[Vorcla]

There was no escape for her.

His lips drew back over his fangs in a fearsome, triumphant grin as he loped easily in pursuit over the soft turf of the forest floor. He was toying with her; he could easily have run her down and slaughtered and devoured her by now.

But he enjoyed the hunt and the chase too much.

The swirling fog glowed in the dark, phosphorescent, leading the way, betraying his quarry. She was just ahead. He could hear her breath, loud as the wind, coming in tortured sobs, the pounding of her heart booming like claps of thunder. He could smell her sweat, her fear.

There was blood, too, from brambles that had whipped her soft skin, from sharp rocks that had slashed the soles of her bare feet. That scent nearly drove him insane, but he managed to restrain himself.

He heard her trip and sprawl on her stomach with a grunt.

It was over; time for the kill...

His sensitive night vision rendered the glade as bright as day under the glow of the full moon. The fog had caught fire here, a red miasma that settled over the woods like a curtain, shrouding the night. Her long, wavy chestnut hair was plastered to her head, and her hazel eyes were wide with terror. The sweat-soaked nightshirt she wore, her only clothing, clung to her slender form. She was a beautiful young creature, nubile and desirable.

But he wasn't the least bit interested in mating with her.

He only wanted to kill and eat something soft and warm and tender...

The Wolf stood on his hind legs, rising up to his full height of almost eight feet. His blonde fur bristled, making him appear even more massive and terrifying, and he roared ferociously. The girl screamed and wept and pleaded, but her rubbery legs refused to obey her command to run.

He was on her in a flash, grabbing both of her slender wrists in one huge paw and yanking her into the air as she shrieked, jerking and kicking frantically, and he tore off her shirt, stripping her completely naked. He slowly drew his ebony talons along her dangling body, peeling the flesh from her muscles. He continued to flay her mangled form, not stopping even when her screams faded into whimpers, not stopping when her struggles ceased, not stopping even when she resembeled a butchered side of beef...

Then, with a vicious slash of his paw, he disemboweled her, ripping open her belly with his razor-sharp claws. He laid her torn body on a rock outcrop; rivers of scarlet streamed over the stone, and he nuzzled into the wet, red chasm he had carved into her, burying his fangs in steaming entrails and organ meat as her last raspy screams eroded into a moist gurgle...

He awoke, gasping, trembling in terror..

A nightmare - something terrible that eluded his conscious mind even before his eyes were fully open.

Gemma!

But she was safe, nestled snugly against him, her body soft and warm.

Why, then, was he so terrified for her?

Morning sunshine flooded her cottage with a cheery golden glow. He held her even closer to him and kissed her cheek. Her eyes flickered open slowly.

They were beautiful, like everything else about her, warm hazel with flecks of gold. He stared into them, mesmerized.

"Good morning," she croaked sleepily. "Thank you for letting me stay with you last night. It never used to be a problem, but ever since my Papa died, I've been afraid of the dark."

He smiled and brushed his lips over her hair, which smelled like jasmine.

"Funny," he murmured, smiling fondly. "Mel's like that, too - afraid of the dark. She's been like that ever since she was a little kid, though."

Gemma froze.

"Michael - who's Mel?" she asked carefully.

He stared blankly. His striking green eyes mirrored his frustration.

"I...damn! I can't remember! I should be able to, but I can't." Tears misted up and trickled down his cheeks.

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "It's all right," she whispered. "It will happen. It's so close; just relax - it will probably come on its own. That was a nasty wound." She was so intoxicatingly close to him that his head swam.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Yes. I feel fine today, actually. I could eat." He shrugged off the comforter and glanced down at the shapeless, baggy cutoff shorts he was wearing. "Hmmm. You wouldn't happen to have anything a bit more, uh, stylish than these, would you?"

"You can check the closet in the other room," she replied. "That's all I could find on short notice. Dad was about your size when he was younger. You can probably find some jeans or slacks and some shirts that will fit."

Suddenly his cheeks flushed pink.

"Uh, Gemma...you saw my..I mean, you saw me..."

She turned red as a beet and nodded vigorously.

"I couldn't help it. You were, um, naked when I found you, and - well..."

Suddenly, she remembered he could read her mind, and a hand flew to her mouth as she recalled wondering what it would have felt like to touch his...

"Gemma!"

His eyes were wide, and now he was as crimson as she was. Gemma burst into tears.

"I...I'm so s-sorry, Michael! I'd never seen...I mean, I'd seen pictures of one, but not..."

