Bonded In Blood

by L Ann

  “And do you know what makes me sick?” Morgan’s tirade continued. “You make all these women fall in love you with and you… you enjoy it. You love the attention, the stroking of your ego, the way they watch you and want you and fall apart when you leave them. But you… you stay untouched, don’t you? None of them are allowed to get close to you, in case they return the favour.” She yanked her arm free and shoved at his chest. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re so damned scared of losing control yourself, you make sure you pick women you can control instead. You need them to need you, but the minute they show you they need you, you run.”

  Internally Taz flinched with every barb she directed at him. But he’d be damned if he would give her the satisfaction of admitting she was right. Instead he summoned up a mocking smile.

  “I’m scared of losing control? Me?” His laugh was scornful. “Sweetheart, I’ve never met anyone who’s as scared as you of losing control. Don’t lay your own issues at my door. Hell, you’re so uptight you can’t even admit you enjoy having sex.” He lowered his head, watching her eyes widen then dilate and let his lips hover above hers. “But you know what?” he whispered and touched her lips with his, a featherlight touch designed to raise a response. “I know the truth. You want me, I can make you want me and that terrifies you.” He felt her lips part on a sharp intake of breath and thrust his tongue inside her mouth to stroke against hers in a brief hard kiss. Before she could react in any way, he straightened. “The problem is I’m not sure the battle is worth the prize.” He pivoted on his heel and stalked down the corridor, leaving Morgan leaning up against the floor.

  “You are such an asshole,” Morgan yelled after him. “You accuse me of jealousy yet when another man touches me you throw a tantrum.”

  She watched him stop, press the elevator call button and turn back to face her. “I threw a tantrum because another man touched you?” He repeated. “Honey, the entire Seattle Seahawks team could touch you and I’d stand there and laugh because I know how little a response they’d get.”

  “Did… did you just call me frigid?”

  “No,” Taz smiled, although it was more a baring of teeth. “I’m saying that no one else can make you respond the way I do. But if that’s what you’d rather take from it, so be it.” He shrugged, the smile dropping away. “Vegas was nice, so was the other night. But it was nothing I couldn’t get from any other woman. And with a lot more in the way of a thank you.” Liar, his inner voice told him. Taz kept his expression blank until he’d stepped into the waiting elevator and out of her sight. Once the doors had closed, he sagged against the wall and dragged a shaking hand through his hair. She made him so damn angry!

  Slamming her fist into the wall, Morgan swore under her breath. Had the two occasions she’d spent in his bed been that… that average? She asked herself. No, she dismissed the thought then reconsidered. Had it just seemed better for her? Thoughts chasing each other, she followed the path he’d taken at a slower pace.

  ~*~

  Morgan made the short walk to Taz’s suite last for thirty minutes, avoiding the elevator and walking up the stairs instead. She paused several times to gaze out of windows, stare at paintings on the walls, needing time to digest Taz’s parting words. When she did return to the suite, it was to find Taz standing at the bay window, staring through the glass, a half full glass of scotch held between the fingertips of one hand. He didn’t turn or acknowledge her arrival although he must have heard the door open and close behind him. Without speaking, Morgan moved to the guest room, throwing a heated glare toward his back as she did so.

  A few minutes later, as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on a -tshirt to sleep in, she saw the light go on under the door that led to the shared bathroom, followed by the shadow of Taz walking past and the sound of running water. Her ears tracked the sounds as he moved around the bathroom and something inside her that had been winding up tighter and tighter since their argument snapped. She threw open the door, stalked through, grabbed Taz by his shirt collar and hauled him around to face her.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded, shoving him backwards. “How do you dare stand there and tell me I’m less than average?” Her hands slammed into his chest again, this time grasping the material and twisting so it tore into two.

  Taz staggered back under the unexpected blows. “I never said you were –“ the sentence remained unfinished, cut off by Morgan reaching up and sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. The taste of his own blood in his mouth made Taz groan, his hunger rising and reminding him he hadn’t fed. He considered breaking away from Morgan, to reach for a phone and organise a delivery to sate his hunger, but then her tongue swept across the wound she’d made and the taste of blood mixed with a flavour that was uniquely Morgan and his need for her took precedence over the need for sustenance.

