Miss Austen's Vampire (6 page)

He didn’t stop kissing and biting.

And his need was growing to the point where he would soon have no control over his actions.

Taking one hand from the breast it had been teasing, he placed the hand between her legs, and felt her moistness. He had not had a virgin in years—long before he was turned—and he knew that even with a human the process was a painful one for the woman. What was he going to do to this virginal lady who did not deserve to be used and damaged by the fiend? Surely he would damage her.

As his fingers teased her, Jane moved her hips and moaned softly. Had she not been a maid, she would have been more than ready. He let the tip of his finger enter her, bringing louder moans of pleasure from her. As his finger felt her heat, and slipperiness, another part of him wanted to take its place.

Gabriel placed his lips against her ear and in a hoarse, desire-driven voice said, “Jane, dear Jane, I want you—Oh, god, I want you—but I so fear hurting you.”

Her answer was to lift her hips and move them against his throbbing erection. Until now he had been careful to make sure it never touched her, knowing what would happen if it did.

When her slippery folds made contact with him, she cried, “Oh my!” and crushed herself more frantically against him, grabbing his buttocks and pushing him to her. She kissed his neck, his shoulder, and again his mouth as she pressed herself to him.

Intensely aware that he was not with a whore, but with a delightful, lovely woman whom he greatly esteemed, he fought to hold himself in check. He wanted this first experience to be one of pleasure for Jane. That the deflowering process was painful could not be avoided. But still, she deserved pleasure. Wonderful, otherworldly pleasure. That was what he desperately wanted to give her.

Gabriel kissed Jane, and the kiss he received from her was desperate. He moved his hips, spread her legs wide, and gently pressed himself against her. The slowness was excruciating for him, but of course it was necessary for her, he knew. Each quarter-inch was hard won. He held her hips still, and entered her inch by slow inch. Even as a human he was what would be termed ‘well-endowed,’ but now as a vampire he was even larger, in both length and girth, and if he were to enter her with any more force he would surely rip her apart.

Jane’s face was screwed up tight. But in pain or pleasure? He got his answer when she forced her hips upward, then grabbed his hips and pushed his full length into her. The deep plunge made her cry out, and he knew he had hurt her.

How was it that she had gone through thirty-nine years of life, unaware of a place deep within herself that ached to be touched and filled? Jane asked herself. Since Gabriel’s fingers had first caressed her wetness, she had felt a longing, an emptiness far within herself that needed to be satiated. Naturally she knew this first time would bring pain, but the deep desire for satisfaction overrode any fear she may have had.

How often had she written of maidens marrying the men they loved? Numerous times. How often had she written of the wedding night? Never, she thought ruefully. That there were physical desires the newly wedded would be feeling never had crossed her inexperienced mind.

How foolish of her.

Her decision to go to Gabriel’s room and his bed had been sudden and not at all thought out. She had allowed her mind and better sense to give way to her body and its long-denied needs when she tiptoed down the hallway to the room she had earlier been told was Gabriel’s. Nearly changing her mind when her hand had rested on the doorknob, she had to catch her breath and admonish herself for her fears, before opening the door and entering the room. Seeing Gabriel sitting undressed on his bed sent heretofore unknown flutterings to her most private of places, and she knew at that moment that she would not be leaving his room with her virginity intact.

As she forced him to fully enter her, the pain had been searing, but as with so much of what was happening in this bed—all these new experiences—it wasn’t also without surprise. Surprise that the sharp pain was also mixed with pleasure, and though she had to bite her lips to keep the tears at bay, she began rocking her hips to match his rhythm as he thrust again and again.

In a voice much deeper than she had yet heard come from him, Gabriel moaned her name, “Jane.”

Eyes tightly closed, she smiled at the sound of her Christian name and the intimacy of his using it, and the supreme intimacy they were sharing.

“Jane, I am hurting you.” Each word was a grunt.

He kissed her, then, still groaning, he said, “It will not do.”

Gabriel slowed his thrusts and gently kissed and nuzzled her neck. One hand was caressing a breast, and the combination of all these sensations elicited little moans and sighs from her.

When it happened, Jane found herself confused more than frightened or horrified, and thought perhaps her lover had simply become carried away with his nuzzling of her neck. But then the pain was suddenly intense, making her back arch, though just as fast as the pain had begun, it disappeared.

