Chapter 16
Mulling on one’s eternal fate is not a wholesome pastime for a new vampire. So it is no wonder, when Darius leaves, that my thoughts become twisted and I get a little ... hungry.
Creeping to the chamber door, I edge it open and whisper pitifully through the crack, ‘Please, oh please, is someone there? I require assistance.’
One of the night guards materialises. ‘Your Majesty?’ he asks softly.
His human eyes will not detect my face in the dim light, so I ease the door open further, hiding my nakedness behind it. Ooh, what a handsome young fellow. Blond and burly in a nut-brown leather jerkin and russet hose. His broad chest and tree-trunk thighs make my mouth water.
‘Is it another nightmare? Shall I fetch Lady Hester?’
‘No, no.’ I sniff at him, catching the distinct sweet aroma of blood rushing through his veins from a sturdy thumping heart. ‘You will do nicely.’
‘I?’ He sounds surprised and does not move. ‘For what purpose?’
‘To sit by my bedside for a little while and keep me company. That is all.’
‘Oh. Well, if Your Majesty requests it...’
‘I do,’ I say, growing impatient for a taste of him. My fangs are down and aching to bite his supple neck. ‘I order you to come into my chamber this instant.’
For I am hungry for human blood, and this vampire queen will not be denied!
‘Very well, Your Majesty.’
I step back, and the guard enters the room hesitantly, for it is an odd request. As soon as he is fully inside, I lock the door, leap upon his back, and bury my fangs in his throat.
It happens so fast he barely has time to whimper.
A few swift sucks of his warm gushing blood, and he collapses like a fallen tree.
***
When I summon Darius, discovering that I can quite easily project the thought into his head, he is astounded at my daring and, I think, rather envious that I snaffled one of the queen’s guards to sup on.
He has been making do with the critters in Greenwich Park ever since we returned from Windsor.
But as he is also the one who has to remove the lifeless body before the queen sees it splayed out on her carpet, he is less than pleased.
I am given an earful as he places his hands underneath the guard’s armpits and tugs the dead weight towards the secret door.
‘This was unspeakably rash of you!’
Drag. Grunt. Drag.
I smile, unrepentant, from the sofa—satiated after my midnight feast.
‘If the queen finds out you are murdering her nightwatch, you’ll be sent to the Tower!’
Drag. Grunt. Drag.
I lift my chin in defiance. ‘Let her.’ Kicking up my feet onto the sofa with a little sigh, I rest a hand on my full belly. Part of me is afraid of that, but the rest of me is largely devil-may-care.
‘Even worse, you drained him dry and did not leave a single drop for me!’
Darius scowls, and I chuckle. ‘Ah, so that is what you are really sour about. Next time, I will summon you earlier.’
‘There will not be a next time! Leave the guards alone. I will take you outside to hunt tomorrow night.’
The thought of chasing after rabbits, pheasants, and foxes whilst trying to manoeuver my skirts does not appeal.
‘I decline to accompany you on that adventure,’ I say sulkily.
Darius pauses. ‘There is another way.’
‘And what is that, pray tell?’
‘Drinking only a little from the guards and erasing their memories. It may be difficult for you since you are a new vampire, but if you can learn to do it, the risk of being discovered will be much less.’
This is the first I have heard of such a power. ‘Can you teach me how?’
Darius nods. ‘Yes. But first, let me bury this guard. I will be back in two hours.’
Drag. Grunt. Drag.
***
Over the next few weeks, undead life at court improves markedly.
I learn how to memory-wipe my victims, which Darius assures me is an ability that all vampires have, but not many know how to use.
This means I am not as dependent on Darius for blood, leaving him free to enjoy more fulfilling encounters with pretty whores in the nearby taverns.
For his part, he spreads the word quietly amongst the guards that the queen is assuaging her nightmares by bedding whomever happens to be stationed near her chamber door at the time.
But it is a tightly kept secret; and if she finds anyone speaking of it, she will have them hung, drawn, and quartered.
This threat does not seem to greatly dissuade anyone, for whenever I poke my head out, there is always a man with a stiff rod ready and waiting at my door.
Of course, the guards have no recollection of what takes place when they enter my chamber.
