bryn n sinjin 02.5 - blood lust (3 page)

I sensed the ensuing rush of her blood as her pulse sped up. I could smell her perspiration, something which thrilled me to my very core. The heaviness between my legs demanded my immediate attention and I chastised myself for becoming so aroused. My fangs were already descended and it was difficult at best to keep myself from sinking them into her supple neck.

“Let me go,” she said in a soft, breathy voice.

“Were I a Daywalker, you would now be my captive,” I replied, not bothering to release her in the slightest. I closed my eyes and gratefully inhaled her unique scent.

“I said, let me go,” she repeated, her tone of voice growing steely, even angry.

I immediately unhanded her. Taking control of my wayward emotions, I surprised myself. Not only had I fed sumptuously the evening prior to this, but I also enjoyed the curvaceous body of a very willing and passionate woman. There was no logic behind this wild desire that seemed to insist upon running rampant inside me. My fondest appetites had been amply gratified. And yet …

“Don’t do that again,” the shrew said, taking a good five steps away from me before turning around to face me. Her visage reflected her disproportionate anger. Her eyes narrowed as her cheeks flushed with heat.

“You asked me to play fairly,” I started.

“That wasn’t fair.”

“The battleground is never fair, my pet,” I informed her. “That is the first rule you must realize.”

“I know that,” she spat back insolently. “I meant, your … your closeness, your proximity to me, that wasn’t fair. You know how I feel about that.”

I had a good idea of how she felt about being touched, especially by men. She meticulously shunned anyone who came near her, lest she share physical contact with them. Of course, I was privy to how this unreasonable fear originated. While being held prisoner in Luce’s facility, she was methodically abused, and her own body was used against her wishes. She had had something taken from her which should have been hers to give away—her virginity. Consequently, she was now frigid, afraid to let any man approach her in any sort of demonstrative manner.

“I am well aware of how you feel about it,” I started in a soft tone, taking the steps that separated us. “And with regard to that very topic, you seem to be doing your best at avoiding the very conversation that you know we both must have.”

She immediately began shaking her head. “We don’t need to have any more conversations or discussions, Sinjin.”

“You know that is untrue,” I said, scrutinizing her narrowly. “There is an enormous elephant in the room, as it were.”

“As long as it isn’t trumpeting at me, I’m okay with that.”

“Unfortunately, I am not,” I persisted.

She turned on her heel and started walking away from me. I immediately materialized through the air until I was standing right in front of her. Stopping short with a quick gasp, she swallowed hard as her eyes found mine.

“Allow me to help you,” I began, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the words coming out of my mouth. I was suddenly stumped as to the best way to broach the topic.

“I don’t want anything from you, other than your training,” she announced firmly.

“Bryn,” I began, but she shook her head emphatically.

“I am a warrior,” she announced. “That is all I ever have been and all I ever want to be.”

“No,” I argued. “You are so much more than that, and you know it.”

She continued to shake her head as she walked away from me. Then she paused and turned around to face me, her expression blank. “What are you asking me, Sinjin?”

“You know quite well what I am asking,” I said in a softer tone as I approached her. I fought the urge to reach out to touch her since I knew better. As a rule, she was skittish, and even the slightest gesture of touching her would certainly push her further away. “Allow me to help you. Allow me to enlighten you as to what physical love can be between a man and a woman.”

“No,” she nearly interrupted me. “I will never allow any man to touch me again. Not you, not anyone.” Without waiting for my response, she hastily turned around and ran back through the winding trail that led to Kinloch Kirk. I allowed her to flee without chase. I preferred to be left alone with my thoughts.

I will hunt each fucking bastard down who dared to touch her and tear them limb from limb
, my voice echoed inside my head. I was surprised to discover my hands were balled into fists when my fingernails began digging into my palms.
Each one will pay for forcing himself on her. And I shall relish nothing more than glimpsing the abject fear in their eyes as I destroy them, one by one.

