The Sanction (15 page)

“
They left two days ago,
keeping to the river where the soil is moist and easy to dig.”
Stunned, he shook his head, panic rising in his chest. If what she
said was to be believed, they would cross paths with Rhys and
Amarinda. He would die, and she would be taken. The heavy breaths
he sucked in burned his lungs fiercely. Still, she continued. “You
need to get her away from the castle this very moment. I will
accompany her to wherever you desire her to go until my husband
comes for me, and until you come for her.”

A chilled wind blew and whipped the
length of hair in his face, masking the pain that twisted his
features. “She left this very evening to a village hidden in the
hills…to the north.”

The woman choked on her spittle and was
at his side in a flash, her eyes large and imploring. “My husband,
my son, they will do anything you ask to help you save
her....”

He moved quickly now, taking hold of
the mount and leading it to where she stood.

“
I will give my life for
hers.”

She shuddered. Instinctively, he tore
the fur from his back and draped it around her shoulders. She
paused and considered him in the darkness before allowing him to
assist her to mount. “Tell your mate it would be wise to join the
ranks in the event that I am cut down in battle.” She nodded and
made to kick the mount into a gallop, but he held the bridle sure.
“And you will give me your word that the babe growing within her
belly will be protected.”

Another bout of tears swamped her eyes
and she nodded quickly. “I swear it.” Her reply seemed to have
satisfied him, for he retrieved the helmet and presented it to her.
At his back and gestured for two of his men. “See that she is
delivered safely. She is under my protection.”

He did not wait to see his orders
carried out, but turned to the path that lead to the castle and
whistled for his mount. The horse cantered toward him and snickered
at his warm touch. The first drop of rain splashed upon his face,
but he did not feel the icy chill and penetrated deep in the pores
of his skin, nor did he feel the hesitance of his men as they
accompanied him on his vicious ride to the stronghold. The only
thing he felt slowly icing over the pulse in his chest was unmasked
fear for his family.

****

Rhys stoked the fire and wished for the
hundredth time that night for her to shut up. Incessantly she
talked, about her family, about Graeme, about the babe. He had
ceased to respond a long while now, hoping she would get the idea
that he had no interest in sharing conversation. The lass was
dense, to be sure. Even if she were not a vampire, he could not see
how any man in his right mind might be attracted to
such.

“
How long before we get
there?” she inquired for the third time. He cut her a cold glance
and clenched his jaw even tighter. She frowned and sank herself
deeper into the furs. “It is cold. Could you not make a bigger
fire?”

“
Good God woman, do you
always talk this much?” he snapped irritably.

She cut him a smile that spoke volumes
and forced him to turn back to the fire. Deliberately, he tossed in
another log. The embers scattered this way and that. She hissed as
a tiny flame touched her skin and shot him a murderous glance. It
was his turn to look snide.

“
Are you always this
pleasant?” she inquired sweetly, rubbing a finger over the sting.
“It leaves me with no doubt as to why you are not
mated.”

“
It matters not to me your
opinion vampire.”

“
My name is Amarinda,” she
enlightened flippantly. “You say vampire as if it’s a
curse.”

He snorted an agreement and offered
nothing more. When all of ten seconds passed, she spoke again.
“Tell me of Graeme then, since he seems to be in both our
interest.”

For a moment he considered refusing,
but his heavy shoulders shrugged instead. “He is a good man, a
feared Were – a respected one.”

“
He never speaks of his
parents,” she hinted softly.

Rhys shook his head before stoking the
fire again. “It is not my place to speak of such
things.”

“
What does your place allow
you to speak of then?”

“
I would rather not speak at
all.”

She considered him from the comfort of
her furs and smiled. Rhys could almost sense the cat like
contentment she felt and resented her for it even more. “You do not
like me, but you will risk your life to see me safe.
Why?”

“
I am loyal to Graeme. How I
feel about you has nothing to do with that.”

“
He must be a very good man
to warrant such honor from you.”

He met her eyes and paused for a long
moment before finally speaking again. “He is. I charge you to
remember that. Remember what you have cost him, what you are going
to cost him when your Coven comes looking for you. Remember that he
has betrayed all that he loves, for you.”

Her head fell forward, the hair
shielding her eyes. Rhys saw her cheeks flush and ignored her
fully.

“
It was never my intent to
hurt you, or the horde,” she finally croaked. “But none of us can
choose to whom we are mated. One day, you will
understand.”

“
To be mated to a vampire, I
will never understand.”

She turned away, her back facing him,
her hand laid protectively over her stomach. Rhys cut her another
glance, his face stiff. He would not again allow himself to be
caught in a verbal battle with her. Of course this was not her
fault. She did not ask to be captured. She did not ask to be mated,
and neither did Graeme. Still, he needed time to come to terms with
the fact that Graeme might not be the only Were to be mated to a
vampire. And how would the masses react to such a revelation? He
swallowed hard and shook his head at the irony of it all. If he
were ever mated to a vampire, he would be better off slitting his
own throat.

****

Rain fell throughout the following day.
Even clad beneath the furs Rhys could hear her teeth chatter. He
glanced at the sky and did not think to pause in their journey. He
had pushed hard, wanting to get to the safety of the village before
nightfall. The rain however had slowed their gait so that even now
as the sun sank low into the western sky, they still had many miles
to cover. He spared a glance toward his charge and waited as her
mount joined his.

“
Seven more miles before we
arrive,” he announced matter of fact. She huddled deeper into the
wet furs and shook her head pitifully.

“
I cannot.”

Rhys studied the sky once more. There
was nowhere to take shelter, and the drops fell in stinging sheets.
She sneezed in the cuff of her hand for several moments and
sniffled, and he sighed heavily. “There is nowhere to rest lass. We
are in the open, exposed to the elements and all kinds of danger.
We must keep moving.”

