Fawn Lowery, page 12
“I may not be able to—”
He grasped her shoulders suddenly, giving her a little shake. “You have to try, Ronna.”
She pulled in a deep breath and approached the suit of armor nearest to her. It loomed at her menacingly from the darkness, its massive size feeding her uncertainty. Suddenly, a quiver of amusement touched her lips despite the seriousness of what she was about to attempt. The sight of the armor brought back memories of the afternoon in her apartment when she had drank too much and thought she was seeing things not of her own making. If only she had that bottle of merlot now—
Or whiskey. I could get drunk fast and…
Ronna, once this is over—I’ll personally see that you get drunk.
She jerked her head around, spying the smirk on Marcus’ face.
“I’m not making any guarantees—”
She skimmed one hand along the cold metal of the suit. The uncompromising feel of it sent a jolt of fright racing up her arm. The mere thought that she was on the verge of trying to free another creature of the night lurked at the back of her mind. Should she really be attempting such an unsavory thing? She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at Marcus. The sight of him, the way he stood and looked at her, the way he tipped his head, the way his long hair cascaded across his broad shoulders—how in hell could she deny the man anything within her power? He had quickly found his way into her heart. Her temples pounded suddenly. Was that how it felt to finally admit she had fallen in love?
She pressed her palm against the chilly metal of the breastplate and paused a moment, trying to convince herself that what she was about to do was for the good of all involved. Marcus’ brothers had been victims of Darrias and then Drucella therefore they didn’t truly deserve imprisonment for all eternity.
“Lower, Ronna.”
She turned at Marcus’ urging.
“His balls are hanging between his legs, my sweet.” He chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. “Pretend it is my cock—put your hand on it.”
A tingle of lust raced through her insides with his words. She felt very naughty suddenly. The thought that another man watched while she caressed the private parts of another made heat rise in her body. She drew in a long breath and lowered her palm to the covering of iron mail hanging at the suit’s crotch. With shaking fingers, she lifted the scrap of cloth and thrust her hand inside.
She almost shrieked when she felt the solid bulge of male genitalia graze her palm. Shock shot up her arm and she almost pulled her hand back in protest. The erotic feelings she had been experiencing suddenly vanished, leaving behind cold fear.
“Is one of my brothers in there? Do you feel his cock?”
She chuckled at Marcus’ words and turned a red face to him. Thank God it was too dark in the room to reveal her embarrassment.
“Yes, I think so. I feel a large pair of balls.”
He sounded so excited that Ronna laughed out loud.
“It has to be Jarharis. He is the oldest and the most robust of us all.”
She rubbed the bulge pressing against her palm, wondering whether her touch had any significance at all on the sleeping vampire. By this time, her touch had awakened Marcus—but not so with the brother bound inside this suit of armor.
She pulled her hand from the armor. “I’m sorry. I’ve done everything except jack him off and he appears to still sleep.”
Marcus pulled her aside, his gaze pinned to the helmet on the suit of armor.
“Wait.” He raised one hand and pressed a finger to his lips, warning her to silence. “You have awakened him.”
Ronna felt elated and fearful at the same time. She inched back, taking cover behind Marcus. She peeked around his arm, her gaze wafting over the armor in search of the emerging vampire. She saw the wisp of iridescent vapor then, emerging in a downward spiral from the shield on the faceplate of the helmet. In much the same way as Marcus had escaped the metal shell, so was one of his brothers leaving his prison.
The mist shimmered with silvery luminescence as it poured forth upon the floor. Gradually a form began to emerge, the lower half of a body, then the formation of the chest and arms. She stared in wonder as the spell unfurled and a man seemingly grew right before her eyes.
A well-chiseled face with long blond hair stared straight ahead as though still under a trance while his body materialized to its complete stature. His eyes were deep set, a characteristic that mirrored Marcus’ handsome countenance. Broad shoulders filled out a dark jacket and a white ruffled shirt gaped, revealing a well-muscled chest.
