Chains of Frost: The Bellum Sisters 1 (14 page)

“Tell me, pretty Willow, does
your dream boy have a name, a face? Do you have some little human waiting for
you back home?”

Willow’s pulse stammered at his
words. She didn’t know what shocked her more, the jealousy that clouded his
words, that he thought she had a boyfriend, or that he thought she was pretty.
Well why shouldn’t she have a boyfriend?

She squared her shoulders at him,
lifting her chin another inch. The fact was guys practically went running in
the other direction when they saw her. Or at the first glint of anger or even
her laughter, which her sisters had dubbed “evil doctor laughter.” The guys
always went running to much sweeter, softer women. Women like her sisters.

Not that he needed to know any of
that. “As a matter of fact, I do and yes, I was thinking about him.” She took a
step back from him, ready to hightail it out of there, when her foot caught on
something and she went falling back in the air.

Her stomach sunk like she was
falling through the ground and it happened so fast that her mind had trouble
processing it. He moved in a blur, catching the strap of her backpack at her
shoulder and pulling her into him. He immediately wrapped his arms around her
back, covering her in his heat, his scent. Her sex wept and cried
yes!

“As of right now, he’s no more.
Touch him and I’ll rip his throat out. Do you understand me?” His words were
harsh with anger, unlike the smooth charm he usually sported. She found herself
nodding though it was the opposite reaction she should have. His hands were
creating havoc over her body, rubbing in circles across her lower back, the
round curve of her ass. “You are mine now, Willow. I’ve enjoyed chasing you
down. It’s been a lot of fun. The animal inside me loves to play, but now the
animal and I want something else. I smelled your desire from miles away. It’s…intoxicating.”
He cupped her ass in his hands and brought her flush against his arousal.
Willow’s gasp turned into a moan as he began lifting, rubbing her across his
rigid cock, pushing against her swollen bud.

“No.” She shook her head in
denial. He was breathing unsteadily, the sound delicious to her ears. He leaned
down as if to kiss her, but she quickly turned her head away. He chuckled, his
mouth finding the hot, sweaty skin of her neck. He licked at her like a cat.
Playful little nips.

“You need me. I know about the
new moon and what it does to you. I will have you on this night. Consider it a
reward for catching you.” His teeth caught on her ear and tugged. Pleasure shot
hot and wild inside her, made breathing difficult.

But anger exploded inside her,
too. She wrapped her foot around his ankle and pushed at his chest with
everything she had. He let out a curse as he went falling backward. He glared
at her. His hands, for the briefest of seconds, caught onto her backpack straps
as if he’d take her with him. But then he let go and fell to the ground.

Willow didn’t waste any time and
took off into the forest using the trees as cover.

A second later, she heard a terrifying
sound.

Arrrrrrruuuuuuu.

The howl of a wolf.

Then the soft pounding of steps
coming after her.

Chapter Twelve

Stupid, stupid vampire.

Chloe stepped out of the shower
and wrapped a towel turban-style in her hair, then pulled on some clothes. She
glanced at the clock and saw that it was still entirely too early for her to be
up. If the sun wasn’t up, then she shouldn’t be either.

What was wrong with him anyway?
She touched his back tattoo, scar,
thing,
and then he runs away in a
huff. No, not a huff, more like a cold puff of smoke. Jerk. Well she knew just
what she was going to do about that.

From the first day she arrived in
Castle Death, he’d warned her not to go here or there or do this or that.

“Blah!” she said to the empty
room. She pulled on a pair of jeans, a black turtleneck, and some sneakers. Why
wasn’t she surprised he’d gotten her everything in black.

“You think you can just tell me
where I can and can’t go? Well, you’re wrong, vamp man.”

