The Tale of the Vampire Bride (42 page)

“Oh, there you are,” Gregor whispered.

I had not even realized I was visible to him until he grabbed me from behind. A knife against my throat, he pulled me into the street. His stale breath was cold against the back of my neck and I whimpered as I trembled.

“Who are you, pretty little one? What is your name and who is your Master?”

I clutched his arm with both my hands and tried to keep my feet under me. I am loathe to admit it, but I am rather petite. He was much taller than I and my toes barely touched the ground. My vampire powers had abandoned me and I felt as weak as a mortal.

Gregor lifted me off the ground and swung me around to slam me up against the side of the building. He shoved me hard against the wall, his free hand sliding down over my body. I was not sure if he was accosting me or searching for some sort of identifying possession, but I could feel the putrid press of his arousal against my back through our clothing. Frightened and bitterly angry, I tried to bite into his arm, but he sensed the movement and slammed my face into the wall.

“None of that, Bride of Satan,” he said gruffly.

The hand sliding over my body became more aggressive, beginning to fondle me.

“Leave me be,” I hissed through swollen lips.

“Not until you tell me who you are and who is your Master,” Gregor responded in my ear, then licked it.

I was repulsed by the touch of his lean body against mine as I struggled against him. The cold press of the blade against my throat ceased my defiant movements. Gregor let the blade nick my skin lightly and laughed nastily in my ear. I shuddered with pain and disgust, trying to remain calm. For one desperate moment, I wished Vlad would save me.

“Who is your Master? Where does he live,” Gregor demanded. He began to nuzzle the back of my head, licking my neck with his cold, oily tongue.

My flesh crawled as I pressed my lips tightly together. I could not betray Vlad. Besides, Gregor would kill me the moment I revealed that truth to him.

“You will not answer, will you, wench? Well, we shall see about that,” he growled in my ear.

With his knife he sliced open my frock and gruffly drew it back, exposing my breasts. Roughly fondling one, he pressed the knife against the other. “Tell me, whore, who is your Master.”

“No,” I whispered through my bruised lips.

Gregor shoved the knife slowly into the soft flesh of my breast. Again, the metal burned and I screamed. “I enjoy this. I really do. I could make this last for hours, little one.”

“I will not tell you,” I hissed at him. “I know if I tell you the truth, you will slay me instantly.” Fervently, I wished for Vlad to come to my rescue.

Gregor just laughed and shoved the knife in further. “I will slice off your pretty breast then start with the other one if you do not tell me who your Master is and where is his haven. Do you not want to keep your pretty breasts?”

“Go to hell,” I swore at him angrily.

Gregor chuckled, such an ugly sound, and shoved the knife in further, making me scream. “What is the name of your Master?”

I shrieked with agony as tears poured down my face. “I will never tell you.”

Was this how I was to meet my fate? In a dirty alley with a disgusting creature assaulting me? It seemed too awful considering how happy I had been just a few moments before, but my world was now full of excruciating pain and there seemed no salvation. I prayed once more, fervently, desperately, begging God to deliver me.

“Go to hell!” I struggled to be free of him, but the knife sank further and I screamed again.

The shadows about us rippled. A murky form suddenly slammed into us, knocking the knives out of Gregor’s hands. The assassin jerked back in surprise, loosening his grip on me long enough for me to break free in one desperate move.

Gregor grabbed after me, but he was tossed across the street by an unseen force. His lean body crashed into the wall of the imposing building towering over us and his face was torn open by the impact. Blood poured out of a huge gash in his forehead and ran down his pale face, blinding him. Grunting with rage, Gregor staggered into the street, slicing the air with his knife in a futile attempt to stave off any attack.

Stumbling, sobbing, desperate to escape and tormented by excruciating pain, I was nearly delirious. Looking back, I saw Gregor gripped by an unseen force and slammed back into the wall. This time it was hard enough to stun him, rendering him near unconsciousness as he slumped to the ground.

Terrified, I struggled on, trying to escape.

A swirl of shadows pressed up around me and I screamed with fright. The gloom overwhelmed me, engulfing me, and just when I thought I would die of fear, I felt arms encircling me.

“It is I, Lady Glynis,” the voice of the gentleman vampire whispered in my ear.

Then he clutched me to him, lifting me into the night sky. Below us, Gregor raised his head and howled in pain and frustration.

Chapter 23

The Journal of Lady Glynis Wright– Continued

Buda/Pesth, Hungary

I clung to my savior as he swept me away.

“Do not be afraid,” he whispered. “I have you now, and he is too wounded to follow. He will heal, but not soon enough to follow.”

“His knives burned like fire,” I whispered.

I was bundled up into his arms like a child. They were strong in their grip and I felt quite safe. The world was a blur of motion around me. I could tell by the stench that we were in Pesth. The strong smells of food, garbage, human waste, and mortal desperation mingled in my nostrils. I pressed my face firmly into his neck, my wounds throbbing with terrible ferocity.

Then we were on the ground and my body jostled in his grasp as he rushed over the rocky road. He pushed open a door with his shoulder and heaved me inside. Setting me down, he leaned me against a wall and set about securing the door. The pain was savage, making me weak and my eyesight poor. I could feel my body burning, my blood fighting whatever infection had been inflicted upon me. Turning to me, the vampire slid his hands around my waist and helped me across the room toward a great stone coffin that rose up from the ground like a great altar to an ancient god.

“Where are we?”

“A simple mausoleum. It lies at the edge of a churchyard. No dhamphir will seek us out here. They cannot feel that the ground is not blessed. They will assume it is and that we could not enter.”

He lifted me up in his arms and carried me behind the hewn stone resting place. Obviously, he had stayed here before, a thick feather mattress was nestled between the wall and the platform the stone coffin lay upon. A great many pillows and coverlets of fine quality were strewn across it. He set me down with extreme gentleness and once my head was rested on a pile of pillows, he settled beside me.

