The pull is getting stronger, but Melbourne is trying so hard to be good. Victoria may not let him, however. Gotta love a tormented man.


Both Melbourne and Victoria were busy for the next two days, which was probably a sensible thing given what had just occurred between them.

The court returned to Buckingham Palace from Windsor on the Thursday and it was the next day that he arrived for his usual morning audience. As he packed away the dispatches, conversation quickly turned to the only matter occupying Victoria's thoughts. Lord Melbourne seemed content to discuss it.

'What happens exactly when you bite someone, Lord M?'

'It depends, Ma'am.'

They may as well have been discussing the Corn Laws, such was the matter-of-fact manner of their discourse.

'Tell me. I am curious.'

He smirked. 'I can see that.'

'Indulge me.'

Oh, how he could indulge her.

'Well, you must imagine it like wanting food. Sometimes, one simply needs a small snack, yet at other times one is famished and must eat until full.'

'So it is not necessary to take all the blood?' She stood up and moved across to the chaise, her brows furrowing as she contemplated it all.

'It is not necessary, although it is, let us say, addictive, and hard to stop once you have started, especially if it has been a while since the last live … feeding.' He followed her at a discreet distance but came and sat just along from her on the chaise.

'Do the people … I mean the …' she began, uncertain what to call them.

'Victims. That is what they are. Do not prevaricate.'

Her brows wrinkled a little. 'Do the victims … always die?'

'No. If you do not take too much blood then they recover, but … it is rare that one allows them to survive, for one does not wish them to remember and tell their tale.'

Her lips pursed against the disagreeable nature of his conversation. 'I know you feed only on dead beasts now, but still it is strange to hear you talk so freely of what is murder.'

It pained him to hear her say it, but Melbourne was used to pain. Silence enclosed them for a time before he said mutedly, 'I am sorry, Ma'am. We do not have to talk of it.'

She looked straight at him and he was impressed with her boldness. 'No … I wish to. If you do drink all their blood and they die … is that the end for them?'

'That is up to the feeder.'

'The feeder?'

'The one who has fed on them. The feeder can choose simply to let them die as any other mortal, or …'

'What?'

'If the connection is there, they can turn the victim into one of their own.'

Victoria's eyes widened. 'You mean make them into a vampire?'

'Yes.'

The extraordinary discoveries darted through her mind. She tried to reconcile them with what she already knew of the world. 'And so they would have eternal life just like the feeding vampire?'

Melbourne clasped his hands in his lap. 'I would not exactly call it eternal life. Yes, vampires will live on forever, unless destroyed in a particular way. They can be killed, but not in the usual ways. And if a feeder turns a victim – by turns I mean changes them into a vampire – then those two remain deeply connected, bound together.'

She looked directly at him, only one question burning now. 'Who turned you?'

He didn't at first reply, but she persisted. 'Was it a man or a woman?'

Melbourne let his gaze drop. 'It was a man.'

'Oh.'

He lifted his eyes again and met hers gravely. 'You sound surprised, don't be. You have heard of him.'

'I have?'

'Yes … It was Byron.'

Victoria could not suppress her gasp. She knew all too well of the trouble that man had caused Lord M. 'Lord Byron! He was a vampire?'

'Oh yes.'

'But … you were turned hundreds of years ago. Lord Byron was born only last century.'

'Was he? You thought the same of me until a few days ago. No. The vampire last known as George Gordon Lord Byron has been on this earth for many hundreds of years.'

'So you two knew each other all that time ago?'

'Yes.' His eyes drifted beyond her as he recounted the memory. 'We were, at the time, great friends. George and I met at Trinity College, Cambridge, but not, as many believe, in the early 1800s, but in the early 1600s. And we lived life to the full, it must be said. Surrounded by the best minds in the country, we were full of youthful arrogance. Beautiful women flocked to us, our fellow students hung on our every word. Life was there for the taking and we took and took and didn't want it to end. When it came, it was all his suggestion, all his doing. He had been turned one summer on a visit to Italy and saw nothing but wonder in it. His morality was fragile, to say the least. And he came to me and suggested a way to make life yet more vivid and glorious. He was too persuasive, too vividly alive to refuse. As ever, he was the one we all followed, the one who promised meaning and lucidity … and eternal life. I was weak and foolish and at odds with the world. And so one day, I let him bite me.'

