CHAPTER TWELVE
Trever
The horse I ride is swift, but speed means nothing without a clear direction. As dawn approaches, I urge my horse to drink and hydrate deeply. I can hear the crushing sound of boots as the three men approach me. Their irritation and annoyance is as clear as the waters.
Count Artur has entrusted me with three of his personal guards to command. Despite my lack of leadership experience, the Duke of Walington has even granted me a blanket decree providing diplomatic immunity for any crimes committed during this mission.
It’s hard to believe I’ve gone from a nameless outsider to leading a rescue squad.
I dismount the horse, and one of my men, Phil, speaks up, “Sir, wouldn’t it be better to ride during the day instead?”
The creek bubbles loudly, and the forest around us is alive with activity. Insects flit over the water's surface, and birds dart through the trees.
“The creatures we’re hunting can shapeshift. If we push forward now, we might only be able to spot their camp. Our main search must be conducted at night when they’re at their strongest.” My tone is matter of fact. I know what I am doing. Clearly they do not venture out past the palace often.
I scan the faces of my squad—fear, bloodlust, and frustration evident. I recognize these emotions well.
“And what about when they shift?” James, a skilled spy whose presence I’ve noted before but can’t quite place, interjects.
These men are incessant in their doubts. I’m accustomed to working alone, even when I was part of the Celik’s—always hunting, guarding, and operating on my own. I’m starting to see why Count Celik’s harshness toward his servants existed.
“We search at night till we find their trail. We attack during the day-when they are at their weakest,” I leave no room for them to interject, “get ready. We leave as soon as I have my things packed up.”
I look into the darkening sky. Ophelia. My dear sweet love. I will come get you.
Ophelia
I lay on his giant bear skinned bed. Breathing hard. The ceremony was breathtaking and I am fluttered with emotions that blend my own with Draven’s.
I smiled at Draven from across the room. He crawled forward. Carefully kissing my legs and spreading them with the tip of his fingers.
I am suddenly rushed with embarrassment.
“No.. wait.” My voice is quiet. I hear a snarl from Drevan as he stops kissing my leg and stares at me. His look demanded my obedience.
“It’s embarrassing… but.. I… My womanly duties have arrived…. And..”
Drevan laughed at me. His eyes are piercing and sinister. He pulls my face close to his and kisses me deeply. I melt under his touch.
Pulling my hair slightly he arches my head back. My mouth slightly opened and I was eagerly waiting for him.
“Do you think some blood is going to stop me from ravishing you?”
My eyes grew.
“Let’s make a mess,” he snarls into my neck before giving me a deep kiss. His tongue explored my mouth with eager devotion.
I arch my back into him getting more wet than I ever felt before. I couldn’t help my body as my fingers desperately tore at my clothing. My mind simply buzzed with excitement.
Drevan continued to kiss, rolling his tongue down my face and onto my chest. He tore the shirt off of me and my exposed breasts sit over the edge of the corset, now loosely laying on my hips.
He takes my breast into his mouth and begins gently nibbling on my nipple. They harden immediately. I want to please him. I want to keep doing whatever is making him do this.
His hands work their way down my torso and slide into my trouser pants. I am met with a rush of embarrassment, empowerment, and overall desire as his finger plays with my delicate tulip. Sliding between my folds slowly-spreading my wetness around.
Draven pulls back. My heart breaks immediately and I am left with an intense frustration. He bares his teeth but I know his anger is not at me.
I push the blankets off of me, my face flushed and my body riddled with desire. “Please… please don’t stop,” I bite the top of my lip-filled with embarrassment from my desperate need for this man. My starving fingers touching my exposed breasts and slightly pinching my nipples–his hungry gaze making me feel even more needy.
Drevan leans into me. His hot breath against my skin. His hands going down my body until they touch the sensitive part of my inner thigh….
Drevan
The fire is large and the men are pissed.
“I don’t see the point in pretending anymore. She knows what we are–we can move faster if we just-”
I glare at Dory and she looks to the ground. Alex keeping his hand on her shoulder showing a respectable sign of agreement without needing to speak out against me.
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“Clearly the Alpha is too immature to hold the title if he can’t even tell the difference between a Core Link influence and a sound of mind decision.”
I snarl at Jared–his cocky behavior making it very well known that he is not going to accept me as the Alpha anytime soon. At least, not without a challenge.
Christopher chimed in before I needed too. “I do believe that you are speaking about your Alpha in such a tone–I would watch my words if I were you. Ugor will not be pleased to find out you are doubting his decisions.”
Jared scoffed.
As Jared walked up to me I stood up but I could sense a sudden temperature change. It was followed by a smell change. My mind couldn’t be bothered by Jared and his crew. I ignored the disappointment in both Alex and Dory for their doubts. My body began moving towards the medic’s tent where Dr. Xochil sat outside on intense guard.
Ophelia was breathing heavily in her sleep on the floor of the tent next to the bed for Oxwell. Her covers completely tossed around as she continued to fit in her sleep. Her hands in a fist, a soft moan escaping her lips.
I sit down and watch in wonder. Allowing my defenses to drop and picking up immediately on the emotions and sensations her body was radiating.
