Hi! This is my very first work, I hope you all enjoy!
*****
The night sky burned.
Great pillars of fire and smoke billowed upward, turning the black expanse into a treacherous murk. Siege weapons lay shattered and broken as they burned. The walls of the vampire queen's fortress were blackened with scorch marks, yet Lord Doyle's armies had made not a single wall cave. It was almost as if some dark and foul magic had been cast over the castle. Doyle would not have put it past the loathsome creature.
Soldiers cried out in the battle. Large, misshapen shadows rippled through the rising smoke. At the earliest opportunity, those evil beasts would plunge from the sky to attack Doyle's men.
Blood, entrails, and bodies made the earth a difficult surface to war upon.
Doyle came upon a vampire feeding on one of his soldiers. The creature raised its head and bared its jagged white teeth. Its head toppled and rolled away a sword-swing later.
Only one hundred or so men were alive. One hundred of his one thousand Doyle had marched on the fortress with. The last thing he wanted to do was call a retreat. But it was the only choice he had.
As he snatched up a battle horn from a fallen soldier, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
Doyle blew three short blasts on the horn before claws dug into his sides and he was heaved skyward. The horn slipped from his bloodied hands.
The talons of the vampire's preferred mount pierced through his armor. The cockatrice's dark scales reflected the fires below like dragonstone.
It's scraping shriek echoed over the distant cries and screams of the humans below. Those huge black wings possessed a thin membrane stretched over long, gnarled fingers. Through that membrane, Doyle could just spot the dim gleaming points of stars.
The cockatrice descended rapidly, its wings beating like the billows of a furnace. With an awful metallic screech, its claws touched the top of the castle wall.
Doyle was released from its grip. He felt blood trickle down his sides. Ignoring it, he drew his sword and struck at the cockatrice. If he was quick enough, he could take its head and then the vampire's on its back.
But the cockatrice was well trained. It's beak-like maw opened wide and clamped down on Doyle's sword as it passed its face. Even blinded by the metal eye-hoods, its aim was true. Doyle's sword bent nearly in half before the beast dropped it.
The vampire dismounted and whistled sharply.
The doors that were set in the towers of the wall burst wide. Vampires in slick black armor marched out and quickly surrounded Doyle.
He knew what would become of him if the vampires lead him within the castle.
The dagger in his boot was in his hand a moment later. The blade nicked his throat before it was wrenched away.
Cold hands encircled his arms and he was marched through those doors.
Down, down, they carried him. Doyle managed to free a hand occasionally, and satisfied himself by connecting blows with a vampire's eye or jaw, throat or mouth. By the time they entered the great hall, Doyle's knuckles were raw and bloody from scraping over fangs and catching on helmets.
He was carried through the empty throne room and behind the dais. The door they passed through was small, the stairs they now climbed were treacherously steep.
Doyle succeeded in knocking one of his captors down those stairs. The clangs of metal striking stone echoed.
A set of doors was thrown open and the light from a dozen sconces burned his eyes.
His body collided with the flagstone floor. A pair of pale, dainty feet stood mere inches from his gaze.
"The Lord Doyle, as asked, your majesty." One of the vampires said.
The vampire queen. Doyle's body tensed. This was his chance. He could end this gods-forsaken war right here, right now.
"Be on your way, Xerxes. Do what you will with the remaining human soldiers." Her voice was a honeyed murmur that toyed with his senses. Those feet took one step forward.
There was the sound of metal on metal. "Yes, your majesty." The doors were closed.
Doyle curled in on himself to reach his other hidden blade.
The pale feet padded closer. Red skirts with the transparency of dragonfly wings ghosted around her ankles and trailed after her steps.
Doyle sprang to his feet and had his hand wrapped round her slim neck a moment later. The silvery blade drew a line of dark scarlet. The blood beaded and coated the knife.
Doyle's hand squeezed tightly around the delicate column of the vampire queen's throat. Her skin was flawless and near as pale as the moon. Her lips were as red as her blood and sinfully full. Eyes as black as night captured his gaze.
