A Call from the Heart

****

As a Nosferatu never truly slept, Ranald was instantly aware of the point at which Dunstan began his transformation back into human form. He silently prayed that the man was as pleased with his new mate as the Lycan had been. He smiled shyly at the human in his arms as confused cerulean gazed up at him, then the eyes became more alert as memories surfaced.

"I...you...we..." Dunstan stammered, unsure of how to proceed.

"You recognised me as your mate, Dunstan," Ranald whispered. "We bonded. I pray that you are not disappointed with me."

"Disappointed?" Dunstan laughed, incredulity colouring his voice. "I could scarcely hope to ever have had a mate of my own, and yet, here I am with the most beautiful creature I ever beheld. I felt something for you the instant our eyes met. Like...like coming home...like I had found where I belonged."

"Then I...I...please you?" Ranald asked coyly.

"If I were any more pleased, I do not think I could contain myself. But...I was rough. I pray I did not hurt you?"

"You were very considerate," Ranald smiled. "I would have preferred to have had my first time with you in human form..." The groan from Dunstan made Ranald stop.

"I can barely remember," Dunstan said, his voice anguished.

"That can be remedied, if you wish," Ranald offered, laying back submissively.

"You would have me again?" Duncan husked, his eyes devouring the vision of loveliness that lay before him. "You are not too...uncomfortable?"

"Nay, my love. I would have you inside me, if you are willing."

"More than willing," Dunstan replied honestly. He moved to take his place between Ranald's outspread thighs. He hissed angrily as he now saw the mottled markings of the beating Ranald had earlier endured.

"They will heal, my love," Ranald whispered, soothing, softly, sensually. "Make love with me, banish the unhappy memories forever."

"Mine, always," Dunstan growled, possessively, angrily, passionately. No one would ever again hurt the exquisite creature in his arms. He mated their mouths, his tongue ravishing his mate's warm, wet cavern. He ensured he was familiar with every nuance before moving to taste the ivory skin of Ranald's throat and collarbone. He sucked one alluring cinnamon nub into his mouth as his fingers teased the other before switching sides to an impassioned cry from the young man he pleasured. Already both of their staffs were hard and leaking and Dunstan knew he did not have the control to draw out their foreplay nor the time as the first tendrils of dawn made their appearance in the sky.

He positioned their bodies with care, staring lovingly down at Ranald, and tenderly pushed into the entrance of the slighter man's body. The tight heat of his mate enveloping his throbbing maleness almost made him spill instantly. He took deep, calming breaths as he gazed into the limpid brown pools of his lover's eyes. Slowly, gently, inch by hard, aching inch, Dunstan sank into Ranald's body, until they were physically one once more.

"Dunstan, it feels so good," Ranald purred, reaching to caress his lover's face. "I love you,"

The bigger man held very still. He felt the tense muscles of the hot, moist channel slowly loosen and relax to welcome him home. Wherever Ranald was would now forever be his home and to be inside the Nosferatu was paradise on Earth. Waves of erotic pleasure pulsed throughout his whole body. He could feel his mate's heartbeat as they bonded, mated, united, two becoming one.

Destiny.

Dunstan tried to go slow, to be gentle, but after just a few strokes his tenuous control fractured.

"Love you, love you, love you," he chanted. Senses afire, he made love with Ranald in an erotic blur of sound, sight, scent and sensation. His sex plunged In and out of his beloved Nosferatu's body, faster and harder, adoring, desiring, claiming that which was already his. This time he would remember every dulcet cry, each look of joy and love, their combined scents and tastes, the feel of his mate coming apart in his arms and of his seed filling the body of his beloved.

Yet, even at the height of their passion, the bigger man was both aware and overjoyed that his Nosferatu, his mate, his lover, was meeting him thrust for thrust, passion for passion, needing, wanting, desiring him. Ranald was claiming Dunstan as his own, binding, cherishing, loving him with equal fervour. He felt it deep within his soul. They were joined, spiritually, physically, completely.

One.

Dunstan could feel the need for release building within his sweet Nosferatu. His own pleasure increased, fired, blazed through him, gathered deep in his groin, glowing, igniting, burning. He was going to erupt and wanted to take his mate with him. With one final thrust, burying himself as deep as was possible, he came, his seed flowing like lava deep inside his mate and his voice roaring his completion.

