Northern Lights, Familiar Faces (Shiva x Vekraihr)

Vekraihr · Sep 25, 2020

Jerrik was surprised when she acquiesced to a second glass, though he certainly wasn’t going to deny the woman a proper drink. He filled her glass just a touch more than he had the first time and sealed the decanter once he’d finished. Her expression teetered on confusion and Jerrik wondered what it was which crossed her mind which confounded her so. His eyes were keen on taking her in, studying her features and her movements without hiding the trails his eyes blazed over her. Her features were certainly of a delightful mixture of English and Scandinavian blood and he found himself growing a little fonder of her as she took her first sip of that second glass.

As Anna leaned forward, Jerrik felt inclined to do so himself but his larger frame appeared more menacing in this position. “Indeed I am, young Anna. You should heed me, lest you find yourself bitten,” her tease was met with one in kind, a gentle jab with an unknown truth behind it. There wasn’t a reason known to him why he felt so compelled to answer her so; perhaps it was the quiet provocation of her body language. “Oh, have I, Ms. Edwards? Please, do tell,” he implored her with an appeasing grin, that mild playfulness still having a little fun within him. He listened to her speak, rapt at the lilt of her voice and the lovely intonations she held. As she interjected her sentence to request that additional log, Jerrik was out of his seat and tended to the fire within a matter of seconds. He’d almost moved faster than he should have been able to but had managed to fall just short of supernatural speeds.

“You offer too much credit for what should be expected of anyone who sees a lovely woman about to hunted by the hands of Skaði,” some inflection of an old Nordic tongue broke through in his accent as he took another long draw from his glass, draining it. No matter how much he poured back, he seemed to be neither warmed nor affected by the alcohol they’d imbibed. “Well, you have certainly come to the correct part of the world if knowledge is what you seek,” he said with not a small amount of boastful bravado and he gave her a genuine grin. His fangs had been visible for longer this time before his lips pulled close with thoughtfulness as she began to recount her parents.

“Ahh! Yes! Klara had written Embers in the Hearth and Milton’s treatises were quite thorough indeed. The epic is certainly not for the faint of constitution and he delved quite deep. To think, the nights he must have spent scouring those ten books,” Jerrik proclaimed knowledgeably as he gave a knowing nod. Now, he truly understood her purposes for being where she had been as muses had the talent of striking when it was most inconvenient for you to write. And, in his love for knowledge, he found a deeper connection to her than he’d been expecting. His expression had further softened to the point where the harsh angles of his face were subtle and nearly inviting.

He wondered at the pressures of being the child of prolific parents and the drive to overcome their legacy— or, at the least, build upon it and create a dynasty instead. Her compliment was double-edged as she asked of his past and that brief remembrance of his human life felled him to silence momentarily. “Well, if you must know, I’ve lived in this region most of my life. I only traveled for some time to collect things. What you have seen within these halls is the result,” he answered her as truthfully as he could without revealing his entire nature.

“Nonsense, it’s fairly late and you must have exhausted quite a measure of your energy braving that blizzard,” he reassured her that the action was not considered as impoliteness on her behalf and that he rather understood her predicament. “I am afraid, though, coffee will not be possible for me to provide. However, I can offer you a warm bed. Or, it will be once I have a fire going in there,” he responded to her request as he noticed how she eased more into the chair as if ready to sleep there and then.

Rising to his feet, he moved over towards the chair with his fur-lined cloak rustling and he muttered a soft, “Pardon me,” as he reached beneath her legs and shoulders and hoisted her to his abdomen without a singular grunt of effort. Apparently, there was more muscle than met the eyes beneath that cloak of his. As he cradled her as one might hold their bride, Jerrik began to walk slowly out of the den and down the hall towards the foyer. He still wore a soft smile on his face, framed by the well-groomed and waxed beard of his. There were masculine scents bound to him, fragrances of cedar and pine, various herbal aromas, a tantalizing musk, and a subtle hint of vanilla. Another interesting thing to note was how his skin appeared not to be even a little warm; in fact, he’d felt rather cool to the touch.

“I do hope you don’t mind. It is faster this way and, to be honest, you’re the first guest I’ve had in some time who actually intrigues me,” his voice certainly had warmed and had lost a bit of that rasp, no doubt thanks to the elixir of honey of which he’d drank nearly 3 times as much as she had. His footsteps were rhythmic and his body stayed unusually level as he carried her, nearly giving her the impression she was floating if not for the braces his arms formed beneath her. “Though..I do seem to recall one of the chapters in Embers depicting a scene not terribly far from this one,” he added with a lightly provocative tone. His echoing footsteps grew further apart as he carried her through the foyer and further into the keep’s center. The bed chambers were across the manor and the closest one with a fireplace was nearly directly opposite of the entrance.

Shiva the Cat · Oct 4, 2020

There was a certain light of humor in Lord Ulbrecht's eyes that took Anna completely by surprise when she mockingly accused him of danger. “Indeed I am, young Anna. You should heed me, lest you find yourself bitten,” that rich voice, sweet and warm as his melomel, teased from his elegant chair. True, with his tall stature and broad physique, there was a slight air of the melodramatic villain about him. When he smiled though, he seemed to resemble something between a handsome prince and a kindly professor, and if he'd hoped to frighten or intimidate her, he was failing miserably. At the mention of being bitten though, she couldn't help but notice his teeth, surprisingly white and long, with particularly pointed canines that almost looked like fangs. Perhaps a bizarre hereditary feature of his noble line? It didn't exactly seem polite to ask.

If Anna was still undecided in regards to the Lord's character though, his literary opinions were enough to sway her. "You've read Embers in the Hearth?" she asked with fresh surprise. Most ladies and children of her acquaintance were quite fond of her mother's most famous book, but most gentlemen agreed the story was sentimental tripe without any true literary value. A note of guarded curiosity crept into her voice. "And...what did you think of it?" Pausing, she offered him a small smile of encouragement, just in case he was tempted into flattery on her mother's behalf. "You can tell a great deal about someone by their literary interests, you know."

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to hear the strong-voiced master of the house reading aloud to her: Shakespeare, Homer, perhaps even Paradise Lost itself. But the weariness was laying more heavily upon her with each passing minute, and Anna was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on what he was saying. A moment of alertness did pierce through the fog at his offer of a warm bed; not only for the attraction it provided but the thought of the scandal if it should be known that Andreas Ljung's English granddaughter actually spent the night with a strange man. Well let them stand out in the snow for a few hours if they're going to be so sanctimonious the young woman thought to herself with a yawn. "Thank you, My Lord, I think I will accept your offer. With a house as grand as this with only yourself to occupy it, I think there should be plenty of room for propriety between us," she added with a sleepy smile.

Unfortunately it would appear propriety was not a great concern for the master of the house. As Anna slowly began to get to her feet, before she knew what was happening he'd lifted her entirely off the ground as easily as if she'd been a child (which was no small feat, considering the guest's generous curves resembled those of the Swedish peasant girl rather than the aristocratic English roses of her homeland). The young woman let out a little squeal of surprise and reflexively grabbed onto Lord Ulbrecht about the neck, certain he would drop her at any second.

"Please sir! This is quite unnecessary!" she protested, fresh color rushing to her cheeks. Still though, she didn't release her grip on his neck, and there was no denying that at this close proximity the tall blonde was even more handsome than he'd been at arm's length. And his scent! It was comforting and intoxicating all at once. It made her think of a few years earlier when her family had gone to visit one of her mother's acquaintances in Finland, and she'd had the opportunity to experience a sauna for the first time. She'd gone in alone and completely naked, and the scent of the wood and herbs had such a relaxing effect on her...along with, well, other stimulants. Needless to say it had been quite awkward when her mother walked in later and the two had enver spoken of it again, but now Anna was wondering what it might have been like if the giant Lord had been the one to interrupt her ministrations.

Anna swallowed hard, trying to drive the thought from her mind, although at the very least she thought the warmth would have done Lord Ulbrecht some good. Even through her remaining layers, she could feel the coolness of his hands through them. "You ought to take care yourself, my Lord," she suggested gently as he carried her through the door of a small, dark, but well-furnished room (at least, as far as she could tell from the meager light reflecting off the snow outside the frosty windows). "One can easily catch a chill in great houses like this if they aren't properly heated. And living alone as you do, who could fetch the doctor if you did fall ill?"

Her stockinged feet padding lightly across the floor, the young woman sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her host to get a fire going. Considering all the other inappropriate acts she'd committed today, she certainly wasn't going to cross that final line by undressing in front of him, and besides under her hand the bed was cold as a grave. It was obvious no one had slept in it in ages, although the covers were quite clean and even smelled rather pleasant, and the room seemed to be in good order overall. Pulling her legs up underneath her, Anna leaned curiously over the beautifully carved footboard and watched the blonde man as he worked.

"May I ask, who lived in this house before you did, Lord Ulbrecht?" she asked, observing the tasteful paintings on the wall and the rich colors of the drapes and rug. Outside the wind was picking up, but the windows seemed quite tightly sealed, with the only draft coming from the chimney itself in rebellion against the growing flames in the hearth. The sound was a bit unsettling, and Anna was glad to see a heavy woven blanked folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she offered another little smile towards her host as she snuggled into the soft, cedar-smelling wool. "I'm curious whose ghost I'll need to watch for in the night, you know."

The odds of watching anything seemed highly unlikely though. Indeed, it would be a miracle if she could stay awake long enough for Lord Ulbrecht to finish building the fire and leave. It was only through the greatest fortitude of will that Anna waited for him to finish, fiddling with the fastenings on her outermost sweater in fatigued impatience as she rolled into a most unladylike reclined position on her side, curling her body like a sleepy cat's.

Vekraihr · Oct 5, 2020

"Indeed, I have read it. I must admit it is a simpler book than most of the tomes I consume, but this is not necessarily a bad thing. Simple things can be enjoyable, too. Your mother must hold much love in her heart to be able to write such a saccharine account," Jerrik attempted to be more congenial towards her mother's work, though he did truly enjoy the story enough to have read it the whole way through. Anna's shift in demeanor and posture gave him a moment to look her over again, hunger hidden behind cold eyes as his nostrils flared a little to pull within him the living essence which wafted from her body. He'd not yet met a woman who smelled as sweet as she, a gentle floral parfum with top notes of fruit and another feminine scent which he wasn't quite able to place. Whether natural or by scented soaps or perfumes, the aroma of the young lady before him tantalized his appetite; both as a man and as a monster.

She mentioned propriety, an amusing concept to him as he'd lived so far removed from human interaction that such words held little sway over him any longer. Her protest seemed hollow, considering how she clung to his form and even seemed to bring her face closer to him to enjoy the air he fragranced with his essence. "Are you certain you wish to demand what is and isn't acceptable to a lord within the walls of his own keep?" his threat was half-hearted and the slight smirk on his face betrayed the impish nature of his jab. As he carried her along, her weight and warmth were oddly comforting since she weighed approximately as much as a girl he'd fancied from his village before everything was razed by the hordes of the devil. At least she protested no further at his nearly affectionate cradling of her physique, his arms and hands supporting her as one might have held a lover. And, with her arms around his neck, it might appear so from the outside as well. Luckily for her dignity, no one would soon be braving the storm that howled angrily against the stone facade of the keep. Her crimson hue served as a reminder to the vampire of the life essence which coursed tantalizingly below her skin, further striking at his resolve and deepening his hunger. He would need to feed this evening, else he felt he might assault the poor girl who needed only shelter from him and not his advances.

"Should I, now? And would you know what's best for my health?" his response was brazen and confident as he placed her on her feet and he chuckled with a bemused tone. "Perhaps I should keep you around, then? A lord needs a lady, after all," he turned his head to face her as he tossed the match within the hearth and lit the kindling within. He wanted to see her reaction, gauge the feeling she gained from his suggestion, and his eyes focused cooly upon her face. At her next question, Lord Ulbrecht's face hardened a little as he thought of the home's previous master. A vampire lord who, along with a horde of fledglings, razed his village and murdered most of his kin. Men, women, and children were all cut down; treated as equals beneath the heels of Lord Eskil Fadhir and his legion of the undying.

He got lost in the memory, briefly, seeing flashes of fire, of steel, and blood as he relived the gory, brutal scenes of his unmaking. He watched through his mind's eye as his mother was cleaved at the waist and his father bisected as he attempted to fight back against the vampires. His previous betrothed's throat torn from her lovely neck by bared, wicked teeth as screams echoed around him. His own end approached after he had cut down two of their less capable; and the subsequent offer of reprieve for his valiance and bravery. He could still see it all as though it happened yesterday. Grinding his teeth, he growled angrily as his cold blood briefly boiled and his face lost all serenity, contorting with righteous indignation for that brief moment and his eyes gleamed with hatred. He dug his nails within quivering palms before he punched so forcefully into the stone floor that she thought he might have broken his hand.

However, as his hand lifted away, it would appear the stonework was broken into more pieces than it had been previously and his hand was no worse for the wear. Then, as quickly as that rage had come, it fled from his face and left him looking solemnly at Anna. "Apologies, I should not sully a lily as lovely as you with the witness of such vitriol...The previous master of this keep was a cruel man-- Lord Eskil Fadhir. Upon my doorstep were great atrocities delivered by his hands," his voice betrayed the stone expression of his, the waverings of emotion lying within those smooth tones. He stoked the flames of the hearth aggressively, then placed in enough logs to ensure a comfortable burn for the evening and he stood with a raucous ruffling of his cloak. "I shall speak no further of this. Good night, Ms. Edwards," he swooped to her bedside and placed an apologetic kiss to her forehead, again allowing her to feel the coolness of his body. Then, as if he'd never existed at all, he vanished from her room in a blink as his footsteps trailed rapidly down the hallway as her door creaked shut.

“This is why I avoid them, now...Incessant curiosity which cannot be sated...And they’re not ready to truly know of my kind,” he hissed to himself as he walked quickly down the hall and back towards his den. Or, perhaps, it was he who wasn’t ready for them? Just the thought of his name brought all the memories associated with Lord Fadhir rushing back. Memories he’d buried by spending almost a century on the high seas, exploring the world and collecting his art, treasures, and knowledge. Jerrik’s hair had become a little unkempt from his outburst and, when he sat down, untied his warrior’s knot and began to straighten his hair and tied it once again. He would wait until he was certain she’d fallen asleep before leaving the keep, certain she would sleep through the night while he prowled the tempestuous air of the squall.

Shiva the Cat · Oct 11, 2020

Lord Ulbrecht's insinuations sent a wave of emotions across Anna's face: embarrassment, indignation, consideration, then finally amusement. Hugging the blanket more firmly around her, she raised a pale eyebrow as she leaned flirtatiously over the footboard. "I think you may prove my earlier theory, sir," the Englishwoman remarked with a wry grin. "It may be that you are a scoundrel after all. No respectable gentleman would ever make proposition to a young lady on the very night he made her acquaintance. It is no wonder then that the neighbors do not speak very highly of you." Of course, in her experience the neighbors never spoke of him at all, but that would hardly injure the case.

The master of the house did not seem wholly amused by her comment. Indeed, he seemed lost in thought, and rather dark ones at that. Frowning, Anna reached one hand towards Lord Ulbrecht's broad back, only letting it dropped when she realized the familiarity of the gesture was most inappropriate. Still, when he turned back to face her, she couldn't help but notice his bright gaze had dulled somewhat, the fire in the blue eyes veiled by sadness and anguish.

It was to be expected, she supposed. It couldn't be a very happy life living alone in a place like this. Maybe he hadn't been joking after all when he'd suggested that she stay. But no; the idea that silly old Anna Edwards could suddenly convince him to give up his life of solitude was laughable. It was more likely he really was a scoundrel, interested in an evening of carnal pleasures to entertain himself between stretches of...whatever he did all day. And Anna might certainly have had some liberal ideas, but she wasn't quite that open-minded. At least, not when she was so tired. No longer caring about the overt familiarity of their positions, the young woman turned around and peeled back the covers, slipping into the blankets still half-dressed and pulling them up to her chin.

"Lord Fadhil, hm?" she yawned, rolling onto her side and letting her cheek rest on one of the cool, soft pillows. "Sounds like quite the gentleman." Anna had already let her eyes drift shut, otherwise she might have tensed at Lord Ulbrecht's approach to her bedside. As it was, she barely noticed the light kiss on her brow, mistaking it for a slight breeze undaunted by the soothing warmth of the fire in the hearth.