He smiled and hugged her to him, still embarrassed, but wanting to comfort her, and she sobbed into his chest. "It's okay. I was just a little taken aback," he said. "It's kind of funny, actually."

"Y-you're not upset with me?" she sniffled.

"No - not at all." He stroked her hair. "Let's restart the morning. You get some breakfast, and I'll get some clothes."

Gemma smiled through her tears. ""Sounds like a good idea."

She gently disengaged from him and padded to the kitchen. He watched her as he rose from the bed. She was so beautiful and graceful; the morning sun backlit her naked form under her nightshirt, and he fervently hoped she couldn't read his mind at that moment! He hurried into the small bedroom.

Gemma shook her head. He distracted her. He was so handsome, and she found herself experiencing feelings she never would dared to feel before, and thoughts she had never would have dared to consider before. She set up a grill and started a fire in the hearth, then walked out to the henhouse to get some fresh eggs, ignoring the explosion of white feathers and indignant clucking as she raided the nests. She couldn't stop thinking about him, even as she started the eggs and pancakes and went down in the cellar to get some ham steaks from the refrigerator. She climbed the stairs, lost in thought. The meat sizzled as she tossed it on the grate.

"Oh, wow - neat!" she heard Michael exclaim.

Gemma nearly dropped her spatula when he came out of the bedroom. He had found a pair of worn, snug-fitting jeans and a short-sleeved, v-neck chamois overshirt, along with a pair of sandals that seemed to fit. The clothes hugged his lithe form in a most flattering fashion. Her pulse grew erratic and pounded in her ears.

But Michael was more interested in the big acoustic guitar he was carrying in his hand. It was a beautiful instrument, well-cared for, with a blonde top and dark back. Not a single dent marred its flawless surface.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked excitedly.

"A guitar," Gemma answered, trying not to stare at him, and attempting to bank down the thoughts that threatened to explode in her mind. "It was Papa's."

But Michael was too engrossed in the guitar to worry about the devastating impact his appearance was having on Gemma.

"Not just any guitar," he returned. "This is a pre-war Martin D-45 acoustic dreadnought!"

"Is that good?" she asked.

"Good?!" He chuckled. "This is one of the most sought-after guitars in the world! A collector would pay a fortune for it." He sat on the edge of the bed and gazed pleadingly at her. "May I play it?"

Suddenly it dawned on Gemma that the guitar might help unlock his memory.

"Of course," she replied, half-watching the breakfast and half-watching him.

He began to tune by ear, using harmonic chimes, and it was obvious he knew what he was doing. He strummed a few chords, then fell into a beautiful fingerpicking pattern that went up and down the neck.

"That's gorgeous," Gemma said as she flipped the pancakes. "What is it?"

"It's one I wrote," he said, an almost beatific smile on his face. "It's called 'Melissa's Song,' and I think it's my best tune. I'll play it for you."

It was obvious that playing the guitar was relaxing him, transporting him somewhere else, and Gemma did nothing to break the spell. He began to sing in a beautiful tenor voice.

“Melissa sings a song of thanks for sunshine,
Takin' all her troubles right in stride.
Smilin' eyes for everyone who meets her,
Shinin' with the love she feels inside.

Wakin' to each crystal day with a joy th…”

He stopped playing abruptly. His eyes went wide with horror.

"Michael, what is it?"

But he couldn't hear her.

For a brief moment, he was in a dank, circular dungeon cell. A beautiful naked girl with alabaster white skin and coppery hair lay stretched and dead on a black altar slab, angy red puncture wounds on her throat.

And then that image was overlain with a horrible vision of Gemma's gutted, mangled corpse lying torn and bloody on a rock outcrop. He gasped aloud.

A premonition?

Then before his conscious mind could latch onto them, the memories were gone, like quicksilver slipping through his fingers.

"Michael - are you all right?"

"Yeah - I'm fine," he said unconvincingly. "I ...seem to have forgotten how to play. Guess my memory just isn't ready yet." He smiled shakily. "That smells wonderful. Let me put the guitar away and we can eat."

Gemma set out two steaming plates on the kitchen table. She watched him carefully as they ate. He seemed to have recovered from whatever fright had seized him, but his eyes were haunted. They made small talk, and gradually she relaxed. He seemed much better now.

She felt her pulse racing as he smiled, and she realized she was growing more and more attracted to him by the minute. More than that, she wanted him.

Badly.

And Papa wasn't here to stand in her way. She could do what she wanted to do; it would be her choice.

She came to a decision...

