by T. S. Ryder
"No," Roland sighed, bowing his head. "I won't understand."
Movement behind him reminded him that Claire was still bound and gagged. He closed Brian's eyes and turned his back on his dead pack member. Claire's wide eyes stared at him. She was terrified. He could smell her fear and hear the rapid beating of her heart. His own heart sunk low. After seeing him like this, she would run. And he wouldn’t blame her. He pulled the gag from her mouth and dropped his gaze as he started on the ropes.
"Did he hurt you?" His voice was rough.
"No."
"Did he…?" He didn't want to think about the possibility that the bastard had actually raped Claire. But if he had, then he needed to know–Claire would need therapy, and even if she wanted nothing more to do with him, he would make sure she got the help she needed.
"No," Claire repeated, softer this time.
Relief flooded him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."
He couldn't undo the knots, but his teeth were still sharp in his mouth, so he bent and gnawed through the bindings. As soon as she was free, Claire threw her arms around him.
Shock rippled through him. After what she had just seen, how could she stand to touch him? She should be running from him as fast as she could! He had just brutally killed another man and she was hugging him?
"It's not your fault."
Roland realized he was trembling. "I've never killed anyone before."
"He would have killed you. It's not your fault." Claire stroked his hair. "It's not your fault.
The taste of Brian's blood was still in his mouth. He held his mate as tightly as he could, afraid that if he let her go there would be nothing to anchor him and he'd go spinning off the world, never to return. She stroked his hair, whispering again and again that it wasn't his fault. Roland had no breath to respond. He could only hold her tighter.
Chapter Ten
It was two weeks after Claire had given birth. She sat at the kitchen table in Roland's guesthouse, her new home. She traced the gentle curve of her belly, feeling almost melancholy that there wasn't a life inside her anymore. But holding her tiny daughter was worth the loss of movement inside her.
"Hello?"
Claire jumped as Grace's voice came out of her phone, where it was laying on the table. She shook her head, grounding herself back into the present. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought. What did you say?"
"I was asking if Roland is any better."
Claire sighed. She knew from her own experience that killing someone, even in self-defense, wasn't something that you just magically got over. Roland still carried a lot of guilt, both for Melissa and Brian's deaths, although he had been making progress over the past months.
"He's doing better, yes. But it's going to take him time to recover. I'm just glad that he's seeing that therapist."
"Give him my best."
"I will."
Claire shifted uncomfortably. Her breasts were feeling overly full. It was time to go feed little Ada–the tiny baby needed to be fed every hour. Claire smiled as she remembered her daughter's birth. It had been easier than she had thought it would be, but after she saw exactly how tiny her child was, the ease of labor had made sense.
All the full moons throughout the pregnancy had been difficult, but they had got progressively worse as the baby grew, and Claire had been constantly worried that she was going to lose the baby. Roland had helped ease her fear by staying by her side, even when his body changed to that of a humanoid wolf. But when Claire had gone into labor at 36 weeks, she had been glad that she wouldn’t have to go through another full moon while pregnant.
"More importantly, when can I come and meet Ada?"
Claire winced. Grace had been thrilled about the pregnancy, and Claire knew that she was planning on being a big part of Ada’s life. But they had to be careful about when they had visitors, and make sure that they planned around the full moon.
“Soon, I promise. Look, I have to go and feed her.”
“Okay. But send me a picture at least.”
“I will do. Call you later.”
Claire hung up the phone, smiling, and headed into the bedroom. Ada Doyle-Davis was born weighing just five pounds and four ounces. When Claire first saw her, her heart had stopped. She was certain that, even though her baby had survived the full moons, she couldn't survive being born so tiny. Ada had been only skin and bones, and she still seemed exceptionally thin, although the doctors had said she was doing fine.
Roland sat on the bed, cradling their daughter against his chest. The doctors had told Claire that physical contact was very beneficial for babies born prematurely, so the two of them took turns holding her at all times. The other members of the pack hung around, making food, cleaning and never straying far from the guest house. All of them were extremely protective of the little girl who would be the next Alpha.
"Is she awake?" Claire asked, and Ada stirred at the sound of her voice. Her eyes had not yet opened, but she still responded to the sounds around her.
"Awake and wanting her mother."
Claire slipped off her shirt and unhooked her bra. Ada's tiny mouth was already searching as Roland passed her to her mother.
Roland put an arm around Claire as Ada began nursing. "She's amazing."
"She is. Grace phoned. We're going to need to be careful with her. I think she’s going to want to spend a lot of time with Ada. I'd like to be able to tell her the truth someday, but…"
"Adam would like that, too. I think he might be smitten with her."
Claire couldn't help but laugh. "If he can get her, it'll be a miracle. That girl goes through boyfriends like we go through socks."
"Adam's always had a similar relationship with women. I told him that he's not allowed to get her pregnant, but the rest is his business."
"Hypocrite," Claire cooed. "If I hadn't gotten pregnant on our once-only night, would we be together now?"
"Yes." Roland shrugged at Claire's raised eyebrow. "We would have found a way to be together. We are meant to be. You're my mate. Somehow, no matter what else happened, you and I would have found each other."
