Born to Bite Bundle

by Hannah Howell

  “I am quite good at persuading people to my point of view.”

  She shook her head. “You implied that already. How do you do it?”

  A sleepy-eyed soldier watched them as they rode up the hill. “Later, Kenna.” He tucked her cloak more carefully over her legs, mindful of the number of soldiers they’d be passing. She’d rearranged herself to sit aside before they’d entered the town, but she’d grimaced in pain as she’d done so. He’d see her tucked into bed before he presented himself to the king.

  “You willna…?” he started, then paused to wonder if he should ask. She’d seemed to accept him, but then she’d not had much choice alone in his castle. “You willna tell them the truth?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You’ve made clear you think me a beast, Kenna. A monster cursed by the Devil himself.”

  She didn’t answer for a long while, and Finlay held his breath, waiting for her response.

  “I believe that you’re cursed,” she finally said, her voice low as the breeze. “But ’tis clear to me now that you’re not so different from other men.”

  Finlay pulled his chin back. What did that mean? He opened his mouth to press her further, but then they were passing through the outer gates under the careful watch of eight armed soldiers.

  “Laird Finlay MacLain,” he announced to the two soldiers who stepped in front of the mount. “Here at the request of the king.”

  The soldier on the left glanced to his side and must have received a signal, because he waved them on toward the inner gate. They were stopped once more, and then they were through.

  He felt Kenna shift in the saddle as a boy rushed forward to grab hold of the bridle.

  “Finlay,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve got you.” He jumped down and eased her slowly to the ground, aware that her weight rested heavy on his hands.

  “Are you not the least bit stiff?” she muttered.

  “Nay.” He glanced toward the east. “But my eyes are beginning to burn, if that soothes your pride.”

  “Oh!” She stood a little straighter, though he clearly felt the way her muscles stiffened and twitched. “We must get you inside.”

  The worry in her voice made him smile. “I’ll survive. Would you like me to carry you?”

  “Of course not!” Her outrage gave Kenna the last bit of strength she needed to stand on her own, but she moved slowly as they followed a servant inside and were shown upstairs to a small room. With one small bed.

  “I canna pass you off as my wife, I’m afraid.”

  She shrugged. “I understand. It’s not such a hardship to be known as your leman. An elevation from serving wench, I’d say.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, lass.”

  “You would.”

  He left her to her privacy for a moment and hunted down some hot food. Not easy at this early hour, but there was fresh bread and warm mead, at least. The closed shutters of their chambers provided all the protection he needed from the sun, as they faced north and couldn’t have coaxed much light if they tried. After the hurried meal, Kenna slumped with weariness.

  “The king won’t receive me for hours, at least. We should sleep.”

  With only a mildly concerned glance at the bed, Kenna nodded. He tried his best not to anticipate anything other than sleep. That alone seemed a fine enough pleasure at the moment.

  He laid his claymore on the floor within reach and Kenna took the other side. But there wasn’t much of a “side” to the narrow frame. When he stretched out on the straw ticking, his front pressed against her back in several interesting places.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, but Kenna raised a hand to wave his apology aside.

  “We’ve been closer than this for hours.”

  Yes, but they hadn’t been in a bed. Did she not know the difference?

  He’d grown used to the smell of her hair on their journey, but now he was aware of it again, the scent tempting him to bury his face in the nape of her neck and breathe. The same scent as her skin, only warmer.

  Closing his eyes, he tried not to think of her fragrance. Or her plump bottom pressed against his groin. Or the way his knees fit so close behind hers.

  “Kenna,” he whispered, smoothing back a lock of hair from her face. His fingers memorized the feel of her cheek beneath them.

  “Mm?”

  “If I’m not here when you wake, don’t venture out. Wait for me.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  He watched his fingers stray down to the soft skin behind her ear. She was nearly asleep. If he kissed her there, would she even notice? It would gain him nothing but aching, but Finlay couldn’t resist. Her scent tugged at him, swelling more than just his cock. Despite everything she’d been through in the past twenty-four hours, she was still so strong and steady. A mate he could be proud of, if only his life were fit for her. It wasn’t.

