With every ounce of his strength, he threw Démon to the side. He rolled to his feet, looking for the woman who had so captivated him since her return from Greece. He had waited a long time for an opportunity to seduce Starr in body, mind and soul. No man, Blood or Bane, would take her from him.
Where had the wolves cornered his beauty? He had lost his bearings.
At the sound of a feminine shriek, he spun around. Starr had been knocked to the ground and three wolves were on top of her, growling and snapping, ripping at her dress with their claws.
He lunged forward to help her and grabbed one wolf by the nape. Another wolf surged toward him from the side. He stuck out his arm and prepared himself for the wolf’s sharp teeth but did not feel the bite he expected. Instead something hit him from behind and he stumbled to the side.
Before he could recover, he felt another blow against his skull. Pain speared through his head.
“Starr…” he called out. He went down on one knee and everything turned to black.
Chapter Two
Aleron groaned then regretted the slight noise as a dull pain assaulted the inside of his skull. What had happened to him? His stomach hurt. His ribs ached. Slowly he forced open his eyes and a wave of nausea hit him. “Argh…” Where was he?
Prone on a rug. He braced and rose on one elbow. Everything spun around him and he fought to keep from blacking out. He squinted against the surrounding candlelight, struggling to gain control of his thoughts and his body. He touched the back of his head, wincing when he made contact with a nasty bump. Damn.
Slowly an image formed out of the shadows in his mind. He cursed under his breath, hanging his head. The memory of getting ripped at by the jaws and claws of Les Loups returned in detail. He was surprised to still be alive, given how many wolves had jumped him.
How much time had passed? Hours? Days? More than hours, he thought. Hunger gnawed at his belly. Less than days though, for his wounds had not yet healed. He glanced toward the windows. Night loomed in the air but daylight could not be far from the horizon. He felt the familiar weariness at the approaching dawn in his bones.
He raised his head and inhaled deeply. Les Loups were no longer nearby. He would smell their stench. Somewhere in his branch of the Toussaint family line, a Bane and Blood mating had occurred. He knew it to be true, for over the years he had felt the effects of the wolf blood running through his veins. It had afforded him a few advantages, such as accentuated smell and eyesight, beyond that of even a vampire.
“Starr?” he croaked. As he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, he finally recognized his surroundings. The décor was all too familiar, in fact, and he was surprised that he had not realized his location earlier. Home.
He was on the floor at Château de la Lune. In one of the older rooms. A normally unused one, which must be why he did not pick up the scent of his own nest in the immediate vicinity. “How the hell did I get here?”
If his soldiers had found him, he would be in his personal chambers with servants fluttering about, making certain he was all right. Démon’s pack must have overrun his guards and taken him and the château captive.
“Starr?” he called out again, wondering if she was here with him or if she had managed to escape the melee. Her odor was still all over him from their intimate encounter. Her scent seemed too fresh though. Too strong.
He pulled a chair out of his line of vision and glanced across the room. His heart clenched when he saw her on the bed. Conflicting emotions rolled through him. He was relieved to see her but not happy that she too was now a prisoner.
He struggled to his feet. His knuckles were bruised and sore and a cut on his lip throbbed. Stumbling slightly, he staggered over to the bed and sat on the edge. He noticed that Starr’s cape had been neatly draped over a chair on the far side of the room as if they were guests here instead of prisoners.
“My lady?” He touched her shoulder. When she failed to respond, panic shot through him. He felt the pulse in her neck. Strong and steady. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Fates.”
During the attack, she had fought admirably, surprising him with her bravery and determination. She had stood her ground and never once tried to save her own skin by sacrificing his. No doubt one or two of Démon’s wolves would be bearing scars from the knife stabs she had inflicted. She possessed nowhere near a true soldier’s skills but so much more than would be expected of a pampered lady.
“I am sorry for this,” he whispered. He was accustomed to others retreating from his wrath and had grown lax off the battlefield. Not being able to protect Starr unsettled him. Especially after the intimacy they had shared. Her cunt had tasted better than the richest of honey. He had felt not only her need for him but an opening of her heart toward him as well. Démon had ruined everything.
The missive Démon had alluded to in the alley greatly perplexed him. He remembered the missive, of course, brought to him by a party of bane soldiers days before. Démon had demanded that he turn over the château to Les Loups. As if he would just roll over and give away what was rightfully Toussaint property.
Démon had to be crazy. Or even more arrogant than rumored. After reading the missive, he had ordered his soldiers to toss Démon’s men out on their furry butts. All this trouble and pain over an already settled property matter seemed extreme to him.
Since he had refused the request, Démon had apparently decided to take what he wanted. How Les Loups intended to make it legal intrigued him. And worried him. Legalities were practiced among honorable men. Démon was far from honorable or one to follow legal conventions.
Territorial battles within factions were common, but the High Council of the Underworld would not sit still for a war between Bane and Blood factions, which would certainly occur if Démon did not relent and insisted on taking this property by force. His cousin would never tolerate such an act. Dominique and her soldiers would storm the château. Démon must know that. Aleron could not help but think something larger was brewing here, something more than just gaining possession of a random piece of land.
