Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series (8 page)

Lorcan dragged her writhing form flush
against the metal plating on his chest, demanding through gritted
teeth, “What treachery is this? The witch is dead!” His mind was
not making sense of her appearance and fury ensued. Lorcan shook
her again, harder, before tossing her bodily ten feet from him to
the snowy ground. A bolt of sizzling light flew from the sky and
pierced the ground but a few feet from him, accompanying her shriek
of pain. He was oblivious to the threat but his men began to shift
uneasily as Lorcan ground out “Answer me!”

She moved not from where she landed but only
drew her knees towards her chest. Kaitriana was panting through the
pain, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. She lifted those watery
eyes to him, hearing the crunch of his boots over snow as he
approached, and extended a trembling hand in his direction.

Was she attempting to ward him off or reach
for him? Having seen enough transitions to know that she was in the
final stages, he also knew that in such state, no matter how
powerful, she would be in no condition to fight him. He crouched on
a single knee next to her, using her extended hand to jerk her
roughly to him. Supporting her torso on that bended knee, he
encased her upper body in the steel bands of his arms. Lorcan’s
fangs extended further, his eyes blackening with his rage. He
leaned to put his face in hers, his voice deadly cold, “Tell me,
you deceitful bitch, why I do not tear your throat wide and end you
now?”

Her lids lowered slowly, she thought the pain
must have made her daft. The blackness of his eyes, induced by his
Vampiric traits when his emotions were heightened, was ringed in
vivid blue. She experienced a rush of cool breath from his mouth as
his fangs touched the vein of her neck in warning. She would not
give him the pleasure of witnessing her fear, just as she had not
with those evil vampires of the Dark that fateful night long ago.
In the throes of her misery she was too beleaguered by it to spend
energy imagining her death at his hands. Death would be a welcome
escape from the relentless agony that had arrived so suddenly.
Overwhelmed by it, she had possessed barely the strength to take
leave of the last of Rhydach’s manors that she had destroyed.

In her quest for the death of a killer she
had destroyed any and all of Rhydach’s possessions and people that
stood in her way. She had found the other bastard responsible for
her parents’ murder and had exalted in his torment and the horror
of his allies before she had ended them all. The pain that had come
upon her immediately afterwards was crippling; although she had
called desperately for Myrrdyn, he had not come to her rescue. Her
memories had pushed her here and God had answered her prayers.
Lorcan was in residence this night.

Another series of knifing pains shot through
her entire being and the moan of misery escaped despite her best
efforts. In response she rolled her body tighter against Lorcan, as
if seeking comfort in the fold of his arms, rather than away from
the threat he currently presented. Buried under that pain, in the
recesses of her mind, she still had a tenuous grip on the
deep-rooted belief that he would protect her. Her action exposed
the slim column of her neck to him only more fully.

He found it odd that she offered no defense.
Was there no fight in her? To him her silence was an admission of
guilt, treachery. Lorcan tucked her up higher against him as he
readied her neck for his bite; he wanted her tormented and he
wanted her fear. Her blood stained hands splayed across his chest,
but she did not push, she did not resist. Damn it, he wanted her to
fight and he wanted to relish in the victory of her death. Lorcan
grazed his lips over her ear and paused there to whisper as she
shivered, “I will have you begging for my mercy.”

His mouth slipped downward and his fangs
found the top of her throat, under the jaw line. He pressed only
hard enough to drag sharp tips roughly down the entire length,
leaving two thin trails of blood glistening against her pale skin.
This evil would cower to him. By all that was Ancient, the creature
would be begging for the end when he decided to deliver it.

Her only protest to the injury was the
claw-like grip of her nails against his upper arm. Lorcan used the
mass of curls to jerk her head back, her face completely visible
now as he crushed her body tighter to his. What a shame that such a
beauty need be destroyed; his mind unwillingly registered the soft
curves of her where they fit against him. His fingertip touched at
her upper lip and lifted, examining the pearly white and
beautifully formed fang beneath. Her breathing had become low and
shallow; it appeared the transition was complete. That served him
well. She would remain weak in her new state for quite some time
and, with that pain leaving, the hurt he would return to her would
bring about the fear and surrender that he needed to witness.