THREE

“Betta, do slow down, please,” I pleaded. The little mouse had a tendency to speak so quickly, her words blended together until they sounded like nothing more than drivel.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” she said, enunciating every word while her voice increased in volume. She dropped the point of her sword into the dirt before catching her breath. We had been practicing swordplay for only a few minutes, but she was inexperienced, and annoyingly so. It seemed as though the mere weight of her sword were enough to throw her off balance.

“I am not deaf, my dear,” I informed her. “I merely asked you to slow down, not to speak up.” Sighing audibly, even though it was all for show, I waited for her reply. Breathing is useless to Master Vampires or bloodsuckers, but it does serve a purpose: if only to express one’s irritation. “As to what I am getting myself into, I have a good idea.”

“No, you don’t,” she argued as she glared up at me.

“On the contrary … I do,” I stated matter-of-factly. Glancing down at the blade of my own sword, I saw my reflection looking back at me beneath the silver glare of the moon. The blade was long, clean and without any visible flaws.

It will not remain clean for very long,
I promised myself. Indeed, the goals I set would require the blade to be covered with the blood of every single filthy Elemental and Daywalker who dared to violate the Lady Bryn. Such was my mission, the sole thought and outcome that dominated my thoughts since the critical moment when Bryn confessed what happened to her. There was nothing else that motivated me.

“Then you wouldn’t be going alone,” Betta answered. I was of the belief that dear Betta had inherited some of the Lady Bryn’s rebellious disobedience as the two are very close. While the shrew does not, as a rule, trust anyone, owing to her suspicious nature, Betta is perhaps the only exception to that rule. And for good reason.

The story of Betta and Bryn began when Luce decided to abscond with the queen. Being a pragmatic creature, Luce planned to nab the queen on a day when she and her people were wholly focused on joyous events instead of defensive measures. That day, as it turned out, was her wedding day. She planned to wed the todger, Randall, and while the wedding festivities were on high, Luce began his nefarious attack.

At the time, Lady Bryn was in cahoots with Luce. She was planted inside Kinloch Kirk as a mole, and well aware of his despicable intentions to capture Jolie. In a moment of truth, however, she proved her true character and revealed her love for her sister by allying herself with her sister at the last moment. In an attempt to thwart Luce’s plans, Bryn approached me and divulged his intentions to kidnap the queen. As the queen’s protector, of course, I had to ensure that did not happen. Even though Jolie was very heavy with child at the time, I managed to transport both her and Bryn to a secret cave that was not far off the shores of Kinloch Kirk.

There, Jolie gave birth to a daughter, the princess, not long before Luce’s arrival. In a moment of sacrifice, the Lady Bryn magicked a ruse: she and the queen switched identities. The scam worked to perfection, perhaps too perfectly. Luce mistook Bryn for Jolie and imprisoned her at one of his many training facilities.

During the lady’s confinement, Betta proved to be her only friend. Being a human and, therefore, devoid of magic, Betta was relegated to a member of the house staff, or “the help.” She brought Bryn her meals and, in so doing, the two formed a fast friendship. That bond was further cemented when Betta freed Bryn, and they both escaped together. Which brings us back to the current moment …

“Again, little mouse,” I said as I motioned to her sword. She picked it up and held it improperly. I crossed my arms over my chest and regarded her with mild peevishness. “My dear, am I to infer that you have already forgotten everything you learned in our first lesson?”

“Remind me?” she asked with a sheepish grin.

“Blimey,” I muttered derisively. It did not please me to learn she had already forgotten the hour-long session we were engaged in only the previous day. I stressed how important it was that Betta learn to defend herself in case a negative situation ever arose. With such bad blood flowing between our people and those following Luce, I imagined that catastrophe was just around the corner. “Grip your sword with your dominant hand! No! Just below the guard! And grab the pommel …”

“The whattel?”

“Bloody hell,” I grumbled while shaking my head and berating myself for kindly offering to train her in the first place. “The bottom of the sword, you little twit!”

“Twit? Who says that?” she chirped with a giggle as she shook her head. “You’re totally showing your age, Sinjin,” she teased, poking me in the upper arm.

“Showing my age?” I repeated, sounding legitimately baffled. “You must feel quite brazen in mocking me since I am merely striving to help you,” I said. I cocked one eyebrow as I regarded her with a frown. “Not to mention my growing hunger, for I have not fed this day.”

