Desires of the Otherworld 2: Darkest Hunger (7 page)

Eager to distract herself, she went to the armoire and snatched the first pair of jeans in sight, along with a clean white T-shirt. She didn’t bother with the simple questions, like how in the hell Bridon knew her size or when he had time to go shopping, as she snagged a black lace bra and a matching pair of panties. With the garments in hand, she went to the wadded pile of clothing Bridon had stripped her of. She found what she was looking for and quickly slid the small capsule into the pocket of the jeans.

She wasn’t supposed to want Bridon this much; it wasn’t natural.
Damn the Fates.

Many times in the past when she decided to wallow in self-pity, she thought of her brother, Micah. If he wasn’t strong enough to resist the Fated compulsion, how the hell was she supposed to? Everyone knew Micah would overthrow their father before the alpha passed down the throne. It was only a matter of time. The old man was too power hungry and far too controlling with his people. If only Micah had never fallen in love with that filthy blood drinker. Things would have been so different.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered. Once she walked into the bathroom, she tossed the clothing onto a nearby counter and came to terms with the fact she was little different from her sibling. “Like you have any right to judge!”

She turned the water in the shower to extra hot before stepping inside and retrieving a plush washcloth and a bar of lavender soap. After making sure the cloth was good and soapy, she scrubbed the material roughly across her skin. She focused on all the areas Bridon had touched, until the punished flesh was almost raw and burned. The oracles were right. She would betray her kind, giving herself over to a fucking vampire of all things.

She closed her eyes, confused and torn. She never expected to feel this way or to ache for him so terribly. Even with the damned collar, she felt an inner part of her yearning for the same thing. Her wolf might not come to the surface to aid her in escaping, but it had no such qualms about allowing her to know it approved of Bridon.

The damned bitch!

Snatching the rag once more to punish her skin, she tried to accept there was little else she could do. Her father’s plan had failed. Not only had he not arrived in time to rescue her, but with the pendant now gone, he couldn’t locate her either. That meant one thing, the last resort and a final promise to her alpha.

She let the rag fall to the floor and rested her head against the tiles. She didn’t understand why Bridon had kept her nephew alive. Now her main source of regret was that she would never meet Deacon or save him from what she was sure would be death. Standing beneath the water spray until it grew cold, she accepted the finality of the way things were and what she had to do. Her father made himself clear about the sacrifices for her kind that had to be made.

Bridon may have gained what he wanted, and she hoped he enjoyed their time together while it lasted. In the end, nothing would change.

The vampire king was doomed to lose his Fated.

Only this time it would be forever.

* * *

The Otherworld

Province of Fenrir and the Kingdom of Norvallen

“You have to stop this, Dom.” Amber groaned in exasperation. “I’m fine—the baby is fine.”

“I wouldn’t recommend going there with me,” he grumbled, returning her stare, brown irises flashing gold. “I’m still furious with you.”

She sighed, relaxed, and reclined in the multitude of pillows at her back along the headboard of their bed. Dom returned to his task, situating things around their bedroom so she wouldn’t have to wander far in the event he wasn’t nearby to assist her. If she had another eight months of this to face, she wasn’t sure she could endure it. Dominic was domineering enough as it was. Like this, he would be unbearable.

“The doctor said I was fine. Bed rest isn’t necessary.”

He stopped and turned. He was magnificent, even when furious, and not in the least bit threatening to her, though he stood well over six and a half feet. His short brown hair matched the thick brows that arched slightly over his glistening eyes.

“You will stay exactly where you are, sweetheart. No more unnecessary risks.”

“But Willow—”

“No, Amber.” Dom’s tone brooked no tolerance for argument.

“We owe it to Micah.” Amber tried to keep her composure, walking a precariously thin line. “We gave him our word to watch over Willow. You know what her father intends to do. It’s no better than what he did to his son!”

“Shh!” He growled and rushed to her side. “Do you want someone to overhear you?”

Scoffing at him, she motioned toward the magikally enchanted bedroom walls. “No one can hear our conversations here.”

“Still.” He kissed her softly and pulled away, the scent of concern and fear coming off his skin. “It’s not worth the risk. We are still being monitored,
keirah
.”

