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

Monika gathered the supplies she needed for her ritual and, basket heavy with her wares, grabbed three woolen blankets and slung them over her shoulder. She placed a quivering hand upon the latch at the door and paused. Sex
magick
was a powerful force, but what scared her more than anything was performing it in the open.
I can do this. Think of him.
Breathing deep, she imagined his large hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples until they peaked. A delightful shiver rippled up her arms and shoulders to cascade over her breasts.
A love worth dying for.

She left her cottage and trekked down the south road leading out of the village and into the forest. Trees towered overhead and a waving breeze rustled through the branches, raining a shower of brown leaves, tumbling, turning and spinning through the air. The nights were growing cooler. The days more overcast. Monika smiled.
Autumn is coming
. Her favorite season.

Hiking through the woods, she stayed away from any trails and roads, navigating deep into the forest where the trees were dense and difficult to see through. The kind of ritual she would perform needed privacy, so she traversed a great deal of ground to find the perfect spot. After what seemed like an hour of crunching through the brush, Monika approached and assessed a small clearing, no more than six or eight feet wide, a copse of thin-trunk trees so close, one couldn’t walk between them except through a small parting. It had to be an old faery ring, as no signs indicated the fae were still using it.
This will do nicely and might even give me a little magickal boost.
She grinned, fear and excitement bubbling within her belly.

Quickly, she gathered a bundle of long twigs and brushed the dried leaves to the edge of the clearing, exposing the bare dirt. She left one blanket near the center on the ground, and draped the other two spare blankets across the break in the trees—one where she’d entered at the north of the small clearing; the other to the southwest. She placed four candles around the clearing, one at each directional point—north, south, east and west. Collecting and arranged a few stones in a circle at the center, she then tossed within it the twigs and some dried leaves and knelt on the blanket. With a single strike of flint against steel, the kindling caught. As her grandmother was an Air Witch, Monika was born a
Feuer Hexe
—a Fire Witch. She started a modest fire, holding her shaky hands toward the tiny flames and coaxing them higher.

Concentration was crucial for her task. The mood and state of mind were important when using a sexual climax to focus intent. Her heart thundered in her chest as she glanced around the forest, certain strange eyes were upon her.
I can’t very well do this so jittery!
She inhaled deep and closed her eyes.
Think of him.

He nuzzled her hair away from her ear, his hot breath sending waves of desire across her neck. She shuddered when his tongue drew her lobe between his teeth for a sensuous nibble. Monika pressed her breasts against his chest and sighed when he moaned, loving his response to her.

Yes.
Her stomach fluttered with anticipation. Raising her hands above her head, palms to the sky, she imagined the light and love of the divine Father through the sun and sky pouring into her, winding down her spine and into Mother Earth below, grounding her to nature in this union. Sex was a natural act of all species, so tied directly to the energy of the earth. A peace settled over her heart and the corner of her mouth turned up in appreciation.

She grabbed a long twig, held the end over the fire until it caught and carried the flame to the north candle. Lighting it with her left hand, she concentrated her intentions and love into the wick and said, “I invoke the north and the element of earth to my purpose, asking for your love, light and protection.” The flames surged a few inches higher in response. With her right hand, she drew a pentacle in the air, the five-pointed star enclosed within a circle, in one continuous line. Walking
deosil
—clockwise—around the circle to the next point, she lit the candle and repeated the phrase and pentacle, addressing the east and the element of air. To south, she invoked the element of fire and the flame flared much higher in response to her own natural elemental state. Then to the west she invoked the element of water. Completing the circle back at the north, she continued deosil to stand before the center fire pit once more.

After spreading her blanket beside the warmth of the flames, Monika stripped her clothes from her body with trembling hands, folding them neatly and setting them aside. She glanced around the clearing self-consciously, her heart pounding within her ribcage. A subtle breeze moved through the trees, caressing her bare bottom and swirling around her waist and breasts, stressing her nakedness and giving her great pause.
Oma can read the wind, but will this breeze reach her in Nordenham?
She swallowed her apprehension, forcing herself to continue.
When will I ever get another chance to do this?
The sun was continuing its descent, the forest around her growing darker with shadows. Time was slipping from her.