  He stretched forward, letting his breath touch her ear. Kenna didn’t move. She didn’t protest. But he knew she wasn’t asleep after all, for her breath hitched. He waited two heartbeats, then three. Finally he shifted the smallest amount and his mouth touched that spot, the bare skin just behind the shell of her ear.

  He pressed his lips there and drew in her scent, holding it in his lungs as long as he could. Her heart sped, pounding until he could hear the individual thumps of the blood rushing in and out, in and out. The life of her, pulsing below his mouth.

  His fangs stretched, but he ignored them with only a small bit of difficulty. She was tired. Exhausted.

  But it seemed she did know the difference between a horse and a bed. Her body needed no more than that small kiss to rouse itself and call to him. Finlay lay back and let her be, but the scent of her quick arousal followed him deep into sleep.

  Kenna woke to the slamming of a door. “Oh!” she gasped, disoriented by the pale blur that surrounded her.

  “I’m sorry,” MacLain’s voice said. “I didna mean to startle you.” Part of the blur shifted, and Kenna realized he’d pulled the bedcurtains around her before he’d left.

  “Have I slept too long?”

  “Nay. The king willna see me. He’s making a point, I believe.” The anger in his voice raised the hairs on her arms.

  “What will we do?”

  “We’ll wait till the morning. If his man refuses me again, I’ll have no choice.”

  She shook her head, still muddled by too much sleep in the middle of the day. “What do you mean?”

  “I must find Jean. I canna lose him again.” He gave her a hot look. “I canna.”

  “You’ll defy the king?”

  “On the contrary. I will see him. And I’ll show him the skill he’s so eager to witness.”

  Kenna started to nod and then found herself shaking her head. “I don’t understand any of this, Finlay.”

  His eyebrows twitched up at the sound of his name. Then he nodded and sat hard on the mattress. “I ken how strange this must be to you. You’re verra brave.”

  “I’m verra confused!” And she was. She did not know whether she should run from him or pull him down upon her. Each time he touched her, she burned with want and pleasure. That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. “Why must you kill Jean?”

  “Because he’s a monster.”

  “But why you?”

  His head bowed and he sat quietly, not even breathing as far as she could tell. She watched him, noticing the fine white leine he wore and the silver pin that held his plaid in place. His hair was neatly combed and his jaw freshly shaven. He even wore stitched stockings that hugged his calves.

  “I met him here,” he said softly. “Him and his band of Frenchmen. I was nae more interested in politics then than I am now. But I liked the women here, you understand. I was twenty-two and I cared for little but women and whisky.”

  “Aye. As most young men do.”

  “And the women with Jean, they were beautiful and verra…wicked.”

/>   Kenna felt her face flush as she nodded. A mixture of embarrassment and jealousy warmed her skin.

  “And when he suggested we all retire to MacLain Castle for a spell, it seemed a grand idea. My father remained at court, so he had no idea what was happening.”

  “What was happening?” she whispered.

  MacLain shrugged and she watched his face grow pale. “Jean liked it there. It was secluded. The people were…unsophisticated. And I was…I don’t know. I entertained him, I suppose. So they turned me. I’m not even sure when.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They took turns draining me of blood and feeding me their own.”

  “That’s how it’s done?”

  “Aye. It takes a few days, but I’m not even sure when I stopped being human and became a vampire. They’d turned the castle into a…den. It was endless blood and sex and whisky and opium. The women simply lay about naked, eager to take on any man who wanted them. I lived like an animal for weeks, Kenna, blind with the pleasures they lay before me.”

  She felt horror and disgust and fear. What kind of a man could turn his ancestral home into a harem?

  “And then my father returned.” He said the words as if that were the final line of the story. As if it had ended there.

