Eternity

By Darcy Abriel

Blood. Lust. Revenge. In 1570 Maximilian Wolffe was turned vampire, sired by a demonic master. Braggio Luca was an outcast rogue even among the undead, his hunting ground, the streets of Venice. Max learned to appreciate pain from the most skilled. He did what he had to do to survive. And in the end he begged. But a brutal master should always beware of what he creates.

He saw her. Wanted her. And he claimed her. In 1872 Venice Max and his companion, Claudio, hunt the streets of Venice once more. What Max finds is not what he expects--a woman to equal his passion. He takes her, tutors her in the darkest desires. Makes her his servitess. And ultimately his vampiress. Yet after turning her, he abandons her. To save her. It is the memory of Lena that may keep him from succumbing to the beast within.

More than a century passes when she is confronted once again with her sire, the vampire lover she has never forgotten. Weary of being alone, now it is Lena on the hunt for a servitor, a human male to submit to her every need. She finds him in Dr. Erik Rand. She claims him. What she doesn’t expect is Max’s return to demand what is rightfully his. Both Lena and her human, Erik. Would their memories re-ignite the fire that had once seared the nights of Venice?

Max has changed, he’s no longer the vampire Lena once loved. This vampire is more predatory, more dangerous. Max means to claim his possessions in the most elemental way known to mortal man...or to the undead. Will his vampiress submit to the dangerous creature he has become?

CAUTION: This story contains explicit sexual situations and strong language. You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dream Romantic Unlimited LLC
• Release date: Nov 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370273713

Darcy Abriel

Being a Cancer, Darcy Abriel always has been fond of deep, dark places. She’s enjoyed ghost stories and things that go bump in the night since she could first read. When she was in high school, she and her rock band boyfriend and his buddies from the band once spent a weekend in her basement with the Ouija Board contacting a revolutionary war ghost. She’s loved monster movies from an early age, and she’s used to odd looks from people. Facing demons, inner and outer, is one of the things Darcy enjoys most when it comes to writing stories. She calls her office, “the cave” and doesn’t always play well with others. Bu she tries.Darcy loves digging in and creating worlds wicked, and characters dangerous. Dark fantasy and dark erotica, breaking boundaries in genre and gender, blending angels and castrati, demons and gods, humans and succubi. You think you know who the hero is, but do you really? Whether it’s a succubus in “Deadeye,” the Viadine and Diadune in “Nightingale,” a contemporary troubled hero in “Cruel Memories,” or a steampunk dystopian intersexed world like Quentopolis, there’s nothing simple about these stories or the characters. How the heck do you mix gods and cowboys, pirates and zombies, and a whole range of other odd pairings? As far as Darcy’s concerned, the darker the better, the more complex, the more fun. Redemption takes many forms for Darcy’s characters. Take an idea, twist it, mold it, break it apart, and drive that stake even deeper into the quagmire. Spank it, whip it, stroke it, tease it, soothe it, romance it to death.You say it can’t be done? Here that naughty chuckle? That’s Darcy saying, “maybe...maybe not. Let me think about that for a minute. Muse mine, what do you think? Can we rock it hard?” Oh, yeah. Let’s play. Where’s my stash of strawberry Twizzlers, and the peacock blue ink for my fountain pen, the notebooks, the Tarot cards? Let’s do this.

Book preview

Blood. Lust. Revenge. In 1570 Maximilian Wolffe was turned vampire, sired by a demonic master. Braggio Luca was an outcast rogue even among the undead, his hunting ground, the streets of Venice. Max learned to appreciate pain from the most skilled. He did what he had to do to survive. And in the end he begged. But a brutal master should always beware of what he creates.

He saw her. Wanted her. And he claimed her. In 1872 Venice Max and his companion, Claudio, hunt the streets of Venice once more. What Max finds is not what he expects--a woman to equal his passion. He takes her, tutors her in the darkest desires. Makes her his servitess. And ultimately his vampiress. Yet after turning her, he abandons her. To save her. It is the memory of Lena that may keep him from succumbing to the beast within.

