*****
Graeme shifted in his seat, unsettled once more. Almost a sennight ago Rhys was charged with returning with his mate, and it was only last night word arrived. They stayed at an inn not two miles from the stronghold, resting. He wanted to go to her himself, to touch and hold her, to see his son. Instead he decided that no matter how urgent the need to be close to her, she would come to his home and be given a welcome suited to any mate of the king. From the moment he announced to his men that she was close, word spread like wildfire. The women and children busied themselves with decorating the halls and preparing a feast unlike anything he had ever seen. His men hastened to rebuild the last of the walls that needed securing. His halls were a riot – there was singing and dancing and much to drink. Bjorn’s men who had stayed to ensure the stronghold was completed were invited to join in the celebration, an opportunity neither of them declined. Several warriors and chambermaids were sent ahead, with chests of gifts and jewels and perfumes to prepare her for her entrance. Now, as the evening faded to dusk, there was still no sign of the entourage. He stood and paced, and finally snatched his sword from where it sat against his chair and, in his festive colors, slammed open the doors to bellow for his horse.
And stopped in his tracks.
The road leading to the front doors of the stronghold was lit with dozens of torches even though the sun had yet to set. The people lined the streets of the village bearing gifts of flowers and fruits. On the outside, the ladies ordered to assist their new queen offered excited smiles and whispers as they entered ahead of the carriage. The horses were stopped, and as the sun dipped beneath the mountains, Rhys stepped forward to open the door. Vilirus was the first to dismount, and to his credit, when the women and children gasped and the murmurs began, he did nothing but offer them a disconcerted glance and offer his hand into the darkness within.
Her slippered feet were the first thing Graeme saw. The shimmering blue of her dress was next, and when she smiled her thanks to the Hunter before her and looked around, he knew she sought his face. He could not move, for even at this distance, he could see how radiantly she shone. She was beautiful, his mate. So beautiful he cursed himself a hundred times for his folly in treating her like a slave those many moons ago. She spoke to Vilirus, said something that earned her a scowl and a gentle rebuke, and turned to Rhys for help. He did not fail when he cut a murderous glance at her brother and offered his arm. To see her touch his general so, to smile at him, to see the man respond so readily ignited his jealousy so that it was a great effort not to rush in and tear them apart. She spoke again, and he nodded forward. When she looked up, their eyes met. She froze. Hot tears fell down her face, and the force of the love he saw in her eyes knocked him in the center of his chest. There was no stopping her feet as she disengaged herself and ran to him, her beautifully bound hair losing their many pins as the chambermaids called out to her. The force of her body as it was pressed to his humbled him. Her embrace was tight, reassuring, and when she finally met his gaze, it was to tip toe and press her lips to his in a shameless kiss that prompted the onlookers out of their shock and into a hair-raising cheer.
“Let me breathe woman, before you tempt me to ravish you right here,” he scowled when she refused to release his lips.
“And I will not care. I have worried about you so much.”
“And I have thought of nothing but you since I left.”
Displeasure darkened her eyes and for a moment she pushed him away. “You did not even say goodbye.”
Accusation was heavy in her voice. He stroked her face, her neck, and finally cupped her chin to kiss her again. “You would not have made leaving easy. But all is well now. You are at my side, where you belong.”
It was then she turned to the crowd, cheering and prompting. “I still could not believe it when Rhys told me how well they have accepted me.”
“They trust me. And after your enthusiastic greeting, they believe you love me.”
She did not blush when she met his eyes squarely. “Was there even any doubt?”
He laughed and embraced her again before presenting her to the crowd. Silence ensured, and there, with many witnesses, he pledged allegiance to her as a mate. When it was her turn to exchange the vow, she glanced nervously to Rhys who simply nodded, and offered the same in the tongue of his people. Graeme caught his jaw before his dropped, and was all but deafened by the roar of approval they gave.
“I accept,” he croaked, and kissed her again.
