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An Excerpt From: Blood
of the Rose
© Copyright Anya Bast, 2004.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's
Cave, Inc.
Chapter One
1890
Twigs and dry leaves snapped and crackled
under Penelope's polished black riding boots as she marched toward the
stables.
"Aidan," Penelope snapped when she
strode through the double doors. "Saddle Daisy. I fancy a ride before
dinner."
Aidan O'Shea looked down at her a fraction
longer than a servant should before moving to take the chestnut mare from
her stall. "Yes, miss," he drawled out, casting her a dark sidelong glance. "You know I live to do
your bidding."
Penelope's lips tightened into a thin line.
It was always so with him. He could never remember his place. It was as if
he thought that just because they had been childhood chums, he could take
liberties in the way he talked to her. "Thank you," she bit off.
She took her black riding crop from its peg
on the wall and dangled it from one finger while she watched Aidan lead
Daisy from her stall. His features had always been well formed—his jaw
strong, his lips full and nice...when they weren't quirked with sarcasm. He
looked less like a servant every day. Indeed, ever since Penelope had grown
old enough to notice those of the opposite sex, she'd noticed Aidan. She
knew well how scandalous that was, but she couldn't help herself.
He tossed a saddle blanket over Daisy, and
Penelope watched as his back muscles worked under his shirt. A hank of
glossy brown hair fell over a dark blue eye as he turned toward her, his
attention focused on his work. Small curling tendrils of his thick hair
brushed the collar of his tan shirt as he moved.
His pants molded to nicely muscled thighs.
As a lady, she shouldn't notice the impressive bulge between his legs, but
as a woman she couldn't help but let her eyes linger and her mind wonder
what he'd look like without his pants. She lifted a brow.
Yes, overall, Aidan was an exceptionally
good-looking man. He did not put one in mind of a servant when one gazed at
him.
And it was not only his physical appearance
that made him appear more like a member of the upper class than a servant;
it was his composure and confidence. While the shoulders of the other
servants always sagged, his were broad and squared. While a proper servant
lowered his gaze when speaking to a member of the Coddington
family, Aidan's intense eyes never failed to find hers.
Even now, his midnight blue gaze met hers
over the saddle he was cinching around Daisy's midsection. A dark brow
rose. "Your father know you're going for a
ride?"
"I am not a child anymore, Aidan. I can
go riding if I choose." She glanced away. "Anyway, you know he
doesn't care if I ride or not."
Aidan nodded while slipping the horse's bit
between its teeth and adjusted the thin leather straps over the animal's
head. He handed the reins to her. "Your horse, Miss Penny," he
said, while looking straight into her eyes just as a good servant ought
not.
"Call me Penelope!" she scolded.
At one time, Aidan had called her Penny and
she'd liked it, but those times were long past. When she'd been a child and
had been lonely, she'd adored Aidan and trotted at his heels. Indeed, when
she'd been young she'd been inexplicably drawn to him. She was still drawn to him, though she
fought it.
Thank goodness for Horatia.
She'd taught her to be respectable. Indeed, over the years Horatia's sharp tongue had cut and shaped Penelope into
a proper English lady. The bond Penelope and Aidan had seemed to share was
quashed before it grew out of control and she sullied her reputation with
such foolishness. But their early familiarity had affected Aidan in bad
way. Now it was as if he fancied himself an equal. He was never suitably
courteous to his betters. Even when he spoke in a pleasing manner, satire
always simmered beneath his words.
It just wouldn't do.
She regained her composure and lifted her
chin a degree. "You know, you would be better served to address your
superiors with care, Aidan. My father was quite charitable in keeping you
on after your parents passed away. It is not often we employ the
Irish."
His eyes got that dangerous dark glint in
them. The look that made her stomach do flip-flops.
She pulled her gloves from her pocket and pulled them on to distract herself.
"And isn't that ironic seeing as how
you got a wee bit o' the Irish in you," Aidan responded, exaggerating
his accent simply to irk her, she knew.
Penelope's attention snapped from her gloves
up to Aidan's face. One fat sausage curl that had caught on the button of
her jacket pulled free and bounced against her chin. "I most certainly
do not!"
