No one had ever touched her there. His fingers combed through the thick matted dark hair a finger slipped between her cunt lips, she groaned. Her body had already responded to his touch and was wet, flowing with love’s honey. Her body prepared to loose its innocence. Beatrice’s body flamed when Jamie slipped a finger gently and slowly inside her. He didn’t hurt her but it was tight and uncomfortable, her body immediately responded by growing wetter and sent waves of liquid fire through her. Such sensations she didn’t know existed. She moved her hips on his fingers. “Not to fast, my bonnie wife,” Jamie cautioned. He felt his cock at his full growth and the steely organ demanding release. Her hands started to explore his body and wandered down to find his cock. She tentatively touched his dick, and drew away. “Oh, Jamie, you can’t put that in me, it will kill me.” “No, my love, it will not kill you. The first time for you will cause some discomfort but afterward there will only be pleasure, the most pleasure you can imagine.” Jamie tried to explain but knew only the experience would suffice. “Oh, Jamie, now I am afraid.” Beatrice said.

Jamie covered her lips with his and started to arouse her now tense body. Had her mother told her nothing? He remembered Margaret and she had been the same. Soon she groaned from his fingers rubbing her clit and gently, her vagina. He kissed her breast and worked his way downward to suck on her cunt lips. In a matter of moments, Beatrice began to build toward her first climax. As she neared it, Jamie moved on top of her and continued to massage her clit with his fingers. He kissed her deeply and at the point she was ready to climax, Jamie began to breach her virginity. Beatrice found herself caught in a mist of warmth and overpowered by the bliss, so that at first, she felt only the pressure of her husband’s throbbing staff against her vagina. As the pleasure deepened, the pressure increased. Now there was a strange pain/pleasure, she grasped him to her. Now the pressure had given way to only pain but the pain brought a curious gratification. “Oh, Jamie! You are splitting me!” Beatrice cried, but held him tighter to her. “No, my love, you aren’t splitting, just a little more.” Jamie told her and swiftly pushed the remainder of the way through her barrier. Beatrice cried out as Jamie filled her to the length of his cock. He lay on top of her for a few moments and kissed her face, then her lips, before he started to move slowly and gently. Beatrice whimpered as the waves and sensation of ecstasy he created inside her filled her entire senses. She held him tightly to her, so he could not leave her. The sensations took her higher, as he drove his shaft into her. She began to meet his thrusts as her body experienced its first climax, her muscles clamping down on Jamie’s cock to pull him back into her with each thrust, until Jamie joined her in crying out his release. Her body pulled the semen from him. Exhausted Jamie lay on top of his new wife, amazed at her body’s power to please, she was a natural at sex, more so even than her sister had been. It had been a year since he had lost Margaret, marked by little Jamie’s first birthday. He appeared to be a normal child of a year to all who cared for him, but already Jamie, Sr. saw his young son had abilities that surpassed other children his age. As he grew, Jamie, Sr. and Beatrice had two more sons and three daughters. Six children in all and Jamie knew his oldest son had extraordinary abilities. Jamie knew without a doubt, the boy had been affected as the gypsy woman had warned and soon Jamie would be forced to explain what had happened when he was yet unborn. Jamie didn’t look forward to that day and wondered how long his son’s life would be, as the gypsy had predicted. When the day came for little Jamie, now a handsome young man, to leave home for college his father took him aside and explained the story to his son. To his surprise and relief young Jamie was already aware of the differences in himself and other young men. “Father,” Jamie said, “I’ve known for many a year that I’m not like others. Now I know why. I’ve decided to study medicine, blood chemistry eventually. Perhaps I can save myself. Either way, Father, I don’t blame you or my mother. This Count Magonoff is the villain here. Don’t worry sir, if I see that I cannot stop it I will…” He paused. “See my last sunrise before I take another’s life in that manner." Then he had gone off to college. His father had seen him off at the train station that evening, tears in his eyes, remembering the love he had had for Margaret, now long dead and buried in a foreign land. A beautiful, young redheaded woman, with tears rolling down her Celtic-white face, stood watching the father and son's parting from a darkened, shadowy corner of the train station. A tall dark-haired man stood with her, his arm around her in a comforting manner. Both unseen by Jamie, lost in his own sorrow until he turned to walk away as they did and something so familiar about the two struck him, that a pain shot through him and he had to sit down for a few moments. In almost a blur, they were gone but for a moment, it was like looking at Margaret and Count Magonoff, as they had looked eighteen years ago. “Oh, Jamie, your mind is playing tricks on ye. ” he said softly to himself and drawing a deep, sad sigh returned to his carriage, his home, his other five children, and his loving wife Bea, who waited with understanding eyes and open arms.

Chapter Fourteen

The vampire lovers, Leslie and Carloff, traveled the cities of Europe while they enjoyed their nocturnal life together. Both were always careful to keep a low profile. Rarely did they kill, and when they did, they chose their victims amongst only those people of the street already proven to possess criminal dispositions. Leslie and Carloff also kept track of two important individuals: their old enemy, Count Magonoff, and an innocent boy named Jamie, for whose importance to them all, the couple had monitored his entire life. At Jamie’s graduation from medical school, Leslie and Carloff bestowed an ancient book upon him that Carloff had long ago purchased from the old gypsy woman. The anonymous gift, though greatly appreciated, puzzled Jamie, and further convinced him of a gloomy fate he already feared. Jamie added the text to his growing library of vampire folklore, and the writings found within the book spurred him on to find a medical cure for his suspected condition. However, Jamie was not alone. In their own race to find a cure for the vampire malady, Count Magonoff and his beloved Margaret had studied their predicament from the beginning of their time together after Jamie's birth. Through the great learning centers of Europe, they had found no clues to a solution to their condition. Now, Jamie was just beginning his mission in search of a cure. An expedition for knowledge, which would lead the Count and Jamie's paths to cross repeatedly–even perilously–over their vast life spans. Jamie, as a mortal, at least until he in his extended mortal's life would begin to change into an immortal, and that which he feared becoming, a vampire. Count Magonoff had been thirty-seven when he had tasted Margaret's blood before Jamie's birth, and begun the process that slowed his aging. When his mortal body reached that age, he would begin to change into the feared vampire, unless he found the woman who carried the Mark of the Nightflyer on her right breast, as the ancient book Tales of the Nightflyer had warned – only she could save him. Ironically, she could also save the Count, and this would set the two on a collision course. In the modern world the ancient, worn gypsy books would bring Count Magonoff and Jamie together again for one last, and very unexpected–and violent–conflict.

Bio

As Sheila N. Eskew, I am possibly better known as Sultry Summers, my naughty twin who writes erotica. As Sheila, I write Romance and have published under that name but possibly, I am better known for the three books written as Sultry, stories from Gothic Vampires to a lighthearted, crash-landed alien, rescued on Christmas Eve, by a sexy Wyoming rancher. I am proud to be among the Venus Press authors with two books due to be available soon. Atlantis Vortex as Sheila N. Eskew, a Paranormal Romance that will thrill readers with the astounding plot and spicy romance, and as Sultry a story included in Venus Press' Son's of Zeus series, Trojan Gold, an erotic story involving a trip to Troy. Many readers and authors also know me as "Orange", the Chat Coordinator for The Romance Studio.

See other books by this author at, www.venuspress.com