The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (15 page)

The simple act
seemed to bring her back from horror to her crazy reality.

The man was
certifiably insane.

Or was he?

Eyes glued to
his, she searched for a sign he was a few cents short of a full
dollar.

"Did you drink
my blood?"

She saw the
truth in those eyes before he spoke, "I took your vein, Anais."

The shudder was
so violent it rattled her teeth and her vision blurred.

Blinking
furiously, she knew now that the burning sensation in her belly was
real and not imagined.

A heavy wave of
nausea rose, reminding her of severe motion sickness.

Her voice was
harsh as it sawed through utter terror.

"What the
hell
does that mean?" she cried.

His eyes
narrowed fractionally at her tone before going icy cold with a
determination and a possession that chilled her to the marrow.

"It means you
are my mate. Joined to me, soul to soul, flesh to flesh and heart
to heart... until we die."

Yep, he was off
his head and absolutely certifiable.

Anais jolted,
snatching her hands from his as if she’d been electrocuted.

Leaping to her
feet she instantly regretted it as the world did indeed spin.

Marcus held her
arm and she slapped his hand away before tearing the cotton sheet
off the bed and wrapping it toga style around her trembling
body.

"Don’t you
dare
touch me," she spat the words and raced into the
bathroom to check her neck in the mirror.

Yes, there were
two tiny pinpricks on her carotid artery but no bruising.

She touched
it.

No pain.

At least that
was something.

She bared her
teeth, checked her gums, and decided she was losing her frigging
mind.

Or worse, that
she was in a hotel bedroom alone with a raging lunatic.

Marcus opened
the bathroom door, now wearing his low slung jeans unbuttoned at
the waist and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or bitterly
disappointed that he wore clothing.

He leaned
against the doorpost looking all loose and limber and totally
relaxed as his eyes met hers in the mirror.

"I suppose you
think this is really funny, a big ha-ha joke?" Her voice was going
higher and she couldn't help it. "You're scaring me, Marcus."

She checked her
neck again and now couldn’t find the pinpricks, everything looked
perfectly normal. But God, she felt physically sick and swallowed
down another horrible wave of nausea.

"You assaulted
me."

"I have told
you nothing but the truth."

Her eyes locked
with his and she read sincerity, self-belief.

Dear heaven, he
truly believed every word he said.

As if talking
to an imbecile, she articulated each word,

"Vampires. Do.
Not. Exist."

"Not vampires," he said
in the same tone as
'Pass the salt
.' "Vampyres. The emphasis
on the ‘y’ is specific."

Marcus had to
admire her courage as she stood there and beaned him with that dead
on stare.

She looked
fragile.

Now her skin
had taken on a green tinge that warned him of trouble coming sooner
rather than later.

She swallowed
audibly.

Filling a glass
with cold water, her hand was trembling as if she had a fever.

She took a sip
before spitting the liquid into the sink.

Then she
clutched her belly with what he knew would be the first wave of
many cramps as the initial one hit her.

His own stomach
clutched as she went too pale too fast.

"This whole
conversation," she gasped. "Is idioti...."

That was as far
as she got before she was violently sick in the sink.

And it wasn’t
pretty.

Praying to God
that it passed soon, Marcus held her hair back out of the line of
fire.

Anais tried to
push him away, but another bout of sickness overtook her and she
couldn’t even find the strength to scream as she stared in utter
horror at the dark, almost black, blood clots pouring out of her
into the sink.

"I'm dying,"
she moaned as another wave hit her.

He’d read about
and listened to his father lecture on the subject of the female
transition from human to vampyre, but he’d never seen a newborn
emerge before. When Anais shrieked in agony as the cramps brought
her to her knees, the thought occurred to Marcus that he should
have paid closer attention.

By the time she
was curled up in a mewling ball on the floor, he realised that
something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Alarm raced up
his spine.

It was not
supposed to be like this.

He’d never read
or heard anything about pain or such violent sickness in a mated
female.

Perhaps he’d
taken too much of her blood?

Perhaps he’d
given her too much of his?

Cold fear
joined alarm now as her cries rose and fell in a long heartfelt
wail.

His blood was
pure, handed down in a direct line from his father.

As he picked up
Anais and placed her in the vast stone bath, he wracked his brain
for information on what he needed to do next to help her.
Information that wasn’t forthcoming.

She was moaning
now, the bed sheet covered in bodily fluids and Marcus was too
afraid to leave her to call his father for help.

The next two
hours were their own version of a living hell.

And he stayed
with her until she was a whimpering mess.

Muttering
endless soothing noises that meant Christ only knew what, Marcus
managed to bathe her like a baby.

He washed her
hair and dried her limp body before wrapping her in a blanket and
placing her on their bed.

He noticed her
cheeks were flushed, but he could only hope the worst was over.

Placing the
back of his hand on her forehead he realised she was burning
up.

Jesus, now
what?

Striding into
the sitting room, he grabbed his cell and jabbed the number for his
father.

"Papa?"

Fighting to
keep the blind panic from his voice Marcus explained his
predicament.

Duncan
Gillespie gave a heartfelt sigh.

"She took too
much, too fast. Our blood is potent, Marcus. I am alerting Saira
and her team. Try and keep Anais calm."

With a sinking feeling
in his gut, Marcus simply stared at the cell phone in his hand and
realised he’d messed up.

Spectacularly.

He stalked to
the bedroom and got the shock of his life when he found the bed
empty, as was the bathroom. Heart in his mouth, he raced to the
balcony, and blew out a very relieved breath to find it still
locked from the inside.

So where the
hell was...

Before he could
complete the thought his vampyre hissed a warning.

The hair on the
back of his neck rose as a low growl sounded behind him.

He spun and
found nothing.

Then carefully,
slowly, his eyes tilted up.

