“I’m broken!” That she called much louder, putting him on alert again. “I say, I’m broken, and if feeding on you can make just a small part of me whole again, I swear I’ll drain you!” As she completed the threat she leap onto him. The sword smacked her hard across her shoulders, so hard that if it wasn’t blunt, it’d have chopped her hand right off.
The intensity of the delivered blow sent her flying across the room, but she managed to stop her fall with her feet sliding across the carpeted floor, and wasted no moment in bounding back his way with clear ill-intent.
The pure-blood swung again, but she was prepared this time, managing to fake, so that he completed his blow, which only sent the sword cutting through air, before she leaped on him clear, wound her long legs around his midsection, imprisoned his arms apart as they were with her hands, and then sank her fangs into his neck.
He writhed and writhed in place, managing to break his hands free to come hold her by her waist and try pull her off, but the more blood she drunk, the weaker he became, and the stronger she became.
And then something else began to happen to Anja, to both of them, they began to get aroused, and soon Kjeld was not attempting to pull her away, but was holding her close, closer, crushing her so tight to him with his arms to stay on him.
Anja barely noticed the changes until it was too late. Her thirst for revenge drove her at first, and then there began to grow another hunger, another need, and before she knew what was happening, she was furiously rubbing herself on him.
She wanted to take more from him, but she wanted to give him no pleasure. So when he tightened his hold on her so, she began to beat at him, hurt him, claw him, until he was forced to loosen his grip. She was slapping his face as she tore his clothes from him, but the pure-blood was seeking her mouth to kiss it, despite the pain she was giving him.
They wrestled so, but finally his lips found hers, and when she began to feel him enjoying the kiss she couldn’t stop herself from giving him, she bit him on his lip.
He cried out with pain, but she pulled him forcefully to her lips, pushed his folded knees apart with her lithe legs, and made his manhood find her waiting mound.
Though this was the first time she was to do this, and there being a great novelty behind the act, if books, poems and self-proclamations were to be believed, Anja did not wish it to be special like all others seemed to. Well, it was special, for she was getting her revenge. She’d take it from him by force.
She’d rape him.
With one of her hands under his chin, pushing his head back against the cold floor, so far back that she risked snapping his neck, she used her other hand to pin his arms above his head, and then she rode him like one rode a racing horse. Hard and fast, like there was no other race after this one, and when she felt him about to spend himself, she’d slap him so hard his head would loll to the side, and then she’d proceed to ride him.
It must have been hours, and she was on her umpteenth climax, when she heard the others get back.
Shit!
She wanted one final release though, that’s all she was thinking, as she pounded him harder, sweat and blood intermingling on their bodies, his face oddly pale- good!
She was just on the verge of another, began to feel the constricting of her muscles, and though she could hear running footsteps their way as the newcomers realised that there had been a violent fight underway, her brother probably thinking the worst, Anja instead concentrated on that growing tension about to b..
But before she could get her release, the pure-blood under her came undone, spilling his seed inside her, filling her with his scent, the look of pleasure on his face annoying her so much that she swung her arm wide and landed a very hard and loud slap across his face.
That’s when the rest found them.
“Anja!” Her brother cried out, a mixture of relief, confusion, anger- all summed up in his voice.
“I’m alright,” she simply said, rising to her feet that were astride her victim, dropping her dress to fall past her knee, and stepping away to turn to face her brother, leaving Kjeld exposed and weak on the floor.
“Are you sure?” Her brother rushed to her, investigating her face and neck, realising to himself that she had no bite marks, and that all the blood on her was Kjeld’s, which puzzled him further. Then realisation hit him and he began to smile, despite himself.
“You took your proverbial pound of flesh?” He asked.
“I did,” she answered, an equally wide smile on her thin face stained bloody, her hair wet from blood and sweat stuck to her face and scalp.
“Good night everyone,” she then said, stepping out of the room, not wasting a moment to turn around and see the state of the man she’d just defiled.
Here was indeed proof that living with other Draugrs did make one more cruel than they were before.
XIX
Brunch the next day must have been the most tense, awkwardly silent meal the Nordskov family and their houseguests have ever had.