He pushed himself off the bed and approached the door. If they were truly prisoners… He tugged the handle. Locked. As he had expected.
With his fist, he pounded the thick wood. Nothing. Either no sentries were posted or they were ignoring him. He inhaled deeply, paying close attention to all the different odors within his range. He smelled Starr’s seductive scent. Dust, along with a slight musty smell. Water and blood wine. Nothing else of significance.
He and Starr must be the only ones in this area of the château right now. Or maybe Démon had posted Of the Undead guards. Their scent had always been more difficult for him to detect. He supposed he should be grateful that he and Starr had not been thrown into the dungeon.
Aleron moved back beside the bed. He stared down at Starr’s beautiful face and his hands actually shook as anger surged inside him. And fear. An emotion he was not accustomed to feeling. The fear was not for himself but for this beautiful lady. He had to find a way out of here and get her to safety.
He strode over to the windows and peered out. Too dark to see much of anything, even with the moon and his superior eyesight. They were on the side of the château where a dense forest stood.
If they could somehow make it into the cover of the trees, they could disappear. He reached through the window and his fingers curled around the bars there. He tugged but they held firm.
This section of the château had been used to hold prisoners of status years ago. He never imagined he would be imprisoned here, otherwise he would have built in a hidden escape route as an architect had done with many of the rooms at Castle Toussaint.
He turned and noticed a pitcher of water and a bottle of blood wine atop a chest of drawers. Their scents had reached him earlier. The liquids should sustain them. For a while. He walked back and stood over Starr, imagining how rich her blood would taste if they were forced to feed on one another to survive. His cock swelled at the
thought.
But then guilt struck him hard. “Damn,” he whispered. He should not be entertaining such thoughts, given their predicament. “Starr,” he called in a strong voice, needing her to stir. His worry over her well-being was interfering with his ability to think clearly.
This time, at the sound of his voice, her eyes popped open and she sat up quickly, as if she thought herself still under attack. She groaned and fell back against the pillows, squeezing her eyes closed.
“Easy.” He sat beside her. “There is no danger.” He inwardly cursed, regretting his selfish behavior. He should have called out her name in a softer tone. If her head hurt as severely as his then any quick movement would be excruciating. “You are not alone.”
He hoped to calm her with his presence. He itched to touch her. The woman’s skin was softer than a rose petal. But he did not dare. Once he touched her, he might not be able to stop. “Do not move so fast. You could be injured.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a softness impossible to resist. Ah, hell. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and brushed the hair from her face but he avoided stroking her flesh with his fingers.
“Aleron?” She glanced around. “Where are we? What is going on?”
“Les Loups attacked us in the alley after we left the party. Remember? We are at my château now.”
“Attacked?” Her look of concern gradually turned to understanding. “Oh yes. I remember. How long have we been here?”
“I do not know for certain. A day would be my guess.”
Even at his uncertain answer, she visibly relaxed and let out a sigh. “You defended us well. I am greatly impressed.”
Her praise normally would have pleased him. But given their circumstances, he felt like the lowest of the low. “Do not make assumptions of our safety.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Are we not out of danger?”
“We are in my home but we are not safe. We are Démon’s prisoners. Or so I suspect, since we are locked in.” He hated to blurt it out so coldly but telling her quickly seemed best.
“Prisoners?” Her brow furrowed. “How? Why? What is going on between you two?”
“Do not worry about such things. Just rest for now. I will figure a way out of this.” Though her questions had been softly spoken, he saw the censure and disappointment in her eyes. Once he freed them, she would again look upon him as worthy.
“Do not coddle me.” She sat up, slowly this time. “Tell me what is going on. Just because I am female does not mean I am some simpleton incapable of understanding conflicts and battles. Not knowing will make me irritable. And I do not like that feeling.”
When he hesitated, frustration clouded her features. “Aleron…”
He supposed she deserved to know everything. Or almost everything. “Démon wants the château and I have refused. I do not understand the importance of this land to him but it must be significant for him to so boldly imprison us here. I certainly never suspected he would take such an action.”
“He would imprison us for this land? That makes no sense. Surely he has gone mad.” She glanced around the room and her nose crinkled. “This is your personal chamber?”
“No. It is a room in an unused wing.” His personal chamber was much more plush and comfortable. He knew she was used to finer surroundings and wished they had been placed in better accommodations. He had hoped to impress her with his home. Now Démon had ruined that too.
The look on her face eased and she nodded. “I see.” But after merely a moment a scowl overtook her features.
“What is it now, my lady?” he asked, dreading each minute imprisoned here. A way to turn things to their advantage had to exist.
“Is your château not secure? Do you not have trained soldiers here? What of your reputation on the battlefield? Is your prowess mere gossip only?”