More than a century passes when she is confronted once again with her sire, the vampire lover she has never forgotten. Weary of being alone, now it is Lena on the hunt for a servitor, a human male to submit to her every need. She finds him in Dr. Erik Rand. She claims him. What she doesn’t expect is Max’s return to demand what is rightfully his. Both Lena and her human, Erik. Would their memories re-ignite the fire that had once seared the nights of Venice?

Max has changed, he’s no longer the vampire Lena once loved. This vampire is more predatory, more dangerous. Max means to claim his possessions in the most elemental way known to mortal man…or to the undead. Will his vampiress submit to the dangerous creature he has become?

This story is a work of original fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

This book remains the copyrighted property of the author.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2017 by Darcy Abriel

Cover Art Designs by T. A. Gallup

This story was originally released in March 2009 by Amber Quill Press/Amber Heat

CAUTION: This story contains explicit sexual situations and strong language. You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.

Eternity

By Darcy Abriel

Dream Romantic Unlimited, LLC

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

NETWORKING LINKS

CHAPTER ONE

The Present

Servitor. Human property of the undead. A human male who serves at the pleasure of a vampire—in all ways. Connected through blood, owned through mind and soul. Heart and soul are of little consequence to vampires.

That had been Max’s definition a long time ago. He would never have admitted to possessing human emotions of any type. He had never put much stock in the human heart. Only in the blood and body. And those he had worshiped with particular enthusiasm.

Lena had entered the vampire world as Max’s servitess. It was a better position than the slave that Werner had ultimately become. Max had shown her a world of freedoms and exploration she would not have believed would have been open to her at the time. And he had shown her so much more.

Claiming a servitor was a serious undertaking for a vampire. But after all these years Lena was on the hunt for a servitor of her own. Having kept mainly to herself since…her mind shied from the memory. The only model she had to go by was her own service to Max. And, of course, Werner’s slavish devotion to Claudio. But then Werner had always been devoted to male cock. She might have wished she had known about the baron’s preferences before they had become engaged. Ah, well, that was all in the past now. A century added…perspective.

In the preternatural world there were three ways to terminate servitor status to a vampire. Request to be turned vampire, request release by the master or mistress. Or accept the finality of a human death.

Lena, on the brink of the latter had ultimately chosen the former. Werner, as far as she knew, had died a human death. The tantalizing Razio was released, more or less—but then first-blood dedicants usually were. All three possibilities were within the power of the vampire to grant.

Lena was finally ready to make the commitment to ownership and accept the responsibilities associated with such human devotion.

Hunting for blood donors at the Silver Nail often proved to be a rewarding task. It was one of her favorite hunting grounds for an evening’s amusement. Like choosing from a five-star restaurant menu of savory and exotic delights. Tonight she would be upping the stakes—the prolonged commitment provided by someone dedicated to her comfort and protection. And sexual satiation, of course. That meant someone above the average human submissive or vampire groupie one usually encountered haunting the preternatural establishment of the Silver Nail. Usually goth types seeking their nightly dose of quasi-suicide. Lena wasn’t certain she would find exactly what she was searching for tonight, but this bar was as good a place to begin as any.

She’d managed alone just fine for the last century; she would wait until she found exactly what she was looking for. Sauntering up to the bar, Lena used just a hint of compulsion on the human seated in her spot. It was a corner stool, well away from the mainstream traffic of the busy nightclub. It was the perfect place to observe. She eased herself onto the supple red leather bar stool. Hardly seconds passed before a glass of her favorite Vin Santo was placed before her.

She smiled at the bartender, picked up the glass and took a sip.

Perfect, Jerry. Thank you. Sweet, holy wine imported from Tuscany. She’d developed a taste for it when she was in Italy. When she was alive. Before they’d arrived in Venice. After a meal, a glass of Vin Santo and two homemade almond cookies. A sweet dessert wine, perfect after a heavy meal. Of course, now she settled strictly for sipping the wine. It especially tasted delightful after a hunt. Rituals changed when one became the undead. Surprisingly, her sweet tooth had remained intact, although somewhat altered. True sweets now came more in the form of human blood donors. She had become a connoisseur of fine blood. It amused her to think she could still enjoy a sip of holy wine after a good blood feeding, considering her undead state. As long as she didn’t imbibe too deeply. Too much of any wine had a decidedly nasty affect on her.