She smiled, adoring the rare occasion when he spoke to her in Wolven tongue and called her the love of his life. It was an endearment reserved for the most intimate of moments—when they made love or conversed in private.

Dominic was a powerful beta and would have been Micah’s second if things hadn’t taken such a tragic turn. Watching as her Fated was forced to submit to the king was heartbreaking. She knew if it hadn’t been for his vow to protect Willow or his love for her, he would have left the pack and gone rogue long ago.

“We have to do something,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “Willow sacrificed herself for our child. We are in her debt.”

Dominic’s hand came down, curving around her still-flat abdomen. “I can make a trip to Mathilda’s and attempt to speak with Trace Locke. Everyone knows he’s close to Bridon. Perhaps he’d be willing to share information.”

“What if she’s hurt?” she whispered as tears came to her eyes.

“That’s not possible,
keirah
. You have to stop listening to the rumors spread by the pack and remember something. The way that we feel about each other is the way it is for all Fated mates. Bridon would never harm Willow. It goes against everything he is as a male.”

“But he’s a vampire.”

“So?” Dom shrugged and lifted his hand, brushing a strand of her thick black hair behind her shoulder. “Savannah was a vampire, and you saw her devotion to Micah. We may be different, but our hearts functions exactly the same. Willow is safer with Bridon than she is among her own people.”

“That’s why we have to stop her before it’s too late. There is so little time—”

She started to protest further when Dominic silenced her with a deep kiss. She forgot what she wanted to say then, tugging at his shirt. Instead of protesting, he helped, ripping the obstructive garment from his torso. Then she realized he needed the intimacy of being with her just as much as she did. She allowed herself to forget about the ongoing war between Lycae and vampire, pushing aside horrible thoughts about what could happen to her best friend if they didn’t intercede on her behalf in time.

At that moment, there was only Dominic.

Chapter Six

Bridon started to become concerned for his Chosen midway through their first night of travel. Staring over his shoulder, he observed her closely.

Willow was quiet…
too quiet.

It began the moment he returned to their bedroom and discovered her sitting on a tapestry lounge chair, dressed in blue jeans and a formfitting white cotton T-shirt, ready for travel. He assumed she would ask questions.

She didn’t.

Instead, she adhered to his requests without speaking, followed him dutifully down the hallway and staircase, and strode past his servants and kindred with her head held high. She didn’t speak to any of them—though they addressed her in friendly and curious gestures—nor did she acknowledge anyone in any other fashion. She simply did as instructed, grunted when asked questions, or answered with a simple yes or no when prodded for more information.

After loading up cargo for travel and mounting the pandemonium nightmares—ancient horses used by some for travel in the Otherworld—she’d settled into her saddle, and the silence had become deafening. Hours had passed, and he wanted to hear something—anything—from his Chosen. Even if it was nothing more than a mindless raging for his being a blood drinker and a leech.

Sensing his distress, Ian communicated with him telepathically, although Ian’s voice was weak and strained.
“All is well?”

“More of the same,”
Bridon thought back, knowing it was wrong to continue conversing with his friend but needing the sound of something to ease the eerie and unnatural quiet. It was taxing for a telepath to communicate across large distances, draining both physically and mentally.

“She’s still in shock.”

“I know.”

He could hear the exhaustion in his friend’s voice.
“Be patient. When she learns the truth, she’ll come to you willingly.”

Feeling tired himself, he responded,
“I hope you’re right, old friend.”

Ian’s voice was weaker, barely audible.
“I must rest, but if you have need of me, I will hear.”

“Rest well,”
he thought back and cursed the lethargy that came from using his blood-inherited telepathy.

He returned his attention to Willow and watched as she lifted her right hand to the collar at her throat and inflicted intentional harm on herself. She held on until the pain was too much, let go, and lifted her blistered fingers for inspection before allowing them to fall. He knew she would repeat the process the moment the skin started to heal. Just as she had done time and time again.

“Why do you harm yourself, Willow?”

A shrug was the only answer he received.

