Authors: Stacey Brutger
BloodSworn (8 page)
It wasn’t ideal. She couldn’t perform the tests she needed
to help them the way she wanted, but she did enough to save lives. If they knew
she was a witch, they said nothing. She’d been removed from her coven so many
years ago that there was no real connection anymore.
Merrick wanted to protest that he didn’t need her help and tighten
his lips against spitting out the words. He sat, grunting at the way his back
had stiffened. He must have overworked it fighting off both attacks and it was
now retaliating. He’d be lucky if he were able to walk to his room later.
The thought of her as his personal doctor infuriated him,
but she was right. He needed help. The wounds weren’t healing properly. He
would not put her and his pack in danger by being stubborn, his bruised pride
notwithstanding. But the devilish side of him wouldn’t let her get off that
easy.
“If I agree, we’ll have to come up with a different story. I
can’t have the pack learn of your position. Any show of weakness would put us
both at risk.” Wariness entered her eyes, and his smile kicked up a bit.
Smart girl.
“What do you have in mind?”
Those innocent words wiped off his smile. If she had an
inkling of what he really wanted, she’d run now. “The only way you would be
able to have unlimited access to the house and me is to make you my concubine.”
To say that he expected more of a reaction than her lazy
blink would be an understatement. To most of the shifter world, he was giving
her an honor.
“What would that entail?”
“You would be at my beck and call.” Just the thought of her
hands on him got him hard. The thought of marking her, leaving his scent all
over her, had him clenching his fists to keep his lion from shoving the desk out
of the way and staking claim now.
He had to go slow. Even if he claimed her as his concubine,
others would protest that she was not a shifter. Judith would see it as an
insult, especially right after he’d turned down her proposal.
When Trina passed the front of the desk in her pacing, Merrick
swiped her hat from her head before she could react. She whirled on him, her
shoulder-length hair spilled around her face. It wasn’t just brown, but a beautiful
mahogany of browns and rusty red highlights that no bottle could produce.
She lunged for the hat, but he reclined back in the chair,
pulling it out of her reach. She’d have to crawl into his lap to get it.
Emotions darkened her eyes, but she didn’t venture nearer. Too bad. He’d love
to lure her closer and wrestle for the hat.
She wouldn’t be distracted. “What else?”
“We would have to stay in the same room to avoid raising
suspicion.”
“Agreed, but different beds.”
Her immediate reply had him scowling. He was the Leo. Women
appreciated his attention. It bothered him that she pretended to be
uninterested when they both knew otherwise. He saw her reaction to him on the
street, the way she had a hard time resisting his touch. Hell, the smell of her
arousal would be etched on his brain until he had her.
Part of him wondered if it wouldn’t be there until he died.
“And no physical interaction besides what is necessary for
your recovery.”
Merrick shook his head. “It would raise suspicions.”
That was a flat out lie, but he refused to give up his right
to touch her whenever he got the chance. He felt not one iota of remorse for deceiving
her.
Her lips pursed like he’d asked her to bathe in manure. He
wasn’t amused. It only made him more determined to prove that she felt the
same.
“Fine, but I want full use of your labs.”
“Granted…with the condition you don’t leave the Den
without a guard.”
She was already shaking her head. “I have to go to work. I
can’t have strange men trailing me about.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that we were attacked twice
tonight. Once it’s become known you’re my concubine, the danger will increase.”
“Explain.”
“Another shifter could challenge you, a rival pack wanting
to use you as a bargaining chip again me. If one of my men were present, they
could be appointed as your champion. If you’re on your own, they would expect
you to defend yourself.”
“So it wouldn’t have to be you?”
His jaw clenched at the insult. Of course she didn’t think him
capable of protecting her, not after what happened tonight. He wanted to pick
her up and shake her. Yes, she might have helped fend off an attack, but that
didn’t mean she could handle herself in a one-on-one fight with a full shifter.
Though she was a witch, she’d denied it on more than one
occasion. That meant she would only use her magic as a last resort, which would
be a mistake when dealing with non-humans.
A faint scent rose from the cap he held. Her scent. It
helped calm him. She was here, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere as long as he
got a say.
“No, it wouldn’t have to be me, but I will want to be
notified when you leave the house. And you are not allowed to disappear after
the two weeks are up without telling me first.”
He didn’t realize he had been nervous about her answer until
she nodded and the pressure in his chest eased. Though he wasn’t exactly happy
with the negotiations, he was satisfied with what he’d won.
Her in his life, under his protection, and the ability to touch
her at any time without her protesting.
