MIDNIGHT CONQUEST: Book 1 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles

by Arial Burnz

  Nicabar chopped wood for several minutes before he answered. “Aye, she is her maid.” He chopped. “Do you think to become her friend and learn something of Davina?”

  “Non, I hoped you would tell me something about her.”

  “What makes you think I will tell you anything?” Nicabar stopped and met her gaze, his chest heaving from his efforts. “There is a price for my services, Veronique.”

  She shifted and dared to venture, “What kind of price?”

  He smiled, then sauntered up to her and touched her chin with a curled finger. His hot breath streamed out of his mouth and against her cheek, like bursts of smoke on the cold air, his shiny chest heaving under his labored breaths. “Let me be your first.”

  Veronique stepped back. “I am saving myself for Broderick!” she protested. Nicabar shrugged and chopped wood. After a moment longer, Veronique stomped off, mumbling. Nicabar chuckled and kept chopping, shaking his head.

  * * * * *

  “A visitor?” Davina asked Myrna, distracted from playing with Cailin. She turned her gaze to the midday light through the window. How unusual for him to pay a visit. Broderick could be trying to be the gentleman, calling in the afternoon instead of an evening visit like their night of chess. Unsure of how to feel, she steadied her breath and turned back to Myrna. “Please give me just a few moments and I will be down.” Myrna nodded and bowed out of the nursery.

  After laying Cailin down for a nap—which proved much easier than Davina expected—Davina primped in the mirror before she proceeded downstairs to the parlor. The polite smile Davina donned faded when she entered the room, and she adopted a defensive posture. Scolding, Davina remembered she never had any direct exchange with the golden-haired Gypsy girl standing in the center of the parlor. Though, in their brief and distant encounters, Veronique may have held an obvious contempt for her, Davina would rise above the girl’s childish behavior. Veronique hadn’t yet turned around or acknowledged Davina stood in the room, so she changed her demeanor and cleared her throat to announce her presence. With a pleasant smile and lilt in her voice, she greeted, “What a pleasant surprise, Veronique!” and forged ahead with her hands extended.

  The Gypsy girl shrank from Davina, not taking her offered hands. Davina clasped her hands before her and held her smile. “What can I do for you, Veronique? Would you like some refreshments?”

  She refused hospitality with a shake of her head and showed an open disdain toward Davina, so Davina became suspicious of the girl’s intentions. Veronique stood with defiance; her arms crossed and chin out. “Broderick MacDougal is not what he seems,” the girl said.

  Davina steeled herself. “How do you mean?”

  Veronique stepped forward, her hands on her hips. “Have you noticed anything unusual about him?”

  Davina crossed her arms. “Such as?”

  “Such as a silver glow in his eyes.”

  Chapter Eight

  With luck, Davina held the intake of breath threatening to give away her surprise. She cleared her throat. “Nay,” she lied.

  Veronique narrowed her eyes. “Buveur de sang,” she said. “That is what Broderick is—drinker of blood.”

  Davina flitted her eyes over Veronique’s frame. “What are you saying?”

  Veronique thrust her wrist toward Davina. “Regardez, see my wrist? See the scars?”

  Davina leaned closer and inspected the scars—two white marks, diagonal along the length of her wrist. She nodded.

  “It is true. Broderick has fed from me. He needs blood to survive. Because of what he is, he cannot face the heat of the sun. He must slumber during the day and comes out only at night, just after sunset.”

  Davina wanted all this to sound as preposterous as it should—and it would have had she not seen the very signs Veronique spoke of. Her heart pounded in her ears. “I’ve never heard of such a creature,” she continued, trying to talk herself back into a state of sanity.

  Veronique shrugged and stepped back, crossing her arms again. “You can find out for yourself…if you have the stomach. Cut your skin when you see Broderick next and pay close attention to his reaction. He may move away from you. He may stare at you with a deep hunger. It is then you will see the silver core of his eyes. It is a sign of the Hunger—his lust for blood.”

  Davina’s face grew hot, and sweat sprang out upon her upper lip. Her fingertips touched the healing cut on her neck, absently fingering the scab that formed. Broderick’s reaction the night she cut her neck on her dagger and his words all made sense. Davina turned away from Veronique, numb and speechless.

