“Do ye have a lot of them?”
She studied him as he carefully weighed his answer. Her fear was almost gone, although she was not sure it should be. Yet all she could see when she looked at Berawald was the man who had helped her and David, the man who had healed her wounds, a kind man who made her blood run hot. Every instinct she had told her that he would never hurt her or David, but for the first time in her life, she wondered if she should heed those instincts. She feared emotion might be twisting them into what she wanted. In her heart there was a strong reluctance to turn from him simply because he was different, no matter how shocking those differences were. After all, she and David had suffered dearly because they, too, were different, and she refused to act as her enemies did.
“I am nay sure I would say there are a lot,” he said finally. “’Tis just that they are of the kind that makes it verra difficult to mix in easily with others, the kind that seem to breed only fear in others. We are, in most part, of the shadows. The sun can kill us. ’Tis as if it drains us of all life. The truer a MacNachton ye are, the more deadly it is. We are stronger and faster than Outsiders. We can see clearly in those shadows we must live in.” He hesitated to speak of the last two differences, the biggest of all, for they could easily shatter her current state of calm and her acceptance of him.
“Ye drank that mon’s blood, Berawald,” she said when he fell silent. She was still surprised that the mere thought of that did not send her rushing for a bucket to empty her belly into. “I saw ye bite him and I saw his wound when ye let him fall. Such a wound should have been flowing with blood, soaking the ground all round the mon, but there was barely a trickle.”
“Aye, I fed on him. We are, by nature, predators. My ancestors gloried in the taking of blood, in the kill. That is what the old laird changed. We may nay longer treat the Outsiders as naught but cattle, havenae done so for a verra long time, but we are still predators.”
“But if ye have changed, why drink of that mon?”
“Because we still need blood and dinnae ask me why, for I dinnae ken the why. It just is. If we dinnae get some, we die, slowly and painfully.”
“Yet I have seen ye eat proper food. Ye just dined on fish with us.”
“I can do that. Many of us can. It just doesnae give us the nourishment we need to live or keep strong. But there are those of us who simply like the taste of some foods. When we are badly wounded, have lost too much blood, or have suffered beneath the heat of the sun for too long, the blood of another is all that will save us. A mate or a kinsmon usually gives us what is needed. Most of the time we exist upon animal blood and verra raw meat.”
“Unless ye are fighting an enemy.”
He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Aye, just so. But only if he has left us no choice but to kill him. Those men left me no choice. ’Twas them or ye and David.”
“I ken that. I think ’tis the only reason I brought David back here. I kenned ye wouldnae hurt us.”
“Never.” He grasped her hands in his, pleased when she did not immediately try to pull free of his hold. “I would ne’er hurt either of ye. Tell me ye believe that if naught else.”
Evanna stared into his dark eyes and knew he was telling her the truth. The air of desperation that clung to him only enhanced her conviction. It was a little unsettling to think there was an entire clan of people like Berawald, but she suspected she would soon cease to be troubled by that. And when all was said and done, was it not a good idea to keep such a warrior close to hand? He fought for her and her brother. Who was she to question how he did so?
“I believe you,” she said quietly, and could see the relief that flooded him. “E’en after seeing what ye had done, e’en while fear still gnawed at my heart, a large part of me kenned that David and I were nay in danger from you.”
“There is one last thing of great importance,” he said after clearing his throat of the lump of emotion that filled him at her words.
“Ye arenae going to tell me that ye can change into some beastie, are ye?”
“Nay, why should ye think that I could do that?”
“I heard ye. I heard ye snarl, growl, and roar like some huge beast. I e’en looked around for one until I realized the sounds came from you.”
“Ah, that.” Berawald knew he should release her hands, ought to cease caressing the backs of them with his thumbs, but since she made no move to pull them back, he held fast. “I dinnae change although there is a, weel, a feral look that comes o’er my face when the darkness rules.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “And my teeth grow a wee bit longer and sharper.”