I scoot my dear Ophelia closer to me as she tosses and turns in her sleep. Every night has been like this. Our Core Link affecting me while the sun is high-and taking over her as the moon graces us with Her presence.
It takes everything in me to keep from feeding my inner desires. But I know this isn’t her choice and it’s what keeps me at bay. Even though I can feel her body giving into it’s wants as a soft moan escapes her beautiful lips. Her wetness dripping down her thighs….
I can’t help my shaky hand from reaching down and gently touching the pre cum seeping from her.
But it was an impulse decision that I immediately regretted.
Ophelia’s deep slumber immediately ended. Her eyes of ones of horror and disgust. While I could tell what was about to happen-I deserved it.
“What the fuck!” Ophelia began to punch my face-kicking her legs like crazy and pressing all of her weight into her palm which just so happened to also be on my groin as she fights nothing to get away.
I pull my hands back–her wetness still on my finger.
“I’m sorry–I thought–,” I began, a loss for words other than admiring how beautiful she looked in the moonlight.
“I don’t care what you thought! Don’t touch me again!” Ophelia’s eyes were clouded and her expression was pained with conflicting emotions.
I watch as she storms out of the tent–the flaps exposing the dim light from the fire. My men are frustrated with this opposing schedule–travel by night is much easier when our truest abilities are heightened. Not during the sunlight.
I slide my finger into my mouth–getting hard at the bitter taste of my Ophelia and appreciating the sweet after taste as I get up and adjust myself before making my presence known to my men again. Their own desires peaking at the scent of an unclaimed woman in heat.
Ophelia
Embarrassment surges through me as I storm into the campgrounds. When I first arrived a few days ago, I imagined Draven’s group was made up of hundreds of loyal subjects. But as it turns out, there are only about twenty people here.
Despite not having my glasses, I can still pick out Christopher, his large frame making him stand out. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering from the night chill that seeps through Draven’s tunic, which he lent me to keep my own clothes fresh during the journey.
Christopher pats the seat next to him, and I sit down, my eyes fixed on the crackling fire.
“Unable to sleep? Us too,” Christopher chuckles, handing me his drink.
I accept it with trembling hands, unable to respond. My mind is still reeling from an intensely vivid dream, and my body aches for Draven’s touch. Panic and unsettling memories of shadowy figures flood my thoughts. Impulsively, I take a large gulp of the dark, thick liquid in the cup.
“Whoa there! This stuff isn’t wine! Take it easy,” Christopher laughs heartily.
I set the drink down, forcing myself to swallow the sour liquid while trying to ignore the rising gag. I hear snickering around me, but the blurred shapes and figures mean nothing to me. Without my glasses, I retreat into my own little world.
“Should I make introductions?” Christopher asks loudly.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. My glasses are broken. I can’t really recognize anyone other than you.”
“You’re going to make me blush, Ma’am! Why do I stand out?”
“Because you’re huge!” a feminine voice cracks from over the dancing flames, and the shapes around me burst into laughter.
Despite my blurry vision, I can always make out everything Draven does and says. His body, movements, and expressions remain clear. I can’t read them, but I can feel his gaze on me. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I brace myself for a long night.
I feel someone grab my hair from behind, but it’s Draven’s presence I sense most strongly.
A hush falls over the camp. I feel a strong presence lean over my shoulder—his deep, rumbling voice sending shivers down my spine.
“You are so weak. I doubt you will survive the birth of even a mere human child—let alone one made from the true design of God,” his words tighten around me like a noose.
The camp’s laughter and lightheartedness vanish instantly.
I don’t know what overtakes me. Politeness flees, and self-doubt only creeps in when I have time to think. I grab his hand from my shoulder, pull him down as I stand, and throw him into the flames. His shouts and curses fill the air as blurred figures move around frantically.
I glare into the swirling chaos before me. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
I hear Draven take a sharp breath. I don’t know when he got behind me, but his presence is protective and nurturing, contrasting sharply with the hostility and danger I expected.
I turn towards Draven. He’s smiling at me.
“HAHAHAHA! She sure got you Marlo! Whose the weakling now?” Christopher laughs so hard I see his huge frame fall over.
I start walking away towards where I can hear horses, ignoring the sharp sudden pain as twigs hit the bottom of my bare feet and doing my best to not completely fall over.
Where was this strength when my family was being eaten by these monsters? Where was this sense of determination when Oxwell was being poisoned?
I felt disgusted with myself.
“It’s my strength you are using Ophelia. And I would have skinned him alive for touching you, no need to be so harsh on yourself when you are truly a forgiving and kindhearted being,” Draven’s voice is an unwelcomed answer to my inner turmoil.
“I don’t know how you keep reading my mind but enough! I am sick of these games. My life is over. As soon as Oxwell is better-we are leaving!” tears flood my face and I trip over something in the dark landing on my palms.
Draven reaches out to help me on my feet but I smack his hand away.
“Don’t touch–”
“Sh!” his hand covers my mouth forcibly. His attention and senses elsewhere. I watch his ears twitch. He stands up, his frame making me wet at just the sight. I blush as my pathetic body betraying me.
Instead of normally blushing down at me when this happens, Draven lets out a deafening howl. He scoops me up and takes off towards the horses. Throwing me over the horses backside and hopping on it’s back, he takes off in a direction away from the camp.