Of A Darker Nature (25 page)

“Marcus? Are you awake?” Emily pushed the guest bedroom door open just a crack. The sun hung high in the sky, and she didn’t think he could be awake.

She quietly entered the spare room. The single bulb in the hallway cast a yellow glow across the end of the bed and the outline of his body beneath the sheet.

She shivered, but was unsure if it was from the newly fixed air conditioner or the idea of what she was about to do. It felt wrong.

Sure, she sometimes read dead people, but they were lifeless and would stay that way. Marcus, on the other hand, was alive at least part of the time and hadn’t given his consent. This felt akin to a violation so intimate, it smacked of immorality.

His laptop sat half open on the nightstand. She didn’t dare open it further, lest he know she’d been inside the room. She bent to get a look at the screen. The screensaver showed an endless loop of a blood-orange sunrise peeking over a mountaintop.

Marcus slept on his stomach, his face turned away from her. She eased onto the bed next to him. Placing a hand on his hip, she leaned across to steal a glance at his face. She whispered his name, but received no response.

He’s asleep,
she told herself. He won’t bite. Confident he would not wake, she traced the curve of his jaw with a careful fingertip. His cool skin was fragrant from the shower he’d taken earlier. She stroked fingers through his hair and smoothed it off his face. Long, dark lashes lay against his pale cheeks. She ran her hand down his back, tracing her fingertips along the indention of his spine.

A sense of melancholy dread settled within her. After this was all over, her gorgeous vampire would leave. He’d return to Isabella’s side and never give her a second thought. He wasn’t really hers, but that knowledge didn’t lessen the devastation it would cause. In the short time she’d known him, she had somehow allowed herself to care about him.

Finally, she rested her fingertips on his left shoulder and relaxed. Memories on the surface of his subconscious leapt into her mind, eager to be shared. She had no idea what to look for, no focusing point. Instead of seeing any one thing, hundreds of recollections bombarded her at once. She clamped her mouth shut and struggled to remain silent as they overtook her.

Marcus was a handsome young man of seventeen when Isabella first took notice of him. His family was poor and his parents were eager to find a better life for their three children. The winter his younger sister fell ill, he and his older brother took a job at the widow’s mansion. She’d agreed to hire him as a stable boy and his brother did odd jobs around the house. That spring, his sister died of tuberculosis, followed by his mother. The father, having little use for the boys now they were grown, took what money remained and disappeared. Rumor was he’d died in a rum soaked bar fight just outside of town a few years later.

Because Marcus continued to move into better jobs, his brother grew spiteful. It wasn’t long until he left in search of more gainful employment.

Marcus was a hard worker, earning the praise of the widow and gaining more responsibility. His job title continued to change as quickly as the seasons. On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, Isabella sent Trenton, her steward, to fetch him. Marcus moved into the mansion at once. He’d been excited, eager to please his beautiful benefactor.

He did spend more time with the mistress of the house, but their time was mostly squandered in the bedroom. Behind closed doors, he learned of her dark nature. She thrived on sex and brutality. Marcus was ravaged nightly, giving his mistress both his body and blood.

Trent, her steward, hated the boy for petty reasons. Marcus looked better and Isabella favored his sexual favors over Trent's. She'd begun to spend more time with Marcus and resentment reared its ugly head.

Trent took great pleasure in beating Marcus for the littlest things. As a human, he could do little to protect himself against the savage monster. Trent fed upon the boy as well, leaving him too weak to do much more than wish he could die. At times, Trent did other, more physically demanding, degrading things to him in his weakened state.

At twenty-one, Marcus orchestrated an escape. He took three others with him. Once they were caught, Isabella ordered the others killed while he watched. Marcus was severely beaten for his troubles. He was twenty-six the second time he ran. This time it took Trent a little over a month to find him. He chased Marcus on horseback. The blond had laughed as the horse thundered at his back. After Trent had brought a broken and exhausted Marcus home, he’d had him strung up and flogged. Marcus almost died.

Isabella whispered vehement threats and leaned close, her teeth only inches from the open, infected wounds. “Why do you keep running from me, my pet?”

“I would rather die than continue to feed you,” he'd answered.

Isabella laughed like a lunatic. “Careful what you wish for, my love.”

Much later, after he was well enough, she sent for a local artisan.

Marcus was tied face down to a bed while Trent hovered nearby. Mistress led the artist into the already prepared room and instructed him on what she wanted done. Trent took great pleasure in gathering a handful of Marcus’s beautiful shoulder length hair. He sawed it off with a dull kitchen knife. Laughing, he stuffed it into the captive's mouth.

