The White Lily (Vampire Blood series)

by Juliette Cross

  His gaze shifted down to Brenna, holding her as gently as he could from a distance. “Yes.”

  The king perused the men at his back then returned to him. He tugged gently on Brennalyn to rise. She clamored to her feet, steadying herself with a hand wrapped around his forearm. When she stood, she released him. Dominik unwound his wrist from her braid, slipping his fingers loosely around her nape and massaging.

  “You are a pretty little rabbit,” he crooned down at her. His head snapped to Friedrich, seething rage reeking from him. “But I think not. Traitors die.”

  With a whip of his claw through the air, he sliced open Brennalyn’s throat. Red spurted a fine line of spray as her limbs buckled beneath her and Dominik dropped her with sadistic glee.

  “No!”

  Glass shattered. A giant brown hart wolf leaped onto the ballroom floor, snapped his jaws over the head of a Legionnaire and ripped his head from its shoulders. The headless body fell to the floor as other fighters flooded the room. The Bloodguard blurred. Soldiers swung swords. But Friedrich dove in a blinding rush toward Brennalyn’s bleeding form.

  The king leaped from the dais, blocking him with a punch to the chest. A demon broke free from Friedrich. Swiping with brutal force and speed, he clawed the king’s cheek and jaw, lacerating down his throat. Blood sprayed. Dominik twisted away with bellowing rage, barreling backward into the hart wolf as he clutched at his bleeding throat in disbelief. The wolf spun and gnashed teeth at the king, corralling him away from Friedrich. The ferocious beast lunged and latched onto the king’s thick arm. He roared in rage and pain, clawing deep on the wolf’s shoulder. They tumbled away, locked in combat.

  Wasting not a second, he sped to her side and gently scooped her in his arms. She gagged and choked, blood gurgling out of her mouth and bubbling at the laceration in her throat where the windpipe was severed.

  “God, no. Please, Brennalyn.”

  Two men in battle, moving in vampire speed, slashed and cut with clanging blades, grappling onto the dais toward them.

  Cradling her to his chest, he murmured against her temple, “I’m going to get us out of here then take care of you. Hold on, my love.”

  Speeding out of the ballroom was more of a feat than he’d thought. Maneuvering through the mayhem, he caught sight of Marius swinging a broadsword, removing a Legionnaire’s arm with a deft slice. Near him was his wife, Arabelle, leader of the Black Lily, wielding a long, thin saber, her blonde braid cutting through the air in counterpoint to her blade, her expression deadly. Other brawny men, human warriors not vampire, held their own with the fierce soldiers, fighting alongside the mighty warriors of the Bloodguard. The Black Lily had arrived. Blades clashed, steel against steel. Grunts and cries of fury and pain echoed off the walls of the king’s grand room of pleasure, filling with death and blood.

  But Friedrich had one razor-sharp goal. Finally making it through the melee, he shifted faster, barreling into the first room he found off the grand foyer. A parlor. Empty. Carrying her to the chaise, he nuzzled her close, whispering in her ear.

  “There’s only one way to save you, kitten. And I’m going to do it whether you want it or not. You surrendered to me, remember?” He brushed a kiss on her brow. “I can’t let you go.”

  She couldn’t form words, a stream of blood slipping from her mouth, her dark eyes drifting shut.

  Without pause, he lifted his wrist to his teeth and opened his vein with a savage bite. His lifeblood poured forth. He thrust the wound to her mouth, letting it drip down her throat.

  “Drink, Brennalyn.”

  Her eyes closed, she didn’t move, seemingly lifeless.

  “Your children need you,” he murmured. “I need you.”

  No movement. Nothing. His blood dribbled from the side of her mouth, mingling with her own.

  “For fuck’s sake, drink, Brennalyn,” he commanded in the duke’s dominant voice.

  Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. Her lips slid wider and she sucked, her throat muscles working. A sob of relief escaped his throat. He watched with savage possessiveness as the woman who owned him heart and soul, the first human he’d ever allowed, drank his vampire blood.

