The Sanction (9 page)

“
Then I shall wait until I
am ransomed.”

“
You cannot wait that
long.”

“
Your blood is strong – not
like human blood. I have fed much in the past few days. My body is
stronger. I can wait.”

The need to claim her again was fueled
by the throbs of jealousy within him. He forced her thighs apart
and slipped down the length of her body. There was slight panic in
her eyes. His satanic smile complimented the snarl on his lips
perfectly. “We shall see about that.”

“
Wha-aaa…” A heated tongue
sent her voice pitching high. Nerves raw, she gasped helplessly as
he near devoured her core, grunting in contentment and pleasure.
The obscenities he spoke against her heated flesh brought her over
the edge time and time again. She begged mercy. None was
given.

“
You will take from me,” he
announced huskily, lifting his mouth from her neither-lips and
slipping the length of a finger within her. She shook her head in
response. His smile lowered until the harsh length of his tongue
stroked her core once more. Bucking, her fingers sank into the
furs. Her legs quivered, the first tell-tale sign that she was
about to be driven to the edge. Desire set him on fire. He lifted
himself quickly and plunged deeply within her, his movements
controlled. Each stroke was done with great care. Her eyes met his,
misty and swamped with lust. Graeme held her close to his taunt
form and watched in fascination as her pupils dilated and flashed
as he took her skyward. On the verge of shattering, he sank his
teeth into his wrist. At the scent of his heated blood her nostrils
flared. Almost violently she covered her mouth over the wound.
Shattering, Graeme felt her quake beneath him. Every muscle within
her contracted upon his stiff member still pumping into her. When
at last the bright light of rapture blinded him, he collapsed in a
heavy heap upon her chest. Her heart thundered. It echoed in the
deepest part of his mind.

She attempted to push him away. Graeme
met her wide, moist eyes and scowled. “If I bite you again, I will
not be satisfied until you are drained. I will see you dead before
this bond strengthen.”

He paused and considered her well
indeed. “I am your mate. You cannot help but want me.”

That he could say the words aloud
forced her to recoil. Her eyes glinted in fury, and hurt. “I do not
want you, but what I want from you is something else
entirely.”

He thundered laughter. He should have
expected her to use his own words like a sharpened sword. “Liar.”
Her gasp was buried beneath a series of violent kisses. She did not
want to feed, did she? She did not want to strengthen the
bond?

He would see about that.

Chapter Seven

Day turned to night, then day again.
Each morning Graeme would open his eyes to find her snuggled onto
of his chest. He would take in the scent of her, of their mating in
the stagnant air of the room, and relish how perfectly her body
felt molded upon his. Now that she was in full health, her form
proved almost voluptuous. Heavy breasts were crushed against his
chest, and he absently ran his hand down the length of her arm to
skim the swell of her hip. She was all woman - soft and full of
curves. And she was his.

He scowled fiercely and gently pushed
her onto the mattress. In the faint streams of sunlight, her body
flushed a delightful shade of pink. For a long time he did nothing
but look at her. It had been two weeks. Two weeks of making tender
love to her; two weeks of holding her until she fell asleep in his
embrace…two weeks of trying to convince himself that she meant
nothing to him. Graeme cursed himself for a fool. This was not what
he had expected when he put his plan into action almost a month
ago. He was supposed to return her used and ashamed. The vampires
were supposed to have her with them as a living reminder that the
females they so protected served no better use than that of
whores.

He stood and dressed in agitation. This
was a complication he had not anticipated. Feeling any tenderness
toward her did not mean that this so-called bond she had spoken
about existed. To believe so was to believe that his jealousy
stemmed from the possibility that maybe, he had fallen in love with
her.