That Gabriel’s teeth were in her neck there was no doubt. He was making sounds similar to those a baby made when it suckled at its mother’s breast. Jane knew this wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal, it was monstrous. But even as she knew she should be horrified, her body was being infused with such intensely pleasurable feelings that she could never have imagined them. Whatever was happening to her, she did not want it to stop.

He lifted his head from his task, and stared into her eyes. Brows furrowed, his eyes held a question in them. She answered him with a kiss as a most pleasant tightness deep within her built to a point where she knew some form of release was going to be necessary or she would very likely die of the feeling. It grew so intense she was tempted to scream out, but fought the urge. Moving with his thrusts she pressed into him, willing him to move faster. In the back of her mind she noted that she no longer felt any pain, just the intense sensual pleasure.

Bending to her breasts, Gabriel gently bit each nipple, and then the exploding release began. Her body convulsed as they moved together, and she cried out. The ecstasy continued as wave after wave gripped her body. She couldn’t imagine what was happening to her, but whatever it was she didn’t want it to end.

Gabriel’s movements quickened, and he reached depths within her she didn’t know she had. He moaned loudly and she thought she heard her name mixed in with the moans. As his thrusting slowed, she opened her eyes. His were closed, a grimace on his face. She knew, however, that his grimace came only from intense pleasure, if indeed he felt anything comparable to what she had just experienced.

As she lay under him, she felt little quakes ripple through her body. She could feel her heart pounding rapidly in her chest and she struggled to calm her breathing, sensations not unlike after running a fair distance. She smiled to herself, considering the actions that had brought on these spent feelings.

Gabriel had collapsed on her after he had finished, and now he lifted himself off her and flopped onto the bed next to her. He lifted her hand and placed his lips gently against the inside of her wrist and held them there, eyes closed. Jane felt as if she was being anointed.

“Gabriel,” she whispered.

“Hmmm,” was all he could articulate.

She turned on her side to face him then caressed his face with her free hand, the other still being kissed.

“Gabriel . . . that . . . oh my . . . I’m . . . I’m a writer without words.”

He flinched and opened his eyes, panic showing in them.

“Oh, god, Jane. Forgive me.”

Bewildered, she could only say, “What? What for?”

Gabriel shook his head, as if by doing so he would understand her words.

“I have used you abominably.”

This made Jane sit up, and in doing so she was reminded of her nakedness. Nothing to do about it now, he’s seen it all, she thought.

“Gabriel, you certainly did not use me. If anything, I am afraid I used you. What just happened here, was without a doubt, the most miraculous thing to ever happen to me, and I will never regret it.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and reached out to touch the wound on her neck.

“Do you not have questions about what I did here?” His fingers caressed the spot.

Jane had forgotten the bite. Now, in her increasingly sober state, she felt a touch of panic creep up her spine.

“Oh,” she said under her breath. “Yes, I suppose I . . . I do. What was that? Why did you do that?” She could hear the fear in her voice and hoped Gabriel couldn’t perceive it. Putting a hand up in front of her, palm facing Gabriel, she quickly added, “No, no. It does not matter. Of much greater interest to me at the moment, is what just happened between us. What did you do to me to make me have that exquisite explosion? It was the most immensely delightful thing I have ever experienced.”

Gabriel took her hand and kissed her palm. Then stretching out his arms to Jane, he gathered her to him and held her. “I will try to answer both questions. First the easier of the two.” Before continuing, he pressed his lips to Jane’s forehead. “What you experienced was very enjoyable, yes?”

“Oh my yes. The most enjoyable experience I have ever had.”

“When a woman is properly pleasured that is what happens. So I am very pleased that I was able to make you feel that.”

“Well, Gabriel, then I would certainly say you properly pleasured me.”

He smiled warmly at her.

“You know, despite all I have written on the topic of men and women in love, I had no knowledge of anything sexual, and absolutely no idea of the true workings of what men and women do in bed, beyond the most rudimentary facts. I am rather embarrassed now by my naiveté in my writing. I wonder if my readers have been laughing at me, an old spinster writing about love.”

“Never, my love. No one ever would laugh at you and your wonderful writing.”

The term of endearment did not go unnoticed by Jane, and she felt her face warm with a flush.
My love.
Something to be considered more fully at a later time. There were too many thoughts and intense feelings rushing through both her mind and body to give the words more thought right then.

