MIDNIGHT HUNT: Book 3 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (16 page)

She stepped to the table, standing beside Broderick, and sprinkled several different herbs into a mortar and pestle, which she ground together. “It was more than just an attack, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “I was in England, on one of several quests to find answer to so many questions. The creature had charged me, taking me completely by surprise. Not only because I had never before encountered a half-man, half-wolf being, but because I didn’t sense it coming.”

“Thomas told me werewolves have that advantage. He says they’re made to kill Vamsyrians.” She dumped the crushed herbs into a wooden bowl and drizzled honey over the herbs, then added a few sprinkles of water with her fingers. With her hand, she stirred and kneaded the mixture.

“Reddish-brown, wiry hair covered its body bulging with muscles. It was a terrifying sight and I lay on the ground, stunned. My left shoulder burned and bled from the gouge made by its claws, which was also a shock. I would have recovered from such a wound by then.” Broderick closed his eyes and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “When it lunged for me again, I sliced its head clean from its shoulders. The lifeless body melted back into the broken form…of a woman, her red-haired head lying on the ground by her feet.”

Monika laid a comforting hand on his shoulder over the old wound, which ached.

“My Vamsyrian friend, Laurent Bellamy, had helped dress the wound, claiming the poultice he used had herbs to draw out the poison.”

“I’m glad you said that. The poultice I’ve just prepared is also for drawing out poison.”

He smiled. “You have excellent instincts, milady.”

With delicate fingers, Monika spread the poultice over the gashes.

Even Laurent had not known werewolves were “Satan’s weapon” against Vamsyrians, but what little Broderick knew of werewolves, he learned from Laurent. Broderick’s shoulder had taken several months to heal and years passed before the constant ache had subsided to a dull throb, eventually fading to a memory and only resurfacing when he recalled the incident. The woman’s bent visage was burned into his mind and linked to the scars. These scars on his back would mean nothing to him.

Monika finished applying the poultice and rinsed her hands. Taking a large square of cloth, she laid it over the scratches, gently pressing the material so it would adhere to the honey-herb mixture. “Come, stand up for me.”

He complied and, with the tender coaxing of her fingers, he raised his arms over his head. She used longer strips of cloth to wrap around Broderick’s chest and back. The task forced her to wrap her arms around him to grab the bandage as she passed it from the front to the back and to the front again. Her hair brushed against his ribs and he shuddered. Her breath caressed his chest and he closed his eyes. Her fingertips skimmed his belly and he sighed.

“Are you in much pain?”

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

She cinched his bandage and he grunted, his eyes popping open to a very disgruntled beauty.

He cocked an eyebrow and laced his fingers behind his head. “Perhaps we should—”

Monika gasped. Her trembling fingers touched her lips before quivering toward the underside of Broderick’s left arm. “The mark.” She touched the dark stain, then gazed at him with pleading eyes. “Tell me what’s happening. Why are you in my dreams? Why are you here? Is it coincidence? Surely not to expand your business.”

Broderick dropped his arms and guided Monika to the chair. He pulled up another, sat before her and held her hands in his. “My business is a reason to stay…but it’s not why I’m here.”
Where to begin?
“Do you believe a soul can be reborn into another body?”

“Yes, although the Church has tried to tell us otherwise.”

“Why do you believe this if the Church has taught otherwise?”

“My grandparents and parents have always told me we live many lives. Each life, we try to learn lessons and become a better person, or better our spirits, then we pass and move to the next life. More than that, it’s something I believe in my heart.” She frowned. “Why do ask me this?”

“I was told, and now I believe, that you are…Davina, my wife. You were her in your previous life.”

Monika’s eyes welled with tears. She yanked her hands from him and stalked to the hearth. “If I am your wife reborn, if I am so special to you, then why were you with that woman? You say such beautiful words. You make me want to believe we have something unique and yet you spend a night with her, right after we shared our first kiss.”

Broderick bowed his head and sighed.
Say the right words, Rick.
He raised his head. “What did you hear? What did she tell you? Because I promise you now that I did not spend the night with her.”

“I want to hear your words.”

He nodded. “I have been raised to believe that a soul lives and dies and either ascends to heaven or descends into hell. As a Vamsyrian, I was told making this choice to become immortal was not only turning my back on God, but my soul was trapped within my body. It’s why we thirst for blood—to kill and build sins against our souls so we are beyond redemption.