  And she drank deep.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Brenna lounged on a sunny shore, utterly naked, her pale skin gleaming in the glorious heat of the sun. She basked in its lovely warmth, but her throat was dry. So very dry. Friedrich stepped out of the waves dressed in full formalwear, untouched by the sea. His beautiful mouth lifted into the charming smile that had seduced her from the start, his gaze admiring her nude body. But then he said the oddest thing.

  “You need to drink, Brennalyn.”

  She roused from the wonderful dream to find her body…whole, hearty, strong. And thirsty. An aching knot in the pit of her stomach. Her throat a scratchy, dry desert.

  Reality slammed home hard as she tried to make out her surroundings. The king cutting her throat. A battle. Friedrich. Her hand flew to her neck, the smooth skin unmarred.

  “How are you feeling?” came the familiar voice she adored.

  On her left, Friedrich held her hand in both of his, sitting beside her where she lay in a warm bed covered in a lovely green, blue, and pink pastel quilt.

  “Where am I?” she asked, her voice raspy.

  “You’re in my home.” Brenna twisted her head to the right, finding a beautiful red-haired woman sitting on her right. She smiled. Angels would weep to be as lovely as she was. “My name is Sienna. And you’re safe,” she assured her.

  “The children?” she asked Sienna.

  “They are here. And safe as well.” She scoffed with a laugh. “Those men in the Bloodguard insisted on building them their own cottage nearby.”

  Puzzled, she tried to sit up. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Five days,” answered Sienna.

  She shifted to sit up farther. Friedrich helped her, placing a pillow behind her back. Her gaze returned to him as she asked on a helpless plea. “Helena?”

  He smiled and nodded. “She’s all right. Still recovering, but she’s doing well.”

  “Recovering? What did they do to her?” Brenna swallowed the panic rising in her chest.

  Friedrich’s expression hardened.

  “Please tell me,” she whispered.

  He took her hand. “They fed from her. And she suffered malnutrition. But otherwise…she was untouched.”

  Brenna stifled a sob.

  “She’s strong,” said Sienna. “She’s looking better by the day. And her spirits are up.”

  “But where is she?”

  “Mikhail put his men to work when we arrived,” said Friedrich. “They constructed a brand-new cottage, two stories like your old home, in a matter of days. Sienna here helped acquire furniture from Hiddleston.”

  “And a new printing press,” added Sienna with a kind smile. “Though that was harder to find.”

  Dawning on her, Brenna asked, “We’re in Silvane Forest?”

  He nodded, expression grave. Almost fearful. “I’ll take you for a walk. When you’re able.”

  Her fingers fluttered to her throat as she remembered what the king had done. The agonizing pain. His poisonous elixir lacerating down her spine. His sharp claws slicing through her skin.

  “But how did you heal me?”

  Her memory was so faint and hazy. Friedrich holding her body as she drifted in and out of cold darkness.

  “I think I’ll give you two a few minutes alone.” Sienna smiled sweetly then stepped around a tall dressing screen.

  A moment later Brenna heard a door open—masculine voices outside, one of them laughing—then the door closed, steeping them in silence again.

  Friedrich clasped his hands together, the knuckles white, his lips pressed into a flat line.

  “What is it?” she asked, pulse quickening at his pensive stare.

  “There was only one way to save you.” He opened his mouth to continue but couldn’t seem to do it.
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  A glimmer of a memory. His voice. Drink.

  She caught the unmistakable thump-thump of his strong heart beating in his chest, the strong alluring scent of rosewood and masculinity that was Friedrich, the softness of the sheets against her skin beneath the covers. She’d never sensed her surroundings like this before.

  “I’m a…vampire.”

  He swallowed visibly. “Yes.” He watched her. Waiting.

  “I feel different. Stronger.” She lifted her arm, admiring the glow of her skin. She’d always been fair, but the porcelain quality had taken on a luminous sheen. “But, I also feel the same.”

  He made a sound of surprise. “You’re not angry with me?”

  Laying her arm back at her side, she asked herself the same question. Then smiled.

  “I would’ve died otherwise, wouldn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would’ve left my children motherless?”

  A tight nod of his head, eyes blazing.

  “I would’ve left you here? Alone?”

