A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  Astonished, she stared at more markings on his skin, a picture of a wickedly curved blade seemingly piercing his muscular left breast, with tear shape drops of red blood falling from the point of entry, which beneath the ink appeared to be horribly scarred. There was a strange symbol on his upper arm, and the tendrils of another curling over his left shoulder. “Tattoos?”

  He glanced down. “It is common for our people to mark their skin.”

  She stared at the drawings in wonder. “The one on your back?”

  He turned around and revealed an intricately worked set of letters. And at the nape of his neck, joined to the place where the links met and one end of the chain fell in three links, a large padlock.

  “What does it say?”

  He turned with a surprised look on his face. “You recognize it as a word?”

  She blinked. “It is a foreign language,” she said.

  “Yes. The ancient language. It says loyal unto death.”

  “A family motto?”

  “No.” His eyes closed briefly and touched the dagger imprinted on his breast. “I have no family anymore. The dagger signifies the end of all family ties. The family crest was removed.”

  “Anton, that is horrible.”

  His body stiffened. “There are reasons.”

  His face said he would not welcome more questions.

  “And the chain?”

  “A blood oath to serve no one but the King. First Vlad’s Uncle then Vlad on the occasion of his succession.”

  “May I touch?”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. Up close their realness came as a shock. It was almost a surprise that the skin was smooth and flat. She ran the tips of her fingers over the dagger and the links around his neck. “Whoever did them was a talented artist.”

  He shivered.

  “Does it tickle?”

  He smiled. “No. It feels good. Enticing. Delicious. It has been a long time—“ He broke off, caught her hand in his fingers and pressed a scorching hot kiss to her palm.

  “I am surprised.” She pressed a kiss to the hard point of his shoulder. “I should have thought a handsome man like you, a Count, would have had a string of beautiful mistresses. Oh.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “I beg your pardon. That is not the sort of thing I should be saying.”

  A low chuckle strummed a chord low in her belly. “I promise you there have been no mistresses.”

  “Never?”

  His jaw hardened. “None. The King’s business keeps me fully occupied.”

  “Then I am fortunate you have time for me.”

  His expression changed, becoming regretful. “Not much time, ma petite.”

  “No.” Her own sense of regret filled her. “And we should not waste it by talking.”

  He kissed her full on the mouth, hot and wet and dizzying. When they again separated to regain their breath, he was smiling down at her. “May I help you with your gown?”

  Her cheeks heated, despite the innocuous words. What if he was disappointed with what he found beneath her clothing? He was more magnificent than she ever could have imagined in her wildest dreams, but she knew she was not the kind of women men of address admired. Too short. Too prim. Though her hair was a crowning glory. Long and straight and blonde. She had always thought it her best feature.

  She pulled out the pins and let her tresses fall around her shoulders. She turned to give him access to the fastenings of her gown. He made that soft hissing sound again.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Fearing to see his reaction feeling his fingers first on her gown and then on the laces of her stays. For all his protestations about not having indulged in female company, he made short work of her clothing and was soon easing the gown over her shoulders, his hands gentle, caressing. Blushing hot, she remained utterly still while he, with practiced ease, pulled the gown down to her waist.

  She turned to face him. His hungry gaze skimmed down her body, taking in her small breasts shielded only by the thin well-worn fabric of her shift.

  If she had know he was going to be seeing her like this, she would have worn her best one. She bit her lip on the urge to hide herself from view, but the reverence in his gaze, the pure seduction of his expression, eyes hooded, mouth sensual, as he gazed upon her put her at ease. She swallowed.

  He leaned forward and kissed the rise of each breast. The heat of his lips against skin no man had ever seen was incredibly sensual.

  “Delicious,” he murmured. He grasped the bodice of her dress in one hand. “If you would just lift up a little.” She rose up on her elbows lifting her hips, while keeping her gaze fixed on his face, so she would not see herself, “...yes, like so,” he said smiling a beautifully breathtaking smile of a man well-pleased.

  He swept the dress beneath her buttocks, down her legs and off. He tossed it aside. “It is like unwrapping a present,” he said, his eyes so warm her heart gave a little jolt. He was a different man with a smile on his face, younger, more charming than she had realized.

  A sense of panic filled her mind and knotted her stomach. A proper young lady guarded her virtue against young handsome men who smiled beguilingly. If she wanted a home and a family. Unfortunately, home and family were not things she’d ever expected to come her way. Given what had happened to her mother, true diagnosis or not, what family would risk such a taint? Nor had the lack of male attention troubled her. It was if she had been asleep. Now, the idea of never knowing what it was like to be loved tore at her heart.

  This might be her only opportunity.

  Daringly, she placed a hand on his beautifully wide shoulder, felt the muscle and bone move beneath her fingers and lay back on the bed drawing him down with her.

  His mouth descended upon hers and he stretched himself alongside her on the cot, one of his thighs heavy on hers and she felt a hard ridge of something pressing against her hip.

  Evidence of his desire.

