MIDNIGHT CONQUEST: Book 1 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (16 page)

She propped herself upon her elbow and reached out to touch him. “I want to see all of you, Broderick,” she begged with her husky voice, and tugged at his breeches.

Again, no further encouragement necessary, Broderick did as she commanded and finished stripping, laying down next to her. He seized her mouth in a greedy kiss, pulling her to him, seeking to remove the barrier of her night dress. Slipping his hands under the gossamer material and finally touching her velvet soft skin, he groaned and sought to caress every inch of her flesh. So warm. So inviting. Why could he not get enough of this woman?

Davina wrapped her leg over Broderick’s hip, and her hand slipped between their bodies, her slight fingers caressing his turgid shaft with feather touches.

Broderick growled. “Oh, you will be the death of me!”

“Am I not touching you proper?” Her wide and innocent eyes inquired him.

“Nay, ‘tis right and proper you are, which is why you shall do me in.” Broderick reached around the back of her and stroked the wet folds between her legs, causing her to gasp.

“Then if this is dying,” she breathed, “Do me in, too.”

Broderick chuckled. “Aye, blossom.”

They stroked each other, their moans and panting escalating to a fevered pace.

“Fill me, Broderick! Take me!”

His cock, already damp with his own desire, slid effortlessly into Davina’s tight wet quim, pulsing and hugging his shaft, fitting around him with perfection. He cried out, grunting her name into her silken red hair, as he angled her hips to meet him, thrust for thrust.

“Harder!” Davina clung to his back, pulling him deeper as her heels dug into his backside. “Harder, Broderick!”

This woman was a fantasy come to life, so full of passion and hunger. Broderick could do no more than everything in his power to fulfill her desires, and pumped them both to an earth-shattering climax that left them breathless in each other’s arms.

Still laying on top of her, taking pleasure in her flesh pulsing around his shaft, Broderick touched his lips over her face, breasts and shoulders with languishing, adoring kisses.

“Stay with me forever, Broderick.” She breathed the words, and yet it seemed to Broderick she shouted them, so shocking were they to his being.

He looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Davina, I…” He regretted the words as soon as her face melted from passion to pain. Tears welled in her eyes and she pushed away from him, donning her robe from the settee.

“I knew this would happen.” She crossed her arms defensively. “I was a fool to believe you would want anything more.”

“Davina, you don’t understand what you ask of me.” Decades of revenge surrounded his life. His immortality. The danger she would be in if he loved her.

“Nay! I understand perfectly, and I had childish dreams of a life together. ‘Tis my fault. You had your tryst. Now go.” She turned her back on him and sobbed. In the distance, he could hear the baying of child.

“Davina—”

“Go!”

Broderick’s eyes opened and he stared at the rough rock ceiling. Aggravation knitted his brow and a frown formed upon his lips—another dream.

He sat up and rubbed his face, then groaned from his throbbing erection. Shaking his head, he breathed deep the stale air, his eyes piercing the darkness with the sensitive sight immortality gave him. Only darkness came through the parting folds of the curtain barrier Broderick placed deep inside the cave. The leaves rustled in the wind just outside.

The presence of these slumbering daytime visions perplexed him. For thirty years, nothing; and now a dream almost every day he slept. Even more unnerving than the dreams, they were all about Davina. She fascinated him, and that disturbed him to distraction.

The dreams these last few days contained visions of him visiting her chamber for romantic encounters. With minute variations as to how they engaged, the amorous meetings were similar in their structure—he came to her, she surrendered to him, and then left her crying when she asked for more than the brief coupling. All of them ended with the soft weeping of a child, lingering in the background, while Davina cried and cursed him.

Pushing the visions aside, he rose, agitated. Where was Davina now? Did she sit by the fire in her chamber doing what noblewomen do—reading, tending to needlework, reflecting on private thoughts? Or had she already left for a rendezvous with Angus, plotting the next stage in his trap?

Broderick cursed and dressed. With his silver sword fastened to his hips, he pushed the visions of Davina aside and stepped out of the cave, roaming his eyes around the darkness. Silence enveloped him, save for the distant rustling of branches stirred by the wind. Closing his eyes, he extended his senses outward in all directions. As always, he took every opportunity to extend his range by exercising his abilities. He waited. A tingling over the hairs on the back of his neck sent shivers of anticipation down his arms. “The hunt is on, old friend,” Broderick growled and set off in the direction the sensation originated from.

Racing through the trees, he approached the presence of the other Vamsyrian, whom by now he knew to be Angus. He grinned in triumph when the essence still didn’t retreat as Broderick drew closer. It seemed Angus couldn’t sense Broderick’s spirit just yet, as he had not reached the standard boundary. Broderick extended his abilities to include emotion. Though not yet close enough, he prepared to feel them when he came within range. He scanned the area, roaming over the new terrain—a different direction than when he followed the trail on his first night in Stewart Glen. Fear, mixed with frustration, hit his gut with a greater force than he anticipated. Broderick laughed out loud and drew his sword. He surprised Angus and could feel his hasty retreat! The rush of adrenaline gave Broderick new speed and he pressed harder toward his target. And then, like the flame of a candle flickering as it lost fuel, Angus’s presence faded. Within seconds, Broderick lost the trail. Confusion slowed his pace as he searched the area, stretching his senses out as far as he could manage. Broderick stopped, closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, willing to reestablish the trail, but received nothing.

