Dracula and His Brides Page 7

  She reached between her legs, touching herself, and then brought her fingers to my lips. I licked her juices.

  Catina harrumphed and joined us, her one hand reaching for my already hardening cock, her other disappearing beneath Andreea’s skirt. I had wondered for some time if Catina had experience with females, and from the way Andreea was moaning, clutching to me with one hand, her other yanking down Catina’s neckline to expose her breasts, Catina knew how to arouse Andreea at the very least.

  I couldn't stop myself. Stela would at least be pleased that I hadn't drunk from a drugged woman, but I could imagine she would be the happiest about Catina's hands around my cock, pumping me as hard as she could.

  Just then, the scent of womanly juices—Andreea’s—filled the air as she screamed. She hadn’t just come. She had squirted her juices.

  How would it feel to experience a woman squirting around my cock?

  My head in a daze, feeling as if Andreea’s drugged blood had drugged me, I kissed Catina and then pushed her away slightly to reach Andreea.

  “How did you make her squirt?” I asked Catina although I didn’t look away from Andreea’s dark orbs.

  “Sometimes, if my clit is stimulated while I have something inside of me…” Andreea answered.

  “Can I be the something inside of you?” I asked, my tone deep and raspy, raw from need.

  Andreea nodded. She got onto all fours, and I took her from behind. As I reached around to toy with her clit, Catina wiggled her way beneath Andreea.

  “I’ll get her to squirt for you,” Catina said, her voice muffled as she buried her face against Andreea’s clit.

  For a moment, I watched as Andreea dipped her head, licking or kissing or sucking Catina’s folds. My cock throbbed with need for movement, for thrusting, for friction, but I waited, watching the two ladies pleasure each other. Andreea’s walls tightened around me, and that was all the spurring I needed. I pounded into her, and Catina groaned.

  Was I making it too hard for her to stimulate Andreea’s clit? I forced myself to do slow, methodical thrusts, concentrating more on nearly pulling all the way out before entering her as deeply as possible. Slow and steady could be both torturous and pleasurable, and I grunted and groaned, knowing I needed more in order to come.

  Beneath Andreea, Catina squirmed and then cried out. She was the first of us to orgasm, and I felt almost upset that she had reached without any assistance from me.

  My hands were on the floor near Andreea’s hips, and I shifted one and then the other to grip Catina’s breasts. I fondled her nipples, and I could hear her grin as she giggled.

  “I…” Slurp. “Love.” Lick, suck. “You,” Catina said, in between doing her part to make Andreea squirt.

  Was she talking to Andreea or me? I supposed it didn't really matter, but did Catina's knowledge and whole-hearted acceptance mean that I could perhaps have a true and tried human lover as well as Stela?

  Stela would never agree to share. Of that I had no doubt, but perhaps she might be persuaded to share…

  I had never attempted to compel Stela after she turned, and I wouldn’t now. In fact, with all those I cared for, I would never dream of compelling them. I wanted my ladies to have their own minds, to make their own choices, to own their own bodies and share or not at their leisure.

  And while I was not yet willing to add Andreea to my group of ladies, she was sharing regardless.

  “I’m… I’m close,” Andreea gasped.

  Instead of fondling Catina’s nipples, I shifted and began to toy with Andreea’s. She squirmed and wiggled beneath my touch, and I whispered, “May I drink from you?”

  “Y-Yes,” she moaned.

  My teeth sank into her shoulder, and I drank, careful not to take too much.

  Andreea shrieked, and hot liquid seeped around my cock as her walls tightened in spams. She squirted so much the liquid dripped onto my balls, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I let out a tremendous roar as my orgasm ripped through me, exploding.

  Incredible.

  After a few more thrusts, I pulled out of Andreea. Catina wiggled her way free from Andreea and crawled toward me.

  “My turn,” she said, pushing me to recline on the rug.

