My Lady Vampire - Book Three

My Lady Vampire

Book One

Sahara Kelly

Copyright 2010 Sahara Kelly

Cover art copyright 2010 Sahara Kelly

Acknowledgements

Nobody writes in a vacuum. There are always friends, conversations, ideas that take root in the mind. One such idea came from the photograph of a beautiful Slovenian spa and the reminiscences of a wickedly charming friend who visits there on a regular basis. It cried out for silks, lace and sensual European intrigue while begging for the crunch of carriage wheels on gravel and the rhythmic thud of horses’ hooves. It demanded moonlit nights and couples who disobeyed convention to lose themselves in darkened forests while exploring the heights of passion--or the depths of depravity. Thus the seed for this story was planted.
Grazie
!

(This book was originally published as “Flame of Shadows”.)

Author’s Notes

The word “Chyne”, used throughout this story, is more commonly spelled as “chine” today, and describes a steep sided river valley where the river flows through coastal cliffs to the sea. Its origin comes from “
Cinan
”, the Saxon word for
gap
or
yawn
. Chine is mostly used in central Southern England, especially the Isle of Wight, where there are nineteen chines, amongst which are the tourist resorts of Blackgang Chine and Shanklin Chine. In the past, they were much appreciated by smugglers and pirates for the shelter and concealment they offered on dark and stormy nights.  Sadly, most chines are being constantly eroded, and many are now little more than small gullies leading to the ocean.

“Rogaška”--where some of the activity in this story takes place--is real, although I have taken a slight liberty with its timeline. A quite incredibly beautiful estate in present-day Slovenia, it gained renown for its healing waters during the medieval period. Converted into a proper health resort and hotel in 1803, it became one of the most fashionable and popular in Europe, helped along by the development of a more convenient railway system between Vienna and Trieste during the mid-1800’s. Its popularity fluctuated with the conflicts in Europe, but today it remains an attractive vacation destination, offering a variety of healthy spa treatments along with relaxing massages and many leisure activities.  It also boasts a world-renowned glassware factory producing beautiful lead crystal, much of which is exported to the United States.

Prologue

An estate somewhere in Mid-Europe - late 1700s…

Her hair flamed in the candlelight, a flicker of red that shone brighter than the jewels around the necks of the other women. Each time he glanced into the massive ballroom, the flash of color caught his eye.

Other men were attracted too--moths to the flame. She danced with anyone who asked, heedless of protocol, ignoring the occasional frowning stare tossed her way by a wallflower.

She was elegant and lithe, her body beckoning the unwary to capture her, hold her close for a brief instant of time.

In an unusual fit of whimsy, he thought that she could have been a moonbeam in her creamy silk gown, had it not been for the slash of brilliance coiled atop her head. She was attending in the entourage of some minor Margrave, an overly obsequious lesser functionary whose sole purpose in life was to bolster the importance of Count Rogas, their host for this event.

The Count himself had performed his one duty dance with his wife, then retired to the card room, leaving the assembled throng to the music, the dancing and the flirting--an inevitable part of any such soiree.

Given that Rogaška was a huge and opulent near-palace, there were plenty of people left to enjoy themselves, and the Count’s absence was barely noted. Certainly not by
her
. Nor the several hundred other guests as they whirled through the dance, watched by the man standing in shadow outside a huge open window.

In spite of the crowds, his gaze inevitably found her. Thérèse Osmočescu. The beautiful red-headed Thérèse. And when her gaze collided with his, he nearly lost his breath. He’d expected a green glitter to shine from beneath her eyelids.

He was wrong.

She neared him, coming ever closer, and he fought to suck air into his starving lungs, choking down the bolt of lust that speared him as she fixed him with her gaze.

Her eyes were blacker than midnight, her irises indistinct from her pupils. They were so unexpected, so unusual, that for a moment or two he almost drowned in their shadowed depths. The massive ballroom splintered into a million shards of light, paling and shimmering next to those deeply disturbing eyes that pierced him to his groin and beyond.

His cock hardened as she walked towards him, not a word yet spoken between them. His skin heated then dewed with sweat and he swore he could detect her scent--even hear the swish of her gown against her thighs. She was a moving symphony of sexuality, a softly swaying invitation to sin.

And at this moment he wanted to fuck her more than anything else in the world.

Jadranko Čzaplinek ran his tongue over lips that were suddenly dry and stared as the object of his obsession drew nearer, a slight, teasing smile playing around the lush curves of her mouth.

She was definitely headed his way, and his mind struggled to absorb that fact. He was nothing--a minor landowner looking for a sponsor. No more than that. His presence at this function was a fluke, her interest in him astonishing.

When she held out her hand toward him, his heart nearly stuttered to a halt. But he took it nonetheless and drew her through the window onto the stone balcony. Surprisingly cool, her fingers lay across his palm--a kiss of chilled flesh against his heated skin. He shivered involuntarily and gazed uncertainly at her as she drew closer still, folding her hand around his. “I’m…”

“Ssshh.” One icy finger touched his lips, silencing him. “No words.”