'But you said you are bound to the one who turns you. Do you not still see him?'

'No. He is gone into darkness.'

She was confused. 'What do you mean? Was he destroyed?'

'No … but he has chosen to live in the underworld, far from here. Some vampires choose that, feeding on the half-dead, the outcasts, and never emerging into the world as we know it. I doubt I will see him again. I care not. Our connection was broken when …' His voice trailed off.

'What?'

'Caroline.'

'Your wife?'

'Yes.'

Victoria swallowed hard. It pained her to hear of his past relationship, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she sensed his need to talk. 'What happened?'

'Caroline … Caro … I met her at her most radiant. She was so innocent, so full of life – she entranced me. I told her. I told her everything about me and she was so utterly accepting. She knew what I was and yet still she wished to marry me, she wished to give me everything. At that time, I adored her and told myself it would work. We married. I promised never to corrupt her, never to turn her, and for a time we were so very happy. And then he returned. I had not seen him for some time, he had been abroad, and one day he crashed back into my life. He had turned his brilliant mind to poetry and was the toast of society … Little did they know the truth of the 'genius' poet.

'At first I welcomed him and our connection was as strong as ever, but fame had gone to his head and he lost focus of what was needed. He turned his attention to my wife, and she to him. He assured me he would leave her alone, that he would not take her, but they became so obsessed with each other and I knew she did not have the strength to resist. I could only stand back and watch.

'He did what I promised never to do … he turned her. He took her, my Caro, my pure rose, and corrupted her completely. She lived on with him and became the worst of her kind. Together, they fed freely, indulging themselves on whims – innocents, good men and women, children even – they fed wherever they wished. It appalled me, it disgusted me. She was never careful and became an easy target for hunters.'

'Hunters?'

'Vampire hunters. Professional bounty hunters who seek us out for reward. Some are even our own kind. They found her, and they starved her.'

'Starved her?' Her heart juddered.

'Of blood. You can kill a vampire that way, by denying it blood. If starved of blood, we simply fade away. I heard of it and returned to her just before she died. She simply faded to dust before my eyes. Her coffin contained only the dust of her. And it was all him.' His jaw clenched and a steely light caught his eyes. 'My hatred for him is boundless. I blame him. I blame him for everything.'

'Byron?'

'Yes. For her, for me, for all we have become.' He stood and paced solemnly to the window.

Victoria stood quickly and hurried over to him. 'But look at what you have become! You are Prime Minister! You are loved!'

'By whom?' he practically sneered. 'Not by the people. Not by my own party even.'

'By me!'

He turned to her. Her eyes were shining with tears.

'I love you! I love you, my darling, my darling Lord M! My William!'

And at this she was there, curling her arms around his neck, pulling him close, pressing her body upon him.

He made the mistake of looking into her eyes – blue and bright and imploring.

Sense was forgotten.

He bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

It was her first kiss but there was little he could call innocent in it. She opened for him immediately and her sweet breath floated into him. By God, he wanted her! Every part of him cried out for her – for her body, her soul and her blood.

He gripped her tightly, pulling her flush against him. He had risen quickly and he indulged himself, pushing his erection against her. Again, she did not pull back but reciprocated, her natural instinct staggering. A dash of pure erotic bliss coursed through him and he took more. She kissed like a long-standing lover, not an innocent girl, and he relished it brazenly. He felt her tongue and gave her his own and soon, open mouthed, they were kissing with such desperate passion they nearly stumbled. His left hand clasped the back of her head to press her harder yet against him, the other took hold of the join of her neck and shoulder, and his thumb stroked until he felt it – her pulse – beat, beat, beating. At the feel of her blood throbbing through her veins under his thumb, he groaned into her mouth.

His thirst was almost too much. Melbourne pressed harder against her throat and felt her blood pound ferociously.

The prick in his jaws began; his fangs would soon emerge. They would cut her if he did not break the kiss. He managed to pull away only to graze down her neck to that point, that pulsing, throbbing point. How easy it would be. She was ready. Her neck was bared, her body open. He opened his mouth, and she would feel the sharpness of his fangs catching her skin.

