In the Dark by P.G. Forte Page A

appetites.
    Then it was her turn. “Undress,” he murmured. It was a single word, not quite a suggestion, not yet an order, uttered solely so that he might see her response. He held his breath and waited. Would she try again to resist his will as she had in the garden? He half hoped she would, just for the sheer novelty of it.
    It had been a very long time since someone had openly defied his wishes and, with most of his outrage over that particular betrayal gone now, he almost missed it. Almost. The pain was still a little too fresh, even now, after more than a century. And the sense of loss that accompanied the memory…no, he wouldn’t even think about that. He was relieved when she complied, shucking out of her clothes seemingly without any self-consciousness at all.
    â€œMuch better,” he sighed approvingly, crossing back to where she stood quietly, wearing nothing but the feathers in her hair. She was lovely. Breathtaking. But when he took her in his arms, he was dismayed to find that she was also trembling—and not in a way that suggested she was cold. “Are you afraid of something, mignonne ?”
    â€œShould I be?” she asked, hesitantly twining her arms around his neck.
    He frowned sternly. “That is not an answer.” He could subdue her, if he had to, temporarily erasing her fears with another, drugging kiss as he’d done in the garden. But useful though the technique was for feeding, when it came to sex he preferred his partners to be more actively involved. Or at the very least, mostly conscious. Besides, he was curious. If she was nervous, he wanted to know the cause.
    He slid one hand down her spine, hoping to soothe her. Instead, the trembling increased. Was it possible he’d misread the situation? She was very young, after all, and this was not a century in which women matured as early as they had in times past. He pulled back far enough to look into her eyes as he asked, “ Chérie , you’re not still a virgin, are you?”
    â€œWhat?” His question clearly caught her off guard. She blushed and looked away. “No, I-I mean, why? Why are you asking me that?”
    â€œI’m trying to understand what it is you’re afraid of.” He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “Now, you will tell me,” he ordered, giving her no choice to be anything but truthful. She shrugged and tried to look away again. He didn’t let her. “Tell me.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to tell! It’s just…well, it’s not always so nice, you know? I try, but I don’t always like it. Sometimes…sometimes it hurts.”
    Conrad nodded and bit back a sigh. It was an old story. Very old. And very boring. He thought back on all the women he’d bedded over the centuries. Far too many of them had been so abused, neglected or injured by previous lovers that they’d become disenchanted with the act of love. Far too many of them had come to his bed in moods that spanned the range from skittish to reluctant to angry to resigned…when, really, all he’d been hoping for, from any of them, was eager.
    It was little wonder he’d come to prefer men as lovers. At least most of them had been clear about what they wanted from him—and not too shy to ask for it. There were never any post coitem tears to contend with and they hardly ever left him with the feeling he’d taken something they had not wished to give, or that he’d done anything wrong by loving them. Which, given society’s narrow views on the subject, was almost laughable. Best of all was the fact that their desires, in general, were usually a near match for his own.
    â€œI can’t promise you’ll like it,” he told the girl now. “Though I will do everything in my power to make it enjoyable for you. What I can promise, however, is that I’ll cause you no pain. Or, at most, only a very little