Claire had to admit that he was right–she felt just as strongly as he did. "And now we have Ada." She leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Roland's breath ruffled her hair. "I love you forever and ever."
"And ever and ever," Claire added.
Roland smiled. He laughed and drew her in for a kiss. "And ever and ever and ever and ever…"
*****
THE END
The Vampire Prince's Bride
Description
A BBW with a secret PLUS a vampire general who needs human blood PLUS a shifter army out to kill!
Vampire general Darius isn’t looking for love or romance. He’s looking for a promotion. And for that, he needs a human wife and a baby. Just one look at Cleo’s curves and he knows she can give him what he needs. The thought of another man touching her makes him want to kill.
Cleo has always been strong, always in charge of her own destiny. But what Darius doesn’t know is that she isn’t as invulnerable as she seems. She keeps her secrets just as he keeps his. They made a deal. Why should they be concerned with each other's intimate lives?
But Darius and Cleo are forced to confront their worst fears when Darius is sent to fight a group of rebel shifters that may just get him killed. Violence is a vampire’s domain. But can he survive this?
As feelings deepen and danger grows ever closer, Cleo and Darius will have to face hard truths–and decide if ambition is really worth their lives, or if love is worthy of sacrifice.
Chapter One – Darius
A picture of Iosif hung over the mantle in Darius's study. The king had ruled all the lands from the Black Sea to the Carpathian Mountain range to the Danube River for almost two thousand years now and was a vampire of great strength and pride. This study had once belonged to his father and Darius had sat on the floor and stare
d at wonder at the king's picture ever since he was a young boy.
Hearing about the king's great feats against the shifters, who used to run rampant and murder recklessly, had always made his heart swell with pride. He had determined from a young age that he would be as great as the king, one day wearing the crown on his own head. As he grew up, he realized that his goals required a lot of hard work, but Darius was nothing if not determined.
"There have been reports of wolves here and here," he said, pointing to the map spread out on his desk. "Three dozen sheep were killed and a shepherdess has disappeared only a dozen leagues from here."
His best friend and second-in-command, Gordon, frowned. "You think it's the Rebeluna?"
Darius grimaced as he considered. The Rebeluna was a self-proclaimed rebel group that resisted the vampire king in any way possible. Shifters of various clans gathered and were responsible for more vampire deaths than any other group in the past decade. Since they assassinated the last colonel charged with finding them, the king had turned the investigation over to Darius.
"No," he decided. "The Rebeluna are organized, efficient. These are minor inconveniences, more likely wolves who consider themselves rebels but don't have the courage to actually commit to open rebellion."
"Then why bring them up?"
Darius straightened and grinned. "They're exactly the type that the Rebeluna will recruit for cannon fodder. Send a couple of men to investigate. If humans think that we're allowing shifters to steal them away with no consequences, it might stir up unrest. Find the shepherdess, if nothing else."
"Am I interrupting?"
The cool, confident voice made him turn to the door. His twenty-year-old human wife of four months, Cleo, stood in the doorway. Darius smiled at her. Iosif and his own human mate had had no children of their own and had made it clear that the vampire they chose to replace Iosif had to prove he had good relations with humans. The best way to do that was to marry one, and so he had.
"Darius. Gordon." Cleo strode in, her shoulders back, her head held high, exuding an air of confidence about her.
She had been Darius' choice wife for two reasons. One, she was beautiful. Bronzed skin, long curly hair, stunning black eyes. When Darius first chose her, Gordon had questioned whether he really wanted somebody as 'robust' as her. She was all curves and softness, nothing angular or sharp about her–except her piercing gaze.
Which brought him to his second reason for choosing her. She made no pretenses about what she wanted – a husband who could give her all the luxury and power she desired. She wanted to be queen as much as he wanted to be king, and she would do anything necessary to ensure that happened.
Having a woman like that by his side only heightened his possibilities. She was clever, level-headed, and he had never seen her act based solely on emotion – exactly what he was looking for in a wife.
"You didn't come to bed last night, Darius." Cleo walked into the room, her black eyes never leaving his face. "I bought a new… dress that I wanted to show you."
The colonel could imagine what she would look like in the 'dress' and swallowed hard. Heat curled in his lower belly.
Gordon cleared his throat. "My lord, if you want some privacy—"
Darius waved his hand at his friend, an annoyed expression on his face. "As much as I would like to ravish my wife on every surface available in this room, I don't have the time."
"More news on the Rebeluna?"
"A small envoy of vampires were attacked yesterday evening. It's the Rebeluna's style, but there are many other reports of shifters that I have to have investigated."
Cleo nodded. "What envoy did they attack yesterday?"
"Lord Virgil's taxes. He still insists on delivering them in gold every year. Claims it's safer."
Cleo snorted. "Maybe he'll start using a check or e-transfer now."
"Maybe. And maybe I should have seen it coming. Virgil's so stuck in the past that he's an easy target for the shifters. They pretended to be a roadblock and shot the tires of his Hummer. They took the gold but didn't stick around to kill anybody."
