Forsaken Heart

by Elise Whyles

  It was obviously the weapon of a wealthy man, a man of title, of nobility. What could such a man want with her and Una? They were paupers, lower than low. Even the Roman troops who had passed earlier in the spring had barely given them a look. She shifted, unease creeping over her. Was he a slaver? Maybe he was sent to steal them for another master. If so, he’d not find any ease in delivering them, she vowed.

  “Take care, Bede.” Una’s soft voice drew her attention. “You’ve no idea what you’ll find beneath the surface.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is darkness there, yet it does not reach his soul. Dangerous as he may be, he will surprise you.” Una met her stare. “Before this night is through we shall need him, and his sword.”

  “You talk in such riddles. There is no more to him than any other man. Cold and merciless, they take and take until there is naught left. Look at Momma, she was a good woman brought down by a man.”

  Una shrugged, her lips lifting slightly. “What he takes shall be paid back tenfold, sister. Mark my words, you will thank him before the sun rises again. Just as you will thank him when this journey has done and you embrace what you deny this moment.”

  Bede watched her sister rise to pace behind the strange man who spared her naught a glance. Hands locked behind her back, Una stepped quickly, a studious expression on her delicate face as she shadowed him. Gawain barely looked at her. Indeed, he seemed lost in thought, in some mystery within his soul.

  Turning her attention back to the fire, Bede rubbed her arms. A chill crept over her, dancing along her skin like a caress. Freedom would come, she was certain. She’d simply have to be cunning in her plotting. When night fell, he would sleep, he had to, they’d been awake for some time—he longest of all. While he slept, she’d retrieve her dagger and steal away with Una. North toward the Pict territory would garner their safety, south would lead into Roman bonds. Within the ancestral peoples of her mother she would find solace and safety.

  Glancing across the sun splattered clearing she sighed. He stood, broad shoulders beneath the black leather of his cloak braced against any threat. Muscled thighs flowed down into high boots stitched with an unfamiliar design which reflected the light. He shifted, his hands coming to rest behind his back as he stared into the thick foliage.

  Heat suffused her flesh, wrapping tendrils along her body. Like ghostly fingers it played over her breasts, teasing her nipples. Flames flickered and danced, casting a pale, warm glow over her naked flesh.

  Calloused fingertips explored hidden curves, the slight abrasions rasping over sensitive flesh.

  Bolts of lightning coursed through at the sharp nip of a fang against her tender skin. The rough sweep of his tongue over an aching nipple drew a strangled moan. He suckled at her breast, sending shards of hot lust to her folds.

  Throbbing, her body writhed beneath her lover in the throes of a most pleasant ache. Her hands scrambled for purchase against hard, sweaty flesh. Muscles bunched and rolled beneath her fingers, his erect nipples teased her. His hot shaft pressed against her abdomen, rocking against her flesh with searing intent.

  “Grasp my cock.” His voice raked over exposed nerves as he pulled a trembling hand down to wrap around the pulsing thickness. She gasped as her fingers pressed around it but didn’t meet. Her hand eased down and up, caressing gently. Molten, hard, it throbbed beneath her touch. Shy, she petted his sex, her fingers scrambling to wrap around his shaft with each thrust of his hips.

  His tongue dipped into her mouth, dueling with hers, mimicking the motion of his hips. Her breath came in unsteady gasps as he teased and retreated, drawing her into the dance. He suckled her tongue, his fingers sliding down her body, trailing like brands between her breasts to slide through the moist curls at the apex of her thighs.

  “Please, gods. Oh, please.” She whimpered, all inhibitions gone in the rising storm of desire. Her body lurched when his nails scored the hood of her sensitive clit. Daggers of sensation ripped through her, the walls of her core clenching, pulsing with the need to have his hard cock buried within its walls.

  Hunger like none she’d ever felt wrapped around her swollen sex. She raised her hips in silent supplication. Screams of pleasure escaped her throat, and she arched into his touch as he slid a thick finger into her body. Tilting her head back, she lifted off the rough woolen pallet, her grasp tightening around his hard shaft. Each slow glide of his digit teased, fed the fire until she longed for the flames.

