“You don’t understand.” Bran shook his head, not only hating the feeling of helplessness that was trying to take him under but despising himself for the anger he harbored towards his mate. “The ones Chandler and Grimm are talking to now; each of those families has someone missing too. Did you notice what factions they all belonged to?”
“No,” was Tia’s feeble response. No doubt she didn’t want to hear what he was about to tell her, because sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.
As Tia moved to pull her hands away from Bran, he captured them in his much larger ones. “Aw, my precious little witch, you know damn well you did. And I'm thinking you already realize what that implies.”
“What it means is she’ll be strong enough to fight.”
“What it also means is all that power might damn well kill her,” he rumbled with a slight growl. “Whoever has her knows everything about her. That much is more than clear. And if they plan on activating all her powers, all at once, she may not be able to handle it. Who could? We had planned on slowly unbinding her powers, gradually, a little at a time. But we shouldn’t have waited so long. She didn’t even know what the Hel she was before being taken. Even if her body can withstand all that power, her mind might just fucking snap. And I’m thinking whoever has her doesn’t really give a shit.”
“No, I refuse to think that way. They can’t possibly want her dead. If that was the case, why bother taking her at all? It’s got to be more to it than just that.”
“Are you trying to convince me that’s the case, or yourself?” Bran bit back.
“What the Hel else am I supposed to do? Just give up any, and all hope of finding her alive?”
“No, but you do need to admit if only to yourself it’s a possibility we might be on a revenge mission as opposed to a rescue one.”
“Well, I can’t! Let me rephrase that. I can’t, and I won’t. I won’t let go of the hope of us finding our baby girl alive, and more than some broken vessel. Because if she is ruined, if she has no hope at a life, or if she is gone, then it’s my fault. All of this is my damn fault!” Tia’s lips trembled as she said the last. Her voice began to shake as she continued. “I’m the one who talked everyone into the plan in the first damn place, then kept hesitating to tell her the truth despite what all of you kept screaming in my ear. You think I don’t see the anger in all your eyes? You think I don’t know part of that anger is geared towards me?” She gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “I’m angrier with myself than any of you could ever be.”
If Bran hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have noticed his beloved was now crying, as her emotions were so skewed her tears practically evaporated before even hitting her skin. She moved as though to pull her hands from his, so Bran held on to her that much tighter. “Don’t you dare,” he said on a menacing growl that still managed to sound loving.
“You’re damn straight we’re angry with you, and we have every right to be. But you do not get to walk away from that anger. You own it, you accept your part in it, and you deal with it. Because that anger does not diminish the love we have for you, least of all mine. I’m a bloody fucking demon. I don’t walk away from those whom I love just because they fuck up. Especially since I’m one of the ones who allowed you to make that fuck up. Any one of us could have told her the truth; none of us had a spell binding our tongues. We chose to go along with your wishes, so that puts the guilt of the result on every last single one of us, not on you alone. And it’s on every one of us to get her back. But one thing you need to do is accept the realization we may not find her alive.”
Tia made a disgruntled sound, getting ready to protest.
“No. Dammit, no. I want to find her alive as much as you do, and don’t you dare try to even attempt to believe otherwise.”
Before Tia had a chance to blink or form another protest on her lips, Bran stood, taking her with him, and then took her place on the couch, with her straddling his lap. Running his large fingers through her thick, wavy, red hair, he breathed in her scent and continued in his deep raspy voice, “We will continue hoping for the best, my beautiful little witch, but we must also prepare for the worst. That’s all I’m trying to say to you.” With that he captured her lips in a kiss so heated and demanding Tia could do no more than submit and allow him to take control.
There was no sense in taking this conversation any further, and they both needed some form of release before they continued. Bran decided during their talk he was not even going to mention any more of the demon aspects of the situation. Summoning name be damned. If there was still a chance of bringing his little girl back alive, nothing was stopping him from going to the human realm. It was a risk he would have to take. Tia would only try to stop him from going if she knew the entire truth of it, and that was not an option. And if somehow his daughter did have a summoning name, they would cross that fucked-up bridge when they got to it.
