Body Count Read online

  Hugh bent to examine her gash. “Let’s have a look at that head, cherie.”

  “Oh, now look, I’m sure it’s just a scratch and—”

  “Be still, Marta, and let Hugh examine your wound.” Maximillian pulled a chair over and sat down, then reached for her hand, running his thumb across the back.

  Hugh felt her shudder again as he brushed some wheat-colored blonde hair from her forehead. He longed to take her in his arms, and calm her body in the only way he knew would work, but thought better of it. Fear for Marta, as well as desire, grew inside him, making his cock stand at attention.

  “It’s not too deep. I’ll clean it.” Hugh glanced up and spotted a cabinet marked ‘first aide.’ He grabbed a bottle of peroxide and a few balls of cotton.

  His hands trembled while he gently swabbed the cut on Marta’s forehead, his pulse quickening each time he saw that and the welt on her cheek.

  “Someone knocked me to the ground…they called me,” she swallowed, “they called me a ‘bitch,’ threatening that if I let you feed, they’ll destroy me.”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  It was all Hugh could do to contain his anger. He rose from the couch and started to pace.

  “Did you see who it was?” Maximillian assumed Hugh’s position on the couch next to Marta. He continued to bathe the cut on her forehead with a clean cotton ball moistened with peroxide.

  “No,” she replied. She bit her lower lip. “I-I wasn’t running from either of you,” she murmured, her words slightly slurred.

  Hugh glanced at Marta. The brandy had to be kicking in. What he wouldn’t give to beat her attacker to a bloody pulp! His hand clenched at his side. Balling it into a fist, he flexed it.

  “I was running from myself,” she continued, letting go of a yawn.

  “We must keep her from falling asleep.” Hugh cast a worried glance at Maximillian. “She could have a concussion.”

  “I know what I’m saying,” Marta turned on her side and glanced at both men.

  Hugh’s member sprang to attention once more when he saw the dreamy look in her eyes.

  Down boy!

  Maximillian rose from the couch. Sliding his arms beneath Marta’s shoulders and the backs of her knees, he lifted her. “Time for you to rest, cherie. We will watch over you this night.”

  Marta nodded, her eyes closing.

  “Do not sleep!” Hugh shouted.

  His fear that she would never wake up tightened his gut. The last time he’d been this scared was when Balthazar condemned Maximillian and him to a life of night feeding.

  At that moment, Hugh wished he were indeed a vampire, so he could tear Marta’s attacker to shreds.

  * * * *

  Marta snuggled against Maximillian’s wide, warm chest, feeling cosseted and coddled at the same time. From the corner of her eye, she watched Hugh walk along side his cousin, worry lines etched into his golden features.

  Someone actually gave a damn about her!

  Okay, so it just happened to be two monsters—inhuman mutants who feed on the blood of fresh corpses.

  Yet, if they didn’t make love to her soon…

  Your fat, Marta, fatty-fat-fat!

  “Shut up,” she grumbled to herself.

  Maximillian raised one dark brow. “Excuzes moi?”

  Her inner voice, the one that always managed to creep in and tell her she wasn’t worthy of love, silenced the minute she heard Maximillian speak French.

  Marta wound her arms around his neck, her nose buried in the warm, fragrant skin of his throat. She answered. “Je voulais dire, rien que par.”

  Hugh ran a hand over her hair, smoothing the strands. “Our Marta speaks French?” He grinned, one of those devastating golden smiles.

  She lifted her head from Maximillian’s shoulder. “I speak Spanish, too.” The effect of her words ruined when she yawned. “I don’t know why I’m so sleepy.”

  Maximillian gazed down at her, his dark eyes intense. “Because you were…how you say? Conked on the head, cherie.”

  He entered the small attic room. Hugh drew the covers back on the bed then Maximillian laid her down on the mattress.

  She held out a hand when he turned away. “Please stay. Both of you.” Marta reached for Hugh, too.

  Then she dropped her hands, snuggling under the covers.

  “We must wake you regularly.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed. “I know.”

