Tale of the Century Bride Complete: Historical Vampire Paranormal Romance Box Set (9 page)

“Are you not coming to bed with me August?” she asked of her husband.

“Yes, why of course. But I must first take care of some unfinished business before I retire.”

“Can’t it wait until the morning,” she asked, before laughing hysterically. How foolish of her. Wait until morning. That was like asking him to bake in the sun. She threw an open hand over her mouth before retracting her words with sympathetic eyes. And then she said, “Don’t have me waiting for too long, love.”

He smiled, placed his cold hands upon her cheeks and pulled her in close. They shared a long, passionate kiss before he was off, headed down the hall toward the prison tower.

You have me in chains, it’s true… but it is all of you who will be slaughtered like wild hogs!” Deleon proclaimed. “There is nothing that can save you from what is to come!”

He was shackled to the stone walls of the tower, in the highest tower of the castle; well separated from all other members on the grounds. His arms were raised above his head in chains. It was dark and cold, frightening and lonesome.

The only light available was from a small window that let in the crescent moon’s brightness which gave a reflective shine to the captive known as Deleon, son of Mourn, from Mahesh. His voice bounced back off the stone walls but could not be heard outside of his confined chamber. He was stripped down to only his soiled undergarments. He appeared to have been beaten terribly by the knights of Dalmar, the cavaliers of Count August’s order and rule.

Blood descended from his swollen right eye, his chest was reddened and scraped by plunging from, possibly a wooden club or a leather mace of some sort. His legs were frail. He shivered of, not only fear, but now an uncontrolled anger that seemed to only heighten as the Count crossed the cell’s threshold.

Count August said not a word. With a move to and fro with his hand, he dismissed the two knights who stood by the iron bars of this jail. He slowly came within reach of Deleon with a grin, his footfalls not heard for he walked an inch over the rocky soot beneath his feet.

“Do you think I am blind to what is happening outside of these walls?” he asked the shackled man, as he neared Deleon. “My bride offered you food and shelter and you repay her for her kind hospitality by inciting tumult in my peaceful palace.”

“You are mad!” Deleon yelled at August, looking down to the Count’s feet. His eyes widened as much as they could. He cried in anguish when he’d noticed him walking above the ground. “You are the devil… the prince of them all!”

August chuckled at the comment. “You thought you could come into my home and catch me while I rested. Did you not?” he asked.

Deleon lowered his head and whimpered. He did not respond to the Count’s finger pointing.

“I smelt the stench of that wretched animal residing within you the moment you entered my kingdom,” the Count made known.

“Then why did you not kill me just then?” Deleon questioned.

“It was only because of my bride’s wishes that you survived for this long,” the Count said. “Now tell me… you sick dog… how many are in this… legion that approaches my home.”

“Go to hell, you monster,” Deleon said with a sneer.

Count August laughed. “Oh, is that your wish? Coming from a man in your predicament I would have expected something more creative.”

He waited for Deleon to raise his head. He did so, slowly. And Count August sent a backhand soaring to Deleon’s good eye before he could get a good look at him. “How many!” the Count’s question shook the chamber as he hollered in Deleon’s ear.

Spitting blood to the ground, Deleon stood limp in his bondage. But he, in one way or another, still managed to chuckle a bit. He now gazed upon the Count with sore eyes and a bloody-tooth grin. His head wobbled as he mumbled, “More than you know,” before his head dropped once again, blood straining from his mouth’s edge, and sopping wet, snot leaking from his nose.

“Well then… Deleon, son of Mourn from Mahesh… it really doesn’t matter how many of them there are now does it? I’ve promised my bride that you would no longer be in the castle by sunrise.”

“Where’s my fair trial?”

“This was it. And I hereby find you guilty of the attempted assassination of a Count on Dalmar land.” Count August said, before grabbing Deleon under the neck and by the back of his skull.

