Uncaged (8 page)

             
“You look as though you’ve been in a brawl, Bruce.”

             
Bruce only grunted as he spread her legs wide, unfolding the silken lips of her wet pussy with his fingers.

             
“Oooh, Bruce. I want you now, darling.”

             
“Shhh.”

             
His concentration centered on the glorious task at hand. He drew the scent of her deeply into his lungs. The mingling aromas of her lust, her life’s blood and her mother’s milk intoxicated him. He closed his eyes against the beast. Fierce, jungle images clouded his mind. The urge to shift was unbearable. It ripped through him in waves, tearing through his gut and chest, moving deep into his lion’s heart. He shook his head, stilling the animal within. Shaking uncontrollably, sparks flitted off his back. Neither of them noticed. Both of them were lost in exotic pleasure. Satisfied that he would remain in human form, Bruce opened his eyes. Wren lay before him, her eyes closed, biting her lip, purring with pleasure as he massaged her clit. He knelt down before her and lapped at her center. Juice poured from her as she pressed her feet into the mattress and pushed her pussy into his face. He plunged his tongue into her, fucking her with his mouth. Her hips rose off the bed. Blood poured from the black love bites on her breasts. The sight of it only aroused him more as Bruce watched the warm blood spread over her tummy and into the slender, black “V” shaped mound. Bruce lapped at the blood, grunting and growling as her taste touched his tongue. He reached beneath her with both hands and grasped her ass, pulling her into his face, devouring her, licking her up until she was screaming his name.

             
He clasped his hand over her mouth and thrust his throbbing cock into
her velvety smoothness.
She came at once, exploding with lightning speed that shot clear through her, stealing her breath, making her swoon away. She was out and silent, yet she clenched him still. Bruce wanted to stop. To wake her and check her pulse, but he already knew. This woman’s life’s blood rushed beneath him. He had never fucked a woman senseless. He could smell her breath and her life. She had only fainted dead away. He felt bad about it for only an instant. He gripped her hips and thrust into her one last time and let out a true lion’s roar, fierce and loud into the quiet night. His orgasm ricocheted between two beings, both man and beast. His roared again and felt his fangs grow,
forcing his mouth open wider.
He shook his head and the spasms stilled. White dots danced before his eyes. He focused on Wren, unmoving, a bloody mess of luscious beauty and then she faded. Faded to black as he struggled to withdraw himself from her so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight. Two more giant dots of white popped into his line of vision, clouding the image of his sated lover lying beside him and then he too collapsed, unconscious beside her.

             
There was a smattering of bare feet stomping across the wooden floors and Wren’s door  flung open. The butler, two maids and the cook stood with lanterns held high. And then there were screams. Screams to wake the dead. Both maids swooned instantly, falling hard before the two men could catch them. The butler and the cook stood staring, their mouths agape at what lay before them.

             
“Bloody Christ! They’ve been bludgeoned to death!” the butler hissed.

Chapter 5

             
“I swear I heard a lion,” the cook replied as he retold the strange events that had occurred two nights previous.

             
Rose, Wren’s chambermaid, bit her lip, recalling the terrible cat like screeches that had waken her from a dead sleep. She gathered potions and medicinal vials for her mistress’ bath from the cupboards as she clicked her tongue. “And what a mess. I swore they’d been butchered.”

             
The cook cut off a chicken leg and tossed it into a boiling pot. “And what of that, say you? She claims it was a love bite?”

             
“Aye,” Rose nodded, tucking bottles into her apron pockets.

             
“Have you seen the wounds?”

             
“Not yet, but I’m to give her a bath shortly.”

             
“Report back to me. I’m curious. Others are talking.”

             
“Of what?” Rose asked, making her way toward the door.

             
The cook tossed the remaining chicken into the pot and wiped his hands on his apron before walking to her side and whispering in her ear.

             
“Witchcraft!”

             
Rose’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes flashed open in horror. The cook went on.

             
“These quadroons are famous for their dealings in black magic. Some think she put a spell on the captain.”

             
“No!”

             
“Aye, as punishment for selling her dear mother, god bless her.”

             
“It was a terrible deed.”

             
“And have you seen her shed a tear over the matter of the captain’s death?”

             
Rose looked him squarely in the eye. “I’ve seen not a soul care that the vile man is gone. I rejoiced in it myself.”

             
“Yes, but how odd is it to take a gentleman caller into her rooms the eve of her father’s wake?”
             
Rose shrugged. “Mister Remington has called many times before. Nothing strange about the matter. Have you seen the man?”

             
The cook snorted. Mister Remington would make any king envious. The female servants played dice, betting on who would tidy Wren’s room
the mornings they slept late.
All of them wanted a glimpse of the man in the buff.

             
There was a knock at the back door. The cook went to answer it while Rose pushed the kitchen door open and walked up the stairs that led to her lady’s room. She took a deep breath before opening the door and slipping inside. If Miss Wren were involved in something as sinister as black magic, she would make sure she kept the woman exceedingly happy. The captain had died a terrible death. Rose had never seen or heard such hideous coughing and sputtering in all her days. She had stayed away from his quarters as much as possible, not wanting to expose herself to his ills. Oddly enough, no one else in the house had
fallen victim to his disease.
For the first time, Rose wondered if perhaps the cook was onto something. That would explain everyone’s immunity to the captain. Even the men who tended to him daily were fine. The young boy who bathed him was seen playing stick ball in the road only yesterday and he had touched his open wounds. Better to stay in her good graces, regardless.