  She rode me hard, and Andreea offered me her pussy. That the three of us could pleasure each other at the same time thrilled me, but whenever I came, I could not help but think of Stela. I did not wish to hurt her, yet could I be certain that she had never fucked another? We had never spoken about our relationship.

  My last orgasm I did not enjoy quite as much, and I insisted that the ladies eat their fill. They had to be famished after all of the calories we had burned.

  Yes, I had a lot of thinking to do and a lot of talking as well. Drinking, always, but perhaps I should hold back on the thirst for sex… at least for the time being.

  If I could manage that, of course.

  Chapter Eleven

  Normally, I retired to sleep for the five hours of sleep my vampire body required around ten in the morning, slumbering away the hours when the sun was at her peak.

  A week after the threesome, I had yet to speak to Stela about what had transpired between Catina and Andreea and I. True to my self-made vow, I had not slept with any of the trio or anyone else either.

  Thinking, though, that I did and far too much. I could not stop thinking and, worse, remembering.

  For the morrow was the anniversary of my marriage to Mihaela, and I could not cope with my feelings. I saw farther than humans and with greater clarity. I heard noises they could not dream of. I smelled far more flavors than they ever could, and I felt more deeply than ever before, whether I ran my fingers through my hair, touched the grains of wood of one of my bookcases in my various studies, or experienced emotions.

  I felt.

  It wasn’t until now that I gave into those emotions. Closing myself off to guilt and anger and revenge had been all too easy. Why shouldn’t I concern myself with only pleasure? After all, I had been given a second life.

  But this life was damned, and for now at least, I could not even pretend to enjoy myself.

  Mihaela. My Mihaela. So lovely, so pure… She had been too good for this world. She would have made a wonderful countess as she would have stood beside me. I could only picture her in gowns that reached her toes, a true lady, perfect and unblemished, flawless in every way.

  Hair dark as ebony but eyes a light green. Delicate features, a tiny nose, full lips. How her eyes had lit up each time her gaze met mine. How she opened her heart to me and made me a better man.

  Because I had not always deserved her.

  Compelling the bank tellers to give me enough money to fund my wealth until I was fabulously wealthy had not been the first occasion in which I had stolen.

  My life had been a difficult one, plagued by heartache and sorrow. My father had been a builder, a carpenter until one of the trees he had sawed fell the wrong way and injured him. I had been only five, but I had been desperate. My father was all I had as my mother had died giving birth to me.

  So I took the time to sand down and carve, finishing the chairs and tables he had already started. While the clients had been pleased, my body wasn’t strong enough for me to chop the log into what we needed.

  I tried to carve figurines instead, even painted some, but the market was not there, or perhaps my talent and skills were lacking. My father’s recovery took many months, and when winter came, I had no choice.

  I stole food. Only as much as we needed.

  Years passed. I learned my father’s trade, and when he succumbed to sickness one winter a decade later, I was more than capable of fending for myself.

  But life was cruel, at times, and one long drought caused the other tradesman to become desperate. When my saw broke, the blacksmith charged me thrice the normal price. I was hurting, too, and could not afford that price, so I, once again, had to resort to thievery.

  Once the drought ended, and the economy turned back around,
my business flourished to the point that I repaid every person I ever stole from and then so.

  Which meant I was rather poor despite my best efforts by the time I fell for Mihaela. Her father did not approve at first, and it took me a long while to prove myself in his eyes. In fact, it wasn’t until I had studied magic for years that he thought I might amount to something one day. After all, only the most intelligent were able to use magic.

  But the magic wasn't my passion. Mihaela was. Being worthy of Mihaela was all I had ever longed for, and when she first confessed that she returned my affections, I thought my heart might burst.

  I never stole again, not until after Mihaela was lost to me and my second began. I lost more than my life when I died and was reborn. I lost my way, and I was still struggling to find it.

  My Mihaela had been my rock, my anchor, my guiding light. She truly made me want to do better, be better.

  Without her, I was now weak. Despite my vampiric strength, I had little impulse control. Having sex with Catina and Andreea simultaneously after I reconnected to Stela on a level that rivaled that of Mihaela was deplorable.

