Forsaken Heart

by Elise Whyles

  * * * *

  Gawain hunkered down, his grip on Bede’s arm tight. Pale silver light lit the area. She caught the smell of blood, her eyes taking in the flames of the torches, the outline of men pacing along the turrets. Their voices rose on the night wind but remained muffled. It didn’t matter.

  “What is that?” Bede pointed past the buildings to a small glimmer set against the rocks of a massive wall.

  “The gateway. Come, we will need to seek the keeper to gain entrance to my realm. No matter what you hear, do not speak. Mortals are forbidden to travel through our portals.”

  “Why?”

  Gawain shrugged. “Because Hema condemned all of Saltar’s followers to mortality. He made a deal with those who guard them so any of mortal flesh would perish if they were found near a portal. Come, keep quiet. Do as I say without question.”

  Bede nodded. Biting her lip, she followed him through the darkness to the stone wall. Curious, she watched him tap the stones, his head tilted slightly.

  “Who dares to disturb my rest?” Soft, honeyed, the words filled the air with a warmth and kindness that belied the demand.

  “I am Gawain, one of Hema’s warriors. Marshante—”

  “Yes, yes, she told me you were coming.” The wall wavered and a cloaked figure stepped through. “Told me as well you would be bringing your mate.”

  “I must get her—”

  “’Tis home you wish to go?”

  Gawain stared hard at the old crone who eyed Bede like a slab of salt pork. “Open the portal, keeper. King—”

  “Hema will understand naught. You bring one of his line into his court and you shall be dealt a blow of death.”

  “She is mine,” he ground out, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. “Any who think to harm will feel the sting of my blade.”

  “Then step through the doorway,” she cackled. Her gnarled hands pressed the stone symbols and the shimmer of water filled the growing dawn.

  Gawain reached for Bede’s hand. “Come, Bede. You will be safe until I can find the traitor in our midst. If Dorstan comes for us, we will have to fight.”

  “Gawain, milord, I do not fear what lies beyond the doorway,” Bede whispered, her fingers tightening around his. “I fear what lies within your heart. You cannot face an entire army alone.”

  “I swore I would return your sister—and I shall.”

  “Not at the expense—”

  “Your time to pass grows short.”

  With a glance at the sky, Bede clung to Gawain’s hand as he stepped into the lighted archway. What awaited them? Offering a reverent prayer, she swallowed her fear and followed her mate.

  * * * *

  Gawain stepped through the light, his stomach twisted in knots. Would his kind accept her? He pushed aside his fear and pulled her with him—into the great throne room of Hema, King of all Bloodseekers.

  Sitting on the high throne, Hema stared out over the assembled courtiers, with a bored expression. The king’s attention was focused on two nymphs dancing, their bodies swaying seductively to the sound of Liar.

  Beyond the women, several men stood, lust in their eyes. He took note of who of the great army was in court and spat a silent curse when he recognized all but two of his sect.

  “You brought the bitch and forsake the one you were sent for.” Dorstan’s sneer rose above the sounds of merriment.

  Pulling Bede against his back, Gawain faced his commander. “I have news on the babe. Rest easy, milord, she will be returned—”

  “Kill the mortal!” Dorstan screamed, pointing at Bede. “Kill her now!”

  Fury rose like a winter storm, lashing at Gawain’s control as the warriors advanced. With a sickening grate of metal against metal, he withdrew his sword. His muscles tensed, fangs sharpened, eyes narrowed at the threat. The hint of blood on the air enough to stir his beast, he plucked at his tunic, the serpent beneath flaring to life. “To get to her, you’ll need to go through me. She is mine and no other will touch her.”

  “Stand aside.” Cultured, the roar had men splitting apart, their eyes on Gawain who stood at the ready.

  Anger swirled, thickening his blood as he watched his king approach. As tall as he was wide, Hema had an air of importance, of worth about him that made others look away. His red eyes glowed with emotion, fury, hatred, all lashed into a ball of darkness within his chest. He raised an eyebrow at Gawain’s low growl at the flash of a fang in Bede’s direction.

