Resurrection Page 6

  And now, he was here. Life had come full circle and he was back where he started. Well, almost. Back in the fifteenth century, he'd been a powerful nobleman with influence and authority over those around him. He ruled here, holding the stronghold in the service of his King. Even after the crown changed hands and the new dynasty of Tudors tightened their hold on England, Roseworth had remained a key fortress in the north. The castle had bustled with life, everyone busy, always rushing somewhere.

  Life had been hard back then, unrelenting and merciless at times. Even as a member of the aristocracy it was a risky business and he had found himself increasingly at the mercy of dynastic power struggles. A man would be fortunate indeed to enjoy the three score years and ten ordained for him, and life was perilously short on occasions—as he had so nearly discovered himself.

  Ged strode the perimeter of his property at dusk on the first evening after he moved in, breathing in the sweet air of his childhood, a time when he'd been innocent, and everything had seemed so simple. He knew better now, but of course hindsight was a wonderful thing. Hindsight was particularly acute when spanning a little over five centuries.

  Ged had been thirty five years old when an arrow from a brigand's bow had somehow penetrated his armour. He and his men had been set upon as they returned from a visit to Henry Tudor's court. Just five leagues from his home and safety, the bandits emerged from the trees on either side of the isolated road and although the Roseworth men at arms put up a valiant fight, they were hopelessly outnumbered. Ged had tumbled from his horse as his world blackened and knew nothing of the carnage which followed. He had opened his eyes to find himself in a rough hut, his head feeling as though his horse had kicked him in the temple, and a woman he did not recognise standing over him. She was beautiful, quite breath-taking, but something about her unnerved him.

  He blinked, and she was gone. He closed his eyes again and slept.

  When next he awoke, the woman had returned and was seated beside a small fire in the hearth. She smiled as he stirred, and came to stand over him as he lay in the crude woodsman's cot.

  "You have survived the turning, then." Her voice carried an unfamiliar lilt to it, not quite English, he thought, nor Scottish either. Her words meant nothing to him.

  "I... my men?"

  "Gone. All. I chose you."

  "Chose me? What are you babbling about?"

  "You are mine. I chose you, and I turned you."

  Ged sat up, amazed that the wound from the arrow seemed not to pain him at all, and even his headache had cleared. He no longer wore his travelling clothes nor his armour but was clad in a soft robe of pale coloured wool. He shook his head to clear it, then shoved his feet from the narrow mattress to plant them on the earth floor of the hut. The woman backed away from him as he stood, though he had no sense that she feared him.

  "Your name, woman?"

  "I am Lilia."

  "I know no one by that name. Where are my clothes? My armour? My horse?"

  "Your mount is tethered outside. Your other belongings I burnt. Or buried. You will have no need of them."

  "Madam, I shall be the judge of what I need and what I do not. Where did you bury my belongings?" He turned to face his companion, fixing her with the glare that usually reduced the serfs and serving folk of Roseworth to quivering jelly. Lilia was unmoved.

  "You are mine and I shall provide what you need."

  "You shall go straight to Hell, madam. Now, for the last time—" He reached for her, intending to drag her outside if he must and do what was necessary to convince her to reveal the location of his armour. One moment she stood beside him within reach of his right hand, the next she was several feet away, regarding him through the open door of the tiny croft. Outside it was dark and the woman stood, framed by the doorway, silhouetted in the moonlight.

  Baffled, his legs still unsteady, Ged lumbered towards the door and the woman who waited there.

  "You require rest. We need not leave immediately." Lilia remained calm, though as he emerged from the hut she was suddenly several feet to his left, beside his horse which grazed contentedly at the lush grass.

  "What the...? You are a sorceress, madam." He glared at her, taking in her serene expression, the perfection of her features, the simple elegance of her plain, blue gown. She was tall, not far off his own height. Her pale blonde hair was uncovered and hung unbound to her waist, and her hands were folded before her as she contemplated his bewilderment.

  "If you like. You will have questions, and I shall answer them. You may sleep if you desire, or we can be on our way."

  "On our way where?" Ged viewed her with suspicion, and a dawning respect. Whatever this woman was, whatever she might represent, he recognised strength when he saw it—and courage. And he did not believe she meant him harm. She could have murdered him while he lay unconscious but had chosen not to.

  "I have a home, a place we shall be safe. You may share it for as long as you require."

  "I do not require your protection, madam, nor your hospitality. I shall return to my own keep. I thank you for your aid, if it was you who treated my wounds, and if you will be so good as to direct me to my armour, I shall trouble you no more."

  "You have no home now, but for that which I shall provide. You are mine, my responsibility. I chose you, and I shall care for you. Now, since you clearly have no wish to return to your bed, you will follow me. You may ride if you so wish."

  Lilia turned on her elegant heel and walked away from him along the rough track leading from the hovel. She was almost out of sight before Ged gathered his wits sufficiently to mount the horse and kick it into a lively canter. He had almost reached her, when suddenly she disappeared. Before his very eyes, she vanished. Astonished, he dragged on the reins to bring the horse to a halt. He stood up in his stirrups to peer around him, and spied her on the rise of a hill. She was perhaps half a mile from him, and had travelled there in less than the blink of an eye.