Unable to stop herself, Evanna began to lean closer to him. She did not understand how the light stroking of his thumbs over the backs of her hands could make her feel so warm and needy, but she was sure that she liked it. Just the way he spoke, the way he watched her as if searching for some sign that she would push him aside and was dreading it, made the last of the fear in her heart burn itself out. The space left behind was quickly filled with the heat he could so effortlessly stir within her and the ache that never seemed to leave her.
“I would think they must or ye wouldnae be able to do what ye did,” she said, struggling not to lose herself in his dark eyes and not being very successful.
“Does it trouble ye that I have a need for blood?”
She could feel him tense for her answer and chose her words carefully. “It does, but nay so much as I thought it would. As ye have said, your people nay longer hunt down people, e’en innocent ones. I cannae e’en feel the slightest pinch of sorrow or regret for the deaths of those men. I was just shocked by what ye did. I kept wondering why I brought David back here, back to the lair of a mon who could do what ye did.”
“And what answer did ye get?” he asked softly as he slowly lifted his hands to clasp her face and pulled her closer to him.
“I decided it was because I trust ye. As I have said, I simply couldnae make myself believe that ye would ever hurt us.”
The relief he felt, the utter joy her acceptance brought him, snapped what few restraints he had kept on his desire for her. He kissed her, reveling in the taste of her. When she wrapped her slim arms around his neck, his kiss grew fierce with his need, with the overpowering urge to claim her as his own. He stood up with her in his arms. The only clear thought in his head was that he needed to get her naked and beneath him. His entire body throbbed in agreement with that plan and he headed for his bedchamber.
Evanna felt herself dangling from Berawald’s arms and wrapped her legs around him to better balance herself. He groaned softly and staggered just a little before he swiftly steadied his pace again. She knew where he was taking her and what he wanted, but she felt no reluctance or fear. Now she knew the other reason she had not fled from him—it was because she knew this was right where she belonged—in his arms.
Her descent to his bed was so swift and abrupt it left her dizzy. She stared up at him as he removed his shirt and nearly growled in appreciation of the sight of a bare-chested Berawald. He had a broad chest, his skin dark and smooth and stretched over taut, strong muscles. Her hands itched to touch him.
“Evanna?” he asked, pausing at the side of the bed, his breathing heavy and fast.
She knew what he was asking with that one word. The fleeting thought that this was wrong, that she was about to give him what she should only give her lawful husband, went through her mind and was quickly banished. She wanted this, needed it, and for once she would take what she wanted and worry about the consequences later. In truth, with such deadly enemies at her heels, there might not even be a later. Evanna answered his question by simply opening her arms to welcome him.
Berawald groaned and nearly fell into her arms. He fought to regain some hint of control as he pulled and yanked their clothes off as fast as he could, and threw them aside. Every touch of her small hands, each taste of her skin, made even the slimmest strand of control difficult to cling to. The way her full breas
ts filled his hands made him tremble. The soft warmth of her skin beneath his hands and his mouth had him hardening to the point where he feared he would burst before he ever got inside her. Every soft sound of delight she made was pure, sweet music to his ears.
Evanna felt wild with need. When he drew the hard, aching tip of her breast deep into his mouth, she arched up, desperately trying to touch as much of his body with hers as she could. She doubted she would ever get enough of his kisses or the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands. Even the feel of his hard, hot manhood brushing against her did not dim her passion. It felt big and some small, still cautious part of her mind shied away from that, but mostly she wanted to touch him, to learn each and every part of his body. When he slid his hand between her legs to stroke her where the ache of desire was at its worst, she barely flinched.
“Berawald,” she cried out when the intimate caress made her feel as if she would shatter into small pieces right in his arms.
“Och, lass, I ken ye are untried and it pleases me, but right at this moment I dearly wish ye werenae.” He pressed his forehead against hers and fought for just a little more control, just enough so that he did not slam into her like some barbarian. “I fear this may hurt ye a wee bit.”
