This is a sequel to my first Vampire Vicbourne story, Redemptor Per Sanguinem, but you don't have to have read it to be able to read this one. All you need to know is that Lord M is actually a vampire but has fought over the years to suppress his urges. He doesn't feed on humans or kill them any longer, but gets his blood from slaughterhouses.

He turned Victoria into a vampire at her behest, and they will occasionally feed from each other. They begin this story living a happy life together, newly invigorated by their state of being. Nobody else knows they are vampires, although there are rumours.

This is going to be intense and filthy. Be warned. LL x

During the summer of 1839, it was remarked how radiant Her Majesty seemed, how attentive to affairs of state, how astute in her dealings with foreign dignitaries, and how generous she was to her court.

In Parliament, it was also noted that the Prime Minister, William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne, was resolute in his approach to business, eloquent in his Parliamentary discourse, and benevolent in his appointments and pronouncements.

It was agreed that the country was in very good hands indeed.

That the Queen and her Prime Minister both fed on the blood of people and creatures and existed in a state of the undead as vampires was, perhaps fortunately, not public knowledge.

There were whisperings, certainly. There had been for years regarding William Lamb, and when the Queen suddenly seemed to find a new joie de vivre, the whisperings extended to the topic of her. But they remained whisperings only, largely contained to court. And William and Victoria were able to go about their daily and – perhaps more significantly – nightly business with no disturbance.

Victoria, still in the early days of her turning, needed human blood. It was essential to embed her vampiric nature. Melbourne watched ardently as she partook of this new wonder. He chose carefully: condemned men for the most part, whose lives were to be ended within the week on the end of the hangman's noose. She fed voraciously. Oh, how she did. Her bloodlust knew no bounds, and, at the moment of biting, any moral compunction was quashed by her need to drink deeply.

William Lamb restrained himself, denying himself live human feedings, professing that he was content with watching her and feeding off animal blood from the slaughterhouses.

He would watch from a quiet corner of the cell as she drained the life and blood from convict after convict. She had grown less fussy of late. He had endeavoured to acquire her youthful ones to start with, young men with gleaming eyes and thick hair who had fallen foul of the law due to a lapse of judgement. But Victoria's desire for blood drove her to demand more and more, and the prisons of the East End were soon emptied of those awaiting hanging. Fortunately, being Prime Minister, it only took a letter here or there to explain away the premature deaths of those condemned to execution.

Melbourne, for his part, had been away from his kind for so long, and, not witnessing the blood lust so apparent in other vampires, had suppressed his longing for warm, fresh blood with remarkable strength. But it made Victoria curious and anxious. Her own needs were all-consuming, her need for blood unquenchable, and she felt his own hunger when he fed from her. But she could not bear the thought of him killing again, not him.

'You will not feed from a living person as I do?' she asked one morning after a visit to Horsemonger Lane Prison. They sat to work as usual. She was full and invigorated and wondered why he seemed content merely to watch.

'I have not for many years, Victoria. I see no need to,' he asserted.

'But … my cravings are inexhaustible. Surely you feel the same?' She looked up from the dispatches.

'No more. And I can feed from you if my needs are too great.'

She turned from him, her eyes searching for understanding around the room. 'And I adore that and need that as much as ever. But I find your lack of need for fresh blood hard to comprehend.'

'Why?'

She stood, coiling herself around him and pulling him down for a deep kiss. When she broke away she searched his eyes. 'Because my hunger is so extreme, so all-consuming. I must have the blood of living creatures or I feel I shall go mad. I do not understand how you do not feel this way.'

He smiled softly. 'I have had more practice at suppressing it. But I know all too well the strength of desire for blood in the early days after a turning. And that is why I help you find it.'

'My darling, you are my salvation.'

The irony of her words was not lost on him and he banished it by kissing her deeply again.

'Will my need for it diminish?' she asked as his hands stroked down over her waist to pull her hips in against him.

'Over time, but you are new and you will require it for a long while to come yet.'

He could not help but kiss over her face and neck. She continued, 'I long for it, yet I hate myself for it also. And I would hate the thought of you taking a live feed.'

'I know this. This is why I do not do it.'

She took his head in her hands and guided him up so she could look at him. 'But when you watch me feeding … do you not envy me?'

He avoided her gaze. 'Do not ask such things.'

Victoria frowned against his reaction. 'Then you do.' She stroked his face, ran her thumb over his cheekbone with ardent hope. 'But I hate the thought of you killing again. You are still my perfect love, my divine Lord M.'

He gave the slightest scoff. 'I am a vampire, Victoria … as are you.'

