The Sanction

by Reeyce Smythe Wilder

  “They are out there,” she informed. “I feel their presence…”

  He moved passed her, scowled at the darkened forest and closed the window. “Then they are fools. I will not take lightly their trespassing onto my territory.”

  She swallowed hard. “They worry for me. Wouldn’t you have done the same had it been your loved one?”

  He thought about her, being snatched from beneath his very nose by the Hunters that lingered amongst the trees. The wave of anger that accompanied his controlled panic at the initial discovery of their presence was not present this time around – this time, with her standing next to him draped in nothing but a sheet and trembling lightly in the cold, he was alarmed. If the shoe had been on the other foot, the Hunters would not have gotten past the main gate as far as he was concerned. The hills would have been bathed with their blood for even attempting to tear her away from him.

  Stunned, Graeme scowled at the mere idea of it all. Hadn’t he not more than ten minutes ago remind himself that she was just a pawn? His nostril flared when he ran his fingers through the length of her hair. “For a loved one, yes. But not for you.”

  She blinked. Her eyes shone like liquid gems in the darkness, flooded with tears of hurt. He yanked her body against his and rocked the evidence of his desire upon her stomach. She whimpered like a wounded animal. “When will you release me?”

  “When I’m good and ready.”

  “You said you would release me when you have claimed me.” Her voice was coarse and almost a whisper. “You do not want me, and I am worthless to you. Why am I still being held?”

  “I may not want you, but what I want from you is another matter completely.”

  Something very close to anger glinted beneath her tears, but when she spoke her voice was trickled with askance. “Am I to be fed tonight?”

  His tongue found her ear. Her fangs shone pearl in the night. Graeme touched the scars on his neck and frowned. He had a hell of a time keeping the evidence of her feed hidden from the others. “Somewhere less visible this time.”

  His clothes fell to the floor in a heap, and moments later he had duly pulled the sheet from her body. By all the gods, she was something to look at - all long-limbed and full in all the places his hands itched to caress. He made to reach for her. She stepped forward and pressed her soft breasts to his form. Taken quite by surprise at her boldness, something akin to a grin pulled at his lips. Her fingers poked his chest and pushed him back. He obliged, settling himself on the bed, looking at her in anticipation. Her pebbled nipples were directly before him, and when he moved to capture the hardened peeks between his lips, she caught his face between her hands and pressed her lips there. He gripped the softness of her hips and marveled that his blood had done wonders to her half-starved form. Undoubtedly after tonight, she would be fully healed.

  “Straddle me,” he commanded softly. A blush stained her cheeks, but she obeyed. The heat of her center was pressed against him, and he caught the full scent of the musk that wafted between them. His nostrils flared and despite himself, the need to bury himself within her, to become one with her, was almost overwhelming. He pressed his lips to her neck. From the moment his tongue darted out to taste her, she hissed. He pulled her closer still. She fell against him and forced him back even further. Upon the warm furs, knees bent at the edge of the bed, Graeme’s eyes flamed amber as he considered her hungrily. Her tongue darted out and traced a heated path from the scars that were almost healed from the night before upon his neck, to his throat, then down his chest.

  He held his breath. For the life of him he could not recall ever having a woman caress him so tenderly. Her fingers gently clawed his tightened stomach. Graeme sank his fingers into the thick, tangled mass of hair at the back of her head and sat half way, the strain of his muscles pulled taunt. Still, her lips and moist tongue journeyed south. His anticipation heightened. Each dip and plane of his lower torso she explored with her mouth. Unwillingly, his eyes closed. The things he wanted to do to her…

  “You should feed,” he croaked between heavy breaths. “You will need your strength for what I have planned for you tonight.”