Her lids drifted up as he completed his
inspection and her eyes found his. Those haunting eyes served only
to stoke his upset. He yanked on her hair again, twisting so as to
present her neck in offering. The smile he gave her was bitter and
did not soften the ferocity of his inky glare, “Little evil one, I
shall now teach you to fear me. The pain of your transition will
seem a pleasant memory by the time I am finished.”

Kaitriana gazed at him calmly before lowering
her lashes. Exhausted, she refused to engage. He lowered his mouth
once more, his fangs tearing deep at the skin of her throat but
still not biting. Lorcan made two more gashes down the entire
length and he knew it must sting wickedly. He felt her shudder, saw
her right hand clench and took pleasure in the fact that he was
correct. Her blood was warm, its essence heady; he would enjoy
draining it but for now he intended to toy with her until his rage
was tempered from hearing her cries.

He flicked at the broken skin with his
tongue, helping her immortal flesh heal more quickly as he lingered
over her taste. Lorcan watched the wounds close, wondering who in
the Dark was responsible for creating such a beauty. Surely they
must know that she would be coming to her death by seeking him. He
would require those answers too before he let her convince him to
end her. He knew full well he would have no problem in devising the
methods to drag the responses from the girl.

As he waited for the damage on her neck to
heal completely, Lorcan rubbed a finger lightly over her parted
lips. The touch was almost gentle and the soft stroking caused her
to relax without thinking. Her lips parted more fully for him. At
her seeming invitation, he pushed her upper lip back giving closer
inspection to her fangs. She was an exquisite little thing, had she
been his Kaitriana he would have found her irresistible in this
transitioned form. Taking his fingertip he circled the ivory point,
back and forth between and again, until she was writhing in his
grasp. He knew the new formations were incredibly sensitive and
that the repeated touch would be so pleasurable as to be near
pain.

He knew also that by this time the hunger
must be overcoming her, “Ah, Beauty, unfulfilled thirst in the
newly born is a torture in and of itself.” Lorcan sliced the tip of
his finger wide on her fang and watched the points extend further
in response to his blood. He rubbed the bleeding tip round and
round each fang, taking vicious delight in her little throaty growl
of need. Finally Lorcan traced it once more slowly on each point
before spreading it languidly across her lower lip. Knowing it
would set her off towards madness, he whispered to her, “I shall
love watching you burn with it.”

Her eyes clashed with his at the last taunt,
the blue being swamped by inky darkness as she sucked ravenously at
the red stain on her lower lip. She was unsuccessful at conquering
the sudden voracious need that had swept her with the first red
drops he had spilled over her fangs. Kaitriana imagined she could
easily be brought to beg for more of his taste. She knew by the
cold sneer he gave her that she had been unsuccessful too at hiding
her dread over the recently realized hunger and the additional
weapon it gave him against her.

Lorcan wondered when he watched her eyes
begin shift to black if it was due to her fear or her hunger.
Either suited him just as well. The gashes on her neck were gone;
he abruptly jerked her neck back to him to tear open the column of
skin, setting his teeth more deeply into her flesh. His actions
this time were rewarded with her whimper and Lorcan smiled against
her skin as he completed the course downward. Releasing his hold on
her neck, he raised his hand and probed the seam of her lips again
with his still bleeding fingertip. He was watching intently,
gauging her response, and met her gaze coolly when it shot upwards
to his with alarm.

The intensity of the hunger was removing her
ability to think and Kaitriana could not stop herself from drawing
the tip between her lips and licking fervently. Lorcan watched the
extreme pleasure play across her features and let her lap away
greedily for minutes before he pulled his hand mercilessly away. He
reveled in it when he heard her whisper ‘please.’ A cruel smile
finally broke his expression as he whispered, “Please? What do you
want from me, Beauty?”

