by Lacy Danes
As she turned from the stall with reluctance, a man peddling glasses of blood stood before her. Her shoulders tensed and her stomach rolled.
“Take a smell, my dear,” he said as he held out one of the wooden cups.
She recoiled, expecting the horrid smell of the butcher’s shop to fill her nose, but instead warm spiced wine filtered through the air.
The man winked.
A laugh escaped her. How foolish. Her stomach gurgled. Handing the man her only coin, she grasped the cup and wandered to the green, settling herself to watch the sun dip below the hills.
As the townsfolk passed her in celebration, she heard accounts of giving blood to cats, making them bleed, and there was one sick account by an elderly man about losing his innocence to one. She had no idea how that would work, but he’d been truly in his cups and followed the comment up by vomiting in the street.
The sun settled below the mountain, casting the little village into darkness. Whoops and hollers came from all around her, and her heart began to race. This was the part of the festival the man in the butcher shop had talked about. Her mind floated in a wine-induced haze, and she shook her head; there would be no abductions this night.
Hearing flutes on the breeze, she trembled. The torches on the green sputtered to life as a scream pierced the air. She froze. My stars, was that a real scream? It sounded like one. Now would be the time to return to her uncle. It was past dark and soon some strange cat-killing ritual might start. She smiled. But would her uncle care if he found her gone? No. He would in all probability assume she had run off, and being tight on funds, he wouldn’t even look for her. Tears stung at her eyes.
From across the green, a tall man strode toward her. Gooseflesh pricked her skin, and her insides tingled with anticipation.
Maybe it was the redhead come to persuade her for a kiss. Her lashes fell as she remembered the sparkle of his blue eyes as he winked at her. She smiled and her chest tightened. If he tried to kiss her this night, she would not stop him. She wanted to be touched, to feel warm breath against her skin as she did now. Wait…
Startled, her eyes snapped opened to see intense green eyes staring at her. Eyes exactly like the beads she had run her fingers over not an hour before. But this was a man, a man whose shoulders were a good foot broader than hers and stood before her now. Her stomach fluttered and darkness slid over her as a hood quickly cinched around her neck. The breath she tried to inhale was quickly expelled from her body as muscular arms wrapped about her and lifted her as if she weighed but a feather. The man groaned.
“Put…me…down!” she screeched.
She struggled and kicked but did not find purchase. He tightened his hold on her and growled.
The taking of innocents. Sweat slid down her back.
The hood reeked of herbs and mold. The aroma so potent her eyes watered. She balled her hands into a fist and pounded on the sinews of his back, to no avail. The stench of the cloth fogged her mind and the world spun. She reached up to grasp the hood, but numbness seeped through her limbs, and her flailing became uncontrolled and then stopped.
Her mind slipped further into the fog. Was this all a dream?
Her body started to shake, and he shifted her so that he cradled her in his arms. Would he harm her?
“Please,” she cried out as tears leaked down her face. “Don’t hurt me.”
The man grunted and howled lightly, then slowly ran his hand up and down her arm. The gentle caress massaged as it traveled her body.
Her head floated in the sensation. How strange. She truly must have drunk too much wine because she could have sworn he was trying to soothe her.
2
Jessica strained her eyes but could see nothing except the black fabric of the hood over her face. She wanted to reach up, to tear the hood from her so she could see what was happening. But she could just barely move her fingertips.
Her limbs tingled and ached, and her mind still hung on to the fringes of fuzziness. But the familiar sensation of the swaying carriage was instantly recognizable. From the grunts and breaths in the box, she could tell at least three other people traveled in it with her. One was another female, another virgin, taken by the Catus.
She held back a fearful laugh as she recalled her uncle’s warnings of the magic and werewolves that lived in the area.
The swaying of the carriage stopped, and a gush of air filled the coach. The smell of something like ammonia and blood penetrated the cloth of the hood and she gagged. Her stomach clenched. Ugh, disgusting. What was that horrendous smell? It smelled worse than stagnant water. Her eyes started to tear anew and she swallowed hard. She wanted to bury her nose in her hands to stifle the smell but still could not lift them.
The man sitting next to her wrapped his warm fingers about her arm and pulled her from the carriage, making her screech. He placed her feet on the ground, and she swayed, leaning into the firm grasp. She could actually stand. It required all her concentration but she could do it.
Needles pricked at her flesh as the blood rushed to her feet, and she knew it would only be a bit longer before she had the use of her limbs. Their destination must be near.
Grunts and growls mixed with crying and trembling breaths wafted about. The hair on her neck stood, and her body began to tremble with uncertainty.
Where were they? If only she could see.
The carriage ride had been too short to travel any great distance. The hand about her arm was firm and warm yet not demanding. The touch sent an odd sort of anticipation through her. He did not want to hurt her. It was as though he was escorting her to any normal event. Courting her.
He placed his free hand on the small of her back, propelling her quickly forward. Warmth spread from that spot straight down her legs. Oh what a feeling. She stumbled, but regained her footing.
He grunted three times, then growled. Strangely pleasant quivers coursed up her spine and tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. She knew she should struggle, but she couldn’t. She was curious and wanted to know where they were headed and why her fear slid away.