He smiled lazily, showing the dimple in his
cheek. "Then what of the bit of red in your hair then, or the green of
your eye? How do you explain those away, miss? Other than the possibility
that one of your ancestors dallied a bit with one of their servants and you
inherited their characteristics?"
Penelope's mouth opened in a silent 'O' of
surprise. Aidan had hit a sore spot with her. Both of her parents were
exceedingly tall, with dark hair and eyes. She was exceedingly short with
reddish blond locks and greenish blue eyes. "I am not Irish! How dare
you! I will have you know that every drop of blood in my veins is English!
Every drop!"
Aidan scratched his clean-shaven chin.
"Odd. I do recall a story…oh, a lovely, romantic story, told by old
Katy McGuire about how her great uncle had caught the eye of a particular
great grandmother of yours when they were young." His blue eyes
twinkled. "How they seemed to have gotten along, too. Seeing as how
that story is floating around I'd say it's possible you might be more mutt
than English. In fact, my blood may be purer than yours." Aidan's lips
spread in that slow, infuriating smile again.
"Mutt?" she screeched. "What
impudence!" She stomped her foot and sputtered in an effort to get her
enraged thoughts out of her throat. "My family name is Coddington. A good, sound, very English name. Not Irish,
and not even a trace of mutt!"
"Or, I suppose it could be on your
mother's side."
"Oh!"
"And I do remember you having a taste
for potatoes."
Penelope jerked Daisy's reins and started
past Aidan, toward the door of the stables. "Really, Aidan, you act as
though your station is equal to mine. Your familiarity is more than can be
borne at times!" She shook her head. "Whatever could be the
matter with you?"
"Ah, Penny. I just wanted to see your
pretty eyes light up in fury one last time. I'm leaving the estate this
morn, never to come back here again."
Penelope stopped dead in her tracks. A
curious blend of emotions swirled inside of her. "What do you mean?
Where could you go?"
"Anywhere I choose. The whole world is
waiting for me. It's time I made a life for myself. I feel pulled away for
some reason. It is time for me to travel."
Penelope turned, knowing surprise shone on
her face. Aidan, leaving? But he had always been there. Been there to
banter with her and tease her when it seemed that no one else cared even to
talk to her. Of course, the possibility of his leaving had always been
there. Aidan was not an ordinary servant. He seemed to want more than the
others.
"Where will you go?" she asked.
"America. First to Boston, then out west.
Mucking out the stalls of other men's horses was never really what I had in
mind for myself. I maybe want some horses and stalls of my own to muck. I
hear in America
even a poor Irish boy can make a good life for himself."
That he would have such aspirations had
never occurred to Penelope. Rapidly, she blinked away a sudden wetness in
her eyes. Ridiculous! She wouldn't cry over a stable hand!
"I'm a strong man. I'll be making my
way just fine. I suppose Ethan or one of the others will ready Daisy
beginning tomorrow."
He really did want to leave her here then.
Leave her alone with her father's eternal absence, the memory of her dead
mother, Horatia's iron hand. Penelope hoped her
tears were not visible. "Well then, I wish you luck in your new
life."
Aidan stepped forward, clasped her hand in
his warm one, and squeezed lightly. "And I wish you luck in
yours." When he dropped her hand, she noticed it felt very cold.
"You'll be marrying soon, Penny. Don't let your husband doll you all
up. Don't let him use you as some bought and paid for mannequin to display
his wealth upon. You're more than that. I can see it there, shimmering just
beyond all your posturing."
"What do you mean?" She sensed a
compliment somewhere inside all that ambiguity. Wasn't that one of the
reasons why men took wives, as a way to demonstrate their wealth to the
world? She turned her nose up at him. "Really, Aidan, you act as if
you have the right to pass judgment on us."
"Don't play the snob with me, Penny.
You're not that way. Not really, I remember."
Another half compliment, half insult. She
didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything. Daisy stomped and
tossed her head beside her, eager to leave the stables. Penelope no longer
felt like riding, however. All the joy had been sucked out of the day.
"My mother told me something right
before she died," he continued. "I just want you to be careful,
all right? No matter what, you fight. I know you can because you're a
scrapper, Penny. Under all those silken flounces, you're a fighter with a
will of iron."
