Esther used to be Selin, a servant in one of the grand wooden yalis perched on the forested banks of the Bos-phorus. As the Ottoman empire dwindled, her days were spent fetching and carrying. Billy's were spent sleeping, protected from the sun in the shuttered apartments of Kasim Nadir, his mentor and vampire guide, and a man of immense cruelty.
Billy didn't yet know he was a snow vampire. Restless and alone, he'd left his home of Saxony in Eastern Europe, where he'd been a minor noble, yearning for peace and companionship. He'd had no understanding of the force that had bitten and changed him. A sailor, that was all he knew. He hadn't really clicked with the Carpathian vampires he'd met and, having learned how the Turks had suffered at the hands of Vlad the Impaler, he'd headed east, wondering if the answer lay in the land of Vlad's enemy. It would be decades before Billy understood his power, and found the vampire line to which he belonged.
Constantinople enchanted him. It was a magical city, a place of terrible beauty founded on lust, poetry and ruthlessness. Nadir, a man as brutal as the country that reared him, had been delighted to take Billy under his wing. Together, they'd stalked the city's alleyways and gardens, lurked in the shadows of mosques, or sucked on hookahs, Billy's blond hair hidden by a turban. Sometimes, they'd prowl along the river's tree-dense shoreline, feasting on victims in the dappled moonlight of leafy darkness. 'Take him,' Nadir would command. Or, 'Ignore the peasant, her skin looks coarse.'
But when Billy saw Selin, everything changed. In the twilit dusk, she sat alone by the Bosphorus, pale feet trailing in the water. Daringly, she'd pushed back her veils, revealing lush black curls, a gentle face and a slender neck of exquisite Slavic pallor. Since arriving in Turkey, Billy had seen little more of its women than their shy eyes darting above yashmaks.
'Take her,' ordered Nadir.
After watching her for several more seconds, Billy turned to Nadir. 'No,' he said, calm and clear.
It was Billy's first challenge. Nadir, as swarthy-skinned as the peasants he so disdained, cocked an eyebrow, his thin sensual lips twisting in amusement.
'Wilhelm,' he drawled. 'You are in love.'
For the next few months, it seemed the woman was always there on their night-time wanderings. Nadir had a knack of happening to pass by her as she bathed her feet; braided her hair by a window; filled a pitcher from a fountain or picked flowers from a garden. From the richness of her dress, it was clear she was a servant of some standing or a favourite in the house. Billy didn't care to imagine why.
Once, the two vampires had stood behind a marble pillar of a lantern-lit garden and had seen the girl prick herself on a rose thorn. She'd frowned, and the jewels dangling from the scarf around her head had twinkled in the soft light. Billy trained his vision on her thumb, watching her squeeze the tip to force a bead of blood to the surface. The droplet gleamed like a ruby, then Selin, lowering her yashmak, had licked it clean, her sweet little tongue darting out.
Billy's cock had pulsed harder, growing fast. He wanted to leap forward and take her, to sink his teeth into her throat, imagining how her neck would be as soft as kid leather. And at the same time he wanted to sink his cock into her cunt and fuck her until she begged for mercy. He wanted to force himself into her mouth, ramming until her eyes brimmed with tears. He wanted to corrupt her to wantonness so she'd be on her knees, veils in tatters, begging for his dick. In short, he wanted to take her beauty apart because nothing in the world was hotter than virtue and perfection debased.
'You are still saying no?' drawled Nadir, and somehow Billy was.
But Nadir was too clever for Billy. 'You're a vampire, Wilhelm, don't fight it,' he would say.
If Billy had been in control of his lusts, he could have fucked and bitten her. He longed to drink her orgasm and have her pure, private ecstasy coursing through his veins. But he didn't trust himself to quit after a nibble because he also longed to feel the last pulse of her life gliding down his throat.
'Death is life to us,' Nadir would say. 'She's nothing, just a pretty girl. If you kill her, what of it? There'll be more trinkets. You have immortality ahead of you.'
