Dangerous Desires, by Brenda Williamson

Chapter One

Dangerous Desires

Valentina Wells never fully understood her life. She outlived more people than she cared to remember. The few servants on the estate were only servants, never friends. Mostly her mother was her companion. And that was about to change as well. Her mother was old, sick, and dying. So many times, they talked about death. Countless times Valentina hoped she could die. Unfortunately, she didn't think it possible. She grew from a pretty child into a beautiful mature woman. Then, with more mystery than she had answers for, she never aged a day since her twenty-first year. It seemed so long ago, she hardly gave thought to her childhood. The fountain of youth, however much sought after, seemed truly a curse to her. She hoped that one day someone would have the cure.

Valentina watched her groundskeeper rush toward her from the stables. It stirred a panic in the pit of her belly.

"Miss Valentina, Miss Valentina," Harold, yelled as she rode into the yard area outside the boor doors. "Mary says you're to get to the house as quick as possible!"

She spun the big black stallion away from Harold and galloped up the slope of the poorly manicured lawns of her Massachusetts estate.

Before her running horse, Thunder, came to a full stop, Valentina jumped off his back. Her gait, discordantly quick, raced her feet up the weather-worn stone steps to the door of the house. Breathless from her exhilarating daily ride, she panted while maintaining the hasty stride across the foyer, and up the stairs.

"Mary!" Valentina shouted, running up the oak treads of the staircase. "Mary!" she screamed again with insistence, as if the woman would not appear in time.

She knew the time of death neared for her mother.

Prior to Valentina reaching the top landing, her mother's servant, Mary, appeared.

"How is she?"

Valentina needed the answer before she saw for herself. Something in the preparation of her mind required her to know. In all her life, she had been a brave child, a fearless woman. This one thing, however, she had trouble dealing with. The oncoming death of her mother reduced her to a weakness she feared for her future.

"I don't think she'll make it another day, Miss Valentina. I fear she's going to be gone within the hour." The woman's head shook with sadness. "That is why I sent Harold for you Miss. I know how important it is for you to be with her."

"You knew before I left. You knew and didn't tell me so I could have even those minutes with her. Why wasn't I told?" Valentina scolded. "I should have known earlier so I had more time with her."

She let her gaze fall on the woman's wrinkled face for only a moment. Mary Garnett had been with her family for twenty years. It would be a long time to most, she assumed. To her, it meant nothing more than a second in time, a fraction of her long, exacting existence. She couldn't fault the woman for not knowing her thoughts. She could only blame herself.

Valentina inhaled the bravest of breaths, then, she swept past Mary into her mother's room. She had the expectance of death and the hope of life. As her last living relative, she clung to her mother with an unfitting amount of desperation, even though, with almost a second sight, she knew the end neared. Everyone she knew eventually passed on leaving her in a wake of an eternal rest, she'd never know.

"Mother?" she whispered softly, afraid no answer would come.

She threw her thick veiled black hat off with impatience to be free of it. She tugged at her black gloves and sat them together on the foot of the bed. Gently she lowered and sat on the edge of the large feather stuffed mattress. The softness gave into her light load as if she weighed no more than a bird. She looked at the thin-skinned woman with her beauty long faded and her health extensively shriveled. Her sight had diminished, her hearing was impaired, yet her memory was as vivid as if she were twenty.

"Valentina, my precious child."

Even that one sentence sounded exhausting.

"Don't speak mother, you need to rest."

"I'm sorry my dear, dear daughter."

Valentina dropped her eyes to straighten the crocheted coverlet. Her fingers fretted over the ecru fringe.

"You need not hide your expression," her mother coaxed her chin up. "I know the pain you are suffering. I have stayed with you for as long as I am able. But, I know you are capable of taking care of yourself once I'm gone." She choked out the words as if they may be her last.

"Mother…oh Mother what will I do without you?" Valentina whimpered knowing there were no real answers, no way to stop the inevitable.

"Valentina, I can not know that. You will have to make your life, the best way you can. You are young and so full of spirit. Find a soul, find a love, and find happiness my darling daughter. I know you can."

She held her mother's hand. She had no tears. She never had shed a tear her entire life. Death amongst her family was like a new day. It came, it went, and would go on for eternity.

"Don't try to talk anymore." Valentina rubbed the back of her mother's hand, liking the way it was always so warm, in her cool palm.

"You're pale." Her mother's hand pulled her closer. "Drink of me child."

"No! I said never again, once you were sick. Tonight I'll find the boar and take his blood."

"Valentina, I'm dying and haven't much longer. You cannot hurt me now."

"No. I'd rather starve, than lose one minute with you." She kissed her cheek.

Her mother gave a nod in resign. She was glad they'd not spend their last moments together debating something as inconsequential as her eating habits.

"I saw the nestlings today. The baby bluebirds are so tiny, all three would fit in your hand," Valentina offered cheerfully, painting on a smile to mask the sadness she felt. "They have a good mother such as I have. They'll be all right on their own, they really will."

Her mother squeezed her hand for the comforting words. It was the last time she made a voluntary move. Late that night, Valentina watched her mother's last breath come. The very moment she dread.

"Goodbye," she whispered a kiss, to her mother's forehead.

Her lips tingled against the heat and so she pressed her cheek to her mother's, until the last of the warmth dissipated. Until she knew, her mother's spirit was gone.

In some ways, her mother's cold flesh seemed strangely comforting. She would not rise up from the bed and yet, she would never suffer pain again.

Geraldine Wells was completely gone and her body would reside in a crypt for all eternity.

* * *

Valentina rose up from her place on the edge of the bed. She had not permitted anyone to be in the room with her and her mother. That was always their private time. When all they knew could be shared without question and kept secret from strangers and servants.

