Saving His Heart (Sisterhood of Jade Book 11)

by Billi Jean

  Agatha cried out, calling him back to the present. With possession, his mind wandered. More often than he liked, Warren rose when he slept, and he’d awaken, in a new place, unable to recall how he’d arrived there. Each time he punished the boy by killing an innocent in the most debased way possible. Even now, he could feel Warren fighting him to aid Agatha. The younger Vampire had no idea how alike Agatha was to Gideon. She was as arrogant as he was, as prideful and as cunning. He considered her perfection, and ideas on how to rip her pride right from her began to form in delicious detail.

  He contemplated the idea. Agatha was lush, with a wealth of womanly attributes he normally found himself downright unable to resist. The idea of binding her, then fucking her while she couldn’t do more than allow it, gave him something to consider. It would serve the arrogant bitch right. He bet she’d never been given a thorough fucking by a man who was able to go on until even the most seasoned whores begged him to stop. He could do anything to her—even the more bloody enjoyments—and she would endure. His other vessels had all died before he’d squeezed every ounce of enjoyment from the session.

  A tingle along his spine made the idea even more appealing. He’d sampled the choicest offerings at Christian’s House, but that was nights ago and he’d been forced to be tame with them. To not only try out, but humiliate the woman that arrogant prick Christian had wanted for his bonded was doubly enticing.

  “There, now. We shall soon have this complete.” He watched her, anticipating her trying to break free.

  She squirmed and wiggled, giving him more of a show than he knew she realized. Even her breathing had turned erratic, indicating she was close to hyperventilating. He knew other methods of making it hard for her to catch her breath. He considered each but settled for something more…degrading.

  He had once been a god among Vampires. He’d had women fawning over him, lining up to even have a chance of him gracing them with his attention. Agatha and her council had taken that away from him.

  They could have helped him rise again. All those years ago, they could have easily called him back with blood sacrifices. They had not. He had suffered for decades until Samuel had found him. Even Samuel had been unable to find the perfect host from time to time. Such agony he’d suffered.

  Agatha became more desperate the longer he stood near her. She was blindfolded. He considered gagging her as her pleas became more demanding, but enjoyed the sound of her hopelessness growing. When it reached a level he felt appropriate, he removed a necklace from his pocket. The pendant hung in a sweet oval from his fist, twirling gently as he held it above her. The word forever was scrolled in the gold. He could never have forever. Not any longer. His bonded had thrown herself onto the rocks below his keep, ending her life after he’d made her his—in all ways. A bonded should have allowed all he’d wanted from her. Instead, his had fought him, crying and sobbing as he’d fucked her for days, releasing the necessary sperm and blood to make her his. Her rejection had stung. But she had paid. Her body had been claimed by the sea, taken forever from him. With it, she’d freed him to grow more powerful than he’d ever dreamed. No one denied him. No one cried and sobbed unless he wanted them to, and when they did, by all that was holy, they had reasons to.

  Like this woman. He slid the chain over her neck and the gold caught between her bosoms, much as it had nestled between his Catherine’s breasts so long ago.

  He moved to Agatha’s left side and untied her hand, leaving the rope looped on her wrist, still in a tight, hard knot. She sobbed and nodded, clearly thinking he was freeing her. He didn’t break the illusion. Instead he untied the other. Then when she was gasping for breath, trying to calm herself, he slowly drew both behind her back. He’d done the same to Catherine, introducing her to his needs gently, but still she had sobbed and fought him.

  “What—?”

  With a savage tug, he tied Agatha’s arms together. He made sure to use enough force to pop both of her large tits out of her gown. Only then did he remove the blindfold.

  He settled on a chair, enjoying the way she sobbed and trembled. A smile tugged at his lips as his erection jutted up in a raunchy display of maleness. She seemed to realize exactly—or thought she did—what he wanted. Sex. It was never merely sex—not any longer. The soft games he’d wanted to play with Catherine, the gentle spankings and tender tie-ups, were long gone. Dust in the wind. Now, he craved much, much more. With Samuel no longer around to supply him with his pleasurable toys, and the bastard wolf in possession of Elsa, a female who he’d wanted for years, he was forced to play nice when he fucked.