The artist spent painstaking hours pricking Marcus’s skin and applying the ink by hand. Marcus tried not to cry out, refused to let them take joy in his pain. Eventually, the torture became too much to bear and he screamed himself hoarse. It took several days to finish because Marcus became violently ill and reacted to the ink.

Isabella laughed, waving away the artist’s worry. “Continue your work. I am going to put him to death after you finish.”

She fed him well and nursed him back to health, yet never released him from the binds. It was hot, humid and miserable as he lay helpless against fresh sheets. All he could do was imagine what she had in store for him. Isabella returned the following night, wearing her favorite negligee and a dangerous smile.

She stared down at Marcus’s naked body, and a wistful smile lit her face. “You are like a little bird, always bashing itself against the cage, always awaiting the opportunity to fly away. I will never allow you the chance to unfurl your wings. You are mine. I shall keep you always.”

Without apology or explanation, she bit into his inner thigh. His back arched, and his mouth fell open in a scream.

Emily jerked away then fell off the bed in the process. Her stomach knotted, leaving the sour taste of bile at the back of her throat. She took several deep breaths in an effort to keep from heaving on the floor. She'd felt everything and, in some strange way, it made her feel closer to him.

Nightfall was close at hand. It wouldn’t do for Marcus to wake and find her hovering nearby.

She went into the kitchen, thinking it best to go about her normal activities. Although she wasn’t hungry, she opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Nothing appealed to her. 

The bedroom door clicked closed. She couldn’t hear his soft footfalls in the hall, but she knew Marcus was approaching. She busied herself at the counter and tried not to think of all she had seen. A cold chill raced up her spine as she realized her mistake. He had probably picked up her scent in the bedroom.

She watched his approach in the window’s reflection. His eyes were darker than usual and focused on her. She picked up a packaged soup.

“Do you ever eat real food?” His hand fell on her shoulder then ran down the length of her arm.

She was unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t see much point in cooking a full-fledged meal now that I’m the only one eating.”

Marcus seemed to consider this for a moment. With a decisive nod, he turned her to face him. “Go change. We’re going out.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Out?”

“Yeah, somewhere other than here. Has it been so long since you’ve had a date that you don’t know what 'out' means?”

“Are you…” Her face screwed itself into a tight scowl. “Are you asking me to go on a date with you?”

“Maybe I am.” A grin nudged the corners of his mouth upward.

“Where are we going?” Emily fought to control her excitement.

Did he have an ulterior motive? She’d never done well at this whole dating business. “What should I wear?”

Marcus touched the tip of his tongue to one of his fangs, gaze falling to the hollow of her throat. “I think I’d like to see more of those long legs.”

He tilted her chin up with gentle fingers then lowered his mouth to hers. She met him halfway, rising on tiptoes. His hand cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer. The kiss they shared was deep and sensuous.

He drew back, a sly smile masking his features.

“I should go change.” She moved past the kitchen island.

“Emily? Wear something other than flip flops.” The back door banged shut behind him as he went outside.

By the time she reached the bedroom, she was more than bewildered. She closed the door and leaned against it. He hadn’t exactly called it a date. Had she been too quick to jump to that conclusion? Maybe last night was a fluke and what they’d shared wouldn’t happen again. 

She sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. The world and all of its problems had gone away when she was in his arms. To experience that again would be pure bliss.

They went to a quaint, renovated Victorian home that was an elegant eatery. The small parking area at the side of the house didn't take away from its allure. A fantastic midnight garden took up one side of the yard and the entire back. Visitors had the choice of eating indoors or out. Marcus chose the garden.

Emily ate amongst night birds and crickets at an intimate table lit only by hanging lanterns. The waitress was charmed by Marcus. In fact, she didn't even bat a lash when he chose only to sip red wine (which he didn't drink) while Emily demolished a plate of pasta and chicken.

Marcus ordered dessert. Emily was stuffed, but the warm chocolate soufflé with raspberry sauce did sound tempting. “I feel rude eating in front of you.”

“It’s not rude.” His hand clasped hers, and his thumb stroked her palm. “I enjoy watching you.”

“What were your favorite foods?”

“I don't recall.”

Emily took a bite of the soufflé and sighed. “I wish you could taste this. It's heavenly.”

He waited until she'd swallowed the last bite to lean across the table. Hand cupping her cheek, his mouth captured hers in an explorative kiss. Heightened awareness coursed through her body. Her eyes shut and she relaxed, fully enjoying the contour of his lips, his devilish tongue against hers and the coolness of his touch. Too soon, he pulled away.

“Delicious,” he agreed with a cheeky grin.