She frowned. The servants had always said
his mother had possessed second sight. Not that Penelope believed in any of
that rubbish. "What are you talking about, Aidan? What did your mother
tell you about me?"
"She said—" He gave his head a
shake. "No. I won't say any more. Don't scowl at me that way, Penny.
I'll be leaving you now. Remember what I said, about you being more than
frills and expensive lace work," he smiled. "Besides I always
thought you looked better natural." With that said, and one last squeeze
to her hand, he turned and left the stable.
"Gone," she whispered to herself
after he'd left. She stroked Daisy's nose absently. Suddenly the stables,
which she had known all her life, seemed oddly cold and foreign.
Aidan strode back through the doors and her
heart leapt with a joy that neared pain. "I'm not leaving here without
doing something I've been wanting to do for a good
few years now," he muttered as he strode toward her.
Before Penelope could react, or even simply
draw a breath, Aidan's arms came around her and his lips pressed against
hers. His tongue swept into her mouth and mated with hers. She stiffened,
and then melted against him. This was not a chaste, safe kiss, like the
ones her suitors had given her. It was hot, passionate and unrestrained. This was the kind of kiss she dreamt about.
Amazed, honeyed pleasure licked its way up
her spine, leaving a tingling in its wake. God, hadn't this been what she'd
always wanted? Wasn't this what she thought about in the dead of night
while her hands strayed to parts of her body meant only for her future
husband?
He withdrew a little and searched her eyes.
She let out a sigh and inhaled his scent—leather and man. He spoke so close
to her mouth, his lips brushed hers. "Somebody needs to kiss you right,
before you marry one of those half-dead suitors and you never get kissed
proper again."
He lowered his head and his smooth lips
brushed hers. He kissed her top lip, then her bottom with exquisite care,
sending another jolt up her spine. He covered her mouth with his and
Penelope kissed him back. His warm tongue slipped between her parted lips
and branded the inside of her mouth.
Penelope felt her knees weaken and he held
her around her waist, pressing her against the small of her back and tight
up against him. The swell of her breasts brushed his hard chest, sending a
fast lick of fire shooting through her and making her nipples tighten into
hard little points. How good would it feel to have his mouth on them—laving
his tongue over them, and finding every little
ridge and hollow.
Dropping Daisy's reins from her already lax
grip, she wound her arms around his broad shoulders. Her fingers found the
hair at his nape and threaded through it. She cursed her gloves. She wanted
to feel his silky hair against her skin. She wanted to feel every inch of
him against her.
Once she'd come upon a couple of the
servants in the stables. From the shadows she'd watched them copulate in
several different positions. They'd used a wealth of crude words she'd
never heard while they went at each other. At the time she'd been both
aroused and disgusted. Now Penelope couldn't help but envision Aidan doing
the same things to her while they used the same forbidden, naughty words
aloud to each other. Just the thought of it made her throb with want.
If anyone came into the stables right now
and found them, her reputation would be savaged beyond repair. Strangely,
the desire coursing through her blood made her not care in the least.
She dropped her hand to the outside of his
pants and rubbed at the hard length of him. "Touch me," she said
into his mouth.
He tensed and hesitated at her demand, and
then relaxed as though surrendering. Dropping his head, he kissed the swell
of her breasts where they bulged from the top of her gown. A gasp of
pleasure escaped her throat when he licked the mound of one, as close as he
could get to her nipple. Her awareness of her femininity and his
masculinity shot up to a near painful level.
He returned to her mouth and spoke against
her lips. "You don't know how much I've wanted to touch you, or for
how long," he murmured. He kissed her again, his tongue delving in to
dance against hers. At the same time, he hitched her skirt up with one
hand, keeping the other at the small of her back. He hunted through the
complicated folds and layers of her clothing, pulling here and untying
there, finding her sex with a practiced ease that gave her pause. He cupped
her damp pussy and she held her breath. She'd never been touched so
intimately before.
Any thought she might have had on the
subject was quickly wiped away at the first brush of his finger against her
sex. "You're wet," he growled with audible pleasure into her
mouth. He rubbed the callused pad of his finger over her folds and nibbled
her bottom lip at the same time.
