DeliveredIntoHisHands (20 page)

And remember it she would.

He groaned, not because his plan had been
laid to waste, but because her blood was so sweet, so intoxicating that it was
filling his senses, doing things to his body that he’d never experienced
before. He could feel his fangs sharpening, becoming acutely sensitive to his
penetration of her vein. He was feeding from her as he never had from any other
living thing and it scared him. He knew he had to stop else he would do to her
what he had done to the unfortunate Henry Belvoir.

Snapping his head back, retracting his
fangs though they ached almost as badly as the hard-as-steel erection pressing
at the front of his uniform pants, he jerked her arms down and behind her.

“Antonia!” he shouted to gain her attention
but she was fighting him savagely, squirming like an eel against him—which only
increased the need in his cock.

Twin rivulets of blood were tracking down
her neck, pulsing at the puncture wounds. Her breasts were pressed to his chest
and her nipples engorged so he felt their hardness through his shirt. He wanted
to drag his tongue over the blood. He wanted to nip the tight little buds
thrusting against him.

“Fuck me,” she said, shocking him to his
core for he’d never heard her say such a thing. A part of him wanted to slap
her for that part told him it was Clay’s influence that had corrupted her. Another
part wanted to throw her to the floor of the tent and rut her like a stag.

He could feel the Changing beginning.
Already her body heat had gone up. There was a wildness to her eyes and he
caught a fleeting glimpse of red sparks flickering there. It was getting harder
to hold her for her strength was increasing. Though he had yet to share his own
blood with her, he knew the enzymes he had transferred from his fangs into her
bloodstream. The vampire-borne proteins that catalyzed and accelerated the
biochemical processes of the Changing were already coursing through her veins
and making rapid, radical changes in her DNA.

“Garrick, do it!” she pleaded, rubbing
herself against him.

Lust, the forceful desire to copulate with
her male was riding her hard. It was an intense itch that could only be
satisfied by the one who had bitten her. No other male would ever be able to mount
her after the Changing. She would kill any who dared try.

And it wasn’t just the vampire part of him
that had entered her when he bit her. The Panthera hellion would have forced
its own proteins into the mix. No one had ever been able to explain to him how
that happened, what caused it, but he suspected the hellion did not like
playing second fiddle to the vampire part of his being.

“Easy, wench,” he said, trying to control
her but finding it increasingly hard to do. She was thrusting her pelvis against
his and every part of him was screaming for release. He took a deep breath then
lifted her clear of the floor, carrying her squirming and moaning to his bunk,
and came down hard atop her, releasing her hands at the last moment. Her arms
latched like boa constrictors around his neck, pulling him to her like a
drowning woman clutching a life preserver.

One of the strange, unexplainable—but
useful—powers of the Panthera was the ability to dematerialize clothing on
command. He rarely used that power but at that moment he stripped them both
naked so that his flesh and hers became a fusion of gyrating, undulating
body-to-body dynamism. Her body temperature had soared so high she was
glistening with sweat.

Her legs came up to trap his waist—clamping
around him fiercely as she locked her ankles—and she rubbed her wet cunt
against his crotch. The scent of her readiness to mate did wicked things to his
cock and he reached down to grab it so he could ram it into her as hard as they
both wanted him to.

It had been years since he had slid into
the heated velvet warmth of his wife’s body. Months since he’d taken matters
into his own hand. He had not lain with a woman since the last time he had made
love to Antonia in their bed in Castle Blackthorn. All the pent-up years of
wanting her, missing her, needing her was in the thrust that carried his cock
deep into her slick sheath.

“Garrick!” she screamed and clawed savagely
at his back as she lifted and thrust her hips into the cradle of his.

He jammed his hands beneath her ass and
lifted her to him, pushing himself as deep as he could go, withdrawing then
ramming into her hard enough to make the bunk vibrate beneath them. He could
feel blood running down his back for she was savagely clawing him with each
powerful thrust.

The Changing was advancing faster than he
could have anticipated. He almost feared giving her his blood and decided he
should wait until their next mating before he did.