  “Sleep, un joli.” Hugh told her.

  Sleep, pretty one.

  All her life, no one had ever called her ‘pretty.’

  Her father would always call her ‘his girl.”

  Never pretty.

  He told her she ‘had smarts,’ and that would take her far in life.

  It had.

  Just not where Marta wanted to be.

  Chapter Three

  When Marta’s eyes opened next, it was still dark. She glanced out the window of the small attic room, watching as a cloud passed over the full moon.

  She heard the distant, lone howl of a wolf and immediately snuggled back under the covers.

  “Ah, cherie, you wake on your own. That is good.”

  Maximillian’s deep voice drifted by her ears.

  The chair next to Maximillian was vacant. “Where’s Hugh?” she asked around a yawn.

  “Right here, un jolie.”

  Bearing a tray with food, his tall frame filled the doorway. He walked over and set it down on the small table near the bed.

  Marta inhaled deeply, taking in the delicious odors of fragrant herbal tea combined with the scent of toasted bread and cinnamon.

  Her stomach grumbled.

  Maximillian’s face split into a wide grin. “Ah, our Marta is hungry. A good sign.”

  “Indeed.” Hugh nodded.

  He poured her a cup of the steaming tea and lifted the cover on the dish, where she spied two pieces of perfectly toasted bread, drenched in butter and cinnamon.

  She grabbed one piece of toast and munched heartily, sipping the tea.

  “Wha’s in the bowl?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

  Hugh laughed as he watched her eat. “Soup, cherie. I managed to put it together from the meager fixings in your, how do you say? Ice box?”

  She swallowed and took another sip of tea. “The word is ‘refrigerator.’”

  “A mouthful for me to say in English.” Hugh gazed down on her. “How is the head?”

  “Better.”

  Maximillian frowned. He rose to his feet and walked toward the window. Gazing outside, he said, “We must find who did this to you, Marta.” He turned and looked at Hugh. “We have put her in danger.”

  Hugh ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think he has come back?”

  Marta lifted the cover on the bowl of soup. “Who?”

  “Balthazar. The wizard who condemned us to this life of night feeding.”

  She shook her head, surprised and pleased it didn’t hurt. “How could he come back?”

  “He dabbled in studies of time and space continuum. His eventual goal was to travel through time.”

  She plunked the cover down on the tray. “You believe he’s gone forward in time, to this century?”

  “There is every possibility.” Maximillian answered. “He was a very powerful wizard.”

  Hugh leaned over and tucked a napkin under Marta’s chin. Dipping a spoon into the soup, he raised it to her lips. She sipped, her eyes nearly crossing at the savory taste that caressed her lips and tongue.

  After a few more spoonfuls, she asked. “But why follow you into this time?”

  “There is only one thing that will break our curse: the love of a good woman,” Hugh said softly. He put down the spoon.

  Marta swallowed, her heart racing.

  “I think Balthazar fears you are that woman. That is why he attacked you. If you break our spell and shatter the curse, then he fears we will destroy him.”

  Marta frowned as she recalled the eerie voice
that threatened her earlier.

  It sounded familiar.

  She tucked the thought away.

  Right now, she had to deal with her feelings. Determined not to shovel them down with food, she pushed aside the tray and said, “I want to know what you did for those women you helped.”

  Maximillian raised a brow then cast a worried look at Hugh.

  “It is unimportant, cherie.”

  She shook her head. “No. It is very important, Maximillian. It’s important to me.” Her gaze settled on Hugh. “I need to know.”

  Maximillian nodded. “Hugh and I came from a very wealthy family. We were always close as boys, because we had no siblings.”

  Hugh continued. “Our fathers told us we had to use our fortunes for the greater good. Something that would truly help people.”

  “But as life would have it, we were young and impetuous, always getting into some kind of trouble.”

  Marta could picture it. The two of them tearing up the town.

