About Love Between Fiends

by Kiernan Kelly
23 pages / 5400 words
Ebook zipped file contains - html, lit, Adobe and Sony optimized pdf, prc, epub

When two of history’s most infamous fiends meet, they find that hearts, even dead ones, can love. But when Jack the Ripper comes to play in London of 1888, they realize the city isn’t big enough for them and yet another monster, forcing them to take matters into their undead hands.

Sample

I had seen Vlad's suite many times, and yet for some reason that night, I was struck with a singularly sharp bolt of desire at the sight of his large four-poster bed, and a yearning for something I believed in my heart I could never have. At that moment, I wanted Vlad as my lover.

I was ugly; I knew it from the start of my miserable existence, yet I could not help but gaze longingly at the silken sheets covering his bed that held the promise of wonders glimpsed but never experienced.

A deep pang of self-pity pierced my stolen heart as my cock stiffened and throbbed mercilessly. Oh, why had Father given me parts he must have known I'd never have occasion to use and would only bring me pain and frustration? I cursed Father again, although he was long dead.

I had no right to ask such a thing of Vlad, and refused stoically to do so, yet my soul craved contact with another living being, and my body ached for a touch that was more than the expression of mere friendship. I yearned desperately to be taken in Vlad's strong arms and made to feel alive.

Vlad glanced at me curiously as he slipped out of his cutaway coat and unbuttoned his shirt; I caught a glimpse of his smooth, hard chest and stifled a moan.

Perhaps he saw my desire, which I usually fought so hard to hide, escape my control and flicker briefly in my eyes, or perhaps he smelled it on me, that pungent aroma of male arousal. I felt self-conscious, and mortified, as if caught in the act of being presumptuous. I turned away, shuffling toward the door leading out of the suite.

"What is wrong, Adam?" he asked. "Come here." His voice was as smooth as melted chocolate, and held the promise of decadent delights. It pulled at me, and my feet reluctantly retraced their steps to his side.

"Nothing is amiss," I lied. I hated being dishonest, but pacified myself with the thought that it was only one more small sin added to a mountain of others too horrifying and numerous to count accrued in my lifetime. Still, it tasted like ashes in my mouth nonetheless.

His answering smile was softer than any I'd seen grace his handsome countenance before. It made him more than attractive; for a moment, he appeared angelic. "You are lonely, my friend."

"No, I have your friendship. That is enough." I lowered my eyes, not willing to look at him as another lie left my lips.

"Is it? Many nights I have wondered if it is, or if there could be more between us."

My eyes flashed open of their own accord, meeting his, and I shook my head. "I know what I am, what I look like." My fingers reached up to trace the irregular scars crisscrossing my face where Father's clumsy stitches pieced together eyes and cheeks, nose and mouth, feeling a great swell of despair and its bedfellow, self-pity, rise up. "I wish I were like you, forever spared a reflection. I look in the mirror and see myself for what I am... a monster."