'But you will not, will you? And neither shall I soon? I need it now, oh you know I do, but as long as you can find me condemned men, men whose lives will end soon no matter what, then my morals can cope, and … oh, it is so wondrous, this life you have given me.'

'Is it?'

'Yes, yes, my darling.' She clasped him to her and they kissed again, long and hard, their bodies pressed so hard together that they would have fused if they could.

'My love, my William … we must retain our dignity and our morals, please, we can do that, can we not? You have, so nobly.'

'I have recently, yes.'

'Then it is possible. When I am no longer new, when my body has adjusted to its new state, I will not need fresh blood from a living being either … and then, all shall be well, and we shall simply live and love forever … is that not so?'

'That is the intention, my beloved.'

She smiled. 'Then we shall avow it. I shall only continue feeding on people for the shortest time I can … and you … you shall continue to feed only from blood from the slaughterhouses, and from me. For I will give myself to you whenever I can.'

He stared hard at her, but his face was grave.

'Promise me,' she implored him.

'I will try, Victoria.'

That seemed to be enough for her, and he took her head in his hands and kissed her until doubt was forgotten.

-xoOox-

It continued. He would take her to prisons and she would feed and feed. He would watch and his fangs would emerge sharp and white and his skin grow tight and his eyes turn red, but he would watch only, and live off her joy and thirst-quenching feasting, for she fed with a hunger he revelled in. Her total abandon to the joy of it, to the seduction, the capture, to the penetration and to the draining and drinking was an intense pleasure to witness in itself. He had given her that, he had taught her, and he allowed himself a surge of pride each time.

Melbourne studied her as she sank into the dark corner of a carriage one night after feeding, her mouth still stained red with blood, streaks of it coating her clothing (they paid the chamber maids well not to comment or question), and he loved her.

But it was stirring in him, he knew that.

Envy.

He envied her the blood which assuaged her hunger and replenished her own veins.

There was one way to take it. He knew.

She opened her eyes and looked at him in the gloom. She read him well.

'William …' she murmured, her mouth open, her fangs still out as she thought back to the evening's feeding. 'I am replete.'

'Good.'

She ran a single, lazy finger down his cheek. 'But, you, my love … are not.'

He did not answer.

She drew in a deep breath and said, 'I am more than sated and my blood is full and rich due to it. You know what you should do, what you want to do …'

Victoria untied the ribbons at her neck and loosened her collar. He turned away. He had taken from her only last week. It was true that she had fed again since then, but usually their kind should wait at least two weeks before feeding from each other. He hated the thought of weakening her.

'My darling,' she said, reaching for his arm and pulling him towards her. He found resistance hard. 'Drink from me.' Her neck was bare and she leaned into him. Her soft pale skin gleamed at him as the streetlamps caught it in intermittent flashes. He could see the scars of his previous feeding, most of them pale silvery disks now, but the most recent still red and marked.

'It should not be now,' he declared again.

She whined, a pouting sob which made him frown as he knew how hard it was to ignore. He was not the only one who benefited from his feeding on her. Her sexual needs had recently become unquenchable.

'I want it,' she sobbed and clawed at his arm again. 'Oh, I need it, I need you.'

'Victoria …' he tried, but barely meant it.

Before he knew it, she had twisted from the seat and moved herself astride him. The jolting of the carriage forced her hard against his groin which barely needed more encouraging as it was.

'Victoria,' he said again, a growl of need now. His hesitation, such as it was, was vanquished.

She propped herself up enough to pull her skirts up, scrabbled to undo his placket and release him, and, with a laugh of anticipatory delight, lowered herself immediately onto him.

He swallowed hard. The pleasure of being inside her was almost enough, perhaps he would not need to bite.

Victoria coiled her arms around his neck and moved on him with such slow sensuality that he could simply stare and stare and feel and feel. She was unfeasibly tight, he concluded, and so wet and welcoming that the glove of her body must surely have been made for him.

As she bucked, she gave the littlest sighs and mewls which told of her concentration and delight. And she was his. His infallibility at this point seemed undoubtable.

But …

Pulse …

Beat …

There it was. He spied it first … the vein in her neck. It was more prominent when she was aroused. And it called to him.

His cock was enthralled, embedded within her, coaxed towards the most cataclysmic climax, but still …

He was hungry. She had feasted, she had drunk and drunk … Why should he not?

She paused briefly in her rolling, rocking motion along him and looked down, gifting him with an inviting smile as she bit her lip. And then, pulling back her gown fully, she bared her neck completely.

'I know you want it … Of course you do … Feed, feed my darling. You know how I adore it, you know I will take all of you, your pleasure and your pain.'

And he couldn't not.

His fangs were out. The imperative was unquestionable.