Frustrated, he stopped his mount, tossed his leg aside, and slid from the saddle. He grabbed the reins and walked to Willow’s horse. Taking her mount by the bit, he guided them to an expanse of trees. When the nightmares were tethered, he pulled Willow from her seat.

The moment her feet hit the ground, she came to life. “Why do I harm myself?” She wrapped her hands around his arms and met his gaze. “Because I can’t do this instead.”

She stomped on his toe, brought her leg back as he staggered, and slammed her knee into his balls. He groaned as he fought to remain standing, cupping himself when she released him and started running into the trees.

Fates, it hurt. Even without her natural strength, a shot to the crotch was never a good thing. He took a deep breath, lowered his arms, and took off after her. When he had her in sight, he closed his eyes and teleported, ensuring he reappeared directly in front of her. She screamed as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him to prevent her from doing any more damage.

“I warned you not to strike me,” he grated, squeezing her as tightly as he could without injuring her.

“Or what? You’ll throw a collar on me, put me in a cage, and force me to do things against my will?” She laughed bitterly. “Never mind, you’ve already done that.”

Instead of engaging in the argument she obviously wanted, he remained silent as he teleported them back to the horses. She sagged the moment they arrived, disoriented, but didn’t lose consciousness. He knew her disorientation wouldn’t last long and hurried to tend her injuries before she had the opportunity to lash out again.

“Let me go.” Her words were slightly slurred.

“Nay, if you insist on harming yourself, I must insist on healing you.”

“Why don’t you worry about healing yourself? Your nuts must be on fire right about now.”

Thank the gods, that wasn’t the case. “I recover from injuries quickly.”

“That’s too bad.”

He walked to a tree and lowered her to the ground, keeping an eye on any sudden motions. She stared at him, but didn’t attempt to repeat her earlier escape. He motioned for her to sit, and she did, staring straight ahead, as if he weren’t present.

Returning to the silent treatment he resented.

He knelt beside her and took one of her injured hands in his, flipping it over until her palm was facing up. Her skin looked horrible, raised and red. Though it would serve her right after what she’d done, he didn’t have it in him to allow her to suffer. Her anger was justified. He’d violated her in ways that made him unworthy as a male by collaring her, caging her, forcing her to submit to him when she was so torn about their future. He slowly brought the injured fingers toward his mouth, slid her blistered index finger past his lips, and sucked gently.

“W-What are you doing?” she stammered, trying to yank her hand free.

He didn’t answer, continuing to use the healing agent in his saliva to close the wounds and soothe the pain she was undoubtedly experiencing.

“Stop,” she demanded, yanking harder.

He stopped only when his tongue brushed against smooth, healed skin. After he removed her finger from his mouth, he grasped the next one for equal treatment.

“I said stop!”

“No.” He licked the raised red tissue, and she gasped. “And each time you harm yourself like this, I will only ensure you are healed again. Don’t like it? Make sure it doesn’t happen.”

He lifted his head and froze at the sight of the bright amber flecks swirling in the center of her irises. He knew Lycae eye color shifted with emotion, but it was completely different than the way vampire eye pigment changed. Instead of a continuous shift of the entire iris, bringing one color into another, the colors in her eyes threaded together, creating a light and dark contrast.

“What are you staring at?” she snapped, glared at him for several seconds, then lowered her gaze. Something he knew she never would have done unless she felt threatened or subdued by a superior.

He released her hand to cup her chin, forcing her to lift her face so he could stare into her beautiful eyes that both shone and darkened. “I’m staring at your eyes, love. They are quite beautiful.”

Her gaze flickered nervously across his face and then down again. “They’re just eyes.” To his surprise, she lifted her injured hand. “Can we get on with this?”

He was certain she did it to distract him and to sever the eye contact altogether, but he gave her what she wanted. He took the next finger into his mouth, healing the appendage with soothing sucking motions and tender laps of his tongue. Then he moved on to the next. By the time he was finished, he could smell the beginnings of arousal from her. He wanted to bury his face in her pussy and nurse at the vein located in her thigh at the same time. Her scent was unbelievable, lush and feminine. He swallowed loudly, attempting to collect himself.