Broderick stood in the silence of the forest, hoping the sensations would return. After a long period of no result, his shoulders sagged in defeat. With a grunt, he shoved his sword back into its scabbard and marched in the direction he last sensed Angus heading. Just over the rise of a hill and through the trees, he found the remains of a small, stone structure. A tower, perhaps, situated at the corner of a perimeter wall. The remaining stones littering the ground around the structure indicated as much, and Broderick stepped through the open doorway at the base of the ruin. The wooden floor, not yet rotting, groaned under his weight. He glanced up to see part of the ceiling opened to the night sky.

A diligent search revealed a locked trap door in a darkened corner. Broderick kicked the boards in and tossed the broken pieces aside. As with the other lair, no physical evidence revealed who the daytime dwelling belonged to, but Broderick could smell the same spicy essence he did from the lair he found his first night in this area. The occupant had to be Angus. Making quick work of his efforts, Broderick destroyed the dwelling, busting up the boards and scattering the pieces as far as he could throw them in many directions. Though the structure could likely be repaired, Angus would still have to spend the time to do so.

Turning on his heel, he headed to the first lair he found and destroyed. Angus appeared to have repaired this one, digging out the hole once more and replacing the boulder. Broderick repeated the destruction by pushing the boulder as far from the site as possible and filling in the hole with dirt and forest debris as best he could. Neither of these methods were sure ways of destroying a lair, as was evident with Angus’s rebuilding. Only sprinkling true holy water on the site would prevent any Vamsyrian from using the lair, but such a thing was very hard to come by—if it existed at all—and using such a rare item for this minor task would be a waste. Water blessed by a priest or clergy of the church would do nothing to a Vamsyrian. They were only servants of God, and bore their own faults and sins upon their heads. Water to harm a Vamsyrian must to be touched by God Himself. Broderick’s teacher Rasheed said the only source known for that supply of water could be found in the deserts of Arabia, where it was rumored Moses struck a rock, bringing forth water to slack the thirst of the wandering Israelites during their exodus to the Promised Land. If Rasheed knew the exact location, he didn’t share that with Broderick, nor did Broderick expect him to. Rasheed taught Broderick what he must and nothing more. Such dark secrets were shared with few.

Destroying both lairs didn’t take long, and the Gypsy camp wasn’t far enough away to be out of his circle of sensing, so Broderick didn’t fear Angus sneaking to the camp while his tasks kept him busy. He would keep his watch on these two locations as the nights wore on. Eventually, he would catch up with Angus. With these lairs eliminated for the time being, Broderick set out to feed the Hunger.

Broderick shook his head to clear the horrid images of the thief he fed from this night. He longed for a way to feed without having to absorb such rancid experiences. However, there was at least a sense of justice from preying upon these degenerates.

He approached the curtain wall of Stewart Glen Castle. Glancing around to be sure no one was about, he crouched down for leverage and sprung up, jumping to the top of the wall. The strength immortality gave him not only made running long distances effortless, it also made jumping high almost as easy as taking a step. Hunkering down, he hid in the shadows of the turret and eyed the courtyard below, tilting his head to listen. No activity, no sounds. A frigid breeze tossed a strand of his hair across his face and he brushed it aside, sighing. Why was he here? The time of day was too early for her to be in bed. His impatience to visit her while she slept—to feed from her and gain information—badgered him and he could stand the biding no more, so he headed to her home. Now that he sat waiting in the shadows, he cursed his juvenile behavior.

Rosselyn opened the double doors to Davina’s bedchamber, drawing his eyes. She emptied the water of a wash basin over the side wall from the landing, the ting of the metal bowl echoing around the courtyard as she placed it on the stone edge, and shook out a cloth. Broderick could see just past Rosselyn into Davina’s chamber, and the sight made his mouth go dry. Davina stood in a shallow bathing tub, sponging off in the glowing firelight. Rosselyn hurried back into the chamber, closing the doors behind her and cutting off the enchanting view. Once again, Davina turned the tables on his efforts to catch her off guard. Dropping down to the ground, he dashed the short distance across the courtyard and leapt the height, onto the terrace. He hesitated, staring at the barred, narrow window, feeling very wrong about the strong desire to peer into her chamber. With a throbbing erection in his breeches, his desire won over and he stepped before the opening, keeping to the shadows.

Broderick’s loins stirred and his mouth watered as Davina’s skin glistened in the firelight, the flames reflecting on her breasts and shoulders, her taut belly and thighs…and the gnashing scars marring her perfect figure. Long slashes slanted across the backs of her thighs and buttocks when she turned around. Davina rubbed her skin and stretched. His eyes narrowed as Broderick noticed her left arm bent in an awkward way; nothing too disfiguring, but enough for him to take notice.
Broken once?
He tried to reason, at first, she may have been the victim of an unfortunate accident, but the scars on her body weren’t by chance. The passionate heat pulsing through his body transformed into the flames of anger. These marks were meant to humiliate and dominate.
Angus…or someone else?

Rosselyn closed her eyes against the scars as she washed Davina’s back. Straining to perceive the maid’s misty emotions, Broderick caught images of a handsome, but menacing face.
Oh, Davina!
A mixture of sadness and anger wafted from Rosselyn and swirled around Broderick.
Why did you refrain from telling me about Ian? How much you have been through, my sweet friend.

Davina turned toward her maid and frowned. “Do not pity me, Rosselyn!” she snapped. “Pity is the last thing I want from anyone.” Dropping her head and covering her breasts, she turned away from Rosselyn. “I will finish cleansing myself.”

Rosselyn nodded and disappeared into the wardrobe, coming out with a whisper of lace and silk, laying the nightgown on Davina’s bed. After a period of stillness, she struggled to speak. “Forgive me, Davina.”

“Nay, Rosselyn. There is nothing to forgive.” Davina grabbed her drying cloth and covered her body before she went to her friend. “‘Tis I who should ask for your forgiveness and thank you for your concern.”