Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The Beginning of the Hunt
Lord Montag nodded to Jules and disappeared into the forest in the next breath.
I hung back, gesturing for those around me to enter first. Mateo and Henry went quickly, just to observe the chaos—Mateo had not drunk human blood in centuries—but a few hesitated, rocking back and forth on their feet until I sighed and made my way in.
The forest was quiet, the moss and decay overwhelming as it mixed with the scent of human and vampire alike.
Already the sound of a human cry slipped through the trees, followed by a growl and a soft moan.
The scent of blood filled the air, cutting through any other until I was holding my breath.
Perhaps it was the ferocity of those within the forest, or the sound of limbs crashing through the bracken, but the night called to that ancient part of me I’d all but forgotten.
The ancient in me who had once hunted humans to survive.
I shook myself. Lord Montag would be in this forest and he would find Mademoiselle Valois.
He would bite her—he would take her. Jules’ wards were in place but the back of my neck itched as I turned to the east, catapulting over a fallen trunk.
He had already shown his inability to control himself and no amount of warding could stop an immortal who had lost themselves to their thirst. Her neck could be snapped if he grabbed her too roughly or bit too deep.
For centuries humans had died in hunts just like these.
I picked up speed until the forest became a blur. Lord Montag had staked his claim and I could not hunt Mademoiselle Valois, but I could protect her should he become too lost in his bloodlust. A gentleman would understand that, just as he’d understood when Mateo had pulled him away at my estate.
The scent of sunshine and wildflowers drifted on the wind.
I did not hesitate. He’d had a considerable head start and, with a twist of my stomach, I realized that perhaps they had been who I’d heard.
A dense line of trees created a small clearing and I sliced through the boughs, her scent so thick on the air my fangs ached.
A smear of gold flashed across my vision before she turned and ran.
I growled, blood heating in my veins, and the world narrowed.
Her hair streamed behind her, skirts ruined and torn.
A small part of my mind screamed, but I could not hear the words.
My fangs pulsed, my heart pounded, and a singular word repeated in my mind.
She veered to the right, her breaths ragged and wheezing through her chest.
I lunged.
My arms wrapped around her waist in the next instant and she screamed as I hauled her against me.
All the blood rushing through my body surged to my cock at that sound, at the scent of arousal blossoming in the air.
She thrashed, my hair covering her face and blocking her vision, but her body knew it was me.
I could sense it, taste it even. But I was not done.
The hunt had been all too easy. I slackened my grip.
At once she twisted, driving through the thick bracken and wide leaves without a backward glance.
A rumble of satisfaction I’d never felt before vibrated through my chest, but I could not stop to quantify it.
My feet were already moving of their own accord, instincts herding her toward a small clearing I could sense was far from any other immortal.
Another few strides and I slipped into the clearing, waiting as she ran right past me.
A grin curled up the corner of my mouth, fangs sharpening impossibly, and I caught her from behind.
Another scream ripped through the night as I lifted her off her feet, her back arching over my shoulder while she kicked and twisted in my hold.
I groaned, my cock pressing painfully against the placket of my trousers.
When she hinged forward, I twisted her, moving to pin her against a tree.
“Mine.”
My lips found her throat. Precious, so precious. I had to be gentle. Finally, she was in my arms. Finally, we were alone. All at once the fight bled from her, submission sweet on the air as she tilted her head to the side, exposing the column of her neck.
The sound of her moan sent my instincts spiraling.
I pulled her closer, hiked up her skirts and slid a thigh between her knees until her blazing cunt was pressed against me.
Slowly, I scraped my fangs across her skin, savoring the rhythm of her heart thrumming inside her chest—her heart that belonged to me.
“I was not supposed to hunt you, little bird.”
Even in my ears my voice did not sound like my own. But she shivered, hands clenched against the fabric of my tunic—my jacket long since discarded somewhere within the forest. My cock pulsed at her small whimper, at the heat and the damp press of her sex.
Her answer was nothing more than a pitiful moan. “I was not supposed to want you to hunt me.”
My teeth broke through her skin before she finished, her final word drawing out with a gasp.
Her blood was more than just blood. It was the light of dawn I would never see again, the hum of afternoon songbirds, the fresh scent of sunlight warming the ground after a summer rain.
In my thousands of years never once had blood tasted like this.
Like life itself.
All the pieces of my jagged soul snapped together as I drank deeper. Her hips rocked against my thigh and I pressed it higher, giving her the friction she needed. In my mind her voice was just as loud as when she spoke, laced with desperation and fear and everything in between.
“Merciful fucking goddess.”
I groaned, thrusting my aching cock against the dense fabric of her skirts.
She was Nasicya, the goddess of the dawn, and I merely a humble worshipper at her feet.