Dunstan's orgasm triggered Ranald's. This coupling had been made with pleasure, ardour, rapture, and his manhood was no longer able to contain his euphoria. He coated their hot skin with pulse after pulse of his crème, moaning Dunstan's name.

Slowly the two men came down from the high of their shared orgasm. With awareness came the realisation of lives entwined forever, of destiny fulfilled, two becoming as one and they kissed tenderly to seal their bond.

"We have to return to my home quickly," Dunstan said, pulling his lover to their feet. He caught the slender, swaying form. "When did you last feed?" he asked anxiously.

"Nearly three days," Ranald murmured drowsily.

"Feed from me," Dunstan commanded, pressing the Nosferatu's mouth to his throat. It was not the norm for one such as Ranald, but there was no time for any other recourse. He felt the soft lips caress his throat, the sensation so erotic that if he had not just come, Dunstan was certain he would be hard. "Feed," he whispered desperately as Ranald moved away after a moment or two of gentle nuzzling.

"I have, my love," the Nosferatu replied. "My kin do not kill when they feed and so it is the lightest of touches we need. "I have taken enough for now."

Dunstan kissed his mate lovingly and began to dress.

"Your clothing?" he asked, as he saw none but his own.

"Torn and ruined," Ranald confessed. "I can stay here..." he began, but his words were halted by a harder kiss.

"I will not leave you," Dunstan growled. "I need my horse."

"She is close by, over in that direction," Ranald pointed. "I know her by your scent."

The two men hurried to the mare. Dunstan rapidly unsaddled her and wrapped Ranald's pale form in her blanket. Once she was saddled again he mounted the horse and drew Ranald into his arms.

"I will take care of everything, my beloved," he promised. "No one will persecute you again."

****

Verena opened the door, glowering angrily at the early hour and the uncouth banging that seemed to cause the door to rattle.

"What is it you want at this time?" she asked archly.

"My apologies for the hour, Mistress Verena," a deep, cultured voice apologised. "But we need to see Dr Dunstan."

"I'm afraid you cannot, Master Edmund," Verena began. She took in the sight of the town Mayor and the Chief Constable who accompanied him. Both men wore grave miens and she felt coldness in the pit of her stomach. However, she gathered her strength and firmly stood her ground. "Dr Dunstan is not..."

"What is it, Edmund?"

"Dr Dunstan!" Verena exclaimed. "You should not be up and about."

Edmund stared at his friend. The blond wore his night attire, looked exhausted and there was bruising about his temple.

"The Constable and I need to speak with you, Dunstan. It's important."

"Come through to the drawing room," Dunstan said tiredly. "We can speak there. Verena, may we have some tea?" He led the way, ushering the other two men ahead of him to sit on a large, leather wing-back settee. He settled on one of the matching chairs. A fire was already lit and blazing in the room and he pulled his chair a little closer to its heat.

"We came to see you because Morton is dead and Rodney and Owen say you and the Nosferatu were last to see him," Edmund said quietly.

"Dead?" Dunstan echoed, looking shocked. "But how, when?"

"Sometime last night after you persuaded his men not to go along with his plans for Ranald," Edmund replied.

"I give you my word, as a man, I did not kill Morton," Dunstan said, choosing his words with great care.

"We do not suspect you, Doctor," the Constable said. "But the Nosferatu..."

"I think perhaps I can allay your suspicions there also," Dunstan interrupted. As he stood, Verena bustled into the room carrying a tray with the necessities to provide tea as requested. He murmured into her ear and both left.

Edmund frowned with confusion as Verena returned in seconds with a warm, woollen blanket and a small tray. Then his gasp was matched by the Constable's as Dunstan returned, his arms seemingly the only things keeping Ranald on his feet. The bruises of a beating were vivid against the pallor of the Nosferatu's face, his slim body wrapped in a thick, voluminous robe. He watched as Verena clucked and settled Ranald into a chair, suitably covered by the blanket, and with the tray supporting a cup of tea for him. He accepted his own cup as she passed out drinks before returning to Ranald. He could not help but smile as the Housekeeper stood, arms folded, as if on guard at Ranald's side.

"I was lucky not to be killed by Morton," Dunstan sighed, as he collapsed back into his own chair. He sipped at his tea and then touched the bruising at his temple. "He returned to try to...hurt...Ranald. I was injured, but foiled his cruel intent. However, I could see no safe place for Ranald but here. If you so require it of me, I can show you the bruises that cover the rest of Ranald's body. As to Morton's death..."

