A Gothic Winter Tale

[janebecomes]

Jane has found herself a nook in the library and is lost in the poetry of Catullus, a translation she found that she's not seen before.

The night is starting to draw in and so her shawl is pulled tightly around her as she wonders about the kind of passion and lust that inspired such words.

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[vojvode]

He watches her for a long time from the shadows, watches the intent gaze on her face as her eyes play over the words.

She's dark, like his Mina. Beautiful.

For a moment, he is well and truly smitten.

[janebecomes]

One poem seems to call to be read aloud and to the silent library, she recites,

"So many kisses for mad Catullus to kiss you are enough and more than enough."

Her thoughts wander to Tom's face and she wonders what it would be like to kiss him and if she started, would she ever wish to stop.

[vojvode]

"Suns may set and rise again, for us, when the short light has once set, remains to be slept the sleep of one unbroken night."

The accent is rich and dark, and wraps around Jane like a warm shawl.

"The Roman poet, is it not?"

The gentleman at the end of the row of books wears a grey frock coat over matching waistcoat and trousers. Hat and gloves and dark glasses perhaps seem out of place here, but it doesn't seem to matter much at all.

"Forgive me for the intrusion, my lady. But you have such a lovely voice." He doffs his hat for a brief moment.

[janebecomes]

Jane almost drops her book in surprise and then smiles, his accent has the warmth of a fire to it,

"Yes, I found a book of translations and seem to have lost a few hours within them. Miss Jane Austen, sir."

It seems a shame to move from her comfortable place just yet so she nods to him instead of a curtsy.

[vojvode]

"I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Austen. It was not my intention to startle you."

He sinks to one knee before her, taking her fingers in his and bending over them. His gaze meets and holds hers as he brushes a chaste kiss across her knuckles.

Her heart is pounding like a little bird's and he can smell the curiosity rising off her like the bloom off a rose.

[janebecomes]

The gesture seems almost taken from one of Mrs. Radcliffe's books but from him it feels natural and Jane blushes as he kisses her fingers,

"There is nothing to forgive, sir. I have often had the troublesome habit of forgetting the world around me as I read."

[vojvode]

He does not release his hold on her hand, instead rubbing his thumb in small circles across her knuckles. A mesmerising touch, designed to soothe. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low. They are, after all in a library, and if it makes her lean in closer, all the better to his ends.

"Surely you are safe enough here -- in this place. The keepers of books are also the keepers of readers, are they not?"

[janebecomes]

When his fingers move on her hand, for a moment Jane freezes but truly there's nothing to be scared of from him,

"I would hope so and books are dearly loved here."

As she speaks, she does lean slightly closer, her own voice low and the blush has not left her cheeks.

[vojvode]

Such pale ivory flesh on the flower of her cheeks, with such sweet vermilion nectar rising to his call. His lips twitch into a smirk, and even behind his dark glasses, she can see the smile lines around his eyes deepening.

"As well they should be." That fingertip circles, soothes, the shadows around them both drawing close. "I myself keep an extensive library at my home in the Carpathians. But coming to London, I have discovered a whole new world of words to explore."

[janebecomes]

She wants to ask about his glasses since they're beautiful, but he distracts her so easily,

"The Carpathians, that sounds a dangerous place, sir. Though I have heard that London holds its own temptations. Sadly I have not traveling far from my home though I wish to."

[vojvode]

"Oh it is, very dangerous. A virtual wilderness. My home -- my castle is high in the mountains. And a world away from the bee hive that is London. London seems another world all together."

While he talks, he gently turns her hand in his, his hand stroking open her palm, like he might stroke the soft fur of a cat. A shroud of calm falls around her, a deep, sweet peacefulness. No harm will come to her here. No harm at all.

"Where is your home, Miss Austen? England, I assume?"

[janebecomes]

"How romantic, it sounds like a place where things would not be as you would ever expect. Longminster, I always enjoy walking in the woods, there is such peace there at times."

His touch is so gentle, Jane finds herself smiling though the blush has not left her cheeks, this conversation feels so intimate.

[vojvode]

"Oh yes, there is a peacefulness to the mountains. It is a world much older than yours, my dear. I wish you could see the view. You can see the entire valley from the parapets." His voice grows even softer, lulling her into a trance.

"My lady, would you help me take my gloves off? This button here at the wrist, it gives me trouble." He places his wrist in her hand.

[janebecomes]

"I would greatly enjoy that."

She smiles as she leans down to help him with the button, her fingers ink stained from hours of writing.

[vojvode]

He leans in to smell her hair, eyes watching the side of her face as she works the small buttons. He changes hands and lets her do the other wrist as well, letting her tug them off his hands.

"Thank you, my lady. You are -- too kind."

[janebecomes]

Jane is careful since taking off another's gloves is only slightly strange after helping her mother and sisters dress for many years.

