Briggs inched back from her, and she adored how ravished he looked-her fallen angel. It was the first time she really had an opportunity to look at him fully, and he was absolutely breathtaking in his debauchery. Thick, wavy black hair just a touch too long and wild from being tangled in her tunneling fingers. Broad, bare chest hairless but for the glory trail of sable dusting his belly, leading down to that incredible p.e.n.i.s.

She didn't have a lot of experience in these matters, but Winnie was positive that there wasn't a more perfectly shaped, perfectly sized p.e.n.i.s in all the universe. He could be a d.i.l.d.o model with that member-so pink, hard and vein-y, begging for attention in spite of its master's objections to the contrary.

She had to physically repress an urge to bend over and just start sucking it like an undead lollipop.

What was wrong with her? It was like she'd been possessed by Shiloh on Ecstasy. All she could think of was s.e.x...having s.e.x with this vampire, right here, right now. She had become the monster, starving for the weight of this man on top of her, the press of him inside of her, and that frightened her more than anything so far.

Her surprise and chagrin must have shown on her face. A shadow of concern swept across his. "It's all right. It's just pheromones," he explained with a smile, and the expression managed pride, l.u.s.t and amus.e.m.e.nt in equal measure across its kiss-swollen expanse. "We're a good match. But then, I suspected we would be from the first time I saw you."

She touched her own lips, swollen and sensitive. "I'm not usually so-"

Insane. Wild. Starved.

He took her trembling hand and lay it over his chest. She could feel, to her surprise, that his heart beat in a frantic thunder beneath the pale, heated skin. She never imagined a vampire would feel so alive.

"Neither am I," he said, tucking his other hand behind her head and drawing her back to him once more. "Though we aren't restricted for time, Duncan will be suspicious if we're not finished in an hour or two. I would like for us to use all that time to our best advantage."

"What would happen to you if she found out we were doing this?" she asked, unable to stop the words before they left her mouth.

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. She is nothing. Her rules mean nothing. There is only us."

Then she was in his arms once more, their mouths fused, tongues dancing. He caressed her back in long, smooth strokes like he was comforting her, preparing her for something unbearable. She realized as his kisses wandered to the line of her jaw, the curve of her throat and explored the soft skin near her pulse, that he just may be. And yes, she wanted it. She wanted so badly to be penetrated-fangs and c.o.c.k. To be possessed by him, utterly and completely.

All of him, her heart cried.

As if he could hear her frenzied thoughts, or maybe smell the lush scent of the juices gushing between her legs, he slipped a hand beneath the folds of her dress. He slid his palm, long and slow up the inside of her leg to her quivering thigh, where he paused to explore the lacy tops of her stockings before brushing the mound of her aching s.e.x. Teasing outside the thin silk of her thong, tickling the hypersensitive flesh. Making her weep with this unfamiliar hunger before finally showing sweet mercy and slipping one thick finger into her heated cleft. Its tip found her pleading c.l.i.t unerringly, stroked it expertly, as though he had always known her body's rhythms and could match them without a thought. His mouth moved to similarly bless her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pulling away the fabric of her blouse with his teeth. He suckled and nipped at her turgid nipples like a famished child while his fingers stroked, slow and languid, inside her c.u.n.t, over her c.l.i.t and back again until she feared her body would rip apart at the seams if he didn't let her come soon.

She reclaimed his c.o.c.k, almost surprised to find it bigger and harder than before. She took the same pace with him as he with her, and they moaned and sighed together as they stroked and strummed one another to a fever pitch.

She was so close, her body had become nothing but one pulse of burgeoning bliss after another. Just when she thought he might finally let her go over, he lifted her effortlessly astride his lap, tore away the tiny shred of thong and plunged deep inside her p.u.s.s.y with one hard thrust. She barely had time to begin the air-shattering shout that came with her o.r.g.a.s.m before he folded her down toward him and slid his fangs into her throat.