  Pain sharpened his brow as he closed his eyes. Then nodded.

  She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist, the tendons bunching beneath her touch. She felt his heartbeat, strong and clear, pounding through his skin like a thunderous drum. She gasped and pulled her hand away, marveling at the intensity of her sense of touch. And sound.

  “No, Friedrich. I’m not angry. How could I be?”

  He dropped his head between his shoulders on a heavy sigh. Reaching up, she combed her hand through the silky strands of his hair, the sensation beyond pleasurable. He snatched her wrist and pressed his lips to the center of her palm, opening his mouth and planting a warm kiss.

  She sucked in a breath. A coil of need pulled in her womb. His eyes dilated at her erotic response.

  “It feels so…” She watched his mouth travel up and nip at each fingertip, forgetting what she was saying.

  “Good?” he finished for her with a devilish grin.

  She laughed. “I thought such a transformation would hurt. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

  “No. But you will be tired.” He enveloped her hand between his. “The transformation takes a toll on the body. And yours has had to heal itself as well. That’s why you’ve been asleep for so long.”

  She touched her throat. “Your uncle? Is he—?”

  “Still alive, I’m afraid. He fled with the men he had left. Then so did we before he could return with more soldiers.”

  The outer door opened and closed. Brenna smelled the human from behind the dressing screen—steel and leather and a masculine musk. She’d have to get used to these overpowering senses.

  “Well, well,” said Grant, rounding the corner and standing at the foot of the bed. “It’s good to see you’ve come around.”

  Brenna noted a definite shift in Friedrich’s mood, the pinch of a frown between his brows. Grant grinned like a boy with a secret. She remembered he’d been there that night, standing to fight alongside Friedrich and the Bloodguard. For a mortal man, he exuded unwarranted courage.

  “Hello, Grant.” She smiled. “I’m so happy to see you well.” A sudden worry shook her. She sat up straighter. “Friedrich, how many men did we lose at Izeling Tower? I remember the fighting starting. But then I lost consciousness. I remember”—she tucked her hair behind her ear, puzzling out the sound of animalistic snarls and the snapping of teeth she’d heard—“was there an animal in the ballroom that night? Or did I dream that?”

  Grant laughed. “A hart wolf, my dear.”

  Friedrich squeezed her hand. “His name is Dane Godric. He is one of the protectors of these woods. Hart wolves are actually, well, human. Or half, I should say.”

  “What?” she asked, incredulous.

  “My Uncle Marius, his wife Arabelle, and a troop of Black Lily warriors joined the fight that night. Dane has suffered loss at the hands of the crown’s Legionnaires and has joined us. So our numbers grow. We may even find allies in the clans of the hart wolves if negotiations go well.”

  “But how’d the Black Lily know to come to Izeling?” asked Brenna.

  “Apparently, they were already en route to Winter Hill after my last correspondence. They were in Hiddleston when my post arrived ahead of the Bloodguard with the children. They left at once. That’s when they came across Gregorovich and the children. Marius, knowing his brother is a ruthless bastard, changed their course directly toward us.”

  Brenna shook her head at their good fortune. Perhaps the stars were truly on their side. Maybe they would win this war after all.

  “Arabelle is here?” she asked in wonder, having admired the woman she’d never met from afar for so long.

  “Yes,” said Grant. “And I believe she’s fallen in love with your children. She wants to meet you when you’re up and around. Which reminds me why I came in.”

  He rounded the bed to Friedrich’s side. “Brother, I’ll need to use your chair. Unless you’d like me to crawl in bed with her.”

  Friedrich growled a rolling, ominous sound before lifting up and changing places to the foot of the bed.

  “What’s going on?” Brenna’s heart suddenly galloped ahead the nearer Grant came to her. The swirling scent of leather and steel made her mouth water. She honed in on the strong beat of his pulse as he rolled up his sleeve, grinning like a fiend.

  “Well, darling. I’m to be your bleeder. And though it was my brother’s idea, I do believe he’s a tad jealous.”

  Brenna’s gaze shot to the duke gripping the footboard, his knuckles white.

  “At the moment, I truly want to murder you.”