He snickered. To love a vampire – now
there was a thought! There was nothing lovable about her. Her
tongue was as sharp as his blade, she defied him whenever feminine
fancies took to her head, and she made it perfectly clear time and
time again that having him for a mate was like copulating with
one’s food. He smiled as he recalled the amused look in her eyes
when she had teasingly announced such. It had been everything but
hilarious then. A sense of humor she had. And a tender respect he
had not initially observed. She argued with him non-stop about the
ransom he demanded, and he had indulged her with patience simply
because he enjoyed her.

Hesitating, he paused at the door and
took another glance back. She called him her mate so very often
now, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She spoke
about her brother and their outings to the river, where she was
more times than not disobedient when she was warned about getting
hurt while wading through the deep waters. He knew more about her
than he wanted to, and although the Were within him wanted to
reject her for simply being vampire, the man had already claimed
her.

Making a hasty exit, he all but stomped
his way down the narrow hall. The new moon was a daunting two days
away. He had already issued orders to the scouts to keep an eye out
for trespassers. Since the perimeter of the stronghold had been
cleared a month earlier, the vampires had kept their distance.
Graeme was not fool enough to believe that their decision not to
embark onto his territory meant that they were in any way
subservient. He anticipated a reckoning. With a hundred heads less,
he was confident that the horde could do some serious
damage.

He took himself to the private hut the
men used for washing and bathed thoroughly. It would not do for the
men to scent her oils that stained his skin. He took his time about
the matter. Three quarters of an hour later he made his way into
the pantry. One of the wenches brought him a large breakfast and
several mugs of warm, spiced milk. If anyone had noticed the large
servings of food he wolfed each day, they said nothing. He needed
to eat. It was the only way she would be properly fed.

The hours passed in drone monotony.
Graeme held a short meeting with a few of his most trusted men, in
which he carefully explained what would take place in the next
couple days. They nodded and did not ask unnecessary questions. By
the time evening faded to dusk, he was more than a little impatient
to return to the chamber he had left that self same
morning.

Dinner was still hot in his stomach
when he made his way up the staircase. He sniffed and frowned just
before he broke the landing. Rhys appeared to be leaving his
chamber, and slid the bolt home. He faced Graeme in what could only
be anger. Hackles raised, he tensed and cautiously made his way to
the far wall. Several questions darted through his mind, all of
which he intended to find the answers to.

“
What are you doing here
Rhys?”

The man’s eyes glinted dangerously.
Graeme sensed that he withheld the change with much effort. “How
long have you been dallying in her bed?”

“
She is a prisoner. I will
do with her as I damn well please.”

The man advanced slowly, his breaths
deep, nostrils flaring. Graeme forced his hands to remain at his
sides. Rhys was many things, but hot headed was not one of them. He
would not risk doing something that would cost him his
life.

“
You should have told me!”
he fumed in a guttural snarl. “A vampire? We have women here -
women who know what we are and still choose to climb into our beds.
Why the hell would you taint yourself with a vampire?!”

Graeme shouldered past him with
something of a threatening growl. He did not want to scrutinize
what he felt in his chest where she was concerned, and he sure as
hell did not want Rhys prying into exactly why he felt whatever it
was that he felt. He asked himself that too many times to recount
and was still unable to figure it out.

“
If the men find out
-”

Graeme turned about in a flash and met
his angry gaze. “How will they find out?”

He inhaled sharply. When he spoke, his
voice near trembled. “Then you have betrayed your horde by choosing
to bed a vampire!”

Graeme felt his control on the verge of
breaking. “I have not chosen her! She is being ransomed the day
after tomorrow. With a hundred less hunters we will strike hard and
fast, and would be one step closer to annihilating their race!”
Almost nose to nose now, Graeme saw that Rhys was still not fully
convinced. He turned away, breaths taken in violently. Rhys was the
closest thing he had to a friend. He did not want to make him an
enemy for the sake of a disagreement. “With the dawn you will
gather the men and have them prepared.”

He attempted to walk away, but Rhys’
heavy hand stayed him. Graeme tensed when the man’s husky voice
touched his ear. “Your pet does not carry a scent.”

