RemissionChapter Six
Angelus locked the front doors after the Moncrieffs departed for the evening. He had enjoyed their company more than he usually did. Angelus was solitary by nature and prefered to be alone. Still, it had been good to joke with Charles, to see Rama perk up with a little company, to watch Ligeia's sphinx-like observing looks and wonder what she was thinking.
He returned to Ramadevi's parlor just as Alain came to remove the tea things.
"Make certain M'sieu Gerard has something nice for tea," Ramadevi instructed the disdainful servant. Alain nodded cooly at her.
"Yes," Angelus added ironically. "Feed the artist well, Alain, it means so much to Mademoiselle."
"Yes, Monsieur." Alain bowed slightly and wheeled the tea cart away.
Ramadevi rose from her fine gold-and-white silk brocade chair in a smooth easy movement. It brieffly occured to Angelus that she looked like a queen rising from her throne. Who are you, little girl? When will you tell me the truth? The high set of her head, the resolute eyes, even her beauty proved a privileged background.
Angelus felt that uncertain, annoying stab in his chest he'd gotten used to feeling when something about Rama disturbed him. Why won't you tell me?
"You always tend to a man's comfort," he drawled softly as he slowly stalked around her. His lip curled upward on one side, smirking insolently as his eyes ran over her. He saw the sudden tension in her, the rippling of muscles in her shoulders that meant she felt his gaze. "Every way you can." He allowed contempt to seep through his voice.
Rama met his eyes, watching him carefully. He looked angry, but she could not guess what had vexed him.
"Has something tried your temper, Angelus? What is it this time?"
"Ligeia Moncrieff has been such a friend to you, Rama." Ramadevi cringed inwardly: Angelus's tone had that sing-song teasing edge that he used before he did something cruel. "And here you are, seducing her husband right in front of her?" His smirk widened to a malicious grin when she gasped in shocked insult and stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"I have not."
"No, you don't mean to do it. That's the bitch of it." Angelus reached towards her, lifted a loose tendril of her hair, gently stretched it, watched it spring back into place against her cheek. If I thought you really meant it...
She moved past him, a stiff upright gait, to the north side of the room. Angelus watched her close the heavy portiers over the windows.
"Few things are more appealing than genuine innocence," Angelus continued. She glanced at him over her shoulder and he smirked again at her indignation. "Only a trollop showed her legs in my day."
It was too much to bear. Ramadevi strode up to face him, stood within easy reach. Her body was stiff and proud and angry.
"You are ridiculous!" she vowed. She gestured at her high-collared, long-sleeved gown. "This is the garment of a seductress? I grew up in a world where some of the greatest courtesans knew how to command kings with just a sideways glance! This--" The back of her gloved hand brushed her soft muslin gown. "--is not inspiration for love!" She broke off in astonishment when Angelus began to laugh at her. "Is it funny?" she asked, incredulous.
He shook his head as he laughed. "It's not your clothes," he told her. A husky quality crept into his voice. "It's those huge pretty eyes." One finger traced her eyebrow languidly. "And that mouth of yours," he added, lightly tracing the bow of her upper lip. "Men would die for your mouth, Egypt--just a taste."
"You are already dead," she said fiercely. She tried to turn away from Angelus but his fingers caught her chin and he drew her closer to him.
"Yes," he breathed. His pale lips parted and his tongue stroked her lip where he had touched her a moment before. "You taste like honey cake."
Angelus cupped Ramadevi's face in his hands, relishing the smooth texture of her skin, her silky hair. Her obsidian eyes flashed fire at him even as her lips quivered into a pout.
He grinned his triumph, leaned forward to kiss her.
THWACK! Fluff!
Angelus sputtered on perfumed ostrich feathers. Rama's new fan. She had just slapped him in the face with her open fan.
He stared down at her, bemused. She had dared to strike him--with a fan? Angelus watched her. Decades of experience had taught him waiting was always wise. It frightened one's oponent, gave him time to wonder what came next.
Ramadevi was pouting, still indignant, but unsure of herself. She seemed as surprised to have struck him as he was to have been struck. She was bracing herself, expecting a beating maybe? Hmmmm....