That decision was taken from him as she
lifted her head and sank her teeth into his jugular. She latched her lips on
his flesh, began to suck hungrily. The fierceness of her swallowing stunned him
but he didn’t have long to consider it. Bright, intense spirals of light
exploded around him and the burning need in his cock intensified ten times
over. The arousal was so powerful his entire body quaked with it. He dug his
fingernails into her ass and slammed mindlessly into her, craving to satisfy
the wild urge that was rocketing through him.

Her cunt was slick with their combined
juices and for some strange reason the barb on the end of his cock had risen.
He could feel it dragging across that small, rough mound at the top of her
vaginal wall and with every pass she shuddered, raking his back until it hurt,
and moaned.

Feeling her tongue lapping at the puncture
wounds in his neck, swirling around them, he realized her canines had extended
into fangs. Too soon, he thought. The Changing was occurring too quickly—far
sooner than it should have—and he wondered if he had created a Life-mate he
might not be able to control.

Arching up to meet his every thrust, his
wife released his neck and began whipping her head from side to side. Her face
was gleaming with sweat and tendrils of hair were stuck to it. Her eyes were
wild and they were now entirely red.

She was in pain. He knew she was because he
could feel it down to the marrow of his bones. It was a superheated agony that
was tearing through her and changing organs as it flowed. Though she was more
aroused than she would ever be again and was filled with mindless lust, he knew
she hurt. It couldn’t be helped now but he was ashamed he had not ushered her
into being One with the Blood as he had sworn he would.

“Garrick!”

Her scream was long and went on and on as
her release rippled through her. So strong were the pulses around his cock—so
tight and so powerful—it was actually painful. It felt as though his shaft was
being squeezed with a vice. Her inner muscles were undulating around it,
milking it, clasping it so forcefully he grunted with the discomfort.

Then he came. Harder and longer and more
powerfully than he ever had. He thought the top of his head would explode as
dark-red streaks of light flashed through his brain. The pleasure that gripped
him was too intense and he wasn’t sure his heart could stand the strain as jets
of cum shot from him in thick bursts. He could barely draw breath for her legs
were clenched so tightly around him. He had to break free of her. His very
sanity depended on it.

He pulled out—raking his barb across her
swollen clit—and she screamed so loudly from the intense pleasure of it she
nearly deafened him. Hovering over her, braced on trembling arms away from her
writhing body as the last remnants of climax rocked her, he stared down at her
with amazement. Had he thought her beautiful before? Now she was exquisitely
so. His chest heaving, breath coming in harsh gasps, all he could do was hold
himself there and take in the absolute glory that was his woman.

She was staring back at him with
passion-glazed eyes—her body glistening with sweat and moving sensuously upon
the damp sheet—and all he wanted to do was plunge into her. His cock was
actually getting hard again. When she swept her tongue across her upper lip and
he caught the gleam of her fangs behind her lips, he dropped upon her, her arms
going around him like vises.

* * * * *

Antonia woke to the sound of a large engine
close by. She opened her eyes and was surprised to find herself locked tightly
in Garrick’s arms. His face was turned toward her and he was looking at her,
seeming to be gauging her reaction to the rumbling roar overhead.

“The transport,” he said.

She clenched her teeth. “I will not go,”
she stated.

“No,” he said. “You won’t.”

“Let go of me,” she said.

“Never.”

She pushed against his chest. “I need to
pee, vampire,” she snapped. “Let go of me.”

He relaxed his hold just a fraction,
tightened it almost as though he were warning her, and then removed his arms.
He laced his hands behind his head. She got up from the bed, looked down at her
nudity then cast her eyes about the room looking for her clothes.

“I made them go poof,” he reminded her.

“Then make them reappear!” she snarled.
“Unless you want me to walk out of here in my birthday suit.”

He did as she asked then watched her march
over to the tent flap. He smiled, anticipating what he knew would happen.

“I’m sorry, milady,” he heard the guard
outside say. “I can’t let you pass.”

“I have to pee!” she snapped.

