“Fuck me, Tristan.”
This is it, Tristan breaks. I can feel him shift, and I look over my shoulder just in time to see him rising behind me, his chiseled marble torso glistening in the moonlight, his shirt open. He grips my hips and plunges inside of me, groaning with lust as he parts my walls. I arch my back at the ache and pleasure I feel at the same time. His first thrusts are powerful, and my muscles clench everywhere, but I refuse to show it. He would only stop and pet me, while all I want is this, him slamming into me like I’m his sex slave.
I try to look behind me at him, but he drives his cock inside of me too hard, his hips slamming into my butt cheeks, jerking me back and forth. My hair bounces around my head, my skin hot and sweaty.
When he’s close to coming, Tristan reaches under my bra, cupping my breasts and squeezing with lust. The pleasure and slight, just very slight pain is the perfect combination—I feel wanted and loved at the same time, which causes my G spot to explode.
I cry out, my fingers digging into the tree bark as I spill my female cum around my assassin’s cock.
“Pull my hair, Tristan, now,” I demand.
He fists my hair, tugging lightly as he claims both my tits with his free hand, his cock throbbing inside of me. He’s now bent over my back, his lips touching my ear.
“Jesus Christ, I’d fuck you into oblivion, woman. I’d fuck you day and night, until I have nothing more to give.”
He convulses in the shockwaves of his climax, then drops on the carpet of grass and pulls me into his side. Those muscular arms coil lovingly around me, holding me so tight that I can barely breathe. Everything in this vampire assassin’s touch tells me that he’d possess my very soul if he could.
“I’ll save you from Mark, but you’ll never be free of me, woman,” he whispers. “You’ll never be free.”
We lie here, tangled with each other for a long time. Tristan’s cock is sticking out of his fly, while one of my legs in the ripped pantyhose curls over his, my tits outside of my bra and pushing into his side.
I can feel his juice trickling from inside of me onto my thigh, while my fingers caress the smooth muscles of his chest.
“Isolde,” Tristan whispers after a while, as I stare up at the starlit sky, feeling happy to the bone. “When this is over, and you’re free of Mark.... Will you marry me?”
I stop breathing. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel happier, the juices of dopamine and oxytocin running through my veins, Tristan does something to take that happiness up a notch.
I look up into his face, meeting his eye. I want to scream from the top of my lungs that I will, but a rustle in the woods makes us both sit up swiftly. It takes only the flash of a second for Tristan to tuck himself in, springing up to his feet and shielding me behind him.
I’m still desperately trying to slip into my dress when a man emerges from the shadows. The open shirt tightens on Tristan’s arms as he demands a name from the man.
The blood drains from my cheeks, my hands freezing on my buttons as a familiar voice replies carefully.
“I am Father Ruben.”
CHAPTER X – Meeting the Devil
Isolde
I MAKE SURE I LOOK decent enough before I step out from behind Tristan. I stare into Father Ruben’s dear face.
“It is you,” I whisper.
I inspect that ashen bearded face with the wide, innocent eyes, the thin man covered from neck to toes in a priestly garment similar to Tristan’s. Only that Tristan is wearing trousers and a shirt, while Father Ruben has a robe—a dirty, tattered one. Even his beard is caked with mud and leaves. His general color is gray and ash, and I imagine he could easily merge with nature if he chose to. The whole look of him can turn into camouflage.
I make to walk over and take his hand in mine, but I stop in my tracks. I can’t dare to touch the holy man, not right after I made love to Tristan.
“Where have you been all this time,” I manage. “My God, Father Ruben, how did you—?”I can’t even finish, I’m so surprised.
His stricken eyes move from me to Tristan with a thousand questions. It doesn’t take long until they settle into their usual calm though, because he understands all there is to understand.
“The young Father from the village,” he says in a rasping voice that hasn’t been used in a long time. “He’s your lover.”
I bite my lips and wring my hands, not knowing what to say. Tristan moves closer and takes my hand, lifting his chin.
“My name is Tristan DeKnight,” he says without reserve. “And as Lord Dracula’s second in command, I’ll take both Isolde and you under my protection from the serpents.”
“Tristan!” I react.
“You’re what?” the Father whispers, dumbfounded.
Tristan’s white blond eyebrows knit together. He looks down at me. “He doesn’t know? In all the time you spent with the Father, you never told him?”
“It’s not exactly easy to tell people you’re Dracula’s sister-in-law.”
“She never told me,” the Father says, moving closer. “Yet a year ago, I met a man at a hotel in Bucharest that wielded power over snakes.” He motions to me. “The sponsor Isolde had found for our nursing home. He tried to torture me using his snakes, so that I’d surrender to him an unnatural secret of my own. So I’m less surprised than you might expect. But I am intrigued.”
He’s now very close to Tristan, analyzing his face, his wiry grey eyebrows furrowed. Tristan stands there like a statue, allowing the inspection. Long moments of silence lapse, the tension growing between the two men. I can tell Father Ruben is suspicious.
“Father Ruben, the serpents have been looking all over for you,” I cut in between them. “They left no stone unturned over the past year. Mark always said you’d return to these parts sooner or later, he said men like you always did. We have to get out of here, quickly, and I urge you to come with us.”
The father smiles, bunches of wrinkles gathering in the corners of his eyes, cutting through his temples.
“Men like me...” He looks at Tristan. “By ‘men like me’, they mean hermits and scholars. We draw our power from our roots.” He turns his attention to me, full of kindness.
He makes to take my hands, but he stops. It’s all too obvious that Tristan and I have just ‘sinned’ with each other, and I can tell the old man is embarrassed. Red creeps up to the little patches of skin visible on his cheekbones above his beard.
“A year ago you sacrificed yourself to save me,” he says, his head down, holding his hands together in a gesture of gratitude. “Now I’ll happily return the favor. The village down at the foot of the mountain is already crawling with serpents, and some have already started up the mountain. That’s why I came out, to help you.”
“Came out of where?” Tristan asks calmly, but he’s watching the Father with narrowed eyes. “Where have you been all this time?”
Father Ruben motions to the cave entrance, and starts towards it with small, quick steps, his feet pushing against the rim of his tattered garment.
“When I was first assigned the village on the hilltop, the village didn’t yet have a church, so they improvised one inside of these caves. I hid here all this time. When the serpents came searching, I kept slipping down the labyrinth of tunnels, always evading their grasp.”