Her eyes widened until they stung her a little when she felt something large start to enter her body. Evanna could feel herself begin to tense as if rejecting the invasion. Instinct told her that was the wrong thing to do.
“Kiss me,” she ordered him. “Kiss me blind and then, weel, then just get the hurting part of this over with.”
“I dinnae want to hurt ye.”
“I dinnae want to be hurt, but I do want what comes after that. So kiss me.”
He kissed her, struggling to keep the kiss soft and seductive, to lull her virginal fears and restore her passion. As he kissed her, he rocked slowly into her until he felt her maidenhead. Praying that it was a very thin shield and easily broken, he drew back and thrust into her, pushing right through that shield until he was buried deep inside her heat. He caught her startled cry of pain with his mouth. Despite his need to keep on thrusting, to savor her tight heat, he held himself still until he felt the tension caused by the pain begin to ease out of her body. As soon as she was once again soft and welcoming in his arms, he lifted his head to look at her.
“The pain has eased?” he asked, praying that it had, for he was not sure he could remain still for one more minute.
“Oh, aye. It was a quick one, nay more, and it faded just as quickly.”
Evanna was bemused by how odd it felt to be joined with him, odd but very good as well. The memory of the quick glimpse she had once caught of a pair of lovers told her that they were not finished, however, as did her body. She was certain the taut stillness Berawald still maintained was not the way this should be done. The lovers she had glimpsed had been moving. Idly wondering how she could get Berawald to move, Evanna ran her fingers down his back and nipped his shoulder.
A soft growl escaped Berawald and he began to move—hard and fast. Evanna gasped as passion raced through her like a rain-swollen river. She clung tightly to Berawald, quickly learning to meet his every thrust, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Her world narrowed to this one act, to the feel of him in her arms, in her body. She shattered, fire racing through her body from the place where they were joined. Even as she tried to pull him deeper into her arms and her body, she felt a sudden sharp pain in her neck. In some small sane part of her mind she decided that must be part of the loving and so she bit him on the shoulder again. Berawald roared as his body bucked and his seed flowed into her. Evanna finally sank completely beneath the blinding pleasure sweeping over her.
Berawald collapsed in Evanna’s arms, retaining barely enough of his wits to ease his body a little to the side as he fell so that his weight did not crush her beneath him. When he finally had the strength to open his eyes, he found himself staring at a bite mark on her slender neck. He grimaced as he realized he had marked her and feared it was the mating mark. Now there was yet another thing they needed to talk about, he thought, and sighed. Later, he told himself. For just a little while he was going to savor the peace after the storm of loving He was going to thoroughly enjoy that sweet moment when it felt as if all was right in the world.
Seven
“How do ye feel about older men?” Berawald asked.
Berawald ignored her quizzical frown as he climbed back into bed and pulled her into his arms. She settled against his chest a bit limply and he grinned with masculine pride. After cleaning them both up from her loss of innocence, he had let her rest for a little while and had then made love to her again. Not only had he made her cry out his name several times, but he had not bitten her. Glancing at the mark on his shoulder, he wondered if he was worrying unnecessarily about telling her about that bite. She had some pretty sharp teeth herself.
“Ye cannae be that much older than I am.” Evanna rubbed her cheek against his warm skin, loving the feel of him and the bone-deep pleasure that still tingled through her body. “I am three and twenty. What are ye? Five, mayhap six years older?”
Deciding blunt was best, Berawald did a little adding of numbers in his head and replied, “I am older than ye by four score years.”
It took Evanna a few moments to understand what he had just told her. She raised herself up just enough to look at him and scold him for making such a poor jest, but then frowned. He looked perfectly serious. In fact, he was watching her warily as if he was awaiting her reaction to yet another shocking MacNachton difference.
“Nay,” she mumbled, “ye cannae be that old. Ye look thirty or less.”
