Salvation - an erotic vampire romance (2 page)

He was saving that for Elizabeth.
Several times, he felt hands on his body, his legs, his cock, but he simply pushed through the unrestrained orgy further until finally he arrived at the winding stairwell that led to the upper left wing. He stared up it. The stairwell, too, was filled with writhing bodies, but here the slaves were injecting, smoking, and snorting drugs into their blood so that their vampire masters could become intoxicated when they drank it. Alexander pushed through the apathetic demonic creatures and slaves. Finally, he arrived at the top and slowly walked along a dark hallway until he came to the reason for his visit. The royal family’s quarters. 
He didn’t knock, even though it was required by law, and simply entered the room.

“Oh, Alex….” The Queen waved him closer
, but he stayed where he was out of pure defiance and put his hands in his trouser pockets.
“Why did you summon me?”
“Dear, sweet, naughty Alex,” the King’s cousin laughed. “We only wanted to know how you’re getting on.”
“I’m getting on fine,” he answered curtly.
Twelve faces looked at him expectantly. The royal family sat in a narrow semi-circle of high thrones. Human slaves kneeled before them. The King was drinking from a girl’s artery. Another girl was performing cunnilingus on the Queen. Every now and then the Queen would shudder in arousal. 
“Did you find her?” the King’s brother finally asked, while a slave slowly and sensually massaged his erect cock.
“Yes.”
“Is she dead?”
“No.”
A collective intake of breath swept through the room.
“Why not?” asked the King as furiously as was possible for a creature deprived of emotion. He was still holding the limp girl’s blood-spraying forearm in front of his mouth.
Alexander smiled, revealing his sharp fangs. He shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to pleasure myself with her first. When does a simple vampire ever get the chance to fuck someone like her before killing her?”
There was silence for a moment before the whole family laughed. The artificial smiles that imitated those of human ones had nothing to do with joviality. 
“Please, whatever you want, Alex,” said the Queen benevolently and nodded, her expression pulled into a fake grin. Then it faded. “But you do not receive your compensation until she is dead.” She stared at him through soulless eyes.
“I will inform you immediately once it is done.” He nodded to all of them and turned to leave. He really had better things to do than indulge these idiots. She was waiting for him.
Elizabeth.
~
It was no coincidence that Alexander had come upon Elizabeth on the streets of London that afternoon. He had been searching for her. His task, for which he would be well compensated, was to find the girl and kill her.
Her stealing his watch had not been planned. He hadn’t even realised it was her until she had long since disappeared. He had been surprised by how much the hunt for her had vitalised him. She was craftier than he had expected, and he had liked that. Every time she had dodged him had shown him that there was something inside him that was more like a hunter than he would have ever thought. In all the years in which he’d lived as a vampire, there had never been a day, not one single day, in which he’d hunted his prey. 
He had always simply taken his prey, sought it out and killed it. He had never played little games like his brethren did. But he’d realised that afternoon that these games had something of value. Little, cruel, wonderful games.
And now he was playing.
Playing with a girl who would die in the end. Die, because she was the heiress of the traitor.
The traitor had once been a member of the royal family. To be precise, he had been their leader.
Rumour had it that this traitor had tried to kill off the vampire race. He was certainly in the position to do so. People had gossiped amongst themselves at the time that he had the gift of unusual powers. Powers that were similar to those of a wizard. Powers that made the rest of the royal family kill him. He’d had to die.

B
ut before he died, the traitor had fathered a son. Up until a year ago, Alexander had had no idea he existed. No-one did. Regardless of how greedy the creatures of the royal court were for gossip, this secret had been kept for nearly four centuries.
But now Alexander knew and had been given the order to kill the last remaining descendants of the traitor. First, this son had had three daughters, who in turn had also each had several children. And so it had continued for three centuries. A huge family tree had been created. But luckily for the royal family, then came starvation, infant mortality, disease, poverty, and infertility, and only one branch of the family tree had remained.