“And please never again refer to yourself as an old spinster. There is nothing about you that fits that dreadful description.”

She smiled coyly at him, and he placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

“And that other thing, the bite?” she asked.

Gabriel put his lips to her forehead and muttered, “Let’s dress, and perhaps go outside into the fresh night air, walk about the gardens, and I will explain that to you. I must warn you though, dear Jane, it is a frightening reality I must share with you.”

A tremor passed through her.

“That is a fine idea, but at this moment I have something else I would prefer to do.”

Gabriel raised his brows in question.

“Properly pleasure me again, Gabriel.” Laughing, Jane sat up, then pushed him down onto his back and straddled him.

Gabriel smiled and brought her in for a kiss.

Chapter 7

The scent of citrus hung heavy in the warm air of the orangery. One shiver from Jane in the chill night air had sent Gabriel looking for a more comfortable, yet private, place for their conversation, and the orangery fit the bill. Kept at a tropical temperature, the glass-walled room was soothing and sensual, and the citrus scent very appealing. Though she thought she should be quite satiated after all of Gabriel’s ‘proper pleasuring,’ she found the atmosphere seductive, especially with the dark of night outside the windows, and the house quiet with slumbering occupants.

Gabriel led Jane to a bench in the middle of the room, and after seating her, he remained standing. He linked his hands behind him and began pacing in front of her, sighing with each turn in his route.

“Gabriel, do please sit by me. You are making me nervous.”

He stopped and held himself erect, as if called to attention by a military captain. He gazed out into the branches of the trees surrounding them, carefully avoiding Jane’s eyes.

“Gabriel, please,” Jane implored as she patted the place beside her.

Brow furrowed and still avoiding eye contact, he lowered himself onto the bench, keeping as much distance from Jane as possible.

“This will not do.” His voice was gruff, tinged with anger.

Jane wondered what she might have done to upset him so. She understood that whatever he had to share with her was unpleasant, but she was confused by his apparent anger.

After waiting several seconds for him to continue, and fearing he had no intentions of continuing, Jane spoke up. “I know you worry about whatever it is you must share with me, and while I must admit to some fear on my own part, I do not think, after what we just shared, you have any need to be concerned about my reaction to whatever this information may be.”

Gabriel bent forward, staring down at his boots, and reached over to Jane to take her hand in his. Jane was surprised that despite the heat in the orangery, his hand was icy cold. She had noticed when they were in bed that he seemed cool to touch, but thought it just his particular temperature. But now, within this warm, humid room his icy coolness seemed out of place.

“Are you well, Gabriel?”

He turned his head to look up at her, his brow still knitted. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he answered, “I am well, but I am not eager to end this night with you, for it will end when I tell you my—” He broke off and stared back down at the floor. Still he held her hand, squeezing it rhythmically.

“Whatever it is, it will stand between us now whether or not you share it with me, so you may as well tell me. Seeing you in such agony tells me it won’t be easy for either of us, but that it must be shared.”

He nodded and gently rocked his body, as one foot raised up on the toe, then returned to lying flat on the floor, over and over again.

Jane started for him. Gently, softly, she said, “The bite, Gabriel. You bit me, made me bleed. That, well, that is not normal behavior, in or out of the bedroom.”

Without her eyes being able to register the movement, Gabriel was now sitting upright, holding her chin in his hand, peering into her eyes.

“No, it is not normal behavior.” His voice was so low Jane had to strain to hear him. “It is the behavior of a monster.”

Flinching at the word ‘monster,’ not from the word itself but from the way he growled it, Jane leaned back away from him.

“Yes, dear Jane, you should try to distance yourself from me. A monster. You just made love with a monster.” His face was so close to hers that under different circumstances she would have assumed he was preparing to kiss her. She could feel his breath on her lips, see each eyelash framing his eyes, smell his particular, sensual scent.

Holding still, Jane waited for him to continue. She dared not say or do anything to stop him now.

“You have nothing to say about making love with a monster? What a curious woman you are, Miss Austen. A virgin not three hours ago, and now the lover of a demon.” His chuckle was not one of amusement, but sinister, sending a chill down her back. “Try writing that book. Your readers would be thoroughly shocked.” Again the nasty chuckle.