"There is no need, Doctor," the Constable interjected. "It was no man that killed Morton," he added gruffly. "He was torn apart; the marks of tooth and claw are evident."

"And so you suspected me?" Ranald's sad voice had all turning to face him. "I did not kill him any more than I was responsible for the death of his cow."

"Hush now, Master Ranald," Verena clucked. "I am sure the gentlemen had no such thoughts." She fussed over the blanket as she was favoured with a smile that warmed her despite its fragility. She was certain that once the dark, young man was fully well, his true smile would be as incandescent as the sun.

Edmund exchanged a brief, discomfited look with the Constable. It had indeed been the other man's thought, although everything Edmund knew of a Nosferatu told him otherwise. However, he could see that the Constable was clearly changing his mind. It was evident that Ranald was not their murderer and no man had killed Morton. If Edmund were to confess his true heart, he would admit that Morton would not be missed.

"Ranald barely had enough strength for me to bring him safely here. I can assure you, he has not been out of my company since last night. He is not your killer. His is a pure, gentle soul," Dunstan added angrily.

"We had to make sure, Doctor," the Constable countered suavely, smoothly turning his initial suspicion of, into apprehension for, Ranald. "People will be concerned about the Nosferatu, some regarding them as no different to Vampires. I would not want them thinking of taking the law into their own hands. As Ranald is innocent in regards what befell Morton, I need to ensure people leave you in peace until he is well enough to leave your care."

"I will take whatever measures I deem necessary to protect Ranald, Constable," Dunstan said firmly. "I will not countenance any that would abuse or hurt him in any way."

"Dunstan, might I have a private word with you?" Edmund asked. He arose quickly, before the Constable could enter into a debate with the blond whose face was so stone-like as to be carved from granite.

The two men moved into Dunstan's library, the blond looking quizzically at the older man.

"You must know that news of Ranald's true nature will spread quickly through the town. There will be some who will not continue as your patients until he has moved out and others that will not want a Nosferatu living amongst them."

"Edmund, I appreciate your concern," Dunstan sighed. "However, Ranald cannot fend for himself at this time. Morton's attack hurt more than his body. He is both physically and mentally fragile. I cannot turn him away. If patients will not come, then they may find another physician. I must trust the Constable when he says he will help protect an innocent man and I assure you, my friend, Ranald is a pure soul. When he is well, he will leave here and I will leave with him. All I would ask of you, as my friend, is that you help me keep him safe for the time it takes him to regain his strength. We shall be gone in a couple of weeks."

"Your home, your practice?" Edmund asked, not entirely shocked by the news. Dunstan's protective behaviour now made sense to the older man.

"I am putting both into the hands of my solicitor to sell as soon as I feel fit enough to leave the house to do so. We intend to return to Ranald's home. I am more assured of my safety there than of his here."

Edmund nodded and clasped Dunstan's hand.

"I will miss you, my friend. However, I wish you happiness. I wish both of you happiness," he added with a smile.

****

Ranald snuggled close to Dunstan's warm body as they shared his bed. He was still weak and his lover still insisted he feed from him. If he was not already so in love with the blond, Ranald knew he would lose his heart to Dunstan all over again. He nuzzled affectionately against Dunstan's lightly furred body. He relished the feel of muscled torso and learning the taste and texture of the dusky-pink nubs haloed by rose areolae, urged on in his explorations by low groans and breathy moans of appreciation. He raised his head as Dunstan's hand tipped his chin to lock eyes with him.

"If you feel strong enough, my love, I must show you where I will spend this night when the moon rises," Dunstan said, his voice laced with resignation and sadness.

"You will not spend it here with me?" Ranald asked, a mix of confusion and hurt in his voice. Did his mate not wish to sleep with him? "If you will not share your bed with me, then where will you go?" Ranald allowed himself to be assisted into a nightshirt and robe and watched as Dunstan dressed himself similarly. He took the proffered hand and let himself be led from the room.

They went into the kitchen and to a thick, wooden door with strong iron hinges and locks. Ranald glanced at Verena, but she simply shook her head sadly. Through the door and down stone steps he followed his lover until they entered a cellar of thick, stone walls and Ranald gave a cry of denial at the sight before him.

