Substantial

In the fortnight since Alfred Earl of Warwick captured and commuted her vapourous self to the corporeal, Mara's consuming hunger gnawed on her as brutally as a feral dog on carrion. Yet only thrice a day did the Earl deign to feed her ravening hunger.

She soughed, then inhaled slowly, deeply, sensuously. Hidden from even the dying light of the day, her sharpest sense by far was smell, and every intake of breath brought bodily gratification. The admixt pungency of man, horse, and hay. Tanned leather, damp wool, and even the bite of cold silver wended their way into her sensitive nose. And the smell of the young and virile men around her overlay it all.

Jealous thoughts surged from deep within her; the scent of pristine flesh from the Earl's retinue pressed constantly upon her newly-awakened senses. All well-fed, hale and hearty, they fair exuded the smell of a feast. Prey close at hand, yet she was unable to pursue her quarry.

Why would he not let her feed of them? He refused to explain; yet the Earl was not one to let anyone under his command thwart his will, and he commanded that none but him should have aught of her.

A sign, surely, that her existence was forever changed were the horses and their acceptance of her as merely one of the party. In her wraith-like existence, such tolerance was utterly impossible; horses sensing her lurking in the passing mists would snort with fear and stamp their hooves hard against the ground, eager to be away from her whispering presence.

Concealment, obscurity; these were her watchwords. Prey upon the unwary; warn no living creature of her coming or going.

Wrapped around the Earl's firm body, her arms ended in fingers of sinew and muscle and bone. She made furtive movements with those fingers as her hunger reached up within her to claw at her throat; tiny signals from her hands that belied the urgency within her body.

"Patience, little one," said the Earl softly. His voice was a tenor rumble, an even hum against the trenchant crackle of autumn leaves under hoof.

The party plodded on, the thick layer of autumn leaves announcing their passage with its gnashing cries. Tree branches, dry and rigid in the dying days of autumn, scratched against each other and from time to time snatched at the concealing cloak. Lonely cries from evening birds rang out along the darkening path. Horses snorted and nickered in their own constant manner, the rhythm of their stride restful.

Only upon the fullness of night did the Earl consent to halt. A small shack abandoned to time and weather stood before them, huddled and dark against the moonless night. Waiting patiently upon his horse, the Earl directed his retinue to make ready the room. Satisfied with their preparations, he unfastened his cloak and dismounted, leaving her wrapped upon his horse. With great care, he lowered her quiescent form from the horse and carried her into their night's haven. The care of the horses was left with his party; only the low-toned rumblings and guffaws of his men could be heard occasionally through the walls.

From a tiny fold in the cloak, she surveyed the rude shelter. A small fire of well-aged peat warmed the room. To one side, a finely-woven blanket hastily hung defined a private place for the Earl and his precious burden; the other, bundles and blankets lay about in preparation for the evening meal and sleep for the men.

Gently, he placed his bundle upon a bed of remnant hay and fine blankets. He removed the cloak slowly, revealing her to his eyes. "As always, it is with great pleasure that I see you again, Mara," he whispered. His eyes shone brightly, even in the dimness of their alcove.

Hungry, Mara could do nothing but smile slightly. Without sustenance, without feeding, she was as weak as a newborn babe. Looking deep into her eyes, the Earl knelt beside her and returned a broad smile. "I know that look, little one," he said. "Worry not, in due time you shall eat fully."

Deliberately, he removed each of his fine riding gloves and tossed them aside. He gazed on her Elfin-featured face for a few moments, and with one finger began slowly stroking her cheek. His finger, calloused and hard, was dark against the translucent white of her pale skin. He outlined the rise of her cheek, the rose of her lips, and the arch of her brows. His touch was light, as though a hint of firmness would cause her to break apart like the gossamer of a flower long gone to seed.

She began to mewl softly at his quiet ministrations. Using reserves she knew not that she had, she arched her body slightly towards his, and the sounds escaping her became yet more urgent. Smiling broadly now, the Earl leaned forward and brushed his lips on hers. He felt her tongue tentative against his, seeking, probing.

He soughed heavily, content. Pellucid skin seemed to give off a milky glow; she was a woman of transcendent beauty, her terrible desires belied by a face of ethereal innocence. Yet even now her flesh was slowly seasoning, changing her from something so delicate and raw that even moonlight wounded her deeply. Changing her to a form that could withstand any light of the firmament.

Deeply, he felt the flush of his blood hot within. His member engorged, pulsing with the flame of lust. Without disrobing, he pushed aside all impediments and left himself open to her gaze.

Her eyes shone with desperate need. Like his head, his loins were well enshrouded in dark, curly hair. His arousal was formidable and its unveiling brought the penetrating scent of his musk. He reclined curled next to her head, placing hardness firm to her soft lips. A sough of long anticipation met escaped from her.

As each feeding heretofore, her tongue drew in the early dewdrops of his essence; a foretaste of the sumptuous repast before her. She savoured the texture and taste slowly on her tongue. Then, without warning, her mouth widened and engulfed his member entire.

The Earl gasped at the feel of her throat along the length of his shaft. Tiny hairs surrounding his member stirred under her warm, moist breath. Mara drew back along his length, her tongue caressing the curves of his head, then sliding along the swollen veins. Her breath caressed him where her wet mouth left secrets untold.

A minute tremble began in his loins, coursing through his body to leave him shuddering from the intensity of her onslaught. He took her head within his hands and began to push rhythmically within her gorge. Muscles deep inside her throat contracted and released his sensitive head. Drawing back to the tip of his member, delicate movements of her tongue brought a second shudder through his body.

"Mara!" gasped the Earl as the tension in his body mounted.

Smiling broadly, Mara again drew away to the tip of his length, only to plunge herself fully to his roots. Soft lips caressed his scrotum while his flesh twitched and jumped in her throat. She was taking her time, preparing his flesh for the inevitable milking. Drawing out the duration of his preparation rewarded her richly with his emission.

Tension grew yet further, tremors rippling through his flesh and causing him to jerk spastically in response to her ministrations. Another gasp was wrenched from his throat, and then the Earl was spurting his warmth deep into her. Pumping hard, he emptied himself utterly into her.

Looking closely, the Earl noticed for the first time that Mara's flesh was taking on a whisper-fine hue of ruddy liveliness. Every feeding took her further from her ancient wraith form. Bone and muscle and sinew and flesh became ever more fixed to the world of men.

Her hunger sated for some time, he wrapped her again in his dark green cloak. He kissed her lightly, then watched her smile in satisfaction, close her eyes, and drift towards her own soft slumber.

Alfred Earl of Warwick stole away from his beautiful Mara, to join the meal now ready beside his men beyond the curtain. He needed fortifying sustenance to manifest his ethereal bride in the world; she so dependent upon the nectar of his loins. One more feeding this darkness would he grant her, then once more yet in the day to follow, her ripening flesh sheltering in the gloom of his enshrouding cloak. Soon, she would be ready to be fulfilled as woman by man.