by Colt, Shyla
Apprehension slipped through to her.
“What’s wrong?”
“We can feel in this place.” He spoke quietly.
“And?” She shook her head, lost.
“It’s not a time I wish to relive or have you experience with me.”
“Crewe. What aren’t you telling me?”
“I nearly froze to death and starved out here.”
“How long do we have?”
“I don’t know what stage we’re at,” he said softly. “Get inside. You’re cold. It’s easier to keep warm when there are two people.” Frightened, she proceeded him into the small tent.
“This is in our head, though, right? We can’t really be hurt here …”
“You know as well as I do, the mind is a powerful thing.”
She swallowed and huddled near the small fire in the center of the tent.
“Come here.” Crewe knelt down, pulled back a thick pelt, and climbed into the mound of bedding he had. “Take your gown off—”
“What?” she squawked.
“Body heat.” He stared her down, and she shook her head. “I can’t generate my own heat, but I can regulate with yours. We need to dry your feet and get you under the pelts and warm.”
“No.” She shivered.
“I’m trying to save your bloody life, not sneak a peek.”
She cringed at the ire in his voice. Her hands shook as she tried to grab the hem of her dress. Clumsy fingers refused to cooperate. Gently, he pushed her hands aside.
“Raise your arms.” He peeled the nightgown off with clinical precision. Keeping his eyes averted, he knelt, drying off her feet. He laid the gown out to dry by the fire while she slipped into the soft pile he’d turned down for her. She tucked the top layer under her arms.
“Let me see your feet.” She’d never experienced temperatures like this. It was more than being in the dead of winter with improper clothing. Her bones ached, and her fingers and toes tingled. Stiff, she complied with his command without protest.
He took her feet in his hands and began a massage. She moaned as feeling began to return to the numb blocks of ice. His thumbs moved over the balls of her feet, hitting pressure points she hadn’t realized she possessed as he worked his way down.
“Can you still feel them?”
“Yes, they’re tingling.”
“Good. It means you still have circulation. Move over.”
She lifted the fur, and he slipped in beside her. His sandalwood scent surrounded her. Her teeth chattered.
“Come here.” He pulled her to lay on his chest and rubbed her back vigorously. Burying her nose in his neck, she focused on the rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t need to breathe, but the human habit seemed to be one they all kept. In a strange, unpredictable place, he was her constant. Bit by bit the cold receded, and her lids grew heavy.
“Rest for now. Soon, I’ll leave to find us food.”
Exhausted from the emotional and physical roller coaster, she allowed her guard to lower enough to escape into sleep where her stomach wasn’t eating itself, and she wasn’t in danger of freezing to death.
“Nakeeta.” A warm hand rubbed her back, and she snuggled closer to the well-built chest holding up her head. Nuzzling her nose into the smooth expanse of skin covered in fine hairs, she inhaled. He smelled like sandalwood but underneath the skin, flowing through his veins, she caught a top note of strawberries.
“You smell like strawberries,” she mumbled.
“Well, that’s a first. You have to get up love. I need to hunt.”
The accent hit her like cold water. She sat up, untangling her limbs from his. Her face heated. She’d lowered her guard and gotten too comfortable.
“What’s a little skin on skin contact between bonded?” He arched a thick blond brow, and she shook her head and balled her hands into fists. Her life was no longer her own. She needed to maintain control over everything she could.
“You are not my prisoner, but we are in this together, and it is my duty to care for you.”
“So you say.”
“So Dregan says.”
Her heart dropped at the mention of his boss. This was a business transaction. She’d forgotten that.
He tucked her chin with his forefinger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t put words in my mouth. We’re complicated.”
“Don’t be nice now that you feel sorry for me.” She sniffed and turned her head away. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
“If the other me comes back, I don’t believe he’ll see you. Just like in your memories.”
She gave a curt nod.
He sighed and shook his head before digging to find clothing stored away in a soft saddle bag. His back muscles rippled as he pulled on layers of crudely made homespun clothing. There was no harm admitting he was a good-looking man with a nice body. She wasn’t blind. Shifting in her pallet, she felt apprehension at being separated.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be swift.”
What if he doesn’t come back? What if we’re trapped here in an endless loop of suffering? Her thoughts ran from the mundane to the fantastical. She knew witches could be powerful, but the things she’d been able to do recently blew her mind. Most never reached this level of capabilities, for a good reason. The universe kept a balance. Not everyone was meant to wield this. Hell, she was only chosen because of a genetic lottery.
Crewe crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. “I will return for you always. The bond joins us. I am not your sire. But I do feel responsible for you. You are the closest I’ve ever come or will come to procreating.”
“What does that mean for a vampire?”
“That you are unique to me.” He squeezed her hand. She sensed a deeper truth through their bond but refrained from digging. Now was not the time.