Lorcan trailed the bloodied fingertip down
the length of her arm. The scent of it so close drove her to twist
restlessly against him. Capturing her wrist in the circle of his
fingers, he lifted her limp arm upwards and examined the fine bones
of her hand. Continuing his study, he whispered callously, “Beg me
for more, little vampire. Beg me…”

He closed his mouth on her wrist at that
moment, sinking his fangs in slowly. When buried deep, he twisted
his mouth to rip the flesh open painfully. She flinched but did not
cry out. The sweet taste of her washed over his tongue and the
unwanted pleasure he derived from drinking her in only caused his
burning wrath to fester.Withdrawing his fangs, he glanced down at
her derisively and whispered the order again.

At her sustained silence, he repeated the
torturous bite of her wrist. To Lorcan’s surprise, although her
body stiffened she still did not beg for release from her hunger or
his persecution. He increased the pressure of his bite and growled
his frustration over her resistance.

She could not hold the whimper that formed
this time at the pain wrought by his mouth, but took advantage of
the fact that his tight grip on her body had eased. Kaitriana
rolled herself tighter into the cradle of his chest. She finally
had her wits enough that she understood she would need to make her
case with him before he destroyed her. Tucking her head against his
shoulder, her free arm slid around his waist to his back, clinging
to him rather than pushing free. Had her actions not already given
him pause, her words did. Though weak, they reached his ears
easily, “Myrrdyn… sent me…to you…”

Kaitriana wanted to sleep for another five
hundred years for this night had been not worth awakening. She felt
she might never return from this exhaustion, much less the torture
at the hands of her supposed protector. However, she felt magic
sparking within her and she needed his help to gain control of
herself before she lost control of the power. It was important,
urgent even.

Myrrdyn…one did not invoke the name of the
Sorcerer of Light in jest or deceit if one valued living. Would
Myrrdyn have sent him this newly born vampire female? To what
purpose? The men in his guard had been long forgotten, but
remembered now as Lorcan heard them stirring behind him at the
mention of the old witch’s name. He released his grip on her arm,
demanding simply, “Why?”

Threading his fingers through her hair he
pulled her head back, easier this time. As he gazed down at her
Lorcan wondered if she would give him trickery in her answer. Her
eyes were edged with pain and fatigue. Weakly, the fingertips of
her left hand began kneading the front of his armor and she
attempted to tuck her head under his chin despite his hold on her.
She issued the response wearily, “To…protect.”

There was a scoff of disbelief behind them,
her words had been overheard. Trickery indeed, the mighty Sorcerer
knew better than to send protection for the Warrior of Light. Anger
rekindled in his eyes. Kaitriana felt it in the tightening of his
grip around her; she was at her limit and could take no more.
Instinct drove her and she nuzzled her face into the crook of his
neck. Upon hearing his indrawn breath, she pleaded as he had
demanded earlier, but for different purpose, “Please Lorcan, I
cannot continue with this….Please…
you
…are
to protect…
me
…”

Lorcan stroked her cheek lightly to encourage
her, eager to hear what falsehood her lying tongue would deliver to
him next. He realized with extreme disappointment that she had been
much easier to break than he had anticipated. She was already
weaving tales to save herself from further torture. Unfortunately
for her, he had much more that he intended to deliver. Soon he
would be rewarded with her words pleading for her own death.

He pressed his lips against her skin,
delivering a number of pleasurable nips first up the creamy path of
her throat. Lorcan enjoyed feeling her uncontrolled shudder in
response; his bite could easily deliver as much pleasure as pain.
He ended the trek by driving his fangs deep and twisting, rending a
deep gash in her skin just below her jaw line.

Kaitriana arched her back high off his leg as
an anguished scream tore from her and tears began anew, coursing
freely down her cheeks. “Please Lorcan, please, please….” she was
hissing against the pain. Trying to keep her mind together so that
she might choose her words more carefully, she offered quickly,
“Tis no treachery here…I did not perish in the hands of the Dark at
the Festival.”