When it was time for him to leave again, Victoria noticed a tension recapture him.

'Lord M? What is it?'

He prevaricated a little, his eyes flitting around before settling on her. 'Victoria … I must tell you this – you will not feel yourself when we are apart.'

She took a step in, confused. 'By that you mean?'

'You said that you felt out of sorts before I arrived.'

'That is right. I missed you dreadfully.'

He took hold of her hands and said, 'It isn't just that. When I bit you, it started.'

'What started?'

He rubbed his thumb over her fingers, almost distractedly. 'Turning you. It can be a traumatic process, as I'm sure you appreciate. Part of me will have entered you … and will have started corrupting you.'

'Corrupting me?'

'Changing you.'

She moved in closer and smiled gently up at him. 'But when you arrived, my ill feelings left me immediately and I felt quite wonderful.'

He focused on their joined hands, not her face. 'Yes, you will, but when I am not with you, you will suffer. I am sorry.'

Victoria was unsettled. 'You did not mention this before.'

'No … and for that I am truly sorry. Would it have made a difference?' At last he looked at her.

She met his gaze full on. 'No. Not at all.' She stepped in yet closer, so close he could feel her breath falling on him. 'What you did to me then … it was extraordinary. I want to … I want to reciprocate.'

He let a slight smile take him. 'Oh … there is time for that.'

'But soon, please. Next time … will you make love to me? Properly?'

Melbourne stood staring down at her, his jaw clenching. 'I must.'

Her brows knitted in bewilderment. 'You must? But do you not want to?'

He gave a pained sigh. 'I want to so much that I am in agony. At this moment here and now, I am in agony because I am not inside you.'

'I am ready.'

Even if she wasn't, Melbourne knew that she had no choice in the matter.

'When? When will it be?' she pressed.

He could not delay any longer than needed and so he told her. 'The day after tomorrow. Your blood will be replenished by then.'

'Will you feed on me too?' She looked at him with such heady erotic confidence that he could have taken her there and then.

But in truth, he had not yet decided whether to feed on her the first time he made love to her or not. Fleshly pleasures were twofold for vampires: there were the sexual acts mortals engage in, and there was the feeding. For vampires, they could be enjoyed separately, but when done in conjunction gave pleasure so intense as to make one forget one was bound to earth.

'I do not know yet,' he declared.

Her face broke into the broadest smile of encouragement. 'Yes, yes, my darling, you must.'

Her openness amazed him. How easy she made the choice over some dilemmas, but with that ease came a moral agony which pained even his fractured soul.

'Victoria … do you realise? The first time a woman is entered by a man is sacred. Each moment, each movement must be savoured. That in itself is beyond what I ever thought I could contemplate with you … and now you ask me also to do the other. For your body, your very being, these are momentous things … we must ensure it is not too much.'

Her bottom lip trembled almost indignantly. 'Are you telling me I cannot cope with it?'

'No, but you must realise and fully appreciate what you are doing.'

Her cheeks pinked as her temper rose. He loved that as much as the dewy adoration in her eyes. 'Do you not think I haven't imagined this every night? Even before I knew of your true nature, I still dreamt of making love to you, of taking you inside me, every night, longing for it. And now there is this too, and we have already started down that path. I cannot shake it from my mind, nor do I want to.'

But Melbourne remembered that he was still her advisor and so made a half-hearted attempt to advise. 'You are the Queen of England – you are expected to remain a virgin and marry and –'

Her eyes flared and she stood tall as she spoke her truth. 'Yes, I am Queen of England, but I am first and foremost a woman. I am Victoria. And this is what I choose.'

At this she pressed herself fully against him. Then, before he could scarcely fathom it, she brought her hand to his thigh and slid it up, each finger confident and certain. Not moving her gaze from him, she drew her hand across brazenly and grazed the front of his breeches. He drew in a sudden breath and held it.

Victoria smirked. Melbourne swallowed.

'Lord Melbourne,' she murmured. 'I am not as ignorant of the world as some would have me be. I know what is there for the taking … and I will take it.' She rubbed over him, back and forth, not intrusively, not presumptuously, but with an erotic purpose that staggered him. He rose quickly and pushed against her hand for more. Finding the outline of him, she wrapped her fingers around it. 'Is that the way, William?'

He nodded and his words caught in his throat. 'Yes, yes, you know it is.'

'How, my darling?' She didn't stop rubbing. He stared down at her, his eyes reddening, his fangs tingling.