Her questions took him by surprise. He had always taken pride in his nest. Criticism against himself, his home and his people had never sat well with him and now was no different, even coming from her. Maybe especially coming from her because his plans had been so disrupted. “This did not happen on a battlefield. I was not armed for war against so many.” He snapped his response, a little louder than intended. “My château is secure. I have soldiers here and they are well trained.”
“Then how did we end up in this predicament?”
He was not in the habit of defending the actions of his nest to anyone. Besides, neither of them had any idea how much, if any, of a fight had occurred. “Les Loups must have tricked the sentries into being let inside, since the pack had us with them and we were unconscious. I do not normally keep a full staff or a complete garrison here. They could very well have been overpowered before they realized what was going on.”
“I would not have fallen for such a ploy.”
He grunted in response, not about to blame his soldiers. He had seen to their training personally. They could not have been expected to turn away someone delivering their downed leader along with a known fem-vamp of Blood Royalty, even if they suspected some sort of deception.
“My brother will not stand for this once he hears.” Starr rubbed her forehead as if pained by the circumstances more so than any physical injury.
“Nor my cousin. We shall be rescued soon, I am certain. Unless we escape before they come for us.” Things were far from lost for them.
Starr pushed up straighter against the pillows and looked down at her dress. “I am a mess.” She looked him up and down as well but did not comment on his appearance. “Are you hurt?”
The fact that she asked eased his frustration. She had to care about him at least a bit. “Not overly.” He brushed the dust from his trousers. He was not about to admit to any injuries and appear weakened in her eyes. Besides, nothing was wrong with him that would not heal quickly.
Starr pushed at her hair and frowned when she pulled out a small stick, which must have gotten lodged there when she had been forced to the ground in the alley.
He smiled at the outraged look on her face, as if the stick had personally done her wrong. “Do not fuss. You are beautiful as you are.” He had to stroke her skin, despite his earlier decision not to. The special connection would settle him. And perhaps it would settle her too.
When he reached out, she swatted away his hand. “Do not attempt to touch me right now. I am covered with dirt and grime. And you look even worse.”
He frowned. He did not think he looked so bad. “You are becoming difficult, my lady.”
The look in her eyes briefly softened. But almost immediately, her shield fell back into place, protecting whatever true emotions she was feeling. “Excuse me if I am waspish about being held prisoner.”
Her attitude was nothing less than he expected from his feisty lady. If she acted strong, difficult even, she could hide any emotions that might make her appear overly vulnerable to him and their predicament.
Aleron did not know Starr well but had heard many things over the years. She was reputed to be intelligent but spoiled. Loyal but demanding of those she cared for. Supposedly she had taken many lovers over the years but she had never actually been in love. Intriguing, if true.
She was such a beautiful challenge and she utterly fascinated him. Most women bored him. Not her. Her unpredictability kept him sharp. He looked forward to peeling away the protective layers around her to the real woman underneath.
At the sound of a key grating in the lock, both of them turned their heads.
Aleron stood, blocking Starr from whoever was outside the door. “We are about to have company.”
“You speak the obvious. Now move out of the way so I can see.”
He admired her independence but, at the same time, it bothered him for he felt it was his responsibility to protect her. “Stay still and quiet. I will handle whoever is out there.” His nostrils picked up a scent. He knew who their visitor was. And this time he was ready.
Starr frowned at his words. She did not need anyone to ta
ke care of her. Had not the fact that she fought Les Loups right by his side shown Aleron that she was capable? Even so, she could not deny the relief that he was with her. She would not have wanted to be a prisoner alone. Although she would not have been taken captive in the first place if she had not been with Aleron in the alley.
She had feared all along that their intimate liaison would lead to no good. In her frustration over not listening to her better judgment, she had been rather petulant since awakening and she had insulted him unjustly. Somehow she would make it up to Aleron, for she knew that he had not intended this to happen. Her heart pounded as she waited for their visitor to enter.
The door opened and Démon stepped into the room, dressed all in black and looking as formidable as ever. Her heart clenched. Aleron was right. They were indeed prisoners of Les Loups. This did not bode well.
Aleron immediately attacked, tackling Démon to the floor. They rolled and wrestled for position. A guard rushed into the room to help and when he turned toward the downed men, Starr jumped on his back. He cursed and twisted then reared back, trying to dislodge her.
“Hold!”
At the booming command, everyone froze and looked up. Three more soldiers stood before them with swords drawn and leveled at Aleron’s head. Starr slid off the guard’s back and returned to the bed.
Démon kicked Aleron away and rose from the floor. “Get to your feet,” he ordered, fingering his ribs. “You take foolish chances.”
Starr looked out the open door and she saw two more Of the Bane personal guards in the hall. Démon had come prepared. So many guards would be too difficult to overtake. She watched Aleron cautiously stand. His eyes darted back and forth, as if assessing the situation or searching for any weakness he could exploit.
Démon looked from him to her and then back to Aleron. “You both are obviously unharmed enough to fight for your freedom. However, freedom will not be forthcoming. Food will be brought for you soon. Do you require anything specific before then?”
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