“Then a prophetess of a sect of priests and nuns tells me my wife Davina’s soul is the key to redemption for all Vamsyrians. That there is a prophecy that will save our souls from damnation. And yet…” Broderick cleared his throat to speak over the grief clogging his words. “My wife dies of consumption. And eighty years later, on the day of my wife’s birth, I am so overcome with grief and yearning to be with her, I wander and my journey takes me here, to Germany, where the prophetess finally appears and tells me you are my wife reborn. Understand, this concept of souls being reborn is foreign to me and this prophetess is known to manipulate. All of this stunk of her machinations. I found it difficult to believe that Davina could live again, as much as I wanted it to be true.”

“Why do you believe it now?” Monika still stood guarded, her arms crossed over her midsection, her eyes suspicious and it was a dagger in Broderick’s heart. Her acceptance and open affection were gone.

“There is one thing Davina and I shared…dreams. Vamsyrians don’t dream. During our daytime slumber, our minds are normally utter blackness. And yet when I was in close vicinity of Davina, I would dream. All she need do was think of me and I would know what she was experiencing during the day. Monika…I haven’t dreamed since the day she died. Not until I came to Vollstadt, just a scant two miles from you. How you have been thinking of me before I even met you, I don’t know.”

Her brows creased and tears spilled over her cheeks. “I have been dreaming of a Scottish lover since the end of winter. Your voice. Your accent. The mark under your arm.”

“Since the end of winter? February?”

She shrugged. “Yes, I think so. Why?”

“Davina’s birthday is February nineteen.” Broderick glanced to the side, pondering. “How old are you?”

“Three-and-twenty as of April eighteen.”

The corner of his mouth curled. “You were two-and-twenty in February—the age she was when we met and fell in love.”

“So you learn I’m your wife in a previous life and flee to the arms of another woman?” She gritted her words. “Explain this to me.”

“Forgive me. Everything I told you yesterday, about not being with another woman because I felt it would betray my love for Davina was true. When I kissed you in the kitchen house—”

“You regretted it?”

“No.” He rose and took one step forward. “It felt right. But I wasn’t certain if all this about Davina being reborn was true or if I was just craving the touch of another. Monika, I haven’t had relations with another woman since I met my wife. I haven’t touched a woman since my wife died, except in the capacity of feeding. I took Aggie to the inn to determine if what I felt for you was genuine or just a desperate need to be physical.”

Monika’s bottom lip quivered. “So you bed her to—”

“Nay! I couldn’t do it. She was just blood to me.” Broderick dropped to his knees before her, but she wouldn’t let him take her hands. “I felt ill and disgusted with myself. I used her for blood and rendered her unconscious. She stayed the night in the room and I left a small stack of silver on the bedside table for her time. Vamsyrians have the ability to wipe some portions of memories from a mortal’s mind. I wiped the experience of the feeding from her. She should have only remembered going to the room and then waking with silver on the table.”

Monika’s brows rose and fresh tears raced down her cheeks.

“I needed to know if what I felt for you was real. I never want to betray my love for my wife. She was my reason for living. But the dreams I’ve had of you have convinced me this is all real. You are Davina.” His own tears clouded his eyes. “It is through these dreams I know you learned about Aggie. How I know Thomas told you I was a Vamsyrian. I know a rather bothersome young man named Jason has been after you.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Broderick gritted his teeth. “And I know this
Thomas
will be a dead werewolf when I get my hands on him.”

“So much makes sense now. Why I only see you at night. How you could possibly face two werewolf attacks and live. And I believe these dreams I’ve had are my memories of my life with you…as Davina.”

She pulled the necklace over her head and dropped it to the floor, then placed her palm on Broderick’s cheek and he closed his eyes, covering her hand with his.

“Everything feels so right with you, Broderick. You have indeed leapt from my dreams into my arms. I was so hurt…” She covered her mouth and new tears coursed down her face. “The thought of you being with someone else crushed me and I couldn’t explain it because I’d only met you a few days ago. But now it all makes sense.”

“Blossom, I’m—”

She laughed through her tears. “Yes! That’s what you call me in my dreams!”

Broderick buried his face in her belly and she cradled his head.

“Together forever,” she whispered.

Broderick hitched his breath and gazed at her through his tears. “Eternally yours.”

Her mouth descended upon his, hungry, seeking, open and accepting. His hands slid under her skirt and up her thighs to cup her bottom and lift her from the floor, their mouths fused together. Wrapping her legs around him, she moaned as Broderick carried her to the bed in the next room. With eager hands, Monika fumbled with her bodice.