“Let us now celebrate this occasion, and that of an era with our new queen.”
Rhys ordered the minstrels to play, and with music and much celebration, the night began. Whispers of how beautiful and charming the mate of their king was swept throughout the stronghold and the land. Tales of that night echoed in song in the years that followed. Every family, vampire and Were, knew well the stories of the King to the south, of his daring, of his courage, of his oath to the woman he claimed, he loved. And as the years went by, more vampires and Weres accepted that love knew no bounds. The knowledge filled some with courage, and some with much despair, and others simply curiosity.
“Do you think I shall ever see my mother again?” Amarinda asked one day as they rode through the village, distributing grain after another successful harvest. Graeme tore his eyes away from his two year old son who totted behind Rhys, ever so often shoving a berry in his mouth.
“I cannot say. Do you miss them?”
“Sometimes. Then I remember, and I long to forget.”
He kissed her hand and smiled, his eyes bright and full of warmth. “We have many years to see the times pass from this earth my love. I think one day, you will see the family you long for again.”
“I do not long for them Were,” she teased, pulling away. “I have the family I need right here. And since Ulleam is otherwise cared for by your doting men, I would like some time alone with my husband.”
His grin was all teeth. “Is that right?”
“I challenge you to a hunt.” By the look in her eyes there was no doubt as to what - or who he’d be hunting. Fire burned in his loins and he inhaled the sweet smell of her desire. When he looked her, his eyes flamed.
“Then you should start running vampire, because when I bring you down, I will have no mercy.”
She grinned and turned the mount around, he leaned forward and eyed her until she disappeared into the trees.
“Rhys!”
His general swept the child in his arms and faced him, glanced toward the direction she took and snorted his disapproval. “My lord?”
“Watch Ulleam while we are gone.”
“Gone?”
“Aye. I think when your queen returns, there will be another babe in her belly.”
Rhys kept the surprise from his face but could not help the chuckle that rose in his chest when Graeme dismounted and made his way ever so calmly to the forest. Indeed, the habits of mates he will never understand.
The End
###
Hello reader! If you have gotten this far, let me express my deepest gratitude for your support in actually completing the entire book. The novel above is part of a series I am currently working on, and since it is my pleasure to write and share my stories, I would like you to do two things – comment on the novel or give suggestions on what you think about it, and read the first few pages of the novel I’m currently working on. You’ll find that information below. I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing, and I look forward to hearing from you soon!
Happy readying!
Reeyce.
The Griswold Witch
By Reeyce Smythe Wilder
Chapter One
The ruckus of vicious barks could not drown out the heavy breaths that hung like corpses in the cold night. In the darkness behind, she could clearly make out the flash of torches between the trees. Adrenaline pumped hotly through her veins, and in a panic induced state, she did not see the drop ahead. Black earth and broken branches met h
er chest. Hot breath rushed out of her chest in a shock of pain. Still, she ran. Voices, loud and determined, echoed in a cacophony, a distorted hum that stoked terror within her.
Pausing to catch her breath, she hissed the moment she pressed a hand to the oozing wound on her shoulder. Blood, black in the moonlight, carried with it the scent of burnt flesh. Sweat trickled down her pinched face, bloodied, dirty and bruised. The need to survive forced her feet to move. She saw the river, heard the rush of the rapids and paused long enough to glance over her shoulder. The dog was swift on its feet, its' attack a blur in her peripheral vision. It made contact with her arm the same instant she flung her body into the rapids, but still she felt pain from the canines teeth that was lodged into her forearm and the shock of the cold water.
By sheer will she dislodged the knife strapped to her side and sank the wicked blade into the animal repeatedly. The force of the water took her under, and when she resurfaced, there was nothing but the flashing lights within the line of trees on the river bank several yards behind and the intense cold. Limbs becoming hopelessly heavy, she sputtered, sucking in air hungrily before being taken under again. A loud pop echoed in her ear before everything turned black.
