Born to Bite Bundle

by Hannah Howell

  “Ah, Finlay,” she moaned. Her sex squeezed him. “Finlay.” Just as her body began to stiffen, he sank his fangs deeper, and her voice rose to a scream as her hips jerked against his. Aye. Aye, she was his.

  Finlay let go of his control and followed her down into that bright oblivion, his own shout muffled by her throat. There was nothing besides Kenna. Nothing in the world but his body inside hers and her blood in his mouth.

  Kenna.

  As soon as the waves of pleasure abated, he gently freed her neck and let his forehead collapse to the bed beside her. It seemed to take all his strength to support his weight above her.

  His body was heavier than it had been…as if something hollow had been filled up.

  Chapter Six

  She was the same woman she’d been the day before. She must be.

  And yet she felt utterly different.

  Kenna touched a hand to the sore spot on her neck, the place where Finlay had taken her blood. She should feel weak. She’d been injured. Her sex felt as tender as her neck, and she was almost certain Finlay had left bruises on her hips with his desperate hold.

  But despite the loss of blood and the tender places that made themselves known when she stretched, Kenna glowed. Her body hummed. And her soul felt years younger. Nearly as young as she actually was.

  She stretched again, and felt Finlay’s hand close over hers.

  “Are you ill, lass?”

  “Nay,” she answered with a smile, snuggling deeper into the bedcovers. She pulled his hand over her hip and felt him turn to press into her back. Ice seemed to cover her skin.

  “Och!” she yelped, scooting away from him. Frightened, she swung around and pressed her hand to his chest. “Finlay, you’re frozen!”

  “My apologies. I did not mean to frighten you.” His face stiffened.

  “What’s the matter?” she cried.

  “Nothing. We are just…I must have kicked the linens off and our flesh cools easily in the air.”

  “But…” She watched as he slipped out the other side of the bed. His buttocks flexed with fascinating rhythm as he rounded the bed and approached the dead hearth. “Does that not hurt you?”

  “Nay.”

  He crouched to the task, and soon had a cheerful fire crackling. “I’ll warm soon enough,” he muttered. “But I must leave you regardless. The king awaits.”

  “Right now?” she asked, not bothering to hide her disappointment. It seemed to cheer him, though, for his scowl turned immediately to a smile.

  “I’m afraid so. But it shan’t take long.”

  “No?”

  He pulled on his leine, hiding his bonny nakedness. “No. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Good.” She was sore, but she meant to have more of him while she could.

  He began to fold his plaid around him. “I’ll send a girl with bread and ale to break your fast.”

  She watched him dress, satisfaction swelling her heart. It felt good to watch a man ready himself for the day. And it felt wondrous to lounge about and sigh over the sight of him. It hadn’t been marriage itself she’d enjoyed so much, after all. The marriage had been a burden. It had been the physical pleasure that came with it that she’d loved, the feel and touch and taste of a man.

  Finlay had said he could not offer her marriage, but perhaps she wanted no more than a good, long while in his bed.

  “I’ll return soon,” he said, crossing the room to kiss her forehead. She considered pulling him down for more, but his eyes were already distant, thinking ahead to his audience with the king.

  “Have a care,” she warned, but as he unbolted the door, his arm flexed, distracting her into a sigh. And Kenna realized she had best take care herself.

  “Sire.” Finlay bowed low, leg outstretched, eyes pointed toward the ground. He could smell the fear coming off the other members of the king’s audience. They all wanted something and feared the king’s judgment. Finlay was the only one with nothing to lose.

  “Laird MacLain,” the king muttered with an irritated glance toward the archway. Guthrie stood there, arms crossed and eyes glaring at Finlay. “You have not pleased me. I have had need of you these many months now, and you have declined my invitations.”

  “My apologies, Sire. As you know, my clan has suffered great hardship, and I hesitated to separate myself from my home.”

  “Even for your king?”

  “I am here, Sire.”