  No sooner did the words leave his mouth did her piercing fangs sink themselves into the flesh of his inner leg. Graeme’s eyes darted open. The heat of pleasure was like a furnace, exploding within him even as her fingers wrapped around his throbbing member. The motions she applied there were slow and uncertain, and he enclosed his hand over hers to demonstrate tenderly. All the while she drank, pushing him to a place of urgency. Almost violently he tumbled her beneath him, and it was in hunger and desperation he slammed himself into her. She hollered in ecstasy. Crimson droplets stained the corners of her mouth. Graeme continued his hasty movements and captured her parted lips greedily. The taste of his own metallic blood, merged with the almost primal groans that escaped her sensual form beckoned him to do the unthinkable – in a rush of rapture, his fangs lengthened. Just one bite…to taste her…to mark her mine…Spasms claimed her body swiftly, and the moment those convulsions tightened upon his rod buried deep within her flesh, Graeme stiffened. His teeth grazed the tender flesh of her shoulder where he lowered his mouth to give into the temptation, but already the heat of such rapture had begun to cool. He sighed in contentment and stayed there for a moment. Little tremors still snaked through her frame.

  “The night has only just begun,” came his voice finally. “I intend to be fully satisfied by the time of the new moon.”

  Her hands touched him lightly, and before he gave into the need to hold her close, he moved away. “The new moon…is that when I will be released?”

  Graeme locked his hands behind his head and did his best to calm his harsh breaths. His heart still pounded from their exertions. “That depends upon the Hunters.”

  “The Hunters? I don’t understand.”

  “They have agreed to pay your ransom. If they are able to do so, you shall be returned.”

  She sat up slowly, her face flushed, eyes glinting. The air was thick with the scent of their mating. Graeme’s eyes fell to her breasts and reached out to caress her non-too-gently. She batted his hand away in agitation. “If the Hunters are paying my ransom, what have I been doing?”

  He blinked, and then thundered laughter. “Your body pleases me, but you cannot be compared to a hundred Hunter heads!”

  Amarinda felt a fist lock around her heart and sucked in a gasp of breath. She thought about her mother, possibly dead at the hands of wolves, of her dear sweet uncles who would have given their very lives to see her safe, of the handsome young vampires who had wanted so desperately to dance with her at the manse those many long nights ago. Her heart broke in more ways than one. Oh, she had known she would never have him. Her hunger had driven her to become nothing more than she was now – a despised whore of a dog! And now, after ripping the very soul from her body, he would further humiliate her family, her species, by having her ransomed for such a price?

  Rage forced her to her feet. There in the dark, the pleasure she found in his strong embrace was duly forgotten. Mate or not, she would hurt this mongrel son of a bitch! She would kill him where he lay, looking flushed and so sexually sated – she hated to even remind herself of the fact that it was all because of her need to feed. If only she had been born male, she would have beheaded the bastard!

  “You animal!” she hissed, trembling so hard it was difficult to form the words. He pushed himself up and considered her with a twisted smile on his face. Amarinda rushed forward without warning. One minute she was standing there – the next she had succeeded in pinning him upon the furs and pummeled his face in with her fist. His roar of pain was very satisfying, for in his shock, he had not anticipated her attack. Amarinda had never experienced blood-lust borne of rage – she saw nothing but her target, heard nothing but the harsh pounding of blood in her ear and felt nothing save the hatred that burned in her heart and fueled her on. Her victory was not to last, for in a flash he had flung her away and
off of him. Her body catapulted through the air and landed against the cold stone floor. On her feet she darted, her eyes flaming, fangs protruding and just as deadly as his.

  He wiped the blood the oozed from his lips with the back of his hand. He was angry. No, she corrected. He was not just angry. He was livid. And by the way he stepped forward with purpose, Amarinda knew that whatever mercy he allowed her had reached its end. This was it then. This was where he would beat her and leave her alive long enough to collect his ransom. Or where he would walk out the door and starve her – again. Some of the starch went out of her spine. A beating she could handle. Being deprived of blood however…

  By his fourth step, the vampire within her begged to surrender. This was her mate for heaven sake! If he demanded her beating heart on a platter she would give it to him. But he was the reason she had lost everything! He was the reason she was no long worthy of honor! He was the reason her family, her Coven, would die!

