He lapped gently, savoring the taste because it was impossible not to, but ignoring it at the same time. Licking, lapping, gently mending the severed and torn flesh, bit by bit, until there was a lump of scar tissue where once a gaping hole had been.
He sat up, looking down at her, and his heart broke just a little. She was so pale, close to death. What Andor hadn’t drunk had nearly flowed from her as he and the other vampire had been engaged in battle.
Her clothes were shredded, her body bruised, there were deep scratches on her thighs. Lucian wondered if Andor had indeed begun the deed of defilement, but he didn’t think so. He saw no blood there to indicate the harsh rendering of entry that the other vampire would have inflicted upon Natalya.
He removed his own shirt and then lifted her carefully in his arms, and removed the shredded remains of her dress, wrapping her in his shirt that was much too big for her, laying her down upon the ground once more and wishing he’d taken his cape when he’d left the castle, but it wasn’t to be. There hadn’t been time.
Lucian touched Natalya’s face, patted it gently, called her name, but grimaced at the cold feeling of her skin. She was cold, too cold, and he knew that she had lost far too much blood. If she were left like this she would eventually die, her body not able to recover.
He lifted her into his arms, his mind in a whirl as he looked down at her, head lolling back, eyes closed, deep purple shadows under pale lids. Her lips were almost as white as the rest of her face. All of her spoke of severe blood loss, and in his heart, Lucian knew there was just one thing to do. He had to make her drink. He had to give her back some of the life’s blood that had been drained from her.
‘But she isn’t yours!’ His mind screamed the reminder. While it was true he hadn’t been the one to drink from her, giving her his blood was still an act of deep significance. It wasn’t a return of the mating claim for he hadn’t bedded her, but he had tasted her blood, drank just a little as he was closing her wound, and now she would be drinking from him if he so dared. Was it what the Master would want in order for him to save her? Did he care what the ramifications were?
Yes and no were the answers to the questions he had posed. He truly did feel as if Mikhal would want him to do anything needed to save Natalya’s life, but in the end, when it came down to it, he didn’t care what happened to him for his actions if it kept her from dying.
Having come to his decision, determined to save the woman in his arms that he had come to care for, Lucian brought his wrist to his mouth and vamped out for only a moment, slicing his arm open with a razor sharp fang, and then transforming back, blood running freely from his wound.
He held her close, crushing her to his hard, naked chest, holding her immobile, then ran his fingers over her mouth, opening her lips, before pressing his wrist down and over them, forcing his blood to flow into her mouth.
Natalya lay as still as ever but Lucian didn’t give up. He could hear her faint heartbeat; he knew she was very much alive, just weak, very weak from loss of blood. He pressed down with his wrist and moved his other arm after shifting her so she was cradled in his lap, and massaged her throat, making her swallow, once, twice, three times.
She moaned then, a spark of life returning, some of his power transferring into her, and then her eyes fluttered open, looking at him curiously. He stared down at her, working his thrall before she could pull away and become revolted by the blood flowing into her mouth.
“Drink.” He commanded and she did. Deeply, the thrall saving her from knowing exactly what is was she was doing.
When some of the color had returned to her cheeks, and he could once again feel the heat radiating from her body, Lucian pulled his wrist away and licked it briefly to close the cut. He then put his hand to Natalya’s mouth, using his thumb to wipe the traces of blood from her chin and blinking to break the thrall he had placed on her.
She stared at him, curious but not afraid, bringing a trembling hand to her neck and glancing down at herself, seeing his shirt wrapped carefully around her.
“That thing...”
“Andor.” Natalya’s eyes widened and a cry escaped her lips; the very vampire who tended to Marishka and wanted to see Alliana dead had assaulted her.
“He...” Silent tears welled up in her eyes at the memory of his body on top of hers, of his hard... “He...”
“Did he?”
