Happy Christmas all!
I didn't get round to writing a new Christmas story for you all, so for today's entertainment I'm revisiting last year's story that I posted on The Nuthouse Scribblers as part of their Christmas feature.
Enjoy!
"My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Lady Christina Pemberton to the Christmas Ball."
The loud thuds of the butler's staff accompanying the announcement seemed to boom around the elaborate ballroom at a volume that couldn't be natural. The vibrations travelled up through the soles of Chrissy's feet, and she had to remember to shut her mouth. The liveried man was small and round, yet he waved that staff with a force that shook the ground. That tendril of unease and misgiving that had snaked itself round her spine like a clinging vine, ever since she'd ascended the huge curved stair way up to the ball room, seemed to draw the very air out of the room. Or maybe that was just the ridiculous corset that made up her dress for the evening. Chrissy was blessed with more curves than the average woman, and this elaborate and beautiful, burgundy evening gown had been designed for Lady Christina Pemberton, not her penniless friend Chrissy, who had no business wearing this dress or hobnobbing with the rich and famous at a masked Christmas Ball.
"Pick a rose, my lady, for it will lead you to your destiny." The butler's ominous words focused her attention on the little display of black roses on the ornately carved side table. This evening was getting more bizarre by the minute. Chrissy still couldn't understand why she'd been drafted in to attend instead of her friend. Surely, a simple, I'm sorry, I am unable to attend, would have dealt with the matter. Instead they were going through this elaborate subterfuge.
Christina had made it sound as though it was a life and death situation.
"No, you don't understand. I cannot get out of attending this ball. They wouldn't appreciate it. Trust me you'll have fun. In fact it will blow your mind. I had the most awesome time last year, but I can't do it again. George wouldn't approve."
She'd pulled a face at the mention of her fiancé. Picked by her aristocratic parents their wedding was set for the spring. Chrissy knew Christina wasn't happy about the arrangement but she went along with it anyway. Not for the first time, Chrissy was rather glad she only had to answer to her cat. Aristocratic he might be, but as long as she fed, and petted him when he deemed it necessary, then he was quite happy. There were advantages to being a mere pleb, it seemed.
The butler cleared his throat and Chrissy started. He pointed to the roses and she dutifully picked one up. It was heavy and cold and she yelped when one of the thorns pricked her skin. A bright crimson spot of blood appeared on her finger and dropped onto the marble floor.
"Mind the thorns, fair lady."
The butler's warning came too late, and she glared at his smile. He looked as though he was ready to pounce on her which was a ridiculous notion. But then so were black roses with thorns so deep, you dripped heavy spots of blood all over the floor. Chrissy didn't do blood at the best of times, and Christina would have a fit if she got bloody stains all over her silk dress. With nothing to stem the flow—surely a pin prick shouldn't bleed that much—Chrissy took a deep breath and steeled herself to have to lick the crimson fluid of her digit. Her stomach rolled and the room swayed, but before she could raise her hand, a cool, large, and unmistakably male fist closed around her wrist.
"Allow me." The deep, gravelly voice that hand belonged to came straight out of the weird dreams she'd been having lately, and she was rather grateful for the arm of steel round her waist that pulled her up against a wall of muscle. Before she could voice her thanks though, her mouth went dry, when the masked and impossibly tall stranger sucked her finger into the moist depths of his mouth. He wrapped his tongue around it and suckled. Tingles of awareness spread from her finger up her arm like rolling waves of heat and she bit her lip to stop herself from groaning. Her eyes locked with the stranger's and she lost herself in the deeply hypnotic depth of his crystal blue gaze until the room faded away and she was only aware of him, and the heat rolling through her veins, until it all centred at the apex of her thighs.
Her legs shook and her knees buckled with the force of her release. As unexpected as it was devastating, the orgasm rocked through her body, and left her breathless and clinging onto the man's flexing biceps with her free hand. Her fingernails dug in, her toes curled in her high heeled boots, and moisture flooded her skimpy underwear, at the same rate embarrassment heated her face.
The man released her finger with one last sensual slide of his tongue and kissed the fingertip.
"Delicious, but you're not Christina." He smiled, showing even white teeth, with prominent incisors that retracted as she watched in stunned fascination. He couldn't be, could he? What on earth had Christina got her into?
She should be terrified right now, but with her body still singing from that spectacular orgasm, her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative and all she could do was lean into his masculine and overpowering presence.
"What are you doing here, my little petal?" He turned her slightly so that she faced him and he traced the knuckles of his hand over her cheek, down the column of her throat, until they skimmed over the top of her breasts. Her nipples puckered against the corset and her breasts shook with her heaving breaths that threatened to tumble the heavy globes out of their confines.
"I … I, she couldn't make it tonight, so she sent me instead."
