by Marata Eros
“I am here,” he says, and Siana knows he means more than those three words.
She finally gives in to what she has known all along.
Siana is his. She always has been.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Baird
The taste of metal envelopes Baird, and underneath that is the smell of his female.
The blood of Maghnus permeates the room he intended to rape Siana in.
Siana is naked, her clothes shoved aside in the hopes of a quick unwilling fuck.
Baird moves her away from him, but she clings.
“Let me right what is wrong, Siana.”
She nods as tears course down cheeks cold to the touch.
Carefully, Baird straightens her torn breeches, plucks the shoulders of her blouse above her breasts, and turns her palm for his inspection.
It will show the bruise from the wall in the morrow. Baird will see she feeds from him so her healing is instantaneous.
Baird moves out of the room and into the hall.
Siana looks around her. “Where is everyone?”
“The day is at its zenith. Many Reapers slumber. Certainly Carrig and Quinn take rest with Imogen.”
Siana looks at him seriously. “What will happen? You have killed Maghnus…”
Baird ties his hair at his nape. He shakes his head. “He would never have made this a sanctuary for the Druids. Maghnus was for Maghnus. He thought only of his own comfort and power.” Baird looks over her shoulder for a moment, remembering. “I recall a time when Maghnus took the same risks as all of us. In battle—here.” Baird sweeps his hand to encompass the entire fortress.
Baird gives the closed door a glance, his lip rising in disdain. “Of late, he had talked much about gathering the Druids through his covenant with Jessamine. More for a show of power and control than true concern for the perpetuation of our species.”
“The other Reapers? Will they retaliate?”
Baird shrugs. “It is possible... but with ten Druids here and no leader, the Reaper warriors will be more likely to settle into a life of ease with mates.”
“How many are there?”
Baird looks at Siana. “The numbers are not even. If there are any Druids who, like Imogen, can be shared by two warriors—it would greatly ease the burden.”
Siana palmed her chin, twice looking at the door.
“We will have to deal with Maghnusʼs death. Dispose of the body, mourn him.”
Her tone holds disgust.
“There is no mourning for a Reaper who tried to hurt you, Siana,” Baird says.
Siana laces her fingers through his, though his are covered in blood.
She brings their linked hands to her mouth and kisses the blood of Maghnus.
“I have not chosen well”—her gold eyes snap to his—“and you have been stubborn.”
Baird does not argue. Cannot.
“Now is the time to come together. Seek a new leader.”
Baird lays his cheek against hers and whispers, “Who?”
He feels her smile against him.
“Altho.”
Baird whips his head back in surprise. “I—he is not Reaper.”
Siana nods in excitement. “Yes, I know. It is perfect. He is a pureblood Druid, and as such, he has the same base genetics as you. He can breed pure Druid females. He has a magick as powerful as Jessamine's but none of her insanity. Though he has led a solitary existence.”
Baird thinks about what it would be like having a leader who is not Reaper but believes in and moves toward a common goal. It is a sound suggestion. Whether the Reapers will agree is yet to be determined.
Baird grins. “You wish to have Seraphina back in the fold.”
Siana smiles back. “Yes, though my suggestion for Altho is a good one.”
“Aye.” Baird nods. “It is.”
“Come. We will gather the Renfields to dispose of Maghnus and establish a small contingent to invite Altho to rule this stronghold.”
“Wait.” Their arms stretch taut, and Baird pulls Siana against him. “What if the Reapers do not agree to Altho as leader?”
Baird feels a resolute smile slip into place. “It will be a democracy amongst us.”
Siana exhales in relief. “Good.” She gives a final glance at Maghnusʼ still form on her floor and stifles a shudder.
They walk back to the gathering area. There is a body that needs disposal.
*
Baird lays back on his bed, the goose down a cloud of comfort. While on the road, he forgets how scrumptious his permanent accommodation is.
He closes his eyes, listening to the low drone of Siana in his bathing area.
Instead of the cumbersome tubs in many temples, the Reapers have an ingenious system of underground copper tubes. They are fed from the nearby hot springs, and a metalsmith forged unique discs with small pin holes to transfer the water. The water moves beneath the stone, and when a lever is turned, warm water falls like rain in the corner of the bathing area.
If they are fortunate, he will taste of Siana like the delicacy she is. If they are not, the news of Maghnus’s death will curtail his plans to take Siana.
Again and again.
The sound of water stops, and Baird's eyes open slowly, the pupils easily adjusting to the dimness.
A lone candle brightens the space, leaving it soft.
Siana pads through the stone archway from the bathing area, and she smiles when she sees him.
“Maghnus could have eventually told us which male has fathered my child.” Siana self-consciously places a hand on her stomach.
Baird sits up. “I have acted the fool, Siana.”
He stretches out his hand, and she moves forward to take it.
He hates she might bear a child of Kael, Carrig, or the Faction. Yet at the end of the day, it is Siana he wishes to have for himself. Too much time has been wasted trying to force her into a box she cannot fit inside.
