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November 22, 1870

Marguerite

Every time I feed, it is as though I am experiencing my very first rising dawn.

The world around me brightens, becoming infinitely more detailed.

My nerves alight with thrumming ecstasy and my mind becomes instantly alacritous.

If that were not enough, I had the honor of sitting beside Luci.

I would have slaughtered every man in this saloon to fuck her on the rough dirt floor if she would had me.

Her eyes went wholly black as she dragged the remaining blood from the body.

The man was a fucking imbecile, it was entirely too easy to ply him with promises of riches to be won in California.

But at last, he had gone completely white, his eyes sunken deeply into their sockets.

Luciana dropped the desiccated corpse and its skull smacked against the table as it slid to the ground with a quiet thud.

Her eyes glowed in the dim bar room.

I’m still amazed every time I see her like that.

She could never, ever be mistaken as human.

Her fangs remained extended, glinting like polished glass.

Not a single drop of blood marred her face; she was perfect—lips blushing scarlet and begging to be kissed.

Not even her silly costume dulled the air of royalty that surrounded her like invisible incandescence.

“Marguerite,” she growled, and I went molten.

My voice came out breathy and quivering.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Would you like to play a game?” A black curl had fallen from beneath her hat, and a clumsy patron shouldering it caused it to blow across her face momentarily.

She tucked it behind her ear and smiled wickedly.

“Of course I would. You know I love games.”

The shell of my ear vibrated with her voice, suddenly so close I could taste her perfume.

“Catch me.”

She was gone.

My enhanced senses, sharper than any living human, still can’t conceptualize her speed; my eyes did not even blink, and she had vanished from this room.

Of all the abilities I have gained as a blood drinker, my favorite is strength.

Hers is speed.

I was after her in a flash, scenting her on the air like a hound.

I tossed the hat aside, letting my chignon unravel, and the pale yellow of my long hair caught the moonlight as it streamed behind me.

Trousers are most excellent to run in, and a laugh bubbled up my throat at the unfettered happiness I felt, racing across ice-crusted dry grass and thorny brush.

I caught a breath of almond blossoms and turned, following my instincts into the unbroken darkness of the landscape, darting into bare-limbed trees and across a tiny stream.

I felt, for a moment, alive—and it was as brilliant as the sun.

A whisper from behind had me spinning mid-air, boots skidding into the dirt and eyes scanning my surroundings.

I love the game, hunting the hunter.

Luci is faster and more cunning than me, but she loves the chase, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

“So close.”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” I murmured into the black, and was rewarded with her deliciously low laughter.

A branch snapped and I leapt for it, hands outstretched, finding only cold air.

Fingers trailed over my lower back and I fought the urge to follow them.

She was playing with me but I have learned at least a few of her tricks.

Instead, I pivoted away from the touch and came face-to-face with solid black eyes and full, red lips.

Her shirt had come unbuttoned and the swell of her breasts spilled over her corset, set against the severe line of sharp collarbones.

Her icy fingers grabbed hold of my throat, lifting me up so my feet kicked at nothing, and I moaned toward the star-flecked sky.

“I win,” she spoke into my own bosom—level with her face.

I let my legs scissor in the open air one more time, knowing how much she loves to see me struggle like a snared rabbit, and then she let go.

I landed in her lap somehow, and her hand found the buttons of my trousers.

She deftly maneuvered the closure and the pants slid down my hips.

The tight-fitting wool drawers I wore beneath were damp between my thighs, and the frigid wind felt like a bolt of lightning against my sensitive skin.

The drawers, too, were pulled from my ass and I shimmied them down my legs and kicked them off clumsily.

When she pulled me over her face, my head tipped back at the first long, precise drag of her tongue.

My knees disrupted the half-frozen dirt, and I felt strands of her hair snap beneath me.

Her cheeks were framed by my thighs, ruinous, looking up at me from beneath my little puff of blonde curls.

The black had begun to recede at the edges, reverting to the deep-water blue I love so much.

And then her tongue was on me again and I was lost—lost to sensation and pleasure and the wild unrestrained need that binds us together like pages and pages of handwritten poetry.

I sank onto her mouth, feeling the length of her fangs as they helped to spread me wide for her.

She kept her head angled so the points pricked my inner thighs while her tongue circled the throbbing pearl at the center of my petals.

My hips rocked, picking up speed as I let my eyelids flutter closed and took my own nipples between my cold fingertips, squeezing to the point of pain.

Luci’s voice whispered in my head, its low rasp winding through my thoughts in the way that only a Creator’s can.

Open your eyes, Marguerite, she commanded, and I was bound to comply by the very cells of her blood that flow through my veins.

They snapped open and my gaze was pulled to hers like the tide to the shore.

My hands slammed into the ground as the swell of my climax began to crash over me.

Frozen blades of brittle grass and sharp-edged stones cut into my palms, but I just dug my fingers into the earth, tangled with strands of my love’s coal black hair.

Just as it crested, and my entire body began to spark with prickling heat, I felt the subtle shift of her face, and her fangs plunged into my thigh.

I shattered into a million shards of glass, all glittering with the light of the moon and the endless swath of stars overhead.

She gulped my blood hungrily, and with each swallowed mouthful I came again and again and again.

By the time she licked the wounds clean, healing the two small punctures with her kiss, I was coated in a sheen of pale pink sweat.

I moved on hand and knee until our faces were level and collapsed against her, still quivering every few seconds.

Luci’s arms wrapped around me and my cheek rested in the hollow between her neck and shoulder, breathing her in as I came back down.

“I shall never tire of tasting the moment your blood changes,” she murmured against my hair.

“It’s like champagne when you come.”

I laughed softly, reaching up to push pink-stained flaxen hair from my face.

“Well, I shall never adjust to sweating blood—so I suppose we both have a long future of expected unexpectedness.”

She swatted at my bare backside playfully.

“Though I am loath to admit it, the clothing was a brilliant thought. I despise it, but it was effective.”

Despite my boneless limbs, I popped up to look down at her with a giddy grin.

“I knew it would be! Just think of all we can do, my love. How freeing it will be!”

“You need to work on your American male voice,” she replied wryly.

I played indignant at her jest.

“I didn’t hear you doing any spectacular impersonations, Countess. All you did was scowl.”

“Well”—she shrugged—“we all have our strengths.”

I fell back against her chest, still smiling.

The little flashes of her humor and playfulness are a greater gift than all the gold in the West.

I treasure them, holding them close to my heart like favorite photographs one might look upon fondly in times of trial.

Each passing year seems to chill her soul a little more—or whatever it could be called.

The Pope would certainly decry the presence of a soul in a creature such as Luci and I.

We inhabit the space between the living and the dead, relying on death to continue our existence.

Yet, I do not think myself wholly lost to darkness.

There is joy in it, and I believe as long as there is joy, there must be some sliver of good in a person.

This new frontier may be just what we need, my Luci and I.

Even in this rough-hewn place, I can imagine my love in her finest gowns, hear my own laughter as I seek and find all the mischief I can.

I know it may take time, but this land will become something—I can tell, and by being here in its infancy, perhaps we can claim a piece of it for ourselves.

Here, there are no royals, no aristocrats…

but all men seek to be led.

It is fortunate I have brought a Countess.