by Marata Eros
Titus kisses her temple. “We do. It is not safe for you to enter the compound of Faction.”
“What can we do?” Siana pulls away from Titus. “My Druid sisters languish under the brutal care of the Faction while the males of my species treat me as though I am made of glass.”
Baird spreads his arms. “I am sorry—I do think you are finally aware of your need for protection.”
Siana frowns. “I am. Do not worsen it with this ridiculous guarding.”
“Siana,” Carrig says, “there is only so much protection your condition affords you. The Faction might harm even a pregnant female of our kind.”
Titus shakes his head. “It would be unlikely.”
“Though not impossible,” Baird says, studying Titusʼs face.
He nods. “Not impossible.”
Siana's eyes narrow on Titus. “You go in, make up a story about your comrades being slaughtered. Get them out of the fortress and find the Druid witches...”
Titus smirks. “No small order, my pushy Druid queen.”
Siana's face crumples. He reminds her of Kael’s smart mouth.
“Sh, Siana, come here.” Titus brings her back against his body. “Do not cry. Naught will come of anything. I will be inside and out in a matter of heartbeats.”
He lays a palm over her heart, and Siana looks into his deep red eyes, nodding.
Titus waits for a verbal response.
“Yes,” she whispers. Then surprises herself with, “Return to me.”
He grabs her hands. “Of that, I am certain.”
Titus looks at Baird. “Take care of Siana.”
Carrig comes to stand beside Titus and he states, “You are pure Reaper.”
Carrig nods.
“I can falsify my claims—say you are the one surviving prisoner to protect you—as they will inquire when I go inside.”
Siana steps forward, plucking Carrig's sleeve. “Too dangerous. It is a death sentence.” Her eyes search his face. “I do not wish to orphan the child you will have with Imogen before its birth.”
Carrig cups her face. “Or the one you might carry.”
Siana's eyes close, and she nods against his hand.
“Worry not, Siana,” Carrig says.
“Go,” Baird says harshly. “I will watch over Siana.”
Carrig laughs. “I bet you will.”
Baird growls, and with a last look, Titus and Carrig make their way to the fortress that houses a Faction greater than thirty strong.
Siana backs up against a tree trunk, sighing with exhaustion.
She would do almost anything for a hot bath and soft bed. At least blood nourishes her.
Baird has other plans. He stalks toward her in menace, in determination.
Siana watches him come.
When he is near enough she can smell the soap from the hot springs, he puts his palms above her head, biting into the bark.
Small bits of wood fall upon her skin, fragrant and pungent. Pine fills her nostrils.
“Now,” Baird says softly. Taking a curl between his fingers, he rubs the silk of it. “Where were we?”
Siana gasps at the gentle gesture.
He bends his head until his lips are barely above her own.
“Here,” she says and closes the distance.
Siana forgets about the Druids they have come to rescue, Baird's ill treatment, her pregnancy, or her promise to herself she would not give into Baird.
The tears of his remorse dry upon her body.
His seed is planted.
His touch feels like what it is.
Love.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Baird
With circumstance tossing itself about, he will capture the moment, use it.
Baird can smell the ripeness is off Siana's body. Her womb is closing against further invasion.
The trunk is an anchor beneath his palms. Wide and deeply trenched, he splays his fingers above her head as he moves to hover above her full lips.
He wants Siana for him and him alone.
Imogen is shared between Quinn and Carrig. Is that Baird's fate? Will it be he and Titus? Or someone he has never met?
Siana's lips part, and his hand slips off the bark, latching onto her throat.
His fingers move over healing pinpoints from Carrig, and he growls.
“No, Baird,” she whispers.
He cannot help what he does next. His fangs punch out, grow to full length in seconds, and he strikes her deeply below her jawbone.
Her hands grab his shoulders, and he sweeps Siana against himself.
She moans. Baird pulls harder. He knows how exquisite it feels to be fed from.
Siana grows weak.
“Feed,” he says. “Feed as my mate, the mother of my young.”
His eyes open. Siana is barely breathing.
Alarmed, Baird cuts his throat with a talon. Blood wells, flowing.
He puts Siana against the open wound, and her lips press against his flesh.
Baird's cock grows hard.
He sighs as she latches on.
Siana is ravenous. Her arms latch around his neck, and she climbs his body in lithe movements.
His hands come underneath her ass, and he presses her deeper into the cradle of his body.
“Take from me,” Baird encourages.
She feeds, and it edifies Baird. The male gains from the feeding of a female.
Finally, she slips away from his neck and Baird swings her around, sheltering her against his body.
They move to a deeper part of the forest to wait until Titus and Carrig return with enough intel for the next move.
*
Siana
Siana floats. Her mind spins with the last two days of her life. Her father, Tarrin, left her thinking her safe and ready for a new chapter of her life. Ready to fulfill her life as Druid queen.
Now she is pregnant. Kael is dead, and the male she wants to be with might finally be here for her now.
Siana is too weak to fight, to defend herself, and now vulnerable with child.
