The Sanction

by Reeyce Smythe Wilder

  He made to fall upon her, and the moment he attempted to pin her hands to the floor, her foot connected with his chest and sent him soaring back. He landed on his feet well enough, claws used as a grip upon the stone floor even as he slid back. She was on her feet at once. The rest of the dress was stripped away. Let him come, she thought in fury. She knew she could not defeat him. Her experience in battle came from instinct and whatever basic skill her brother had decided to amuse her with in her younger years. Still, she wanted to impart injury.

  He got to his feet slowly, his face now giving way to the beast she had seen earlier. The sight of him thus, fully Were, made the heat of her blood burn, but not from rage. That she could desire him after all he had done disgusted her to no small degree.

  “Do you really want to play rough Amarinda?” he growled. His voice came from somewhere deep within his stomach. Fire shot through her. She suppressed a shudder and strengthened her resolve.

  “This is no game, dog!”

  He lifted his head and sniffed with a purpose, then leered. “You reek of mating.”

  Humiliation forced her to flush; still, she refused to look away. “I often wonder if all Weres are good for a rump. I will be sure to sample the lot when I am through with you!”

  Eyes glinting coldly, the smile left his face. “You will never be through with me. We are mated.”

  Bitter laughter hung heavy between them. “Mated? I think not mongrel. You are marked – I am not. Who exactly, is mated to whom?”

  When he moved, she did not know, but one moment he was across the room, and the next his nose was almost pressed upon hers. The heavy breaths he took stirred the hair that had fallen into her face. She considered attacking again, but the length of his upper and lower canines that gently protruded from between parted lips numbed her stiff.

  “Do not take license with your tongue leech, for I am sorely tempted to put a mark on you that will leave you with no doubt as to whom you belong to.”

  Her courage near evaporated then. There was only murder in his eyes. “If you hurt me, you will do nothing but confirm everything I have said,” she braved tremulously. It was a miracle he understood the almost inaudible words, for he paused. Slowly, his features changed.

  “You are brimming with wisdom tonight, are you not?” he mocked. She exhaled. Her heart had fallen somewhere at the base of her stomach during their exchange. She fought to replace it quickly, but she was too late. Already he pressed her body with his and forced her to step back until the back of her knees connected with the bed. She gasped and lifted her fists to his chest. His fingers locked around her wrists brutally. The message was clear – she could accept his gentle advance, or be forced to submit to his violence. “But it is not my intent to hurt you, leech. That is not my intent at all…”

  Somehow, his fingers found the moisture between her thighs. Amarinda was forced to surrender yet again. Legs limp, she fell back. His weight crushed her into the downy mattress. No! No! No! No! Not again! Hot tears swamped her eyes. He did not love her! He did not want her! Each time she gave of herself, he took another part of her with him, and gave nothing in return save a moment of rapture. Struggling, she shook her head in defeat. He locked her beneath him with irons hands. A pulse throbbed at her center.

  Dominance.

  That is what he portrayed. And damn it all, there was nothing more she wanted than to surrender. As if reading her mind, he forced her legs apart. The rigid tip of his member sought entry. She shifted her hips in defiance.

  Something akin to a smile brushed his lips, and he slipped a masterful hand between their bodies. The strum of his fingers shattered her, and in that moment, he plunged violently. She pushed him away one moment and pulled him close the next, all the while battling with the emotions warring within her chest and the pleasure he brought her. His lips demanded hers, forcing her to give what she swore she would not. His touch was everywhere, stoking the flames that threatened to engulf her, and when at last she shattered, he rode with her on the waves of ecstasy with growls of pleasure and male pride. Shuddering, vulnerable, she felt each pulse of his desire when he too, was pushed over the edge.

  His forehead pressed to hers, Amarinda could not look at him. He kissed her upon the lips once, twice. She did not respond. His teasing nip was sharp and demanded a reaction. She hissed in pain.

  “Do not ignore me,” he said, and kissed her again. She responded in kind. He rocked his hips forward, still buried deep within her. When he lifted his head, it was to remove strands of hair from her flushed face.

  Amarinda’s face remained resigned when she finally spoke. “I am leaving come spring.”

  He froze. His burnt honey eyes instantly iced over. “And exactly how do you plan to do that?”

  She turned away. “By walking through the gates.”

  His boom of laughter was as dry as her throat. “You cannot leave.”

  “And who will stop me?”

  “I will not have you walk back into the same Coven who will -”

  “I am not going home.”

  “I do not care where you think you will go. You are not leaving.”

  “Am I a prisoner again?” She sniffed in disgust. “I chose to return; therefore I can choose to leave.” He chuckled softly and rolled away, casually locking his hands behind his head. Amarinda sat up and held the furs against her breasts. There was a relaxed, almost smug look on his face. “Did you not hear what I just said? I am leaving the first day of spring.”

  His eyes were closed lightly, a cold little smile on his face. “We shall see.”

  She huffed and turned away, her back toward him. Did he not take her serious? Did he think she would stay, to allow him to use her continually, to use their child as leverage against the Coven?