Angelus's grin broadened.
Ramadevi gasped and shreiked lightly as Angelus swiftly hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. She had a quick view of the well-brushed carpet on the floor, and the back of Angelus's sable-brown breeches before she was carelessly dumped on her back on the silk-covered meridienne in the corner.
"As I was saying, my dear." Angelus knelt beside the meridienne and looked down into her breathless face. "So often you give the wrong impression. In my day, only a trollop wore skirts this short." He raised the ribbon-edged hem of her skirt with a caressing movement.
Ramadevi sat up and watched Angelus as he unfastened the ribbon lacings of her pink silk slippers. He slipped each shoe off, one by one.
"Neat little feet." He lightly traced one arch.
"Don't!" Ramadevi pulled her foot away with a giggle. Angelus held her foot fast, raised his eyebrows at her. "N-n-no!" He began to tickle her without mercy. Her laughter rang out and she gasped, "Angelus--no! Oh don't!" She writhed on the large daybed and struggled to kick and jerk her feet away.
"All right." He gripped the middle portion of her foot gently. Rama gasped as he softly kissed her ankle, allowed his fingers to trail over her stockinged leg, under her pantalettes. She sighed, made a soft little cooing noise from pleasure, closed her eyes. A delicate smiled played on her lips. For a moment.
"You're my enemy, why do you do this?" Despair filled Ramadevi. Angelus was a taunting, merciless monster, building desires in her so he could use them against her. And she could not stop it. She wanted him, felt pain inside, a lack of completion, every time he gave her that hard, knowing look.
The hold on her ankle tightened into a merciless grip.
"Owww! Let me go!" She pulled hard and cried out as he gripped her even tighter.
"I could grind your bones into powder," he told her. "You'd never dance again, Rama."
"Don't!" Fear shot through her belly. "Angelus please!"
She believed he'd do it! She believed he would maim her beautiful body! Angelus growled his disappointment and felt that infuriating ache in his chest. He softened his hold, soothingly massaged her bruised skin.
"I don't want your ankles ground into powder, Rama," he told her. He smiled knowingly at her large frightened eyes. "I want them over my shoulders." He bent towards her face and softly kissed her forehead. "Soon," he promised.
"Never!" she whispered vehemently, but it was no good. His words had planted an erotic picture in her head of her body beneath him, filled with him. The image made her ache deep in her center, made her breasts feel tender.
Angelus laughed softly at her defiance. Slowly, he explored the ruffles and tucks on her silk pantalettes. His fingers trailed upward, crossing her knee and she shivered. He traced the inseam higher, and higher still until he found what he wanted.
"My Lion doth protest too much." Angelus squeezed the crotch of the silk pants. Fragrant moisture seeped obligingly through the thin silk onto his fingers. Angelus inhaled appreciatively as she blushed crimson. He played with her gently, rubbing her through the silk, tracing her weeping cleft.
He watched her unfasten the small ruffle at her collar.
"Do you want--" she began.
He kissed her mouth to silence her. Brushed her succulent throat with silky little kisses, dipped lower, his lips hardening, sucking on her neck, drinking in the little moans she could not stop.
Ramadevi didn't fight him, she helped him as he undressed her. Sometimes he was careful with buttons and ties, other times he ripped roughly, impatient at being kept away from her bare flesh. He was eager but not harsh as her breasts spilled out of her loosened corset into his powerful hands. He cupped her breasts, admired the cleavage as he pressed them together, lightly caressing her nipples with his thumbs until they stood erect. He smiled approvingly as Ramadevi's head fell back and she moaned her delight.
He began loosening her hair from its pins and ribbons until it cascaded behind her, pooling onto the cushions. Angelus pushed Ramadevi down on her back and she sighed resignedly.
He drew her pantalettes down her hips and legs.
"Egypt!" Angelus exclaimed, pleased. He softly petted the thatch of tight ebony curls veiling her most private place. Angelus swirled a finger through the dewy curls, savoring their warmth.
"Angelus!" She moaned pitifully. This is wrong. It's evil. It's a sin. It feels so wonderful! I want him, want him within me. I am part of you!
