Mr. Darcy, Vampire
Chapter Three:
Elizabeth had not been graced with the patience that her father and dear sister, Jane, possessed. Her temper could be, at times, rather too short and her blood rather too quick to boil. In this way – and this way only – did Elizabeth Bennet take after her mother.
Unlike her mother, however, Elizabeth was usually able to rely on her dignity and intellect to save her from making a spectacle on those occasions when her temper threatened to get the better of her. Ordinarily. This, she was forced to concede, was notone of those occasions.
She had been all astonishment at Mr. Darcy's proposal. Astonished and, yes, a little pleased, despite herself. What woman could be completely unmoved by an offer of marriage from a man of such consequence? Certainly not she!
But then – even before he stooped to insulting her rank – she remembered that Mr. Darcy had been the one responsible for ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of her most beloved sister. That alone prompted Elizabeth to reject his proposal.
Perhaps she failed to reject Mr. Darcy as kindly as she ought to have. It would not be right if Elizabeth, who was so quick to find fault in others, turned a blind eye to her own. Whether her anger was justified or not, it was most unladylike to lash out as she had.
Elizabeth had been on the verge of offering Mr. Darcy her sincerest apologies when he suggested that her mother would be happy to marry her off to a farmer, so long as she was rid of her. Her temper flared.
"How dare you, sir!" she snapped, her ire rising to a point that could not be held silent. "Say what you will about me but I beg you to kindly keep a civil tongue in your mouth when speaking of my family!"
Mr. Darcy's countenance immediately adopted a look of utmost contrition. He opened his mouth – perhaps to offer an apology? Elizabeth never knew for, in that moment, her wild temper got the best of her at last – that, or some mischievous sprite took temporary possession of her body. Indeed, she could not say whatmade her strike Mr. Darcy, only that she felt as surprised by her action as he looked.
Even more shocking – to Elizabeth, at least – was the fact that her palm never made contact with Mr. Darcy's cheek. His own darted up with a speed that she found startling. One moment his hand rested limply by his side and, the next, his fingers were wrapped around her wrist in a vice-like grip. He looked first at the place where their hands merged before raising his eyes to Elizabeth's face.
"Miss Bennet!" he said in a voice loaded with incredulity. "You would strike me?"
Elizabeth did not know how to respond; she could scarce believe it herself.
Darcy shook his head, a wry smile upon his lips.
"I must say that I cannot blame you," he told her. "My own behaviour was so reprehensible that it is no less than I deserve."
He had not yet released his grip on her wrist, though his hold had softened. His thumb stroked the sensitive flesh on the inside of her wrist.
Elizabeth wished that he would release her! It really was mostdisconcerting. She tried to pull her hand free but Darcy refused to relinquish his hold on her.
"But," Mr. Darcy continued. "I must say that I never would have expected such behaviour from you! Lydia, perhaps," he muttered almost to himself. "But not you, Elizabeth."
Shame made Elizabeth's face flame. He was right, of course; behaviour such as she had exhibited was unworthy of her and, as Mr. Darcy said, would have been more likely to have come from one of her younger sisters than herself. Fine behaviour for a woman of nearly one and twenty, indeed!
She began to make her apologies but the words never crossed her lips. Mr. Darcy interrupted her.
"It would seem that we have both been guilty of disregarding the decorum required of us by our good breeding," he said. "We might as well throw it out the window entirely."
With that, he tugged sharply on her outstretched arm with a force that brooked no protest. Elizabeth was helpless against Mr. Darcy's superior strength; she tumbled into his arms with naught but a squeak of surprise.
He supported her weight with one arm while the other slipped around her waist.
"What say you, Miss Bennet?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. "Shall we take impropriety to new heights?"
He did not allow her time to reply – which was just as well considering Elizabeth doubted her ability to form a coherent reply. Her amazement was so complete that the most she could manage was a quick flutter of her eyelids before Mr. Darcy's lips descended upon hers.
Darcy's kiss was nothing like the chaste kisses Elizabeth had, on rare occasion, fantasized about. It was hot, hungry, and drove all reason from her mind.
He nibbled her lower lip, wringing a sigh of both pleasure and surprise from her. Darcy took advantage, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips, taking the kiss deeper. Elizabeth, untried in such things, responded tentatively but eagerly, earning a low groan from Darcy.
Elizabeth was breathless when he broke the kiss; her chest heaved and mind swam. She did not stop to consider the shame she would bring upon her family only because she couldnot think, could only feel. Rational thought had been driven away by a tumult of sensations the likes of which she had never known.
Darcy did not release Elizabeth but rather dropped his head to rain kisses along her jaw and throat. He nipped and teased her earlobe until she was certain she would never be able to view anything as innocent as an ear again without feeling terribly aroused.
Her fingers tangled in his dark curls as his mouth worked its strange magic. His hand travelled upward as his lips travelled lower. He gripped her neck firmly and-
"Oh!"
Pain exploded to life in her throat. Elizabeth tried to push herself free from his hold but Darcy was not to be budged. His arm tightened around her waist, calling a unpleasant halt to her struggles.
"Mr. Darcy! Please!"
Her pleas fell upon deaf ears. Darcy gave no indication that he heard her, only continued to... to...
Oh, dear Lord in Heaven! Was he suckingher neck? What could he mean by this?
Elizabeth's brain worked frantically, trying to make sense of an impossible situation. Oh, but her throat ached! It felt as though someone had stabbed her – exactly where Mr. Darcy's mouth was. Had he bittenher? What would possess him to do such a thing?
She continued to struggle but he was simply too powerful. At a loss, Elizabeth resorted to desperate measures: she sunk her nails into the flesh of his face as hard as possible and screamed.
Darcy, at long last, released his hold on her, his hands rising to cover the deep gouges her nails had left. Elizabeth fell in a heap on the floor. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps.
Lowering his hands, Darcy looked down at the blood he saw uncomprehendingly, as if he could not understand just how it had gotten there. A moment later, he turned those same wide, confused eyes on Elizabeth, who gasped in horror. His eyes, usually the colour of dark chocolate, were a dark burgundy. Worse than that, though, was his mouth...
Darcy's mouth, which had so skilfully awakened Elizabeth to passion just moments ago was now streaked with her blood.