The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood Read online

  Her legs felt so weak she could not move them. He raised them in his hands and moved them about until she felt comfortable. With great care, he spread them a little farther, allowing him the room to slide in deeper. Despite her initial discomfort, it was the most beautiful feeling she had ever known. The tingling sensation extended all the way from the nape of her neck to her knees.

  He paused to gaze down at her. She looked so beautiful to him as she lay there with her eyes closed. He withdrew with care, his fear of hurting her playing on his mind. She gripped his biceps with both hands to brace herself for his next thrust.

  Slowly, but with great deliberation, he pushed in again. Her breath caught in her throat before she moaned out loud. To him, it was the most beautiful sound, though he feared someone might hear her. She bit hard into his neck as her second orgasm already welled inside. Her teeth cut through the skin and the taste of his blood trickled onto her tongue, a taste she found both pleasant and arousing.

  She dug her nails hard into his chest and cried out, “I love you.”

  He continued to move in slow and gentle motions as she exploded against him. Before she could recover, he pushed her left leg down and lifted the other high to turn her over. Until that moment, he had not known himself capable of such an emotion. This was different even to Piera. “And I love you,” he replied.

  “Do not stop,” she gasped. “It feels incredible.”

  He pushed a pillow under her belly and parted her thighs with his knees. Her breasts, though small, swelled to his touch when he held them in his hands. He squeezed hard on her erect nipples before grinding into her from behind.

  Ilona buried her face into her other pillow, the only way she could stifle her cries. It encouraged him to be bolder and he threw caution to the wind. His thrusts gathered momentum, pushing deep against her womb. It left her to lie there, helpless, drowning in the sensations as wave after wave of pure ecstasy washed over her.

  He, too, groaned louder than before. She pushed herself back against him, sensing his orgasm was close. Soon their movements became so frantic, she feared he would break her in half. She squeezed her muscles as hard as she could around him, drawing a long groan from deep in his throat. “Come on, my love,” she gasped, tearing at the bed sheet with both hands. “Let it all go.”

  He shot the first stream into her. It hit her so hard she felt it in almost every fibre of her body. When he withdrew the next time, it triggered her third orgasm.

  She delighted in the feeling of his hot sperm as it splashed against her crotch and inner thighs. Reaching down, she took a little on her index finger and placed it on her tongue. He watched as she closed her lips around it, savouring his taste. Her eyes remained closed, though the expression on her face was one of great satisfaction.

  He lay down beside her, satisfied himself like on no other occasion he could remember. She sighed a happy sigh and snuggled into him. He wrapped an arm around her to draw her closer. The sounds of the night caught his ear. They told him the dawn was only a couple of hours away.

  “Vlad,” she whispered. “That was beautiful. I never knew I could feel this way.”

  “Then how would you like to feel this for all eternity?”

  “I cannot think of anything better,” she groaned, feeling sleepy.

  “It is possible. You can have that.”

  “Mmm,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “That would be wonderful.”

  “That is why I came, Ilona. I want to take you with me, over to the other side.”

  She opened her eyes again. The implications of what he was saying had just registered with her. “How do you mean?” she asked, her tone serious.

  He read her thoughts and sensed her worries about their son. “Young Vlad does not need you anymore,” he advised. “He is almost a man. It is I who needs you, Ilona. I, your husband.”

  “But I do not want to die, Vlad,” she said, her fear evident in her tone.

  “It is but mortal death, Ilona,” he argued. “The pain is momentary, and it shall pass. For those few moments, the rewards are far greater than you can imagine.”

  She still seemed hesitant.

  “I want you to see what I can see, hear what I can hear, and feel what I can feel. Ilona, how I wish you had the power to be able to read the minds of men. To know what it is to possess the strength of twenty. What it is to fly in the night skies and see the world from above. But to also change your form or move faster than the human eye. To be able to see the world as I have.”

  “It all sounds so wonderful.”

  “It is, Ilona. Most of all, I want you to experience the thrill of the hunt, the kill, and then the taste. The taste, my love, far exceeds anything you have experienced here with me this night.”

  “I do not know that I could do those things.”

  “Yes, you can. I only wish words could describe them, so you might know. I want to share all this with you, but for that to happen, there is only one way.”

  “I am afraid.”

  “It means we would be together forever. For always, Ilona, my darling.”

  “For always, Vlad?”

  “Yes, you would never age after this day. You shall discover a world beyond your dreams. The real world is the night. I promise you shall never regret it or be alone again.”

  She thought about it long and hard. “How would you do this for me?”

  “First, I must drink from you. Then, when you feel the thirst build inside, you must drink from me. After that you shall suffer mortal death. But you shall awaken, so that we can always be together.”

  “Very well, my love. Take me with you.”

  His fangs pierced her neck, causing her to cry out in shock and pain. Both her head and heart throbbed as her husband sucked her lifeblood from her. He knew when she had weakened enough and he pulled away, waiting for the cramps to hit her.

  It was only moments before Ilona clutched at her stomach. She emitted her first agonising cries. He watched anxiously as she vomited and foamed at the mouth. Then, the first convulsions seized her.

