Dark Shadows: Angelique's Descent

Chapter 1
Barnabas woke trembling, his heart pounding, his breath coming in gasps. An enormous weight seemed to be pushing down on his body, and his limbs felt sluggish and bound. He dug his fingers into the pillow smothering his face, and clawed his way out of the dream. For a long moment he lay panting in the darkness, ?oating out of the nightmare, feeling himself drift as the harrowing visions spiraled down into a deepening vortex. He rolled over with a sigh and forced open his eyes. Reaching for the sheets, he stroked their cool surfaces with his ?nger tips; then he twisted toward the window, where the sky brightened with a false dawn. Aberrant thoughts ran through his skull as he struggled for release from the panic that gripped him. He wondered whether he should wake Julia and ask for another injection. She kept the vial on her dresser and would be pleased if he woke her, glad to be of assistance. His eyes darted around his bedroom, craving some reassurance. Streaks of light wavered on the bedpost, the carving of the dresser, the gleam of the mirror. Outside his window, the branches of the oak tree slashed the moon with thick shadows. He sat up heavily, swinging his feet o? the bed onto the prickly texture of the carpet. As he stared into the dark, the tendrils of the nightmare wound their way back into his mind. The e woman in his dream had been eager, moaning to meet his embrace, lifting her mouth to his, her warm body pressing against him. Her hair was fragrant and her skin smelled of musk, and he could recall the pity for her that formed itself into a cloud around the hunger ?ooding through his veins. He barely knew her, a downtrodden girl from River Street; and he had found her as he had found all the others, in nightly foraging through the gloomy bars huddled down by the docks. How trusting she was as she bent to him. His hand had moved beneath her cape, up the small of her back, where he could feel the seams of her dress stitched at her waist. He ached with a helpless, limb-weakening need, and his mouth soured at the thought of his contemptible obsession. “I can’t breathe . . .” she whispered as he crushed her to him.
He meant then, before it was too late, to let her go. But she touched the back of his neck lightly with her ?nger tips, and he shuddered. He could read her thoughts, even as her movements betrayed her motives: her heady incredulity at his advances, her fantasies tumbling together in a jumble of possibilities. “Collinwood—lady of the estate—the envy of her friends—position and ease . . .” Her provincial mind could hardly conceive of the wealth! Was it possible that he could love her? Make her his wife? She was desperately, recklessly willing.
She slipped the tie of her cape, revealing the sheen of her breast, and he caressed her skin. She gave him a wanton glance, and grasping his huge hand in both her pretty ones, she covered it with feverish kisses. Then, with a sigh, she melted in his embrace.
He gathered the fall of her perfumed hair and slid it back gently. It was not her breast he sought. His lips grazed the collar of her dress and brushed against the curve of her neck. Her pulse was drumming there. . . . NO! No more! With an e?ort Barnabas wrenched himself back into consciousness. Breathing raggedly, he rose, walked to the window, and looked out.

From DARK SHADOWS: ANGELIQUE’S DESCENT by Lara Parker, copyright © 1998, 2012 by Curtis Holdings, LLC, and reprinted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.