It was both all consuming—the wonder of it all—and frightening as hell at the same time. Ronna couldn’t seem to drag her gaze from the sight—even when the dark eyes latched onto her presence and tried to draw her forward. She clutched Marcus’ arm, but was unable to voice her concern. The force with which he summoned her was quickly overpowering her will to keep her distance. She dug her nails into Marcus’ coat sleeve trying to tell him what his brother was doing.
“You can’t have her, Jarharis. She belongs to me.” Marcus grasped Ronna by the arm and pushed her back, concealing her body behind his.
The body, now completely formed, slowly turned his gaze on Marcus as he stepped from the shadow in the room. The force of the two vampires filled the space with fright and an eeriness that brought coldness bounding in like the winter wind.
Jarharis glanced down at his body as though trying to reason what had happened. He moved slowly as though cold and sluggish. The realization slammed into Ronna’s brain.
He needs to feed.
And so he shall.
Ronna felt the force with which Marcus summoned the other witches into the room it was all consuming and fierce. She inched backward into the shadows of the room, fearful of what she was about to see.
Within seconds a witch entered the room. She paused, turning her gaze on the two men near the front door. She came forward, paused, then tugged at the neck of her dress.
Ronna drew in a quick breath. Marcus was willing the witch to obey his command and he was offering her up to Jarharis for nourishment. She covered her surprise with one hand.
Jarharis moved and the witch glided in his direction as though on wheels. He reached out and grasped her by the throat, pulling her against his chest with a swiftness that belied the seriousness of the moment. A low growl sounded from his throat. His long hair fell about his face as he bent his head and sank his fangs into the witch’s neck. He began to drink. The witch struggled for a moment, then stilled, her body limp in Jarharis’ fist.
Ronna stared in disbelief.
How in hell did I get into this mess?
By feeling cock, my sweet.
She felt silly suddenly—forgetting that her thoughts weren’t her own since she encountered Marcus. She pulled her gaze away from the sight of Jarharis drinking the life force from the helpless witch and tried to pretend she was somewhere else. She chuckled at her own stupidity. Short of wishing herself home, she had little choice but to see the ordeal through.
The witch’s body hit the floor with a dull thud. Jarharis straightened, pulling his body to his full height, and squared his shoulders. He wiped his mouth on one sleeve of his jacket and turned toward Marcus.
“That wasn’t your hand on my cock, was it, brother?”
His voice was low toned, melodious like his brother’s, with a deep timbre that zinged along Ronna’s sensitive nerves. She peeked around Marcus’ sleeve to get a better view of the eldest of the vampires. Her eyes were met with a very pleasant sight as his gaze locked immediately with hers. A shiver of awareness grasped her insides. He was a devilishly handsome vampire with an exquisite face and well-proportioned body.
He’s a bloodsucker!
Because he was turned into one by a monster. But rest assured, my love, he is not the monster you think he is.
Assaulted by her own thoughts toward Marcus’ brother, Ronna found his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to convey her apology for having such a thought before she got to know the man. Would she get to know the man? She rolled her eyes at the audacity of the situation. How many vampires could she befriend?
Marcus strode forward and embraced his brother.
“It is good to have you back, Jarharis.”
CHAPTER 17
Jarharis embraced Marcus, but his eyes were pinned to Ronna lingering in the shadows. She felt the heat of his gaze, the keen inspection with which he allowed his eyes to trail over her body. She bit her bottom lip, uncertainty flooding her insides.
“You brought a witch to awaken me, my brother?”
Jarharis stepped around Marcus and strode toward Ronna. His gait was slow and calculating. His long limbed body graceful and rhythmic as he closed the distance between them.
Ronna clutched the amulet around her neck and stared at the vampire. Surely he wouldn’t harm her—but then, he was the eldest of Marcus’ brothers and perhaps the one in command. She watched him draw nearer, her heart caught up in her throat. If only there was more light in the room—suddenly she waved one hand and commanded all the candles in the room be lit and a fire to blaze in the hearth.
