Seduced by the Beast Read online

  She panted and whimpered, fighting for breath as he sank full length inside her. The grip he held on her hips was powerful. She bucked against him, shuddering.

  He sucked her jaw, nibbling and tasting her with his tongue. His fingers skated her hip, roaming around to rub her exposed, swollen clit in time with his strokes.

  Her mouth opened on a passionate cry. Overriding pleasure so great came upon her that she could do nothing but give in to it, allowing his passion to consume her.

  Her inner muscles contracted around him as he increased his speed and depth in her slick channel. Her body struggled, eager to reach the orgasm she knew would come, the ecstasy that could destroy the tenuous hold she had over her emotions. Each encounter weakened her to him, desire warring with sense.

  He pushed her higher, hotter, and harder. Dimly, she recognized her own desperate, agonized moans filling the room. His thrusts pushed searing pleasure through her nerves. Every muscle in her body tightened and clenched. Ripples spread through her cunt, her belly, and legs, igniting through her body with such force she thought she would explode.

  Ecstasy so explosive crowded out everything else, all other sensation. Distantly, she heard his own hoarse shout as he reached release with her. His semen erupting inside her quivering pussy pounded inside her, leaving her aching and trembling from overpowering pleasure.

  Raphael held her tightly as their bodies returned to normal, not allowing her to escape the feel of his pounding heart against her back, the crush of his muscles and the tightness and strength of his arms. The warmth of his body against her felt too right, too good.

  She did not want to admit that she would miss him when he was gone. Unfortunately, she thought there was a great chance that she would.

  * * * *

  Swan awoke to the scent of freshly cooked bread and fowl wafting in a delightful haze round her nose. She slowly opened her eyes to see a steaming plate of food sitting on the table near the bed, and Ashanti preparing to leave.

  “Wait. Ashanti, please, stay with me. I miss the company of women.”

  Ashanti turned from the door and smiled, returning to the hearth. “As you wish. I admit I feel the loneliness at times.” She sat heavily in a chair, propping her hands on either side of her swollen belly.

  Swan returned her smile and sat up in bed, silken covers tucked around her chest, her hair a mass of tangles.

  Ashanti talked of her child and Blasien’s excitement over the babe, his plans for expanding his holdings. She couldn’t help noticing Ashanti was younger than she, and soon to be a mother. Like as not, Swan would have no such similar fate. The thought should not disturb her as it did, but she couldn’t help being reminded of Raphael’s seed washing her womb. But then, shifters could not mate with humans--everyone knew that.

  Swan turned her mind from the disturbing thoughts, concentrating on eating. She nibbled at the food on her plate, grateful for Ashanti’s consideration in bringing food to her. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten so well as she had these past days. Knowing it was the next night, however, she wondered if her plans had gone awry before they even had a chance to be implemented. If Raphael was gone....

  “Has Lord Raphael left?” she asked, casually taking a sip of wine.

  “Syrian has not yet arisen. I know they plan to leave you.” Her fine, arched brows drew down in displeasure.

  “I see you feel much the same as I.” Swan hesitated a moment, wondering the wisdom of pursuing her plans. She felt instinctively that Ashanti could be trusted. Finally, believing it could do no more harm, she said, “I know it is forward of me, but can I ask a favor of you?”

  “An inkling germinates.” She grinned. “Ask.”

  Swan set the plate aside, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Could you help me outside ... to leave I mean? I do not intend to be abandoned.”

  “Shhh.” Ashanti held a finger to her lips. “Do not think loudly.”

  Swan affected a blank stare, wondering if Ashanti had gone suddenly daft. How could she think loudly?

  “I warned you before they could know your mind. With distance, it lessens, but we can take no chances he will hear your thoughts.”

  Again with old fables, but Ashanti had reacted so strangely she couldn’t help but wonder if it held some merit. “How can I tell if he ... well....”