  “I will kill you tonight mongrel!” came her trembling voice. “I will drain the blood from your veins and use the strength there to unleash hell!”

  His jaw ticked. He approached her with caution. “By all the gods when I get my hands on you I’ll whip the skin off your back.”

  He would do it. She saw the promise in his eyes, in the determined manner of his advance. If she had to die then so be it. Amarinda would die fighting. She moved with lightening agility, and the back of her hand caught his cheek in full force. This time, however, she did not foresee his counterattack. Just as quickly, the favor was repaid. She hit the floor so hard the room spun. Everything was blurred. Hot tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away even as she attempted to stand. Tangled hair framed her face, and she pushed it out of her line of vision to stare directly into his amber orbs. His nose near touched hers. Her gasp of fear and shock froze her to the spot. Everything about him spelled power. His length of dark hair curled around his shoulders and the snarl he offered was accompanied by a threatening growl of dominance. Amarinda stiffened her spine and struggled with the will to stay on her feet.

  “Is that all the fight you have within you?” he taunted, pressing his massive, naked chest to hers. His sniff of disgust was like a slap to the face. “Any other woman would have suited me better.”

  Jealous rage sent another wave of tremors through her form. He noted her slightly flaring nostrils, for his smirk was one of mockery. Amarinda did not have far to lean forward when her teeth sank into the muscle of his shoulder. His roar of agony was very satisfying, especially since there were no tender kisses to muddle her senses. Or so she thought, for the moment he moaned, she scuttled away and considered him in wide-eyed shock. His member was already stiff and pulsating, and there was the look of smoky desire on his face.

  “Is that what you planned?” he rasped, stalking her as she stumbled from his fierce form. “To use your teeth?” She swallowed hard. What the hell just happened? Surely her bite had caused him pain! Her back made contact with a tapestry that hung from the wall. She was cornered. Penned. “I too have teeth, leech. One of these days I will show you that I know how to use them!” His grip upon her arms was brutal when he flung her around. Her tender cheek was pressed against the coarse material of the tapestry even as he locked her hands behind her back with fingers of iron. Searing tears flowed from her eyes. She struggled all the while.

  “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!”

  He rocked his hips forward to press against the swell of her rump. Her gasp sent the saliva down the wrong way. She coughed pitifully.

  “I’ve been too lenient with you so far,” he hissed in her ear. His free hand slipped swiftly between her trembling legs and found her core. She shook her head in feigned denial. “This is how I want you…desperate for me…”

  To her utter dismay, she leaned back into him. The head of his manhood probed her sleek entrance harshly. Amarinda accepted the invasion with soft mewls of pleasure. He took her hard and fast, releasing her hands in favor of her hips as he pounded unceremoniously into her sheath. His grunts of urgency near drowned out the moans of delight she offered, and when the white heat of yet another eruption claimed her, she felt his seed shoot into the depth of her stomach, scorching and sure.

  Sore, exhausted, and too ashamed to look at him, she almost crumpled to her knees. He lifted her haphazardly with one arm and leaned her against the wall. The peeks of her breasts faced him once more. He suckled them harshly, one after the other. Amarinda felt her body respond even to the brute force he used. She swatted his hand away tiredly.

  “Enough…” He paused, his eyes gone serious again. Already she saw that he was more than willing to rise to such a challenge. She swallowed some of her pride and allowed her eyes to fall. “Please…”

  He half dragged her almost limp form to the bed. There she tumbled in an exhausted heap, eyes already moist with tears. He would not spare her. He would not deal with her gently after she had so foolishly allowed her anger to rule her head. The wound on his shoulder oozed blood and trickled down the length of his chest. Her nostrils flared at the hot, enticing scent of it. Desire swam beneath the liquid in her eyes. Amarinda knew it had nothing to do with her hunger. She was sated for the time being, but the need within her, the desire to be filled by him stirred, even as he pinned her hands at the sides of her head. A sign of his strength. A sign of his ultimate control. A sign of his dominance. Sweet shudders swept her. His glowing amber eyes narrowed in determination. A self-righteous smile quirked the corners of his mouth.