I wept tears filled with blood as the pain steadily worsened. I writhed in agony, my hands pulling open my bodice, drawing it back from the ugly gash that the horrible creature's knives had inflicted upon me.

“I need to go home,” I whispered unreasonably. “I cannot stay here!”

The vampire pressed me back down onto the pillows. “But you must stay. The sun is on the horizon. The night has left us and we must stay here.” His long, cold hand pressed against my fevered forehead. “You are poisoned.”

“I burn inside! I burn!” I tried to rise up, for what purpose, I do not know, and he gently pushed me back down.

“I know you do. His knives are blessed and therefore deadly. He did not deal you a killing blow, but the wound is severe.”

“I cannot heal. I try, but I cannot.” I gripped his arms in a fierce grip. “Please, I cannot stay here, My Master--”

His face clouded, then he answered, “Yes, I know, but you cannot return to your Master now. And your Master cannot help you.”

“But he could, could he not?” My fingers dug into the vampire's flesh.

“Yes, he...” his voice caught on the pronoun, “Yes, he could help you. But he is not here, but I may be able to.”

My body arched as another wave of excruciating agony washed over me. “Please, help me!”

“I am old enough and strong enough, but your Master...he may sense my blood in your veins.”

I languished beneath him and he held me tightly. I cried out in agony and he leaned down to press soft kisses to my brow. “Please,” I whispered. “Please, I fear I shall die!”

Pressing his forehead to mine, his fingers stroked my cheek. “Yes, I fear it also.” He drew back his narrow face, his eyes straying to my wound. “I can do this if you wish.”

I rose up, my hand gripping his coat, my body trembling. “Please, I beg of you. In this moment, I care not what my Master will do to me.”

The vampire nodded solemnly and lowered me back down to the pillows. Gently, he pushed back my damp hair and then, with ever so gentle fingers, opened my bodice to view the damage.

“I have to cut away the poisoned flesh. Then I shall pour my blood onto the wound, then I will drink of you and then you will drink of me. My blood can heal you. Do you understand?”

“With all clarity, sir. I implore you, please!” I arched my back as a scream tore free of my lips.

Drawing a small dagger from a hidden sheath in his boot, he leaned over me. “Bear with me, Glynis.” He then cut into my flesh as I gripped the mattress tightly.

I knew not what was worse: the wounds or his dagger slicing away my dead flesh. Flinging away the dead, blackened flesh, he then sliced his hand and poured his blood into my wounds. It felt cold, soothing, and wonderful, yet the pain was there. Perhaps not as harsh, but still throbbing.

Tucking his hand beneath my neck, he lifted me to him. I felt weak as my head lolled about on my slim neck. He hesitated as his mouth drew near my flesh.

“Do what you must,” I whispered to him.

He bit deeply and my hands gripped his arms tightly. I felt his lips pulling on my tender flesh, and I pressed my body up against his. The rapture of his bite was pure and complete. Never had the bite of a vampire brought such pleasure to me. His tongue slid over the wound, then he tore himself away. I saw his lips, dark with my blood, and I did a rash, flagrantly lascivious thing. I licked the blood from his mouth and found myself kissing him deeply.

His hands tangled in my hair as he answered my kiss, then he drew me away. “Drink,” he said.

I wrapped my arms around him and sank my teeth sharply into his throat. He shuddered against me while I drank, swiftly, deeply, and desperately. His blood was rich, thick and cold, far different from mortal blood. And yet, I knew, it was powerful. That power filled me until I was writhing with its fierceness as I felt my wounds close and heal.

Abruptly, he shoved me away. He was flustered and flushed. Awkwardly, he rose to his feet and stood over me.

My fingers slid over my breast, finding it whole as he watched me.

Words, hot, torrid and desperate were not spoken with our lips, but raged in our eyes.

And then we spoke, but not of what we felt.

“Your clothes are soaked.”

“So are yours, sir.”

He nodded.

I rested on his bed, my body propped on my elbows, my damp hair falling darkly over my shoulder.

“We have only just met,” he said after a moment.

“And yet?”

He laughed. “I dare not come close to you.”

Call me what you will. Perhaps I am a wanton woman. I do not care. I loved him and I knew it. Yes, he was beautiful to behold, but his eyes, the story that lingered deep in their recesses…those eyes, spoke to me and I knew his soul. And I knew I loved him.

Standing, I slid off my cloak, heavy with the wet of the rain, then my dress. Trying to look as innocent as possible as I stood in my underclothes, I handed him my clothing. He took them and carefully hung them from an ornate candelabra tucked in a corner. Then he took off his coat and paused.

The sun was rising. I could see that it would shed its deadly rays into the mausoleum. Behind the crypt, we would be quite safe.

I sat back down on the bed and waited for him to return. I was well aware that we both knew that once he returned to me our passion would speak.

The vampire returned and slowly stretched out beside me, still in his damp clothes, save his coat. He closed his eyes, a pretense to sleep.

“You, sir, are a liar,” I chided him.

His eyes flashed open and he regarded me for a long moment. “Am I?”

I smiled at him softly while I gathered myself in my most demure pose.

“I could say the same of you,” he responded, gesturing to my false modesty.

“Then do,” I said boldly.

Instantly his hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine. We kissed ravenously, his body pressing me against the wall. Never had I felt such hunger and our kisses consumed me. I was barely aware of my hands undressing him as he undressed me.

“Your name,” I gasped between kisses.

He laughed and flung me down then covered my mouth with his. “Why ask now?”

Sliding my hands into his hair, I pulled him back from me. “Because, sir, I am about to make you my lover.”