  “You believe me, non?”

  Gaining her composure, she turned back to Veronique with her hands folded before her. “I’m afraid this is a little foolish for me to believe, Veronique. Such a claim almost sounds comical.” Davina forced her mouth into a smirk as her body trembled.

  Veronique jumped in Davina’s face. “You are a fool, Scot! I do not lie!” She mumbled on in frustrated French and marched toward the door. Before leaving, she turned to Davina. “That will be just fine! Your ignorance will get you killed!” The slam of the door echoed across the walls, leaving Davina’s nerves frazzled in the furious wake of Veronique.

  Davina sat down on the nearest piece of furniture, trying to steady her trembling legs. Though the reality of Broderick didn’t match her fantasies, this new reality unfolding before her was turning into a nightmare.

  “Davina?”

  She flinched. Rosselyn entered the parlor so quietly, Davina hadn’t heard the door open. Or, more likely, Davina’s thoughts so preoccupied her mind, she blocked out any noises. “Aye, Rosselyn?”

  “Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look well.” Rosselyn came to her side and grasped Davina’s hand. “Your hands are chilled. Come, let us get you warmed.”

  With mindless abandon, Davina followed her handmaid out of the parlor and up to her bedchamber, where they sat beside the fire. Rosselyn rambled about several things in their limited conversation, but Davina heard nothing.

  “Methinks you should rest, Davina.” Rosselyn didn’t wait for her mistress’s response, but carried on about herself and Nicabar while she helped Davina change into a more comfortable house dress.

  “Thank you for your tending, Roz.” She squeezed her handmaid’s shoulders affectionately. “The rest of the night is yours.”

  Rosselyn stood before Davina, her hands twisting nervously as her eyes reflected an inner turmoil.

  “What worries you?” Davina pulled her friend to the settee at the foot of her bed, grateful for this distraction.

  Opening her mouth to say something, Rosselyn searched Davina’s face, and yet no words came forth. She tried again, closing her eyes and swallowing to get past some unknown fear Davina could only guess at.

  “Goodness, Roz, what has you so anxious?” Her friend’s behavior began to trouble her, now.

  Taking a deep breath, Rosselyn finally spoke. “It has been very difficult for me since Lord Parlan’s death.”

  Davina’s heart leapt. “Aye, Rosselyn! I hoped we would be able to share this together. You have no idea what a burden it has been to grieve alone. Or perhaps you do, seeing you’re willing to share.”

  Tears welling in her eyes, Rosselyn swallowed and seemed to struggle to speak over her grief.

  Davina hugged Rosselyn and cried with her friend. “Thank you for opening your heart, Roz. I cannot tell you how much it means to me!”

  Pulling back from Davina, Rosselyn nodded, smiled, and then excused herself from the room. Davina sat staring after her friend’s retreat, not sure what just transpired. Rosselyn appeared as if she would continue, but instead left. Perhaps this was all her friend could handle for the moment. Davina’s spirits lifted at this new beginning.

  She checked in on Cailin, who still napped, emitting gentle snores. Davina laid down upon the lounging couch and settled into the warmth for some security, while the daylight faded from the overcast sky and the recollection of Ver
onique’s visit shifted over her like a dark cloud. She stared into the fireplace, her eyes wide and distant, shaking her head. She wanted to believe Veronique lied. Broderick had never—and she believed he would never—hurt her. Yet his words and the silver glow in his eyes gave her doubts. She always went back to those facts.

  She buried her face into a decorative pillow to surround herself in the false security it offered. When she started drifting into sleep, she rose and retired to the bed.

  * * * * *

  With fresh blood flowing through his veins, Broderick combed the area for Angus and signs of other lairs, but he found nothing. He kept his search limited, though, to the immediate area, afraid to venture out too far for him to sense Angus approaching the Gypsy camp. With no progress, he made a direct path for the castle of Stewart Glen. In no time, he dashed through the forest with his immortal speed and arrived at the curtain wall on the western side.

