Blood Sworn 1: Salva Me Read online

  He watched as Morgan strode down the hall to his rooms, Jeremy’s hungry desire growing with each flex of those muscled thighs. “I need a good long soak in the furo,” he muttered, suppressing his urge to chase after the man. The clean, hot water would do much to restore his serenity and bring his emotions back into some semblance of harmony. And hopefully shove the beast back where he belonged.

  Two hours later, he sat on a stool before the large mirror in his bath, scrubbing away the travel dirt with his favorite charcoal soap, liberally fragranced with herbs from Japan. Imported at great cost from his birthplace near Iwanai, it soothed him whenever anxiety or worry clouded his mind, the earthy aroma restoring his inner balance whenever he soaked in the steaming water.

  He’d been tempted to order Morgan to join him. One exposure to the luxurious feel of a long soak in hot water, and the once-farmer had become as addicted to the delights of bathing as Jeremy. Not to mention the fact that Jeremy never grew tired of covertly watching droplets of hot water dripping off the man.

  The memory of Morgan’s first introduction to the furo crossed Jeremy’s mind, and he smiled at the reminiscence. He’d demonstrated the innermost workings of the baths to his fledgling steward, how the workers warmed the water from below the floor using the old Roman-style hypocaust system. Both the London townhome and Colbourne Manor housed two of the heated baths, one for Jeremy’s personal use and one for the staff. Morgan had worked tirelessly to learn the system until he knew the ins and outs of the furo and the surrounding rooms thoroughly.

  A soft chuckle escaped Jeremy as he emptied the hot water bucket over his head, sending fragrant suds sluicing off his body to drain away through the depressed niches in the corners. Not only had Morgan learned how the hot baths worked, he had quickly grasped the essential social nature of the Japanese furo, accompanying Jeremy to the bath to discuss business without a qualm. And, of course, providing Jeremy with a tantalizing view.

  The thought started a slow burn in his blood, the fire starting in his groin, then spreading upward and outward to encompass his whole body. He strode to the tiled bath, settling into the steaming water with a sigh. Leaning his head back against the marbled wall, he closed his eyes, desperate to suppress the demon clawing at his sanity.

  “I really should have fed before we left,” he muttered. “My patience is wearing thin.”

  “Then why did you bring me along?” The unexpected growl of Morgan’s voice jolted Jeremy from his thoughts.

  He opened his eyes to the sight of his Host standing on the edge of the bath, the attractive line of his jaw marred by a fierce scowl. A shock ran through Jeremy as he realized Morgan had crossed the entire furo without his notice. How was it possible? No nosfera noble should be taken so unaware. He’d not thought his senses so badly dulled by the lack of sustenance.

  His confusion increased as Morgan took each step into the bath with slow deliberation. Caught off guard, it took Jeremy precious moments to realize Morgan was nude. Sweat drops ran in glistening rivulets over his chest and broad shoulders, sliding down to rest like diamonds in the curls of his pubic hair—and on the throbbing pulse of his erection.

  Jeremy swallowed. The man before him looked like Morgan, but somewhere along the way his calm steward had vanished, leaving a ravening wolf in his place. A flame Jeremy had never seen before smoldered in those deep amber eyes, awakening an answering desire Jeremy hadn’t felt in years. The beast he’d been suppressing snarled inside him, the thin chain of civility nearing its breaking point.

  “You need to feed.” Morgan’s unequivocal statement rang with lust and demand. “I offered my blood before we left, and you ignored me. Now your senses are so veiled I could enter and wash myself without you hearing me.” Morgan moved implacably through the hot water, trapping Jeremy in the far corner. “How in the bloody hell are you going to catch that thing before it gnaws on someone else?” He said the last words in a near-snarl as he pinned Jeremy to the tiled bench. “You want my blood, and I want that monster dead. And thanks to the turning, I want other things too.” Rank resentment filled Morgan’s voice, coupled with self-loathing. Yet he pressed close until there was no way to evade the searing contact of flesh on flesh.

  Jeremy fought to keep control of his surging lust. He’d never imagined Morgan attacking in such a direct fashion. Even given the changes from Hosting the turning, Morgan’s personality shouldn’t have altered to this extent. Yet the man had always been stubborn, almost to a fault, his independent spirit one of his greatest strengths.