“
My legs hurt, I am cold,
and I have not felt the babe move since dawn. Please, let us
stop.”

His eyes fell to her protruding belly
and the paleness of her cheeks. If anything happened to her or the
babe in his care, Graeme would never forgive him. “We push
on.”

“
Ash!” Her sharp cry forced
him to face her again. This time, the concern on his face was
genuine.

“
What is it?”

Hand clutched to the bulge before her,
she sniffled, eyes wide and reflecting only worry. “I felt
something.”

Annoyed, he aimed a dark glower toward
her. “Aye, babes have been known to move. You said so
yourself.”

“
Not like this. It
hurt.”

“
Then it’s getting
bigger.”

“
Bigger?”

“
Oh aye. Were pups weigh at
least nine or ten pounds at birth. Didn’t Graeme tell
you?”

She fell silent instantly. Rhys bit his
inner lip to hide a smile of victory until she cried out again
minutes later. “What?” He snapped in irritation as he spun around
in his saddle - and felt the blood drain from his face. In the
darkness figures moved swiftly, blurs of shadow against the quickly
darkening sky. In an instant he scanned the hillside, looking for
the safest place for her to hide. There was nothing but rock and
hill, and hundreds of valleys. He was on his feet and out of his
shirt in a flash. The change came so suddenly he heard Amarinda’s
frightened gasp, felt her panic and uncertainty.

“
We are being followed,” he
began thickly, eyes blazing amber. “Ride hard vampire. The Hunters
are here.”

She did not have to be told twice, but
kicked the mount into a gallop. Rhys retrieved the length of a whip
from this saddle and sniffed the air expectantly. Beneath his feet,
now bare of boots, he felt soft rumbles of the cold earth hum with
life through the thick layers of skin and hair beneath his feet. In
the dark they were nothing but moving shadows – darkness within the
dark. He caught the scent of filth, and his eyes burned. Fifty
yards away, three of them rushed forward with the speed of
lightening, one moment there, the next moment, upon him. Rhys
battled vampires all his life, had learned their methods of attack
from study and experience. He had trained the men, had bred an
expert horde of fighters that were second to none in hand to hand
combat against a vampire. But this he had saved for a special
occasion. The whip he began to banish was an easy ten feet long.
One foot from the bone and leather handle that was woven with
horses hair, it became three individual lengths, each tipped with
the blade of a scythe, sharpened and honed to
perfection.

With rhythm borne of years of practice
and perfection, he waited, dancing the weapon upon the rise and
fall of the wind and the motion of his own body as he stepped
forward. The Hunters surrounded him carefully, now suddenly still
and focused upon him, swords drawn, and blood in their eyes. Rhys
closed his eyes, and heard, felt the slightest shift in the wind
when they moved forward as one. In that split second he swung the
blades beneath him as he leapt impossibly high. Blood stained the
ground where he landed mere seconds later. The three decapitated
bodies were at his feet, the heads pitched and lost amongst the
rocks and tufts of grass that had survived the winter months. He
grunted his satisfaction and glanced around, only to discover that
his horse was nowhere to be seen.

Peeved, he retrieved the swords from
cold, lifeless fingers and scanned the hillsides. There was no sign
of the vampire or the mount. Carefully, he fell to his knee and
studied the tracks well. That was when thunder echoed across the
sky. It would not be long before the full force of the storm would
be felt. He hoped he found her before then.

Chapter Thirteen

Amarinda rode until she was forced to
slow the horse to a steady walk. With each step a pain as sharp as
a dagger pierced her lower abdomen so much so around the midnight
hour she forced herself to slip out of the saddle. Sweat matted her
brow, and she had not fed since she left the stronghold. Something
was wrong. The fact that she was alone did not help the
vulnerability she bore. The pain eased slowly, and for the moment
she breathed in the cold air, trying to lay as comfortable as
possible half concealed in the trees she had blindly ridden into.
At the time and in her pain it had seemed a safe place to hide –
until she heard the first high pitched scream that sliced through
the otherwise still night. Shocked, she watched in distress as the
horse reared and bolted. The pain in her stomach began again, a
dull pulse that built to a tearing sensation. Tongue between her
teeth, she bit hard. Blood flooded her mouth. Tears stung her eyes.
It became worse with each passing moment. And just as it came, it
faded, allowing her another moment of rest. That was when she
focused on the screams and the smell of fire. Awkwardly she craned
her neck and half crawled, half pulled herself upon the rock-face.
Through the trees, unknown to her, there was a village. And it was
under attack. Women and children ran. Men and were cut down
swiftly. Fire blazed, projecting heat that was not available ten
minutes before. In the chaos her sensitive ears could hear the
screams of babies. Her heart tightened in agony the same moment her
stomach clenched again. She opened her mouth and screamed with
them, for even in her distress she noted that the attackers were
not human or Were, but vampire. Her very own race. Fingers
outstretched, she opened her mouth again, willing the massacre to
stop, wishing suddenly that the Fates had never erred in mating her
so unjustly.

“
Do you see the handiwork of
your precious Hunters?” So caught up in grief and her own pain, she
did not hear Rhys approach. “The men had women here…some had
children. Boys to carry on their names.” She crumpled and clutched
her stomach, hollering in the pain that seized her again, shedding
tears for the sons and daughters being killed. Rhys bundled the fur
about her body and lifted her effortlessly to his chest, his face a
mask of determination. “If it were up to me vampire, I would hand
you over to your Coven this instant.”

“
They will stop if you do,”
she whimpered, weeping for the innocent, for herself. “Please, they
will stop…”