Now, there was only Elizabeth. 
And she, too, would soon meet her end.
But first, he would play with her a little.
As Alexander entered his cellar, he stared around the room in confusion. It was empty. Only the meat hooks, still attached to the handcuffs, were creaking as they slowly turned on the ceiling. 
His long forgotten instincts stirred inside him. He could smell her scent, her arousal and her fear. She had panicked and somehow managed to escape. He hadn’t been expecting her to escape. Not for a moment.
He was clearly rusty.
He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent deep into his lungs. Yes, at the beginning she had been emitting strong currents of arousal, but then it had changed to sharp panic. Finally the scent of sweat, as she had struggled to release herself from her chains. Then directly at the door the scent of relief, mixed with fear and alertness.
Alexander had not thought he would have been able to determine her behaviour from the remains of her scent, but he could. Happy with himself, he turned to go, slowly up the stairs in search of a trace of her. She had run. Traces of her scent lingered in his hallway. She had gone up the steps to the second storey twice, but only come down again once.
She was still upstairs. 

He walked along the hallway, trying out his senses that had lain dormant for so long. He could smell her increasing fear and followed the scent until he came to his bedroom. She was hiding in there.
Alexander smiled to himself. The stupidest place conceivable this woman could have chosen.
He opened the door soundlessly and stayed standing in the door frame. Elizabeth was trying to climb out the window to safety.
He was by her in a second, pulling her back in by the legs as she kicked in vain. He carried her over to the bed. “Caught you,” he purred, kissing her naked, perfect, soft breasts.
She gasped in shock and tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was stronger than her, his instincts were clearer and sharper than ever. He could feel her soft, wonderful, innocent body in his arms and shuddered. His tailored clothing, for which he had paid a lot of money, suddenly seemed rough and prickly against her silky skin.
With a casual, shaky gesture, he put her down on the bed and began to undress himself.
Her eyes were growing larger as he looked at her, her instinct to flee was fading.
Yes, Alexander thought to himself. Elizabeth would enjoy this night. And she would not survive it.

~

Part 2

Elizabeth
Elizabeth was not someone who begged. She didn’t beg for money or bread. When she was hungry, she found food. When she was thirsty, she found water. She didn’t rely on anyone but herself to survive.

As
she felt his knee push between her legs, her will to survive intensified. She was a small, innocent girl, but she had survived the poorhouse, had been able to sleep at night, even though she’d seen things most people would never have to see. This will to survive, this purely instinctive behaviour had protected her many times before from being taken by a man. 
She lived in London. She was a very young woman. She knew what it took to survive in this city.
Her hand automatically shot up. The blade flashed for a crazy moment in the flickering light of the fireplace. Her eyes saw the gleam, her brain couldn’t process the information. Instinct. The will to survive. The blade. Fear.
She stabbed. The metal penetrated his skin with a crunch, pushed into his flesh until it reached bone, drilled between his ribs, into his organs.
Blood flowed down his chest, his neck, dripped onto her face. She didn’t feel it. Instinct. Survival.
Then his body collapsed on top of her. She crawled out from under him. It wasn’t difficult. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, currents of pure energy urging her on.
Naked, she went to the other side of his bedroom and opened the door to his wardrobe. Mechanically and efficiently, she pulled on a dress that was hanging between hundreds of suits. Finally clothed again, she went out into the hallway.
She heard his screams.
She ran back down the hallway. There were chandeliers all the way along it. Decadent. Beautiful. She climbed up the stairway.  She heard giggling to her left.
She opened the door and found herself in a dining room. What did a vampire need a dining room for? The door to the kitchen was slightly ajar and she pushed it further open. In the kitchen there were two men and a woman. They were all naked. They were giggling amongst themselves, they didn’t notice her. She hurried past them, through the kitchen door at the back. She was outside.
Elizabeth’s bare feet touched the snow, but she couldn’t feel the cold anymore. She climbed up the stairs and found herself in a garden on a perfectly maintained, ice-covered lawn. Then she began to run.