  “Yes.” His eyes slanted toward Guthrie. “Though I am not sure why you are suddenly filled with eagerness. I mean to enjoy your company here at court for quite a while.”

  Finlay managed to bite back a curse.

  “I have need of your special…strengths.”

  “I have no particular strengths, Sire.”

  He cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “On the contrary, Laird MacLain, I am quite convinced you do. I am told you live alone. How is it that a solitary man can hold his land with no mischief from his neighbors?”

  “I am not alone.”

  “No? Who are your clansmen, then?”

  He had no answer to that. He’d had no clansmen for fifty years. No men or women or bairns. Most had been killed. The others had fled and burned their homes down behind them in an attempt to break the curse that had fallen over them.

  “You’ve a pact with the Devil,” the king said.

  “Nay.”

  “And,” he went on as if Finlay hadn’t spoken, “you’ve a way to make men come ’round to your opinion. Guthrie, for example.”

  At the edge of his vision, Finlay saw the way Guthrie’s fists twitched.

  “He was adamant that I let you cool your heels. ‘He is arrogant,’ he said. ‘He has disobeyed you.’ And then this morning, he comes to attend me, insisting that I must see you immediately. He was quite urgent.”

  “I spoke to him last even’.”

  “Aye, you did. Quite convincingly. Yet Guthrie only responds well to obsequiousness, and you do not strike me as the type to bow your head to the likes of him.”

  Guthrie’s heartbeat sped and the scent of his anger reached Finlay’s nose. Perhaps the king was a vampire, too, because he bellowed, “Leave us!” and the crowd of petitioners and courtiers snapped to attention. A moment passed, and then they all filed out. Only a guard remained, his eyes sharp and impassive all at once.

  “Even if your skill was granted by Satan himself, your duty is to Scotland, Laird MacLain.”

  He felt a twinge of guilt at the words. He did have a duty to his country, regardless of whether he was man or vampire.

  “I canna fight England’s greed on my own. I need the support of all Scots.”

  “Aye. Of course.” His guilt formed a stone in his gut. If the king asked, could he help keep the English in check? Would this be a way to help make amends for the many wrongs he’d done? Perhaps…Perhaps after he killed Jean, this would give him another purpose. A reason to keep going despite his weariness.

  “The MacKenzie clan is being needlessly stubborn,” the king muttered. “I have need of more land on the coast, and they refuse to give it, even for the sake of their king.”

  “The MacKenzies.” Finlay’s heart, which had begun to rouse itself with pride for his country, sank like a stone.

  “Aye, and Fergus Stewart is not much better. His youngest daughter has caught the eye of my uncle. Stewart says his daughter is already promised to a cousin and he will not break the betrothal. Can you imagine? Defying his king over a fifteen-year-old girl’s supposed love? It’s damn near traitorous, I tell you.”

  Finlay closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “You’d like me to convince Stewart to give his lass to your uncle.”

  “Aye. But the MacKenzies first. They are here at court, so it should take little effort. I want that land, MacLain. For the sake of Scotland, of course.”

  Right. Land. Alliances. Intrigue and power. Stirling Castle never changed. He could have stood here fifty years ago and had the same conversation with that king.
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  “And Alistair Bruce,” the king muttered. “Does he think me blind? It’s clear he’s had dealings with the Irish behind my back.”

  Finlay could find no more purpose here than he’d found in the crumbling remains of his home. The king did not want him to use his powers against the English queen; James was too busy expanding his influence in Scotland.

  “Sire,” Finlay said. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. I have nothing to offer you.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “You’d best reconsider, Laird MacLain. Your land may not be valuable, but it is subject to my power all the same. And it is well known that you are”—he swallowed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck—“associated with…” His sharp eyes clouded and he looked up at Finlay in confusion. “What were you saying?”

