Seduced by the Beast

by Jaide Fox

  There was no doubt in her mind they would soon arrive at Ravenel. She only prayed they would not be stopped.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The fortress loomed above, crouched on a rise like a great cat ready to pounce. The gates of Ravenel cracked open as Raphael bounded up the final stretch of land toward them. She didn’t wonder how those inside knew them as friend--could only be thankful there would be no wait for entrance. Swan clung to the baskets and Raphael’s neck, pervaded by a sense of fear and desperation that had grown with every mile they crossed. She glanced over her shoulder at the dark, could see nothing, but knew the vampire was closing fast now that their destination was known.

  A howl erupted from the sky behind them, like the earth gasping for breath as a cyclone of wind gathered. Raphael’s hackles rose at the sound, her own responding as her blood froze. A black shape swept past her peripheral, swooping down from the air. They passed inside, inches before it touched them. The massive gates slammed shut just as they cleared. The creature dared not come inside.

  Swan breathed a shaky sigh of relief and dismounted. She stood with Raphael at her back as he changed into human form and dressed. The gatemasters nodded their welcome but, strangely, no one approached. The courtyard teemed with people, curious to see their arrival but hanging back.

  “Why do they not give greeting,” she whispered to Raphael as he came beside her.

  “There is no need. I come here often and am considered friend. Come, we shall pay visit to the lord of Ravenel.”

  He led her toward the main entrance, the two great doors opening at their approach. The crowd parted for their passage, some bowing respectfully. As Swan walked past, they sniffed the air behind her, as though a succulent piece of meat had just been dangled before them. Her heart jumped in her throat at the gleaming looks. She tore her gaze away, keeping them straight on Raphael’s back as she kept close to him, not wondering a minute at her trust in him to protect her.

  Would she always be considered food in this land? There was no greater reminder that she could not stay--ever.

  The doors shut behind them at their passing, cutting off the greedy, hungry stares. The great hall stretched wide and cavernous, their footsteps echoing before them. The ceiling expanded above into utter dark, supported by immense columns, its blackness relieved only by a skylight cut into the rock above, raining faint moonlight on them. Basins of flame flickered golden near walls carved and painted with legends of old, of battles between the lizzars and the leopards.

  “Raphael!” a deep voice bellowed across the hall. Swan peered over Raphael’s shoulder to see a blond giant of a man striding toward them. In the next moment, he was before them, clapping Raphael on the shoulder jovially.

  “Welcome, my friend. Long has it been since you’ve visited us. I wonder that you’d not forgotten the way.”

  “I am glad to be back,” Raphael said, returning the friendly greeting.

  The blond man glanced away from Raphael, noticing her for the first time. He looked her over from head to foot. “Who is this lovely creature? I’ve never known you to travel with a companion.”

  Raphael stepped aside and presented her. “This is Lady Swan of Avonleigh. She is under my protection. My lady, our host is Lord Blasien of Ravenel.”

  Swan curtsied to Lord Blasien’s bow. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.”

  “She is tired, and I wish to speak with you alone.”

  Raphael missed the glare she directed at his back, but Lord Blasien saw, and his eyes alighted. He chuckled and summoned a servant. “I will have her taken to your room. My ladywife will see to her.”

  * * * *

  Blasien waited until Swan was escorted out by an elder retainer before clapping Raphael on the back. Grinning broadly, he said, “You told me once it would never happen, my friend. Love turns us all into liars. Who is she, truly?”

  They moved up the dais and sat on the ancient carved rock, neglecting the throne for ease and affability of nearness. “She is but a thorn in my side, Blasien. I do this only to be rid of her.”

  “Strong words that have not the ring of truth. I see it in your face, you desire this woman.”

  Desire? If this insatiable need to claim and possess her was desire, then yes, he felt such feelings, but fire eventually burned itself out, leaving only ash behind. He could not give over to insanity. It would spell her demise, and likely his own. “You know no human could rule beside me over the hunters. They are too savage. She would be torn apart. Your own people lick their chops when she passes by.”

