Blood Father

  Arielle felt her body stretch impossibly.

  She felt her core yield to Kagen’s invasion, and she felt the walls of her sheath tighten around the staff that still felt ten sizes too big—but there wasn’t an ounce of pain.

  Kagen watched her like a hawk as he began to move his hips. He controlled his thrusts, adjusted the pressure, and slowly pulled back—or gently pushed forward—based upon her every response.

  And still there was no pain.

  At least not in her.

  Though stoic, his face reflected the truth of what he was enduring: Kagen was shielding Arielle from pain by taking all of the unpleasant sensations into his own body. He was experiencing her discomfort so she didn’t have to.

  Slowly, gradually, he began to move more freely, and her body began to adjust to his: to stretch, to open, to take him in…as if he had always been there. As if he somehow…belonged.

  His face eventually relaxed.

  His brow finally smoothed.

  His tense shoulders became pliant, and Arielle shuddered with relief, pleasure, and anticipation.

  As sensation began to return, one small ache, one tantalizing current, one surprising twinge at a time, Kagen dropped his head forward and moaned—it was a deep groan of pleasure, his hair falling into his eyes.

  Arielle arched her back at the sound. Her thighs drew back, as if by their own accord, and she wrapped her legs, seamlessly, around his waist.

  He took the invitation as the signal it was, meeting her entreaty with his first, hard, uninhibited thrust.

  She gasped. “Oh, gods!” Her womb felt like it was on fire, but it was not a painful, searing blaze; rather, it was a slow, burning ember…about to ignite.

  He thrust in and out several more times, pulling back so far he almost withdrew, then plunging forward with the same amount of force, burying his body to the hilt. Her stomach quivered; her womb contracted; the muscles in her thighs grew taut. She grasped at his shoulders for purchase, trying to ride out the strange sensations…and he thrust again…and again.

  Only this time, he clenched his fists and arched his back.

  And then he picked up the pace and changed his motion, his rhythm: He rocked his hips and rubbed against her, rotating in smooth, maddening circles until Arielle thought she would scream. He alternated between fast, hard thrusts and long, smooth strokes, all the while, reciting her name.

  Arielle bit her lip and dug her fingernails into his powerful, masculine shoulders. “Kagen!” She threw back her head and moaned.

  His mouth descended upon hers as he continued the erotic assault.

  He dipped to taste her breasts and to suckle her nipples. He slid his hand above her belly and began to delve into her curls, caressing her heat with his thumb. He raked his fangs beneath her ear and, finally, sank them deep into her jugular, teasing the wounds with his tongue.

  Arielle squirmed like a worm beneath him.

  She clenched her hands into fists and tried to control her breathing.

  Her eyes shot open, and she stared at the brilliant night sky, trying desperately to find something to focus on, to grab hold of, anything to keep her from spiraling into the cosmos in a startling wave of flight. She ground her hips wantonly against his pelvis and drew back her legs…further…wider…begging, pleading, needing him to fill her deeper…

  Now.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she whimpered in utter helplessness and confusion. Every nerve in her body was alive, singing, and weeping.

  It was excruciating, overpowering, and exasperating…all at the same time.

  “Kagen. Kagen! Kagen.”

  He withdrew his fangs. “That’s it, baby. Just let go.” He growled like an animal in her ear, and she thrashed wildly in reaction. He grasped her hips and held her firmly beneath him, restraining her fevered need for movement, even as he continued to thrust.

  Unable to take a moment more, she began to sob. “Kagen, I…I can’t…I’m going to break…I can’t take it.” She nearly screamed.

  He growled deep in his throat then, a lion’s purr of dominance and satisfaction. Rising up onto his arms, he gazed down into her eyes and met her frantic gaze with a carnal stare of his own. He was magnificent, beyond imagining, stunning beyond compare, with his ivory fangs gleaming in the moonlight, and Arielle felt her body begin to take flight.

  “Don’t fight it, Arielle,” he groaned, his voice nothing more than a guttural rasp. “Come for me, sweeting. Give me all of you.” He dropped his head to her neck, ran his fangs along her jugular, and whispered in her ear. “I want to hear you cry out my name in pleasure.”

