Midnight Captive
Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood
Vampire Chronicles
(Approximately 71,000 words)
Arial Burnz
Cailin MacDougal has lived a dangerous life being the adopted daughter of vampire Broderick “Rick” MacDougal, so she had no choice but to learn to fight in order to protect herself. However, such behavior is hardly desirable in a dutiful wife who’s supposed to embroider and run a household. This aggressive side of her behavior should be easy enough to hide from her betrothed…shouldn’t it?
After being away at fencing school for seven years, James Knightly has returned as a master swordsman, ready to captain his own ship and finally wed his childhood sweetheart, Cailin MacDougal. What he finds waiting for him is a dagger-toting hellion for a bride, an immortal father-in-law, and an enemy bent on extracting revenge by threatening the family James holds most dear—the MacDougals.
Broderick MacDougal is lured away from his family with the promise of–at last–learning a way to protect those he loves from his clan enemy, Angus Campbell. Broderick knows he’s headed for a trap, but the bait is too tempting to resist…and he unravels the beginning of a prophecy that will lead to redemption for all vampires. The cost of such redemption, though, may be the very soul of the woman he would die for…his wife, Davina.
Reader Advisory: This story contains some explicit love scenes, described using graphic and direct language. This story also contains explicit, nail-biting scenes of violence and sword fights.
MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE
Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles
Arial Burnz
KINDLE EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Mystical Press on Kindle
Midnight Captive: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles
Copyright © 2012 by G.C. Henderson writing as Arial Burnz
Edited by AJ Nuest
Cover art design by Arial Burnz
Kindle Edition License Notes
This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this e-book to anyone else. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, you are depriving the author of her rightful royalties. Please pay for your copy by purchasing it at ArialBurnz.com or Amazon.com. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except for small excerpts for review or media purposes.
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This e-book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons—living, dead, magical or undead—places, events or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Though there are actual historical events used in this book, they are for backdrop purposes only and may contain some artistic license.
Dedication
To the air that feeds my fire
To the waters that cool my soul
To my romance novel hero
And the man who makes me whole
I love you, DeWayne!
Other Stories by Arial Burnz
Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles:
Midnight Conquest—Book 1
Writing as Christine Davies (children’s books)
Where Art Thou Unicorn?
Acknowledgments
Again, I could not be where I am with my writing career if it wasn’t for my husband and romance novel hero, DeWayne. Not only has he given me the support and freedom to pursue my dreams, he’s been an invaluable partner in helping me brainstorm my plots and iron out the many wonderful layers I have created in the tales I so enjoy sharing with the world. With you, I can do anything, my darling!
Thank you to my editor and best friend AJ Nuest for lending me her time, love and support and giving me that second pair of critical eyes needed to ensure everything falls into place. She always makes my writing better! Any mistakes or errors are my responsibility, not hers. You have been my faithful writing partner, and now business partner, through thick and thin, and I am eternally grateful. Mwah!
Hugs, kisses and special kudos go to my test readers, especially Lindsey Beckwith and Millie Losee. Your detailed feedback was so valuable and made Captive a better book!!!
A special mention goes to Ron Reil—geologist, blacksmith, engineer, rancher and fireman. He was kind enough to answer my endless questions about how silver could be incorporated into melee weapons. He also introduced me to the amazing Wootz blades that are mentioned in this book. I encourage you to research “wootz steel” in your favorite search engine. Don’t forget to stop by Ron’s website to see the wealth of information he has about forging weapons and tell him Arial sent you! He can be found in cyberspace at RonReil.abana.org.
As the Scottish poet Robert Burns said in his 1785 poem, “The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.” Or more commonly heard: “The best-laid plans of mice and men go oft awry.” I planned this book until I thought I could plan no more, crafted an extensive outline, hammered out the details and laid out my final storyline. Yet when I sat before the computer to finally pen the prose you hold in your hands…I was stumped. My characters seemed wooden, they refused to speak to me, and my story would not progress. I owe the completion of this story to Alan Watt and his fabulous book The 90-Day Novel: Unlocking the Story Within. You can’t have a body without a heart pumping life into it…and that’s exactly what Alan’s book taught me: to give my characters heart and motivation. I enthusiastically encourage anyone who writes to explore Alan’s book. He can be found at LAWritersLab.com. Thank you, Alan!!
And finally, a heartfelt ‘thank you’ goes out to my fans. Because of the above, this book took much longer than I expected. I promise not to put a forecasted date on another project for fear of fostering frustration when I am unable to meet the said deadline. As an author, editor, cover artist and now audio book recording artist…on top of the repairs/remodel we’re doing at home…I have a lot on my plate. Deadlines are unpredictable with so many variables. I appreciate your encouragement and patience. After nearly a two-year wait, at last I present…MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE. Enjoy!