He took it as a victory.
He wanted to demand more but knew he wouldn’t get anything
else out of her if the mulish tilt to her chin was any indication. He was an
alpha, and it galled him that he had to back down.
Very slowly, he stood and held out his hand. “Then we have a
deal.”
He hated the hesitation when she looked at his hand. He tightened
his lips and waited. He wanted her touch, no matter how small. He couldn’t help
but imagine the way they would seal the deal if she were appointed his
concubine in truth.
She gulped when she saw the cat that ate the canary smile on
Merrick’s face.
Why did she feel she was about to be devoured?
And why the hell didn’t it scare her more?
She discreetly rubbed her palm on the seat of her pants and carefully
put her hand into his.
As she feared, his touch jolted her, short-circuiting her
brain. She knew she should’ve demanded more, but for the life of her, she couldn’t
come up with a single thought other than she would have to examine him.
Touch him.
Devil take it, she was screwed.
She shook her head as if to rid herself of those tantalizing
images and pulled her hand away. His grip tightened a fraction, his finger
brushing against her pulse-point before he reluctantly released her.
“I’ll have you shown to our room.”
T
rina
took a deep breath as soon as the door shut behind her. Fresh air trickled into
her lungs, but it did nothing to loosen the effect of Merrick’s hold on her.
After another minute of standing in the same place, her surroundings slowly
filtered into her brain.
The room was more of a suite than a single man’s bedroom.
The furniture was huge, matching the style of the rest of the house. Good
gracious, the place had to have been built by giants.
The bed was twice the size of her queen-size. The platform
alone raised the mattress to waist height. To get into the thing, she’d have to
pull herself up and crawl.
Not that she would sleep in his bed, she reminded herself.
She quickly turned away from temptation and surveyed the rest
of the room. Though the dark greens and browns were masculine, there was no way
a man decorated this room. Not with all the details and custom designed
furniture.
Before she could prevent it, jealousy winged through her.
Just how many other women had he invited here? How many concubines had waltzed
in and out of his life? He was too handsome, too masculine not to have indulged
himself.
Like hell would she join that long line.
A gleam of metal caught her attention.
A massive broadsword, one so large it would come up to her breastbone,
hung over the bed. There were no jewels or fancy designs as seen in some of the
new remakes. No, this sword had been passed down through the generations.
Functional.
The press of its age hovered in the air, a remembrance of wars
fought and blood drawn. She had no doubt that if Merrick drew it down from the
wall, he’d be a sight to behold.
An image of Merrick with the sword in hand rose in her mind
and heated her blood. Once there, she couldn’t expel it.
She dropped her pack by the couch then stormed across the
room to the bar and grabbed a bottle of water, wishing it were something
stronger. Unfortunately, she had a feeling she needed to remain on her toes
around the shifters if she wanted to avoid being mowed down.
She took a gulp of water and nearly choked when she got a
peek at the bathroom. The tub was sunk into the floor, more of a whirlpool than
a single person bathtub. Behind it, the shower was open with a total of no less
than six showerheads. The whole room was golden, and for some reason, it
reminded her of him.
It had to cost a fortune.
She walked forward then glanced up at the filtered light. A
skylight covered a third of the bathroom ceiling, illuminating the horizon
until it looked like she was right under the stars. Unable to help herself, she
turned on the water and stripped.
One huge-ass mirror lined the far wall, so she couldn’t
avoid her reflection. She’d lost weight in the last few weeks. Her ribs stuck
out a little. Bruises lined her body. She removed the bandages to see that
while the gashes were healing reasonably well, her side resembled something scraped
off the bottom of a shoe.
She rifled through the cabinets and pulled out a fluffy
towel the size of a small blanket. When she stuck her foot in the water, she
sighed and slid under the steamy surface. Jets hit her aching muscles, and she
groaned.
After five minutes, curiousness got the better of her. She
sniffed the bottles near the tub.
They smelled like him.
Male.
Sexy.
Which reminded her that she needed to get a move on if she
didn’t want to be caught naked. He’d no doubt see it as an invitation.
Sad part was she wasn’t sure he’d be wrong.
She washed quickly and wrapped the towel around herself. She
reapplied the bandages to her ribs, then wrinkled her nose at the pile of
clothes on the floor and wished for something else to wear. It wasn’t vanity or
the need to impress Merrick. At least that’s what she told herself. She’d been
wearing the same clothes for weeks straight. Then her practical side reasserted
itself. She couldn’t prance around naked, so she dressed.
