AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She whimpered, a pure wolfish sound, and huffed a sigh.
She was a blood rose, but she didn’t want to be. She’d watched Batya all that time, as Quinlan had pursued her, chased her, then brought her down.
Her shifter nose had caught the scent of sex between them and the powerful fae part of her had felt the vibrations as they connected.
She’d never connected with anyone, but the blood rose experience was as profound as it was comprehensive. There didn’t seem to be a middle ground, no playing at sex and offering her vein when it suited her. This would be a full-blown commitment and she didn’t know how to do that.
She’d also heard that Seth had almost sunk his fangs into Batya.
She rose up swiftly, her fur lifting all along her back. She growled at the thought of Seth drinking from Batya or any other woman.
She paced in a circle, disgusted and frightened by so many overwhelming and contradictory reactions, as though she rejected a bond with Seth with the same force that she desired him.
For a moment, while she moved back and forth, a different kind of vibration reached her, very faint, and having more to do with the shifter community in Walvashorr than with Seth in particular.
She paused, waiting to see if she could decipher the meaning of this new vibration. Something about the frequency gave her the sense she needed to be moving, but to do what she couldn’t quite figure out.
After a few minutes, the frequency stopped and she curled up once more to the fur comforter, crossing her front paws and settling her muzzle on top of them and wondering what Mastyr Seth made of all that had happened.
* * * * * * * * *
Seth stood at the backdoor of his home. The sun was almost gone and it would be full-dark soon. He stared up at the steep ridge and noticed a faint but very real trail of silvery-teal light.
Instinctively, and in a very realm way, he knew he was looking at Lorelei’s imprint, something only he could see. The sex had established a private marker, something that had occurred when he’d taken her blood, created because of his mastyr vampire status and her blood rose ability.
None of the bonded mastyrs had mentioned this kind of phenomenon, but then Lorelei carried so many species within her that the silvery-teal trail might be specific only to her or perhaps as a result of her shifter DNA.
Part of him, the same part that had jumped on her the moment she’d swept her hair back from her neck, wanted desperately to follow that trail. He wanted to grab the wolf by the scruff of the neck, and haul her pretty ass home, straight into his bedroom where she belonged.
On the other hand, the civilized part of him that believed in self-control above everything else, rejected chasing the female.
He was a man, not a beast.
Yet he’d been all beast when he’d taken her blood, then coupled with her. He hadn’t even known who she was.
His conduct appalled, yet in turn, excited him—one helluva dichotomy.
Lorelei was a shifter, which made her more connected to the earth and the animal world than he’d ever be. He lived apart, physically and mentally. He kept his body lean and fighting toned, utterly disciplined. His mind served the realm he ruled.
What was he supposed to do with this new, raw, unexpected turn of events? The other mastyrs had warned him to be ready, that his blood rose would come. He’d prepared himself for a more regular sort of woman, maybe a fae like Batya, or even half-realm, half-human, like Samantha.
But not Lorelei, an anomaly in his world known to have four distinct DNA strands: wraith, fae, shifter and even a small remnant of vampire. Though realm-folk, when birthed from different species, always landed on one side or another, Lorelei could move easily through the first three more dominant forms. He had yet to see the wraith part of her, but Quinlan had.
Once Quinlan had returned with Batya to resume his duties as Mastyr Vampire of Grochaire Realm, Seth had spoken with him several times on the phone. He’d asked about their mutual enemy, the ancient fae-wraith known as Margetta, and in the process had learned a lot about Lorelei as well.
He knew she’d been on the run for seventy-two of her ninety years and that a good-hearted troll, Genevieve, had raised Lorelei and infused her with a generous, giving attitude toward life. While helping Lorelei to escape her prison in one of the mountainous realms, Genevieve had died at Margetta’s hands.
Not long after, Lorelei had lived with the famous Nine Realms couple, Vojalie and Davido, serving in their household only to be discovered by Margetta through a latent mother-daughter tracking system. From that time forward, Lorelei had moved from realm-to-realm and her most recent two-year stay had been in Batya’s free-clinic in Grochaire’s Tennessee access point.
At Ferrenden Peace, apparently the queen had taught Lorelei special skills that would keep Margetta from finding her ever again.
Yet here Seth stood, watching her silvery-teal signature finally fade away, wondering what chance sequence of events had brought Lorelei to his home.
He could have tracked her right now if he’d wanted to, but her absence had given him a chance to recover his wits.
A blood rose.
He shook his head.