  He had not wanted to do this. He’d avoided Stirling for months just so he would not feel a traitor. Still, he narrowed his eyes and pushed his thoughts straight out. “I’m afraid you were mistaken, Sire. I have no special hold over men’s minds. My presence offers no benefit for you or the crown. And while my clan is small and ragged, we have no trouble raising taxes or holding the land. You are better served to send me back to MacLain Castle.”

  “I see,” he murmured. His face softened with concern. “You are right, of course. You had best return. There is never any trouble from the MacLains, which is more than I can say for half the families in Scotland.”

  “Thank you, Sire,” Finlay said with a bow. It brought a man low to use his liege so. To know that a king was just a man, after all.

  “Guthrie!” the king shouted. The door opened before his voice had ceased to echo. “You were wise to argue Laird MacLain’s case this morning. He has served us well at Castle MacLain, and must return as soon as he is able.”

  Guthrie’s eyes widened with alarm. “Your Majesty, did he injure you?”

  “Of course not, you fool. Escort him out. We are done here.”

  Guthrie’s worry was so evident that Finlay could not doubt the man’s genuine affection for his king, but unfortunately that affection turned to glittering rage when he gestured Finlay toward the door.

  “What did you do to him?” he hissed.

  “I canna know what you mean.”

  “You snuck inside his head!”

  Rumors and legends could only make his life more difficult. He did not need an enemy at court. He did not need to be noticed at all. Unfortunately, he’d already twisted Guthrie’s mind once and there was a good chance it wouldn’t work again.

  Finlay stopped and faced the fuming man. “If I could really control men’s minds, do you not think I would have installed myself at the king’s side? What kind of man would pass up that kind of power, Guthrie? If I could rule the king, I could rule Scotland.”

  Thoughts turned behind the man’s eyes.

  “You’ve seen my home, man,” Finlay insisted. “Do you really think me powerful?”

  Here was a man who coveted power. Who’d dedicated his life to his king just for the chance to gather up as many scraps of influence as he could. He could understand Finlay’s desire for solitude no more than he could understand the turnings of the stars.

  The surety of his expression faded, but the hostility remained.

  “I do not trust you, MacLain. Neither do I like you. In fact, I rather hope that Frenchman catches up with you.”

  Cold flashed over Finlay’s skin like sliding ice. “What Frenchman?” he asked, knowing full well who it was.

  Guthrie’s smile was the grin of a wolf. “Have you no’ heard? He’s got only one hand, and I’d wager you had something to do with the loss of the other. He was prowling between Stirling and Larmuir two nights ago, and I gather he headed out for MacLain Castle about the time you left it. Do you think he might make it back to Stirling today?”

  Gray. And Mrs. McDermott and young Rabbie. Had they obeyed the orders he’d given before leaving?

  Ignoring Guthrie’s triumphant laugh, Finlay spun and hurried toward the hall, narrowing his eyes against the sunlight that trickled weakly through the small windows. If the tale was true, Jean was either at MacLain Castle or on his way to Stirling. Finlay would’ve welcomed the knowledge of a coming confrontation if not for his worry over Kenna.

  He could not leave her here alone, and he could not expose her to the dangers of the night.

  “Damn it,” he muttered as he bounded up the curved staircase. If they stayed here, they were simply waiting to be found. But if they left at sundown, they might find Jean standing at the gates of the castle, his sword in hand.

  He pushed open the door of their chambers and found Kenna mid-pace.

  “Finlay!” she cried, rushing toward him. Her outstretched arms briefly overrode his worries. Here was his woman, wrapping her arms around him. “What did the king say?”

  “We’re free to leave—”

  “How?”

  “But there is a more dangerous problem now. Jean has been to MacLain Castle. We must go.”

  The horror on her face did not stop her from drawing herself straight and offering a curt nod. “Of course. We must see to your home. Tonight—”

  “Nay. We leave now.”

  “Now? But…”

  “We’ve no choice. I won’t be trapped here like a rat when the sun sets, not with your life at risk.”

