Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

CAPTURED© (an excerpt from Mists of Eternity)

Posted: Monday, 30 April, 2012 by deacongray in Fiction

CAPTURED©  (an excerpt from Mists of Eternity) by Anya Ligeia Rakoczy 4/30/2012

A highly trained operative in the elite paramilitary Supernatural Task Force, Lydia was no stranger to fear. Fear honed the senses and sharpened the mind—and fear was no match for the goal, the quest that drove her onward: to bring in the elusive master vampire, Diego Vespertillo. Years of training, in which her male colleagues passed her in promotions and honors had enforced her grim determination for the mission. Success tonight would mean her reputation as an elite slayer was assured for all time.

Tracking Diego to his lair in the Sangre de Cristo mountains of Colorado had been an operation conducted over many nights. And now she had found it: a vast stone mansion built into the side of the Mount of the Holy Cross. The irony made her smile.

Prowling the foundation of the mansion—castle, more like—she found a casement window with a rusty latch and pulled it open. Whispering a hasty Act of Contrition, habit of a long-forgotten childhood faith, she steeled herself to enter. This night either she would prevail or die.

Lydia landed on her feet in the basement of the vast stone mansion. Quickly, she used the electronic device in the palm of her metal gauntlet to disarm the contact before it could set off the alarm.

Scanning the room, she checked her weapons and moved silently to the dimly lit steps. Crossbow at the ready, she reached the top step … and gasped. Well over six feet tall, in leathers and a black silk shirt, eyes like red hot coals, and fangs bared:  Diego Vespertillo, nine-hundred-year old Master of the Americas. The deadliest vampire on earth.

In a flash, he was on her, knocking the crossbow from her grasp. It tumbled down the stone steps, splintering into pieces as he pinned her wrists to the wall.

“Dioses de la Sangre,” the master vampire growled, his glowing eyes raking her curves. “The fools send a female to take my head?”

Lydia’s eyes met his and she drew a quick breath. This male radiated a raw, compelling power even greater than the legends had foretold … Showing any sign of weakness would be fatal. Willing herself to stop trembling, she summoned her courage and lifted her chin in defiance. “The SIA always sends their best.”

Diego released his hold on the female soldier’s wrists and chuckled, low in his throat. “Do you say so, my little one? Very well. Show me what a deadly assassinista you are.”

Avoiding the master vampire’s eyes, Lydia counted the weapons concealed about her body, reassuring herself they were all in working order. Years of training made the inventory a litany which calmed her …

Suddenly, the knives, guns, vials of holy water, and stakes flew from their pockets and holsters, summoned by Diego.

“Gracias, mi hijita,” he said, softly. “You have saved me the trouble of searching for these crude tools you bring into my home. Has no one ever told you, the mind itself is a double-edged sword?”

A chilly wind made Lydia’s eyes widen. All on their own, her shirt unbuttoned itself. She clutched it, holding it closed. This male had powers beyond the ones in the training grimoires. All by itself, her head turned, exposing the soft ivory skin of her neck to his lengthened fangs.

Diego lifted a stray tendril of golden hair from her flushed cheek and laughed softly. “You have only had a taste of my powers, little one. But you will feel them all, by the dark gods, before the dawn. This I promise you.”

He sent all eight of his senses into her body and mind, probing. What the female lacked in size and strength she made up for in the green fire flashing from her eyes. She projected fierce resistance, born of her military training, and courage. She had the heart of a lioness. Admiration made him pause.

Her rapid heart rate and breathing told him her coolness was an act … as did her scent, saturated with primal fear, and the unmistakable musk of her arousal. 

Dios mio, but you are lovely. Diego’s eyes narrowed. Slayer and trained assassin you may be; female are you also. You should be mine.

He took a step back. Dimming the glow in his eyes and retracting his talons, he withdrew into stillness and focused on her. 

With his will alone, Diego caressed her skin lightly, all over her luscious body. He heard her gasp, and smiled. Into her mind he spoke silent words, words as soft as his touch on her: 

Si, querida. Open yourself. Feel me.


My darling,

It has been ages since you came to visit. I have missed your company, longed for it. No one else comes to visit any longer; I rely upon you for news of the outside world. It just broke my heart to see you so sad at our last visit. I am not sure why you feel the need to keep company with that silly woman. I know; you don’t want to hear it, however I must be honest with you. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning, how could I ever consider less than full honesty? Yes, she is your mother, but look at the lengths she will go to, just to keep us apart. She’s a cruel beast of a woman. Always taunting you, cutting you down.

It’s very late now; well past my bedtime. I just can’t sleep. You used to call me every night before bed. I don’t think I’m able to sleep more than an hour or two without hearing your voice. Can you keep a secret? I think that someone is putting something in my evening tea to make me sleep because I always wake up in a fog, no memories from the night before. It worries me.