  Arielle scored his back with her nails.

  She fisted his hair in her hands and screamed his name as her body came apart in violent waves of ecstasy.

  And Kagen quickly followed suit.

  He bit her again, his fangs sinking deep into her throat as he trembled—his thick, pulsing manhood pumping stream after stream of passion deep into her womb.

  When, at last, it was over, Arielle tried to stop her heart from racing. She tried to stop her body from trembling. She tried to catch her breath.

  Hell, she would have tried to catch her heart, but it was much too late for that—it was hopelessly and eternally gone. It belonged to Kagen Silivasi, every chamber, every vessel, every strong, steady beat. Who knew that making love could feel like that?

  Rolling onto his back, Kagen sank down into the pool and pulled her gently on top of him. He enfolded her in his arms, nuzzled her sweat-dampened hair, and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Penny for your thoughts?” he whispered in her ear.

  She smiled inwardly, trying to think of a way to respond to his query: Penny for your thoughts… She couldn’t help but remember the last time she had seen Keitaro Silivasi in the slave hut in Mhier; the ancient vampire had used the exact same phrase to get her to talk. Apparently, the leaves didn’t fall that far from the tree.

  She smiled and opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. How could she possibly express her thoughts in mere words, the feelings that were swelling in her heart, the contentment that was coursing through her veins? She shook her head and peeked at him through the corner of her eye, and then a sheepish smile crossed her lips. “Can we…could we… possibly…”

  “Yes?” Kagen prompted, his right eyebrow raised in question.

  She giggled like an impish child. “Could we possibly do that again?”

  The Ancient Master Healer drew in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes turned positively molten with desire, and his lips turned back in a devilish hiss. Finally, he smiled like the glorious, mischievous vampire he was and groaned deep in his throat. “Oh dear goddess, yes!” He nipped her behind the ear and purred like a satiated cat. “Yes.” He placed a soft, tender kiss on her lips and repeated it a third time: “Yes.”

  And then he laughed with utter male satisfaction and gathered her deeper into his arms.

  “Yes, Arielle, the answer will always be yes.”

  twenty-eight

  The next morning

  Arielle smoothed the front of her thigh-length tunic, glanced down at the comfortable black leggings she was wearing beneath the cascading frock, and drew in a deep, cleansing breath for courage. Kagen had promised to take her “shopping” for new clothes at the first available opportunity, and in the meantime, Jocelyn had offered to lend her several outfits from her own wardrobe. She reveled in the feel of the soft, pliable fabric and tried to still her racing heart as she reached for the doorknob outside Keitaro’s room and gently turned the handle.

  “Hello,” she called softly, taking her first step into the room.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Standing ten feet away in front of an open window was the male, the vampire, she had known since childhood. Only, this man—this dashing, robust creature—looked nothing at all like the captive slave she had come to know over so many years in Mhier.

  Keitaro looked positively vigorous.

&n
bsp; His thick black hair shined with a light she had never seen in it before, the long, smooth locks gleaming with an almost purple-ish glow, and his chiseled features, so bronzed and etched with intensity, were smooth and relaxed, no longer beleaguered with pain. He stood to his full, imposing height and eagerly held out his arms, the threads of his modern clothes hugging his dynamic form like armor adorning an ancient knight. “Rielle…” He breathed her name like a prayer.

  Arielle’s eyes filled with pressing tears, and she lost all sense of decorum. She darted across the room and flung herself into his arms, laughing joyously as he embraced her with zeal. “Keitaro! Oh my lords, look at you!” Her voice was positively giddy.

  Keitaro chuckled low in his throat and spun her around, the power in his arms, the vigor in his back, the strength in his chest as stark as the radiance in his eyes. “Rielle,” he repeated, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

  Finally, she stepped back from his embrace and regarded him with unconcealed appreciation. “You look amazing. You look…healthy.”

  He smiled warmly and nodded. “As do you, daughter of my heart.”

  Arielle glowed inside. She could hardly believe this moment was real. “Thank you.”