Broderick ripped the lacing open and tossed the shredded garment to the floor. “I’ll buy you a new wardrobe.”

She chuckled as they fell to the mattress with a grunt. “Ah! And a feather mattress,” she groaned.

“Aye, that, too.” He pulled her skirt and chemise down her body, revealing her creamy skin and graceful limbs. Her pert and perfect breasts rose and fell as she panted and writhed on the bed.

Sitting forward, Monika reached for the leather laces on his breeches, tugging and unraveling them until she could eagerly yank his trousers down his hips and thighs. His erection jutted before her and she paused. Mouth open, she darted her eyes from his cock to his face and smiled. “I hope I can please you as I have in my dreams,” she whispered, her breath caressing his sensitive skin.

With a groan, he stepped back and removed his boots before dropping his breeches to the floor. Naked before her, he knelt on the bed, his knees betwixt her thighs, and she lay back, gazing at him with hooded sapphire eyes. “After eighty years of fisting myself, Blossom, I’m sure you will do more than just please me.”

She moaned sympathetically. “Oh, you poor man.” Monika tugged on his hand and he bent forward over her, bracing his elbows on either side of her head.

“I can only assume you are still a virgin.”

She nodded and smiled.

“Monika, if you want me to wait until we are wed, I—”

Chapter Ten

Monika seized his cock and Broderick groaned. “Don’t you dare,” her throaty voice threatened. “I have been waiting months for this moment to become reality.”

His deep laughter rumbled from his chest and she pulled his mouth down to hers, biting his bottom lip, sucking his tongue when he dove into her mouth, drinking him in any way she could. She smoothed her hands over his hard muscles, the sharp masculine angles of his chest and abdomen under his bandages…that delicious cut of muscle above his hip. Monika moaned and inserted her legs between his, so she could wriggle her body further down the mattress, with the intention of tasting that tempting part of his body she’d dreamt about. However, when she achieved her desired position, and his knees straddled her ribcage, his beautiful cock demanded all her attention. In her dreams, she had done shameful and exciting things with her mouth and her sex clenched at the recollection.

“Och, woman!”

“I know…I’m going to be the death of you.” She chuckled and reached for his shaft. She delighted when he hissed. “I have always loved the way you responded to me in my dreams.” As she lay beneath him, she explored his soft sack hanging below with her other hand, fascinated by his composition and texture.

He panted. “God’s blood, woman, how should I respond?”

“Just the way you do. You’re perfect.” A clear drop bloomed from the head, like dew on a mushroom. She pulled his cock down to her mouth and tasted the salty bead with the tip of her tongue, kissing his silky skin, hot against her lips. Broderick groaned and shuddered. Opening her mouth, she wrapped her lips over the purple head of his rod, filling her mouth and swirling her tongue to taste him.

He pulled from her mouth with a growl and yanked her up the bed, nudging her thighs open with his knees. Before she could protest, his lips claimed hers, his tongue delving deep. He reached between them and grabbed his cock, stroking the head along her cleft. “Uhhh,” he breathed against her cheek. “You are so wet.” He suckled her bottom lip and dragged the length of his shaft along her wetness as he pumped his hips.

“It aches between my legs.” She gasped and grabbed his buttocks.

With his voice husky and breathless, he said, “I believe you’re ready to receive me, but this may hurt a—”

“Broderick!” She raised her hips.

His laughter rumbled against her breasts. “As you wish.” Broderick lifted his hips, his gaze fixed on hers and filled with such tenderness, she wanted to weep. He thrust his hips down and slid inside Monika in one swift movement.

She hissed. He pulled out, then slid back in, drag and plunge. The pain meant nothing in the wake of pleasure that thrummed through her core. Monika moaned and met each thrust, lost in Broderick filling her, his thick rod stroking her soul. He grunted and her stomach fluttered. “I want to hear you,” she coaxed. “My God, I want to know you enjoy this…as much as I do.”

Broderick released a long moan and grunted into her hair, cradling her head to his shoulder as he rocked into her. “Enjoy?” He cupped her bottom, angling her up as he plunged deeper. “Doesn’t even begin…to describe this.” The tip of his cock hovered a moment over her entrance before thrusting back inside. He pulled back, hovered and plunged. Monika groaned and threw her head to the side, gasping from the ecstasy of every inch of his shaft, from tip to sack. Sliding his hands under her back, he gripped her shoulders and increased his pace, pumping, driving, panting, building.