He reeled away and snarled. “What
nonsense do you speak of now?”

Rhys nodded toward the door, his face
contorted with the effort to control himself. “That is what lured
me here. I could not scent her, so I came to see if she had managed
to escape. She is there – but her scent is not. You know what that
means.”

Graeme shook his head in denial and
swallowed with difficulty. Vampires lost their scent as a defense
mechanism for only two reasons – if badly wounded, or to protect a
new life within their bodies. His wide eyes looked at the heavy,
bolted door and he paled considerably. “It is
impossible!”

Rhys raked his fingers through the
length of his hair. “Or so we thought. She is carrying whatever you
put inside of her Graeme. It is neither vampire or Were. If the
horde finds out about this, you and your pet will be butchered! Her
Coven will not take kindly to that either. You have to do
something.”

“
What would you have me do?
Hand her over to the horde or kill her myself?”

Rhys inhaled a fortifying breath.
“Whatever you decide, know this – if I am forced to choose between
the vampire and the horde, I will not choose her.”

Graeme listened to the heavy steps he
took as he retreated. For a dazed moment he stood there, unable to
bring his wooden feet to move. He sniffed gently. All he could
detect was his scent, heavy in the air. He tried again. His effort
proved futile.

Suddenly weakened as if drugged, he
stumbled away and made a hasty exit toward the narrow staircase. He
needed to find the largest cask of mead he owned, and he needed to
do so fast.

****

Amarinda pressed her forehead to the
door and closed her eyes tightly. Surely the exchange she had just
overheard was wrong! Surely she could not be carrying his child in
her womb! She pressed her splayed fingers to her abdomen and made a
mad dash for the length of glass across the room. In a flash her
clothes were undone. She turned this way and that, trying to find
the slightest hint of a bump there. Her stomach was as flat and as
unblemished as it had always been.

When Rhys had charged into the chamber
a few minutes earlier it was to look at her with more disdain than
usual. He had not ventured beyond the first three steps, but even
from her perch near the window she saw how desperately he wanted to
do her bodily harm. She had panicked, and had launched to her feet
in a swift attempt at defending herself. The change had distorted
his features considerably, and she knew then that if shown the
slightest sign of fear, he would hurt her.

“
Graeme would not take
kindly to you being here,” she heard herself say. Instinct had
forced her to take refuge in the use of his name. Rhys’ eyes had
blazed like a furnace. She had readied herself for his attack. The
snarl on his face and the tensed, coiled manner he held his form
should have resulted in an impressive sprint. Instead, he turned
about and had slammed the door with a vengeance. She had crumpled
in relief the instant she scented Graeme’s approach. On weakened
knees she made it to the locked door – and had heard
everything.

She was pregnant.

Awed, she inspected her body
thoroughly. There must have been some other form of evidence that
what they said was true. And how could it be so and she was not
aware of such a fact? Surely she should have sensed
something.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes
and tried to focus on the sound of the blood rushing heatedly
through her veins. She heard the thunder of her heart and felt
tenfold the expansion of her lungs each time she took a breath.
Every sensation became heightened now that she concentrated. The
roughly hewn stone beneath her toes was numbingly cold. The fire
that was kept burning in the hearth radiated a heat that her pores
sucked in greedily. The stagnant air was moist with the heavy scent
of their love making. Still, she could neither feel nor sense a
child.

She frowned. It was said that the only
thing more accurate than a blood-hound’s sense of scent was that of
a Were. She needed to know for certain. If it was so, then there
was no possible way she could return to the Coven now. They would
see her punished, and would have the child killed long before it
breathed its’ first breath. The thought was too daunting to
consider. Still, what could she possibly do? Whether or not she was
with child, he would ransom her. She meant nothing to him when he
recognized her as his mate, and she meant nothing to him now. He
had said it to Rhys – he did not choose her. Trembling, she donned
her clothing and settled herself on the bed.