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At her moment of climax he sank his teeth into her neck. The dual punctures through her flesh were agonizing, for a moment, and her body jolted and stiffened, a harsh cry escaping her. Then his mouth covered the wound and once again he fed. As he did so warmth and vitality flowed through her, the innate knowledge that they made each other whole salving her doubts. All the while his cock maintained its urgent rhythm inside her, drawing her orgasm out in an unending ocean of bliss. As her blood poured into his mouth so he climaxed and pumped his seed into her, a cycle that she instinctively knew would sustain them forever.
Panting harshly, he lifted his head, seeking her out with urgency.
When she leveled she drew back a ways, trembling, overcome with sensation and confusion. What should have been torture had been pleasure, and one so very intense. How could this be? Maybe she was too far gone, most likely delirious. Her body felt strangely uplifted, floating. Perhaps I am dying.
"Rhiannon, you have made me whole again, but you will turn now."
His mouth covered hers and the taste of blood on his lips and tongue was earthy, metallic and salty. She opened herself to it, her tongue tasting his, her body claiming the primitive blood connection.
"This is what they would not allow to happen," he added, while he kissed her jaw, her eyelids, and her throat. "I had to be sure, and you came back to me. I always knew you would."
I will turn. I will be like him, wild and feral. Fear of the unknown jagged briefly at her senses, and then washed away. She was lulled by the beat of his heart as he lay against her, clutching her to him as if to keep her warm. She was weak with pleasure and blood loss, but drifting in a strange tide of surreal pleasure and pain. A prism of understanding sprang free deep inside her consciousness. He was keeping her warm. He was making her his, making her a timeless part of the moor, just as he was.
Her eyelids were heavy, her body began to float. The last sound she remembered was reminiscent of a cat, a sated cat, purring, and the sound of it filled her senses and echoed in her heart, making it stronger, making it beat in time with his.
* * *
Rhiannon came to when she heard a door closing. Her eyes flashed open and the breath sucked into her lungs. She recalled she had been up at the lay line rock, and that she had fallen into a ditch. Had he carried her here? Was he real? Had it happened at all, or had it been a hallucination? Had the whole thing just been a crazed dream, a result of her injury? She put her hand to her head, where her hair had been matted with blood. The hair was silken smooth, and fanned out on soft pillows.
"Rhiannon?"
She rolled her head. Morning light filled the room, and it was just as it had been before, so many decades before, richly furnished with a wedding bed to be proud of. Edgar stood by the doorway. He wore a loose white lawn shirt and knee breeches. His feet were bare. Glossy black hair fell to his shoulders and his eyes gleamed possessively as he looked at her.
Beneath the bed covers her fingers went to the place between her thighs where she still felt him claiming her. The skin at the juncture in her groin had healed, but bore a raised tattoo of markings, a scar much
as he had on his chest. Her clit felt bruised, bruised and sated from his delicious torment, her sex heavy with the aftermath of the carnal pleasure that had swamped her. He had made her like him. She was sentient now, but would she end up like he was, half-feral in the light of the moon? She should've been afraid, she supposed, but the prospect didn't faze her, because destiny had already embraced her, long ago. Let it take me where I am bound.
She blinked when he walked over and sat down beside her. Staring into his eyes, she knew exactly where she should be: home, in the house on the moor. Everything she had left behind her faded away.
Edgar had stepped out and called to her through the mists of time.
"You've come home," he said.
Tentatively, she reached out and stroked his handsome face. "They made me leave you, I didn't want to."
"I know, but I also knew you'd find your way back to me one day." He turned his face and pressed his mouth to her palm. With a lingering kiss he breathed her in, deeply. When he turned back, his eyes had turned to molten fire. "Are you hungry, my love?"
Rhiannon nodded, her blood quickening with instinctive anticipation. He rolled onto the bed, lying on his back. She swallowed hard, the urge to move closer to his body taking her over. Climbing to her hands and knees, she straddled his hips and arched over his neck. His hands went to her naked breasts and he molded them in his hands, a deep lingering sigh in his throat.
Her sharpest teeth were aching for him, her mouth filling with saliva. She could hear his blood pounding. It was as if she had her ear to his heart. And his scent! His scent filled her senses to overflowing, her lips parted and it multiplied as she breathed him in across her tongue, every sensory receptor in her mouth and throat heightened in awareness—his scent, his body, his strong male body, all of it filled her and overwhelmed her with the need to take him.
Her teeth ached and her curious tongue felt its way around the edge of her sharpening fangs, dripping with saliva in anticipation of the act. Beneath her splayed pussy, his cock was hard and he freed it from his breeches, readying for her to mount it. As she closed she could hear his blood roaring in his throat. She was changing—and she could sense his anticipation, his interest, and, yes, his darkening arousal. She growled low in her throat, instinctively knowing how good he would taste and how fiercely his blood would run to his groin when she bit into his throat, how good that would feel in her mouth and her sex. They would become strong through it, bonded as one.
She closed her eyes, and felt desire run rabid in her blood. First she mounted his cock, and then she sank her teeth into his throat, piercing the skin and closing her mouth around the hot, heady flow. As she did, she saw images of them together, out in the moonlight on the moor, mating copiously.
This was what had called to her. This was her heart's desire.
The dark chalice that held the secret of the moors had been passed to Rhiannon, and she would share it with her lover, forever.