Her blood soothed each hurt and ache within me, stoking the fire of my need just as her thighs squeezed around my leg and searing heat pooled across my skin.
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
She did not understand that I would never stop. I was bound to her as I was to no other—her wishes, her needs, would always come before my own. Her blood heated as she reached her climax and I rumbled my satisfaction. For the first time in millennia, I thought I understood the meaning of peace.
“AZAD!”
Instantly I tightened my grip, my fangs sliding from her throat, pulling a whimper from her.
I crooned softly as she blinked. My soul knew hers.
No, my soul was hers. And now a threat loomed at my back, waiting to snatch her from me—to take her, claim her, and make her his.
My attention slid from her face down to the life spilling down her throat.
Had to keep her safe, had to stop the flow so she didn’t lose too much.
I bit my tongue and leaned down to swipe it over the wound so it would close. She shivered, a furrow folding between her brows that I longed to kiss.
“I told you she was mine!”
A growl ripped through my chest. I lowered her to her feet, turned into a crouch and covered her body with mine. The threat stood only a few paces away, his body flushed with human blood and muscles rippling with anger. But he was young—only a few centuries old.
He would be dead before the night was done.
My lips pulled back with a snarl, exposing my fangs. “She is not yours.”
The muscles of the youngling’s body tightened with rage as he recognized the threat before him. The magic within him saw what I was and what he had interrupted, but this boy was too set in his modern ways. His anger propelled him forward a step. “I told you—”
“Back,” I commanded, magic slicing through my words.
The fledgling stumbled as my body prepared to fight. A small voice sounded in my mind, one that was my voice and yet was not.
Think of all you have worked for.
Think of all you have left to do.
I fought the reminder, another voice singing louder over the rest. The young vampire crouched, preparing for a fight, and though I warred within myself, I fought the urge to pounce first. But his next words were his downfall.
“I paid for her. She is—”
My hand clamped around his throat and his feet dangled in the air. I tightened my grip until a small bone in his neck snapped. “Speak another word and I will kill you without a second thought.”
I did not understand why I was giving him a chance to live.
Why part of me warred within myself. I should destroy him and eliminate the threat.
His fingers found no purchase against my skin, eyes widening as they looked down on me.
A groan echoed from his chest and I tightened my grip. “Not. Another. Word.”
Her voice sliced through my rage. “Eamon…”
I lowered the fledgling slowly, squeezing to illustrate how easily I could snap his neck.
“Eamon, let him go.”
“You hear that?” I growled. “You have her to thank for my mercy. My mate offers kindness where there should be none.”
Mate. The word slipped from my lips and the last piece fell into place. Yet a red haze filled my vision as the fledgling blinked. “M-mate?”
My fingers flexed across his throat, but her scent was stronger now, filling my senses. I should destroy him. I should rip his head from his body and burn the pieces—
“Let him go,” she repeated.
At once my hand snapped back and the vampire stumbled, catching himself on a nearby trunk before he fell. Her heat at my back had me crouching over him, protecting her again from view. But he scrambled back, neck curved in submission. “I did not know, my lord.”
My lord. The title awoke the pleading part of me. My lord. This male before me was not a threat—not truly. Lord Montag only believed he had a right to her because of the oyista he’d spent. Every muscle in my body protested as I stood taller.
“Peace now,” I said, though he flinched at my words all the same.
He staggered back another step. “I will not impose again, my lord, I swear it.”
The last word was swallowed by the night as he disappeared.
My shoulders sagged even while my heart beat wildly in my chest. The heat at my back intensified, a delicate hand rising to curve around my shoulders.
“My lord—”
I grabbed her wrist, bracketed her throat with the other and pinned her against the tree. “Do not call me that.”
Those blue eyes widened, yet the sour scent of fear did not bloom between us.
She nodded, hand flexing beneath the pressure of my fingers.
Her dress was ruined, deep red streaks of her blood painting her throat and breasts.
I breathed deep to steady myself, but her head tilted to the side.
The sight of her submission was so heady I leaned forward until my nose skimmed the curve of her jaw.
“I am not the man you think I am.”
Her throat bobbed with a swallow. “I know.”
My tongue darted out, licking a stripe through the blood. She shivered and I pushed closer with a moan. “I will not hurt you, little bird.”
She gave a shaky nod. “I know.”
Yes, she did know. There was no fear and her mind was quiet, only filled with the word mate repeated over and over. Did she understand now what we were to one another?
My hand slid from her wrist, falling to her tattered skirts, pulling them higher until the ribboned garters of her white stockings flashed in the night, the pale stripe of her skin gleaming.
A low groan slipped between my teeth at the sight and I licked my lips, the lingering taste of her blood zinging through me.
“I need it,” I breathed and, to illustrate my point, my hand fell from her throat and I dropped to my knees, staring up at her.
“I need you, my mate.”