Behind iron bars was an area spread with straw. Fastened securely to the thick walls were manacles. Ranald buried his face in Dunstan's chest.

"You have lived here during the full moon?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Verena secures me and I take a sleeping draught that would knock out a mere man for an entire day. A part of me must also know not to make too much noise and the thickness of the walls helps muffle sound and, yes, this is where I stay. This way I cannot get free and risk hurting the townsfolk or being attacked myself."

"How long?" Ranald asked.

"It has been three long, lonely years," Dunstan sighed. "I thought to help an injured man and was bitten for my concern. The first change caught us by surprise. The next night I almost drugged myself into oblivion, but I still tried to get out of the house. I created this prison to hold me. I do not know how I would have coped without Verena to help me."

"Three years ago I started to be restless at the time of the full moon," Ranald whispered. "Then I started getting dreams, feeling as though I was being called, that I was needed. My mother and sister were both against my leaving home and so I resisted until several months ago. They were always strongest at the time of Allhallows Eve. But I felt the call in my heart, in my soul, your call, Dunstan and I am sorry I took so long to find you. You will not need this...this place again. Tomorrow we will dismantle it and this night you will spend in your bed...with me."

"Ranald, you cannot be sure..." A kiss stopped Dunstan's objections.

"I can be sure. Do you trust me, Dunstan?" he asked.

"With my life." Dunstan did not hesitate in his reply. He knew it with every fibre of his being. His reward was another kiss.

"Then let us return to the kitchen. I will need Verena's help."

****

Dunstan lay naked on his back. His stomach was heavy from a large meal of rare meat. He smiled at the memory of Ranald all but standing over him insisting he finish the repast. His smile became a moan as talented teeth tugged daintily at a swollen nipple. A soft tongue caressed the taut nub before dancing across his chest to treat the neglected twin with equity. His shaft ached and leaked, but Ranald would give him no release. An unwanted tingle began and he knew the moon must be rising.

"What is it, my love?" Ranald asked, aware instantly of Dunstan's tenseness.

"The time comes and I fear it, beloved," he replied.

"You need fear it no more, Dunstan," Ranald soothed, running his hands over his mate's torso, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his fingers.

"I fear that I will remain the beast and lose the man," Dunstan whispered.

"That can never be," Ranald assured. "The beast will come during the full moon, but the man will prevail in the end. Your heart is too pure to stay savage. What you need to do is learn to give yourself to the change so it becomes a smooth transformation both ways. I will be here to watch over you and keep you safe."

Ranald watched as the light dusting of golden fur spread and thickened over Dunstan's body as it became a thick wolf's pelt. As the transformation completed, Ranald smiled lovingly into the confused cerulean eyes that looked around the room. His smile widened as the eyes settled on him and instantly lit with joy. He laughed softly as he was pulled against the wolf-man's chest and carefully kissed his mate.

"I love you so much," he murmured, knowing the Lycan would not understand the words, but the meaning behind them. The low rumble in the Lycan's chest was one of happiness and Ranald nuzzled the strong male lovingly. "This is the way we will spend all the nights you take this form, my love," he whispered. "I will keep you safe in my arms."

He moved to kiss his way down the powerful body. He licked daintily at the thick staff that steadily released its juices and gave his own purr of pleasure at the salty-musk taste. He moved to sit astride Dunstan's supine form and reached behind his body to position his mate's sex at his entrance. He had insisted Dunstan prepare him earlier. This time he wanted to pleasure his mate. The oil was not flavoured or scented and so would hopefully be palatable for the wolf-man.

"I love you," he mouthed as he shifted, letting the tip of the Lycan's sex slip into his opening, moaning slightly at the stretching sensation. He felt the wolf-man tighten his hold on his hips, making him pause in his downward descent.

Ranald trembled as he inched slowly downward until he finally had taken all of his lover's flesh inside him and The Lycan's sac nestled against his nether cheeks. Ranald opened his eyes to look at The Lycan, the depth of his mate's need easily visible in the pleasure- darkened sapphire orbs.

"You're so beautiful," Ranald murmured, as his mate released his grip of Ranald's hips to run his hands over the Nosferatu's already sweat-slickened skin. Ranald's lips parted around another moan as one of the Lycan's hands closed around his leaking shaft, stroking unhurriedly, while the other hand caressed sensitive skin, roaming imperiously over Ranald's smooth chest.