My Vampire and I Vol 3: Blood Resurrection (2 page)

“Food and wine,” Marcus replied. As the monks turned to go, he grabbed the impertinent one by the arm. “And when you return, remember to knock and await my permission before you enter.”

 

The monk stared into Marcus’ eyes with a sudden fear. “Yes, Sire,” he said, visibly trembling. I could not help but feel a small thrill of elation as he all but ran from the room, closing the door very quietly behind him.

 

“Now, Bernard, off with those rags and into the tub with you.” Marcus smiled at my hesitation. “I’ll not look, if you’re shy.”

I was not shy. After all, every part of me had been leered at and fondled by many men, and indeed, in his presence, I felt no overt threat…only safety and comfort. I pulled off my clothes and climbed into the tub. As I sank into the hot water, it was as if euphoria overtook me, the water acting as a balm to my misery and wretchedness. I took the soap he handed me and began to wash away the grime from my skin. After he had removed his cloak and sword belt, Marcus watched me intently, and again I felt the compassion in his gaze. As we smiled at one another, a deafening clap of thunder rent the air over the monastery. Vivid streaks of lightning lit the room as if it were daytime, and the window shutters rattled and banged against the walls. The storm was upon us, and from the sound of its fearful intensity, it promised not to abate any time soon.

“Are you frightened, Bernard?” Marcus asked.

 

“No, Sire. I love thunderstorms. Their intensity and power have always fascinated me.” I wanted to add, ‘Just as you are now fascinating me’, but it seemed there was no need for me Blood Resurrection

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to speak the words. The smile in his eyes told me he knew what I was thinking. He moved to my side, took the soap from my hand and began to wash my back. His touch sent shivers of expectation through me, and I could feel myself grow hard—something that not one of the men who had lain with me had ever been able to do. I leaned back into the strength of his hands as he massaged my shoulders, working the soap into my skin. He reached for one of the still full buckets of water and poured some over my head then worked up a fine lather, kneading my scalp with his fingers to rid my hair of months’ worth of tangles and dirt. I was more than content to give in to all his ministrations, and even if he desired payment in kind for his services, I would have gladly succumbed to his wishes. Never before had it been my good fortune to have someone as magnificent as him tend to my needs.

“Close your eyes,” he said, before dousing me with more water and rinsing the soap from me. I reached for the towel and draped it modestly in front of me as I stood up. He rummaged in one of his bags for a moment then drew out a velvet robe of deep burgundy.

“Here.” He handed it to me as I stepped from the tub. “Wear this until they bring your new clothes.”
“But it’s much too fine, Sire,” I protested feeling its luxurious texture.
He held it open for me to slip into. “It looks well on you,” he murmured, his expression suddenly questioning.
What was he thinking? I wondered.

“And stop calling me ‘Sire’. My name is Marcus, as I told you earlier.” He paused for a moment then said, “Tell me, Bernard…you did not know either of your parents?”

 

“No, Sire—Marcus.” I stumbled over his name. It seemed too familiar to address him so. “My mother was a peasant woman violated by a band of marauding knights.”

“Knights, you say? So the one who fathered you was a knight? I thought there was some breeding there.”
I gave a mirthless laugh at his words. “God knows how many other bastards he gave his breeding to!”

He touched my face gently. “Unfortunately, an aristocratic name does not always result in refinement or consideration for another’s dignity. War has a habit of bringing out the worst in people.” He took my hand and led me to where a large mirror stood on a wooden frame. “You have never seen yourself, have you, Bernard?” Blood Resurrection

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I wondered how he could possibly have known that, but it seemed he already knew so many things about me, that I did not question it. I shook my head as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. The youth who stared back at me was not unpleasant to look upon, but my inherent low esteem, beaten into me over the years, prevented me from thinking of myself as comely. Behind me, Marcus smiled and placed his hands on my shoulders.

“You are a very attractive young man,” he said. “Don’t let the spite and jealousy of others tell you differently.”

 

I stared at myself, taking in the auburn glow of my hair and the very dark blue of my eyes. My body was slim and leanly muscled. “I am too thin,” I said, feeling I had to find something to complain about.

