Crimson's Captivation
Read Crimson's Captivation Online
Authors: LLC Melange Books
Tags: #vampire, #princess, #erotic fantasies, #poland, #forced, #kidnapped, #royalty, #sweden, #captive, #sex trade, #1700s romance, #1700, #sexual desires, #epic quest, #fantasize, #c b carter, #captured vampire, #crimsons captivation, #erotic desires, #great northern war, #rescue his love
by C.B. Carter
Published by
Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
Crimson's Captivation, Copyright 2013 by C. B.
Carter
ISBN: 978-1-61235-593-1
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this
book are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of
this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Art by Lynsee Lauritsen
CRIMSON'S CAPTIVATION
C. B.
CARTER
Princess Crimson, from Sweden, is kidnapped
and forced into the sex trade run by a vampire named Kieran. She is
sold to Tor of Russia. Crimson’s lover, Viktor, confronts a
captured vampire about Crimson’s whereabouts, only to learn that
she is now a captive in Poland. Viktor leaves on an epic quest to
rescue his love. Meanwhile, Crimson’s new life exposes her to
sexual desires and practices she has never dreamed of. Will Viktor
find Crimson before she is lost in the world of erotic desires? Or
will he be too late to rescue her from a fate that women of royalty
fantasize about in the parlors and salons?
Crimson’s Captivation
is an erotic,
explicit fairytale, set during the Great Northern War (1700-1721)
between Sweden and the alliance of Denmark-Poland-Russia.
Table of Contents
Chapter I: The Sunset Beckons Danger
Chapter II: The Pursuit Begins
Chapter I: Warfare and the Honor of Men
Chapter III: Blunder and Restitution
Chapter IV: Profound Attraction
Chapter V: Safe in the Morning Sun
Chapter I: The Baltic and Poseidon
Chapter II: The Dread of Change
Chapter III: Noblemen's Hope and Honor
Chapter V: The Sincerity of Deep Sleep
Chapter VI: Love and Bravery: Foolish Things
Chapter VII: Kiev and Risqué Tales
Chapter VIII: Love Survives All
Chapter IX: Culmination and Relinquishment
PART I
The Awakening
Chapter I
~ The Sunset Beckons Danger ~
Crimson stood near the bank of Lake Karlberg
watching the artillery, and naval forces, as they prepared for the
pursuits of war. She listened to the distant sounds of cavalry that
thundered from outlying villages, forests, mountains and gorges to
unite with sail-fleets in defense of her homeland, Sweden. She
secretly applauded the regiments of pike men making their way
towards Stockholm, then to Denmark, Holstein or Gottorp. The pike
men were supposedly ceremonial, but she knew the real reason why
the tips of their pikes were made of wood; why the soldiers carried
wooden stakes on their ox-leather waist belts and wore pure silver
crosses around their necks. She knew why the other soldiers felt
the pike was far more honorable and useful than the musket,
especially during the shadows of dusk.
Crimson leaned against ‘their’ willow tree
and daydreamed under closed eyelids while she mindlessly tore the
petals from a pinkish-white Twinflower, “Loves me. Loves me not.”
The harvested petals twirled on the southerly wind and pirouetted
as a troupe of suspended ballerina’s across the surface of the
lake. Then came the answer of chance, only one petal left and for
the moment, it was settled: “Loves me.”
Slow, and as thick as honey, the pale
recollection transformed into to a vivid memory and took over her
thoughts. The kisses shared between her and Viktor, of his roaming
hands, his tender mouth, and his romantic words.
God, his tongue
is clever and tender,
she thought as she languished in the
daydream.
The way he deepens every expression with perfect
wording and tone.
Just weeks before, her passion, their
passion, had assassinated the young boy inside Viktor and revealed
the man. She knew she wanted more from Viktor. She wanted to be
pushed to a threshold of pleasure, held in suspension until the
very walls of her world caved in under the intense weight and
threatened to suffocate any lucidity of realism. She wanted to be
taken to the point where the world melted away. She thought of
Viktor and savored the flashback. She had lost track of time, and
dropped the spent Twinflower stem to the ground.
Fading rays of the sun serenaded the
well-worn path along the lake, and Crimson knew the dangers of
being caught outside the palace walls after sunset. At once, she
mounted her chestnut gelding, dug her heels into his side and
caused the steed to thunder toward the safety of the palace. She
could feel the beast’s powerful strides as she balanced on his back
and raced the setting sun; she dug deeper, demanding more
speed.
The wind plunged under the collar of her
shirt, fluttering the silk fabric against her flesh pink nipples.
The top button loosened just enough to expose her left breast but
she couldn’t stop, she dared not stop—the last of the sun’s rays
danced on the horizon, soon it would be dark. Soon, danger would be
about her like the encroaching shadows from which she raced away.
More speed and the diamond necklace around her neck fell in rhythm,
tapping the soft tissue under her chin and the reddened skin of her
breastbone.