  Jeremy winced as Morgan gripped his shoulder, knuckles white with the tension radiating from every pore. Jeremy pried gently at the painful grasp, using as much force as he dared. It took more effort than it should, due to his prolonged self-denial. Well, the time to remedy his mistake had come at last.

  Leaning into Morgan’s chest, he inhaled deeply of the sweet copper aroma of blood pounding through his Host in powerful surges. Instinct took over, and he traced the corded muscle with teasing fingers, following with his tongue. “You’re right, I should have listened,” he said in a husky voice, already anticipating the incredible taste of the crimson flow that was his alone. “Forgive my stupidity, Morgan.” He looked into those blazing amber eyes and found himself unable to look away.

  Unabashed desire shone there, something he’d never seen in his implacable Host before. Did this mean there was hope after all? Or was this only an aftereffect of the turning? As much as he wanted to know, Morgan’s blood sang to Jeremy, seducing him as it always did. He ran his tongue over the delicate skin covering his ultimate prize.

  “Wait.” A hand tangled in his hair. “I did not say you could feed, my lord, not yet.” Morgan pulled Jeremy back, though the scent of his lust had increased the moment Jeremy’s tongue had touched him. “I want your assurance you will never wait like this again. We made Contract, Baron Colbourne. A Contract of blood that changed us both.” Morgan’s hand tightened with an iron grip bordering on pain. He leaned forward, once again pinning Jeremy to the marble-tiled wall.

  “I can feel the unholy change in me, that need you spoke of so easily.” The anger gave way to pain. “I fight it every waking minute, yet when I offered to yield, you withheld yourself from me.”

  The desperation in Morgan’s voice cut like a knife. Somehow, the turning had brought about everything Jeremy wanted, but the result had proven less than his dreams. He closed his eyes against that pain, focusing instead on how to salvage the situation. Morgan wanted him. Whether by choice or not, the fact could not be undone. His heart’s yearning must yield to physical desire, a thing he’d no experience with. He looked into Morgan’s eyes again, hoping his feelings would somehow cleave through his Host’s ire and soothe the uneasy hurt buried behind it.

  “I give my word, Morgan. I will never again deny you nor risk my health by delaying a feeding.” He reached up and gently pried Morgan’s fingers from their tangled grip in his hair. “Let me feed, and then we can satisfy the hunger calling us both.” He searched Morgan’s eyes, recognizing the man’s need. “This time I will not deny what you ask.”

  Those amber eyes darkened at the words, though a furrow of surprise appeared between them. “Don’t read my mind.”

  A sliver of amusement lightened Jeremy’s mood. “I did not. But your scent tonight reeks of that particular desire.” He relaxed into the wall, his control returning to him at last, his hunger peaking at the exotic scent of Morgan’s want. “All you need do is ask.”

  “Like hell I could!” The words burst out in confused embarrassment, the angry undertones evaporating, leaving only the tantalizing flavor of Holland’s pride-filled desire.

  Jeremy pressed his advantage, allowing his hunger to rise to the surface. Somehow, the thought of Morgan’s need to take him had buried the ravening beast for the moment. If surrendering in such a manner kept the monster chained, then he’d willingly yield. He’d bottomed before, though it had been a while. Decades, in fact. “You’ll be the firs
t in half a century, so bear that in mind.”

  A throbbing pulse against his thigh warned him in time to bring his greater strength to bear as Morgan crushed him close, as out of control as a young nosfera after his first adult feed. The taut muscles holding Jeremy trembled, and he realized his Host had slipped back into a fog of unremitting desire, driven by the turning Host changes.

  “I can’t feed this way, Morgan,” he said, doing his best to lighten the seduction that usually accompanied his hunger. “Let me feed first.”

  “I want you now.” The words came in a muffled snarl against Jeremy’s neck.

  Two fingers slipped into Jeremy’s mouth, stroking in and out, triggering the anesthetizing saliva. Guessing at Morgan’s intent, Jeremy obliged, recognizing he could not stop what he had set in motion. His past experience would be useless unless he could get Morgan to slow his headlong pace.