'Harder,' he moaned and she did, circling the now rigid shaft and drawing her hand up with such natural intuition she could bring him off right there and then without even undoing his breeches. His head fell back and he drew up his upper lip as his fangs protruded.

At this, realisation gripped him and he reached down and encircled her wrist with his hand. She gasped a little at the sudden reversal. 'Wait. We will wait.' He was breathing heavily, his self-control tested to the limit. 'You will come to me. It will be at my home, it will be at Brocket Hall. It must be.'

She nodded and let her hand fall from him. 'Yes.'

Melbourne stepped away and turned his back to try to subdue his erection. 'Can you contrive a reason for coming out?'

'I will think of something.'

'The day after tomorrow. Friday.'

She stepped into him again but he evaded her. 'You must wait until then. I will not attend upon you in the meantime, I am sorry. I have Parliamentary matters to deal with. And, bear in mind, the malaise will return. Be strong, my love, try to keep your temper, or questions will be raised.'

'Am I truly not to see you for two days?'

'No.'

Her head dropped in disappointment but she declared, 'I will be strong.'

'I know you will.'

'And you?' She lifted her eyes to him.

'What about me?'

'Will you be strong?'

He smiled. Her understanding of him was innate. 'You see, Ma'am, once again you remind me that it is not only your body and your blood I crave.'

'I love you.' She said it plainly and immediately.

'I know, Ma'am. And I love you too.'

And with that, Melbourne bade her farewell and continued to validate in his mind the acts he was about to perpetrate – deflowering an unmarried virgin, blood-sucking, depriving someone of their immortal soul – all of which, for a serving Prime Minister, were somewhat dubious to say the least.

-xoOox-

As soon as Lord M left her, Victoria felt her headache returning. She slumped into a chair and called for some lemon water.

Emma Portman attended to her. 'Has Lord Melbourne gone, Your Majesty?'

'He has.'

'Is he returning tomorrow?'

'No, he is busy.' Already she heard the tetchiness creeping into her voice. She must fight it. She turned to Emma with a smile.

'Emma, you know Brocket Hall well. Lord M tells me the colours in the trees are most glorious at this time of year. I would very much like to see them. Friday, perhaps?'

Emma frowned. 'Brocket Hall? It is half a day's travel to reach it, Ma'am.'

'Lord M makes the journey regularly.'

'Indeed … but he rides usually, with a change of horse along the way. It takes longer in a carriage.'

'Still I wish to do it. I am sure Lord M will accommodate me for the night and I shall return the following day, or perhaps stay for the weekend.'

'Ma'am …' Emma was unsure how to proceed. 'What are your engagements? You will need to cancel them.'

'Then I shall. I have not been feeling well. I believe a change of scene will do me the world of good. Arrange it, if you will, Emma. I shall leave for Brocket Hall after lunch on Friday.' Her tone left no room for discussion.

'Very well, Ma'am.'

-xoOox-

The next two days were difficult. For Victoria, her headache and tiredness worsened and she struggled to keep her temper, as Lord M had warned. But she was at least forewarned and so her mood was not commented on as much as it could have been. She found that if she sat still and concentrated (and there was one particular thing to focus on, after all), she was content enough. And so time passed. The others were told she was staying at Brocket Hall over the weekend to study the flora and fauna. Tuts were exchanged but little more.

As was usual, it was intended that Emma would accompany her as chaperone, but on the day, as they were mounting the carriage, Emma was sneezing almost constantly.

'Emma, you are in no state to travel,' observed the Queen.

'But I must accompany you, Ma'am.'

'Oh, stuff and nonsense! I am a grown woman, quite capable of making these journeys alone. I insist you stay and recuperate.' She got in, closed the carriage door on her Lady and called, 'Drive on!'

Emma was left standing alone in the forecourt. The carriage set off with nobody in it save the Queen of England.

-xoOox-

The journey seemed even longer than Victoria had expected, but she supposed it was her excitement and anticipation which made it so.

When she arrived it was already dark and she practically ran from the carriage to the door. The footman who opened it to her had the decency not to gawp when the Queen of England arrived alone at 7 o'clock in the evening.

She stood in the spacious hallway and removed her bonnet and cloak, staring up around her.

'Your Majesty … welcome to Brocket Hall,' came a familiar voice, warm and rich. She closed her eyes and savoured it before turning to him.

'Thank you, Lord M. You have a fine home.'

Melbourne had emerged from a room off to the right. He wore no coat, and his shirt sleeves billowed cloudlike from the dark brocade of his waistcoat.

He glanced around and asked with some surprise, 'You are alone?'