  “You needs must mark her, until her scent is your own. Their control is hard pressed. Times are lean. The land has been hunted until kill is scarce. Each day we go deeper into the wilds.”

  “It is the rise of the vampires. They leech the land until it is nigh barren.”

  Blasien rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “They will sate themselves and soon go underground, as they have in the past.”

  Raphael shook his head, slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “I fear it is different this time. Something calls, yet I do not know what. I feel war is brewing, distant but palpable. That this woman is here only proves the humans have lost their respect for our borders and fear of retaliation.”

  “They think us a dumping ground then?”

  “For undesirables. They have no respect for the land, devour its resources with their greed. Shadowmere is tempting with its unspoiled riches. Your own capture proves they grow bolder. The rise of the vampires will only worsen the situation. The pact may soon be null.”

  Blasien tensed in surprise at his words. “Ill news you bring from the border.”

  “It is suspicion only at this time.”

  “I’ve learned to trust your instincts with my life, Raphael. Your senses are the uncanny of any I’ve known.”

  “I thank you. There are times I feel my age in the weariness of my soul.”

  Blasien smiled faintly. “I know a cure for your ills, but you do not listen.”

  Raphael waved the matter away. He knew all longed for him to settle with a woman and produce an heir worthy of carrying on after he was gone, but now was not the time to consider such things. “That is not my concern this day. I came here seeking Syrian.”

  “He is seeking within the flame. Mayhap he felt this call, as you put it. He is acting most strange.”

  “I wish to be alerted the moment he returns from the portal.”

  “Even this night?”

  “Even so. The woman is human but not. She lives under an enchantment that sees her change with the sun’s rise. She must speak to Syrian when I do, and yet I feel we cannot wait for tomorrow night. The morning will be too late.”

  Blasien clasped his shoulder in sympathy, and they both rose from the stone step. “I will send for you when he comes from the seer’s flame. For now, you must follow my advice and mark the woman as your own.” At Raphael’s scowl, he added, “You need not bond with her, as well you know. Under this enchantment, the old laws are hazy.”

  Raphael nodded. He knew well ancient law. Had she not been part changeling, he would never have taken her so deeply into Shadowmere. He was a keeper of the law, bound by it as all inhabitants were bound.

  There were but two ways to be marked, one was permanent, the other was sexual claiming. Marking Swan would be distasteful—not because he didn’t desire to bury himself inside her, but because she forbade him to touch her—a request he would honor were circumstances different. Danger was afoot, however, even here in this protected alcove. The vampires’ presence was proof enough of that, even had he been blind to the gathering of leopards to the scent of prey. He liked not the thought of forcing her to his will, but if she did not give in, worse would befall her ... and that was a possibility he would not allow happen.

  Like it or not, as long as she dwelled in the land of Shadowmere, she was bound by its laws.

  * * * *

  The elder bowed deeply at the door to her room before leaving her. Swa
n opened the door and allowed it to swing open slowly, half expecting to be jumped where she stood. No attack came, and she chuckled at her overactive imagination before entering.

  Swan took one step into the room and stopped dead in her tracks. A bed swallowed the space, obscenely huge and dripping blood red satin, from its coverings to the canopy draped in flowing crimson. Never had she seen a room so blatantly designed for pleasure. Anyone else entering would leap to the same conclusion.

  Hesitant, she walked fully inside, close enough to touch the decadent satin. She took a corner in her hand, smoothing her fingers over the shining material, reveling in the silken feel, so rich and rare in quality and color. The deep red came from a fragile flower that was notoriously difficult to find and harvest. Even in her own realm such luxury could only be afforded by the wealthiest among them. That this house expended so much on a guest was a mark of extreme generosity and riches.