You’re welcome, Baroness. This is the last bottle we have in stock. I thought you might like to know.

She nodded. I’ll see to it, Jerry. You can let Antonio know I’ll arrange for another case to be delivered before the week is out.

I’ll be sure to do that. Enjoy your evening.

He walked back to the other end of the bar and Lena turned to survey the patrons. A strange sense of being watched passed through her. It was a familiar preternatural probe of the undead that caused her self-preservation instincts to kick in. Casually, she glanced around the darkened room. She saw nothing that should cause her undue alarm. The sensation evaporated. She wasn’t even certain what species it might have been. Vampire? Maybe. Zombie? Possibly, but not likely. Nevertheless, the feeling dissipated and she re-focused on her reason for being at the Silver Nail.

Lena had learned to prolong the chase, rather than speeding toward the ultimate conquest. Half the pleasure of the hunt was in targeting the right prey. All these years of hunting on her own had added a keen edge to her predatory instincts.

Thanks to Max.

Forget Max. He was gone, never to return. No point in dwelling on the past.

A century as vampire had changed her. She was no longer that traditional, albeit adventurous, young woman whom Max had claimed for himself and eventually brought over so many years ago. It was no longer 1872 and the world was a different place.

No mirror to reflect her image, she often manifested a more modern 1façade in an effort to destroy the woman she had been in Venice. Lena now lived an Americanized life with cosmopolitan flare. The image she projected was of an exotic, yet contemporary woman, with glossy black hair, worn in a short, sophisticated, sleek do, framing a slender, patrician face. No real hint of her Austrian heritage in evidence. Her brown eyes slightly tilted upward at the corners. Only her accent still held a hint of her Austrian heritage. The complete effect added to the ability to draw most any quarry she chose with slight effort.

Certainly she could change her appearance on a whim if she so chose. It was only at dawn, when she climbed into the ivory-colored coffin lined with pale blue that the veneer faded. It was only then that the past would flood her dreams and she could relive the passion she had once known with Max.

Lena gazed around the nightclub, noting the rich smell of leather, the shiny gleam of red and black latex. She heard the jingle of chains, the sigh of orgasmic pleasure. Her acute vampire hearing had always represented one of the many erotic pleasures of allowing Max to bring her over.

The beat of the music pulsed through her. She had come rather far for the innocent, restless, daughter of a wealthy shipbuilder of Victorian propriety. She had been a woman who loved architecture, but would never have been offered an opportunity to pursue her dream of designing buildings. An arranged marriage had been her only destiny back then. But her acquaintance with the mysterious Maximilian Wolffe had changed that.

Her fangs began to ache. It was a telltale sign she was ripe for a feeding. But she wanted more than the usual evening meal. More than one night of pleasant appetizer. Her sharp gaze circuited the room, paused, and then moved on. Hunting—searching for just the right donor. Her lingering gaze passed from one to another and she circuited the room, more than willing to take her time. Patience was a virtue she had acquired over the years. There was no need to rush. Too many years of solitary existence, of being afraid to become too involved with any of the humans she encountered. She still burned from Max’s savage abandonment almost a century ago. She had vowed she would never bind herself to another, neither human nor vampire. And in all these years she had never broken that oath.

The bass music intensified, the half-naked dancers bumped and rubbed harder against each other. The scent of arousal and sex permeated the atmosphere of the club. She spotted a vampire across the room—an acquaintance. He already had a human in tow and was headed toward a darkened, secluded corner in the sequestered, private rooms at the rear of the bar. Once one passed through the unmarked black door at the back, well guarded by a zombie bodyguard, there were many intimate alcoves one could use to advantage. There the vampire could partake of his pretty toy at his leisure. It was the preternatural foreplay area. Downstairs was another matter entirely.

