Kiss of the Wolf

by Morgan Hawke

  His gaze pinned hers, and his tongue swirled across the taut flesh pressed against his long teeth surrounding her nipple. His arm tightened, and his fingers knotted in her long hair, holding her breast locked to his mouth.

  The hair rose on her neck, and her body froze with fearful expectancy. Oh, shit!

  His teeth sank into her breast. Two thin lines of scarlet slid from the corners of his mouth.

  Icy shock washed over her and then exquisite pain. Erotic fire sharpened by the jolt of alarm lanced straight down to her core. Climax exploded in a violent skull-burning rush of black rapture. Driven to the edge of sanity by the horrific power of her brutal climax, she bucked in his arms and howled out her ecstasy.

  Embracing her tightly, the vampire rolled her over onto her back, pressing her into the blankets. He shuddered and then ground his cock into her, pumping stream after stream of cum into her trembling body.

  Overwhelmed by the sheer power of her release, Thorn shuddered through the last of her climax in his arms, barely conscious and straining for breath.

  The vampire suckled gently, practically purring against her breast. It was almost…comforting.

  Someone knocked hard on the cabin’s door. “Time to wake up!” The voice clearly belonged to Antonius.

  Thorn jolted out of a dead sleep. She gasped and tried to sit up, but she was pinned by Yaroslav’s naked and sweaty body. She shoved at his shoulder. “Don’t open the door!” Her voice was embarrassingly high. She winced. I sound like a freshly deflowered virgin.

  “I won’t. I know better.” Antonius’s voice held a definite thread of humor. “We’re about to dock. You’ve got about twenty minutes before we disembark.”

  The vampire rose up on one elbow and rubbed a fist against his eyes. “Thank you, Master Antonius.” He looked at Thorn with sleepy, half-hooded eyes, and a smile tilted the corner of his mouth.

  Thorn pointed a finger at him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Yaroslav’s brows lifted. “Ah?” He grinned and sat upright. “Whatever do you mean by that?” He turned and eased his long legs off the side of the bed. “I was merely going to mention that your belongings are by the door.”

  Thorn snorted. Yeah, right, sure, that’s all he was going to say. She was sticky all over from sweat and…other things. She was going to have to make a quick change to get clean. She eased off the foot of the bed and saw her white canvas bag on the floor. She knelt to collect it and then set it on the foot of the bed to unfasten the buckles.

  Yaroslav stood, set his hands on his hips, and stretched with a groan. “If you will hand me the pitcher and the basin in the washstand, I will warm the water.”

  Thorn blinked. Warm the water?

  Yaroslav turned and smiled. “Magic can be of practical use, on occasion.”

  “Oh, okay.” Thorn turned and reached for the ceramic water pitcher sunk into the tiny shelf built into the left corner. The washbowl and clean cloths were tucked on the shelf beneath it. She turned and handed everything to Yaroslav.

  He set the bowl and cloths on the bed, smiled briefly, and then shoved his hand into the pitcher. There was a brief flash of golden light. He pulled out his hand, and steam curled out of the pitcher. He poured steaming water into the washbasin.

  Thorn blinked. “That’s handy. Remind me to come find you to heat the water for my next bath.”

  Yaroslav’s smiled broadened. “You may count on it.” He dunked a cloth into the basin and crooked a finger at her. “Now then, come, and let me clean you.”

  Thorn lifted her chin. “I can do it myself.”

  “Of course.” Yaroslav smiled and sat down on the side of the bed. “But I would very much enjoy doing such for you.” He tucked his chin, his brows lifted, and he stared at her from under a fallen lock of black hair. “May I?” His bottom lip protruded just a tiny bit.

  Thorn winced. “Oh, yeesh, don’t pout!” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You’re supposed to be a big bad vampire for Pete’s sake!”

  Yaroslav sighed and shook his head. “Oh, very well then….” He held out his hand. “May I bathe you? It would give me great pleasure to do so.”

  Thorn groaned and walked over to him and took his hand. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Yaroslav tugged her close, raised the damp cloth, and smiled. “I have a great many suggestions.”

  Thorn snorted. “I’m sure you do.”