There’s an enigmatic level of excitement in
racing the setting sun. There would only be one winner, and she was
fearful she had stayed out too long. The horse’s gallop settled
into a steady rhythm when suddenly, as she turned a bend on the
path, the horse stopped, reared onto his hind legs, and tossed her
to the ground.
Crimson got to her feet, brushed off the seat
of her riding pants and noticed a silhouette of man on the shadowy
part of the path. He collected the reins of her gelding and calmed
the animal with a single touch to the animal’s forehead. The
precious last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon and the path
darkened. Danger awakened in the grave shadows and howled in the
distance, sending shivers down her spine, and goose bumps ran up
her arms. Every hair and nerve stood on end.
Crimson was about to thank him when she
locked eyes with the stranger. A chill ran through her and she
froze, which caught her off guard. She was of royal lineage, and
although a secret, it afforded her a certain prowess, and she bowed
to no man, certainly not some wandering commoner on a path. The
momentary beliefs of her royal position shattered and the truth
emerged—this was no commoner. She drew on trembling breath and
strained to look away. “She knew what he was and he frightened her.
Her entire body cringed. A veiled force restrained her emotions and
actions. She couldn’t act or react and stood frozen in front of the
stranger.
In an instant, faster than humanly possible,
as if he was flesh one moment and vapor the next, the stranger was
in front of her, caressing the soft tissue of her throat. She tried
to pull away but couldn’t. He lifted her chin, exposing the soft,
creamy flesh of her neckline.
“Why struggle?” he inquired before placing a
tender kiss on the corner of her mouth. She had no answer, he was
far too strong and she felt powerless to stop him. She affixed her
hands over her neck, trying to protect herself and noticed her
diamond necklace, the love-gift from Viktor, was missing. She tried
to scream out for help, but her voice betrayed her.
The stranger smiled, tilted her head away
from him. He easily lifted one finger, then the next, of her
protective grasp, and kissed her naked throat. He could feel her
pounding heart course right through him. Her rapid pulses and
thumps made the collection of her sweet nectar that much
easier.
Danger breathed new life, howled a resonating
ecstasy deep into the dark forest as Crimson slipped into a
mythical trance. She fell limp in his arms.
* * * *
Crimson woke in a foreign place with four
chambermaids attending to her. She could vaguely remember any of
her past. Visions and images appeared as notions of thought and
little more. What she managed to recall came in and faded out
leaving only the thinnest contours of memories. She fought to
remember but her thoughts were scattered and riotous, she couldn’t
rein them in and found it difficult to make judgments of place and
time. She was unsure of the presence of her own body and it all
seemed surreal. The oil lamps along the room’s walls bathed the
bedroom chamber in a soft amber light as their black smoke pillowed
out through open flues in the ceiling and Crimson felt she was
little more than smoke.
She lay motionless, letting her eyes slowly
fix on the interior of the room. The walls were covered with sexual
art of men and women engaged in all manners of sexual pleasure.
Statues of females anchored the room’s corners, the faint oil lamp
light highlighted the softness of the naked female figure with
their full bosoms, open mouths and closed eyelids frozen in time.
They seemed to be in song. Two statues of men with particular
attention paid to the phallus, framed the doorway. Many of the
paintings and tapestries on the wall were of an erotic nature, and
Crimson felt a strange feeling of subservience in the air.
The dampness of the room and the thudding
echoes outside the door convinced her she was in the lower level of
a castle or palace. She eyed the four women attending to her,
looking for familiarity but didn’t find any. She was lost and
drifted like a dove’s breath in this new reality. She wasn’t sure
if she should be in the bedchamber or not and softly asked, “Where
am I?” Her question went unanswered. The chambermaids moved as
hummingbirds tending to a new flower. Crimson was left only to
wonder.
It wasn’t until the chambermaid to her left
sponged jasmine and lemon scented water across her neck that she
recalled being bitten on the path. The water stung the two bite
marks where the fangs had taken blood and the memory of the path,
of the dark, of the stranger, rushed back to her. She examined her
mouth with her tongue, felt the slightest sharpness of her incisors
and sank into the pillow in despair. She closed her eyes, wanting
to escape.
A chambermaid massaged rose oil deep into her
skin while the other two shaved her legs and pubis. They all hummed
as they tenderly worked on her naked body. Crimson struggled. She
tried to sit up but leather straps bound her wrists and held her in
place. The nearest chambermaid reached out with her finger and
pressed them to Crimson’s lips, “Shush,” she suggested.
The chambermaid to her left asked, “My lady,
have you ever been taken?”
“What do you mean?” Crimson asked as she
examined the straps around one wrist debating whether the struggle
was worth it. She wondered if she could breach the shackles, and
what she would do if she could.
“By a man, have you been taken? Do you have
carnal knowledge?”
Crimson nodded her head, yes, and tried to
hold onto the memory when it surfaced, but it slipped away to hide
in the heavy shadows of her amnesia. Yet, somehow, she knew it was
her most treasured memory and fought to bring it to the surface.
She vaguely recalled the day at the lake during the spring. It
seemed so distant now. Her thoughts more of a hazy collection of
feelings than a memory, but the power of it was full enough to
allow the escape.