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The child had been next. The wraith had taken him to the corner and feasted. In turn, the wraith’s bonded vampire had shoved Sandra to the floor, pushed her legs wide, and done painful things to her. These she barely remembered because her gaze had been fixed on her son, on hearing his screams, on the tragedy of being unable to save what she loved most.
After her family had drifted so quickly and painfully to the afterlife, she was sure she would be next, had prayed for it. Instead, though bleeding badly, she’d been carted off to the fortress. Years later, she’d learned Margetta had ordered her abduction. She’d wanted Sandra in her service specifically because of her looks. The Ancient Fae loved having beautiful slaves tending her.
How lucky could a fae woman get?
How cursed she felt.
And still did, except for Griffin’s warm, surprising presence in her nightmare existence.
As the memory rolled away and the here-and-now returned, she realized Griffin stood in front of her. He had both hands on her arms, shaking her gently. “Come back to me, Sandra.”
When she blinked rapidly and his strong Guardsman features came into focus, she nodded. “I’m here.”
Griffin was so handsome, with light blue eyes, a straight nose, and a tough warrior demeanor. He had a constant frown between his brows and a way of shifting his eyes that made her think of a hawk in constant search of prey. He’d fought in the Camberlaune Vampire Guard, alongside Mastyr Ian and his brothers-in-arms for over a century.
Now he was here, captured in a raid on the hamlet of Wayford a year ago and forced to serve as a sparring partner for the Invictus warriors. It was that or suffer endless torture since Margetta would never let him die.
After one of the torture sessions, Sandra had begged him to stop putting himself in harm’s way and to live.
He’d shifted his thinking after that.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” But her chest felt caved in.
When she saw the pit of concern between his brows, she reached up with her thumb and pressed the furrowed skin. “I’m sorry, Griffin. Sometimes, without warning, the memories return.”
He knew the story. She’d only known Griffin a month when she’d told him what had happened to her family. “I loved them both so much. Henrik was a soulful, worthy man and had never harmed another Realm-person in his life. Sweet Goddess, I hurt, even after all this time.”
As though it were the most natural thing in the world, he pulled her gently into his arms and held her. She was stunned that even in the middle of captivity, something so precious had happened to her.
She smelled his skin, the soap he used, the leather of his work vest. All seemed to combine in a rich, heady fragrance like a warm summer field, that set her mind reeling. Was it her imagination, or had his scent become something richer and deeper. Or maybe her affection for him had. She loved being with him and wished more than anything she’d come to know him in some place other than the Ancient Fae’s fortress.
~ ~ ~
Without thinking, Griffin had drawn Sandra close, wanting to offer comfort. He didn’t know what to make of the feelings he had for this woman, or that all he could think about was kissing her, touching her, taking her to bed.
Would she even be interested?
He wasn’t kind or scholarly, like her husband. He was a warrior, brutish, and determined to keep her from making this terrible mistake.
She’d become important to him, critical to his survival.
He’d met her the first night of his captivity. He’d been in a holding pen with several frightened Realm-women. Opposite him were three beast-like shifters who’d tried to assault one of the female vampires.
The hell he’d let a rape happen on his watch. He’d fought the men, using every Guardsman skill he possessed. But they’d been powerful outcasts in the shifter world and had slowly beaten him down.
His face had been a mess, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, when Sandra had entered the filthy room. She’d carried a stack of towels in her arms and was a vision with her red hair, luminous green eyes, and creamy pale skin. She’d been like a light in a dark cave as she moved into the stone chamber.
He’d been hunched over at the time, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath before he engaged in round two or maybe it was round ten. She’d stared at him for a long moment, then shifted to take in the women huddled together, several of them weeping.
She finally turned to face the shifters. “Margetta provides women for all the slave men, all of whom delight in servicing the physical needs of her prisoners. But she doesn’t allow any of her female slaves to be violated against their will. I suggest you apologize to the women. Now.”
She had an air of authority about her and no fear. These two things alone spoke to the shifters as significant. Their species valued the command of hierarchy above almost anything else. Sandra, as he’d come to know her later, had by her attitude alone, established herself as dominant.
The shifters had backed down at once and made their apologies.
What she’d done had made a profound impression on Griffin. But he believed he’d become fixed on her when she then turned toward him, her back to the shifters and met his swollen eyes. She’d offered him a soft smile. “Welcome to the fortress, Mastyr Griffin. Your service to Camberlaune is well known. If you need anything, you have but to ask, and that’s my promise to you. I was also told by the housekeeper to add her blessing as well.”