Her hair was a beautiful curtain of pale blonde, so light it was almost white. With her dark lips and eyes, it made her seem like some exotic beauty.
Doyle's heart thudded in his chest as the queen smiled despite his strangling hands.
Then, everything was a blur.
His knife was knocked from his fingers and his helmet was wrenched off. Something warm and soft settled over his groin.
When his eyes focused, Doyle saw the vampire perched over him. Her lower half was pressed tightly against his. He could feel the heat of her through the thin gown she wore.
A gown that was so thin, he could plainly see her body beneath it.
He swallowed before shaking his head sharply. He was here to kill her! To end this war! Countless human lives depended upon this!
Doyle struggled against her small hands. His groin rubbed ceaselessly against her femininity. A breathless gasp left her lips as she bent her head down close to his.
"Oh, my Lord Doyle. I've heard so much about your campaigns." One of her slender hands encircled his throat as his had hers. He gasped for air. His breastplate, mail, and hauberk were stripped away. His vision blackened at the edges before her hand loosened slightly.
Doyle choked in precious air.
"I heard that you were nearly as ruthless and bloodthirsty as a vampire." Her fingers tightened and his shirt was ripped away, his boots yanked off after his leg armor.
He gasped in air again.
The vampire queen's eyes glittered in the light of the sconces. Her lips parted around eerily pointed teeth as she smiled. "I must say, you did put up quite the fight." She caressed her throat, the bruises were already fading. "I'm tempted to let you go so that we may spar."
Her hips ground down on his groin. "The very idea excites me so, Doyle."
"I'll kill you," He managed to spit the words from between clenched teeth.
Her laugh was just as drugging as her voice. That long flaxen hair tickled his face as she leaned forward. Her breasts swayed beneath her gown. "I'd like to see you attempt to, my Lord."
Suddenly, her hands were gone.
Doyle scrambled to his feet. Something hot and wet wound up his side, over the gashes the cockatrice's talons had left. He spun, fist flying through the air.
The queen licked her reddened lips. "Your blood is exquisite. I do believe I chose well when I demanded that you be brought to me instead of drained on the field."
Doyle launched himself at her. His fist connected with her ribs. She gave a surprised mewl before ducking under his arm again.
"Very good, my lord." Her tongue touched the wounds on his other side. But Doyle was faster this time.
The queen's head knocked against the stone wall with a loud sound. Her lips parted around a laugh. "Oh, yes. I do believe I'll have fun with you, my lord."
It was all the warning he had before his back slammed into the mahogany headboard of the massive bed in the center of her chambers.
She straddled his hips again and lowered her hips until he felt the heat of her most secret parts again.
"Oh, my, Doyle. Fighting excites you, too, hmm?" Her delight was palpable as she rubbed herself against his rapidly hardening shaft.
Doyle clenched his teeth hard and attempted to strike her again.
She caught his wrist easily and tsked at him. Her eyes caught the light of the flames. "Oh, Doyle, I thought we were going to get to play before I continued?" Mock hurt radiated from her voice.
Doyle bucked underneath her weight. It only served to arouse him even more. Sweat beaded on his brow as the queen caged his wrists in one hand and pressed them above his head.
Her head canted to the side and more of her hair tickled over his bare chest. "Oh, my lord, you seem to be liking all this very much." Her hips swiveled over his and he fought the urge to close his eyes.
"What are you going to do, vampire? Kill me?" His voice was a rough whisper.
She laughed again. "No, foolish man. I'm going to turn you."
Doyle's blood ran cold as she stopped her gentle riding of his hips.
She leaned even closer. Her breath gusted over his face as her eyes trapped his. "And my name is Nila. It's the one you'll be yelling quite a bit tonight."
"I'll die before you turn me."
Nila laughed again and pressed her lips against his. They were soft as silk and on instinct, he opened his mouth to her. Her tongue swept in, hot and sinful.
Surely there was some drug in his blood or in her breath. That was the only explanation for the unnatural feelings that flooded Doyle's body.
