Aris Rising: The Court of Vampires: AN INFINITY DIARIES NOVEL (6 page)

“My lady, your life will be wrought with mystery and danger, with love and death. Fear not, for in the end, all will bring you great joy.”

With that she dropped my hands, rose and left the wagon. Jane and I sat, unable to move. The air around us seemed heavy, ominous.

“Come Elizabeth, we must go. We must return before we are missed.” She laid a few coins on the table.

My legs felt weak as I stood and descended the few stairs to the ground. As we hurried from the camp, I could feel the eyes of the beautiful dancer follow us into the trees.

#

“This is great stuff.” Bonnie shuffled in her chair as she adjusted her position. “I’m stiff as a board. I couldn’t move while you were talking. I didn’t want to miss a word.”

“There are very clear pictures of what is happening to me. It’s like
I really am right there. Wow, what an experience!”

“Sarah, it appears you have already made the connection you hoped to make. Is there anything else you’d like to share about the session.”

Dazed, Sarah sat for a silent moment as she mulled over what had just happened in her subconscious. “No Bon, I really feel as if I’m still a little out of it.”

“Why don’t you just lie back and rest for a few more minutes. I don’t have another client for a half an hour so take your time.”

She was glad for a moment to herself in the quiet of Bonnie’s office. She was amazed and delighted by the ease of the regression, the depth of the hypnotic state. She was anxious for the next session, hoping to see the bewitching man once again.

#

Performing her nightly grooming ritual, she allowed her mind to wander through her extraordinary day. Strange yet wonderful, overflowing with new experiences. Her missed breakfast, her amazing session with Bonnie. Cocktails with the Italian stallion. She wasn’t sure why she was becoming involved with a man who didn’t even live in the same country as she did but she couldn’t deny there was an overwhelming physical attraction she felt for him. They had spent a delightful evening together. Their conversation over a glass of wine had been refreshing. His questions caused her to rethink her theories and rephrase them many times. His mind was stimulating in a way that was new to her. They laughed and enjoyed each other’s company to such a degree that when he asked her to join him for dinner, it only seemed natural. He was a perfect gentleman, showing respect for her intellect as well as somehow making her feel like a desirable woman without putting any moves on her. When he asked if he could see her again, the only logical answer was yes.

Yet now that she was home in familiar surroundings, the
confusion set in once more. What was she doing? Should she tell Aris about DeMarco? Why was she even wondering if she was being deceptive? For God’s sake, Aris was a vampire and he could only ever be her friend. The only way she could have any kind of a romantic relationship with him was to give up her human life to become an Immortal. She couldn’t even imagine what that meant much less begin to contemplate doing it. Besides, DeMarco lived in Italy. Their relationship could never be more than a long distance friendship. Did she have to announce to Aris every new friend she met? That was out of the question.

In addition, she couldn’t understand why she felt saddened at the thought of the good doctor returning to his home country? They had just met. Yet she did feel sad at the thought of never seeing him again. There couldn’t possibly be any connection between the two of them so soon, but she was drawn to DeMarco. At least he was human.

What was happening to her well-ordered life? It was going to hell in a handbasket. She felt torn, yet exalted. And, somewhere, sandwiched in between the two, vampire and man, was the image of the fiery gypsy dancing around the fire. For the first time in a long time, Sarah was finding pleasure in the unfolding complexity of what had been a very staid life.

She smiled as she crawled into bed, pulling the covers close against the chill of the night.
“Just like Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll think about it tomorrow.”
She turned out the light as she closed her eyes.

#

A loud sound in her room woke her from a deep sleep. Sitting up quickly, her heart racing, she reached to turn on the light. Nothing had fallen and the room was empty except for her.
“Must have been dreaming,”
she thought, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head. She shook off the groggy feeling of being suddenly awakened at five o’clock in the morning.

“I’ll never get back to sleep and it’s so close to time to get up, if I do, I’ll never wake up in time.” She mumbled under her breath. “Might as well do some journaling.”

She reached in the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out her journal and a pen. She propped her pillows into a huge pile against the headboard, then went to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee. When she was snuggled back in her warm bed, steaming black liquid resting on the table beside her, she bent her knees to make a desk to lean the notebook against.

Where to begin? Sipping from the mug, she smiled. “I guess the session today is a good place to start.” She leaned her head against the makeshift head rest, closing her eyes. She could see the clearing and the fire just as vividly as she had during her session. She remembered the gypsy in complete detail down to the light sheen on his damp, nude, muscular chest. Allowing herself to drift in and out of a gentle state of self-hypnosis, she was in a netherworld between sleep and wakefulness when the vision changed. She saw herself as Elizabeth Wyatt in the clearing with him, her golden hair loose, hanging below her waist. She wore bangles on her wrists and ankles, a full, colorful skirt whirled about her as she enticed him to dance. Her feet were bare as were her shoulders beneath her thin cotton top. Her breasts were free, unbound, and as she moved, the soft fabric caressed them gently, causing her nipples to stand firm and erect. The fire blazed brightly as he moved toward her. His arms went above his head, his wrists crossed. As if on signal, the violin and a concertina began to play from the dark night just outside the circle of firelight.

Turning, he caught her eyes with his, then slowly began side stepping closer to her, his hands clapping with each movement of his feet. He gazed down at her underneath his long, black lashes, his dark eyes flashing with passion.

