The Choosing Ch. 02

I needed to know. On unsure feet I stepped back to stand before them. "Put your hands on your heads," I said, issuing the first command that came to mind.

Both guards dropped their weapons and placed their hands on their heads. "Jump," I said and watched in open mouthed wonder as they did their armor clanging as their feet hit the ground.

"As you were," I ordered and they retrieved their weapons and stood to attention. "You will stay here until I say otherwise. You will tell anyone who comes that Talia Chosen is sleeping and does not wish to be disturbed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Chosen," they chanted in unison.

I turned away and walked down the hall looking back twice before I turned the corner each time half expecting the guard to come running after me. They didn't and the sense of freedom that overwhelmed me made me forget the purpose for my outing. The library. I didn't know how to get there.

I walked the halls for some time, trying open doors to no luck. Empty chambers seemed to abound. I came across a chamber maid in one room she looked up at me in shock. She squealed and placed a hand across her mouth.

"Do not fear," I said.

"Yes Mistress," she said in a dull monotone.

"You will take me to the library. You will return here to your work and forget that you saw me."

"Yes Mistress."

The young chambermaid walked at a break neck pace I had to half run to keep up with her. By the time she left me at the library door I was panting. I opened the heavy wooden door halfway and peered inside. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls. An elderly man looked up in shock as I entered. His face lined deep had been well weathered by time. His head had one tuft of grey hair, it stood up as if it had been planted. He was seated at a grand desk, surrounded by dusty tomes. He appeared to transcribing something, he had a quill in his ink smeared hand. "You should not be here Mistress Chosen," he spluttered.

I raised a hand to stop him, "You do not see me. You will walk now to the books that tell of secrets of The Chosen you will return to your work and forget that you saw me."

He got up from his desk and started off down the back of the room. He moved fast, the little sapling of grey hair wobbling from side to side as he walked. I followed him through three archways and then turned into what appeared to be a dead end alcove. He looked behind straight through me and then left and right. He reached up to the third shelf and pulled on a black book. The shelf turned with a grinding of gears and opened as if a door. He went inside and I followed. The room was lamp lit; it had no windows and no door. I was concerned for a moment how I would exit experiencing a moment of panic that I might become trapped when the elderly man turned pulled on the lamp nearest the shelf through which we entered and it opened again. He left. To return to his desk no doubt to forget he had seen me. I looked down at the symbols on my arm slick black on pale skin and marveled once more at their mysterious power.

I turned, spun in a circle and took in the room I had sought.Now what?

I was frowning, wondering how I was to find anything in the dusty piles of books and packed shelves when I heard a familiar chuckle.He was here.I turned to the sound and saw him seated on a leather wingback chair in a darkened corner. I couldn't see his face but the silver glow of his hair made it obvious who it was.

I moved towards him, keeping my arm bent the symbols facing him like some kind of shield. "You will tell me your name," I commanded when I stood before him.

He laughed again. "Will I now?" he murmured, reaching forward and wrapping an arm behind my knees he pulled me off balance and into his lap. I fell easily my rump landing on his powerful thighs. He held me firm at my waist, his big hands spread wide at my hips.

"The symbols do not work on you," I said quite obviously.

"But they do on humans," he replied as he reached up and tucked an errant lock of curling hair behind my ear, "Which answers some of my questions about you."

"What questions."

"You are more than you seem."

"I am not," I whispered, afraid what he said was true. He tucked his large hand behind my head and guided it down to rest on his shoulder. I should have resisted but instead I found myself sinking into his chest, desperate for the comfort he offered even as I remained uncertain of his motives. The moment of peace nestled on his chest was exactly what I needed.

How did he know?

"Can all Chosen command with these symbols?' I asked my mouth moving against the warmth of his chest.

"No," his answer rumbled against my ear.

I sat up, meeting his silver blue stare. "What am I?" I asked.

"More than Chosen," he answered cryptically.

"Does Roth know?"

"Yes."

His hand reached up again, this time pulling my hair back to expose my neck. He stared hungrily at the frightened pulse in my neck. His eyes slid into black and I knew he wanted me, wanted my blood. Even as I was frightened, even as I feared his bite I wanted it too. I tilted my head and stroked a finger across the beating pulse he watched.

"You want me," I said.

