Seduced by the Beast

by Jaide Fox

  “Do you believe me such a novice? I caught your mark on her, Raphael ... else I would have taken her for myself. Long has it been since I found a woman so tempting.” The look he gave Swan made her shudder.

  “You keep your hands off her.” Raphael’s feral smile promised pain.

  “Of course.” Vachel returned his grim look with one of mirth.

  Raphael nodded, satisfied. “Come to me Swan, he offers no harm.”

  “Are you so certain?” she asked, giving the stranger a wary glance. Vachel set her nerves on edge. She didn’t want to turn her back on him, let alone release her weapon. Beneath the amused air lurked danger.

  From tales she’d heard as a child and Raphael’s initial attitude, she had little enough reason to trust one such as he.

  “Swan,” he growled, capturing her attention.

  She watched Raphael in her peripheral, not quite believing the man so harmless, sidling away. She told herself if he had intended harm, she would be dead by now. She could feel it with such potent certainty the knowledge chilled her marrow. She reached Raphael’s side and stepped behind him, her flank protected by Syrian’s comforting presence. Swan clutched his hard biceps, leaning close as she continued watching the man, Vachel.

  “Is he truly your brother?” she whispered, drawing Vachel’s eyes. His coloring was naturally pale from living in the dark, but his hair was the same shade of midnight as Raphael’s, highlights almost blue from the striking moon. His frame was leaner than Raphael’s, but that appearance could be attributed to his greater height. The structure of his face was harder, more angular and sharp, but the eyes-- in the eyes she could see their similarity.

  Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “He is. Vampiric blood flows in our veins, and when a hunter female is taken by one, her children are born more vampire than wolf. Vampiric women cannot bear children. Their men steal ours to propagate their lines.”

  Vachel chuckled darkly. “My blood shames you, does it not, brother?”

  Swan couldn’t answer for Raphael, but she did not like the thought that he shared blood with this man. Vampires were monsters. But then, she’d been told hunters were monsters, also, all her life, as were all the people of Shadowmere. It was with a sense of surprise that she realized old prejudice had been slowly stripped away and she no longer thought of Raphael as a monster.

  When the change in thought had occurred, she didn’t know.

  “I find I do not think of you at all, Vachel. Why have you followed me?” Raphael said, regarding his half-brother.

  “I was curious to see why the rabid watchdog of the borders allowed a human inside.”

  “I would have told had you asked.”

  “Now Raphael, what is the fun in that?” Vachel said, holding his palms up with innocence.

  “Your sick humor will spell your end one day.”

  Vachel nodded his dark head, his hair caught in the current air around him. “Of that, I have no doubt. One cannot live by blood alone.”

  Syrian interrupted, breaking the tension. “Time passes we can ill afford, Raphael.”

  “Yes, enough of this talk. Swan, you will come with us, if only so that I can watch you and keep you out of more trouble. I should have realized you would have your way with me no matter what. Fool that I am.”

  “I join you as well, brother.”

  Raphael glared at him, stopping in his tracks. “You know not where we go.”

  “It matters not. I have need of amusement. But if you go to Barakus, I carry warning.”

  “And that is...?”

  “Barakus is besieged. The elders resent your denial of women and blood. They feel it is their due.”

  “You do not, of course...,” he said, his jaw tight.

  “I have never been one to bow to another.”

  “This changes everything, Raphael,” Syrian said, coming up beside them. “We cannot risk a delay at the borders. The Lysian pool is strongest when the silver moon shines alone. We have until the red moon wanes. Already it fades. If he comes to heal and regain his power, it will be then.”

  “You journey to human lands? Because of a woman?” Vachel laughed at Raphael’s fierce glare.

  Raphael thought the matter over a long moment. “If we cannot go around, we will go under. Vachel knows a hidden way through the range.”

  Vachel crossed his arms over his chest, his black cape cracking like a whip in the wind. “I could be persuaded ... for a price.” He advanced across the circle, appearing to glide, watching Swan alone. “Let me ... taste the woman.”

