The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) (30 page)

Add to that the knowledge that I could, in fact, become a mother. Something that was impossible to me just a few days ago. As impossible as a world filled with vampires and alchemists and ancient rituals. I wondered again if I must simply be dreaming this all. As my heart pounded within my chest it became impossible to determine whether it was being accelerated by fear or anxiety or, just maybe, the hope of something I had stopped hoping for in my life.

Yes, I told Peter everything. Everything, that is, except my intimacies with Racco. That would have to wait until some other time, were there another time to do it. Also unknown to my college beau was the fact he would be dispatched to America sometime the following afternoon. Even more miles would separate him and me, as according to Gustav, it would no longer be safe to stay in the castle beyond this night. My destination would remain secret until after Peter left, to ensure no one close to me tried to find my new location.

All of this weighed heavily on my heart, along with the horrific events going on throughout the world. Events that I possibly could stop by cooperating with the vampires’ wish to keep the sacred bloodline going. To not literally become, in Gustav’s words, “the vampires’ last lover.”

If I needed additional motivation to consider his ‘official vampire’ point of view, a mere glance outside through either one of my bedchamber’s windows would suffice. Shadows and glowing eyes flitted back and forth in the adjacent forest, where miles and miles of virgin timber separated us from any other farms or other chateaus. Even so, Gustav had already confirmed twice for me that we would be safe for the time being—that the assault planned by Ralu would happen no earlier than the next sunset. They simply didn’t have the numbers to mount a successful assault yet. The rogue vampires might be more evolved now than ever before, but they still took time to organize.

Then there was the issue of Tyreen’s death. I hadn’t finished with the first real wave of tears before Peter told me more disturbing news. Shortly after her death, her body disappeared. The demons that killed her must’ve come back for her corpse and taken it from the Knoxville morgue. Garvan confirmed this is possible, and he reminded me of one of our first conversations, when he and Armando openly wondered why the fiends were leaving body parts behind, instead of feeding on them later. I couldn’t bear the thought of my dear friend as an ongoing meal for some horrific fiend. Not to mention, there could never be any closure for her family back in Atlanta as long as her corpse remained missing.

I knew why Chanson had lied to me. Was I not doing the same to protect Peter? That thought didn’t make me feel any better, but it did help me to understand why she had done it.

I glanced at the clock. Chanson told me that she would return for me around 3:30 a.m., and that the ceremony—the
relance de sang
—would begin soon after. It could be as brief as fifteen to twenty minutes, or longer than several hours, depending on the male’s cooperation. Yeah, just what I was afraid of.

I worried about who the vampire would be, as Garvan had already requested the honor. But, he was not alone, as Armando and Raquel had also approached Gustav for the honor. And, yes, they consider it an ‘honor’ since apparently this is the equivalent of a complete face and body lift among vampires. Draining the ‘blood of life’ in such a large quantity at one time can mean no necessary ‘tune ups’ for at least a century. Hell, I was surprised they didn’t all line up for this. But, in the end it was my choice, and despite the possible hurt feelings, I chose someone else. Someone I had already learned to trust more than any other vampire. A vampire who seemed to understand me and cared for my best interests.

Chanson.

Maybe it was a little weird having a girl do it instead of a guy, and because she was kin—even if removed by a dozen generations. She had performed in this same ritual but in the role I would soon be filling. I had to hope that she would remember what it was like and, perhaps, find a way to make it easier on me.

That settled, it left me with a few hours to kill before this event. Sleep would be nearly impossible, but I tried anyway. At least my eyes were rested. Then, around 2:45, I decided to take another luxurious bath to ensure my body would be at its ravishing best. My desire to minimize Peter’s reservations overrode all else, although I must admit the requirement of complete nudity beneath an ornate gown similar to the robes worn by Gustav made things more intriguing. If this had been an excursion into a secluded cabin or chalet someplace, and alone with either Peter or Racco, I’m certain neither one would have an issue with me coming to bed similarly attired.

At 3:30 a.m., Chanson arrived as promised, rapping lightly on my door.

“Txema? Are you ready?” Her musical voice sounded a tad more excited than usual.