Monika squeezed her legs around his waist, and clutched his buttocks as they flexed with each heavy thrust, hanging on as the pressure exploded in her core and shuddered through her body.

Broderick continued to pump and threw his head back, groaning and crying out her name, his legs trembling. He bowed his head to touch his brow to hers, puffing against her cheek, his elbows braced around her shoulders. “My apologies, Blossom,” he said between breaths. “I know that was a bit rushed, but I had a very difficult time holding back. I will make efforts to take my time from now on.”

She couldn’t stop her husky laughter from fluttering through her hand. “Surely you jest! You moved the earth for me, my darling. Can our lovemaking truly be better than this?”

It was Broderick’s turn to share his hearty laughter, which rolled like thunder against her breasts. “Dove, I have not yet begun to make love to you.” He chuckled when her jaw dropped.

She cupped his jaw and brushed her thumb over his dimple. “I love to hear you laugh.”

He sighed. “It feels so good to do so again. To have cause.”

Ritual or destiny, I care not why he is in my life. I hope I can always give him cause to smile and be happy.

Broderick’s brow creased. “Ritual?”

She gasped. “Oh, bother! It completely slipped my mind that you can hear my thoughts!” She buried her face in his shoulder.

He chuckled and she melted under the rich and rumbling tones. “Aye, I have been told it’s an annoying habit. I shall promise you what I did in your previous life and do my best not eavesdrop on your thoughts from now on.”

She grinned. “Thank you.”

A roguish smirk twisted his lips. “But I’ve heard it now, so you must enlighten me.”

She laughed. “Ah, well…the wonderful dreams I was having about you made me very hungry for such a love in kind. I waited months for the right opportunity to perform a ritual that would bring me my perfect soul mate. When both my father and grandmother were gone a few days ago, I seized my chance. And here you are.”

His seductive grin grew wider. “So you’re saying I fell in love with you because of a love spell?”

“Well…”

Broderick blessed her with a toe-curling kiss and Monika sank deeper into bliss. “Blossom, you didn’t need a spell. I’ve loved you for well over a hundred years…and I won’t stop loving you. You are my perfect mate, for all eternity.”

Monika lay under Broderick, breathless…speechless.

“And you take your time confessing any declarations of love. In this life, you have known me just a few days. I will wait until you are ready.” He laid a finger over her lips. “Just wait. However, I will not wait to wed you, but we will talk about that on the morrow.”

Monika grinned and kissed the tip of his nose. She didn’t need to wait. She knew. But if waiting made him feel better, she would.

He eased himself to her side and grunted as he propped his head upon his hand. “Damned werewolf.”

“How is your back?” She tried to sit up, but he held her down.

“All is well.” But Broderick grumbled. “I will be even better when he’s dead.”

“Broderick, no. As a werewolf, he is dangerous. Now that I have you in my life, I do not want to lose you. Please let me continue to work with him until I can get my mother’s book and finish finding that cure. Then he will no longer be a threat.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “If I kill him, I can get you the book and he still won’t be a threat.”

She sat up and glared down at him, trying to ignore that his eyes went straight to her breasts. “No! He is human during the time you are resting. The only time you can confront him is at night, when he is most dangerous.”

He cocked an eyebrow and caressed the back of his knuckles over her nipple. “Then I will wait until the cycle of the moon has passed.”

She stilled his hand, ready to caress her other nipple. “That’s another five days from now and I am not waiting that long to get my mother’s book. I have waited ten years to find that tome and I once thought it was lost forever.” She clutched the air for emphasis. “Now that I have it in my grasp, I’m not taking any chances it will get away from me.”

Broderick sat up. “What is so important…?” He sighed. “You want the book for your father. This is about your father.”

He must have heard her thoughts about Papa. “Yes. My father is a werewolf.”

“Was it your father I wounded my first night here?”

She nodded. “I believe so. Once you told me you were attacked your first night, I pieced it together.”

He cupped her face. “I know this is important to you, but I don’t want you anywhere near that monster. He’s a rogue and a liar.”

She sneered. “Well, it takes a rogue to know a rogue.”

Broderick scowled.

She chuckled and kissed his pouting lips. “I agree. He
is
a rogue
and
a liar. But we now know the chant works against werewolves, so he can’t harm me. I will be certain to put the ward up before I see him. I promise.”

