18th century

A week had slithered by since Dominick retreated to his slumber, yet Marcus, back in his own chambers, kept his nightly vigil. Dominick lay undisturbed, a portrait of eerie tranquillity. A cold dread wormed its way into Marcus’s heart—it was as if Dominick might never again open his eyes. Absurd, of course. He was a creature of the night; such a mundane end was impossible.

“Marcus.” The voice echoed through the stone chamber, familiar as the first breath Marcus had ever taken.

“Velor,” Marcus replied. One might question why he didn’t address Velor with a more formal title. He did, when necessary, but here, within the castle walls, away from the prying ears of villagers, such formalities could be set aside.

“Is he still sleeping?” Velor inquired, his voice laced with a hint of worry.

“Yes, he is,” Marcus sighed, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I have a strange feeling he might not wake up anytime soon.”

“Well, he’s not going to die, is he?” Velor’s question echoed the very thought that had just crossed Marcus’s mind a moment ago.

“How would I know?” Marcus responded with a smile. Indeed, how could he know something as uncertain as the state of a vampire’s slumber?

“Actually, I came here today to ask you about some news I just heard,” Velor said, entering the room and taking a seat beside Marcus.

“I heard that your father found a lady suitable to be your wife?” Velor’s words confirmed what Marcus had learned just that evening. His father had informed him about the arrangement. They hadn’t formally met yet, but they would begin exchanging letters starting tomorrow. The lady in question was Miss Ashford, the daughter of Baron Ashford, a friend of his father’s.

The suddenness of this arranged marriage with the Baron’s family might seem surprising, but Marcus’s family, also Barons, were nobles who had served the Duke’s family for generations. The Duke’s family and his own shared a deep connection, and under certain circumstances, they had served Velor’s family for nearly a century now.

“Ashford,” Velor echoed, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

“Yes, they used to visit the Duke when we were little,” Marcus said, “but I don’t recall the little girl from back then.”

Back when they were children, Baron Ashford would often visit the Duke’s castle. Though they were primarily friends of Marcus’s father, they also maintained a cordial relationship with the Duke. They would bring candies, fancy snacks, and fine teas on their visits, but after a while, they stopped coming. The reason for their sudden absence remained a mystery to everyone.

“Perhaps they had a child, and that’s why they stopped coming,” Velor mused. Yes, that could be a plausible explanation.

“I should let you rest then. I’ll go check on Dominick again in case he’s waking up,” Velor smiled and left the room.

Velor had a way of seeing right through him. He must have sensed Marcus’s fatigue and the unease that lingered within him, prompting him to leave Marcus to his own thoughts. Or perhaps Marcus was simply overthinking things. But dwelling on it wouldn’t help alleviate the inexplicable feeling that gnawed at him.

The very unpleasant feeling that he was feeling now—he had no idea where to begin to dig and find out what lay beneath. But that’s something he would need to do later. At this moment, he needed to attend to the errand before him, which was to build a good relationship with Miss Ashford. Though right now, he didn’t want to; to be a good son, he had to.

“I want to sleep,” Marcus mumbled, weighing his options between washing up or heading straight to bed. But good hygiene made a good man, so he dragged himself to the basin and quickly washed up before collapsing onto the bed.

“Just think about it next time,” he muttered to himself, choosing sleep and relaxation for now. He drifted off with remarkable ease.

The next morning arrived with the warm rays of sunshine streaming through the wide-open window. A window that stood ajar? He didn’t recall leaving it open last night, but it didn’t matter. It was morning, and he had work to do.

Marcus went through his morning routine, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading to the village. It was a typical day, filled with conversations with the villagers, assisting them with small tasks, and listening to their concerns. He jotted down notes and spent some time playing with Benjamin, enjoying a cup of tea before the sun began to dip below the horizon. As twilight approached, he made his way back to the castle.

“Marcus, have you sent the letter yet?” His father stood there, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I forgot,” Marcus replied with a sheepish grin. In truth, it wasn’t forgetfulness but intentional delay. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he simply wanted to postpone it for another day.

“That’s why I sent one on your behalf beforehand,” his father chuckled. Indeed, his father always knew him too well and was far too astute to be easily fooled.