Baird knows his feelings. However, he is not good at conveying them.
“I am beyond happy you bear young. That there is a chance it could be mine is wonderful. But know this—we have a chance to have many children together if you will but forgive me for my atrocities against you.”
Siana says nothing as she sits next to him.
The towel falls to her waist.
It is answer enough.
*
Altho
Altho jerks Seraphina off his spent prick and behind him.
“Ah!” she says as he slips out.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving us, Druid,” he replies.
“From what?”
Altho turns to her, detecting a false note in her voice. “You thought to distract me with your delicious cunt while the Faction or another penetrates my fortress?”
Seraphina's wide eyes and silence give him his answer.
He shakes his head in wonder, his cock semi-hard. She is an addiction, and with enemies afoot, he does not need the distraction.
“It helps no one if they get inside. What do you think males of any species will do with a beautiful, half-naked female?” His eyebrows rise, the scar tissue tightening along his lip as he gives a cruel uplift of lips.
Seraphina looks down at her hands.
“Conniving against me wins you nothing, gains nothing.”
Altho gets off the low-slung stone table he had been perching upon. “We can only hope to evade if there are many, and I shall protect you. Now”—his eyes bore into hers, and she flinches—“can you manage to tell me a count?”
Seraphina blinks in the face of his sarcasm. “I am not sure. More than three?” Her voice is uncertain.
Altho curses.
Now she has him in her thrall, though not completely. His own magick offers partial immunity to her full sexual powers.
Altho paces, coming to stand in front of the runes once again. He tosses his clothing on. After stuffing several runes inside the pockets of his robes, but none that are c
ontrary to one another, he whirls.
Seraphina stands, the beautiful slit of her sex glossy and pink with their coupling.
With marauders closing in, he could fuck her again. He closes his eyes against the overpowering lust and swallows.
When he opens them, she has donned a skirt.
Thank the goddess.
“What shall we do?” Seraphina asks.
The first distant crash sounds from the upper story of the fortress. They breached the moat and made their way through the solid oak of the entry door.
Or climbed the stone walls which border it.
“We seek temporary shelter with Maghnus. He will have a more formidable defense.”
“What of the Druid females?”
Altho takes her hand. “That is Reaper business. If I were to guess”—he looks into her dark eyes again—“and I am not that sort, I would say they have them already.”
“I wish to escape here and see my sisters again.”
Altho's eyes soften. “I will try to make it so, though goddess knows you do not deserve it.”
He tows her behind him, moving through the maze of his fortress. He hopes his knowledge of the exit routes exceed those of the Faction.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Siana
Siana paces nervously.
There are fifteen Reapers and only half believe Altho would be a viable substitute leader.
The same half who did not sanction Maghnusʼs death at Baird's hands.
Siana interrupts their dispute, “He was not contributing as he ought.”
A Reaper hisses displeasure, and Baird gives him a look that silences him.
Siana raises a palm. “Hear me.”
The Reapers fall silent. Baird's presence discourages them from harming her, which she is most grateful for.
“Maghnus did not wish for an alliance between Druid female and Reaper. He wished only for control. Jessamine was of a similar ilk, and now she keeps company with zombies,” Siana says.
“Maghnus was not as heartless as that old crone,” Carrig says.
Siana nods in agreement. “True. But where does that thin line between what is right and what is most powerful—where is that drawn?”
Tomb-like quiet ensues. Let them think upon her recounting of the last horrific hour of her life as she fought Maghnus off.
Siana raises her hands. “All I mean is for us to come together and partake in circumstances in our favor. The Druids are here, and though the promise from Jessamine went awry, they are here regardless the circumstance. The result be the same.”
Baird puts his arm around her waist, and Siana fights not to cuddle against him. Her female bits are tender in the best way from his extravagant attentions. She leans into his comfort, feeling a joy she thought to never own.
“This is our time.” Siana makes a fist and catches Imogen's eyes. She smiles at Siana, and Siana continues. “We are leaderless but not powerless. We have a path. We ask Altho to help rule this new order, and we mate.” Siana's eyes flow over the group of Reapers and females. Over Titus. “We bear children who can walk in the light of moon or sun.”
Siana listens to her own heartbeat as no one moves.
Finally, one of the reluctant Reapers moves forward. “I am willing.”
Three more join him, as does Titus.
They note Titus volunteering, and instead of the disdain common from Reaper to Faction, they welcome him with their wordless answer.
One of the dissenters says, “You contacting Altho does not secure his position amongst us as leader.”
Siana turns to him, one of the tallest and hard-faced Reapers. “True. However, if he is asked, and does not desire Maghnus's role, it will have been a moot point.”
The Reaper clenches his fists. “It does not assure leadership.”
Baird frowns, shaking his head. “No. Yet we must exhaust our options.”
Baird appears to dismiss him for the moment, turning to Siana. He grips her shoulders. “Wait for me.”
She stands on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth.
Siana feels his smile against her lips, and though she is sad, she answers, “Yes.”