  Grant threw his head back with a throaty laugh, shaking his head before moving even closer to the bed.

  “You were the one who kept me human, brother. It happens to be your fault I am the best one for this job.” He swiveled a mischievous green-eyed gaze on Brenna. “But I am so very happy to help you in this matter.”

  Brenna’s pulse tripled, her gums throbbing with pricking pain. She lifted a finger to her mouth. Her fangs!

  “You mean, you want me to drink from you?” she asked Grant, a flush of heat crawling up her chest and into her cheeks.

  “You’ll have to,” answered Friedrich, his growly timbre still full force. “You can drink from me on occasion, as vampires may feed from other vampires. But we must all drink from the nutrient-rich blood of humans for sustenance. Especially you, since you’re newly transformed.”

  And now she knew why this experience was usually coupled with sex. Though she wasn’t aroused, her pulse, her skin, her mouth tingled and yearned for her to sink her teeth into him. Quite literally.

  Grant, still smiling, leaned his torso on the bed, one elbow holding his weight as he offered his other tanned arm, bunched with corded muscle. And beautiful, bulging veins. Brenna inwardly shook herself. Since when did bulging veins become beautiful? She gently took the weight of his arm in her hands, breath catching faster.

  “Be gentle, darling,” he crooned. “This is my first time.”

  “And mine,” she replied with a little laugh.

  “For fuck’s sake,” mumbled Friedrich.

  “Ignore him,” said Grant. “Take what you need.” He added the last more sincerely.

  She opened her lips over the fleshy part of his forearm just below the elbow and sank her tender fangs into his skin. The sweet tang filled her mouth, and she set to drinking in long draughts. The pleasure of his blood sliding down her throat was as delectable as the darkest, richest chocolate. She closed her eyes and sucked more, intoxicating pleasure infusing her muscles and limbs, down to her tingling toes.

  Grant shuddered and let out a tight grunt, opening and closing his fist. After a moment, she pulled away with a start and pressed her fingertips to her lips, wiping the bloodspot away.

  “I’m so sorry. Was that too long?”

  Grant’s eyes had dilated with barely hidden arousal. He rolled down his sleeve and stood quickly, casting a furtive
glance at Friedrich. “Brother, I believe I’ll fill a cup for her in the future.”

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked.

  His temper had darkened. “No, darling. Not at all.” He gave her a wink, skirted behind Friedrich, and exited on swift feet.

  “I’m sorry.” Brenna wiped the back of her hand across her lips, the hum of Grant’s warm skin still sizzling there.

  Friedrich came to her side again, sitting on the edge of the bed facing her this time. “What are you apologizing for?”

  “I don’t know. That just felt…sort of…”

  “I know,” he assured her on a heavy sigh, brushing a long lock behind her ear. “You need to rest. Lay back.”

  “But I don’t want to,” she protested while sliding deeper into the covers.

  He bracketed both hands on the pillow on either side of her head, demanding her attention. He had it.

  “I know what you’re feeling.” The angles of his lovely face drew tight. “The act of feeding is intimate. If I’d planned this better, I would have been your first. But you need a human’s blood to get stronger.”

  “Friedrich. Are you jealous?”

  “Violently.” He crushed his mouth over hers, sweeping his tongue inside with deep, aggressive strokes. Her blood stirred anew, heating and thrumming straight toward the apex between her legs. When she let out a soft moan, he broke the kiss. Breath heaving, she caught a tender vulnerability spark in his eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  With a ragged breath, he rose from the bed and walked to a writing desk against the wall, lifting a folded parchment from the top, and then returned. She frowned when he slowly and quite formally knelt beside her.

  “Friedrich. Why are you on your knees?”

  “Because that is where you put me every time I’m near you.”

  He exhaled a deep breath and presented her with the parchment, the red seal broken.

  “What’s this?” she asked while opening it.

  “Your annulment. It just needs your signature, and you’re a free woman.”

  A rush of adrenaline pumped through her body, sending her pulse racing faster than ever before. Scanning the document, she spotted the formal wording of a legal annulment, signed by an officer of the Court of Korinth and her former husband, Elliott.