Layton must find Sanda and get his body back from the vampire mistress before Lord Traian can track him down and carry him back to the castle in Dark Lord's Mistress 3, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords and Amazon.
Layton and Paine escape from Lord Traian's castle and through the dark woods surrounding it. They're intent on finding Sanda, the body thief, and getting Layton's body back before Traian can catch up to them. But Layton picks up a visitor on his escape: the spirit of Ilana, the vampire mistress whose body he now inhabits. Her thoughts meld with his, pulling him ever deeper into her darkness.
On his flight through the forest Layton is attacked and must embrace the darkness Ilana brings. Along with the darkness comes her deep sensuality, making Layton's body ache to be touched, to deeply explore every inch of his exquisite feminine form. Can he retain his sanity? Or will he be transformed into the creature of the night he now appears to be?
Paine
They said the strange man living in the large house on the hill was a lord but Paine didn’t see it. The man had no servants. No gardeners. No housekeeper. As far Paine could see, the man lived all alone, which made him a perfect target.
Paine watched the house on the hill to get an idea of the man’s schedule. There was no movement during the day. The house remained closed up. Not even a breeze stirred the curtains. At night candles sometimes flickered and Paine caught glimpses of shadows moving about from one room to another. Sometimes strange shapes seemed to launch themselves from the roof, though Paine put that off to a trick of the light and took no heed of the tales that the other street urchins told each other.
The others teased Paine about his meticulous observances. While Paine was cordial to them, and joined in some of their schemes, their manners were crude. To them, stealing was simple. You distracted, grabbed and ran. Paine had never been fast and he was much too big to escape. He stood out among the other urchins in the street, fully a head taller than them even though he was only twelve years old and they were several years older. He had broad shoulders and long limbs. Perhaps his size was why they respected him. Or maybe it was his quiet observations. After all, he was the one who’d suggested they rob the weekly merchant wagon, having watched where they stashed their lockbox of coins beneath the driver’s footrest.
But none of the others wanted to get close to the house on the hill. They told each other scary stories of the man who lived there. That he was a demon. That he sacrificed children. That he made his money by stealing hearts and livers of living people.
Paine wasn’t scared. There were no such things as demons. So when no one else would join him on his burglary efforts, he went alone and in the middle of the day, when the town was bustling but the house on the hill was silent.
Paine went up the back way, through the gardens. He was more worried about one of the townsfolk seeing him than being spotted by anyone in the house. As he got closer to the house, the dense vegetation he moved through muffled the sounds of the merchant’s cries and the clopping of horse’s hooves from the town behind him. When he was nearly at the house it was silent as a tomb.
Sneaking up to a window, he peered in. Ornate furniture gilded with gold filled a sitting room. A huge picture of a regal man sat above a complicated fireplace. It was the house of a prince. Nothing stirred inside.
Paine moved to the next window, and the next. Each room was just as intricate and just as empty of people. When he was absolutely sure there was no one around, he threw a rock through one of the small windows. After waiting a few seconds to see if anyone came running, he wrapped his shirt around his hand and cleared out the remaining shards of glass before wiggling inside.
The air was heavy and still. Paine slipped through the rooms, surprisingly light on his feet for such a bulky lad. He stole whatever looked valuable and would fit into his bag: a stopwatch, some silverware, a small clock.
When he came around to the entrance and the grand staircase up to the second floor, he hesitated for only a moment before climbing the stairs. The rooms up here were just as grand, and he stuffed his sack full of priceless objects. Returning to the kitchen, he was about to unlock the door and leave when he noticed stairs going down. Ordinarily, he would have shrugged them off as merely stairs to the larder. Except that larder stairs didn’t usually end in solid oak doors with brass knobs. Something valuable must be in there.
Intrigued, Paine stepped down the stairs, one hand on his bag to keep it from jingling. He hauled at the brass handles. He was a strong boy but it took all of his strength to pull the door open enough for him to slip in. It was pitch black but didn’t smell of root vegetables or produce. It smelled of dirt and iron.
Paine stood in the small glow of sunlight radiating down from way upstairs and used his flint to light a candle from his sack. The flickering light illuminated the small space and he was astonished to see the room was nearly filled with what looked like a large sarcophagus. It was deep black and gilded with silver. Paine shivered. Why keep a body down here like a tomb?
