The Sanction (22 page)

“
I will have my son with me
a little longer,” she announced, her eyes focused on the infant.
Graeme nodded. The desire to press his lips to hers, to reassure
himself that she was indeed in his care once more humbled
him.

“
We need to travel as soon
as the weather holds. Feed.”

She struggled to sit. Graeme reached
for the blade strapped to his boot and hesitated before sinking
himself upon the side of the bed. It was there he offered her his
neck. She gasped, stunned by his show of intimacy no doubt, but he
did not care. She was his mate, and he needed to feel her lips upon
him. There was a quiver in his hand when he tucked a lock of hair
behind her ear. He considered her lips and her lashes that were
clumped together from the tears she had cried. Even with the weight
she lost and the dark shadows beneath her eyes, she was beautiful.
On instinct he kissed her, a tender exploration that charged
emotions he felt cowardly to verbally express. Her seeking tongue
ventured into his mouth and he held his breath as liquid fire
exploded within. His need became a demand, and soon enough, her
labored breaths and the pounding of his own heart warned that he
needed to pause. She was hardly strong enough for this. Marshaling
his self-control, he moved back swiftly. The whimper of
disappointment she offered almost made him change his
mind.

“
There will be time enough
for that later, when you are well.” He managed to sound almost
convincing. A hot blush stained her cheeks, but not before the
nurse charged into the room, her wide hips rolling.

“
Tis time for Ulleam’s nap,”
she announced. He retrieved the child and handed him over to the
woman who cooed to the infant on her way out. As soon as the door
was closed, Graeme attempted to kiss her again. This time, with
this touch, he could not contain the moisture in his
eyes.

Amarinda gasped and pulled away,
stunned at the salty mixture of tears that invaded their meshed
lips. He attempted to turn away, but her firm staying hands held
his face in place. Worry pleated her brow. He was shedding tears.
Her heart pounded, in concern, in love, in confusion. This was the
first time she had ever seen him thus.

“
I have died a thousand
deaths, thinking I had lost you,” came a thick confession. “Ach
woman…I have been such a fool.”

Love and warmth blossomed in her chest,
drowning out the discomfort upon her back and the growl in her
stomach. Words were not needed, not when she cupped his face within
her palms and kissed him fiercely, greedily. Amidst their
love-play, she fed. Slowly, he nudged her upon her stomach to view
the damage done to the flesh of her back. His touch was tender and
hesitant, stroking the sides of her ribs and the dimples at the
bottom of her spine in wonder and regret.

“
We travel to England. Once
you and the child are safe, I will return and make the Elder pay
for doing this.”

She shuddered at the cold fury that
laced his voice, so contradictory to the warmth of his touch. “He
is no longer here.”

She groaned the exact moment his hand
left her body. “What do you mean?”

Fighting through the haze of
exhaustion, she struggled to turn to her side and winced
considerably. There in the glow of the firelight, his features were
cast in shadows and planes. The intense expression on his face lent
the flare in his honeyed gaze an almost sinister light. “I know my
grandfather. He would not stay for fear that there will be a
battle.”

“
So he flees? Like a
coward?”

She allowed her eyes to fall. “The
females will be taken to safety, as well as the Elder and those
charged with his protection.” Only when she dared to look into his
stony countenance did she see the anger that flared within his
eyes. “It matters not. I am here now.”

“
It matters not?” he
repeated distastefully, moving away to reach for the sword. “They
dared to hunt you like an animal, attempted to murder my son, and
whipped you – a female – as if you are nothing but a criminal
simply because I am your mate!” He spat the words furiously. “I
want their heads on pikes! All of them!”

Amarinda considered the heavy breaths
he took in a vain effort to contain his emotions and fiddled with
the frayed end of the coarse blanket before nibbling her swollen
lips. “Another Coven was sent to retrieve me,” she whispered. Hot
tears stung her eyes, reliving each moment even as the memories
came. “I was not whipped because of us. It was punishment for
severing the head of the Hunter who…” Her voice broke. Her clouded
gaze met his stunned eyes.

“
Whose head did you sever?”
he pressed, stunned.

She dashed the tears away and laughed
hauntingly, suddenly too tired to continue. “I took revenge the
only way I knew how. They were honoring him for killing our
son…”

His large arms embraced her and she
hollered in agony. He put her away from his quickly, face
sorrowful. “I cannot touch you, cannot make love to you…I swear on
my life this shall not go un-avenged. When I return -”

“
But you know the Elder will
not stay here.” She clutched the blanket to her chest, confused.
“What do you mean return?”

“
What they have done to you
in unforgivable,” he explained patiently, stroking the length of
her cheek. “And I need to explain to the horde that I have found my
mate among the enemy.”

She hesitated and shook her head after
a moment’s pause. “You – you cannot. They will kill you.” He
shrugged as if it were not a serious consequence and earned her
scowl. “You have bargained with a vampire to have me brought here.
Now that we are safe, can we not simply disappear?”

“
And forsake my
responsibility to my people?”

Stunned, she blinked back her tears
furiously. “Forsake them? You forsook them the moment you claimed
me!”

“
Aye,” he shot passionately.
“That I did leech. Because you are my mate. And I would do it again
if given the chance. That I have betrayed their trust to protect
you, that they will be hunted to extinction now simply because of
us does not make it right. At least they should know the
truth.”

“
And if you are
killed?”

“
I won’t be.”

She turned away and buried her face in
the pillow. The agony in her chest outweighed the sting in her
back. “If that is your decision, then I come with you.”

“
Don’t be absurd. You will
not make it to the gates.”