As she slipped into semi-consciousness, the warmth only seemed to grow, and her half-sleeping mind grumpily wished she'd taken off her additional layers before getting in the bed. Now though her limbs were too heavy to move, and she could feel a full restfulness so tantalizingly near. Outside the wind roared in a way that reminded her of the sea, and Anna found herself longing to dive into the cool waters of the nearby beaches. Of course, this time of year the waters would be more than cool; they'd most likely be frozen. But oh she was so hot!

The only time she'd felt such heat before was when her parents had taken her to Greece for a summer holiday, and she'd snuck out with a couple of the local village girls and swum naked in the sea near a secluded cove. A smile washed across Anna's sleeping face as the memory coalesced into a dream, the wailing wind transforming into a roaring sea as the drifting snow of Sweden melted into the white sands of Elafonisos. Alas, if only her clothes could have evaporated as well! But no, looking down she was still wrapped in her heavy woolens and Lord Ulbrecht's quilt over all, and no matter how hard she tried to strip them away there always seemed to be more, holding her down and back from the blessed cool blue waters of the Adriatic.

From the bluff where she sat, she could see her friends splashing in the surf on the beach below, their skirts hiked up to their thighs as they laughed an called to her. Again, Anna tried to shed some of the constricting clothing to join them, but in the process she noticed the girls weren't dressed exactly how she had remembered them. Even in the village certain fashions from London, Paris, and Rome had made it to the rural villages of the island, and the young ladies she'd known hadn't dressed too differently from the white-haired teenager. In her dream though, they wore much more traditional peasant garb of a century earlier, the type of thing only old women would be caught wearing these days. And there was something else strange as well: the girls had ceased their laughter and were now pointing to something far out at sea, a black speck on the horizon.

Anna felt as though she was looking through a telescope as her eyes focused on the dot, and it resolved into a shape resembling a Viking longship of all things. And standing at the prow dressed in all his anachronistic finery was a tall man with blonde hair that shined like gold in the sun, and dominating blue eyes fixed on the coast. Lord Ulbrecht? she thought incredulously, suddenly feeling the weight and heat crushing her body again. Down the below, the girls were beginning to scream and run for the village.

"Proséxte to téras!" they screamed. Watch for the monster!

She sat bolt upright, suddenly able to move again. But the beach was gone, and the dwindling fire had left a chill in the room. Turning to look out the window, Anna could see it was still pitch black outside, and for a moment she thought she could hear a clock chiming twelve. As expected, she had sweated through her heavy outer layers, leaving her feeling more chilled than ever, but thankfully there was still a healthy stack of logs beside the dying fire. Slipping out of bed, she added a few more to the hearth and finally stripped down to her shift, letting the rest of her clothes dry before the restored flame. She was about to turn back to the bed when suddenly she got the strangest sensation she was being watched.

For several moments, she did not move, and only barely breathed. From where she was standing she could see that the door to the room was still shut, but it was impossible to hear if anyone else was in the room over the sound of the continuing storm outside. Finally, summoning all the courage she could she turned around to face the bed...

...and saw nothing. Just shadows and shapes dancing from the fireplace, and a bed that was still empty and waiting for her. Shivering a little, she scampered back across the room and dove back between the covers. Tugging the coverlet over her head, she willed herself to sleep again, and while it didn't feel like she'd gotten much more rest, by the time she uncovered her head again the sun was shining through the window and she could smell breakfast cooking someplace nearby.

Rubbing her eyes, Anna staggered out of the bed and over to the screen where she'd draped her clothes in the middle of the night. Dressing just enough to be proper rather than warm (she was still feeling a bit overheated from the night before), she padded in her thick woolen stocking out into the hall, following the scent of food until she came to a surprisingly cheery looking kitchen where her host was already hard at work.

"Good morning," she remarked softly, her voice still stifled by sleepiness as well as a bit of shyness and confusion. Taking a seat at the end of a well-made but unremarkable farmhouse table, the young woman folded her hands in her lap and raised an eyebrow at the sight of an aristocrat like Lord Ulbrecht busying himself like a country housewife. "I don't suppose any of that is for me?" Anna added with a humorous tone as she looked longingly at a steaming pot of what she hoped was coffee in the middle of the table.

Vekraihr · Nov 15, 2020

Jerrik hadn’t taken the time to address any of her other comments; rather, he remained lost in that tumultuous battlefield which had so scarred and changed him. His only reprieve was that brief moment where he, without reason, felt it necessary to comfort himself with that small kiss to her head. He may have told himself that it was more for her, but even he doubted that as it seemed she had no trouble with comfort as she drifted further into somnolence. Her jagged words hadn’t wounded him. No, he was much too self-assured for that and he could tell by her tone that her words hadn’t exactly been true. Not that the opinion of his neighbors would do much to weigh on him, regardless. Grateful that she seemed to be undisturbed by his outburst— especially that he had broken the stone beneath a bare fist in her presence— so much so that she continued to drift off as he made his exit.

As he waited for the moments to pass until he felt she would be fully swept away by the evening, there was a troubled look on his face as he sat within his den. In his mind’s eye, he was back in his village with a boreal forest surrounding each side save for one. It was this one side where he stood upon, at the bank of a fairly wide stream which fed into a river that led into the Gulf. This is where he toiled, upper body bare as he glistened in the pale moonlight as he carved through the lengths of wood to further refine the rough shape of the ship’s bow. A scream had been the first thing which sent him on alert; he lifted a woodsman’s ax over one shoulder as he bound in the direction in which he had heard the noise of terror originate. A humanoid shape huddled over a sputtering guard, blood bubbling from between his lips as the figure above him bit down into his neck in a most inhumane way. He’d heard tales, but he never quite believed in them. He had to get to his parents, he thought, as he rushed through the pathways which wound about the town.

He had, as of yet, gone unnoticed as he barged through the door of his parent’s lodge only to bear witness as his mother was slashed grievously through the waist by a wickedly sharp blade. She’d nearly fallen in half from how deep the cleave had gone and she screamed with agony as Jerrik’s eyes filled with rage. He rushed forward, ax in hand as he screamed wildly and swung with incredible force, catching the vampire off guard and surprised as it turned in time for him to split its head with the heavy blade. His mother continued screaming as she tried to contain her insides as they threatened to spill forth from her, staining the floor in her crimson as Jerrik let go of the dark wooden handle and knelt to her side. “Mamma, vad har de gjort med dig?” sorrowful and angry was his tone, his hands shaking as he cradled her head towards his body, careful not to bend her abdomen. He was met with hyperventilating whimpers and pained stammering, the poor woman incapable of speech through the blinding pain which ravaged her. There was nothing that would be able to be done for her, Jerrik realized as he felt the warmth of her blood pooling beneath his legs and soaking into the canvas of his pants.

He’d not noticed that his father had come from around the corner until a wail of agony left him at the sight of his wife in such a state. “Helda? Varför? Vad gjorde vi för att förtjäna detta?” he screamed out as he rushed over to Jerrik’s side and knelt, lowering himself nearly fully to the ground to kiss her as he sobbed inconsolably. Jerrik’s eyes stung with the tears he repressed, looking to the blade which had fatally injured her and he reached to grab it from the now lifeless corpse of the vampiric assailant. “Fader, det måste göras…” he spoke solemnly as he held out the blade and his father trembled and shook, shaking his head. “Nej, nej ... Jag kan inte,” Sigvard responded, voice trembling as he continued to cry and he kissed Helda one final time. “Jag är ledsen, mamma. Jag älskar dig.” “Jag älskar dig, Helda,” were the last words she heard as Jerrik placed the blade to her chest and drove it through where he knew the heart to be. A guttural noise proceeded her limp body relaxing against the floor, eyes tightly shut before she passed on.

Anger took the men, leading them to act as they steeled themselves with proper weapons of Sigvard’s: a battleax for Jerrik and a longsword for his father. When they left the home together, the town was half on fire and there was carnage in the streets as civilians attempted to flee and fight, neither to much avail, as the horde savaged their numbers like a wolf preys on sheep. They fought through several together, until Jerrik saw his beloved Ingrid and he broke away from his father to come to aid her as she attempted to push off a pale assailant. Alas, he was a moment too late and his blade cleaved through the vampire just a moment after it had torn the throat from her pale neck, spraying Jerrik with a spray of fresh crimson. It dripped from his face and beard, a blood-curdling scream of rage filling the air as he began to slash through the denizens of the night with reckless abandon and righteous indignation. His father had rushed to join his side, blades whirling around the two men as they both simultaneously and valiantly fought to drive back this assault on their home.

A surprised groan of pain left Sigvard as a blade pierced through him at the waist before it was ripped up the length of his body and the two halves of him split as his body clattered to the ground. Standing behind was a larger man, though not quite as large as Jerrik, who held the gleaming blade which had been the undoing of so many. His hair was deep brown, nearly black, tied in a single tail whose tip terminated at his waist. Eyes of an inhuman coldness, green as the forests but not nearly as inviting, looked at Jerrik as he grinned malevolently. The two men stared each other down before a duel ensued, flashes of sparks and grunts of effort filling the air between the two as they each tried to maneuver themselves to an advantageous position. Unfortunately, Jerrik hadn’t the strength or dexterity to best this creature, who slashed his chest wide open and left him kneeling before him. “Jag är Eskil Fadhir...Du har kämpat bra, men inte tillräckligt bra...Två vägar sträcker sig framför dig ... Livet evigt eller förgås nu. Valet är ditt…” He could feel his body growing cold as his vital essence spilled forth from the grave wound on his chest. He felt the point of the blade beneath his chin, pressing against his throat and Jerrik felt a cold terror gripping him. “Evigt liv,” he resigned with melancholy, his expression vacant as he processed losing everything.

As he pulled from his reminiscence, Jerrik was already halfway through collecting the things he felt he would need for breakfast in the morning for poor Anna. Through his own fledglings, he knew that which his neighbors kept and, as such, was able to find all the ingredients for a full breakfast. He also endeavored to find her some coffee beans, which hadn’t been so difficult thanks to the beverage’s prevalence in the area. As he trudged through the snow, a satchel over his shoulder with the collected spoils of his pilfering activities, Jerrik couldn’t shake the pall which clung to him after so vividly recounting the trauma of his past. It took him several hours, but he’d gathered all he needed and returned home to settle the ingredients into their respective places for him to cook in the morning. That was something he’d not done in quite some time and the thought amused him enough to pull him out of his depression. Luckily, the kitchen had been stocked with all the utensils needed for cooking and, as such, he’d not had to take any from his neighbors. Such things might have gone more noticed than the relatively small amounts of food he’d taken from them.

After placing everything, Jerrik decided he’d go check on Anna and see how she was getting along. Surely, her fire would need tending to as well. He walked through the halls with that unnerving grace of his and slipped silently through the door and shut it behind him just in time for her to be startled awake. Not wishing her to think the worst of him, the large man slipped into the shadows of the corner and, noiselessly, awaited her return to sleep. Something seemed to have startled her in her dreams, he noted, as she was covered with sweat that seemed too profuse for the temperature. He watched as she slipped out of bed and tended to the fire herself, relieving him of that responsibility before she stopped and scanned the room. Outside, the winds howled and whined through branches and eaves as Jerrik stood motionlessly— and nearly invisibly— in the corner. Had she not have been so panicked, he might have enjoyed the sight of her in such a state of undress more. But, as things were, he had little time to think about it nor appreciate it. He stayed in place until he was certain she was asleep again and, as quiet as a mouse, he slipped out of the room once again and retreated for his den for the evening.

Jerrik knew humans typically rose after the sun and he checked on her periodically before to see if he could tell when she might be waking. As the sun began to rise and golden light filled some of the more open rooms of the home, he’d made himself busy within the kitchen, frying bacon, eggs, and sausages as he cooked beans and toasted slices of bread. Upon the table, a steaming pot of coffee had been set, freshly ground and brewed with vessels of cream and sugar sitting nearby. As she entered, Jerrik looked up to her as he gave a small grin, dressed in less fine clothes this morning as he toiled over the woodburning stove. “Good morning, Lady Anna,” he responded to her cordially as his eyes wrinkled with his grin. “This is all for you, I’m sorry to admit. I do not partake in breakfast,” he stated simply as he continued to cook, a pot of beans beginning to softly boil. Once the bacon had finished cooking, he’d set the slices upon a grill set over a plate to catch any remaining drippings, which he then used to fry the mushrooms and tomatoes. A long-handled wooden peppermill whirled within his hand as he lifted it from the nearby counter, spinning it around dexterously before applying a reasonable portion to the vegetables. “I haven’t cooked in quite a while...I do hope I’ve performed well,” he admitted with a laugh as he finished with the last of the cooking and he prepared her a healthy plate of a full English breakfast. A salt shaker sat on the table, beside which he deposited the peppermill and he placed her plate before a chair which had already been set with the proper utensils.

Shiva the Cat · Nov 18, 2020

"Flattery shall not get you anywhere nearly as efficiently as a proper breakfast will, Lord Ulbrecht," Anna replied in dry response to his overly formal greeting, finally deciding to help herself to the coffeepot. If she were at home a cup of tea would have been preferable, but she had the journey back to her grandfather's to prepare for, and she would need every drop of invigoration her host could offer. Thankfully the brew was strong enough to drive the lingering drowsy haze from her mind, albeit when she looked out the window and saw the snow still hadn't let up she still shivered despite the warmth within and without her body.

Ah well, perhaps she would feel better once she'd eaten. It occurred to Anna as she helped herself to a sausage that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch the previous day, and despite usually eating only an egg and slice of toast most days she was now absolutely ravenous. As delicately as she could manage, she served herself what Grandfar called a "farmer's portion" of the different dishes. After the first few bites a look of surprise crossed her face as she raised her glance up to meet Jerrik's.

"It's all very good," she replied, taking another sip of coffee. The breakfast might not have been as refined as what the Edwards' cook usually served, but it was certainly the equal of anything served in Herr Ljung's house, and the bacon was even a little better. "But you really ought to eat something. My grandfather always says a man can't do a proper day's work if he starts it on an empty stomach." Pausing, she offered him another little smile. "Besides, I'd hate to see all of this food go to waste. I am only one young woman after all, Lord Ulbrecht, and I do believe you've cooked enough here to support a small army."

It was true. Even though Anna had already eaten nearly three times as much as she usually did in the morning, there was still plenty of everything leftover. It raised the question where Jerrik had obtained such bounty, especially if he didn't eat breakfast himself, and when did he have the time to cook such a feast? The Englishwoman speculated he must have been up well before dawn, which only made her feel guilty she was unable to eat any more. Lord Ulbrecht had gone through such efforts to make her, a stranger, feel welcome in his home; she really ought to find a way to repay him.

First though, it appeared she would need to take further advantage of his hospitality. "Lord Ulbrecht, would it inconvenience you terribly if I remained here through the morning?" she asked finally, pouring herself another cup of coffee. "I'd hate to interfere with your work--" Which begged the question, what did he do all day? "--but I'm hoping the storm will pass by this afternoon and I can attempt the journey home then." Raising the cup to her lips, Anna offered him a playful smile. "It would be a shame if I ended up freezing to death after all, considering the great trouble you've gone to in order to keep me alive. Wouldn't you agree?"

After a few moments of hearing the wind rushing outside, an idea occurred to her. "Perhaps there's something I can do for you around the house while we wait? Naturally, I can do the washing up if you can tell me where I might get some water," Although Anna couldn't help but shiver at the thought of trudging out to a well. "But maybe I can help with some sweeping as well, or dusting, or things like that? I think I mentioned last night I'm rubbish at needlework, but I really would like to show my appreciation for all your kindness. Just name the task and I'll be happy to oblige!"

For a moment, a brief warning flashed across the back of her mind that Jerrik might ask her to do something unladylike. But then again, what could he possibly ask for in the light of day that he hadn't tried to seek from her the night before? He did have her at his mercy after all, and while Anna hadn't appreciated some of his more risqué looks and words, and the way he'd carried her like a sack of potatoes was utterly appalling to her English sensibilities, Lord Ulbrecht really hadn't done anything that terrible. Still though, best to be careful and drive those thoughts out of his mind if he had them, and the young woman could think of no better way than if she was suddenly gathering up an armful of dirty dishes.

