MIDNIGHT CONQUEST: Book 1 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (32 page)

Putting her hand between their bodies, Davina reached for his breeches, to do away with the barrier keeping him from her. Broderick helped her push the material away and guided her hand to take possession of him. His hardness made her sex clench, tightening with hunger, pulsing with heat. She moaned, squeezing him as he breathed her name.

Pushing her nightdress to her waist, Broderick’s fingers caressed their way over her hip, down her bottom, and nestled between her legs, stroking the wet folds of her hot center. He breathed against her ear, sending shuddering waves through her body. “I have ached for you, dreamed of you. I cannot get my fill of you.” The sincerity in his voice dripped like honey over her heart, bringing warm tears to her eyes.

Broderick seized her mouth in a rapacious kiss and positioned his body between her legs. The tip of his shaft touched the sensitive junction between her thighs. He stroked the head of his cock along her valley of moisture, sending more twitches tingling through her body, and slid inside her, both of them moaning with the release of this anticipated moment of joining. Grunting her name, Broderick drove the length of his erection in and out with slow, coaxing thrusts, each plunge deep and fulfilling, driving Davina faint with pleasure.

A shattering cry erupted from behind the door of the nursery, jarring them both.
Cailin!
The guilt of her surrender tumbled down upon her like a load of stones. Davina glanced at Broderick’s wide eyes and escaped from under him, righting her nightgown. Cailin’s wailing tore at her conscience, and she fought back tears of shame. “This was wrong,” she whispered, unable to face Broderick, still in her bed. She never should have listened to Rosselyn and given into her impulses. She had a child to think of. She scampered to the door, her face hot with humiliation. Before she disappeared behind the door of the nursery, she saw his bewildered expression and her heart twisted with regret. “Please…go.”

Chapter Eleven

What in Hades was that!
Broderick lay where Davina left him, confounded.
A baby?
He heard the name
Cailin
from Davina’s mind. She cooed and soothed the child, the sounds drifting through the small crack of the open door, leaving Broderick no other conclusion except that she was the mother. Davina had a child? This explained a lot—including her sensitive breasts—but left a lot of unanswered questions. Ian, this dead man she feared so much, must have been her husband and the child’s father. Why had he not gleaned this from her thoughts? Why did she not tell him? Pacing the length of the hearth, Broderick raked his fingers through his hair, questions tumbling around in his head. Scolding himself, he couldn’t believe he never picked up on it. Well, he could believe his short-sightedness. He had one thing on his mind—getting information from her.
Well, two things on your mind, you rogue.

So, the next question—why hide she was a widow? What kind of battle raged inside this woman’s head?

Broderick, too impatient to wait, wanted answers now. He fixed his breeches, threw on his shirt and boots, and marched over to the adjoining room, ready to demand those answers, but the words died on his breath. Broderick stood immobilized in the open doorway.

Embers from the hearth cast a crimson glow upon Davina, seated in a chair close to the dying fire’s warmth. She sat unaware of him, so intent on humming to her child, caressing the infant’s cheek. Tears shone on Davina’s face. In her arms lay a babe who seemed less than a year old—
Cailin.
With cinnamon curls so much like her mother’s, her pink mouth suckled at Davina’s nipple, her tiny hand resting on the fullness of her breast. His mouth watered at the sight. At the same time, this image of purity, motherhood, and innocence kindled a protective nature that flamed in his soul. Broderick clenched his fists. Immortality would never allow him to experience the joy of having his own children—fatherhood sacrificed for revenge. For the first time, the impact of his foolish decision pierced his heart like a blade. Who was this idiot who wasted the woman and child Broderick now ached to cherish and shelter? Surely, he deserved to die.

Davina raised her head and their eyes met. Her sweet humming stopped, as did the caresses she gave her child. Her eyes turned cold as she glared at him, wrapping protective arms around her baby. Shame swallowed him whole as he became an intruder in this delicate scene. He stared at her a moment longer before he retreated to the bedchamber.

