Wynter's Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 5)

by Brooklyn Ann

  “I need to rest?” Bethany lifted one honey-colored brow. “What about you? You haven’t fed in two nights, and you cannot have slept well either during your imprisonment or your time stuffed in a trunk.”

  Her tone was alarmingly waspish. Yes, the woman needed sleep.

  To be truthful, Justus hadn’t slept more than a few minutes in the last forty-eight hours. He was dead on his feet and weak as a kitten. But he couldn’t bear to admit it.

  “Besides,” Bethany continued, absently rubbing a knot in her shoulder. “I’ve already found shelter for us, so there is no sense in arguing with me.”

  Justus was too tired and too hungry to argue. “Where?”

  “I found a way inside a book shop that has a cozy cellar.” Her lips curved up in a crooked smile. “I’ve become quite the criminal.”

  “A book shop?” Justus couldn’t imagine a better place to rest his weary bones. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the twinges of pain from his wounds. “I love you.”

  He helped her carry the bags and they walked into the book shop right through the front door as Bethany had already unlocked it. Even though he was bone tired and weak as a mortal, the smell of old parchment, vellum, and leather bindings soothed him, like spring blooms after a winter chill.

  Bethany lit a lantern and led him to a pair of massive overstuffed chairs covered in worn burgundy velvet. “We can go to the cellar before dawn. For now, you should sit down. You look pale.”

  Justus laughed at her commanding tone as well as her words and tried to keep his tone light. “I’m a ginger. I’m always pale.” He stripped off his shirt, hissing as the fabric peeled from the charred wounds on his sides.

  “My God!” Bethany cried. “What did he do to you?”

  “Burnt me with a hot poker,” Justus grumbled, more angry at the worry in her eyes than the pain of his wounds. “Sadistic whoreson.”

  She bent down to inspect the wounds, worry lines creasing her brow. “We must find a doctor.”

  “No!” He barked out the word more harshly than he meant to. Bethany flinched as he grasped her shoulders and he gentled his grip and tone. “A doctor would wonder why I am healing so rapidly, not to mention ask questions that neither you nor I could provide satisfactory answers to. What I need to do is hunt. Blood will help me heal.”

  “Feed from me.” Her eyes were intent as she moved her braided hair over her shoulder, revealing her creamy white neck. “You need to heal and regain your strength before you venture out again. I cannot fight off the Somerset vampires alone.”

  “You should not fight them at all,” Justus growled, unable to forget the sight of her in Ridley’s dungeon, arms quivering with the weight of the blunderbuss as she’d aimed it at the vampire guard. “Furthermore, you need rest and nourishment as well.”

  “I had a satisfactory rest at the inn in Gloucestershire.” Her chin lifted in implacable determination, affording him a view of her vein pulsing in her throat. “And I have eaten while I drove the wagon. I also have provisions for at least three days.”

  Justus licked his lips, hunger roiling through him at the sight of her delectable neck. To avoid lunging for her, he sat and clenched his hands on his lap. Which turned out to be a mistake of epic proportions, for she cornered him then, placing her hands on the arms of the chair, and leaning forward so her braids caressed his cheeks. The scent of her, sweet and feminine, teased his nostrils, making his upper lip peel back to reveal his fangs.

  “Please, Justus.” Her lips caressed his ear. “Let me give you what you need.”

  His control was as tenuous as that of a newly made vampire. Every fiber of his being screamed for her blood. He wondered if his eyes were glowing yet and avoided her gaze in case he accidentally mesmerized her. “I can’t risk hurting you or taking too much.”

  “Don’t worry so much. I trust you.” She tilted her head, her neck inches from his mouth.

  Justus’s resistance snapped like try kindling. With a bestial growl, he yanked her into his lap and sank his fangs into her tender flesh.

  She tasted better than he’d remembered. Passion and power infused him with every swallow, an intoxicating drug, tempting him to drink more and more. Bethany’s low moan was music to his ears, making him harden. Sweet torment wracked his form as her hips undulated against him. His strength returned in a mammoth surge that made his nerve endings sing.

