by Editor
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before you sink your rotted fangs into me, you giant louse,” Serina screamed.
“As you wish, Ducky,” Jasper retorted. Again he waved his hand to the heavens and commanded the sky. “You’re going to be sorry you didn’t wear your coat and galoshes, Ducky.” With a quick snap of his fingers and a rolling wave, Jasper pointed to the heavens.
As ice-cold winds surrounded her, Serina buried her face in Jonah’s furry chest. Blizzard-like conditions turned the mountainside a blinding white within minutes.
Then a loud rumbling shook the earth as ice bolts penetrated the hard ground.
The wolf tried to dodge the daggers, but it was of no use, Jasper’s expertise triumphed and the icy spears impaled him.
Although he bled profusely, Serina wasn’t too much worried for him after seeing how quickly he healed.
His tongue had already regenerated.
Her husband on the other hand…
Chapter Twelve
Blanketed in a snowy grave, ice chips clung to Lucian’s eyelids and lashes, and his perfect pouty lips turned a non-kissable shade of ebony.
Serina wanted to die with him. She had no idea what real pain felt like until she saw the man she’d given her heart, her soul, and her dreams to, dead. She couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t care if ever she did again. She looked to the wolf and with quivering lips begged, “Kill me, Jonah. Please?”
“I can not, Serina. I shall attempt to protect you from Jasper, but he has proven his strength and powers. He may just keep you around to see if you’d be of any use to him. I know for a fact he does not care for women, so it would not be sex he craves. I wanted that,” Jonah admitted. “There are givers in a relationship and there are receivers. Jasper likes being on the receiving end, if you understand me.”
Could this conversation honestly be any more bizarre? Serina’s new outlook on reality took an unbelievable twist. In the arms of a half man/half wolf, and having a conversation with him about the sexual preferences of a vampire no less, made her wonder if straight jackets came in her size.
What’s left of my life has become stranger than fiction.
At least all the remaining beetles lay frozen under the snow for the time being.
I found the silver lining. Too bad I can’t decipher the bloody color once again. She laughed hysterically knowing shock would be a blissful welcome.
“How sweet, Jonah, you protecting our little Ducky. How quickly you forget she just tried to knock out your manhood, bite off your tongue and—oh, try to rip out your heart. There must be something sweet running in her veins. Bring her to me, Jonah. Now!”
Jonah closed the distance carrying Serina to him, apologizing with a pathetic excuse with each step.
Futilely, she kicked, screamed and bit her way through the wolf’s fur, spitting out chunks of it, getting some strands still stuck between her teeth. Anything...She could handle anything, but that vile, noxious creature touching her. She fought twice as hard when Jasper had her arm behind her back, and pinned her face-first up against a tree.
“Jasper, may my blood solidify in your veins, and leave behind permanent stains. I’ll see you disintegrate into a pile of ash, to be disposed of with the trash. May holy water boil away your rotted skin, ridding us of your evil sins. I can only pray someone takes you apart limb by limb.”
“Oh, like I’ve never heard that before! That’s a thought out anathema, Serina. Pity it shan’t work. You’re persistent if nothing else.” Jasper knocked Serina’s head with one powerful blow into the solid bark and then ravaged her neck. Blood splattered and covered both men when he tore open her jugular vein.
Trapped, just as her husband had been only moments ago, Serina felt as if she’d ingested Laudanum. Nothing seemed real. Hallucinogenic thoughts and feelings flooded her as the vampire fed, sickening emotions she couldn’t understand and sure as hell didn’t want.
Serina knew the tales, read the books about a vampire’s bite being so erotic that people would do anything for the next encounter, becoming a wanton creature of habit, even from the most heinous beings. And now, trapped firmly in his grasp she understood. The damned tales held truths. Her slovenly body deceived her—rejoiced as he drained her life. Confusion and guilt ripped a larger hole in her heart.
She wanted him to continue, and on the flipside of the coin, she wanted to rip out his blackened clump of flesh he had the nerve to call a heart. If this wasn’t the epitome of a love-hate relationship! She tried to scream his name belligerently, “Jas-per…” Instead, languorous little syllables slipped softly from her lips. She cried out the last bits and pieces of her withered soul.