  15

  Thoroughly clean, warm, and snug in her gray sheepskin coat, Thorn leaned over the starboard railing of the fanciful Valkyrie, and stared, not quite sure of what she was looking at. With the sun rising above the mountains behind them, the huge airship had nosed its way between snow-covered peaks to descend into a deep and shadowed valley completely surrounded by steep and jagged cliffs. Halfway up the right-hand cliff, morning light spilled across a row of white pillars set back into the cliff facing.

  Thorn blinked. It honestly looked like a building was embedded in the side of the mountain. Sunlight spilled along the cliff walls, and light glinted, drawing her gaze farther along the cliffs. The glinting was from the glassed windows of houses set on gardened terraces carved right into the cliff wall. The buildings were all very different shapes, sizes, and styles from each other, but not much more than that. And they were everywhere.

  Her mouth fell open. How did anyone get into or out of all those houses? She craned her neck and squinted, but the ship was too far across from the opposite cliff wall to see any real details.

  The airship continued along the left side of the valley, making a wide turn that brought the ship all the way around toward the pillars she’d seen earlier.

  Thorn trotted across the deck from the shadowy starboard side to the ship’s sunlit port side to get a better look. The row of pillars marched in a shallow inward horseshoe curve within the mountainside. The ornate capitals supported a gleaming white architrave featuring an impressive number of statues. Rearing winged horses pulling ornate chariots posed along with sword-bearing figures under a broad peak. Far below, under the shadows of the pillars, a broad black patio, polished glass smooth, arched outward. It looked like the ship was going to pass right over it.

  Thorn pushed her long braid off her shoulder onto her back and frowned. It really was a whole building, and the closer the ship got, the bigger and more lavish it appeared.

  Yaroslav, wearing his black, fur-lined, ground-sweeping coat with his hood pulled up, leaned close to her left shoulder. “That is the grand palace, the seat of the Penumbral Realm.”

  Thorn bit down on her bottom lip. “It’s huge.”

  Yaroslav chuckled. “Quite.” Keeping his face carefully turned away from the sunlight, he leaned close to her ear. “That is only the facade—the front door, so to speak. The actual palace is deep within the mountain.”

  Thorn realized that the glints she was seeing, shining from behind the pillars, were windows, hundreds of them. “How deep does it go?”

  Yaroslav lifted his chin. “Miles. Many, many miles.” He set his gloved hand on her forearm. “You are to go nowhere with anyone but myself.”

  Thorn snorted. “I can find my way across whole countries. I am not going to get lost.”

  Yaroslav caught her chin and turned her to face him. “This has nothing to do with getting lost. There are those to whom you would be prey.”

  Thorn raised a brow and smiled. “I’m not helpless….”

  “Thorn.” Yaroslav’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened on her chin. “There are those within to whom I am prey.”

  The hair on thorn’s arms lifted. “What…?”

  Yaroslav released her chin and sighed. He looked over at the cliff palace. “Your kind and mine are not the only creatures of fairy tales and make-believe that truly do exist.” He smiled tightly. “And we are far from the most dangerous.”

  Thorn wanted to laugh, but couldn’t quite. “What, there are dragons and unicorns, too?”

  Yaroslav looked away. “As far
as I know, there is only one dragon, but there are indeed unicorns.”

  “A dragon?” Thorn blinked. “You’re kidding?”

  “Unfortunately, I am not.” He shook his head. “If we are fortunate, you will meet only the Prince.”

  Antonius walked over to stand at the railing on Yaroslav’s left. His hood was also raised to keep his face in shadow. “If she really was made by a heretic, she might have to stand before the Penumbral Senate.” He looked out at the palace.

  Yaroslav straightened, and his mouth became a tight, thin line. “The senate has convened?”

  Antonius looked down at the rail and curled his lip. “There are reports of the plague all the way up into Russia. That’s how we gained their army’s support.”

  Yaroslav sighed and gripped the rail. “So swiftly it has spread?”

  Antonius’s mouth tilted up in the corner, but his gaze was hard. “This century has railway.”

  Yaroslav scowled and made a harsh sound of pure disgust.