They are pushed out the door a few hours later and wake the next morning with a nagging pain in their necks and a sense of having had their cock worked hard by the queen beneath the sheets.
It is a delicious scheme and one that Darius fully approves of.
Oftentimes, if he cannot be bothered to seek a tavern whore, he will join me, compelling the naked victim to keep still and silent while we gulp thirstily at their neck, wrists, or thighs.
Darius also does not mind if I copulate with them after our blood feasting and quite happily watches, stroking his member.
He has no particular interest in male genitalia, apart from his own. Or so I think.
***
‘Be ready for a knock on your door at midnight,’ Darius tells me one frosty evening when we’ve ventured into the gardens at dusk.
I stretch out my fingers to a lone red rose, still holding fast to its stem.
One velvety petal floats to the frozen ground.
Then another. I remove my hand, wanting it to last as long as possible.
I turn my attention to Darius. ‘Why? Who will knock?’
‘There is a visiting knight eager to meet the queen,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I told him of her willingness to entertain, and he wishes to be of service.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Sir Cyril of Cumbria. Most handsome. Perhaps the fairest fellow I have ever seen.’
My ears prick up at that, and so do my loins. Apart from the burly blond guard of the first night and Darius himself, the men coming to the queen’s chamber have not been particularly easy on the eye.
‘I shall look forward to making his acquaintance then,’ I reply nonchalantly.
Darius grins and holds out his arm to lead me back into the palace. ‘Expect me to join you,’ he says softly. ‘This is one encounter I wish to be fully involved in.’
I don’t know quite what he means by that, but as midnight draws near, my anticipation mounts. I pace the chamber, yellow light from a single candle flickering and ghostly shadows dancing on the wall.
At last, there is a soft tap, and I call out ‘Come!’ in a haughty voice.
A tall slender young man steps into the room, and I beckon him closer with a flick of my hand.
He steps forward, and a tingle of excitement runs through me.
Darius has been astute in his judgement.
The knight is extremely handsome with a thick mop of dark-brown hair that falls in soft waves down to his white ruff, intelligent brown eyes, and a trimmed goatee.
‘Good evening, Sir Cyril of Cumbria,’ I say, attempting to emulate the queen’s husky tones. She always sounds like she’s been inhaling woodsmoke.
‘Your Majesty.’ Sir Cyril bows low as yet not realising he is being deceived. While his head is tilted forward, I swish over in my satin gown and place a hand on his head, feeling his silky strands. The warmth of his skull is pleasing to my cold fingers.
‘You may rise.’
Keeping my own head inclined, I proffer my hand for him to kiss, which he does ardently. His lips are soft, imprinting my chill flesh, once, twice, thrice. He has a delicate touch, and I shiver, imagining how it will feel when he kisses my naked body.
‘It is so dark in here, Your Majesty,’ Sir Cyril whispers, angling his head to catch a better glimpse of me. ‘Should we light another few candles or—’
Darius steps out from behind the bedpost, where he has been hiding.
‘That will not be necessary.’ He looks the knight over, the tips of his fangs skimming his bottom lip.
Sir Cyril frowns. ‘Sir Darius, I did not expect you to be joining us.’
Darius chuckles. ‘There is much about this evening to be surprised by. Indeed, even the queen herself.’
The knight moves closer, peering at me. ‘What is this trickery? Where is the real queen?’
His hand goes for his dagger, and Darius compels him to stand in place. ‘She is safe and well and currently enjoying the company of a certain lord.’
‘But—’
‘Shhh!’ Darius holds up a hand, and the knight’s lips slam shut. He cannot move a muscle, though I can tell by the look of ire that crosses his face that he wishes he could use his dagger.
Darius tilts his head at me. Apologies, but I was growing tired of his foolishness.
I nod. He wanted to frolic with the queen. Well, he is going to.
My eyes rake down the knight’s trim form, lingering on the parts I want to bite the most.
Darius smirks, sensing my bloodlust. Shall I undress him?
I nod eagerly, and he unbuttons his dark-blue velvet doublet while Sir Cyril’s eyes swivel wildly, watching him.
But he can do nothing. Darius’s power is too strong.
He removes his soft linen undershirt with its collared ruff; and I admire the young knight’s sculpted torso, sleek with muscle, golden in the candlelight.