  "Sweet Jesus," he breathed, "what is she?" He turned the horse's head in the direction she had taken, and he followed.

  Ged remained with Lilia for almost a year and a half. She explained to him in her soft, lilting tones how she had come upon the aftermath of the robbery to find him close to death beside his horse, his slain men scattered around him. She might have passed on by and let his fate take its course, but his eyelids had fluttered as she crouched beside him and he seemed to mutter something to her. She had leaned in, her ear beside his lips, to hear the words 'help me'. So she did, in the only manner at her disposal.

  Lilia had opened his leather tunic to bare his neck, then sank her fangs deep. Instead of drawing his life's blood from him, though, she allowed a little of her own essence to drain into his near lifeless form. Only when his breathing eased and the blood started to congeal on his wound did she lift him from the ground and prop him back on his horse. Ged had snorted at her description of having hauled him back onto his mount, but was soon to realise that her strength far outstripped his own, at least it had then.

  As he regained his own health and vigour Ged was soon more than a match for his slender saviour. Lilia had been a vampire for over a century already and had honed her skills and abilities in that time. Her own sire, the blacksmith in the village where she grew up, had taught her to use her superhuman strength and heightened senses to good effect, and so Lilia imparted that knowledge to her own turnling. Ged learned to live as vampire. He learned to hunt, and to hide. He learned to avoid the daylight as it would drain his strength more rapidly than his changed blood could restore it, and to avoid superstitious humans who would seek to destroy that which they feared and did not understand.

  And back then, a vampire was a being to be feared. They required blood to survive, and could only feed from live hosts. Human blood was preferred, though other creatures would suffice if need be. Farmers found sheep dead in their fields, their bodies drained. Wolves might be blamed, though rumours abounded about the mysterious undead creatures who roamed the
darkness, striking from the shadows, an abomination to all decent Christian folk. It was said that vampires, witches, ghouls and other displaced souls were the creatures of Satan, his instruments put on the earth to wreak death and disaster on the God-fearing populace. They had to be hunted, captured, killed.

  Eventually, Lilia fell victim to a mob, trapped in the daylight and unable to escape to the relative safety of the cottage she and Ged shared in the Scottish Highlands. Too late, Ged realised she was in danger and rushed to her aid, but the ignorant peasantry had already staked her to the ground and severed her head. They were gone by the time he arrived, having left his beautiful companion to rot where she lay. Ged buried her, muttered some words he recalled from the priest at Roseworth, and then he departed the shores of Britain, not to return for almost two centuries.

  *****

  Much had happened to him in the centuries since. He had endured hardship and danger, wars, famine, disaster. He almost lost his life when London burnt in 1666, and again almost two hundred years later when an Arapaho warrior caught him in an uncharacteristic moment of carelessness at the Battle of the Little Big Horn.

  Ged was a soldier by training. Warfare was what he was born to do, the only real skill he had and he could rely on it. He traded as a mercenary, spent most of those first few centuries in one battle zone or another, fighting for causes he rarely shared and scarcely understood. But where there was war there was blood, and he could feed. Survival was what mattered, and Ged did what he had to do.

  Civilisation and the inexorable march of science brought with it other options, and Ged recognised those when they presented themselves. He was well paid for his efforts on the battlefield and he accumulated wealth. He invested, earned more, reinvested. As medical research advanced, he recognised the potential and poured his money into it. The massive, life-changing breakthrough came early in the twentieth century when human scientists discovered what Ged had long known—that human blood came in different types. Ged knew that, he could taste the differences, but now medicine knew it too. From there, it was a rapid progression to collecting blood for transfusions and storing it for later use. The blood bank was born, and with that Ged and his kind were freed from the necessity to injure and kill in order to survive.

  Ged's wealth, and that of other like-minded vampires he persuaded to invest along with him, funded much of the research. His pharmaceutical foundation, which he named after his birthplace, spearheaded the medical revolution. Human lives were saved, and in return Ged had ready access to all the blood products he needed.

  He could concentrate on living, not merely surviving. At last, immortality was worth having.

  It was a contented vampire, therefore, who strolled the perimeter of his property that first night, remembering the scenes of his earliest years. His life before Lilia had in many ways been a simple existence, but he had been happy enough. He gazed over the lake and remembered learning to fish there. His father's steward had been his mentor and friend, and he recalled the pride with which he bore his first decent trout up the hill to the castle. The cook baked it in pastry and he remembered vividly the succulent taste as he chewed on it. He rarely consumed food nowadays, had no need of it, but perhaps if he could manage to drag another trout like that from these calm waters, he might make an exception.

  Ged turned and made his way back up the hillside toward his new home, detouring to admire once more the fine new structure Sven had designed to house the motor bikes he had shipped from New York and the smart BMW he had purchased as soon as he relocated to the UK. The garage was built of traditional stone, much of it no doubt originally part of the castle itself but which had been scattered across the surrounding landscape as the ruins were raided by locals in search of building materials. The stone had been reclaimed, or at least enough to construct the garage and the stable block which was next door. He had still to acquire a horse, but would deal with that as a matter of priority. Perhaps he might breed horses here—fine horseflesh had been an abiding passion of his.

