(A/N-Special thanks for Bekki for beta reading this. You are amazing and I thank you so much!)
*No disclaimer needed as I helped create Outlaw Queen*
Lord Robin of Locksley had decided!
He had chosen her weeks earlier, at the time of the fall harvest. She was sturdy of limb and solid of body, and went about her tasks with the slow moving grace typical of her peasant ancestry. Last week, he had learned that she was called Marian, a common name around here.
Robin studied her from afar, always from the protection of the shadows, trying to decide if her character was calm as her appearance. The last thing he needed was a woman possessed of too much imagination. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to control his impulse to mate. Even so, despite the cresting urgency of his need, he was unwilling to slake his thirst for sexual release at the risk of almost certain death for his partner.
Once the decision was made that Marian would be the one, he found himself praying to a god he only believed in periodically. The words poured from him unbidden as he prepared to sleep. Please god, he whispered in the cruel, blinding light of dawn. Let her survive the mating. Let her accept me and live.
If he had dared, he would have prayed for her to survive the birth that would inescapably follow, but Robin's god, if he existed, was a harsh one, not giving to granting his most sought after wish. Robin prayed for Marian's survival. He refused to think of the day, eleven months from the mating, when his son would be born, and Marian would die.
Her parents accepted his offer and gave their daughter by their own free will to him, honored to also serve their lord. Their questions about the precise role Marian would play in his household were stilled by Robin's coins had paid to them. He had not been shocked by their behavior. Robin had learned early on that dire poverty and strict morality could rarely blend. Hunger stilled even the most active conscience, and his teachings had trained him to take advantage of this human weakness. The Vampire survived in large part due to human frailty.
Marian had adapted well to her new home, and he decided that she was indeed, a suitable candidate for a successful mating. He chose the night of their joining with care, waiting for the moon to ebb, and a rush of thunderstorms to pass.
He looked forward to the moment when he could notify the Council Elders that he had mated again, and that the human female had survived it. He knew such an experience was rare, and he anticipated boasting of his success at the next regional gathering of Vampires.
The night appointed for their joining arrived slowly. Marian came to him shortly before the midnight hour, bathed and clothed by his housekeeper in a traditional green silk robe, dyed the color of the Vampire sun.
Earlier he had heard her screams as she had been washed thoroughly to remove the grime from her. Horrifying, her screams had excited him, and he felt the tingle of desire explode in the sensitive sacs already beginning to bulge in the roof of his mouth.
Robin made himself calm down. He reminded himself that he was disciplined, caring and honorable. He had spent the last year training himself for this moment, amending for the death of the last female he had mounted. There would be no mishaps tonight, he had vowed to himself on numerous occasions. He would prove that humans who mated with Vampires could survive it.
The candles flickered in a draft of air blowing in through a crack in the casement window of his bedroom. Marian shifted nervously from foot to foot as she stared at him. Even after her bathing, her skin was still dark from the years of exposure to the rays of the sun. Robin visualized her darkness against his pallor and again the desire he felt, powerful, delicious, raced through him.
"Do not be afraid of me," he said, trying to speak softly and not sure if he succeeded. He moistened his dry lips. "Come closer, my dear. I promise that I will be very gentle with you." Even to his own ears, the promise sounded false to him, although he made it in total sincerity.
Slowly she edged toward him, her bare feet silent on the floor. He realized as she approached that she was shivering, her teeth clattering, her body convulsing. He hoped it was from the cold. God, how he hoped it was from the cold and not from fear of him. Hadn't he determined that from all the time spent studying her, that she was the one least likely to be overcome by irrational fear?
He drew her to him, running his hands over her face, pressing his erection against the softness of her belly. Desire seeped into every pore of his skin and every cell of his body. The saliva gathered in his mouth, bathing the buds that shielded his fangs in the fluid of sexuality. He felt the sacs swell with exquisite premonition of urgency. He swallowed, forcing himself back under control.
He realized that he was trembling, just like Marian. The knowledge soothed him. Perhaps, like him, she was shivering from the onset of desire. Human females were capable of feeling desire, a study had been proven years back. It was another human trait that he had been trained to take advantage of.
But Robin didn't want to take advantage of Marian. He wanted to mate with her, that was all. "Why are you shivering?" he asked, "Are you cold?"
"No, lord," her voice cracked with fear, and Robin felt a surge of rage. What was she frightened of? Why did she tremble? He hadn't done anything to her yet. Nothing, that is, safely stroke her cheek with gentle fingers.
If she was determined to wallow in irrational fears, there was little point in delaying further. Better to proceed and permit her to see that those fears were without foundation. He carried her over to the bed, and laid her against the pillows, stroking her hair from her dark eyes with tender fingers. He was proud of his self-control, proud of the fact he was able to resist the growing urge to lie down on top of her and sink his fangs deep into the gloriously tempting column of her throat. Reining in his rampant desire, he ran his hands across her breasts, parting the green mating robe, baring the sturdy outline of his body to his heated gaze.