  “We do not allow mortals within—”

  “She is mine.” Gawain hissed. “By right, by blood, by Selene’s hand! To take her from me you will have to kill me.”

  “She is mortal!” Hema roared. “We do not—”

  “I care not what you will or will not permit. She is mine and she will remain here.” Gawain rolled the sword in his hand, gauging the weight, the strength of the blade. He felt Bede’s tiny hands against his back, smelt her fear, and it sickened him. With a low hiss he could feel the beast within rising, the slow glide of scales against his flesh, and he knew…his inner demon was waking.

  “Milord.” The soft gasp of one of the ladies of court drew every eye. She stared, her eyes widened with horror, one scarlet tipped finger pointing behind Gawain.

  He turned, his senses already confirming what he knew. Bede stood, her darkened gaze narrowed, fangs dripping, her throat moving with each breath as her beast stirred, coiled around her neck, its golden eyes glowing, its fangs unfurled. Bede, Forsaken, was once more on the verge of being what she was meant to be.

  “Come, surely you would rather a lady of refinement to warm your bed.” Soft, seductive, Hema’s youngest consort swayed across the floor. She smiled seductively, an invitation in her eyes. Her tongue darted out as she drew her nails down Gawain’s chest, tangling within the lacing of his tunic. Inch by inch she pulled the leather thongs loose, her free hand trailing down his body to the placket of his trousers. “Surely, milord would—”

  “Only if you shall desire to lose the hand,” Bede ground out, malice in her voice. Stepping between the woman and Gawain, she reached for the handle of her dagger.

  “Enough.” Gawain slid an arm around her waist. He slid his sword into his scabbard. “I’ll not hear another word on it. Milord, there are far more important issues at stake than the lifespan or lack thereof of my woman.”

  “She is mortal,” the courtesan whined to Hema, her lips down turned.

  Gawain spared the wench a quick glance before ignoring her petulant behavior. “Sir, you must deal with the issue of the traitor within your court. It was told us by two there is one in your court who wears two faces.”

  “What nonsense.” Hema snorted. “Dorstan, see that the mortal is roomed below. Gawain, I would speak with you on completing your tasks.”

  “Harm her…” Gawain grabbed Dorstan’s arm. “And all the powers of Selene will not save you from my wrath.”

  “Dorstan.” Hema’s low pitched warning did little to smooth the disdain from his face.

  “Go with him,” Gawain whispered to Bede. “I will be along soon.” He watched her follow Dorstan from the great hall and vanish into the corridors leading to the private chambers.

  When she was out of sight he turned back to face his king. Fury raced like ants along his flesh, his muscles bunched and tight. Primed for battle he stared, poised to grab his sword if it were needed. The power and poison of his beast flowed through his veins. Any who challenged him would risk more than injury, they risked death itself.

  “Gawain, as you are aware, there is a reason we do not allow mortals in our realm. She is food, nothing more. To break your vows and drink—”

  “She is mine.” Gawain snarled, his hand dropping to his sword. “If I want to drink of her I will. It is my vow, my honor…”

  “Be certain of what you are doing.” Hema strode to the throne and settled back. “Now, you spoke of one who wears two faces. I am no fool, I know of traitors within my ranks. That is why I sent for the baby.
”

  “She has been taken, Anagor stole her. He said she belonged to another. The girl sacrificed herself to save Bede while Anagor nearly killed me.” Gawain frowned, a niggling tickle running along his shoulders. Closing his eyes, he focused on where it was coming from, every sense attuned to it.

  Sweet, tender, Bede’s scent filled his head. She stood before a massive window overlooking the bay and trailed her nails over her skin. Her mind focused on him, her thoughts on the nights spent at Marshante’s.

  Breaking his focus, he turned his attention back to Hema who sat, frowning, his red eyes searching the room. It didn’t take much for Gawain to assume Hema was wondering, seeking any sign of the traitor, and he felt a sharp jab of shame.

  “I will do all within my power to aid you, my king, but I will not risk my mate or her sister. Selene has blessed me and I will not challenge our mother.”

  “So be it then.” Hema leaned forward, his lips curling up in a sardonic grin. “Only you would dare to think a mate of your take out food.”