Everything is all jumbled up inside me, tearing me apart. You and Richard are no longer friends? Or is Richard dead? I just cannot seem to remember anything. There is a pain so deep within my heart that I am afraid I might scream from the weight of it all.

The others tell me you haven’t been to see me since the accident. Why do they say that? Your visits are fewer and further between, but I just know that we walked down to the pond and had a picnic last month. Oh Richard, why haven’t you been back since then? I beg of you; please call me. I need to sleep peacefully, just once. I need to hear your voice. I miss you so.

At your side forever,


Posted: Saturday, 17 December, 2011 by deacongray in Fiction
Tags: ,

The gentle breeze lifted the sheer curtains through the open window. Outside, the denizens of the night chirped a gleeful chorus. Bright moonlight lit the room vaguely. Here, a smattering of color marking the ever-watchful icon of society. There, a glow reflected off the cheval mirror. The huge bed took up most of one wall – good thing the room was so long. Black netting swayed softly, whispering its’ lullaby to the night.


In the bed, black curls upon the stark white pillowcase. Porcelain skin, encased in luscious red, a silent scream against the silky black sheets. Small hands, fisted at her sides. Lips, slightly parted, dart of a tongue – hint of a smile. Covers kicked back to reveal slim ankles, long legs, slightly flared hips, flat stomach.


Into the room, a mist. Blur one moment, man the next. Tall and lean, yet muscular. Hair so dark it was almost blue. Violent black eyes that calmed at the sight of her. Naked, yes – gloriously naked. Long tapered fingers, at the end of powerful arms, extended toward the bed; a silent plea. Dark hair spattered across deeply tanned skin, tapering down toward his groin, proving he was all man. Lust burned in his eyes, reflected in the heat shimmering from his body.


The silence was deafening, the passion thick, sounds of the night had slowly faded, trapping them in a seeming vacuum. Somewhere, in the deep recess of his mind, he realized that he could hear a loud drum beating. With a start, he recognized it as his heart, in tempo with the song of her blood.

Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, signaling her wakening. Awareness came in the form of a small gasp, her soft lips forming a neat ‘O’. Yellow eyes widened in surprise. Surprise which quickly turned as her body temperature changed to match his. Arousal quickened her breath ’til it threatened to choke her.


Slowly, seductively, he stalked across the plus black carpet to the bed. Sitting up now, she reached out to him with fragile arms. Upon reaching the bed, he suddenly stopped. The barest hint of fangs behind partially open lips. A smirk perhaps? From nowhere, wrist cuffs and a blindfold; both leather, both supple with age. Willingly, almost subserviantly, she held out small wrists , skin glistening invitingly.


Tied now, heart racing, hair tumbling wildly, she could feel the heat spread between her legs. Breath quickening once more, she tugged, testing her restraints. Ah, but he was good. There was room to maneuver so she wouldn’t chaff her perfect skin, but they weren’t coming off until he said so. The sensation of the loss of sight and movement added to the seduction.


He pressed his lips to hers, a sweet kiss from her lover. He tasted of claret, with just a hint of cigar. He smelled of the woods from whence he came – pine and cedar mixing enticingly. His hand pressed against her full breast, teasing her nipples through red silk. Callused fingers sent shivers down her spine as he traced the veins along her arms. Slowly, he pulled down her negligée, touching, caressing, kissing every bit of skin he lay bare.

One hand slipped down to caress the flesh of her abdomen. Even in the darkness created by the netting, he could see the pattern of ink tattooed across pale flesh. Work roughened hands outlined the scorpion reverently, worshipping her with every touch.

After what seemed an eternity, his mouth left its exploration of her breasts, moving down. By now, the nightgown is but a memory; pooled on the floor at the foot of the bed. The night air is chill against flesh seared by his tongue.

An audible gasp as his finger reaches the center of her being. Soft tugs interspersed with a gentle circling motion – her nub hardened, engorged. Another finger probed the dampness slightly lower. Back arched, head back, stars in her eyes, she moaned; moving against his roving hand.

Knowing she was ready, he thrust inside her. Snug fit as his largeness reached further inside than any before. Hips arched to meet his every push. Low, guttural screams as she reached heaven again.

Twice, that was good. He had her where he wanted her. The pace slowed then. He switched tactics. With one final thrust, leaving her on the edge – whimpering, begging. Slick traces down as his tongue moved to the place he’d just left. Flicking and lapping, tasting the honey of her juices. Right on the verge himself, he reared back and entered her one last time as they were swept away.

After, she dozed in his arms, barely aware when he got up and padded to the open patio door. With catlike grace he traversed the dark floor; the moon had passed behind dark clouds now. There was the mist again – and he was no more.

© Mikyla Abigor, 2001