He kissed her then, like he had done before, as though he meant something by it. She wasn’t sure what, almost as though he wanted to take as much as he could because their time together had an end-point.
For the same reason, then, she responded in kind, taking her time with him, caressing his face between kisses, savoring the shape of his lips, even kissing the sexy crooked line of his nose, his strong cheekbones, and eyelids that often lay at half-mast because pleasure had taken him over. She slid her hands into his thick, long hair.
His dark eyes glittered as he looked down at her. The fire blazed beyond the bed, lighting up the room in fiery glow. He’d ignited her kindling for weeks and now she blazed for him, needing him in every way, taking pleasure in stroking his arms, the swell of his back, his narrow waist, his tight buttocks.
Slowly, he made his way inside her, pushing his cock inch by inch, sliding easily into her wetness, the state he’d put her in, driving her close once more to the pinnacle.
She looked into his eyes and fell into all that he was, his strength, his command, his power, his dark sensuality, all that was lethal and fierce about him. Her body weakened for him, submitting and surrounding him, holding him fast inside her, savoring.
“Oh, Quinlan.”
That half-smile emerged and her heart drew into a tight knot of something she really didn’t want to think about.
Damn him.
* * * * * * * * *
Quinlan’s arms quivered as he pushed inside Batya. He had her on her back, the place he’d been wanting her for weeks now. He just never thought it would be because of a shifter-wraith, who was also part fae-vampire, now ensconced in his guest room for the rest of the night.
But right now, he didn’t care how this had come about, only that her lips were parted and swollen and he’d made her that way. He flexed his hips, which brought her chest up and a slight gasp rising from her throat.
Sex had always been a thrill, but right now he stood on the peak of a tall mountain ready to fly. His chest felt buoyant and yes, her wrist-blood had helped, but this was more about conquest and he loved it. He’d conquered all her reservations, despite the circumstances, and now he took his prize with another deep thrust.
She writhed in response, pleasure evident on every twist of her lovely face and every moan from her long, pale throat.
He drove steadily now, lowering himself to balance on his forearms, her fingers clutching at his biceps in a way that made his balls tighten. Pleasure accompanied every stroke, especially the ones where her hips pushed back in response.
Quinlan.
He loved her feminine voice in his mind.
Her head rolled back and forth over the pillows and her breathing grew labored. But each roll revealed the sides of her neck where more goodness lay. He’d taken her wrist twice, but not her throat and there was nothing so sweet, so erotic as neck-blood.
His body started to hum with increased desire, but he had to hold back so he slowed things down, which left her panting. Finally, he stopped and leaned close to lick up the side of her neck.
“Yes, sweet Goddess, yes,” she whispered. “I’ve been wanting this from the time you trapped me in the gallery.”
“Same here.”
He tilted his head, then released his fangs. Saliva dripped. He struck quickly creating two punctures then retracted his fangs and began to drink.
He had Batya in the most vulnerable position possible, his mouth sucking down her blood, his cock buried deep. His body shook with pleasure and just for her, he started up the vibrations she liked so much, pulling his cock slowly toward her entrance then pushing back in.
Her body convulsed and a series of achy sighs left her throat.
So much pleasure, Quinlan. I could die like this.
He wanted to respond, but couldn’t. His body had locked onto its target and as he drank down her blood, and drove into her, his hips took over.
Yet somewhere in the center of his being, he felt his mating frequency join with the pure sexual vibration he’d developed so long ago, and a fire burned through him.
He pounded now, sucking hard at her neck, his mating frequency seeking entrance.
Let me in.
Your voice sounds hoarse, even inside my head.
Cha, let me in. Sweet Goddess, I want inside your frequency.
I want to, but is this wise?
He didn’t care. He kept pushing and his balls were so tight. Still, he wanted all of her.
Let me in.
He felt her give way, so he rushed inside and that pushed him over the edge. He released her neck and rose up shouting as his body rocked and pleasure streaked through him.