The explosion of magic within the room garnered the approaching vampire’s attention. He whirled around, glancing about the area as the candles jumped to life and the logs in the fireplace ignited.
Ronna stole the opportunity to make her way across the room to where Marcus stood.
Jarharis spied her racing movements and turned a smiling face in her direction. He bowed from the waist, a slow movement that caused his long hair to cascade off his shoulders and momentarily cover his face. When he straightened, he held a look of amusement on his face.
“Perhaps you should introduce us, Marcus. She seems to be frightened of me.” He chuckled low in his throat.
Marcus pulled Ronna against his side. “You may call her Ronna, Jarharis. But you may not touch her—nor take her blood. She belongs to me.”
Marcus’ words vibrated through Ronna’s insides. Obviously she had been right assuming Jarharis was dangerous.
Jarharis tipped his head, nodding that he understood his brother. He grasped his coat lapels with either hand and strode toward the dead body of the witch lying on the floor. “Pray tell, brother, is your lady akin to this witch?” He looked toward the door of the room. “And where is Drucella? I have some unfinished business with her?”
“Drucella is dead. I killed her with my own hand.”
“Then I am in your debt, brother.” He bowed to Marcus. “But what of this witch, Ronna? Is she of the same coven? Even though she magically awakened me, should I be wary of her powers?” His gaze was steady as he stared at Ronna. “You see how easily she lit the room.” He smiled slightly, one corner of his full mouth pulling upward mockingly.
Ronna’s throat felt suddenly dry. The threat in Jarharis’s eyes sent a chill up her spine. No doubt he would kill her in an instant—thrust his fangs into her vein and drain her blood, then cast her aside much as he had the witch lying on the floor.
“Ronna is not of our time, brother. She came to help us—to break the spell Drucella cast over us.” Marcus pressed Ronna against his side and urged her toward the two remaining suits of armor standing near the front entrance of the castle. “I suspect Duella and Chandler are also imprisoned against their will in these very suits.”
Ronna’s insides were quivering with uncertainty. She hurried to where the suits of armor stood and prepared to investigate them. The sooner she found the other brothers, the sooner she could return to her own time and get on with her life. She swallowed nervously as she took hold of the mail covering hanging at the crotch of one of the armor shells.
Jarharis laughed suddenly, a loud bellow that echoed inside the large room.
Ronna jumped and jerked her head around, pinning him with her gaze.
“Do tell, brother, you have found a witch that likes to feel cock! Such a prize you have at your disposal!”
Marcus chuckled. “I agree, brother. But her powers of witchcraft are beyond compare.” He winked one dark eye at Ronna. “And I should warn you, Jarharis. She is quite expert at turning men into toads.”
Ronna smiled at the look of surprise that suddenly appeared on Jarharis’s face.
“Have no fear, Jarharis. I promise not to cast any spells over you—unless you piss me off.”
The look of surprise intensified on Jarharis’s face.
“Don’t make her mad, brother,” Marcus advised.
Well, now that you’ve got your brother wondering about me—incidentally, Marcus, I doubt that he’s the least bit concerned about my powers—
Don’t be too hasty in judging Jarharis. I see the way he looks at you.
Please, Marcus. She rolled her eyes in consternation. The very idea that there could be anything between her and his older brother—
It has been a long time since Jarharis has rutted with a woman—he is in need of satisfaction and from the sizable bulge in the front of his britches—he is having delicious thoughts of you, my sweet.
It was impossible for Ronna to keep her mind on the business of trying to awaken another of the Morganford vampires—especially with Marcus making remarks of the sexual kind. She couldn’t keep her gaze from straying toward his brother and the front of his pants. She sucked in a quick breath as she realized his words were true. The front of Jarharis’s pants was tented with a sizable cock. She felt her crotch grow immediately damp and struggled to keep her thoughts from Marcus.
She felt sweat pop out on the back of her neck as she tried to turn her mind back to the job at hand. She lifted the iron mail and thrust her hand into the crotch of the armor all in one quick movement—only to be astonished when her fingers felt nothing.
