The Elder sat on one of the plush sofas, reading what appeared to an old scroll. He rolled it up, and placed it in his lap. “I think you know, Conall. Your female has drawn my daughter’s blood twice, and still you refuse to grant Samia the blood rite she deserves. It is absolute discrimination, and as our alpha, you are to be impartial, not biased.”
He lifted a brow. He’d heard Samia’s case for a blood rite yesterday and had dismissed it on the grounds the fight had been instigated. That should have been the final word.
“My family has been with this pack for decades, Conall.” Irritation lined every crease in his face. “We have served this pack always. My daughter was wronged, and on her behalf, I demand justice.”
“And that justice would be in the form of a blood rite?”
Brennus nodded.
“No.”
The older man pushed himself out of the chair and grabbed his scroll. “A blood rite doesn’t have to be approved by an alpha. It can be approved by the pack, too.” Conall tensed, feeling his wolf grow more restless. “I will put a vote to the pack, and let them decide.”
Brennus walked in the direction of the door but Conall refused to move. “As your alpha, I’ve already declined your request, Brennus. If you take this to the pack, I will assume you are questioning my right to rule.”
“I am, and if I were younger, I would challenge you.” Brennus slid a hand over his white hair. “You’ve endangered this pack by bringing a druid here, and now you’re breaking ancient rules on her behalf. It’s a wonder she’s your mate. Most of the pack thinks she’s put a spell on you, and for your sake, I hope to Luna it’s true.”
Conall closed the gap between them quickly. “If you love your daughter, you’ll tell her to stay away from my mate.” He clenched his fists to leash the rage running through his body. If Brennus put a vote to the pack, they would approve a blood rite. Weres were part human, but their animal won out on most occasions.
“Are you threatening us?” Brennus demanded indignantly.
“It isn’t a threat, Brennus. It’s a warning.” He stepped around the Elder and made his way over to his desk.
“You won’t be alpha forever!” Brennus snarled angrily, which in turn propelled Conall around.
“No, but until such a time as you decide to challenge me, you would do good to remember that I am your alpha!” With effort, he restrained from shifting and launching himself at the man, and instead jabbed his head in the direction of the door.
Contempt dripping from his person, Brennus hissed, “The pack will support me on this.” With those parting words, he stormed out.
Swearing viciously, Conall paced before his desk. If Brennus took his request to the pack, and it was approved—as it would be—Vivienne would have no choice but to fight. If she didn’t, she’d be ridiculed.
The door swung open and he stopped mid-pace, lifting his head as her scent invaded his body, both calming him and sending him wild. Vivienne stepped into the room, one of his large T-shirts covering her almost to her knees. Her hair was still wet, and the curls easily framed her pixieish face.
Closing the door, she smiled warmly at him. “I heard you come in so I came downstairs—”
***
The rest of her words died in his mouth. He’d moved so quickly she didn’t see him until he was pressing her against the wall. Vivienne moaned and kissed him back, already feeling moisture pooling between her legs in anticipation for him. Last night, she’d fallen asleep before he came to bed, so she hadn’t gotten her fill. She’d come to his study to ask about his day, maybe talk a bit about what her mother had told her yesterday, and ultimately coax him into bed so she could have her wicked way with him. A blush had stolen across her cheeks as she made her way to the study, but the man was like good Swiss chocolate on top of vanilla ice cream. Wickedly delicious.
She heard a rip somewhere in the distance and then his large hands were squeezing her breasts, moving down over her belly, pushing into her panties. The pad of a thick finger pressed against her sensitive nub and began a soft but firm caress. Vivienne pulled away to haul in deep breaths. His tongue licked at her jaw, moved up to her cheek, before dipping across to her earlobe. She felt a sting at her hip—another pair of her panties torn to shreds, along with his shirt—and then his big hands were spanning her buttocks, lifting her.
Locking her legs around his waist, she lifted her arms and placed them on his shoulders. Now level with him, she could read the need in his liquid gaze, and wondered if she looked as desperate as he. She probably looked even more desperate. Vivienne heard the clinking of a belt buckle, and gasped as the smooth head of his sex brushed against her slick lips.
She grew frantic. While she was completely naked, he was barely undressed. Pushing her hands into his jacket, she removed it, and quickly undid the buttons of the shirt he wore underneath. Vivienne moaned as her fingers caressed hard abs, feeling them jump beneath her fingers.
Conall swore and caught her hands, securing them to the door above her head before capturing her lips again. In the next moment, he was driving up into her with a force that made them both cry out. He released her hands and she locked them around his neck. Reaching under her, he caught her buttocks and began to thrust wildly into her.
Coherent sounds were beyond her as she leaned her head against the door and concentrated on the pleasure of him moving inside of her. She gasped, she whimpered, she mewled, and he continued, grunting, moaning, waiting for her….
It crept up on her. Vivienne was working her hips against him when her body seized and electrical bolts rushed from her center to little nerve endings all over her body. She cried his name, slumping forward as she tried to catch her breath.
Conall continued his strong thrusts, and Vivienne found herself clutching his broad shoulders once more, her breaths hitching as her eyes clenched tight. She felt his mouth over her shoulder, right next to her neck, moments before his teeth sank into her.