She grabbed her basket and sat on the blanket where she laid her ingredients around her. Pouring a small portion of the rose water into her hand, she rubbed it into her skin. “Father God, Mother Earth, I come before you this day, asking for your blessing to find my soul mate, the one you intend especially for me.” She inhaled the heady rose fragrance. Corking the bottle, she set it aside and assembled the herbs, mortar and pestle. Into the mortar, she sprinkled the herbs, swirled and crushed the ingredients with the pestle. As she stirred and blended, she focused her intentions into the herbs based on their properties—bay leaves and elfwort to attract her soul mate; caraway seeds to increase lust in her and her intended; basil for love; lavender for
undying
love and devotion; yarrow
everlasting
love; and thyme for affection. She set the mortar down and cupped her hands over the bowl, using the heat of her body and the desires of her soul to infuse the herbs with her heart and her hopes.
His lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss and she melted against his solid frame.

Scattering the blend of herbs over the small fire, she whispered, “As the fire burns and purifies these herbs, so my soul and heart are purified toward my goal. As the smoke rises to the heavens, so do my wishes and intentions. Bring to me, Mother and Father, the perfect man of my heart, the one you intend for me as my soul mate. So mote it be.”

After placing her mortar, pestle and herbs back into the basket, she set the basket aside and lay on her back. The fire flickered orange light against the trees framing the darkening sky. Her heart beat a rapid staccato in her breast and Monika inhaled deep, closing her eyes.

His tongue darted out to taste her lips and she opened her mouth, eager to feast on him. She swooned as his fingers laced through her hair to cradle the back of her head. His other hand slid, strong and possessive, to the small of her back, pulling her body against him, his tongue delving deep into her mouth.

Monika smoothed her hands over her belly, then feathered them over her ribs. She caressed her breasts, pinching her nipples until they peaked.

His mouth kissed a fiery path to her throat and down to her breasts where he sucked her nipple into his mouth and flicked one bud, and then the other, until they ached with need. Nibbling a wet and hungry trail down her belly, his erection brushing against her thigh as he moved lower, and he positioned his head between her legs. Nipping her hip, his teeth grazed the tender flesh, then his mouth hovered over her dark curls. Hot, moist breath wafted against her mons and she whimpered. With a groan, he parted her nether lips with his thumbs, exposing her to him.

She slipped her fingers between her legs, parting her lips and swirling the slick wetness over her clitoris, and moaned.

Her dark lover fluttered his tongue over her sensitive bud, stroked along the length of her cleft, then returned to flick and suckle her clitoris. Long, sweet, sensuous strokes, then fast, torturous flicks over her nub.

Monika mimicked her dream lover’s tongue with her fingers, imagining his stubbled cheeks grazing her thighs, his mouth making love to her and her sex clenching in response. Stroking, fluttering, and thrusting, she crested and her thighs trembling as she continued to stroke her wet, hot folds, drawing out her climax…envisioning her release surging from between her legs, through her heart and pouring out into the universe, directly toward her soul mate.

Panting, Monika lay on her blanket and opened her eyes, gazing at the pink and purple streaks painted across the sky by the sunset. She smiled and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. Considering her purpose, even though she was a bit nervous about performing the sexual ritual due to its potency, it seemed the perfect approach to her desires.

She sat up and hugged herself, then glanced around her space in the woods, illuminated by the dying embers of the fire. Kneeling, she raised her hands to the sky. “Thank you, Mother and Father, for your blessings.” Taking the small jar of cream, she uncorked it and poured the white fluid into the earth, which greedily soaked up her offering. “Please accept this gift as my thanks.” She replaced the jar in her basket, stood and dressed, then pointed an open palm to the north, twirling
widdershins
—anticlockwise—and wiping her hand around the circle as she imagined the protective barrier around her space coming down. When she finished at the north, she held her arms up and whispered, “This circle is now broken and my intentions are sent forth with love and light. So mote it be.”

The crickets chirped around her. A breeze sighed through the trees, bringing the sweet apple-like scent of chamomile to greet her face with a loving caress. Peace warmed her heart and soul and she grinned. She had faith she would be blessed.

Monika knelt beside the fire pit. Being a
Feuer Hexe
, she was born with a direct connection to the element of fire. In a spiritual and
magickal
sense, fire ran through her veins and was present in the flesh and bone of her body. She was not only impervious to its heat, but commanded the element. She could absorb fire and summon it, as long as it was near. All she needed was a spark to wield it and have it do her bidding. Thrusting her hands into the embers, she drew the flames into her body. The heat spread through her limbs and radiated from her skin, leeching out through her pores. With questing fingers, she checked to be sure the fire was out and the ground was cool.

