Bewitching Purpose [Blending Bloodlines Series Book Two]

by Destiny Blaine

  Matilda's transformation occurred soon after they slept together. He smiled. They didn't really sleep together. He thought back to the day he first met the vampire-witch and revisited it again in his memory.

  "You don't know anything about it.” She quickly brought him back to current day. “In fact, what do you really know about Erzsebet or her life?"

  He walked over to the bed and sat down. He leaned back on his elbows to study her. “I know you are not Erzsebet Bathory. You aren't her ... not exactly.” He shuddered. Watching her then, he realized she was pretty damn close.

  "You're afraid of me."

  She nailed him with the solid truth. He feared who she would become.

  Laughing with the menace of his own heritage, Armand's fangs even dropped for a split second, perhaps to prove he could trump her if fear were an issue, but it wasn't—yet. “I'm anything but afraid of you, but I do fear that you aren't ready to learn what it is you need...” He stopped and changed his mind with new words ready to form. “It's not time for you to find out everything you want to know, Matilda.” He spoke with finality.

  "Well. Then you are a foolish man.” She stood up and dropped her robe and turned her ass to him as she stood naked in front of the mirror. Cupping her hands over her full breasts, she massaged her own body with gentle lifts to show a perfect cleavage and incredible inspiration to lure in a dick ready for intimate dancing.

  Armand stood fast and walked over to her. He didn't offer to touch her. He knew she didn't need him for what she had in mind. She was quite capable of pulling out any number of toys, or simply sliding her own fingers into the pool of desire she'd created just looking at her own body.

  He bent down and whispered in her ear. “My dear, you can pinch your own nipples, clamp them for all I care, but I am still your mate. You are still mine. I'll own your pussy ‘til the day you die and since death doesn't become Erzsebet Bathory, I imagine eternity will be very kind to me."

  Matilda pushed him away. “I'd rather fuck myself or the hired help than you!” She spat the words, clearly agitated. Her moment of manipulated sweetness failed to produce a mouth watering with truthful facts.

  "I can wait, but you, love, are dripping with desire, so go ahead and give it your all. Hard and fast or slow and easy. Take your time or wham bam it by pulling out one of your vibrators. I do not care. I have somewhere I need to be.” Armand laughed before he picked up a towel that was draped over the back of a large wing-backed chair. He tossed it at her. “Clean yourself up when you're done."

  Armand walked out of the room and didn't bother shutting the door. If Matilda wanted privacy, she could close it herself, but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't find the need. She would sit down at her dressing table and attempt to powder her flushed cheeks while plotting her next move. Anger would prevent her from self-love even if it only stalled her with the temporary diversion.

  Three steps down the hall and he had to reach up into thin air to catch the brush whirled in his direction. “That I wasn't counting on.” He turned to face her before tossing it back in her direction.

  "Darling, I'll always surprise you. Count on it.” Matilda leaned up against the wall right outside their bedroom, striking a pose.

  "Fabulous. I'm so glad to know it, but please dress quickly. You're going to scare off the house staff.” Armand left her with cruel and unusual laughter. Insulting her put him in a most jovial spirit.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  Matilda cleared her throat from the hallway. Armand held an open book in one hand and sat easily behind his desk. His muscular legs stretched out over the marble top and crossed at the ankles. He didn't look up.

  She strolled in the library. He heard the swish, swish of what sounded like a formal dress but he dared to keep his eyes focused on the written passage before him. Matilda paraded in front of the desk, back and forth and back and forth, until she finally gained his attention.

  "I didn't put on this horrible dress on with all its wretched trimmings for you to sit there without so much as a glance in my direction.” She moved her hands to her hips and small palms rested there.

  Armand finally looked up. She obviously took the time to go out of her way to dress up for some sort of occasion. Not only had she gone to a lot of trouble, she had also managed to adorn herself in the type of attire Erzsebet Bathory would have worn during her era.

  "What is this, Matilda?” His voice held barely above a whisper, and he just hoped the question fell out to the open space at all. Constrained by her beauty, his own vocal chords became her prisoner and he didn't like it when he felt inner chains—especially when he became her captive.

  "This?” She swirled around to show him. And she took her sweet time doing it.

  "I don't endorse your charades.” Armand lied. He couldn't help but meet her with approving eyes, and he imagined it probably showed.

  Matilda wore a corset, and it flaunted her figure. The velvet burgundy dress, which thanks in part to the constricting material, showcased a perfect hourglass shape. The neckline of the dress rose high so cleavage wouldn't be revealed, and a lace collar appeared to stand out in a perfect square around her neck. A row of round marvelous pearls held the material in place.

  Armand stood to face her. “All this for me?"

  "All this for me.” She spoke with some level of honesty.

  With each passing day Armand realized more and more of the truth. They were moving closer and closer to a time when Matilda's existence would truly coincide with Erzsebet Bathory's past. Armand shuddered. And her future. The thought scared him to death.

  She brought up the raw facts earlier when she accused him of fearing her. No, Armand didn't fear Matilda, but he grew wary of the woman within her. Erzsebet Bathory damn near taunted him from centuries past and hell yes; he felt some level of uncertainty when she showed her power through the woman living under his roof. The vampire-witch he would spend eternity safeguarding from herself.

