The Red Collection (51 page)

‘Teresa, no!’ he groaned, but there was resignation in his low voice, and a pleasure that was impossible to hide. All
these
months with her he’d held back, and all the decades before, when he’d kept himself apart and out of temptation’s way. They were like a great mass of dammed up emotion bursting forth, a force of nature that could no longer be turned or diverted.

His arms tightened around her, and as she threw her own arms around his neck, he cupped her buttocks, lifting her and moving her against the knot of his erection. She felt her feet leave the grass beneath her as he held her effortlessly, crushed against the length of his body.

‘We mustn’t, Teresa, we mustn’t –’

It was a last-ditch attempt.

‘Oh yes, we must,’ she purred, wriggling and rocking sinuously against him.

For a moment, all around was a blur of motion, and then Teresa found herself lying on her back, on the grass. Zack was lying half over her, a hand moving seductively over her breast while he supported himself on the elbow of his other arm. Somewhere in the transition his jacket and his elaborate tie had disappeared, and his white silk shirt was hanging open, baring his chest.

Teresa laughed. She was naked on the turf.

‘So … you’ve changed your mind,’ she murmured, lifting her knee, sliding it against him, her hips twisting, coaxing.

‘Yes,’ he said roughly, his hand sliding from her breast to her belly, fingers flexing, the middle one tracking down towards her cleft. ‘But no biting … absolutely no biting! I swear it!’

But his eyes were red and his fangs were long. Teresa shuddered, revelling against all reason in the power of her lover’s most basic instincts.

And then he touched her, and as she moaned with longing, he howled, primal exultation ringing and rebounding in the intimate space enclosed by the high hedges.

Only his caress existed, only his long cool body, only his scent. All rhyme and reason and the world of the normal and the sane, cautious and prudent was forgotten. She groaned for the vampire’s kiss, and the possession of his body. Somehow he was already naked and moving over her, his heavy penis searching, searching, and searching for its perfect sheath.

Teresa tilted her hips, inviting him and facilitating his thrust. Her hands grabbed at him, clawing at his back and cupping his backside, encouraging him, goading him on, her nails digging in, breaking his skin.

When he pushed inside her, her head went light and she wailed and sighed and thrashed as if she too were in thrall to the lust for blood. Her hips lifted, pushed, thrusting back at him. She wanted him to be inside her, really inside her – inside every nerve and cell and blood vessel. She wanted to be with him, and
be
him, right down to the tiniest denominator of what made them, and she wanted to be inside of him too.

They slid and rocked together, limbs working, bodies pressing and slapping against each other in a natural instinctive dance of the flesh. Great waves of delicious sensation swept through Teresa’s belly, her legs, her arms, her fingers and toes. Even her hair seemed to be tingling with delight and almost standing on end.

But she knew there was more, and even in the midst of such a cyclone of pleasure, she recognised again the greater and more life-changing lure. Embracing its ultimate call, she arched her neck and offered her throat, her fingers digging deep into Zack’s black curls to draw him to her.

He roared again, a huge sound resonant with joy and triumph, but also a fatalistic ‘no’ of horror and resistance. But it was too late, those basic instincts were in control.

The pain, when it came was immense. This was no little nip, and the drawing of a few mouthfuls of blood. This was the real thing.

Hard, unforgiving teeth plunged through her skin, probing for and then finding the rich pulsing vessels they sought. Hot blood began to flow, sweet and abundant. Teresa moaned again as her pleasure spiralled and became unrecognisable. Perhaps the pain was pleasure? Or the pleasure was pain? She couldn’t tell. She only knew the exquisite joy of feeding and being fed on by her love.

On and on it went, her sex rippling and clenching and contracting around Zack in time to the steady pulsing surge of blood from her throat. The sensations were sublime, and she was aware, somewhere in the centre of them, that Zack was ejaculating inside her, and yet he stayed hard, his cock unflagging, solid and cool.