Arial Burnz
February 2013
MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE
Prologue
Stonehenge, England—1530
Cordelia Lynn Harley stood beside one of the stone sentinels in the monolithic circle. Eyeing the ancient cragged surface, she traced her finger along a crack while she waited. She scanned the horizon for any sign of the prophetess and, again, saw none. The new moon above, like a silver claw in the black sky, lent little illumination to the landscape. Her immortal eyes beheld only far-stretching flatlands of fields and grass dotted with sheep and cattle.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
Cordelia started and spun to face Malloren Rune. “I still do not understand how you can sneak up on me, being mortal.”
The prophetess smiled under the glow of the lantern she held, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “You weren’t pay
ing attention, Vamsyrian. I’m sure your mind was exploring the possibilities of the news I have for you.”
Cordelia’s heart hammered and she followed Malloren to one of the fallen stones of the monument. The prophetess sat on the sleeping giant, setting the lantern beside her. Cordelia knelt in breathless anticipation with her hands clenched on her lap. “You found the second sign?”
“That I did.”
Cordelia near collapsed from the wave of relief. “’Tis just as you foretold and everything is falling into place. What is the second sign?”
“That cannot be revealed until certain events take place. First, you must deliver an important item for me.” The prophetess patted the stone, encouraging Cordelia to sit.
Though disappointed at the delay, Cordelia became excited over the new task. “An item?”
“Indeed. One that will spark a chain of events to move the prophecy along and ensure the second sign can be fulfilled.” Malloren produced a small leather pouch a hand’s width across and three fingers deep.
A wire-and-wax seal secured the flap closure. Cordelia recognized the seal of the Tzava Ha’or—The Army of Light. “What is the item?”
The prophetess curled a finger under Cordelia’s chin to draw her gaze. “Listen to me, dear one.”
The grave expression on Malloren’s face made Cordelia shiver.
“You must not open this pouch or you will undo all we are working toward. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She swallowed.
Malloren presented a folded piece of parchment. “You will take this pouch to the location detailed on this map.”
Cordelia set the pouch on her lap and pried open the edges of the paper.
“You must be at that designated location just after nightfall three days hence. Not one day sooner or later. A man will be waiting for you. The pouch is for him to open and none other. He has further instructions inside.”
Cordelia met the intense gaze of the prophetess and nodded. “Why are you not delivering the pouch?”
“Because I cannot wipe his memory of our encounter. Your abilities as a Vamsyrian are why you must deliver the pouch. Give him the satchel and leave no trace of your face or my instructions to meet you in his mind. He should wake up with the satchel in his hand and my instructions to guide him.” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “And you must not wait for him to open the pouch. You deliver it and leave. You will meet me here again on the first full moon after the summer solstice.”
“’Tis almost a year hence! Why—?”
“During that time, certain events will take place to advance the prophecy so we may perform the second sign. Besides, you will have other errands to run.”
Cordelia dropped her jaw at the enormity of her mentor’s previous statement. “We will perform the sign?”
Malloren kissed the top of Cordelia’s head. “Yes, child…we will.”
Chapter One
Leith, Scotland—June 1531
The cold steel of the blade pressed so hard against Cailin MacDougal’s throat, she couldn’t swallow the lump forming there—nor could she be sure her eyes watered from fear or her attacker. He smelled atrocious! His body odor and bad breath hovered around her like a fog, and she struggled to breathe. Grand appreciation filled the stranger’s blood-shot eyes as they raked over her face and neckline, the corners of his mouth forming an evil grin. “Oh, ye shall be a tasty treat for ol’ Jasper before I hand ye over!”
Cailin cursed over falling for the trap. She had heard of this happening—a young child asking for assistance, luring unsuspecting yet helpful strangers into alleyways, only to be jumped by someone waiting to rob them of their goods…sometimes worse. Where the young lad she followed had gone to now was hardly her concern. The chance that this Jasper might be working for Angus Campbell—which was a constant fear of her family’s—pressed upon her as acutely as his knife pressed against her throat.
She tried to squirm out of Jasper’s grasp—his one beefy hand holding her wrists behind her—only to be pressed harder into the barrels against the back, hidden corner of the alley. With the sharp edge against her skin, the dread over falling into the hands of her father’s enemy, and the frustration of her attacker stepping on her skirts, effectively pinning her in place—Cailin’s mind swirled. She fought the images of Angus feeding from her mother Davina in the dark cell he’d taken them to, his taunting eyes, Davina’s blood on his smiling lips. She willed her emotions into submission. If she didn’t calm down, she would never be able to concentrate on escaping and would suffer the same fate as her mother.
Jasper removed the knife from her throat to caress her cheek and she breathed easier, finally able to swallow and find her voice. “Sir, you have my purse. If you would just—”
He grabbed her throat. “Be still, ducks.”
