Darkness In The Flames (68 page)

“Mmm, Rowan…”

“Mmm, Marcus…” Rowan laughed as he repeated the words. “You have the best arse in the world, you know.”

“I do?”

Rowan slid down and Marcus felt a quick nip on one buttock. “Oh yes. Without question the best arse.”

“Er…thank you.” He blinked, then sighed as his cheeks were parted and Rowan found the tight little ring of muscles within the cleft.

Skillfully, Rowan played with Marcus, sometimes penetrating a little, other times brushing his cock against that most sensitive spot. Marcus could feel the dampness from the other man, the drops of moisture seeping free in readiness for the pleasures ahead.

It would be but a fleeting touch, Marcus knew. Their time together was not of a sort to become permanent. Each had found something he sought in the other—and each took great pleasure from the genuine affectionate emotions they shared. Sex was a way to express that pleasure, along with a degree of trust and honesty that neither had expected.

Marcus groaned as Rowan lay fully along his prone body. The delight of his caresses and the thrust of a hard cock between his legs—they were but a part of this odd relationship. A pleasant digression, of course, but something that could be easily discarded. The friendship, the bonds between them—those would always remain.

Marcus moved his thighs, allowing Rowan room to settle himself.

Let tomorrow bring whatever Fate decreed. Tonight was just for them.

Chapter Eight

Rowan relished the slide of Marcus’ firm body beneath his. It was a rare pleasure—this joining, this passion they shared. So much more than the simple sexual act, it was more of a pledge, an affection that went deeper into both their souls than Rowan could ever have believed.

He wondered if this would be the last time they would share such a pleasure.

His world was changing, he knew. By traveling to St. Chesswell’s, Rowan and Marcus had altered the course of their lives, set their feet on a path that would lead to…to what?

Rowan had no idea. But he felt deep in his heart that nothing would ever be the same for him. He sensed the stirring of his fangs, but held them back. He could not feed from Marcus. Nor would he, even if circumstances were different. Not now, not when there was such a strong bond between them.

He would feed again soon, but at this moment he could simply surrender to the delights of being with Marcus in this most intimate of ways.

Rowan let his cock slide back and forth within the cleft of Marcus’ arse, delighting in the mounds that clasped him as taut muscles tightened in response to his touch.

“Bloody hell, Marcus. If things were different…” He bit back the words that he could so easily have spoken. Words that would have changed matters between them even more.

He could have loved this man. Given his life and his soul into Marcus’ keeping.

Had he not already done so with Thérèse.

“I know. But they are what they are.” Marcus shifted a little, lifting himself, presenting himself to Rowan like the gift he so certainly was. “Take what is now and enjoy it. I certainly shall. Let tomorrow be. No matter what lies ahead, we will ever and always be friends.”

Rowan’s brain eased and he obeyed, determined to bring Marcus as much satisfaction as possible, knowing that by doing so he would satisfy himself as well. Once more he dotted kisses down Marcus’ spine, adding to the tension by pressing his cock against the tight ring of muscles he knew would be soaring with sensation within his friend.

A groan told him how much Marcus was enjoying it. But this time, Rowan needed more.

He shifted away and encouraged Marcus to roll over onto his back. “I would see your face as you come, Marcus.”

The other man quickly turned. “And I would see yours too.”

They positioned themselves carefully; Rowan’s arse poised over Marcus’ cock as he shuffled his knees up and straddled the firm belly. “Hold me. Stroke me. Let’s do this together.”

Willingly, Marcus reached for Rowan, taking his cock in a firm grasp, caressing it with just the right amount of strength and tenderness. As he began his strokes, Rowan lowered himself, piercing his body with Marcus’ erect length. He was ready—oh-so ready—to be filled by this man and to share an orgasm with him that would sate them both.

And perhaps help them put aside the shadows that darkened both their lives. At least for a little while.

Marcus’ gaze clashed with Rowan’s as both men began to move, a look filled with emotions that flickered behind his eyes like summer lightning. Heat, lust, pain and affection—they chased themselves in circles, clear to Rowan as he raised and fell, massaging Marcus’ cock and being massaged in his turn.