She began to float, as if weightless, insubstantial. She was drifting on a sea of warm primitive feelings, cosseted and buoyed up by love, suspended in a drifting crimson cloud. The pleasure seemed to melt and change, become ever more languorous, drowsier and less substantial. There was no effort in the union now, just ease, and gliding, flowing sweetness …

From a great distance, she seemed to hear an agonised voice, crying, ‘No! Oh no!’ but it could have been merely her imagination.

Is this a dream? How strange it is. Am I awake or asleep?

Still drifting, Teresa became vaguely aware of motion,
things
happening around her and to her. It was disorientating, but she wasn’t scared. Zack was with her. Zack was taking care of her.

With very little help from her, he was helping her back into her clothes, while she just stared around, dimly registering her surroundings and even her own body. She could smell blood, rich and tantalising. Staring at her own fingers, she found traces of red on the tips and around the nails, and it being the most natural thing to do, while Zack was searching for her shoes, she popped each finger into her mouth, one by one, and licked off the life-giving fluid. It tasted just as appetising as it smelled.

And then she was being carried along, her arms around his strong neck, her face buried against his scented skin, against his unbuttoned collar.

‘I’m so tired,’ she murmured, nuzzling, ‘I could sleep for a month …’

‘It’s OK,’ her beloved whispered, ‘you’ll soon be back in bed.’

Teresa wanted to say how nice that sounded, but before she could frame the words, she was already fast asleep.

8

It seemed to Teresa that it was many, many weeks before she finally woke up from that dream.

She recalled the carrying to bed, the putting to bed, and then the next morning and conversations with Zack as the two of them packed up their belongings and then drove back to town.

How easy and tranquil it had seemed, chatting to her friend – her buddy – about this and that, and making plans,
some
vague, some definite, for the weeks and months to come. The only thing that bothered her was the return of her tinnitus now and again. She’d resolved to see a doctor sooner or later.

What an excellent idea it seemed to begin to look for a new flat of her own while Zack was away, visiting his old friends at the Priory of St Benedict in North Yorkshire on retreat. Yes, it really was time she stopped presuming on the generosity of this kind man. She had some savings – in fact her bank account was unexpectedly healthy – and it would be fun to decorate a place exactly to her own taste. And with her out of his hair, Zack could get on with his research and his writing, and they could always pop around and see each other when she was settled, couldn’t they?

She was sad to see Zack leave for Yorkshire, and she’d shed a few secret tears. But ever the thoughtful one, he’d arranged for his cleaning lady come housekeeper to put in a few extra hours in his absence, so Teresa would have some company around the place while she was looking for that flat.

Everything was planned, organised and trundling along smoothly. At least it seemed that way at first.

But then the changes began. Or perhaps it was just that she started to notice changes that had already occurred – and her memory began to sharpen.

And that wasn’t the only thing that got sharp.

She began to wake in the night from hot red dreams about Zack. Wild erotic flights that left her aroused and yearning and voraciously hungry. But when she opened the fridge, there was nothing in it she fancied.

One night, she dove into the freezer and found some icy packages of Zack’s iron shake – the ones he kept for
emergency
when fresh supplies were delayed for one reason or another. Inexplicably, her mouth began to water, and the shape of it felt strange and unfamiliar.

Defrosting the hard frozen red pillows, Teresa absently ran her tongue over the edges of her upper teeth – then squeaked out loud when she got the shock of her life.

Then suddenly she saw an image of his hand, fingers crooked, moving strangely.

But there was no need for a magician’s pass now. The delicious odour of blood brought everything back. Everything he’d blanked out in his misguided attempt to ‘save’ her.

She smiled.

In the small hours of the morning, Zack let himself into the still, dark house. His housekeeper never stayed overnight, so it should be empty – but the back of his neck prickled when he sensed a vague presence.

Teresa!

She shouldn’t be here. He’d deliberately stayed out of contact for the six weeks he’d been away, hoping it would be easier for both of them that way. It was difficult trying to blur the mind of someone as sharply intelligent as his beloved, and if they were separated, the dangerous memories would fade to nothingness.

But she was here. He could tell, but even if he hadn’t been a vampire he would have been able to detect her. That was what a never-dying love could do for you.