  “But, Finlay, you said—”

  “Come now. Let’s gather our things. You will be my eyes, and we’ll find shelter before sunset. God willing, Jean will be unawares. I’ll circle back to Stirling if it’s safe to leave you.”

  Kenna raised her hands, lips parting as if she would speak in earnest, but then her arms fell, and she stood quiet.

  “All will be well,” he whispered, touching his fingers to her precious cheek. “I will see you safe, Kenna Graham.”

  “I am not worried over me, you great lummox!”

  “No?” Even his urgency to be gone could not keep him from smiling down at her. “Will you keep me safe then, lass?”

  “Aye, unless I kill you first.”

  When he saw the tears in her eyes, Finlay pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head. She felt right there, her head resting just beneath his chin, her hands clutching his back. And her scent glowing ’round him like a sun. Only now she smelled of his body, too.

  His lust was no longer a flat and bitter thing. This need for Kenna was pulsing and warm and growing so fast that it hurt his chest.

  “Come now,” he murmured. “Let us find this wretch and be done with it.”

  Chapter Seven

  He sat behind her on the horse again, just as he always did. But now it was different, feeling his body pressed against her after it had pressed so thoroughly into her the night before. The rocking of the horse was another reminder of what they’d done. Her sensitive sex pulsed with the movement.

  But there was guilt, too. Finlay was hunched over her, his plaid pulled low over his eyes, his hands hidden beneath the wool to keep the sun from his skin. He was suffering and she could think of nothing but having him again.

  Thank God the sky was thick with clouds. Even in the weak light, his eyes streamed tears. Two hours had passed, and he’d grown quiet. Kenna tried to think of some way to distract him…and herself.

  “I canna understand why the king let you leave after he was so eager to get you to Stirling.”

  “He changed his mind.”

  “Why?”

  He did not answer for a long while, as if he were thinking of what to say. As if he might lie. Kenna squared her shoulders and waited for the sound of falsehood. Her husband had lied to her often enough, so why did she feel shocked?

  He shifted behind her, his thighs tensing. “What the king accused me of…It is true, to an extent. I can influence men with my mind. It’s one of our powers.”

  He’d hinted as much, but she still felt a shock. “How do you do it?”

  When he shrugged, his body rubbed against hers. “I think very hard wha
t I’d like them to do. Like glaring at someone, I suppose, only with your mind.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes, that’s all. But ’tis not as powerful as it seems. It only works on a person once or twice and then…nothing.”

  “Have you done it to me?” She gestured frantically and heard a hiss of pain behind her. She turned to find Finlay tugging his plaid more thoroughly around him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve a right to be shocked. And no, I havena done it to you, but only because you’re very strong willed. When I came to the inn, I tried to be sure that no one noticed me, that they wanted never to notice me, but it did not take with you, Kenna. You kept looking at me.”

  “Well, I thought you verra fine to look at.”

  His laughter rumbled into her. “I can’t deny I was rather pleased with my failure. And even if I’d meant to make you obey, I didna want to push hard enough to hurt you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Strong willed or not…I think Jean did that to me. I felt…I felt that I could not resist him.”

  His arm tightened around her. “He didna care if he hurt you, but I’d not hurt you for the world.”

  Ah, God. Her heart clenched so hard that pain sparked through her chest. He’d said he had nothing to offer her, but his consideration was enough for now. His consideration, and affection, and, yes, his kindness. Kenna sneaked her hand beneath the plaid to lay it on his. His fingers laced into hers and she leaned comfortably back against him. They’d ceased to pass any other riders for a few long minutes.

  “Are you sure Jean willna find us in the day?”

  “He’s arrogant. He thinks he has us run to ground. Jean is canny but too confident, perhaps. I should have challenged him outright instead of trying to trap him.”

  His head was hanging lower as he spoke, and Kenna began to worry at his weariness. Until she felt his teeth graze her neck.

  “Oh!” she yelped, shocked by a lightning rush of arousal.