  “If you leave me, I will hunt you down, catch you, and bring you back. Do not waste both our time.” His voice lacked all warmth.

  “I do not want to stay here any longer than I have to.”

  “You will stay for as long as I tell you.”

  “No.”

  She felt him move suddenly. With gentle fingers, he swept the mass of hair from her neck. Something rumbled, a snarl, a growl, she did not know, and before she could turn to see his intent, pain blinded her. Sharp teeth breeched the tender flesh of her neck and drew blood there. Paralyzed, she cried out in agony. He drew blood until she weakened, until her body fell limp against his form. His tongue stroked the wound carefully, tenderly. Beneath the stain of blood, the scars of his bite, of his mark, would never fade. Vision blurred from blood-loss, she found his intense gaze.

  “That is your reason to trust me. Now we are both mated. You are mine and you’re not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Ten

  The Council Chamber was well illuminated and consisted of a rectangular table of impeccable craftsmanship that seated a score plus four. Presently, beneath the flickering candlelight of the chandelier above, shadows of only six blended against the rough stone walls. The Elder occupied the largest chair at the head, and considered the five somber faces before him. Macer, Mangus, Cassius and Silas were the sons his wife had borne him in recent years, with nothing but a few decades separating each birth. He prided himself on governing a close knit family, a strong family. He also prided himself on keeping the peace between Were and vampire. The orders of the Hunters were clear – keep the Weres away, and keep the Humans who lived through-out each allotted province safe. The Humans were, after all, their food supply and a potential threat. With a growing number of vampires, they needed to be careful to keep their race hidden. But the Weres – they were careless and destructive, and sought to protect the Humans from becoming a meal.

  Demetri drummed his fingers against the table and said nothing. The capture of Amarinda was something that had shaken him to his core. She was the first and only female vampire born into their Coven. The twenty Covens that graced these lands held within them only four pure females – she being one of them, and the youngest at that. N
ow, to hear that this beast had claimed her, had impregnated her, and had the utter nerve to offer her asylum was ludicrous. And she, to openly admit to such a mating was more than just a shame. It was a debasement of her kind.

  “Summon the Council Members,” he intoned finally.

  Macer, the eldest, cleared his throat with some effort. “My lord, the Council will no doubt advise war – if not with the intention of re-capturing her, then to show that such an insult carries grave consequence. But I implore you to consider encouraging them to find means of negotiation.”

  “Negotiation? And what, pray tell, do you propose we negotiate for?”

  Macer’s gasp wheezed though his teeth. “For Amarinda of course. Your grand-daughter.”

  Demetri leaned back with supreme patience. “Asylum was offered and she accepted. It appears to me that she wanted to stay.”

  “Only because she wanted to secure our means of return,” Macer argued passionately. “We were outnumbered. They would have killed us all. It is my opinion that she was forced to make a difficult choice – if she returned, the offspring would have been executed and -”

  “As it should be,” he whipped.

  Macer locked his fingers together, half appalled that his hands trembled. “My lord, I do not condone what she has chosen, and I do not understand why she has been mated to the enemy, but please, she is my daughter, your flesh and blood. There is no one present who wishes the Weres massacred for what they have done to her more than I. But not until she is home, safe.”

  Demetri ran his tongue along each fang, his tolerance slipping in slow degrees. “This Coven has survived for centuries because we have obeyed the laws – laws that were created to ensure that survival. She has allowed herself to be impregnated by an animal. That is unforgivable.”

  “She can be apart from him as much as you can be apart from Grandmother.” This from a flaring Vilirus.

  “Hold your tongue!” Macer snarled, casting his son an enraged glance.

  “Father, this is not diplomacy,” Vilirus returned, temper sparking. “It is our law that a mate cannot be separated one from the other. We have no control over who we are mated to. Mother was a human before she took her vows. Why then is being bound to a Were any different?”

  “A Were is not a human,” Demetri sought to explain. He lifted a bony finger and sniffed. “This is the type of disunity that will cause our ruin. They are the enemy – and she has been bred like a common dog. The Council will convene a week hence to decide upon the best course of action.” He stood regally, slowly.

  “She is my sister,” Vilirus offered finally. “I will not be a part of her butcher.”

  Demetrio’s eyes flashed in anger. “Thread carefully, my young Hunter, lest your words renege your vow to this Coven.”

  “Grandfather, do you not love her?”

  An almost pained expression crossed his face, but was immediately shuttered. “Love and duty are not one in the same.”

  He turned away then, leaving them in silence. His walk through the manse brought him to the large room his mate occupied. She sat in silence on the enclosed balcony, face somber. The length of her beautiful silver hair dazzled in the moonlight. In the centuries passed, Demetri had never failed to acknowledge her timeless beauty. Still, it had been many long years since they had come to live in this Realm, and he knew that she was tired. Although her body did not age, there was an almost distant look in her eyes. He stroked her head tenderly. She looked up and smiled a small smile. That was the curse of being a vampire. He, too, felt the weariness. But having her at his side made forever bearable.