She stopped at the door and
sighed, a frown pulling at her mouth. Her heart throbbed with pain. She tried
to think of how Willow would be—strong, tough, hard as nails. Or even Lily,
ridiculously cute and sweet until she got what she wanted. Really, she just
found herself sitting somewhere neutrally in the middle. There was no doubting
what she felt though. It’d hurt when he left. It’d hurt more that he hadn’t
come back all night to explain himself.

Well, the rebel in her was ready
to play. Was it immature—totally. Stupid, probably. Awesome, absolutely.

She quietly snuck out of her room
and closed the door behind her. The hallway was empty as she tiptoed down it.
She checked each corridor before sidling down the left hall. It took a lot
longer than it would have if she’d just walked like a normal person, but when
she reached the ‘Forbidden Wing’ unnoticed, she mentally high-fived herself.

The ‘Forbidden Wing’ as she aptly
named it, began with a winding stone staircase, that although wasn’t lit by
torches, was lit by cone-shape lights resembling torches. She wondered if
whoever decorated the place either had an awesome sense of humor or meant this
to be a serious throwback to the middle ages.

As she started up the stairs, she
sighed with relief that stone didn’t creak under her feet. She moved silently
to the top stair, her heart beating loudly in her ears. The idea of being
caught usually scared her, but she was mad dammit. Besides, if he really
thought to be her Protector, then he was about to learn a lesson: don’t tell a
succubus what to do. And don’t tell her where she can’t go.

Looking down either side of the
dimly lit corridor, she was surprised to see this wing was much smaller than
the one she’d been put in on the other side of Castle Death. She counted four
rooms down the right hallway and two on the left. It was utterly silent as if
no one lived up here at all. But then why didn’t he want her up here?

She was about to find out.

Deciding to head right first, she
chose the last of the four doors. As quietly as possible, she turned the door
handle. It made a metal screeching sound. She whipped her head around to see if
the doors would fly open and hideous gargoyles would fly out and eat her, or
maybe just one cold vampire. Nothing happened though, except her heart running
a marathon in her chest.

The room was pitch black. She
squinted and made out the faint outline of a closed off bedroom. Even the
window had a sheet over it to keep out the light, and dust had long settled on
the wood furniture, floor, and bed like dirty snow. Aside from the barren furniture
and unmade bed, the room was empty. She closed the door then hopped to the door
across the hall. This one opened quietly.

She blinked twice at what she
saw. A small bed, free of dust and dirt. Bedsheets pulled up just to the pillow
where it was then folded in a neat, straight line. A bookshelf shorter than her
with four rows held slender, small books in between small wooden figurines. The
figurines looked old and hand carved. A horse, a warrior with his sword drawn,
and a castle.

A small chest rested against the
far wall under a window with white lace veils hanging over it. The chest was
painted red with a golden circle on the front and some unrecognizable symbol in
the middle. A bird? It was hard to tell, as the image was old, the wood
cracked, and the paint peeling. She took a step closer, squinting, and a
horrible realization hit her. He wore the same bird etched into his skin.
Except this bird was faded black, with a beak that was once yellow but now was
dull and decaying. She didn’t know what this all meant, but a sickening feeling
filled her gut.

Somehow she managed to close the
door then move to the next room. It was empty and closed off like the first,
completely dark, and covered with dust. Then she stopped at the next. Her hand
actually shook as she reached for the door handle. Letting out a shuddering
breath, she turned the handle and opened the door.

Pain and confusion hit her quick.
A woman’s bedroom. Old paintings hung on the wall with a man and a woman
holding a baby. She recognized the man, though in this painting he hadn’t yet
received the jagged scar he now wore across his cheek. He actually wore a faint
smile; he looked relaxed, almost happy. She swallowed hard and quickly closed
the door, feeling like she was intruding on someone else’s life.

“What are you doing here?”

Chloe yelped and spun around, but
it was neither the face nor the voice she thought it’d be.