She gasped and turned a surprised face to Marcus.
Marcus hurried across the room to her, shock filtering across his features.
“It’s empty.” She shook her head, spilling her hair across her shoulders in disarray. “Your brother isn’t inside.” She leaned down and peeked beneath the mail, only to see blackness.
Marcus released a loud bellow and whirled around, enraged that the suit of armor was empty.
Ronna quickly turned to the remaining suit and lifted the covering concealing the crotch. Hoping there was a sleeping vampire inside, she thrust her hand beneath the mail.
“I’m sorry. This suit is empty too, Marcus.”
She felt defeated. Her hopes flagged. She bit her lip as she watched Marcus become wild with rage. He turned suddenly and grasped one of the suits, toppling it on the stone floor. A loud crash echoed in the room. The giant helmet broke free of the wide shoulders and slid across the floor, finally coming to rest near the hearth.
Marcus, his face mirroring his outrage at finding the suits empty, turned his aggression on the remaining armor. He lifted the heavy object and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall and separated into several pieces, each skittering across the floor in different directions.
Ronna cowered against the wall. Marcus’ anger would only draw the attentions of the remaining witches and then they would have them to deal with. She bit her lip and tried to think. Tiana had confessed that Marcus’ brothers were holding sentry. Puzzlement clouded her thoughts.
“That fucking little fairy lied to me.”
Marcus continued around the room, smashing the contents in his rage. Jarharis watched for only a moment before he too vented his rage. He lifted the dead body of the witch from the floor and threw her across the room into the fire in the hearth. A shower of glittering sparks sprayed forth, arching into the air and across the stone floor as the fire quickly engulfed the body.
Ronna stared into the inferno as the dark dress of the witch quickly ignited and disappeared. The fire swallowed her body up, raging in intensity and then waning as its fuel turned to mere ash. The amber amulet suddenly appeared at the edge of the embers, glowing yellow on its gold chain, freed from the neck of the witch. Jarharis stooped and picked it up.
Ronna remembered the amulet Marcus had given her after Drucella’s body burned. It was tucked into her jeans pocket. She could feel its unyielding bulge against her hipbone. Perhaps it could reveal something of the other vampires’ whereabouts. She pulled it free of her pocket and studied it. It was identical to the one she wore around her neck. But could she utilize its powers? She clutched the amulet and tried to think of a spell to unlock its magic.
She felt an ache at the back of her head as she tried to command the amulet into service. It neither gave off any warmth against the palm of her hand nor changed properties that she could see. It just lay on her palm as if it held no magic at all.
Irritated with her own inept abilities, she let out an exasperated breath and turned her gaze on Marcus. He had perhaps, gotten over his rage at not finding his brothers in the armor. He strode about the room, a contemplative look on his handsome face. Jarharis sat perched on the wooden table in the room, his pensive gaze on his brother.
“I grow weary of this, my brother. Shall we not call the other witches of the coven forth and feast on their blood?”
“Duella and Chandler will need to feed when we awaken them, Jarharis. But rest assured, we shall destroy the remainder of the coven before we leave the castle.”
Ronna felt a chill travel up her backbone at Marcus’ words. He sounded so bloodthirsty. So determined. She gazed down at the amulet lying across her palm. Perhaps it held no powers that she could summon. She closed her fist around it, feeling its faceted sides bite into her flesh. It was useless to her—and perhaps anyone else in the world.
Aggravated with the whole affair, she threw it suddenly, flinging it sharply against the adjacent wall in the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack and burst as though it were made of crystal glass. Vivid rays of amber light spilled from the shards, filling the room with blinding rays. Ronna threw up one hand to shield her eyes from the intense brilliance but not before her vision suffered a terrible assault. Suddenly a series of images danced before her face. For a brief second she saw the magic portal she had opened in the dungeon of the castle. A long black casket or chest lay near the door Marcus had stepped through. The image wavered, then disappeared from her sight only to be replaced by what appeared to be a statue of a hideous figure perched atop a turret.