  An easy leap over the wall and a dash across the courtyard, he stood beside the stone structure, just below the landing of Davina’s chamber. He crouched to make his jump to the landing and stopped.

  Why am I here? He searched the courtyard, as if he would find the answer there. Regarding the landing a second time, his reasons were becoming as obscured as the moon, which hid behind the clouds. Blackness covered the sky and masked him in shadow. The day was late enough for Davina to be sleeping. Nagging thoughts about this being an excuse to get information he already knew gnawed his conscience. He rejected them.

  In an instant, he jumped the height and stood upon the landing. Broderick peered into the narrow, barred window. A mound of covers lay heaped upon her bed, rising and falling with her soft breathing. Stepping to the double doors, he inched one door open without incident. He peered through the velvet curtains and into the room, lit with a glowing red light from the embers burning in the hearth. A need growing inside his belly drew him to her bedside and he closed the distance.

  Davina lay on her back, her coppery curls fanned upon her pillows, a slight part to her full lips. So peaceful. She seemed without any troubles…at least until her eyebrows creased together. Davina stirred and moaned in protest. Slipping off his boots, Broderick pulled the covers back, laid his body by her side and, almost as a reflex, she turned into him. His fingers pushed the cinnamon locks from her damp forehead still creased in confusion or frustration. Placing his palm upon her brow, he closed his eyes and entered her dreams.

  The dream world always held strange, symbolic, abstract images, but he managed to make some sense of her internal realm. A beast ravaged the servants of her household—a hunched over creature, snarling and drooling, blood dripping off of its canine teeth. Red hair, tangled and matted from the blood of its victims, cascaded down its shoulders and blended with the red hair on its body. Davina huddled in a corner, pleading for the beast to leave everyone alone. Broderick inserted himself into the scene and approached Davina.

  “Oh, I knew they were lies!” she exclaimed and ran into his arms. “I knew it couldn’t be you!”

  Broderick held Davina as she wept. What lies? Who couldn’t he be? Veronique stood in the far corner of the room, shouting to Davina. “He is a drinker of blood! He is not what he seems!”

  Broderick turned to Davina. “‘Tis over, Davina. ‘Tis safe you are.” She continued to cling to him, crying tears of gratitude.

  Easing her back from him, Broderick said, “Davina, there is indeed a monster.” Her eyes grew wide, but he shushed her. “Nay, not here at this moment, but you have met him.”

  She stared, confused, but that gave way to a dawning realization.

  “Aye, you know of whom I speak. This man who attacked you…”

  A crease formed over her brow. “He didn’t attack me. He saved me.” She bit her bottom lip in frustration. “He saved me from myself as I tried to take my own life.”

  “Davina, I need you to take me to the night he attacked you.”

  “I told you, he didn’t attack me. Why do you keep insisting he has?” She pushed away. “His divine message told me you would be back for me, but ‘tis obvious to me you don’t hold the same wishes I do.” She showed him her back.

  Broderick could feel her mind resisting him, which meant she would be waking, and he didn’t want her catching him in her bed. Trying one more time, he stepped forward and placed comforting hands upon her shoulders. “Please forgive me, I misspoke.”

  Turning to face him, she seemed to settle back into her dream world as her mind released her resistance.

  “Can you take me to that night…” He forced himself to say the words she wanted to hear. “To the night he saved you?”

  “What is your interest in him, Broderick? You asked me about him in the forest clearing.” Her eyes grew wide and she stepped back. “The night your eyes glowed with silver. The night you spoke of your…” She swallowed. “Your passion for blood,” she said in a whisper.

  The beast returned, snarling in the corner and baring teeth dripping with blood, a silver glow pulsing in its eyes. Broderick enfolded Davina in his arms in spite of her resistance and hushed her, stroking her hair and feeling her relax. When he conveyed a peaceful influence over her, Broderick sensed her mind’s resistance and Davina pressed against his chest. Her natural ability to block her thoughts was an obstacle he dare not traverse. Pushing her any further at this point would also bring her out of sleep, so he retreated.