Thankfully, it looked like she wouldn't have to go all the way to the well to attempt her chore; there was already a kettle and basin ready near the dishpan on the counter. Rolling up her sleeves to expose her rounded white arms, Anna set about scrubbing with as much eagerness as any country scullery maid. She kept her eyes focused on her task, but after a few minutes of silence she couldn't help but speak up again.

"How do you spend your days, Lord Ulbrecht? I didn't see any animals yesterday, and surely there are no crops to tend to this time of year. Do you busy yourself with your books all day?" There was no unkindness or sarcasm in the question; it was how Anna's father usually spent his time at home as well. But the Edwards family did have a handful of servants to direct when it came to the affairs of their household, and that did take up some part of the day. And while the Edwards house in London was certainly stately enough for their station, its size was still nothing compared to the Jerrik's manor house.

Does he really live all by himself in such a grand place? Anna couldn't help but wonder again, secretly hoping that whatever other task her host might request of her would give her an excuse to explore it further.

Vekraihr · Nov 30, 2020

“If you think that is flattery, you’re in for a treat when people begin truly begin giving you adulation,” Jerrik’s retort was sharp and quick, his eyes having a slight gleam to them as he grinned. He watched the young woman as she filled herself a cup of liquid revitalization and he could see how the brew invigorated her. Outside, the winds continued to howl as the sky remained darkened by the fervent storm continued to deposit its bountiful gift of ice and snow upon the earth below. He had already noted the blizzard’s prolongation and, to that, the persistence of her presence in his home. Time had taught him patience and resolve, among other things, but he wasn’t sure how much further he could last with such a tempting fruit hanging at arm’s length from him.

His crystalline blue hues followed her as she began to serve herself and he smiled at the portions she took; he was glad to see his efforts wouldn’t entirely be a waste. When her eyes came up to meet him, Jerrik’s gaze was intently on her and there was something slightly primal in the way he was watching her— as a hungering wolf might look toward the hare. At her praise, he seemed to snap forth from his focus and he offered a small smile. There were two sharp, gleaming points visible upon his lip, and, honestly, he looked a touch gaunter than he had the night previous. Perhaps he had risen early in order to prepare breakfast for her, much to the detriment of his own well-being? In reality, his situation was far grimmer than she would care to know and he wasn’t about to offer his secrets willingly.

“I’m glad it is all to your delight, Anna. But, I must insist that I do not partake of food so early,” his voice had become sterner and a little tense and his eyes narrowed at the nearly indomitable way she pushed him to eat. Jerrik had tried to eat food once after he’d been turned and found himself violently ill immediately after. Something about his new constitution abhorred the presence of anything other than blood and alcohols, much to the chagrin of the Norseman. However, she was right about his overpreparation of foods as there was still plenty left even after the portions she had taken. It’d been too long since he was a man of normal needs and he didn’t truly remember how much one should eat.

He seemed relieved when she moved forward from the topic of him joining her for breakfast and he cast his gaze to the window as she posed her question. Then, he brought his gaze back towards her and he grinned at her playful smile and a bellowing laugh rumbled from his throat. His voice’s timbre seemed to vibrate the cup in her hand from the rich depth it held and his brow cocked as he looked deep into her eyes as amusement flickered in his own. “I agree. Of course, I wouldn’t be troubled. I would be remiss to have used such fine wood to keep your bones warm only to cast you back to perish in winter’s harsh embrace,” he offered with a hint of playfulness in his own right, though he wasn’t entirely pleased with her prolonging her stay. Again, he was reminded of his hunger as she sipped of the coffee and he nearly fantasized of the warmth which ran through her veins.

Again, Anna seemed all too keen on offering her services to him and, if she’d known what monstrosity he was, she might think twice of extending such an open-ended invitation. Fortunately, she continued into suggestions that might have been more appropriate for their level of familiarity. However, hungering eyes lingered on her throat for a brief moment before continuing onward as a particularly foreboding howl of wind swept across the shutters of the estate. “Njörðr is particularly energetic today…” he commented absently, a hint into the mind of this strange man she’d found herself in the company in. Njörðr was of the Norse pantheon and particularly concerned sailors and those associated with the trade as being the god of sea and wind, among others. It would certainly be out of place for someone to summon his name nowadays but Jerrik seemed to think nothing of it. By the time he’d brought his focus back to Anna, she’d busied herself at the sink with her sleeves rolled up like a commoner. “Anna, genuinely, you are a guest in my home. I would not ask that you lift a finger to aid me, but I find myself vexed by your persistence. If indeed you wish to help, I believe you are a well-read woman, yes?” he questioned her, recalling the relationship her mother and literature had; notwithstanding, her father was rather learned himself as well.

He was dodging her question, for the moment, with one of his own, trying to formulate a response which might make sense to her than what he initially thought to offer. “I think my study could use a little more organization. You see, I have collected a fair amount of knowledge and secrets within these halls and, in my study, forget to correctly replace the various tomes and parchments of which I decipher and inquire upon. If I could trouble you to do so, would you kindly attend to my library after this?” He seemed a touch guarded at the offer, as though she might discover something of his that he’d rather remain hidden. Or, perhaps it was the pathology of a man in disarray who enjoyed the chaotic disorder in which he sometimes found himself in. Whatever the case may have been, he seemed genuine despite the hesitation to offer this task to her. He took another glance at the leftover foods and his brow drew together pensively as he thought of what he might do with the leftovers. Perhaps feed it to the local wildlife after she’d left? One thing was certain, he wasn’t about to eat it.

“If the storm hasn’t abated by the time you finish, I shall find another task to set you upon if you are still so eager to tend to my collections for me.”

Shiva the Cat · Dec 6, 2020

Anna was too well-bred to say anything about it aloud, but she couldn't help but raise a suspicious eyebrow when Lord Ulbrecht noticeably ignored her question about his daily activities, instead making some superstitious comment about one of the old pagan gods of the north, if she was remembering her folklore correctly. Herr Ljung and his family were all staunch Lutherans, as were most of the peasants in that part of the country. But ever since she was a child visiting from England the young blonde would occasionally encounter one of the old people making some little offering or secret symbol of protection. It was generally agreed though that there was no real harm in such gestures, and after all didn't the servants on her paternal grandparents' estate still leave out dishes of cream for the little folk?

Before her thoughts could linger too much on the old gods, her host immediately seized her attention again at the matter of books. "I like to think myself so," she replied in regards to whether she was well-read. "We studied the classics in school, in both English and Latin. I'm afraid I never could make heads or tails of Greek, but I'm very fluent in French--the old romances are a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, I must admit--and I've been making a great deal of progress with my German as well. It's almost as good as my Swedish." Which to a native speaker like Jerrik was probably nothing to brag about, but the Englishwoman seemed quite proud of her efforts nonetheless.

She was also not unfamiliar with organizing a private literary collection. The Edwards House in London was renowned in the neighborhood for possessing not one, but two separate libraries; one for each of the writers that lived there. Mr. Edwards' was much larger and more scholarly than his wife's of course, but Mrs. Edwards had her own reputation as a polyglot and had assembled several cases full of folktales in practically every language from Arabic to Zulu. As she finished with the washing up Anna had expected Lord Ulbrecht's library to resemble her father's more than her mother's, and at first glance there were definite similarities in the size of the room and the sheer number of books on the shelves...

*****

More than a century away in that very room, Amy Erickson raised her dark eyes from the page that described the very room she was sitting in now. Somehow it felt even more real to know Anna Edwards had been in here than it had in the Andreas Ljung house. To hold a primary source in her hands written by the authoress herself, noting with what careful detail she had observed the books on the shelves--the very books Amy could see a few feet away from her now--it was almost as if the dead woman was with her that very moment. Inside her even, as her gown clung to Amy's generous curves and the same man that had so fascinated the Englishwoman watched her now with fascinated blue eyes.

Amy hadn't even realized her eyes were beginning to fill with overwhelming tears, and not wanting to damage the pages with them, she roughly rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand before turning her attention back downward.

*****

Anna judged by the piles of books scattered around the room that her host really did spend most of his time here, and was possessed of all the noble's laziness that prevented him from putting the volumes away properly after he was done with them. He really does need a servant she thought to herself, running her finger over the topmost book on the nearest pile, an obviously well-loved modern translation of the Prose Edda. A little smile crossed her lips; her father had a similar copy as well, and for all his serious criticisms of mythology new and old, Mr. Edwards always had a fondness for the poems of good old Snorri Sturluson. Apparently Lord Ulbrecht did as well.

Looking around, she tried to catch sight of a likely hole on the shelf where the old Viking lived, but there were so many along the wall that it rather resembled the bulwarks of some castle that had been riddled with cannonfire. Not only that, but as the young woman made her way along the shelves she noticed that many of the recesses weren't holes at all, but rather purposeful niches that held ancient-looking relics of various origin. Some resembled Egyptian idols she had seen in museums during her travels, but most looked much more exotic and even a little off-putting in their inhuman shapes and worn lines that didn't seem to fit proper geometry.

Shaking her head, the Englishwoman tried to focus on just the books and their apparent system of organization. Language, age, and subject matter seemed to be the common theme, and after a while she believed she'd mostly determined the general areas where each of the stack volumes belonged. "You have a remarkable collection, Lord Ulbrecht," she commented over her shoulder, expecting the blonde man had lingered in the library with her to ensure she accomplished her task to his standards. Gathering an armload of books and hugging them to her chest, she moved towards the shelf where she believed they belonged and began to carefully slide them back in amongst their brothers. "Did you gather these all on your own, or did you inherit them from your ancestors?"

Many of the volumes certainly looked old enough to have belonged to the lord's father, or even grandfather, and there were even a few already on the shelves that looked like they must have been two or three centuries old. These had no titles visible on the spine, but on this shelf in particular Anna quickly began to notice a theme.

The Book of Felicity
Ars Goetia
Picatrix
Of the Supreme Mysteries of Nature
Kitāb al-Bulhān
A Complete Historye of the Vampyre

"Do you have an interest in folklore, Lord Ulbrecht?" Anna continued, feeling a strange sense of unease beginning to rise in her stomach as she slid the books back into their places. Something about the titles, all unfamiliar to the schoolgirl, seemed more ominous than her mother's little collections of things like Grimm's Fairy Tales and Aesop's Fables. And even a few of the books scattered around the room had disconcerting images engraved on their covers, and one book in particular had been left open on the heavy desk at the far end of the room, detailing a rather gruesome slaughter by "werewolves" somewhere in the Romanian countryside.

Outside the wind continued to blow, and for the first time since arriving last night the Englishwoman couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she hadn't wholly escaped the danger of her situation. What sort of a man was her host after all? Was this the reason he kept no servants, because of a curiosity in dark arts and strange mythologies that would unsettle even an educated Christian like herself?

Biting her lip a little, Anna turned her attention back to the task at hand, determined to finish the job quickly and then possibly consider trying her luck with the blizzard after all.

Vekraihr · Dec 13, 2020

Jerrik couldn’t help but notice the suspicious way in which Anna looked at him when he evaded her question. In truth, he’d not meant to but merely forgotten she’d asked in the first place. Unfortunately for him, it’d been a long while since he’d endured the company of an extended visit and he was afraid his manners might have slipped a touch or two in the absence of good company. However, he still deigned not to answer as she was soon to find out what he spent the majority of his day doing, anyway. To him, there was nothing unusual about his statement as his village still drew many superstitions from the pantheon of the Vanir for they were simpler folk. Their days had been spent attending to only their needs and small desires, some even lived and died solely within that village. His fate may have been much the same had his fortune not led him to become an abomination as he was.

Broadly, he grinned as she affirmed his suspicion of her aptitudes and he listened to her speak of the languages she knew and he had to admit he was rather impressed. “That’s quite a number of languages for a young lady,” he remarked cordially as he nodded as if to affirm his statement. It seemed she took a great deal of pride in this as he noticed the subtle way she puffed and brightened at her accomplishments. “I speak a number of languages myself...And we do have a bit of overlap in what we know, I believe,” he continued as he brought her to the smallest of his libraries. This room contained more of his texts pertaining to folklore and beasts of the night hordes which terrorized men, women, and children in their homes and beds. Further, there were texts which detailed ancient magics, secrets long-forgotten that had yet to be deciphered by the nearly century-old vampire.

As Amy brought her eyes from the pages to gaze upon the room they sat within, he could recall with perfect clarity the moment she must be reading and he ruminated on his interactions with Ms. Edwards that first took place in this very room. They were far tamer than his first interaction with Ms. Erickson, he had to admit. Jerrik wondered how she must be feeling, to sit within this room reading the tales of a woman who she admired so fully and to have enchanted the man who had been so enchanted by the authoress so many years ago. He didn’t have to wonder long, as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes and began to threaten to spill over.

Concerned for the pages, she pushed the tears away with the back of her hand before she felt the gentle dabbing of a finely woven handkerchief at the corners of her eyes. He’d not often found a use for one, but he found himself often keeping one handy if only to appear fashionable. He placed the square near her hand after he’d finished wiping the remaining tears away and then he leaned back in his chair. Once again, his gaze intensified on her as he seemed to study her essence with curiosity and intrigue.

“And now, Fröken Edwards, you see what I occupy my time with,” he spoke warmly as he gestured to the room about them filled with literature and statuettes alike. As Anna made herself busy by studying the covers of the books as she moved about the room, Jerrik’s eyes followed her. It wasn’t out of mistrust of her abilities or her scruples, but a growing desire to consume her in more than one way. He noted how her lips pulled into a smile at his copy of the Prose Edda and he wondered why did she smile? “I presume you know of another who enjoys the work of Snorri?” She seemed utterly fascinated, not only with the literature but the strange sculptures he had collected, too. Some of the artifacts were strange even to his twisted mind, bent into unnatural shapes which drew the eyes and then haunted them for it.

At her comment to the impressiveness of his collection, Jerrik grinned further, and a small hint of his wicked fangs showed as he slowly scanned the shelves himself to see if he’d remembered what he’d taken from where. “Thank you,” he responded curtly as he watched her gather an armload and began to take each book to their respective homes. He had to admit she was proving herself to be rather handy and capable, as she had worked out his system of organization rather quickly, such as it was. He wasn’t able to linger on his appreciation for her knowledge for long, however, as she questioned him further on the literature before her. “I gathered them myself, Ms. Edwards. From different places, of course, and different times. A few are from ancestors but those tomes I cherish more than these and are housed in my other library.”

As Anna looked at the shelf which had some heavily worn books within, specifically those which dealt with the darker subjects which he pored over, his eyes trained further on her. He could sense the unease building within her and even her next question seemed somewhere between concern for her safety and outright curiosity. “Well, Anna...Some men seek to understand the monsters which lurk through the night, while other men become those monsters themselves and seek to uncover their own nature,” he was suddenly behind her, his voice low and quiet as he placed a hand on her shoulder. While the gesture might have felt intimidating, he didn’t grab her in a way to be provocative or aggressive. Instead, it almost seemed as though his hand rest there to alert her to his sudden presence.

“I did try to inform you that I was dangerous...Don’t you know that knowledge is power?” his voice took a more jovial tone as his eyes ever so slightly wrinkled with his grin. “And, what more dangerous thing is there than power? Especially those secrets held by the arcane and the profane which call out like voices in the night.” Her apprehension increased and he could smell the fear wafting from her like a delicious entreatment to his senses as it elevated her pulse and warmed her body. “Please...Calm yourself. If I were to bring you harm, I would have to leave my collection behind to flee for the rest of my days. Your fear is...intoxicating. The way it flushes your cheeks and leaves you with heavy breaths. Your nerves are quickening and I would hate to lose myself for your terror.” He spoke with a mixture of sultry heat and hushed tones in a way that alluded to a strange sense of foreboding. Behind her, his nose was nearly at her neck, sampling the aroma which rose from her as his grip on her shoulder tightened slowly but briefly.

Then, suddenly, he’d released her and stepped back with an intense gleam in his icy blue hues and a clearing of his throat. Whatever had possessed him at that moment seemed to have been fleeting as his stoic composure slowly returned.