***
There was nothing Rhys enjoyed more than a mug of ale, a woman on his lap, and a good night’s rest after the long journey that had brought him to the door of clan leader, Bjorn. It had been many months since the war with the vampires, and in the weeks that followed, life took on a certain monotony he more than welcomed. There was plenty of food and drink, and the men continued to work hard at their training. With the acceptance of the new queen, they did their best in the hopes that when the time came, their leader Graeme would appoint the best as her personal guard. Rhys of course was charged with the selection, and it was a daunting task. Although many of the men found it an honor to protect their leader’s vampire mate, it would not do to have them overstep their bounds with her. Graeme, he realized, had become more possessive, and that too when he discovered that she was pregnant yet again. It was a task to keep her safe, especially since she was not the kind of woman to adhere to the words of a man, king or not. And since he did not want to get in between marital strife as they were wont to drag him into, he had taken the only other escape route and had assigned himself the duty of visiting with Bjorn with a personal request that he join them to stay throughout the winter. He was received well, and the invitation was accepted, but not before he was treated to a great feast as their guest of honor.
He sat now with a full belly and a large woman on his lap, her generous breasts all but bare to his face and her seeking hands delving beneath his tunic and making his blood boil. There was no coyness about these north-women, a fact he liked immensely. Still, no matter how much he wanted to enjoy the warmth of her lushness, his bladder was close to bursting. He patted her hip and offered a smile, accepted her deep, greedy kiss, and sent her on her way with a promise to return. He stood, toasted the king whose thunderous laughter drowned out any other, and all but stumbled through the throng of boisterous warriors toward the heavy doors. The winter wind was frigid, and he made his way to the river whose depths berth the several dozen longboats he had balked to brave upon the crossing. He relieved himself, his body now languid and relaxed as he absently listened to the lash of the gentle waves upon wood – and frowned when his wandering gaze spotted a figure that looked like a body several yards away, floating in the water. His senses sharpened instantly, and before thought could have stayed him, he dived into the black depths. With powerful strokes he advanced, and was only aware of the sense of dread that filled him when he realized that it was a woman. It took only a moment to wade back to shore, and even less time to turn her onto her side. Her heart beat strong and the breaths she took were deep and sure. She would live, there was no doubt. Her eyes flew open quite suddenly, and Rhys felt a blow as powerful as any mans knock him onto his back the moment she lifted her hands in defense. She struggled to her feet, eyes wild and frightened, muttering words he could neither hear nor understand. Just as quickly as her attack began, so it ended, for she closed her eyes and fainted.
Rhys got to his feet in slow degrees, trying to fully understand what the hell just happened and failing miserably. Maybe he was more intoxicated than he’d first realized. He advanced with much caution and ever so slowly moved the lash of hair from her face – and stopped cold. Her skin was like the cream of milk, so white he could not mistake the harsh cuts and bruises upon her cheek. As the wind lifted, the scent of wild flowers greeted him, thick and heavy, and for a moment he rocked back and sniffed, trying to dislodge the scent there. But it wafted over him again, coming from her with the force of a storm. It was divine, and for a moment, he could do nothing but sit on his haunches and stare at her in utter awe. It dawned on him slowly, so much so that even he tried to justify it, to excuse his rash behavior and assumptions for what it was. Graeme was mated. It would only be wise to assume that subconsciously he craved a mate as well. And why shouldn’t he? He was quite older than Graeme, had seen more than his share of violence and loss. Of course he would want someone to finally share his life with. That was the only reason he would view this woman, this stranger as a mate. That did not explain the surge of protectiveness that clutched his chest when the doors to the keep opened and the noise from within seeped into the night. She was wet and cold, and how she ended up in the river was something he would have liked to know as well.