  Thorn tilted her head. “Is your senate anything like the senate in Washington?” She’d carried and delivered messages for more than a few senators during the war.

  “More like the Roman senate.” Antonius waved his hand toward the palace. “This place was built when Rome still ruled the known world.”

  Thorn blinked. Did he mean ancient Rome? She knew a little about Rome from the Latin and Greek the colonel had insisted she learn to read, but she simply couldn’t imagine anything being so old.

  “I had not expected this.” Yaroslav scraped a hand though his dark hair and glanced at Thorn. “The Penumbral Senate does not convene often.”

  “It does for things like this, and when they do, the world changes.” Antonius smiled sourly. “And not always for the better.”

  Thorn frowned. “The world changes?”

  Antonius waved a gloved hand toward the palace. “The last time they convened, they passed the Covenant of Shadows, the ruling to isolate the human race from magical influence.” He straightened, tapped his chest, and cleared his throat. “The sleepers shall remain undisturbed.” He shrugged. “No more magic for humankind.”

  Thorn frowned. “Why not?”

  “Magic can too easily go awry and destroy all in its wake.” Yaroslav sighed and looked over at Thorn. “Nearly a third of the known world’s population was lost due to a pair of half-grown human princes armed with less than skilled magi.”

  Thorn stared. “That’s impossible! I would have heard about a war like that.” The colonel would have found a way to drum it into her skull. He was very fond of history, especially those that dealt with wars.

  Antonius snorted. “Ever hear of the Black Plague?”

  Thorn frowned. Actually, she had. “You mean the plague caused by the rats in the Dark Ages?”

  “That’s the one.” Antonius smiled sourly. “A single white rat cursed by a Moorish wizard was sent as a gift from the Turkish crown prince to the Frankish crown prince.” He rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately this one rat escaped while being transported by ship, and the curse contaminated every rat it came in contact with.”

  Thorn shook her head. “But that wasn’t a war.”

  Yaroslav snorted. “No, it was not. It was a childish squabble that nearly destroyed all of the known world.”

  Antonius stepped back into the shadows to scrape his gloved fingers through his short dark curls. “After cleaning up the mess, the senate ruled that humans were no longer allowed magical knowledge of any kind, saying that they cannot be trusted to keep from killing themselves with it.”

  Yaroslav snorted and folded his arms. “Humanity has always had the revolting tendency to use anything within reach to commit large-scale genocide.”

  Thorn winced. They were right. The battlefields she’d skirted during the War Between the States had been perfect examples of humankind’s delight in wiping themselves out in large numbers.

  Antonius pulled his hood back up to shade his face and rejoined them at the sunlit rail. “Anyway, the senate’s ruling forced all of maguskind into exile from all of humanity.”

  Yaroslav tugged his hood lower, hiding his expression. “With so much of the human population already decimated, it was not difficult to conceal ourselves.”

  Antonius folded his arms over the brass rail and snorted. “Humans are notoriously short-lived. After four generations, less than two hundred years, no one believed we existed.”

  Thorn stilled. “Fairy tales and make-believe.”

  Yaroslav patted her arm. “Exactly.”

  Antonius stepped back from the rail, moving into the shadow cast by the ship’s broad smokestack. “There are a lot more humans in this century.” He shook his head. “The Gods only know how the senate will rule this time.”

  Yaroslav followed Antonius into the shade, dropped his chin, and curled his lip. “Why do you think I wished to find and deal with this heretic as swiftly as possible?”

  Thorn turned to look at the immense palace looming closer by the second. She looked straight down the ship’s side and discovered that the ship was already overshadowing the patio’s broad expanse, and lowering. She looked back up, craning her neck. As large as the towering pillars were, the balloon still topped the palace’s decorative peak, but not by much.

  Thorn turned around to look at the vampires standing in the shadows. “I thought you said vampires didn’t have a problem with sunlight?”

  “It won’t kill us.” Antonius smiled tightly. “But it does slow us down.”

  Yaroslav looked away. “Sunlight interferes with some of my…abilities.”

  So, vampires weren’t all-powerful? Thorn leaned back against the sunlit rail and smiled. “That’s nice to know.”