Twin ecstasies. Twin agonies. He stretched and tore her, caressed and soothed her as she flew apart. She heard herself scream as if from a great distance, heard him sobbing against her flesh, making greedy sucking noises as he f.u.c.ked her with ferocious abandon. He drank her fiercely, one hand clamped on the back of her neck and the other digging into her hip hard enough to bruise as he drove into her again and again. He pulled her down as he pounded up into her, and every one of her climactic heartbeats pumped more of her blood into his mouth. She heard him cry out, felt him jerk and spurt inside of her, hot and hard and she blacked out, uncaring if she ever woke again.

But she did regain consciousness, stretched out on her back on the couch where they made such magnificent love, her clothes carefully rearranged and a light blanket thrown over her. She turned her fuzzy head and found a large bottle of orange juice sitting on the table beside her.

Briggs stood with his back to her, gazing out of one of the room's floor to ceiling windows. He had drawn the heavy blackout drapes aside and stared at the night shining, obsidian sprinkled with stars, beyond the gla.s.s. The blackness outside told her nothing about how long she had been unconscious-or what he was thinking now.

"You should drink that juice," he advised without looking at her, "It's a special formula Duncan has mixed and imported for the clients. It encourages blood cell production and contains a mild a.n.a.lgesic that helps with the headache."

He sounded like a commercial, his tone amiable, businesslike. But she could sense that there was more inside him that he was trying to hide from her. How she could possibly know such a thing, she had no idea. She just did, as though translating the tension in his broad shoulders was as simple as reading his mood from a book. She was a research librarian, after all. Perhaps her blood had connected her to him, like plugging into his very soul.

"Briggs," she said, hoped that he felt the same connection, and knew what she was asking.

He turned. His expression was kind, almost affectionate, but still shuttered and distant, like she was an acquaintance he ran into on the street. If he felt the same intimacy that she did, he concealed it well.

"I don't know what to do next," he confessed. "I avoid attachments-with anyone, human or vampire. I don't know how to be a vampire mate or a human lover. I don't know how to treat you. How to take care of you. I'm not certain I should even try."

He was so beautiful and sad, her fallen angel. Winnie slowly sat up and claimed the juice, gulping it down in a few swallows without regard for manners, and set the empty bottle back down on the table, with a shrug.

"I have no idea either. Maybe that's what we came here to learn. Did you feel it too? That pull?"

He finally smiled, and it was like a little sunrise illuminating his already magnificent face. "Yes, I did. You are very perceptive and wise for such a young woman."

He moved with feline grace, raw and carnal even fully clothed, and she nearly lost her breath watching him as he approached and sat down beside her. He took her hand, then brought it to his lips and brushed the knuckles with a tender kiss that sent a new shiver of desire crackling up and down her spine.

Oh, she may have suddenly been feeling wise and sure, but she had no doubt she could easily die of wanting this man for her own.

"I don't know when I got that way," she mused, "I'm usually the one hiding in the corner with a book."

"Make it a blood bag, and that describes me as well."

They stared at one another in companionable silence for a long time, reading each other's eyes. His were dark and limpid, and though Winnie expected to see nothing but shadows and sorrow within, she instead found a hint of fathomless knowledge, ages of wisdom, a sparkling fire not human, but not inhuman, either. And feelings for her that she had never seen shining in another pair.

"Why are you here?" they both asked simultaneously, and laughed.

"You're the guest. You first," he urged.

She looked away for a moment, pondering the same question that had haunted her from the start of this unexpected adventure. She still didn't have an answer. "I could say I was steered here by fate, but...that's stupid, right?"

He shrugged. "There's more to our world than we can see or touch. Who's to say there's no destiny? That the Fates don't manipulate our lives for their own amus.e.m.e.nt, or for reasons we can't comprehend?"

"I guess that's the only answer I have then. I never thought of a reason why I had to come-I just knew I wanted to. Had to."

He nodded. "I am here because the alternatives have become untenable. I am, as you say, 'burnt out' on the vampire lifestyle of this age. Tired of hunting, tired of random, anonymous donors. Of forever being terrified that I'll lose control and hurt someone. I've stopped feeling things-anything-because of it." His gaze went molten and scoured the length of her body. "Until tonight. I've never been so sated in two hundred years. It may be, my dear Winnie, that you are the answer to my many unspoken prayers."

"Breaking out of the box!" she blurted suddenly, a fragment of thought invading from a lifetime ago.

"Pardon?"