“I’ll try to figure out a way to get us home while you’re away.” Later she’d ask. Right now, they had to get the hell out of here. Worst case scenario, they’d end up lost here while their bodies atrophied back home. Can a vampire even do that? Clearing her mind, she inhaled, letting the sandalwood and strawberries scent of Crewe mingle with her own to become a new normal. She’d been a woman divided ever since she woke in the hospital. It was always the kiss of death for magic.
“Thou wast sent here for a reason.”
Keeta’s eyes popped open, and she found a fair-skinned woman with pitch black hair that stopped at her ankles in two braids and honey-colored eyes that glowed with power. Her red dress with gold trim and peasant sleeves matched the Old English she spoke. This was no ordinary witch.
“Who are you?” she whispered, afraid of the answer.
“A distant ancestor sister. Blessed be, sister. I am known as Morgan to some.”
Her eyes widened. Le Fay? “Blessed be, crone.” She bent, giving a bow.
“You are meant to learn.”
“Learn what?” she asked, flabbergasted.
“Thou must figure that out for thy self. You are the key. We are here to help guide you, but we will not take away your free will or the natural order of things. No one should have that kind of power. You will be the deciding factor for this generation. Choose wisely.”
“B-but I don’t know what I’m d-doing?” she stuttered, shaking her head, her brows pinched in confusion.
“Neither did we.” She winked and disappeared as seamlessly as she’d arrived.
“Suddenly I feel like I’m trapped inside an episode of Lost,” she whispered. Rubbing her chilled arms, she tried to remember exactly what they were doing before they were transported. Arguing was their default mode. If they were stranded here for that, they’d never leave. Massaging her throbbing temples, she returned to square one. She tried to focus, but was distracted by her rumbling belly. Hunger pains made her grunt. Clutching her belly, she glanced at the tent flap anxiously.
How long has he been gone? She shifted in her nest. A few hours ago, all she wanted to do was escape him. Now she couldn’t help but rea
ch out to touch him through their connection. He as hungry, frustrated, and tired. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Slipping into his mind she saw through his eyes. Icicles hung off the low hanging branches weighed down by the snow. The snow was bare of tracks, and the forest was unusually silent.
Nothing stirred. The scents were all old, and any edible things were long dead. He pressed on, moving farther away. She could feel the red rage creeping up on him. The hunger would soon demand to be sated. If he didn’t feed, it would force his hand. As he continued to search, his hold on control slipped.
“Stop. Come back.” If they had to do this, it would be on her terms.
“I haven’t found anything yet.”
“And you won’t if you keep ignoring what you need.”
“I won’t feed on you.”
“What exactly do you plan on living off then? At least one of us has a viable food source.” She tensed. The thought of being drank from wasn’t sexy. It reminded her of parasites.
“I can feel how uncomfortable you are about this.”
“This is a necessity. You are the stronger, more capable of us. We need you well.”
“We’ll talk when I return.”
Her stomach tightened with nervousness and excitement. She sat on the back of her heels and held the furs to her. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she sensed his nearness. The flap opened, and his scarlet gaze met hers.
“I can’t hold off much longer.
“Don’t.”
“It’ll hurt if I don’t do it right.” His voice was distorted, but she felt no fear. A deep desire to care for him sent waves of calm coursing through her. He held himself away from her, shrinking against the flap.
“You took care of me earlier. Now let me take care of you.”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re offering.”
“Yes, I do. The bond works both ways.” She tilted her head to the side.
His nostrils flared, and his fangs distended. He shuffled toward her in a trance-like state. Kneeling beside her, he ran his nose over her pulse point.
“You smell like freshly squeezed grapefruit. Mouthwatering, light, and refreshing.” He trailed his tongue down her neck. She moaned, stunned by his action. “Let me make this feel good for you.”
Her mouth went dry. Her stomach clenched. She was playing with fire. He nipped at her flesh, and she let her head fall back. “That’s it. Relax.” His tongue swiped across her artery. “I just want a little sip.” He peppered kisses, nipping, sucking. She breathed shakily and gripped his shirt. His sharp fangs brushed her skin, once, twice, and he sank in. Her back arched. Pleasure flooded her body. She sank into the bond that exploded with color and emotions. For a brief moment, she connected with the man beneath the vampirism. Going back wouldn’t be an option.
* * *
CREWE
He pulled back with a mouthful of her sweet blood. Ingesting the warm substance, he licked his lips. Biting his own wrist, he held it up to her lips. “Drink.” She shook her head. Ignoring her weak protest, he placed his wrist to her lips. “It will tide you over.” Her full lips parted, and he groaned as she sucked on the wound, taking him into her. Unable to keep his hands to himself, he stroked her hair, weaving his fingers into her curls.
This was the closest he’d allowed himself to be to another person since he turned. The desire to be held and accepted slammed into him like a lance. Shaken, he pulled back. A chink in the armor could be his downfall. But what a way to go. Death was an event he stopped fearing long ago. At this point, it’d be a relief.
What happens if you’ve found a new reason to live? The small voice echoed in the empty chamber that once housed his heart and compassion. Thrown off his game, he studied her. Her skin glowed, and her eyes were a bright violet. Parted red lips tempted him to think like a man.
