Marcus
...My Forgotten Love...
Chapter Three
He had not returned to her that night, although he could hear her crying in her chambers throughout the night which had been a unimaginable hell.
He had tried to stay out of her way, but couldn't drag himself away from watching her from afar.
His father had sent a messenger to the castle informing Marcus he would be returning within the month.
That night was the Van Keen annual ball, a usually over lavish affair, that seemed to be an advertisement for every type of debauchery known to man, but he knew she was attending as expected and therefore he would go also.
He hated these balls with almost venomous intensity but he would work at seducing her, and trying to make amends for his previous behaviour.
He dressed and purposely walked into her boudoir without announcement. She was only in her corset and undergarments and gasped as he came into the room.
He pretended that the sight of her half dressed didn't effect him as he walked to the bed, upon which lay the dress she had chosen for the occasion. He felt the silken material flow through his hands and despite the colour of the material being pale blue it reminded him of her silken hair.
He lifted the dress and without a word helped her dress.
She had seemed taken aback by his actions, but still angry at him, she had made no comment.
Another thing he loved about her, he mused.
Her fire. She had a temper, but one she managed to usually keep reined in. He leaned closer to whisper into her ear making sure she could hear his laboured breaths as he ran his finger down the curve of her back.
"Beautiful" he murmured absently. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
Before she could answer he left her, staring at him through her mirror, lips parted and eyes wide. The carriage ride to the ball was bumpy but he made no attempt at seduction.
He talked to her as he used to, and after a few terse responses she began talking as freely as she used to. He hated that he seemed addicted to her. Her opinion on everything matter to him as nothing else did.
He wanted to know every thought she had, every fantasy. More importantly he wanted to be her every thought, her every fantasy.
And he would be.
He helped her from the carriage and entered the hall of the Van Keens. As usual the decoration for the affair was over the top, red silk hung along the walls, chandeliers of gold and red velvet glowed upon the large domed ceiling of the Van Keens great hall.
The music was robust in nature and had a seductive tune to it. He looked around the hall briefly and spotted the Van Keen's, as was expected he advanced to them. He shook the hand of Arthur Van Keen and was informed Maryann was visiting a friend and had been delayed so would not be present.
Marcus didn't bother to fake concern over Maryann's wellbeing before turning his attention to what he truly desired.
She had moved from her previous vantage and was dancing with a noblemen he didn't recognise.
Jealously filled him.
It was all he could do not to drag the man away from his love and kill him for presuming to touch her, if only in an innocent manner.
Marcus knew she felt for him, he had realised that when he had found her homesick and crying in the rain. The passion she showed him on a banquet table not two days ago could not be acted.
She had desired him enough to offer him her virtue and love, even on a cold stone floor amidst a storm.
He sunk into a overly plush lounge chair and watched man after man dance with her.
He drank quietly in his corner of the hall.
Although it is now uncommon for a vampire to be able to consume any other sustenance than blood, Marcus could consume alcohol and other beverages and even some foods, and so sat watching with jealousy knotting his soul and alcohol dulling his senses, until he could no longer stand the presence of any man near her.
He grabbed her by the arm and steered her towards the exit, regardless of her splutters of outrage.
Once he had dragged her outside he could see no sign of the carriage and was too emotional to search for it, grabbing a horse from a passing stable boy he swung upon the horse positioning her straddling his legs, facing him as he rode for home.
"Marcus! What has gotten into you? You can't just drag me from a hall of nobles, think of what people will think!" At this Marcus saw red. He pulled the horse to a stop and dragged her by the thighs further upon his lap and starred into her eyes.
She stopped spluttering instantly.
"I don't care what they think and neither do you! You danced the whole night with hundreds of men and didn't even give me a second glance. How did you expect me to react?"
"You were jealous?" She asked him tentatively, and to his shock, cupped his cheek as she laid a chaste kiss upon his lips. "I thought you didn't want me?"
He almost laughed at her insanity.
Didn't want her?
He ached for her constantly, he dreamed and breathed for her.
He pulled her more forcefully against the evidence of his arousal and groaned. He wanted her. God how he did.
He felt his hand brush up her silk skirt and felt along her thighs. Her skin was the softest thing he had ever caressed, and he moaned again as she shivered against him.
He rubbed his thumb over the centre of her legs and cursed as he felt the material wetten beneath his touch. Pushing aside the material he finally felt her.
He would always remember that moment, a warm night, just them, no one else.
The sensation of touching her intimately made him feel as if this couldn't be real.
He gently stoked her, and marvelled at the sweet wetness that his touch had created. She was moaning quietly into the night. He began to kiss down her throat and licked her pulse which was beating frantically.
Nothing had aroused him more than stroking her, hearing her cries of encouragement and feeling her pulse beat erratically beneath his mouth.
He would take her there if he didn't get them home. He kept stroking her as he raced towards the castle. The stable boy saw their arrival and rushed out to help.
Marcus couldn't remove her from his embrace, couldn't have removed his hand from such a sweet torment if his life depended on it, he swung form the horse, ignoring the stable boy shocked expression as he saw where Marcus hand was working relentlessly.
She had curled her legs around his waist and allowed him to rush towards their chambers.
He wanted to take her in his room.
Wanted to smell her scent on his linens long after she had left.
He nearly came as she cried out and came beneath his touch.
He pushed open his door not even bothering to close it as he fell onto the bed. He had lost all control, and frantically ripped the silk dress off. He did the same to his own clothes and continued to stroke her towards another orgasm.
She spread her legs wider as he settled between them.
His shaft touched her wet heat and he groaned lowering his head so he could lick and suckle her neck.
God, how much could he stand of this torment!
The feel of her heated skin against his was overpowering.
Marcus couldn't wait for the feel of her anymore, he cradled her precious face between his shaking hands as he kissed her with all the passion he felt, all the tenderness he wished for, and with all his heart.
Eternity seemed to pass as they had laid, entwined on his bed, kissing and exploring.
Marcus stopped the kiss. And starred down at her.
"Are you going to leave again?" She had asked, starring sadly up at him. He knew she feared he would run as he had before, but nothing could stop him from making her his.
"Never, my love" He whispered as he slowly allowed himself to experience heaven.
They had made love for what seemed like hours but after Marcus still felt unsatisfied and wanting more. And it was making love.
They had worshipped each others bodies, with tender kisses and gentle caresses, he had run his hand so gently along the curve of her breast she had shivered uncontrollably.
And they had been burned with their passion.
Over the following days and weeks they where insatiable.
Marcus had never known contentment as he did whenever she fell asleep naked and safe in his arms.
They had made love in the rain. In front of the fire on a cold night.
He had memorised every inch of her precious body and loved her more with each passing moment.