Blood Bond

by Shannon K. Butcher

  She saw his approach and froze.

  She was willing to share her blood but not her kiss? He knew she wanted him. He could smell how aroused she was, hear her rapid pulse and see the flare of her nostrils as she pulled in his scent.

  With the lightest of touches, he flitted into her thoughts, barely grazing the surface. Perhaps it was an intrusion of her privacy but he really didn’t care. If he was about to make some giant mistake with her, he wanted to know.

  Excitement and fear wared for supremacy in her mind. She was afraid to get too close because of another man she’d once known.

  Had he hurt her? Broken her heart?

  Ronan held Justice’s gaze and dove deeper into her memories until he found what he was looking for.

  Noah. He’d befriended her shortly after she’d woken here, naked and alone. He’d helped her learn how to survive and how to find work. He’d introduced her to his contacts on the black market and been a good friend.

  Then, one day, the fates had ordered her to kill him. She didn’t know why and had tried to resist. Her disobedience had nearly killed her, but in the end, she’d done what she was ordered to do.

  To this day, she still didn’t know why she’d been forced to murder the only friend she had, but since then she’d never gotten close to anyone.

  Until Ronan.

  He understood now why he was a threat, why she had run from him. Him taking her blood the night they met was the most intimate thing she’d shared with anyone, and she was terrified she was going to be forced to kill him, too.

  The sad truth was that she might. Until they drove the presence in her mind out, she was at the mercy of that powerful force, and if he tried to stop her from following orders, it would only cause her pain.

  She stared at him, understandably caught between desire and fear. Now he knew why, and now he could push her in the direction he wanted her to go.

  There was no question which he wanted her to feel.

  Ronan moved in and kissed her. The instant his lips met hers, her whole demeanor changed, and she gave in with abandon.

  She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him tighter against her. Her mouth opened and her tongue swept into his mouth, giving him a taste of heaven. She flirted with the sharp tips of his fangs, but he was careful not to let her draw blood.

  Sanguinar were very careful about mixing blood and sex. It was too easy to get carried away as the frenzy of lust and hunger collided. If she ingested even a little of his blood, her body would become receptive to his sperm and she could become pregnant.

  There wasn’t enough blood to feed the Sanguinar they already had. Bringing another into the world would have been the height of irresponsibility. Even dreaming about having a child was something Ronan had forbade himself from doing.

  He’d seen others of his kind take that first step and it had destroyed them. To want a child you could never have, or to have one and watch it suffer? None of them were strong enough for that.

  Still, he couldn’t seem to gain enough control to draw in his fangs, so being careful with them was the only thing he could do.

  Her hands roamed his back, alternately clutching and petting as if she couldn’t decide which she wanted to do. Soft sounds of hunger and pleasure drifted out of her in a musical chorus he’d never get tired of hearing.

  Her kisses were as fierce as she was, with surprising moments of softness that always kept him guessing. By the time he started working to unbutton her shirt, he was strung so tight with lust he couldn’t even think clearly.

  Ronan spread the lapels of her flannel shirt to reveal the sweetest breasts he’d ever seen. Dark nipples showed clearly through the thin white bra she wore. The tips were tight, stabbing hard through the fabric. The shadowy valley that disappeared between her breasts was an invitation for his fingers and tongue to follow.

  He lowered his head and kissed the swell of one breast, just above her heart. The organ fluttered in response to his nearness and pumped harder.

  Hunger rampaged through his cells, overpowering his lust for a brief moment, but long enough for him to know there was no more time to wait. If he did, he’d forget himself as he had the first night he’d fed from her and be more animal than man.

  She deserved better.

  His lips met the smooth column of her neck. Her pulse leapt and she sucked in a tight breath. Beneath his weight, her hips squirmed and her back arched in anticipation. He didn’t need to be in her mind to know this was what she wanted—almost as much as he did. He could feel it in the tension of her muscles and the catch in her breath.

  Hunger prowled through him, demanding and impatient.

  There was a time when feeding had been a leisurely thing, when Athanasian blood was far more plentiful and freely given than it was now. In his youth, men and women alike would come to offer him blood in exchange for good health and long lives. Sometimes they offered more, and sometimes he accepted.

  He’d been so deeply hungry for so many years, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to lust for the flesh. But even now, his body weak and desperate, he still wanted Justice.

  She’d given him back desire, and for that he could never repay her.

  Her fingers slid into his hair and held on tight. The tips of his fangs grazed her skin, catching on the little puckered marks he’d left on her neck.

  She said something, but her words were too incoherent to understand. Instead, all he heard was a whimper of need that matched his own.

  He promised himself he’d take only what he needed to regain his strength. He promised himself that he’d stop after just a few drops so her body could finish healing. He promised himself that no matter how much he wanted her after he fed, he wouldn’t take her.

  The instant his teeth pierced her skin, he knew he would break every one of those promises.

  She was hot and sweet and filled with a roar of power. She tasted like victory after a fierce battle and unquenchable lust. No matter how much he drank, he’d never get his fill of her.