  “Reads your thoughts? If you concentrate, you feel a tickle, a buzzing, like an insect. Long was my time here before I realized Blasien had this gift and would routinely use it against me, or to his benefit. All beastmen can, though some are stronger than others. It is how they communicate when they shift.” She hesitated. “I should not say this, for I don’t want to frighten you, but Raphael’s powers are ... different ... vampiric. He can control the weak willed with his mind. I know not the extent of his gift.”

  Suspicion dawned at Ashanti’s description. That nagging sensation when she’d slept.... Swan frowned. The fantasy she’d had before, of Raphael coaxing her desire in what seemed an eternity ago. Had he, in fact, invaded her dreams? Ashanti’s serious expression lent credibility to her charge. Raphael had pressed advantage while she’d changed, with no reason but to see if she would relent. How dare he?

  If she’d had any doubt of proceeding, it disappeared with that revelation.

  “I think we will be safe if we hurry. It is past time these men learn a lesson in respect.”

  Swan agreed whole-heartedly. Ashanti struggled to her feet, going to the door. “I will be back in a moment.”

  Swan hurriedly finished her meal, and afterwards, brushed the tangles from her hair as she awaited Ashanti’s return. Knowing the long tresses would hinder her, she braided her hair in a coronet about the crown of her head.

  As she finished, Ashanti returned, grinning wickedly, her arms loaded. “Get dressed. It’s designed for travel and protection. Blasien had it made for me. You and I are of a size, or would be were I not with child. They should fit.”

  Swan picked at the mass of metal and furs warily, unsure. She’d never worn armor of any description before. What she had seen was very complex, near impossible to put on by oneself.

  “I’m not certain I can handle this alone.”

  Ashanti waved her concern away. “It slips on. There are no buckles save at the neckline to worry over.”

  She looked up from the pile, seized by a thought. “Can you get me a blade?” Raphael would soon know her skill. She’d trained with one from the time she was old enough to wield one.

  “I believe I can find one. It’s rare to use blades in Shadowmere, but there were some from the war stored in an old weapons room. I’ll not return until I’ve found something.”

  After Ashanti had gone once more, Swan stood and examined the pile she’d been given. She’d likely not be able to move once dressed. Trust a man to give a woman such unwieldy garments.

  She picked up a mail skirt, lined with heavy flesh colored fabric, and slipped it over her head. The skirt dropped down to rest on her hips. It was lighter than she’d first supposed, easy to move in with the short length that barely covered her thighs. Next, she tied a wide scarf around her breasts, similar in color to the skirt’s lining, and pulled the chain top on, buckling the neck piece in the back. She was taller than Ashanti, and the mail left a thin band of her waist exposed when she stretched, but otherwise, the mail fit as though made for her. She had some doubt, given its light weight, that it would protect her from a heavy blow, but it allowed some protection regardless.

  Looking down at herself, she couldn’t help but notice it looked as though she wore nothing beneath the mail but her own skin. The chinks were wide enough to show glimpses of flesh and lining. She wondered if perhaps the outfit were more for titillation than protection, but shrugged it off.

  As Swan finished slipping her boots on, Ashanti returned and presented her a sword. She took it, examining its workmanship in the light. It was short and light for easy carry. Running a thumb down the silvered edges, s
he also discovered the curved blade was sharp enough to slice through silk ... or flesh with equal ease.

  Ashanti helped her buckled it around her waist. She was as ready as she would ever be. She only hoped when Raphael discovered she was following, he wouldn’t offer unpleasant repercussions.

  Ashanti held a finger to her lips for silence, then bade her follow. After a quick glance down the hall, assuring no one was there, they left, each taking a torch for light. The night was young, but it would be dark as pitch outside until the moons rose.

  Moving with quiet stealth, they crossed intersections of large corridors until a downward channel emerged from the labyrinthine passages. The faint jingle of her mail made her grit her teeth with fear of discovery, but Ashanti led her down a seldom used corridor where none dwelt. Dust stirred at their passing, a testament to its lack of usage.

  Swan realized as they continued that Ashanti was leading her to the belly of the castle. The air grew steadily cooler at their descent until she was certain they walked below the earth. The torches illuminated but a small circle, and she was dependent entirely on Ashanti’s guidance.