  Once they had subsided, she lay quiet again. He cut his wrist and held it under her nose. The scent of his blood aroused her at once. Her transition passed the same as his. Before she disembowelled and suffered mortal death, her soul released the same inhuman cry as his had.

  The palace guards smashed their way into the room. They saw Dracula drape a blanket over their mistress before lifting her up in his arms. He offered them a hateful glance as they moved toward him. Then, turning to the open window, he flew out into the darkness of the night.

  TRANSYLVANIA. THE FIELDS NEAR BRASOV.

  OCTOBER, 1494.

  The soldiers from the garrison at Brasov had a good day’s hunting. For hours, they tested their archery skills. They sparred with each other, too, and placed wagers as they raced their horses through the fields.

  Their captain enjoyed the greatest success with the bow and did not waste a single arrow. His deadly accuracy frowned upon the efforts of the others. He killed a wild boar, three deer, several rabbits, and one or two game birds. They would sit down to a great feast this coming night. It was his boyar’s birthday, and he wanted it to be a good one. The ruling landowner in the area was sure to want to celebrate it.

  The servants arrived to sort the game. They tied the dead animals to strong branches they had cut from trees. Soon, they would carry these on their shoulders to the kitchens at the nearby fortress.

  The captain grew restless in the saddle. He enjoyed hunting, but had a greater liking for other pursuits. Only one thing could make his day complete. He knew exactly what he wanted, and where to find it. First, though, he would need to be free of his men.

  “I am riding back into the forest,” he informed his lieutenant. “Take the men back to the garrison. Give them leave for the evening.”

  The officer bowed to acknowledge the order. “Yes, Captain.”

  The captain then rode off into the trees. He did not hear the array of ins
ults and choice words directed after him. It would not have bothered him if he had. He knew his men did not like him. Their boyar had given him possession of a lucrative farm, which his status commanded. It was a property many others coveted, and the man he had just spoken to was one of them.

  He cared little for what they thought of him. They feared him for his prowess with the sword and the mean streak he often showed. By reputation, he enjoyed the status of the finest swordsman and archer in the region. However, his other traits made him wholly unpopular.

  His men felt he bullied them, and to a large extent, he did. It was his appetite, though, for wine and women that caused the most resentment in his social circles. He did not care with whose wife he satisfied his cravings. These included the wives and daughters of some of the richest men in the city. Those women were often only too happy to indulge him. He was not a handsome man, but he still had appeal. They saw an arrogant and ruthless man full of confidence and ambition. In their social circles, they spoke his name often. Many talked of his ability as a lover, and they sought his favour for that reason. It made him many enemies, and more than any other man in the region, their husbands despised him.

  The boyar tolerated his outlandish behaviour in spite of what others whispered in his ear. His captain led his men well. He kept order and protected his interests. But on occasion, his captain tested even his patience.

  The captain could also take his pick of the best whores in Brasov, and he often did. Yet it was not enough to satisfy his libido. His tastes and needs pushed the boundaries of many of those whose bed he shared, to their limits. Those things he desired were well outside what anyone would consider normal. In truth, many women saw his appetite for violence and his other kinks as perverse, if they were even legal.

  This did not deter him, and so he often combed the more secluded areas of the nearby forests. There, he sought out women who lived alone and away from the public eye. Taking them against their will provided him with his greatest thrill. That and the things he did to them afterwards. It was not good for any woman to meet him on such a day.

  Such a girl had caught his eye, and he harboured a strong craving to bed her. He had thought of nothing else in the two hours since he had spotted her. She could certainly satisfy his need for some sadistic fun, and his bulge throbbed and ached at the image of her that filled his mind. Through the trees, he had caught a glimpse of her playing with her child near to a waterfall. It was to there that he now rode.

  His horse moved at a steady canter as he guided it with skill through the trees. They hurdled a series of minor obstacles, while others he had to duck to avoid. Soon he arrived at the secluded cascade. From the cover of the trees, he watched her bathing with her child in the pool near the waterfall. She stepped out of the water and sat on a rock to dry herself and her child.

  He ran a hand over his mouth as he coveted her beautiful form. She appeared quite young and could not have been long out of her teens. His eyes fell on her heavy breasts and the fullness of her hips. She carried some excess weight for one so young, but he liked that in a woman.

  She wrapped the baby in a shroud. The noise of the waterfall meant she did not hear him as he approached. Naked, she walked with her child in her arms towards the shack where she lived.

  Her husband chopped wood around the side. The captain had not yet seen the man and grew more cautious when he did. The woman stopped to kiss him. “How much longer might you be?”

  “I have to chop these logs,” he said. “We need a good supply before the weather turns colder. You know that.”

  It was then they noticed the stranger. The woman ran into the hut, where she quickly bolted the door shut. Her husband stood in front of it. The axe he hefted in both hands, eyeing the stranger with suspicion. “What do you want?”

  “That is no way to speak to the Captain of the Guard. You should mind your tone with me. I could have you arrested and thrown in the stocks.”

  The peasant eyed the man he still regarded as an intruder. He appeared tall and gaunt, and his dark hair fell long about his face. A slight whisker covered his chin. He had dark green eyes, high Slavic cheekbones, and an aquiline nose. They gave him a menacing appearance, even when he smiled. “What do you want here, Captain?”