Shiva the Cat · Dec 21, 2020

"Your other library?" Anna remarked, looking back in the direction she thought Lord Ulbrecht's voice had come from but realizing he no longer stood there. Instead she was notified of his presence a moment later when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, making her jump and almost drop the armload of books all over the floor. Somehow though she maintained her grip, whirling around until her back was pressed to the shelves and the books were clutched against her chest almost like an amulet of protection.

Protection from what? she wondered, feeling her heart beginning to beat faster as her dark eyes met her host's ice blue ones. He was still much too close to her, closer than any proper gentleman would ever dare to get to a woman alone. And yet, he was closer than this just last night when he carried her upstairs; she'd even felt his hands on her through the thick woolen sweaters and petticoats that served as a colorful armor for her honor. While she was still covered enough now to meet the standards of modesty, Anna was becoming quite aware there were much fewer layers of clothes between her and Lord Jerrik now, and she wondered if perhaps last night he'd simply been too tired to make any attempt on her virtue.

“I did try to inform you that I was dangerous...Don’t you know that knowledge is power?”

Something in his voice made her shiver, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. She could recall one of her school friends' older brother giving her such a shiver last year when they'd danced together at some party or another, and the young woman suspected the thrill came from the knowledge that the handsome young man was a known rake with a scandalous reputation behind him. But in a London drawing room such wicked temptations seemed diminished and almost tame, like a tiger kept in a cage at a menagerie. Alone in his library, Jerrik seemed much more like a wild beast, capable of destroying her with one bite of those...fangs?

Anna blinked, then immediately turned around, sure she was seeing things now. Her hands shook as she slid the books back into the empty spaces on the shelves, and try as she might to keep her voice light and even she couldn't keep the quaver out of it either. "You must be quite the collector indeed, Lord Ulbrecht, if this is not even your primary library. Where do you keep your favor--oh!" She gasped a little as she suddenly felt warm breath on her neck, and her hands froze on the shelf before her. Is he going to kiss me? she half-feared, half-hoped as she waited for the expected brush against her skin, but nothing ever came beyond a firmer grip on her shoulder.

But even that fell away after a moment, and when she could breathe again the Englishwoman realized she was actually rather disappointed that her host hadn't gone through with it. Of course, anything more than a kiss would have been utterly scandalous, but he was handsome, and not that much older than her, and obviously wealthy if a little eccentric. Any other girl at White Lake would hardly have hesitated at such a small gesture, and Anna even suspected a few would have let Lord Ulbrecht take a few more liberties if they thought they could get an engagement out of the matter. Sadly, Mr. Edwards and his wife were not of such a mercenary mindset and would be shocked if their daughter acted in such a way, and Anna herself had to admit she had no interest in "catching" a husband any time soon, even if she could admit the process had its appeals.

Even now, she couldn't hear the sound of the wind outside through the pounding blood in her ears, and for several minutes they stood in silence as the blonde girl struggled to find something to say. They might have gone on forever like that if a new noise outside hadn't broken the spell, and drawn the Englishwoman's face towards the window. "Do you hear that?" she asked, setting aside the last book on the desk and pressing her face to the frosty glass. "It sounds like bells. Sleigh bells."

And not just bells, but the sound of horses tramping through snow drifts, and the sounds of men's voices shouting at one another in Swedish. One was stronger than the rest, loud and clear as the roar of a bear, and sudden recognition and realization surged into Anna's heart as she whirled around and looked back at Jerrik. "It's Grandfar!" she cried, suddenly realizing several layers of her clothes were still in the bedroom upstairs. "Oh dear, he sounds very upset. I don't suppose you'd like to speak with him while I gather the rest of my things?"

Whether he wanted to or not, Anna had dashed out of the library like a shot, racing back upstairs to pull on the rest of her woolens. In the meantime, not one, but three sleighs of varying sizes and styles pulled into the vast courtyard of the estate, disgorging roughly a dozen men all bundled up to the eyes and clutching rifles and various wicked-looking pieces of farm equipment. The only person who seemed out of place was a short man with fogged spectacles and a bush brown mustache, who tottered uncertainly through the snow after a hulking farmer with an enormous blonde beard flowing to the middle of his chest and dark blue eyes flashing with rage as he stormed up to the door of the manor.

A boulder-sized fist in a cheery red mitten pounded against Lord Ulbrecht's door, and the voice Anna had recognized shouted loud enough to rouse the entire county. "Ulbrecht! Öppna dörren! Jag vet att du har mitt barnbarn!" Herr Ljung roared as his fellow farmers spread out around the building. Meanwhile, the man with the mustache poked his head up and knocked gently at the window as he peered inside.

"Anna dear? Are you all right?" he asked in a soft London accent that could not possibly have been heard by anyone inside. However, when he came to the library window a fresh cry of astonishment added to the rumbling threats of the mob. "Why Mr. Ljung, you never said this Ulbrecht fellow was an educated man! I'm sure if he's seen Anna he hasn't done any harm to her."

"He will be a dead man soon if he doesn't open the door," Herr Ljung grumbled in his heavily-accented English, continuing to pound away at the wood all the while.

Vekraihr · Dec 27, 2020

Jerrik couldn’t fathom how Anna remained so steadfast despite his nearly animalistic behavior at times but he was grateful for her restraint. Her behavior only served to stoke his desire to taste her and, much to his chagrin, his desire to sample her began growing as a man and not just as the darkness within him craved. As she whirled in his grasp, he couldn’t help but to press into her and trap her beneath his statuesque frame. And, yet, all he earned from her was a quiet shiver but her body language was telling him all he’d needed to know. Her thoughts were nearly spoken word as he could feel those desires of hers rising like the warmth of her breaths. Then, she’d turned away from him again and attempted to steel her resolve as she reached to place a book before he’d brought his mouth near her neck.

Had he less monstrous intentions, he might have kissed her then but his thirst was requiring all of his focus not to savagely attack her like the brutal instinct within called him to. “Indeed...I collect all the little things which capture my interest,” his tone was suggestive, nearly provocative, as he released her and backed away as he wrestled himself back into submission and his posture tightened briefly before relaxing into a dignified repose. It was then that he’d begun hearing the sleigh bells, quite some time before Anna did but he couldn’t quite tell her that, now could he? He estimated they were still a few minutes off but approached at quite a clip, but his ears had a sensitivity for those higher-pitched noises that pierced through the winds and snow. Or, at least, what little of that remained now.

It seemed he would be allowed a reprieve to collect himself after all as the sleigh came within hearing distance of Anna and she remarked on them to him. “Ah, yes...Perhaps your grandfather has come?” he suggested as she pressed towards the window in a nearly futile attempt to see through the frost-glazed pane. He, of course, knew it was as he heard him shouting in the distance as the group approached. Understandably, he was heated and made some rather unfortunate comments about the lord of the manor whose knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists in frustration. However, as Anna spoke to him, his focus shifted and the agitation briefly melted from him. “Of course I shall greet him. This is my home, after all,” he responded to her suggestion as though she were silly for even thinking he might not extend any sort of hospitality to her kin. Wrapping himself in a black cloak lined with silver and black fur, Lord Ulbrecht looked befitting as the titleholder of the keep while he began towards the foyer of his homestead with rhythmic clicks of his boot falls.

At this, what wounded like a dozen men disembarked onto his doorstep, feet crunching into the snow as they flanked the doorways as if preparing to attack. A soft smile of amusement spread over his face as he made his way through the foyer; one that faded as he heard Herr Ljung’s accented English threaten the Lord. He understood the sentiment, but he didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. He had, after all, provided a safe harbor for his granddaughter through the storm and hadn’t harmed a hair on her head, despite his desire to do so. Once again, the rage within him simmered as he approached the loud thundering on his door and stood briefly as he waited for the opportune moment. Not many had seen Lord Ulbrecht, and he was certain Herr Ljung and his men hadn’t the foggiest notion of what he may have looked like. As Ljung’s hand swung towards the door, it pulled open suddenly and his fist sailed through the opening and landed on the taut abdomen of the Lord of the manor.

Jerrik’s eyes were filled with boundless fury and seemed to have completely lost their blue hue in favor of a terrifying crimson as his statuesque frame rose above even the tallest man there. Coupled with his alabaster skin and fair hair, one could have mistaken him for an albino at this moment (which could explain why he was never seen outside of his home in the first place.) His voice was filled with anger as he nearly spit out with anger, “Jag har gett ditt blod skydd och detta är tacket jag får? Tomgånshot som görs utanför min dörr och respektlöshet betalas till mig innan jag ens har kommit. Säg mig, Ljung, vad ska hålla min hand från färgning snön?” Even the large farmer seemed small in comparison to Lord Ulbrecht’s wide frame and muscular physique, which bore down on him without the courtesy of space. Righteous indignation seethed from him as he glared, eyes bright with rage as one of the riflemen, of fair hair and with a short beard, stepped forward.

“Hallå! Du kan inte prata med hono—hccch!” he began before being cut off by Jerrik’s firm hand, as he’d advanced rapidly to him before he grabbed the average-sized man by the neck and lifted him with one arm with relative ease. “Och vem är du att tala när herrarna är? Håll din tunga medan jag fortfarande tillåter dig att behålla den,” he hissed before dropping him to the snow with a raucous clatter and his eyes whipped around to the weapons all trained on him. “Vänligen! Ni skulle alla falla inför mig. Sänk ner dina vapen medan du fortfarande kan,” his tone was not cocky or brash, but confident and assured and even his intense expression belied the seriousness with which he spoke. “Med respekt och hjärtlighet som ditt barnbarn behandlade mig med, skulle Jag hade förväntat mig bättre av dig, herr Ljung,” he continued as he turned back towards Herr Ljung, his face returning to serenity as he calmed his boiling blood. His eyes, however, remained that same intense shade of crimson as he stood in the center of mob who had been thoroughly shaken by the mighty display of the Lord of Ulbrechtställe. His cloak fluttered in the wind as his stony expression turned directly to Ljung and he awaited her grandfather’s response.

Shiva the Cat · Dec 27, 2020

For more than thirty years, Andreas Ljung had been the unofficial master of Alost and its surrounding countryside, mostly due to his extensive family and the shrewd farming techniques that had allowed him to build up a respectable fortune for a man of unremarkable birth. He had heard of course that there was a Lord of Ulbrechtställe somewhere out in the woods, but the general consensus of his neighbors was that said Lord lived abroad, with only a lone caretaker--a poor country cousin or something, also called Ulbrecht--left behind to ensure the place didn't fall to pieces in his absence. But the man who had come to the door now could hardly be mistaken for a caretaker, not considering his youth, size, or the quality of his clothing. No, even a country farmer like Andreas had to recognize the tall figure as nothing less than a Lord.

Herr Ljung's eyes widened at the sight of the man before him, albeit only slightly and only for a moment. After all, he had the others to think of, and his reputation among them. Damn that Dahlström he thought as the young rifleman stepped forward, but even he couldn't stifle the gasp at the sight of the stranger picking the lad clear off the ground with one hand. Andreas' grip tightened on his own gun as he made the first hint at raising it, and if it hadn't been for the sound of his son-in-law's curious voice piping up behind him the mob might have opened fire entirely at that point.

"I say, this is all highly uncivilized," Mr. Edwards remarked in English, stepping out from behind Herr Ljung's hulking form. He paused a moment to help Dahlström recover his footing, then moved in between the two Nordic giants, looking comically harmless between the pair. Clearing his throat a moment, the Englishman looked from his father-in-law to the master of the house, then began in a precise, stilted, Swedish. "Snälla, förlåt min svärfar. Vi letar efter min dotter, hon heter Anna Edwards. Vi tror att hon var vilse i stormen igår. Har su sett henne?"

Pausing a moment, Mr. Edwards brushed a few accumulated snowflakes from his mustache, then looked up at Lord Ulbrecht's face again, noting the aristocratic lines of his cheekbones and chin, and a particularly intelligent--if almost hungry--cast in his bright eyes. "I don't suppose you speak English, do you my good fellow? I'm afraid my conjugation isn't quite what it ought to be, even after all these years."

"He speaks very good English, Papa," called a clear voice from behind Lord Ulbrecht. A moment later Anna herself appeared, sidling past her host for the evening fully dressed in all of her winter gear (save one woolen mitten that seemed to have utterly disappeared in the night). Cheeks flushed with the efforts of dressing so rapidly, she offered a curtsy first to her father then to her grandfather, who with a glance over his shoulder and a wave of his hand signaled to the rest of the men to stand down.

"I'm so sorry to make you worry, Grandfar, Papa," the young woman apologized, purposely averting her gaze from Jerrik's. "I lost my way in the storm yesterday, and I would have utterly frozen to death if Lord Ulbrecht here had not given me shelter for the night." Straightening her back, she gestured towards him with her gloved hand, while taking care to keep the bare one fully concealed in the pocket of her jacket. It seemed best, for the moment, to let her relatives believe she had been entirely clothed the whole time, right down to fingertips. "He was going to help bring me home as soon as the snow let up, but I see you were too quick for him."

Herr Ljung stared at her for a moment, then handing his rifle to the nearest farmer he wrapped both of his powerful arms around the young woman and clutched her tightly to his chest. "Du skrämde mig fruktansvärt," he muttered. "Jag borde slå dig för din dumhet. Vi vet båda att din far inte kommer att göra det." His dark blue eyes glanced skeptically towards Mr. Edwards, who was holding out a hand of greeting to Lord Ulbrecht and asking about the origins of his library.

"Förlåt mig, Grandfar," Anna replied, returning his embrace before glancing back towards the master of the house. "Grandfar...han var väldigt snäll mot mig, och han var också en..." She paused, trying to think of a Swedish word that would convey the fact that he had not dishonored her. Well, beyond touching her shoulder a little too firmly, and carrying her around like she was a sack of turnips. "He was a gentleman, Grandfar," she said finally. "He acted as a gentleman ought to."

"Hmph," Andreas grunted, still eyeing Lord Ulbrecht suspiciously. "Gå in i släden. Din mormor och mamma är också oroliga."

"Of course," his granddaughter acquiesced, although she could not resist turning around and offering one last curtsy to the man who had provided her shelter. "Thank you again for all you've done for me, Lord Ulbrecht. I have no doubt it is thanks to your efforts that I am still alive today," she added clearly, hoping that her grandfather and any other English-speaking members of the mob might take her hint.

If nothing else, her father certainly seemed to echo her sentiments. "Indeed! Perhaps to show our gratitude, you might come and call upon my wife and I at--" A loud grunt from Herr Ljung made it clear that any invitation to his home was certainly out of the question. Pausing, Mr. Edwards cleared his throat awkwardly again. "Well, if you're ever in London, you simply must take tea with us." Sensing his father-in-law was only moments away from lifting him bodily and throwing him into the sleigh after Anna, the Englishman bowed again then took his leave, scurrying back under the blankets piled high in the sled.

Andreas grunted an order to the rest of the men to depart as well, but before turning away he leaned in closer to Lord Ulbrecht. "Vi kommer inte att störa dig igen så länge du håller dig borta från henne," he muttered, gesturing towards the sleigh where Anna was already in animated conversation with her father. With one more warning glare behind him, the patriarch rejoined his family in the driver's seat of the sleigh, and with the sound of bells the party disappeared into the woods.

Secretly though, Anna watched with her head turned over her shoulder, her dark eyes lingering on the tall form in the doorway of Ulbrechtställe until he was entirely lost from view.

*****

...when I returned home Grandmar was even more upset than Grandfar, but no one ever did get around to beating me (at least not so far). Mother seems just as curious about Lord Ulbrecht as Papa, and I wonder if I might persuade them both to call upon him sometime in the future. I know Grandfar wants nothing to do with him of course, but Papa seems very intrigued by his library, and it occurs to me now that I left my skis behind when I was spirited away so quickly. I simply must get them back somehow.

In the meantime, I think I shall try writing a story about a young lady who becomes lost in the woods and finds a handsome prince locked in an isolated castle. Perhaps I shall include some passages here if they seem worth preservation.

Until tomorrow, diary!

Orange light had spread across the pages of the ancient journal, and when Amy raised her head she realized the storm outside had abated entirely, the the woods had taken on the warm glow of the extended Scandanavian evening.

"Shit, what time is it?" she murmured, gingerly setting the journal on the desk and glancing around the room for any sign of her backpack. She found it tossed carelessly near the wall, and after reaching inside to find her phone the student was shocked to see she had been sitting in Jerrik's library for more than six hours. "Oh my God, I didn't realize it was getting so late," Amy remarked, tucking her phone away before rising to her feet and looking dubiously back towards the 'vampire'. "I should be getting back..."