Grasping her skirt in her hands, she lifted it high, showing her
beautiful legs as she danced. She began to match her movements to his. It was as if they had been dancing together for a lifetime. The music grew more provocative, their dancing more uninhibited. They whirled around each other, reaching out yet not quite touching. Her heart raced in her chest, her breath came in gasps. He stopped short, his large hands wrapping around her small waist. Lifting her high, he buried his face in her soft belly, breathing in the fragrance of her. She thought she would burst with desire. Slowly he slid her over his body until they were thigh to thigh, abdomen to abdomen. She could feel the hardness of his manhood straining against his tight black pants. Arching her back, she pressed herself into him. He held her tightly, supporting her back with his strong arms; he leaned her backwards, his lips resting on her throat. He felt the beat of her heart pounding in perfect rhythm with his. Dropping her head back, she exposed her long beautiful neck, vulnerable, seductive. The music stopped. Hands clapped and feet stamped from the darkness that surrounded them. They stayed still, their breaths panting as one.

Suddenly he swept her into his arms, quickly carrying her through the camp and into his wagon. The only illumination was from a single candle burning on a small battered table. He laid her on a soft pallet on the floor.

She watched him as he undressed, stripping his black pants from his perfect body. He stood above her nude. He was erect. Strong.

When he stooped to her, the exotic male fragrance of him surrounded them. She reached her arms to him. Kneeling beside her, he began to undress her. First the skirt, then the lacy chemise that covered her breasts. Her body was pale in the candle light, enticing. His dark hands caressed her. Even in her desire, she noticed the deep contrast in their skin. It made him appear even more fascinating. He watched her as he began to stroke her body with his strong fingers. His touch was gentle as he held his passion
in check. He didn’t want to rush.

The glow of the candle made a halo of light around his dark head as he bent to kiss her breasts. His lips were cool, his tongue warm, exploring. She felt him with every fiber of her being. Winding her fingers through his hair, a deep ardent moan escaped from her throat. The sound unleashed the great passion he held in check.

Sliding his hands beneath her, he grasped her bottom lifting her legs to wrap them around his muscular back. She cried out with desire as he entered her.

They moved together as they had in the dance by the fire; uninhibited, as if they had shared this fiery passion all of their lives. First one then the other led; he was the master, then she.

As she sat astride him, he found his release. His back arched, his beautiful chest glistened in the candle light, moist from their effort. His chin raised, his eyes closed as his breath and movement halted; he looked like a perfect Greek statue frozen in time. After only seconds passed, an intense guttural sound escaped from his beautiful mouth. And then her name whispered over and over again. He raised up, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her lips, her throat, her breasts. Her body convulsed as he, once again, took control, rolling her on her back. His body responded instantly to her movements and he was once again hard, ready to deliver pleasure.

And so he did. Such pleasure that tears of joy poured from her eyes as she cried out.

The sound of her own voice in her Chicago bedroom and the sound of her breath coming in loud gasps brought her awareness back inside her body. She had been neither awake nor asleep but somewhere just in-between; a place where fantasy and reality joined in a perfect melody.

She slowly opened her eyes and glanced at the time. Six o’clock. “I really have to re-think this provincial attitude I have. It isn’t
working too well right now.” She laughed as she sipped her coffee. It was cold and bitter.

D
eMarco sounded out of sorts when they spoke on the telephone. She wondered what was going on, but had the feeling he would tell her at lunch. He wanted to meet at Saul’s for a quick bite at noon.

Hurrying down the street, she felt early light snow flurries melt against the warmth of her cheeks. Why did she always seem to be running behind schedule lately? She never before in her life had an issue with punctuality. Why now? Shrugging her shoulders inside her coat she wrote it off to all the life changes she was going through.
“Who is this masked woman,”
she thought. She laughed at herself as she opened the door to the warmth of the restaurant.

Scanning the bustling room, she saw him just as he stood to get her attention. He always seemed to arrive ahead of her no matter where they met. It was a bit disconcerting at times, but she told herself she liked a punctual companion.

“Hi.” Her words caught in her throat and her blood rose to her cheeks as he reached across the table, resting his large warm hand on top of her small cold one. “
Must be the hot Latin blood,”
she thought with a smile.

“Hello Sarah.” They each sat at the same time but he kept her
hand in his. “Thank you for meeting me today.”

He never looked more handsome than when he turned to speak with the waitress. He had the profile of a Roman god, the gray at his temples lending more mystery and magic to him than any one man deserved. He ordered warm tea for both of them, then turned to her once again.

Taking her hands in his, he removed her gloves. He rubbed her cold fingers in his warm ones, smiling at her with his eyes. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with intense desire. It took everything in her power to not reach across the table to kiss him.
“What the hell was that?”
Thoughts raced through her mind as she tore her eyes from his and glanced down. It took a few deep breaths before she regained her composure. DeMarco was signaling the waitress to fill her tea cup. She was glad he was looking away and hadn’t seen her turn beet red.

He waited until he was facing her again before he spoke. “I have some good news and some not so good news. Which first, Sarah?”

“The not so good.”

“I will be returning to Italy just before your Thanksgiving holiday.”

She felt her shoulders sag at his words. “And the good?”

“I will be coming back to the states after the first of the year. I am thinking of joining a firm in your country and working here for part of the year studying hypnosis. What would you think of that?”

Elated that she wasn’t losing him permanently, she replied, “I think it would be wonderful.”

He stood, pulling her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her long and hard right there in the middle of Saul’s Deli. His lips were soft yet demanding. She yielded to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. When the kiss ended and she finally opened her eyes, she saw the entire corps of waitresses standing in front of the coffee machine watching them, huge smiles on their
faces. She released him and smoothed her skirt, embarrassed by her public passionate response to him, but thrilled in spite of it.

#

Bonnie was lost in the song blasting through her earphones, shaking her head to the beat as her legs pumped the elliptical. Sarah laughed, reaching to touch her shoulder. Jumping, grinning sheepishly, she turned the music down to greet her friend.