She gasped but held him there.

But, at this moment, William Lamb was still a good man.

And so he let her go. With a groan propelled from his inner agony, he drew back and turned from her.

'No. I will not.'

Victoria rushed over, grabbing for his coat, trying to turn him around to face her. He resisted and was pleased to feel his fangs retracting.

'Oh, my darling, don't do this! That was glorious! That was wonderful! I want more and more. I want it all! I love you, how I love you!'

At this, he did turn back a little and smiled sadly. 'No. Do not waste your love on me.'

'Oh, but I want to. It would not be a waste, but a triumph. You spoke of connection, you know we have it, you know we share that already. Let me show you!'

He was gripped with the tension of denial and resistance. 'Victoria … don't. I have suffered enough. I cannot taint another.'

'You will not be tainting me! I am so sick of this life! Being Queen restricts and constrains me evilly. I cannot bear the thought of being tied into it. I want freedom! I want to live as fully as I can!'

Melbourne turned and met her gaze at last. Her lips were full and bruised from their kiss, and her eyes shone with a determination which staggered him. Christ above, she was glorious! Could he resist? Should he even bother to try? His fangs may have retracted, but his cock still demanded more.

'You know how good we are together,' she continued. 'You love me too, you cannot deny it.'

There was no doubting it. 'No, I cannot deny it.'

Oh, he could not.

She looked at him and their devotion was everything. Why indeed stop? Why?

Melbourne took a step back towards her.

Just then the door opened and her mother came in.

'Is business concluded?' asked the Duchess. 'Good, because I wish to go to Richmond Park. Go and dress, Victoria. And do hurry. Good bye, Lord Melbourne, it is time for you to leave.'

-xoOox-

Victoria remembered very little of her trip to Richmond Park. She did, however, remember every detail of her kiss with the Prime Minister and the words they had exchanged.

That night, as she lay in the muffled stillness of the dark, she went over the moment time and again – the feel of his lips on hers, the way he had pulled her against him, that hard force between his legs which seemed to seek her out. The declaration of their mutual love, which had remained unspoken for too long. In the enclosing darkness the memory was almost as good as the kiss itself. She ran a finger over her lips while her other hand sought lower, down between her legs. She found that place she touched from time to time and stroked. Her body responded immediately and she didn't want to stop.

And then she thought of the moment in the woods, and in her mind she combined the two, the feel of his body on hers and his mouth sucking her blood from her. The passion and the force of it overwhelmed her even though the pulsing sensation between her legs craved more touch.

But she grew fearful. Alone in the dark, she was unnerved. It felt so terribly sinful and with no one to absorb her apprehension, the prospect of going to hell did not appeal. She didn't think like that when Lord M was around, when his love cossetted her, but, now, alone and isolated, her conscience overcame her desire. She withdrew her hand from between her legs and turned over quickly, pulling the covers up and squeezing her eyes tight shut.

But sleep did not help matters. In her dream she was entirely naked. In her dream she was not alone. In her dream, unspeakable things were done to her body. And in her dream, she adored it.

-xoOox-

Melbourne returned to an empty Dover House after his visit to the Queen. He forewent dinner and sat instead in the gloom of his drawing room with only a large decanter of brandy for company.

He had never known conflict like it. Everywhere he went, everything he did, he could not escape it. And this was the hell of his condition. He loved her. He adored her. He wanted to do what both she and he wanted, but if he did, he would destroy her.

Or would he?

He had survived, had he not? He had lived and loved and given much pleasure in his many, many years on this Earth. Would she not do the same?

But no. With perpetual life came limited choice, came an exhausting need for continuation, came the need to hide and run and move on and on, always changing, always excusing. Did he want that for her?

But he would have her and she him. They would be together. The adaptation which was needed for such an existence could be borne so much more easily with another. Apart from his brief happiness with Caro, he had never really had that. He would with Victoria. And he could take her away from this life she found so frustrating and restricting. He could grant that freedom she so craved. And she demanded it of him. She begged him for it. Would he not simply be giving her what she wanted?

He closed his eyes and dragged on his brandy.