But it was the frequency joining that kept sending thrills up his cock, his abdomen, his chest, and that kept him shouting and coming, releasing all that he had into her.
Somewhere he felt her body writhing and heard her crying out then screaming as she came. His vibrations were a heavy pulse through him and at the same time through her body.
He eased back but he wasn’t done. He continued to thrust into her, stroking her, feeling her.
“Look at me.”
She opened her eyes. She looked almost panic-stricken.
Quinlan, my God.
“I’m going to make you climax again.”
Her neck arched and he pumped her harder, his body winding up once more.
“Faster,” she called out.
He didn’t hold back, but pumped into her with his warrior strength, his vibrations at full bore, his mating frequency inside her own, possessing her, conquering her yet again.
“Oh, God.” She arched her neck and screamed, clutching at his biceps, digging her fingernails in and it felt so good.
Pleasure rushed through his cock once more and his shouts lifted to the rafters of his stronghold all over again, the cry of dominance, of command, of having his woman beneath him, whose blood eased him, whose blood took away the cramping.
In stages, his hips settled down. Her hands swept over his arms, his shoulders, his back, the way his hand had moved over the map earlier, a kind of claiming of her own, her land, her territory, his body.
And right now he was exactly that, without reservation.
He rested on top of her, his head joining hers on the pillow. She slid her arms around him and held him fast. She breathed hard, catching her breath. He did as well.
He remained joined to her, his cock inside and both frequencies bathing in what he perceived was the warm nest of all that she was as fae and troll in their world of vibrations.
* * * * * * * * *
Batya lay beneath the wonderful weight of Quinlan’s vampire, Guard-sized body. She’d never really made love before, or had sex before, that’s what she decided.
Quinlan had done exactly what he’d been promising for the past several weeks. He’d given her the ride of her life.
And she wanted more, the greedy fae-troll that she was. Oh, Sweet Goddess, had he just ruined her for other men? How could sex ever be the same for her? And the way he’d broken down her mating frequency shield—she’d come hard with that one. His vibration had streamed through in a way that sent pleasure all the way to her fingers and to her feet, rushing back and forth in heavy waves up her body then back down. And the whole time ecstasy had been a thrill inside her where he’d plunged in and out with vampire speed.
Ah, well, he’d definitely ruined her, but it had been so worth it.
Yet a small ignoble part of her needed revenge. If he’d ruined her, then at some point on this journey to Ferrenden Peace, she intended to do whatever she could from her vast array of fae-trollness to serve him with his own sauce and to take him down.
The mere thought of it, of bringing Quinlan to heel, lightened her heart, so much so, that with her arms wrapped around the big bastard from Grochaire, with his cock tucked inside her, she fell contentedly asleep.
She slept hard, her dreams barely there, just faint distant images held back by a pleasant mist.
She slept and slept. When she finally awoke, she had a soft linen cloth pressed between her legs and a warm fur tucked up snug against her bare body. Oblique northern light lit the space, which told her a new day had broken or more likely, was about to end. She’d no doubt slept the day away.
But where was Quinlan?
Hey, she pathed softly, reaching for him.
I’m with my stronghold brigade. Bathe if you like, ring for your first meal. Anthea is an excellent cook.
Do you need me?
No, not yet, but soon. Take care of your needs first. We’ll be traveling at full dark.
Got it. Thanks. She closed down immediately because she had felt the tension in his voice, even a sense of urgency.
She saw that her flowered satchel sat just inside the door and a funny sense of relief struck her. A woman always needed her things close by.
She showered and dressed in jeans, a tank and a long-sleeved sweater, socks and running shoes. By now she felt urgent as well. Knowing Margetta’s level of power, she would have divined something about where her daughter meant to go, that she’d enlisted Quinlan to help her, and just what kind of force she’d need to destroy the enemy.