  “Tighter, leannan, tighter. I want to feel you clasp me…to milk my cock.” He grabbed her hand, forcing her to tighten her hold on him. “The head, gods, leannan, rub the head. Taste me.”

  She moaned softly at the slick stickiness oozing from the slit along the head of his shaft. Her mouth watered as each glide of her thumb brought forth more liquid. Desperate to taste him, to bath in his essence, she tugged on her hand.

  “Nooo.” She tossed her head as he pulled his finger from her sex. Arching her hips, she rolled them, shamelessly begging for him to sink back into her depths. “Please.”

  “Nay, I need to taste you.” He licked his finger, his tongue swirling around the glistening digit. A look of utter lust twisted his face. She watched, fascinated as he lapped at her essence, sucking it off his finger like honey.

  Her tongue glided along her bottom lip. Holding his stare, she raised her hand, licking the moisture from her thumb. A mixture of sweet and salty, she moaned at the heady taste and sensation. Would his cock taste as delicious? Wiggling, she began to turn only to have him halt her with a rough hand on her hip.

  “More, I want…”

  “Oh, Bede, I’ll give it all to you,” he grunted. His fingers tangled in her hair, he lifted her toward him. “I’ll let you take me in your mouth, to run your tongue along the head. To suck the very milk from me.” She whimpered with each statement. “But first, I want to drink of you. To taste your honey and have you scream my name.”

  “I want your…”

  “Lie back then.” He shifted, pressing her back into the pallet. He turned, his thick legs on either side of her head. “Open for me, my leannan, open for me.”

  She moaned as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to her stomach. Reaching up, she grasped his weeping shaft and guided it to her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick along the head. Dipping into the thin slit, tasting the sweet nectar there. Lips parted, she swirled her tongue along the crown before guiding him in…

  “Bede! Help me!”

  Una’s terrified scream jerked her from the fantasy. She jumped, her mind disbelieving of what lay before her. Men in the familiar red of the Roman army poured into camp. Swords clashing, screams of rage filled the air.

  Screaming, she snatched Una from the path of a soldier, his sword whistling through the air again and again as he was determined to kill. Desperate, her mind racing, Bede searched for an escape. “Go, to the trees, Una. Quickly now.”

  Una sobbed. “What of you?”

  “Go!” Bede screamed as three soldiers closed in, their swords dangling limply from their fingers as they appraised her. Lust flickered as they took in the threadbare shift, the rise and fall of her breasts. Bede swallowed, retreating. There were too many of them to escape. Clutching her dagger, she backed up, one slow, measured step at a time.

  Grabbing a thick branch, she jabbed at one soldier, his scream of pain drawing a hint of a smile. Swinging it wildly, she prayed they’d leave her, but knew it was pointless. Her prayer would be wasted on fickle gods who ignored the mortals they watched over.

  Screaming when one of the soldiers grabbed her, she struggled, kicking and biting as they ripped at her clothes. As she twisted and struggled, her nails scored the face of one, drawing blood. The screams and laughter of the men rose with her screams as she fought desperately, their hands pawing at her body.

  The rancid stench of their sweaty, filthy bodies filled her nostrils. Gagging and choking as one tightened his grip around her throat, she fought on, darkness closi
ng in. Kicking at her attackers, she grunted when her foot connected with the soft flesh of one’s groin.

  As quickly as the assault started, it ended. Gasping, tears racing down her face, she glanced up. A sword quivered from Gawain’s chest as he hovered over her, his face twisted into a dark mask of hatred. She flinched when he pulled it free, tossing it aside. The sword shook when it landed, buried to the hilt in a nearby tree.

  He lashed out, his claws slashing through flesh. Blood splattered on his face, his clothes, and Bede’s bare flesh. A Roman soldier dangled from one hand, his chest gaping open. Blood flowed down his body to drip onto the leaves beneath him. A rattling gurgle from his lips drew a shudder as Gawain tossed him aside, his eyes focused on the soldier climbing to his feet.