  Her insides turned to liquid.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE SCENT OF her arousal filled his nostrils, causing his cock to swell uncomfortably to its full length, making his pantaloons uncomfortably tight. He’d deliberately remained clothed, intending to do no more than bring her pleasure. He would not, at the risk of what little honour he had left, use her fears as an excuse to satisfy his own base needs. Nor would he break his vow to the King.

  He kissed his way slowly down the length of her body, lingering to suckle at her nipples until her moans of frustration had the head of his cock tingling and the shaft pounding so painfully, its demands drained the blood from his head. For two centuries he had maintained his enforced celibacy with very little effort. Now his control was being eaten away by the scent of heather and wild honey.

  He forced his lips to move from the soft flesh of her small breast to the flat plain of her belly. Smooth silken skin, as flat as a board between her wide set hip bones that spoke of the essence of woman. As he moved closer to her core, he deeply inhaled the earthy scent of her desire. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair, clutching spasmodically as if she did not know if she should encourage him onward or hold him back. He stroked his fingers through the silky fur covering her mons, pale as moonlight and shimmering with the moisture from her body.

  She moaned and arched her back, while her hands seemed bent on pushing him away.

  “All you have to do is say no, and I will stop,” he said. Pray the gods he would.

  She gasped, moving her head from side to side, seemingly unable to find any words at all.

  He swept his tongue along her glistening cleft.

  A shudder instantly rippled through her body. Le petit mort. So damned fast. So astoundingly beautiful did she look in the aftermath of her passion. Male pride swept through him. But he wasn’t finished with her yet. It was la grosse tempête the grand storm he sought for this woman. A woman he adored with every fibre of his being. Something he should not even admit to himself. Her life depended on him being able to maintain his distance. An appe
arance of impartiality.

  The soft folds of her quim were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Lush and plump. Her hips rose eagerly to meet his lips and mouth. He had no doubt of her innocence, but her nature, her inner self, was as sensual as any vampire female. More so, because despite his best efforts to remain aloof, the darkest part of his soul reached for her light.

  He licked and nipped at her soft feminine flesh, absorbing her cries and moans, taking his pleasure in learning what she liked. He found the erotic bud deep in her folds and teased it with his tongue and lips and teeth while she bucked and arched, and begged for release. He dipped the tip of one finger inside her entrance.

  The walls of her passage tightened and rippled with the need for deeper penetration. Even so, his forefinger had trouble making ingress despite her readiness for penetration.

  His cock leaped in anticipation. The base of his spine tingled. He rocked his hips against her thigh seeking some measure of relief and she turned her hips towards his groin in a way that almost made him forget his vow.

  Gently he eased a second finger inside her, stretching her and she pressed into his hand seeking more. He set up a rhythm slowly increasing the tempo while he pressed and rubbed her clitoris with his thumb.

  Her climax came on her hard and fast, her inner walls pulling at his fingers. His fangs ached with the need to bite. His tongue longed for the taste of her blood. She cried out, a long keening cry of pleasure pain that had his balls drawing up tight and the urge to climax turning his vision blood red.

  Shudders wracked her, as the storm swept her up into the vortex.

  Laxness swiftly followed and her gaze stared at his face with a kind of wondering blankness, before her eyelids drooped and closed.

  Painfully, he brought his body back under control and managed to kiss her throat, her lips, and her temple, before rising from the bed and covering her with a sheet.

  It took almost more force of will than he had left, to leave her side and go into the water closet to do for himself, what he had not allowed her to do for him. Hand working at his hard flesh, his mind replayed the flush of her body, the feel of her around his fingers, the sounds she had made as she succumbed.

  He sagged against the washstand and let the climax roll through him. Even as the heat of release left him sated, he was bathed in shame.

  She had deserved a better man than he to bring her the joys of the flesh. And yet no human man could please as a vampire male could. And if he had actually swived her, no human man in her future would measure up. Thank the gods he hadn’t slipped that leash of denial.

  And for him, if he lived, there would never be another female.

  The tendrils of the mating bond were burning their way along his veins towards his heart. He rebuilt his walls of ice.

  He washed his hands and dried them to the sound of urgent knocking on the outer door. When he returned to the bedroom, Sybil was sitting up on his cot the sheet held tight beneath her chin. She looked good enough to eat. He wanted her there all day and all night. With him. He prowled towards her, fangs lengthening—

  The knock came again.

  Devil’s of the Abyss what was he thinking? One look at her and he forgot everything.

  “Remain here out of sight,” he ground out. Closing the door to the sleeping chamber, he went to his front door.

  Ester, her hand raised to knock again, charged in. A King’s guardsman stood right behind her looking worried. “Do you wish me to come in with you, my lady?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I am in no danger.”

  The guard did not look convinced.

  Anton shut the door in his face. “Is something wrong?”

  Ester gave him a hex eye. “That depends on your point of view.”

  He braced himself for whatever was to come. One thing he knew for certain, he was going to defend Sybil with his last breath. “Tell me.”

  “This friend of yours,” she made a sharp dismissive gesture, “is not human.”

  “What? She is not vampire. Nor is she shifter.” He shuddered. Shifters were a particularly vile species. Worse than humans. They physically changed into their animal. Disgusting.