Angelus cocked an eyebrow at her sudden urgency. She lay there, breathless and blushing, in a confectious mess of silks and ruffles, burning for him. She was ready, very nearly ready. He smiled grimly and sat on the edge of the meridienne beside her.
"So." He slipped something out of his coat pocket as he took it off. "You like feathers."
He trailed the fan gently up her thigh, fluttered it teasingly in the hollow of her hip.
"Oooooohh!"
He chuckled as her entire body shuddered. He brushed the silky ostrich plumes over her flushed breasts and her taut belly. Angelus's mouth watered as gooseflesh rose up randomly over her skin. He parted her legs and softly tickled the sensitive skin of her inner thighs until she trembled helplessly and whimpered his name. He traced the lower curve of her belly and she sighed and arched her back, lifted her hips. Dropping the fan carelessly, Angelus molded her hips in his palms, lightly scraped them with his nails.
"I'm hungry, Rama," he whispered. Angelus gazed down at her dispassionately. He smiled as she turned her head to offer her throat to him. "No, precious, we don't want scars on your pretty neck! What would Gerard think if he saw?"
"What then?" She panted as his fingers barely touched the dark little pelt between her legs.
"Lie still." Angelus lightly kissed her smooth stomach. He opened his lips to taste her sweet skin: warmth, heat, sweat, a trace of rosewater. "Egypt," he moaned in pleasure at their intimate contact. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against her body, loving the feel of her supple skin, the taut muscle underneath.
"Mmmmmmmh." Ramadevi was nearly overwhelmed with pleasure. Angelus's cheekbone, his mouth on her flesh. Part of me? She gave a gasping little cry as he turned his head and she felt the thick softness of his hair on her skin, the shape of his ear. Was he smiling against her skin? Reaching down, her fingers sank into his hair and they sighed together.
Angelus lay still for a few minutes, allowing her to massage his hair as he stroked her smooth thighs, caressed her belly with his face.
Ramadevi's sex felt painfully swollen and hot, the secret black curls thickly wet. Angelus petted her everywhere--her neck, her face, her breasts, her arms, her hips and thighs--but her moist aching center. He laughed softly and tears stung her eyes. Was he mocking her, inflaming her until she was ready to beg for pleasure? Would he leave her unfulfilled?
Be my beloved, be inside me. He would never make her say it!
One long finger gently opened her. She was already so aroused she climaxed at once.
"Yes, good," he praised her as she cried wildly from the intense release. "I love it when you come, darling, do it again."
She cried out as his finger entered her until it met the untouched barrier inside her. He withdrew, then entered again. And again. He stroked her clitoris with the pad of his thumb. It was pure agony mixed with euphoria, being opened and touched by him. Unbearable heat built within her and finally exploded even harder than her first ecstasy.
Angelus watched her admiringly as she writhed and rocked and shuddered in pleasure. She arched her back as he tweaked her taut nipples. She did not fight her passion or try to hide it from him. Her cries, whimpers, and groans filled the room with erotic song.
Angelus parted the folds of her ripened sex and bent his head to taste her.
She cried out, frightened and unprepared for this intimacy. Angelus gripped her hips firmly when she writhed against him. He lapped her gently, delighting in her unique essence and sweetness. He teased the straining swollen pearl with little flicks of his tongue then softly suckled it.
She struggled to close her legs but his broad shoulders would not allow it. Angelus cupped her bottom in his hands, lifting her to the angle that he liked.
"Angelus!" she gasped as his tongue penetrated her. "Ohhhh! Angelus!" Her body took its own will from her, and she stopped fighting his pleasure.
Ramadevi's next orgasm rendered her speechless and partially paralysed. Angelus felt her soft interior spasm and clasp against his tongue. Sweet wetness flooded from her core, drenched him, perfumed the room. She lay weakly, completely spent, breathing heavily. The hands caressing his hair dropped limply away. One arm hung over the side of the meridienne and Angelus was struck by the curving perfection of her arm, her delicate wrist and fingers glittering with the gems he'd put on them.