  Swan gasped in outrage, fingered her sword, but Raphael held her back from slicing him in two.

  “Touch her and die,” Raphael said menacingly.

  Looking smug, he chuckled as though Raphael had reacted exactly as he intended. “It is as I suspected. You are besotted. We run a fool’s errand.”

  “No one asked you to come,” he growled.

  Vachel laughed. “I’d not miss this for a seat on the council. I will show you the way.”

  “Fine. You hinder us, I may forget you are my brother. You,” he pointed at Swan, “I will deal with later.”

  The hard look in his eyes promised it would be unpleasant, but Swan was too shaken to disagree. She didn’t trust Vachel, even if he was Raphael’s brother. No man that looked so ... hungry could be trusted near a woman. That he was now a traveling companion as well as their guide did not bode well for them.

  * * * *

  Vachel made no further contact with her. If anything, he ignored her completely. His brother’s threat enough to warn him away. She was thankful. Raphael alone was enough to make the strongest woman faint. His brother’s nearness only compounded her problems.

  The fog Vachel shrouded them with disappeared at his command, and he leapt into the air, hovering at a height just above their heads, his cape fluttering in the wind like wings. They would follow him, not out of want, but for lack of an alternative choice.

  She only prayed Barakus would not fall before Raphael could return. A pain stabbed her heart at how much he risked for her.

  She glanced briefly at Syrian as he murmured soft words and a red glow surrounded his body a short moment. He’d cast a spell that increased his stamina for the journey.

  Raphael caught her attention with his movement, stripping nude to shift. She heated as she always did seeing him naked, the lean muscles of his body powerful and silvered in the light, his manhood rampant at her regard.

  She touched his shoulder hesitantly, halted his movement, averting her eyes from his groin with an effort. Now was no time to allow longing to get in the way. She had to at least try to beg him from this course. “You should go to your people. They need you. Syrian can help me face Morvere.”

  His eyes were shielded, amber flecks swallowing the black irises as the change began. “No. I made a promise. I will keep it. Arion will hold the fortress until I return.” He exuded confidence like no other, his belief firm when her own esteem wavered. She sighed, glad he’d not been swayed, but saddened too.

  Swan watched, breathless, as he shifted before he’d even dropped to the ground, fur rippling over his body like wind. A wolf stood before her, rubbed softly against her legs in assurance. She climbed atop him, the sack he’d carried slung over her shoulder.

  There would be no changing his mind, she knew that now. He was as stubborn as she, perhaps more. Her gut clenched with nervous worry; worry over Morvere, for Raphael’s people. She dared not look for meaning behind his words and determination. To hope for something more would be the final crack in her facade.

  They traveled well into the night. Unhindered by human weakness, each used their own gift to enhance their speed.

  Swan squeezed her eyes shut, terrified at the blur of the land whirling past. Fear and need hastened them, fear that they would be too late. If Morvere reached the pool before them, there would be no chance to defeat him. This was her only hope to return to the life she’d known. To stay a swan maiden would eventually s
trangle her will--it was no way to live, trapped by the night. Yet Vachel did, and many of the hunters. A newfound pity for them stole into her mind. They were not so unalike.

  Swan bent and buried her face against Raphael’s furry neck, feeling comforted by the soft warmness of his fur against her cheek. The power of his wolf body was great, but would he be strong enough to defeat a sorcerer as powerful as they faced? Even if he was merely a human?

  Hours dragged by as they ran. Her hands cramped from clutching Raphael’s fur, and her legs and hips ached with the effort to stay upright at the pace they kept. Raphael slowed, and she opened her eyes. When the Northern mountains loomed into view, blotting out the stars in the sky, Swan breathed a sigh of relief. They reached the base of the range as the moons set.

  The harrowing trip seemed to last an eternity. Swan had never been more grateful in her life than she was when they reached the Northern pass. She thought coming here would take them directly into the vampire’s midst, but no one else was concerned of the danger.