"I was thinking, when I first decided to do this, that I never step outside of this little box I built my life in. I thought I was comfortable in it. I liked it, you know? It was safe. And then one afternoon I heard this woman talking about being bitten, and-" She squeezed both his hands and turned to face him fully. "It was like I had just woken up from this long nap. Like I was about to be born again. G.o.d! Every cliche in the book. I never decided to break out. I just did it. The why doesn't matter."

He looked at her for what felt like an eternity, then suddenly rose to his full 6' odd inches of height.

"I'm leaving here, and I'm never coming back," he declared, and reached out a hand to her, "I would like to walk outside the box with you, if you would have me. If you would dare to flout The Commandments without reason."

Winifred Mulligan didn't hesitate. She took the vampire's hand along with his offer and all the untold danger that might lie behind it. "Oh, I definitely dare," she replied.

They marched out into the hallway, and to Winnie, the decor seemed sad somehow in a way that it hadn't when she came in. Like washing the place in the color of blood could somehow distract from the travesty the clinical environment sought to make of something she now knew was deeply sacred and intensely intimate.

Her whole body still tingled from scalp to toes, and every time she recalled a moment of their tryst, her s.e.x gave a pulsing throb that made her want more. That this place existed to sanitize the feeling that filled her, changed her, seemed a deeper sin than any her lover might think he committed.

Ms. Duncan was waiting for them in the lobby, her expression characteristically inscrutable. Briggs walked directly into her personal s.p.a.ce and glared down at her.

"I'm finished being your circus freak," he said.

"Is that so?" she asked, unfazed.

"That is so. I'm sorry for what my family did to you, but it is time for both of us to let go and move on. Two hundred years is long enough for anger and guilt."

The vampiress' eyes flicked to Winnie and combed her from head to foot with such derision that Winnie blushed, feeling suddenly dirty, dumpy, and very plain.

Then Briggs took her hand, pulled her close to his side, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she recalled how special she really was. Together, they were complete, and nothing could stand between them.

"If you'll excuse us," he said. Anxiety trembled down her spine, and she wondered if this was the moment when the sirens and flashing lights would start, and guards with machine guns or flamethrowers appear to drag them off.

To her surprise, Ms. Duncan simply smiled, an eerie, knowing expression, and stepped aside. "Of course. This place is not your prison."

Just like that, they were free. They walked together hand-in-hand into the cool night. In the cab on the way to her apartment, she and Briggs laughed and cuddled and vowed to spread the word far and wide about the true pleasures that could only be found through free-range vampire love.

Winnie refused to think about The Commandments-about the reasons for their creation or Ms. Duncan's ominous farewell-anymore.

THE END.

About The Author.

H. A. Fowler Heather lives in Upstate New York (almost Canada) with a very large cat named Pig and an obscenely large collection of books. She is currently working on her second bachelor's degree in English Lit (the first was in Psychology... or Typing, as she's fond of saying), likes yoga, reading, and finding new and ever more interesting ways to procrastinate.

Heather has nurtured an unhealthy interest in vampires since she read INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE and saw Frank Langella's "Dracula" when she was 9 years old. She is the author of dark fantasy novels THE VEIL, THE BLACK SUN CHRONICLES, and OTHERWORLD, and the short story SWORD OF REGRET. You can learn more about Heather, join her mailing list, or check out her blogs at http://www.hafowler.com.

Our authors love to hear from their readers!

You can write to H. A. here: H. A. Fowler c/o Chippewa Publishing LLC P.O. Box 662 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

VISIONS OF THE NIGHT.

By Kay Derwydd

VISIONS OF THE NIGHT.

The first thing Jonathon noticed upon waking was the thick blanket of darkness. He lifted his hand and held it over his face. The heat from his body was the only indication of his hand's proximity. Before he could even contemplate getting up however, a strong arm snaked around him to pull him closer. Jonathon closed his eyes and smiled as a soft sigh of contentment escaped him.

Three years had pa.s.sed since that fateful night in a New Orleans cemetery. Each year also brought forth a new book starring Kain Hart. Jonathon's smile widened as a tongue slid slowly over his shoulder.

"Hungry?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I'm not sure which hunger is stronger: the one for you, or the one for blood."