And there was the million-dollar question, unspoken. Would he let her go willingly, after all of this? Or had she fucked and read herself right into a hostage situation?

Vekraihr · Jan 2, 2021

At the refined and decidedly English voice of Mr. Edwards, Jerrik’s focus shifted and he brought his eyes to take in the man who spoke. He seemed horrifyingly out of place here in these Scandinavian woods but that only seemed to delight Lord Ulbrecht as he kept his gaze on the man who spoke. Then, he spoke in Swedish, seeming to have a terrible time of it as his eyes took in the refined features of Jerrik’s impeccable visage. Then, his head turned again as Anna stepped forth and called from behind him and, with his neck craned, agreed, “Indeed, I do. Perhaps not as well as some, but I like to believe I have some skill.” As Anna avoided looking directly at him, so too did he keep his gaze just away from looking directly at her as she made her way over and curtsied to her father and grandfather. As the men were signaled to relax their weapons, the large man’s posture rapidly relaxed and he seemed more poised and collected before.

Lord Ulbrecht took himself aside as the two of them spoke to each other, but it was clear he was listening intently as his brow furrowed and agitation returned to his face when he spoke of beating Anna. However, he did not speak as the family was speaking amongst themselves. Despite it being his property, he did not feel it proper for anyone to interrupt when those that are tied by blood conversed. “Indeed, Lady Edwards. I could not allow anyone to perish while I had the means to help and you were an utter delight,” he responded before her father chimed in and was quickly snubbed by the glaring farmer. “I will take you up on that offer should I find myself across the sea, Mr. Edwards. Perhaps your father-in-law may visit in time and learn a little hospitality,” he replied bluntly with a courteous bow and then looked to Andreas with a sharp gaze. “If ever you find yourself curious, I have an extensive library, Mr. Edwards. I presume you’re a fan of Prose Edda? I have a modern-translation as well as a first edition printing,” he added as the man trodded towards the sleigh.

Then, Andreas approached again and Jerrik’s posture straightened defiantly as he cast a wrathful gaze towards him. As the man leaned in to whisper to him, he responded coldly and sincerely, “Om jag hör om att du skadar så mycket som ett hår på hennes huvud, kommer jag att besöka min vrede över dig.” He would do nothing for the man who had come to his home, disrespected him, and made it a point to not even apologize. And, Jerrik was confident he could easily break him even if it hadn’t been for his vampiric might. However, he had Anna to consider and he would rather not make a further scene than the one that already had been made.

Something about how Andreas told him not to go near her, not to bother her, merely caused the curiosity within the vampire to turn into an urge. He would have to see her again and, as Andreas cast one more glare at him before setting off, Jerrik merely offered a polite grin as he stood proudly and watched them off with a wave of his hand. His eyes slowly began to return to their icy blue hue as the sleigh made its way out of sight and Anna would likely be able to tell that Jerrik was staring right back at her and even continued to do so after she lost sight of him. With a grumbling sigh, Lord Ulbrecht turned towards his manor door and made his way back within to prepare himself to leave for a hunt. Now, more than ever, he needed to satiate his thirst and he needed to get far away enough from Alost so as not to draw any suspicion towards himself. Even as he busied himself with dressing in clothes that would help him to hide in the driving snow, he couldn’t help but think of the fair maiden who had warmed his home that evening.

While Amy was busy with reading about the young woman who had previously been the object of his attention and affections so long ago, Jerrik had made himself slightly busy in finding and repairing her clothing in as adept a manner as he could. While he was no seamster, he did find intricate handwork to come nearly as second nature to him. All that time spent scrawling inlays into beautiful wooden works had left him with fingers strong and nimble. He had to depart the room, briefly, in order to find a small sewing kit he had in his bedroom for minor repairs to his own clothing. As her eyes drank in the pages, he drank in the familiar shape of her figure and facial features. “I cannot fathom as to how a woman who bears no relation to Anna can bear such an uncanny resemblance,” he muttered to himself quietly as he tended to her garments.

Jerrik continued to watch over the young woman as she sat and read the pages of her beloved authoress. He enjoyed the way her facial expression changed and denoted how she was feeling and her dark, expressive eyes conveying the emotions she felt. All too much, she reminded him of his beloved but, as she read, he reminded himself that she was not his Anna from so long ago. As Amy suddenly stirred from the pages, she placed the journal down gently only for it to be picked up by the vampire lord and he quickly got up from the table and moved towards the journal’s resting place. “I believe it to be around seven, Lady Erickson,” he responded cordially, his tone still placated by the earlier meal and pleasure both derived from the Englishwoman.

Carefully he set the binding back within its display case where he shut and locked it in an instant before turning towards Amy as she rose from her backpack. “Must you leave, Amy? I’ve plenty of beds within that could be used by you. But, if you insist, I will not hold you against your will...So as long as you promise to return,” he spoke with warmth in his voice and the last sentence of his would have been vaguely threatening if not for the mirth in his voice. Or, perhaps his stature ensured the menace remained. “I doubt that dress is going to travel very easily, however,” he said as he gestured to the tight garment that bound tight against her chest. Her clothing had been left mended on the tabletop and the garments were pushed towards her carefully as he began to stand.

“I will help you from the dress,” he offered politely as his eyes found hers once again but, while the animal-like hunger wasn’t there, it was obvious that he still lusted for her in some way. “Should I call for a ride back into town for you? The way to town is usually safe for one of my stature but I think you may fare a little worse than I should a bear or worse decide to cross your path,” he offered as he moved gracefully behind her and began to undo the zipper on the dress. Once that was done, he helped her lift the dress off and he straightened it carefully and looked at it with admiration before laying it onto the table. His eyes lingered on her pale orbs adorned with pink as he licked his lips slowly and handed her proper clothes towards her.

Shiva the Cat · Jan 3, 2021

Amy let out a soft sigh of relief as she saw Lord Jerrik approaching with her clothes in hand, and no apparent hesitation to turn them over. Much as she could appreciate wearing one of Anna Edwards' gowns (and how he had managed to keep it so well-preserved in an isolated place like this?), the idea of trying to manage her bike through the muddy trails back to town filled her with a sense of horror. But as she thumbed through the neat pile of garments, she could see everything was accounted for, and not only were they utterly spotless but a few of the old thin spots and tears had even been mended. Once she put them on, there would be no evidence at all of any of the day's activities.

And would there be more? Amy bit her lip slightly as she turned her gaze back towards Jerrik. He wasn't going to hold her against her will, thank God, but what would he do if she went back to the village and told the police what had happened? Please officer, this crazy man in the woods, who I approached entirely of my own volition, coerced me into having rough sex and then dressed me up in a 200-year-old dress belonging to a famous novelist. It sounded ridiculous enough, but even if anyone did believe her, what would happen if they really did try to arrest Jerrik? What would become of his property, and most importantly, what would happen to Anna's journal?

Well, if she was lucky it would end up in the hands of the Red House Foundation...probably sometime in the next few years, long after Amy had gone back to the United States. But it could just as easily end up in some museum or another, displayed under glass on one of the more tame pages and out of her reach forever. Her dark eyes lingered on the spine as Jerrik carefully picked up the book and placed it back in its display. By her estimation, she had not made it even a tenth of the way through the book, which meant there was so much more there waiting to be read. Not only that, but all she'd done was read, without so much as taking one picture with her phone or logging her own notes in a separate book of her own. If she really wanted this to make her career, she needed to approach the opportunity with utmost care.

That meant she had to come back, and she had to be prepared. Not only for her own research, but for the payment she would need to offer Jerrik. Looking his well-dressed form up and down, Amy decided the sex aspect of it would be manageable. Even now she could still feel a hint of him inside her, and fresh color landed on her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his hands on her hips and his beard scratching against her neck. If he wanted her to open her legs for him before he opened his book for her, that seemed like a more than fair price.

But the blood...

For the most part, Amy felt recovered after what he'd taken from her. But it hadn't seemed like much at the time, even though the bite had been more painful (and yes, pleasurable as well, she had to admit) than she'd expected. If she came again tomorrow, and he tried to drink from her, would she pass out? Could she possibly even die if he allowed that animalistic side of him to take over?

Anna is worth it she decided finally. If nothing else, Jerrik was worth at least one more visit. She would come back ready now, early some morning with an entire day ahead of her to get her research done, along with whatever else he might ask of her. If the next time went badly, Amy would know to never come back.

"Tomorrow?" she said finally, rising up as she saw the blonde man moving behind her. For a moment she tense, half-expecting him to go for her neck again...but no. Instead he was reaching for the buttons on the back of the gown, a set of helpful hands to free her from the garment that somehow seemed to feel tighter around her chest. Perhaps though, it was only that Amy found it harder to breath with the man so close to her.

"I can come in the morning, if that works for you," the American continued, trying not to shiver as she felt his icy fingers tracing over the tattooed branches on her back. The bodice would have fallen free of her entirely if she hadn't clutched it to her breasts, and while she'd expected Jerrik to step away and let her out of the dress on her own once the last button was undone, she was surprised to feel his hands moving lower, lifting the skirt up entirely over her hips. Fuck, does he want to go again already? Amy wondered, a little jolt of excitement radiating out from between her legs.

It fizzled out shortly after, however, when Jerrik removed the dress entirely, and rather than setting it aside and reaching for the woman herself, he set about carefully laying it aside. Amy swallowed hard, then immediately reached for her underwear, sliding the black silk up over her generous hips as quickly as possible while trying to keep her hardened nipples out of the man's icy blue gaze. She had never dressed as quickly as she did that evening in the library, but before the vampire would have a chance to lay another hand on her, she was dressed again in her jeans and hoodie, her mud-covered sneaker laced tightly and ready for the ride ahead.

"Don't worry about it, I can find my way back," she remarked, picking up her backpack and heading back towards the hall, though taking care to never fully turn her back on her host. Glancing out the window, she was relieved to see her bike was still where she'd left it. She was almost ready to go, but with her hand on the door a bizarre, almost hilarious thought occurred to her. Reaching into one of the side pockets of her backpack, she withdrew a small pad of paper and a pencil, quickly scribbling down a series of numbers.

"You said you had a phone, right?" Amy asked, tearing off the paper and holding out to Jerrik. "You can text me, or call me if you want. Let me know what time I should come tomorrow." She blushed a little at the awkward wording, then quickly turned around to make her escape. "Well...bye then."

The American practically ran across the courtyard to her bike, mounting it almost as smoothly as if it were a horse and she were a cowboy in an old Western. Without anything as much as a glance back towards the main house, she began to pedal back down the driveway and into the woods, desperately seeking the main road back to town.

*****

Amy had no trouble making it back to the Nybergs', but she didn't stay there long. After changing her clothes and taking an ice-cold shower to drive away any lingering memories of Jerrik's touch, she told Henrik and Kristina she was going to grab dinner down at the local tavern, then strode off into the late-night twilight in search of as much vodka as necessary to calm her frazzled nerves.

There were a few different bars and restaurants in the village, but the most popular by far was Röd Spegel, located in the Hotel Alost. The drinks were pricier than elsewhere in the village but still nothing compared to cities in the States, and there were usually enough English-speakers hanging around to keep Amy entertained for a few hours. If nothing else, her favorite bartender and the closest thing she had to a friend, Nikki, was always around to tell her some story or another of a crazy guest.

The pale, dark-haired young lady was working tonight as expected, and greeted Amy with a warm smile as she entered the dim bar. "Hey, Chicago!" Nikki cried out in her light accent, using the nickname she'd bestowed upon the American ever since she'd learned about her hometown. The two women had bonded over both being foreigners in the country, Nikki having been born somewhere in eastern Europe--Poland or one of the Baltic states, Amy could never remember which. The bartender's father had been some government bigwig though, and had dragged his family all over the world for his work, giving Nikki the advantage of speaking more than twenty languages flawlessly. Those skills, along with her father's connections and her own striking beauty should have set her up for a life of glamour, but the woman was content to spend her time in the backwoods village in the distant north.

"I like the scenery," Nikki had explained when Amy had first asked about what in the world someone as cosmopolitan as her was doing in Alost. "I do my best painting up here." Indeed, several of the bartender's pieces hung in the bar itself, mostly woodland scenes at twilight, but with an eerie sense of foreboding in all of them. And there was one portrait behind the bar, that of a tall man with strange piercing eyes, that the bartender was most proud of, though she would never rightly say who the subject was.

The portrait stared at Amy now as she sat down across from her friend, gratefully accepting the vodka soda Nikki placed in front of her. "Are you feeling all right, kitten? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

A small smile crossed the American's face as she raised the glass to her lips. "To be honest, I think I might have." Taking a deep drink, she set the glass back down before looking Nikki direct in the eyes. Like Amy's, they were brown, although Nikki sometimes took the goth look a bit farther than her American friend and would wear bright red contacts, as she did now. "Nikki...do you know Herr Ulbrecht, who lives out in the woods?"

Nikki's lip twitched ever so slightly, and she immediately grabbed the nearest empty glass and made a beeline for the drink well. "I've heard a couple things about him, why? You didn't meet him, did you?"

"Actually..."

*****

After the bar had closed and all the patrons had gone, Amy included, Nikola sat staring at the portrait behind the bar. Almost two hundred years now, since her Master had been murdered. It had taken his fledgling a long time to find the monster that committed the act.

Jerrik Ulbrecht. Nikola's eyes flashed red as she spat into the drink well, cursing not only him but herself for letting him live this long. For five years now she had been lingering in this hellhole of a village, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. When she'd first arrived she thought she might just go out to his estate and have it out with him then and there, but one only needed to watch the older vampire hunt to know she would have easily been outmatched by him. After all, he had killed Master, and he had been the strongest, bravest, most beautiful vampire Nikola had ever known. She was proud to carry his bloodline of course, but she was young yet, by vampire standards at least, and utterly alone ever since his death.

So instead she had ensconced herself in the town, making friends and even purchasing the hotel where she worked, though she was careful that the transaction was handled through a shell company so she could maintain the image of being just another artistic expat living the bohemian lifestyle in the bitter north. Whether or not Jerrik knew she was there didn't matter; if he dared strike someone as beloved in the community as Nikki Šimonová the local authorities would turn on him immediately. In the meantime she had waited, and watched for an opportunity to strike back at the old hermit, and now after years of striking flints together it seemed a spark had finally appeared.

Amy hadn't told Nikki everything about what had happened at Ulbrechtställe, but Nikola knew enough about its inhabitant to read between the lines. She was also aware enough of local history to know that the American bore more than a passing resemblance to Jerrik's lost love.

Amy would be the key to the bastard's downfall, Nikola just knew it. She just needed to wait a little bit longer.

Vekraihr · Apr 6, 2021

While Jerrik freely parted with her clothing to facilitate her departure, he did ponder for a time whether he should simply refuse her the right to leave. After all, he’d already let his beloved Anna escape from him once and the similarities were just too uncanny. As her gaze found his and her teeth gently chewed her lip, his icy gaze was peering deep into her dark hues. He took all of her in, pondering the curious thoughts that swam behind the eyes and produced the conflict evident to his discerning mind. Perhaps I may have been too hasty with my hungering...Surely, she wouldn’t risk a trip to the asylum to confess the deeds this evening, would she? he wondered as his lids narrowed briefly before he dismissed the notion and continued to aid her from the gown. His concerns were further assuaged as she confessed her desire to return, and on the following day, no less. His face warmed and a small smile spread across his lips as he replied, “I would welcome that, Amy.” Her warmth, aroma, and demeanor were intoxicating to him and he found his desires being stoked further as his mouth watered at the thought of quenching himself on her again. He’d kept her long enough, though, and would find himself remiss if he found himself on the accusatory end of the law.

“Morning would be most excellent for me...I enjoy the cool, crispness of the air and the pall of moisture lazily hanging over the grounds,” he spoke quietly and with a sensual tone as he was distracted by the feel of her skin beneath his fingers and he could feel his urges spiking further as he traced the branches to the trunk and then down towards the roots before pulling his hands away to further attend to the matter at hand. However, the spark of excitement that ran through her further exacerbated his cravings and he quietly growled to himself. Damn the allure of this woman! Should she have found herself here under less suspicious circumstances, the lord would have no qualms with keeping her for an hour or so more.