  “Our fathers were close, too. One day, they traveled their lands, visiting the tenants that inhabited them. They discovered, too late, that some of them were ill with some strange sickness. My father,” Hugh said quietly. “Died first. Then Maximillian’s.” He walked over and laid a hand on Maximillian’s shoulder. “Their deaths left us in charge of our families…and our fortunes.”

  “We grew up very quick in the ensuing years. One day, Hugh overheard his mother and one of her sisters discussing the plight of Corinne Dubois. We remembered her, a pretty, young thing, bound by marriage to a bastard of a man. The rumors were that her husband abused her, and married her only for her money.” Maximillian smiled. “Hugh and I always admired her.” He laughed. “Perhaps, we were just a bit in love with Corinne.”

  Marta hated that a spurt of jealousy ran through her. “She must have been beautiful.”

  “To many, she was not. But to us, she was magnifique! Plump, luscious…desirable.”

  “H-how did you help her?”

  “By conceiving a plan to help her leave her husband. A bold move back then for a woman. She left with no money, only the clothes on her back. For the few days we kept her hidden, we discovered that the rumors of abuse were true.”

  Marta picked at a lose thread on the coverlet, her fingers twitching. “What had he done to her?”

  “Nothing physical. But her mind was corrupted with thoughts of inadequacy, for he always berated her. She had no love in her soul. We—”

  Hugh shook his head. “I think we’ve said enough.”

  “No!” Marta rose to her knees. “Go on. Please.”

  Maximillian glanced at Hugh. Then his dark gaze settled on Marta. “We showed her, together, that she was worthy of love, that she was indeed desirable.”

  “Y-you made love to her?”

  Hugh nodded. “Oui. It was our way, our…lifestyle. Maximillian and I always shared our women.”

  Silence cloaked the room. Marta couldn’t find words to reply.

  Maximillian ran a hand through his long, dark hair. “We were foolish to say anything.” He cast a worried look at Hugh.

  She sat back on her heels, her mouth open.

  “We should leave. It is enough you have allowed us to feed, and you helped Hugh. For that, we are truly grateful.”

  Maximillian walked toward the door, so did Hugh.

  She watched as if in a trance.

  Her eyes widened. “No!” she shouted. “Don’t.” Marta scrambled out of bed. “Wait. I need—what I mean is, please stay. Help me,” she implored, her heart in her throat, her body on fire.

  Maximillian stiffened. “You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re hurt, you’re—”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” She angled her chin.

  Hugh shook his head. “We’ve put you in enough danger already.”

  She chewed her lower lip, tears filling her eyes.

  Once again, rejection rears its ugly head.

  “It’s all right. I understand.” Her voice cracked. “No one wants the fat girl.” She walked back over to the bed and plunked down on the mattress.

  She felt like she was seventeen again. No date for the prom. She stayed in her room that evening and studied all night, telling herself she didn’t care about some stupid dance.

  Some hurts just never go away.

  Maximillian and Hugh walked over to her.

  “Un joli, do not say such a thing.” Hugh stroked her hair. “We adore you.”

  They sat on the bed, flanking her on either side.

  Maximillian placed one long finger under her chin, tipping her head back. “Sweet,” he muttered as he kissed her, his lips fusing with her lips. He swept his tongue inside her mouth, the tip searching, exploring each recess.

  Hugh slid his arm around her waist while he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. “Our Marta smells like an entire field of flowers.” He kissed the delicate skin behind her ear.

  They laid her back on the bed.

  “We have dreamed of this, cherie,” Maximillian told her.

  “We were afraid to tell you,” Hugh said as he unfastened her blouse, his long golden fingers releasing each button slowly.

  “I w-was afraid to say anything, too,” she whispered, reveling in the sensations that Hugh’s fingers, and Maximillian’s hot mouth, wrought on her senses.

  Maximillian frowned. “Are you afraid now, Marta? If so, we will stop.”

  “Don’t!”

  Maximillian smiled.

  So did Hugh.

  “Then it will be our pleasure…and yours…to show you just how much we want you.”

  * * * *

  Her pleasure…

  When was the last time anyone cared about her wants, her desires?

