Taken by Moonlight

by Violette Dubrinsky

  “Take him back to his cell!” Maximilian roared, watching as Max gasped for air. His son’s hands came up and scratched at his throat. Minutes passed before he fell backward, his body going lax before a pale blue tinge began creeping over his skin. “If he dies, so will you.”

  Kyros laughed. Death would be a blessing compared to chains.

  “And if he lives, I will go free?” he taunted back at the grand wizard. He hadn’t believed him for one second. Cronin was a consummate liar. If the mixed-breed boy died, he hoped Cronin went through with his promise to kill him. If he didn’t, Kyros vowed he would kill himself, but not before he killed the grand wizard who’d enslaved him.

  ***

  Vivienne blinked once, twice, her eyes finally fixing on the dark ceiling above. There was a slight throb at the base of her skull but even as she felt it, it faded. She shifted slightly, finding her movements obstructed by the thick duvet covering her. Where am I?

  Recognition dawned as she looked around, finding the objects and furniture that marked Conall’s bedroom. How had she gotten here? She remembered Samia, and Sloan…and darkness.

  She heard a sound to her right and turned her head. A huge, black wolf was pacing back and forth, his head bent, his concentration obvious. Pushing onto her elbows, she blinked and peered closer. Conall.

  Vivienne had just opened her mouth to speak when he stealthily paced over to the door. He eyed it, growled, and turned, intent on pacing back to her side.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, startling him enough that he stopped, lifted his yellow gaze to hers, and stared.

  Thinking he hadn’t understood her, she spoke directly into his mind.

  Conall, what are you doing?

  Holding herself up was becoming daunting so she allowed her body to fall backward. Light exploded in the dimly lit room, and moments later, Conall in his human form hovered over her. He touched her temples and lifted her head to run his fingers over the back. The concern she read in his eyes both startled and comforted her.

  “How do you feel?” His voice was both gruff and gentle.

  “Like it’s freshman year of college, and I just pulled my first all-nighter,” she quipped easily, wanting to put a smile on his face. It didn’t work. He looked even more confused, so she chuckled and said, “Good. I feel good.”

  He nodded. “Do you remember what happened?”

  Sighing, Vivienne related what she remembered. Her fight with Samia, which served to make Conall angrier, being led back to the house with Sloan, and the darkness.

  “Darkness?” he asked slowly, brows lifting as his fingers stroked her cheek.

  “I don’t know how to describe it. I felt something dark cloud my mind right before I pushed Samia away, and I felt the same thing when I was trying to get away from Sloan.”

  A scary expression descended on Conall’s face as he asked lowly, “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she said quickly, sensing that one affirmative answer would lead to Conall rushing from the room to do only God knew what to Sloan. When he looked doubtful, she forced a smile and said, “Maybe just my pride.”

  He nodded, and continued to stare at her.

  When long seconds trickled by, Vivienne asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Did you feel anything else except darkness?”

  She nodded, and told him about how her body had felt electrified when she’d faced Samia.

  He nodded once more, but remained silent.

  “Well, are you going to tell me why I fainted?” she teased, moving her arms from beneath the duvet to stretch them above her head. As she did so, her eyes caught sight of the window, and the darkness outside.

  She pushed herself up immediately. “What time is it?”

  “Midnight.” The reply was nonchalant and he continued to stare at her like some great puzzle he was trying to figure out.

  “Oh my God, I’ve been asleep for most of the day?”

  A nod confirmed her suspicions. And her stomach seconded it with a loud growl. She clutched her belly and looked up at him through lowered lids. A little smile was now on his lips, and he was staring at her with a raised brow.

  “Well, what do you expect?” Vivienne finally said, shaking her head even as she pushed the duvet from her body and stepped onto the carpeted floor. “I’ve been asleep for over twelve hours. I’m starving.”

