Viola grace saguinary.., p.11
Viola Grace - Saguinary Seduction, page 11
The light from the flame illuminated his mother while she slept peacefully. Relieved, he quietly left and went back out into the hall again to his own room. A loud crack of thunder startled him and it began to rain. Lightning lit up the night sky.
He turned and walked toward the window. A tree branch was scratching against the shutters, causing them to fly open. Cold rain sprayed him, the heavy wind pushed him back but he managed to fight it and made his way to the window to close it.
Just as he reached out to pull the shutters back into place he spied someone standing on the lawn below. The rain was pounding Drake’s face and his visibility was poor. Another clap of thunder, followed by lightning, and this time the figure was at the top of his window.
Drake quickly moved back. He was speechless and in shock. The looming figure cloaked in a dark cape floated down to the floor with a cynical laugh. Drake tried to flee, but the sight of the figure and an unknown force held him still.
She raised her hand and pulled back the hood of the cape.
Drake stared hard, “Who are you?” he demanded. “And how did you get up to that window?” He knew there wasn’t anything outside for her to climb up, and questions rattled his mind, trying to figure out what he was actually seeing. Was this a test? Another dream? Because if it wasn’t, then he didn’t want to go back to sleep.
She walked toward him and stood in front of him. She met his gaze. “Green.”
“What?”
“Your eyes…they are green. I had never noticed them before ” Her voice was cold and almost apologetic.
Raising her hand, she pushed back the wet hair from his 94
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face. “ Do you not know who I am?” Her voice was a whisper.
Unable to move all but his head, he said, “No.”
“Look more carefully, Drake.” The words stung like a hive of bees. But he just could not place her.
Her eyes glowed orange, which was the first thing he noticed, other then her simple beauty. She arched one eyebrow in question. He stared more closely, his eyes narrowing. All his attention focused on her, even though all he wanted to do was run. He felt there was danger within her, but was paralyzed to the very spot where he stood. Her raven hair hung long and flowing down her back. She wasn’t a tall woman, but average.
He easily towered above her.
His mind felt as if she were intruding…and she was…
“Sarah…” She breathed slow, steady breaths. Drake’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. “But…how?”
She laughed harshly. ‘“You don’t know? You above all else should know the answer, Drake. Think real hard. Do you honestly believe my parents left me their home up on that hill because they died a peaceful death?”
He closed his eyes. He remembered the day she had disappeared, never to be found again. Rumors throughout the ton surfaced that she had run away to the Americas to secretly wed.
Then her parents died, first her mother, then her father. It was said that her young sister went to stay with a family member in the city.
He remembered…
“Alexander Worthington…”
“Yes…” she whispered into the darkness. He was my maker. We lived in the cellar of that house all these years. She walked away from him for a brief moment, then turned on her heel and looked him in his eyes, the very eyes that now shone with terror.
“Come with me, Drake…come with me and you can live forever. We are the lords of darkness.” she laughed again.
“You have no power against me…why fight this? You have wanted me since you were a young man. What’s stopping you 95
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from that now?”
She released the hold she had on him and he stumbled backward, falling to the floor. He wanted to yell for someone to help him. This is not real, he thought. He couldn’t stop the warning signals running through his mind. He had to get away, save his family, the servants…Sarah opened her lips. They curled back and Drake watched in horror as two pointed teeth protruded through the gums of her mouth. Slowly she floated towards him. He raised himself back to standing position and began to run, but she caught him.
She was much stronger than him, and he found it difficult to resist, even though he made an overt effort to get away. His screams would be silenced the minute he opened his mouth.
To resist would be futile, he knew. She could easily destroy him with one snap of his neck.
Sarah bit into the flesh of his throat. Drake cried out from the brief pain, then passed out…
* * * *
Drake woke in a different place. The drapes around the bed he slept in were unfamiliar. He felt very weak, near death. She stood just beyond the bed, waiting like a panther seeking its prey. Bile built within his throat and threatened to expel, but he had no strength. He couldn’t even raise his head. She came towards him, donned in a long ruby-red gown. Her dark hair flowing down her back…he seemed to view her in slow motion. His eyes weren’t fully focused, and the pain in the left side of his neck was throbbing, hurting more the closer she got.
“I can give you life eternal…all you have to do is say the word. Should you deny this gift I will let you die. I have nearly drained your blood, all but a pint. You are very weak and will die in a matter of hours. Or, you could say the word and live.”
Sarah sat next to him on the bed and took his hand in hers.
“You know, Alexander never gave me a choice. He said if he 96
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could not have me, then no one could. That night he came for me, took me from my bedchamber in the middle of the night, and no one knew I was missing until the morning, but by then it was too late.”
“Please, call the doctor, Sarah.” Drake managed to whisper.
She stroked the side of his cheek with her free hand. “Now, you know I cannot do that. I would have to kill him also. I have not fed yet, and your final pint will keep me full for the duration of the night. My stomach grows weak for the taste of you.”
“What are you, Sarah?”