  “Patience Amarinda,” he drawled in a husky baritone. “We are far from finished…”

  Her toes curled in anticipation.

  Chapter Six

  It had been several days of insatiable pleasure. The ache in her limbs throbbed sweetly through her body as she stretched beneath the thick furs. Amarinda groaned and rolled over – only to be met with hard warmth. Panicked, her eyes darted open. At her side, he slept. The deep breaths he took fanned her face and forced her to blink. Her first thought was to move away, but the temptation to cuddle close was too great. Ever so slowly, she inched closer still, not wanting to awaken him. He would push her aside and grumble curses as was his habit each morning. He regretted having spent the night, he said. She was blamed for her witchcraft, for seducing him each time he saw her fed. In the nights passed their joining had taken on a new intensity she did not understand. He was thorough, fierce even. There were instances she swore his features shifted, as if he was at the brink of undergoing the change right before her eyes. Then he would kiss her, or pull away, or hold back on how violently she knew he wanted to ravish her.

  Surprisingly, Amarinda was not afraid. She had been regaled with so many stories about the Weres, she knew his near explosive violence stemmed from the fact that the full moon was already rising. Tonight, if she was not mistaken.

  A quiver began in her belly and ended in her toes. Absently, she allowed her eyes to assess him. The furs covered his lower half. Her cheeks near flamed. She knew what it covered and how fulfilled it made her feel. Light fingers trailed the line of hair that disappeared there up his abdomen. Every dip and valley she outlined, wanting to remember him as he was now, unguarded and asleep. He boasted many scars she saw, some more pronounced than others, some healed uglier than some. The hair that matted his wide chest was silken to the touch. She twirled her fingers there and pressed her nostrils to his shoulder to inhale the very essence of him. His scent put her in mind of the clean mountain brooks and the stones on the river bed that made wading through the water near uncomfortable. The memory made her smile, and she lifted her hand to stroke his jaw line, to outline the shape of his mouth that was always twisted in a scowl – and froze like a thief that had been caught.

  His eyes were focused upon her face. The depth of the almost orange taints there forced her to swallow hard. Flushed, she allowed her hand to fall. That he should see her so, near worshipping his form mortified her. She made to move, wanting to be away from him before
he pushed her away as he was wont to do each morning, and gasped, stunned, as he gently slid his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his chest.

  The tension seeped out of her body and through his, and she buried her head in the crook of his neck. One leg was flung over his stomach, and her fingers tentatively began their exploration of the texture of his skin. The steady beat of his heart was constant and powerful. His embrace tightened ever so lightly. She sighed. She felt protected with him. Safe. The thought forced her to pause. She should not allow herself to want him, to want to be with him. This was nothing more than a romp. How many others had lain here, in his arms? How many others had experienced paradise at his touch? The pain in her chest could not be compared. She did not love this Were, but love him or not, he was her mate. She was joined to him now. When he returned her to the Coven, she would be unable to survive. It would mean her death. He did not want her. Amarinda did not know what hurt more.

  These were the only moments she would have with him. These were the hours she would have to remember for the rest of her life. There was no one else for her. Even if she took another lover, he would never make her want to yield, or want to give of herself the way he could.

  Through a bout of hot tears, Amarinda lifted her head and kissed him passionately. She buried the gasp in his throat and demanded his tongue. He allowed her access to explore there, to draw him into her as he had so expertly done many times before. The warmth of his hands stroked her body. She became alive at his touch. She would remember this kiss, she vowed. She would remember the smell of his skin and the way his lips felt on hers, the callous of his hands and the way it near bruised her tender flesh when he took her passionately, the flicker of amber in his eyes when anger fought his control, and the tiny dimple that hardly ever showed, for he was not wont to genuinely smile very often.

  She needed him again. Needed him more than she needed the blood that sustained her. Amarinda understood then what it meant to be mated. Had it anything to do with love? How could she love him? There was nothing he had done to deserve her love. But how she needed him!