  He let his hands slide down over her hips, curving around her thighs so he could lift her, then took a step forward to rest her bottom against the sink counter-top. He pulled her legs around his waist and moved in close.

  “Anna,” he started to speak.

  “No,” Morgan spoke over him, pulling at his shirt until he lifted his arms so she could tug it off, then smoothed her hands over his chest and shoulders before following their path with her mouth. When her fingers moved further down and unsnapped the buttons of his jeans, she smiled against his shoulder and slid from the counter-top. She licked her way down his chest, swirling her tongue around his nipples, down further to dip into his navel and she dropped to her knees in front of him. Taz froze.

  “Anna.” He tried again, then let out an explosive breath when he felt her mouth slide over his erection. “Jesus,” he groaned, feeling her tongue and lips moving, tasting, sucking on him until he was almost dizzy with need. He tugged her upright, tangled the fingers of one hand into her hair while grasping the hem of her t-shirt with the other and pulled it over her head. He smiled, discovering she was naked beneath and looked her over with heated eyes.

  “My turn,” he whispered, lifted her back onto the counter-top and dipped his head to run his tongue up her inner thigh to the warm wet centre of her.

  Her whimpers and moans excited him almost as much as the taste of her and he lapped, licked and sucked until he knew she was hovering on the edge of orgasm. As her breath quickened, he rose and drove himself into her, his hand cupping her chin to hold her still so he could plunder her mouth.

  “There was mention,” he said between biting kisses, “of begging.”

  “Taz,” Morgan clutched at his hips as he slowed his movements.

  “I love the way you moan my name.” He braced his arms on the counter-top to either side of her hips and stilled, tensing as she wriggled against him. “So,” he continued. “About that begging?”

  “Taz, don’t,” she reached forward to dig her nails into his buttocks, trying to spur him back into movement and he laughed, easing forward, feeling her entire body shudder as he moved inside her.

  “That what you want?” he asked, nuzzling her throat.

  “Yess,” she hissed, arching against him. “Taz, please!”

  “Don’t stop…” he prompted.

  In response, she sank her teeth into his shoulder and he almost lost control.

  “Two can play at that game,” he growled and slammed back into movement, sinking his fangs into her throat at the same time. Morgan cried out, her orgasm intensified by Taz’s mouth at her throat, her body convulsing around him.

  The taste of blood mixed with her orgasm shot through Taz like a drug, sending him into his own and reawakening his hunger. Taz wound his hands into her hair and tugged her head sideways, making her throat more accessible and drank deeply, the hot sweetness coursing over his tongue.

  Feeling her grow still in his arms, Taz dragged his mouth away from her throat and threw his head backwards, panting as he struggled to regain control of his hunger. Sucking in deep breaths, he eased back, one arm still wrapped around Morgan, who shifted
forward until she was leaning against him, her arms lifting to curl around his neck.

  “Hold on tight,” he murmured and shrugged out of the jeans that were still clinging to his legs, and strode across to the walk-in bath he’d filled before Morgan had burst into the bathroom. Setting her on her feet, he urged her into the hot water and followed her in. Settling down, he pulled her back against his chest and nuzzled the back of her neck.

  “That was unexpected.” The moment he spoke, Taz knew he’d made a mistake. Morgan tensed in his arms and rose. “No, don’t.” Taz held onto her, pulling her back into his embrace, then lifted a hand to tilt her head back so he could look into her eyes. “Anna, talk to me.”

  “This was a mistake.” She jerked her eyes away.

  “Again? Most people learn from their mistakes, not keep diving back in to make the same one time and again.” He was ready for her when she twisted around, water sloshing everywhere. He caught her arms and pulled her forwards until she half lay on top of him. “No mistake feels this good, Anna,” he told her while running a palm down her back, cupping her bottom and hauling her into direct contact with his erection. “And, if you insist on this being a mistake, it’s one I’m happy to keep on making.”