"Yes," he answered the hunger obvious in his rasp.

"You want to taste me."

"Bite," he said, "Suck. Consume."

Each word pulsed heat in my sex as if he stroked my very center.

"Is that different to taste?" I asked.

He nodded. His hands had moved from my body to grip the arms of the chair. He lacked control. I knew I tempted him but I could not stop. I did not want to stop until I felt the skin break at his fangs and his mouth suck on my vein.

"Do it," I said, leaning forward and offering him my neck, "Take me."

"You know not what you ask," he said through clenched teeth. I could see his fangs. They extended over his lip, the grinding pressure had made a cut, a sliver of blood stained his mouth.

I wanted to taste it. I leaned in, brought my tongue to the red stain of blood and lapped his mouth clean. He growled. An inhuman sound. His mouth opened wide and for a moment I thought he meant to take me but he did not instead he pushed me from his lap to the floor.

"Don't," he said as I moved to stand.

I stayed at his feet. The bulge of his desire just above my eyes. I came up on my knees to see him better. The laces of his breeches strained from the erection contained. I wanted it. I wanted him. To be pierced by his cock, his fangs. Taken. He saw where my eyes had fixed and growled again.

"You tempt me," he said with a bitter laugh, "How you tempt me."

"Is that a bad thing," I asked.

He laughed again. "I cannot take you until you know."

"Know what?" I cared for nothing other than the incessant beat of my desire. I could not think while it burned so.

"You must have a clear mind. You must understand."

"How can I think when I feel like this?" I cried, "I too want to know but all I feel is the beat of this." I cupped my sex in a lewd action that shamed me as I did it.

"You have servants do you not? They must offer you release," The Silver Master rasped.

"Not enough," I whimpered, "It's never enough."

"You miss the bite."

As he spoke I realized that I had moved my hand up to stroke the faint marks where Roth had last taken me. "Yes, Imissthe bite."

Missing was too small a word. Did the starving merely miss food? The drowning miss air? Burning heat and cold flashed across my skin. Anger and lust swirled within clenching my womb.

Want. Want. Want.

Nadar's eyes remained fixed on my neck. He laughed, a bitter sound. "I cannot give you the bite you seek. I have vows that I cannot break. Not even for the desire I have for you."

I didn't understand what he meant,what vows?All I knew, all I felt was centered in the all consuming need pulsing between my legs.

He gripped the arms of the chair. Long fingers curved around the ornate carved wood. He was holding himself still. Holding himself back, from me.

I stepped forward. He pulled back, pushing further into the chair.

"No," he said, voice as thick as winter cold molasses.

I pulled at my gown, teasingly raising it to swirl around my calves.

"No," he said once more, but did nothing to stop me.

His eyes fixed upon the slow rise of my skirts. When cool air hit my bared thighs I heard him groan in appreciation of my lack of drawers. "You do not have to take the neck," I said angling the plump smooth vein of my inner thigh toward him.

"Talia," my name issued forth like a hissed plea for mercy.

I came forward, a woman possessed. No longer Talia of Hawthorne Shire, no longer the Chosen, nothing other than the need that throbbed within. It would not be denied.

I spread my legs. Both hands gripping the folds of my skirt high at my hips I came up on his chair. On my knees I straddled him. Over his tensed thighs. Rigid, he sat, his only movement the rasping rise and fall of his chest. Letting the soft folds of my skirt fall over us I slowly slid my hands up his body, over the hard tense plane of his stomach, up his chest. My thumbs brushed his nipples. He gasped but still did not move.

When my hands finally came to rest at his shoulders I leant in, draping my hair to one side I offered him the curve of my neck. Still he did not move. I shifted closer until the pulse at the base of my neck rested on his lips.

"Take," I said. Not pleading, but issuing a husky command.

"No!" he rasped, his fangs grazing my skin as he spoke.

It was so fast. So rapid that I had not time to think. His hands came to my hips pushing back and lifting all at once. He spun me around, my back to his chest my skirt rucked high. He brought his fingers to my nipple and one hand to rest at my bared sex all within the space of an intake of breath.

Rough he pulled me back until I pressed tight against his body. He shifted me as easily as if I were a child. My leg he forced to move until I straddled his right thigh. The hard ridge of his erection pushed into my buttock. I rolled my hips into it and heard his gasping response. The fingers at my chest gripped the edge of my corset yanking it down until it sat under my breasts, forcing out the plump curves. My nipples poked through the thin chemise. His fingers came to brutally twist one and I moaned in satisfaction at the pain.