“Ah!” she moaned, the pain, the pleasure, Conall…. Her nails raked his back and his thrusts grew even stronger. She felt him swell and pushed her legs further apart as her feet at his buttocks pulled him closer. As his entire length came inside her, she whimpered, and promptly burst apart. Through the foggy haze of her second orgasm, she felt his heat as it splashed against her insides, and hugged him closer.
When her breathing regulated and her voice returned, she murmured, “This pinning thing is not convenient for all positions.”
Conall lifted his head from her shoulder and she moaned a bit as his teeth left her body. He licked at what she imagined to be two pearls of blood, before replying with a little laugh, “Lean your weight on me, and try not to move.”
Vivienne did as told, watching him. The sated expression on his face made her smile.
“So, Conall, how was your day?” It was a question that a girlfriend or wife asked her guy when he came home, before the heated sex against his study door. No. She’d watched enough movies and had never seen a portrayal of sex against the door quite like what had just happened.
A dark brow lifted before Conall released a throaty laugh. Her body warmed again, and Vivienne scolded herself. He was still inside her, for crying out loud, and here she was getting turned on from his laughter.
“My day just got infinitely better,” he replied smoothly, to which Vivienne smirked and passed her hand through his hair.
“You should ask me about my day,” she prompted, massaging his scalp.
The cocky little grin should have warned her, for moments later he kissed her thoroughly before replying in the masculine way of a man sure of himself and his woman.
“Your day just got infinitely better too, alainn.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
She’d fallen asleep. That voice alerted her to the fact as surely as the comfortable bed on which she lay, and the sound of gently cresting waves. After spending the majority of two days going over her spells and
consuming what should amount to a tub of caffeine, she’d finally succumbed to her own exhaustion.
Popping from the bed, Cassandre clutched her loose-fitting white T-shirt dress as she scanned the beach, relying on her heightened senses to see in the dark. She found it strange that night had fallen upon the place, especially as she’d never visited during such a time. After a thorough scan still resulted in no Alexander, she perched on the side of the bed. Was she dreaming about dreaming about Alexander? Was that even possible?
“You’re not dreaming, Cassandre.”
She spun, thinking to find him standing behind her, or next to her, but she could only see darkness. Deciding she’d spent entirely too long considering where he was, she was about to recite the spell that would take her back to her room when something grabbed her. Her eyes were open, so she could see that nothing stood before her, but something was holding her. Not necessarily hands, but a powerful energy.
Her scream came easily, and she tugged against the force.
“Please…just listen to me. I vow not to harm you, and I will release you in a few moments. I swear it.”
Warmth infused her body, and she found herself calming instantly.
“You’ve obviously been enlightened on my history,” he began, only to have her put up one last futile struggle.
“Yes, you’re a murderer of innocents! They even nicknamed you Alexander the Avenger!”
“Yes,” he agreed, and Cassie’s anger seemed to multiply.
Did he have nothing to say for himself except “yes?” How had she misjudged him so? She was usually a good judge of character. She’d known when her creepy college professor had had ulterior motives in suggesting that she come to him for evening tutoring. And yet she couldn’t figure out that a handsome but strange man who conveniently appeared in her dreams, told her the story of the druids, and gave her his own spell book, was working toward his own motives? Resurrecting the druids and possibly wiping out the rest of the world?
“I am a killer, a murder of innocents as you’ve said, but we were in the midst of a war. The witches killed hundreds of my people in the name of war, and tortured countless more. Every race has committed shocking crimes against another, and at times, their own people. The humans are a testament to that for even without our powers, they have come close to destroying their world.”
“War? You’re using the excuse of war—” she broke off abruptly when a thought struck her. She was talking to herself! Well, she was talking to him, but she couldn’t see him so that made it seem like she was talking to herself! “Where are you?”
“I assumed you would not wish to see my face after the things you’ve learned.”
Cassie scoffed and repeated in a bitter voice, “You assumed I would not want to see your face?”
“Yes.”
“Then why am I here?” Alexander Petraeus was not only a killer, he was one invisible contradiction! “I’m not having a conversation with a man I can’t see!”
He appeared directly before her. On his face was an expression of pain, regret, and still he looked extremely handsome. Bastard. Half of his face was obscured in shadow, the other half catching the light of the moon above them. Why did he always look as if he were a sexy photo still?
“I never lied to you, Cassandre. I brought you here to give you the information you needed to make a decision that will affect my people.”
Resurrecting them? she thought with a scoff. Like that’s going to happen now.
As if reading her mind, Alexander’s mouth tightened, and he stepped away. The energy released her immediately, and Cassie wriggled her arms.
“They are not the monsters they are made out to be,” he said in a soft voice. “My people have suffered centuries for the crimes of few.”
“You?”
He turned to her, and she saw a flicker of emotion cross his eyes before he closed them. “Yes, me and some others.”
Crossing her arms, Cassie contemplated projecting herself out. Something instinctive told her he’d meant what he’d said, that he wouldn’t hurt her.