Gordon coughed, drawing attention to himself. "We think they are gathering funds for a larger-scale attack."
The vampire didn't look at Cleo. But then, Gordon had never liked the human. He always thought that Darius deserved someone 'better'. The problem was he thought 'better' meant thinner and more emotional, worshiping the ground Darius walked on. He didn't want that.
He didn't want love.
"They could be collecting funds to bribe the lower-ranked vampires," Cleo suggested. "Or to donate money to the outlying human settlements. Turn them to the shifter cause."
"It wouldn't be the first time," Darius agreed.
"I'm having tea with a few of the other wives today. I'll discuss an outreach program to bolster vampire relations with the outliers. I know that the recent earthquakes have caused some flooding. I'll be sure to increase aid to the areas affected."
Darius nodded, smiling at his wife. She didn't think in terms of battles and conquest, but rather how kindness could change the tide of wars. A valuable ally. In this seemingly unending war between vampires and shifters, humans were the key figures. They were vital to vampire survival, and not just because vampires required human blood to sustain themselves.
The common assumption that humans could turn into vampires was wrong. It was true that the humans who lived among vampires and were regularly fed from took on vampiric traits: their aging slowed to the point where they hardly aged at all. They also grew stronger, faster, and developed a taste for blood. But they remained human. Vampires were born vampires – and usually males at that. Without human wives like Cleo, they would be extinct within three generations.
"What are you grinning at?" Cleo narrowed her eyes at him.
"I was just remembering how we met." His voice turned low and husky. "And how I knew instantly that you were the woman to be my bride."
Cleo smirked back at him. Both of them ignored Gordon rolling his eyes.
Their first meeting was indicative of their whole relationship. There had been no romance. He had been patrolling his lands with Gordon and half a dozen sergeants. They stopped at a station in the closest city to refuel their motorcycles. Normally humans looked at them with awe, but Darius had noticed Cleo leaning against the building, gazing at the vampires as though she was measuring them up and finding them lacking.
He hadn't been able to help himself. He walked over to her. Her expression had changed slightly, and when she looked at him, her gaze lingered on the insignia on his jacket.
"You're a colonel," she had said.
"Yes, I am. If you come back to my estate with me, I'll marry you."
She had given him that cool, sharp gaze and shrugged. "I could hold out for a general, but you'll be one soon enough if I have any say in the matter. Let's go."
The wicked grin on Cleo's face showed that she was remembering as well. Darius circled the table and caught his wife in his arms.
"You took a big risk on me."
"Hardly." Cleo rolled her eyes. "I did my research. I already knew everything about you. I knew you took weekly patrols, and I knew you always stopped at that station for gas. I had everything planned. If you hadn't approached me, I would have gone to you."
With a light chuckle, Darius gave her a quick peck on the lips. She moaned, indicating her wish for more, but the vampire pulled away. It was difficult. He had been so busy lately that he hadn't actually drunk from her in almost two months. Blood bags didn't taste as good as the real deal, but drinking usually led to other things… and when he only had a few minutes to spare, he couldn’t indulge in anything.
Her scent was driving him crazy, though. She was wearing an essential oil fragrance, which most vampires didn't like. He loved it. Rose and lavender with a hint of peppermint. Delicious. Her natural scent was only enhanced by the oils.
"Gordon." Darius turned to his second-in-command. "Tell the fourth squad to prepare for
departure. We're going to scour the settlements surrounding Virgil's attack. The Rebeluna is probably long gone, but we might catch something about which way they headed."
Gordon saluted and left, leaving Darius and his wife alone. Cleo gave him a coy smile and pulled her dark curls off her shoulder and stretched out her neck, offering it to him.
"Are you feeling desirous, my dear?"
Cleo shrugged. "Desirous? I desire that you don't embarrass me by collapsing from exhaustion while you're hunting shifters."
"I wouldn't be at that point for another month."
"And if the Rebeluna are closer – if this is an ambush set for you – then I don't want to be widowed. That would ruin all my plans," she added quickly. "You vampires are ridiculous. You don't marry widows unless you've killed the woman's husband. Now drink."
Darius pulled her closer. He couldn't stifle a moan as he delicately bit into her beautiful, smooth skin. Cleo gave a little gasp and clutched at his shirt. Drinking was always a sensual act, and the vampire couldn't help but growl as he sucked hard. His wife shuddered in his grasp, tangling her fingers in his hair.
He wanted more, but this was exactly why he shouldn't have drunk in the first place. Everything was getting hot and tight inside, and if there hadn’t been a strange taste to her blood, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from tearing off both their clothes and spending hours with her.
When he withdrew, Cleo moaned in disappointment.
The vampire licked his lips, frowning. "Maybe it's because I haven't been around very much and I've been stuck drinking from those plastic bags, but you taste different. More calcium, maybe. A little low on iron. And something else. You're a little… acidic. Maybe you should see your doctor."
"Oh, I did. You're probably tasting the prenatal vitamins," Cleo said matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"I'm pregnant. Three months."