"Yes. Yes," he murmured in my ear, "That's what you need." The sound vibrating in my ear. I was wet, shamefully wet. My sex slick and swollen I rocked forward until it pressed into the ridge of his leg muscle.

His long fingers brushed the front of my sex. I rocked back to give him room to push inside but he did not. He pushed me forward and brought up his knee until my wet slit rode his thigh.

"Take it," he said, "Take what you need."

I did. I pushed into him, riding his thigh like a wanton. The soft brushed leather of his breeches slicked wet with my desire. I rocked my hips, forward and then in undulating circles. It built. Clenching heat, delicious surging pleasure claimed me with each rock of my hips. I pushed down mounting him hard. The feeling swept over me. Cascading in shimmering waves of rolling heat. My skin burned, tight and hot as if I were roasting with pleasure. More, more I wanted, needed more. I whimpered. Rocking my hips against his leg. I cried. Desperate, needy shameful sounds of wanting.

Not enough. Not enough.

"I know," he murmured, "I know what you need."

The feeling built. Built, higher, harder, clenching tight, my thighs rigid ready for the coming release. I released my hold falling into the pleasure, hoping that it would be more than I had had with Hatha. Hoping that the Silver Haired Master could finally give me the release I craved.

As the orgasm hit he cut me. At the beat of my pulse at the base of my neck his sharpened thumb nail popped through the skin and a hot trickle of blood trailed down my taut skin. The pain, the blood, it gave me my release and I shattered into another orgasm. I fell back against him, his nail pushing deeper, further into my skin. I wanted his mouth. I needed his mouth.

"Take it," I whimpered breathlessly, "Take it please."

"No," he said his voice shaking with dark need, "I can't....I can't..."

I twisted in his hold until I could reach a hand up to his hair. I pulled hard on the silver mane, bringing his head down to my neck and forcing his mouth to the stream of blood.

"Take, taste," I commanded and I felt my arm glow hot with power where the symbols lay.

He did not suck, but his tongue came forth hot to lap at the trickle of blood. He groaned. The sound vibrated the room. The lamps on the walls flickered on and off again. The shelves rattled as he fed from the stream of blood.

I held him there, willing him to suck but he did not. He pulled back, shoving me forward as he did. I hit the floor, sprawled on my knees. He looked down at me, his mouth smeared with my blood, his eyes glowing black rimmed with silver.

"What have I done?" he whispered as he looked down at me with shock. He wiped his mouth with his hand and then looked down at the red stained skin.

"You did not bite," I said to him hoping to appease the horror in his eyes.

"I must go," he said.

"Please, wait, what should I read. What should I know? I have so many questions."

He did not answer me instead he pulled at the lamp opener and left me there, on the floor still on my knees.

After he had gone I waited for him to return. I sat on the floor hoping that he would come back to me. But he didn't. I pulled myself up on shaky legs to sit in the chair that I had first found him in. On it lay a book. Black leather bound with a silver key embossed on the cover.

Find the key.

I should have been glad to find what I sought. But I did not. I felt bereft. Empty. I cried. Wept for what had happened. For what I did not understand. I looked down at the symbols on my arm. I wanted to scrub them clean. Wipe away what had happened but I did not. I had to still control my guards I needed and resented the symbols upon my skin. I cleaned myself up as best I could smoothing my hair and righting my clothes. I snuck past the elderly man and back to my chambers with great ease. My guards were as I left them with one simple command they let me enter and went back to their posts with no memory.

How I wished I could do the same. I scrubbed my arm until the skin looked red and raw. Erasing at least that. I threw the book under my bed. I heard it slide along the floor and hit the wall with a thump. I was on my bed weeping when the door opened. Hatha looked down at me and shook her head. "Dry your eyes Mistress. He has returned.

Roth.

My heart both sang and sank with that one word.

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A big thanks has to go to Pacofear and Gatorhermit for their suggestions. That rat bastard Pacofear came up with better words than me. Twice. So here I offer the resentful thanks I promised.

Let me know what you think and please click the stars, it makes me ever so happy when you do.

darcysweet