He closed the door with finality and noted that she jumped and took a small step back. She was afraid of him, as she should well be. The fact pleased him immensely. He did not hesitate when he strode toward the open window. Winter was coming. The moisture and stagnant cold could not be shaken.
“A-are you here to kill me?” Her voice was croaky and very pathetic.
He snorted. “I told you – you will be ransomed, not killed.”
Her flecked eyes considered him with condemnation. “Why then am I being starved?”
“Starved? You were fed two days ago.”
“What you offered could hardly be called a meal.”
He directed a dark frown toward her. “Would you prefer a body every day of the week?”
“A sip each day would suffice,” she sought to educate stiffly. Graeme made his way toward her, unwillingly inhaling a deep breath as he did so. She did not back away or attempt to flee. He grew increasingly impressed and annoyed that he should feel so. One foot from her form, he noted in a sweeping glance several very interesting facts; her pulse quickened, her breaths became uneven, her nostrils flared in awareness as she caught his scent, and the silver in her eyes darkened considerably.
The attraction – if that is at all what he felt toward her at the moment - was returned. The reason why he came was lost to him. His last memorable thought was burying his member deep within her shaft. What would it be like to bite her? What would it be like to be bitten by her?
“You will be fed daily as of today,” he managed thickly before his brain could respond. Graeme considered the way her lips parted as she gasped. They begged to be nibbled. What came out of his mouth next was as unexpected as the sudden heat that seized him below the belt. “Under the condition that you take from me directly.”
She paled, if it were at all possible, and scuttled away from his towering height as though he were infected with the plague. Pure disbelief reflected in her orbs. A pained look washed over her features. “I cannot. It is…forbidden.” Graeme did not attempt to approach her. “Taking directly from a male…unless with the intent to kill, is reserved only for mates.”
His eyes flashed dangerously. It was highly unlikely she thought him ignorant of the fact their fates were entwined. “Why?”
She struggled to find her voice. “It seals a bond that can be broken only through death.” Her eyes could not meet his. “It is intimate – sacred even.”
So that was the truth of it then. She did not want to be bound to him. His eyes narrowed. When he spoke, it was out of resentment at her rejection. “If I decide to keep you here, there is little the Hunters can do by way of rescuing you.” Hot tears streamed down her face. Graeme did not care. “But I do not desire a leech for a mate. What I will take from you is what is mine by right – only then will you be released.”
Her lips trembled so terribly he almost gave into the agony that threatened to pull in his heart. But damn it, he wanted her bound to him. He wanted to claim her, his. He also wanted her to suffer. It was a known fact that once mated, a vampire could find no solace in another. He would force his hand in the matter and be content in knowing that she was left like a wraith without him. The Cronus Coven would be scorned, and without the support of the other vampires, vulnerable. She deserved nothing less. The mere idea of ravishing her body ignited a fire in his blood. It boiled with determination. He felt a throb in his head and knew by the way she near shrank beneath his gaze that the irises of his eyes burned amber.
“Please don’t do this.” Her voice was laced with desperation. “You are my mate…why are you doing this?”
He met her toe to toe and presented a Lucifer’s smile. The heat she generated there, mingled with the scent of her, was almost overwhelming. He clutched her cheeks firmly and ignored her panicked whimper. “Mate?” he ridiculed maliciously. “You are nothing more to me than a means to an end. But to you I will be as necessary as the blood you so desperately crave. The fates have erred this time around leech – I will become your mate, but you shall never be mine!”
When he pushed her away, it was to leave her there, standing broken, in the center of the room.
****
It had been six days since his visit.
Amarinda curled herself into the tightest little ball and took a sweeping glance around the destroyed chamber. In a corner she rocked back and forth, muttering words in her vampire-tongue in an attempt to sooth the burn of her stomach. In the throes of agony she had done this. Everything in the room was either torn to shreds or shattered. Due to her waned strength, the bed remained intact.
Amarinda had never been denied food. She likened herself unto her uncle Sutter. Many of the Hunters regaled her of stories about his valor in battle, of his blood-lust. She never met him. In short, among the Covens he was a force to be reckoned with. But he was well on his way to becoming Lost. Maybe this is what it felt like losing one’s sanity she thought, for in her moments of pain when instinct took control, she recalled nothing.
Each day he would knock on the door and ask her decision. Each day she gave him the same response – that he could impale himself on his own sword. Today though, as she counted down the minutes when the sun would set and he would knock again, she knew the meaning of selling her soul. She would do just about anything to have her hunger sated, even if it meant binding herself to him. A bitter life would be her lot, but Amarinda did not care – not when she heard his footsteps echo upon the stone down the hall. The sound of his approach was heightened to such a degree that her head pulsed in agony. He smelled like the water from the rivers, fresh and clean and delicious. She flung herself against the heavy door and pressed her face there desperately.
His knocks echoed sharp and clear. “Are you still living leech?”
Amarinda whimpered, her strength spent, her emotions helter-skelter. “Open the door…”
“Speak louder witch. I can’t hear you.”
How he lied! She swallowed the dryness of her throat and made another valiant effort. “Open the door!”