Xiu, the half-blood woman acted almost protectively of her Governor, as she couldn’t really be termed as his mate, if their arrangement was only sexual. This seemed to annoy the young Governor, who wanted to prove that he was alright, and that all which happened was by his will. But not even once did his eyes venture to his attacker.
Jon was equally puzzled, wondering if Kjeld was actually hurt, or if he hadn’t inadvertently gotten all he’s ever wanted. Kjeld had long harboured feeling for Anja, and even last night, he’d only left the ball early with hopes of catching her before she retired to bed. Had he planned it all, faked it, or had it just been a lucky coincidence? And Anja- bloody heavens! Who’d have thought she had it in her?
Pendo was just happy that on her man’s face was a look of admiration for his former object of affections, and not jealousy. She’d often wondered if he really was over her, or only thought so because he hadn’t seen her move on as yet. But catching her in so compromising a situation last night had sealed that box of doubts. He was over her, and only saw her as a darling sister.
Ejner was just proud of his sister, but hoped with all hope that her defiling Area One’s Governor would not soil their political alignment. Kjeld Gunnarsen, or Bjarnesen, as he now prefered to be called, was the only other liberal governor, and liberal governors were needed, if only to secure the future of his beloved daughter. Conservative minds needed to go, and the more liberal pure-bloods he had on his side the better.
As for his daughter, Raven, she was the only one that wasn’t thinking of her aunt, as she had come back much later after the rest of the party. In her mind were thoughts of the lovely Síle and her wild red hair and beautiful piercing green eyes. She could hardly wait to get her aunt to her side and tell her all that had happened at the ball, and about how regal Síle had looked, and the fact that she might have looked her way too with appreciation.
Should she invite her over for supper some time? She wished to ask her aunt. What if she said no? Oh! Why does love have to be so uncertain! For that is what she thought it was, love.
Their house guests spent the rest of the morning and a great deal of the afternoon packing, as they were to leave early that evening, soon after supper.
During supper, Kjeld’s eyes chanced to meet with hers, when she turned his was suddenly, right before he could avert his gaze. However what she met there surprised her, as she thought to have detected a hint of interest, underlying in those blue rings.
An interest in what exactly? That single thought bugged her after their guests left, and she was left to listen to Raven’s recount of all that happened at the ball.
“I think you ought to invite her, and maybe her brother, here at the family home for supper,” Anja told her niece, combing out her hair later than night before bed.
“But.. then she might think it only a business dinner..”
“Not if you are the one doing the inviting. Just don’t mention your father. What business could you possibly wish to discuss
with them?”
“You are right,” the young woman said with a giggle. “But just think if father should decide to start talking politics with her brother. She’s bound to join, for she so much likes to discuss current matters, plus she’s so very clever..” Raven went on dreamily, which made Anja chuckle to herself.
“Should he start to talk politics, I’ll be sure to stop him and turn the conversation around..”
“Oh thank you, auntie!” Her niece called, throwing herself into her arms and holding tight. “Thank you, for I wish her to think me clever, but I hate politics so!”
“Then we shall divert the conversation to things you like most.”
“But not about hairdos, clothes and shoes, for I could talk forever about fashion, and that only puts me out as an airhead.” Anja laughed at this.
“How about music and poetry..”
“Oh yes! Perfect! I could talk forever about those two, but in this case I’d appear quite clever.”
“Then it’s settled,” Anja told her, laying the hairbrush back on the dresser before stepping back. “Now go to bed child, and don’t obsess about her..”
“How could I not? I love her!” Raven declared passionately, throwing herself head first onto her bed, sending Anja out of the room chuckling.
“Have a good night!”
“You as well, Aunt Anja,” Raven called before her door slid shut.
Anja was emotionally exhausted as she began to undress, and when she sat before her dresser to brush her once again lovely auburn mane, she spied a letter hidden behind the wide mirror.
She dragged it out, to find it addressed to her, with a foreign handwriting.
Kære Anja,
My father just sired a half-blood with a servant, now seven months old.
Choose to hate me, or help me save her life.
Kjeld.
~The end of Book 1~
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
First edition: October 2014
Copyright © 2014 by Connie Chance
Redemption: a novel/ by Connie Chance/ 1st edition
Redemption (Dawn of the Damned Book 1) Page 12