  He gestured toward a soft armchair at the back of the room, strolled languidly toward it, and patted the cushion, encouraging her to take a seat; and then he sank down on a black-and-metal stool, opposite of the chair, and leaned in toward her, his eyes narrowing in rapt attention. “How is my son?” he asked eagerly. “How are you and my son?”

  Arielle felt her face flush with heat, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. “We are…well…for now.”

  “Well?” Keitaro pressed.

  She bit her bottom lip and fidgeted with her hands. “Very…well.”

  He smiled an ingratiating grin. “Good. Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Then you are adjusting?”

  She sighed and began to tug on her sleeve, turning the hem in and out several times before grasping it in the palm of her hand. “Oh, I don’t know if I would say that. I’m taking things one day—no, one moment—at a time.”

  Keitaro nodded. “The gods could not ask anything more of you right now, Rielle—and neither could Kagen.”

  She released the hem of her tunic, folded her hands in her lap, and practically vibrated with emotion. “Keitaro.” Her eyes filled with moisture once more, and she struggled to blink back the tears. “You are home…free…with your sons.” She held her hands up in wonder. “Can you believe it? Does any of this seem real?”

  The dark brown irises of his eyes lit up with pleasure as he responded to her genuine joy for him with a healthy dose of his own. “I still have to pinch myself occasionally,” he said. “Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming—or I’m afraid that I’m still in Mhier—or perhaps I’ve died and gone to the spirit world.”

  Arielle shook her head. “You’re not dreaming, Keitaro. And you’re not dead, either.”

  “No,” he said with conviction. “I’m not.” He interlocked his fingers and shifted forward in his seat. “So, tell me everything.”

  She shrugged and shook her head in wonderment. “I hardly know where to begin.” Deciding to start at the beginning, she took a deep breath and thought back to the last day in Mhier, the battle in King Thane’s arena, and the flight that led back to Dark Moon Vale. “How much did your sons share with you? About the events that took place in Mhier?”

  “Quite a bit,” Keitaro said. “We haven’t had a lot of time to talk, but we’ve exchanged a great deal of information in the time that we’ve had.”

  She nodded, relieved to hear it. “Then you know that the lycans found the Rebel Camp.” She looked away and tried feverishly to concentrate solely on the facts—the last thing she wanted was to imagine her friends’ demise. “Walker, Kade, even Echo…they’re gone.”

  Keitaro declined his head in a solemn nod, and then he used his feet to propel the stool forward on the tiny black wheels. When it came to rest in front of her, he reached out and took her hand in his. “I do know this, Rielle. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She let the words linger, taking them into her heart. Squeezing his hand, she said, “Thank you. Thank you. It’s just…it’s hard to believe…after all these years, the resistance is gone.”

  “Indeed,” Keitaro replied. He waited in companionable silence, seeming to understand her need to process as they talked, and then he whispered in an eerily savage tone: “And King Thane, he is dead as well.” His eyes turned the color of liquid lava, and she literally felt a flash of heat shoot through his hand before it, once again, returned to a normal temperature. “But not before he took you…for a night.” There was no accusation in his voice, not even the hint of inflection; nevertheless, his meaning was clear: What did that vile monster do to you?

  Arielle quickly shook her head. “He did not,” she said, her voice trailing off. “He never…” She met his eyes with a rock-hard stare. “Your son is the only man I’ve ever known.” She swallowed hard, feeling a bit like a teenager having a birds-and-bees chat with her father, but she knew that the information was important.

  Keitaro squeezed her hand in reassurance. “But he hurt you…Thane did?”

  Arielle raised her left shoulder in a show of disinterest. “Of course,” she whispered. “But it’s done.” She leaned forward and pitched her own voice in a lethal, feminine purr. “Kagen impaled him through the skull with the pommel of his own sword, and then he carved out his heart with a scalpel and tossed it on the ground like the garbage it was. It was a good death for a worthless hound.”

  Keitaro’s jaw tightened. “Very fitting, indeed.” His own eyes blazed with contempt, and he ran his tongue along his upper teeth, as if to repel his fangs. “And Cain—the maggot that took my wife’s life—his heart ceased beating in the palm of my hand.” He stared off into the distance as if reliving the moment. “I am beholden to my sons, grateful for all that they did, but I will forever thank the gods for giving me that exquisite moment, for allowing my hands to be the ones that ushered that bastard into the underworld.”