  Thinking on it recalled painful memories. She missed her home--and her sister. Swan wondered how Nila was adjusting to rule, and how she faired with Morvere at her side. He would not harm her--she was too valuable as heir apparent--but Swan prayed Nila would not be bound to him in marriage before she could return. Marriage was his best chance for gaining rulership. If Nila didn’t give in willingly, Swan had no doubt Morvere would ensorcel her will with some enchantment. Her disappearance would buy Nila some time, but not much.

  “You must be Lady Swan,” a soft feminine voice spoke behind her.

  Swan guiltily dropped her handhold and turned to see a woman standing in the door bearing a tray of meat, cheese, and fruit. Her raven hair hung well past her hips, longer than Swan’s own waist-length locks. It was tamed with braids that swept back from her temples. Her skin was the color of chocolate, as exotic as the slant of her eyes.

  How wonderful to see a woman of her own color and mode. It was a rarity of these days and times. Their ancestors had been hunted into near extinction in the old days before man had turned on the beastmen with their unnatural hatred of all that was different.

  Once there was a time when she’d been saddened by the fate of her people. And though she no longer dwelt upon what could have been, she’d learned to embrace her difference as something special and extraordinary. Indeed, her hand in marriage had been a prize many were willing to die for.

  The woman moved into the room and set the tray down on a squat table beside the bed, then turned back to her.

  Her gown, flowing loose around her legs, emphasized her breasts and couldn’t quite conceal the rounded swell of her belly. She was most definitely with child.

  “I am,” Swan said, nodding as she finally answered the woman.

  The woman smiled, friendly and graceful. Swan felt immediately at ease. “I am Lady Ashanti, Blasien’s wife.”

  “I thank you for your hospitality, my lady. Please, call me Swan.”

  “And you must call me Ashanti.” She gestured toward a pair of chairs sitting before the fire that Swan had scarce noticed.

  Ashanti sat with little grace, her heavy belly making her awkward. Swan followed suit.

  “I came to offer you some company. Shadowmere can be a brutal land.”

  “Yes, it can.”

  “It has been too long since I’ve seen a woman of my kind. You are an outworlder, are you not?”

  Swan looked at her, surprised at her canniness. “Yes, how did you know?” It was to be expected she would be regarded as an outsider--she was, but Lady Ashanti had seemed ... well, like a normal to her. Not one to pick up on the subtleties of human or not. But then, she’d never ventured from Avonleigh before, customs were likely different in other parts.

  “I was human once. Those alike can recognize one another. Though, I’d never thought Raphael to break old law and bring another into Shadowmere.”

  “You were human? And now you bear a beas--forgive me. My mouth runs away with me.” Swan blushed at her rude remark.

  Ashanti chuckled. “I was much the same as you, in the beginning. I find no offense in the term beastman, or beastwoman. That is what they are, what I am.”

  How she could be both was beyond Swan’s reckoning. It seemed an improbability, yet she couldn’t deny that the woman lived here among the beastmen when humans did not. There had to be some truth to it. And if so, she would bear her husband’s child--a halfling? The rules she’d thought herself just beginning to understand were dashed away. “How can you be human, but not?”

  “Circumstance brought us together. I was cursed, much the same as you. Blasien saved me, as I did him,” Ashanti said, elaborating on the matter no further.

  Ashanti’s eyes shone with love and happiness. Such depth of feeling warmed Swan’s soul. That such could be found between two races astounded her, for it did not seem possible for her. Here, Swan felt like she was merely some tasty morsel to be devoured.

  “I warn you, though, if Raphael seeks the blood bond ceremony, you must wrestle a promise from him for it to be completed in private.” She laughed softly, a faraway look in her eyes. Ashanti continued, “They can know your mind once a connection is formed. It is why they are such renowned lovers, knowing your wants and desires before you even truly understand them yourself. Ah, you do not know this?”

  That couldn’t possibly be true. It was too ... too unbelievable. They were not mages, to delve into the minds of others. Even Morvere had not the power to read her mind. She dismissed it as fable propagated by old wives. “There is nothing between us.”