  Yaroslav lifted his chin, and his brows dripped low over his eyes.

  Thorn didn’t bother to hide her grin.

  Bells rang across the ship’s deck.

  “Ah…” Antonius lifted his chin, clearly looking for something. “We’re getting ready to dock.” He nodded to both Thorn and Yaroslav. “Count, Miss Ferrell, I’ll see you after I make my reports.” He trotted across the deck for the doors leading below.

  Several shipmen came to the rail by Thorn and began tugging on ropes.

  Thorn picked up the canvas pack at her feet and walked over to Yaroslav to get out of their way. She slid her arms into the straps and tugged on Yaroslav’s sleeve. “So, how old is he?”

  Yaroslav glanced down at her and then turned and looked over at the palace. “Master Antonius? I am not quite sure, but I do know that he witnessed the glory that was Rome first-hand.”

  Thorn frowned after Antonius. “He’s really that old?”

  “Yes, however…” Yaroslav smiled briefly, “Antonius is not nearly so old as some few members of the senate.”

  “There are people older than ancient Rome?” Thorn leaned her arm against his and gave him a wry smile. “That’s just plain scary.”

  Yaroslav turned and smiled at her. “Wait till you meet them.” He patted her cheek.

  Thorn snorted. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  Yaroslav sighed. “Hopefully it is merely a threat.”

  Thorn blinked. “Huh?”

  The ship’s steam whistle released a powerful double-tone blast only inches behind her.

  Pain stabbed into Thorn’s temples. “Ow!” She clapped her hands over her ears and winced.

  Yaroslav winced as well. “That was not pleasant.”

  Insanity broke loose with sea-coated, bearded men running and shouting everywhere. Ropes were loosened and tossed over the ship’s sides. Chains rattled loudly. The steam whistle cut loose again.

  Thorn moved back over to the sunlit rail and looked down. On the broad black patio under the shadow of the massive pillars, men scurried to catch ropes, securing them to large iron rings bolted into the polished stone expanse. Heavy chains dropped from the airship were pulled through yet more rings. Iron bars were rammed through the broad links to keep them from sliding
back out.

  A shipman in his dark seaman’s coat wearing heavy canvas gloves approached and motioned Yaroslav and Thorn toward the prow and an open portside door.

  A rope-and-peg ladder was rolled through the doorway. It unfurled to the polished black floor below.

  Thorn winced. Another ladder climb. Great…. Movement and scarlet caught the corner of her eye. She turned.

  Dark navy sea-coated men scattered before a scarlet-hooded and robed man flowing with uncanny grace across the deck toward them. He didn’t even move like he had feet; in fact he seemed to sway from side to side. His hands were folded together, concealed by voluminous sleeves, and coal-black curls spilled from under his black fur-lined hood.

  It was the man she’d seen earlier, while Yaroslav had been fixing her…magic.

  He turned his head, facing them, and his movements stilled, utterly. From within the shadow of the hood, his blue eyes seemed to glow, and his deep scarlet, Cupid’s-bow lips curved up into a sweet smile that did not reach his icy gaze.

  Thorn’s wolf soul recognized his swaying movements and his utter stillness very well indeed. Serpent…. Every hair stood on her body. “That isn’t a human.”

  Yaroslav’s hand closed tight on her upper arm, and a low growl rumbled. “Correct, Senator Belus merely has the appearance of one.”

  Thorn stilled. That was a senator? She glanced up at the vampire. “He was in the hallway when you…fixing me.”

  “That comes as no surprise.” Yaroslav’s brows dropped low over his eyes, and his gaze remained fixed on the senator. “You might even say it was expected.”

  “Oh….” She looked back toward the senator. “There was another man in the hall, too. I think he was one of Antonius’s.”

  Yaroslav took a deep breath and smiled. It wasn’t pretty. “He was there to keep this one at bay.”

  Abruptly Senator Belus moved, heading toward the sunlit portside door with decisive speed. In the gangway he stopped, turned backward, and then stepped out onto the ladder. He looked over at them again. His deceptively sweet smile broadened, and he began his descent.