  “I was passing by on my way back to the garrison.”

  “Then you had best be on your way again, sir. Night is drawing in.”

  “You are quite the bold one, peasant.”

  “I have a young family inside. It follows then, I do not welcome strangers.”

  “Yes, that I can see,” he said, eyeing the door. He leaned forward in the saddle and leered. “Tell me then, peasant. Does the land you live on not belong to the boyar, Victor Florescu?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Then, as his marshal I have every right to be on it. So I think you should pass and allow me inside.”

  “Not while I pay the rent on this land.”

  “That is of no consequence to me.”

  “It is while the rent is up-to-date. You have no business here, so you best leave.”

  “Do you realise what you are saying? Are you sure you know who I am?”

  “Of course I know who you are.”

  “Then you should not be so curt with me.”

  “I, too, was a soldier once, and I have served the same boyar as you. It is a shame your memory fails you.”

  Varkal did know his face. It explained how the man knew his rights. “In the now, you are a peasant. The respect due a soldier does not apply to you. So move aside!”

  “I know much of you, Varkal Gabrul. I also know why you are here.”

  Varkal grinned at him. He knew he would have to kill the man now to get what he wanted. “Is it so obvious?”

  “But I also know the law. You have no right to be here, so I bid you to leave.”

  “You must be useful with a sword to have served at the garrison.”

  “I am that.”

  “Though I do not see it on your person. How would you defend yourself against me?”

  “Why would I need to do that?”

  “You claim to know why I am here.”

  “I believe I do.”

  “We both know I want to have sport with your wife. To stop me, you shall have to kill me. It is either that, or step aside.”

  “I cannot do that, sir.”

  “Then prepare to die!”

  Varkal dismounted and drew his sword in the same action. “You do not really think you are a match for me? Spare your life and step aside.”

  “I shall not step aside. I am not afraid of you.”

  “I did not ask if you feared me. You are such a fool.”

  “While I draw breath, you shall not set foot inside my home.”

  “Such a shame.” He grinned, allowing his sword to dangle low while he circled the man. “It is rare to meet a man so eager to meet his maker.”

  His taunt did not affect the man’s resolve. “Perhaps you might meet yours.”

  The grin extended across Varkal’s face. “So brazen you are, peasant. And yet so brave. I do admire that quality in you. It is your stupidity that is your failing. You shall die this day because of it.”

  “Do as you must. No man fights harder than he who fights to save those he loves. Be warned.”

  They circled each other a number of times. Varkal probed and jabbed at the man with his weapon. Each time, the peasant fended off the blows with the axe.

  He knew the axe would not be enough to hold the captain off for long. For that reason, he discarded it. He reached for a hayfork that stood against the hut. It would serve as his choice of weapon.

  Varkal grinned. “That evens the score, but it shall not be enough to save you.”

  They completed the initial sounding out manoeuvres. The duel then took on a more sinister edge. Varkal pressed hard with his attack, desperate to get his hands on the man’s wife. Although he did not remember the man too well, the peasant showed he was more than capable. He
proved an experienced opponent desperate to protect his family.

  The captain grew agitated by his resistance. His angered aggression saw him begin to lunge wildly with his sword. This gave the peasant a chance to strike back with his own weapon, and he stabbed his foe in the left arm with the prongs.

  Varkal cried out in pain. He flew into a rage and swung like a madman. The blade sliced the peasant’s thigh. Even so, the man managed to counter, despite his injury. He lashed out with the butt end of the hayfork. It caught his rival full in the stomach and knocked him to the ground.

  He drove the fork down at his adversary. Varkal was quick to react and blocked with his sword. The two of them remained locked there in a battle of strength and wills. Varkal pushed up with all his might, but the prongs continued to inch closer to his face.

  Using both hands, he pulled the sword sharply to the left. The action disarmed both men. As the peasant lost his balance, he received a painful kick in the groin.

  Varkal used his advantage to land two solid punches to the man’s jaw. He followed it up with a series of kicks to the head and body. They were vicious blows that left the man bleeding. He crumbled to the ground, only half conscious. Varkal left him there and picked up the discarded axe.

  Breathing hard, he walked over to his dazed and defeated opponent. He raised the axe high and brought it down against the side of the man’s head. The fight was finally over. Just to be sure, Varkal struck him again with the axe, but this time across his spine. He then spat a mouthful of phlegm at the dead man. “You should have stepped aside.”

  He left it embedded in the dead man’s back and retrieved his sword. His eyes then fell on the door of the shack. Behind it, his prize awaited him. He beat it with both fists when he found it bolted. “Open the door!” he shouted.

  The woman climbed under her bed and clutched her baby tight to her breast. She had nowhere else to go, with the front door providing the only entrance in or out of her home. God only knew what might happen if he found his way inside.

  Varkal rammed the door with his shoulder several times, though it refused to give way. Blood trickled more freely from his injury. With the pain in his arm added to his failure to get inside, his temper began to boil beneath the surface. Still, he managed a grin when he thought of the woman. “Pretty little peasant girl, where are you?” he half sung to her.