Reckoning Read Free Page B

desperate craving pierced me. The strange fascination I had always felt for blood turned into a wilddesire. “It is I who am fortunate,” I told her, capturing her hand in mine to kiss its cool palm. “You have taught me well. But I have still to give my own bloody kiss . . .” I ventured softly. “Who is it that shall be first?”
    Rebecca’s eyes now flamed with reignited passion. “You start,” she began, “with me.”
    I lowered my head toward her soft, exposed throat. She gave a groan of pleasure at the touch of my tongue as I traced its tip along her pearl-white flesh. I felt the pulsing within and became aware of a curious tingling sensation in my gums. There was a moment of pain. And then, against the flesh of my lower lip, I felt my incisors lengthen into razor-sharp fangs.
    Heady with anticipation now, reeling with desire, I drew my lips back over the smooth new enamel—and then I pressed down, my fangs piercing Rebecca’s skin like needles through satin.
    The first metallic spurt of her blood gushed into my mouth. I gagged from the force of its flow but quickly gauged her heart’s rhythm and began to swallow with each pulse.
    The taste of it was beyond all pleasure. My tongue quivered under its bittersweet tang. Rebecca gasped ecstatically in my arms. Only when I felt her growing limp did I stop, fearful of taking more than she could give. I looked down at her face. Her eyes seemed glazed, and I feared for a momentI had harmed her—but then she grasped my head to draw my mouth to hers and kissed away the blood that smeared my lips.
    “Oh, Quincey . . .” she murmured between kisses. “I envy the mortal who receives your kiss on Saint Andrew’s Eve!”
    I started at her words, still immersed in what we had just shared. “I need no mortal,” I whispered into her hair. “Only you.”
    She gazed earnestly into my eyes. “Darling. My blood, while enticing, is not enough. Only mortal blood can complete the transformation I have begun—bring you your full birthright of power.”
    “I shall do without it!” I exclaimed recklessly.
    Eyes wide, Rebecca shook her head and laughed. “Quincey, please . . . Wait until Saint Andrew’s Eve. You’ll feel differently then. You are Dracula’s heir! How can you not claim your birthright?”
    I sighed and pulled her to me. “Saint Andrew’s Eve is weeks away,” I told her. “Until then, I have you. . . .”
    “Of course you do, darling,” she replied, running a gentle finger along my cheek.
    As we walked back to her hotel to escape the fast-approaching dawn, I revelled in the euphoria Rebecca had awoken in my body, the sensation of strength that infused my heart with a wild joy.
    On reaching the hotel entrance, Rebecca reached up andlightly kissed my lips. I looked down into her face in surprise. Was I not invited in?
    “It has been a momentous night, my darling,” she said gently. “You need to rest—and you will do so better in your own bed.” She gave a knowing little grin.
    I pulled her against me and kissed her hard on the lips. “No doubt you are right,” I replied. “I shall return tonight.”
    “Tonight . . .” she repeated. And then she disappeared into the hotel.
    I made my way back here, to my lodgings, and though I shall count the hours until I am back with Rebecca, I am glad of the opportunity to record these momentous events while they are still fresh in my mind.
    How did I ever think myself alive before this?
    L ATER
    When I returned to her hotel, Rebecca was gone. I was told by the desk clerk that she’d checked out in a great hurry, just minutes after arriving back at the hotel before dawn. The clerk grew pale at the fury that must have shown on my face as I ripped open the cream envelope she had left for me. I snatched out the folded sheet of paper within and read its brief contents.
    Dearest Quincey,
    My task is finished. I hope you will remember what we have shared with fondness.
    Your servant,
Rebecca
    Damn her! And damn