  Suspecting they knew more of their land than she did, she trusted them.

  Apparently, the vampires were set on conquering Morvere and had set their numbers in that direction. It boded ill for Raphael’s people and his seat of power, but there was little she could do to sway his mind. She only hoped he did not return to the death and destruction of all he’d ever known.

  Rock skidded and bounced down the foothills, the footing dangerous for the unwary.

  Old warnings told that the mountains were impassable to foes, cupping Shadowmere like a hand shielding a flame. Only the vampires knew the passages, having long lived underground in hibernation.

  Vachel guided them to a sheer face, seemingly unscalable. The black rock stretched above, dark clouds gathered around its peaks.

  Raphael shifted form, touching the stone as he looked up at Vachel. Nodding, Vachel grasped Syrian under the arms and soared high above their heads, disappearing over a lip. He returned a moment later, landing lightly on the ground.

  “It is your turn, my lady,” Vachel spoke softly, walking near.

  Swan pulled back, looking at Raphael for reassurance. “Is there no other way?” Heights had never before terrified her, but the thought of leaving the ground in the arms of a questionable man would make even the most stalwart quail with fear. Flying was unnatural. She did not even do so as a bird.

  “There is not. Does my touch repel you?” He grinned as if pleased.

  “Enough taunting her, Vachel,” Raphael growled warningly.

  Vachel shrugged. “I only wish to see if she deserves you.”

  “I’ve no need of a mother hen.”

  He laughed and scooped her into his arms before she could protest, rising into the air. “I will go slowly with you, fair Swan.”

  She refused to look at the ground, could only watch his pale face. He smiled at her, the derisiveness gone from his eyes, replaced by an earnest quality that both intrigued and astonished her.

  His voice low and serious, he said, “Only the most extraordinary woman could hope to capture Raphael. Never has a mate claimed his heart and many have tried.”

  And with that nugget piquing her curiosity, he set her down on solid ground once more and went below for Raphael.

  Vachel returned a few minutes later, landing on the stone lip with ease. Raphael stood distant from her once above, giving her a long, measuring look. He walked past her into the yawning maw of the cavern behind Vachel without uttering a word to her. Swan followed, if only in want of anything else to do. With only a little over an hour before dawn and her changing, her nerves were wound tight. Vachel went deep into the cavern, away from possible sunlight to rest, while Syrian remained outside to keep watch, preferring the fresh air to the staleness of the mountain. She suspected they had only departed to allow Raphael an opportunity to vent his spleen.

  She was alone with Raphael, for the first time in hours, and she suddenly dreaded it, remembering his warning earlier. A depression in the rock held the ash and charcoal remains of an old fire, enough wood that Raphael easily lit a blaze for her comfort. The weak flames flickered with the air sucked through the space. Shadows danced on the wall and Raphael’s back, his tension clearly illuminated.

  A storm brewed within him. His silence and that long look should have warned her his foul mood had returned. She expected any minute to be struck dead by a thunderbolt. Waiting, her patience ran thin when his silence continued. She couldn’t take it anymore, the thick unease and discomfort. It would be best to air his feelings than go on this way.

  “Are you going to pout all night?” she asked him.

  He didn’t turn around, a sign that he was very, very upset with her. Her hope that he’d forgotten his promise dashed away--if she’d learned nothing else, she knew Raphael always kept his word.

  “Why did you disobey me, Swan? I had my reasons for telling you to stay.”

  Why had she? Her excuses seemed shallow now, foolish. Her damnable pride had always gotten her into trouble--that and the urge to show him he couldn’t control her. But deep inside, she knew such reasons were only smoke covering the truth. She’d been terrified she might never see him again--furious that he would dare risk his life for her. She could not tell him, however. He wouldn’t understand, and it infuriated her to have such weakness, to need another person as she needed him. She turned anger with herself on to him.