  Now, like a gift from the gods, he had a Vampire to whom he could do anything and everything he could think of. The first thing would be painful. His heavy sac tingled as he watched her tits tremble with each sobbing breath.

  “Ah, yes, you are going to pay, but it’s not your jewels I want.” He reached up and smacked her breast. “Other than these.” He twisted both nipples, watching her face flush with color. “Yes, that’s it.” Realization clouded her eyes even as he shoved her over and between his knees. He ripped her gown, exposing the ripe perfection of her rounded ass.

  “I have changed my mind. First, for you, I think a punishment is in order. One you will feel even after I spread your ashes to the wind.” The first smack of the paddle on her ass was so sharp and clear he had to breathe through his nose as his pulse skyrocketed. “Yes, a nice, hard spanking on your big ass, Agatha. That’s what you need. Then a lesson on how to service a man when his cock is hard.”

  “How dare you! Stop this!” She struggled, screaming in outrage, jiggling and wiggling like he’d hoped. “I am demanding you let me go!”

  He caught her face and squeezed her cheeks so her mouth was forced into a pout. Forcing her to angle her head like that, he brought the paddle down harder and harder, and by the time he had given her a dozen strokes she was sobbing.

  “You’re going to suck my cock, aren’t you?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  “Yes, sir. Say it.” He gave her more spankings until she screamed every word perfectly past her tears. It didn’t help her but he released her face and let her fall forward for the rest of her spanking.

  He got off more than once in the process of giving her what she needed. He made sure she was humiliated each and every time he spilled his abundant seed.

  By the time he had fed his anger to satisfaction, she hung loosely over his knees, crying and shaking uncontrollably. Her rounded bottom was fiery red from the top of her curvy ass to the underside of each cheek and on down to her thighs. Agatha shivered like a horse that had been ridden hard.

  He dropped her onto the floor and brought her up by gripping her hair, walking backward to force her to crawl on her knees, her face pressed to his cock. “Now you’ll suck my cock like a good whore, won’t you?”

  She nodded eagerly, attempting to do just that. He let her, then he took her in every way imaginable by men or gods, he was certain. By the time there wasn’t an ounce of sperm left in him, he was too sated to move and she was nearly unconscious. He barely had the energy to tie her back up, naked and covered in blood, sex, and tears, so he could rest.

  She had the nerve to whisper, “Will you let me go now?”

  “When I tire of you, you will die. But this day, you will linger, I hope, remembering that my revenge has only begun.”

  At her whimper he laughed, gladdened to know she knew he spoke the truth. He shut the doors on her, locking her in a cabinet, much like she had once locked Isobel.

  Isobel.

  You will be my first fuck when I gain my body again. And you, like Agatha, will crawl to me, begging me for your life. Shall I give it?

  He considered the dark-eyed beauty and decided regretfully, she had to die. Along with Bryson, her guilt-ridden and conflicted bonded. I will take Elsa instead. After I kill that runt boy and the wolf, I will possess the little dancer for as long as I wish. A vampire-wolf. Such a being will endure for centuries, jus
t as my bonded should have.

  He had just enough energy to clean the residue of sex and sweat from his borrowed body before he sank onto his silken bedding. Always it comes down to sex. He laughed even as he closed his eyes, preparing for a much-deserved rest. It always comes down to sex and power. Always the two go hand in hand.

  For some, it became their downfall. But not for him, for he was born to wield both his body and his power. Life would again be as it should have been since the day his father, Gregory, had died.

  Aidan, you too will know of my coming. Soon, you will also understand that I was always the one meant to rule.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bryson broke out of his shift at the door to Agatha’s House, only to find it open and silence coming from the interior.

  “He has beaten us here,” he warned as soon as Isobel settled gracefully on his left.

  “Yes, but I can sense him, the same man from before.”

  “Warren,” Bryson agreed. How did I miss this? Warren had been under his command for months. He’d never sensed anything beneath the Vampire’s façade. Anger at the ancients, a disdain and especially that last meeting at Gia’s House, but he’d simply believed the man a hothead.