In awkward silence, Broderick waited for Davina to finish, righting his clothing to keep his hands and mind occupied. After a few endless moments, she emerged from the room, closed the door behind her with care and marched to the armoire beside the double doors. Without offering him a single glance, she put on pair of slippers, donned her cloak and stepped out of the chamber, between the heavy curtains onto the terrace. Broderick followed her into the biting night air.

She stood rigid with her back to him. He could feel the heat in his face, flushed from embarrassment. “Davina, I—”

“How dare you!” she snapped and turned on him. “Can I have no privacy with you? Not even when it concerns my own daughter?”

“I am sorry.” Broderick bowed his head in shame. Davina’s silence drew his attention. She stood gawking. Did she not expect an apology from him? What kind of man was this husband of hers that any form of kindness or humbling took her by surprise? His many questions came back to him. “Why did you not tell me you were widowed?”

“‘Tis none of your business. None of my life is any business of yours.”

Broderick ignored her scolding. “But how—? Whose—?”

“My husband was killed in the Battle of Flodden Field.”

“Why did you not mention him when you told me of your brother and father?”

“As I said, ‘tis no business of yours.” Davina turned her back to him and bowed her head.

“He’s the one from which you wanted me to rescue you.” Broderick didn’t ask. He made a simple statement.

He could feel embarrassment emanating from her. Davina remained motionless for a long period of silence, her back still to him, and then she nodded.

He clenched his jaw and fists, but reasoned he wasted his energy. With her husband dead, he would be unable to continue his abuse. “I cannot say I’m sorry you lost your husband.”

“Nor can I.”

Broderick placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder, and she shrugged him off.

“I told you to leave,” she said with sorrow in her voice. “You have what you came for. You made it into my bed, now please go.”

“Is that what you think this was about?” Broderick put his hands upon her shoulders, turning Davina to face him. Flashes of her husband and an overwhelming sense of betrayal assailed Broderick’s mind and crawled over his body like a death shroud. The many times Ian lied to Davina, lured her in with sweet words, tender caresses and empty promises; all of them ending in violence and violation of her body and heart. Broderick almost staggered back from the mental and emotional assault.

“I cannot trust your intentions, Broderick. I cannot trust what you may say. You have pursued me in such a lustful way, I cannot believe I mean more to you than just a bedding.”

Broderick fought the tears stinging his eyes. The slashing scars on her body
showed
him the abuse she endured. The rush of her memories made him
experience
the depth of the abuse from her perspective. Remembering how Davina snapped at Rosselyn for showing pity made Broderick keep his tears at bay. “Everything that just happened has meant more to me than I want to admit because of the depth of my…my love for you, Davina.” He wiped the tear that ran down her cheek and stepped into her heat. “A love that may end up getting you killed. And now I’ve put your daughter in danger.” Broderick sighed, taking Davina’s hands and putting her knuckles to his mouth in a desperate kiss. “I’m torn, Davina. Tonight, I wanted to walk away from you when I thought you hated me, thinking it would have been best. But I fear I’ve fallen too deeply to turn away, because my enemy must already know you mean something to me. And now that I know you have a daughter, there is nothing that could keep me away from you, no matter what the threat may be. All I ever desired was to have a family, and you are all that to me.”

Davina’s eyes welled with more tears and she bit her trembling bottom lip. “There is a darker side to you that frightens me, Broderick. A silver glow I see in your eyes. You speak of a passion for blood. Veronique tried to tell me what you are, and though her words make sense with what I’ve seen with my own eyes, my heart begs for it to be lies. What are you?”

Broderick knew this moment would come. Until now, he never regretted his decision to become a Vamsyrian, and yet he hated what he was because of the fear in her eyes. One thing was certain: He wanted this woman in his life. He didn’t care if this was what Angus intended from the beginning, or what set him on this path to losing his heart to her. His heart was already lost, and he would do anything to protect her, whether she wanted him or not. He would, however, rather have her love in return and telling her the truth at this time would crush that chance.

