Taken by Moonlight (50 page)

“Yes,” she
replied, nodding as she did so.

“I—did I
hurt you?” He looked and sounded unsure. Vivienne took pity on him, rolling
toward him and lightly touching her palms to his chest.

“You told
me you’d never hurt me,” she started, and Conall closed his eyes. She waited
for him to open them, and saw regret lying inside. “And you never have.” She
kissed his lips quickly. “You did wear me out, though.”

Rolling away,
she yawned and stretched some more, feeling her muscles loosen. Sighing, she
was about to ask him about Rafael when she suddenly popped up, pushing the
covers back. Oh God, she was going to mess up his bed!

His hand
caught her arm gently and he drew her back down.
It’s okay, alainn.

Okay? He
obviously didn’t understand she was about to ruin his expensive Egyptian cotton
sheets! Granted, she was at the end of her time, but still!

She tried
to pull herself up once more, but he suddenly pulled her atop him. She
struggled to get off, which was impossible as his hand was at her back, holding
her steady.

“No,
Conall, I’ll—”

“It’s okay,
Vivienne. They’re only sheets.” He rubbed his hand gently down her back, and
when she tried to push herself up again, he kept her still.

She
exhaled, sulking. “Fine. It’s your sheet and your mattress!”

Using one
hand, he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. She tried her best to
avoid his gaze.

“Vivienne,
there is nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a natural occurrence.”

“Thanks. I
had this talk with my mother when I was twelve, you know!”

A little
grin touched his lips before he smirked. “Did she also tell you that mates
sometimes share this? That your mate will want you even now? Our attraction is
hard to control most times, so it’s likely to find two mates sharing a bed,
even during this time.”

Vivienne
didn’t respond for long moments, and when she did it was to say in a curious,
slightly disbelieving voice, “You didn’t do anything this morning.”

“Because I
didn’t want to scare you. Humans are conservative and
restrained
in what
they do with their lovers.” He paused and a hand went through her hair. She
shuddered. “I’d intended on gradually easing you into this, but….” He let his
voice trail off, but she knew what he was going to say: but Rafael had kissed
her hand, and Conall had turned half-crazed as he staked his claim.

Zahira was
right. Although they looked human, the tendencies that guided them were those
of an animal. She tried to relax atop him and focus her attention elsewhere.
“Who’s Rafe, and why does he bring out the beast in you?” She smiled at how
she’d phrased that question.

“
Rafael
is one of Brennus’s sons. He fled the pack years ago.” So it was as she
suspected. Rafe was related to Samia.

“Why?”

“A female
was killed. His scent was all over the body, and then he disappeared.”

Vivienne
gasped. Wow. Rafael was a killer? The things she learned, daily. Make that
hourly.

“And now
he’s back?”

“Until
tomorrow,” he retorted with a finality that made her shiver.

“Tomorrow’s
my blood rite with Samia.”

“Not
anymore.”

“Excuse
me?”

“Rafael
challenged my position. That takes precedence.”

“So, can’t
you fight him in the morning, and I fight Samia in the afternoon?”

Conall
sighed and tightened his hold on her. “Vivienne, you don’t have to—”

“She isn’t
going to stop unless I stop her.” She pushed out of his arms and rolled onto
the bed beside him. “You’re not going to use Rafael to push this blood rite
back.”

They stared
at each other for long moments until Conall shook his head. Satisfied, Vivienne
moved closer and placed her head into the crook of his arm.

“So, do you
have any advice for a novice fighting a werewolf?” she asked, trying to lighten
the mood.

Maybe it
wasn’t the right question to ask. His response was quick. “Don’t.”

A little
smile curved her lips. “Any other advice?”

“Keep
moving. Samia’s a good fighter, quick and strong. Don’t stay in one place too
long.”

She nodded.
“Thanks.”

“If you
really wanted to thank me, you’d say you’re not going through with it.”

“Then don’t
fight Rafe. Don’t go through with it, Conall.”

“Rafael,”
Conall hissed. “Call him Rafael.” Vivienne lifted a brow. “He challenged me.”

“And Samia
challenged me.” She kissed his chest, then snuggled close to him. “Tomorrow’s
going to be interesting.”

“M-m-my
lord.”

Maximilian
Cronin wasn’t given to stuttering, but he wasn’t accustomed to seeing
apparitions of long-dead druids, either. When he’d awoken to find himself
standing feet from a very alive-looking Alexander Petraeus, he’d immediately
called up his powers, only to find they were not there. The only place where
his powers were voided was when he was in between worlds, or dreaming. So, this
was obviously a dream. Which did little for his psyche, as witches were known
to die in dreams.

“Maximilian
Cronin.” When Alexander spoke in that familiar, calm voice, Maximilian
swallowed. It was him. But how? He was dead. The grand wizards had killed him
before banishing the druids. It was a tale passed down to young witches about
the powerful twelve who’d defeated the undefeatable. And yet here he was, dream
or no.

“Your grand
wizards underestimated me, Cronin,” Alexander answered, and in the answer
Maximilian heard the warning: he would be stupid to do the same thing.

“How are
you here, my lord?” Centuries ago, Alexander had been a peer of the realm, an
English duke as well as a French count, if he remembered correctly, and
immortal and mortal alike had addressed him as such. He wasn’t dressed the part
of nobility at the moment, with his cream-colored slacks, white button-down
shirt and bare feet, but the man still held himself as regally as any king.

“That is
insignificant,” was the easy response. “It seems we have a common goal.”

Immediately,
Maximilian’s ears perked up. “The resurrection of the druids?”

Alexander
nodded. “Why?”

“I don’t
understand, my—”

“Why are
you doing this? What motivates you, Cronin?”