Letting himself go completely, Bran allowed his demon form to slip to the forefront to come out and play, his clothing becoming a not-too-distant memory. He wanted this time with Tia to be with him as his true self, no pretenses, and not with a face he had stolen from someone else. Even knowing how much his wife hated to be flashed anywhere by anyone else other than herself, he pulled her legs more tightly around his waist and flashed them both to their bedding chambers, leaving the smell of brimstone and sulfur in their wake. He’d be damned if he wasted another moment of this time they had with just the two of them. He had loved no one before her and would never love anyone else ever again, besides their daughter. And she might very well already be lost to them. Bran made a silent vow to whomever was listening if he was taken away, he would find his way back, and damn whatever poor soul got in his way.
Deepening the kiss as he laid them both back on the double-king-size bed, he leisurely explored each and every inch of her delectable mouth with his tongue, tracing the contours of the inside and all its warmth, as well as every crease of her pouty lips. He ripped open her thin black blouse, savoring the sound of each tiny ping as the buttons flew across the room; their room. He relished Tia’s gasp when he tore his mouth away from hers and bent his head to give each of her breasts the attention they deserved. He knew they didn’t have very much time to be alone, that there were much more important things they needed to tend to, but he was going to make the most out of every second so he could embed it all into his memory, just in case.
Bran loved it whenever Tia looked upon him in all his demonic glory, the way he was truly meant to be seen, the one he knew made her truly hot and wet so much more than his Bran persona ever could. He had become comfortable with making love to her in either form, but if he were being completely honest, this was the one he preferred to take her in. Not many knew she had gained even more strength by continuously sharing blood with her demon; her fangs were also longer and thicker than most vampires’, as well as her claws. And while he was in this form, Tia did not need to hold back or be careful. His leathery midnight skin could not only take whatever she could dish out, but relished it.
They were both all fangs and claws when it was just the two of them, and gentleness was blown to the wind. But this time it was different. Despite the urgency of the situation on the other side of the doors to their sleeping chamber, he took his time, savoring every touch, every lick, every bite, every scrape of claw on skin.
Seeing the spark of mischief in Tia’s eyes fizzle out as quickly as it had appeared, Bran realized she was beginning to clue in on to the fact something was off. So, without further ado, and without giving her the slightest bit of a chance to begin asking questions, he lifted her by her voluptuous hips and impaled her with the fourteen inches of his rock-hard, engorged length, all in one upward stroke. He grabbed Tia and pushed her hips all the way down until her juicy, smooth, bare ass was tight against his balls. He had wanted to take things nice and slow, though he would much rather take her hard and fast than not at all.
Just like most best-laid plans, his were going straigh
t to his former home in a basket. Well, at least they weren’t going wrong in a bad way per se, just not what he had originally envisioned. And the presence that rubbed against his awareness getting ready to flash in was another he would deeply miss if things did indeed end up going south. Bran and Chandler had bonded deeply while putting the pieces of their then broken princess back together after the loss of her mother. Not that they would ever admit that fact out loud to anyone, even to themselves.
Their beautiful warrior had been completely devastated by the loss. Tia hadn’t even had the chance to forgive her mother for lying to her before the woman had given up her own life so Anya, a sister whom she barely even knew at the time, could live on. All of that along with not knowing what had happened to Grimm, only to find him in the damn near broken condition they had was just too much. Everything had come raining down on Tialanna in a hailstorm, including the attack from the man she’d grown up calling father. The demon had bonded with Chandler in a way he never had with any other male in existence. They were now in synch with each other not only on the battlefield, but also in the bedroom with their mate.