"Mary!" Valentina called out when she came out of the room.

The woman appeared almost instantly, as she knew she would.

"Mary, please see to mother now." She went to her room, carrying her riding attire.

The black leather gloves she carelessly tossed on the vanity. Her black hat, with its layers and layers of black netting, she carefully placed on a hat stand. Daylight, she hated it, and yet she loved it.

She moved to look out the window at the moon. Full, bright, and inviting, she knew she had only a few hours remaining of the night.

Valentina stared at the glowing ball as if it could bounce away. Her mind filled with worry. Her mother had always guided her every move. Now she would have to make decisions on her own. She of course had been doing so for years, yet it would seem somehow different, unusual not having the reassuring pat to her hand or the soft gentle look of approval her mother always gave. She yanked the cumbersome brocade drapes shut. She pulled the combs from her hair and let it swirl around her shoulders. Unbuttoning her jacket, she took off the garment, and tossed it to a chair. The meow at her feet made her look down at the black cat slithering about her booted ankles.

"Yes, yes. I know. You're ready to hunt your little mouse prey." She unbuttoned her boots and kicked them off. Rolling the stockings from her legs, she curled, and unfurled her aching toes. Barefoot, naked, and free, oh how she disliked the confines of clothing.

"I'm hurrying the best I can, Mollie." She shook the buttonhook at the impatient feline brushing herself against her legs. "You know you can leave this house without me."

Valentina finished undressing and then slipped on a thin black nightgown. It clung indecently to her slender form and didn't even cover her knees. Her mother only approved, because she insisted no one would ever see her flitting about the night, practically naked. She twirled about the room running her hands over the fine black ebony silk.

Her nipples puckered beneath her fingers and then she stopped her caress, recalling the late hour.

"Ready?" She scooped Mollie off the floor and rubbed her nose into the furry warm neck. A sweet purr riffled from the cat.

Valentina bounded down the back staircase, through the kitchen, and out the door. Mary would be either tending to her mother's body or have retired to her room. Harold lived in a room in the stables. All other servants, the two or three that came occasionally to help Harold and Mary, lived in their own homes in the village.

"There, be off with you." She sat the cat on the slate. "If you are not at this door before the sun begins to rise, you will have to find your own way in."

Molly scampered off into the bushes and Valentina walked along the spongy dirt path, through the rose garden, and into the dark forest.

She would not go far, but she just loved to run in the night. With the confines of her clothes off, the nightgown made her feel wildly free. Her bare feet squished the resilient wide blades of grass and she ran as fast as she could. Her urgency for blood quickened. The draw of the full moon's boundless brilliance and intensity made it seem like day. Nourishment for earth also provided sustenance for her.

Valentina raced along until she saw him—the wild boar. Her nocturnal feast rutted along the wide base of the sycamore tree. She stopped and watched. Her breath came with a rapid influx of air, making her chest wheeze with the strain of her expanding ribs. The beast saw her. Terror rippled a wave of apprehension through her chilled veins. The short night was almost over, and thus, would be void of any other animals for her taking. She couldn't let the boar get away.

Calling upon her natural, instinctive skills, Valentina's feet took her onward with her quest. This night of all nights, held a greater importance than others. If she could feast on the fresh blood of the wild boar, under the full moon, she could go an entire month without the hungering gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

Her aim was as precise as ever. She lunged at the massive beast and skewered its throat. Her fang teeth impaled the tough, coarse flesh. The reward bubbled up like a hot geyser.

Valentina drank greedily. She slurped up the warm liquid, letting the taste of his death enliven her veins. The crimson sweetness, slid easily down her parched throat. She was euphoric on the cataclysmic surge shaking her fervent insides. She took her time draining the poor creature of his life. She had no choice. His existence became hers. As was every creature she had ever tasted of, she needed them to live. Death had been something she thought of often, nevertheless, a primitive instinct always made her choose life.

She sat back when she was through and observed the carnage before her. She could not even remember being sad for the act anymore. Her hate of what she was still made the fresh blood within her boil. She laid back on the leaf strewn forest floor to bask in her body's awakening. She squirmed under the forged beat of her renewed heart. The barmy charge of fluids coursed her blood vessels like a climactic raging river. The erogenous delights suckled her cool skin and spread heat from head to toe. With her long tapered fingers still wet with blood, she kneaded her aching breasts. She pinched and twisted her nipples, while writhing with the feral carnality. Her hands raked at her aroused body, squeezing, and digging to slake the throbbing spasms. The desires escalated.

Valentina drew her nightgown up her thighs. The silkiness matched her skin with a gentle caress. The first touch to her femininity was always the most sensitive. She tortured herself with the ambient sensations, never quite satisfied even though she writhed on the ground from the aftershocks.

"Oh yes," she cried.

Her finger rubbed and dipped into her clenching vagina until the shuddering began. Then her limbs no longer obeyed her command. She stiffened with the stimulation of her violent orgasm. Muscles went rigid and she cried out in rapture.

The ecstasy lingered and she jerked on the ground like some jitterbug—uncontrollably pleasured by the sensation. Once the initial spasms passed, she withdrew her fingers from her drenched cunt and licked over them. The sweet cocktail blend of sex and blood left her exhilarated. A hummed satisfaction exhaled from her exhausted body and the internal quakes slowly subsided.

"Dawn," she sighed, "always too soon."

Valentina only had thirty minutes before the sun came up. Not suitably dressed for its rise, she ran on trembling legs for home. Glancing about she saw immediately she had gone further into the forest than she should have. Time would be sufficient if she hurried. Her feet moved while her hand wiped over the remnants of her meal drying around her mouth.

Then her feet stopped. She froze. She stared at the shadowy outline of a horse and rider. What could she say, what would she do?