  “But what happened? What happened when your father returned?”

  Taking a deep breath, he lifted his bowed head and stared straight ahead. “I heard him shouting, but the woman I was with pulled me back down to her and I let myself forget him. When I woke in the evening, everyone was gone.”

  “Who? The vampires?”

  “Everyone. I was alone. I wandered the castle and found no one.”

  Kenna clutched the bed linens closer to her chest. “Where were they?”

  “Dead,” he said softly. “My clan was dead. As the weeks had passed, they’d fed on them or killed them outright. Left the bodies in a pile behind the bailey wall so as not to be bothered by the stink. My father’s fresh corpse was at the top of the heap.”

  Sickness rolled through her belly. She pressed a fist to her mouth to hold back a groan.

  “I was feasting and rutting and filling my gut with blood while my people were being slaughtered. Day by day. My family. Everyone. I didn’t even notice.”

  “Finlay,” she started, but he cut her off.

  “So that is why Jean must die, and why I must be the one to do it. He’s the last one left. I’ve killed them all. Even the women.”

  She saw his jaw clench at that, and wondered what that would do to a man like him. To kill women. Women who’d been in his bed. What would it do to any man, to know he’d allowed the murder of his entire family?

  When he pushed suddenly to his feet, Kenna jumped.

  “We must dress for dinner,” he said, reaching toward the bedside table for a package she hadn’t seen. “I’ve a dress for you. I’ll leave you to your privacy.”

  Though she held out her hands, he set the twine-wrapped material on the edge of the bed, avoiding her touch. Before she could ask him anything more, he slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind him.

  He was a demon and a murderer…and he was her only protection in this place. Kenna’s mind spun with helpless confusion.

  Chapter Five

  “Stay by my side,” he said as Kenna laid her hand gingerly on his arm. Her mind still shook with dismay at the story he’d told her an hour before. As they descended toward the roar of the great hall of Stirling Castle, she wanted to pull him aside and pelt him with more questions about the horror he’d lived through. But more than that, she wanted to know nothing more about it, ever.

  And when she stole glances at MacLain, she wished she’d never asked. His face had changed. It was stiff now, as if something in him would break if he smiled. Fifty years had fallen away with the telling of the story, and now he seemed to be back in that place of death and guilt.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. He glanced down at her impassively, as if he knew what she spoke of and had no interest.

  Then they were in the hall, and Kenna’s eyes were too busy taking in the crowd to watch MacLain.

  She’d never seen so many people. Hundreds of people, all of them dressed in bright layers of clothing and furs and jewels.

  When she’d unfolded the length of blue velvet he’d left her, she’d been thankful. Now she was doubly so. Only the servants wore brown or gray, and the serving girls here looked even more harried than she had been at the inn.

  As she watched, a fat gentleman with gold-puffed sleeves reached for a young girl passing. Her mouth became an O of shock as he pulled her into his lap and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

  “Do not let yourself drift away,” MacLain said, bending low to warn her, and Kenna nodded. The man let the girl go after a taste of her flesh, but the night was early yet. She did not want to see what would happen to the serving women after the ale had been flowing for hours.

  The atmosphere grew calmer as they moved closer to the central dais. Here, the people were watchful and more reserved, their eyes shifting over the crowd with sharp interest. These people meant to be near the king, and they had purpose.

  Kenna saw eyes slide toward MacLain and widen. He was recognized, but no one approached to offer a friendly welcome.

  He stopped and let his gaze skip over the tables. “There,” he said, and led her toward the far side of the hall.

  They approached a table crowded with young men. Not one woman sat among them. Either they had no wives or they did not bring them to court.

  “Guthrie,” MacLain said. One man glanced carelessly up, his fingers idly stroking the wide arch of rubies that nestled in his puffed collar. When he saw who stood above him, he smirked.

  “Laird MacLain, you’ve finally arrived.”

  “Aye. I am here as an eager servant to the king, yet now he refuses to see me.”