  Fleeting thoughts of her on-again, off-again relationship with Timothy Clayton ran through her mind. Like her father, Tim enjoyed her ‘brain.’ They had many heated debates and discussions about science and forensics.

  They made love, too.

  But it was never as heated as…

  Oh my…

  Hugh undressed her, bit by precious bit. The backs of his knuckles brushed her skin while he unfastened her blouse.

  She felt another hand at her waist as Maximillian freed the button of her jeans. A quick ‘zip’ followed then he drew her jeans over her hips, down her thighs, gently tugging them off her feet and ankles.

  Marta saw them fly through the air then land on the floor somewhere at the end of the bed.

  Her body burned, her mind filled with lust when she realized she lay before them dressed in nothing but her panties, bra and blouse.

  They soon divested of her those three items of clothing, too.

  It couldn’t come fast enough for Marta.

  Her breasts swelled, their heaviness like a weight on her chest. Hugh kissed each one, while Maximillian worked her white cotton panties down her legs.

  Naked, sprawled on the bed before them, her first instinct was to cover herself.

  Hugh placed his hand across hers on the bed. “No, cherie. Do not hide from us. You have brought us from darkness into light, now it is our turn to do the same for you.”

  The breath left her body in short, shallow pants.

  He stroked her face. “Easy, un jolie. We will bring you to passion very soon.”

  She looked down at the top of Maximillian’s dark head. He raised it just a fraction to smile at her, his dark, almost-black eyes intense with desire. “Oui. We intend to bring you to paradise and back.”

  Marta sucked in a breath when Hugh leaned down and drew one of her nipples into his mouth. Sucking gently, he released it long enough to trail the tip of his tongue across it.

  Her back arching, she raised her hips so that her little nubbin pushed into Maximillian’s mouth. It felt like a hot, moist brand as he gently took the little pearl of flesh between his lips. He worked it with his lips and tongue, alternately sucking then twirling his moist tongue across her clit.

  She spread her le
gs wider, giving Maximillian greater access, but it wasn’t enough.

  “More!” she cried. “More!”

  Hugh worked magic on her breasts, stroking and massaging them, sucking on her nipples, then blowing gently on their distended tips. He flicked each one with his tongue.

  Maximillian drove his tongue inside her, pulling it out, lifting it to lick her pussy, passing the tip directly across it.

  With each pass of their hands, each stroke of their tongues, they drove her to a frenzied, fevered pitch, her body shaking as a delicious throbbing sensation consumed her.

  When her orgasm hit, she moaned, alternately crying out “Hugh!” then “Maximillian!”

  Marta shattered into a thousand tiny little pieces while pleasure so intense, so deep, slammed into her.

  Breathless, boneless, her body sank down on the bed.

  Curling onto her side, she rolled next to Hugh.

  Marta felt the mattress dip when Maximillian settled his body on the other side of her. He patted her bottom and kissed her ear, whispering, “Sleep, un jolie.”

  Hugh stroked her face, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. “Rest. We will keep watch over you, cherie.”

  Her eyes closed, her breathing deep and even, Marta sank into a dreamless oblivion.

  Chapter Four

  She woke the next morning to bright autumn sunshine streaming in through the attic window. Outside, the trees offered a myriad of deep orange, russet and brown colors, swirling together in her mind.

  Never had life seemed so sweet, so colorful…so amazing.

  Maximillian stirred next to her. He shifted his body so that her bottom lay wedged against his groin. Her eyes widened as his stiff penis nudged the cleft between her backside. Tightening his hold on her waist, he drew her back against him, while Hugh stirred restlessly next to her. He moved closer, his golden face nuzzled against her chest, his lips a hair’s breadth away from her nipple…

  He murmured something in French then his lips grazed her distended peek.

  Marta didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound while he suckled her.

  Soon, the hand at her waist slipped lower, Maximillian’s long fingers searching for her clit. Her breasts felt leaden, and that wonderful, pulsing sensation built between her legs while Maximillian stroked the inside of her thighs. He leaned over, bringing his lips to her ear.