Layton is trapped in a beautiful body that is not his own, filled with strange new vampire powers as well as a lust for blood, and hated or feared by everyone in Lord Covaci’s castle. Can he escape and return to his own life? Or will he be trapped forever as his dark lord’s mistress? Dark Lord’s Mistress 2 is available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords and Amazon.
Trapped in his coffin, Layton’s mind starts to break and meld with the remnants of Sanda, who whispers to him from within. In his solitude, his reality blurs. Is he a strapping young blacksmith? Or a sexy vampire mistress?
Layton is rescued from his underground coffin by Paine and taken to Lord Covaci’s castle. Lord Covaci is determined to discover why one of his brides killed another. He alternately punishes and pleasures Layton to get him to confess because he knows that if there is any more insanity in Lord Covaci’s bloodline, the vampire council will come after them all.
Lord Covaci’s other mistresses hate Layton and blame him for killing their sister wife, not knowing that it was Sanda, the previous occupant of Layton’s current body, that actually committed the crime. The other wives want him dead and they’ll use their own special powers to make it happen.
The only thing saving Layton is that his melding with Sanda’s mind begins to give him access to her abilities. But in order to escape alive he’ll have to fully embrace his sexy new body.
Sanda
“You have been busy, Sanda,” a laughing voice spoke up, making Sanda pause in the hallway.
Ilana stepped out of the darkness, the silver filigree of her midnight-black dress glinting in the torch light. Her raven-black hair was pinned back and covered by an elegant coiffe. The ruby choker around her pale neck matched the color of her blood-red lips, which were curled into a knowing smile.
“Ilana,” Sanda responded coldly. “What are you doing here? I thought the castle had been cleared of vermin.”
The two women faced each other. Sanda’s magnificent ruby-red dress spilled like a waterfall down her body, the crinoline at her waist causing it to pool out into a radiant arc around her. Ilana’s dress was grand, but Sanda’s outdid hers by an order of magnitude. Each thread was perfect. Sigils embroidered in black stood out from the rich red silk, seeming to dance with each motion of her body. The dress brought out the deep red highlights of Sanda’s brunette hair, which spilled down her back.
“A little bat told me of your adventures in the village,” Ilana said, flashing white teeth in a grin.
“Is that so?” Sanda said, clasping her hands and staring into Ilana’s black eyes. “And what did this little bat tell you?”
“He told me you feasted on a young man. What would Lord Covaci say if he found you had been stealing his livestock?”
Sanda stared daggers at Ilana. They had both been turned into vampires by Lord Covaci. They both owed him their eternal youth and vigor. Sanda had been a vampire for longer but had been turned later in life, frozen in appearance at the physical age of thirty. Ilana still appeared to be the youth of nineteen that she’d been at her turning. They were both now much older even than that.
A vampire lord had one wife but many mistresses. In Lord Covaci’s case he had three, all of them ensconced in his castle and all of them bitter rivals for his favor. Sanda, as his wife, should have been afforded respect but instead found herself constantly defending her position, using cruelty and brutality to keep the others in their places. She’d come to love it, craving the tortured cries of her blood sisters as she strung them up and played out her most cruel and depraved tortures on them. Their misery was even more pleasurable than her lord’s admiration.
His was a heavy thing. Choking. Stifling. Always rules. Don’t kill those whom Lord Covaci had marked for his own. Don’t play with your food, pretending to set it free before chasing it through the hallways and laughing as it begs for mercy. Don’t spread entrails through the castle. Sanda was growing to hate it. They were vampires. They had eternity in which to try everything. And yet he still seemed to be hung up on the predilections he’d had as a human. Wasn’t the point of being a vampire to leave everything human behind?
Ilana was the worst of Sanda’s blood sisters. Had it not been for the strictest prohibition on a vampire killing another vampire enforced by the Council, one of them would have done away with the other centuries ago. As it was, they were constant rivals.
“Do you think our lord will ever love you as much as he loves me?” Sanda purred dangerously.
“Do you think our lord will ever find you as attractive as he finds me?” Ilana responded, reaching up to stroke a ruby red choker that clung to her neck.
“Where did you get that?” Sanda demanded.
“This? It was a gift from Lord Covaci.”
Though Lord Covaci’s admiration was stifling, it did provide Sanda a further degree of power over his mistresses. That her lord was now giving this wench such gifts was unpardonable.
“Give it to me,” Sanda hissed.
“I shall not,” Ilana replied, barring her teeth. “Now if you will excuse me, our lord has requested me.”
Ilana turned but Sanda shot out her hand and grabbed Ilana’s arm, her nails now claws digging into Ilana’s flesh. Sanda had no flash of premonition, nothing that warned her of imminent danger to herself. Such premonitions had made her reckless, coming as they did only when she was at risk of dying or being utterly defeated. Conversely, the lack of such premonitions likely meant victory. These premonitions had only begun after Lord Covaci had turned her. She had not told anyone of them, understanding that keeping them secret made them more powerful.
“Release me,” Ilana growled, her incisors growing sharp as she prepared to fight.
Sanda’s lips curled as her incisors lengthened and sharpened as well. The rim of her eyes turned yellow and she swiped at Ilana’s face with her claws but the younger woman was quick and danced back, grabbing Sanda’s hand once it had breezed past her face. They grappled with each other in the darkened hallway. Ilana slipped out of Sanda’s clasp and turned to face her, leaping forward suddenly in a move almost too fast to see.
Razor-sharp fingernails sliced through the air. Limbs twirled. Splashes of cold blood dripped from Sanda’s cheek as Ilana slashed her. Ilana was wilder, stronger, moving like a hellcat, all claws and teeth and limbs, her moves blurry with speed so that Sanda was forced to step back and back until she reached the wall and could back away no more. Speed was Ilana’s power and she used it to her advantage, whirling, slicing through the air, cutting Sanda’s cheeks and lips, ripping the bodice of her dress and driving jagged claw marks down her chest in an agony of exquisite pain.
Ilana had never been this vicious before. Backed against the wall with a wild Ilana closing in, Sanda felt a new power welling up inside her, as if something ephemeral had been shaken lose. Without thinking she hurled herself towards Ilana, wrapped her arms around her to stifle those claws even as she took several more slashes and her dress was torn to ribbons. Sanda breathed out deeply, felt the world spin and flip.
Suddenly, Sanda was being held tight by someone. That someone gasped and stepped back into the light of the flickering torch. The woman cried out in utter despair and looked down at her torn ruby-red dress then back up to Sanda. But the woman was Sanda. Or it was Sanda’s body at least.
Sanda looked down at herself, saw the magnificent midnight-black dress of Ilana, saw the valley of Ilana’s mountainous chest thrust out on her own torso, saw Ilana’s fingers and nails, all now controlled by Sanda, moving beneath her command. Sanda was in Ilana’s body.
“What have you done?” Ilana-in-Sanda whispered.
Power flooded Sanda and she pounced on Ilana, using her new body’s speed to rip her old body to shreds. Blood splashed against wall and floor. Sanda’s teeth clamped around Ilana’s neck and she tore her jugular, opening her mouth wide to drink down the cool, sticky, spicy vampire blood. Ilana gurgled and clawed feebly at Sanda and Sanda drank until she was full and Ilana’s body was still.
She may have yet healed, but Sanda, invigorated by her newfound power, her new body, dragged her former self through the castle and hid her atop the highest turret. She could have beheaded Ilana and ended her permanently and quickly. Instead, she sliced into Ilana’s body, stringing her up by her own intestines and leaving her there in fear, waiting for the sun to find her and turn her to ash.
Then Sanda fled, free from her lord. Free from responsibility. Free and young once more.
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