She was dead on her feet, her brain shutting down as she
tugged the blanket off the bed.
And kept on pulling, feeling a little like a magician
pulling an endless handkerchief from his sleeve when the sheet never seemed to
end. Silk. Of course. She bundled it in her arms and walked to the couch.
Then pulled up short.
A whole football team could sit side-by-side on the damn
thing. With a sigh, she curled up in a corner feeling very small and alone.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Merrick put his hand on the knob to his room then hesitated,
uncertain what to expect. He knew what he wanted to find, but the truth was usually
something altogether
different.
It took him longer than he expected to get ahold of both the
wolves and the local witch council. The witches sounded surprised when he asked
for a track and trace, but had insisted on sending over a Familiaran instead of
just complying with his request. As for the wolves, he’d ordered a meeting
first thing after dawn. For Dame Judith, that wouldn’t be before nine in the
morning.
He opened the room to darkness, and involuntarily sucked in
a deep breath in hopes of catching her scent. He’d left her hat in his office
and found himself missing her smell. His eyes adjusted almost immediately and came
to rest on the bed.
Only to find it empty.
He tensed, ready to turn around and tear apart the house
when he heard her soft breathing. Keeping his tread light, he followed the
sound.
And found her curled up at the far side of the couch, nearly
hidden by the mound of blankets she’d pilfered from the bed. Her hair was still
wet from the bath, and he smelled his soaps on her.
It was a start.
The proprietary feeling should’ve worried him, but all he
felt was smug.
Then he frowned to see that she had the same old clothes on
from the day before. Probably her only clothes now that the ones she wore
earlier tonight had been destroyed. He’d have some outfits delivered for her
tomorrow. Women liked that sort of thing.
When he gazed down at her, there was nothing striking about
her appearance, nothing that should make her stand out to him. Yet she did. Taken
separately, her features were plain, but something about the way they were put
together, something about
her
shone through, making it impossible for
him to look away.
By shifter standards, she was delicate, barely reaching 5’
6” if he had to guess, weighing no more than hundred and a quarter. That may be
average for a human female her age, but to a shifter, she was tiny. Though
curvy, she was missing the twenty pounds of padding that would make her
eye-catching. Her breasts wouldn’t be more than a handful, but his palms
tingled as he imagined how they would react when he touched them. Shifter women
had either a rawboned or an overly voluptuous appearance. There was no in
between.
He wasn’t aware how long he stood there staring when his muscles
tightened along his spine. The throbbing in his back had kicked up again ever
since the fight, telling him to get some rest, but it rankled to see her on the
couch, all alone and so forlorn. His heart ached as he looked at her.
They agreed to separate beds, but he hated it.
He wanted her in his bed, her scent on his sheets.
He bent to scoop her up when something shiny caught his eye.
The little knife she’d waved around earlier was clutched in
her fist. He carefully uncurled her fingers and admired the workmanship of the
blade. It was heavier than it appeared. And from the way his hands warmed from
just holding the pommel, it was part silver.
He tucked the knife under the pillow on the bed. Then
ignoring the growing ache in his back, he scooped her up in his arms.
He anticipated a fight.
The last thing he expected was for her to curl herself
around him, lay her hand over his heart and relax so trustingly against him. He
wasn’t sure how long he stood there before he mentally shook himself and laid
her across his bed.
He immediately missed her warmth.
He wanted to crawl under the covers with her and wrap her in
his arms. He wanted her to rest her head against him again, already missing her
soft breath on his neck.
Instead, he stripped, never once taking his eyes off her,
memorizing the image of her stretched out on his bed. Then he carefully reclined
on the couch…as much as his back would allow.
As he gathered up the sheet from the floor, he saw the strap
of her pack under the couch. He was so desperate for information on her, his
fingers curled with the need to pull it out and snoop. But he couldn’t risk
being caught.
He had a feeling that she knew every fingerprint on the bag.
He yanked up the sheet then inhaled when he caught her delicate scent mixed
with his soap.
It would take forever for him to fall asleep. His insomnia had
been growing worse with each passing week. A few hours’ rest was all he could
allow himself before he had to rise and prepare for the early morning meetings,
not to mention that the men obviously needed to be trained harder.
He shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d
wandered home by herself. Either she would’ve run, or they would’ve killed her.
Neither was acceptable.
Part of him feared she would disappear on him if he closed
his eyes. He stared at the bed, not even bothering to blink, half-expecting to
see her form slip out of the room if he didn’t stay alert.
Despite his best efforts, her scent and the sound of her steady
breathing had his eyes falling shut.