  Her hands clenched in his hair, along his back. Short fingernails bit into his skin, but the slight pain only heightened his arousal.

  Her power flowed into his mouth, and when it wasn’t fast enough, he sucked at her throat, demanding she give him more.

  He began to undress her as he fed, pulling free the button of her jeans.

  Stop!

  The alien command boomed in his mind, so loud he was shocked into stillness.

  Had Justice said that? Had she somehow shoved that word into his thoughts?

  Something about that didn’t seem right. There was a strange vibration flowing through the command—one he didn’t recognize.

  Ronan willed her flesh closed so as not to waste a drop of her precious blood and lifted his head. There were still smears of blood on her skin, but he ignored them and looked around the small room for intruders.

  They were alone. There were no sounds from outside and no smell of people, animals or demons nearby.

  “What’s wrong?” Justice asked, her voice languid and sleepy.

  “Did you say something?” he asked.

  “No.” Her silvery-green eyes were bright, almost glowing. The sight was so beautiful he forgot all about the voice and simply drank her in.

  “Did you get enough?” she asked.

  “Of you? I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  Her smile was hot and filled with womanly desire.

  His thirst was quenched, but his hunger was far from sated. He was going to strip her bare and feast on her. Once he got her naked and learned how she liked to be touched, he was going to make her come until she was too spent to lift her head.

  His lust for her had shoved its way to the front of the line and was now demanding to take its turn.

  He unzipped her jeans, but before he could slide them down off those curvy hips, alarm covered her face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She scrambled away from him and started fastening her cloth
es. Her hands trembled on the buttons as she dressed. “I have to go.”

  “Now?”

  He thought he might have seen tears glisten in her eyes but wasn’t sure.

  “Yes. Now.” Her tone was curt, her movements sharp with irritation. “Fucking fates and their fucking bad timing.”

  Ronan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with unsated lust and he wasn’t sure he remembered exactly how to do it. His erection didn’t seem to remember either.

  “You don’t need to tag along,” she said. “I have a car stashed out back.”

  The idea of her leaving without him got his head back in the game.

  He stood up and took her trembling hands in his. “If you think I’m going to let you slip away from me now, you’re delusional.”

  “You’ve had my blood. You’ve tried to free me from the fates. It didn’t work. Time to move on.”

  “Hardly. I’m far from done with you, Justice. I haven’t even begun doing to you the things I want to do.”

  Her pupils flared and he smelled a wash of arousal flood out of her. The intoxicating scent didn’t help him dampen his lust, but he still couldn’t get enough of it.

  He tilted her head up to look him in the eye. “We’re not done. If you try to leave me, you may not like the way I react.”

  She took his statement as a challenge rather than a warning. He could tell by the flare of fire in her eyes. “Or I might like it a lot. I guess we won’t know unless it happens. For now, your invitation to tag along is still good.”

  He loved that feisty side of her—the one that was fearless and never backed down.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  She tilted her head to the side as if listening. “I’m not one-hundred percent sure yet, but I think I need to visit a corpse.”

  ***

  Sibyl hadn’t been on good terms with her mother since she was a child, but now that Gilda was dead, it was easy to forgive her for her mistakes. Somehow, death had a way of fogging over the bad and highlighting the good a person did.

  The truth was, Sibyl often wondered if she wouldn’t have made the same choices her mother had if she’d been in her shoes. Could she have watched her people suffer without working to end it? Could she have watched her children die, one after another, and not done something to stop it? Or would she have done anything to protect her babies, no matter how rash or foolish.

  Sibyl hoped she never found out.

  The Hall of the Fallen, which served as a place to remember the dead, was always quiet. Few people came here, and there were never gatherings. When one person came, etiquette required anyone already here leave to allow the newcomer to grieve in peace.

  It was one of the few places other than her suite that Sibyl could come and think without being crowded by men who were desperate to see if she could save their lives.

  She was an unbound female Theronai. She carried within her the power to save a man’s life.

  But only one.

  After centuries of being trapped in a child’s body too young to bond, one of the hardest parts of her rapid transition to womanhood was not her sudden, bizarre curves or bleeding once a month, but the burden of knowing she could save only one man when there were so many who deserved to live.

  She wasn’t ready for that responsibility yet. Soon, there would be no choice and she’d have to start testing the men to see who was compatible with her, but for now, they were all under orders from Joseph to give her a wide berth.

  Sibyl took her father’s sword from the mantle and settled into a soft, leather chair in front of the fire.

  This room was small and cozy, decorated in soothing colors and filled with the pleasant scent of leather and lemon polish. In the room beyond this one, dozens of swords were on display to honor the men and women who’d given their lives to the war. But this smaller space was reserved for those who’d recently fallen.

  Like her parents.

  Her father’s sword had been recovered from the cave that had collapsed in on him and her mother. Their bodies had been buried in the cemetery, but not their weapons.