Images came back to him: A girl, her body pale and broken, lying lifeless by a river as a dark figure stood over her, sated; a young student, a few moments before so full of hope, now his eyes staring blankly in death as the last of the blood was drained from him; a child howling with hunger and confusion while her vampire mother, recently turned, now sought only blood and forgot to feed her own daughter.

All because of him. He had destroyed all those lives.

And then another image … Caro … turning to dust before his eyes.

Melbourne dragged his hands down his face and reached again for the brandy decanter. It had been this way since the start: so much promise of life, and in truth the deliverance only of death.

He closed his lids again and shining blue eyes appeared in his vision. A smile; warm, seeking hands; a lithe, needy body; pulsing warm blood … pleading with him, wanting him … loving him. And the taste of her … that tang of her rich, beautiful blood which had lingered on his tongue for days now.

He cried out in frustration and tried to flood the taste with more brandy.

He could not.

-xoOox-

Her Prime Minister could not come soon enough the next day. Victoria was afraid he would have been deterred after what had occurred between them previously, but he arrived as the clock struck nine, just as usual.

Melbourne gave at the knee and kissed her hand then stood. She didn't hesitate but moved into him immediately and placed her hands on his shoulders. He did not draw back but avoided meeting her eyes.

'I dreamt of you last night,' she said with a deliberately seductive lilt.

'I am sorry to hear it, Ma'am. How dull that must have been.'

She smiled it away. 'Far from it. It was heavenly.'

'Ma'am … what happened yesterday –'

She stood on tiptoes and silenced him with her mouth. He tried briefly to resist but his hands worked of their own accord, curling around her waist and pulling her in against him.

By Christ if this continued he would not control it! He must stop this madness! She was his Queen! Had he lost all of the decency he hoped he could still summon when necessary?

With an agonised groan he pulled away. 'Ma'am! This must stop. We cannot continue like this!'

She looked at him in despair. 'Why not? Why not? We want it. We need it.'

'You do not know of what you ask! You do not know what it means, that life. If I told you what I had witnessed … what I have done to maintain my life!'

'Tell me then! I want to know! I want to understand. Together, we can ease your suffering.'

He shook his head. 'No. I cannot. I cannot do that to you.' With that he picked up his bags and paced from the door.

Her words rang through his head as she shouted them after him.

'But you do it instead to yourself! You are living a lie, Lord Melbourne, and you know it!'

She was right. But what more could he do?

-xoOox-

Melbourne found the only way to deal with the matter was to remove himself from the Queen's presence. When he was near her, her soft, warm, pulsing body was constant temptation: the feel of her, the lure of her, drawing him in, calling to him. And she abetted it. She craved it as much as he did, there was no doubt.

And so he made excuses for his absence. Days passed when he would not see her at all. On the times he had no choice but to attend her, she upbraided him for staying away and would try to wrap her body around him. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes he rewarded himself with a kiss, and those kisses were so deep and potent that he felt his fangs forming and his cock hardening.

But his vampiric nature had not yet managed to vanquish his sense of duty, and it was with some pride that he had so far extricated himself on each occasion from her hold, uncurling her arms from about him and leaving her.

Her frustration was tangible.

On one occasion, as he retreated, she had hurled an ink pot at him in her rage. It had bruised his shoulder and left deep purple stains both on his frock coat and on the carpet of her drawing room. It pained him to see her so hurt, but, it can only be said, also aroused him yet more. Her fury was beautiful. He wanted to sink his teeth into that as much as the soft pliancy of that smooth skin.

But he continued to live the lie. He had sown the seed of the inevitable that day in the woods, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep it at bay. As long as blood pulsed through her veins, he would have to have her.

-xoOox-

His deliberate absences infuriated Victoria. But, if he was trying to dull her feelings, he was achieving the opposite. Her dreams continued. Her body was more enlivened than ever, her soul buzzed with the wonder of it, and her mind was opened with the possibilities. Her life as Queen continued to frustrate and torment her and escape seemed the only way to a future of happiness.

He could provide her with that escape. And what an escape – an escape led by love and desire and need.

Victoria had decided. And when Alexandrina Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom, decided on something, nothing could deter her from it.


Thanks for the interest over here (I know most Vicbourners hang out on AO3). Love your reviews so much. xx