  “There was only ever one race able to see through our shadowing.” Her voice had an odd note.

  “Was?”

  Again the gesture. “Is, though I doubt there are any more of her kind, or at least very few or we would know about them.” Puzzlement filled her expression and curiosity. The scientist coming to the fore. “I would have thought their blood too diluted...” She shook her head. “It is hard to believe she exists at all.”

  “What race,” he demanded, dreading her answer.

  “Fae.”

  His jaw dropped. He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Fae? Fairies? Those fluttery butterfly things with gossamer wings that Shakespeare wrote of? They are a myth.”

  “As are vampires.”

  He collapsed on the sofa. Fae? “What does it mean?”

  The door opened and Sybil stepped in. She looked ethereal enough to be a fairy. No that was Fae, with a capital F. Her eyes widened at the sight of Ester. “Will the King see Anton?”

  Ester looked at him intently the message in her eyes questioning whether this was something she should reveal to Sybil.

  “It appears you are descended from the Fairies,” he said.

  Blankly she stared at him. “If this is a jest, I am not amused.”

  Ester gave him a black look. “You are descended from the Fae, if we are going to use correct terminology,” she said in a prim librarian voice. “The result of the gods mating with human males and females when the world was new.”

  Sybil blinked. “Those are fairy tales.” She frowned as she realized the meaning of her words. “Are you saying that such beings existed?”

  “According to the book of Ancient Lore they did. And it seems they not only existed,” she gestured toward Sybil. “They exist.”

  “There are others like me? Like my mother?” The hope in her voice caused Anton’s gut to twist.

  Ester looked startled. “Your mother?”

  “My mother saw your kind too. When she told other people, they had her locked away in an asylum. In the end, she really did go mad.”

  Ester’s expression held excitement. “Then we did not exterminate—”

  “Exterminate!” Sybil ’s voice rose an octave.

  Ester winced. “The Fae betrayed us to our enemies, the Magii, by revealing our locations.”

  “Because they could see through your shadow-cloak.”

  Ester nodded. “We destroyed them before they could destroy us.”

  Sybil gasped and dropped onto the sofa. “All of them?”

  “Clearly not all,” Anton said grimly.

  “Clearly,” Ester agreed. “From what I understand,” Ester’s cheeks coloured. “The Fae were a lusty lot and believed in something they called the freedom to love. They were known to umm... lie with all the races. There may have been some human females expecting Fae children who escaped the eradication order.” She grimaced. “From what I can see, that order has never been rescinded.”

  Sybil got up and went to the empty hearth, looking down at the kindling and lumps of coal. “I see.”

  “Have you told the King?” Anton asked feeling physically ill.

  Ester glanced at the closed door. “Not yet.” She huffed out a breath. “You deserved to hear it first. So you can decide what you want to do.”

  The protective inward curl of Sybil’s shoulder’s ate like acid in Anton’s gut. He rose and went to her turning her around in the confines of his arms, holding her close, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I am deeply grateful for this information, Ester.” He looked at her over the top of Sybil’s head. “Now we need to get her away before soldiers or the Shadow Guard arrive to question us.”

  Ester looked away.

  “You know something,” Anton said sensing a war inside his one time friend. “For the sake of the gods, tell us.
”

  “Inside one of the books I found a plan of the Citadel. A map of a secret escape route for the King should we be attacked.”

  He would spirit Sybil away. Hide her.... “Secret, you say.” Caution filled him. Too much hinged on being right. “If you found it, someone else might also know of it.”

  Sybil straightened within the circle of his arms. “If so, would they leave the map there, for someone else to find?”

  “Someone left it there,” Ester said. “It might give us time to get her away.”

  “How are we to leave?” Sybil said. “With a guard at the door?”

  Ester looked unhappy. “Healing sleep.”

  He grimaced. “Unethical.” At Sybil’s look of enquiry, he raised a brow and Ester nodded. “As Healer, Ester has the power to put an injured or sick person into a trance-like state to enable healing. It is used to set broken bones or deep life threatening wounds. Although we heal quickly, some treatments are painful. But it is a crime to use the sleep for other purposes.”

  “When the guard wakes, will he know?” Sybil asked.

  “No,” Ester said on a sigh. “A swift sleight of hand is all it takes. But they will blame you, Sybil. They will see it as the employment of magic if you disappear from this room without the guard seeing you.” She frowned at Anton. “You know what that will mean.”

  Sybil looked at him for an explanation.

  “Anyone using magic is automatically sentenced to death.”

  “It seems to be my fate, no matter what I do,” she said with a smile too brittle to be real, but terribly brave all the same.

  His fault. “I should not have brought you here.” Gods, to run for home had been pure instinct and he’d led her straight into danger. Helping her escape would be his death sentence.

  The choice was easy. He didn’t care about his own life. “Show me this secret way out. I will speak with the King later.”

  Anton’s grim face told Sybil that he was not as sanguine about their departure as his words implied. “Anton, you and Ester should remain here. Pretend to be unconscious like the guard, then they won’t think you had anything to do with my escape.”