  “Let me into your mind, Morgan,” he whispered, hoping to guide his Host that way. “Let me show you, so I can feed while you devour me.”

  Another shudder ran through Morgan’s straining body. After a moment’s hesitation, a hoarse assent followed, the hot exhalation stirring Jeremy’s senses.

  “Do you remember what to do with your fingers?” He accompanied the thought with a nudge of memory from their first encounter.

  Morgan followed the prompt with action, and it was Jeremy’s turn to shiver. Already on edge from his craving for blood, he could sense his Host’s deepening lust through the mind connection. Soon, he was having difficulty discerning his hunger from Morgan’s. Only the maddening scent of that oh-so-sweet blood let him know whose passion flared higher.

  He licked his lips, overwhelmed by the need to bite, to bite now. In desperation, he slid his tongue over Morgan’s neck, nipping at the softer flesh beneath the man’s jaw. The faint rasp of stubble abraded his lips, spurring him to tighten his bite without triggering his fangs.

  “God!” The exclamation echoed through the steamy chamber, hanging in the air. With a faint sense of shock, Jeremy realized his false bite had triggered Morgan’s orgasm. The sticky evidence coated his stomach, the delicious aroma sinking into him with an unremitting call, carrying overtones of the blood flowing ceaselessly in Morgan’s veins.

  In spite of the release, Morgan remained fiercely erect, and his fingers never ceased their penetrating. A long-forgotten tingle began to spread through Jeremy as his own demands began to haze his mind. He reached through the mind link and touched the still-dark center of Morgan’s lust, pulling another memory to the fore. While he did so, he moved away from the probing fingers, tugging Morgan to the edge of the bath, where several bath oils sat ranged on a recessed shelf. The bottle nearest the corner carried what he needed.

  “Use this, like I did at the turning,” he urged, accompanying his thought with the sensation of the specially prepared salve. “Use it liberally, to prepare me well.”

  Another shudder wrenched a groan from Morgan. Looking up, Jeremy could see a haze of lust had replaced any rational thought. He nipped again, thinking of the salve, and Morgan reached for the crystal carafe, hands shaking as he unstoppered the top.

  The aromatic aroma of patchouli and musk immediately mingled with the steam-filled air. It was an old, old formula, designed to drive any human or nosfera to a peak of ecstasy during feeding. He’d kept it here for his other visitors and for his previous Host. He doubted David would begrudge the use. When Morgan touched Jeremy’s rear with the heady mixture, Jeremy came himself, though, like Morgan, he stayed ready for battle, his erection never flagging.

  “Yes. Yesss…” He couldn’t stop the hiss that crossed his lips. Morgan had found just the right angle, and every stroke of those long, strong fingers was exquisite torture, la petite mort, or the little death, as the French so aptly named things. Worse, Morgan pressed more firmly, more deeply, as though his cock was connected to his fingers.

  Well, perhaps in a way it was. After all, the mental connection worked both ways. The goal was for Morgan to feel everything Jeremy did, and vice versa, doubling the pleasure for both. Judging from the hoarse panting, it was working.

  “Don’t stop, Hostia meam.” Jeremy fought the impending orgasm, wanting them both to climax the moment his fangs penetrated that tantalizing flesh. Morgan would taste the exquisite sweetness of his blood, and Jeremy would feel the pleasurable pain of the bite.

  Morgan’s fist gripped his hair again. “I want to be in you, Jeremy. I want to be buried deep inside you when you bite me. I want to flood you with my essence.”

  A long, rolling wave of sheer torturous pleasure rolled over Jeremy at the thunderous feel of Morgan’s voice in his head. “Then I’ll have to sit astride you like I do my stallion,” he answered, a laugh escaping his control. “Otherwise, I’d have to drink from your wrist as you bend me over.”

  He’d meant the words to tease, but Morgan suddenly wrenched him around, bending him over the edge of the bath while liberally coating his raging erection with more of the oil.

  “Morgan?” Shocked, Jeremy lost their link for a moment. He tried to reach Morgan’s mind, but the mental door had slammed shut. “Morgan, wait, I want to feed—”

  From your neck, he’d meant to finish, but words became impossible the next moment. Morgan buried his cock to the hilt in a single thrust; only the oil allowed Jeremy to feel more than pain from the sudden impalement.