It was a woman. A beautiful woman
with classical looks. Her face was devoid of makeup but that did nothing to
detract from her beauty. She was simple like an old female statue from Greece,
yet completely stunning. Her hair was a rich black, heavy, and thick looking.
It was twisted in a simple braid that rested on her shoulder and fell down to
her stomach.

The woman smiled at Chloe,
concern bracketing her gentle golden brown eyes. She wore a white gown that
reminded Chloe of the Victorian Age or something equally old-fashioned. It was
tight along the breasts and pushed them up high and out. Yet the rest of the
gown was almost a mockery of sexy. It fell wide to her feet nearly covering all
of her slippered feet. The sleeves of her dress were cuffed around her delicate
shoulders and looked like velvet.

A thousand questions raged
through Chloe’s mind. “Who the hell are you?”

Of all the ways she could have
handled the situation, she probably didn’t choose the wisest. But dammit, she
was freaking the fuck out. Who was this woman? Was she his? Was she his wife?
But the woman in the painting had blonde hair. Was this the child all grown up?
But then why was there a baby room that looked like it hadn’t been touched in
ages?

The woman’s slightly tilted eyes
raised high. “I am Lucinda.” She bowed her head gracefully.

“Chloe,” she replied, her mind
working furiously.

“I know,” replied the woman.

Chloe narrowed her gaze on her. “How
do you know that?”

She smiled with her little pouty
pink mouth. “Commander Tyrian informed me of your arrival. I was hoping to meet
you at some point, though not like this. Are you aware that you are not
supposed to be up here?”

Chloe couldn’t keep from
frowning. The woman was nice, even acted genuinely concerned and here she was
thinking of all the ways she could be related to her new vampire boyfriend.
There, she’d finally thought it. She was hooked on Tyrian en Kulev, Commander
of the Atal Warriors—the most badass group of warriors in the world.

He made her heart race, her mind
addled, and her body heat like a growing fire. She wanted to know everything
about him. She wanted to melt that ice he held so tightly wrapped around him,
but first… Chloe narrowed her eyes on Ms. Pretty—she had to figure out who she was
in relation to Tyrian.

“Yeah, he told me I wasn’t
supposed to come here. Hence, why I’m here.”

Lucinda tossed her head back and
laughed. She quickly covered the surprisingly rich, not-so-delicate laugh with
her hand.

“You’ll be good for him, I think.
He needs someone to push him. Someone who won’t tire and back away, or run from
his temper.”

Chloe puffed with pride inside.
“I honestly haven’t seen him angry.”

“Commander Tyrian grows more and
more resolute, impassive even, the angrier he gets, and I must admit,” Lucinda
whispered stepping close to grab one of Chloe’s hands, “he’s been in a tiff
lately. At first I thought it was because of the whole demon problem that you
started, but now I know it’s because of
you.
” Chloe decided to wait to
decide if that was an insult or not.

“What demon thing? You mean what
happened at the cemetery? How do you know about that?” Oh my God, was he tweeting
and posting on Facebook about her every move or something?

“No, no. I’m friends with Draven
you see. He told me about the demon you and your sisters summoned before he
went to get you. In the meantime, Tyrian has sent warriors out to find this
demon and kill it, but they’ve had no luck in finding it. It has proven quite
elusive.” She was talking fast and excited now; even her cheeks were turning
pink.

“So at first I thought he was
simply getting frustrated with whole situation. But now that I’ve met you, I
can see it’s
you
that has him bothered. How delightfully wicked,” she
said, clapping her hands together.

Chloe opened her mouth then shut
it. Twice. She could easily see this woman hanging out with her and her sisters
on party night every weekend. Though maybe not in that dress. She’d definitely
need a pair of jeans and a tight tank top, too.

“Wait, who are you? Why are you
here? Are you one of the warrior’s mates?” Chloe lit up with an idea,
remembering the way her cheeks had blushed at the mention of the warrior
Draven. “It’s Draven, right? He is handsome. Is he yours?” The woman’s smile
dropped and she stood back a step.