“Yes,” I answered, and opened the door.

She was dressed similar to me, only instead of the white lilies on a golden splash for my gown, hers was crimson and covered with a variety of colorful anemones. Like me, she appeared to have recently bathed. The lilac scent seemed stronger and more potent than before. Her ruddy complexion indicated she had recently fed, which made me feel better about choosing her as the one to drink my blood. Less danger of being drained to death.

“He has agreed. Shall we go?” She reached out her right arm for me to take, and I locked my left one inside it. Together we began our trek to our destination.

I thought the location might be near the dining hall, maybe a small room where a few vampires would also attend. At least that’s what I expected. Maybe Gustav and a few witnesses? A little freaky, but not as bad as it would be if everyone in the castle showed up. Of course, Peter only understood it would be me, him, and Chanson. He wouldn’t be happy about the prospect of more vamps in attendance. But, I was sure he’d be there, since he prided himself on keeping his word.

Once we reached the main floor, Chanson led me through an alcove beneath the stairs. It opened to a large room, and at the end of this room was an open doorway that led to a narrow stone staircase.

“We’re almost there, Txema,” she said, picking up her pace as we moved toward the doorway. “The next stairs will take us to the chamber where the ceremony will be held. Your man, Peter, is already there.”

We separated from one another to climb the narrow stairs, forced to lift our gowns as we ascended to the top where a soft yellow glow emanated. A series of wall torches were also lit to illuminate our way. Frankly, it surprised me Chanson didn’t just whisk me up to the very top. But, maybe this was all part of the ceremony, to go as true humans must. It was a climb of several stories.

Once we approached the top I heard hushed voices. Lots of them. I started to worry about how many souls would be watching me get it on with Peter for the sake of pretty vampire survival. I could handle a few eyes in attendance, since assuredly these creatures had been watching me my whole life and I just wanted to get this thing done. But if the number of voyeurs quadrupled? Let’s just say the gates that needed to be open for this copulation to happen might not be so cooperative. And, there wouldn’t be a damned thing I could do about that. Not to mention, this could mean heightened anxiety for Peter as well.

“Do not fear. I will make sure this goes the way it should,” Chanson whispered to me, just before leading me into what looked like a large auditorium.

Classical instruments hung on the walls and wooden chairs were stacked on either end of the room, barely discernible in the dim torchlight. But, the fact that two hundred bodies were here was not so hard to discern. They all seemed to be vampires, their colorful eyes aglow. Some wore hoods, but all wore vibrant gowns and robes similar to Chanson and me. Including Peter, and his attendant ‘protectors,’ Franz and Armando. A few carried lanterns and lit candles.

The scene prompted me to remember a cruel jibe my father once made when I dressed as a naughty nurse for a Halloween party my junior year in high school. ‘You look like a porn star that’s been invited to a stag party!’ he had said. Although he realized immediately that it came out more harsh and less funny than he intended the damage was done. It ruined my evening. I wore my long winter coat that night as a result, too ashamed to reveal anything more.

This was worse.

I really did feel like a porn star, only this was more like a troupe of perverts invited to the making of a XXX film. Mortified, my pulse began to race.

“Shhh. It will be all right,” Chanson assured me. “There are no humans here right now—not even Racco or his trusted staff. Sacred vampire rites like
relance de sang
are off-limits to humans, unless they are partaking in the ceremony. This is strictly enforced—often on pain of death to intruders.”

Okay, so that made things a tad easier. It’s not like a vampire is going to post footage of an event like this on YouTube.

“Welcome, Txema!” Gustav exalted, moving toward me as the other vampires made way for his presence. A path was cleared along the wooden floor, the varnished planks glistening under the collective candles and torchlight. “Come this way. Your bed is warm and ready.”

Yep, just like a porn set. A big round bed without blankets, and a single institutional white sheet. Oh joy.

At least there were a couple of pillows.

Armando guided Peter over to the bed, whose shuffling feet told me the vampire practically dragged my partner to his station. Chanson and I arrived a moment later, moving to the left side of the bed, while Peter remained at the foot.