She found Lorelei and Anthea in the kitchen, on adjacent stools at a large island of black marble. Each sat in the same position with elbows on the marble, hands cradling coffee mugs.
“Oh, coffee. No, don’t get up. I can see the cups and you have everything ready.”
She helped herself, filling a heavy red mug three quarters full, then adding two teaspoons of sugar and enough cream to create the exact shade of caramel that she preferred. She took a sip and her lips parted. “Anthea, this is the best.”
The housekeeper grinned. “Nothing better than coffee after a night of gymnastics.”
Even Lorelei smiled.
In ordinary circumstances, Batya might have been embarrassed because it seemed her lovemaking with Quinlan had been a little loud. But thoughts of what had transpired, of the blood-giving-and-taking, of his vibration, of breaking through her mating frequency, of having his beautiful girth inside her then at the end, his weight on her, flowed through her mind like a never-ending stream.
She shivered.
“Are you all right?”
Batya shifted her gaze to Anthea. Something nagged at her, but she wasn’t sure what it was. “He’s pretty amazing.”
“Yes, he is.” Anthea took another sip. “I’ve served in many homes over the years as housekeeper. Mastyr Quinlan is very demanding, but he’s just, and he always has an eye to everyone’s comfort. No, that’s not the right word, because sometimes we’re uncomfortable. He has an eye to our well-being. Yes, that’s more what I want to say about him.”
“Well-being.” Batya brought her mug to her lips and turned to lean against the island, slightly away from Anthea and Lorelei. From the beginning, this time with Quinlan had been full of mystery. She narrowed her eyes. “He started coming around a few weeks ago, intent as men like him often are, on getting me into bed. I always knew his reputation. But look where it led.”
She pivoted, resting her hip against the marble. Meeting Lorelei’s gaze, she continued, “One night, Margetta shows up and nearly kills him, but if he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been doing what men have always done, you’d be enslaved now and my guess is I’d be dead.”
“I think you’re right.” Lorelei tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear. “I owe Quinlan and you so very much.”
“Has he been here, earlier I mean?”
“Only to eat,” Anthea said. “He’s in his library with the map he brought from Lebanon. Henry’s with him. They had conference calls with both Rafe, his second-in-command of the Grochaire vampire brigade, and Mastyr Seth of Walvashorr.” She set her mug down and slid off her stool. “But I have strict orders to feed you a big meal and I will, if you’re hungry.”
Batya had fed a vampire last night. She planted a hand over her stomach. “I’m starved.”
Chapter Five
Quinlan stared at the upper central portion of the map, at what he and Batya together had uncovered between Grochaire and Walvashorr Realms.
He shook his head. “I don’t see any other way. We’re going to have to find the Pickerne Caverns if we want to make it to Gem Meadow alive, any of us.”
Henry kept touching the region that actually said, ‘Ferrenden Peace’, and the long section before the area called the Dead Forest—another mystery. “I can’t believe I’m looking at the real deal, but I can feel the place right here. The vibrations are powerful.” He let his hand rest over the words. “This wasn’t supposed to exist. I read these tales as a child, of a queen who secluded herself to keep her people safe. Do you think she’s real as well?”
Quinlan shrugged. “Hell if I know. But at this point, anything seems possible.”
Once more, he ran his left hand over the western portion of the map that encompassed his realm. The concept of a straight up battle had always appealed to him, of fighting for the health of a people, for the rights of the individual, for justice. He fought the Invictus wraith-pairs because they destroyed the innocent, often drinking them to death and casting them aside. The poor made excellent targets living unprotected as they did in those tracts of land where the Invictus hunted on a regular basis.
But he could count on one hand the times he’d functioned as prey rather than predator and he didn’t like the feeling one bit. Margetta sought to bring her daughter under her control and his job meant staying one step ahead of her, not getting caught by her extremely powerful vampire-wraith Invictus pairs, and somehow getting her safely to Ferrenden Peace.
