Bewitching Purpose [Blending Bloodlines Series Book Two]

by Destiny Blaine

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  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Destiny Blaine

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Bewitching Purpose

  For the women, or the witches, who forever love a handsome vampire...

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Note from the Author

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  Bewitching Purpose

  Book Two of the Blending Bloodlines Series

  by Destiny Blaine

  WARNING:

  Adult Content. Not recommended for individuals under the age of 18.

  Copyright © 2008, Destiny Blaine

  Published September 2008 by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  Edgewater, Florida

  All rights reserved

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  For the women, or the witches, who forever love a handsome vampire...

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  "Woman! What you need is a good stiff one in your cheek, perhaps even one like mine—as you know, I have the perfect size to occupy your naughty little mouth. Maybe with the right form of entertainment, there wouldn't be room for venom to spray so easily from your lips!” Armand trailed behind her, gaining ground one minute and losing it the next with a simple hesitation between strides.

  "Leave me alone.” She climbed higher through a maze of rocks before calling over her shoulder. Her long black waves of layered curls tumbled around her face while she attempted to push it back out of her eyes.

  "I don't know what your problem is.” Armand's fury held him hostage. When he reached the top of the hill where Matilda stood, he felt imprisoned by it. He wanted to find the right pitch or expressive voice, but controlled anger locked his words into monotone.

  The wind lashed at his back and while he couldn't necessarily feel it, he could smell it. His body held some measure of composure which proved difficult after the climb straight uphill. While breathing provided a challenge, his nostrils still flared with an innate ability to capture scents. Cool, fresh air sprayed through his nose. Mixed with the smell of Matilda's perfume, an intoxicating combination of rain, daisies, and freshly cut grass taunted his foul mood.

  It damn near pissed him off.

  Matilda wheeled around on her heels. “Have you forgotten our deal?"

  Her eyes, while piercing through him with contempt, could still play havoc on Armand's cock. He stood straighter, not because of pride, but because of the increasing throb between his legs beckoning him to gain some posture. He needed to curse her right then and there, and he also wanted to turn the woman over his knee. Armand loved raising a playful hand and hearing it smack against Matilda's bottom. Right now, he'd enjoy beating her ass. Truly.

  Breathless from the ridiculous hike she had insisted they take, without words of encouragement but instead those of battle, he questioned her. “What are you talking about? I don't make deals with witches.” He chuckled, understanding his words would be perceived as fighting ones. Since day one, he'd known just the right phrases to use when he wanted to lead them into the fiery pits of an undetermined war zone.

  Matilda's cheeks turned apple red faster than he anticipated. “Of course you don't, darling. You fuck them, but you don't bargain with them. It would be a lost cause after all.” She pushed by him as if she intended to go back down the trail they'd just walked.

  He grabbed her arm. “Matilda, we've fought for days. I know you care for me, and yet you continually try to provoke me. When does it all end?” His voice softened with his grip.

  She tugged her arm free when he loosened his hold. “It doesn't end. You can keep fucking me while telling yourself I enjoy it, maybe even while convincing yourself I even love you, but I don't. You promised me that one day soon we'll screw ourselves straight back into the true throes of our history, but eventually never comes—tomorrow does, and I never find the true pleasure in it."

  Armand watched her catlike eyes for a sign; a flutter of eyelashes, a sharp movement or flicker of emotion just dancing across her pupils, but she didn't give him what he thought he might see. Her lifelong hatred of vampires made her miserable at times, and often he understood it. Matilda lived trapped inside her own body, destroyed by the somewhat new revelation of a past still waiting to unfold before her—one where an apocalypse waited to test the hands of time.

  "I know what this is all about.” He studied her carefully before he spoke to her again. “Your soul is scarred. Your pride is wounded, and you are drowning your misery in your own blood, but it doesn't ease the agony of an opened, tortured wound."

  Her eyes clouded with the sudden acknowledgement of his remarks and for a minute, he thought she might actually cry, but to let the first tear fall would mean she conceded. Matilda never compromised herself by giving up.

  Armand took a deep breath and slowly released it as he spoke. “When I went to America to find you, I felt doomed. I didn't want to blend bloodlines or anything else. A wicked witch with royal vampire blood flowing through dainty little veins didn't exactly turn me on, and I'm sure now you see why. Initially I fought it, but Matilda, do not make the mistake of believing that I will not fight just as hard to keep you after finding you and—having you in my bed."

  He liked that part specifically. Really, he did.

  "You don't appeal to me.” She snapped out her lie. She took him for a blatant fool, but he saw her mind twist with the agony of defeat because her lips told something her eyes refused to confirm. She looked away from his gaze. “This life isn't for me. It isn't what I want. I want to go home.” Matilda stormed past him. He didn't turn to watch her.