  ~*~

  Sharing a bed with someone was a new experience for Morgan; waking up wrapped around a lover was another. Drifting back into consciousness, her eyes opened to a close-up view of Taz’s stubbled jawline. He was lying on his stomach, with Morgan curled around his back and her head resting on one shoulder blade, one arm draped across him and her fingers interlocked with his. Blinking, she rubbed her cheek against the warmth of his skin and felt him stir beneath her, squeezing her hand.

  Easing away, she swung her legs off the bed and stood up, hiding a smile at his sleepy protest. Padding across the room, she took the bathrobe from the back of the door, pulled it on and tied it shut as she wandered into the sitting room.

  “Finally!” her father’s voice made her jump

  “God, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she snapped, startled.

  Hamish smiled and pulled his daughter into a hug, placed a kiss on her forehead and leaned back to look at her. His eyes widened as his gaze centred on her throat.

  “Should I ask?” he nodded at the all too familiar puncture marks. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

  “What isn’t?” Morgan raised her hand to touch her throat.

  Hamish pointed. “That. Those. What appear to be wounds made by the fangs of –“ he left the final words unsaid, clearing his throat and glancing toward the bedroom door.

  “Fangs?” Morgan repeated, confused. And then an image from the early hours flashed into her mind – of Taz at her throat, the feeling of euphoria when his fangs pierced her flesh. “What did you say?” she realised her father was still speaking. “Repeat that.”

  Hamish sighed. “I said I’m surprised you accepted his bite so quickly. We thought you would fight it.”

  “Fight it? We? Who is ‘we’?” She demanded, firing the questions in quick succession. “You planned for Taz to do that?”

  “Of course we did, darling. Your bonding to Taz has been planned for a long time. We didn’t think it would happen so easily.”

  “You planned to bond me with him? When were you going to tell me your plans?” Morgan felt sick. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”

  A Necuno bonding wasn’t a trivial matter, a blood-bonding was even worse. Bonding to a vampire was an integral part of the Necuno makeup, something that had been bred into the race by the founder of the Nikaran line – a source of blood that held everything a vampire would ever require, and then some. But forced bondings were something that had, over the years, been stopped. Hamish and Zuron’s close friendship had played a huge part in the change from Vampire Master and Necuno Slave to a mutual agreement and partnership.

  “This is why you wanted me back here, isn’t it? To bond me to the Prince? To make the ties between our two families even tighter?” she demanded.

  Hamish sat down and patted the seat beside him. “Come and sit down, Morganna.”

  “No!” she snapped, pacing the room. “Vegas? That was orchestrated too, wasn’t it?”

  Hamish chuckled at his daughter’s agitation. “We put you both in the same place, yes. We hoped that if it was time for the bond to take root, it would draw you to Taz.” He gave a self-satisfied smile. “And it did.”

  “You are unbelievable!” Morgan was reeling from the information her father was sharing. Without another word, she turned on her heel and retreated to the guest-room, pulling on a pair of jogging bottoms, a t-shirt and sneakers. “I’m going for a run. Don’t be here when I get back,” she told her father and left the suite, slamming the door behind her.

  As if on cue with the thunderous crash of Morgan’s exit, Taz emerged from the master bedroom, robe open, combing a hand through his dishevelled locks.

  “Hamish?” He first eyed the suite door, then the elder Necuno as he approached. “Why didn’t you wake me.”

  “Good evening, Taz. How are you feeling? You look well rested.” Hamish ignored the younger man’s question.

  “I am. Very.” He managed a quick grin and tossed another look at the door. “I take it that rumble I heard was your daughter leaving?”

  “It was. Not as well rested as you, I would say.” Hamish quirked an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned that you did not satisfy her as much as she did you?”

  Shit. One of those conversations. “Excuse me a sec,” he held up a hand and veered off toward the bar. “Suddenly, I get the distinct feeling I’m gonna need three fingers of something a lot stronger than my usual morning coffee.”