Ramadevi met his eyes as he slowly licked his lips. Wild and conflicting feelings coursed through her: humiliation, euphoria, burning hatred and adoration, fear at how helpless Angelus made her, like a storm laying waste to an exquisite garden. Even as his handsome features distorted and blended into the demonic visage, she loved him still. The demon was part of him. It made him powerful, nearly invulnerable.
She sobbed protestingly as Angelus's hand covered her soaked curls. She could not yield to him anymore!
He sank his teeth into her inner thigh, ripping into the large artery that fed blood to her leg. He growled in sadistic joy as her body tried to jackknife. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes in ecstasy as he swallowed her fresh, passionate blood. He purred his pleasure at the combined scents of her blood and her sex. Ambrosia to his senses.
"No!" she gasped. His fingers worked softly over her feminine lips, delved into painfully sensitive creases and folds, settled on the swollen bud that commanded pleasure. Petting, soft stroking, now a light touch, now a firm pressure. "Aaaaaahhh! I cannot!" she begged.
He didn't answer her, he was licking her inner thigh. Ramadevi moaned at the familiar tingling in her skin that meant he used his own blood to heal her.
She couldn't even scream as his skilled fingers forced her over the hard plateau. The sensations began deep in her core, electrified, multiplied, exploded into her belly, shot up her spine and through her limbs. She was throbbing, falling, spasming, her vaginal muscles tensing and trying to grip empty space, legs quivering, mouth slack, eyes glazed.
Her overwhelmed senses finally took pity on her; Ramadevi fainted away.
She woke in Angelus's room, cradled in soft featherbeds. She saw surprisingly well in the candlelight. Angelus was naked and she could smell his sex as well as hers. Had his manipulations of her body excited him? Given him pleasure?
"Better, my love?" Angelus gently sponged her with tepid water. Ramadevi could not withhold a groan as the soft sponge touched her sore parts, gently wiped away the stickiness of her passion.
Part of her longed to upbraid him, to berate him for his earlier actions. To defy him and protest his use of her. Ramadevi swallowed and didn’t answer.
Angelus smirked insolently and turned his attention back to her bath. He coaxed her thighs further apart and carefully inspected where he had bitten her. It was slightly bruised but the actual wound was completely sealed, healing remarkably fast. Almost as quickly as a vampire.
Angelus’s mouth watered as he recalled her tastes: hot, passion-stirred blood and sweet woman’s wetness. Ramadevi’s wild abandonment to pleasure-pain had driven him over the edge; he’d ejaculated hard into his trousers. He loved her passionate responses. When she learned to yield herself to him without shame their coupling would be magnificent. Most of the women Angelus had known had been ashamed of their bodies, or ashamed of sex. Even Darla was distant, separate from him after the sex act. Rama was not crippled by these issues. Her shame was in submission to him.
“Where are my clothes?” she asked him quietly.
“Don’t worry about them; Alain will get them.” Angelus shrugged.
Ramadevi digested his reply silently. Alain would find her rumpled dress and all her under things tossed around a daybed in her sitting-room. He would know. Soon, everyone outside the household would know. She was Angelus’s concubine. His slave. He had used her as her father might have used a pretty kitchen servant, without respect for her modesty.
And he had pleased her so intensely she thought it might kill her. Even the dull ache in her upper thigh echoed dark pleasure mixed with pain. Ramadevi shrugged away the shame. It was pointless, only made things worse for her. If she was a monster’s concubine she would use it to whatever advantage she could. Denying Angelus, alienating him only made her lonely, more isolated.
He is all I have.
“What are you thinking, Egypt?” Angelus tossed the sponge back into the bowl of tepid water. He slid into bed beside her.
Fascinated, Ramadevi watched him glide easily into place. His body was pale, the skin finely textured. He was in steel-and-whalebone condition, the epitome of a strong, healthy man in his prime. Beautifully thick hair with the slightest wave to it. Strong straight white teeth. His nude body was hard, massive, heavily muscled. Even at rest his male member was impressively large, thick.
Angelus watched Ramadevi’s face curiously. What was going on in that pretty head of hers? “Well, my dear?” he prompted her.
“I was thinking how beautiful you are,” she answered truthfully. “Your body is perfect.”
His dark brow quirked laconically. What was the minx up to? Was it a whore’s trick? An effort to please him? Was she sincere?