It was quick—both men were ready to let go and seek forgetfulness in the few blissful moments of climax. Rowan could feel Marcus’ body tensing beneath him, even as his own muscles knotted and his spine began to throb in anticipation. Balls tight, Rowan laid aside his worries, simply focusing on the feel of Marcus’ hands and the fullness of his cock within them.

Marcus parted his lips, grimacing a little as he thrust hard, hips lifting Rowan even as Rowan pushed down. They moved more rapidly, Marcus panting and grunting with the effort of fucking Rowan this way.

It was soon accomplished.

Rowan cried out, his cock throbbing within Marcus’ hands even as Marcus’ cock exploded inside Rowan’s arse.

Together, both men rode the orgasm, trembling and shuddering through the climactic shocks to their bodies, linked together by so much more than just their sex.

As Rowan eased down from his peak, he was astonished to see the traces of tears on Marcus’ cheeks.

Gently, still seated on Marcus’ softening cock, he leaned forward and touched them with the tip of one finger. “Marcus?”

“I’m all right.” The brown eyes were somber now, no traces of emotion behind them. “Thank you, Rowan. Thank you for everything.”

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

“That we shall not do this again? Yes. With a certainty I can’t put a name to. And I’m sad in some ways, yet in others…”

Rowan sighed and let their bodies fall apart, lying next to Marcus, but not touching him anymore. “I understand.” Gently he reached for Marcus’ hand and twined their fingers together.

The crushing grip he received was enough to let him know that his emotions were shared. Whatever lay ahead, neither man knew. That their friendship would withstand it, neither was in doubt.

Rowan knew his heart would always belong to Thérèse. It was the one part of himself he could not share with Marcus, or anybody else. It was the greatest curse he could imagine, greater than being turned into a creature of darkness. And yet it was the only thing that sustained him in that darkness.

With a sigh, he released Marcus’ hand, knowing his friend was drifting into sleep. Comforted by the knowledge they’d both shared such complete intimacy—and without any prevarication on either of their parts—Rowan closed his eyes.

Total honesty was rare. Total honesty between lovers was even rarer.

He might be cursed, but in this strange way he’d been blessed too. What would come of it…

He drifted away into his world of total nothingness. And as always, his last thoughts were of Thérèse.

*~*~*~*

Marcus’ dream came to him softly, an unfolding of images, blurred visions, drifting fogs that cleared at last to reveal a rocky coastline. He did not recognize the location, but in that odd way of dreams he did not particularly care.

What did surprise him was the woman standing on top of the cliffs, staring out over the dark ocean and letting the wind play with her hair.

It was Thérèse
.

He recognized her easily. Her image had never fully deserted his memory since their first eventful encounter and her appearance in his recent dream with Rowan simply reinforced it.

She was astoundingly beautiful. Skin like cream, hair the flame red color of portraits by old Masters. Her body, molded now by some flimsy silk gown as it fluttered in the wind—well, if God himself had created woman, then this was probably as close as Marcus could get to seeing what the Almighty had in mind.

Proud full breasts stood out from her chest, sloped to the beaded tips exactly as they were meant to be. Beneath them was a soft belly, curved slightly, leading the eye downward to thighs that were shapely and firm above calves and ankles that could clasp around a man’s waist as she held him tightly within her.

Every pore of her body radiated a unique sensual appeal—and Marcus found he was not immune. His cock stirred and his balls ached as she turned her black gaze toward him, an expression of puzzlement briefly crossing her delicately perfect features.

“You? Why are you here? I did not call you…” Her voice was strangely soft, almost a whisper. And yet Marcus heard it clearly over the sounds of the ocean.

“I have no idea.” He waited. He knew this was not real, but it seemed substantial. He knew Thérèse could not harm him, a fact that gave him the patience to stand silent, biding his time while she considered her next words.

“It’s Rowan, isn’t it?” She turned away once more to resume her study of the sea. “You have been with him. Loved him.”