For that reason alone, he felt a profound urge to move, to take the women under his arm, and fly them straight over the newly uncovered Pleach Range to safety. But both the map and Batya’s paintings had illuminated the way and he was realm-enough to know when to submit to the whims of the Goddess and when to push back.
Earlier, he’d made contact with Rafe and relayed all that had happened. Fortunately, Rafe had seen no signs of what he now described as the mastyr vampire wraith-pairs that had attacked Quinlan in Lebanon. With any luck, those pairs would stay on Lorelei’s trail and away from the regular Grochaire population.
Rafe had taken care of the dead Guardsmen at the access point and had set up a small force of twenty in their stead. He’d offered to support Quinlan on the trek to Ferrenden Peace, but his mastyr instincts told him that his Grochaire Guard needed to keep going out, as they normally did, to battle the Invictus, town-by-town.
When he’d finally reached Seth, who served as the Mastyr of Walvashorr Realm, he’d listened without offering either comment or question. In the end, he’d affirmed exactly what Quinlan knew in his gut to be true. “This whole situation has serious realm undercurrents. And I am at your service.”
Seth didn’t express amazement at the discovery of Ferrenden Peace either, or that the ancient fae had managed to create a new brand of super-powerful wraith-pairs, making use of lesser mastyr vampire, or even that the ancient fae now had a name. Of course, Seth had always been stoic by nature.
However, he agreed readily to track Quinlan’s journey from the western reaches of Walvashorr, to hopefully meet up with him in Ferrenden Peace just in case Margetta should find her way there as well.
With his own realm secure in Rafe’s hands, and Seth ready to move toward the land of fables as well, Quinlan had only one issue to settle, namely, where to begin.
According to the map, the Great River Caverns of Pickerne led to Gem Meadow. However, Quinlan had no idea how to get to them. With his finger, he traced the symbols for the caves. He peered closer. A smudge lay to the left. He rubbed, but nothing came off.
He used the magnifier once more and saw that what he’d perceived as a smudge was actually the shape of a shallow bowl. “What do you make of this?”
Henry took the magnifier and bent over as well. He extended the glass, then drew it close.
Ri
sing up abruptly, he snapped his fingers and the three ridges of his troll forehead rose and rippled slightly. “I know where this is, mastyr, and it’s not far from here.
“What is it exactly?”
Henry shook his head. Some of his blond curls had escaped the woven clasp that all the Guardsmen wore and for a moment he looked a bit like Ethan. He had a broad smile like the Mastyr of Bergisson as well. The ladies enjoyed Henry, no matter the species. Henry, like Davido, excelled in charisma.
He turned his right hand palm up. “I’m not sure. It’s really too small to be called a meadow or anything like that. Besides, in the summer it’s dry like it can’t collect water to grow things though it’s a depression in the earth.”
“Is the ground bad there, unfit for growing things?”
“Maybe salt deposits. I’m really not sure, not being into horticulture.”
Quinlan grinned. Henry had been his wingman on dozens of trips to the nearby town. “No, that you’re not.”
Henry’s smile dimmed bit-by-bit until he tapped the magnifier against the map a couple of times. “We’re in some serious shit right now, aren’t we?”
“Realm shit, like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”
Henry scanned the map once more. “Wait, I’ve just realized something.” He placed his hand on the map at a location some thirty miles from the stronghold. “This section doesn’t contain the same vibration and if my calculations are correct, I know this meadow well. A river and a stream converge there. Mastyr, we’ve all been there. We’ve run maneuvers in Gem Meadow, we just never had a name for the place before.”
Quinlan rested his hand on the map over the indicated area. “Damn, I think you’re right. And it has several permanent open air tents, doesn’t it?”
“With protective sun panels, yes.”
“Okay, good to know.”
“And we can’t just fly there?”
He considered this option for a good long minute. “My instincts tell me that the caverns are the way to go. If nothing else, we won’t be vulnerable in the open air.”