“
If they kill you then I am
as good as dead!” she hissed, eyes clenched tightly. “Why did you
save me only to leave me? And your son? Does he mean nothing to
you?”

“
Have a care how you speak
to me leech,” he warned darkly, a quiver in his voice. “And I said
naught of leaving you. I have a duty to them. Do you not
ken?”

“
You have a duty to
me.”

“
Ach lass,” he murmured,
sinking into the mattress to nuzzle her ear. “That I do. But I will
not allow myself to be killed when I have you waiting upon me,
naked as you are in my bed.” The palm of his hand cupped her
slightly protruding stomach and stroked there tenderly. “Trust me
when I say, once you are safe I will return.”

She pulled away from his caress. “I do
not believe you.”

Graeme clutched her chin and forced her
face to meet his. Her eyes were swamped with unshed tears. “I love
you. Do you not yet know that much?”

Her gasp was cut short by the thorough
abuse of his lips. She clung to him, her knuckles white with the
effort. “I love you too.”

An arrogant brow lifted. “Good. Then
trust me.”

Eyes closed, she took a deep breath. “I
trust you. But I do not trust the horde.”

Fingers entwined, the held each other
close that night, lost in thought and taking comfort in each
other’s arms.

Chapter Twenty

Graeme secured the weapon upon his back
and turned to face the Hunter that entered the room. To his left,
Amarinda slept peacefully. Her cheeks were blushed a healthy pink,
the aftermath of an early breakfast when he stirred before the
dawn. Beside her, the child slept, unaware of the danger they
faced.

"You are leaving without waking her."
Vilirus's accusatory tone did nothing to sooth Graeme's already
agitated state.

"Do not think to question the decisions
I make for my family boy," he growled menacingly. "I leave quietly
because she won't make this easy. All you have to do is get her to
Edinburgh and keep her safe until I arrive. That shouldn't be too
hard."

"She deserves to know."

"Knowing and doing are two different
things."

He felt the older man's eyes on him
even as he leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead and to
consider his son tenderly. When he made his way to the door it was
to motion Vilirus to follow him.

“
Take the mountain path. It
is less likely you will come upon any travelers that
way.”

“
How long before you send
word?”

“
As soon as it is
safe.”

Graeme ran his hand over his face and
grunted. Vilirus did not wait for him to state his approval, but
continued speaking instead. “When we arrive, I will send you
word.”

His fingers snatched the material of
his sleeve and he jerked him near, nose almost touching. “If
anything happens to them, make no mistake, I will kill
you.”

Vilirus jerked his arm away but did not
back down. “If anything happens to them it means I am already dead.
It is time. The sun is about to rise.”

Graeme cast another look at the
slumbering form of his mate before pulling the door closed. The
warmth of the rising sun seeped into his pores, and he inhaled the
fresh sent of spring, crisp and light and full of promise. He
mounted wordlessly, and it was with urgent resolve did he run the
horses throughout the day, not stopping to rest or eat. By the time
the stronghold came into sight, he exhaled heavily.

The castle was dark and menacing, with
no moon to light his path. No torch burned, not a sound could be
heard, and for a moment Graeme thought he was too late, that the
horde had already scattered, until he spotted swift movement on the
battlement above.

“
Open the gate keeper. It is
Graeme who seeks entrance!”

His bellow must have echoed throughout
the yard, for many heads appeared, staring him down from upon the
walls, arrows at the ready even as they identified him. The keeper
paused before opening the heavy gate, then made the leap to the
ground to block the path of his leader. He was an elderly Were, for
faint wrinkles graced his features. Graeme’s expression became
stoic as the man audaciously lifted a torch to his face to look at
him closely.

“
Are ye satisfied it is I?”
he grunted.

“
Aye.”

“
Can I come into my own home
then?”

A semi toothless grin greeted him. “Oh
aye. Ye can come in. I daresay the horde will be real cherry to see
you now that ye’ve decided to come back.”

“
Leave off old man. I told
you he had something important to see to,” Rhys snapped and pushed
forward from the shadows.

“
Aye.”

They got to the center of the yard
before Graeme’s voice reached his ear. “Wait.”

Stones crunched beneath the weight of
his step as he advanced, cautious, eyes sharp, hackles raised. It
was not the stench of vampires that assailed him, but the sense of
pure rage. Rhys started to reach for his sword, but his hand
stopped him gently. His men had a right to feel angry. He could not
fault them.

“
Light the torches,” came
his command. Nothing moved in the shadows. Only the gatekeeper
moved to obey. “By the gods, I said light the damn
torches!”

Slowly, each torch was lit, and with
its brilliant light, he was able to get a look at the men. Many did
not approach him, but chose to simply wait for the explanation he
knew he had to give. A frown pleated his forehead as he scanned the
yard.

“
Where are the
others?”

“
Gone,” an anonymous voice
offered simply.

“
Gone? What happened
here?”

“
Men returned with stories
of a village burned to the north. Of women and children
slaughtered. Many lost families.”

“
Aye. There is truth to the
tale.”

“
Is it also true then that a
babe was found with the general, broken and left for dead by the
vampires?” another voice echoed harshly in the silence.

Graeme stiffened his spine.
“Aye.”

Several Weres stepped forward, their
eyes burning in rage. “What about the rumors that you have taken a
vampire mate? That you have kept her here, beneath our very noses
for an entire season? That there is a child born of such a
union?”

Rhys’ blades sang and resonated when he
swiftly slipped them from their cases, both hands occupied. One
came to rest unapologetically against the jugular of the man who
had spoken last.