  She walked over to the door, intent on pulling it open and heading to the kitchen. Normally, there was a copious amount of food stacked in the refrigerator, which was a good thing, as the men in the house, Conall, Sloan, Raoul, and Eli, were like trash disposers when it came to food. They ate, stopped long enough to breathe, ate some more, and then kept eating. A woman came in every few days to restock the fridge and cook, but she wasn’t one for conversation.

  Vivienne’s hand closed around the doorknob, and she turned it. It refused to budge. Blinking, she turned it again, and then shook it. What the hell?

  “Are you still in a mad rage?” a bored and very familiar voice asked from the other side of the door.

  Vivienne was just about to tell whoever it was to either open the door or bring her some food, when Conall gently lifted her out of the way.

  He tugged at the doorknob once more, and said in his obey-me-or-pay voice, “Raoul, I’m giving you two choices. You can open the door now, or I can break the door down and deal with you.”

  There was a pause, and Vivienne heard shifting from the other side.

  “Conall, I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

  Clutching her growling stomach, Vivienne cut him off. “I don’t know why you’ve locked us in this room Raoul, but I’m hungry, so either open the door or bring me something to eat.”

  “Either way you’ll have to open the door.” The warning didn’t go over anyone’s head.

  Vivienne looked up at him. Why were they looked in the bedroom? She might have asked for an answer had she not heard the jingling of keys. Moments later, she faced Raoul, who gave her a sheepish grin, but kept his eyes on Conall.

  “Where’s Sloan?”

  On her way to the staircase, Vivienne stopped and looked over her shoulder. Conall sounded so menacing, and he certainly looked the part, naked as he was. Oh sweet Jesus, the man was bare-as-the-day-he-was-born naked! And she hadn’t even recognized. Well, of course she had, but she was accustomed to seeing him like that, and why was he walking out of the room naked? Right! Werewolf. They were regular nudists.

  Her stomach cramped viciously, and she rubbed it. A lot of food. Please God let the refrigerator have a ton of food. “Conall, aren’t you hungry?”

  He tore his eyes from Raoul, saw the strain on her face, and nodded once. Conall gave Raoul a look that said he wasn’t finished talking to him. Only then did he move toward her.

  Sighing and completely forgetting about his clothes, or lack thereof, Vivienne rushed down the stairs.

  ***

  Conall looked on in admiration and amazement as Vivienne polished off two bowls worth of spaghetti and meatballs, two tall glasses of fruit punch, two Twinkies—Eli bought those things like they would run out at the supermarkets—and an apple, all in the span of an hour. Although tall, she weighed little to nothing, and the amount of eating she’d just done was impressive, even for one of his kind. A little burp escaped her and she excused herself, placing a hand to her lips as she sat back in the chair and rubbed her slightly extended belly.

  Satisfied, she lifted her gaze to his and smiled. The smile faded when her eyes lowered to his barely touched plate.

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  He blinked. Of course he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten for as many hours as she, because Raoul and Zahira had schemed to get him into Vivienne’s bedroom, only to lock him inside. It was however, more fascinating to watch her eat, than to focus on his own food. Plus, he’d been trained to keep hunger at bay centuries ago. Half a day without food was nothing compared to the weeks of starvation he’d faced in t
he past.

  “Are you sure that’s all you want?” he asked softly, indicating the empty bowls and Twinkie wrappers on the table. The sarcasm didn’t go over her head.

  A smile split her lips, and she patted her belly. “For now.”

  When shock registered on his face, Vivienne chuckled, then sobered. “Do you know why I fainted?”

  His eyes held hers for long seconds before he answered, “No.” He paused, fixing her with an intense stare. “It may have something to do with your powers.”

  ***

  She nodded, taking it all in stride. In cases like these, where things couldn’t be explained, she looked to the one person who would more than likely have the answer. Her mother. From the moment that she’d arrived at Cedar Creek, she’d been calling her mother about any and everything “new” that her body did. Every feeling, great or small, was followed by a phone call to Evelyn. Being that it was after midnight, she’d wait until the morning to make said call.