Baird follows the others in a convoy of alliance. What will Altho's answer be? What is the nature of Seraphina’s heart in the short time she has been his sexual slave? Is she with child?
Many questions need answering.
Siana makes due with waiting, as is so often the way.
*
Altho
He charges through the catacombs of his lair. Faction have enlarged olfactory senses, and they will rely heavily on that. Altho will rely on stealth and magick. When he was under the Faction’s tender care previously, he had nearly not survived.
His scars are from the time he spent with them. He did not think he would live. If it had not been for the fortuitous distraction of a skirmish between Reaper and Faction, he would have died in slow agony. His escape had begun his relationship with Maghnus that continues to this day.
“Please, Altho,” Seraphina gasps.
He slows.
“We cannot rest.”
She plasters her palms against her ribs and bends at the waist.
“Just a moment is all I need. I am not accustomed to racing around.”
Altho covers her mouth with his hand, and her wide, mossy green eyes stare at him. Her nostrils flare, trying to catch air.
“Sh,” he says, listening. Altho sighs softly. “They follow closely.”
Seraphina nods.
He pulls her against him and races through the last three doors. Stone steps would slow him, so he leaps over them.
The Faction close in.
One lands in front of Altho, and Altho digs in his pocket. He extracts a rune and tosses it at the Faction, forming a spell as he does.
Fire like lace spreads in a spiderweb of death, capturing the Faction.
Seraphina screams, backing away.
The Faction behind them grabs her, fangs extending for a quick strike.
Altho throws a blade at a creature, who is moving so quickly, he is a smear of color where he was a moment before.
But blood spreads, identifying the Faction.
Altho tosses a second rune, the incantation leaving his lips as he does.
The air erupts in ozone. Three Faction drop where they stand, their taloned hands at their throats.
The other is latched onto Seraphina’s throat.
Altho cannot pull her away; the action would tear out her throat.
Her existence condemns him to protect her. Helpless to stop, Altho charges the last Faction, stabbing in a downward arc as the Faction feeds on Seraphina.
Instead, with the blade hilt-deep in his forehead, the Faction raises off her neck to hiss, blood dripping from his fangs.
His hand wraps the blade, and Altho strikes the flat of his foot into the Faction's cock.
He folds, landing face first. His fall drives the hilt through his own skull.
Altho turns to Seraphina as she bleeds. Altho slides his arms underneath her knees and upper back, lifting her easily.
He throws her over his shoulder and digs inside the pocket of his robe as he does, extracting healing herbs and oil. Flipping her over, he crouches and packs her wounds, one-handed, with the poultice as she lays across his knees.
Altho does not dwell on whether Seraphina will survive the bloodletting. Where some Faction are, others will follow.
He carefully picks Seraphina up, her unconsciousness a blessing, and makes his way out of his fortress.
Altho will travel to the Reaper stronghold.
Maghnus can offer temporary shelter and maybe more. Altho moves with quick deliberation, Seraphina's blood soaking his clothing.
*
Baird
It is a form of torture when Baird leaves Siana after their brief reconciliation. Yet, their last encounter is so much more than solidarity. He will not truly become her mate until they have a ceremony proclaiming Siana his, fo
revermore. Baird does not wish to rush things without the proper elements in place.
Leaderless and adrift, a mating ceremony would be an awkward insertion into the unstable kiss of Reaper vampire. Better they assign a new leader than make permanent unions in the volatile present climate.
Carrig and Quinn think as he does, which they made clear in private conversation. Baird instructed Carrig and Quinn to stay with Imogen. It is Baird's turn to seek a new leader and brave the wilderness.
Titus is a wild card. None have spoken openly about his role. However, it is clear that none of the Reapers will take to a viable breeder such as Marquette deciding she will mate with a Faction. Though Titus has sufficient blood quantum to entertain shadow travel during daylight, there is no guarantee he will breed true. Then a Druid breeder will be left with a mate who cannot produce daywalking offspring.
Too much of a chance.
Titus appears to have survived his time with the Faction brave and true of heart. He made no claim on Siana when she and Baird announced their intent to mate.
Baird assumes Titus is both intelligent and a survivalist, as most the Faction are.
Titus would not have been very smart to stake a claim in a Reaper stronghold.
*
Miles are put behind them, and the scenery blends one into the next. In a half a night's travel, they arrive at Altho's fortress. Not as impressive as the priestsʼ or the Druid witchesʼ, it still possesses an austere beauty. The stone fortress rises against the night like stalagmites seeking the sky.
Titus inhales deeply, turning to Baird. “Faction have been here. Died here.”
Baird whips toward him. “Where?”
Titus blurs to a spot around the back half of the structure.
Baird follows.
A spiderweb of charred skin that resembles tossed acid covers one Faction.
Three others are frozen in death, their hands linked around their throats. Their open mouths froth with the poison from their insides.
“Gruesome way to go,” Titus comments.
Baird agrees.
The fifth Faction lays face down. Baird rolls him over. A short dagger is embedded in his skull, dimpling the flesh of his forehead into a crater.