Seduced by the Angel (Divine Fornication I--An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves (Divine Fornication (An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)) (2 page)

It was blasphemy, she knew, as she said, "Fuck me.  Forever and ever, take me."

Strong hands seized her buttocks as he leaned back from her while driving his hard length deep inside.  Claire cried out as an electric jolt of delight blazed through her.  His cock slammed into her over and over, hitting her in just the right place, so deep inside.

Then his hands curled around her ass cheeks and a single finger stroked across her anus.  She shivered at his touch.  It was at once so strange and exciting. 

She knew she could have said no, but her body yearned to learn all there was to learn before it was too late, so she did not refuse the tacit question in his touch.

With a steady pressure, all the while continuing his delicious thrusting, Claire felt his finger penetrate her ass, running in deep and coming to stroke up at the thin wall of flesh between his cock and digit.

The sensation was overwhelming.  Claire lifted up, her body stiffening as every muscle answered his call. 

With a strangled cry, she felt herself shiver from one end to the other, then deep spasms rippled through her pelvis.  Muscles contracted all around the thick cock encased in her pussy while the muscles of her anus seized in tight around the finger inside her.

Then, she felt him lose his rhythm for the first time, then came a second stutter in the long strokes that made his muscles ripple under her hands.

A sound rose, then.  There were trumpets and drums.  There was the low roll of thunder that could shake mountains.  There were bells sounding in brazen notes that rang without end.

Claire heard it all and then felt the heat that blazed out from him, pouring into her as he came in thick gouts that filled her most profound depths.

His voice roared with the sounds of majesty and all that was righteous as Claire convulsed in a second orgasm that answered his.

The light that flooded everything around her grew brighter, more intense.  It blazed in intensity until she had to slit her eyes against it with tears that ran freely down her cheeks.

In the tumult and wind, Claire screamed out, "Are you an angel?  Are you?"

The noise grew around her, drowning all else out, as she screamed her question over and over again.

Then, without transition, the wind died away and a quiet calm took its place.  There were voices.  A murmuring with a steady electronic beep in the background.

The bright light flickered before her then receded, to be replaced by the ghostly image of an unshaven, overworked young man.  He smiled a tired smile as he pocketed a tiny flashlight and said, "You gave us quite a scare young lady.  But, we've got you back now and everything will be alright.  So, no more talk about angels, ok?  You're staying right here with us."

Claire did not understand what was happening as she watched the kindly face shift in and out of focus, then a woman's voice said, "Doctor...I might be wrong, but I think she's
looking
at you."

The doctor turned sharply back to peer at Claire, then mumbled, "But, that's not possible...."

~~~

In her dream, a man came to seat himself upon the uncomfortable chair in the corner of her hospital room.  It was the kind of chair one finds in places that require waiting, without any regard to repose.

However, she was sure that was the least of the man's concerns, that uncomfortable chair.  The man was on fire.

Black flames leaped up from his hair, his shoulders.  He was surrounded in rippling heat that blazed silently in darkness.  There was no smoke as he regarded her calmly.

"You're not dreaming, Claire," he said.

Except that she was sure that she was.  There had been tests once she had fully regained consciousness in the emergency room.  Words of amazement, speaking of miracles that she had survived the fall with only a few minor contusions.  Then the amazement turned to astonishment as staff clothed in white consulted her files, noting that she had been blind for years following the accident that had killed her parents, even if no physical injury had ever been found to be at cause.

She was moved to a room of her own which was quickly followed by a steady procession of people poking their heads in the door to see the miracle woman.

They told her that her heart had stopped.  Nothing they tried worked to resuscitate her, and then, when all hope was lost and the doctor was about to declare the time of death, her pulse came back strong and clear.

Claire watched their mouths as they spoke, fascinated.  The tiny workings of muscles that formed words upon their lips.  The smallest detail was of an interest she could not explain.

She saw everything, the veil of darkness torn away.  It was unbearable to close her eyes, to see the void return, until finally, simple exhaustion had carried her off to dreamless sleep.

But, now she dreamed.  She was sure of it.  People do not sit quietly while burning alive.

He shifted slightly upon the uncomfortable chair and through the black flames, Claire saw the outline of dark wings.  They were enormous, feathered in gorgeous plumes that shifted in dark iridescence.

She understood, then.  This was not her golden angel, but Death come to take her, after all.

Claire opened her eyes to the dim light filtering through the hospital room's window.  Night had fallen and the man sitting in the shadows across from her leaned forward.  He was dressed in an elegant business suit and the flames and wings were no longer there.

"You see me, don't you?" the man asked, lifting a hand to stroke his chin, brows furrowed.

Claire replied, "I'm not blind anymore.  They said so, and I see everything."

She knew her words were disconnected, barely making sense. 

"It's just that I don't
want
you to see, me," he said, "Yet, you do."

She did not understand what he meant.

"I'm sorry...?"

"Oh, don't be sorry, Claire Sawyer.  Malakh has gifted you with a vision without precedent.  My brethren and I possess singular abilities, not the least of which is the ability to remain hidden, even from one another, with no more effort than a thought.

"But there you lie, seeing me.  Despite me..."

She decided that the man was insane.  Even if he was dressed in a gorgeous, probably custom-made suit, and everything about him spoke of elegance and charm, he was most certainly out of his mind.

"...and I want to know why," he continued, his voice pensive and reserved.

Claire began inching her hand across the pristine white bed sheet.  The call button was clipped to a chromed rail running the length of the bed.

"Ok," she said, trying to sound calm, "No need to worry.  I think we can find someone to help you out, mister.  There are lots of people here who would be happy to help you."

She made a sudden grab for the call button, ready to plunge her thumb down when, without warning, an iron grip seized her wrist and a second hand clapped itself over her mouth.

"This is a private conversation, Claire.  Just between us."

The man had somehow crossed the room in the blink of an eye, moving in an eerie and absolute silence.

Claire closed her eyes, thinking that her perceptions were skewed somehow.  That the sight that had come back to her was in some way compromised, betraying her.

And there, behind her closed eyelids, the man blazed in black fire, steel gray wings rising above his shoulders.

Claire inhaled through her nostrils, about to scream against the hand upon her mouth.  She opened her eyes and the scream died in her throat.  The man was there, looking down at her with hard eyes, dressed in the elegant suit.

She closed her eyes and dark flames blazed.  She opened them to see an otherwise normal man.

His hands relaxed as she went limp with her surprise and he nodded.

"I believe Malakh has wrought in you a tool.  Always the messenger, he hunts my children and those of our brother.  He harries us without ceasing, but now, I surmise that he has grown malcontent and searches for a means to strike at the source."

Claire still did not understand his words, but no longer thought that he was mad.  Rather, she thought that it was she who had gone insane.  Unbalanced in more ways than one after her fall.

"Are you...are you an angel?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The man's lips stretched in a grin that held no humor.

"An angel?  Is that what you think?" he said.  "Men have named us that.  We were once called the Watchers, or the fallen Seraph.  But, I have embraced the flesh of men.  Long ago I chose to revel in carnal pleasure and I drink at the hot fount of humanity.

"I am no angel...not anymore.  I am
vrykolakas
, the first and father of all vampires that walk the earth.  And I have come for you, the newly forged weapon of my adversary, and I mean to turn it against him."

He towered over Claire, growing larger as shadows loomed in nightmarish relief.  His lips peeled back from gleaming white teeth and she saw fangs drawing down in shining curves like scimitars as he swept her into his arms.