He saw her throat move as she swallowed, a tiny ripple of her neck—no more than that—and yet such an enticement he found himself longing to touch that little spot of softness with his tongue. His voice dried up and he found himself unable to answer her. What could he say, anyway?

“I’m glad.” She lifted her face to the wind.

Marcus blinked. “Why?”

“Because he thinks he loves
me
. He must not.”

“He cannot help himself.” Marcus tilted his head. “Surely you know there are some things beyond even your control.”

Thérèse’s shoulders drooped. “I would have spared him. It can only lead to pain.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “That sounds most strange, coming from one such as you.”

She turned her head at that, staring at him with eyes that no longer shone with the light of feverish desire. The black pupils were almost dull, lifeless, the gaze of a corpse unburied. Marcus shivered.

“I know what I am, Marcus. Believe me, I know what I am. Yet there is still a part of me that would spare Rowan.” She turned away to face the wind again. “Of all the men—all the countless mortals who have crossed my path—only Rowan would I spare if I could.”

“Why?”

There was no answer. She merely shrugged, an awkward shifting of her creamy shoulders.

Marcus was aware of the desolation in her stance, an emptiness matched by the endless ocean onto which she stared. “Is there…can I…” He paused, oddly at a loss for words. “Thérèse, what can I do?”

The question caught him by surprise. This was, after all, a woman best described as a carnivorous demon from the darkest reaches of hell who had wrought terrible things on too many victims.

And yet—at this moment—she seemed less savage and more vulnerable. As if she was being crushed by something, some dreadful burden Marcus could not even begin to imagine. He could only feel an undeniable need to offer help.

She laughed then, a sound only a few heartbeats away from a sob. “Nothing, Marcus.
Nothing
. The time for doing is long past. No one can do anything.”

“I…”

She raised her hand to halt his words and turned to him, full face this time, lifting her chin. “I know that my time grows short. Even those like myself are not truly immortal. I shall not be sorry to part company with this existence, Marcus. Although I dread the eternity of suffering I know awaits me beyond as punishment for my sins.” Again that oddly sad laugh. “It can, however, scarcely be worse than what I have endured for so long.”

“What have you endured, Thérèse?
Tell me
.” Marcus’ words were urgent, filled with his need to understand the odd contradictions he was now seeing within the woman who had preyed on so many helpless mortals.

“I cannot. You would not be able to bear it.” She shook her head, red curls flying around her face.

“Try me.”

“I will not.” This time she was adamant. “Rowan…” Her throat moved on a gulp of air as she spoke his name. “Rowan knows. Ask
him
.”

And the dream, if it was a dream, ended.

*~*~*~*

“There was no more?” Sidney asked the question eagerly of Marcus, the words tumbling from his lips before anyone else had the chance to voice them.

They’d gathered after sunset in Sidney’s study, each face betraying the tension they all felt at the rising of
something
—darker than usual in their strange world.

Marcus shook his head. “That was all. That was, come to think of it, quite enough. My spirits were bowing under the weight of what I sensed from Thérèse. I wanted nothing more than to help her.” Marcus’ eyes widened as he looked around at them all. “
Help
her. Can you imagine that? After what she tried to do to me? After what she’s
done
to you?”

Adrian blinked as Katherine straightened her shoulders. “You’re a kind man, Marcus. And you have been spared much of her savagery. Yes, I can believe it. She’s clever. Manipulative. She knows full well how to get what she wants.” Her red hair glinted as she nodded at Marcus, even while reaching for Adrian’s hand.

“I’m not that kind, my dear.” Her husband glanced quickly at her. “I’m thinking she may be more vulnerable for some reason. Perhaps the time is growing near when we’ll have better luck wiping her off the face of the earth, forever this time.”

“She said I knew.” Rowan didn’t respond to Adrian’s comment, lost in thoughts of his own apparently.

Sidney inclined his head. “She did, didn’t she?” He watched the younger man wrinkle his brow. “What
do
you know, lad?”

The others turned as one to Rowan.

He looked at a loss. “I know only her pain. Her agony. Overwhelming and indescribable. I told you all about that—the last time I fed from her it was as if something escaped from within her soul. Some horror for which I have no words.”