  She actually stunned him with her words when she said the magical—and yes, dreaded phrase. She wants to go home? Now, he had a real problem on his hands.

  They'd been at this very place before—too frequently in recent days. In that moment, he wanted her to go, but he wanted her to go back to his home and their bed. He'd deal with her and her attitude when she could at least make a stab at being a bit more affable.

  Armand kicked the toe of his shoe in the dirt and shook his fists at thin air. “This is fucking ridiculous. This woman is not my blending mate. She's a dried up wench that deserves to go back to the States. She belongs there with all of her lies and trickery. She needs to be fucking those men with their homespun dicks after drinking her concoctions. She should be living in that pathetic lit
tle cottage where I found her! Then I would be permitted to find some measure of pleasure in the comfortable surroundings I used to refer to as a peaceful refuge—my own home!” He stomped in a circle for a second or two more before simmering down long enough to come to a complete standstill.

  He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Matilda the year before at their somewhat peculiar meeting. The first time he spotted her, she had blonde hair, wore a snug and definitely sexy red dress. She magically transformed into a cat one minute and a snake the next. He snickered as he remembered how quickly he'd played right into her hand. When he left Russia in search of her, he planned to surprise her, but she found him without any problem soon after he arrived in the town of Roanoke, Virginia.

  Matilda wasn't a dumb witch. She came into her powers with the full knowledge of blending brides and with a good understanding of the joining process. The purpose of it still seemed to confuse her. She didn't need to know too much too soon, or else she would be rather dangerous—at least to him.

  Her fate left her victim to a vampire panel and their plans. Armand carried out every detail remarkably well. He smiled. He probably should've patted himself on the back. His arm bent, and he almost did it, but he stopped short of the self-congratulations and silent praise.

  "She what?” A voice came from behind him.

  Armand quickly turned to find Nellie standing with her mouth open, and his arms flew around her upon the sighting. Armand adored Nellie. If she'd only been available and a few hundred years younger, Armand and Nellie would've been a perfect pair. Instead, she was his advisor. Every vampire on the planet must've turned green with envy when she'd been assigned to him because, despite her age, Nellie's beauty always remained unspoiled by the true number of years marking her.

  Armand didn't see Nellie often, but when he did, he embraced her as though he never wanted to let go. She'd been more of a maternal figure than a friend, and he trusted her completely.

  "I didn't see you there.” Armand broke the embrace.

  "Of course you didn't. I only appeared when I heard you say something about a homespun dick. I could go for a few of those. Where does one find these men with such titillating equipment?” She looked anxious for his response. Her eyes held pure devilment in her stare, and her mouth turned up in a mischievous smirk.

  Armand looked at her warily with suspicion showing in his own gaze, though he couldn't be sure if she caught it. Nellie was extremely intelligent in all areas of business but when it came to men, she didn't have a clue. He laughed out loud over her innocence.

  "Forget about it. It's Matilda. I just needed to curse her for a few minutes."

  "I know who you were cursing, and I might even understand. She's not a very likeable witch when she goes on her tangents, and I've grown to understand whereby witches are often introduced as quite wicked.” Nellie smoothed back the white hair that she'd always had, or at least, for as long as Armand had known her. He admired her long locks because the smooth texture gleamed in the sun like soft cotton and never appeared to change to a more precise gray.

  "Why her?” Armand quickly resorted to whining. He hated to play the insecurity-card with Nellie, but then, he'd spent nearly a year trying to figure it all out. “Why did the elders pick Matilda? There were others out there that would've been more suited for me. Maybe even someone more agreeable...” His heart pounded as he searched for something else to describe how he felt, but the fact burned him when it hit him.

  "You couldn't love anyone the way you love Matilda.” Nellie informed.

  "I don't love that bitch. I hate her, but even loathing her can't possibly be worth the energy it takes to do so.” He felt a little ashamed. He'd just professed his love the day before to a woman who clearly stated she didn't want it. “I can't stand to be with her.” His guilt disappeared as quickly as it arrived. He had to work hard to ensure he didn't smile, revealing his enormous fib. He cleared his throat at the same time.

  Nellie's voice maintained a gentle inflection. “Armand, you were chosen for one another. You and Matilda have work to do. She'll come to terms with her arrangement, and you will love and accept her. Though it won't be easy, it will be worth it in the end."

  "That cunt wants to kill me.” Armand stormed off a few paces to the edge of the cliff where he peered over as if he contemplated a jump. Not that it would do him any good. He tried it several years ago and he always landed on his feet. Always.

  Nellie walked over to him and smiled sweetly. She took his left hand between her two palms. Rubbing his skin softly, she whispered in a most matter of fact voice. “Even if she did, Matilda knows she can't and the elders think she'll honor her fate. We think you're the one who needs to learn acceptance."