  When she sagged weakly against him, Justus’s senses returned and he removed his fangs. He cursed at her pallor as he healed the puncture wounds. He’d taken too much.

  “Bethany,” he whispered, holding his fingers to her neck. Was it weaker than usual? “Are you all right?”

  She grasped his shoulder and sat up, her weight pressing further on his groin, though he didn’t mind. “I’m perfectly fine. I only had a brief faint spell. A little water and a nibble from an apple and I will be right as rain.” Her eyes searched his. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I feel completely restored,” he admitted, guilt roiling through him at the cost.

  “Are you well enough to make love to me?” she asked, shifting her hips in a suggestive manner.

  His cock hardened further. “I always feel well enough to make love to you.” He grasped one golden braid, reveling in its silken texture. “You’re like a drug to me.” And intoxicating she was, he thought as he kissed her, exploring every crevice of her lips before delving his tongue in her mouth to taste her sweetness.

  He kissed her long and deep as he unbuttoned her dress, shivering in delight as she reached for his buttons. When she shifted off his lap, he groaned with disappointment until he was treated to the sight of her dress falling to the floor. Her skin looked soft and delectable as a peach, her figure exquisite in only a thin white chemise and stockings.

  “You look like an angel wrought of gold and ivory.” He reached forward and caressed her thigh. “And rubies.”

  She raised one brow in that quizzical manner he adored. “Rubies?”

  “You’re blushing.” He stripped off his shirt and unfastened his trousers. “Let’s see if I can make you do it more. Take off your chemise.”

  Just as he’d hoped, her skin turned the shade of peaches and cream even as she smiled and pulled the chemise over her head. His mouth went dry at the sight of her lush breasts, curved hips, and the triangle of burnished curls between her legs.

  Bethany gasped suddenly. “Your burns! They’re almost healed!”

  He glanced down. The two charred and red wounds had faded to a pale pink and they were half the size, quickly diminishing as new skin formed. Still, it was likely there would be some scarring.

  “You healed me,” he said, and sucked in a breath as she bent to kiss his wounds. The feel of her hair brushing across his chest and belly made an ache flare in his groin. “Turn around,” he said huskily.

  She obeyed and he grasped her hips and pulled her back on his lap. From this angle, he was able to hold her in his arms and caress her body at the same time. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs grazing her nipples until they grew taut.

  Bethany gasped and leaned against him, her thighs parting slightly, tempting him to delve lower. A delightful moan purred from her lips as his fingers found her mons and stroked around the edges of her plump, damp flesh.

  When he found her tight little bud, she cried out and wriggled her backside against his hard length, filling him with a hot surge of lust. Still, he teased her relentlessly until she was wet and musky with desire, whimpering his name.

  “Justus,” Bethany panted. “Please…”

  Happy to oblige, he lifted her and poised himself at her entrance. Slowly, she sank down upon his length, making him bit his lip at the sheer bliss of her tightness clenching around him. Everything felt different at this angle, new, exciting, intense.

  He rocked her on his lap, reveling in the new sensations. One hand reached up to toy with her breasts, the other plunged back down between her thighs, his fingers circling her clitoris. The effect wa
s rewarding. Bethany threw her head back and gyrated her hips in an intoxicating motion that took his pleasure to more dizzying heights.

  When she began to spasm around him, Justus lost control and thrust deeper and harder, his own climax surging in time with her own. The pleasure went on forever, blurring his vision in a euphoric haze.

  At last she collapsed against him, leaning against his chest as they caught their breath. “Do you feel closer to me now?” she whispered.

  His hand slipped up to press against her pounding heart. “I did not think such a thing was possible, but yes.” Worry filled him at the sight of her pallor and the fact that she still trembled. Damn it, he’d taken too much blood.

  With burning reluctance, he eased her off his lap and sought his clothing. “You should eat now to restore your strength from what I took.”

  Bethany laughed as she pulled on her chemise, though a shadow of unease flickered in her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m not even all that hungry. I’d much rather explore the book shop.”