  Ashanti slanted her a shrewd look that spoke volumes. “Nothing but reluctance, I gather?”

  Swan flushed at her knowing look, feeling as though her transgressions were scrawled across her face. Could everyone read her so easily? It was no wonder she’d landed herself in such a predicament. Raphael had not helped matters at all either. She’d become so distracted from her purpose by him it was disgraceful. No responsible ruler would put anything before her people, and she must remember to do the same. Any less would be a betrayal of trust and duty.

  “Raphael is a hunter. They are different than other beastmen. Vampiric powers flow through their veins, allowing them the ability to touch without being near. Hunters can drink blood or suffuse their power through sensual means. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “Why do you tell me these things?” Swan asked, looking at her with suspicion.

  “Just as warning. I had no foreknowledge myself. I would not have my brethren helpless to defend herself. Besides, I enjoy the thought of Raphael having to work hard for a lady’s favor.” She laughed softly, cradling her belly. “The men here are used to getting their way in everything. A challenge is hard to find.”

  “Thank you, but I have no need to protect myself from Raphael. He helps me of his own free will.” And there was no challenge as far as she was concerned. No one would possess her let alone control her mind. To believe talk of mind magic would drive her mad. It couldn’t possibly be true, but she realized she would have to question him to make certain. Then again, what man had ever told her the truth?

  “I think he may have more on his hands than he is aware.”

  Ashanti struggled to sit forward, and Swan rose and helped her to her feet. “My thanks, Swan. I will be glad to hold this babe in my arms rather than my belly. Come, eat. Raphael joins you soon. You should be ready for his arrival.”

  Surprised, Swan stopped mid-motion, unable to resist looking at the bed. There would be no avoiding it once he was in the room. Nobility fled in a rush of unbidden heat. “He can’t possibly sleep here. It isn’t proper.”

  “But it is. Human rules do not apply here, dear Swan.” She gave her a pitying look. “As women, we adapt. I suggest you not leave this room. You’ll find in Shadowmere, as a human, having a man’s protection is vital to your survival whether you wish it or not.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Swan heard soft footsteps stop before her door and knew immediately who stood there. Determined not to be caught without defense, she hurried from her posi
tion near the fire, around the largest obstacle in the room--the bed.

  The door opened and Raphael stepped inside, closing it behind him with a finality that tightened her nerves. He leaned back against the wood paneling, crossing his arms over his chest, looking pleased. A slow smile curled his lips as he caught sight of her across the wide space and dragged his gaze down her body.

  She’d bathed the dirt of travel off and changed into a gown Ashanti had lent her. If anything, the loose robes that covered her with no peep of skin showing save her head, hands and feet only seemed to incite him further.

  How she could be so covered and still entice his gaze, she didn’t know. She suspected it was merely his sexual appetite that held him enamored to her. Or the chase, as Ashanti had alluded.

  Swan’s skin tingled beneath the garment as if caressed by his leisurely appraisal. Hier nipples tightened like he’d brushed a palm against them and her belly quivered with raw need that she refused to acknowledge. She gritted her teeth to control her response, incensed at herself and his bold perusal.

  “What makes you smile so?” Swan asked tightly.

  Again he answered with that slow, lazy smile that set her nerves on edge. No man should look so enticing. That he stood with his body on display for her eyes made her teeth grit. Carelessly, she’d looked him over and found him mightily enticing, from the broad width of his shoulders, the strange markings on his bronze skin. Idly, she wondered how their bodies would look tangled together, how his manhood would appear disappearing inside her dark nether lips.

  She flushed hotly, wondering at the turn of her thoughts.

  He took a step forward, looking predatory, his eyes gleaming. “Mayhap your continued demureness, hiding behind that bed as if it would protect your purity, which we both know does not exist. I rather thought to find you lying in it, awaiting my pleasure.”