  Arielle felt the truth of his words and shivered. “And Teague is gone as well…the male who murdered my mother”—she sat back to consider her words carefully—“let’s just say that Kagen eviscerated him on the sands, but not before he neutered the worthless cur where he stood.”

  Keitaro nodded with approval. “And Xavier?”

  Arielle frowned. “I never saw him in the arena.”

  “Nor did I,” Keitaro said. “Although the entire experience seems more like a dream, I’m afraid that General Matista lives on—although, I can assure you, if he does, he does not reside in the same world he used to.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Arielle agreed, grateful for that small concession.

  “And General Gavin Morel?” Keitaro asked.

  “Killed…by Marquis’s hand.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Keitaro mumbled. He let out a deep breath and simply resided in the moment.

  A pregnant silence settled over them then, as pure and unassuming as the driven snow, and then Arielle finally asked, “Will you or your sons go back to Mhier? Will you try to exterminate the lycans that are left?” She tried to conceal her dread, her fear, the thought of Kagen and his brothers going back into harm’s way—of Keitaro, yet again, returning to that cursed realm, just to take care of unfinished business. She knew that they were warriors at heart, that they lived by an unyielding code; yet and still, she’d had enough of lycans to last her ten lifetimes, and she prayed the Silivasis would just…stay home.

  Keitaro shook his head emphatically. “No. I don’t think so.” His lips twitched in a reflexive scowl, and he let out a deep-throated snarl he didn’t appear aware of. “Nachari has already tried to reopen the portal, just to assess our options, determine our vulnerability, and from what he says, the spell no longer works.”

  “What do you mean, The spell no longer works?” Arielle asked, frowning.


  “It means that the lycans have already sealed the gateway, altered the threshold; somehow, they’ve changed the energetic configuration so we can no longer get in.”

  Arielle knitted her brow in dismay. Although she didn’t want the Silivasis to go after their common enemy, she didn’t like the idea of the lycans taking defensive action so quickly. It meant they were already reorganizing. She sighed, wanting to change the subject before she became too morose. She was no longer a rebel living in Mhier—what the lycans did or did not do was no longer her concern. “So”—she made her voice as cheery as possible—“tell me: What will you do next? Where will you go? Where will you live?”

  Keitaro chuckled at the sudden change of subject, and the deep, melodious sound cut through the tension like a magic blade. He arched his back to stretch. “Eventually, I want to visit my old dwelling, the place where I lived with Serena, the home where the boys grew up. Marquis says it’s still standing and in fairly good condition. Although it’s empty, the boys have kept it clean and aired out.” He sighed heavily. “But it will take some time to work up the courage….even for a visit.”

  Arielle considered Keitaro’s words and smiled—there was nothing she could say to lessen his pain, to make the transition easier—but she couldn’t help but react to his endearing choice of phrasing.

  “This makes you smile?” he asked, curiously.

  She shrugged. “I’m sorry, Keitaro. It’s just…”

  “It’s just?”

  She laughed aloud then. “It’s just that you keep referring to the biggest, scariest, most intimidating males I’ve ever met as the boys.” She waved her hand and nodded. “I guess it just makes it all so real, who they are to you, who they’ve always been. Of course, these fearsome vampires are your boys.” She shifted in her seat, tightened her grip on his hand, and met his seeking gaze with one of compassion. “I’m sorry about Shelby,” she whispered. “That your reunion does not include your wife…or your youngest son.”

  Keitaro nodded gravely, and then he squeezed her hands as if to draw strength from her touch. “Thank you.” He looked off into the distance. “This life has certainly been harsh—I dare say cruel and unfair. When I am ready, when I am able, I will also visit Shelby’s grave…” He blinked back a tear and stiffened. “But there is much to celebrate: I have three grandsons”—he cocked his eyebrows and smirked—“soon to be four, and I have three beautiful daughters and a lifetime of new memories to make with my sons.”