Serina fought the orgasmic convulsions, except struggling intensified them. The hot, wet sensation between her thighs clawed its way up to gnash at her nipples. She vomited.
The wolf coughed and distracted Jasper. When the vamp looked at him, he asked, “Good to the last drop?”
Jasper rolled his eyes towards the wolf, and as fear rapidly replaced arrogance, he dropped Serina on top of her husband’s lifeless shell.
Not quite himself, Jasper cried, “What has she done to me, Jonah? Incantations don’t work on the dead.” Jasper looked up to see the wolf looking like the picture of health, and knew he’d made a fatal error. “How?” he screamed, as smoke flowed from his mouth. “Witch!”
Jonah noticed where Serina’s blood sprayed Jasper, more holes bore through his carcass. Jonah just needed a clean set of clothes. “How did that saying go? ‘Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.’” Jonah laughed and clapped his paw-like hands together as flames exploded from Jasper’s nose, ears, and mouth. “It wasn’t her words, Jasper. It was her blood. Serina, you’ve turned him into a fire-breathing dragon. Jolly good show. Unless, of course, he doesn’t disintegrate.”
Serina teetered between lunacy and lucidity. Coming in and out of her dark shadows she witnessed Jasper bend over, holding his stomach and groaning as he smoldered. She prayed the images were true as the overbearing weight of her eyelids stifled her view.
With his clothes melted to him, Jasper rolled around in the snow, and left once pure, white, sparkling flakes, charred, and unsightly. He grabbed handfuls of the frozen crystals and stuffed them into his mouth, only to have the smoke effuse thicker. He coughed and choked up actual lumps of coal. Gingerly, he picked one up, looked at it, and took flight, headed toward the falls. Behind him, a dark polluted trail spoiled the skyline.
Jonah watched the vampire turn mid-air and plunge headfirst into the water. Bubbles of steaming vapor erupted, and boiled the vamp’s skin. He covered his ears from Jasper’s heinous bellows as they echoed into the night.
“Holy mother of God, all her wishes are taking place,” Jonah noted.
At the water’s edge, Jasper yelled, “I am going to kill the witch, you, and then your family.” Defiant, he glared at the wolf, before he shifted into the form of a black raven and took to the sky. Circling the area once, Jasper plummeted towards Jonah, turned and disappeared.
Jonah headed toward Serina. The snow crunched under foot with each step he took. He bent over and brushed the remaining flakes from her face. Moving slowly down her body he removed the snow from her chest and allowed himself the stolen luxury to feel the fullness of her bosom, and the firmness of her nipples under her shirt. Ashamed, he stopped, picked her up and walked away, leaving Lucian alone, to rot. He couldn’t help what happened to him. But he could do something about Serina. Just what, remained to be seen.
****
A feeling deep within Serina tugged her from a dark wasteland. Drained didn’t touch the way she felt. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and dream of Lucian, yet something dragged her back from the black abandonment where she hid. Her eyes fluttered a few times before she was able to focus on her surroundings. Back in the arms of the wolf she felt safe, until she realized he carried her away from Lucian.
“Put me down. You cannot take me away from
my husband. We cannot leave him here like this, please,” Serina whispered. She didn’t have much strength left, and she wasn’t about to waste it screaming. “Please, please do this for me. He deserves so much more than this.”
“Your husband is dead, Serina. He has neither a pulse nor blood to bind him to this earth.”
She cried, “He has me.” Then grief got the best of her, and her world darkened.
Jonah covered much of the mountain’s rugged terrain easily as if he were out for his evening constitutional. He found them shelter inside a cave. He knew he had a few days of safety until Jasper would come looking for them and he would come. Of that, there was no doubt. Jasper stole Serina’s blood, which almost killed him, and the bloodsucker would want revenge. Jonah also knew the blood-bond between Jasper, Serina and him made them an easier target than pickpockets working the London Tower on the tourists.