  Conall grabbed the glass of water next to his plate and drank. She watched his throat work, fascinated in a way that slightly embarrassed her because all he was doing was drinking! He shouldn’t be able to make drinking water look sexy.

  The glass lowered and she blinked, swallowing to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat. It wasn’t her fault! He was naked, she reminded herself. Yes, and a naked man drinking water, a very attractive naked man drinking water, was a sexy thing to behold.

  When she refocused on his face, his dark brow was lifted, and his eyes were switching to that intense midnight blue color that always came before he pounced on her.

  “What’s a blood rite?” she rushed out, feeling heat assault her face as she looked anywhere but his. “Samia wants a blood rite, and I think it’s about time I knew what that meant.”

  He blinked and she saw his eyes switch back to their original color: brilliant blue.

  “She won’t get it.” His voice was final, and from the set of his lips, she knew he didn’t feel like elaborating.

  “Conall,” she began, irritated at her lack of knowledge about things that concerned her. “You told me once what it meant, but I thought you were in a cult, remember? Please explain it to me again.”

  The man stared at her long and hard, as if willing her to drop the topic, but Vivienne only crossed her arms before her chest, and returned his stare steadily. He blew out a breath, and finally said, “A blood rite is a refereed fight. If a were feels wronged by another, he may seek justice by blood. Essentially, he calls out his opponent, a date and time are set, and the two fight to first blood, or depending on the severity of the offense, to the death.”

  “First blood?” she queried softly.

  “Yes. Whoever draws blood first claims victory. With most blood rites, first blood is claimed easily, and the fight is quick.”

  “And Samia wants a blood rite against me to claim first blood?”

  His eyes narrowed, and she felt him probing around in her mind. She purposely cleared it, a trick she’d mastered only recently.

  Conall pulled away from her with a fierce scowl. “Samia wants a blood rite, but not to first blood.”

  “To the death.” Although that sent a jolt of fear through her, she grew angrier. All of this because Samia couldn’t take a little rejection? What else had Vivienne ever done to the bitch except take Conall? Each time she’d lashed out had been because Samia had provoked her.

  “It won’t happen, Vivienne.” Again, he was using his authoritative voice, the voice that said if anyone argued with him the person had better be prepared to meet him outside, or wherever.

  “Because you won’t allow it.” It wasn’t a question. She knew he wouldn’t give Samia the blood rite. She also knew Samia wasn’t going to stop demanding one. Vivienne wasn’t sure exactly how long she would be staying here—she passed a guilty look to Conall—but she wasn’t planning on bickering and arguing with Samia every step of the way.

  “What does that mean?” he demanded.

  She cleared her mind again, fighting the urge to shake her head. They were going to have to set up some rules about mind-reading.

  “Seriously, can you please stay out of my mind unless we’re…you know?”

  His face relaxed, and an arrogant brow went up even as his lips curved. “I know? What do I know? Tell me, Vivienne. I should stay out of your mind unless we’re…?”

  Making love? His voice caressed her like a lover’s touch. Instantly, her nipples peaked. Fucking? She shivered, feeling heat pool between her legs at the coarseness of his words.

  “Yes. That. So stay out of my mind unless we’re doing that.” She sounded breathless, probably because he was across the table, robbing her of it.

  “You said you weren’t planning on fighting Samia every step of the way.”

  She regained control of her body. “I never said that. You read my mind again.”

  He ignored the chastising last word. “What did you mean?”

  “That I’ll stay out of her way,” she replied easily, shrugging her shoulders as if it didn’t matter. She was going to stay away from Samia, but she was almost certain Samia wouldn’t return the favor.

  Conall stared at her for a long time, and then his body relaxed and he picked up his fork.