  “Don’t know why you’re not dead, but no matter. The wench is—”

  “Mine,” Gawain ground out, his lips curling upward. “I do not share.”

  Bede’s eyes widened. His teeth glistened red, his fangs, long and sharp, dripped with blood. She scrambled back when he moved, grabbing the soldier and twisting him, his fingers tangling in the grubby man’s hair.

  “She and the babe belong to me.” Guttural, his voice grated already exposed nerves before he sunk his teeth into the man’s neck.

  Scrambling to her feet, Bede whirled, stumbling over the broken remains of a soldier. Bile rose like a tide in her throat, bitter and acrid, as blood streamed from the soldier’s throat, soaking his uniform.

  “No!” Bede darted for the trees, her breath exploding on a sob. Escape. Run.

  She was jerked back against a hard body. Gentle hands pulled her torn clothes together before a soft cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and fastened with a pin.

  “Come. The moon rises.” Gawain’s soft voice shattered what was left of her weak control.

  Screaming, her hands over her ears, she curled into a ball on the ground. Tears choked her, and her throat burned as she rocked on her haunches. Her fingers tangled in her hair, a pain unlike anything she’d felt skewering her.

  * * * *

  From her perch atop her throne, Amuliana Synvera lazily swung one foot back and forth. Before her, his head bowed, Anagor fidgeted. His pale features bore fresh scars, blisters still healing, but hadn’t faded. Beneath the surface he broiled, rage flowing like wine.

  She raised an eyebrow when he toyed with the buckle of his cantal, a leather coat-like garment he’d been sworn to wear until he’d regained his sense of worth. For one of those who sought death but were refused its mercy, it was rare to reclaim their status as a vampire.

  Amuliana straightened, her fingers smoothing the sheer silk of her gown over her figure. She fluffed the long, pale curls hanging down her back and smiled. Straightening, she took two strides to the bottom of the dais and stepped around her kneeling slave. With her fingers on his shoulder she paced around him.

  “So eager to serve, to please me. So eager to risk death to get what you want. Only death has forsaken you, for your sins.” Her steps confident she strode back to her throne. Trailing her fingers along the gold armrests of her throne she paused, looking at him over her shoulder.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “So tell me, my servant, what is it you desire? What could you crave like fresh, sweet blood on your tongue?”

  “Nothing.” He met her stare, his pale eyes cold. “I seek nothing. If death were to claim me I would welcome it, but you have abandoned me to such an end.”

  “Forsaken?” Amuliana laughed. “You know nothing of being forgotten, punished. Soon, though, you shall. This day Gawain, of the queen’s guard, rescued two young women…your duty is to the youngest, I want her. Gawain and his mate will not be willing to surrender her. Matters not.” She bent toward him. “Bring the child to me or you’ll truly know my displeasure.”

  “As you wish, mistress.” Anagor bowed his head before vanishing into thin air.

  Amuliana smirked, a tiny giggle escaped. It had begun. She would take the child, drive a wedge between the lovers, and mask her own secrets. A simple matter of erasing memories and she’d have an edge.

  Chapter 3

  Gawain ignored Bede’s weak, flailing arms. Cradling her against his chest, he stalked through the shadows. Relief filled him at the sight of several horses tethered. They needed to move, and the horses would help with their haste. The rapid patter of small feet trailed behind him.

  He glanced at the back of their little entourage. The air was suffused with the scent of the soldiers’ blood, with the sounds of their dying. The gurgling and whistling of air and blood choked the heavens. Though he’d fed well, it was a waste of blood. While he would not need to feed for at least a week, leaving the blood behind sat ill with him.

  Fury lashed at him with each broken sob from the woman in his arms. He was certain the wounds would not easily heal. His fangs lengthened, sharpening with each step, and he tightened his grip. Stopping next to the horses, he frowned, every instinct telling him to delay their ending.

  “She’s terrified.” Una clung to Bede’s hand. “Those men were going to…”

  “Think not of such matters.” Gawain set Bede atop a horse and turned to grab Una. With an agile swing he set her behind Bede. “Hang on, child. To the north will be shelter, and that is where you will go.”