  Yet I felt more grief and guilt that I felt a connection to the women at all. Mihaela died because she thought me lost. She could not go on living without me, and what did I do? Yes, I tried to join her and be with my Mihaela once more, but I failed. I came back to life, and ever since, little by little, I was changing. Morphing. Adapting.

  I wasn’t Vladislav Dalca any longer, but perhaps I could be one day.

  If I weren’t careful, I would become Count Dracula.

  When I first moved into the castle, I would spend at least an hour in the shrine with Mihaela. As of late, I had been avoiding her, especially and always on the nights after I slept with Catina.

  I couldn't bear to look upon my dead wife. The anguish, the guilt, the pain, the agony… On the occasions I did force myself to go see her, I had to fight back the urge to kill myself, to end my second life.

  Vampires were powerful, but we were monsters, and monsters could die. Andreea might know how, but I wasn’t about to go see her or anyone else any time soon.

  The Grandfather clock chimed midnight. The day had come. In precisely fourteen more hours, it would be the exact time when Mihaela and I exchanged our vows and pledged to be married.

  In sickness and in health.

  In good times and bad.

  Until death did us part.

  And death did part us, not once but twice.

  A burning, simpering rage filled me, the likes of which I had never experienced before. I wanted to burn the entire city, to flood villages with blood, to defeat any and all who might oppose me.

  I threw out my arms wide and let out an inhuman cry, the sound primitive and full of outrage. How can fate be so very cruel that I remain here, alive in some twisted fashion, when all I had longed for was to be reunited with my beloved wife?

  I did not want to be with her corpse. I wanted to be with her heart, her soul, her essence.

  I needed her.

  Another cry burst out of me, and a sense of power flowed through me. With the power came pain. I was literally ripped apart, and suddenly, I wasn’t myself any longer. I still lived, of course, and I remained a vampire, yet I was not myself but rather hundreds of bats, their collective conscious me.

  Of course there wasn't a window in my bedchambers, so I—my bats—flew out of the room. I instinctively knew how to fly, gliding more than flapping, and my tiny screeches couldn't possibly disturb anyone else here, not the servants, not Catina, who had moved in after all. Certainly not Stela, if she was even here and not out prowling for more monsters of the human variety.

  But my thoughts could not stay centered on my sexual partners for long, turning once more to my dead wife. She had never smiled more brightly than she had on our wedding day. It had been more than her beauty that had drawn me to her from the first. Her sheer goodness had been what I craved.

  But life wasn’t good or kind or else she would still live, and if one of us must have died, it should have been me, and not this bastardization of life.

  I as my bats reached one of the stained glass windows in the ballroom. We managed to open it without breaking the pane, and off we flew, zooming to the nearest village. The moon shone down on us, filling us with power, or perhaps the source was merely my rage. Either way, when we spied a male walking along, pulling along a horse laden with goods, without hesitating, we descended, swarming him, covering his nose and mouth, biting him.

  Sucking his blood.

  When we had finished, we had devoured him almost clear to his bones in some places.

  Swiftly, we took off, finding victim after victim, feasting on flesh, binging on blood. Men, women, it made no matter. I couldn’t even be certain if we made certain to avoid children.

  A tavern was filled with people, talking, laughing, arguing, playing poker, cheating, guzzling beer, eating sarmale or cabbage rolls, living life, enjoying love… In the corner, a couple was engaging in kissing and heavy petting, and they didn't notice us as we flittered from person to person, biting, nipping, sucking, hiding beneath the tables. Back and forth we went, slowly stealing their life force so that they fell down dead one at a time once we had consumed enough of their blood that their heart could no longer beat.

  Yes, when we wished, our bites could be soft, almost undetectable, but when the couple pulled apart, seeing the horror of everyone else in the pub as dead, blood leaking from small pinprick holes, the man and woman we attacked even more savagely than we had the first man, ripping their flesh, killing them more than drinking. Several of my bats beat against their now-exposed ribcages, but we ended up having to fly under the bones to be able to rip out and then devour their hearts.

