THE CRAVING

Chapter Four.

Cause and Effect

The fog rolled in, covering the stone floor, curling about her high arched feet and delicate ankles as she
stood in the frame which lead out onto the bedroom's balcony. Both doors were open wide. It was pre dawn
and still dark. She stood, staring into the murky rain forest which lay before the palace but could not see
man or beast. At least, not with her eyes. However, her newly sensitized rationale told Marguerite what
was out there - waiting to be seized - and when she had hold of it, whatever it was, she would never let it go.

"Marguerite."

She heard him from the bed and, without seeing him, without turning one iota in his direction, knew his
attention was directed entirely on her and only her. Until now Marguerite never truly knew the depth of
power she had over Lord John Roxton. She would be dishonest if she said it didn't have appeal.

"Are you all right?"

"Am I?" she wondered, aloud. Would she ever be all right again? He deceived her. She trusted him and he
... he ... loved her and wanted her with him -- forever. Marguerite closed her eyes. Was this a paradox?
Loving the man who loved her in return but also hating him because, in his own sick way, he favored her too
much? It had turned into an obsessive love, an all intrusive infatuation, without care of the consequences --
even if those consequences meant she would loath him and what he'd become for all time.

"Marguerite?"

She felt him behind her now, standing as exposed as she, and she wanted to say something evil, to hurt him
in a way John Roxton could never imagine, even from her. He had plundered her and taken away what she
cherished most above all things, the right of free will. Still, Marguerite held her tongue.

He gently, almost apologetically, pushed a throw blanket over her shoulders, to shield Marguerite from the
cool air she found such comfort in. She purposely shrugged out of it.

Understanding, Roxton touched her hair and drew some of it behind a creamy, angular shoulder. He took
the opportunity to examine the tear and small bruise on her neck. It had stopped bleeding and would heal
quickly, probably by tomorrow evening, he thought. They all had the ability of accelerated restoration. "Do
you ..." he paused, searching for the correct word, "... despise me?"

The question was asked with such tenderness and dread that Marguerite could only blink and wonder why,
even now, she didn't take the opportunity to scream and curse him. He almost seemed to expect it. She
would expect it of herself. Yet something, perhaps it was vulnerability and the touch of his caring fingers on
her arms, moved her to speechlessness. 'He betrayed your trust!' Marguerite's mind shrieked. 'Lash out
and insult. It's what you do. It's the least you should do!'

But Marguerite felt no such inclination. Finally, after a long pause, she said: "I know I should hate you with
every fiber of my being," She murmured so lowly, staring out into the fog, that Roxton had to move closer
behind her to hear the rest of what she said. "but I don't. Don't ask me why because I don't know. My head
tells me you misled me in an inexcusable way but my heart and what's left of my soul tells me there was no
other way. It wasn't just a matter of you wanting me or me wanting you ... it was the idea, the fact that we
are one." Marguerite gulped for breath and a little sanity. The revelation sounded so strange from her lips.
"We've always been one." Emotion gripped her as it had never before in her complicated life. "I feel
myself changing," she added, "but I know I could never," she now turned to look expressly up at Roxton,
"live in a place where you are not a part of my existence, John. Whether it be me with you here in this
palace or you with me and the others back at the treehouse."

Roxton nodded, both relieved and awestruck by her sensitivity and foresight. Marguerite had rallied so
long and hard to be her own woman and she certainly was that, but even the strongest individual needed
someone to love and adore her. Who better than her soul mate? "What matters is you and me together.
Period." Roxton closed his eyes, his body reeling from the power of her words and what he now understood
as the ultimate declaration of love from the woman he had singled out to spend forever with. "I love you,
Marguerite." His hands drew from her arms, trailing a gentle line up to her shoulders, where his fingers
rested.

I love you too, Lord Roxton." she replied and was about to move forward, to meet his eager mouth with her
own. Suddenly, Marguerite gasped and lifted a hand to touch between her breasts, "Pain." she whispered,
backing off, her breathing shallow. "Such a terrible tightness in my chest."

"It happens at first." Roxton explained and comforted "but it will go away." He considered something for
a moment. It was a step she would eventually have to take and he wanted to be an intricate part of her
induction. "Do you hunger?" he asked, noting how pale and nervous Marguerite suddenly was. A fine line
of perspiration had broken out on her brow. She was feeling the fever.

Marguerite didn't reply and didn't have to. She understood what he was asking and it horrified her that he
or she could even consider such a thing as normal.

Gently, Roxton took one of Marguerite's hands and, at first, brought it to his lips so he could kiss the palm.
He then he lowered it, watching a mesmerized Marguerite, to his chest. He singled out one of her slender
fingers, quickly noted the nail tip, and drew it to his skin. With preternatural dexterity, watching her eyes
widen with both concern and hunger, Roxton cut a fine line over his left pectoral. Small rivulets of thick
blood began to ooze. Lovingly, releasing her hand and cupping Marguerite's face with his large hands,
Roxton drew her to him and placed her lips where nourishment awaited. He held her body in his arms as
she drank, stroking her hair, feeling her warm tears against his chest as she fed but, for now, detested
herself for it. "Sh." he comforted, urging her to continue.

Finally, when he felt she had had enough, Roxton pulled Marguerite back and asked her to look at him.

Licking her lips and opening her eyes wide, Marguerite did as he directed and saw the world as if for the
first time. Her once lovely blue-gray eyes were now a beautiful, deep gold. She turned in his embrace. She
could hear and see things like never before. She could hear the fog. No, not just see it but actually hear it
whisper her name ... "Roxton!" she gasped, amazed.

Roxton gazed down upon her and smiled. He recalled his own rapture when moving forth with those first few
steps into his new life. The bliss and amazement were a more than tangible experience. He was so glad he
could be an intricate part of Marguerite's genesis.

"Roxton ..." Marguerite spoke again, turning back to him and this time nearly purring his name. Boldly,
she pressed her magnificent body close to his, running her fingers up his naked chest, swerving past the cut
she had so recently fed from. She could feel his answering heat as Roxton's powerful arms came around her
and lifted Marguerite so that she nearly had to stand on her tiptoes. She kissed him hard and passionately
on the mouth, her hands behind his neck. "I want ..." she whispered between fiery kisses, "... you to ..."

She didn't need to speak further.

With a definite destination in mind, Roxton picked Marguerite up off the floor and carried her to the bed,
still kissing her. He could taste his blood on her tongue and it was an incredibly erotic sensation.

"Feed on me ..." Marguerite whispered but she meant it in an entirely different way than so recently
experienced. She felt his kissed move from her mouth to her cheeks to her neck and further downward until
he reached her breasts .... and Marguerite could never recall a time in her life when she had been so
fulfilled and so incredibly happy.

She was home.

****

Calista, standing in a shadow, watched the delirious couple as they once again satiated their carnal
appetites. She had agreed to have Marguerite come and live in her home because she believed, sooner or
later, Roxton would be forced to turn on his cherished love and kill her. It was the nature of the beast.
However, watching them and feeling, with her acute senses what was shared between this couple, Calista
began to wonder if she hadn't miscalculated.

Together, Roxton and his Marguerite held the potential of becoming unstoppable hunters and powerful
enemies ... and Calista suddenly wondered if it was not she who was in danger.

***