“I want to answer your questions,” he began. “I want to tell you everything, to tell you the truth. I’ve never wanted to share this with anyone as much as I do with you, but I cannot answer your questions at this time.”

A hope flickered in Davina’s eyes, but the fear and uncertainty that emanated from her made her bottom lip quiver and her tears flow anew. “Why? What—”

“Please, Davina,” he begged and kissed her brow. “I’m asking you to give me some time, ‘tis all. I promise I
will
tell you everything, but there are certain…tasks I must see to before I can.” Facing Angus and eliminating him, being the most important and pressing matter.

Davina collapsed into Broderick’s arms, her body wracking with sobs as he held her tight. Her heartfelt cries drifted out over the snow-covered courtyard and disappeared into the cold night.

* * * * *

Angus leaned back against the wall as he sat on the ground. His grumbling was muffled inside the cellar of the small tower structure he built almost a year ago. It was the one lair Broderick had not yet found. This little dwelling was quiet, tucked away in the woods far to the northwest, too far out of the area Broderick dared to venture from the Gypsy camp. Angus didn’t need anything fancy, nothing elaborate or even functional, in a mortal sense. He purposefully built the structure to appear abandoned and useless. It provided shelter and housed the hidden cellar he crafted, where he slept during the daylight hours. Angus needed nothing else as he sat waiting for the moment to spring his trap, which had, at last, arrived.

Broderick’s failed attempts at finding him over the last several nights were amusing, but starting to bore him, and he grumbled once more. Two things Broderick had learned to do caught Angus off guard. First was the ability to stop feeding to spare lives. Doing such a thing went against the very nature and purpose of a Vamsyrian. Death was indeed the goal, as their Creator designed. How else was one to rack up so many sins against the soul, making it impossible to turn back toward God? Just the free-will choice to become a Vamsyrian was the axe of the executioner for their souls. Did Broderick think to spare these lives in order to avoid final judgment? Angus snarled at Broderick’s meaningless quest. Did he hope to make up for the sins against his soul before he became a Vamsyrian? Broderick pretended to be a hero, a man of honor and integrity, but Angus knew the true soul that lurked inside his black heart.

These weak attempts at salvation in sparing these lives were a waste. Then again, Angus saw the benefits of such a skill. Angus wouldn’t have been able to spare the sweet Davina had he not learned such a thing from Broderick years ago, by feeding from the people Broderick spared. The first time Angus tried to stop in the middle of a feeding, he failed. Not wanting to be bested by his enemy, it had taken him several attempts before he finally mastered the talent. The monumental strength of will it took to wrestle the Hunger into obedience turned out to be greater than he imagined, and the little respect he had for Broderick increased.

Davina was a means to an end, a hope that Broderick would dally with the lass as a distraction, giving Angus time to find out who Broderick really cared about. Broderick couldn’t spend almost a decade-and-a-half with these Gypsies and not form some lasting relationships. Feeding from Davina helped him learn about Amice. He saw the old woman and her connection to Broderick through Davina’s memories, but he couldn’t count on the old woman still being around by the time Broderick arrived in Stewart Glen. And the victims Angus killed in cleaning up after Broderick gave him no pertinent clues about such things. Revenge would be to torment Broderick through the ones he loved, just as Broderick had tormented him. He had to learn about whom Broderick cared; yet, that proved to be most difficult.

Angus kicked the dirt wall in his cellar, grunting his frustration. That was the second thing Broderick learned that caught Angus off guard—his ability to sense Angus before Angus could sense him. Every time he started toward the Gypsy settlement or Stewart Glen, Broderick’s presence loomed like a hawk swooping down from the sky unannounced. He didn’t know if Amice still lived or who had replaced her. He couldn’t even get close enough to observe from a distance.