Just then, the heavy oak door behind him slammed shut with a resounding thud. Paine felt around in the darkness and pushed hard against the doors, but they didn’t budge, even when he pressed the weight of his entire body against them.
It was suddenly oppressive in the small basement, like the walls were closing in on him. He’d never feared the dark but here was different. The darkness seemed to have a weight, as though it were alive. Paine felt around in his bag for his flint and a candle. As he did so, he heard a light creaking coming from behind him. Then there was a presence in the room. Someone else was there, though there was no breathing. Not a sound, but a heaviness to the air that told him somebody else was in this darkened crypt with him.
Paine lit the candle with his flint and held it up. The flickering light illuminated a tall, dark-featured man who stood in front of the open coffin. He was dressed in a neat suit and with his black hair slicked back. His face was youthful but wise, with eyes that peered inquisitively at Paine.
Though Paine was scared, he didn’t show it. He stood up taller. He was large for his age and his broad shoulders intimidated most adults. He’d discovered that if he threatened a fight most people would run. But the man in the suit remained still, looking at him with a slight smile of amusement.
“Open the door,” Paine said, lowering his voice to an intimidating growl.
“Or what?” The man asked, stepping forward.
“Or else you’ll regret it.”
A wave of fear rolled through Paine as the man approached, but his street instincts took over. Rather than recoil he swung at the man, hoping to catch him by surprise with a quick crack to his jaw. Somehow he missed as the man just seemed to…flicker out of the way. It was like he’d disappeared just long enough to dodge Paine’s fist, reappearing after it had passed his face. The miss threw Paine off balance. He quickly recovered and turned, his fists up, readying for the man to fight, but the man just gazed at him.
“I like your bravado. But would you like true power? The power over death itself?”
“What are you talking about?”
Paine couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man’s as the man continued speaking, inching ever closer. “You are much stronger than anyone realizes but they don’t fear you. True power comes from relinquishing your fears. And what do we fear more than death? If you will work with me, I will make you victorious over death.”
His voice was hypnotic and Paine’s mouth dropped open as his entire being gave in to the soothing words. As the man spoke, his incisors began lengthening to sharp points. When he’d finished his speech he was inches from Paine’s neck and Paine could feel the man’s breath. It was cold, making him shiver. He should have been afraid then but he wasn’t. The words were mollifying. He could fall into them, lose himself.
“Will you join me and my wives?” The man whispered.
Paine nodded. The man smiled and opened his mouth. He gently sank his incisors into Paine’s neck and drank. It was painless. Soothing even. Paine closed his eyes as warmth pulsed through him. Then the man pulled away, raised his hand to his mouth and scratched a deep cut across his palm with his own incisors. Then he lowered his bloody palm to Paine’s mouth.
“Drink,” the man commanded.
Paine grabbed the man’s hand and drank the warm blood. It was delicious, quenching a thirst he didn’t even know he had. When the man withdrew Paine opened his mouth to speak but before he could make a sound a tremor ran through his body. The room seemed to lurch, the ground growing further away. The man – the vampire – stepped back from Paine, his brow furrowed.
Paine’s chest seemed tight. He raised his hands to his chest and discovered his hands were huge, much larger and brawnier than they’d ever been before, and his arms were rapidly catching up. His muscles swelled as his bones and sinews expanded. The tightness around his chest was his clothes as his chest grew beneath. There was a rip as his fabric shredded while Paine’s body continued growing, arms, legs, neck, head expanding to match the massive size of his midsection. It was painless and…powerful.
Each hand was now bigger than his whole head before. He was broader than three men and stood taller than the vampire beneath him. His clothes were rags clinging to his body, unable to contain the sheer size of the mountain of a man he’d become.
The room was so bright even though he’d dropped his candle when the changes began. It occurred to him that he could see the entirety of the darkened basement as if it was illuminated by the full moon. The shadows no longer scared him. The vampire looking up at him had stepped back, his face conflicting emotions of awe and fear, as if he hadn’t expected Paine’s transformation. Paine had such love for the man. He was Paine’s father and king and god all rolled into one.
Paine knelt, bringing his head level with the vampire’s. “I am here to serve you, my lord,” he rumbled, his deep base voice making the stones in the basement rumble.
Lord Covaci accepted him, even as he realized that there was something terribly wrong with every one of those he’d turned.
Read the rest on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords and Amazon.
https://bodyswapfiction.com/enter/?p=12874