There was a split second of silence before the cracking of bones burst forth and echoed throughout the cell. And with a grunt from his gut, Count August ripped Deleon’s head from his shoulders, and tossed it out the window to the moat below.

He walked through the iron bars at the cell’s entrance and ordered the two knights who stood there to burn the body. Without a word, they immediately grabbed the mounted torches on each of their sides and stormed into the cell to carry out their orders. Moments later Count August cleaned himself up before heading to the royal quarters to spend the rest of the evening with Catherine.

As August re-entered the master bedroom he walked over, took hold of her hand and stroked her hair softly. Tired of waiting, she kissed him passionately.

“You look so beautiful my darling. I have missed you so much,” he said as he returned the kiss. “I want to give you lots of pleasure. I want to kiss you also. What do you think of that?”

“Oh please, yes, I am at your will,” Catherine replied. Her desire for him was intense.

And with that he leaned into her and kissed her again, his hands began to wander over her breasts. She made appreciative noises with each caress… she could not help herself, it just felt so good.

But she could feel his hardness up against her, as he moved in closer, and she knew that he was ready for more as well. But August was a complete gentleman. She didn’t speak again – and neither did he. Instead, he picked her up, walking toward the bed they shared, without the least bit of doubt, she knew what would happen next.

They undressed quickly and silently. Seconds later the Count again drew Catherine to him. Her warm flesh felt wonderful next to him. She let go a quick gasp as his cold flesh touched her warm body. And then he lifted her into his arms as he drew her in for another long, passionate kiss. A kiss, she knew, that meant she was his.

Her skin was on fire, despite his cold touch. As he carefully laid her down on the bed, he started kissing her again, starting at her neck, and then trailing down her to her nether regions. His hands gently caressed her body as the kisses continued lower and lower, finally stopping to cup her buttocks… he looked up to her before continuing onward.

“Yes,” she whispered to him, answering the unanswered question in his eyes.

She laid her head back on her pillow as he continued his kisses. Then, a moment later, she almost jumped off the bed as he started kissing the warm area right between her legs. And these kisses, they were so very different from any she had ever encountered before.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” Catherine whispered to the Count, in between moans.

The intensity building within her made her feel as if she were about to burst. But it also felt so good she never wanted him to stop either. His tongue was exploring every part of her pelvis, tasting her inner thighs, kissing her hips, and eventually licking her vulva and sweet spot too. He was a magician and she was his hot, wet, audience of one.

When she felt as if she couldn’t take another touch, August raised up from her pelvis, crawled up her body, finally claiming her mouth in his, in a long, erotic kiss. She could still smell herself on him. His lips and face were wet with her essence, and he smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye before he kissed her again. “Does this please you my, lady?”

“Oh, yes… I have been waiting for this for far too long,” she answered him in a breathy whisper, as she wrapped her legs around him.

In an instant, he lay his full weight back down on her, burying his manhood deeply inside her in one motion as he started slowly rocking his hips. He let out a slow moan as he started the motion, rocking with her, up and down, back and forth. Catherine answered him by digging her nails into his firm shoulders, letting him know that he was pleasing her, while she clamped down on his body with a vise like grip in her legs.

She arched her body upward in response to each powerful thrust by August, their bodies now connected in a most beautiful way. It was almost as if they had been made for each other. The Count started moving faster, his hips now thrusting harder, pushing himself more deeply inside her with each thrust.

Catherine cried out with each thrust until she was so close to pleasure she was about to burst. “Please, August… “ she whispered. She felt his back muscles tense, and he started a much slower, yet more intense, thrusting motion. In only seconds she came… with an intensity that she would have never thought imaginable.

She closed her eyes for a moment afterward as August continued on his quest, thrusting slower yet deeper, before he let out a moan in his throat as he reached his own powerful release. Minutes passed it seemed, as he lay there on top of her, still inside her warm, wet body, her heart beating a thousand miles an hour it seemed. They were spent, but happy.

