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Blood Ties

By Missy Lyons


Priscilla had been called by many names over the centuries: immortal, monster, killer, vampire, and they are all true. Only once had someone called her a dark angel, mistaking her beauty for something less than deadly. She hates being a killer, she hates the dark monster that she has become, but most of all she hates the man that made her what she is today. That is why she vows revenge at all costs.

William Blackmore has made many mistakes over his lifetime, but making Priscilla a vampire is not one of them. He regrets not being a better man, and so much more in his life.

Bound by blood, these two are connected body and soul. Blood Ties are not meant to be broken. Blood Ties run deeper than just being family or friends. Blood ties are ties that bind them for life.



May 3, 1777

Salem, Massachusetts

That night had started with such hope and with no hint of the darkness that would invade Priscilla's life. She had met him at a dance. With his blue eyes and his smooth voice, he had enraptured her from his very first words. She could even remember what he said to her.

"I have met many beauties, but you rival the sun for the heat you make me feel." If only she had recognized the line and him for the tomcat he was. He was a cad, but she fell for his lines, hook, line and sinker.. "Would you care to dance with an old man and make his night complete?"

"Thank you. I would be honored to, kind sir." She answered in ignorant bliss, willing to melt under his hands. He was too handsome to resist. Even in his forties, he still looked young, for the years had been kind to him. He wore a moustache that added a rugged manliness to his otherwise refined fašade. She offered her body and her heart to him that night, and would have been willing to give up more to be seen on his arm. Any apprehension she felt was soon lifted by his reassuring words and his calming touch.

Lord, his eyes. Who had eyes so blue? His eyes crinkled up at the corners, from years of laughing, and she could tell he had a kind heart. His eyes caught hers in a sea of passion, captivating her with his spirit, touching her somewhere near her soul.

His hand moved to her side, holding her apart from him, and yet so close. The music swept them up in a fluid dance, matching the rhythm with each step. His gaze locked with hers and she felt an almost hypnotic pull to him. Shyly, she turned her eyes away, letting the silence grow between them.

"What are you thinking right now?" His voice interrupted her thoughts and was a light whisper in her ears.

"I don't know. I was thinking about the music," her eyes glanced warily back up at him, "and why a man such as yourself would pay attention to someone as young and inexperienced in the world as me."

"You are every bit the southern belle, charming, beautiful, and hospitable." He smiled, disarming her, "What do you mean a man such as myself?"

"You know, you are just so much older and wiser." His expression did nothing to give away the underlying emotions he was feeling. ". I just don't feel like I belong here. You should be dancing with another girl. I am not titled or one born into money. I am not anything that should attract a man with such good breeding as you. I am a gentlewoman, but I am not titled, and I am no irresistible beauty." Priscilla nodded to the people surrounding the dance floor. "There are many other ladies who are twice as beautiful and have the advantages of good breeding and money who would vie for your attentions."

"Yet you are here and the one on my arm. I don't need a woman's money. I have enough of my own." She curtsied with the last step of the dance and he stepped back, bowing to her. He took her by the arm, gently guiding her to the side of the room. It was no more than was allowed a stranger, but it felt friendly and inviting. It felt good to have his attention on her. He could be choosing any one of the other women in the room, but he chose her. "I like how you feel on my arm. Would you care to join me for a walk onto the veranda?"

"I can't." His expression hardened at her reply and she stammered to explain, "Oh, it's not that I don't want to. I have three others on my dance card. I cannot just spend the entire evening with you. It wouldn't be proper."

"Then afterwards, meet me in the gardens so we can talk more."

"I really shouldn't." She began to pull away, but he held her hand.

"But you want to."

It was shocking that he could read her so well. "I do want to," she whispered back to him.

"And if you don't come, you will never know if it was meant to be more."


"Much, much more." His smooth voice rumbled, sending chills across her skin. The promise she heard in it raised goose bumps on her fine white flesh. "I wonder if you are the one I was meant to spend a lifetime with, mon cherie. We spend a lifetime looking for our mate, and when we find them sometimes it is only by chance we know them. So go dance with your other men, if you must, but think of me while you dance."

He gave a bow over her hand, drawing out the tension, cradling her hand in his and lifting it gently to his mouth. She felt the heat and the gentleness of his lips grace her knuckles with a kiss, sweeping over her skin in the lightest of touches. Warmth spread out through her chest as he let her hand go.

She had done just as he asked. She danced and flirted as society demanded of her, but with every step she thought of him. She thought of the way he kissed her hand, the way his words had left her warm and flushed. She thought of how much she had enjoyed his touch and how much she wanted to go see him again. She wanted to know more about the mysterious and handsome man. It wasn't ladylike at all to go out unescorted and to meet a man alone like that. It was simply scandalous. She knew the consequences and the risks she would be taking. Good girls did not go see men alone. Good girls didn't venture into the shadows of the night with strange men. Still there was something alluring and enticing about the stranger she couldn't resist.

If only she had resisted his charms that night, things would have been so different. She had been so young and na´ve. She did not grasp what it was she risked when she ventured out that night to see him once more.
* * * *

Priscilla was spellbound by the couple hidden in the gardens. She had not meant to intrude, but when she heard the throaty moans coming from behind the bushes, she couldn't help but peek.

A kiss would be reckless, but surely what this couple was doing was forbidden. She recognized the gentleman as Mr. Carmichael. He owned a plantation a few miles to the south, but what was shocking was that it was not his wife that joined him in the gardens, it was some other woman. A brazen woman that had her head thrown back, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck. She held his head to her breast as a mother would hold a child to her bosom, and he sucked hungrily, groaning in the back of his throat.

Priscilla had never seen anything like this. Heat spread through her body as she watched the couple in their secret indulgence.

The red-headed woman giggled as the man lay her down on the grass. He threw her skirts up over her head and revealed the woman was wearing no undergarments. Priscilla gasped and shoved her fist in her mouth to prevent herself from uttering a sound, but was still unable to tear herself away from the couple even though she felt she should not be watching this scandalous moment.

The man kneeled between her legs and bent down as if he was feeding on her most intimate parts. His tongue moved between her legs savoring the strange woman's taste and smell as her face contorted in pleasure. She held onto his head, running her hands through his hair and breathing heavily.

Priscilla had seen the horses and cows in the field rutting. Would this be the same? Would he mount her back and thrust into her while she kneeled before him and took all of him inside of her, patiently waiting for it to end? She watched as he stood up and unbuckled his belt and undid the tops of his pants, just enough to bare his manhood. Straight and hard it burst forward from the confines of his pants. He knelt over her body, holding his cock before lunging into the woman, his body working in fierce motion as he plunged in and out, over and over, both of them grunting and working into a frenzy.

Priscilla's hand went to her throat as she felt the arousal of her own body. It was an unwelcome feeling that came from inside of her. Wetness saturated her undergarments. The unfamiliar smell of sex permeated the air. It was nearly too much for her to bear. When the couple climaxed, Priscilla cried out in alarm. "Oh, my god."

The woman had bit down on the man's neck, hard enough to break the skin. Blood came out from beneath her mouth. Suddenly the woman turned, as if she heard Priscilla call out from behind the bush. She smiled a Mona Lisa smile, as if she knew she had been watched all along.

Priscilla didn't want a confrontation, and she moved to retreat away further into the gardens, but was surprised when William was there in front of her.

Priscilla's mind raced with what she had just witnessed. They had been making love. A kiss was all she thought she would be giving William tonight when she agreed to meet him here. Would he expect her to do all that she had just witnessed? Would he want to taste her inside? She should have known he did not lure her out into the gardens to talk.