Maximilian
purposely blanked his mind. It wouldn’t do well to have Alexander Petraeus know
everything about his plan. If the druid did, he might not be allowed to leave
the dream world alive.

“My people
have suffered just as much as yours, my—”

Alexander
snorted and returned, “Your people do not know the meaning of suffering.”

Maximilian
said nothing, simply watched as the druid turned those pale eyes on him. They
were still as unnerving as they had been centuries ago. Pale green. It would be
easy to think he was blind, but for the fixedness of his stare.

“We will
help one another,” Alexander finally said after a long time. “I need my people
resurrected and you have a burning wish to have your immortality reinstated.”

Maximilian
nodded slowly. “Yes, the immortality of my people.”

Looking at
the druid, with his silken blond hair and perfect youthful features, only made
Maximilian hunger more for immortality. Petraeus was centuries older than him,
and he still looked like a young man in his late twenties, while Maximilian
appeared as if he was going in to get hip surgery at any moment. There had been
a time when he’d considered knee surgery, but that was beneath him! To go under
the knife for something so distinctly human.

“How do you
intend to resurrect the druids?” Alexander asked, almost as an afterthought.

“There are
two girls, druids, whom I would use to open the portal, my lord.”

Alexander
nodded. “And do you know where these girls are?”

His
thoughts went back to the human, Drew, who hadn’t told him anything yet. It had
only been a day, but humans were frightened little creatures who usually spoke
at their first opportunity, in order to avoid pain. The girl hadn’t. He’d left
his two specialty trackers with her from the moment of her arrival yesterday,
hoping she would have given up at least one location, but she was either
incredibly strong-willed or did not know. He’d been contemplating allowing his
trackers to go into her mind and retrieve the information, but to do so would
either kill her or send her into a coma, and if either of those two were to
happen, she would be of no other use to him.

“Not yet,
my lord. I suspect Vivienne resides at Cedar Creek with Conall Athelwulf’s
pack.”

When
Alexander’s brows drew together, Maximilian filled him in. “Athelwulf seems to
think she is his mate.”

Nodding,
Alexander waited for him to continue. “It would be difficult to extract
Vivienne from the Cedar Creek pack, so I’ve been searching for the other one.”

“Have you
found her?”

“No. Her
mother has safe houses scattered across the continents. She could be at any one
of them.”

“She’s in New York,” Alexander finally said, and Cronin wondered if he was here to tell him exactly
where the druids were. Of course he was. He wanted his people resurrected
almost as badly as Maximilian wanted his immortality back. “Her mother has a
safe house in Brooklyn.”

“The
address, my lord?” Maximilian asked carefully, and Alexander leveled him with
an all-seeing stare before he repeated an address.

“You
understand that a sacrifice must be made to reopen the portal.”

“Yes, my
lord. One of the girls—”

“No.”
Alexander’s reply was instant. “Another sacrifice. Perhaps one of your grand
wizards.”

Maximilian
frowned but then he remembered Wilhem. It was the perfect way to utilize the
upstart’s powers.

“And
Maximilian?”

“Yes, my
lord?”

“Do not
fail me.”

The grand
wizard bowed, knowing the conversation was over. Alexander faded into the white
background, and Maximilian soon woke. He grabbed a pad and pen on the end table
near him and jotted down the address Alexander had given him. Everything was
falling into place. He knew where one of the druids was, and with her in his
possession, he imagined it wouldn’t be long until he had the other.

Vivienne
came awake with a start, blinked, and pushed her body up. It had been a dream,
a bad one, but a dream nonetheless.

She’d been
running beside a wolf, a sleekly built white wolf with intense blue eyes a
shade lighter than Conall’s. It had been like running with Eli or Zahira, but
in the dream, she was in a forest. She didn’t know how she knew it was a
forest, and not Conall’s estate, but she did. When she came to a halt,
breathing hard and laughing down at the animal beside her, she’d noticed the
wolf was sitting on its haunches, silently staring up at her.

“What’s the
matter?” The fact she’d spoken to the creature told her that it was a werewolf.
She’d leaned down to touch the wolf’s head and quicker than the blink of an
eye, the wolf had attacked, catching her hand in its powerful jaws. The bite
had awoken her, and it was for that reason her heart pounded fiercely, her mind
slowly coming to terms with the fact she’d just had a nightmare.

Strong arms
encircled her body, and she was pulled back down to the bed. Conall easily
maneuvered her body so she faced him.

“What’s
wrong?” he asked softly, and when she continued to stare at him wide-eyed, not seeing
him but the white wolf who’d bitten her, he probed her mind himself. When he
pulled away, he tightened his arms against her and nuzzled her cheek and neck.

You had
a bad dream,
alainn
.

“It was so
real,” Vivienne whispered, and Conall’s lips settled over hers. He traced
kisses from her lips to her cheek, across her face, down her neck, and she
slowly relaxed. “A dream.”

He nodded
against her, and she closed her eyes. Almost instantly, she opened them again.
The wolf had been staring directly at her.

The dream
was all but forgotten when Vivienne walked into the dining room the next
morning.

It was
crowded. Well, not crowded, but she was usually accustomed to seeing at most
two people when she came down. Sometimes the young girl who stocked the
refrigerator was there, sometimes Sloan or Raoul. Eli was a late riser, so on
the occasions where she slept in, she would have breakfast with him. But today,
almost every
were
she knew was in the dining room.

Conall sat
at the head of the table, with Raoul and Sloan on either side of him. Zahira
sat opposite Verity. Eli was toward the end of the table. Latriel sat next to
Eli. They had all been speaking as she descended the stairs, but the moment she
walked into the kitchen, the conversation stopped.