She blushed briefly. 'Yes. Lady Portman was indisposed. I did not wish to impose on her.'

'Was no one else available to accompany you?'

'I don't know, Lord M. I didn't ask.'

He dropped his head with a slight smile. 'You will be in trouble, Ma'am.'

'Me? If anyone protests, they shall be sent straight to the Tower!'

'Quite right, Ma'am. I remember recommending that on the first day of your reign.'

'Indeed you did.'

They shared a smile, and so much passed between them with that alone that words were unnecessary. But then he remembered himself. 'I thought perhaps a light supper tonight. I asked the staff to prepare a table in the drawing room.'

It was her turn to blush. 'I would like that very much.'

He stepped in, his face shifting, his eyes casting over her. 'Victoria … you look so very beautiful.'

Her blush deepened. 'I came here to see the shifting colours of the leaves, Lord M. But it would seem to be dark already.'

'Damn the leaves.'

And he bent and kissed her. She coiled her arms about him and returned it, opening for him immediately, matching her body to his. He soon grazed down her neck but managed to retain his fangs. He would make it perfect. With determination, he pulled away and beckoned her into a room along the hallway. 'Come. You must be hungry.'

'I am, Lord M. So must you.'

He glanced back and smirked. 'Of a sort.'

They ate a small supper of soup and chicken, enough for now. They chatted as they always had – some talk of government, more gossip, frequent jokes and teases. What had changed, he wondered? And yet … they had already embarked on so much and would do more.

Supper ended. Silence fell, but it was one of their silences – easy and content.

Eventually, she reached across the table and placed two fingers atop his hand. She held his gaze and murmured, 'I am ready.'

And so, not saying a word, he stood and took her by the hand. Slowly, silently, he led her up the stairs, along corridors and hallways, to a bed chamber far from the centre of the house. He opened the door to her and she stepped in. Melbourne closed it behind them, the click of the bolt audible.

A fire crackled inside the chamber and it was further illuminated by candles. A large postered bed dominated the panelled room, and the wallpaper was of a patterned dark silk which threw off pools of iridescence in the candlelight. There was an air of heady sensuality to it which made her insides quiver.

He approached her, his head turned a little as if inspecting her, but he retained that soft smile which made her trust and crave him equally. Reaching up gently, he took hold of her head under her chin and leaned down to kiss her. He kissed deliciously, perfectly slowly, as if time had stopped. She could have stayed like that for some time, kissing him, and indeed he continued, but in the midst of the kiss she felt a loosening around her waist. He was unhooking her gown. She reached around to help but he firmly pulled her hands back and murmured, 'No,' against her lips.

He continued. Agile fingers, which seemed to know all too well what they were doing, unhooked her gown fully and then pushed it from her shoulders so that it fell to the ground in a pool of red silk. He continued with her skirts, which soon followed suit. Holding her by the shoulders, he guided her to step away from it. Victoria was aware that she was standing before the Prime Minister in only her underwear, but her only thought now was to remove it.

He ran a hand down her corset, curling his fingers over her waist and hips. He drew his hand around as he walked about her. 'Hm,' he said, a satisfaction to his tone which made goosebumps appear on her skin.

'Are you cold?' he asked.

She shook her head.

'And yet you shiver. Are you afraid?'

She looked at him and shook her head again, but without quite as much conviction this time.

'Victoria …' He stepped in again and once more kissed her. 'Say it now. If you wish me to stop, say it now.'

She said nothing, and it was she now who reached behind for her laces and began tugging them out. His mouth curled up at the corner and he moved to assist her. Soon enough her corset was discarded and then it was only her chemise and pantaloons. Casting his eyes over her, he took hold of her chemise. 'Raise your arms,' he said gently, but a command nonetheless. She lifted them and he drew the cotton shift up and off, revealing her naked breasts fully.

She stood and at first wanted to draw her arms in over to hide them, but she resisted. He sensed her anxiety and ran the back of his hand up along her arm. 'So beautiful. You are so very beautiful, I want you to know that.' And with that his hand found her breast and cupped it gently. A little gasp rose from her. He took the other in his other hand, lifting them both, relieving the weight and making her love him more even for that little thing. He studied them, squeezing the slightest amount as if learning them. His thumbs then glided up and ran over the nipples.

'Oh!' she gasped inadvertently, so he did it again, flicking them gently back and forth. She whined aloud and tried to stop it by biting her lip.

'It is warm in here, yet, you see, these are as hard as a rock atop the moors.'

