Cursed Ever After (4 page)

    Henri looked at me with a coldness that made me shiver.

   
“Sorcière!”
“Witch!”

    The room spun and I sank to the floor, clutching my woolen waistcoat that had been discarded there.
“Non, s’il vous plaît. Je vous en supplie.”
“No, please. I beg you.”

    Gustav looked down at me, disgust altering his mouth. “Put those on.” He gestured to my waistcoat before he strode out of the room, motioning for Henri to follow. His daughter snickered on her way out. I knew then what it meant to hate.

    Never had I felt more hopeless and alone than at that moment, sitting on the floor holding my unmentionables. I knew what was coming. I felt powerless and I didn’t know how to stop it. I could hear their hushed voices talking in the other room but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Claustrophobia set in and I felt like a caged animal as my eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. The bedroom had no windows and the only way out would be through the door that Henri, his brother in-law, and his daughter had departed through. I’d never get past them.

    I put my woolen waistcoat back on and rocked on the edge of the bed crying softly. There were footsteps and I heard the front door slam but there were other footsteps moving about. Someone remained in the house. If his daughter were the only one left I would be able to overpower her easily and escape. Quietly, I made my way to the bedroom door and tried to look through the crack but I didn’t see anyone. Stillness filled the house and it frightened me more than their hushed whispers. Moments ticked by and I could hear the rush of blood in my head as my pulse quickened.

    I knew what I had to do.

    Slowly, I opened the bedroom door. I cringed when it squeaked. Treading, softly as a shadow I made my way through the empty kitchen. When I reached the parlor I saw Henri’s daughter standing by the window, staring off into the distance. I gulped. Despite her vindictiveness I didn’t want to hurt her. If I could just make it to the front door while she watched out the window, I could get away.
This is it. This is my only chance if I’m going to escape.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, surging me into action as I made a run for it.

    I ran across the parlor and made it to the front door. I wrapped my hand around the knob when I felt someone grab me around the waist from behind. My futile struggles accomplished nothing as Henri dragged me back into the bedroom, shoving me into the bed.

   
“Henri, s’il vous plaît. Laissez-moi partir.”
I hated to hear the high pitched whine in my voice as I begged him to let me go.

    “I cannot. Don’t you see it’s too late? Gustav will return soon but I want you one last time.”

    I gasped.
“Non!”

    Henri pushed me down into the bed. I lay facedown sobbing into the mattress with my legs planted firmly on the floor as he stood beside the bed. He was strong… too strong for me to fight off. I struggled but couldn’t stop him from wrenching down my waistcoat. His cock missed its mark as I thrashed and it jabbed angrily at my thigh. Henri kicked my legs apart and thrust inside of me.

   
“Non. Non. Non!”

    He pushed down on the back of my neck to still my struggles. Finally, I stopped thrashing. It was too late. He was inside of me. The man I’d fallen for was a monster. I knew he could be aggressive but I never imagined that he could do something like this. Tears slid down my cheeks onto the mattress. A part of me died as he hammered away at me. I felt hot wetness spurting inside of me. Then it was over.

    I heard the bedroom door close as Henri left and then I heard something scrape against the door, barring it shut. Now I was trapped but part of me had resigned myself to whatever came next. I only prayed it would be quick. A hanging would snap my neck and it would be a swift death. If they did it right. And then no one could betray me or hurt me ever again. Pulling up my waistcoat, I sunk to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest.

    The lantern flickered from the table in the corner. I didn’t know how much time had passed but it was starting to get cold. Footsteps stopped just outside the door. I heard scraping as someone removed whatever had been barring the door. Gustav and Henri entered, Gustav carrying a long length of rope.

    “Stand up,” said Gustav.

    On shaky legs, I rose and stood before him but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Gustav bound my wrists together in front of me and escorted me out of the house. The sun rode low in the sky, dashed in hues of purple and pink. They marched me through town. I could hear whispers from the townsfolk standing on the sidelines but I couldn’t discern their faces through the blur of my tears.

    When we reached the square my jaw dropped at the sight of the stake and the pile of wood stacked on three sides. Gustav pushed me forward. Then he shoved me against the stake and I could feel its rigid length against my spine as it towered over me.

    Gustav gave another long cord of rope to Henri. “You must burn the witch.”

    Henri took the rope.

    He barely looked at me as he wrapped its length around me and the post three times—around my chest, my waist, and my upper thighs—before tying it off. The villagers had gathered to watch the grotesque display. I spotted his daughter in the crowd with a sober expression on her face. All I could do now was pray that I would become mercifully unconscious as the fire consumed me. The silence of the crowd congregated around the stake felt unnerving.