"So you do have electricity and running water up here; you just choose not to use them as much as possible," he was saying as Gemma cleared away the dishes.

She nodded. "The earth is my spiritual mother," she said. "Papa believed that, too. I am close to nature and live off the land as much as I can. Of course, there is a refrigerator/freezer and a hot water heater in the cellar, along with a sink and shower stall. But on this floor, everything is as it was when this cottage was built." She smiled almost guiltily. "I must say, though, that I do turn on the heat in the winter, even though we have a marvelous fireplace."

His laugh shivered through her body like an electrical charge.

"Can't say I blame you there," he said. "I imagine it gets pretty chilly here. Gets cold as hell in Michigan."

"Michigan," Gemma repeated softly. "Is that where you're from, Michael?"

He stared for a moment.

"Yes," he said finally, with conviction. "Yes, I am. I remember the north woods - so much like your forests here. Beautiful. There's a lake on our property; we go fishing and swimming in the summer."

Gemma clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, yes! That's a start at least." She hugged him and gave him a quick kiss. "It's going to be hot today. I have a lake here, too. Why don't we go swimming?"

"Sounds good," he answered. "Can you scare up a suit for me?"

Gemma nodded. "Let me change, and I'll bring one out for you."

She disappeared into the bedroom, and he gazed out the window. He smiled. Perhaps his memory was returning. He was from Michigan; that much he knew. He couldn't remember his name, or even the name of his hometown, but at least he knew he came from Michigan.

The door to the bedroom opened, and his breath caught in his throat.

Gemma was wearing a white bikini that showed off her supple, smoothly-tanned body to perfection. He swallowed hard.

"Do you like it?" she asked shyly. "I bought it one time when I went to the city. Papa never saw it; he would have had a fit."

"God," he murmured. "You're beautiful, Gemma..."

She giggled and blushed.

"Thank you, Michael. I take it you approve." She handed him a pair of swim trunks. "The lake is down the hill from the vegetable garden. I'll meet you there."

He followed a few moments later. The lake was situated in a beautiful, shaded glen surrounded by tall trees. The sun felt wonderful on his skin, and the grass was cool against his bare feet. Leaves whispered half-heard names in the light breeze. Specular reflections of sunlight danced off the surface of the lake. Gemma was already in the water, smiling enigmatically. He waded out to her. The water was pleasurably cool, but not cold. It felt good. He glanced over at the bank of the lake where she had laid out the beach towels, and he froze.

Her skimpy white bikini lay discarded on a towel.

"Uhhh...Gemma?"

Suddenly she dived beneath the water. She grabbed his ankles and pulled him under; her hands grabbed at him, and his trunks were quickly and skillfully peeled off his body. He sputtered to the surface, shaking water from his eyes.

Gemma bobbed to the surface, waving his swimsuit in the air, like a trophy. She was gloriously naked, a water nymph rising from the lake. His body responded predictably at the sight of her unfettered beauty.

"Jesus! Wh-what's gotten into you?" he gasped.

"You, I hope."

Her lips claimed his, savagely, and her thoughts became his own as she touched him. Something like electricity arced between them. He was astonished that her need for him was even stronger than his own desire. Years of repression, stoked by her father's overly protective ways, flooded through her. Pent-up needs that had grown ever stronger in the past few months raged like a wildfire, fueling his own desire all the more.

There were tears in her eyes.

"Please..." she whispered.

He could barely remember carrying her from the lake, or how they fell together on the towels. He entered her,and she eagerly cupped his buttocks with her hands and pushed him deeper inside her. He sensed her brief stab of pain as he deflowered her, and then suddenly her tidal wave of desire melded with his own urgent need, and they were out of control. They began to make love in earnest, and it was all as wonderful as they had both hoped and feared. But it felt too good, in fact, and the first time was over almost before it began.

He gazed down sheepishly at her.

"I'm sor-"

She pressed a finger against his lips.

"Shhhhhhh..." she whispered. "It's all right. I was as excited as you were. We'll both get better."

He squeezed her hand. "I just want to make you happy."

"You have. You will." She kissed him. "Let's try it again."

This time it was slow, and sweet, and beautiful. They took their time, enjoying each other.

The two of them headed back to the cottage then and sprawled on her big bed. They spent the rest of a blissful day and evening exploring each other, discovering ever more inventive ways to pleasure each other.

Finally, as darkness fell and the night birds began to sing, they happily succumbed to exhaustion, spent and safe in each other's arms.