“As I recall this evening’s events, I seem to remember being very happy, satisfied, and pleasantly surprised by what a man could make my body do.” Her voice was a mouse’s squeak. “And more important than that, I was with a man I respect, admire, and for whom I feel true fondness.”

This provoked a loud, unpleasant guffaw. “Yes, that may be so, but you did not know at the time that you were with a monster.”

Sitting up straight, squaring her shoulders, Jane turned and looked Gabriel in the eye. “You keep saying that. What do you mean by it? Why are you a monster? Because you gave me a love bite?”

“A love bite?” Gabriel shouted. “Dear God, woman, how can you call what I did, ‘a love bite?’ I drank your blood, did you not know that?”

Jane remembered the suckling sounds, and her stomach clenched.

Her face must have shown distaste, for Gabriel barked, “Yes, at last! You see. You remember. Men do not drink their lover’s blood, Jane.”

She squinted into his face, trying to find within him the man whose bed she had shared. Cold now, bitterly cold, she shivered and drew her arms around herself.

“Then why?” she whispered.

“Is the answer not obvious? Men do not drink blood. So I must not be a man, Jane.”

He searched her face, and when there was no reaction, he continued, “I am not a human, Jane.”

Her stomach went to lead and she couldn’t draw breath as she stared into the glorious face she had so recently kissed.

Moving his face closer to hers, he spat, “I am a vampire, a monster, a creature of hell, a demon.”

She couldn’t turn her eyes away from him, and just gaped at him while she tried to make sense of his words.

“I have rendered you speechless, dear Jane. I am profoundly sorry I have to share such horrifying truths as to my nature, but you must know. I should never have used you so, knowing that we could never have more than this one night. And you, good woman, deserve more than one night. And you never deserve to be with a monster.”

Finding her voice, she said, “But . . . it cannot be. This is a myth, a legend, the stuff of stories we scare one another with as children. Vampires, blood drinkers, do not exist.”

“They do, and that mark on your neck is proof of it.” He started to reach for the place where his teeth had penetrated her skin, then quickly retracted his hand before making contact.

A tear welled up first in one eye, then the other before escaping and finding their way down her cheeks. Gabriel reached into his vest pocket, took out a crisp handkerchief, and laid it on her lap. Without taking her eyes from him, she picked it up and absentmindedly dabbed at her tears. She could only focus on the face that seemed to her so angelic. First looking into his dark eyes, then down his nose to his lips, over his jawline and back up to his eyes, she searched for some sign of a monster and could find none. But . . . not human? Vampire?

Shaking her head violently back and forth, Jane stood, still staring at Gabriel, then turned and ran from the room. Just as she reached the threshold, she stumbled, but managed to recover and kept running away from the man who claimed he was a monster.

“Agatha, your breakfast table appears to be down one guest. Where is Miss Austen this morning?” Gabriel tried to affect a casual tone as he helped himself to coffee.

“Oh, poor thing. She wasn’t feeling well when she woke this morning, and despite my protests that she should stay until she felt better, she insisted on returning home. I had one of my carriages take her. I must confess, her wit will be missed here.”

“Indeed,” was all he could say, and he clenched his teeth and sighed.

“Are you not going to eat this morning?”

“Perhaps after my coffee.” Distracted by his own dark thoughts, he ignored the cheerful conversations taking place at the table. He was sure Agatha was angry with his unsociable behavior, but his mind was filled with thoughts of Jane as she ran away from him, tears running down her face. To spend hours making love to her, taking her virginity, only to destroy any happiness she may have felt by disclosing his monstrous truth. What must she be thinking this morning? Certainly, that she was used most horribly. Even worse, he feared she would feel tainted by his evil. Such a lovely woman should never feel anything but joy, and felicity, and true contentment. To be introduced to the dark world of a demon . . .

Without excusing himself he stood abruptly and stomped out of the dining room. Minutes later, he found himself at the stables and hollered orders to a stable hand to saddle up Greystone. Normally this was a task he would insist on doing himself, but the animal would have sensed his tension, making saddling impossible.

Gabriel rode the stallion hard, for miles around the countryside. Greystone loved when he could use his endless energy, and seemed to revel in his master’s demands as they went to the far ends of the county. For Gabriel it was a feeble attempt at reducing his anxiety over his mistreatment of Miss Austen. Again and again, he kicked the stallion’s flank, urging him on ever faster.