William by Claire Cray

Author:Claire Cray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal romance, historical romance, gay vampires, vampire romance, yaoi, gay paranormal, male male

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The wind picked up as we walked down the hillock and around the edge of the pond, riffling the leaves of the elms and tousling my hair like a gentle phantom. I looked up at the dark canopy of limbs above us. After a few minutes my senses had calmed down, but there were stranger feelings yet. There were feelings of absence, a sense of rooms within me that had been cleared and swept, and which were now being painted a different hue.

Blast it, I thought to myself as I studied the swaying boughs. Theo was right. I looked down at my own hands, as if the lines of my palms could spell an explanation for the strange sensation that had by now reached every last inch of me, sparkling, dark, ominous and thrilling. "Merrick," I said uncertainly.

"It's all right, William." When I glanced at him, he met my gaze with a knowing look. "It's all right," he said again. "You need not explain a thing. You’re thirsty, and so am I. We're going to see to it."

I swallowed and nodded. After so much beating around the bush, his straightforward proposal pleased me greatly, as did the old confidence in his tone, which I had been longing to hear more consistently for months. Still, the prospect! I was feeling increasingly snug in the grip of an anticipation and a need that I could not justify, and yet knew I would not resist. Thank heavens he seemed prepared now to lead me in this endeavor, for I was not certain I could think through the steps on my own without paralyzing myself.

We stepped onto a pathway beaten through the dark green, and presently I saw it, perfectly obvious for what it was: the Great Elm, and just beyond it the gallows. Both were cast in vivid silvery blues and grays, the permanent moonlight by which I would see for the rest of my vampire life. I looked for only a moment before I turned my eyes ahead again, winding my arm around Merrick's.

I leaned against him as we walked, relishing every intimate moment possible before we would step back out of the Common and into public again. He walked purposefully, as he damned well should, for I had no idea where we were going or what we were to do, apart from the most basic understanding. Yes, we were going to drink, which meant we were going to kill. And, yes, I had ideas about what it would be like—fantasies, really, sudden dreams that rose like wisps of smoke from the new instinct within me. I had a feeling of what it would be like to sink my teeth into a naked throat. I had total certainty that it I would revel in the act. And I had only the barest, most distant fragments of my previous reluctance to kill.

My lack of apprehension was, paradoxically, the only thing that now made me nervous. And it made me quite nervous, indeed, this lack of nervousness.

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