  “Food first, books after,” he said sternly, not liking the dark shadows of fatigue beneath her eyes. Who knew when she’d last slept? “And then we should rest early.”

  She heaved an exasperated sigh and hugged her arms. “Very well.”

  Justus watched Bethany withdraw a half-eaten meat pie from one of the packs and felt another trill of alarm when she nibbled on it with disinterest. Especially when he noticed the fine tremor in her hands. At first he’d thought that her bouts of shaking were because she was overwhelmed with being out in the world again, but now he was starting to worry that something else was wrong with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bethany dreamed of Morningside again. She paced inside her cell, awaiting Doctor Keene’s visit. A most alarming emotion accompanied the dream: relief to be back in those stone walls and eager anticipation for the doctor’s soothing tonic. When he arrived with his spoon and bottle, she opened her mouth like a baby bird.

  Instead of the usual bitter flavor, the tonic tasted sweeter than honey. Happiness welled within her and she fell back on her cot, soothed at last.

  Then the sweetness turned into fire.

  She awoke shivering, with that odd burning in the back of her throat again. Her heart thudded in her chest and a restless sensation crawled over her skin like a thousand insects. It was much like the feeling that had overcome her yesterday afternoon when driving the wagon, only a hundred times worse.

  Justus opened his eyes and stared at her quizzically as his hand shifted from her waist to her forehead. “You’re sweating like you have a fever, but you do not smell as if you have one. How are you feeling?”

  “Dreadful,” she admitted. “I cannot stop shaking, and I feel as if I am covered in flies. My back aches terribly as well.”

  “Probably from driving that blasted cart,” Justus said with a deepening frown. “Perhaps you’re shaking from going too long between meals?”

  “I’m not even hungry,” she said miserably. In truth, she was a bit queasy, but she didn’t want to worry Justus further. “But I’ll nibble on some bread when you hunt. Is it dark yet?”

  “It feels like dusk is about an hour off. I heard the shopkeeper lock up and depart two hours before that, but you were still asleep.” Justus cupped her face and peered at her more closely. “Do you suppose the food you ate last was spoiled?”

  Bethany shook her head. “I’ve eaten bad meat before. I’d be casting up my accounts if that were the case. I feel more restless than ill, to be honest. And my bones hurt and my throat burns.” She frowned. That wasn’t right. “I mean, it doesn’t feel hot, it’s a different sort of burn.”

  “We’re leaving the wagon.” Justus said firmly. “I can carry you faster than that mule can.”

  “But I could carry you safely in the trunk during the day,” she protested, blurting out the idea.

  His brows drew together. “I think not. I do not care to be stuffed in that trunk again, for one thing. For another, you’ve clearly overexerted yourself driving the wagon.”

  “I do not think it was the wagon. The soreness perhaps, but not the rest.” Bethany rubbed her arms, trying to calm that prickling sensation. “I’ve felt this way before. The day you had to sleep in the well.”

  Justus’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.” She rose from their makeshift bed and stretched. Her back popped in a satisfying manner, but her anxiety remained. “I’m probably just impatient to continue our journey.”

  “Impatient to leave a book shop?” Justus gaped at her. “Something is definitely wrong.”

  His words sank in with ominous truth. She was never eager to part from books. Her shoulders slumped as fear coiled in her belly. “I hope I haven’t caught the plague.”

  “You honestly do not smell ill,” he said, though uncertainty wavered in his eyes. “But just in case…” He bit his index finger and held it to her lips. “Drink.”

  Bethany obeyed, tasting his blood and feeling that electric jolt of his blood on her tongue. Whatever magic sang in his blood did seem to ease her pain and phantom panic slightly. Yet it still remained, boiling under the surface of her skin, like a monster waiting to tear her apart from the inside. She licked her lips and kissed the tip of his finger. “I’m going to go upstairs and see if there is something for us to read while we wait until dark.”

  His broad grin soothed her soul. “There’s my Bethany. But if you feel faint or feverish, I want you to come back down at once.”