Penelope gasped and closed her eyes. He
stroked over her, rubbing at a particularly sensitive spot, and then
slipping his finger within her. Her hands tightened on his shoulders and
she whimpered into his mouth as he thrust his thick finger in and out of
her. It felt better than anything had in her entire life. She would explode
from pleasure if he continued.
His breathing grew ragged and he groaned.
"You're so tight, Penny. I want to be inside you," he rasped in a
voice thick with desire.
Penelope made a series of unintelligible
noises under the onslaught of the magic he was weaving around her pussy. He
ground his palm against that sensitive place as he stroked into her.
"You feel so sweet," he murmured
close to her ear.
"I bet you taste delicious."
Those crude, forbidden words stabbed through
her, making her feel wanton and wanted…that combined with his hand working
her, caused pleasure to explode over her body and ripple out, overwhelming
her. He covered her mouth with his, consuming the sounds of her climax.
The pleasure still tingled through her body
when she whispered, "Aidan, please. I want you. I want more. I want
you inside me."
"You're drunk with lust, Penny. I've
already taken you too far. You don't know what you're saying."
"I do know," she insisted and laid
a kiss on his lips.
"No. We can't. I won't ruin you. I'm
not—" He brushed his lips over her forehead and she closed her eyes,
enjoying the intimate gesture.
"You're not what?" she murmured.
He slipped his hand out of her skirts. A
finger brushed her cheek, and the air stirred. Penelope stood, her face
tipped up, lips parted, eyes closed as pleasurable, languid shock stole her
ability to move.
A dove cooed in the rafters and fluttered
its wings. She opened her eyes and he was gone.
* * * * *
The
carriage lurched and slammed Gabriel back against his seat. He let out a
sigh that blew a tendril of his long black hair away from his face. Mon Dieu
but humans did not know how to travel comfortably. He closed his eyes as
the first wisps of the hunger curled in the pit of his stomach, coalescing
into something greater, something less controllable, far too quickly for
his taste.
"My, I hope it's not too long before we
arrive. I wonder how long a trip it is from Boston
to New York.
Feels like we've been traveling forever."
Gabriel focused his gaze on the young woman
who sat in front of him. Her dress and black cloak were buttoned to her
chin against the chill of the day. A fashionable, jaunty hat was firmly set
upon her small head of upswept brown hair. "Only about 190 miles as
the crow flies."
"Yes, but we are not crows."
Speak for yourself. He wished he'd
been able to take animal form for this journey and avoid a lengthy trip by
uncomfortable carriage. But he needed to save sacyr for now, for he would
need much of it to travel between worlds in the coming days.
"I'm Regina," the woman said.
Gabriel reached out and clasped her hand,
bringing it to his lips for a kiss. He raised his gaze and watched her
brown eyes widen as he flipped her hand at the last moment and allowed his
lips to linger on her skin of her wrist, sipping her essence.
"Gabriel," he answered so close to
her skin his name brushed her. He could feel the blood pumping through her
veins, could hear it surging through her heart. It would be nice to wait
until he arrived in New York
to feed, but he had a feeling the sacyr would not allow him that. Not now. Not when the
equinox was so close.
Regina drew her hand
away. A curious little smile curved her lips. "Where are you from, may
I ask? I hear an accent but cannot place it," she said. Her cheeks
were flushed and Gabriel knew his touch had affected her.
Gabriel waved a hand. "Originally,
France, but I travel a lot."
"Ah, France! Je parle un peu
le français."
The woman prattled on, but Gabriel hardly
heard her. He was far too busy controlling the hunger that was little by
little growing stronger. Normally, he had excellent control, but the
impending equinox threw him off. His body now demanded sustenance even though
he'd fed well on the boat coming over from Europe.
Much was afoot. The One was coming. He could
feel it in his bones, through his blood. They'd embraced every marked human
they could find in order to find him. Time grew short, the equinox drew
near, and the danger became great, brewing a supernatural war. The One would arrive soon. Even now the marked poured into New York City, not
understanding why, merely called by the rising energies of the coming
battle. Indeed, if they did not hear the call, events within their lives
would force them to New York,
to the Tenderloin District and, finally, to the Sugar Jar and Gabriel.
It was important he get back. Perhaps the
One they sought had already arrived.