A deep gruff growl came from directly in front, startling her. The voice did not come from the man holding her arm. Man? No man she knew had eyes like a cat. Maybe the wine had played tricks on her, but she didn’t think so; they still communicated with grunts and growls very much like a cat. What were they saying?
The fabric of her skirt and petticoat lifted, and the cool night air pierced her stockings. She couldn’t let them see that part of her. She screeched, her face flaming with heat as she struggled to push her skirt back down. Her arms flailed clumsily, still tingling with the flow of new blood.
Warmth brushed her thigh, and her eyes widened as the sensation dragged higher up her prickling leg. The man grasped her jerking arms from behind, restraining her, and laughed.
She stilled. His laugh could be none other than human. What were these things? Was this all a jest put on by bored or mad gentlemen? The touch brushed the curls at the top of her thighs. Her eyes widened in horror.
“Don’t touch me!” She squirmed in his hold.
The warm breath of the man who held her curled the hair on her neck as his chest labored in and out against her back. She wanted to lean back into his warmth, to turn her body into him, and remove herself from this other caress. A tickle of moisture ran down from between her legs. How embarrassing. She twisted, not wanting him to see her leak, and tried to worm from his inspection.
The touch on her curls slid between her legs and into her lower parts. She turned her torso into the man who firmly held her, burying her head on his chest and biting her lip as a finger poked at her delicate flesh.
The man behind her growled in a warning tone, and the finger stilled, then left her body. She let out a breath and gasped for air. Thank goodness.
The man behind her loosened his hold on her and pushed her forward, her skirts falling in warmth about her ankles. In three steps, his arm wrapped around her middle and he draped her ov
er his arm, lifting her away from his body and down. She dangled like clothes on the line.
Her body tensed. Would she fall to her death? The sound of water lapping against something solid rang loud in her ears. Her muscles trembled. Would she drown?
His arm released from her middle and she fell, screeching as her feet instantly gained purchase on rocking ground. She sucked in her breath and stumbled, reaching out for the arms that lowered her.
Instead of arms, her fingers clutched at a firm lean waist as it lowered into…a boat? Unfamiliar yet pleasant sensations wrapped about her arms, peaking her nipples, and she moaned. Her eyes widened in shock. How could touching someone’s stomach create such intense sensation?
The man growled, and with muscles tense beneath her touch, backed her until a board hit her knees, forcing her to sit.
One second she trembled with fear; then the sensation turned to longing and curiosity. She shook herself. Madness.
The young woman to her left wouldn’t stop sobbing. Instinctively, Jessica reached out in search for her hand until she touched the woman’s rough tweed skirt. The girl jumped and screeched.
“Shh. I’m chosen too. Give me your hand.”
The girl sprung to Jessica’s side and clutched her arm to the point of pain.
“Can you see anything? I hate the dark,” said the girl in a trembling voice.
“No. But they don’t seem to want to hurt us. The man who chose me has been nothing but gentle.” Yes, there was truth to her words and it puzzled her.
“Oh,” came the girl’s uncertain voice.
The boat moved and cool air fluttered about them. The hideous smell intensified; surely the aroma came from the water the boat traveled on.
Gooseflesh pricked Jessica’s skin and she trembled. She was cold and wished now she’d grabbed her cape when she headed to the festival. Her summer muslin wasn’t enough in the cool night air. She slid closer to the girl whose hand she now held and was startled as a warm blanket settled over her shoulders from behind.
“Thank you.” The warmth wrapped about her. She inhaled and smelled spices and sandalwood. It smelled like a man. Like the scent she smelled in the assembly rooms when wrapped in a man’s arms during the dance, but that was long ago when Father was still alive. She sighed.
The strong scent overpowered the horrid smell of the water, and she turned her face to hide her nose in the intoxicating scent.
A growl came by her ear and her stomach fluttered. Arms wrapped about her and the blanket, sliding her down the bench, forcing her to drop the girl’s hand. Hard masculine thighs slid to either side of her from behind, their heat warming her legs through the thin, summer-weight dress.
She shook despite the warmth now coursing through her. Who was this man? His hands slid beneath the blanket, connecting with her ribs; he traced down the curve of her waist. Her muscles stiffened and heated, pulling away from the intensely intimate caress. My stars! She wanted his touch to continue. Her lungs tightened and worked with difficulty to draw air into the confines of her tightly laced corset.
His hands touched the crease at the top of her legs, then settled with firm weight on her thigh. The touch burned through the layers of her dress, and her heart jumped in her chest. Moisture tingled the flesh between her legs. What a strange response. She squeezed her thighs together to ease the sensitivity to his touch.
Fingers pushed to the crease and pulled her thighs apart. She crushed her legs together and his hand massaged. A bubbling sensation pricked through her muscles. Goodness. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she relaxed her legs as the intense touch, the heavenly touch, continued.
A sudden jolt brought the boat to a halt. His hand brushed the curls at the top of her thighs; the flesh throbbed and she gasped. The pleasure of his caress on her body and skin over-whelmed her. She had missed being touched. The arms dropped from about her and he stood, leaving her cold and trembling, even with the blanket about her shoulders.