Just focus, damn you! There will be more opportunities and patience will lead to greater reward, he reminded himself as he went about the business of carefully placing the dress to the side and he turned his sights back to Amy as she hastily dressed. However quickly she was dressing, it wasn’t enough to hide her condition from him and a delicious grin spread over his face as he honed on her as if a predator stalking their next meal. As if to spare herself from the loss of his restraint, or perhaps of her own, she made haste toward the door before stopping to hastily jot down her phone number. As she approached him again, that same grin was spread across his face, nearly smug, but wholly satisfied as he read the numbers and looked down towards her. “Indeed, I have a phone. I shall send a message for when you should arrive,” he stated sternly, as though there would be no negotiation on the timing. He would certainly welcome her earlier but would he be wrathful should she be late? As color danced across her cheek, Jerrik’s smile broadened and as Amy rushed for the door again, the Lord bade her, “Farewell, Ms. Erickson, until the morrow.”

Once she had left, Jerrik turned to the portrait of Anna that hung over the treasured journal and he walked over and placed a hand gently to it, his fingers lightly adorning her cheek and a wistfulness took over his face. With moisture in his eyes and a smile on his face, he spoke aloud to the portrait, “It seems that even lifetimes couldn’t keep us apart, my love. These years without you have been savagely lonely. I only wonder if this woman is the reincarnation of your beautiful soul, darling.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, pure and crystalline as it separated from his skin and fell to the stone floor. Slowly pulling his hand away, Jerrik composed himself and drew a deep breath before tidying the room and he took the dress back to the wardrobe in which it had been so carefully stored. Then, within a separate library, Jerrik pulled a tome from his collection; a particularly unique book that had been written from an oratory recounting of the spiritual belief of the Gauls. Within, it discussed the indestructibility of the soul and how one’s soul would find a new body after a number of years. Was it possible and had this happened with Anna? He didn’t presume Amy would hold any of Anna’s memories but, perhaps, she did feel some way about him considering just how far she allowed him with her and her apparent eagerness for more (and to return). Perhaps that excitement merely stemmed from learning more of Anna and her interactions with him. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more. For hours, Jerrik pored over page after page of literature discussing reincarnation and the permutability of the soul.

Finally, he remembered that he needed to message Amy and inform her as to when she should arrive in the morning and he drew his phone from one pocket. Without looking a second time at the paper, he programmed her number into his contacts and then opened up a new text message and wrote, ‘Ms. Amy Erickson, it would please me should you find yourself at my estate no later than 9 AM. Don’t keep me waiting. Sincerely, Lord Jerrik Ulbrecht.’ Whether the tone of the message was threatening or playful was up to the reader. And, given her introduction to Jerrik, she might feel it was the former rather than the latter. Jerrik would then place his phone on the table next to him, within his sight as he poured himself a glass of mead from the now finely aged honey wines that adorned several rooms throughout his home. It was there that Jerrik would pass the hours, researching more thoroughly the benefits, perceived consequences, and particular troubles of endlessly returning to the world after death. There was a curiosity in him of what had been potentially robbed from him; to be allowed to become the tabula rasa upon which a new consciousness is built. At this point, the real question was did he even care anymore? He had already lived for lifetimes and his experiences had allowed for him to become far greater than the simple mind of an artisan shipbuilder could have ever dreamed of.

As the hours of the night gave way to the cloud-covered morning, a haze of fog hung over the estate as Jerrik finished his reading in order to attend to other matters before the arrival of Amy. In order to prepare for the long, cold winters the estate suffered, Jerrik would spend many of the cloudy mornings through the fairer seasons chopping wood in order to allow it to dry and season well for firewood to burn in the glorious hearths of Ulbrechtställe. Changing into a pair of well-fitting and timeworn denim jeans and without much else to protect him from the elements, Jerrik walked out into the courtyard of his estate and towards the groundskeeping shed. Near, there was a setup like one might find in an old cabin in the woods in the Americas: a pile of split wood, a stump with the scars of countless axe blows, and a pile of logs waiting to be split. Leaning against the wall of the shed was a woodcutting axe forged in a bygone era and honed by an attentive hand over the years. Her blade was still as sharp as the day she had first been cast from the refined ores of the Earth and Jerrik looked fondly on the blade of his most trusted companion.

It was around the time she should be arriving by the time he’d begun chopping the wood, though he was sure she wouldn’t mind. After all, he was doing her a service, was he not? He didn’t truly know the answer to that himself, as he had spent the night performing research and consumed by thoughts that revolved around the potential connection she and the author they both loved. His upper body was chiseled and hardened, beautifully sculpted from years of hard labor. The only discernable blemish, a singular, long, broad scar that ran across his chest just beneath the clavicle. His form was flawless as he placed a log in the center of the stump and swung clean through, effortlessly splitting the wood. To be honest, he could perform the action barehanded but the process of cutting wood helped keep him connected to those last vestiges of his humanity. This was the way he’d spent a great deal of time as a youth and young man and it was wonderful time for thinking— and for singing. Soon, the courtyard was filled with the deep, rich bass of his voice as he sang a song derived from the first and most notorious poem from the Poetic Edda.

“Allt veit ek Óđinn (I know everything, Odin)
Hvar þú auga falt Óđinn (Where you left your eye, Odin)
Í þeim inum mæra mímis brunni (In the famous spring of Mimir)
Hvar þú auga falt Óđinn (Where you left your eye, Odin.)
Allt veit ek Óđinn
Hvar þú auga falt Óđinn
Drekkr mjöđ mímir morgun hverjan, af veđi ásagrimmr (Where Mimir drinks mead every morning on the pledge of the Lord of the Aesir)”

The song continued in a similar manner as the first verse, naming Odin as the Lord of the draugar (draugadróttinn), followed with some of the names of Odin in a different meter, before continuing to name Odin as the Lord of the Earth (foldardróttinn) and then as the Father of Men (aldaföđr) in the same fashion as before. As he sang, the air almost hummed from the power in his voice as he moved in a nearly mesmerizing rhythm to the song without seeming to need to catch his breath nor seeming as though he had any difficulty keeping the rhythm.

“Ok er þau kómu til hans, þá kastađi hann orminum (And they came before him, so he cast the Serpent)
Í inn djúpa sæ er liggr um öll lönd (into the depths of the sea, where he lies encircling all lands)
Þar liggr hann til ragnarökrs. (There he will lie until Ragnarok.)”

This part broke again from the meter of the song and seemed to be from the Gylfaginning, the first part of the Prose Edda. The song, being cyclical in its construction meant that he could merely continue singing it as he worked which was the primary allure of the song for him. That coupled with the nostalgia it brought him for the fables, which honored and revered the Allfather, they told around campfires and dinner tables. There was one aspect of chopping wood that would be uncharacteristic of him, in that it took his entire focus away from his surroundings and concentrated his attention on that one action.

Shiva the Cat · Apr 12, 2021

It had all seemed like a dream.

Amy wasn't totally sure how she had gotten home, but she could vaguely remember Nikki telling one of the the Holmgren girls, who lived just down the road from the Nybergs, to walk her home. As the sun prodded unhelpfully through the slatted blinds, it slowly became obvious that while the American had made it back in one piece, she had definitely overindulged in the hotel bar. Her head was pounding and her stomach felt as though it was full of concrete, although the idea of a fried breakfast with sausage, eggs, hash browns, and toast sounded heavenly. Alas, by the time she dragged herself down to the kitchen, she was only greeted by Stella Nyberg's smiling face and a spread of cold meat and bread.

"God morgan! I was wondering how late you were going to sleep. You came in so late last night!" Mrs. Nyberg clucked in her motherly way, immediately pouring her guest a tall cup of coffee, the smell of which alone was enough to brighten Amy's drooping expression.

After the first few long sips, she began helping herself to the kaviar, praying the heavy salt would aid the aspiring and caffeine in warding off the hangover, the evidence of which was not lost on her host mother. "You look so pale, Amy. Will you be able to make it in to work today?"

Taking a bite of the roe on the hearty bread, the student couldn't help but wince a little at the sharp taste, but it did have the slightest reminiscence of her longed-for hash browns. "I actually don't have to go into the House today" she replied. "Anita emailed me this morning saying they were having electrical issues or something like that, and it wasn't going to be open to the public until tomorrow at least. And since I can't do any writing or anything on-site until the problem is fixed, she said I should just take today as an independent research day."

And what research would that be?

Had yesterday's interview with Jerrik been real? Amy was sure she hadn't started drinking until after she'd gotten to the hotel, which was well after the stormy afternoon at Ulbrechtställe. When she had fully roused from sleep that morning, she had hopefully checked her phone for any message from the mysterious lord of the manor, but besides the dismissal from Anita the only other contact had come from Nikki, asking if she had made it home okay (which was weird unto itself, considering the two foreigners had never exchanged contact info before last night, but Amy supposed it was a nice gesture, and they had been drinking together a lot lately).

Maybe Jerrik was just glad to get rid of her, and just like 90% of all the men the student had ever interacted with, he had zero intention of actually contacting her again. Maybe the sex hadn't been as good for him she thought with a wry quirk of the mouth, pretending not to feel disappointed as she finished her coffee. It wasn't the sex Amy wanted to repeat as much as just to get another glance at Anna Edwards' journal, ideally this time with proper preparation. Gloves, her camera, her laptop and notebooks...but if Jerrik didn't invite her back, she would never get another chance. Then again, she could always "accidentally" stumble upon his property one more time...

As luck would have it, the long-awaited message finally came just as Amy was helping Mrs. Nyberg finish up the dishes. Trying not to look too excited as she saw the unfamiliar number flash across her screen, she surreptitiously stepped aside to read the text, written as formally as a nineteenth-century letter might have been:

Ms. Amy Erickson, it would please me should you find yourself at my estate no later than 9 AM. Don’t keep me waiting. Sincerely, Lord Jerrik Ulbrecht.

Suddenly, she jerked her head up to stare at the clock on the kitchen stove. 8:45 AM.

"Damn it!" she cursed under her breath. It wasn't the first time her phone had been delayed in receiving texts; the rural neighborhood of the house didn't have the greatest signal. "I'm really sorry Stella, something just came up and I need to go. It's a...it's a work thing." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie, although she wondered what was the worst that could happen if she did keep Jerrik waiting, which seemed more likely with every passing second. With a dismissive wave of Stella's hand, Amy ran back up the stairs to her room to dress as quickly as possible, gathering all the necessary research items before quickly dashing off a response to Jerrik's text.

Sorry, just got this! On my way now.

Praying the message would get through faster than its predecessor had, Amy raced back down the stairs with her backpack bouncing against her back, dressed today in a simple long-sleeved black skater dress and deep red tights. She'd opted for boots instead of sneakers as well, and had even gone as far as to wear a few pieces of silver jewelry, though she wished she'd had time to properly do her hair and makeup rather than just slamming a wide-brimmed black hat on her head and slopping on just a dash of lipstick and eyeliner, taking care to shield her sensitive eyes with a large pair of dark sunglasses.

All in all it had been a decent attempt at beauty, but the furious pace with which she pedaled the bike utterly spoiled the effect. By the time she skidded into the courtyard of Ulbrechtställe, her boots were dusty, her face sweaty, and there was a hole in the right knee of her tights. Not only that, but it was well past 9 AM, and creeping dangerously close to ten.

"Jerrik? I mean, Lord Ulbrecht?" she called as she pounded up the steps to knock on the door. "I'm so sorry I'm late, my phone gets shit for signal. Is this still a good time?" No answer. "Lord Ulbrecht? Hey, anyone there?"

Oh please let this still be a good time Amy prayed as she continued to pray. To come all the way out here just to be shut out would just be insult to injury. Her head was still aching, and she was dying of thirst but had foolishly left her water bottle behind. If nothing else maybe he would still be kind enough to give her a drink before wholly kicking her to the curb.

Vekraihr · Apr 15, 2021

As Jerrik waned the early hours of the morning away with his laborious activity, there was a calm smile upon his face as he continued to split and stack the wood. Slowly, the pleasant aroma of woods began to stick to his skin and he let the smell fill his lungs as he drew a deep breath in through his nostrils. Nothing grounded him quite like the fresh smell of cut wood and he was glad to keep the fireplaces in his home woodburning as opposed to the gas fireplaces that seemed to be becoming popular among the wealthier class. From time to time, he would have visitors to his estate of the upper echelons who would remark at how ‘authentic’ the home felt with the woodburning fireplaces and some even went so far as to call it ‘charming.’ He’d almost found their pretentiousness revolting and wouldn’t have tolerated such a presence in his home if not for the necessity to rub elbows to keep his coffers overflowing.

Fortunately, the clouds continued to linger well past his estimations and his work continued, his hands strong upon the handle of the axe and his skin began to softly glisten with beads of sweat. His fair hair came slightly out of his tidy knot, leaving a few strands to frame his handsome face as he looked up to where the sun hid behind the clouds. Surely, it was well past nine by this point, wasn’t it? He withdrew his phone from the old denim jeans he wore and it certainly was well past 9. However, he had received a message from the number he’d programmed in for Amy and he grinned a little further knowing she was well on her way.

Certainly, he understood the limitations of technology, and the only reason for his phone having as good of reception as he had was due to him paying to have a tower built somewhere in the woods on his property. Disguised as a tree, they assured him he wouldn’t notice the tower and he wouldn’t have had his nose not been so sensitive to the unnatural scent of metal and electricity in an otherwise uncivilized wilderness.

Although, her tardiness presented him with a unique opportunity to taunt the poor lass and a sadistic smile spread over his face as he thought of how he might make her squirm beneath his thumb. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned Amy upon his doorstep and the ways he might agonize her with the thought that he was truly frustrated with her. How delicious her fear would taste seeing the statuesque man bearing down on her with the authority of the ages behind him. His eyes flickered with amusement as he entertained himself with his musings as he eagerly awaited her return so that he might set his intentions into motion. He continued to attend to his task of firewood for as long as she remained absent from his property, though it seemed he wouldn’t have to wait much longer as he heard the familiar sound of her bike teetering along his path. Soon, her feminine scent was brought to him upon the winds and he took a deep inhale through his nostrils and sighed at the delightfully familiar aroma Ms. Erickson perfumed the air with.

As Amy pounded at his door with no one inside to answer her call, he could hear the concern in her voice as he slowly marched from around the corner, naked from the waist up and glistening with his heavy axe slung over one shoulder. There he approached, his skin glistening with the evidence of his efforts and his masculine musk mingling in the air with the scent of birch and alder. “I thought I had made it clear that I wasn’t to be kept waiting, Ms. Erickson,” he stated in a severe tone, his icy blue hues piercing into her as he stepped forward. His muscular frame rippled with strength as each footfall drew him closer to her. Once he was in front of her, he’d swing the head of the axe softly to the stone beside her with a gentle ringing tone from the hardened metal blade. Jerrik’s eyes narrowed a little and he leaned down to properly take in her face.

“It is quite impolite to keep a lord waiting, you know,” his voice was low, nearly growling as he reached out to clasp her jaw in his strong fingertips and he drew her closer to him. It would seem to her that he hadn’t received her message. Though, in reality, he was merely provoking her reaction to see how she might respond as his fierce eyes focused on her. That mesmerizing gaze of his, underwritten with the preternatural hunger that only a vampire could hold for a human, would exude the power an apex predator held over its prey. Especially prey that came so willingly into his den and offered themselves up as readily as Amy had.

Jerrik had an interesting conundrum within him as, despite his desire to taunt her, he felt the overwhelming need to kiss her. Amy reminded him so much of his dearest Anna, who held the only sweetness left within him to give, that he nearly found her irresistible. He’d give a moment, two moments, to allow her to respond as he clutched her jaw in his strong fingers. However, she might note that he wasn’t holding her hard enough to hurt but merely enough to captivate her. His presence commanded her attention and, after he felt as though he’d waited long enough, he took her lips with a deep, wanting kiss. His lips pressed into hers with the firmness of one who felt the other was rightfully theirs to have, and Jerrik certainly felt so inclined. Amy had, for all intents and purposes, welcomed his advances thus far and brought herself back to his doorstep. He knew that part of it was for the research of her beloved authoress but he knew better than to think that reason was solely responsible for her presence. Even now, he remembered the warmth just his gaze instilled in her core as he slowly parted his lips from hers and threatened with a low voice, “Don’t keep me waiting again or there shall be consequences.”