She blushed but said, 'I like that,' and pressed into his hands for more.

'Good,' he murmured. 'I like it too.' And with that he dropped his head and dragged her right nipple deep into his mouth.

Victoria's head fell back and she sighed deeply. He pulled and tugged and sucked on her as if that alone could sustain him. All the while the other nipple was being attended to by his hand – squeezed and rolled so that a constant pulse throbbed at her sex and dampened her thighs. His free hand dropped and undid the laces on her drawers. He pushed them down, although Victoria was so engrossed in the sensations he was drawing from her breasts that she wasn't even aware. And so, a short while later, she stood entirely naked before him with no shame whatsoever.

With an effort, he dragged himself from her breasts to kiss her again. 'Beautiful. My perfect angel.'

'I want to see you now,' she stuttered, and set about tugging at his clothes. He laughed at her haste and helped her, removing his waistcoat and cravat and breeches and all else until he was soon only in shirtsleeves, although the shirt was so long that the crucial part was still hidden to her. The shape of his body was visible through the cotton, highlighted by the fire behind. She pressed herself against him and whispered, 'I am not the only beautiful one.' And she ran her hands up his shirt, tugging on it as she went, until he had no option but to pull it off completely.

Victoria could only pause. She took a step back and swallowed. But she could look nowhere else. He was slim and his muscles were taut and defined, far more than should be expected from a man of letters and of a certain age. (That age being 278, but let us not dwell on it.) She had seen such things in galleries, sculpted by the ancients, but here he was now before her. And further down. She bit her lip but could not avert her gaze. He let her. She needed to see what she was about to absorb. And what it was seemed unfeasibly large and long and already quite hard and upstanding. Victoria chided herself and remembered her lessons in the biological sciences. It was perfectly normal. (Although we shall allow her a moment of shock and wonder at what, in this case, constituted 'normal'.)

But then he stepped in and placed his hands on her shoulders again before running them with the utmost sensuousness down her arms. His right hand trailed across until he found what he had found the other day. She opened her legs a little for him and was not ashamed to hold his gaze.

His fangs remained hidden and his eyes the purest green, but she read the desire in his expression.

'Hm,' he confirmed as his middle finger slid through her folds easily. 'So wet already.'

'I told you,' she exhaled. 'I am ready.'

'Yes …' he breathed out, still stroking along her. 'I believe you are.'

And kissing her, he cupped his hand over her sex and guided her back. She fell backwards onto the bed and he climbed up over her, but his kisses did not stop. In fact, he kissed her completely and everywhere. He kissed her shoulders, her breasts, down further, over her belly button, across her hips, further down her legs, all the way to her ankles before returning. She squirmed under him, longed for him. The heat in her belly flamed so much it hurt. She whined and wriggled unstoppably and when she did he held her and contained it, but his kisses did not stop. Only when he reached her mouth again did he at last move between her legs.

Pushing them apart, he placed himself ready. She glanced down. He seemed much larger than she recalled from stroking him in his breeches. How could it possibly fit inside her? A moment's doubt took hold, but then she looked into his face. Still there was no red in the eyes, still no fangs had emerged. He kissed her again.

'My love,' he whispered. 'It will hurt this time, but you can take me, I know.'

She nodded and opened wider for him. 'Please don't make me wait. I am so tired of waiting.'

And he held himself and brought his hand between her legs to open her carefully for him. Then, locking eyes with her, he pushed in with a grunt.

At first she thought there would be no pain. There was a stretch and a give but no more. But then, determination captured him and he pushed in harder.

'Ow!' she cried out, for it had hurt. But he did not stop. He could not. Melbourne continued into her, full and hard. With another grunt he thrust powerfully forward and another sharp cry caught her.

He withdrew a way and made her wince then surged back in again, stronger than before. His head was thrown back and he exclaimed, 'Christ, you are my all!'

And at that the pain subsided and she could take him. She adjusted under him and held onto his back. He looked down, panting with the effort of entering her. 'Do you hurt?'

She nodded a little. 'It does not matter. Move in me.'

And he did. He pulled out then pushed in again and now built up a pace which he himself needed.

Victoria felt him moving through her, all of him, and the pain faded. This was fullness. This was completion. This was what she had been seeking. And as he stroked he rubbed along that bud he coaxed so beautifully. She moaned under him and he recognised it not as a moan of pain but of pleasure.

'Do you feel it already?' he asked.

She nodded and instinctively clenched upon him, making him gasp with his own spike of pleasure. 'Oh, yes, do that!' he exclaimed. She did it again. His pleasure built inexorably and he threw his head back and roared.