“Well isn’t this grand? The two of you shagging about while Grimm and I get to deal with the ruffians down below.” Chandler almost assumed his usual pose upon flashing into the bedchambers, with his arms crossed nonchalantly across his chest, looking like a punk version of a Michelangelo statue come to life, but then he seemed to think better of it and began stripping off his clothes once Tia shot him a hungry gaze. “Ah blast it, you know what those humans say, ‘if you can’t beat them join them,’ and I fancy I’ll do that.”
“I don’t recall either one of us asking for you—” That statement was cut off with a deep, guttural growl in pleasurable pain as Tia lifted up, then immediately ground down hard on her demon while raking her razor-sharp claws down his chest. “Damn, woman. I didn’t say he couldn’t join in, just that… Ahhhh Hade’s balls! Chandler, get your scrawny ass over here before she kills me.”
* * *
Tia threw her head back and laughed at the expression on her demon’s face. She knew the secret of the bond they shared with one another, but for the sake of both of their prides, she would never dare admit to it out loud. Tia’s laughter quickly changed to moans of sheer ecstasy as Chandler entered her from behind. Two of her males filling both of her holes at once was something she reveled in and would never take for granted. Not after the two of them brought her back from the brink of losing herself; the thought of losing either of them…
She didn’t allow herself to continue down that line of thought, instead she let the waves of passion come to a crescendo and consume her. Her two males worked her body in perfect harmony as though there was an unseen conductor orchestrating them on how to move, how deep to go, and when to pull back. It was a dance she wished could last for much longer than she knew it truly could.
None of them dwelled on that fact. Instead they made the most out of every touch, each long and deep stroke, and every tender, rough, and loving caress. They made mere moments feel as though they were hours. And when they climaxed, they did so in unison, clutching one another, letting not only their pleasure flow out freely, but their unconditional love flow as well. If this was to be their last time together, it would be one to remember.
11
Dear Old Aunt Hildegard
Down beneath the vampire castle, dear old Aunt Hildegard sat rocking back and forth, repeating the same word, “Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing…” over and over, but no one seemed to be paying the ancient vampire any attention. They were so used to her craziness they didn’t even home in on what word she was saying.
What they didn’t know was there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the old bird besides stubbornness, boredom, and sheer will that would boggle even the brightest and most devious of minds. Centuries ago the old crone had placed a silly-ass bet with one of her closest friends; said friend was long since dead. The bet was she wouldn’t be able to get the entire vampire community to believe she had gone bat-shit crazy during the crossing over to Underlayes, and that she could make that belief last for one hundred years. She was now well into her third century, and the hoax was still going strong.
One would think she wouldn’t have even bothered with attempting to pull the scheme, seeing as her friend wasn’t even alive to see she had pulled it off in the first place. The truth of it was Belinda wasn’t just Hildegard’s closest friend, but also her only friend. There weren’t many beings who old Hildegard really liked, or who liked her, for that matter. She wasn’t an outright bitch or anything, just, well, unique, to put it mildly. She didn’t quite see most things in the same light as others, and had become an outcast among outcasts, finding humor in the darkest of situations.
For instance, the Salem Witch Trials—she found extreme humor in those. Since nine times out of ten the dumbass Quakers were burning their own people and not true witches, she used to pay one of the sprites to cloak a small area whenever they did an evening burning. And she sold tickets and popcorn. To her, it was like an extreme comedy. To others it was extremely morbid. Her thoughts were if that was how they felt, why’d they buy a damn ticket?
Suffice it to say, not many of the beings from any faction really understood or even liked Hildegard, and to be fair she did not like them either. Except for Belinda, a witch almost as old as she who was an extremely strong empath. She not only understood Hildegard; she appreciated the fact Hildegard was a say what you mean, mean what you say type of vampire. Since she was surrounded by beings who laughed and smiled in her face while she could feel the true hatred they had rolling off them in waves, someone who was true to themselves and to everyone else was something she craved even more than a breath of fresh air. But, you know what they say, wanna tell a great joke? Try telling the Fates what your plans for life were.