After a few moments of amicable silence and a lot of staring at each other, she nudged his thigh with her knee. “So, I know that stakes and sunshine destroy your kind. Are any of the other myths true?” 

“It depends on which ones you’re referring to.”

She licked her lips. “Does holy water affect you at all?”

“I’m not a demon.” His lips pressed into a thin colorless line. “So, no.”

“Do you have a soul?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes narrowed into thin slits of midnight. “Why the twenty questions, Freckles?”

She jerked her hand from his, suddenly hurt by the accusation in his voice. Did he think she was taking notes on how to kill him? “I was just curious. I don’t know much about you. Eventually I would have gotten around to ordinary things like what your favorite color is.” 

“Red.” His gaze traveled the length of her throat.

Together, they moved through the garden. His hand rested at the small of her back. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to pretend this was a real date. The envious looks she received from other women made it easy and she actually found herself smiling.

They stopped at a small pond at the back of the property and watched the moonlight ripple across the water.

He sat on the bench behind her, more interested in watching her it seemed. “You aren’t afraid to be alone with me?”

Emily glanced at him, only able to make out his silhouette in the moonlight. “Yes and no.”

Marcus looked over his shoulder at the incline they'd just descended. “They may not hear you if you scream.”

“Why would I scream?” She couldn't help touching the gold charm at her throat.

He pulled Emily onto his lap. Her back against his chest, she turned her face toward his. His mouth found hers and possessed it. She wanted to twist around to face him, but his hands were on her hips.

Between kisses, he said, “Tell me to stop.”

She was flirting with danger and didn’t care about the consequences. “I don't want you to.”

Marcus brushed his hand beneath the halter top and a fluttery sensation filled her. His fingers traced lazy circles across her flesh up to her modest, braless breasts. Their small size didn't seem to bother him. He cupped one perfect globe and voiced his pleasure.

Her head fell back against his shoulder and he nuzzled her throat. She barely registered his teeth nipping at the skin beneath her jaw.

One of Marcus's hands pushed her skirt up. He touched her through the fabric of the panties and, despite her modesty, her legs parted to allow him better access.

He pushed aside the thin material and touched the small bud nestled there. Emily gripped his thighs and writhed atop him while his devilish fingers moved against her clit. She gasped and tried to close her legs.

Marcus had other ideas. He nipped her ear and whispered, “Come for me.”

She could feel his cock beneath her, swollen and straining against the thin dress pants. She wanted him. Right here, right now. Emily tossed a glance over her shoulder, gauging whether anyone would see them.

He ran a long finger along her slit then allowed it to push inside. Her body shuddered, and she forgot everything. Marcus pushed two fingers into her pussy then withdrew them again and again. The hand that had so lovingly caressed her breast trailed lower to roll her swollen clit with each thrust of Marcus’s fingers.

Emily shuddered against him, perilously close to climax. Dark spots floated across her vision, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her legs tensed, and the muscles of her lower abdomen clenched in wild spasms. She rode his fingers, breathed his name. Her heart raced, and her breaths came in short gasps. Pleasure coursed through her entire body. She cried out, and he held her shuddering body until she stilled.

“Marcus, that was…oh my god, I can't believe we just did that.”

“I’m not done with you yet, Emily.” He pushed her up, onto her feet. “Get on the bench. Face the hill.”

Her heartbeat raced as she crawled onto the bench. She gripped the backrest and parted her legs. Marcus stood behind her, and she heard the growl of his zipper. His hands pushed her skirt up then moved the underwear out of the way. His hands returned to her hips then the head of his thick cock nudged at her slick opening.

Emily gripped the back of the bench as Marcus sank his length into her. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt not to cry out. One of his arms wrapped around her waist while the other gripped her hip. He pounded into her like a man possessed. It hurt so damned good. They both needed this.

Marcus growled something. Maybe an endearment, she wasn’t sure. The arm around her waist tightened and his thrusts became a bit erratic. Each flex of his hips drove him deeper and he touched something deep within her that she thought was a myth. Her mind blurred and she grit her teeth. One. More. Thrust.
Oh fuck, yes!
If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have crumpled into a puddle of raw nerves and rapturous joy.

Her vampire growled her name on a final thrust then folded against her back. His arms tightened around her for a moment then he kissed the side of her neck. “Did I harm you?”

It took Emily two tries, but she finally said, “That was fucking incredible. I might need an icepack.”

Voices carried over the hill just behind them. Someone laughed – by the sound of it, a small child. Emily scrambled to her feet and smoothed her skirt. Marcus zipped up then pulled her against him for one last kiss. Together, they made their way back up the hill. 