“Now relax, and try to forget about them,” Chanson whispered, motioning to the crowd gathered nearby, but far enough away to allow for very slight privacy.

Okay, I admit they were still too close for my comfort. But, I had already decided this could be either uncomfortable or excruciatingly severe, depending on how long the damned thing took. Really, she should’ve smooth-talked Peter, since it appeared that Armando offered no encouragement to him. I detected a slight flutter just below Peter’s right eye, a nervous tic I had seen before on a couple of occasions—most recently while studying for his chemistry exam last week.

“Txema, remove your robe, my dear, and climb up on the bed,” Gustav said, apparently taking the role of director for this scene. He then looked over at Armando. “As soon as she is ready, assist Peter in removing his robe.”

Perhaps this used to work as motivation in centuries past, but this sterile and almost scientific insensitivity toward two people about to screw wasn’t going to cut it. I might be able to ready myself through a variety of fantasy practices I knew well. Thinking about yesterday’s aborted fling with Racco would work for me if all else failed. As long as I could make an emotional connection to that memory, I should be fine. I just prayed that when I arched my back to accentuate my breasts—a posture that drove Peter nuts under normal circumstances—he would be ready, and we could get this thing over and done with. Provided that Chanson had time to get her fangs imbedded into my throat without a hitch.

I removed my gown, surprised at the room’s sudden coolness that caused my gooseflesh to rise and nipples to harden—good and bad effects, I guess. It was like the warmth was suddenly removed by a collective gasp among my vampire audience. Indeed, so much was riding on what happened in the next half hour.

I climbed onto the bed, and positioned myself with as much ‘come and get me’ moxie as I could muster. But, the promising bulge protruding from Peter’s robe disappeared soon after Armando helped him take it off. Once the coolness I mentioned touched his skin, his manhood continued to shrink, and the murmur that followed among the vampires all but sealed its death. His face flushed crimson from an embarrassment that I’m sure will last a lifetime.

Thinking there was no point to continue this debacle, I started to get up. Chanson stopped me, firmly grasping my arm. Her touch was still warm, and it flowed into me, easing the effects from the coolness surrounding me.

“Wait, I have an idea,” she whispered in my ear, and then motioned for Armando to keep Peter from reaching for his robe. “Trust me on this.”

She winked wickedly at me, and then sauntered over to my boyfriend. I’m sure it had to mess with his head to see a girl who so strongly resembled me. He had no idea she and I were related by blood. If he’d noticed her birthmark, he might’ve seen things differently. But, I’m pretty sure the path from her face to her generous bosom and proportionate sexy curves kept him from noticing much else. There isn’t much mystery to the mind of the typical male.

Chanson brushed up against him, allowing her hand to linger upon his powerful chest before she sauntered over to the other side of the bed. Then, with her back to him and eyeing him coyly over her shoulder, in one smooth movement she loosened her gown and let it fall to her ankles. Completely naked, she arched her butt just enough for him to see the inviting folds of her sex and then she whirled around, wearing a predatory expression as she approached him again, strutting sultrily and allowing her firm breasts to hang just slightly.

No doubt, every naughty thought filed away in his head was accessed, as I could perform no better than she, despite our physical similarities. In less than a minute, embarrassed soft became raging hard and fully aroused. It remained that way as she made her way over to me. Her eyes remained locked on him as she reached toward me. The back of her fingers accidentally brushed the top of my breast and she ran her hand up gently until her hand was under my chin. She shifted my head to where I was looking directly at him. It was clear to all three of us who was in charge at the moment and as my own breath shuddered I saw his arousal leap. I wasn’t about to blow what she had successfully created—despite the intense curiosity I sensed in the surrounding throng that had encroached a step or two from their previous distance.

Meanwhile, Chanson’s heat, almost fully human, warmed me again as she moved closer. Her fangs looked like they had grown an inch longer.

“Come over and fuck her, Peter, while she’s
hot
for you!” she cooed, her husky tone carrying a level of dominance and sexual confidence I hoped someday to attain. It damn near made me want her, too—and I don’t swing that way at all. “Do it
now
, Peter!”