As he drifted peacefully off to sleep, a single word, a name, fluttered through his consciousness.

"Melissa..."


*****


LaGory and his vampires had taken another village. This one was called Keatsburg, and it was a small inland hamlet. The waning moon had yet to rise; dark clouds scudded in front of the stars. Trees hissed in a light, balmy breeze.

Melissa stood over her fallen prey, her white gown soaked with their blood. The young couple had been walking hand in hand along the bank of the river. She had taken them completely by surprise and forced them to drink her blood before she finished them off.

Now they lay dead at her feet on the path, waiting to be awakened from their temporary slumber to serve her as her vampire slaves.

'Leah won't be the only one with her own thralls!' Melissa thought vindictively.

She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated, and the earth heaved and literally swallowed the bodies up. The night was damp and foggy, and she breathed in the smoky air. She was about to transform into her winged creature form when she 'heard' a voice in her head.

'Melissa...'

She went to her knees, gasping. Impossible! It couldn't be...

"Dylan?" she whispered aloud.

He was alive!

How could he be? Where was he? She had experienced his mindtouch for the briefest of seconds, but was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he lived still.

She heard light footsteps behind her.

"Melissa - are you all right, child?"

Nilos! She would have to tell him about Dylan; he'd be able to sense it anyway. She rose slowly and turned to face him.

"Master...Dylan lives. He just mindlinked with me for a brief second."

LaGory paled. She fancied she could see fear in the depths of his blue eyes, and it troubled her.

"It was not my imagination, then," he whispered. "I knew his link to me had not been severed, and I thought I sensed his presence strongly a few moments ago."

"I could not tell where he was, though, or how far away," Melissa said apologetically. "I am sorry."

"It's all right." He appeared to be in a daze. "Go help with the cleanup; I'll be along shortly."

He turned and strode off into the woods.

Melissa's mind was in turmoil. Dylan. her sweet Dylan was still alive! The bat creature inside her raged at her foolish roiling emotions, but she battled the monster, beat it down. She would not relinquish her human half so easily. She had been convinced he was dead, beyond hope. Now, to discover he still lived...

She quelled her excitement. It was foolish of her to even entertain the thought that they could reunite. She was a vampire; she belonged to Nilos LaGory now. Still...

She could always hope...

To be continued...

['Ginnis]

Ohhhh...that was interesting...

Well done, Rick. Dylan's music geek nature is coming through loud and clear. The turmoil of the Gemma/Mel split is wonderful as well. Tasteful sex scene, not in the least bit raunchy though I must say, Gemma certainly does know how to get what she wants.

Good work.

[dearest]

Another great chapter! ^_^ dylan's premonitions/dreams are certainly interesting, since it seems that memories are starting to surface, I wonder how long it will be before dylan remembers what he is, and what implications that will have to Gemma. Uh oh. ^_^ Oh, by the way, I agree with kara. Very tasteful, does not send me running back to the kiddie table. Thumbs up. ^_^ Glad to see that Mel also still has a shred of humanity left, and it should definitely be interesing to see how that inner struggle will play out when she ultimately has to choose who she'll stand with. Great set-up chapter, can't wait to read more!

[Vorcla]

Thanks, Kara.

Music geek?! I resemble that remark! I thought it might be plausible that if Dylan relaxed and got into the music, some of his true nature would show through, and he'd remember. He almost did.

Gemma...all that repression. It had to manifest itself in some way. I kinda like the "de-pantsing" part of the scene.

Thanks for the comment.

[Vorcla]

Whoops! Hi, Tricia. Thank you. I keep shooting for kinder, gentler, tasteful Vorc - but still with an edge. Things are starting to come to a head, and you may be surprised what happens when Dylan remembers who - and what - he is. Good ol' Mel is trying to hang on. WE'll see how that pans out soon, too.

Thanks for commenting, Tricia.

[Syrah]

Melissa's mind was in turmoil. Dylan. her sweet Dylan was still alive!

That should be fixed. Well, all caught up in this series so far. Not in the critique mode. Will do another time.

[Vorcla]

Thanks for the catch - and thanks for reading, Sy.

[Venomous Vixen]

I just wanted to leave a note and let you know I have been following this even though I have not commented. I am enjoying the relationship development between Vorc and Gemma even though his dreams make me think the 'fairytale' won't last, it is a nice break in the killings and tragedy I agree with Kara, this sex scene was subtle and I enjoyed that a great deal - but there was still a playfullness to it. Looking forward to more, things seems to be heating up as far as Mel and Nilos go, not long until there is some more action I am sure. As always, excellent!