Assembling her supplies, she set them outside the space and did her best to return the clearing to the natural state in which she had found it. She brushed the leaves from the edge of the clearing, with a branch she used like a broom, and covered the ground once more. Satisfied with the results, she nodded and collected her belongings to head home.

As she rounded the bend in the road and her cottage came into view, a gangly young man, around fifteen years of age, stood waiting at her door. He looked vaguely familiar. “A message for you,
Fräulein
Konrads.” He thrust a fine piece of folded parchment at her. The missive was closed with a wax seal.

“Bode?”

His cheeks turned crimson. “Aye,
Fräulein—
”

“Oh, do stop with the formalities.” She waved him inside, but he remained on her doorstep. “Call me Monika, if you please. I’ve known you since you were this high.” She swiped the edge of her hand at mid-thigh. “You’re all grown up, Bode. I haven’t seen you since your parents moved to Vollstadt, what…five years ago? I hardly recognized you! What brings you here today?”

“I’m running errands for the Innkeeper in Vollstadt.”

“The tavern at the edge of the town?”

He shook his head. “Oh no, the larger one in the center of town—The Red Stag.”

Monika raised her brows. “Impressive.” She eyed the expensive paper and nodded. “Very impressive.” She glanced around the room and it was her turn to blush. “I’m afraid I haven’t a coin for you, Bode. Did you want me to warm you some soup? We have—”

“No, no. The gentleman who sent me was very generous. Thank you, though.” He bowed his sandy-haired head and dashed off.

Monika harrumphed and closed the door. Breaking the seal, she opened the note.

Chapter Three

Fräulein Konrads,

I am in desperate need of a healer. My father is ailing and I fear for his life. I am told your services are unmatched. You will be handsomely compensated for your time and skills.

T—

Monika frowned. “T?” She reread the missive and the words “handsomely compensated” brought a smile to her face. She pressed the note to her chest and sighed. Perhaps she and her grandmother could finally get another donkey. Most of the healing they did locally was paid through favors and food. Rarely did folks in the village dole out monetary compensation. Times were hard, with all the religious turmoil sweeping across the Kingdom of Germany. Mercenaries had ravaged their town on more than one occasion, and the following months had left the townsfolk struggling to recover. Additionally, people external to Kostbar were seeking healers less and less with all the accusations of witchcraft flying around. Thankfully, most of the persecutions were farther south and had not touched the northern coast. With any luck, circumstances would stay that way, but people were still afraid. More’s the reason why she needed to keep her spell a secret. Such activity would only invite trouble.

She eyed the note once more.
Fräulein Konrads…not Frau Markas.
The “gentleman” specifically addressed Monika and not her grandmother. Did he know Mina was gone? Or had Monika’s reputation grown to the level of garnering specialized requests?

Monika grabbed her remedy basket, always at the ready, which contained a sampling of herbs and tinctures that would help with most common disorders—fever, wounds, other basic ailments from head pains to stomach cramps—as well as other supplies, such as a small mortar and pestle, harvesting gloves, bandages and the like. Though she may not have something to help the gentleman’s ailing father, she might at least be able to bring him some relief until she figured out what plagued him. Once she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, she spirited out the door and clipped down the road. She had a two-mile walk ahead of her to Vollstadt. Yes, a donkey would be most helpful in times like these.

* * * * *

Monika hopped off the back of the wagon and waved. “Thank you, Herr Schmidt!”

The elderly farmer nodded and smiled. “I’ll only be an hour. I can stop by here on my way back and take you home if you’re done by then.”

She grinned. “You’d be a blessing to me if you did, but I don’t know how long I’ll be. If you’re here when I’m done, I would be most grateful. But don’t tarry on my account. I have nice strong legs on which to walk.”

He chuckled and waved over his shoulder as he departed.

She had been fortunate the old man was traveling down the road to Vollstadt with his latest harvest of vegetables, and even more fortuitous he shared the fruits of his labor. Not only had he saved her a long walk, Herr Schmidt encouraged her to stuff her basket with as much as she could carry. “You and Mina have been good to us. You’re due,” he had insisted.

With a grin, she labored with her basket, filled with three carrots, two onions, two turnips, a small head of cabbage and three leeks. She and Oma would eat well over the next two weeks, and longer if they were frugal.