Her eyes went wide for a second until she realized I was merely jesting with her. “Ha ha, Sinjin, very funny.”

“Stop your lollygagging! Get back to basics, as it were,” I started as I pointed to her sword.

“Done and done.”

“Praise be for small mercies!” I grumbled wearily, returning my attention to the task at hand. “With your left hand, grip the sword tightly with your pinky, ring, and middle fingers,” I continued. The best way for instructing her on the proper technique for holding a sword was by illustrating it on my own.

“Like this?” she asked.

“I suppose that will do,” I answered. “
You must remember that you win battles by knowing the enemy's timing, and using a timing which the enemy does not expect
,” I said.

“You do what now and how?”

“You win battles by knowing the enemy’s timing,” I repeated. “And using a timing which the enemy does not expect.” I showed her the proper tarrying procedure and sliced the blade of my sword through the air. “For your information,” I continued. “That quote comes from Miyamoto Musashi. He was an expert Japanese swordsman and a master of martial arts during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

“Well, that’s great for my history lesson, but what does it have to do with this?” the twit had the nerve to ask.

“Very little in your case,” I said as I dropped my sword. Eyeing her with undisguised annoyance, I said, “I will have you know that I am quite displeased to find it necessary to repeat our first lesson. When I instruct a pupil, I expect her to pay strict attention. I am not a man who enjoys the luxury of having any unaccounted time in my schedule.”

“Well, this stuff is all completely foreign to me! Maybe you should just expect to repeat yourself a time or two.”

“This
is
occurrence two.”

“Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I most certainly am not.”

“Just by saying ‘no, I most certainly am not’ means you are.”

I frowned at her. “You are exasperating to my nerves and vexing, to say the least.”

“Well, this sword is vexing to say the least ’cause it’s so heavy,” she retorted. Placing her hands on her hips arrogantly, she gave me the same expression as the shrew. “Why can’t I just learn how to shoot a gun and use that to protect myself instead?”

“You will learn any and all ways to protect yourself. Swordplay is merely the first lesson among many more to come,” I remarked snidely. “And as to the subject of protecting yourself, I have finished my map of the layout of Luce’s facility. I should appreciate it if you would review it for me.”

Betta was the only person to whom I could reveal my plans to infiltrate the enemy’s lair. And that trust was the result of necessity: Betta spent her whole life inside the camp. She was well accustomed to the layout, as well as the comings and goings of its people.

“I really hate your insistence on my silence with this,” she said before taking a deep breath, and exhaling just as deeply.

“I do not want to endanger anyone unnecessarily,” I responded.

“So you’re going to endanger yourself? No one will be able to help you.”

“Need I remind you that I am a Master Vampire?”

“Need I remind you that there are maybe one hundred Elementals and Daywalkers to your one Master Vampire?” the twit responded insolently. “And sorry, Sinjin, but that math doesn’t add up.”

I pulled a piece of folded paper from the pocket of my trousers, which I then handed to her. She unwrapped it and studied it, chewing her lower lip with obvious concentration. Then she began to nod. “Yep, that looks about right,” she said before handing the map I had sketched back to me.

“Have I successfully marked the location of each offender’s sleeping quarters?” I continued.

“Yes,” she said with a clipped nod before looking up at me with a deep sigh. “Now if I could only talk you out of it.”

“You cannot,” I curtly replied before returning the paper to my pocket. “But I do appreciate your assistance.”

“When are you planning to do this?” she asked.

“I must politely decline to respond. I am keeping that information to myself.”

“You’re so stubborn and headstrong, Sinjin,” she complained while shaking her head at me.

“Two attributes that have only helped me in my lengthy experience on this earth,” I quipped before turning to the next important topic at hand. “And now we must discuss step two of my plan. You must tell me everything you can about the daily schedules of each offender in question.” I motioned to a shady area beneath one of the towering pines of the forest, which bordered Kinloch Kirk. “We have perhaps twenty minutes before I am due for a meeting with the queen.”