Can I trust Baird?
“I know you think I am miserable and unworthy of you.”
Siana jerks fully awake, her internal musing come to horrible reality.
Baird continues, “I am not an emotional male.”
Siana wisely does not mention him crying against her earlier.
She opens her eyes and looks into ones so light a blue they are glacial. “Why?” she asks simply.
Baird closes his eyes. “I want you for myself. It is the Reaper way.”
Siana presses a finger to his lips. “Not all Reapers.”
He smiles around her fingertip. “No, not all. I made rash speculations about who you were based on my assumptions.” Baird shrugs, displacing her. He scoops her closer, laying a hand against her head.
Siana cannot help the sigh that escapes.
“We will save the other Druids and eventually find a sanctuary worthy of the protection you need. A place close to the Reapers that can serve as both protection and breeding.”
“What of Jessamine?” Siana asks.
Baird's dark eyebrows come together. “What of her? The witch is where she belongs.”
Siana sighs, feeling a pang of guilt over the witch's end. Jessamine might have deserved it, yet it was still an awful consequence. “Perhaps. What of Seraphina?”
He shakes his head. “She is taken care of.”
“I want her back.” Siana understands she has no right. That Altho gave up his claim through Jessamine's promise, for the taste of Druid breeder he has been bequeathed in Seraphina.
Now Seraphina’s magick is held by a Druid male. She is enslaved, though she is the least selfish of them all.
Baird’s intensity is frightening.
“We cannot. We made a pack with Altho. You do remember his bearing, his power?” Baird's eyebrows rise, his face showing concern in every hard angle.
“We are guilty of giving her up to a Druid witch
against her will.”
“Mayhap not,” Baird says thoughtfully.
Siana thinks it is true. She remembers the blackness of shock swallowing Seraphina. Who knows what kind of treatment she is receiving? Will she be harmed? Most likely no. But lack of freedom is a type of abuse.
Baird kisses Siana, and she responds in kind, pressing her body against him.
He wrenches away, his pupils dilating. “I can have the taste of you upon me forever,” he admits softly.
Siana lips tilt as she cups his face.
Baird smiles into her palm. “Let us get through this current disaster. When Carrig and Titus return with news of the Druid females, we will talk further on this topic of Seraphina and Altho.”
Siana sits up within Baird's embrace. “She must be allowed to breed or it is for no real purpose she lays with Altho.”
Baird appears troubled. “He is not vampire.”
Siana's eyes narrow on his in the dark. “Not a drop.”
Let Baird think on that.
*
Seraphina
Sadness overwhelms her.
Patience has never been Seraphina’s strong suit. Her wiles as Druid female have been enough. She is first to give, to sacrifice—so their meager lives continued until traded off to the Reaper or rogue to make for a new existence.
That was her life before.
Now her life is with a scarred male witch. Druid, like her.
She must mask her feelings of ease and chemistry with him so she can escape and return to her sisters.
I wonder how Siana fares?
She smiles, remembering Baird’s stubbornness in denying his feelings for Siana. Her smile fades as she thinks of what Altho will do if he discovers Seraphina's treachery.
It does not matter. She will escape and make a new life.
Seraphina moves to the window. It overlooks, like many fortresses, an elaborate moat and grounds beyond.
Her eyes take in the distant mountains shrouded in mist, and she sighs. Like all witches of Druid descent, Seraphina uses her senses much more than purely human females. Her eyes detect stealthy movement in the forest.
A troop of males form a loose triangle then break apart, using the trees as sporadic shields.
Seraphina casts a spell of enlightenment. When the answer comes, she whisks her fingers, as though banishing a spiderweb.
Even with his strong natural sorcery, Altho cannot hope to fight that much of the Faction. Their wandering groups roam and pillage whatever they can find.
What does Altho have? A beautiful fortress surrounded by a challenging moat. A handful of servants but no guards.
He is vulnerable.
Seraphina will escape when the Faction attack.
She stifles a pang of regret.
Her lust for a true rut with a pureblood Druid male witch cannot be a priority. She must think of the Reaper, her Druid sisters—Siana would. Even now, they might be hatching a plan for her release from Altho.
Seraphina will never know the actual pleasure of Altho.
She will have to forego it, as escaping and reuniting with her treasured Druids must take precedence.
She packs a rucksack, readying for departure. It will be a risk, escaping a Druid sorcerer of that skill, of the purest Druid blood. He’s a rare male, capable of breeding pure Druid children. Perfect mates for the Reaper or rogue. Guaranteed daywalkers.
If she could only choose her fate.
Seraphina watches the deadly Faction move closer, twilight losing its battle to nighttime.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Baird
Siana sleeps in his arms as he strokes her hair.
Is it this simple? That Baird could want to be with her and she would allow it?
No. There will be more males. Even now, with her pregnancy assured, it remains questionable that he is the father, though she claims it is so.
Kael lays dead.
Titus has lain with Siana.
Baird looks down at her slumbering peacefully. It is what he can provide in this moment. Baird is aware how dangerous their precarious position is.