Marcus chuckled. “You are slender, Bernard. Something many strive for without success.” A timid knock at the door made him smile. “Come in, Brothers,” he called out, gesturing that I should sit at the table. Two of them rushed in carrying trays of food and wine and, after laying them on the table, scurried back through the door without a word. Marcus sat beside me and poured us both a large quantity of red wine into the goblets provided.

“You see what a little persuasion can do?” he asked, his green eyes twinkling with amusement.

 

“They are afraid of you,” I said. “When you leave, they will beat me without mercy. But until then, I will enjoy all you have done for me. Just to have seen them so humiliated is worth the pain they will inflict on me.”

 

“They will not punish you. That I promise.” Marcus lifted his goblet of wine and bade me do the same. “Drink, Bernard—to your future.” I took my first ever quaff of wine. It was delicious.

“My future?” I asked, looking at him over the goblet’s rim.
“It can be whatever you wish it to be,” he said.

Outside the thunder boomed, and the rain drummed on the roof over our heads as I gazed into his eyes—eyes even more intoxicating than the wine.

“What do you mean?”
“When the storm is over, and I leave this wretched place, you will come with me, if you wish—”
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“Oh,” I cried, reaching for his hand. “There is nothing I would wish for more than that!
To be free of this place, of these…these evil men…it would be as if my wildest dreams had come true.”

Before my astounded eyes, Marcus suddenly sprang to his feet. With a move so fast, he became a blur, he reached the other side of the room, pulling back a drapery to reveal the startled figure of Prior Hubert. With a growl that made my hair stand on end, Marcus pulled the Prior into the room and disarmed him of the knife he held in his hand.

“So,” Marcus snarled. “Have you heard enough, Prior?”
“You have violated our hospitality, and now you seek to kidnap our ward,” Hubert snapped. “We will not let you do this.”

“And how do you intend to stop me?” Marcus turned his back to me, so that all I could see was Prior Hubert’s face as his expression changed from one of defiance, to one of sheer terror.

“
No
!” he screamed. “Monster! Help me, Brothers! Help me!” The door was flung open, and it seemed that every member of the monk community surged into the room, some carrying weapons. I jumped to my feet, ready to defend myself, then was stayed by the looks of shock and almost abject horror that was written on every man’s face. From my position in the room, I could not see what so obviously terrified them, but then I saw Prior Hubert being lifted into the air by the scruff of his neck, supported only by Marcus’ left hand.
Dear God,
I thought,
he must be immensely strong.

Then the cry went up. “Vampire! Vampire! Run for your lives!” Within two seconds, the room was empty, and a gibbering Prior Hubert was dropped to the floor where he lay, sobbing and mouthing words that were unintelligible to my ears.

I looked at Marcus who gazed back at me, his beautiful face serene and composed.
“What happened?’ I asked him. “Why did they run?”
“Because I allowed them to see the real me,” he said quietly.

“The real you? You mean you are that which they called you…a…a vampire?” I took a step back from him, yet as our eyes met and held, any fear I might have felt, faded away under the power of the spell his smile cast.

“There is no need for you to be afraid of me, Bernard.” He held out his hand. “Only evil men need fear me.”
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I took his hand, and he drew me into his arms. “Your tenure here is over. These men have no more power over you, Bernard. You are free to come with me, if you still wish it.”

“I do still wish it,” I whispered, pressing my body to his.
“Then we shall leave first thing in the morning.”
“But the storm…”
“It will be over by then.”
“Will they let us leave?”

He laughed lightly. “Do you think they will ask us to stay?” He looked with some pity at the Prior’s quivering body. “I’m afraid his fear has destroyed his mind.” He walked to the door where one or two quaking monks hovered nearby, holding crosses before them. Marcus sighed. “Put away those useless relics, and tend to your Prior. I will not harm you.” We watched as they lifted Prior Hubert to his feet and dragged him from the room.

Marcus closed and locked the door. “We will be safe enough tonight,” he said. “While the storm still rages, they cannot go for help.” I knew next to nothing about vampires, only the tales of horror spread among the superstitious, but one thing I remembered. “The daylight? Can you travel then?” I asked.

“The skies will still be darkened,” he replied, smoothing my hair from my forehead.