Belinda wasn’t only a witch; she was also half-human. That made her being an empath even more strenuous on not only her emotions, but also on her heart, a heart that wasn’t as strong as that of a full-blooded witch. She had tried using stones such as amethyst to block people’s emotions from affecting her, but she was too strong an empath for much of anything to work, not even cleansing. Plus, who could smudge themselves twenty-four hours a day? And sometimes too much was just that.
When the night finally came for all the factions to cross over to the new dimension they had created where they all could co-exist in peace, the last thing they expected to happen did. All those different beings coming together, gathering and helping one another towards their common goal. All those emotions together in one place; fear of crossing over to the unknown, anger and frustration of leaving the only homes they knew behind, the excitement of living without having to hide their true nature, grief for loved ones they’d lost to humans’ fear before the creation of Underlayes, all those emotions seemed to be amplified by the rift. So many different emotions hitting Belinda all at once ended up being too much for her poor, weak, half-human heart to take, and it gave out before she could even set foot into the new realm.
So here Hildegard still sat in her own private little corner in the caves, acting as though she hadn’t a clue as to what was going on in the world surrounding her, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Old Hildegard’s senses did not diminish with time; quite the opposite. She had been spending her time honing all her senses whenever she wasn’t harassing or scaring the shit out of her dumbass family members. It amazed her none of them had caught on, though she suspected a couple had, and either they didn’t care enough to say anything, or figured her life was her business. Down in the tunnels, she didn’t have to be bothered with anyone unless she chose to have one of her more ‘coherent’ days.
Down there alone in the dark confines of the caves leading towards the hot springs, she also noticed things most of the other vampires did not, like the incessant buzzing she kept hearing, and knew damn well it wasn’t any type of bug, at least not of the live, insect variety. No, this was something alto
gether different, and she knew it didn’t bode well for those she might not be able to stand, but still loved nonetheless. She knew they were preoccupied with trying to figure out what had happened to her great-great-however-many-damn-greats niece. But she was hoping at least one of the damn fools would be level-headed enough to stop, think, and fucking listen.
She, on the other hand, was listening to every damned thing. Like a few of them around fucking; others trying to talk sense into other idiots who were as scared as they were, and some gathering weapons which wouldn’t help them with shit if they didn’t even know the first place to look. Like the techno-mage—who left a nasty magnetic-like tangy aftertaste in her mouth—who she’d left barely alive in the middle of the walkway, hoping someone would have either smelled the blood by now, or heard her repeating the same damn word over and over. The only reason she kept the scrawny thing alive was so they would be able to question him and learn of all the listening and visual devices she knew had been planted all around not only these grounds but around the orphanage as well. Which was how their adversary knew each and every step they made as they made it. She had known the moment they had planted the first of the devices, smelling the electrical waves of magick and the hearing slight buzz from their equipment.
Hildegard knew all this not by torturing the poor sod, but by simply spying on him and his brethren. She’d both heard and smelled something off when they’d first come around planting their devices in the air above the castle itself. Flashing herself to the rooftops when she knew no one would be travelling in the caves, she’d cloaked herself within the shadows, grabbing him as the others flashed away and brought him with her to her dark and cavernous domain.
With her catching the mage off guard and grabbing him from behind, he didn’t have enough time to gather his wits to call out for help, or to pull in enough electricity to fry Hildegard’s brains. As soon as he and she rematerialized, Hildegard brutally and viciously bit down into his neck, not even allowing her fangs to elongate until after making the initial bite. Knowing the shock from so much pain would keep him speechless, Hildegard drained him of just enough blood to render the little prick unconscious, getting an electric jolt in the process. All she wanted was enough time to get back to her corner before anyone smelled the blood. She didn’t think it would take them this long. Too much longer and he’d probably bleed out on the damn ground, and all she’d done would have been for naught.
The Succubus, the Demon and the Witch Page 7