Siana should be in a fortress of protection, not out in the open and vulnerable to injury or worse.
It is a stroke of absolute fortune that Titus has enough Exotic in his blood to be of use.
When noise of battle reaches his ears, Baird sighs. He had hoped for a reconnaissance sans detection.
Alas, it is not to be.
Siana's eyes pop open, sleepy and initially bewildered. It does not take long for her ears to train on the far-off sounds of weaponry.
“They have found the Druids.”
Baird nods once, helping her stand.
“I cannot protect you if there are too many.”
Siana tries for brave, yet manages resigned instead.
Baird hugs her. “I am sorry. It is not enough, though it is all I can do.”
They move toward the sounds of battle, their hearts heavy.
*
Siana
Siana does not waste time when they enter the fray. She thinks only of war.
Baird has given her weapons, and she uses them.
However, she does not use them in the way the enemy anticipates. She fillets the Faction as she moves. She wounds to incapacitate, not to kill.
It gains time, and she finds her magick seeks her sisters.
Her swirling energy is both dark and light, tentative and bold as it cascades away from Siana, searching for the resonating sameness.
When that seeking supernatural heat makes contact, it surges back to Siana like water flowing over her body. Her lips part with it.
Druids.
Siana runs, a Faction close behind.
She spins, striking blindly, and nicks the artery in his throat. He grabs his neck, eyes bulging as her foot connects with his torso, and he staggers backward.
She turns again, running full tilt toward the pulsating energy that beckons her.
The search is almost over. She will reunite with the coven of witches she has grown to love.
And who better to protect them than an Exotic who is both Druid and vampire?
A trench dug six feet down and wide greets Siana. She braces before she throws herself across, landing on the balls of her feet.
Her arms whip around for balance as there is only enough room underneath her feet to stand as though on a tightrope.
A door is in front of her, and she slams her palms against it.
It gives, swinging inward. She looks around while stumbling inside.
Faction guard the women.
Ten strong.
Siana despairs, scooping resolve out of herself like the guts of a jack-o-lantern on Halloween.
She attacks without warning.
Spinning, she cuts two of the Faction down as they come for her.
Three land in front of Siana. She jerks her fisted right hand into the underside of a Faction's jaw, driving the knife through his mouth and spearing his nose.
She does not take the time to pull out the knife. Instead, she turns and smashes her palm into the nose of the next.
Shards of cartilage pierce his brain, and he slumps, flailing on the floor. Siana hops over his convulsing body toward the next six. Siana moves through two more, and they fall like cut trees.
Weapons gone, she bares her teeth, hissing.
The last three wrestle Siana to the floor. Two lay on her legs, and one holds her arms above her head.
“Fuck her!” the one at her head screams at the Faction who hold her legs.
Siana releases her magick in a panic, no time to wonder where Titus, Baird, and Carrig might be.
Their holds loosen.
Siana concentrates harder, a horrible thing to accomplish when adrenaline courses through her body and her emotions reign supreme.
Siana redoubles her efforts.
Instead of raping her, the Faction have been barely controlled. The one on her legs leans forward, taking her mouth in a ravishin
g press of lips so brutal she feels his fangs through the kiss.
Siana lets him.
The other two take their cocks out of their breeches.
Siana feels the Druids move closer, their energy feeding into hers.
She cranes her neck, looking through the nest of legs and dicks to see the eyes of her sisters.
She siphons off the Faction’s energy in a gulping feed of psychic panic and pushes their violence to lust.
The three Faction turn on her sisters, leaving her alone.
Siana has enough time to collect weapons again.
Her Druid sisters scream, and Siana flies up from her spot on the floor, swaying from the rough handling she’s received.
Moving behind a Faction ready to plunge himself into her sister, Siana stabs him with her found knife.
He howls, spinning off Marquette. Her wide eyes thank Siana, though Siana does not pay attention. She has all she can handle with the wounded Faction who is so mixed, Siana doesn't know what he is.
He flies at her, the hilt of the only knife she could find sticking out of his back like an exclamation point.
She pinwheels backward. Baird’s blood and the magick from the other females is at a dangerously low ebb inside her.
Siana's strength begins to leave her at the worst possible moment.
The other Faction are busying themselves with raping her sisters.
She cannot lose in the ninth hour. She must have something left.
Then he is on her, tearing her blouse from neck to waist with a finger sporting a long talon.
Siana's breaths come hard and fast. She smashes a fist into the side of his head, and her wrist is captured.
He breaks it cleanly, and Siana howls.
The pain spears her consciousness, moving her primal reactions to the front of her mind and body.
Lack of fuel is set aside as she bucks him off her.
He grabs her hair and jerks her back.
A noise alerts Siana to someone entering through the door.
Her eyes meet Baird's.
His gaze shifts for one second to her wrist before he launches himself across the room.
Siana's head hits the ground as Baird tackles the Faction to the floor.
She hears the rendering of what was his throat being torn out of him.