She gripped onto his back, clinging to him, and he reached under her and drew himself onto his knees. Melbourne knelt between her legs and pulled her up to sit upon him, quickly settling her again on his shaft and curling her legs around him.

She was startled and sucked in as the pain of earlier caught again. 'Shh,' he soothed and brought his hand between them to find her nub. Her pained cry became a moan.

He began to rock her along him. His focus was fixed on her and as she looked into him she noticed the red creep back into his irises. His mouth was open to draw in breath, and his fangs grew before her eyes. But far from being frightened by it, she bucked on him and delighted in the knotted pleasure which unfurled inside her. Melbourne forgot himself, such were the sensations consuming him; his eyes closed and he bared his fangs. She moved ever faster and this time caused him to groan. Victoria was transfixed. She sat, impaled on this man turning into a very demon before her eyes. But the most beautiful, perfect demon. Her demon. And so she only wanted more.

She moved on him as if it was her one hundredth time, not her first, and asked, 'Have you decided? Will you feed on me?'

He could only moan. Still he was wrestling with himself. He had half thought to limit this time to the carnal; it was, after all, magnificent. But his compulsion was too great, his thirst all-consuming. His fangs were fully revealed, pointed and ready. His skin had paled and tightened, his eyes had reddened. The harder she worked on him, the more she clenched so gloriously on his cock, the faster her blood raced. He could feel it just as acutely as he could feel her tight wetness gripping him. He could almost smell her blood. And he wanted it. He wanted to drink her in so much the last of his sense deserted him.

She may have asked, but there had never been a real choice in the matter. But then she did something which banished the last remnant of hesitation.

'Do it,' she said. 'Do it now.' And, still riding him, she let her head fall back, threaded her fingers through his hair, and guided him down to her neck.

Victoria pulled up off him and held herself for a moment, poised, then she sank down so he rose fully up into her. And at that moment, he bit. She screamed. Pain hit hard as his fangs penetrated just as his cock penetrated.

In they went, deeper, piercing her flesh as they had before with that extraordinary crunch which both repulsed and bewitched. She felt his fangs embedding acutely. Somehow the agonised sensation connected to the hard shaft already inside her and the pain was amalgamated and absorbed. Her eyes stared above her and she could no longer move. He had her. But what was more, she had him. The circle was complete and, using the sheen of pain, she revelled in it.

Melbourne held her hard, his fingers splayed on her back. He pulled her – a yank – against him, and with a groan sank his fangs yet deeper. He felt her body shudder under him and a ripple of threatening ecstasy took him. His cock was encompassed by her body and he pushed in harder to reinforce it.

Then he began to feed on her, long, slow sucks which drew her blood into him.

They were barely moving but neither noticed nor cared. There existed such a perfect accomplishment, that for all they were aware the bed had vanished, gravity had failed. He continued to suck and she worked on him, little pulsing squeezes to feel him and give to him.

He drank her in, and the pleasure which already gripped his cock grew transcendent. He worked with her now – it was not difficult, their compatibility was indisputable – and felt her rapture poised. She had been making the slightest, sweetest little noises of pain and pleasure while he'd been inside her and feeding, but now she was moaning: a disembodied sound of rising ecstasy. He picked up his pace, moving his cock inside her with an almost brutal strength. It would take them both together simultaneously, he knew.

It broke in her first; he felt her body spasming on his cock, felt the shudder upon him, and she confirmed it with a harsh moaning cry. At that, he sucked yet harder, drawing a rush of her blood to flood his mouth. He came cataclysmically, his seed bursting from him with blinding force. If his bite were not so deep, he doubted he could have remained attached to her, such was the shocking power of his climax. Had the world stopped at that moment, they would have accepted it completely.

She mewled afterwards, little moaning sobs and sighs as the wash of pleasure at last faded. Her arms grew limp upon him. He had not the wherewithal to move but – with a final gulping suck – he detached his fangs and swallowed the last of the blood in his mouth. He held her upon him, and even in her dizziness (which was, admittedly, extreme for several reasons) she offered him her mouth and they kissed with a staggering intensity. She would taste her own blood on him, for much of it had run uncontained from his mouth in his desperation for more.

But he felt her faintness and, reluctantly, withdrew carefully from her and guided her to lie back upon the bed. He lay beside her and pulled the covers over them both.

She opened her eyes enough to meet with his and murmur, 'My love.'

'Yes,' he confirmed, and watched as she fell into the deepest sleep.

His love.