Strolling across High Street, Monika contemplated the massive inn. A sign carved with a broad-chested stag and impressive antlers swung in the afternoon breeze. And it was indeed painted a bright red to match its name—The Red Stag. Her prospective client awaited, so she entered. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior of the tavern and stepped aside to survey the large room. Customers hunched over their meals in conversation, while a blonde serving girl bustled around carrying an armload of steaming plates and a fistful of beer mugs. Monika tugged self-consciously at the neckline of her worn bodice and smoothed her hand over her threadbare skirt. The patrons were all finely dressed in floral pastels of the latest fashions. Ladies wore pretty lace-edged collars, kerchiefs and winged shoulders. The men wore bloomed pants and slashed sleeves of satiny materials. Their shoes had shiny buckles. A woman, her hair upswept and adorned with a lace cap and trailing veil, assessed Monika with a critical gaze.

“Excuse me, Fräulein.”

Monika jolted at the young man standing breathless before her. She hugged her basket to her side and stepped backward.

He was tall enough for her to have to tilt her head back to look into his hazel eyes, which were warm with sincerity. “I’m sorry to have startled you.” He held a carrot to her. “You dropped this.”

Monika frowned and examined her basket. Three carrots. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“I saw this drop from your basket as you hopped off a cart out front.” He slipped the carrot into her basket next to the others. “Even so, one can’t have too many carrots, eh?”

They shared a laugh and he bent at the waist for a short bow. “My name is Jason Kiefer.”

Monika glanced around the room, then dipped her knees for a brief curtsy. “Monika Konrads.”

“Nice to meet you, Fräulein Konrads.”

“Likewise, Herr Kiefer.” She grinned.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

He combed his fingers through his golden-brown hair.

Monika cleared her throat. “Well, I’m here to help someone’s father who is ill. I really should be going.”

“Of course!” He nodded and smiled. “I hope to see you again.”

She dipped her head in response and chuckled as he near tripped over himself backing out of the inn.
Less than an hour and I already have a possible love interest. I should have done that spell months ago!

The lace-adorned woman sneered at Monika from across the room, then whispered behind her hand to the woman seated beside her. The pair of ladies glanced at Monika, then giggled over some private joke, surely at Monika’s expense.

Jutting her chin forward, Monika marched across the room, ignoring the rude women with effort, and stood before the tall, lanky innkeeper. She handed him the fine parchment summons. “Good afternoon, sir. Would you know which one of your guests sent me this note?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then turned the missive over with his bony fingers and examined the seal and writing. A lascivious grin spread across his thin lips while his eyes roamed over her body. Monika shrank under his scrutiny. “Healer, huh? Is that what they’re calling ’em these days?”

Monika’s cheeks flamed and she clenched her jaw. “I’ll have you know—”

“A spitfire you are, too.” He chuckled and stepped from behind the bar. “This way.” The audacious man led her up the stairway at the back of the commons area, down a hall and stopped before a door, rapping twice before turning on his heel and leaving. His chortles filled the narrow space and grated on her nerves.

The door swung open and a man with raven waves, which hung to his jawline, filled the doorway. His admiring ice-blue gaze covered every inch of her as it traveled down her body, then paused at her neckline before he inched back up to her face. A carefully trimmed moustache and bearded chin framed his mouth, of which the corner turned up to form a rakish grin. “And what did I do to deserve a visit from such a lovely lady?” he drawled in a low, gravelly voice and raised a raven brow. He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame.

One would think she stood naked before him, based on the way he continued to assess her. She resisted the urge to cover herself. If she didn’t need the money so badly, she’d have turned and marched right out of this building. Instead, she jutted her chin forward and stood her ground. “I am Monika Konrads. You called for a
healer
, sir?” Though not overly tall, he was sizeable enough she had to rise on her tiptoes to peer over his broad shoulders into the room…and notice the empty bed. Monika snapped her gaze back to his. “I see no ailing father.”

“Ah, yes, well…if I had told you the truth, I don’t believe you would have rushed over here to help me.”

She hitched her breath and clenched her jaw. “I don’t know what
services
you referred to in your note, but you have mistaken me for someone else. Good day, sir.”

When she whirled away, he grabbed her arm, dislodging her basket, which tumbled to the floor. He immediately bent to pick up her herbs and vegetables while Monika backed awat and trained wary eyes upon him. She glanced at the oil lamp hanging on the wall and readied herself to call forth flame.