  He moved toward her and she stood taller. Her facial features were distinct. Smooth ivory skin showcased remarkable perfection and big beautiful eyes glared back at him. He observed but didn't necessarily like her wrap-style hair pulled tightly against her head. Pouty lips could stand out in a crowded room painted with a rose-colored lining that moved him in for an intimate inspection.

  Close enough to swoop in and invade, Armand whispered, “I'm sure you believe what you're saying Matilda, but tonight it will be all for me.” He licked his lips in a smooth run over the top, corner and bottom of his mouth, tracing his own before he dipped into hers for a delicious taste.

  Kissing her shook heaven—and hell. His body reacted to her with an untamed chemistry. It tempted him with things he'd had, tortured him with memory clips of body-to-body fire while holding him at bay because of her games.

  Pushing her away, he told her. “You can't have it both ways, Matilda."

  A puzzled expression crossed her face. “What on earth do you mean?"

  Armand moved the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, trying desperately to fight their fate. Trying to hold off the deliverance of what Matilda would perceive as only good news, but it also carried promises of death and destruction. He decided he wasn't ready. Nellie was right. The problems he faced with Matilda rested on his shoulders.

  "Not yet.” He whispered the words into her lips but didn't offer to kiss her. He simply moved by her and back to his chair.

  She fired a round of harsh words in his direction with a temper loaded full of ammunition. “Do you think you can come to the States, pick me up as if I belong to you, turn my life inside out and expect me to stay here?"

  Armand picked up his book.

  "Damn you, Armand! You answer me!” Matilda quickly marched over to his bookshelf and began picking them up one by one and throwing them on the floor. By the time she tossed four or five books in his direction, Armand stood in front of her with fury in his eyes.

  Grabbing fi
rst one wrist and then the other, he pushed her up against the bookcase. Holding her arms high above her head, he couldn't see her breasts rise and fall for the material separating them, but he could feel them move against his chest. He resisted the urge to bleed with her, fought back the desire to fuck her, and controlled his mind long enough to come to his senses.

  "You care more about these damn books than you care about me!” She hurled another ridiculous imputation. Her hair lost its position on top of her confident head, falling into a cascade to protect one of evil's own.

  Armand's breathing slowed and his hand released her. “Matilda, you don't understand all this yet. I don't...” He paused for a second studying her eyes and the pure menacing soul that lived underneath, “And if . don't, then you couldn't possibly know where we're headed."

  Matilda trumped him with persuasion. “You don't know what it's like. I'm here with you in a stranger's land. I can't go anywhere or do anything. Armand...” she paused for effect and long enough to move into him with her lower body, “I can't do anything because I'm a prisoner in my own skin in a world I don't understand.” Her eyes batted with the tears he felt sure she had urged forward on purpose.

  All of it, he decided, for theatrics.

  Armand took her hand and led her to a sofa near the fireplace. “Come, Matilda.” She playfully pulled him back for a second, but he didn't give in. He tugged with a little more force leading her to the precise spot he wanted her to occupy.

  "Sit.” His voice divided the chill in the room with more of the same—ice.

  She followed his request. Nellie would have been impressed. Matilda rarely did anything he asked her to do.

  "I'm not keeping information from you because I want to do it. I'm protecting you from yourself."

  He knew she would be enraged then, and he hit his mark. Hell's true fury consumed her. “What do you mean protect me from myself? You arrogant ass! Are you so high and mighty that you now think because I'm here in your country—your Russia—I can't handle myself?"

  Armand sat down beside her and looked solemnly into her eyes. “I know you can't. You just have no idea what waits for us on the other side—or who."

  Matilda quickly jumped up with her rage apparent. “The other side?” She laughed wickedly. “Oh don't tell me. When I followed your skillful dick, not to mention your persuasive words, to another country, you didn't tell me everything. You didn't, did you?"

  Armand shook his head. “You're right. No, I did not.” He felt well satisfied when he answered and couldn't help but note her choice of words. “So it's skillful now?"

  Her jaw set.

  He should've let it slide.

  "Why didn't you tell me everything?” she demanded. “You swore."

  "I never swore and even if I did, what would a lousy oath mean to a vampire?” His word meant a lot to him, and he tried to be as good as any promises he ever made, but Matilda never held much respect for vampires, so why not use it against her now? Hell, why not use it more often? He rubbed his chin as he studied her.

  "You better start talking or else you'll swear I'm a mortal woman with a bad case of PMS.” The ability to hold her anger in check remarkably challenged her inner rage. Her face held the twisted, yet splendid, beauty of it all.

  If ugly as sin on the inside looked so beautiful on the outside, then he would provoke her more often. He might even make a sport of it.

  Armand approached the subject with caution. He didn't want to give her everything, but he didn't want to hold it all back either. “Matilda, I'm only just beginning to learn about us."

  Matilda's curiosity danced on, and her expressions held onto it as well as her determination and disapproval. She paced in front of the fireplace. “Oh, I see. It slipped your mind to tell me we were going to visit some kind of other side? How convenient for you. I thought when we did the blending thing that it ended there. Now there's more. I knew as much. I could feel it in the air. It's suffocating me, you know."