  Vivienne looked at his plate, where a barely touched ribeye steak and a large serving of mashed potatoes and gravy lay. It was probably cold by now. Standing, she made her way over to him, and sat on his lap. Sitting across from a naked Conall had been wreaking havoc on her senses from the moment she’d started eating, but with her stomach appeased, and their subsequent conversation on making love, she was feeling only one thing. Need.

  The fork fell from his fingers as his hands closed around her waist. He pressed his face into her neck. Something poked at her back, and Vivienne felt an answering surge of heat rush through her body. She almost forgot the reason she’d sat on his lap, instead of dragging him to the floor.

  Regaining control of her wits, she picked up his fork, stuck it into the mashed potatoes, and lifted it to his lips. They parted and she placed the fork against his tongue, pulling it back only when his lips had closed over it.

  Feeling bold, she touched her tongue to the fork. “Good?” she asked softly, licking at the tines of the fork once more.

  Conall’s eyes darkened and she smiled secretly, turning around to get another serving. This time, she placed the fork in her mouth, savoring the taste of the creamy potatoes with black pepper, parsley and a pinch of salt. Removing the fork, she held it out to him, feeling her nipples tighten when he slowly licked the tines.

  Vivienne turned back to the mashed potatoes, intent on scooping up some more and feeding it to him, but a hand snaked out and caught it. After a slight tug and flick of his wrist, she heard the fork land somewhere against the tiled floor.

  “Aren’t you hungry, Conall?” She was surprised to hear the blatant seduction in her voice. She’d never wanted to seduce anyone before, so she’d never practiced, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to seduce him every time she saw him. Or be seduced by him.

  He didn’t answer; his eyes told her what she needed to know. They flashed yellow moments before he pushed the chair back and pulled her against his body, effectively dragging her to her feet. When his lips crashed down on hers, she strained up against him, parting her lips for the deep thrust of his tongue.

  Oh God, the man tasted…sinful! Addictively sinful. Too good. His hands slipped into her underwear and the running tights that clung to her, cupping her bottom and heisting against his jutting hardness.

  Vivienne moaned, and whimpered when his lips moved from hers. He quickly pushed her underwear and tights off. On his knees before her, he parted her thighs, and caressed her with his tongue. Head falling backward, she gripped his hair, holding him to her as a raging orgasm washed over her.

  Conall came up like a great beast ready to devour her—which he was—and easily moved her back until she was wedged between his
body and the counter. A rock and a hard place. His lips touched the side of her neck before he nipped lightly at the spot.

  “Which one am I?” he half-growled, and Vivienne was so submerged in the pleasure that when he lifted his head and raised a brow, she could only stare at him in confusion.

  “Rock or hard place?”

  His hands slid under the tank top, and she lifted her hands, allowing him to pull it off. Conall took a step back, staring at her with those intense yellow eyes before he visibly calmed himself.

  Against her will, Vivienne remembered what Samia had said about Conall exerting control when he was with her. She didn’t want his control. She wanted all of him. Stepping forward, she wrapped one arm about his neck and molded her naked body to his. She ran her tongue along his lips, and used her free hand to touch his length. She did so gingerly at first, but his uneven breathing encouraged her, and she found herself clasping him in her fist, moving her hand along the thick appendage.

  “Definitely the hard place,” she whispered.

  The moment those words left her lips, she was spun around, and instinctively planted the palms of her hands against the smooth countertop. A brief jolt of modesty rushed through her. She was standing naked in the kitchen with Conall while God knew who else was in the house. Modesty slipped far away when Conall’s sex nudged her, parting her outer lips as the bulbous head slid down to her swollen nub. She arched her back, pushing squirming until his hands clasped her hips and held her steady.

  His scent, high on the air, touched her nostrils and she whimpered. When he pushed into her, Vivienne groaned, biting into her bottom lip as he stretched her. He stopped, his grip tightening on her hips. Slowly, he pulled out, only to delve deeper.

  She gasped, her hand moving to grasp his hip. Conall held tight to his control, moving slowly and easily, sliding into her inch by inch.