“I assure you, you misunderstand me,” he explained as he replaced her things inside the basket.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her legs ready to bolt.

He stood, bundle in hand, an apologetic smile curving under his mustache. “I didn’t bring you here to proposition you, fräulein. I have researched for many years, and have come a very long way to see you. Please, don’t leave.”

“Then why did you lie to me?” She raised her hand to her shoulder when he advanced, and the flame in the lamp flared ever-so slightly in response.

“
I
am the one who is ill.” He glanced down the corridor before offering her the basket. “Will you please come inside? I don’t want to discuss this out here.”

She snatched her basket and took another step back. “I will do no such thing until you tell me why you sent for me.”

He sighed. “I’m looking for a cure, Fräulein Konrads. A cure your mother was close to achieving…so I’ve heard.” He glanced down the passage once more and leaned forward. “I’m a werewolf,” he whispered.

Monika’s lips parted and her breathing matched the furious pace of her galloping heart.

“I couldn’t very well put that in the note. Such a confession in writing would have me burned at the stake.” His mouth twisted into a devilish smile. “Will you come inside now so we can speak privately?” He swept his arm toward his room and waited.

Monika glanced at her path to freedom—down the hall and away from this man. Not to mention avoiding how being alone with him at an inn would mar her reputation. Then she assessed him and the incredible opportunity awaiting her. She regarded his expectant gray eyes. The simple fact he knew her mother had been trying to find a cure for the werewolf curse gave her hope. She nodded. Slipping past him, she backed into the room while tracking his movements.

He closed the door and faced her. “My name is Thomas Carr. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I
don’t
trust you, Herr Carr.” She gripped the handle of her basket.

“Well, at least enough to hear my plea.” He waved a graceful hand to the wooden chair beside her. “Please, have a seat.”

“I prefer to stand. You may proceed.” She eyed the fire in the hearth, her ally in case Herr Carr overstepped his bounds.

He cocked an eyebrow and nodded. “Very well.” Thomas crossed his muscular arms and proceeded to pace the length of the room. “Allow me to tell you a story, then. About six years ago, I was attacked by a werewolf and, when I awakened, found myself imprisoned in a cage. The man who caught me said his name was Marcus Sparenland.”

Marcus Sparenland!
Monika gritted her teeth.

“He said he had a cure to the werewolf curse.
He
had been the one who attacked me and, by infecting me, said he would test the cure on me. I’m not sure how much you know about the curse, but when someone is bitten, they do not make their first transformation until the next full-moon cycle. As you can guess, I had to endure living in a cage for the next three weeks until the nine-day cycle was upon us.”

The weight of her basket was proving wearisome, so Monika put it down on the desk beside her. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to continue.

“You’re not asking questions. Do you know the cycle?”

“Since my job is to provide protection against werewolves, among other creatures, I would have to know such things. The nine days are comprised of three days prior to the full moon, the three days
of
the full moon, and three days after.” She pursed her lips. “Testing my knowledge, Herr Carr? I thought you heard my services were unmatched.”

“I had
heard
that, yes.” He studied her a long moment, then resumed pacing. “During my month in captivity, Marcus told me how he had paid a witch to find the cure, but once she found it, she left him with nothing in exchange for the money he gave her. You must understand I want to ensure I’m spending my money wisely and will not be left empty-handed for all my efforts.”

Monika clenched her fists under her arms so tightly, her nails dug into her palms and unexpected hot tears dropped from her lashes.

Thomas faced her and frowned. “You seem a little upset by this news.”

“Marcus Sparenland is a liar,” she gritted through her teeth.

“
Was
a liar. Judging by the anger on your face, you might be pleased to know I killed him.” He narrowed his gray, piercing eyes.

“Though I do not wish death on anyone, he is one man I would have been glad to see suffer a cruel demise.”

Thomas stiffened. “I see.”

“What happened?”

“During my month of captivity, he shared with me, that everyone who had tried the cure died. Why I would be any different, I couldn’t say and nor did he tell me. I only knew he had to open my cage to administer the cure. He would have to force it down my throat before I would cooperate, and that’s when I took my chance. It was a brutal fight, but nothing compared to what happened after moonrise. He tried to give me the cure right before sunset, so the two of us transformed in the middle of our scuffle. I don’t remember much but, by morning, I saw the bloody aftermath. I took the book and ran and I’ve been running ever since.”