Holy crap.

Shit.

Naked, Anais
clung to the ceiling with fingernails and toenails that now
resembled thick black talons. Fear for her was an icy fist in his
belly. Lumps of plaster rained down as, with some difficulty, she
made her way from a dark corner and crossed the ceiling towards
him. Damp black strands of hair hung over her bloodless face. He
didn’t miss the snarl from her throat or the way her needle sharp
fangs, small and white, pierced her bottom lip leaving a bloody
trail on the ivory wool carpet.

Wild eyes, fire
engine red and pitiless, stared into his as her head tilted back
and forth.

Ooooh, boy.

For the second
time in one day, he wished he'd listened more carefully when his
father and brothers had discussed what might happen when a newborn
vampyre was brought into the world. He'd swear they'd said it took
a minimum of three exchanges of blood before a vampyre emerged. He
and Anais had exchanged two.

So something
was very, very wrong here.

And as his
frantic thoughts spun through his head, all the while his eyes
never left the girl on the ceiling.

With her wet
hair plastered to her head, her skin almost pearlescent, those
vicious eyes, needle-sharp teeth chewing at her bottom lip and
making a big mess, never mind how her fingers and toes resembled
talons of black bone. Anais looked, well, hideous.

A mix of guilt
and sympathy rose in his lungs.

Anais must be
so confused, so bewildered at what was happening to her, and
absolutely terrified.

Poor wee
thing.

His hands
reaching out, Marcus took a step toward her.

And snatched
them back when she shrieked like a banshee.

Bloody
hell
.

The way his
heart battered against his ribs, made him rub the spot.

It cost him,
but he kept his voice calm and soft.

"Anais,
sweetheart, come down from the ceiling now. There’s a good
girl."

At the sound of
his voice her eyes narrowed into red slits that seriously freaked
him out since he could feel the dark side of his personality
revving up for action.

Her vampyre was
triggering the emergence of his. And if his vampyre went on the
attack Anais wouldn’t have a hope in hell of getting out of this in
once piece.

Although gazing
at her now he had to admit she wasn’t exactly looking her best.

"Come on,
Anais, my wee darlin’," crooned Marcus.

Her response
was a spit of something unmentionable that hit him in the eye and
stung like a bitch.

His yelp had
the monster on the ceiling chortle wildly with demonic
laughter.

And that sound,
and the sheer wickedness behind it, broke the choke hold he had on
his vampyre.

The muscles of
his torso, his arms and legs, became fuller.

His fangs shot
down from his gums.

The howl of his
vampyre's outrage shook the crystal chandelier dangling from the
ceiling.

The sound had
her red eyes go wide with what looked like shock.

Marcus wasn't
so far gone that he didn't recognise that even in the confusion of
her emerging vampyre, Anais appeared to recognise a bigger and
badder beast.

She scurried
backwards to her corner in the ceiling and watched him with big red
eyes the size of tennis balls as he stalked towards her.

His voice was a
volcanic rumble in his chest.

"Get down off
the ceiling, Anais. NOW!"

Time itself
seemed to stand still as, for a relentlessly drawn-out moment, she
simply stared at him.

Then incredibly
she pouted and made a tiny mewling sound in her throat.

Marcus merely
folded big arms over his tremendous chest and raised a dark
brow.

Her answer was
to turn her back giving him a fantastic view of her bare
bottom.

With a huge
leap and grab, he had her on the floor eating the carpet.

And Anais made
the deplorable mistake of putting up a fight.

In a flash Marcus had
the flat of his large hand pressed firmly between her shoulder
blades.

He knew it was
a regrettable fact of vampyre life that only pain inflicted hard
and fast would bring a new born back from an out of control temper
tantrum. A tantrum that had her snarling and attempting to buck
under his hand.

In this state
she had the strength of ten human men.

Good job he had
the strength of twenty.

He didn’t give
her any warning.

No point since
she wouldn’t have heard him over the snarling and shrieking that
threatened to burst his eardrums.

His hand came
down hard and fast on her bare bottom.

By the time he
was finished she was sobbing into the carpet and her backside was
glowing. An unfortunate by-product of the spanking was that Marcus
smelled her arousal. However, his vampyre didn’t think it was
unfortunate at all as he growled low in his throat. Now he sniffed
at her neck, and nuzzled his nose, his mouth and his teeth on the
frantic pulse.

Anais, bless
her, mewled and purred like a contented kitten as his vampyre slid
large hands over her burning backside and explored her intimately.
She tilted her cute little ass, came up on her knees and wiggled
her bare bottom.

Now he was
spread over her, huge thighs trembling like a stallion covering a
mare. And since there was nothing that Marcus could do about his
vampyre's needs, he decided to let nature take its course. Even in
his over-aroused state, Marcus unzipped his jeans, freed himself
and ordered his vampyre to take care with her. To give him his due,
the beast did his level best, but once he slid his throbbing shaft
into that tight, hot and wet sheath, all bets were off.

The head of his
erection was thicker in this state, more engorged with blood and
muscle and Anais fit him like a glove. Flexing his hips, watching
himself as he slid out and in, out and in, made the sting at the
base of his spine hurt so good. Her body held him in a tight, wet
fist... and squeezed. The sensation had him roar as the vicelike
muscles flexing in her core attempted to milk him. His heart jerked
against his ribs as his breath caught in his throat. Christ, he’d
never felt anything like it.

He pounded into
her, harder, faster, to the accompanying symphony of her cries of
pleasure. Her orgasm was gathering, he could feel it and it was
going to be...
outstanding
.

Her entire body
jerked, went rigid as her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream
that became an endless wail.

Her core
muscles flexed and contracted over and over as molten heat from her
womb flooded him, and his seed rocketed into her again and
again.