It is amusing to see he is afraid of me, and I rather enjoy having that power.
‘Will you not ride with me in the carriage? It is tedious having no one to talk to. You can tell me of the palace gossip. Who is bedding who...’
Too late I realise that his gossip may include the queen, and I will then be privy to that. ‘But I beg you, no gossip about Her Majesty,’ I add.
Darius shifts position on the hay bale. ‘Do you promise to keep your fangs to yourself?’
I nod, running my tongue over the tips of my new teeth. ‘They come down only if I’m feeling hungry, and I am not at present. Dimitri and I feasted well before my departure.’ What we feasted upon is another thing I do not like to remember, but suffice to say, the number of prisoners at Windsor Castle has decreased by at least half a dozen.
***
Just before we reach Westminster, Darius rewards me for my exemplary fang behaviour with a light kiss on the lips. ‘Since we will be the only two vampires at court and the nights are drawing in, I suggest we meet often for ... company,’ he says.
Vampire—it is a term that Dimitri has not used to describe me. I have been telling myself I am alive. But my heart no longer beats, I crave blood instead of food, and my sexual desires are all-consuming. I can no longer deny what I am.
‘Very well. As long as it is discreet,’ I reply.
‘Discreet is my middle name.’
He kisses me once more, the tip of his tongue stroking mine, and I am catapulted into lust for his blood and cock. I grab his member, but he gently pries my fingers off it.
‘Uh-uh. Soon, very soon. You will need to learn patience, Lady Hester.’ He kisses my cheek and gazes out the window at the countryside, ignoring the fact I am panting in his ear. I can see he is giving me a lesson in restraint right now. I am going to have to learn quickly, or else I may act in a way that is unseemly. The court is not the dungeon, and I cannot copulate and bite whenever I want, as I did with Dimitri. He gave generously of himself so I could experience the whole gamut, but now I have to rein myself in.
I shift away from Darius and, with an effort, tamp down my hunger.
‘Very good,’ he says approvingly. ‘We will soon be on the barge to Greenwich, and the river air will aid in calming you. Remember, when we arrive at court, no one apart from the queen and I must know of your true nature. It will not be easy at first, but you will have the chance to experiencediscreetsatiation with me. That should help ease your cravings.’
I nod stiffly, wishing I was still in the dungeon with Dimitri andsurrenderingto my cravings. But this is my life now, and I must fulfil my duty to the queen.
Chapter 13
Will | London, present day
Where the fuck is a thirsty vampire supposed to get a drink? After scouring the back alleys for likely victims in the late evening and coming up empty-handed (people are so mugger aware in this part of London), I give up and head to The Pale Heart. I hate paying for blood, but I’m getting a bit desperate as I haven’t had a drink for three days. When you gaze longingly at your own neck in the mirror, it’s a good sign you’re hungry and need to feed.
The Pale Heart, a discreet underground pub for nosferatu, has been around since Shakespeare’s time, which is why it’s located near the site of the original Globe. All the theatre-going undead flocked there in droves after watching his plays; and the vampire landlord, Mick Sage, did a roaring trade. Things are quieter these days, but it’s still popular, especially with visiting vampires like myself who need a quick fix.
I head down the secret steps and come face to face with a thickset thrall bouncer, who looks like he could crush skullswith his fists (and probably has!). But he admits me entry after ascertaining I’m a vampire. Ducking under the low-beamed doorway, I’m immediately immersed in the sixteenth century. Mick is still running the place, and I swear he hasn’t changed a thing in over four hundred years. Not even the cobwebs. Every rickety floorboard and shadowy candlelit corner feels like home to me. You can keep your mobile phones and laptops—when it comes down to it, I’m a quill-and-paper kind of guy.
Speaking of mobile phones, although they are a necessary evil of modern society, there’s a strict ‘no phones’ rule here as it spoils the Elizabethan ambience. So I slip mine out of my back pocket and silence it, checking for any messages from Hester first (there are none).
My mind fixed on one thing, and one thing alone, I slap a tenner on the bar. ‘A pint of your best, thanks, love.’
‘Sure, gorgeous.’ The barmaid, a petite curvy thrall with blonde ringlets, flutters her eyelashes at me. I could flirt back, like I used to do here in the old days. But Mick is a lot more protective of his female thralls now. Since he has no living family, they’re like his daughters.
However, I’ve heard if a vampire has bloodlust for one of his barmaids and she’s open to being sucked on, Mick can be persuaded into arranging the hook-up—for the right price. But he’s no pushover. I know I’d have to give him at least two hundred pounds for my night of fanged fun. And Idon’t want to pay for sex any more than I want to pay for blood. Plus I’m not really in the mood to get laid. I just want to drink my pint and go back to the apartment.
You were in the mood to get laid when Hester wiggled her pretty hips,a little voice whispers slyly.Fuck off!I tell it. I have to stay focused. I can’t let the fact that Hester is sexy and gorgeous lead me astray from my righteous path. Namely draining her so I can move on with my immortal life.
The barmaid plonks a dimpled glass tankard on the bar filled to the brim with ruby-red liquid, and my fangs spike at the delectable aroma. Licking my lips, I take a sip. When it hits my taste buds, I can’t help moaning, and the first decent swallow goes down like smooth red velvet. It’s tangy, tasty, and no hint of coppery aftertaste—quality stuff. Definitely worth ten pounds. Fuck, I’d pay double, but I’m not telling Mick that!
The pretty barmaid is watching me, biting her lip seductively, and pushing out her ample chest. Hmm, she’s definitely horny for me. Either that, or it was my moan of appreciation for my pint getting her all hot and bothered under her tight pink top.Sorry, love, I’m flattered. But it’s not happening, I project politely into her mind, and she flinches. I hitch a shoulder and give her a kindly smile but turn my back so I don’t have to put up with the pouting.
Slouching against the bar, I alternatively sip and scoutthe dimly lit pub for anyone I know. I haven’t been in London for a while, so I’m not expecting to see any familiar faces. But joining a table would be preferable to standing at the bar as I can feel the barmaid’s hostile stare drilling right between my shoulder blades. Awkward.
My eyes land on Simon Bowater as he spots me too. His face lights up, and he beckons me over. ‘Will Knight,’ he says as I saunter up. ‘Jesus, mate, it’s been so long I thought you’d been staked. It’s good to see you.’
I laugh good-naturedly, pump his hand, and take a seat at the small corner table, careful not to disturb the short tallow candle burning steadily in its brass holder. It’s purely for atmospheric purposes, of course.