[Vorcla]

Thanks, hun. You know how much I appreciate that. I'm glad you've had time to read - I know how much of a crunch it's been lately for you, and I appreciate it.

[Jimbalaya]

Had to play catch up on this story, saw you posted 13 so I read them both. Here goes:

He was on her in a flash, grabbing both of her slender wrists in one huge paw and yanking her into the air as she shrieked, jerking and kicking frantically, and he tore off her shirt, stripping her completely naked.

You could probably delete this because a couple of paragraphs above you mention that "The sweat-soaked nightshirt she wore, hor only clothing..." so we know that once the nightshirt was gone, she was "completely" nakes. Just a suggestion. It would eliminate the odd repetition.

"I couldn't help it. You were, um, naked when I found you, and - well..."

Suddenly, she remembered he could read her mind, and a hand flew to her mouth as she recalled wondering what it would have felt like to touch his...

"Gemma!"

His eyes were wide, and now he was as crimson as she was. Gemma burst into tears.

"I...I'm so s-sorry, Michael! I'd never seen...I mean, I'd seen pictures of one, but not..."

He smiled and hugged her to him, still embarrassed, but wanting to comfort her, and she sobbed into his chest. "It's okay. I was just a little taken aback," he said. "It's kind of funny, actually."

HAHAHAHA!!! I loved this part!

He distracted her. He was so handsome, and she found herself experiencing feelings she never would dared to feel before, and thoughts she had never would have dared to consider before.

Why does that 'had' make this sentence seem wierd? Maybe it's just me, but I got hung up here and had a hard time trying to figure out why it was there, it doesn't seem like you need it. I'm probably wrong, though. Anyway, it was wierd for me.

'Leah won't be the only one with her own thralls!' Melissa thought vindictively.

Why all of a sudden do you use the single quotation marks? Most of your characters other "thoughts" are in italics. Just wondering, maybe I can learn something...Is there a reason?

This was an awesom slow down. Dylan's dreams and flashbacks are tormenting him greatly. Maybe not necessarily the dreams and flashbacks, but the knowledge that his memories are right there waiting to be grasped, but he can't quite reach them. Very frustrating for the poor boy.

Gemma went from a shy sweet little thing to a seductive little minx who knows exactly what she wants. It was great to see her realize that she was an adult and all grown up, with no one to tell here what to do, she didn't beat around the bush (so to speak) at all and went directly for what she wanted. The transfomation was tastefully excecuted, nice job there...I still over her to pieces and you can still give her to me if you want rather than kill her off...

It's nice to know that Mel still has a conflict within herself about Dylan, she's still got some human in her, it will be interesting to see just how much human is left.

Lagory is creating quite the army...I wonder how they will all be taken out, or will they be?

Excellent reading, Rick!

[Vorcla]

Originally Posted by Vorcla;

He distracted her. He was so handsome, and she found herself experiencing feelings she never would dared to feel before, and thoughts she had never would have dared to consider before.

Originally Posted by Jimbalaya;

Why does that 'had' make this sentence seem wierd? Maybe it's just me, but I got hung up here and had a hard time trying to figure out why it was there, it doesn't seem like you need it. I'm probably wrong, though. Anyway, it was wierd for me.

Because it is weird! It's an edit gone wrong - a word that was supposed to be deleted and wasn't. Nice catch.

Originally Posted by Vorcla;

'Leah won't be the only one with her own thralls!' Melissa thought vindictively.

Originally Posted by Jimbalaya;

Why all of a sudden do you use the single quotation marks? Most of your characters other "thoughts" are in italics. Just wondering, maybe I can learn something...Is there a reason?

Of course there is. It's called "lack of continuity." Either italics or single quotes are acceptable for thoughts, but the writer should stick with one or the other. Personally I think the italics work better.

Originally Posted by Jimbalaya;

Excellent reading, Rick!

Thanks, Jim. Thanks for taking the time to read and leave such an in depth comment.

[RENA HANDS]

Should it be…Her eyes flickered, (opened) slowly.(?)

Maybe…She’d been like that ever since she was a (little girl) though.

Maybe…white skin and coppery hair lay stretched and dead on a black altar slab (with) (angry) angy red puncture wounds on her throat. (You missed the ‘r’ in angry.)

Possibly center the ************s.

Invigorating chills! So that leaves four more parts to go…lol

I shall give Part 12 a rating of 5/5!

[Vorcla]

Thanks, RENA. Glad you're enjoying it.