  “What of you?” Una grabbed his arm, fear tightening her frail voice. “Are you…”

  “Nay, I’ll not leave you. I can make good speed. There’s discord on the wind, I can sense it.” Gawain felt his unease flare, a shiver racing down his spine at the distant, vacant look that settled on Una’s face.

  “He comes.” Una focused up the trail, her brows drawn together.

  Swinging onto the back of the nearest horse, he gathered both reins and turned northward. Kicking the horses into a gallop, he wondered if he could possibly outrun the trouble that was coming.

  “He seeks something, someone,” she called. “I don’t believe him human, vampire. He is something else, neither an enemy nor a friend.”

  Gawain shrugged, hoping the child wouldn’t pick up on his unease. He had an idea of who it was stalking them, and fervently hoped he was mistaken. “Matters not, young one. Hold on, we’ve distance to cover.”

  Whipping both horses into a full run, Gawain cut off the road, through the underbrush. There would be no escaping the mortals who followed them on the path, instead he needed to get as far from the carnage as possible without crossing paths with those immortals he knew would be coming their way in very short order. He inhaled the air scented of night. With the moon rising, he’d be able to travel freely. By dawn they’d be nearer the cottage of one who could help.

  * * * *

  Bede jerked upright, her body tense at the squeal of horses and the thunder of hooves. She gasped, a scream dying in her throat at the strange, pale figure standing in the roadway. The moon cast a silver light over the stranger.

  “What…”

  “Hush.” Gawain’s harsh tone was like a slap in the face. In an instant, fury roared forward to crowd her control.

  “Be still, Bede.” Una’s soft tone eased her anger. “He comes.”

  “Who?”

  Una nodded past Gawain. “There’s a darkness, a death about him reaching into his soul, yet he keeps it chained. Mind him, Bede, Gawain will not lead you wrong.”

  “Be still.” Gawain raised a hand, his claws flared.

  “Give me the young one.” Like sludge, the stranger’s voice oozed slowly through the darkness. “That is all I seek.”

  “No,” Bede cried, clutching Una to her. “Gawain, milord…”

  “Give her to me and you shall pass. Don’t make this more arduous than needs be.” The stranger withdrew his sword, the pale light catching on the curved blade.

  “I’ll take your head before I surrender either of them.” Gawain drew his sword, the moonlight glinting off the blade.

  “Why must you challenge me on this?” Soundlessly he disappeared, reappearing mere feet f
rom the horses. “I have been bid do this, you should take—”

  “Anagor, you are an even bigger fool than I dared imagine.” Gawain dismounted, his gaze never leaving the intruder. “It will garner you no favors, only certain death.”

  Anagor’s rough chuckle filled the air. “Death would serve me well, but it has been forsaken to me. Give me the young one and I shall depart from your path.”

  “Heed me, Anagor, she’ll not be given to the likes of you.”

  “Do not tempt me, Gawain. Do as I ask and you can keep the harlot.” Anagor rubbed at his throat. “I’ve no desire to be here any longer than necessary. Yield the field to me for the moment.”

  Bede gasped, her spine straightening at the sneer in his voice. “How dare…”

  “Hush, Bede,” Una whispered, her fingers tightening painfully around her hand. “Let Gawain handle him.”

  “I’m getting rather tired of having to—”

  The heavy throbbing of metal clashing interrupted Bede. Gaping in horror, she winced when the stranger’s sword cut through the clasp of Gawain’s cloak, sending the garment pooling around his feet. Her horror faded to be replaced with awe when Gawain swirled in a dark cloud to come up behind their assailant, his sword shearing off locks of pale hair. His eyes darkened, glowing with inner fury. He barely spared her a glance as he struck again and again, his sword clashing with Anagor’s. Blow after blow, grunts and words in a foreign tongue spewed forth.

  The horses started, nickering in alarm when the blades connected under the force of a heavy blow sending them flying. It would have almost been comical to see the hilts waving in the air if she hadn’t been focused on the two wrestling before her. Agonized screams shattered the silence as they fought, blood splattering on the leaves beneath their feet.