  Chapter 12

  “Find the child, Gawain, and return her to me.” Hema waved for a chalice of blood. He stood, his eyes narrowed with unspoken threat. “Ensure the continuation of our world. Do not fail me, my loyal warrior. Find her, secure my crown…and your transgression shall be forgiven.”

  Gawain shuddered as Hema transported from the room. Heaving a breath, he ignored those who stood gaping at him and stalked down the corridor to his suite within the palace.

  Pacing the confines of his chamber, Gawain couldn’t shake the weight of guilt. Which transgression did Hema speak of? The death of their beloved queen or the loss of the child? Either were grounds for dismissal from his sect, and the binding of his gifts.

  With a curse, he debated what he could do now. There was no giving life to one so long dead, but there was hope he could retrieve the child. Indeed, he’d lost Una before they’d managed to get her here, risking his kind, the very world he lived in, but it was not the end of things. She was alive, safe, at least until Amuliana decided to rid herself of her.

  Pushing past the thoughts of his failure, Gawain focused instead on dealing with his mate. There was no other explanation. No way could she be anything but his. Eight hundred years of temptations had never made him want to break his vows, but a simple touch from her got him harder than a gargoyle in stone. His fellow bloodsuckers believed Bede was something to be reviled, little more than dinner, but to him she was everything.

  “So forgiving. Trying to make me believe she doesn’t blame me for the loss of her sister, but I know it must weigh on her. If I can return her to Bede, perchance…” He paused. “But to get there would mean going through another portal. I’d need more coin. How to get it without the king knowing? He did want me to retrieve the girl, but he would not allow another portal jump—especially to the heart of Amuliana’s territory.”

  Lighting candles, he moved them to the altar, his gaze lifting to the stone woman for a moment. There had to be a way to reclaim Bede’s sister and he didn’t intend to allow anyone to stand in his way. If Una was at the temple of Amsuloa, the one place a mortal could attend within Dromberge, there was no way he could take Bede, she’d be at risk by those that worshiped Amuliana. No, he’d have to leave her here, something he could do without concern. Hema wouldn’t dare do anything to Bede, knowing as he did that Gawain would revolt. When claimed, his kind were notoriously fixated.

  “I will venture out at moonrise,” Gawain vowed, stripping down to his leather trews before kneeling at the foot of the altar. Bowing his head, he focused. “Bless me, Selene, for I seek to return to my mate, my chosen, the one she longs for of her flesh. I ask you protect Bede and young Una until I can fix the failure resting so heavily upon my soul.”

  * * * *

  Pale light slipped through the sheer gauze curtains as Bede sat on her bed. The room was opulent. The massive four-poster bed was larger than her bedchamber back home. Ornate tables were covered with pitchers and platters, silver combs, brushes, and several trays of some substance she vaguely recognized as cosmetics. Massive candelabras stood around the room, the candles flickering with light.

  Shedding the worn, stained robes she’d arrived in, Bede sighed and sank deep into the steaming, fragrant water of the bath several slaves had drawn for her.

  “Some things never change,” she whispered as two delicate looking girls bustled around the room. She watched them lay out a pale gown, sandals, and a sheer wrap. They hovered, their voices muted as she washed before rising. Bede jumped when they wrapped her in a large, soft towel and began brushing out her long tresses.

  “When will Gawain be here?” Bede caught the gaze of one of the girls.

  “He lives in chambers on the other side,” the younger of the pair explained. “It is rare for one of his rank to be here, in this hall. It’s reserved only for those of the…”

  Bede narrowed her eyes, fury rising like a tempest within her. Why would they put her in these rooms when they knew she was his mate? Did they not understand? With each passing second she could feel her emotions swaying, the anger, the disgust, rising until she wanted to rip someone apart.

  “Where are these chambers?” she ground out.

  “The king’s guard is housed two floors above—”

  “Oresta, be still. You’ll not be rewarded—”

  “Leave me.” Bede waved at them. “I’ll find him myself.” She watched the pair scurry from the room, their heads bent together.