She took hold of his head and guided it to her neck. He grazed over her skin at first, causing her to hiss, until he found the perfect place, and then he bit.

'Ah!' she cried out harshly, for he had not hesitated in piercing her flesh instantly. It hurt her. But that cry made his cock jolt and so he bit deeper so that she cried out again. Her fingers clenched on his scalp and she scratched him.

And it flowed.

Blood poured into his mouth and he sucked and sucked. Her blood, sweet and rich and replenishing.

Her little cries of pain soon changed, shifting into whines and moans as the ecstasy of being fed from took hold.

He clung to her, his hands splayed across her back so tight his fingers were clawlike. His fangs embedded themselves deeper, affixed, attached, just as his cock was embedded inside her.

She let out shallow gasps now and ceased moving. So he began, a slow thrust of his hips, just enough for her to know he was there, while he sucked and sucked on her. He could take as much as he wanted, she would not die, she could not, yet she would be significantly weakened.

But she tasted so very, very good. And, by God, she felt glorious.

He was sucking the climax from her, drawing it from her as profoundly as his cock or fingers ever could. And her breathing became rasping and her hands flailed and she came.

Victoria shook on him, her climax so powerful it shuddered through her body. Still he sucked, but his own orgasm took hold quickly and he pulled his mouth off her with the force of it.

As the last of her ecstasy washed over her, its power and the blood loss was too much and she fell forward on him in a faint.

William pulsed out the last of his rapture and clung to her. Blood still dripped from the wounds at her neck, but he was beyond awareness. Victoria rested heavy on him, unconscious. Never had he known such beauty flowing into him, out of him and through him.

He let his head fall back and panted out his bliss. He could feel her blood healing him, filling and recreating him. By God – or whatever guided his fate – he loved her.

But their situation raised a dilemma. He needed to get her into the Palace without detection. Victoria remained unconscious in his arms. He reached for his cane and banged it on the roof, calling up to the driver, 'Take us to the back of the Palace. Be silent.'

'Yes, My Lord,' came the muffled response.

He held her for the remainder of the journey, he stroked her and kissed her. She was out cold, but would recover in time, and what she had given him was everything. But he had needed it and it had tasted so very, very good. Fresh, warm, human blood – how he had missed it.

He remained inside her warm and safe until they arrived back at the Palace, at which point he was compelled to lift her off him and tidy himself. They were let through a side entrance (the carriage was anonymous although marked as Royal property and so passed through unquestioned).

When they stopped, the coachman (the only liveried member of the household staff around) descended and opened the door for him. Melbourne, with the still unconscious Queen in his arms, got out. The coachman's eyes widened and, at that moment, in his passion, Melbourne revealed his true nature. His eyes reddened, his skin flashed white and taut, and his fangs gleamed. It was only for an instant, but it was enough to terrify anyone into submission.

'Not a word,' hissed Melbourne, his voice unearthly in its intent.

The coachman's silence was assured.

Melbourne bore Victoria through the back passages and dark corridors of the Palace until he reached his own chamber. He would nurse her until dawn and then return her to her own room.

He placed her carefully on his bed and bathed the wounds at her neck. She was deathly pale and her breath shallow. Perhaps he had taken too much, but even then, he felt the goodness of it within him and was satisfied. He had been around long enough to know that she would awaken soon enough.

At around half past four, she stirred. Her delicate eyelashes fluttered and she sucked in a long breath as consciousness returned to her.

He bent and kissed her and she slowly opened her eyes.

'Oh … oh, I am weak,' she said, her voice soft and quaking.

'You will recover,' he said, stroking her hair back. 'But rest during the day.'

He hesitated, gazing down at her, and then said, 'Thank you, my darling.'

She managed a slight smile. 'Was it good?'

'It was magnificent.'

'It was for me too. Such pleasure, such boundless pleasure.' She stretched out her limbs in remembrance. 'Are you sated?'

For now, he thought.

'Yes, my love.'

'Then we are both content.'

'You must return to your chamber.'

She frowned against it. 'Oh, must I? I am so very happy here.'

'I know … but it must be done.'

She sighed. 'Very well.'

She was able to walk a little and so, supporting her with infinite tenderness, he guided her back to her chamber, evading detection once again.

There, he dressed her in her night clothes, ensuring the collar concealed her neck wounds, drew the blankets around her, kissed her softly, and left her to drift back to sleep.

When she was roused a few hours later, no one was any the wiser. However, the Queen complained of illness and remained in her bed for the rest of the day. Her appointments were cancelled. Melbourne, on the other hand, was much invigorated and gave a speech in Parliament which had the Members cheering and waving their order papers with a fervour rarely seen.

He liked it greatly.

Oooh, yummy. More very soon. Let me know your thoughts.