“I ken it and I probably will for a long time yet. MacNachtons live a verra long time. The purer their blood, the longer they live. In truth, we arenae all that sure just how long we can live, for all too often, the elders reach a point where they are simply sick of life and end it.”
“They kill themselves?” The thought of anyone committing such a grave sin briefly broke through the shock that held her in such a tight grip. If one could believe all the priests said, such people put their very souls at risk.
“A few. Most just hurl themselves about recklessly until they are killed. They lose all sense of survival because, we assume, they no longer wish to survive. It mostly happens when they lose their mate. As far as I ken, I am a Pureblood MacNachton.” Noticing that she was staring at him in wide-eyed shock again, he decided to just keep talking until she shook herself free of it. “My cousin Jankyn isnae so sure, for he has no record of any Pureblood having a gift like I do.”
Aware that he was about to tell her that he saw ghosts and he did not think it was a good time for that, he hurried on, “MacNachtons are verra alike, as twins can be. I dinnae ken if that was so in the beginning, but ’tis certainly the way of it now. Too often wed and bred within our own clans. Leastwise that is what our laird says. He believes that is why we can nay longer breed. My cousin was the last child born to a MacNachton, and by your thinking, he is verra old but he is a wee bit younger than I am.”
Evanna rolled off him to sprawl on her back at his side and stare up at the ceiling. All of her little dreams were crumbling about her feet. There could be no future for her with this man. She could accept all the other differences between them, but not that he would stay young and strong as she grew old and weak. Not that he had asked her to stay with him, she thought as he turned on his side and looked down at her. She quickly buried her pain and disappointment, not wanting him to think it was because of the sort of man he was or, worse, make him start asking her what troubled her.
As she tried to think of something to say, anything that would help her keep her heartbreak hidden, she reached up to rub at a slightly sore spot on her neck. Shock raced through her as she gently ran her fingers over what was definitely a bite mark. Scattered memories of their fierce lovemaking passed through her mind and she suddenly recalled that brief sense of a sharp pain on her neck before desire had fully
engulfed her body and mind. The way Berawald paled a little, looking both worried and afraid, eased her shock and smothered her rising anger. He had bitten her but she felt sure it was in the throes of passion, something she found somewhat flattering. The only weakness she had felt at the time had come from that wild lovemaking, so she knew he had not truly fed on her.
“Ye bit me,” she said, trying to look cross as she stared at him.
“Ye bit me, too.” He pointed to the mark on his shoulder, feeling quite pleased with it until she grew pale. “’Tis naught, Evanna. ’Tis but a wee love bite.”
“Are ye sure, Berawald?” While part of her was thrilled that she might be enough like Berawald to have some future with him, another part was appalled that she could well be far more different than she had believed. “David and I are different, too, ye ken. The sun doesnae burn us. Weel, it might do, but we wouldnae be aware of it or care, for by then we would be unconscious and dying. It weakens us. One reason I collapsed after carrying David across the burn was that we had been forced to flee our hiding place while the sun was still verra high in the sky. I used my own cloak to cover David and protect him. For us it is exactly as ye say, the sun drains all the life out of us. I wasnae in it so long that it could have killed me, but I was also wounded and so verra tired that any added weakness was dangerous.”
He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I already suspected that. Aye, ye might even have some MacNachton blood in ye. My cousin thinks so as weel, for ye also heal verra quickly, far too quickly for any Outsider. As I told ye, I could have removed the stitches from your wound before I did so, but I simply couldnae believe what my eyes told me. And both ye and David dinnae think anything odd about eating meat that has been barely passed over a flame. Ye see verra weel in the dark, too. David has none of the usual child’s fears of the dark, acts as if it is right and proper to play or fish in the dark.” He winked at her. “And ye bite whilst caught up in the heady grip of passion.” He laughed when she blushed. “Now, tell me, how old was your mother and what was her maiden name?”
Nature of the Beast Page 6