  Rowan appeared and walked unhindered through the doors. “They are dead. All of them. He repeats history here.”

  “What do you mean?” Bryson asked, catching up to Rowan as he gained the stairs.

  Bodies lay everywhere, their throats ripped out or their heads feet from their bodies.

  “When Gideon attacked that village, he did so with a purpose.” Rowan shouldered through a door barricaded by two broken bodies.

  “To take my brother’s wife,” Isobel whispered, sorrow coloring her tone.

  “What?” Bryson caught her arm and kept her outside the room with him while Rowan went inside.

  “He took her and raped her in the street of the village. It was there Jorge found him, and his…wife. Tessa had…died during his… While—”

  Bryson searched her face, realizing with a shock that she was crying. He didn’t think she knew she was. The tears were freely falling from her eyes, finally, after so long. What she had endured—in silence and on her own—staggered him. He clutched her to him and tenderly stroked her hair. His worry grew a hundred times worse than before. She had faced such a horrible reality, alone and for so long, when he had been there, but unable to see through all the lies. “I am sorry, Isobel, If I had known, if we had—”

  “I know…now. Now I know.” She gripped his shirt tightly, as if he might leave her. After allowing him to soothe her for a few moments, she stiffened and released him. He didn’t like it but let her go. She ducked her head then stepped away on her own. “There was nothing you could have done then. They made certain of it.”

  They had. But no one would ever be able to cloud his judgment of her again. If it came down to her life or his, it would always be his. But until it came to that, if there was a sign of danger, he was taking her away and if he had to, hiding her for centuries.

  He sensed she knew some of his thoughts. It wouldn’t matter. “I will not let him near you, Isobel.”

  “I know.” She turned as Rowan walked back out of the room.

  “Nothing there. I believe most of the damage will be upstairs.”

  “Do you think he has taken Agatha and will be unable to resist repeating history?” she asked quietly.

  Rowan nodded once then motioned for them to follow. “My brother is vain and selfish. He has a plan but he is secure in his belief he is unstoppable.”

  Bryson snorted. “It is always the case with such evil. They feel above everything, and that is when they are the most dangerous, and at times, the easiest to kill.” He ushered Isobel up the stairs, making sure she was on the inside, close to the wall, as they continued.

  As they prowled through the long halls and endless rooms, they found not one Vampire alive. Some would rise again, but it would be only the strongest and eldest who did.

  At an inner chamber, Rowan pushed a door partway open and stepped inside. A woman and several guards lay dead on the floor. Blood splattered the walls, matted the white carpet and stained the statue of the Thinker. There was even scarlet in a long line on the domed ceiling.

  “He found her here.” Bryson walked to the woman, a servant, he thought. Her neck had been broken. She would rise again, but he feared she would do so without her mistress.

  “He took her. She was still alive.” Bryson cocked his head to the side and studied the way the couch was the only piece of furniture still in one piece. “She sat there and watched.”

  Isobel stayed by his side, closely surveying the scene. “Yes. He killed them as a show of force.”

  “Agatha did nothing to stop him,” Bryson observed.

  “There wouldn’t have been much she could do.” Rowan grimaced. “She was always a coward. No doubt she thought it wiser to stay silent and not interfere with his fury.”

  “This was Gideon?” Bryson asked.

  “Yes. It was him, as himself. The other is there, though, still inside him.” She bent and gracefully closed the servant’s eyes.

  “I agree.” Rowan crossed his arms. “This means he will try to regain his own body. He is far from here. It is now day and he…” Rowan’s frown deepened the lines around his eyes.

  “He what?” Bryson demanded.

  “He rests. She lives, but…barely.”

  At Rowan’s warning, Isobel tensed.

  “We should go there, now, and end this,” Bryson urged. “He will not expect us. We can overwhelm him and—”

  Isobel hissed and spun to face the doorway. Bryson drew his sword.

  Rowan turned as well and swept in front of them. “Ah, this must be Jaxon and his lovely bonded, Joey.”