~~~

Bertie hated working with smokers.  It was always the same story, that they needed a quick break is all.  Except that Bertie knew the break would be measured in one or two minutes for the time it took them to get outside the hospital.  Add in another ten or so minutes to actually smoke.  Back upstairs a couple minutes later, and their quick break ran at least fifteen minutes.  Which would not be so bad, except that every one of them did it half a dozen times each shift while good old Bertie dutifully remained at the nurses' station. 
Someone
had to stick around, even if it was the dead of night, in case a patient needed her.

She felt a cool breeze drift across her ankles.  She was seated at the desk she shared with the other night shift nurses.  A choice situation that had taken her years to get.  Not much happened at night, except for the occasional goner that passed on over.

The dead of night.  There was a reason for that phrase, she reflected.  Goners snuffed out their little candles most often at night, but that was not so bad.  Things stayed calm and quiet for the most part.

The cool air continued to snake around her ankles, raising goosebumps on her arms.  Someone had opened a window nearby.

And, that meant a patient was stirring about, someone that Bertie would need to check on since there was no one else.  Since they were off on a quick break.

Bertie thought to herself, and not for the last time, that she hated working with smokers.

She stood up and stepped around from behind the nurses' station and felt a veritable breeze trailing down the linoleum corridor. Her heart quickened as she began walking briskly along.

Once in a while, goners would decide to take things into their own hands.  As if choosing the precise moment of their death somehow cheated the cancer or whatever other malady that gnawed at them.  There was a time that the nurses would find a patient's window flung open at night, the bed empty, and far below, six floors down, a body lay crushed and sprawling.

It was relatively commonplace.  Then someone, somewhere, decided that kind of freedom could not be permitted and the upper floors had had all windows replaced by safety bolted frames, with just one small pane that could be opened at a sharp angle.  Above all, nothing that would permit a goner to suicide.

But the air wafting about Bertie's legs was blowing far too strongly to come from one of those narrowly opened windows.

She passed darkened room after darkened room, seeing only quiet forms lying still under white sheets turned gray in the darkness.

Then she came to the room of the blind girl.  Only she was not blind anymore, that one.  A true miracle, people were calling it.

Bertie poked her head in the door and her mouth came unhinged.

On the floor lay a dozen bolts, that had been somehow unscrewed, and the large safety window that had replaced the original was swung wide open in its frame. 

Night air flowed freely into the room and there was no one in the hospital bed.

"Oh lordy lord," breathed Bertie as she rushed to the large, impossible-to-open window.  She got as close to the edge as she dared and peered down, expecting to see the small body of the blind woman lying down below.

Only there was nothing six floors down, nor any sign of the woman who was blind no more.

~~~

Claire heard the sounds of cars far below.  They seemed insignificant, like children's toys as they wound their way along the highway that had become a thin, black ribbon.

The vampire's strong arms wrapped around her like iron bars and his wings beat in steady rhythm as they flew across the night sky.

Then the sound of his deep voice resonated in her ears as he said, "I would like you to meet my progeny, Claire.  They are legion, and by this hour, I should think quite hungry."

Then, he laughed in great echoing bursts and Claire felt the sting of tears that came to blur her vision of the winking city lights below.

There was no sign of her guardian, the golden angel named Malakh.  Never had she felt so alone, her vision restored to her, only to reveal her plight in every desperate detail.

Claire looked to the heavens as if to plead for some measure of mercy, but there were only the pinpoints of stars looking back her.  They burned coldly and took no notice as the vast abyss of night swallowed her whole.

The End

To be continued in the second episode: