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Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance
Description: "Darke Sojourn:" A journey into darkness awaits Olympic runner Claudia Darke. Training in the ancient forests of France she literally trips over Arnaud, a vampire elder. In an instant she is taken on a roller coaster of sensuality where she discovers what love really means. Arnaud has been tracked down by hunters and left for dead. When Claudia saves his life by giving him her most precious gift; her blood, he takes her to his lair to hide. There he introduces Claudia to a type of love more intense than she could have possibly imagined. The hunters return and the two must flee, but will this strange love protect Claudia or lead her to her doom? "Darke Reunion:" After the bloody meeting between Claudia and detective Killian ("Darke Secrets," Torrid Teaser Volume 37) Claudia disappears. Michael Darke blames the beautiful detective for his sister's estrangement and their passionate relationship ends. Michael makes a poignant invitation for Claudia to come to him but he has other plans besides a brother sister reunion. He wants to put Claudia out of her misery, and then means to join her in death. Killian must do everything she can to keep the man she loves alive--at least for awhile. But to do so she must risk oblivion herself, for Arnaud's black shadow has descended upon them all. Publisher's Note: "Darke Sojourn" is a prequel to "Darke Secrets" (Torrid Teaser Volume 37)
eBook Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press, 2008
eBookwise Release Date: January 2009

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [78 KB]
Words: 14887
Reading time: 42-59 min.

DARKE SOJOURNE

I tripped over the body at four twelve in the morning.

I know the precise time because I was checking my heart rate after a steep run up a dark forest path.

Though I automatically noted my time and pulse, I was actually thinking about Milton, my coach. He'd proposed a couple of hours ago, just before he'd fallen asleep. We'd been energetically fucking each other for three hours straight, so I didn't blame him for passing out on me. I was knackered too. Before he'd drifted off he said he loved me and wanted to get married.

I found the idea extremely disturbing.

I couldn't sleep after that and when I can't sleep, I have to run. That's why I was jogging in the dark along a rough track through a heavily wooded hillside in France. Probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, but Milton had disturbed my equilibrium big time.

He had me thinking seriously about love, which was unusual, because I seldom thought about anything besides running, training and my diet. The concept of love puzzled me extremely. I was perplexed because I didn't have a sense of what it was, no real sense at all.

Athletes know how endorphins affect the mind and we constantly trick our moods by self-talk. We all know how to kid ourselves along: 'one more kilometer,' you tell yourself. 'Just one more and you're ahead of your target, you're a champion, just one more kilometer...' That sort of silliness.

That was the notion I was struggling with: is love just a combination of biochemical reactions and self-talk? Were all the heartfelt whining of the poets throughout history just about a chemically induced delusion and nothing else?

I had no answer and was cursing myself for wasting my energy on such things when my foot caught on something lying across the path, and I pitched ass-over-tit into the musty earth.

"Fuck!"

I recoiled at the cold kiss of dirt on my lips and the cushion of damp leaves beneath my cheek. I sat up on my ass and wiped my face. I furiously checked my ankles and knees, silently selling my soul to the devil that I hadn't twisted anything, fearing what Michael, my overprotective older brother would say, when a gurgling sound made me glance over my shoulder.

That's when I saw him.

"Jesus Christ!"

The guy I'd tripped over was a work of art. He was naked and his alabaster skin was so white it actually shone in the predawn light as if he was painted with phosphorous. He was well-built, muscular without being muscle-bound. His equipment was impressive, to say the least. Though flaccid, his cock was big and curled in his groin like a sleeping slug. My mouth went suddenly dry.

Next I noticed the jagged piece of wood sticking out of the center of his wide chest. A pool of gore had collected in the hollow it created where it disappeared into his flesh. As if that wasn't enough, there was the jagged gash that circled his throat like a ruby necklace.

The thing that struck me like a slap across the cheek was that he was awake. His bright amber eyes were open and he was gazing at me with an intensity that sent a flush of hot blood washing through me. His lips trembled and he raised his hand, beckoning me to him.

"Oh my God." I scrambled onto my knees and crawled to his side. "Are you all right?" I stammered, thinking at the time it was a really stupid thing to ask a man with a post sticking out of his chest.

His lips moved soundlessly in response and I bent my head close to listen. He raised his hands to my cheeks and with cold fingers caressed my shivering flesh. Suddenly, he gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth moved as if he were trying to speak and frothy blood bubbled over his full lips.

A wave of vertigo washed over me and the dark world reeled around my head. The fingers of the forest's leafless twigs seemed to reach into my mind and caress my thoughts as I lost control of my body.

He pulled my face closer and, though my mind was screaming, I couldn't resist. I opened my mouth in anticipation of a kiss. Instead he turned my head to the side and kissed my neck.

I felt a tickling sensation as his lips moved against my flesh, a faint sting and then a queasy sensation as if his tongue were worming its way inside my veins. I didn't feel afraid, or even angry. If anything, I swam in an overwhelming ocean of peace and languid lust.