August raised up on his elbows and kissed her again. This time, a long, slow passionate kiss. He reached out and took her hands in his as the kiss lingered and took on a life all its own. She could still smell her warm musk on him. And she knew what he was asking her without any words.

“Yes,” was all she said.

He smiled back, reached over and blew out the candle next to their bed. And in an instant he was on top of her again, ready for their next passionate session. This night would not be the first time they had made love since they had wed, however, it was his intention to spend the rest of the night in a lusting escapade of adoration and warmth, providing the fact that his lady approved. But from every thing he had witnessed so far tonight, she was pleasured and happy and soon he would be again as well.

Weeks passed after that first night her family arrived, eight to be exact. The dark clouds were now 120, maybe 118 kilometers out. Catherine had begun having the symptoms of a fever – maybe it was the flu, or a stomach virus perhaps. But she was weak, filled with chills and paling as well.

She would have blamed her illness on home sickness, but since home was where the heart is, and her family and best friends were all there with her, she realized that this was not the cause. Today they were all right there in her sleeping quarters as she lay beneath a thick quilt, a dampened rag over her forehead, with an empty bucket – just in case – by her bedside.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Rose said, as she held Catherine’s hand tightly. “I hope it isn’t serious.”

Her mother grew cautious and shooed her siblings out of the room. “Rose, are you sure you want to stay in here? You might catch whatever it is she has.”

Rose looked to Catherine’s mother and shook her head in the negative. “No, she’s my best friend,” she said. “I wouldn’t leave her to save my own life.”

“That is rather kind of you child.” Catherine’s mother gathered.

At that moment, Catherine pulled the dampened rag from her forehead and swiped the covers away. She grabbed up under her stomach and turned toward the bucket and regurgitated.

Her mother gasped, and pointed, “You’re―”

“Pregnant!” Rose finished with laughter and relief, the palm of her hand pressed against her heart.

“No, I can’t be.” Catherine wheezed out. “That’s not possible.”

“It is possible. And you are!” her mother advised.

“Who’s pregnant?” asked the voice of Alice, who just happened to be standing by the bedroom door.

Rose and Catherine’s mother both turned to see Alice. She had been standing there with her brother and Colleen. Alice held a dish in her hand. It contained three large eggs, slices of ham and sourdough.

Beside her stood Colleen, who had the most surprising expression on her face; she had gasped when she heard the news, in awe at the revelation. She was so stunned that she almost dropped Catherine’s morning beverages. Cored, on the other hand, was more relieved to know that he might soon have himself a little play buddy on the way. He nodded accordingly while holding a platter of fruits and veggies from the courtyard garden.

“What are you guys doing up here?” Catherine asked the trio.

“We thought that since you didn’t show up this morning at your usual time, that we would bring your breakfast to you.” Colleen informed her.

“I thought you might be ill.” Alice said.

“I just thought you overslept.” said Cored.

“Thanks for caring.” Catherine said to the children. “The food looks wonderful… and it certainly smells good.”

The trio entered the room and served their countess her meal.

Later that day, as the sun set and all was falling silent, Catherine lay still in her bed. She was in the same position, under the same quilt, same rag over a hot head. She peered out to the descending sun thinking of only her husband’s reaction to the news that she was soon to deliver. She knew, of course, that he would be in the utmost delightful and cheeriest mood. So she hoped he would be.

Actually, she assumed that he would. But what she had thought of was the obvious. Would she live to tell the tale after the pregnancy? And if so, then what would the fate of her child be. To her knowledge, this merger in matrimony had never been attempted.

She kept an eye on the sun’s vital rays that stirred through her open window until it became the moons light. With the end of the day, a mist rolled in that traveled the floor and eventually swallowed up the room’s surface. She had never come into contact with this in all her days in the castle. She thought of this moment as being only but a dream.

Not frightened about the occurrence, she moved away from the window and closed her eyes. She knew that before long her Count would soon be there to greet her as he always did. And then, she would inform him of the exceptional human being that was on the rise within the bounds of her flesh and blood body.