“Thank you, Father,” Marcus smiled, attempting to retreat into the castle.

“Do not disappoint me this time,” his father’s voice followed him, firm and unwavering. His father was right. He shouldn’t disappoint him again.

Seven years ago, when Marcus was eighteen, he first disappointed his father. It happened when his father seriously brought up the topic of marriage one evening. Marcus, feeling too young and unprepared, baulked at the idea of such a major commitment.

The proposed match was a young lady from Baron Wood’s family. She was pretty, with an agreeable personality and impeccable manners. However, she was even younger than Marcus, which added to his hesitation.

Overwhelmed by the pressure, Marcus made an impulsive decision. He ran away, fleeing from the expectations placed upon him. His hasty departure was swift and unexpected, leaving no time for explanations.

This rash action infuriated his father. To him, Marcus’s flight wasn’t just a refusal of the marriage proposal, but a public embarrassment. It felt like a direct affront to their family’s reputation and standing. In his father’s eyes, Marcus had done more than disappoint him—he had brought disgrace upon their name.

He walked back inside, his father’s words still ringing in his ears. Yes, that was correct. He wouldn’t disappoint him again. He yanked his cravat off roughly, as if channeling his frustration into the inanimate object. He shed his outer coat and tossed it onto the bed.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“That was quite appealing to watch,” a low voice said, a voice he hadn’t heard in a week.

“Why stop?” Still talking nonsense, always ready with a jest, wasn’t he?

“And after a whole week, the first thing you say to me is this?” Marcus sighed, a smile tugging at his lips despite the frustration that made him run a hand through his hair.

“Did you miss me?” Dominick sauntered into the room, a playful smirk on his lips.

“No,” Marcus said flatly, taking a seat on the bed as Dominick joined him.

“Velor came to see me just a moment ago,” Dominick smiled, his face looking refreshed compared to the last time Marcus had seen him, which was just yesterday.

“And he told me some news that was very unpleasant,” Dominick continued, leaning back.

“What news?” Marcus asked, his gaze fixed on Dominick.

“He said you found a wife,” Dominick replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp. As expected.

“Not yet a wife,” Marcus sighed. He knew Dominick had developed feelings for him, feelings that weren’t appropriate between two men.

“But you really woke up at a good time after a whole week,” Marcus remarked, trying to change the subject.

“Yes, I feel like I should have slept longer,” Dominick smiled wryly. “This bad news isn’t good for me.”

The first attempt to change the subject failed spectacularly.

“How do you feel anyway? Hungry or anything?” Marcus asked, fumbling with the buttons on his wrist.

“Let me,” Dominick said, gently taking Marcus’s wrist and unbuttoning it for him. “I was really hungry, of course.”

“I held back just a moment ago,” Dominick admitted with a smile, lightly rubbing Marcus’s wrist.

“Then go eat,” Marcus said, allowing Dominick to continue his action.

“I was about to, but after hearing from Velor…” Dominick paused, taking Marcus’s hand in his own. If they were outside the castle walls, such an act would likely draw ire from the villagers.

“My appetite vanished,” Dominick finished with a wry smile.

“Why?” Marcus questioned. He was the one who wanted to change the subject, yet he’d served it up on a silver platter.

“You know why,” Dominick replied, his smile unwavering.

“Then what about feeding on me?" The foolish words slipped out before Marcus could stop them. He knew it was a stupid thing to say, like a naive maiden tempting a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Do you know what you just said to me?" Dominick's face flushed, his shock evident.

"Yes, I know," Marcus confirmed. Perhaps doing something unexpected would help him regain some semblance of sanity.

He watched as Dominick's face grew even redder, his breath quickening despite the icy grip on Marcus's hand. Marcus felt his own face heat up in response. It wasn't as if they were doing anything scandalous, was it?

"Will you regret it?" Dominick's voice was a low rumble, his touch on Marcus's neck sending shivers down his spine.

"If I were to say that I might, would you hold back?" Marcus challenged, a playful lilt in his voice despite the warmth spreading through him from Dominick's touch.