They acknowledged each other with a slight nod. Tonight he’d stay out of her way; she’d stay out of his. There was the odd night when they had shared in a communal feeding. And those could be quite satisfactory. The vampire tribe wasn’t as structured here in the States as it had been in Italy. Or maybe it was just the times were different, more relaxed than they had been when she’d first been turned. Each locale appeared to have their own set of rules and rituals. Some more savage than others.

She had to admit there were some days when she yearned for the old traditions that seemed to have been lost. Maybe if she returned to Venice. No. She would never go back there. There were too many memories attached to the place.

Her attention was caught by a lovely young man at the other end of the bar. She hadn’t noticed him before, he must have just arrived. He seemed so out of place. How had he ended up here? She scanned his thoughts and discovered his name was Erik. How intriguing. He was a doctor. Dr. Erik Rand. She liked his name. She was even intrigued by his profession. It reminded her of Razio, a pleasant memory from the past.

Her attention was roused. So out of place in a bar like this one. Perfect. Dark, unruly hair, open-necked rumpled white shirt, looking weary. Worry lines etched his face. He must have had a long day. He was young, maybe twenty-nine or thirty, with blanched skin that spoke of little time in the sun. He sat hunched over a trio of tequila shots, appearing lost and sad, totally ignorant of what was going on around him. She smelled innocence and vulnerability.

She scented unclaimed.

Yes. Just what she was looking for in her potential new servitor.

She motioned to Jerry, who immediately stopped what he was doing and walked to her side of the bar. Really, compulsion was one of her abilities that she truly did enjoy. Very few humans could resist her when she wanted something.

The young man with the tequila shots. Give him two more with my compliments.

I think that’s kind of going to put him under the table, Baroness. He doesn’t seem like he can handle what he’s got.

She smiled, knowing full well what she was doing. Weakening any possible resistance. Just deliver them. Don’t worry, he won’t be driving anywhere on his own tonight.

The bartender grinned. She passed him a couple of extra bills for his trouble. Not the house brand. Use the reserve stock. She slid a fifty across the sleek, polished mahogany surface to sweeten the task.

That’s more than the drinks cost.

She stroked his jaw with the sharp-tipped nail of her index finger. She was tempted. Dressed in tight leather pants that cupped his ass quite exquisitely, black vest that intrigued with the little it covered, he could prove to be a tasty morsel for the evening. He had been so in the past. Then her gaze returned to the young man at the end of the bar.

A tip, darling. You’re such a good boy to do this for me. Then she sighed and released him from her compulsion. Maybe another night.

Jerry set the two additional drinks in front of the delicious man. His eyes popped wide. With her preternatural hearing, she could easily hear the conversation from where she sat. Then she focused and tuned into his unguarded thoughts.

::Five of them? What the hell am I going to do with five tequila shots? It was stupid to order three.::

Where did these come from? he asked the bartender.

Jerry pointed toward the end of the bar. Erik shifted his gaze and peered into the shadowed corner where she sat. Lena sensed first his curiosity and then the immediate interest and arousal. Oh, he would be hers all right, if she was satisfied with his performance tonight. She tuned into his thoughts once again.

::Damn. Talk about hot. Who’d have thought I’d luck out tonight of all nights?::

Without lowering his gaze, he picked up the first shot of liquid fire, raised it in salute, then downed it with a quick gulp. The expression on his face was priceless. After that manly gulp she heard the shocked gasp. Color flooded his face. She’d tried tequila once. Not to her taste. He’d picked up one of the fresh glasses, the private label, and she bet it was like he’d swallowed a match as it seared down his throat, burning hotly as it hit his stomach. But he was valiant, she’d give him that. She watched with a certain amount of respect as, eyes still watering, he picked up the second one and tipped it back just as quickly as he had done with the first. He wasn’t backing down an inch.

::It’s got to get better. My damn throat should be numb by the time I finish off that last one. She is way too hot to lose. She bought ’em. I’ll show her how much I can handle.:: He downed the third one. ::Oh yeah, that’s better. Hardly felt that one at all. Bet I should have had something to eat before coming in here. It fucking