Billy began to listen and defer to Nadir as he did on all matters vampiric. They were, after all, a feeding partnership, and so it was that one dark cloudless night they decided to risk it. It would be a test of Billy's restraint. 'Feed wisely,' advised Nadir. 'She'll forget everything, then we can have her again and again. Abduct her and bring her to my apartments. I'll await you in the courtyard.'
Had Billy been more adept and less eager, he might have captured her by hypnotising her into submission. But he was impatient, horny and nervous, and when he saw her in her usual spot by the water's edge, he stole up behind her and clamped a hand to her veiled mouth. She squealed and writhed, her breath hot through the fabric, her feet thrashing in the water like caught fish. Billy was as strong as three men, and she presented him with no problems, only pleasures.
He ought to have carried her straight back to Nadir's yali but her beauty, the scent of her skin, and her struggles quite undid him. On the grassy slope, he'd tugged her yashmak free, pinned down her arms down and forced a kiss onto her lips, tasting her moans of protest and feeling her body surge and squirm. He cupped a hand between her legs, exploring her through layers of clothing with a crudeness that later shamed him. When he drew back, she was almost still, gazing up with stunned eyes and a sluttish open mouth that so clearly wanted more.
It was all down to her. He hadn't even tried to put her under his vampire spell.
Billy knew enough of the language to ask the girl her name.
'Selin,' she said, making the word sound like a gift.
By the time he'd got her to Nadir's courtyard, she'd sobered somewhat, and was a woman battling with the agonies of wanting it and not, outraged to have been kidnapped and yet thrilled to have been transported.
Urged on by Billy, she stumbled to stand before Nadir where he reclined on a divan spread with cushions, looking every inch the cynical old roué that he was. His black hair, freed from his turban, hung in a ponytail over one shoulders and his naked torso, spare and mahogany dark, was slashed with a silver scar, jagged like a flash of lightening.
Stone pillars edged the courtyard, and the walls gleamed with tiles of Iznik blue and turquoise, Koranic calligraphy forming a high elegant border. A plane tree dominated one corner and the air was heady with perfumes of night-scented flowers. A peacock wandered idly behind a row of pillars, its closed feathers trailing like an iridescent gown, and moths fluttered around copper lanterns. At the centre stood a marble fountain, burbling gently.
'Show her to me,' said Nadir. On the floor by Nadir's divan stood an empty goblet and Billy guessed he would want to fill it with blood.
Selin, standing before the divan, gave a pettish wriggle of protest as Billy began undressing her. He didn't touch her once, yet when her breasts were bared and she was in nothing but baggy shalwar and slippers, she was whimpering and breathless, her spine arching as she thrust herself forwards, greedy for a touch.
Nadir smiled and Billy, wanting to please his mentor, toyed with the girl's nipples, humiliating her by rousing a lust she'd rather hide. He traced his fingers over her skin, skimming beneath her breasts, and traced swirls on her back. Selin closed her eyes, flushing with shame, and her conflict turned Billy on all the more.
'She's a natural,' said Nadir. 'She'd do well at the harem. Or is that where you've come from pretty maid? A concubine cast out onto the street for being over fond of her role?'
'I'm no concubine,' breathed Selin, seemingly oblivious to the lusty sway of her hips.
'Show her your prick,' said Nadir. 'Let's see how she fares.'
But Billy was ahead of him. He had one of Selin's scarves in his hands and he tore it in two, leaving himself with a length of cloth perfect for binding limbs. He clasped her hands behind her back, and she made no complaint, only murmurs of delight, as he bound her. When Billy raised his brocade kaftan and freed his big cock, her mouth opened hungrily. She was falling under his influence.
Billy, fisting his erection, stepped back. 'Come on, then,' he breathed. 'Reach for it.'
It made Nadir laugh, and that pleased Billy. Selin fell to her knees and shuffled forwards, mouth gaping like a baby bird's, chasing his length.
'Please,' she begged. 'Please, efendim.'
Efendim. My master.