Jumbled feelings roiled in his heart.

He felt pure joy that Teresa had stayed in his house – and red anger with her for resisting his influence and putting herself in danger.

Racing up the stairs, he felt almost alive. He could swear
his
heart was pounding in anticipation, and the blood was surging through his veins. It was an illusion, but despite his confusion, it was exhilarating.

The door to Teresa’s room almost broke on its hinges, but the emptiness of her room made him want to howl. Had he been wrong? Was it just the memory of her presence he’d been sensing?

He smelt the air.

The essence of her was strong in the room. Maybe that was it? Her glorious perfume and the lingering sensual odour of her body made him catch the breath he no longer needed. He felt both unmanned and also wildly, insanely aroused at the same time.

Stomping away down the corridor, he sought his own room, still absorbing the scents of Teresa as he went.

In his own bedroom the lights were out, but he could still clearly see that there was a hump beneath his quilt, and tousled teak-brown hair poking out onto his pillow. In the blink of an eye, he was ripping back the covers.

Teresa peered up at him, rubbing her face sleepily. He knew it was feigned – he could sense her sharp mind rising to meet his.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I thought you’d be pleased to see me, Zack.’

Her delicate nightgown slipped from her shoulder as she sat up, baring her neck and shoulders, now perfectly smooth and unblemished again. Zack suppressed a groan as his cock went rigid and his fangs instantly lengthened.

He shook his head, more confused than ever.

He wanted her. He felt pure joy because she was still here and in his bed – but the danger, the danger. Last time, they’d gone so close to the edge that he’d feared they’d crossed the line.

‘I am … but I thought we’d agreed that you were getting a place of your own?’ The words came out muffled. He had his knuckle pressed to his face, hoping to mask the state of his canines. There was still a chance to get out of this gracefully, without hurting her. There was still a chance to set her free, so she could live and not be cursed by the condition that defined him.

Teresa laughed – a pure twinkle of sound.

‘You don’t have to hide. I know what you are. I woke up from the spell you put on me.’

Zack dropped his hand from his mouth and glared at her.

‘All the more reason for you not to be here. You know how dangerous I am to you.’

‘I don’t care.’

Her head came up, her chin lifting. She looked different somehow, he realised, more beautiful than ever if that were possible. Her skin was pale and creamy and her lips were rosy. There was a gleam in her eyes, dark and knowledgeable.

‘Well, you should! You can’t stay around me. You’re not safe.’ His fingers tingled with the need to touch her, especially when she came up on her knees in the bed, reaching for him, her face sultry and challenging. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed her by the shoulders, gently shaking her. ‘You have to leave, Teresa. Please, for my sake! I couldn’t bear it if I harmed you … if I changed you.’

‘Too late, my love.’

The words were quiet, but they seemed to land in the centre of the room like a great stone.

‘No!’

Zack’s words weren’t quiet. His great shout seemed to bounce off the furniture.

Teresa was smiling at him, the beautiful colour of her
eyes
ringed with crimson. Her neat white teeth were made uneven by delicately pointed canines.

‘But you didn’t feed from me.’

He cradled her jaw, running his thumb lightly over the points of her fangs. They were rudimentary, only slightly pointed, not true vampire teeth.

Yet.

‘I tasted a little of your blood on my fingertips. From where I scratched your back.’

Zack quickly wracked his memory, sifting through all the lore he’d studied when he’d first been changed himself. If she’d only taken a few drops, she could still revert. She could still be normal and live a human life. If she got away from him now, and took no more blood.

‘Please, Teresa, you’ve got to go. If you stay around me the compulsion will only grow … and I won’t be able to resist you.’

‘Whose compulsion? Mine or yours?’

‘Does it matter? Please, my love, just go!’

But her eyes were clear, despite the crimson. He sensed her intelligence. Her will. Her full knowledge of what lay ahead. And her desire for it.

Most of all, he read love in her expression.

‘I can’t go, Zack.’ Her arms slid around him. ‘I love you. I need to be with you.’