    Gustav gave Henri a torch. My eyes met with Henri’s before he torched the mound of wood in several spots and then dropped the torch into the woodpile. The crowd shifted uneasily waiting for the wood to catch fire. A young girl buried her face in her mother’s skirt, unable to watch me burn. I felt grateful for that. Soon the wood began to hiss and pop as it smoldered.

    Self-preservation kicked in and I thought about screaming that Henri was a Huguenot. Many had fled to avoid persecution but I doubted that anyone would listen to the words of a witch. I would still burn no matter what I shrieked and I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. When I cried out it would only be from pain. That I couldn’t avoid but I wouldn’t give the crowd anything else.

    Although, I found it ironic that I had avoided the worst of the burnings only to burn now for adultery. My albino skin and eerie eyes had made me a target. I wanted to laugh hysterically that they burned me for being a witch. They had no idea how true that really was.
But what good is the Sight if I couldn’t foresee this?
Oh, but I did. If I could be honest with myself, I knew deep down in my gut that no good could ever come from sleeping with a married man.

    But I did it anyway. And this was the punishment for my immorality.

    Flames began to lick at the bottom of my skirt. My feet were burning. The smell of my burning flesh wafted through the air. I felt dizzy. A strange animalistic sound that I didn’t recognize emerged from my throat as I cried out. Darkness began to descend on me. I welcomed its oblivion with relief.

   
Do you want to die?
I heard the whisper and opened my eyes to see where it came from. No one had spoken.

   
“Non,”
I said in a whisper.

    A fast-paced form shaped like a man moved through the crowd with such speed it blurred. The silver glint of a sword sliced through the rope binding me to the stake. I collapsed into the blur.

    A man in the crowd yelled.
“Magie maléfique.”
“Evil magic.”

    Chanting began to rise from the assembly. “Evil, evil, evil…” But I moved away from the voices along with the blurry figure with such speed that I felt the contents of my stomach swell. A canopy of trees from the forest at the edge of town loomed above my head. The most dangerously handsome man I had ever seen held me. He had dark curls and penetrating gray eyes. I never laid eyes on this stranger but it dimly registered that he had saved me somehow and I felt safe in his arms.

    “Do you want to live?” he asked.

   
“Oui.”

    He took a knife out of his boot and sliced open his wrist.

    “Then drink.” He placed his bloody wrist to my mouth.

    I had heard rumors about the night walkers.
It will be all right. I’m not going to hurt you but you need this to live.
I heard his whisper but he never moved his mouth. My lips parted and I felt the metallic taste of his blood on my tongue. The last words I heard were:
“À l’immortalité.”

    Cold sweat poured off of me as I woke in the safe confines of my townhouse on the North Side of Chicago. Some memories had the power to haunt you for as long as you lived. That could be a very long time when you were a vampire. I don’t think I would ever forget the first time I saw Arie. He had saved my life. I’d been keeping the promise to myself that I would never fall in love again. I would never let anyone get close enough to hurt me. And Arie made it possible for me to right all the wrongs that had been done to me. The first and last person I had ever killed as a vampire had been Henri.

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Chained

[Tessa]

    There would be no candlelight dinner or wine in the evening ahead. The ritzy suite reserved exclusively for my clients at the hotel on East Walton Street in downtown Chicago, I equipped almost as well as my dungeon at the Hellfire Club. Rules for the scene had already been set; “yellow” means slow down, “red” means stop that, and “Grassy Knoll” means stop everything now. Right now.

    The southern senator thought a safe word referencing Dealey Plaza would be fitting and I didn’t argue with his morbid sense of humor. Of course the senator was appalled the first time I told him that I knew exactly who he was. But after years of being my client, he knew his secret was safe with me as long as he abided by our agreement. Still he felt more comfortable if I called him John—as in John Doe—to respect his anonymity.

    And the bloke paid me enough that I indulged him to reassure his insecurities.

    My long trench coat concealed the short leather skirt and matching black corset that I wore beneath it. Only my fingerless gauntlets peaked out from beneath the sleeves but they passed for gloves. I nodded to the concierge as I walked through the luxurious lobby toward the elevators. The concierge and the owner of the hotel were on HFC payroll. That ensured no else booked my room and that the maid was well-compensated for the clean-up. My spike heels clicked across the expanse of white marble. A gray haired woman lounging in one of the plush chairs eyeballed my get-up that stood out in the polished stretch of white.

    I winked at her and she stuck her nose back in the magazine she had been reading. Taking the elevator up to the suite with my black rolling suitcase in hand, a gentleman sharing the car looked me over appraisingly. I could tell he fantasized about my naked body and wondered what I looked like without my trench coat.

    “Warm weather we’re having for this time of year,” the man said.

    “Delightful,” I purred.

    The man adjusted his collar. He seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “Are you in town for business or pleasure?”

    “Both,” I said with a grin.

    “This is me,” he said. “Enjoy your trip.” He hurried out, exiting onto the eighth floor.

    Even if I wasn’t a vampire he’d still feel uncomfortable in the close quarters of the elevator. It had been that way since my days as a famous hetaera. The elevator door slid open and I made my way down the hall to my suite. “John” always preferred the hotel. He never came to the club due to his very high profile and public life. I slid the keycard into the slot and opened the door when it clicked.

    “Hello, John.”

    I shrugged out of my trench coat and threw it over a chair.

    “Tessa you look stunning. It’s been too long since my last business trip.”

    “I agree.”

    John looked no different than the last time I had seen him—handsome, clean-cut, and smelling of cologne. The flecks of gray speckled through his hair only made him more attractive. I opened my black suitcase and took out my favorite cat o’ nine tails.

    “But you have forgotten our rules. You will answer me only with ‘Yes, my mistress’ or ‘No, my mistress’ and your first duty tonight is to kiss my foot.”

    “Yes, my mistress.” John kneeled at my feet, kissing my black spike heel reverently. He looked up at me and smiled seductively, happy to be pleasing me.

    I pulled my foot out of his grasp and brought the cat o’ nine tails across his shirted back. It would barely sting through the fabric of his dress shirt. I could hear the hissing intake of breath as desire coursed through his muscled body that strained against his business attire.

    “Get up.” When he stood I gently cupped my hand around his shaft through his taut dress slacks.

    “Now undress.”

    “Yes, my mistress.”

    He obeyed, rapidly piling his clothes on the floor, eager for my ruthless administrations. I enjoyed watching him undress the lean but muscled body that screamed sex beneath the restrained façade of a politician.

    “Your body is so beautiful. It’s almost a pity I must treat it so harshly. But that is your desire and who am I to deny it? This is what you want?”

    His eyes darkened. “Yes, my mistress.”

    “Good.” I led him to the foot of the bed where shackles hung from the top of the canopy bed and the bottom posts. I had requested this from the concierge when I called earlier. In moments I had him bound, arms and legs spread wide standing there chained to the bed. “Now there’s a sight. I wonder what your wife would think if she saw you like this. Do you think she would enjoy seeing you in chains?”

    “No, my mistress.”

    “I think you’re wrong on that count but I suppose we’ll never know.”

    I tied a blindfold over his eyes with a soft silk cloth. His breathing deepened as he tensed in the bonds, waiting.

    “I have to prepare my toys for you, and I want the suspense to heighten your other senses.” The cat o’ nine tails swished roughly across his bare nipples hardening them to pebbles. “Hot, cold, soft, hard, rough, smooth—so many sensations for you to experience. Hmmm… What shall I choose for my slutty senator tonight?”

    As I went through the toys waiting in my suitcase, I listened to his breathing, unsteady and quick. I started with nipple clamps, applying light pressure at first. I lightly flicked my tongue across one nipple, and then squeezed it before I placed the clamp on his erect nipple. I repeated the process with his other nipple. He winced and gasped at the pressure, at the surprise he couldn’t see coming through the black silk of his blindfold.

      A sudden slap on the ass and a guttural cry released from his throat. “Such a gorgeous ass.” I slapped him again and again. The fourth slap left a red handprint across his rock-hard butt cheek. “What would your wife say if she saw you being spanked? Would she spank you for being here with me? Tell me how she would punish you.”

    “Eleanor would have me sleep in the guest bedroom.”

    “Ah, yes. I imagine divorce isn’t good for public image. Perhaps I should punish you for her. Would you like me to punish you?”

    “Yes, my mistress.”

    This was all part of a scene we’d enacted many times before. John always got off on imagining his wife found him chained up and then imagining she punished him the way that I did. The concierge had left one of the special candles stocked in the room burning on the dresser as instructed. These soft candles blended with mineral oil were my own creations. I took the candle from the dresser, looking at all the warm wax that had melted in the holder.