On her way to the car, she had more than ample time to think about what had just taken place. Something had happened between them in the last few days, something frightening and fantastic all at the same time.

Marcus waited for her to climb inside the Corvette then moved around to the other side. Emily marveled at his slim hips and the sinewy muscles of his body. His eyes were probably the most beautiful shade of blue she’d ever seen, even when they were all dark and vampy.

The black pants with the thinnest of pinstripes and the white dress shirt he wore gave him a stunning appearance. He’d rolled up the sleeves and left two of the top buttons undone. Earlier she’d noticed the outline of the wings was visible through the material. It had made her long to trace fingers against his bare flesh and follow each line and curve of ink.

“Holy crap, what’s gotten into you?” She readjusted the hem of the skirt. She’d just kind of publicly fucked a vampire!

“What’s that?” Marcus started the car.

“Never mind.” Would he miss her when he left? Would he even remember their time together? “Thanks for dinner. It was nice.”

“Sitting next to the water and enjoying the moonlight was nicer.” A hint of a smile played across his lips. His fingers stroked across her bare thigh.

Marcus backed out of the lot. She glanced at him and frowned. Should she inform him of Isabella’s worries or keep it to herself?

Decisions, decisions…

“So do you like working for Isabella?” She’d tried to make it sound like any other casual question, but felt it had failed miserably.

His light blue gaze slanted in her direction. “I’ve been an enforcer for a long time. It's all I know.”

That couldn’t be true. She suspected he was very savvy in a multitude of areas. “Are you really one hundred and twenty, Marcus?”

“Are you afraid I’m too old for you?”

Emily grew flustered and fidgeted with the necklace. It was a dumb question anyway.

His fingers brushed higher up on her thigh this time. “It's taking all my willpower to keep from pulling over and ravaging you on the side of the road.”

Emily fingertips pressed against the gold charm.

Marcus laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in good humor. “Not with my teeth, Gorgeous. I want to fuck you again. I can’t get enough of you.”

The conversation ended at the shrill chirp of his cell phone. He didn’t sound happy while he spoke. With a curse, he hung up then shoved it into the center console.

Within minutes, they entered the downtown area. Emily shot her companion a nervous glance though he paid her no mind. He pulled into the nightclub’s entrance.

“Why are we at Red Door?” Several people who looked like they’d looted Hot Topic moved toward the building’s front entrance. She felt a little out of place in the denim skirt and halter top.

The sound system thudded through the walls of the goth bar. People called out to each other throughout the gravel lot. Many of them looked like they should be at home under parental supervision.

His smile appeared forced. “Something’s come up that requires my attention.”

Emily raised a curious eyebrow. “Marcus, I don’t want to go in there. You know I don’t drink and I’m not interested in the other reasons people come here.”

“It'll be quick,” he promised. He tilted his wrist to glance at his watch. “Corey’s probably here by now.”

She was more than suspicious now. Why was it necessary for Corey to be present? “What’s going on?”

“Stay close to me, Freckles. No one will bother you while you’re at my side.” His hand smoothed down her arm to clasp her hand.

Together, they jostled through the pulsating crowd and navigated along a stone wall with recessed lighting. Ambient light flickered above their heads. A tiny stage had been set up at the far end of the building though no one was playing tonight.

The odor of cigarette smoke and alcohol made Emily's throat itch.

A dress code ranging from filmy and scant to cloaks and chains seemed the norm. Everything was black or some shade of it. Emily didn't fit in with her denim skirt and chocolate brown top. Naturally, Marcus blended in with this crowd. Of course he would, she mused. He's a vampire and blending into the background was just his way of hunting prey.

A woman with a sylph-like figure moved toward them. She looped her arms around Marcus’s neck and tried to lure him away. She seemed genuinely pleased to see him as she leaned close and purred in his ear.

“Not tonight, Tonya.” He used his free arm to set her aside. The woman’s face crumpled into a pout, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Emily clung to his arm, uncomfortable beneath the gazes that fell on her. Some seemed curious, others aggressive or hungry. She wanted more than anything to touch the golden heart, but had taken Marcus’s advice and left it in the car. It was the first time since the accident that she’d taken it off. Marcus must have sensed her discomfort because he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. They made their way toward the lighted glass bar.

Emily recognized the messy haired man in black bondage pants and a fishnet shirt. Corey spun on the barstool and allowed his gaze to rove over her body. The blue light shining up from the bar illuminated his face, lending him a wicked appearance.

A short, stocky man wearing a dirty white t-shirt turned too. Using the back of a hand, he wiped his upturned, piggish nose then shot a worried glance in Marcus’s direction.