The word blew Billy's mind. He didn't deserve the epithet, not a bit of it, but it thrilled him she was horny enough to degrade herself by using it. And so he gave her what she wanted. She swallowed him, her head tipping back as he speared her throat, her neck arcing, muscles opening to encompass his cock.
'Hot little wench,' said Nadir. 'Send her this way when you're done.'
Selin was in Billy's power, rapt and stripped of inhibitions, and she didn't seem to care that another man watched. Centuries later, Billy could still summon up tactile memories of his cock sliding in the warm wet cave of her mouth, her lips slipping on him, her tongue dancing, and that undeserved word still echoing: efendim.
Cynics might call it a skilled blowjob, but Billy knew it was love. And he had a lot more love to give. He withdrew from her, and pulled her to her feet, clasping her around the waist and bending to suck on her small hard-tipped breasts. Her black hair streamed towards the floor and her pale torso arced deliriously, her groin thrusting at his muscled thigh.
'Be careful with her,' warned Nadir but Billy hardly heard.
He stripped off his upper garments and, from the scabbard belted at his waist, withdrew his kilij, a short sword with a nasty curved blade. Selin made little protest as he sliced at her shalwar, leaving her naked save for a jewel around her ankle and bangles around her wrist. Her nudity was creamy white and, as her religion dictated, the hair of her mons and armpits was shorn.
Metal clanked on stone as Billy let his knife fall. With easy strength, he carried the woman to the fountain where he draped her on the broad marble rim. She steadied herself, arms bound behind her back, and spread her legs wide, showing him the plump groove that glinted between her thighs. She really was a work of art, and the urge to defile her by reducing her to lewd, loose desire thrilled and repulsed. Thrilled, mainly. Billy was as hard as rock.
She tilted her hips to him, head rolling from side to side, splayed for him like some dissolute water nymph. Her black hair farmed out into the pool, undulating with the low bubbles, and sheets of water clung to the fountain's marble tiers, shimmering in the lantern-lit courtyard.
Billy dropped to his knees and fastened his mouth onto her pretty pink cunt. She tasted divine, as salty as the oceans, and he suckled and licked, hearing her bleats of pleasure surge and babble with the murmurings of the fountain.
The urge to feed was strong, and when she came, pushing tremors of ecstasy against his mouth, Billy was at his limit. He hurried out of his shalwar, watching the girl spread her legs like a harlot. Bending over her, he positioned himself, and her lipped entrance was a kiss melting on the dome of his cock. She cried out as he drove in deep, and she kept on crying as he plunged over and over, losing himself in her soft supple wetness.
He wanted to time his bite, fearing he might get carried away if he went in too soon. He recalled Nadir's words: Feed wisely and we can have her again and again. But the more she gasped, the more her beautiful little pussy seemed to liquefy around his cock, and the more impossible moderation began to seem. He wanted to sink his teeth into her neck and suck so hard the force would gash her skin. Nadir intervened, his motives far from altruistic, although in the end, it made no difference.
Nadir had Billy's dagger. He stood by them, levelling the curved blade at the side of the woman's neck. 'Do you want it?' Nadir asked Selin.
Selin didn't reply except to gasp and Billy gave her a series of slow juicy thrusts, each one jolting her lily-white body. 'Say it,' he snarled. 'Say you want me.'
'Don't be shy,' added Nadir. 'It's quite apparent you do and we haven't got all night.'
'Yes,' gasped Selin. 'Yes, I want you.'
Nadir chuckled. With a careful stroke, he whisked the blade across her neck. A thin line of blood seeped to the surface.
'Drink, don't bite,' he warned, and Billy fell on her neck, closing his mouth over the wound that was as fine and neat as a paper cut. Her blood trickled onto his tongue, sweet, warm and inadequate. Billy sucked harder, edging his tongue into the slit, widening it. He was rewarded by a thicker flow of blood. As he drank, he pounded into her, and when he used his fingers on her, he could taste the nearness of her orgasm.
And then she was coming, coming so hard that Billy was quite carried away. Her muscles quivered around his cock and her pleasure poured into his throat. Billy had never felt anything like it. There'd been other women, plenty of them, but Selin had a quality that touched some deeper part of him. He wanted more of her and he wormed his tongue further into her pulsing gash. Before he knew it, he'd bitten and her blood was spilling in hot coppery torrents.