Unconscious for hours, he didn’t know if Serina would wake up wanting blood in the same manner as a vampire, or if she would be an indentured servant as he was. With no medical background Jonah had no idea how to replace blood loss, but his only option was to give her his blood and with that came the question of how to and how much to give? He gave up thinking about what-ifs, and pulled a pocketknife from his satchel. With one quick flick of his knife, he sliced his wrist open, pressed it to Serina’s mouth, and watched as his blood flowed from his wound and ran down the front of her neck, and saturated her shirt. The what-ifs he wondered about were about to come back and bite him in the arse, because seeing all the blood on her tickled his senses, and subsequently enticed his own hungers and desires with a murderous intensity. He fought the urges even as his fur stiffened and stood on end. Other areas of his anatomy became aroused as well. He looked down at his tattered trousers, and saw a giant bulge protrude that threatened to shred the last threads that held his pants together. To say the least, he couldn’t think, his heads hurt so, both. The one on top his shoulders felt as if he had a vice grip around him, squeezing the daylights from him. The one beneath the trousers wanted a vice grip on him squeezing him...period.
His good intentions backfired when Serina’s soft lips lapped at the fluid. Her mouth covered his skin like a warm blanket with each sweep of the tongue. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have her mouth elsewhere on his body, sucking on him as she was now.
Getting a little tipsy, Jonah stepped back, his arm very much caught between her teeth like a bear in a trap.
Exquisite!
He hadn’t suffered pain like this in years. Just how far gone was he to enjoy this torture. He knew he always enjoyed sex rough, but even this pushed the envelope. This snapped him out of his ethical dilemma, whether to let her finish her snack before he had his—her, or wait like a gentleman. After prying his wrist from her mouth, it resembled a dog’s chew toy, a mangled mess of torn flesh and bone. For once he was grateful of the powers that came with being a werewolf. He stood and watched his arm rejuvenate itself before his eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
Mid-afternoon, Raven coaxed André out for a ride to enjoy the crisp September air, the sunny skies and his company. She couldn’t have been more content. She had her two brothers, a new family of friends living with her, and life was splendid until she heard Serina’s exigent pleas for help in her head. Raven’s world turned hazy without clouds. “Ands,” she panted, “listen!”
“Listen to what, little one?”
“My head, you dim-wit limey. Listen to what’s in my head. Serina and Lucian are in trouble.” Chills engulfed her, as if she’d fallen within the thrall of a seizure.
The exact moment Lucian’s heart stopped, solemn agony swept through her soul faster than a tsunami devouring the earth and with deadlier intent. This couldn’t be happening, not to Lucian. She would die without him, without her best friend, or confidant, or the world’s worst joker. There would no longer be a reason to laugh...or live.
Without time to think, André jumped from the stallion and caught Raven to his chest. Touching her intensified the visions she witnessed as he merged his mind with hers. Overcome with images of death, he cursed his psychic abilities.
Concern for Raven’s wellbeing weighed heavy upon him. He feared he could lose her as well due to the deep bond she and Lucian held. After a slight struggle with Raven’s dead-weight, André placed her over the horse then mounted himself. Shifting her into his arms, he headed home, praying they’d make it because he wasn’t feeling so great either.
By the time they reached the stables, André was slumped over the horse with Raven crushed beneath him. “Duncan, help,” André barely whispered. He held his head up long enough to give Duncan a shortened version of all that had happened and then he collapsed to the ground, dragging Raven atop him.
Duncan got them into Payton’s room and sent Payton to retrieve the doctor and Father Butler. Not thirty minutes passed, Payton returned with Father Butler and Dr. Jones, both wind-blown, and disheveled. The doctor gathered what materials he needed for blood transfusions in swift fashion. Oddly, he told Duncan, “They both show all the signs of blood loss and shock. Both are pale and unconscious, yet there is nothing to substantiate these findings, no visible trauma.” Dr. Jones touched Raven’s chest with his stethoscope and listened. “Their respirations are irregular and shallow, yet their hearts race like the devil chases them,” he said wearily. “Father, I do not understand the ways of God. I can only see the science behind this mystery. And my hypothesis makes me no sense.” The doctor shrugged his stocky shoulders.