Shiva the Cat · Apr 18, 2021

If she hadn't been in such a panic about being late, Amy might have noticed the ominous sound of chopping coming from the rear of the house. But when no one answered the door, the next anxious thought that crossed her mind was that Lord Ulbrecht had insisted on such an early meeting due to an overcrowded schedule. The student couldn't begin to imagine what kind of other meetings could possibly take up his time, but if he wasn't at home, that meant he had to be somewhere, right?

Maybe he's asleep in a coffin somewhere a half-joking thought mused through her mind, making her scowl at the closed door in front of her. Jerrik was definitely a weird guy, but after a full night's sleep and a brisk ride through the morning air, the vampire idea seemed just as ridiculous today as it had yesterday. So what if he had a collection of Edwards memorabilia that had never seen the light of day before? Not to mention an apparent intimate knowledge of her life? He'd probably read her journal cover to cover a thousand times. Amy knew she would have, if given the chance. And the blood-sucking thing...probably just a weird fetish. Lord Ulbrecht seemed to be full of them.

As a shadow fell across her back, Amy turned around to see there was apparently one more to add to the list: shirtless woodchopping. Not that she was going to complain about that one.

He is a fucking god she realized with widening eyes that lingered on the planes of his chest, moving ever so slightly with his controlled breathing and sending a miniscule drop of sweat rolling over his hard, flat stomach. The idea of catching it on her tongue raced unbidden across Amy's thoughts, quickly followed by: oh my god he has a motherfucking axe.

She should have taken off running at that sight alone, but either the power of his eyes or the predatory movements of his body kept her rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but shut her eyes as the shining blade came down...

...and clattered onto the stone steps.

Amy's eyes snapped open as she felt Lord Ulbrecht's cold hand grasping at her chin, and for a moment all she could comprehend was the blue of his eyes, and the overwhelming musk of his body. The latter was far from unpleasant, and in fact reminded her of a line from one of Anna Edwards' later books:

As he took me in his arms he smelt of the woods, of the trees and rocks and cleansing fires that came in late summer. And when he moved inside me, it was as though I too was part of those endless forests, the beasts and birds dwelling within me for generations as I reached ever farther towards the sky. "I will make a goddess of you," he whispered as he filled me with life. "You shall be eternal, my beloved, though the world may try to cut you down and destroy you. But you will return, always. They will never forget you..."

The words immediately evaporated at the sound of Jerrik's voice, and the student swallowed hard, trying to quickly cobble together an explanation from her broken thoughts. "I'm sorry, Lord Ulbrecht," she began, shivering a little as she spoke his name. Why did addressing him like that make her feel so flushed? "My phone isn't great, and I didn't get the message until late. I came as quickly as I could, I swear. I'm really, really sorry..."

She couldn't help but be a little surprised at the remorse in her own voice as she spoke, and Amy wondered why she was so sorry to have upset him. Aside from the whole delusional axe-man thing, of course. But even as aggressive and domineering as Lord Ulbrecht's behavior might have been, somehow underneath it all she was beginning to sense he really didn't want to hurt her at all. Scare her, yes, but it almost seemed like a game to him to see exactly how far he could push the trembling American girl.

If he had been any other man, Amy wouldn't have stood for it. Other guys she'd known had tried to boss her around, acting like she was less than them based on her sex alone, and she'd laughed them off if she hadn't snapped back at them entirely. True, those guys hadn't been seven-foot-tall vikings in possession of the most important documents to her career in existence, but if if Ulbrecht had been just an average person with no more to his name than a few bucks and a bad attitude, somehow she thought she would still be quivering with fear in front of him.

Fear...and excitement.

Amy had done her best to keep her eyes locked with his, one last show of defiance and courage even as her words failed her, but when his mouth finally captured hers they fluttered helplessly shut. Although she did have the instinct to push back against him and make some halfhearted claim about sexual harassment, all she could manage was a defeated moan and hands that brushed lightly over his chest, embracing more than repelling his body from hers.

What was the point in fighting it? He'd wanted to hook up yesterday before giving her access to the journal, why should today be any different? Hadn't she brought a fresh box of condoms for that very reason, after all? Might as well just go with what he wanted, and get to the real work afterward. Yesterday hadn't been bad after all; it had left her a little sore of course, but Amy could hardly say she hadn't enjoyed it. Even thinking about it now was making her wet, her hips tilting forward ever so slightly in the hopes he would reach for the hem of her skirt, lift it upward and--

He pulled away. “Don’t keep me waiting again or there shall be consequences.”

The student swallowed again and opened her eyes, nodding in assent. "I won't. I'm sorry," Amy repeated, trying to slow her racing heart. "Can...can I still come in and read the journal? Or is there something else you wanted me to do for you first?"

She tried to ask the latter question with as much cool detachment as she could manage, but somehow she couldn't help but think there was just a little too much eagerness in her voice as she spoke.

Vekraihr · Apr 22, 2021

Jerrik could almost hear the thoughts running through Amy’s mind as clearly as if she had spoken them out loud. How delicious he mused internally as his gaze slowly raked over her form, consuming her within and without with his eyes before bringing his piercing stare level with hers. As the young woman struggled to remain coherent through her fear, he couldn’t help but sense the rush of fresh crimson to pigment her skin as she spoke his name and title. Oh, how he would relish her today for behaving so well and entreating him in such a pleasurable manner. However, he continued his ploy of frustration to further elicit those genuine feelings from her. That, and the further he pushed the more flushed she seemed to become.

When they kissed, Jerrik could feel her warmth, radiant and sublime, permeating into him and her excitement became that much more noticeable as she pressed towards him. Either she hadn’t the willpower to resist him, or she never truly wanted to in the first place. His grip on the haft of the axe weakened as her hips raised, instinct wanting to grab hold but propriety held steady. Besides, he couldn’t get too caught up in the act in the light of day, lest he lose his sense of time and wind up overstaying the welcoming shade of the clouds. Even now, he could feel the intense light of the sun begging to purify him to nothing but ash and cinders. Briefly, his teeth would capture her lower lip as they parted and he would softly bite and tug. She would see a flash of lustful hunger in his eyes before his cool demeanor returned to further reprimand her for her behavior.

He couldn’t quite get the image of Amy prostrate before him out of his mind’s eye, thinking of how delicious she would be supplicating herself to him. “It seems I’ll have to have another tower built closer to town so that you might not miss my invitation again. Or, perhaps I’ll send for you in a more conventional manner,” he mused with a grin, though his tone didn’t impart any sense that he wasn’t serious about accomplishing either end. Carefully, he lifted his axe and briefly walked to the side of her and tucked it behind some of the ivies which climbed the walls near the door and his eyes flashed hungrily once again at the sound of her question— at the anticipation in her voice. “Well, I did invite you over to read the journal. However, I’m sure you realize that I require something in return…” he replied, his tone shifting from matter-of-fact to a smoldering sensuality as amorous fires blinked to life in his eyes. Another bead of sweat trickled down his chiseled midsection, bisecting his muscles before disappearing into the hem of his jeans as he sauntered towards her again. His eyes narrowed sharply as he leaned to whisper in her ear at the same time as his large hand pressed into the side of her head and strong fingers wove into her locks to secure his grip.

“Your hunger grows and no one but I will leave you satiated. Give in to it and give in to me, and I will magnify both desire and satisfaction until you are left breathless in bliss,” provocatively, his breath caressed her ear as his lips hovered with nearly no space between them. Deftly, his free arm rose and wrapped around her waist, his hand going to her hip and clasping her firmly, purposefully as he drove her back towards the closed door. He continued as his breath seemed to warm subtly, “You, and only you, have within you what I crave...That inexorable attraction you and I share...The unbreakable bond…” His voice was resolute but rapturous as he pressed into her as the door pressed into her back, a pleasured sigh escaping him as he felt the softness of her body against his. Releasing her head, his lips brushed her neck just below her ear as his hand fell to open the door with a low creak behind them. Cool air from the interior brushed past them as, all at once, Jerrik lifted Amy by her waist and he stepped within the doorway, slamming the door behind them with a foot.

A growl of need preceded her back and pack pressing against the cool stone as Jerrik pushed them three-quarters of the way into the chamber with unnatural haste. His lips brushed up against her neck, his fangs briefly pricking her right above where her artery lay beneath and he drew in a deep breath of her through his nose. With how he’d positioned himself, she would find his hips between her legs, and a familiar, unyielding stiffness rose through the waistband of his faded jeans and pressed attentively against her core as he tore his focus away from her neck so that he might better savor her. Unfettered lust burned in his eyes as he brought his face to hers and his lids closed as he kissed her with unrivaled passion, his lips securing hers in a powerful, yet somehow tender kiss. His mouth seemed to contour to meet hers, or perhaps hers was contouring to his, with every kiss deepening before his tongue pierced between and past her lips and coiled around hers slowly. Every moment or so, the seal broke to allow breath to be regained, and, should her eyes open, each time it would seem they were in a different spot of the keep. And, certainly, she might feel the rush of movement with each encounter as the vampire, keen in his blindness, led the pair down the halls of his estate towards the room where he kept his bed and other personal effects.

Before long, the two of them were in a spacious room with beautifully carved wooden furniture which looked as though every little detail had been chiseled in by hand. There were natural accents that looked like the waves of the ocean and the boughs of trees along the edges of the dresser, wardrobe. In the center of the far wall, a four-post bed draped in deep purple fabrics with a luxurious spread of exotically colored furs atop a king-sized mattress. Plush pillows adorned the headboard as Jerrik began pulling her pack off of her to throw it onto the floor beside the bed. Then, she would find her back against the silky furs that adorned his bed and she bounced once from the landing before Jerrik pounced and growled— nearly like a wolf-- ravenously hungry as his freed hands roamed along her sides, tracing her feminine curves with his slightly calloused fingers. He took her lips once more, tempestuous in his prurience, as his body hovered inches above hers; his skin was not quite as cool as the previous day thanks to his time spent outside. Slipping one hand to the front of her body, he dipped between her legs and then under the hem of her dress and slowly lifted as his fingers laboriously carved paths along her inner thighs. He drew on the anticipation before four fingers pressed against her mound, his middle tracing her lips through the tights as he softly bit her bottom lip to temper his ardor.

Shiva the Cat · Apr 25, 2021

Was it just her imagination, or did Jerrik's skin feel warmer to the touch than she'd remembered? Logically it would make sense; he was working hard under what counted as a warm day in that part of the world (the sweat clinging oh-so-perfectly to his flawless white skin made that clear). Of course, the thought of the tall blonde lord exerting himself brought other physical activities to Amy's mind, but there was a certain comfort in his touch as well. It reminded her that he wasn't some fairy tale monster, ready to devour her in a single bite, but a man, with hungers so natural and primal that the same instincts could be found in every beast of the forest.

It even relaxed the student enough to allow her to raise an eyebrow at the idea of putting up a new cell tower purely for her sake. "You have that kind of power, huh?" she asked, the tiniest note of sarcasm angling her voice. "Don't need to go through a zoning board, or anything like that?"

Then a curious thought came to Amy's mind; something Nikki had said in the bar late last night while they were whispering about Lord Ulbrecht over a rich red glass of wine.

"He's got more power than you know," the bartender had said, glancing at the painting behind the bar with a wistful nostalgia behind the ruby contact lenses in her eyes. "Don't let your guard down around him, ever. If he really wanted to, that potwór could make it so no one ever sees you again, or ever admits to even seeing you in the first place. Be careful if you go out there again, Chicago."

The fear sparked back into Amy's chest just as she felt his long fingers threading through the wind-twisted waves of her hair, nearly knocking her hat off and sending her sunglasses clattering to the stone steps below. “Your hunger grows and no one but I will leave you satiated. Give in to it and give in to me, and I will magnify both desire and satisfaction until you are left breathless in bliss." His voice was enough to make her gasp aloud and reflexively reach for his waist, her fingers twitching along his muscles as they decided whether to push him away or pull him closer.

"I...I didn't come for that, really," the student protested, the lie sweet on her tongue as she began to squirm against the door. "I came for the journal, that's all. All I want from you is...is..." A chill breeze pushed between them for a moment, but it granted Amy no relief from the onslaught of his touch. Indeed, the cool air only seemed to make things worse as it easily passed through the cotton of her dress, making her nipples stand up prominently through the fabric. Glancing down in amazement, the girl wondered how she could be making such a display through her bra, when the sudden shift of her body as Jerrik lifted her made her realize she'd left the house without one, never even knowing it.

Freshly conscious of her breasts as they strained against the dress, Amy tried to regain her thoughts. "All I want from you, my lord--" Fuck, why did she feel a trickle of arousal pooling between her legs when she said that? "--is what you can tell me...about Anna. Please, that's all I want." What had started as defiance in her voice, no matter how quavering, by this point was barely more than a whimper. Now that they were inside, Jerrik only seemed more powerful, now that he couldn't be dwarfed by the trees and sky, and he was carrying her with such ease that the student might have been as small and delicate as a child; a bizarre sensation that made the student feel uncharacteristically weak.

Submissive, even.

You, and only you, have within you what I crave...

On the ride over to the estate, Amy had so clearly pictured to herself how she would behalf before the lord. She knew he would want to fuck her, he'd probably want to bite her again too. That was all very well then, she could approach that setup clinically and coolly with all the confidence of a modern woman. Hell, she'd even half-imagined putting things down in writing: "x minutes of oral, anal, or vaginal sex to be exchanged for y minutes with prime research materials" or some such bullshit. But all that nonsense was out the window as soon as Jerrik kissed her again, her body melting against his as she felt his arousal grinding against her sex even as his teeth teased along her neck.

"Take whatever you want..." the student moaned, hitching one leg over his hip and urging him to press harder against the soaked nylon of her tights. "Take..." Take me Amy had wanted to beg, but his mouth silenced her again, driving the last of the thoughts from her mind. All she knew now was that she wanted--no, needed--him inside her, right this instant, or she was sure she would go insane with desire. He could have asked anything from her in that moment and she would have obeyed wish a smile and thanks, but instead he merely held her against him, making her writhe with frustration like a wild animal against his powerful form.

Amy had a vague sense he was carrying her through the halls of the manor, but time and specific location were utterly gone from her mind. Breaths were few and far between, taken desperately and granting her only a momentary glance of her surroundings: a hallway, a staircase, a stately landing. But other images were passing through her mind as well, and the student wasn't entirely sure whether they were real or merely hallucinations of a breaking mind.

Lord Ulbrecht, sitting on a beautifully-carved chair, almost like a throne, while she knelt before him...
His naked body, silhouetted against a full moon shining between the pines....
An open window, in the room that had once belonged to Anna Edwards...

And a lone figure, standing proud and golden on the shore through a rain-soaked morning, staring after a ship that would never again return to those shores; nor would its passenger.

A sudden impact that sent her chest heaving brought Amy temporarily back into herself, and she realized the lord had thrown her onto an enormous bed. Her pack was gone, so were her boots, and the only thing the student could see beyond the rich purple hangings of the four-poster was Jerrik's form looming above her. The American knew she should have been frightened at the way he was looking at her, but her thoughts and movements were still slowed thanks to his ministrations. It was almost as if she'd been drugged by his kisses, but even that didn't stop her from parting her legs for him, or holding out her arms in an inviting embrace.

"Jerrik...my beloved..."

Was that Amy's voice whispering those words, or some lingering lover's ghost echoing past cries of passion against the stone walls of the chamber? In either case, the student was utterly unaware of any sound besides Lord Ulbrecht's hungry growls, and she dug her nails into his back in her own bestial response. The tights that had gone through such torment on the ride over tore yet another hole directly over her slit as the lord teased her, and it was soon clear that in addition to having forgotten to wear a bra, the young woman had also forgone any additional underwear besides the red nylons. Jerrik would only need to glance slightly downward to get a full view of her quivering, hungry sex, though whether or not he intended to sate her was another question entirely.

"Please, my lord," Amy begged again, her own voice sending another wave of arousal through her body as her hips bucked against him.