  He hummed as he made his way back into his comfortable, modern pod. Yes, life was good. Certainly, it was better than the alternative.

  Chapter Four

  January 2013

  "Shall I see you next week, Sir?"

  "Maybe. I'll text you." Ged thought it unlikely, he was no real fan of scening with the same sub more than a few times, and this was Suzette's fourth visit to his castle in as many weeks. She was stunning to look at, responsive, obedient for the most part. He had no real complaints, but his interest was waning and he suspected hers was too. He helped the petite submissive back into her lightweight overcoat which fully concealed her fetish wear underneath. She belted the coat and shrugged.

  Suzette was a realist, he knew. She wasn't about to make a fuss and if either of them ever fancied a re-run, for old times' sake, that would be fine. His companion hardly even winced when he patted her bottom as they exited his home, though he knew she must be sore. The caning he'd administered had been a beauty. They'd both had a good time and her arse was a fine sight, all shades of pink and crimson.

  Suzette was human. Most of his submissives were, although he'd had some pretty spectacular encounters with vampire females and they were his preference. Vampires were hardy. As a Dom he was always careful and sensitive to his subs' needs, but humans were flimsy creatures, requiring extra vigilance and he had to be certain they would use a safe word. Vampires were more fun. He could relax with them and not be scared of doing some damage by accident, but they were just a bit too thin on the ground. Most of the women he met who shared his kink were of the more fragile variety, though as humans went Suzette was pretty damned good.

  He found himself reconsidering. Perhaps one last time?

  "Take care, Sir. It's been nice." Suzette paused by the open door of her car and stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his mouth. Ged responded, and in seconds she was plastered across the bonnet, her legs spread wide as he rammed his cock into her slick channel. He offered up thanks that she hadn't been too bothered about putting her underwear back on when he released her from the spanking bench, then he lost himself in the moment.

  His fangs dropped. It was an involuntary response the instant his dick slid into her hot, greedy cunt and she quivered around him. He could just about prevent the reaction if he concentrated hard enough, but he enjoyed the thrill of risk. He scraped his elongated canines across her unprotected throat. In the old days he might have sunk them in, savouring the sweet tang of warm blood loaded with endorphins, but not any longer. Not for years now had he forgotten himself to that extent. Ged liked to think of himself as a more refined class of vampire these days, though on occasions his resolve could slip. Mercifully for his accommodating little sub, this wasn't one of them. But he came close.

  He drove his cock deep, shuddering with the sheer joy of it. She was tight, hot, gasping his name. He looped his arms under Suzette's knees to splay her thighs yet more and lifted her up to meet his plunging thrusts. His balls contracted, drawing up hard to eject a stream of hot cum into her already well-fucked pussy as she spasmed around his cock.

  Slowly, he lowered her feet back to the gravel. She was gasping, breathless, but with a smile as wide as the acres surrounding his ancestral home.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to call round next week? It'd be no trouble, Sir."

  He bent his head to lean his forehead against hers and gave that prospect some careful thought. It was the slow, aching retraction of his fangs which finally made up his mind. If he carried on fucking this one, it was only a matter of time before...

  Best not.

  He stepped back and re-opened the car door which had been slammed shut when he shoved Suzette up onto the bonnet. He offered her a polite bow as he helped her inside and leaned across her to fasten her seatbelt.

  "Goodbye, Suzette. And yes, it has been nice. Take care of yourself."

  He watched the tail lights disappear along the narrow lane leading from his isolated home to the m
ain road, and realised how cold he was. Ged liked the cold. He infinitely preferred it to the sweaty heat of the summer, but still…

  Suzette must have been fucking freezing. Ah well, she could turn up her heating now in the snazzy little Mazda she liked to drive.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced up at the sky. Clouds scudded across the moon and a truly bitter wind was getting up, but he decided he'd take a turn around his property anyway. At a brisk walk he headed for the ruined tower on the outer curtain wall of his castle. There was decent view from up there.

  *****

  "What the fuck's she doing there?"

  Ged pulled the collar of his sheepskin flying jacket up around his neck and turned his back on the biting wind now swooping across from the north. He peered down from his vantage point, perched on the highest remaining pinnacle of his derelict north tower, to survey the scene before him. It was almost eleven o'clock on a cold early January night. The weather remained dry and crisp, though snow threatened which in this wind meant a blizzard. The sky had been clearer earlier in the evening but the gathering clouds now blotted out most of the moonlight. Still, Ged's acute night vision was more than equal to the task and he could easily pick out the woman apparently taking a nap on the meadow beside his lake. She looked to be wearing something long and white and vaguely floaty, and certainly not suitable for the plummeting temperatures. Humans were a fragile bunch, but despite their physical frailty he had often observed they could be incredibly foolhardy. No doubt his unwelcome visitor would be some drunk who had probably wandered up here from the village. It was almost two miles, but still. Perhaps the New Year's celebrations had dragged on a few extra days.