“There is a chamber pot in the general’s
tent, milady,” the guard said calmly.

A hiss of outrage, a curse that elevated
his brow and she whipped back through the flap.

“I have to pee!” she told him.

“Chamber pot is under the bunk, wench,” he
replied.

“I will not pee in that pot with you lying
there!” she stated.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself but I’m not
leaving.”

Another curse and she stomped over to the
bunk, crouched down to grab the porcelain receptacle. With her back to him, she
hiked up the hem of her skirt and squatted over the pot.

“I hate you,” she said.

“No you don’t,” he replied and sat up. He
stretched, yawned, scratched his chest then put his feet on the floor. His leg
grazed her arm and she stiffened, glancing up at him, which made him grin for
his jutting cock was at eye level to her.

“Oh for the love of the goddess!” she
grumbled, looking away. “Get that thing away from me!”

“Don’t get excited, wench. I too have to
piss,” he informed her. “If you ever finish.”

“I need some tissue,” she said through
clenched teeth.

“Sorry, don’t have any,” he told her.

“What the hell do you wipe yourself with?”
she demanded.

“I don’t shit in that pot, wench,” he said.
“I go to the latrine same as everyone else.”

She growled then got to her feet. “I hate
you!”

He shrugged as she moved away then braced
his legs apart, took himself in hand.

“And please put some clothes on!” she
ordered.

“Woman, you’ve seen me naked many times.
Surely the sight doesn’t offend you at this late date,” he muttered.

“Rick?” Marc said from beyond the tent
flap.

“Come.” His uniform settled into place in
the blink of an eye.

Marc entered, glanced at Antonia then
settled his gaze on Garrick. “Transport’s ready to begin loading. Captain wants
to know how many other…” He looked at Antonia. “Others will be going with him.”

“Just those on the roster,” Garrick said.

“She’s on the roster,” Marc reminded him.

“I’m not going,” Antonia said, chin raised.
When Marc switched his attention from her to Garrick. She put her hands on her
hips. “Tell him, vampire.”

At that word, Marc’s eyebrows shot up.
“Rick?” he questioned.

“She’s not going.”

“All righty then,” Marc said. “Anything you
want me to tell the captain?”

“No but there is something I need you to
do,” Garrick said.

“Name it.”

“I want you to send a contingent of our
best guards to Warwyck Castle. Send Oran along as my personal rep. Tell him to
have the staff prepare the keep for my…” He turned his gaze to Antonia. “Our
arrival.”

Marc nodded. “Copy that,” he said.

“Any word from the Volakis king?”

“Not as yet,” Marc replied. “Although there
was a pitched battle near Colton early this morn. Sixty rebels were killed.”

Antonia closed her eyes and turned away.

“Our losses?” Garrick asked, watching her.

“I’m happy to say none,” Marc informed him.

“Good. What word of Clay?”

“I’ve heard nothing,” Marc replied.

“I’m sure he knows by now that I have her,”
Garrick said and saw her flinch. “My guess is he’ll try to get her back. I know
I would.”

Antonia opened her eyes and looked at him.
He was giving her a look that dared her to contradict him. She tossed her head,
went over to the bunk—the most comfortable place to sit—and plopped down.

“And bring us some food,” Garrick said. “I
don’t feel much like going to the mess tent.”

Marc frowned. “Another headache?”

“It’s coming,” Garrick replied.

“Too much stress,” Marc suggested. He cast
Antonia a quick glimpse then departed.

Garrick went to his desk and sat down,
shuffling the papers on his desk until he found what he sought. He picked up a
pen. Neither spoke as he worked. Now and again he would put his fingertips to
his right temple and massage tight little circles there.

“Serves you right for what you did,” she
said.

He grunted in acknowledgement of her words.

“I can’t go out in the Sun ever again, can
I?” she asked quietly.

“Not unless you want to burn.”

“You swore you wouldn’t do this to me,” she
said, a single bloody tear easing down her cheek.

“That was then. This is now.”

“It’s always been about you, hasn’t it,
vampire?” she asked in a bitter voice.