Me: He must thrust and parry with his sword daily to achieve a physique like that.
Darius: Indeed. Let us see what other surprises he has in store.
Tugging the knight’s black woollen hose to midthigh, he whistles softly between his teeth. I peer around Darius’s shoulder and feast my eyes upon the knight’s manhood. Mmm, that is one long delectable sausage. You have done well. Your queen is most pleased.
Darius snorts at my acting. Then his lips curve in a wicked grin. Do you want to suck on it, Your Majesty?
I nod vigorously.
Very well, do so, and I will lick his cods. When he is hard, we will take him over to the bed. Whilst you ride him, I will sup from his neck. Then you can drink from his wrist or thigh. Agreed?
I wet my lips, not of a mind to argue. Agreed. Though I hope there will be some blood left for me. He looks delicious.
Darius chuckles in my mind.
Kneeling before the knight, I lift his hefty member to my lips while Darius busies himself below.
A low guttural noise emits from the depths of Sir Cyril’s throat as I suck on him slowly, in and out, enjoying his silky warm todger sliding against my cold tongue.
It does not take long for the knight’s rod to harden, and soon, he is as stiff as an iron poker.
But our undivided attention on his nether regions must be too much to bear.
A salty spurt of excitement drips down my throat.
He is close to climax, I warn Darius, who has a cod poking out of his mouth. Shall we take him to the bed now?
Yes, but we should finish undressing him first.
I release the knight’s cock with a pop, and it bounces enticingly in front of us.
Darius’s tongue slithers over the tip, tasting his essence.
Then he sucks on him a little, rolling his eyes at me in pleasure.
There’s a strangled noise from the knight above us, so he’s obviously enjoying it too.
I watch for a bit as the sight of Darius sucking on another man’s cock excites me more than I thought it would.
Which is why I say, Continue gently to keep him hard while I remove his hose.
Darius grins. As you wish.
I move around behind the knight, admiring his taut buttocks, and can’t resist giving each one a few little slaps to watch his flesh bounce. My handprints leave a red bloom on his cheeks.
Darius slurps away enthusiastically in front, and the knight’s rosy buttocks start clenching; his breath shallows.
I said gently!
Darius’s head pokes around the knight’s hip. A thin strand of blood-infused venom drips from his white fangs.
Me: Did you bite his cock?
Darius: Perhaps. It was difficult to control myself. He is divine.
Me: How long is he visiting for again?
Darius: Only a few days.
Me: He might be our best meal of the century, so we should make him last.
Darius: You speak words of wisdom. But I am sure he has more than one climax in him. His cock is primed and ready to spill its seed ...
Me: Very well. But if he only explodes once, it will be off with your head!
Darius chuckles and returns to his ministrations on Sir Cyril’s manhood while I slide his hose down over his knees and run my hands over shapely calves covered in peach fuzz.
Unable to help myself, I pierce his lower thigh with my fangs, hoping Darius will not mind if I deviate from our plan.
I sneakily draw a small mouthful of blood as Sir Cyril moans and his hips start jerking above.
Darius holds the knight’s cock aloft; and I watch, mesmerised, as a stream of thick creamy seed shoots forth, coating his lips and outstretched flicking tongue.
Darius: Mmm, most luscious. Would you like some?
I am torn between blood and seed, but his spurting cock looks heavenly.
Me: If I may.
I open my lips, and the savourful seed gloops into my mouth and warms my throat.
Darius strokes the shaft, giving me more, and then takes the pulsating rod back again, gulping at it.
We drink at the knight’s fountain until we have sucked him dry.
I am surprised at the amount of seed that burst forth; he must be a very fertile man.
A boon for any young woman wishing to have many babies. The thought depresses me.
Standing, I face the goateed knight and happen to see his expression as we are almost the same height. He is a smidgeon taller. I am expecting to see gratefulness because we have given him such ecstasy, but instead, he looks ... murderous.
Me (warily): Our knight is angry ...
Darius (chuckling): He will be even angrier when you ride him, and I drink from his neck. He rubs his hands in glee.
I personally think that we should erase his memory now and let him go, as I do not want to ride a knight with murderous eyes. But Darius seems intent on keeping to our plan, and I desire more of Sir Cyril’s blood, even if he wants to kill me.