Gathering her to his body, he clutched her close and made the long steps to the great hall. Bjorn met his eyes and his smile fell away, but Rhys simply shook his head and continued on his way. He kicked the door to his room open and slammed it upon entry, making a bee-line for the fire that burned bright. Upon the furs on the ground he knelt again, hands on his thighs as he considered her in the light. She was not as blemish less as he first thought, for a generous smatter of freckles dusted her nose which was very small and sat neatly in the center of her face. Her cheeks were high and perfectly round, and a cherub mouth, pale and slightly parted while she breathe, twitched ever so often, evidence that she fought nightmares. She boasted several cuts along her face, and as he moved her hair again, it was to become captivated by the yellow locks that curled around his fingers. Satin soft and fragrant, he sank his nostrils upon the tendril and inhaled like a man starved. Fire erupted in his chest, and another member of his body strummed to life almost instantly. Rhys ground his teeth and took his time in undressing her. Everything was soaked through and through. Her skin was ice to the touch. When he finally had her naked before the flames, he shamelessly raked her body. Breasts the size of apples was tipped with raspberry color nipples. She boasted a little belly that quivered as she trembled from the cold, and a dark mole upon her right pelvic bone. A small waist flared to wide hips, then tapered to long, shapely legs that were also bruised. At the juncture of her thighs, thick curls a shade darker than the hair on her head curled. Her knees were cut, and her forearm, when he pulled the sleeves of her dress away, was marked by a brutal bite. There was no mistaking the canine puncture wounds there. A threatening snarl reverberated in his chest, and anger made his eyes burn. She whimpered, a helpless, pathetic sound that forced him to strip every last piece of clothing from his body, and stretch out next to her. A thick fur was spread over them, and he shifted as close as possible to the fire without the risk of getting burnt. There, he held her, familiarizing himself with her scent and the feel of her naked body that fit like a puzzle against his harder frame. He smelled her hair and traced the outline of her face with his rough fingers, and when the temptation of her lips became too much, did the unthinkable and kissed them tenderly. Everything about her was perfect. It was also apparent she was in trouble. He would warm her tonight and every other night for the rest of her life, and he would keep her safe. No matter what her foe. After so very long, he had finally found his mate.
Chapter Two
The warmth of the sun penetrated her flesh and her pores sucked
it up greedily. She tried to open her eyes, but the comfort of the bed and the hard warmth that held her secure encouraged her to want to slip in the slumber of unconsciousness. She never again wanted to awaken. If this was what death was like, she should have welcomed it long ago. She buried her nose in the warmth beside her, reveling in the scent of freshly cut grass, for it reminded her of the hills in the summer and the little creek that trickled behind her mother’s cottage in the mountains. She clung to that familiar scent. It meant that she was safe. Brenna would have stayed there for a long time had it not been for the uncomfortable, hard object that pressed into her hip. She frowned and shifted – and felt her body ache so much so that she hollered. The agony shocked her out of her lethargic sleep. Blinded, she blinked, aware of the fire that near scorched her skin – and the hard length that enveloped her. Eyes wide, she spied the arm that was locked around her midriff.
A well muscled arm it was too, dusted with dark hair from wrist to elbow. With body held as stiff as a board she tried to turn her neck to see who held her captive and scuttled out of the fur the moment he relaxed his hold to allow her escape. On shaking feet she faced her captor, stunned by the sight of him. He was darker than the men she was accustomed to, and though he did not boast their height, there was no mistaking the bulk of his massive shoulders and the whipcord muscles there. He allowed her assessment of him shamelessly, meeting her eyes with a small smile that was meant to sooth and comfort her. Her eyes dropped to his chest, matted with dark hair, and the rock hard stomach that bore many scars. The fur thankfully covered his manhood, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes when his gaze travelled down the length of her body. Only then did she realize that she too was nude. A heated blush turned her body crimson, and she shamefully covered her breasts and the curls between her legs. Her eyes darted around the large room, seeking a covering of some kind. He rose, unconcerned that she should see him in all his glory, and offered the fur with a tenderness she was unaccustomed to.
The Sanction Page 17