“Why?”
She felt her strength leave her knees and slid down the door helplessly. She hated this Were! Maybe it was a blessing in disguise he offered her. She could not even stomach spending eternity with such a sadistic bastard!
“I would have you speak the words!” he sneered.
“I will take from you…” There was a pause, then the opening of the door. Her head fell in defeat as he stepped forward to discover her sitting just beyond the threshold. She heard him sniff as he scanned the ruined room, but she did not care. All that mattered was the blood that flowed like molten lava through his veins. He hauled her to her feet and slid the bolt home. The instant his back was turned, Amarinda launched. Her fangs sank into the vein of his neck. His roar was followed by a deadly grip upon her arm as he forced her away. Light-headed from the small fare she had taken, she whimpered and attempted to fling herself upon him again.
“Wait!”
She trembled in need, hating him more each moment, craving his blood all the same. He took his time about the matter and exposed the laces of the tunic he wore. Her eyes fell to the pulse that beat there, at the base of his throat. A strong pulse it was. Hers for the taking. She stepped forward and sank her teeth into him, pulling as deep as she dared. She drank until her hunger was sated; until she heard him growl low in his throat…until the haze of hunger abandoned her, until awareness swept her form. His hands were making their way down the curve of her hips. She pulled away and met his eyes, shocked that they flamed so brightly, afraid of the sharpened edges of several of his slightly elongated teeth, but most of all, confused that hot spasms coursed through her blood.
He intended to dishonor her, to use her like linen and send her back to her Coven a ghost. He did not love her, did not want her at his side until his last breath. By taking from him she had just signed over herself, body and soul. Even now as he trailed his fingers through her hair, she could feel herself surrender. He was her m
ate. She was bound to him now, no matter what he chose to do to her. Tears of remorse swamped her eyes.
“Get it over with,” she rasped, hating that even as he leaned forward to take the lobe of her ear between his dangerously sharp fangs, she shuddered with anticipation. He tore the dress from her body and stepped back to look at her. Amarinda never felt more ashamed in her life. Her very first time and there she was, filthy, reeking and with a mate who did not want her. She made to cover her breasts. He stilled her hands swiftly.
“Do not hide from me,” came his guttural voice. Tears streamed down her face and stained her chest. It was another moment before he spoke again. “Look at me.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes. His touch fell away and for a moment more, he said nothing. An almost awkward kiss was placed upon her stiff lips. Her eyes darted open in surprised wonder. That he would approach her with such intent, only to kiss her…
The distance between their bodies was but a breath, but the soft, tantalizing manner his lips danced upon hers elicited a sigh from the depths of her being. A very wet tongue teased her teeth, coaxing her to accept the invasion. Almost instantly, she opened her mouth. He tasted of potent drink spiced with herbs, and he drew on her tongue greedily for a long time, contenting himself with simply instructing her. The teasing bites and nibbles around her mouth prompted a moan, and even when she leaned into him to wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through the thick length of ebony hair that crowned his head, he did not make to touch her – until she instinctively pressed her hips into his and felt a very hard, incredibly large part of him. Her panicked gasp almost forced their lips apart, but he took full control then. She was tumbled onto the rumpled sheets swiftly. Whatever resistance she may have voiced was drowned by the intensity of his kisses and the near lethargic after-effect of his hands running themselves about her agitated form. From the moment his mouth left hers she gasped for air – and was all but breathless again. One peeked nipple was being suckled, the other duly assaulted by deft fingers. Amarinda arched her back and held him to her form avariciously. Her soft cries he answered with a deep, satisfied groan.
“I bet my life you taste as delectable as you look,” he rasped between kisses. His lips trailed a blazing path down the center of her stomach. His seeking fingers stroked the length of her legs and lingered for a fleeting second behind her knees. She hissed in delight, catching his eyes for only a moment before hers were closed in pleasure once more. This was the reason females were created, she decided. This was what it meant to be woman. Or so she thought, for the instant his light touch stroked her heated core, she hollered. Awareness shocked her in full force. Distraught, she attempted to push him away, whimpering his name, mewling helplessly. Her reaction fueled the passionate way he abused her lips. One large hand was wrapped impatiently about her waist and she was pulled up higher to the center of the bed.
“Open for me,” he purred the moment her thighs locked his hand in place. “Let me look at you…let me…”
Her knees were pried apart, and the moment his tongue replaced his swift fingers, she shattered. Fire and ice swept her from head to toe, and she moaned an endearment in unabashed pleasure. He trailed a wet line to the dip of her stomach, to each very sensitive nipple, and finally paused to nibble at her neck. Her sigh was one of contented exhaustion.