             
“What time is it, Rose?” Wren asked, stretching her arms high above her head. She was completely naked.

             
“A quarter til nine, ma’am.”

             
“Gads! I dread this day.”

             
Rose nodded as she began emptying potions into the warm tub of water and swirling them about with her hands.

             
“Did you hate him, Rose? As much as I did?”

             
Even if she’d adored the captain, Rose would have never
disagreed with her mistress.
“Aye, ma’am. He was a despicable man.”

             
Wren snorted delicately. “Lord, why couldn’t he have died before he sold my mama?”

             
Rose took her hand and helped her into the bath. She pinned her hair up and began scrubbing her slender back with a soapy sponge. “Tis a shame, ma’am. We all loved your mum. She’s a wonderful, kind lady.”

             
“Mister Remington aims to buy her back.”

             
Rose’s eyebrows rose. She had no doubt that Mister Remington could accomplish anything he promised. He looked to be a man who kept true to his word. “Does he, ma’am? Won’t that be a day of great celebration?”

             
“Oh, isn’t he a fine, man, Rose? Isn’t he the most handsome you’ve ever seen.”

             
Rose smiled, for it was true. She’d never seen a finer man in all her days. “That he is ma’am, that he is
. I’ve never seen you happier.
”

             
Wren sighed and shut her eyes as Rose pulled a wet arm out of the warm water and began soaping and scrubbing. “I never have been, I tell you. I never knew love until now.”

             
“He’s every woman’s dream, ma’am. And a solicitor too?”

             
“Aye. He aims to abolish the wicked acts of slavery. He thinks nothing of my coloring. You think that odd for an Englishman?”

             
“Not at all, ma’am. There are many who detest the practice,” Rose added, for she was fully white herself, waiting on a blackamoor was an oddity for sure. “I, for one.”

             
“Now that father is gone, I warrant you, things around here will change. And for the better.”

             
“Oh?”

             
“All the servants will receive a pension. Room, food
and board is not good enough.
What if you want to buy your children nice things? Why should only noblemen receive luxuries? You work hard. I will not be known as a tyrant, like my father. You’re my family, Rose and you’ll be treated as such.”

             
Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes. She blinked away the blur, focusing on washing Wren’s breasts. A stab of fear sliced through her when she caught sight of the ugly wounds. Four, deep puncture wounds surrounded her right breast. And now ugly, purplish-black bruises radiated from them all. She’d never seen a love bite like this and could not fathom how her mistress could enjoy such an act.

             
“Rose?”

             
“Ma’am?”

             
“Would you like a pension? Don’t you want pretty clothes and jewelry?”

             
“Oh yes, ma’am! You are most generous. I’ve never known a kinder person. Just the thought brings me comfort.”

             
“Just the thought? Whatever do you mean Rose?”

             
“I didn’t mean disrespect, ma’am. It’s only that I understand if you can’t deliver on your promise.”

             
“Why on earth would I not be able to deliver? This estate is mine now. I can do what I please.”

             
Rose thought better of answering. She had not realized it, but now that she thought about it, Wren had been locked away in her room for an entire day, making love to Mister Remington. She’d barely surfaced. Her meals had been delivered to her and she’d heard that other servants had seen her venture outside only twice to walk the gardens with Bruce late at night. She’d didn’t like to be the bearer of bad news. Her mistress would find out soon enough.

             
Wren winced when Rose lifted her heavy breast to wash underneath. “Sorry, ma’am, does it hurt?”

             
Wren smiled. “Not as much now.”

             
Rose chose her words carefully. “I’ll put some balm on it when you’re dried off, ma’am.”

             
“Thank you.”

             
She decided to mention Mister Remington. Her mistress would never guess her probing if she asked just right. “He must be a devil in bed, ma’am. That’s quite a love bite.”

             
A wicked, seductive grin curled itself around her wet face. “Oh how he makes me swoon, Rose. The most virile man ever and ever so gentle with me.”

             
Rose nearly choked on her own spittle. “Gentle ma’am? These wounds hardly look gentle.”

             
Wren waved a hand covered with bubbles in the air. “Oh, please. It was all in good fun, I assure you. He only got carried away in the act. Really, it looks much worse than it is.”

             
“But you gave us such a fright, ma’am. We thought you’d both been hacked up real nice!”

             
Wren giggled. “Surely you jest. Was it that bad, really?”

             
Rose nodded. “The sheets had to be burned, ma’am. Your gown was soiled beyond belief.”

             
“Come now. You say that you heard screams. They were only calls of love. Sometimes I think the whole lot of you might tend to your own affairs.”

             
“We thought you were hurt, ma’am. Honest! And then when we barged in and saw all the blood, why Mary and I fainted dead away. It was quite a sight.”