The moment of irritation broke the hold he had maintained over his state of arousal. In a single surge of overwhelming force, his fangs expanded and broke through the sacs containing them, just as he felt the pressure of his erection build to a level that demanded immediate release.
Marian saw his fangs at the same time she felt him press against the barrier of her virginity. She screamed in terror, a mindless cry that echoed and reechoed throughout his bedchamber. He felt her fear, absorbed it into himself through every one of his senses, vaguely aware that he no longer resented her fright, but actually welcomed it. The smell of her terror was the most potent aphrodisiac he had ever known, beyond anything he could have dreamed of in his most erotic youthful fantasy. He was swamped with the need to possess, to penetrate, to procreate.
Robin thrust deep into Marian's body, holding her hands above her head high, and falling upon her neck with a hunger that could not have been equaled by a lifetime of fasting. His fangs thrust deep into the skin of her throat and slipped into the smooth cartilage of her jugular. Ahh, what bliss! Her blood flowed warm, sweet and ambrosial over his tongue. He swallowed the exquisite nectar, drinking in her fragile essence as he thrust into her body, filling her with his seed. How wonderful it was that such a delight should also produce the happiness of a son, an heir, a Vampire child that Robin would love and cherish, the grandson his other father had craved for so long.
The spasms of pleasure slowly ended, the ripples of his release convulsing him over and over again. The joining complete, he collapsed panting onto the limp body of his mate. He felt a great tenderness for her, even though she was a peasant girl. Mindful of his weight, he rolled away from her, drawing in great lungful's of refreshing air.
Still spent from the force of his mating, he made her a silent promise. During the next eleven months, he would see that she was afforded every possible kindness and luxury. He would tend to her needs, humor her slightest whim and shower her family with money. He owed her that much at least. As for the birth, he would not think of it.
"Marian," he said, staring into the comforting darkness. "Marian, I am indebted to you for the gift of your body. Ask for what reward you wish and I will try to give it to you."
She didn't reply. Overwhelmed by a sudden dreadful premonition, he rolled over and gazed down at the woman who had been his mate.
As soon as he turned, he saw the hideous wounds in her neck, the gaping slashes around which blood was already congealing in pathetic patches of sticky red. The euphoria of his mating dissipated into an icy sensation of dread.
"Marian!" Her name rasped in his throat as he worked frantically to repair the damage wrought equally by his fangs and his mindless lust. He willed her to wake up, to survive the crimes he had wrought upon her terrified body. He tried to release his fangs again so that he could pour life storing fluid of sexual mating into her body, in exchange for the blood he had sucked from her with such reckless abandon. But his fangs had shriveled and retracted inside their protective sacs, and he knew it would be days, perhaps weeks, before that regenerated again.
Still, he could not bring himself to acknowledge the fatal finality of what he had done. He worked on her lifeless body for hours, striving with every art known to humankind and to the Vampire to return life to her lifeless body. In the end, as the sun rose and infiltrated the sanctuary of his bedchamber, he was forced to admit the truth. He had murdered Marian. Worse yet, in his hearts of hearts, he had always known that the inevitable result of his mating would be precisely this, a human female, ordered no meaningful choice, surrendering her life to satisfy the sexual needs of an arrogant Vampire.
He had been a crass, conceited fool, Robin decided. He was still young, barely a century old, and it usually took three or four hundred matings before a Vampire could control his lust sufficiently to mate successfully. Even then, accidents did occur, and the rate of impregnation was unreliable. Still, Robin could not forgive himself. His youth and sexual inexperience might partly explain, but could never excuse, the willful arrogance of his behavior. Marian had not deserved to die, even in the noble cause of creating a new generation of Vampire. Her life had a worth and value he was not at liberty to ignore.
In his efforts to revive Marian, he had sewn up the jagged wounds in her throat, bathing the ripped flesh in his own to speed up the creation of new tissue. He had not been able to bring her back to life, but so great was the regenerative power of Vampire blood, that the loosen edges of her skin had knit together, hiding the evidence of the death he had caused. It would be quite easy to explain her death, which meant that he wouldn't have to leave. For that, he was glad. He had grown fond of this new life here, and proud of how he had turned this land that had been destitute, into a profitable vineyards for this estate. In the future, there would be no need for him to move, no need to cut the ties he had begun to make here, because no more humans would meet their deaths at his hands.
Touching the almost invisible scars on Marian's neck, Robin vowed that he would never again subject a human female to the dangers of his Vampire lust. Tonight, he had mated for the last time. He had murdered his last human female. Placing his hand on Marian's silent heart, Robin swore it.
The Dark Prince would never again seek a mate!
(Okay, so this story will have dark moments at times, a death or two. But I promise no major character death!)