After releasing a long, exasperated breath, he nodded. “Be sure that you do.” His gaze returned to her breasts, where he leaned forward and drew one nipple into his mouth and fluttered his tongue over the already tightened peak.

Monika shuddered and sighed.

“Right now, woman, the only place I want you is under me.” Broderick covered her body with his, parting her thighs with his knee and nuzzling her ear with his mouth.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed and bit his shoulder. “You’re still ready for more? I thought men couldn’t continue after they…well, you know.”

Broderick frowned. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

“Well, we womenfolk have conversations.”

He chuckled and slid inside her, groaning. “If a man cannot continue after he reaches fulfillment, he’s with the wrong woman.” Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “I cannot get enough of you. I never could.” He pumped his hips and she moaned. “Now let me show you how I take my time making love to you.”

Monika was too weak under his touch to respond, except to cry out his name…over and over again.

* * * * *

Angus stepped down from his carriage and surveyed the courtyard of the monastery just a mile northwest Vollstadt Village. This was one of the last Roman Catholic monasteries within a thirty-mile radius, most of the Catholic establishments having turned Protestant. But it was Angus’s last stop on his personal twenty-eight year quest to finally secure an advantage over Broderick MacDougal.
Just one more member.

A fragile elderly monk with a thinning gray tonsure opened the door to a small building ahead, worry creasing his age-speckled brow. His dark brown robes were frayed at the edges and dusty along the hem, kicked out by his sandaled feet as he scuffled forward. He stopped short and cast a critical gaze over Angus’s attire. “
Inquisitor
Angus Campbell?”

“Aye.”

Suspicion laced his scrutiny.
What manner of folly is this?

“And you are?”

“Abbot Cromer.” He stood perplexed.
He isn’t even properly dressed.

Angus cocked an eyebrow. “What troubles you, Abbot?”

“I expected an Inquisitor to be wearing…”

Angus rolled his eyes and started walking through the gates of the monastery. The abbot shuffled after him. “I suppose more formal attire might be required here in the north to maintain an obvious Catholic presence amongst the Protestants. However, not only am I utterly unconcerned with the formalities of dress, I am also not your typical inquisitor. I operate less from a state of piety and more from a position of law.” He stopped and faced the winded abbot. “Additionally, I do not wish to advertise my station. Such common clothes are not forbidden by the Church. Is this a problem for you?”

Abbot Cromer stuttered for several seconds before shaking his head. “Of course not.”
A little young for such a lofty station. And a bit arrogant.
“What a pleasure it is to see you’ve arrived safely under the good Lord’s care.”

Angus snorted and continued through the long corridor, emerging into the courtyard.

“I am Abbot Georgius Cromer. Welcome to Götthafen Monastery. Allow me to show you to your accommodations.”

“Thank you, Abbot.” He followed behind Cromer, who waved his hand at passing monks, snapping orders for Angus’s trunks to be brought to the guest cottage.

As he toddled alongside Angus, the abbot cast him an annoyed glance. “You honor us with your presence, Father. I do hope you find your time here comfortable. I was sure to have the cottage readied for your stay. In fact, the Prince-Bishop—”

Angus waved him off. “I’m sure what you have to offer is more than adequate. As long as I have a place to lay my head and some privacy to conduct my studies, I need nothing more. I am but a humble servant.”

“Of course, Father. Of course.” Cromer nodded.
Pompous youth.
He led Angus to the eastern side of the courtyard to what he had thought was a small chapel. The tiny yet elegant structure was made of stone and stained glass windows, depicting the Prince-Bishop in all his holy glory. The abbot pulled the large ring of keys dangling from his rope belt and, after fumbling to find the right one, inserted the key into the lock of the decorative oaken door. Riveted to the center of the door, which was carved with various images of saints and angels, was a large iron knocker etched with olive branches. The abbot stepped inside and immediately strolled around the room, lighting candles and oil lamps.

Angus followed, sauntering to the center of the finely furnished room. A large, wood-carved canopy bed was the centerpiece of the east wall, opposite the entrance. A matching carved desk and chair stood on the north wall next to a tall wardrobe. A sitting table and chair on the south wall, for eating or reading. All crafted in intricate detail and dark wood. The room would not be complete without a prominent display of the beaten and bleeding crucified Christ, which hung on the west wall.
Delightful dining décor.
“I’m impressed, Abbot Cromer. This is so much more than I had anticipated from such a modest monastery.”