  Armand shrugged. “Maybe.” He walked a few feet away from Nellie again and looked down the other side of the slope. He eyed the village below for a few minutes before he turned back to face her. “She's mean as a striped snake and says things to me that no one else in my position would take. Most vampires would suck the very blood that inspires that morbid heart of hers to pump."

  Nellie spoke with enthusiasm. “So when did you admit to yourself that you love her?"

  Armand kicked the dirt again. “I don't love her, she's a dried up bitch and I can't stand her."

  Nellie waved her hand and he knew it would only be a moment more before she'd disappear. “She's the bitch, as you choose to call her today, who will one day mother your children. She is also the one who you will show equal respect as your mate. Let me remind you of her heritage and let me encourage you to remember my dear boy, history can repeat itself. Only when it does, it generally comes back with a vengeance and Matilda won't make the same mistakes twice. She may wear the face of The Blood Countess, but she won't repeat the errors of Erzsebet Bathory's ways."

  Before Armand thought to ask what she meant, Nellie disappeared. The only hint left behind to prove she'd been there were the spinning dust particles. They whipped and whirled in the very place she once stood.

  "You're taking her side because you were once like her!” He called out to the wind, but the breeze retreated and didn't even have the decency to blow back in his face.

  * * * *

  He woke up to a swoosh swoosh swoosh sound. Each time Matilda took the bristles of her brush through her mane, they seemed to catch on a few tangles so she continued the process again and again until she worked out the kinks in her thick black hair.

  "Come here.” She ordered as if she owned the right to command. She didn't ask. She expected. She received whatever she wanted, and Armand found her most agreeable when he allowed her to have her way.

  It only took him a minute to hit the floor and move behind her with his dick parallel to the back of her head. He lightly touched both her shoulders, watching her look back at him through the glass. “You're going to make me a happy woman today, aren't you Armand?"

  He woke up horny. She was in a good mood. His dick stood proudly for the occasion. All appeared to be right on schedule for a quick ride into the night. He should've stopped to think for a second, but he didn't. He was already driven and ready to park his heavy cock between the legs that belonged only to him, whether she liked the idea or not. Several stiff strokes and everything would be all right, at least in his world.

  Damn life for being so sweet. His lips turned up in a positively purposeful smile. Lust could do strange things to a man, let alone a vampire. It was the only thing better than immortality.

  Matilda walked on a fine line with the unpredictable and he often just strode along beside her because he never found it easy to think straight with a hard cock. Most of the time, he had one—no thanks to her.

  Before he could slide out of the confinement of his shorts, she jumped up from the bench where she'd been seated. “What? You looked shocked. You couldn't possibly think I want to fuck you. After all, yesterday defined uneventful, at best, and proved disappointing, to say the least."

  The hands that rested on her thin shoul
ders quickly dropped to his sides when she'd jumped up to face him. He should have lifted them again and put them to good use—yes, to strangle her.

  "Matilda, what is it now? What do you want from me? What on earth do you feel I owe you?” Armand grabbed a pair of pants from the bedpost. Kicking the legs of the pants out so he could slide into them, he tugged the material over his calves, thighs and hips.

  She watched but never looked down to see the evidence of what she wouldn't be feeling anytime soon. “We made a deal."

  "So you've said.” Armand walked over to the closet to find a comfortable shirt to slip on and quickly grabbed the first one he touched. Sliding it over his head, he pushed an arm through the linen cloth to find his hand stuck at the cuff. He extended his arm in her direction. “Unbutton it please."

  She reluctantly helped him, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly before she did.

  He still wanted to ring her neck. It had become a basic need.

  "You will have to tell me about the deal we made, the one I have obviously forgotten about, if you want to have your way.” He coughed. “I'm assuming these early morning mind games have something to do with you getting your way, so let's get this over with as quickly as possible. What deal did I make and what do you want from me?"

  "I want to know more about her." Matilda's voice quivered as she spoke. She turned back to the dressing table and sat down with the brush in her hand once more.

  Armand watched her carry through with stroke after stroke running the brush and bristles through her naturally curled locks.

  "I don't think you're ready,” he admitted.

  "You're not ready!” she snapped. “You're the one who is too afraid to let me know more about my destiny, my past; my life.” Her eyes narrowed before she continued with the truth as she read it. “And our future. It's what lies ahead—it terrifies you to death."

  "Her past is not your past.” He said the words but wasn't sure he believed them anymore. Part of their purpose, the reason for their joining, did indeed revolve around Erzsebet Bathory and if he ever doubted it for a second—he looked at Matilda. Most of the time, she looked more like Erzsebet than herself. Sometimes, she only vaguely resembled the woman he met the year before in Roanoke.