  Nosferii anesthetizing chemicals and a strong pheromone mix blended the ordinary spiced oil into something uniquely designed to enhance situations like this, though Jeremy had never needed this particular aspect before.

  Nonetheless, the blended sensations proved too much. He bit hard on the wrist before him, forgoing any pretense at preparation. Morgan hissed, but his hips began to move even faster, pressing him deeper into Jeremy and bringing the ecstasy to a fever pitch despite the veiled pain. Drawn into the haze of blood lust, the beast inside Jeremy fastened its lips on the crimson flow, sucking with an intensity that fed both his appetites. He moaned, unable to slow the excruciating tide of ecstasy.

  Their link snapped back into place, though Jeremy had not reached out again. The onslaught of sensation doubled, then tripled, and the edges of his vision grew dark. If he didn’t end his feed now, he’d be unable to deliver the clotting bite, though his hunger was nowhere near sated. Yet the dual-beast snarled at the thought of stopping, clawing to the peak of their combined ecstasy. Morgan leaned forward, pressing ever deeper, the panting of his hot breath laving Jeremy’s shoulder. The unexpected feel of Morgan’s teeth grazing his neck sent a blaze of fire through his body, and then Jeremy exploded in a white haze of pleasure at the shock of a deep bite to his shoulder as the heat of Morgan’s release boiled hot inside him.

  Heart thudding almost out of control, Jeremy fought against unconsciousness, a thing he’d never experienced outside a hunt. With effort, every inch of him a quivering mess, he triggered his fangs one last time.

  MORGAN SHIVERED AS the ungodly heat left him at last. His mind cleared, the haze receding and his thoughts achieving clarity after what had seemed an eternity. Whatever had driven this maddened impulse, it had faded into blessed darkness the moment his orgasm crested. He pulled away from Jeremy, somehow loath to relinquish the contact.

  In truth, he did not understand the full measure of what drove him, but one thing he did know, without doubt. The feelings he’d so recently recognized had sunk into his heart as fiercely as his master’s fangs had ever pierced him. As the thought registered, so did the memory of what had just passed. A dawning horror filled Morgan; he had taken in full force what Jeremy had offered, going after what he wanted like a bull in rut. Worse, he’d denied Jeremy the opportunity to fully feed, though he’d been the one to initiate the situation in the first place.

  “My lord?” He reached out to touch Jeremy’s shoulder. “Forgive me. I don’t understand what came over me…” His words trailed off as he realized his lord and master lay unconscious against the edge of the bath. As
his gaze wandered over the prostrate form, Morgan cringed at the sight of a bloody bite mark on Jeremy’s shoulder and at the faint traces of his lack of control.

  With a curse, he gathered Jeremy in his arms, lifting him clear of the water. Settling on one of the slotted benches, Morgan cradled his master against his knee as he cleansed the bite and other abrasions with care. His concern grew by the minute, as Jeremy did not wake.

  What to do? Makoto immediately came to mind, but the stalwart retainer had stayed behind on Jeremy’s orders to protect Laura. And Morgan trusted none of the other staff, despite having worked beside them for so long. In his heart, he knew Makoto was the only one who would understand what had passed between Morgan and their master.

  “Damn.” He dabbed at the bite, still bleeding in diluted rivulets over Jeremy’s arm. Morgan needed to stop that scarlet flow somehow. Awake, any healthy nosfera could easily heal such a small injury, but Jeremy was neither healthy nor conscious. The strain of the past few weeks had finally taken its toll.

  Morgan cursed his stubborn nature; his refusal to surrender his heart until now had led to this. With the exception of the turning, his master had not fed properly in weeks. All that Jeremy had gained from that feeding had been funneled into the turning. If only Morgan had fangs, he’d pierce his own flesh to give Jeremy the sustenance he needed.

  Fangs. The thought echoed through his mind, prodding him to look around the bath for anything that might serve. He glanced at the enormous mirror, arrested by the unnerving sight of the pair of them, entwined naked in the unforgiving reflection. His troubled face stared back at him, desperation shining clear in his eyes.