  A grate came into view as the passage narrowed to a dead end. Cut into the wall, she could see nothing past the metal slats but wet darkness beyond.

  “This is as far as I dare take you,” Ashanti said, whispering as though someone would overhear them. Taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the heavy bolt and pulled it open with Swan’s help. “The path is straight and true. Follow and it shall lead you up past Ravenel, a league’s distance.”

  “What is this place?”

  “It is one of many escape routes from Ravenel. This one takes you in the direction Raphael and Syrian will travel. You can gain advantage on them if you hurry. Follow the path of the rising moon and you will know your way until the reach zenith in the sky.”

  Overcome at her kindness, Swan hugged Ashanti. “I thank you, Ashanti. You have my undying gratitude.”

  Ashanti nodded as Swan released her. “I know how it is to feel helpless, trapped. Go now. Remember to guard your thoughts. I wish you luck. Do not give Raphael an easy time of it.” She grinned broadly as she closed the gate behind Swan.

  “I assure you, I will not.”

  Ashanti left her then, her torch fading away until Swan was swallowed by darkness, her own meager light weak in the cavernous blackness. Swallowing an unreasonable fear, she began walking, occupying her mind as she traveled with plans on what she would do once she was returned to normal.

  She’d been too trusting, that was certain. Never again would she allow danger to come so close to her sister and Avonleigh. Her parents had toiled too long to allow its destruction.

  She wondered at Raphael’s involvement. He seemed determined to help her, even against her will. With Barakus endangered by the vampires’ return, she couldn’t help being curious on his elusive reasoning. She finally decided that the attack upon her on the borderlands had doubtless raised his protectiveness, for despite her annoyance, she knew he was a man of deep honor.

  Turning the matter over and over again in her head, she barely registered the climb in temperature, the increase of fresh air. A breeze struck her skin, fingered through her hair, and she realized she neared the opening Ashanti had described. Eager to leave the close confines, Swan quickened her pace, running the remaining distance.

  She stopped at a chain of steps leading up. Glancing skyward, she saw that stars winked in the blackness above. Swan breathed a sigh of relief--she’d made it. Climbing the steps, she reached the top, stooping beneath a stone grate. Swan threw down her torch and pushed the heavy covering aside until she could squeeze through the opening. It took some effort to finally heave over and pull her body out.

  She pushed the grate back in place and collapsed on the ground, looking up at the sky as she rested. Raphael would be so surprised to find she had defied him. Delighted most nearly described her mood, delight to prove she had her own brand of resourcefulness--that she could take care of herself when necessary.

  She chuckled, imagining the look on his face, how much it would rankle. He wouldn’t be able to take her back, not without losing valuable time. All in all, she was satisfied with her decision not to allow herself to be trampled on. Now she need only watch for them, and she could follow at a safe distance.

  It was as she struggled to gain her feet that a black shape blotted the stars from the sky. She froze instantly, unable to tear her eyes away.

  A scream bubbled from her throat as the wind gathered in a deafening gasp.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Syrian met Raphael in the courtyard. Cloaked in black robes slit up the sides for easy movement, he wore the shrouding robes to hide his golden skin, the hood drawn close to shield his unusual hair. Should they encounter mortals, he would not be readily identified as an inhabitant of Shadowmere. Syrian’s people had been hunted to near extinction. He was one of the last of a dying race. He risked much traveling with Raphael.

  Round his waist, his sword belt buckled, the toothed blade wicked in the light as the red jewel glowed softly in the pommel. Beyond a few pouches hanging from his belt, he bore nothing else.

  Raphael carried but one sack of supplies himself and held no blade. He’d been born a weapon. He needed nothing else.

  Blasien came out to the courtyard as they prepared to leave, no other there to witness their departure. The feline people had retreated to the great hall for their nightly meal when dusk settled and would not leave for some time yet.