Jonathon shivered. Kain's voice had the effect of convincing even the sanest man to do any irrational act Kain could conjure. A soft lick and chuckle from the vampire brought Jonathon's attention back to the matter at hand: Kain was hungry. Jonathon shifted, rolling onto his side. As his eyes focused, he saw the outline of Kain's body. Nothing but a thin white sheet covered him from the waist down, and the sight alone had Jonathon hard within seconds. Despite the darkness, he saw Kain smile slowly, as if the vampire could read his thoughts.

"See something you want?" Kain teased.

Jonathon moved to stretch out over him, his knees on either side of Kain's thighs. Kain gripped his hips and began grinding against him, which in turn caused their c.o.c.ks to slide alongside each other. Jonathon groaned and dropped his head to Kain's shoulder.

"That's f.u.c.king cruel," he mumbled. Kain's chuckle was deep and reverberated through Jonathon's body.

"Am I now?" Kain slipped a hand down Jonathon's spine and a finger trailed down the crack of his a.s.s to tease at his hole.

Jonathon gasped softly and spread his legs further, bringing them higher up to give Kain better access. Kain pulled his hand away, sucked two fingers into his mouth to wet them then pushed them inside Jonathon.

"Oh, f.u.c.k." Jonathon rocked back on Kain's hand, wanting much more than a simple tease. "Please."

Kain's other hand slid into Jonathon's hair, gripped it, and pulled his head up. At the same moment his tongue slid between Jonathon's lips, Kain's fingers found his prostate. Jonathon's whimper died out in their kiss as those fingers worked inside him, circling over the small, smooth gland. He began to tremble and knew d.a.m.n well he would not last long at this rate. Kain was entirely too good with his hands.

Keeping a tight hold around his waist, Kain flipped Jonathon over without missing a stroke with his fingers. Jonathon pulled his legs up and ground down on Kain's hand, arching his back and digging his fingers into the vampire's arms. With his head spinning and his control quickly spiraling away, Jonathon knew exactly what Kain wanted. Kain would wait until he was right at the edge of having a deep-seated o.r.g.a.s.m, then he would remove his fingers and impale Jonathon on his c.o.c.k in one swift motion. The effect was unbelievable and intense, and it never failed to make Jonathon literally scream as he came. Only then would Kain feed. He said it sweetened the blood; Jonathon was becoming curious about that one.

"Yes," Kain purred near Jonathon's ear.

His fingers moved inside Jonathon, circling, pressing, stroking, until he was seeing stars. Kain was working him especially good tonight; Jonathon knew this one would be stronger than normal. Sure enough, just as Jonathon's body began to tighten around Kain's fingers and he began to whimper in desperation, Kain pulled away and thrust inside him, setting off a chain reaction that bolted through Jonathon's body like quicksilver.

Jonathon screamed and arched his back as he came, s.e.m.e.n coating their stomachs only seconds before Kain's fangs pierced his throat. He clung tightly to the vampire's head, holding him close as Kain growled and bucked against him, filling him with his release. A few seconds later, a soft tongue licked across the wounds to heal them and Kain lifted his head to brush a soft kiss to Jonathon's lips.

"You're going to be the death of me," Jonathon murmured.

"Then I would just have to turn you, if only to keep you with me," Kain said against his mouth.

Jonathon stilled. "You would do that?"

Kain propped himself up on his arms and looked down at him. "Not without your permission, of course."

"How..." Jonathon trailed off and bit at his lower lip as his gaze drifted over the black hair tickling his chest.

"How...?"

He looked up at Kain and forced himself to ask the one question he had wanted to ask for some time. "How is it done? Turning, I mean."

Kain chuckled and kissed his collarbone. "I drink until you're nearly drained, then you feed from me to replenish what I took."

"What does it taste like?" Jonathon asked. "When someone comes, I mean. I've tasted blood, inadvertently, but never during o.r.g.a.s.m, and certainly never intentionally."

Kain shrugged slightly. "Endorphins sweeten the blood, and believe me, it's addictive."

"h.e.l.l, it must be," Jonathon laughed, "considering you only feed when I do come."

Kain kissed him and rolled over, glancing at the clock as he did. "What time is Jess supposed to be here?"