  The man cocked his head. “The king will entertain you at his leisure, I’m sure.”

  “Of course,” Finlay ground out. “But I’m afraid I am needed on urgent—”

  “Why, Laird MacLain! Who is your lovely companion?”

  She felt his body stiffen next to her, and her fingers curled into his skin in nervousness. “I present,” he growled, “my lady, Kenna Graham.”

  She dipped a quick curtsy as Guthrie’s gaze swept down her. “Graham, eh? She’s enchanting.”

  “Yes,” he snapped.

  Guthrie smiled. “Perhaps Kenna Graham may be better at gaining access to the king than you are, Laird MacLain. She looks as if she could be much more charming.”

  The man’s companions roared with laughter as Kenna flushed.

  MacLain snarled. “I don’t find your statement amusing, Guthrie.”

  “Oh.” The man chuckled. “That’s because I wasn’t trying for amusement. Send her to my room tonight. You’ll be in to see the king tomorrow before he breaks his fast. Will that suffice?”

  A brief, hard shock of alarm jumped through her. MacLain was desperate to be on his way, after all. And she was a serving wench he’d met two days before. She clutched his arm harder. I won’t do this, she prayed. Please, I canna do this. Not this.

  But who would stop it here? Who would help her? No one.

  His hand curved over hers and peeled her fingers from his arm. Good Lord, would he hand her over right this moment? His fingers laced into hers.

  “Guthrie?”

  “Yes, Laird MacLain?” The mocking laughter faded slowly from Guthrie’s expression as he stared into MacLain’s face. A shiver jumped through his body, and he raised a hand to the back of his neck to rub hard.

  MacLain leaned a little closer. “I will see the king tomorrow. Before noon. This is an urgent matter, after all.”

  Frowning, Guthrie nodded. The deal was done. Kenna’s throat burned with humiliation. She would be sent to this pup’s room and forced to take him between her legs. She’d fought so hard to avoid this, and all her struggles had been for naught.
/>
  When MacLain stood straight, Guthrie shook his head and dropped his eyes immediately. But MacLain seemed to change his mind before turning away, and he stepped forward to grab the man’s chin.

  “And you will not set your eyes on Kenna Graham again. Ever. Understood?”

  “Aye,” the man breathed, all the color melting from his face.

  Her legs were shaking as he swung her around and led her back toward the far tables.

  “You won’t give me to him?” she whispered.

  He could not have heard her over the din, but he shook his head all the same.

  “Why?”

  “You’re not mine to give, Kenna.”

  “Oh. Of course.” Her relief felt strangely like hurt. “Thank you.”

  “And I’d kill him before I’d let him touch you.”

  She couldn’t understand the tears that sprang to her eyes, but they would not stop despite her blinking.

  “We’ll have a real meal tonight at least,” he grumbled, leading her to an empty table at the very corner of the room.

  “Aye,” she said as the tears slipped free and slid down her face.

  “Will you—? Kenna, why are you weeping?”

  “I’m not.” She sat down on the bench and ducked her head, trying to wave him toward his seat.

  “Lass, what’s upset you?”

  “Nothing. I only…You wanted to be on your way so badly. And I…” What had she come to in life, that she could weep with gratitude at not being treated as a worthless whore? “I expected…”

  His hand touched the crown of her head, and that small touch made her breath catch and the tears fall faster. “Kenna,” he whispered, his fingers sliding down her temple and beneath her chin. “I would not have given you to him.”

  She nodded, pressing her lips tight together.

  “Did you think that I would?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. I think I have…I fear I’ve lost all sense of myself. I cannot even recognize kindness anymore.”

  “Christ, lass,” he murmured, sinking down to his haunches to meet her eyes. His fingers whispered over her cheek. “I am not kind.”

  “You’ve been kind to me from the moment we met, Finlay MacLain. And I am so hard and weary that I don’t know what to do with it.”