It had only been a few moments but her body wanted his caress to return. How could that be? She didn’t even know him.
The short boat ride indicated they must have crossed either a river or a moat. Which? It was impossible to tell. She heard a scream, then a moan from somewhere far behind her. Her shoulders tensed. They did not sound like screams of pain. But why else would someone cry out in such a way?
The young girl next to her screeched again.
A muscular arm wrapped about her back and one slid beneath her legs and she rose into the air. The distinctively masculine smell wafted about her again. The man, or cat-man, who carried her was very strong. Through the blanket wrapped about her shoulders, the man’s muscles flexed and locked about her.
“Umm.” He cradled her like she was precious, as if he cherished her. Her body relaxed on its own into his embrace and the fear disappeared. This strange man who carried her soothed her. She felt safe. But why? None of her reaction to this man made sense to her.
His chest rose and fell as he breathed and her stomach fluttered. She slid her hand out from the covers. Reaching toward his chest, smooth silk met her fingers and she trailed her hand upward to his neck, where intricately tied stiff crisp linen lay. A cravat. A gentleman’s clothes. Had she been right? Was this all some jest?
Sliding her hand around his neck to the back, her fingers met long hair wrapped in a leather tie, hanging down his back. Her brows drew together as the strands slid through her fingers like finely spun embroidery silk.
A growl rumbled deep in his chest and spiraled through her. Her heart sped. She wanted to know what this man looked like.
Was he the same green-eyed cat-man who dragged her from the green? How peculiar; she wanted this man to be him.
People rustled about them, and he nuzzled between the blanket and her head, reaching for the bare skin at the crook of her neck. The puffs of his breath scorched her shoulder and clouded her mind. The delightful sensation of being carried by this strong powerful man pulsed through her with every thought.
Something bumped into her leg and she winced. The cat-man hissed. Shifting his hold on her, his stomach rubbed against her hip as he jostled her. The friction tightened her thigh muscles and curled her toes in anticipation of more. Anticipation for more what? She shook her head. She had no idea.
After a few paces, a door closed and he lowered her to sit on a plush surface. The blanket fell from her shoulders, but the air was warm. A hot touch traced the edge of her bodice down around the top of her breast. Startled, her breath hitched, becoming shallow. Tingles shot through her breasts and her nipples hardened to a point. Oh what heaven! She knew she should push the hand away but didn’t want to. A man had never touched her bare skin so intimately, and it had been ages since anyone showed her any affection.
Each of her senses strained toward this man. She could hear labored breathing as he stood before her. The warmth of the room now seemed almost stifling. Who was the man who caressed her? The smell of strong spices and male came from his skin. His hand delved into the hollow between her breasts, and with a soft touch, he stroked first one aching swell, then the other. A moan bubbled up her throat and he growled.
The urge to feel him overwhelmed her. She reached out and her hands met his legs. Below the thin fabric lay a large ridge along one of his thighs. Her fingers traced the thick projection as exquisite sensations shot through her breasts. Her hands shook. She wanted to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. Not fabric. His hand stilled and he made a purring sound as her touch firmed. When she reached the end of the ridge, it flared then narrowed to a point and wetness seeped through the fabric.
She squeezed her eyes shut. If she was ever going to be bold, this was the time. She needed to feel his skin, to know what it was like to feel a man beneath her fingers. She knew it was wrong but the desire pulsed through her at a maddening pace.
She moved her hands up to his waistband in search of his buttons. The muscles beneath his shirt jumped as she found the first button and
slipped it from the hole. Trailing her fingers across the band to the opposite side, she undid the top button there as well.
Her hands shook with excitement and fear as she found the next lower button.
His warm fingers slid over hers. The heat and soft rub of his flesh against hers steadied the tremble so she could complete her task. Once she undid the last button, the flap at his crotch fell open.
Could she do it? Her breath jittered. She traced the edge of the fabric where the flap had been. Crisp curls of hair met her fingers and curled around the tip. His legs shifted apart, and she leaned in, placing her ear on his stomach to listen to his labored breath. He pushed his hips toward her, embedding her finger in the springy curls. The heat of his skin blazed with need beneath her touch.
The sound of the door opening caused a growl to vibrate through her, and his body disappeared from her touch. No! She dropped her hands to her lap with a muffled thud and fought with her conscience not to call him back.
“Pardon, sire,” a woman’s pert voice said. “I’m here to ready her for the rites.”
Sire?
He grunted, then footsteps fell on the wood floor and the door opened and shut. Her breath came out in a whoosh. Why did he leave? She wanted to know him, to see him with her eyes, to continue the intimacy that they had created.
A pull came at the cord securing the hood over her head and then it lifted. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light. The young girl wore a maid’s uniform of dark gray and white.
She curtsied and smiled. “Mum, I’m here to prepare you for the rites.”
“What are the rites?” Jessica stared at her.
“I’m sorry, mum, I’m not allowed to say.”
Humph. Jessica looked around the room as the maid unbuttoned her dress. The fabric lifted from her body, and the maid’s fingers tugged and pulled to unlace her stays. Burning candles lined the room, casting a warm glow on stone walls hung with tapestries.