His eyes darkened and like the stormy depths of the ocean they swirled and drew her in closer, until he blinked, and the fog in her head cleared.
She pushed against his chest and he released her immediately.
"I see, well, in that case, allow me to escort you home. You shouldn't be here." He held out his hand and Chrissy noticed with a start, that the wound on her finger had closed. Not even the faintest mark remained.
"How is that even possible? What is this?" She found her backbone from somewhere and the look of approval in the stranger's eyes bathed her in a warm glow. His dirt blond hair hung down to his shoulders, and a days' worth of stubble covered a strong jaw. He frowned at something over her head now, and his gaze turned to frost. A chill swept over her when he addressed someone behind her. Their black auras wrapped themselves around her consciousness and she instinctively stepped closer to the blond stranger, seeking his protection.
"You're not needed. I've got this. The lady is leaving." His baritone rumbled through her and she closed her eyes against the myriad of sensations assaulting her senses. His dry, clean scent with a hint of expensive cologne tickled her nose, and she inhaled against his chest. The soft cloth of his designer suit soothed her heated skin and a sense of safety, and connection surrounded her. Why she should feel safe with this complete stranger, who'd brought her to such a state of arousal that she had climaxed in public, the rational side of her brain just couldn't grasp, but safe she felt. He drew her in closer, against the hardness in his groin that left her in no doubt of his intentions.
Chrissy swallowed a moan, and she wasn't sure if she would kill Christina or thank her, if she made it out of here alive. Ice cold fingers trailed down her exposed back and she shivered and pressed herself closer to her saviour.
"Drakus, take your hands off her." There was no mistaking the controlled menace in his voice, and Chrissy's stomach hollowed out, as her saviour's muscles tensed. An evil and chilling laugh behind her spread ice through her veins.
"After all this time, you are claiming a human? Why this one, Nimphus? Her blood smells sweet, but she is not the one who was invited. That one knows the rules and the forfeit. A price needs to be paid. It is Christmas after all."
Oh, good god, what was Christina involved in?
Blood rushed in her ears, and her skin felt too tight for her frame, but she disentangled herself out Nimphus' comforting presence to face this Dracus.
Dressed entirely in black, with his long raven hair falling about his face, he looked the epitome of the original vampire, right down to his deathly pale complexion, and the coldness seeming to seep out of his very pores. Either side of him stood two ethereally beautiful women. With their willowy figures shrouded in white long, flowing dresses, they made Chrissy all too aware of her plump frame.
"Can we have her, Master, please? We want her. Can she be our Christmas present?"
"I am no one's Christmas present." Chrissy glared at the trio and Drakus smiled, whilst his ladies pouted. "And I'm not some glorified snack bar, so you can put your fangs away. I'm his."
Nimphus' sharp exhale sent a whoosh of warm air down her exposed back and his arms came round her waist. An audible click behind her made her gasp and her heart turned into a jack hammer when he scraped his fangs along the sensitive skin of her neck. Another gush of moist heat coated her feminine folds and the little group of vampires inhaled as one.
"So, claim her. If the rose has spoken, and she is the one, now is the time." Drakus smiled again and folded his long fingered hands in front of his chest. The cruel twist of his thin lips sent a renewed shiver of fear right into her soul. "Of course, if you're wrong, this will be the last Christmas for both of you."
Nimphus tensed. "Forgive me, my petal." The growled words into her neck registered seconds before his fangs pierced her skin, and Chrissy screamed.
****
The room was dark. Faint music carried up through the floor boards, and she winced at the soreness in her neck. Where was she? The heavy covers weighed her down, and she couldn't quite get her limbs to move. A comforting presence surrounded her. A naked, hair roughened thigh pressed between her legs and she opened wider to allow the hardness pressing against her core to slide home. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs as the man on top of her thrust deep. Every slide into her sent her arousal higher. She met him halfway, clinging to his shoulders, revelling in the feel of him pressing her into the covers. He bent his blond head and kissed her—a kiss as arousing and familiar as time itself. They climbed together, lost in each other's arms until the chime of the village bell tower announced the stroke of midnight. The world spun and the bed shook as they tumbled over the edge in one tumultuous release of energy that left them both breathless and staring at each other in silent wonder.
The rose left on the bed stand glowed and hovered in the air, before it disintegrated in a shimmer of red ashes. Nimphus too glowed, and pushed away from her, his skin on fire, until he collapsed on the bed next to her, as human as she was.
Stunned they looked at each other, for the man she knew as Nimphus was none other than the man who'd inhabited her dreams for as long as she could remember.
The ashes of the rose swirled and fell with the mere whisper of satisfied laughter, and Nimphus drew her to him for a kiss filled of wonder and love.
"Merry Christmas, my sweet petal."