Natalya shook her head. No, Lucian had saved her from that fate. True she had been nearly unconscious, but there was no pain between her thighs, she felt no tearing inside, Andor had not been successful in his attempt to defile her.
“No. You stopped him.” Her hand went to her neck and she rubbed at the bump of flesh that formed where Mikhal the Merciless’s small mark of claim had been. “Does he now own me in some way?” Natalya looked at him, her eyes pleading as she filled with revulsion at the thought.
“NO! Never. He is dead, and can’t hurt you any longer.” He seethed with rage at the very thought of Andor owning the beautiful woman in his arms.
“You. Did you heal me again?”
“Yes, I tended your wound.” After he said this, the usually bold Lucian looked away and Natalya felt confused by his actions. What else had happened?
“Lucian? What else? Tell me.”
He turned back to her. Black eyes burning with fierce determination, it had been the right thing to do; he knew it was. “I fed you. You were weak, very weak from loss of blood, so I fed you.”
Natalya started in his arms, grimacing as she wiped at her mouth, then she stilled as she at looked at him again, eyes wide. He had tasted her blood and she his, twas that act which had mated Alliana and Lord Arcos.
“Do we... Have you laid claim to me now?” The idea was both very disturbing and yet somehow oddly exciting.
“In a sense, but not completely. For us to be like the Master and the Mistress, I would have had to bed you. That did not happen. I merely gave you sustenance.”
“And that is all? There is nothing else?” If there were no other ramifications to the act, then why was the normally stoic Lucian acting so very odd.
“I told you woman, that is all. You still are claimed by the Master, nothing has changed.” In his mind he finished his sentence with, except you are now mine to protect for life, but he didn’t share that tidbit with her, nor the fact that he was even more strongly draw to her than ever.
He gathered her up then and rose to his feet, whistling for his horse. She looked better, much better, and that was good. There were things to be done that night.
“We must hurry to the castle now. The Mistress is in labor.”
“What? Why did you not tell me at once?”
“You were in no condition to be moved and I knew you would get your hackles up and insist on doing things that would put yourself in danger. Now you are well and we may go.”
He set her on her feet briefly then took the reins of his horse, mounting; then pulling her up in front of him, his shirt bunching up on her thighs, exposing the creamy white skin. Lucian pulled his eyes away, now was most definitely not the time to think of Natalya’s thighs. The Mistress and her babe awaited, to say nothing of the Master.
He dug his heels into the horse’s side and they began down the road but suddenly Natalya started to twist and turn in his arms.
“Stop. Wait, I have to go back.”
“Are you mad? We must be off.”
“No! Take me back. I... please. Just do as I ask.” She twisted, turning her eyes upon him and he couldn’t resist.
“For only a moment.”
“Yes.” He went back and loosened his hold when they were at the spot where she’d been assaulted. Leaping down, Natalya ran to the pile of rags that had been her clothes, her fingers searching. There, the pocket was still intact.
She turned her back to Lucian and pulled the medallion from where it was secreted, and then placed the necklace over her head and tucked it between her breasts, not caring what Lucian might think of her ac
tions. True he had seen her do it, but for all Lucian knew, it was a treasured keepsake from her mother or some such thing. Natalya doubted he knew anything about the medallion for Mikhal the Merciless had never questioned her about the necklace he’d ripped from his wife’s neck on the night of her kidnapping, so how could his first in command be any wiser to its existence?
She went quickly back to the horse, pausing a moment as she reached him, a wave of dizziness briefly making her world spin. Lucian looked down at her with concern, knowing she needed rest, but also knew there would be none as soon as they reached the castle.
“Natalya?”
She pressed her forehead against his thigh for a moment, and then reached up her arm, allowing him to pull her up before him and settle her comfortably against his body.
“I’m fine, twas nothing.”
He scowled and tightened his grip around her waist, holding her securely.
“Rest, it won’t be long before we arrive, but lean on me and close your eyes until we do. I won’t let you fall.”