“Are you okay?” The air around them grew electric. He held her closer. Sparks explode around them like golden fireworks. He sheltered her body, holding her tight as the bottom dropped out of his stomach, and the tent blurred. His stomach turned, and he found himself back in his body in the castle. Their bodies were in the exact same place as they had been.
“We’re back.” It felt like a lifetime had passed. Warily, he took a step back. The bond between them pulsed with life and use.
“You feel different.”
“We exchanged blood. It strengthened the bond.”
“It was in our head,” she said softly.
He licked his lips and tasted her lingering flavor. “I’m not so sure.”
Placing a hand on her neck, she brushed her fingers over the fading red marks. She ran her tongue over her teeth. “I can still taste you.”
He stifled the moan that wanted to escape. “And I you.”
“She said we were sent there for a reason.”
“Who said?”
“The witch who appeared to me while you were gone. She said we’d been sent there to learn a lesson.”
“So, you didn’t send us there?” He bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his temper in check. She shut down when she felt threatened.
“I don’t think so. There are powerful forces at work. They want to see us succeed, but they refuse to take away our free will.”
“Who is this witch who can manipulate time and space?”
“Morgan Le Fey.”
“She was a fictional character.”
“You and I know more than most that there’s a grain of truth in every legend. We’re fighting for balance. I know we’ve spoken about it, but …” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I’m ready to begin training now.”
“After you’ve eaten.”
She arched a brow. The shock that spread through their bond agitated him. “I’ve fed from you. I need to make sure you’re properly taken care of.”
“Right. We wouldn’t want to hurt the mission.”
Her words made him frown.
“I’ll change and meet you in the dining room.” She turned, and he felt chilled.
What just happened? He reached out and grabbed her. “Wait.” Her back stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Playing my part. It’s what you wanted, right?”
“I thought we’d reached an understanding,” he said, genuinely confused about her hot and cold behavior.
“Did we?”
“Nakeeta. I don’t wish to be at odds with you.”
“I don’t know which is the real you,” she blurted.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Are you the uptight general with the stick up his ass, or the kind man who helped me survive a frigid winter? I don’t like not knowing where I stand. I made that mistake once. It almost proved to be a grave error.”
“You would compare me to that witch?”
“No.” She winced, and he felt her regret. “I’m calling you an unknown factor.”
“What would you have me do? Pledge my fealty to you and our cause? Come?” He tugged her gently and started toward the house.
“Where are we going?”
“To the chapel to perform the ceremony.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“And yet if I don’t you will not be put at ease. I understand what it means to promise your loyalty to one person. I did not do this in life, so I shall do it in this undead existence, and then I will no longer entertain any of your doubt.”
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, but she stopped protesting.
They walked inside the chapel, and he glanced up at the intricate archways. Respect and awe-filled him as they walked between the seated area where the Royals would’ve sat during services. He’d had a long enough time to ponder the idea of religion. He couldn’t say he bought into the concept of a Caucasian being floating on the cloud judging every moment, but there was a greater power. A force that tried to keep the balance and punished the wrong. He could buy into that. Reading the bible, he prayed that the forgiveness would be offered when he closed his ey
es for the final time.
“This is the chapel where the royal family would attend church on Sundays. The priest would come to them.”
“Its such a foreign concept for us Americans. Royalty, servants, and hierarchy.”
“There’s much more freedom now, but there’s also chaos that comes along with not enough structure.”
“Which do you think is better?” she asked in a hushed tone as they approached the stone altar.
“I don’t think there’s a right answer.” He took her hands in both of his. “Fealty is a promise of service to the powers that be. It was believed that man called down punishment from the Lord himself if he spoke falsely. I’m not sure that I buy into the traditional concept of God, but I do believe in a higher power. So, we will swear to that.”
“O-okay.” Her voice warbled.
“Let’s kneel.” They sank to their knees in front of each other. “This will be our oath to one another.”
“You know an oath with a witch is no small thing, right? It’s another form of binding.”
“I find I don’t mind getting in deeper with you, Keeta.” His words shocked them both; he could feel her surprise through the bond. Things were changing between them.
“I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to Nakeeta Alves, never cause her harm nor practice deceit against her.” He could feel the strands of magic weaving around them, binding them closer. He grimaced as she slipped through the cracks and spaces he’d sealed off from everyone else. The feel of human emotions overwhelmed him.
“Y-your turn.”
“I don’t know your last name,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“Gresham.”
“I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to Crewe Gresham, never cause him harm nor practice deceit against him.”
Her words wrapped around his heart and tightened. A jolt of electricity swept through him. Silvery white ropes of magic wound around them. His skin tingled. Her heart synched with his, and they breathed as one. Resting his forehead against hers, he allowed peace that long eluded him to enter his soul. This slip of a girl with a wicked tongue was altering him from the inside out as surely as his blood was doing to her.