“I told you of the druids, my people, of their lives before they were banished, their commitment to family, and to each other, but I’ve never told you how the banishment came about.”
No, he hadn’t. She’d heard all of those stories from her mother though so there wasn’t really anything else he could tell her. He turned to face her.
“We—I was tricked. The battle between the druids and witches had been raging for years, and our losses were deep on both sides. My people were tired of the fighting, the death, so we suggested a truce. I made our wishes known to the grand wizards commanding the witch armies, and a neutral meeting ground was arranged.” His voice changed, becoming so cold that despite the warm beach, Cassie shivered. “As the leader of the druid armies, I took three others with me, expecting a small procession of grand wizards, and a discussion that would end with a truce. It was our intent to live separately from the witches, something that had not been done since their existence, by creating our very own covenants in different cities. We walked into a trap. As soon as we entered, we were attacked, and under the combined powers of twelve grand wizards, I was rendered useless.” A snarl curled his lip, making him look beautifully cruel. “After killing the druids who’d come with me, they began the incantations for a banishment spell. Had I been free of my restraints, I might have—” He broke off immediately and returned his attention to the mellow waves. “They used me as the sacrifice to open the portals to the hidden realms, and with their combined powers, and the call of the portal, my people had no chance of resisting.”
Cassie felt a soft cry catch in her throat. Under the pale moonlight, he looked so…sad. An emotion arose in her so suddenly she was taking a step forward before she had time to think on it. Luckily, her brain interceded, and she heard herself say, “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
It was a valid question. How was she to know he wasn’t lying? The fate of his people seemed to rest in the hands of herself and her sister, and he could very well be telling her what she wanted to hear in order to see if she would work in his favor.
Alexander approached her, his hands reaching out to grip her shoulders gently. As he did so, his eyes began to glow. The pale green seemed ever paler, but infused with white light, so much brighter.
“Alexander?” she began, only to find that the beach and Alexander had slipped away.
She was now staring down at dozens of dead bodies lying on grass that had once been green but was now stained red. The stench of blood hit her, pungent and rank, almost pushing her to her knees. Eyes widening in horror, she clasped her hands over her mouth and nose, and assessed the horrifying scene. Women, children—oh dear God, were those…? Her eyes zoomed in on the corpse of a baby, and her eyes teared. Where was she? What was this?
She didn’t have to wonder long, however, for she soon heard an angry bellow of rage from behind her, and turned. Immediately, she saw the stones. Large boulders that seemed to create a circle around other large boulders. Even in the dark, she recognized those stones. She’d been here once, on a trip with a few of her college friends. Stonehenge.
Cassie didn’t know she’d moved until she was standing behind one such stone, peering into a circle of men who were enclosing something. They were chanting, their voices rising in harmony as another voice, in its anger, seemed determined to drown them out. Suddenly the chanting stopped, and Cassie witnessed another man in the middle of the circle. Confused, she stepped around the boulder, forgetting that without the protection of the rock, she was free to be seen by all. They didn’t seem to notice her so her stride became bolder.
The man in the middle was saying something, something in Latin about a sacrifice, and the gods, before he reached down and yanked something up. Cassie’s eyes widened as dirtied blond hair immediately came into view. His hair obscured his face, but Cassie had a bad feeling in her gut, the feeling she usually got when she was telling herself somet
hing couldn’t be, and it turned out to be just that.
She moved directly next to one of the group encircling the two men. It was then she recognized a few things. Surrounding the two men, and deeply carved into the ground, was a pentagram. In college, she’d had a Wiccan roommate who’d introduced her to her culture. The pentagram surprised her, but the captured man shocked her. It was Alexander. She knew it. She couldn’t see his face because long, golden-colored hair covered it, but she knew that build, knew his height. Even chained, shackled by two gold bands at his wrists and two at the ankles, and bloodied, he looked regal.
Silence had descended upon the gathering, and Cassie felt foreboding settle over her. The silence was broken by her involuntary scream when the man holding Alexander suddenly lifted a blade in his right hand and tugged on Alexander’s hair with his left. His head went back and his hair moved, giving her a glimpse of the face underneath.
She expected fear. No one could blame a chained man for showing fear in the face of such adversity. There was none. He was enraged. His lips were drawn tightly, his pale eyes hard and angry. Alexander didn’t look like a man who’d accepted he would die. He looked like a man ready to kill.
The blade arced out and across, and Cassie was held still by some unnatural force as a red line appeared at Alexander’s neck, moments before the blood began to flow. The man, whom she’d surmised by now was one of the grand wizards who’d banished him, stepped out, away, and rejoined the circle.
Cassie couldn’t pull her eyes from the bleeding man. She was screaming inside, but nothing came out. Alexander’s gaze shifted around the circle, locking on each grand wizard as the light in his eyes slowly died, before landing on her. She briefly wondered if he could see her. That thought propelled her forward, but she bumped up against an invisible barrier. His gaze never left hers as he fell to his knees, his face becoming a pasty white as red soaked through the already dirtied white of his tunic, and absorbed into the material of his pants. His eyes flickered, once, twice, and then he exhaled and collapsed onto the ground.
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