“Only the sunlight can harm me.” He smiled. “Then I will have to rely on you to protect me.” I pressed my face to his chest. “I will gladly,” I said. “With my life.” All night the storm raged around us, and I feared Marcus might be wrong in his prediction that it would be over by morning. We lay together in the big bed, my head resting on his chest, his arm around me, bringing me comfort—and something more. My hand strayed over the cool smooth skin of his torso. The flesh beneath my fingers was hard and enticing. Surely, he would want me to satisfy him in one way or another, I thought, letting my fingers inch lower. To my surprise, he grasped my hand in his and raised it to his lips.

“Sleep, Bernard,” he whispered. “You have had enough of servicing men’s desires.”
“But, Sire…I mean Marcus…it would bring me joy to pleasure you.”

“And it would bring me joy to pleasure you, Bernard.” He turned to me, holding me gently in his arms. “Something I feel you have never experienced.”

 

“No, I have not. The men, who have lain with me, did so only for their own release. My needs meant nothing to them. I doubt if they ever gave it a fleeting thought.” He kissed my Blood Resurrection

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brow and my eyes, and I moved closer into his embrace. “I would be honoured if you would let me love you,” I said. “If only for this time we have together.” His arms tightened about me, and his lips found mine. His kiss was sweeter than I had ever imagined another man’s lips on mine could be. In my enthusiasm to savour it even more, I pressed my mouth to his with all the ardour I could muster. He pulled back slightly, and put his finger on my lips.

“Gently, Bernard. At first, be gentle. Like this…” His lips brushed mine, back and forth with the gentlest of touches. Then he caught my lower lip between his and, parting them just slightly, inserted the tip of his tongue into my mouth. The effect was a sensation I had never experienced. My body tingled as every nerve ending came alive. I moaned into his mouth, and his tongue slid all the way in, caressing mine and bringing me almost to the brink of ejaculation. My body shuddered in his arms, and I clung to him as though he were my lifeline to the ecstasy I felt coursing through me.

Our kiss deepened, my own tongue now finding its way into the moist heat of his mouth. My eyes rolled back in my head at the sensation. Never had I known such ecstasy. It was as if he were cleansing my soul, freeing me from all the memories of the vileness perpetrated upon me over the years. In his arms, I felt nothing but elation and joy, and I sobbed aloud as my emotions overwhelmed me.

“Bernard, Bernard,” he murmured, holding me close to his thrilling body. I knew he understood why I cried. He had known of my grief and anguish from the moment he had gazed into my eyes. He had read my thoughts, seen the horrors I had been subjected to, and now his compassion reached out and enveloped me like a lover’s embrace. In my mind, I asked him to take me, to make me like him—to bring me release from fear, to make me as strong as him.

“I know you must have my blood to live,” I said, my lips still close to his. “I would give it to you willingly.”

Illuminated only by the flickering candles, his eyes were as green pools of light, incandescent and unearthly. “Look away,” he whispered, and I turned my head, exposing my neck to him. His bite was sharp, and I moaned, but only for a moment, for then a feeling of utter contentment suffused both my body and my mind. My hands caressed his head, my fingers tangling in his curly locks, holding him pressed to my throat while he sucked from Blood Resurrection

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me. The glow I felt became a need, and the need, a burning in my loins. His lips soothed my throat where he had bitten me then took mine in a kiss that brought me to the edge and almost into the paroxysm of my orgasm. I clung to him as his lips found every part of my body, before coming to rest at the head of my engorged cock. His tongue gently teased the slit then laved the head before he took it all into his mouth. My body arched in ecstasy as the heat of his mouth brought me sensations I had never even dreamed of—feelings of complete and utter abandonment of all misery, all connection to the past. I gasped as I felt the moist warmth of his tongue lap at the tight opening to my anus. A whimper born of both need and wonder escaped my throat at this new and wondrous sensation.

“Marcus,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion. His tongue pushed harder, swirling inside me as I raised my hips to prolong the ecstasy. I felt as though I were melting, and would have given anything to have this rapture go on and on, forever.

He raised his head from between my legs and smiled, his eyes filled with a feral lust that should have filled me with fear but did not. Innately, I knew I could never be afraid of this man, regardless of what I knew him to be. I welcomed the hard flesh that pushed between my thighs, and I opened myself to him, winding my legs around his torso. I had been taken so roughly, so many times, that when he entered me, big as he was, the anticipated pain was lost in the ecstasy he brought me.