  Jaxon drew up so fast his trench coat snapped around his long legs. Immediately he threw an arm across Joey’s chest. “What the fuck is—?” He shook his head, glancing at Bryson, then down at Isobel and back at Bryson with a curse. “Oh, fuck. Is that—?”

  Joey covered Jaxon’s mouth. “Seeing as how my husband has lost the ability to form sentences, Bryson, I should warn you, that is Isobel next to you, uh, right?” Joey wrinkled her nose. “So that means she’s good?”

  Jaxon got her hand off his mouth. “Shit, Joey, get the hell—”

  “Jaxon, if she meant me harm, I assume I’d already be on the floor with, er, uh, these…people.” Joey stepped around Jaxon, then the fallen dead. “Bryson, you pick odd places to visit. Hello, I’m Joey, Jaxon’s better half.” She held out her hand. After a prolonged silence, Isobel bowed low, hand over her heart.

  “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Joey, mate to Jaxon. I am, in fact, Isobel, but you are also correct, I did not cause this harm. Gideon did.”

  “Uh…” Jaxon swung his head from Bryson to Rowan—who was nodding and smiling as if that would reassure Jaxon—to Isobel and finally to Bryson “You and,” he nodded to Isobel with a questioning glance, “her are…you’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Bryson stared him down.

  “Aidan will kill me for this, after he kills you,” Jaxon grumbled. “Shit, so much is not making sense, but at the same time is becoming crystal fucking clear. And not in a good way.” Jaxon pointed at him. “This is why the fun trip down opium lane. This is also why the reluctance to share when she busted in on the IC. And for you not showing up to the VC.”

  IC? VC? Bryson belatedly caught the acronyms. Immortal Council and…Vampire Council. “It is.”

  “It is?” Jaxon repeated with another snap. “That’s all you—?”

  Joey had her eyes glued on Jaxon’s and his arm in a death grip. Bryson was thankful that, at least, someone could talk sense to him. After resisting until he must have realized how stupid that was, Jaxon covered his eyes with his hand, anchoring the other on his hip with a hell of a heavy sigh and nodded.

  “Is he ill?” Isobel whispered, wrinkling her nose.

  “
I believe his…wife may be speaking with him,” Rowan replied. “It is common among our kind. In fact, I believe most—”

  “Rowan, not now,” Bryson snapped.

  The elder glanced at the still fuming Jaxon and back at Bryson. “I see. Yes, perhaps later.”

  “So.” Jaxon dropped his hand and Joey took it, hopefully still giving Jaxon hell. “You are Isobel. And you are?” He zeroed in on Rowan like a lifeline.

  “Rowan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Rowan bowed.

  “Rowan.” Jaxon cocked an eyebrow.

  “I am the son of Gregory. Gideon is my brother.”

  “And he did this?” Jaxon asked, somewhat more politely.

  Rowan nodded. “Sadly, yes.”

  “Where is Aidan, Jaxon? Why did he send you?” Bryson demanded.

  Jaxon squinted at him to see if he was kidding. He couldn’t blame the Vampire. There wasn’t time to explain every single detail. Even if they had ten years, it would still be a mind fuck.

  “There’s word of Rhys and Bridget. He’s gone with Allie…” Jaxon hung his head. “This is bad, Bryson. This is fucked up, no matter how you spell it out.”

  “Jaxon, really, it’s not that bad. Obviously we have mistaken Isobel for the bad guy, or girl, in this story.” Joey glanced to Rowan when all Jaxon did was shake his head. “And you would be Aidan’s brother? You don’t look like him. He is so stern and…well, bossy.” She offered her hand to Rowan.

  Rowan bowed over it, yet not touching her as he did. No doubt Jaxon looming at her left shoulder had a lot to do with that.

  “I am Rowan, son of Gregory, and uncle to Aidan, but I am not bossy, I hope not at least, if this means I order people around? But we really should be moving along. Besides the awful scenery, there is the matter of my brother to deal with.”

  “Oh, fuck, it keeps getting better and better. And no, I think swearing is perfect right now hotshot, because that woman,” Jaxon pointed a finger like a gun at Isobel even as he drew Joey back under his arm, “is going to make this one hell of a long night.”