"Yes," Dominick admitted, his fingers tracing the line of Marcus's jaw. "But remember, I warned you of the addictive nature of human blood."

"I know," Marcus nodded, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Will you be able to handle me?" Dominick's gaze locked with Marcus's, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Let us see what may be found," Marcus smiled, a daring glint in his eyes. Dominick mirrored his smile, and for a moment, it seemed as though he would lean in for a kiss. But Marcus stopped him, pressing a hand gently against his lips.

“No kissing, not yet,” Marcus murmured, his voice scarcely more than a breath.

“Then may I do anything but kiss?” Dominick inquired, his arms encircling Marcus’s waist.

“I suppose you may,” Marcus replied with a playful smirk, his hands lightly grasping Dominick’s arms to hold him back.

“Anything?” Dominick pressed.

“Anything,” Marcus affirmed. No sooner had the word left his lips than Dominick’s mouth found Marcus’s neck. His kisses were warm, insistent, and carried the fervour of long-held desire. Though Dominick had yet to sink his fangs into Marcus’s flesh, his lips traced the curve of his neck with a hunger that sent a thrill through Marcus’s entire being.

The touch of Dominick’s lips was a fire kindled, igniting a heat within Marcus that spread swiftly through him. The sensation was intoxicating, leaving him craving more—something beyond mere kisses upon his neck.

Sensing his unspoken desire, Dominick’s hands moved to untuck Marcus’s shirt from his breeches, pressing him back against the bed. The coolness of Dominick’s fingers on Marcus’s fevered skin was a jarring contrast, heightening his awareness as Dominick’s lips trailed lower, lingering upon his collarbone with deliberate care.

Dominick’s hands were everywhere, exploring with a measured slowness, as though savouring each moment. When his lips brushed across Marcus’s chest, pausing at the sensitive peak, a wave of warmth surged through him. Though Marcus knew that what they were doing would be condemned by society, the pleasure it brought rendered resistance futile.

As Marcus’s thoughts began to wander, Dominick’s mouth found its way to a more sensitive spot, the gentle pressure of his lips coaxing forth a sound Marcus couldn’t suppress. He bit down on his lip, striving to muffle the noise.

“If you wish to remain unheard, I would gladly tear the ears from their heads,” Dominick whispered, his hand slipping into Marcus’s breeches. "You may make as much noise as you wish,"

The words, harsh as they were, sent a shiver of excitement through Marcus, intensifying the sensations that coursed through him. He could feel the firmness of Dominick’s arousal pressing against him, their bodies aligned in a way that left no doubt of their shared desire.

Dominick’s touch upon Marcus’s most intimate part was surprisingly tender, belying the roughness of his earlier words. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers skilled in drawing out Marcus’s pleasure, leaving him breathless. Dominick’s lips continued their exploration, placing lingering kisses upon Marcus’s chest, shoulder, and neck, until Marcus surrendered wholly to the sensations overwhelming him.

When Dominick revealed his own form, Marcus was momentarily taken aback by its size—not overly large, but certainly greater than his own. Yet Dominick did not rush; he hesitated, guiding Marcus’s hand to join his. Together, they moved slowly, their rhythm steady and unhurried, building with each passing moment.

“Could you go faster?” Marcus asked, his gaze meeting Dominick’s, who seemed to be holding something back.

“But you might be hurt,” Dominick replied, bending down to press a kiss to Marcus’s neck.

“I shall not,” Marcus assured him, a small smile playing on his lips.

Dominick returned the smile, then bit down on Marcus’s neck with more fervour. His hand quickened its pace, their movements now synchronised, and the tension in the room grew thick. Marcus’s breathing became laboured as Dominick’s touch grew more insistent, driving him closer to the brink.

“I am near my limit,” Dominick murmured into Marcus’s ear.

“As am I,” Marcus responded, his grip tightening on the bedclothes beneath him.

Dominick leaned in closer, but instead of a kiss, his sharp fangs pierced Marcus’s neck. The sudden, intense sensation pushed Marcus over the edge, his body shuddering as he released his essence with a final breath, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion took hold.

As sleep claimed him, Marcus heard one last whisper: “I shall be here when you wake.”