  Broderick eased out of her dreams, leaving images of soft, ardent kisses and soothing strokes on her bare skin. He did what he needed to do to keep her from thinking he was the monster in her dream, for he couldn’t bear the thought of it…and yet this was the truth. He would eventually have to tell Davina what he was. Strangely enough, this all confirmed the dream he had during the day, with Davina yelling at Veronique while the young French girl tried to convince Davina of what he was. I’m going to blister Veronique’s arse! He sighed, though, glad to see the crease above Davina’s brow gone. Kissing her lips, he had every intention of leaving her to a peaceful rest, but Davina responded with a breathy moan, catching Broderick short. Cupping her face in his hand, he probed more with his mouth, pressing his lips against hers, groaning as they opened to him and her tongue touched him with sweet, seeking caresses. The slow, lethargic ministrations of Davina’s mouth in her dreamy demeanor coaxed Broderick into arousal, sending tremors through his limbs, reminding him of the built-up desire he’d been harboring for her since his first night back into this town. His hands smoothed over her back and pulled her body against his.

  Davina’s body trembled at Broderick’s touch. They were lying on a cloud, thankfully away from the horrid images of the beast, pressed against each other in their heated exchange. The cool night air flowed around them, but nothing could cool the fire igniting her skin every place Broderick touched her. His mouth so hot against hers. His fingers like burning embers, his body, like a roaring flame against her own, and Davina wanted to be consumed by him. “Davina…” The sound of his voice saying her name sent her stomach fluttering.

  “Broderick,” she breathed back, and the sound of her voice caused the light, airy sensation of the clouds to dissipate. She faded back into the solid presence of her bedchamber. But Broderick still held her in his arms, kissing her, holding her, pressing his arousal against her leg, and a shudder of pleasure gushed through her. Davina’s hands explored Broderick’s body, feathering over his hard abdomen, the expanse of his chest, the strength of his shoulders, the silkiness of his hair.

  “Blossom…”

  The deep, husky sound caused her to peep her eyes open. “Broderick…” She realized he lay next to her in her bed, his magnificent form pressed against her, her body hot and eager for him. “You have seduced your way into my dreams,” she whispered and grinned.

  A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, and he dove in for another taste of her, his mouth scorching a path over her chin, down her throat to the laced opening of her nightgown. She should question why he lay there, how he co
uld have come out of her dreams, but he nibbled at her nipples through the thin material, and she arched her back in response to the delightful sensation. Clutching his head, she panted and moaned as his mouth found her bare skin and lapped over the erect buds, administering to one and then the other. He licked up the center of her breasts, pushing the mounds together. Davina winced, her milk-heavy flesh tender.

  Broderick pulled back, worry creasing his brow. “Forgive me, blossom. I find it hard to control myself around you.”

  “Softer,” she breathed.

  He brushed his warm lips over hers, then turned caring attention back to her bosom, alternating between feather kisses, nibbling, and lapping, driving Davina to the point of madness. His large, muscular thigh nudged between her legs, and she welcomed the possession, opening to him. The sensation of his arousal against her hip made her feminine center pulse with anticipation and grow hot, and she pressed her mons against his warm leg…aching for him. As if he heard her body cry out for him, he swept his hand under her nightgown, caressed and massaged his way up her thigh and pulled her leg over his hip, wrapping her around him. His hand continued its molten path up to grip her bottom and pull her harder against his arousal.

  Broderick groaned into the crook of her neck, and his seduction slowed. Pulling back from her, he cupped her face in his hand and pleaded with his eyes. “Dear God, Davina, with everything in my soul, I don’t want to stop.” He kissed her mouth, exploring for a moment. Then whispered, “But I need you here with me. I need you to be aware you’re not dreaming. I am here—real and aching to make love to you—but only if you’re willing, only if you’re present.”

  Breathless, Davina searched his face, her body pulsing beneath him, a distinct wetness between her legs, and the very presence of Broderick an ardent need. At this moment, she didn’t care about reputation, she didn’t care if Broderick made love to her and then left her alone—she only knew she needed him. She darted her eyes across the room for a moment. A single glance at that door, and who lay sound asleep behind it, created a sobering moment.