  “There is news of the child?” she asked.

  Demetri sat beside her and held her close, inhaling the unique scent that was hers. “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  His heavy sigh was full of agony. “They believe she has been mated to a Were.”

  She looked away, not at all seeming surprised at such a revelation. “What will you do?”

  “Teach them a lesson they will not soon forget.”

  “And what of her?”

  “She has chosen to stay with him. You know our laws – the price of treason is death.”

  Her lilac eyes met his then, full of quiet understanding. “Laws can be changed, can they not?” He did not look away. There was much sadness in her tone. “She is precious to me – the only daughter I have.”

  He stroked the side of her face tenderly. “What would you have me do Narelle? If I show any sympathy, the Council will think me weak. I am the only one willing to uphold our tradition of loyalty.”

  Her hands, warm and flushed from fresh blood, found his. “You are no longer a Faelian, Demetri. This is what we are. As your mate, I ask you, do not do this – for my sake.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently. “It is our law. If I do not uphold that law, others will take it for granted.”

  “She is our daughter. One of our own. I want her home, with us.”

  He felt the stroke of her fingers caress the side of his face and opened his eyes to meet hers. Like large pools reflecting precious amethyst gems, they glistened with unshed tears. Something sharp pulled at the light pulse in his chest. He slipped his fingers through her straight hair and pulled her head closer to his. The kiss he placed on her pliant lips was nothing but a brush. “Then you shall have her returned to you. I swear it.”

  She nodded faintly and turned once again to consider the night. Demetri followed her gaze. He would do what he had to do to get her back, if only for Narelle. But he would never let the monstrosity growing in her womb survive.

  ****

  Amalea shook her riot of red curls violently. “You cannot allow this,” she directed. “You cannot allow him to do this to her!”

  Macer tried his best to calm her. “I will do everything I can to see that she is not harmed my love. But it is treason to go against the order of the Council.”

  “I don’t care about the Council!” she cried, tears flowing from her wide, luminous eyes. “She is my baby! They cannot hurt her!” His touch was meant to be comforting. Instead, it ignited her anger even more. “Did you reason with him? Did you tell him that everything happening to her is not her fault?”

  “Of course I tried. But she accepted his proposal of asylum, Amalea. She has turned her back on her race for that animal.”

  “She is mated!” she near screamed. “Bound for life. What was he expected to do? Allow us to rip the child from her womb?”

  Macer flung his hands skyward and turned to the view of the pasture. In the distance was the forest, then the mountains, nothing but vague shadows on the horizon. His daughter was there – his little girl was there.

  “You have to do something,” she demanded yet again.

  He cut her a quelling glance. “What would you have me do? I cannot break my father’s law. I will lose my life, and so will you.”

  “Your father is nothing but a tyrant!” His eyes flared as he turned to face her then. She whimpered, but bravely held her ground. “What happened to the man who defied him for me? Where is the man I fell in love with?”

  “I am still that man,” he said thickly. “But I am no longer young, or foolish. If I want her alive, I have to be more than just aggressive. I have to be smart.” She sank her teeth into her lip and blinked. Another stream of tears fell. He advanced and relaxed considerably before pulling her trembling body in a tight embrace. “We will get her back my love. Do not weep.”

  Her sniffles were buried in his chest. “I do not want her back.”

  Stunned, he gasped and forced her to meet his eyes. “What?!”

  “Do you not understand Mace? She is bound to him. They cannot be separated. If we bring her back, she will never forgive us, and the Council will see her child killed. How can she love us then? She will be just as lost to us. But that Were - he will not hurt her.”

  “What then would you have me do?” He swallowed with great difficulty, dreading the words he knew would follo
w. There was no tremble in her voice when she spoke.

  “Help them.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Graeme faced a scowling Rhys and waited for his response. The Were turned his back abruptly and contemplated the work being done on the outer walls of the stronghold. Graeme gave him time to think it over.

  In the days passed, Amarinda's stomach had grown considerably. It was now two weeks since he marked her his – from the moment his venom had entered her blood stream, the babe within her grew rapidly. Now, a very obvious belly protruded. He spent countless nights marveling over such a miracle. But awe was not the only emotion that swept him. Fear like he had never before known forced him to consider now the safety of his family. With the rapid development of the unborn child, they had no idea as to when she would go into the pains of labor. A child was not something he could keep concealed inevitably – and neither was a mate. His only alternative was to take her across the moors, and to the very village he had grown up in. The cottage his father had secured for his now deceased mother was there, abandoned. Only human occupants resided in the glen. It was too far into his territory for him to be concerned about Hunters, and secure enough not to warrant visits from the Scouts very often. She would be safe.

  Unfortunately, he could not make the journey with her. Hunters had been spotted lingering on the outskirts of the boarder. He had ordered the Scouts tripled, and although there was not yet trouble, it was only a matter of time before Hunter or Were did something stupid. The war he had so foolishly anticipated proved more of a nuisance now than anything else.