She paused for a moment, thoughtfully, as if looking for the right words. “I am undead, a vampire, creature of the night. I am nothing now but a monster.”
Drake stared at her. His eyelids involuntarily closed, he had no more strength, but still, he did not want to die.
“Tell me about what you are first.”
“I survive on the blood of humans. I sleep during daylight and rise from the darkness when the sun sets. I just survive. I have no reason. I just exist. As long as I follow the rules, I can live forever. I offer you this gift, Drake, and if you do not accept you will perish. “
* * * *
Inside a cold, damp crypt, Sarah awoke. Turning to the man lying next to her, she watched him for a moment. His skin now as pale as hers, his hair still damp from the previous night, she drank in the sight of his handsome features. “Wake, my love.” She kissed his cold mouth. Drake’s green eyes opened, even brighter than they had been when he was in his human form. He rose, and she led him outside.
For the first time, he saw the world around him through clear vision, his ears were as sharp as a lion’s. He could hear the faintest whisper of a leaf, even the scurrying of an insect.
He turned to Sarah. “I don’t regret this. I have always 97
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wanted to be with you, and if this means a life eternal, then I am yours, and this was meant to be. He lowered her down to the grass, then slowly removed each piece of her clothing. Her skin was albino, silky, and beautiful. His mouth kissed every part of her exposed flesh down to her creamy thighs, where he lingered. He opened her inner thighs and licked a trail to her wet, wanting pussy. He examined it for a brief moment, before he took one long taste. “Beautiful.” he whispered. “Like the wings of a butterfly.”
Her hands stroked his hair, her body moving in motion with his. Their touches were intense, rough, animalistic. They clawed at each other’s flesh and Drake watched as the wounds she had created healed within a few seconds. Her talons ripped at his shoulders, blood spilled, and his body healed itself.
Never before had he experienced anything like this. All of his senses were heightened. No more would he have to dwell in depression, of feeling worthless, to think about death because now he could control his own destiny, and this time not so alone.
Sarah pushed Drake from her and rolled him onto his back. With a wicked grin she said, “My turn.” Then she mounted his hard cock. She rode him fast and rough while he held her hips in place.
They exploded together under the full moon, and for the first time in years, Drake felt like a real man. He smothered Sarah with kisses and said, “Time for breakfast, my dear devil woman.” He lifted her to him and took her small hand in his.
So if this is what it feels like to be immortal, I will never want to turn back. He embraced her, then together they floated off into a cloud of dust.
98
Dexter
Prequel to One Dangerous Woman
Marc Jarrod
o! No! Please, don’t send me down there! Please!
öNPlease! Noooo! I’m sorry. I really, truly am sorry!”
Dexter Dewitt hated this part of his job—escorting souls to Hell. Souls who led an evil life on earth and now suddenly were sorry for their sins? These damned souls—and they are truly damned souls—give a new meaning to the adage there is no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole.
Though a demon, Dexter would rather be an angel escorting souls to heaven. What greater feeling to be able to send someone home to Paradise instead of dispatching a soon-to-be tormented soul to damnation for eternity. He envied those winged creatures because they could leave and enter Nirvana as they pleased. He was aware there was nothing but love and happiness in that Paradise. Where Dexter resided now…to say the environment and atmosphere was the exact opposite of Heaven would be an understatement. In Hell, there was nothing but evil, pain, suffering and hatred toward one another.
Ever since he accidentally shot a store clerk in a botched robbery, which resulted in him residing in Hell, Satan had assigned Dexter to escort evil souls to this unholy place just as a demon escorted him to the evilest of evil places. Now eighty years later, thinking about it—he definitely had a lot of time to 99
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think, in a morbid sense of reasoning—Dexter rationalized what he was doing wasn’t really that bad. I mean, if a murderer dies, sending or escorting the poor sap to Hades is pretty much a no-brainer.
His present quarry was a perfect example. If there ever was a spirit more deserving to be plunged into Hell, it has to be the man he was presently escorting. George Smith killed his wife and children for insurance money. When the authorities found him, rather than the police taking him into custody, he decided to kill himself. Killing or murdering—especially members of your family, for profit—was definitely a ticket to Hell.
Committing suicide was simply driving the final proverbial nail into his coffin.
On his way down to the fiery pits, Dexter could only shake his head on George’s pleas for mercy by responding as a father who is about to spank his son for doing something so foolish,
“So, you say you’re sorry? Maybe you should have thought of this before you killed your family for insurance money.” There was definitely sarcasm in his voice when he made this statement because he knew George could have avoided his fate by not committing the crime in the first place. When Dexter literally threw the man into Hell, the beleaguered, anguished soul heard the screaming and wails of the immortals that already made their home there.
As George drew closer to the fiery pits, the appeals from him increased a thousand fold. “No! No! Please! Noooooo!”
Dexter shrugged. He has heard those prayers hundreds of thousands of times. That poor shmuck could plea for all eternity and it wouldn’t do any good.