"Gabriel?" The woman reached out
and touched his knee in a flirtatious way. Gabriel fought the growl that
threatened to trickle through his lips. "I asked where you'd been
born. I am merely trying to pass the time in an amusing way. Forgive me if
you think I'm prying."
Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Regina's throat. He
knew a warm vein pumped there, under the fold of her cloak. Non, the hunger was not being easy with
him today. "You seem to want to know all about me, and so I shall tell
you. I was born in the year of our lord 1610 in a small village in Bretagne. It is a
region of France to the
west of Paris."
"1610? But that's imposs—"
"Impossible that I should be 280 years
old? I assure you it is not, mademoiselle.
In fact there are others far older than I."
Regina's eyes
widened in alarm and Gabriel almost pitied her…almost. "You are quite
mad, sir!"
"You wanted to know about me and so you
shall know. As I said, I was born in Bretagne
to a poor family. Indeed they could not afford to eat. So, myself, a child of uncommonly good looks, they sold to an artist
in Paris when I had but ten years in order to be a model. The artist, his
name was Guillaume de Sant, was a lover of men,
but not of children." He waved his hand. "He never amounted to
anything as a painter. He was a man ahead of his time in that regard, but I
digress. But what is wrong, my dear, Regina?
You've grown pale. Are we not passing the time in an amusing way?"
Gabriel could hear Monia,
his mère de sang, even now…never play with your food. But it
was so much fun!
"Driver, halt!" Regina cried.
"Non. You will sit quietly and listen to my tale,"
Gabriel commanded, using a bit of glamour.
Regina lowered
her eyes dutifully. "Do go on."
"Guillaume had a lover named Jacques
who took a liking to me. Even though I wanted nothing to do with Jacques,
Guillaume grew increasingly jealous. When I turned eighteen, Guillaume told
me to leave his house. This was not a good time in France. There was much hunger
and unrest. I did manage to find work and a place to live and then…I fell
in love. I had eight years of happiness with her. When she died I was
ruined with grief. I would have joined her in death, I think, had it not been for Madame Monia
and her lover, Vaclav."
"Madame Monia?"
"Oui. She took me to her auberge de plaisir.
Um…that is place where the Demi-Vampir can live
and feed and be under the protection of the fully Embraced. Like a brothel,
you know?"
"Vamp…Vampir?" Regina's
eyes widened. "Like vampire? Like the creature in the folk tales and
penny bloods?"
"Oui, that is correct, but you
are calm," he commanded. Using glamour on humans was ridiculously
easy. Gabriel had run into few able to resist.
"I am calm."
"Exactement. Anyway, we are nothing like the
creatures depicted in fiction or folklore."
"But—"
"Shh…listen. Demi-Vampir are the
unfortunates who are not strong enough to be full Vampir.
They feed off sex, pleasure, lust whatever you want to call it. In any
case, I was food for the Demi-Vampir for nearly
seven years."
"You had sex with half vampiric creatures for nearly seven years?"
Gabriel raised a brow. "But you are
quick, Regina.
Yes. It was not an unpleasant time. You'd be surprised how much pleasure
even a Demi-Vampir can bring you. Of course, it's
nothing compared to the pleasure one of the fully Embraced can bring.
Humans who lay with a fully Embraced Vampir
nearly always become addicted. In any case, one day I fell very sick.
Again, I nearly died, but my mistress had grown fond of me and so she
Embraced me in order to save my life. I was strong enough to pass through
the Demi and attain full Vampir-hood."
Gabriel sketched a bow from his sitting position. "And here I
am."
Regina merely
frowned at him. Gabriel knew well it was all far too much for her human
mind to grasp. He sighed. It entirely ruined his fun. "You are tired, Regina."
"I am?"
"Oui, very, very tired. You
want to sleep now and you will remember none of this conversation upon
awakening. Repetez, s'il vous plait."
"I want to sleep now and will remember
none of this conversation upon awakening."
"Oui."
Her head dropped and her eyes closed. "Zzzzzzz."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Oh,
wonderful, she snores."
He moved over to sit beside her, his fangs
already lengthening. He tipped Regina's
head to the side, unbuttoned her cloak, and sank in. He'd sate the sacyr now and
hope the One would be waiting for him back at the Sugar Jar.
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