Chapter Linton
LINTON
Ilike the kitchens in the stronghold. They have the scent I associate with my mate. Of food cooking, the strange round items she likes to make, and the larger ones. Plus, when she feeds me while we wait for them to burn in the big hot ovens, I don’t think I ever want to leave.
Although the full moon is coming and I will be fully recharged. The stronghold cannot keep me in from that moment on. The brothers know this, and I know they will entice me to stay. They hope to change what I am, like they do for every creature which passes over their threshold.
But I have no desire to end up at anyone’s mercy again. The Faerie thought they could control us. They were wrong.
The residue of those images come to me in the night when my defences are at their lowest. Only this time, my Kaitlyn was there. Her face the first face I saw, her scent invading my senses in the best way. Her body curled against mine. She is perfection.
She saved me from myself.
And her blood is the sweetest of the sweet.
“I need to check on the baking,” she murmurs.
I release her, hoping I haven’t taken too much. Kaitlyn goes to stand, wobbles, and sits back down.
I’ve taken too much. My heart slams against my chest as her face pales.
“Kaitlyn.” I pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry I fed. I was thinking of how much I enjoyed being with you last night. I forgot myself.”
“It’s okay, Linton,” she says, her eyes half closed as she goes limp in my arms. “You didn’t…”
And her hand flops out to one side as those stunning eyes finally close.
“What did you do, Bluecap?” A witch rounds the corner and glares at me.
“Nothing.”
“You have taken her blood. I see it on your lips,” she fires at me.
I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. There is a dribble of my Kaitlyn’s blood on it.
“She is my mate. She lets me feed.”
“The Bluecap is drinking blood!” she yells, not taking her eyes from me. “He has killed the human.”
There’s a number of exclamations elsewhere in the kitchens and several more witches and warlocks crowd to the doorway.
“You must take her round things from the oven, or they’ll set on fire,” I say urgently.
Instead they do nothing, other than more cries which involve me killing the human.
I have done no such thing. Kaitlyn is warm in my arms, her lips and cheeks pink. I’d like her to open her eyes, but I’ve seen this before when I was a young Bluecap, and it only takes one moment of distraction where your prey ends up slightly catatonic with a small venom overload.
My sweet mate will be conscious again soon, but the people in the kitchens don’t seem to know it.
The scent of the cooked round things fills the room. I know from all my watching this is the time they need to be removed, but I don’t want to leave Kaitlyn.
Except if she finds out I let her rounds, the ones I helped with this morning, spoil, she might not let me mate her again.
A spike of terror races through me at the thought. My spicket has been nothing but a nuisance since I started watching her, and I’m not going to let it down. Mating must continue. My Kaitlyn must be happy.
I stand, lifting Kaitlyn onto my shoulder as there’s a gasp from the assembly.
I’m not leaving her where they can touch her.
I approach the ovens, but I’m going to need both hands free to operate them.
So, I place her gently on the table where we prepared rounds.
It’s a little dusty, but I’d rather she was in view at all times.
I open the ovens, revelling in the blast of heat, and using the flat boards from earlier, I scoop up the rounds, now a darker brown colour, and put them wherever there is room.
The entire place is filled with all the rounds we made.
I even have to place some around my mate.
But as she loves them, I don’t think she will mind.
Finally, all the baked items are out of the oven. I turn to my audience with a snarl.
“The rounds are out of the ovens,” I growl. “As my mate wished.”
And Kaitlyn sits up suddenly with a gasp of breath.
“Linton,” she says, blinking rapidly at everything. “What is going on?”
“I have your rounds. They did not burn. And everyone thinks I killed you.”