“You are strong and powerful and full of courage,” she explained.
Angelus stared into her large dark eyes. Did she know how rich and sweet her voice was? She could seduce a man to make love with her if she only looked at him right and spoke a little. No wonder these Arabs kept their women hidden away like treasure.
Angelus drew Ramadevi closer to him. To his surprise she did not squirm against his hold. She sighed softly as he ran his hands down her smooth back, cupped her cheeky bottom in his palm. She was smooth and warm to the touch. Angelus dipped his face into her hair, inhaling the clinging fragrance of rosewater used to rinse it.
Little shivers skittered over Ramadevi and she struggled to control her desires. Angelus’s strong fingers lightly caressed her backside.“If you were not Rakshasa I would want you with my whole heart,” she admitted in a small voice.
“Rakshasa?” Angelus quired silkily. He considered turning her over onto his lap and spanking her. Just a few swats to make her bottom red and warm while he caressed it. He wanted to gaze into her eyes as they welled with tears from his punishment. Her nature was so passionate, perhaps she could be taught to like it.
“A demon,” she replied.
Angelus kissed her delicate ear, swirling his tongue over the whorls. She turned on her side, facing away from him, snuggling her lithe body against his. A contented little sigh escaped her.
Angelus looked down upon her, bemused. Where did this new agreeable woman come from? Had she learned to accept her fate? Did she realise he would never let her go?
“Mine,” he murmured, twining a ringlet in his finger.
Ramadevi closed her eyes as Angelus’s finger trailed over her loose hair, down her spine, swirling over the sensitive small of her back, tracing the cleft between her buttocks. His finger intruded deeper, traced her tightly muscled anus, then drifted away. Ramadevi swallowed, struggling to control her passion.
I am a bitch puppy, hot to have him, she thought forlornly, opening her eyes, focusing on the table beside the bed.
“Is that for me?”
Angelus grinned at the astonishment in her voice.
“Of course.” Angelus bit down on the soft flesh between her shoulder blade and the nape of her neck. He did not tear or bleed her, simply held her in place, forcing her into a position that clearly made him dominant. He growled a warning as she began to struggle, pulled her body under his.
Ramadevi felt helpless, a kitten held fast by it’s neck scruff. Angelus’s iron-hard thigh curled over her thrashing legs, pinning them down. He chuckled through his teeth as she mewled protestingly. His sex, nestled in her rear cleft, twitched and hardened a little.
Instinctively Ramadevi understood what he wanted. Angelus was reducing her to the lowest, most primal state, an animal demanding satisfaction from his mate. Moaning softly, she opened her legs slightly, lifted her hips. She presented her body, offered herself, waited for him to decide.
Ramadevi inhaled sharply as the vampire’s large hand cupped her sex, sending a rush of erotic energy through her. Angelus’s fingers slowly wove into her coarse curling pubic hair. He was gentle, casual, lightly fondling her mont, tracing the shape of her nether lips. His pleasure in her pubic hair was incredibly erotic to her. In her own country, what he did was forbidden, considered unclean. Why had she grown the neatly waxed little triangle of hair between her legs? Ramadevi shied away from the thought.
“This is for me?” Angelus echoed her own words back to her. He loved the coarsely textured curls, they matched the lushly curving hips, the delicious round bottom, the full bounty of her breasts. They made her more woman, more his. He kissed and softly sucked on her neck where he’d bitten her.
As for the brand-new copy of Ivanhoe he had laid out on the table to surprise her...What did it matter if he thought Scott’s work was sentimental trash? If Ramadevi wished to read it, she might as well have the book.
Angelus tugged her pubic hair roughly. “Well?” he prompted the trembling girl.
“You know that it is,” Ramadevi answered weakly. She felt him smile behind her, his hard lips curling on her skin. She sighed as Angelus guided her body against his until they were nestled together like two teaspoons. She was acutely aware of every inch of his skin against hers; his chest on her back, his hips and sex cradled on her buttocks, their legs twined together. Angelus’s arms around her were hard and strong and sure.
“Go to sleep,” he commanded, a soft whisper in her hair. “Tomorrow I want you to read to me.