  Blasien looked to the gates as he reached them, the gatemasters preparing its opening. “What do you plan to do about the vampire?”

  Raphael finished knotting the sack to his belt before regarding Blasien. “If he remains, I will kill him should he hinder us, but I suspect he has gone.”

  “My men found nothing, but vampires seldom leave evidence of their presence.” Blasien clapped them both on the shoulder. “Let it not be so long until next you visit.”

  Raphael nodded, watching the great doors that marked the entrance of the castle. “I will return to see the woman home.”

  Syrian and Blasien followed the line of his gaze and exchanged a look.

  “She does not come to see you go. Will you not say farewell to the woman?” Blasien asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  Swan’s nature was turbulent. He could stoke the flame of desire within her, but her mind remained cold to him, beyond his reach. Raphael’s fists clenched, arms bunching with tension. His every fiber burned with the need to go inside, break the door down and kiss her until she was mindless to anything but him and the feel of his tongue claiming her mouth. That he was so repugnant she would not allow his kiss seared the shreds of his sanity.

  Almost he considered going to her, allowing her her head to come with him, yet it would change little and only reveal his weakness to her. It was a weakness he could not afford. The impotent were killed in Shadowmere.

  Finally, Raphael sighed, regaining control over the turmoil of his thoughts. “She cares nothing for me. I will always be but a beast in her eyes. Her place is with her people. I cannot deny that.”

  “We beastmen are drawn to strong, proud women. They do not bow easily.”

  “I wish to hear none of it, Blasien.”

  The gates opened. It was time. Raphael turned to go, but Blasien caught his arm, glancing at Syrian a brief moment before returning his gaze to Raphael.

  “A friend cautioned me once on my pride. Sometimes it is necessary to go to a woman and lay bare your soul to capture her heart.”

  His jaw tightened with the effort to control himself. Raphael turned fierce eyes on his friend. “And what of the woman who has no heart?”

  Blasien made no answer, but released his arm.

  He and Syrian left through the slight opening of the gates, silence thick with his tension. Setting the pace, Raphael followed Syrian, no thought in his mind but the torture of his own guilt.

  The moons had yet to arise, but they
needed no help, knowing their footing. Each had traveled the land a hundred times, and would so a hundred more. Their run ate the miles in minutes. He felt the increasing distance from her pull like a rope threatening to snap.

  A northerly wind suddenly shifted the still air. They stopped, recognizing the threat instantly, hackles raised. Raphael peered ahead, his senses stretching to find their enemy.

  A woman’s scream ripped through the night--cut off as abruptly as it had erupted through the stillness.

  Instant dread swarmed Raphael, making his heart pound in his chest. Adrenaline surged like fire through his muscles.

  “The Lady Swan,” Syrian whispered, cursing.

  Raphael took off, recognizing the voice immediately.

  He would kill who ever had dared to touch her.

  Nothing more than blurs of motion in the night, they ran, instinct guiding them to her. A sudden fog gathered, viscous, white mist clouding their way. Raphael tore through it and the thick undergrowth, heedless of slashing thorns and broken rock. A clearing opened before them without warning. Raphael halted abruptly at the edges, unable to believe the sight that greeted him. Their breath was harsh in the ensuing silence.

  “Raphael!” Swan shouted, restrained from going to him. She stood in the center, a man cloaked in darkness holding her arms.

  Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? If you have harmed her, I swear you’ll not live to regret it.”

  The man smiled, sharp, ivory teeth flashing. “I’ve found something you did not know you lost, brother....”

  * * * *

  The man looked down at her, stroked the underside of her arm once before releasing her. Swan pulled away to the fog’s edge. Her hand going to her sword, she glared at him and resisted the urge to scratch her arm where he’d touched her. She felt tainted by his touch.

  His crimson eyes glittered with amusement. “Something so precious should be guarded.”

  “Her defiant nature makes such a task impossible, Vachel. How did you find her?” He gave Swan a hard look that would have killed a lesser woman. She wasn’t altogether certain she wanted his rescue, if he thought he could punish her--and likely would try.