  Armand decided he didn't have a way with words. Moreover, he didn't have a way with Matilda. “Once the blending is complete..."

  Matilda's eyes widened. “Wait a second. You told me the blending was a done deal once you dipped your magic wand between my intimate curtains. Now you're telling me there's more? What is it? Is there an army of you people somewhere? Do I have to bleed with each of you or what? Drop the ball on me. Just get it over with once and for all. Show me some teeth or balls or something here.” She stormed to the door and then came back to stand in front of him again. “What the hell, Armand? Is this all some kind of sick game?"

  "Matilda, I wish it were, but you of all people should know it isn't. Hell, look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

  "What's that supposed to mean?” She screamed outright at him then. “You know what I see—who glares back at me with trickery and malicious intent. You know I see Erzsebet Bathory in the mirror more than I see myself."

  "Aye,” Armand agreed.

  "Don't you start that aye-shit with me, Armand. You're in Russia, remember?"

  He started to ramble in French then quickly followed it with Russian just to piss her off. It worked.

  "Stop it now!” She pursed her lips, and her nostrils flared. Her language translation skills were poor at best, but she understood some of what he said to her in French—just enough to become further enraged.

  "I want to know about this other side, and I sure as hell want to know what the fuck you're talking about when you tell me the damn blending isn't complete. What's next? Hmm?"

  Armand took her hand and pulled her to him. She sat down on his lap and resisted him when he tried to kiss her. She shrugged him off and tried to get up, but he refused her. Instead, his hand rested on her shoulders and began to trail up and down across her back in a soothing fashion. “Matilda...” he whispered her name with his forehead buried into the material covering her skin. “Why make this so difficult?"

  She jumped up again and twirled around quickly to face him. “Don't. Don't you dare make this my fault. I want answers, and you have them and—"

  Armand rose quickly. He was in her face with an extended finger before he could think about it or stop it. “What you want is control. What you want is to call the shots. But darling, I can assure you of one thing, if nothing else, you are way out of your league here. Now sit down and shut the fuck up so I can tell you what you need to know.” His extended finger now seemed controlled by an arm on autopilot, and he indicated where she should sit as quickly as possible.

  Matilda seemed a bit stunned. She moved her legs to the back of the sofa and took her seat staring, no—glaring, straight ahead.

  He sat down beside her again.

  "Now then, let me talk and if you'll try to muzzle your flapper, maybe we can get somewhere.” The room stilled with his words. His controlled wrath was just a little more than obvious.

  She appeared ready to listen. She didn't have better options. He didn't offer any.

  Armand slowly began. “You are correct about a few things. You did receive the gift, or curse, if you prefer to think of it as one, of the Bathory traits when we joined but things will change considerably for you, Matilda, once I go through a somewhat similar transformation."

  She tapped her fingers on the wood frame holding the plain sofa cushions. “What do you mean?"

  "I mean,” he stopped himself for a second before he continued, “there will be significant changes you'll begin to see in me. I'll come back to Erzsebet...” He cleared his throat realizing he had made a crucial error.

  He continued, “I'll become the one man Erzsebet Bathory could never control and once this happens, you will be just as out of control as she was and I fear, maybe even more than history has shown. The fact is that you may be far more obsessed with the man you love than Erzsebet had the capacity to be, and dangerously so."

  Matilda glared at him with disbelief and then with a smirk. It told him everything he needed to know. She was excited by it all. Every si
ngle syllable she heard, she loved.

  His ripe intuitive nature proved correct.. He needed to wait. He was smart enough to hold out, and glad he hadn't told her everything. The elders were right.

  "When? When do we move forward? You know, with your transformation? How do I ... I mean, how do you find it?” She moved closer to him and stroked his hair softly.

  Armand shook his head, but her hand stayed right with him, massaging his scalp with carnal intentions evident in her eyes. “I'm not sure yet. I think it may just happen, or maybe there's something that we can do together. I have to find out, Matilda, because once we cross over together, there will be no turning back."

  Matilda tossed her head back and laughed wickedly as she dropped her hand. “As if I would want to go back!” Her chuckle proved downright deplorable—very much inspired by the woman she'd become rather than the one she would soon leave permanently behind. She tried to contain her enthusiasm. “I mean, you know, I accept that we're meant to be together."

  Funny how things changed in an instant with Matilda. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. Why would he be? Erzsebet loved power. Matilda craved it.

  Armand grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Do you know what kind of woman Erzsebet Bathory was at all? Do you? She lived as a vile woman with a temper few could stand. A cold-blooded killer and a ruthless whore who couldn't find what she was looking for in a spouse or partner, so she took all she could from those who crossed her path.” Armand's voice rose a few octaves. His words fueled a razor sharp tongue.

  She cleared her throat. “Okay, Armand. So, what do we do now? You seem to be the one with all the answers. Phone a friend or something. Call on those psycho sicko elders of yours and ask them what we need to do and what you need to do to get us on the other side of this blending deal."