Heat rose in Cailin’s cheeks when he trailed the blade to her neckline, cutting through her material. How she allowed this lout to pin her in such a confining position was beyond her, and she would never forget such a stupid mistake. This was what she deserved for underestimating him in his slovenly appearance. Admittedly, her skirts made hand-to-hand combat most difficult, so she allowed herself some forgiveness. Training in a gown would be next on her agenda, but until then, she still had this situation to manage. If she could just get her hands on her daggers, hidden within the folds of her dress! She ventured one last glance down the narrow passage. No one had yet come running up the alley, so evidently her initial cry for help went unheard. She was on her own.
There! The idiot shifted to straddle her leg, no longer pinning her, and rubbed his erection against her hip. Ignoring the blush that heated her face, she seized the long-awaited opportunity to pivot her weight, push him away and bring her knee up between his legs, gladly making contact with his offending member. Jasper collapsed to his knees, howling. Hiking her skirts, Cailin kicked the dagger from his hand, brought her foot back and swiped it across his jaw. He curled into an infantile position, groaning and clutching his groin. Cailin dusted her hands in triumph. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, she pulled at least one of her daggers out at the ready. Shaking her head at his pitiful display, she crouched beside him and searched his vest for her pouch.
A deep, rumbling laugh echoed against the brick walls and she contemplated the raven-haired figure standing at the entrance of the alleyway, a long dark cloak concealing his rather large frame. “And just who is robbing whom?”
Pale-green eyes assessed her as he sauntered forward, crossing his arms. Something seemed vaguely familiar about this man. A delightful shiver tickled over her skin when his eyes fell upon her breasts and the smile melted from his mouth.
He swallowed hard. “If you do not close your bodice, my dear, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”
His deep voice flowed over her body like warm water from the Mediterranean Sea. Cailin glanced down at her bodice—the top of her bosoms flushed pink and rounded above her torn neckline. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your actions may lead you to join this poor soul on the ground.”
With the knife clutched in her left hand—giving her a little more courage than she should probably dare—she searched the robber with her other hand while keeping her eyes trained on the intruder. Jasper stirred as she retrieved her belongings and she diverted her attention just enough to deal him another blow to his jaw, causing him to slump into unconsciousness.
She tucked the purse into her dress pocket. Standing, she raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk, and faced the wide-eyed and slack-jawed handsome stranger.
At a quick intake of breath, he stepped before her and stole his arm around her waist in one motion. Pressing her against the full form of his hard body, he pushed her breasts even more over her torn neckline.
“Unless you wish to keep your private jewels intact,” she warned, “I suggest you keep your distance, sir.” With her dagger at his groin, she tilted the silver-plated blade up to make her point.
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br /> His body stiffened against her and fear flickered across his eyes. Taking one step back, he peered down at the dagger between them and fingered the cut she sliced in his breeches. He hitched his breath and offered a respectful nod, retreating. But the sneer returned to his lips. “I see the lady is handy with a blade.” He studied the dagger before his eyes roamed her body and he crossed his arms again. “And how is it a gentile maid such as yourself came to be so experienced at close combat with such expertly crafted weapons? Mind you, I use the terms ‘lady’ and ‘gentile’ with much reluctance.” He snickered.
Cailin narrowed her eyes. “Obviously you underestimate my skills.”
“Obviously.” When Cailin tried to step past him, he countered to block her exit. “You also dodged my question.”
She clenched her jaw at his arrogance. “Aye, ’tis unbecoming of a lady to have such extensive training, but I have likely seen more tutelage in this area than you could hope to dream of, sir.”
Cailin resisted the urge to sigh at the rich laughter that rumbled from his chest and, at the same time, she wanted to punch him square in the jaw.
“Do I detect a challenge, my dear?” His eyes near sparkled at the prospect.
Oh, why do men always have to prove themselves? “Nay, dear sir, ’tis a simple fact I pass along to you for your own good. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Another bout of laughter poured from him. “As a good citizen, I cannot let you pass without extracting some justice for this poor soul you have robbed and rendered unconscious.”
It was Cailin’s turn to laugh. “Good citizen? With the crime that riddles this port? Surely you jest at dispensing justice.”
“Precisely why I can only assume a woman wandering such dangerous streets alone can only be up to ill intent.” He grinned.
Cailin stepped left, as did he. She stepped right, only to meet his expansive presence again. Not wishing any further delays, she half-heartedly swiped her dagger at him to feign him off, which he dodged effectively. She stepped back and drew her other dagger from the specially tailored belt crafted for her weapons. With it positioned low on her waist, the leather-and-steel sheaths lay against her hips and hidden amongst the folds of her gown. Narrow crossbars made it easy to withdraw the silver-plated Wootz blades, which she twirled in her hands before facing him, poised and ready. She reveled in a certain measure of satisfaction at seeing a dumbfounded expression replace his cocky demeanor. “Please step aside, sir, so that I may pass. Do not force me to do something you may regret.”
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