Vekraihr · Apr 27, 2021

Jerrik grinned at her line of questioning in regards to the level of authority he held within this area and his eyes flashed with an unquestionable seriousness, yet he didn’t speak another word on the subject. There was a sweetness in the way Amy seemed to be bold and defiant in one moment, then sweet and pliant between his fingers as he molded her towards his own ends. Of course, she protested her reasons for visiting, and he knew that the journal of Anna Edwards held particular sway over the girl. However, he was no fool and he could see right through that thin veil of cool demeanor she tried ever so desperately to construct between him and the growing flames of arousal within her. At her grasping hands, his body pushed towards her hands, welcoming her exploration as the taut muscles beneath his fair skin lightly twitched with satisfaction at her touch. Her body squirmed as he leaned into her, increasing his presence as he taunted knowingly, “Oh, didn’t you, though?”

His keen eyes couldn’t have possibly have missed the sight of her nipples piercing the air from within her dress, betraying the abject desire building up within her. Each time she spoke ’my lord’ would elicit a rumbling sound of satisfaction from the man as his eyes flashed brilliantly to the defiance in her voice. Thin lies to preserve a modesty that no longer remained between the two of them. He would have found her quaint had he himself not felt the discomforting ache of need clawing through him, calling him to slake his thirst upon the young, sweet creature. How delectable that she willingly threw herself over the altar, ready to be the lamb for the wolf to prey upon. Her tongue weaving fables of a woman less taken by him than she was struck him as subtly coquettish, despite whatever intention to pull him back towards her ultimate aim.

Take whatever you want...Take…

“Oh, Amy, I fully intend to,” he whispered seductively against her lips as he felt her hitch a leg around him, further pressing his half-exposed member against the soaked red material between her thighs. He only seemed to hasten as he felt the keening of both their desires, flames being fanned into an inferno as he brought her into his dimly lit room.

Jerrik...my beloved…

Briefly, he would stop in his tracks with a look of complete and utter shock written upon his face. Those words…they didn’t feel as though they came from her, and he certainly wouldn’t have expected such an utterance from her. Familiarity, warmth, and affection all whispered so sweetly to him that, had he been expecting it, he might have swept her up right then without another moment’s hesitation. However, as he looked down towards Amy with an almost indescribable combination of shock, lust, and pensiveness written upon his face. So much so that he had missed her call to him in that sweetest way a woman could possibly call to a man. Even still, there was a soft glimmer in his eyes as the icy hues warmed with tenderness and his lips happily pulled away from his bright white teeth. His dangerous fangs, now much more apparently longer than the rest of his teeth, gleamed wickedly in the dim glow of firelight from the gas sconces that lined the stone wall and his eyes wrinkled at the corners from the breadth of his smile

“My dearest...The subject of my undying love…” his voice was molten with ardor and passion as he pressed forward, body pressing against hers and he kissed her with the heat of one hundred suns. His upper torso pressed against hers with the fabric of her dress keeping their skins from mingling, his own still lightly sticky with sweat that wicked away upon the cloth. His hips slowly dipped between hers, his half-exposed cock coming provocatively close to her inviting humidity. A rippling shiver sent up the vampire’s spine as he growled against her lips, nibbling on the lower before toking softly upon it. He felt somewhere between hungry and impassioned, one forearm holding him aloft over her as the other’s fingers met with her shoulder. Slowly, he traced the feminine curve of her breast and along her tender side before he grabbed hold of her dress and lifted himself away just enough to begin peeling the fabric away to bare her to him. His lips protested their departure from hers, the vampire looking at her with an unflinching, cool fire burning in those blue hues.

There wasn’t any mistaking those words— for, in his mind, there couldn’t have been any other who motivated those words than the spirit of his lost love. Truly, she must have come back to him in this girl who so closely resembled his preciously coveted darling. Centuries of lone studies, idly collecting mysteries, and wandering cold halls seemed to fade into the distance as his mind flooded with images: of the laughter and mirth with which Anna filled his halls, of the warm delicateness of her embrace, the sweet taste of her lips on his, and the heat their bodies generated on those long, cold midwinter nights. Amy undeniably embodied her— mind, body, and spirit— and, yet, something was missing. That simple utterance diminished those feelings of uncertainty, though, and drew the vampire one step closer to believing his soul mate had found her way back from the other side.

His kiss lasted for but a moment before he pulled away, drawing in a breath as he tried to reclaim a little of his composure. All that remained of it melted as he glanced down to see her, fair-skinned and beautiful, womanhood glistening and quivering with desire as she laid there, spread bare for him to feast his eyes upon. “I need you…” he whispered lustfully, quelling any questions as to whether or not the lord intended to satisfy her. Reflexively, he pressed towards her bucking hips as his own gyrated to further tease the pair into a frenzy. As the head of his manhood slid against her, the hot flesh of his dragged delicious little patterns into those soaking folds of hers. It was almost more than he could bear— so much so that he had a hard time believing they’d gone at it just the day before.

One hand held his upper body just over hers as his other hand reached down to make deft work of his button and zipper as his muscles rippled and shifted with each movement. His thick cock firmly slapped against her when freed from the restricting confines of his jeans and the denim fabric was ripped quickly along his legs and discarded somewhere onto the floor beyond the edge of the bed. Gyrations slowed, making the motions that teasingly prodded into her sensitive flesh that much more deliberate as his breaths pulled her essence deep within. A warm, clear fluid of his own began mingling with hers as he pressed his tip against her sensitive clit and flicked against it with the shape.

His free hand sought one of hers, now, as his powerful fingers traced along the edge of her supple thigh, caressed her feminine waist, and continued onwards to wrap those strong appendages around her wrist. Dragging her hand back down with his, he pressed her palm against the base of his twitching arousal. “Guide me…” his demand was uttered with power in his resonant tone that reverberated across the stones. As it was in any of the other rooms of the keep, he was the lord of it all and the walls themselves seemed to amplify his presence, sharply magnifying the authority of the venerable Lord Ulbrecht.

Shiva the Cat · May 23, 2021

Is it really possible to go insane with desire?

In any other setting Amy would have laughed off the idea, but as every kiss, every touch, every hot breath on her bared skin only fanned the flames of her frustrated arousal, the student couldn't help but notice a curious phenomena descending upon her. Part of her was on the bed, pinned helpless beneath the lord's flawlessly sculpted form as he toyed with her own heaving body. But another part of her seemed to be somewhere else in the room, watching the tryst clinically from a short distance away.

Am I dissociating? the student wondered dimly even as squealed in pleasure at just feeling the very tip of his cock brushing against her. Wasn't dissociation something usually associated with trauma? Was it possible for foreplay to be so good it was actually traumatic? Amy supposed if any might be, this particular instance would certainly be a contender.

Whatever the reason for the dual visions of their tryst, it seemed more worth noting that there also seemed to be two entirely different Jerriks lying in bed with her. When Amy looked up at the man above her she saw a predator, powerful and dominating. If she was going to take any pleasure from their liaison, it was going to be because he willed it; he was going to leave her a panting, shuddering mess beneath him, probably with no remaining thoughts left to spend on the journal or anything else belonging to Anna Edwards. He would be the driver of all her thoughts and feelings from now on, and she would never again be so impudent as to demand to look at his belongings, much less keep him waiting even a moment whenever he desired her.

Yet, when that other self saw Jerrik from across the room, it was as though he was an utterly different man. His movements might have been passionate, but they weren't aggressive. The lord might have been quick to display his fangs, but the young woman's skin was still wholly unbroken. And while one Amy might have compared the tension in Jerrik's muscles to a cat ready to pounce, the other Amy saw his restraint and self-discipline. After all, he might have thrown her over a piece of furniture downstairs like he had yesterday, but something had stopped him.

Most of all, it was the strange emotion in his voice and eyes that gave the logical part of Amy pause. While lost in desire all she could recognize in either was Jerrik's hunger for her, but the wiser side of her was still sensitive enough to catch up on other emotions. Sadness, loss, regret. But something else too: a delirious hope, tinged with joy.

“My dearest...The subject of my undying love…I need you…”

If Jerrik thought he was in love with Amy after knowing her for 48 hours and fucking her once, he really was insane (although the vampire delusion should have made that clear). But while the Amy on the bed scarcely noticed the words--being much too occupied trying to squirm out of her clothes so she could finally feel his skin on hers--the other Amy was quick to note that he probably wasn't speaking to her, exactly. Maybe it was a bit self-indulgent to assume the American resembled her heroine in face and body, but if she were to accept that Jerrik's story about himself, that he really was a vampire and had once been Anna Edwards' lover, then was this all just his attempts to regain something he had lost?

Not just lost. He really did love her Amy mused just as he brushed against her clit, eliciting another gasp of pleasure as she reflexively seized a handful of his golden hair. As much as the Amy on the bed was enjoying herself though, the other one felt just the smallest bit insulted that all of this was happening simply because Jerrik had a "type." If the American trespasser had been a brunette, or another race, or a young man instead of a woman, would they have had to resort to such carnal negotiations in order to get a look at Anna's journal? Maybe not, but then again maybe Amy's resemblance to his lost love was the only reason Jerrik had even considered letting her review the documents.

And the documents were all that mattered, she had to remember that. Never mind the undeniable authority in his voice, never mind how good his cock felt in her hand, never mind the bizarre jolt of jealousy that Lord Ulbrecht might be thinking of a woman dead for two centuries rather than the living girl beneath him. She just needed to make him happy, as quickly as possible, and then she could move on.

Her own enjoyment was just a bonus.

Amy wasted no time carrying out his order, terse as it was. She would have had to be drunk, blind, and a virgin to miss the mark, near as he was to the opening that had stretched wide in long-awaited welcome. Still, her dark eyes drifted down, not so much to watch was she was doing but just to see him sliding inside her. That image alone was almost enough to push her over the edge, and she had to shut her eyes in order to keep from climaxing right then and there. With nothing but blackness before her now, the dual perspectives rejoined into one, any any thoughts that weren't related to what her body was doing right now, in this very instant, evaporated into thin air.

Once he was all the way inside her the student had the brief, laughable idea of rolling him onto his back and riding him, but of course this wasn't a skinny college kid she was dealing with after all. Push as she might against him, it was like trying to knock a marble statue off its pedestal. Jerrik could have utterly crushed her if he desired, but Amy was nothing if not resourceful. Her bruised lips curled into a naughty little smile, and summoning some lingering reserve of strength within her she circled her legs around his waist. All the cycling she'd been doing this summer had left her thick thighs toned and strong, and while she couldn't slide all the way off his cock she found she could still pull him a few inches deeper than she'd initially thought.

It was enough to get the head of his cock to brush against that perfect spot deep inside her, and once she'd gotten used to the position Amy wasted no time in rocking her hips back and forth, Jerrik's pleasure momentarily forgotten in the pursuit of her own.

Vekraihr · May 25, 2021

For all he was concerned, his home could have been burning and it still wouldn’t have been able to tear his attention away from Amy. Between the saccharine femininity in her voice, the comfortable warmth of her skin against his, and the stimulating electricity between the two of them, these consumed him and demanded his complete attention. Crystalline blue hues seemed to nearly shimmer in the dim light as he gazed upon her, chest rising and falling in a practiced rhythm as he devoured her with all of his senses. Perhaps he had gotten a little overly eager himself as, when she began to guide him with earnest excitement, his thick shaft twitched nearly as strong as to force her hand to move. As he felt the spread of her warm, soft flesh yielding to the shape of his, a low, pleasured groan issued from him as he slipped within and his hips pressed in deliberately slow.

Jerrik was hilted within her before too long, taking up his rightful place as his body trembled with the anticipation of a predator holding itself back from wholly conquering its prey. However, it seemed Amy had different plans as he felt her pushing against him as if to try to get him to fall onto his back for her. A grin spread over his face, wondering how the student planned to get him to surrender without a word— as though she had the strength to move his comparatively titanic frame from over top her. However, that wasn’t the only surprise she held for him as a pair of strong legs surrounded his thick, toned midsection and dragged him closer still. With the arch of his back deepening, Jerrik felt his cock slip deeper into her as he growled another breath of delight. He keenly noticed her delight as he pressed into a particular area in those deeper reaches of herself and the vampire lord breathed a seductive sigh as his head lowered to hover inches from hers.

His body lowered, too, bringing still warm flesh against hers, and the firm planes of his body coerced hers to yield. Her rocking hips immediately elicited reciprocatory gyrations from his own, his movements pressing him more directly and firmly into that spot of hers that she so desperately drove him into. “Your facade is never slow to falter, Amy...Try as you might, you cannot hide your lust from me...For I am far too willing to indulge upon it with you,” his voice was low, impassioned, provocative and his breath gently passed over her lips before he claimed her with a kiss of inflamed desire. A pulse could be felt within her, swift and hastening as the undead heart in his chest danced con brio to the siren song of hers. Veins coursed with his vital fluids as the rocking of his hips slowly transitioned to as much of a thrust as he could muster without breaking the grip of her legs from around him. Much to his intrigue, he found he rather enjoyed the sensation of not fully being in control (even if it was an illusion granted by his restraint) and he thought to perhaps more thoroughly explore that avenue.

For now, though, the hand that wasn’t supporting the lion’s share of his weight from bearing down upon her began to wrap around her waist. He’d support her motions and strengthen them as his fingers dug firmly into the small of her back. His lips would break from hers with teasing, nearly affectionate nibbles to the lower one before he darted kisses along her jawline and toward her neck. She’d feel him breathe deeply of her scent, drawing breath heavily through his nose before releasing a shuddering sigh of approval into her nape. Only, rather than immediately pierce her with his teeth, she found his fangs less hasty as he instead delivered amorous applications of his lips along the sensitive slope of her neck. His abdomen shifted, lower back pulling his hips further to draw a quarter of his length from her before his hips shifted and a thrust delivered him promptly to that spot that she so eagerly assailed. He’d quickly cycle through another revolution, then another as each brought along the satisfying sound of flesh coming together and a jolt that had her supple breasts rubbing against the chiseled muscles of his chest. Between her legs around him and his arm around her back, all of Amy that would remain against the bed would be the back of her head.

Rather than the harsh, animalistic fucking she’d received the day prior, this felt much more like passion, closer to making love rather than merely a carnal tryst. His motions were more purposeful, digging deeply into the more sensitive zones within her as he sought his own pleasure, too. His speed wasn't nearly as intense, rather his pacing seemed to savor her as thoroughly and fully as he desired.

It almost seemed as though the vampire was readying himself for another drink from her when his mouth opened broadly and shut around a sensitive node beneath her ear. However, his fangs would merely prod into her flesh as he began to suckle, all the while his tongue darted along her skin as if scribing runes into her. Through his lips, he could feel the warm vitality within her skin calling ever so tantalizingly to him, but he didn’t want to feed just yet. Rather, he let his hunger grow so that he might indulge on her at the height of their lustful sins if only to magnify both their pleasures. Just as the pressure his lips held upon her skin produced a reddening mark just beneath her skin, he released her and moaned her name into her ear. Then, he’d nibble her lobe and trace along the delicate edge with the agile tip of his tongue as humid breaths came in bursts from his nostrils.

Not long after, he’d bury his nose into where her neck and hair intermingled and he took another sampling of her essence as the motion of his hips grew in tempo with his excitement. A whisper into her ear came with the low, enchanting voice of the Viking giant, “You seemed to have wanted the upper hand in this engagement...But you haven’t the strength to take it yourself...So, allow me to help you with that.” And, with the end of the sentence, he gripped her tighter around the waist and rolled them over with ease and with a slow enough speed that she could adjust her legs in time without going so slow as to throw off their rhythm. As she now sat with legs astride him, he accentuated the change in position with a rise of his hips, bringing the taper of his glans even further into her depths, teasing at the apex of her womanhood.

“Now...Show me your hunger,” he beckoned her as, with both hands freed, one meandered to sensually caress her hip as the other’s fingers draped along her shoulder, tracing the slope of her collarbone before gathering a handful of her breast to knead and massage. Two of his digits encircled her nipple, squeezing and stimulating it with slow, rolling motions as looked upon her with fire in his blue eyes. Mirroring the anticipation in his grin, so too did his cock twitch invitingly for her to bounce herself upon, wriggling itself within the tight grasp of her walls as he teasingly gyrated his hips up into hers.

Northern Lights, Familiar Faces (Shiva x Vekraihr)

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

Berserkir