  He took a bourbon, poured himself the mentioned three fingers, then thought better of it and filled the glass to the brim. “Cheers.” He raised the glass to Hamish and downed half of it. “Let me put it this way, and with all due respect to you, sir, I didn’t get any complaints afterwards.”

  Hamish chuckled. “For a young man with the reputation you have, you have a lot to learn about women. They never complain afterwards. Not until they’ve slept on it. You are in a unique situation, with Morganna being Necuno.” He stood up, walked to the bar and poured a drink of his own. “I’ll ask you again. How do you feel?”

  “Okay. I –“ Taz paused, the glass poised just short of his lips. “Now that you mention it, I feel great. Better than that. I feel fantastic.” He brought the drink closer to his mouth, and paused again, quirking an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Sometimes I wonder if you paid attention to any of your lessons,” Hamish groused. “Those bite marks on Morganna’s neck are your work, are they not?”

  “Yeah, we... uh… got a little carried away,” Taz shrugged, a smile almost spreading across his features. It froze and his eyes widened in sudden, gripping realisation. “No. No! I bit her. Oh shit! I bit her! Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”

  “Taz, with your penchant for hearing ‘kill everything that moves’ when we ask you to be subtle, I’m hesitant to say yes until I hear what you think I’m saying,” Hamish responded.

  “Yeah, right,” Taz murmured, taking another much-needed swallow of bourbon. “The bond – the blood bond, right?”

  “You sound a little panicked.” Hamish took Taz’s now empty glass, refilled it and handed it back. “You considered the implications before you bit her, didn’t you?”

  “Panicked? No.” Liar! “Surprised, maybe. I always thought there’d be more to it. Like a ceremony or something.”

  “There used to be – a ceremony, that is. The standard bonding is simple – a shared bite like your father and I. A blood bond, however, requires something more… intimate. And happens over time. The bite is the ultimate step.” He watched Taz as he spoke. “Your scent is your own personal signature, something you can be identified by. Have you not noticed how it’s begun to change?”

  Taz took another, bigger swallow. “No, but I’m sure I will. So, what
happens next? Between Morgan and me, I mean.”

  Hamish patted Taz’s shoulder and walked toward the door. “My daughter can be volatile. If you survive your next meeting with Morgan, we’ll discuss that.”

  “Great. Just fucking great.” Taz whispered and poured himself another glass.

  ~*~

  It took a few minutes – somewhere between the last swallow from glass number three and the first pull from his fourth glass of bourbon – before Taz noticed the folder and DVD, left on the coffee table by Hamish. Additional information on the assignment, he guessed. Meant for the two of them. Wonderful timing, Hamish, Taz thought. After what he’d learnt; after what had happened between them; the assignment was more than likely a bust.

  Bonded? Christ on the mount. How the hell was he going to deal with that? How would they deal with that? Better question – with Morgan’s resistance to emotional openness, to intimacy, how would they be able to work together to complete the assignment. Even as the thought crossed his mind, the door to the suite opened and Morgan stepped inside.

  She paused in the doorway, her eyes landing on him and jerking immediately away to a spot on the opposite wall as she resumed walking and headed toward the guest room.

  “Morgan.”

  “I’m taking a shower,” she pre-empted him, entering the guest room and closing the door behind her.

  She ain’t gonna make this easy, he thought. And almost immediately his inner voice responded. Like you thought she would?... Fool!

  Fool with a fucking death wish, he mentally corrected himself and followed her, taking a moment – a five count – before announcing himself with a tap on the door and cautiously entering.

  “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but we need to talk.”

  “About what?” She stepped out of the sweatpants she’d worn to run in, peeled off her t-shirt and threw them on the bed.

  “I didn’t – I mean, I wasn’t thinking. I –“ Taz started and discarded three explanations, took a deep breath – a mistake, he realised, as he inhaled her scent and felt his body reacting to it – and took a step back, careful to keep some distance between them. “What I mean is that I had no idea that biting you would bond us. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences.”