Like him, Natalya felt the current of fire that seemed to pass between them where their bodies touched, but she was too weary to dwell on its meaning and so pushed it from her mind. Alliana was in labor and it was far too soon, this was no time to worry about why her body was feeling all tingly from Lucian’s touch.
She was still confused over the events of the night, the kiss, the sense that things had somehow changed, and she was tired but oddly energized at the same time. None of it made sense, but neither did any of it matter. Only her friend did, and so, off they went into the night, the horse’s hooves pounding out a static rhythm on the hard packed earth that seemed to match the beat of her own racing heart. While back at the castle, Alliana lay, waiting to give birth to her son.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, but as they did so, Lucian was acutely aware of the tension inside the woman who he held in his arms. He had told her to rest, but as usual, the stubborn woman hadn’t listened to him and so he was left in a quandary. They would be back at the castle in a half hours’ time and he knew that after her ordeal, Natalya desperately needed the relief sleep could provide before spending hours at the Mistress’s bedside delivering the Master’s son.
He suddenly pulled up the horse, and Natalya turned so she could look at him, eyes questioning.
“Why are...”
“We are stopping because you are not doing as I told you. Andor took much blood from you and though I gave you some of mine, you are still weak. Do you not understand that you need to sleep?”
Natalya’s face turned thunderous. “Do you not understand that I am shaken and confused by what just happened to me? I was assaulted, nearly raped, had an evil creature attempt to tear out my throat, had much of my blood drained, and then was fed blood, which is not among my usual foods, by you. I feel strange and disoriented and ... yes weary, but there is much on my mind! Leave me be. I do not need your harping.”
Lucian didn’t know if he should laugh or rage over her tirade. This Natalya was certainly a handful, one whom he now felt very much responsible. While it was true she didn’t belong to him, he hadn’t claimed her, he didn’t have the right to, he had saved her life and they shared a blood bond. There would be ramifications, of that he was certain.
“I won’t leave you be woman. You have little time to rest and your body needs a chance to mend before we arrive home. Do not fight me on this. Let me help you.”
He grasped her under her chin and tilted her head back, gazing down into her eyes as his own became black mahogany discs that held no hint of emotion. Natalya tied to close her eyes, fully aware of his plans. She would not allow him to use his magick on her to gain his way.
“No. Open your eyes and look at me, Natalya. Tis for the best; you know it is. Think of your friend and the ordeal ahead and stop being so headstrong.”
Natalya opened her eyes once more, but they were filled with fury and resistance. This though, was something that Lucian didn’t allow himself to worry about. Let her rage at him; let her feel anger. Women needed to be told what to do, made to do the right thing if needed when their silly minds couldn’t grasp what was best.
Natalya’s forehead creased suddenly, her eyes narrowing, her breath coming out in a huff of outrage, and Lucian looked at her curiously. It was almost as if she had felt his scorn. Was the bond between them that strong? He had only a bit of her blood; on the other hand, she’d had much of his. He muttered a curse under his breath at the notion. All he needed was to have this impossible woman tied to him. To not have the upper hand with her was unthinkable. He let out a low growl and she scowled back at him.
“Stop being stubborn and do what you are told.”
Natalya opened her mouth to let out a string of very unladylike words to describe her feelings towards him, but then thoughts of Alliana came rushing back. Alliana was in labor; she needed her. This ... thing... that was happening here between she and Lucian, the whole matter of the blood exchange would have to wait to be explored.
Giving in to his demands, she relaxed in his arms and stared into his eyes, knowing he would work his magick on her and hating the thought that she would be out of control. Lucian stared down at her, eyes darkening once more, blacker, darker, but still shining, and Natalya felt her own sense of control slipping away. Those eyes, there was nothing but his eyes.