  Stewing in her anger, Bede tugged the sheer wrap into place. She opened the bedroom door and peeked out. The corridor was cast in shadows. A torch flickered in the silence, but there were no guards in sight. The muted voices of a pair had her pressing her back to the wall as she eased along the darkness. Ignoring the silent guards that stood before two massive, ornately carved doors, Bede darted down another corridor. Her bare feet slapped a rapid rhythm along the stone floor.

  Pressed against a door, her heart racing, Bede froze. Desire hit, stirring her blood. Strong, metallic, the familiar scent of Gawain’s blood filled her head. Her breasts felt heavy, and heat pooled between her legs as she opened the door a crack.

  Kneeling before a carved stone altar, Gawain rested on his heels, his head bowed. Bede glanced behind her before stepping into the room and closing the door with a soft click. She shoved the deadbolt into place and stepped deeper into the room.

  “I do not wish to be—”

  “Milord.” Bede paused, her breath catching in her throat. “I…”

  “Bede.” Gawain stood, his jaw dropping.

  Bede offered a small smile, her fingers unwrapping her cloak to let it pool in a shimmering heap at her feet. Heat flared in her body at the lust in his gaze as it traced over her naked curves. Her fingers trailed up her throat, pausing at her lips. Tracing the outline of her lips, she dipped a finger into her mouth, sucking on the digit gently before pulling it out.

  She shivered as his eyes follow her movement as she trailed her fingers down her throat. Her nails followed a silent path down her body, stopping to tease before she dipped them between her breasts, up to the puckered nipple. Twisting it between her forefinger and thumb, she couldn’t help her ragged breathing.

  Bede watched his gaze follow her touch. From her nipples to her abdomen. She caught the faint hitch in his breathing when she slid her fingers through the curls at the apex of her thighs. Gasping when she brushed over her clit, Bede shuddered at the wave of electricity rushing through her. Swollen and throbbing, her folds yielded to her touch, and she whimpered at the moist heat.

  “Gods above, Gawain. I yearn for you and they wanted to keep us apart,” Bede whispered. “I want to feel your hard cock within me, feel you fill me until I don’t know where you stop and I start.”

  “Bede, precious.” Gawain strode through the darkness to grab her. Scorching, his lips pressed to hers in a passionate kiss. His tongue stroked along hers, the rich taste of him strong in her mouth.


  She whimpered at the feel of his palm on her breast. He rubbed the aching tip, his hips pressed against hers. Her hips rolled, rubbing along the hardened length behind the smooth leather. Desire rose like a raging river, flooding her mind and body.

  “Oh!” Bede clung to him when he lifted her against his hard chest. She shuddered as he sat her on the edge of the altar. Icy stone did little to cool the heat flowing through her. “Gawain, what?”

  “Shh.” Gawain growled, pressing a biting kiss to her jaw.

  She shivered as he trailed a hand roughly down her body, palming her heat. Hissing in a breath, she writhed when he slid a single finger into her. He pumped it in and out, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her head slammed into the wall behind them, her fingers reaching for his shoulders as he bent his head to bite and suck at her nipples.

  “Yes, come for me,” he bit out, his fingers moving quicker and quicker until she felt wound tighter than ever before.

  She moaned when he dropped to his knees, his palms smoothing down her torso to her hips before spreading her thighs. Hot, smooth, the flesh of his shoulders brushed against the tender skin of her inner thighs. Bede closed her eyes at the first glide of his tongue against her clit. Arching into the sweep of his tongue, Bede clasped her thighs around his head, her voice squeaking out with each brush of his lips against her core. A strangled scream escaped when he slid his finger into her depths, his tongue flicking at the swollen nubbin at the top of her folds.

  Her orgasm swelled, pushing at the boundaries of her control as he thrust his fingers into her again and again. Her thighs tightened, her heels digging into his back. Bede swallowed a scream of frustration as he pulled back, his arms swinging under her knees, forcing them back until she was spread for him.

  “Please…” Bede stared into his eyes as he stood, a fine sheen of sweat on his chest.

  “My pants.” His growled command brooked no argument. Without thought, she ripped the lacings free and pushed the material over his hips, swallowing at the sight of his hard cock glistening with precum.