“It is not over yet leech,” he purred, nipping at her lips. Basking in the after-math of satisfaction, she did nothing but smile. There was a rustle of clothing, and then the heat of his body returned. Her eyes flew open immediately. He was poised above her, his naked form very muscled and defined. The soft hair that matted his chest invited her to touch him there, and she did so, curiously at first. Her fingertips traced each cut and contour of his form, and lingered upon his taut stomach before brushing the protruding member there. Wide eyed and astonished, she wrapped her fingers around him. He was like iron sheathed in satin. Her eyes met his in wonder. He exhaled a strained breath, and it was only then that she understood her inspection of his body had cost him much self-restraint. Bravely, she touched her lips to his. For two full seconds his body went taunt, and then all at once he fell upon her, ravishing her lips once again as he sought the entrance to her body. Amarinda lifted her hips and held nothing back. White heat seized her then, and she stiffened in agony.
“Relax…I will make it better…trust me.” True to his word, the pain subsided and was transformed into immeasurable pleasure. Never before had she experienced this closeness. He stretched and filled her until she felt herself bursting. He moved faster still and not once did he tear his lips from hers. The moment he stiffened, Amarinda felt him pulse deep within the furthest reaches of her stomach. Instinct made her wrap her legs around his waist and hold him to her chest when he collapsed upon her breasts. He was heavy, and his heartbeat thundered wildly, vibrating even throughout her very being.
He made to move then, but she tightened her legs around him and could not meet his eyes when he looked into her face. She released him slowly, her gaze focused on the ceiling directly above her. He would leave her side now, and would return her to her Coven. Amarinda was not fool enough to believe the emotion that swelled in her heart was love, or even a liking for this Were, but he was now and forever would be, her mate.
Chapter Five
Graeme considered the dark forest from his perch upon the battlements. At his side, Rhys shifted impatiently. Neither man spoke. Hunters were scented by a few of the scouts. The evidence of their presence did not sit well with Graeme. They had never attempted to venture this close before. For a long time he listened to Rhys council. The envoy had returned shaken, but alive and unharmed, with news that his ransom would be met on the date demanded. Still, they would try to rescue her. Why else would the Hunters risk death by crossing the boarder-lands and coming onto his territory? Even now he suspected that they hid in the dark foliage below, waiting for an opportunity to breech the walls. If that was indeed their plan, it was a foolish one. A Were could scent a vampire from a distance.
All of this for her, his vampire mate. He locked his jaw, mind racing. Oh, but how he had wanted her! He had prepared himself mentally to take from her until she was aching and sore, had kept himself away for as long as it took before she finally agreed to feed from his veins. Graeme heard desperation in her voice each time she cursed him to hell, but he had been patient – then finally, she had agreed. He had expected the pain when bitten. What he had not expected was the heated desire that whipped like a furnace within him at the texture of her mouth against his skin. No, Graeme had not expected to want to be tender with her, to want to discover all the sweet crevices of her beautiful body, to want to taste her, to feast on her like a voracious wolf. She had given herself so innocently, so generously, that unfortunate for him, he was tempted to be drawn into her arms more often that he cared to admit. The mere thought that in three weeks she would be gone left him unsettled. Still, he could never commit himself to her. No matter how delirious he imagined himself to be in the heat of passion, he would never bind himself to her. She was a vampire. His plot for vengeance must be carried out. He would not allow himself to feel any affection toward her simply because he enjoyed a tumble. He was not some whipped pup, and she was not his first lover.
He snorted loudly and turned to Rhys. The man had not spoken since he informed that the envoy had returned, and he awaited instruction. They had become good friends since Graeme had taken up his fathers’ mantle, and he honestly believed that no one could have done a better job of rallying the men. His advice was infallible, but this time, Graeme knew why he did not listen to the general’s counsel. He had wanted to sample all the lustful delights of the vampire’s flesh. Now that he had, he did not want to leave it at that just yet.
“We should increase the scouts,” came Rhys’ drone voice finally.
“That will not prevent them from intruding,” he responded.
“Then we send them a message – one that makes it clear tres
passers are not welcomed.”
A tight frown brought his brows together. His sigh was deep. The vampires were conniving. Until he held the security of their very heads in his hands, he suspected they brewed a plan. “Have the men cut and burn the trees within half a mile in every direction. I want the guards doubled at night along the walls and torches lit several yards out in the fields.” He leaned against the cold stone and held the furs close to his body. “I do not want the Hunters attempting to breech these walls. Although we are many, we would suffer great loss at their hands.”
Rhys nodded understanding and turned away. Graeme listened to his footsteps until they faded. Above, the first quarter moon waned. He made his way along the battlement and down the winding staircase, his destination the woman who was now mated to him. Shadows danced along the walls as he swept past. The heavy echo of his steps lingered in the dark. He sniffed the stagnant air at the end of the hall. Even from this distance he could smell her there, awaiting his company behind the barred door. Slowly, he advanced. Images of their time together clouded his mind. It took no further prompting to heat the member below his waist. The heavy door was pushed open; he caught sight of her before the window. She was dressed in nothing but a sheet wrapped about her body. The room was as cold as the night outside. Her length of hair reflected the moonlight. She was hauntingly beautiful, this vampire. Graeme slammed the door louder than intended, and when she glanced over her shoulder to look at him, it was with bright sliver eyes that shone unnaturally. Fire coursed through his blood and a breath caught in his throat. He tossed the furs from around his shoulders in a heartbeat.
The Sanction Page 4