  “You don’t own me. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I thought I had made myself clear,” he bit out in a quiet voice.

  He’d made it perfectly obvious she was more trouble than she was worth. And now his holdings were being attacked. He would blame her. He was like every other man, attacking when they thought they’d been wronged. It mattered not that she’d told him to go back. “You did, with perfect clarity,” she said tightly.

  “I told you to stay for your protection.”

  “You are not my father,” she said, biting each word off as if pained.

  His hands clenched into fists, relaxed, and clenched again. “No, I am not.”

  “I-I don’t need your protection. I don’t need you.” She repeated the words mentally, a mantra to keep her whole, uninjured.

  Raphael turned then, his eyes blazing, his muscles bunched with power. He was on her in an instant, his arms wrapped tightly as he crushed her fully against his body. Her curves molded to his hard planes, the chain mail heating from contact, searing her senses as though nothing stood between their melding as one but skin.

  She tilted her head up in her fury, foolishly, unable to believe his intent. His mouth descended, his lips crushed against her own, his arousal digging hard against her mail clad belly. She gasped in shock, energy coursing through her body like a lightning strike. He took advantage of her weakness and open mouth, thrust his tongue into her mouth, possessive, sweeping aside her protests. He utterly dominated her, his kiss ravenous and consuming as he tasted her dark crevices and the sweetness of her tongue.

  She sucked his rough tongue, hungry for his ravaging kiss as if starved. His fingers dug into her backside, drawing her against him as if he could sink inside her depths standing there before the fire.

  He broke away from her as abruptly as he’d started, breathing raggedly, pained. Swan shook with desire and anger, her chest heaving for air. She slapped him before she realized what she was doing. The crack of her hand on his flesh echoed loud in the enclosed space. He’d ruined her, ruined her last chance to pull away without tearing her soul in two. “I warned you not to kiss me.”

  His eyes flashed gold, near glowing with animal lust. He advanced on her, moving forward with each step she took back, until bare stone trapped her from retreating.

  “Can you deny your need? Do you dare deny it?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with want and desire.

  “Nothing has changed,” she muttered.

  He snatched her wrists before she could strike him again, pinned them to the smooth stone above her head. “Deny this
,” he growled before he kissed her once more.

  Swan tensed, expecting harsh punishment, but his lips were soft this time, not punishing. His change in tactic surprised her, and she whimpered in the back of her throat.

  He coaxed her response, nibbling, tugging at her full bottom lip with his teeth. She’d not anticipated gentleness, knew that his tender urging would be her absolute undoing.

  Desire unfurled in her belly, liquid heat trickling in her sex. Instead of ravaging her mouth with his hot, invading tongue, he trailed kisses along her jaw, up to her ear, nipping the sensitive lobe. He sucked her ear, tracing the whorls with his tongue and igniting a fervor in her blood.

  She tried to pull her hands free, to push him away, but she could no more do that than she could deny her desire for his possession. “Stop this,” she whispered, begging.

  “You don’t want this to stop.” He shifted, pressing his groin against her, the sensation muffled by the mail skirt.

  Tracing the shell of her ear, he thrust his tongue inside, and she moaned, unable to deny him any longer.

  Raphael slowly released her wrists, smoothing his hands down her arms. He kissed her again, sliding his tongue easily inside, his palm cupped behind her neck allowing no escape.

  He tasted incredible, like lightning, a calm before the storm—wild and untamed and forbidden. She wondered why she’d ever denied him her kiss, why she’d fought against him when he felt and tasted so good that she could never get enough.

  She sucked him greedily, hungrily, didn’t resist as he unbuckled her top, protested only when he broke away long enough to pull it and the skirt over her head. He untied the scarf binding her chest, and when his palms cupped her aching breasts, she forgot why she’d ever fought him at all. At the pace they’d set, this would likely be their last time together, making each heady caress bittersweet with regret.

  He pinched her small, dark nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers until they hardened unbearably.