Though she does find herself noting just how strong his wrists are, which makes her flush again.

Jane has never felt quite so at ease while also in anticipation of something that she cannot name.

[vojvode]

And somehow, in the shifting manner of dreams, it comes to pass that he is holding both her hands between his palms. His nails are exceptionally long for a man of her time, and they are filed to points.

He caresses her skin, up to her delicate wrists, again turning her hand to expose her palm. His skin is soft, almost too thin, but the musculature beneath is solid as granite. He moves closer to her, bending to place a soft kiss on the mound of her thumb.

"You are so very beautiful," he murmurs quietly, his beard tickling the soft skin of her inner wrist. "If I were your husband, I would never leave you alone. Not for a moment. Even if it were just to watch you across the room. The mere sight of you fills a man's heart to overflowing."

[janebecomes]

His touch is gentle and feels so right though it sends shivers through Jane that leave her feeling excited. The blush on her face deepens,

"I'm not sure what I would do with a husband who watched me so. Rather that he kept close to me and talked with me so I could share all my thoughts with him."

[vojvode]

"Oh you like to talk, do you? I would read to you, and you would tell me what you thought of my -- atrocious choices in poetry." There is a smile in his voice.

"I would read to you from the Song of Solomon, my dearest." His lips part and she feels the warm swipe of his tongue over her wrist, right over her pulse.

[janebecomes]

"I am a writer."

Then she catches her breath at the feel of his tongue and stumbles slightly with her next words,

"To be read to is one of the finest things in all the world."

[vojvode]

"Would you like me to read your words?"

He has insinuated himself close to her, one arm resting across her lap, the whole world closed down to just the two of them.

"It would be like holding you in my mouth, so close to my heart."

[janebecomes]

"I would be honored though I do not have any with me."

As she tilts her head to meet his gaze, she looks young and hopeful, no one has ever said before how much her writing is truly her as he does.

[vojvode]

"It is no matter," he whispers. The shadows draw even closer around them, and it is as if the candle in the window is the only light in the whole world. The library has disappeared entirely.

He is on his knees before her, and yet their gaze is almost eye to eye. He lets her have the high ground, looking up to her with an almost worshipful gaze.

"There are other things you can place on my tongue, beautiful one."

[janebecomes]

Jane seems to have no words to reply to him and leans towards him once more, feeling as if she has so much to learn,

"What may I give you?"

[vojvode]

His hand comes up to brush the back of his knuckles against her cheek. His touch is cool, but not unpleasant, and his breath smells of roses and the earth.

"Your words are the pulse of your heart, are they not?"

[janebecomes]

"Yes, they make me who I am."

His touch keeps all her thoughts on where his hand is and her words seem to take too much breath to speak.

[vojvode]

The velvet of his voice takes on an edge, and the weight of centuries. There is a dark hunger here, and he shares it with her.

"Give me the pulse of your heart, Jane. Give me -- life."

[janebecomes]

That weight terrifies and entrances her so she leans once more towards him, she wants to understand, to know some of that dangerous, sweet darkness,

"Yes."

[vojvode]

His touch trails down to her chin, lifts it to expose the column of her throat. He bends his head and breathes her in, his lips skimming over her skin.

"I will hold you in my mouth, Jane. And your words will be a part of me for all eternity."

Cradling her head, his grip at her waist tightens as he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into that sweet flesh.

[janebecomes]

She's not sure of anything other than how close he is and how time seems to have stopped, there is only him and now.

When his teeth break her skin, she gasps in pain.

[vojvode]

He moans softly, holding her tight, keeping her close as he strokes her hair. His mouth feels like a furnace against her skin, and there is nothing more intimate than this exchange. His jaw works, the serpent tearing at the wound to keep the blood flowing.

He pours pleasure into her mind, wraps her tight in the ecstasy he feels as her life flows down his throat. Balancing the savagery with sweetness, determined to see her undone if only for a moment.

[janebecomes]

Jane's never known such passion and all of her words are lost in gasps that are almost moans as her hair starts to work loose under his hands.

[vojvode]

He drinks as much as he can without threatening her life, listening carefully to the spaces between the beats of her heart. She is strong and young, and beautiful. And he knows, her words will not need him to attain immortality.

Just a few more moments, just a few more breaths.

He twists his hand tighter in her hair, wanting to hear the pleasure on her lips.

[janebecomes]

As his hand moves in her hair, one of the gasps finally becomes a moan as she presses herself to him and her dark hair falls around her face.

[vojvode]

His lips part from her skin with a gasp, his dark eyes shot through with crimson. He watches her face as she sees his true visage.

It is the last thing she sees before his hand passes over her eyes. "Sleep. Sleep and forget." The shadows close in tight, dragging her down into darkness.

The candle gutters and is extinguished.