“Sleep.” His said the one simple word softly, and Natalya felt her body becoming heavy, her limbs weak, her lids leaden, and then she slept. Pleased that he had been able to use his thrall so easily, he stared at her for a moment longer, knowing that he had done all he could to bring her back to health. The sleep would be brief, but combined with the blood he’d given her she would be able to tend to the Mistress.
Satisfied, knowing there was no more time to waste, Lucian gathered her close, cradling her body against his, and using his powerful arms to keep her securely on the horse, then dug his heels into his mount and shot off into the night once more.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When the dark shape of the castle loomed before them in the blackness, Lucian bent forward and whispered into Natalya’s ear, telling her to wake. She did so at once, feeling rested but out of sorts, then remembered exactly where she was, and why they were riding at such a breakneck speed. Alliana.
As they arrived in the courtyard, Mikhal raced over to grab the reins of the horse, his face a mixture of fury and worry. When the servant guard had reached the castle with word on the attack upon Natalya, Mikhal had been informed of the act discreetly in the hall outside his wife’s bed chamber, and then, when the approaching hoof beats of Lucian’s horse had signaled his first in command’s arrival, Mikhal had hesitantly left Alliana in order to see what had happened to Natalya. It was imperative that he assess the new situation that threatened the well-being of both of the women in the castle.
It had not been an easy choice to make, but in the end he knew he needed to know. If Natalya had been killed, or so severely wounded that she couldn’t tend to his wife, then a new midwife would have to be summoned at once, and he would need the time from learning of the Gypsy witch’s fate to walking back to Alliana’s chamber to find a way to break the news to Alliana that her dearest friend had been slaughtered or maimed.
As it stood, Alliana was doing well. The fluid had seeped from her womb, worrying them both to be sure, but it held no blood and her pains were not frequent. True she was in a foul mood, and she’d told him of how her back ached and how the pains hurt, with that dagger sharp tongue of hers, and he could see the look of fear in her eyes over what was to come, but he had deemed it safe to leave her for a little while.
As the horse drew near, Mikhal could clearly see it held two figures upon its back, and he gave a sigh of relief to see the woman in Lucian’s arms was sitting erect and very much alive, not slumped over wounded or dead.
So the fool who had dared to attack what was his had been foiled after all. That was very good news indeed. Perhaps th
e vampire hadn’t known who Natalya was until he’d seen her neck and then the minion had backed off. As they drew closer thought it became apparent that wasn’t the case.
For one, Natalya was wearing only Lucian’s shirt. That proclaimed that she had been assaulted far beyond a quick, simple act. No, the one who had done this had known she was claimed, yet proceeded with the plan for rape and slaughter any way, and that left only one person, two actually, who could have committed such a heinous deed. Marishka or Andor, and seeing as how the servant claimed it twas a man, then Andor it had to be.
A coil of rage tightened then sprung loose in Mikhal’s gut at the thought of Marishka’s minion. The audacity of him was incredible. No vampire took what belonged to his Master. He snarled, eyes turning amber, body tensing as he went towards Lucian’s horse, but then paused, noting that Natalya was looking at him with a terrified expression.
He shook himself, forcing his demon back, knowing he had to get under control. The poor woman had just been assaulted and possibly raped by Andor in what Mikhal was certain was his vampire form, and here he was, coming at her looking like one of the evil creatures of the night. His face shifted back to that of the man, and he reached up for her, his eyes taking in everything, his sense of smell overwhelmed by the stink of Marishka’s childe.
Natalya jumped when he touched her, then trembled, clearly distressed and out of sorts. The woman had never been frightened of him and it made the rage in his gut burn ever hotter to know that the minion he so despised brought on her terror.
“Easy. I mean you no harm, Natalya. Are you well?” He held her away from him and felt her shivering increase, so briefly pulled her close, offering a bit of comfort. Mikhal was not used to truly caring about the feelings of a woman other than his wife, but this one was special. She was dear to Alliana, and therefore must be treated with great care. She had also become a friend to him.
Beneath The Shadows of Evil... Torn Page 34