Her breathing hadn’t sped up by the time she came to the end of the
street. The hem of her dress was completely drenched, it wasn’t zipped up properly at the back either. She knew a sharp coldness was creeping down her back, but she couldn’t feel it.
Her feet automatically kept going. She ran and ran until she could see the docks up ahead. She didn’t know why she had run this way. No-one would help her there. She only knew she had to get away. Far away. Leave the country.
In Ireland there was famine, even she had heard of it. She would go to America, the promised land. Surely he would not follow her there.
She had to get to the docks to secure her passage. But where would she get the money for it, where?
Elizabeth stood in the middle of the street as her brain whirred. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She looked at them in confusion. There was blood on her fingers. She could taste it on her lips. Where was she? She remembered escaping. Running. How long ago had that been? She was breathing so quietly. As though she’d just been on a casual stroll. Her feet didn’t even hurt, even though she was standing barefoot in the snow. She was wearing a beautiful dress. It was blue, deep blue. Like the ones she’d seen ladies wearing in the papers at galas and parties. 
She loved this dress.
Her fingers grasped the fabric and she swung its skirts back and forwards. Her hips automatically joined in. Swing, swing. Swing, swing.
Look how they swing! She wanted to laugh, but knew better and kept her mouth shut. A man was coming around the corner, he stumbled and put his hand up against the wall for support. Turned to it. Began to vomit.
Swing, swing.
Look, look! Look how beautiful it is!
YOU’RE GOING INSANE, someone said.
She turned towards the voice. No-one was there. She turned back. She was alone. Her skirts were still swinging.
Look!
GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!
“I don’t want to!” she replied.
GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF NOW!
Yes, get ahold of yourself Elizabeth, she suddenly ordered herself. Everything was fine. You just have to escape. You can go crazy in America. You can let it all out there. But first you have to escape. Think, you need money. Where can you get money quickly? A journey like this costs a lot.
The retching man suddenly turned from the wall towards her and looked at her in astonishment.

“Hey, whore! You want to earn a few pennies?”
“Yes,” she answered with no hesitation at all and walked towards him. 
“Do you have a room?”
Did she have a room? Elizabeth searched for an answer. “No, my … friend is using it at the moment.”
The drunk laughed. “I don’t have one either. Lift your skirts, I’ll fuck you against the wall.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed immediately and followed him a few steps into a dark alleyway. Something was wrong, her brain felt fuzzy. She couldn’t think properly. 
He unzipped himself and grasped her swinging skirt. Did she want this? She needed money.

The man coug
hed and had to steady himself against the wall for a moment before the hoarse rasping subsided. Then he grabbed her again.
“Lift up your skirts. Spread your legs.”
Of course, yes. Why wouldn’t she?
She lifted up her skirts. His sour, foul breath hit her. She felt nausea begin to rise in her stomach. She turned her face away. She needed the money. America. Why did she want to go there? Escape, that’s right. But from what?
Her skirts were lifted higher. Icy cold air breezed around her legs. 
Then the man disappeared. Simply disappeared.
“Whooosh,” she said. Yes, he had whooshed, and now he was gone.
“Whoosh?” asked a familiar dark voice in her ear.
It was him. The monster. That’s why escape. That’s why the knife. That’s why the blood. That’s why the dress. That’s why the money. That’s why America.
None of it had worked. Her skirts fell quickly back down to her ankles. He took her hand and interlaced her fingers with his. His hand was hot. It felt wonderful. Together they left the alleyway. No violence, just a loving, guiding pressure on her hand that led the way for her. She obediently followed. Her dress swung with each step.
She lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes as he gently led her back the way she had come.
“I drank your blood,” he suddenly said. “We are inseparably connected now. When you escape, my little one, when you go insane, your blood tries to leave me. You can only function when I’m close to you, otherwise you will be unable to think clearly.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied.
She felt dizzy. Her blood felt sluggish in her veins. Her heart beat was slowing down, her breathing calm. She closed her eyes against his shoulder.
~
Elizabeth awoke to find herself right back where she’d escaped from, lying on the thick mattress again. It felt both soft and firm. Her wonderful new curves nestled into it. It was warm and cosy, so wonderfully cosy. The red light of the flickering hearth warmed and lit up the darkness behind her closed lids. It was heaven, heaven on earth.

She lay on her side, a warm chest nestling into her back. Slowly she pressed herself more firmly against this wonderfully warm body.  