“This is in no way the work of God, Doctor Jones. The evil is so thick it chokes the very life from them.” Father never looked up at him. He focused solely on Raven and André trying to save them. Because to save them meant he’d save his Serina. Nothing or no one else on this earth mattered more.
André fought his way back from an unfathomable abyss and latched onto Raven. He held her close uncaring that anyone saw him weep. The lines of blood that ran into his arm, he tore away. A splattered trail of crimson drops stained Payton’s crisp white linens.
André only just found out he had a family and now, that part of him stolen. Gone, his identical brother. This creature that threatened his sister’s life had to be destroyed. He had to find Serina too, for Lucian.
André whispered to his sister, deep in her mind, My little beauty, you must wake up. Do not let this monster take you from me. I could not bear to lose you as well. I know I’m not Lucian but I love you Ray. Please...stay for me. After laying a gentle kiss upon her lips, he rolled over to face his friends. “I know where Lucian lies, and I know where Serina is. I need help.”
Numb to his very core, Duncan held Raven’s hand. “What do you need from us, André?” He wiped at the steady stream of his tears, never looking away from Raven. Duncan never thought he would have to live through something so traumatic again. First his wife and child, now Lucian and possibly Raven.
Not Lucian, not his best mate, his confidant, his little brother. They grew up together, taught each other about life, and laughed often for endless hours. He loved Lucian and the mere thought of him no longer showing his smiling face, with his ridiculous jokes and sense of humor to brighten everyone’s day, his day—crushed him.
Raven. My God, what would Duncan do with out her? Her smile warmed him on the coldest of days. Her gentle nature, the way she cared for everyone so meticulously. Her natural disasters in the kitchen, even with the best of intentions...Duncan smiled at that thought for a second then the tears carried it away. His family lay dying in front of him, and he was unable to protect them. Tremors slowly crept from Duncan’s shoulders to his hands, and he started to shake.
Dr. Jones instructed, “Take slow deep breaths, and focus on anything other than Raven.”
With a methodical twist of his head, Duncan gave the man a vexatious glare.
Even Molly scrunched her face with the doctors words. She took Duncan’s hand. “You’re not alone. You’ve got all of us here. And you’ve got me.�
�� She gave his hand a strong squeeze.
Duncan glanced at Molly, and wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her as close to him as he could get and attempted a grin that said he appreciated her, but his lips remained paralyzed, much like his heart.
André knelt before Duncan. “Old man, we need to find Serina. She is in grave danger and any time we waste is precious. Somehow, she is connected to Raven, and in order to save Ray we need to save them both. We can do no less for Lucian or for Serina. Payton is preparing the horses as we speak. Please, dear friend, help me save our sister and sister-in-law. We will bring Lucian home to us.”
Too little too late, André realized he probably shouldn’t have mentioned bringing Lucian home, because Duncan growled and pushed himself off the chair abruptly. With one swipe of his arm, everything on Payton’s dresser (books, glasses, and a cologne bottle) smashed to the floor. He stormed from the room, never looking back. André was left on his knees beside an empty chair.
Wearily André stood and strode to the door. He turned to Father Butler. “Please take the women to the church and keep them under your protection. Do not allow them to leave and allow no one inside your parish you do not know.”
Father Butler handed him a cross and a bottle of blessed water and wished him, “God speed, son. Bring my girl home to me.”
****
André, Duncan, and Payton rode in silence, never breaking their stride. Through his and Raven’s link, André reached the area where the ambush took place but after that it became sketchy trying to find Serina since she’d passed out after contacting Raven. André stood on the very ground where Lucian lay covered with snow, but the snow had disappeared, as had Lucian.
With nightfall closing in, Payton reached into his satchel. “Who’s hungry? I’m going to start cooking up my specialty for camping. Any takers?”
“What is it?” Duncan gave him a wistful smile. “I am famished.”