  Wrapped around the hilt of Angus’s sword was the pale gray luceria her mother had worn since she was young. They’d bonded when they were all but children themselves and had remained that way until the day they died to save Maura.

  After centuries of having her parents around, Sibyl still wasn’t sure how to move on without them. Even Cain, who’d fostered her after she’d shunned her mother, was busy with his new life and new wife.

  There was no one at Dabyr Sibyl could really talk to, so she came here and spoke to a sword and a necklace as if they could actually respond.

  Silly. Childish. But comforting.

  “I can’t reach Maura,” she whispered as she stroked the dented blade her father had wielded. “I keep trying, but she’s completely shut me out. I know something bad is coming. I know she’s involved. What I don’t know is how to stop her.”

  Neither sword nor luceria answered, but Sibyl hadn’t expected them to.

  “I can’t give up on her. Not yet. I worry that if she finds a male desperate enough to bond to her, she’ll use his power to hurt people. I have to make her come back to us before that happens.”

  The carved wooden door leading into the Hall of the Fallen opened and Morgan Valens walked in.

  He was a big man with light brown skin and matching eyes. His Egyptian heritage showed clearly in his features, and he was one of the few Theronai who had smile lines bracketing his mouth.

  He was already in the room before he saw her curled up in the chair. He came to an abrupt stop and gave her a grin. “Good to see you out and about, Sibyl. We’ve been wondering if you were ever going to come out of your room.”

  She shrugged in a move more casual than she felt. “People still aren’t used to seeing me in this body. No sense in freaking them out.”

  Morgan winked. “No freaking out here. I’m over it.”

  She rose from her chair to leave, but he held up his hand. “Stay. I’ll come back later.”

  “I was just leaving,” she lied.

  “Stay. Gilda and Angus were your parents. You get first dibs on visiting them.”

  “You came here for them, too?” she asked.

  “Felt like I should pay my respects before I leave. Another time is fine.” He turned to go.

  Talking to someone—anyone felt good. And while Morgan was typically flirtatious with women, he wasn’t with her. Like most of the men here, he still saw her as a little girl.

  For now, she was glad for it.

  “Where are you going?” she asked to get him to linger.

  “Did you meet Serena?”

  “Iain’s betrothed?”

  Morgan grimaced. “Yeah. Her. Joseph’s been trying to get her to come back for months. Seems the men he’s sent so far haven’t been up to the task.”

  “They couldn’t find her?”

  “Oh, they found her all right. They just needed a Sanguinar to heal them once she was done with them.”

  “She hurt them?”

  “Seems so. It’s my turn to take a beating and try to bring her home. Joseph wants everyone who can help here to protect the babies.”

  “But if one of those babies is Iain’s and his new bride’s, and Serena was once betrothed to him, wouldn’t having them all under one roof create some…awkwardness?”

  Morgan laughed. “Who needs reality TV when we have so much going on right here?”

  He made no move to come near her or touch her to see if they were compatible. She knew that he was probably in pain from carrying around the power he housed, and there was a small chance she could be the one to ease his burden, but his total lack of interest in Sibyl gave her the courage to reach out.

  She so desperately needed advice, and her father’s sword was never going to give it.

  “You are good with women, right?”

  His laughter faded and he narro
wed his eyes. “What?”

  “I hear people talk. Everyone says you’re a ladies’ man. I assume that means you have experience with them.”

  His expression went skeptical. “Let’s say I do. What’s this about, Sibyl?”

  “My sister. I don’t know how to reach her.”

  His shoulders fell in relief and he let out a sigh. “For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me you wanted me to teach you about sex.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, honey, but I just don’t think I can ever see you as anything but an eight-year-old.”

  Sibyl rolled her eyes. “First, I know about sex. I have been alive for a couple of centuries. Second, I know how you all see me—as the creepy little girl who can see the future and knows how everyone is going to die. Third, I’m not interested in any of you, either.”

  He winced. “Don’t let the men hear you say that. You’re giving them way too much hope right now to crush it. After everything we’ve been through, we all need a good dose of hope.”

  “Other than you and Joseph, I haven’t spoken to any of the men. My secret is safe.”

  He nodded. “So what do you need to know?”

  “How do you reach a woman who has no interest in speaking to you?”

  “Hell if I know. I’ve never had that problem. Getting women to talk to me has never been a problem. How do you think I got the reputation for being a ladies’ man?”

  “You realize that’s absolutely no help at all. This is my sister we’re talking about. I need to get through to her and convince her to come home.”

  He let out a low whistle. “Good luck with that. I really doubt Joseph would let her through the gates, even if she did want to come in. And chances are she wouldn’t live through the night after all the shit she’s pulled.”

  “Everyone deserves forgiveness.”

  Morgan shook his head, his smile completely gone. “I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, Sibyl, but you’re wrong. Maura chose to side with our enemy. She killed a lot of good men. She killed her own parents. The only thing she deserves is a swift, painless death, light on the painless part.”