George looked around him and saw a multitude of souls about to suffer the same fate. There were many of them escorted by a demon while others had made the trek by themselves. For all mortals, there was one constant—they were all making anguished petitions for mercy.
Rather than entering Hell himself, Dexter proceeded to his next assignment
As he looked for his next earthly body, he thought about 100
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his job. Though he didn’t necessarily mind escorting souls to Hell, it was the living creatures teetering on whether to commit a deadly sin such as murder, rape, selling drugs and terrorism, among other serious crimes, he agonized over. He felt this way because Satan had just given him this additional requirement to his escorting job.
Dexter must now try to cajole—mentally—sinners into committing these crimes. He dreaded this because well, subconsciously this demon had a conscience. He felt man should have a choice or at least be allowed to make a choice on his own. If the would-be criminal did it on his own accord, then so be it. If anything, he felt it was the angel’s responsibility to try to talk the criminal into not doing the act.
While he continued searching for his next soul—and there was definitely no shortage of evil mortals out there—he heard the words of Satan in his head.
Satan, also known as The Dark One, informed him of a character about to commit suicide. Go there now. His guardian angel is already there trying to talk him out of it.
Dexter sensed Satan’s tone was frantic. The Dark One gave him the address and, as the demon headed in that direction, he couldn’t help shake his head. This is what he feared. If this idiot was about to kill himself, he hoped it was because he did something like kill someone, like George Smith did. Then again, if this were the case, Satan wouldn’t have sounded so anxious in his request. Great. Just fucking great.
When Dexter arrived at his destination, he saw a man hovered over a desk with a pistol aimed at his head. He also noticed an angel to his right just as Satan had said there would be one present. He or she—contrary to belief, angels are not hermaphrodite—already had an arm wrapped around this man’s back, obviously comforting him in hopes of trying to convince the man into not killing himself. The angel, in addition to her arm, had its wing wrapped around the living soul as if it were a blanket.
Dexter shook his head and rolled his eyes. He has seen this scene hundreds—more like thousands of times from his 101
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window in Hades. Though he never participated in trying to coax a mortal into committing a crime, he had witnessed other demons fulfill this mission. Apparently, much to his chagrin, Satan had decided this would be his first attempt.
The angel had her head buried in the mortal’s shoulders where Dexter couldn’t see the cherub’s face. He dropped his head in dismay. It was obvious to him this angel was fervently trying to do everything possible in trying to fulfill this mission.
He understood his own job was to do the opposite of what the angel was trying to accomplish. If he succeeded, Dexter knew there was no surer way to gain a ticket to Hell than to commit suicide. Even if this man led a saintly life, it would be irrelevant.
Finally, the seraphim with the huge wings lifted her face.
Her face was of magnificent beauty. Dexter was mesmerized.
She had piercing emerald eyes, her face shined like porcelain, her hair glowed like satin. Her body, even with her robe, showed a statuesque form. Her breasts looked firm and buxom. Yet, despite these features, this angel’s face was a mask of sorrow. He sensed the angel, along with the grief was pleading earnestly.
Dexter had seen angels in this state before and had seen his fellow demons have many conflicts and arguments with their counterparts. This angel, like all of the angels he had seen, was beautiful in contrast to his hideous features, which included dark wings, pointed nose, a forked tongue, and a foul stench emanating from his mouth to complete his description.
Dexter noticed, for whatever reason, this particular angel stood above the rest. Being a demon, he heard many stories by his fellow demons on how they always experienced lust. They always imagined themselves making ravaging, malicious sex to the angels, imbedding their long cocks in their holy holes and the angels sucking deliriously on the demon’s phallus. Many times, the demon would actually proposition the angel. Come on. Let me stick my ten-inch cock up your holier-than-thou hole, you fucking cunt.
Dexter would just shake his head and walk away. He had 102
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seen more than one demon actually jump an angel and try to molest her. It always ended when the demon saw a blinding light and another angel with a huge expanse of wings appeared, sword in hand, ready to strike like a rattlesnake. The demon, seeing this would actually cry out in fright—yes fright. The angel, disregarding the demon’s pleas, would then make a wave with his sword and violently catapult the demon back to Hell.
Though Dexter had never attempted an assault on an angel, he knew, if he so inclined, he could have his pick of the litter from the damned souls entering the Black Gates of Hell. He had never taken the opportunity to do so, perhaps because he knew he could have any spirit he wanted. It simply was not a challenge.
Now, looking at this most beautiful angel, he definitely would love to have made love, not sex or rape to this cherub.
He had never experienced this throughout the eighty years as a demon in Hell.
When Dexter broke out of his trance, the angel confirmed his suspicions on the seraphim’s emotions. She said with her arms outstretched from her sides, “Please, not this one. He is a good man. His name is Thomas Mitchell and he has had a rough couple of years. His wife left him and now has sole custody of his children, which he adores more than life itself.
His business is faltering and, with his divorce settlement along with the child support and alimony, it is going to cost him a fortune. He would gladly give his wife what she wants if he could at least have partial custody of his children.”