She tasted good, unbearably good, meatier and richer than any blood he'd known. He drank deeply, telling himself he could stop any moment, could and would. In a couple of hours, her wound would heal and there'd be nothing to see except a dark-crimson bruise, a love bite. He gulped, feeling her orgasm course through him before it faded to a gentle throb. He continued to drink. The point at which he must stop kept eluding him. It was always a few seconds ahead.
'Stop it,' snapped Nadir. 'You're going to kill the bitch.'
Billy hardly heard. He was chasing a new pulse, the pulse of Selin's ebbing heartbeat. He was greedy for her death, and then a new thought struck him: no need! He would make her a vampire. He would drain her to near death then feed her with his own life. They'd be together forever and his quest for self-knowledge would be over.
Yes! She would be his for eternity. Her blood poured fast, spilling from the edges of his mouth, and then he started to come as he started to feel it: the slow thud of her heart as he took her closer to the edge. Some died in quick surrender. Others clung on and when they did, their death was all the sweeter.
Selin was a fighter. As Billy came inside her, her heartbeat drummed in his veins, a primitive beat that tugged at a dark need inside, feeding him with the bliss of stolen life as he lost himself to a mad, rapturous coming. And then the rhythm grew slower and the final pulses were fading as Billy gasped for breath, knocked by the force of his climax. He raised his head. Now was the moment. Now he would make her his.
He withdrew and Selin's head lolled back, her blood slicking on the fountain's rim, spilling into the water and tinting it pink. Reflected lantern light shattered on the surface and glistened on wet stone. Billy snatched up his kilij from the floor and slashed his wrist. His blood spurted then pumped and he cupped Selin's head, pressing his slit veins to her lips.
She didn't drink.
'Drink!' commanded Billy.
There was nothing. His blood tumbled over her lips.
She would find it soon. Any moment now.
Billy, though he'd never managed it himself, had seen other vampires turn people. Their victims would seem comatose until something stirred them and they'd latch on.
But Selin had lost a lot of blood. The fountain was very pink, her blood and his. Rose-coloured water cascaded down the marble tiers. By Selin's head, threads of crimson spooled and wriggled in the bubbling depths.
'Drink!' he cried again, but still she didn't take. Her mouth was dead, and her flesh was cold and grey.
Panicking, he turned to Nadir. 'Help me,' he pleaded. 'I'm losing her.'
Nadir was composed and still, lounging on his cushioned divan. The scar across his torso glinted like a silvery line of fat in mutton. 'Too late,' he said. 'She's dead.'
'No,' breathed Billy, and he dunked Selin's head in the water, clutching her weedy hair, lifting and dunking in a bid to revive her.
The fountain turned a deeper pink, bubbling like a vat of borscht.
'Wake up!' yelled Billy.
From the tiered stem of the fountain, falling water formed curtains of delicate shimmering pink.
'She's dead,' repeated Nadir. 'I knew this would happen. You lack self-control.'
Billy hauled up Selin's sodden body and clutched her to his chest, blood and water running in rivulets over his skin. She was limp and heavy, and her pulse was gone.
From Billy's mouth came a noise that seemed not to belong to him. He tipped his head back, seeing a sky sprayed with stars, and howled like a dog in distress. He hadn't known he was capable of such a sound but then he'd never felt such wrenching, bottomless pain before. He'd killed her. She was dead. He'd destroyed the creature he loved.
Sobbing, he glared at Nadir. 'You could have stopped me! Or helped me. You could have saved her. Made her a
vampire.'
Selin's head lay against Billy's shoulder and he stroked her hair, tender and comforting as if she might feel the caress.
Nadir shrugged. 'I could have done, yes.'
'But you didn't,' accused Billy. 'You didn't.'
'No,' said Nadir smoothly. 'The best lessons are learnt the hard way. The fountain looks so pretty in pink, don't you find?'