My pussy, suddenly hot and wet, pulsed hungrily. At first I attributed it to the fact that only an hour before Milton had been vigorously fucking me. As the stranger's lips worked at my neck, however, I became convinced that I was deeply, completely and undeniably in love with this handsome stranger.

I felt detached from the entire experience, calmly wondering why I didn't pull my head away from him. I was completely lost, so deep in lust that I felt that I'd never escape. Not that I wanted to, really. As bizarre as this scenario was to my conscious mind, I had no desire to get away. I knew I should have been fighting back, getting up and running from this horribly strange man, but at the same time, I wanted to help him. I wanted to explore this strange new emotion, love, for I was certain of its existence now. It was as if he had opened a door to me and I was eager to run through and taste the world on the other side of his lips.

As the action of his mouth at my neck became less frenetic, turning into a delicate caress, I thought about the vampire films I'd once dismissed as pure silliness, and calmly decided that they were real after all. Such creatures existed and I had fallen in love with one. I also knew, for certain, that he loved me too.

The acceptance of his love, as absurd as it was, had an overpowering effect on me. It was as if I'd known this man all my life, that he was my protector, my savior, and that he would look after me for the rest of my life. I belonged to him and, more importantly, he belonged to me.

I'd never known such physical bliss. My nipples were hard nubs inside my track suit and my pussy was throbbing with a lusty beat. A sudden orgasm swept over me, leaving me gasping and clinging to his shoulders.

The dawn light was strengthening. Through the jagged canopy of the forest the eastern sky was pink and getting lighter. A shaft of soft light seemed to find him and bathed him with peachy radiance. Within this gentle glow I could see the fine tracery of crimson capillaries forming beneath the flesh of his shoulder. His skin was gaining a flushed appearance and gave off a musty scent that was powerfully erotic. Another orgasm swiftly overtook me and I was trembling and shuddering in his arms.

His lips massaged my neck as he sucked at my flesh. I was weakening and a furious wave of vertigo overtook me. I was certain I was going to pass out and beyond that I was going to die. Strangely, I did not rebel. I calmly and dispassionately accepted my death in the protective arms of my lover, knowing that I had given him life.

I thought of my brother, Michael. He would blame himself for letting me out of his sight. A trip to Europe in the company of an obviously randy coach was not something Michael approved of, and, surprise, surprise, look what happened. He was right, as usual. I got into trouble and he would blame himself for my mistake, as if he were responsible for everything that ever happened to me.

Oh, Michael, I'm so sorry. My salty tears streamed down my cheeks and dropped onto the stranger's shoulder.

My lover gently worked at my neck for some time before his tongue gathered up what I assumed to be a last drop of blood. He shuddered and released me.

"Take me home," he gasped in accented English. His voice was tortured and weak, yet possessed a commanding tone that seemed to echo between the ranks of the surrounding trees.

I was trembling with weakness. I doubted if I could help him anymore. "You need a doctor." The strange voice which seemed to come from far away, sounding flat and toneless, I could hardly credit as being mine.

His amber eyes considered me closely and that warm loving feeling washed over me, infusing me with belief. I knew with absolute certainty that I could pick him up and carry him to the ends of the world if he wished it.

"Pick me up."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll be all right, my love. Pick me up."

I climbed to my knees and slid my arms under him. With a grunt I hoisted him up and struggled to my feet. He was surprisingly light, which was lucky because in my weakened state I wouldn't have been able to carry him otherwise. His head lolled back and I feared it would fall off. Miraculously the slash at his throat was closing up as I watched.

With a trembling hand he pointed to a trail leading off from the main track. I walked as quickly as I could without jarring him unnecessarily. The wooden stake in his chest was bobbing just in front of my eyes and I tried to ignore it, looking beyond it to the path ahead.

An hour later we came to an old-fashioned manor house set amongst a copse of trees. It was picture postcard material with whitewashed walls and a high pitched thatch roof. He led me, not to the front door, but around the side to a barn. Inside he directed me to a trapdoor under a covering of hay. I laid him down and lifted the door, exposing a flight of wooden steps which led down into the darkness.

He pointed to a torch hanging on a hook on the wall. I gave it to him and he held it limply in his hand. Carefully, I picked him up again and carried him down the steps into a narrow room.

The torch beam revealed a tiny kitchen and through a door a cozy sitting room lined with books. Through another door there was a small bedroom. I laid him down on the single bed and draped a blanket over his legs.

"Is there a telephone? You need a doctor."

He shook his head and motioned that he wanted me to lean closer.

"Thank you. I will be all right now."

"What about this?" I said, pointing to the jagged wood jutting from his chest.

He put his hand to my cheek, drew me even closer and kissed my lips. His mouth was warm and, as his tongue found mine, my pussy turned to liquid fire. He kissed the corners of my mouth, my cheek and then found his way to my neck which I offered him freely.

The flesh at my throat flared in sudden warmth and I felt that delightful tickle once again.