He smiled at the slight accent that threaded through her speech. It was charming, appealing and heightened her sensuality.

Her hair caught a stray flicker of light, burning like an ember when exposed to a draft. There was a fire burning in her eyes as well, and Jadranko could only follow where she led. Now he was
her
captive, trailing the moonlit silk of her gown as she made her way through formal gardens, past hedges and fountains, and into the less well-tended section of the estate.

As if by instinct her feet found the path, and she sped to her goal--the small bandstand that sat deserted now in a clearing within the forest. Stepping inside, she released his hand and turned, leaning against one white painted column.

“I want you.” She spoke and the words flew to him on a breath that grazed his cheek with cool sweetness.

He swallowed. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Jadranko Čzaplinek.” She smiled as she carefully wrapped her tongue around the complicated syllables. “See? I know your name. You were watching me. I could feel your eyes on me.” Her laugh was light and carefree. “A woman always knows when a man is…interested in her. She can tell what he wants.”

“She can?” Jadranko found he was panting, though they had not exerted themselves. Not yet, anyway.

“Oh yes.” She raised her chin. “You want
me
, Jadranko. You want
this
.”

His lungs seized as she grasped handfuls of her silken skirts and slowly raised them higher and higher until he could clearly see the bright red curls that shielded her pussy. Catching the dim moonlight, they burned as hotly as his blood.

“You want this, don’t you?” She purred out the question, parting her thighs very slightly to emphasize her statement.

Jadranko nodded. “Yes.” His cock was pressing harshly against his trousers. He wanted her all right. He had done so ever since he first set eyes on her.

“Then take it, Jadranko. On your knees and worship me first. With your mouth. I like that.” She settled herself more comfortably, gown held high, thighs and hips a white gleam in the shadows.

More than willing, Jadranko dropped to his knees before her, letting his hands slide over the pure shining skin of her legs. He eased them apart to reveal moist and swollen flesh. Her scent teased his nostrils and the little sigh of pleasure she gave was music to his ears.

He bent to her and sank his mouth into her pussy.

This was truly a miracle of unheard-of proportions, and Jadranko obeyed the urging of his desires, feasting on the cool body of Thérèse Osmočescu until she was heaving with arousal against his face.

He was in heaven.

- - - -

Thérèse smiled as hot lips sucked ferociously at her cold pussy. Her senses were aroused, her juices flowed and a delightful lassitude spread through her body. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, relishing in the sensations this energetic young man was producing.

He had been a good choice. An outsider, not part of a large circle or group of guests at the ball. Unlikely to be missed by anyone, certainly not until she was long gone from this place.

She felt a tingle, a tensing within her sheath, and reached for his head, pulling his mouth away. “
More
, Jadranko. I need your cock now.”

How biddable he was--how ready to fuck her. Within seconds his cock was freed from his imprisoning trousers, a hard and aroused length, swollen purple at the enlarged head. Just right to give her pleasure as they fucked.

“Mmm.” Thérèse smiled once more as he stepped between her legs and slid his arousal through her juices. So that he would be in no doubt of her intention, she lifted one leg, allowing the inside of her thigh to brush upward over his now-naked hip. Trousers in a wrinkled puddle around his feet, Jadranko groaned as he sought the entrance to her sex, his cock rooting hungrily through her flesh.

“Lift me, my strong Jadranko. Lift me so you can fuck me deeply. Be with me in the flames.”

Willingly his hands cradled her buttocks and without hesitation he took her slight weight, raising her to exactly the right height. Her breasts grazed his coat, the roughness of the simple fabric abrading her sensitive nipples through the fine silk. It was but another step in her arousal.

This was what she craved, needed with a desire so fierce it nearly choked her. She had desired it at regular intervals for nearly a hundred years now.

And when it came from a handsome young man like Jadranko, so much the better. Her last time, several months ago, had been with a not-so-handsome partner. The smell of the stables had been all over him and had clung to her nostrils ever since. She’d had a hard time getting the taste of him out of her mouth.

But this one? He was perfect.

With one supremely accomplished thrust he took her, sinking his cock deeply inside her body. She could feel the heat from each ridge and valley along its hard length. It warmed her, filled her, drove her wild with desire, lust--and hunger.

Risking a glance at his face, Thérèse saw his eyes close and his lips part as he began to pound into her, seeking his own release but managing skillfully to encourage hers as well.

Oh yes. He was good.

She let herself go, enjoying the feel of him fucking her, and the knowledge of what was yet to come. She ignored the hard wooden column against her spine, and barely felt the night air against her buttocks. It was all about her inner sensations and her need--to orgasm.

To survive.

He was close, very close to his peak now, as was she. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and she licked it--her first taste of him. Sweet yet salty, he was as richly satisfying on her tongue as he was between her thighs.