Raising her mask to her face she entered the room, stepping confidently around the dancers, her dark eyes fixed intently on her destination. He seemed as yet unaware of her presence, but she knew him too well to be deceived by his lack of concern. He knew she was here, and he was watching her in that secretive, silent way he always used. He knew her for what she was, just as surely as she knew him.
He held out one hand as she approached him, and drew her slender fingers to his lips. She felt once more that cool pressure that confirmed her suspicions, her longings and her fears. "I knew you would be here tonight," she murmured softly, looking up into his masked face. His eyes glittered like opals behind the disguise, devouring the sight of her. "You could not resist the Duchess' invitation."
"You know me too well," he replied, his deep voice veiled in a hint of old country blood. "Marielle." He bowed over her hand and finally released her. "I had to come."
"Have you seen her yet?"
"The Duchess? No. her daughter is dancing with the Avanir-Sanc้ fool, but as for her mother..." He leaned closer to her and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "Have you eaten?"
She smiled up at him, her eyes wide with amusement. "I have have you?"
He shook his head and looked intently at her. "Could I...?"
"Of course." She slipped her hand easily over his arm and walked towards the outside door. "The gazebo is empty I just came from there."
They walked together across the lawn, the grass crunching dryly beneath their feet. The lamplight from the house died away here, and there was only the eerie light of the full moon by which to find a path. With learned precision, the pair found the gazebo and entered it.
It was little used now, this place, and the heavy pall of dust which covered everything was marked with the footprints of insects and rats, whose long years of scavenging and nesting had also taken their toll upon the draperies and furniture in this damp little corner of the grand estate of Duchess Emilene of Crenham Falls.
Before she had barely closed the door behind them, he was upon her, his large hands hungrily pulling away the mask from her face and gazing upon the silken skin of his beloved. The surprise had taken her breath away and she gasped heavily, her breasts rising and falling within the constricting bands of her corsetry. Her skin was the colour of ivory, smooth and flawless as satin.
"You are delicious," he whispered, his mouth close to her naked shoulder, his breath hot and rapid on her skin. "Could I...?"
She made no reply but began to unfasten the ties at the front of her bodice. She loosened the material and then pulled the two halves of it apart so that the dress gaped between her succulent breasts. A tiny circular wound was in evidence above her heart, the only disruption to the clear perfection of her skin.
He bowed his head and sank closer to this wound, his lips parted and dry, his tongue between his teeth. She clutched him close to her as he re-opened the wound with his sharp teeth and then plunged his tongue into the hole. She had experienced this too often to cry out now, but the keenness of the sensation thrilled and frightened her still. She could hear her heart racing at double time, thumping against her ribs and deafening her with its frenetic pulse. She fell back against a table, scratching at it to gain a grip and then hoisting herself onto its reassuring hardness, drawing his recumbent body with her so that they lay as though in a passionate embrace.
When he drew his head back a few minutes later, his lips were coated with blood and his teeth glistened long and sharp and silver in the muted moonlight from beyond the dusty windows. He murmured some kind of apology or sentiment of thanks to her and then rose to his feet. Straightening his ruffled clothing, he looked down at her as she began to re-tie her bodice, gasping for breath, her pale fingers trembling.
"When will you give me the kiss?" she asked suddenly.
He could see the earnestness in her eyes, and knew that she still craved it, even after all the pain she had suffered at his hands already. She was determined at least. "Haven't you been through enough?" he asked, leaning over her and kissing her moist throat.
"You know what I want," she replied, touching his face gently. "Haven't I proved that to you yet?" She returned his kiss softly and toyed with his hair. "Why do you still deny me?"
He fell silent, regarding her solemnly and profoundly, his lips resting on her throat still. "If it's what you truly want, you will wait," he said.
"There's no more time," she countered, anger rising in her voice. "It must be soon. It must be."
"Are you really in a position to tell me when it is time?" he demanded, holding her down with his strong arms and breathing into her face. "Don't you think it is I who should decide?" He pushed her head to one side, exposing her white throat with its rich, pulsating vein. "If you want it so much, why don't I do it now? Do you want that?" Without waiting for a reply, he bit down hard onto the flesh of her throat, clamping his lips on either side of the swollen vein to prevent the blood spraying as her vein exploded and its sweet taste filled his hungry mouth. For a few seconds only did he drink, but so deeply was it done and so hurriedly that she was almost drained. Pressing his fingers to the wound, he glared victoriously into her terrified eyes and laughed softly. "Do you still want it now?" he asked, his tone one of mockery and chilling sarcasm.
She could not answer, her body was too weak and her mind too paralysed with terror. She simply gazed up at him, her limpid eyes wide and bloodshot. She knew that if he stopped her, if he let go of her throat, she would quickly bleed to death. He had taken most of her blood already, and what little remained would gush out if he released the pressure over her vein. She had no choice. It was take his offer and die to be reborn, or refuse it and die completely. Faced with such a choice, she knew what she must do. She nodded her head, resigned and forlorn at the way the decision had been wrung from her. It should not have happened this way.
"Good girl," he responded, kissing her lips until the blood seeped into her mouth. "It will soon be over." He plunged back over the wound and drank the last of her in a matter of seconds. Then, before her heart had ceased to beat, he offered her his wrist. It was the time-honoured way of doing things, and it had never failed yet.
But she did not drink. She closed her lips against his wrist and refused to submit to the life-giving flood he offered her. She regarded him calmly and unafraid, knowing that to refuse this would mean instant and irrevocable death. What was she thinking of?! "For God's sake, Marielle!" he barked, furious and anxious now at the thought of her denying him, the thought of losing her forever. "Christ, Marielle, please! Don't do this don't be so stupid!"
As the last beats of her heart echoed in the musty silence of the gazebo, he fancied he heard her sigh softly: "It is not my stupidity that makes me die it is your... arrogance." Her mouth fell open in a victorious smile, her eyes turned glassy and her blood ceased to flow.
Rising unsteadily to his feet, the vampire gazed long and hard at his dead beloved, salty blood-tears filling his dark eyes, before replacing his mask and leaving the body to the rats. Perhaps it would be found tomorrow, perhaps it would crumble to dust before being discovered that scarcely mattered. Within hours, he would be gone from here, and he had the rest of eternity in which to lose himself, in which to forget that most precious of loves and most painful of lessons.
He would live in death, with only the immortality of his own soul for company...
[21st February 1995]
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