  How many we killed, I couldn’t say, but we weren’t done, not yet. This rage, this burning madness, it could not be stopped. My pain needed an outlet, and killing was helping to at least numb it for a few seconds.

  Mihaela. She would not approve… or would she? I had never thought her capable of violence toward anyone, and yet she had committed the one act of violence against her own person that was unforgivable.

  She had left me.

  She had died.

  She abandoned me.

  That she thought she would be joining me in the afterlife did not excuse her actions.

  I loved Mihaela. I would always love her, and yet, I hated her as well, and I could hardly accept that about myself.

  It had been a long time since I had killed, but I killed recklessly and without abandon. My bats shared my pain, shared my anguish, and when one of my bats overheard a couple in the throes of passion, I could not let that stand.

  This time, however, I allowed one to live. The woman could only scream in horror and try to fight us off as we tore out his throat. Bats had tiny teeth, yet we weren’t typical bats. No, we had fangs and could choose whether to nip as a typical bat or else bite as a vampire.

  Once the deed was done and their bed a bloody mess, most of my bats took off, ready to find someone else to feed upon, but one bat lingered, watching as the woman lay on the chest of her bleeding husband. She wailed and gnashed her teeth, hitting his chest, pleading with him to fight, to live.

  But her husband’s heart no longer beat. He was dead, forever gone from her.

  Just as Mihaela was to me.

  Hundreds more we killed that night, a blight over this village and two others. Only once the sky began to lighten did we stop. Each one of us was covered in blood.

  And I was pleased.

  Chapter Twelve

  The first sunbeams would make an appearance at any moment, and I could not, would not feel her rays. Her warmth no longer touched my always-cold body. The only warmth I might possibly feel was that from friction from sex. Perhaps that was some of the reason why I craved fucking so much.

  The bloody bats all came back together, forming a humanoid shape, but instead of myself returning to my vampire form, I exploded once more, th
is time into a fog. I rolled throughout the land, back the way I had come, gazing upon my handiwork once more as I made my way back to the castle. The front door was open. One of the gardeners was tending to flowers and was bringing a pot inside. She shivered as I, the fog, rolled past her, and it was only once I returned to my bedchambers that I condensed to my true form once more.

  Ignoring my casket, unwilling to sleep, too amped up with all of the blood flowing through my veins, far more than I had ever had previously, I paced.

  Paced and reflected.

  Mihaela loved me, and I loved her. She died to be with me, as had I. Life, however, played us both as fools and refused to join us.

  As much as it pained me, my marriage to Mihaela had ended upon her death. Considering I had died as well, perhaps our marriage was doubly over.

  What did that mean? For me? Could I experience love once more? Could I ever feel that degree of closeness to another as I had with Mihaela? I had shared everything with her, told her my every flaw, confessed my every sin. Still, she had loved me, accepted me.

  But not my sins since I had become a vampire, and I had sinned many a time in the past few hours.

  I stalked throughout the castle, taking a long route to reach the bowels and the shrine. Exactly one hundred pictures of Mihaela decorated the walls. A massive ivory statue built to her exact height and proportions, wearing her wedding dress, stood in the corner. Resting on a table, covered in a glass coffin, was my Mihaela.

  She had been dead for so long that she should have long since been decayed, but she remained preserved. Because of my ritual? For another reason? I could not say, but I was grateful.

  Falling to my knees before her, I lifted the glass coffin lid and shoved it aside. The shattering echoed in my ears, causing a dull ringing to last for a few minutes before fading away.

  “Mihaela,” I murmured, taking her hand. She felt as cold as I did. “My love. Do you know what today is for us? The anniversary of when we exchanged our vows.”

  I eyed her, her slightly parted lips, her closed eyes, her chest that did not rise and fall. It pained me to see how still she lay there, rigid and informal. She should be smiling, laughing, hugging me, holding me, giving her body and soul to me.