  She nodded, embarrassed at making such a goose of herself. The shivers and sweats were probably just a reaction to dreaming about Morningside. Revulsion filled her as she recalled her ludicrous happiness to see Keene and his horrid tonic.

  Bethany made her way up the stairs, her heart sad that Justus couldn’t accompany her. A measure of her melancholy ebbed when she once more laid eyes on the tall Maplewood shelves filled with leather backed books and gilded spines. She browsed each section, searching for Medieval verses and tales she’d always held so dear. When she came upon a copy of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, she held the volume to her breast, savoring its weight. Then, to her delight, she saw a copy of Chaucer’s Book of the Duchess. Long ago, Justus had said that was his favorite.

  She wished she could take more books, but knew they couldn’t carry that many. When she returned to the cellar, Justus read her regret.

  “Don’t worry, my love. Soon we will have our own library.” The determination in his eyes refuted any doubt, despite the tenuousness of their situation.

  “Which one shall we read?” she asked, handing him the books.

  His face lit with delight at the copy of Book of the Duchess. “Let’s save this one for a better time and read Sir Gawain. It has been so many years since I’ve read that one.”

  “And I as well,” she replied, though for her it had only been a decade while he could have meant a whole century.

  They took turns reading and Bethany fidgeted in her seat, trying to focus on the story and not the alternating bouts of pain and restlessness. Alarm creeped over her like a shadow. What was wrong with her?

  Justus closed the book and cocked his head to the side, peering at her with a frown. “You haven’t paid attention to the last two pages I’ve read.”

  “Yes, I have!” she argued in a shrewish tone that made her clap her hand over her mouth in shock. This wasn’t her. If Doctor Keene had heard her he would have sent her straight to her room with a dram of his tonic. She salivated even as a deep ache gnawed at her bones and tore at her belly.

  “You’re suffering.” He stood and packed the book in one of their satchels. “Whatever this malady is, my blood isn’t helping. The sun has set. Let us go and we’ll see if we can rouse a doctor for you.”

  “No doctor.” She shook her head. “You said that it would be too dangerous. I’m likely just overwhelmed with yesterday’s unpleasantness. I’m sure I’ll be all right once we’re well
on our way.”

  “You’re suffering.” His implacable gaze refuted any lies.

  “Oh Justus,” she whimpered as another flare of pain roared through her body. “It hurts! My bones hurt, my stomach is roiling, and I feel so desperate, but I don’t know why.”

  He sighed and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet when her fingers intertwined with his. “I will feed and then I will find help for you. Somehow.”

  She hated the worry in his face. She’d been so proud of herself for rescuing him and now she needed him to save her yet again. Would she ever be strong and capable again?

  On shaking legs, she followed him up the stairs and out of the book shop, casting the place one last longing glance. If only she hadn’t been feeling so wretched she could have enjoyed its wonders more fully.

  Before she could protest, Justus lifted her in his arms and ran. The wind on her cheeks burned at his urgent speed and her stomach heaved. When at last he stopped in the next town, she bit back a sob of relief.

  Justus set her down at the mouth of a crooked alley, where a drunkard was relieving himself against the crumbling brick wall. She swayed like she was drunk herself as Justus launched himself on the man, bespelling him and drinking deeply. She barely had the time to gather her bearings before he lifted her and they were off again.

  He ran for another mile before Bethany dug her nails in his arm. “Stop, please.”

  He halted immediately in a hay field and the world tilted and dipped before her eyes. When he put her down, she cast up her accounts.

  “My God,” Justus whispered. “You’ve gotten worse.”

  “I know,” she admitted miserably. “I hurt all over.”

  He reached for her. “We need to—”

  “What do we have here?” a voice rang out.

  Bethany froze in dread as a vampire emerged from the shadows. He was dressed all in black and a rakish slouch hat covered his head. “A rogue and a drunken wench cavorting in a hay field. Now that is a sight. Though I think she’s imbibed overmuch on the spirits.”