His hand was resting on her naked waist drawing leisurely, light circles. His fingertips slid over the curves of her hips, her waist, up along her arm, her shoulder, to her neck.
She shuddered in pleasure.
His fingers turned back around again, caressing their way back down to her hips.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.
“Shhhh…” he said and held her tightly, as though he expected her to leave again. Then his grip relaxed and he continued stroking her. “Look,” he commanded her gently. His dark voice filled her ears.
She opened her eyes and looked.
A young woman, a girl, was lying only a metre from her on the huge bed. Only now did she realise that the mattress was moving rhythmically. She recognised the girl. She had seen her giggling in the kitchen when she escaped.
The kitchen maid was entirely naked, her pale skin gleaming damply in the shimmering light of the hearth. She was beautiful. Her dark hair was spread out like a fan on the sheet, her eyes lightly closed, but not fully. Elizabeth could see the ecstatic, slightly glazed expression in them. Her forehead was shimmering with a light layer of dewy sweat. It gleamed in the light of the fire. It was the most beautiful thing Elizabeth had ever seen. A smile played on her lips and she whispered something to her lover. 
Her hands were stroking slowly and tenderly, unbelievably tenderly, over the back of a young man, a youth. Her slim, pale legs were wrapped around his hips, her toe nails reflecting the flickering glow.
She whispered something into his ear again. His beautiful, young face bent towards her and he kissed her eyebrows. Then he whispered something back.
They moved together slowly, rhythmically. So slowly that you almost couldn’t tell they were moving. Their bodies shone while they stroked, caressed, kissed, swayed. Each touch was in harmony, in the love that they had for each other. It was so beautiful.
His back arched slightly with each movement, with each pushing down of his hips.
The girl closed her eyes, opened them again, whispered something.
Their skin rubbed together whisperingly. It gleamed damply and brightly.
There was no drive, no haste, only the light tender movements and gentle caresses of pure sensuous love. The passion was so clear, so radiant, so bright, and yet so lazy and cosy.
He whispered something again so very quietly, barely audible.
“Do you know what they’re whispering?” the vampire breathed into Elizabeth’s ear. His hand had moved to her belly. His warm breath pushed into her ear, heated it, slid through the ear canal, filled her head like opium. The heat of his hand warming her innermost being through her taut skin.
“No,” she murmured as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb the lovers.
The fire threw flickering, beautiful shadows on the image before her.

“He is Danish, she’s Hungarian,” explained the vampire to Elizabeth. His dark, seductive voice was as quiet as a wave on a calm lake. “They don’t know what they’re saying to each other
either. And yet, can you understand what they’re whispering?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered. She couldn’t understand their words, but she understood their meaning. “They adore each other. They love each other.”
His warm hand on her stomach slowly slid down to her hips again and stroked her thighs.
The lovers before her continued to sway, lazily, lovingly.
Red firelight danced on their gleaming, pale bodies. His movements were smooth as the youth rose up to look at the girl’s breasts.
Elizabeth couldn’t see them because his arm was blocking her view, but she could hear the awe in his voice as he whispered something to his beloved.

“Yes, they love
each other,” the vampire murmured. “It’s a miracle this act, isn’t it? Full of beauty and love. Full of warmth and affection. There’s nothing bad about this act. It is holy, holier than the Pope. Even if they’re not married, this connection of sex and love remains … this is the good in the world. Love, feelings …. Look at it. It is complete.”
“Yes. Complete,” Elizabeth repeats quietly.
The youth lowered his head until his lips were touching her clavicle. His tongue slid over it lightly.

Likewise, Elizabeth felt
the vampire’s fingers slide over her own skin in almost the same arbitrary pattern. His fingertips slid over her thigh up to her pelvic bone. Over it, further down, until they arrived at her mound.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply to suppress her anticipatory shaking. His fingers slid through her pubic hair. He twirled it around his index finger.
She could feel the heat rising in her. Not like the lovers in front of her. They loved each other, as though they had taken all the fire from them and now only this glow was left. One spark would be enough to turn this glow into a blaze, but they denied it, they wanted to enjoy and savour this act of love timelessly, eternally.
Elizabeth herself couldn’t do that. Nothing in her could stop the flames that his tender touches kindled inside her. She felt she had as little will as she’d had yesterday in his shackles. But this time she could feel that she wasn’t the only one in this fire. The vampire, too, was not as unaffected as he would have her think. His cock pressed hard, hot and erect against her back.
The lovers in front of her lolled about in the glow of the fire. Love shone in their eyes. The youth’s hair was stuck damply to his temples. It was wonderful to see how his face, framed by his damp hair, shone so lovingly. Like the portrait of a brilliant artist.
She never wanted to stop looking at this picture. She wanted to be loved like that too…
The girl answered with a whisper, as though a voice that was too loud would destroy the magic. She sounded light and innocent. Unspent and loving.
The vampire murmured in Elizabeth’s ear again. His breathing had sped up, his fingers were now moving more purposefully through her pubic hair, further downwards, exploring the same path they had yesterday, and his index finger touched the uppermost point of her labia.