I expected to simply curl up and sleep once Grigore and I got Nanat home, hopefully in his arms if he wasn't still angry with me. I didn't expect the mess we found at all.
The moment we turned down the road that led us rigidly to the smithy, Grigore stiffened and his song curled. Worried, I pulled Nanat closer to me and touched his arm.
"What's wrong?"
"I smell blood." He said stiffly. "But there's no threat nearby." His gaze shifted to me, silently asking for me to voice my opinion.
"My magic is calm." Or as calm as it could be with the recent events. The attack of the she-wolf had shaken it terribly and it still shivered with terror. But there was no nearby threat.
"It should be safe then. Just keep Nanat close to you."
I observed the little girl that quivered beside me and she gazed up at me with weary eyes and a bright red nose. She looked exhausted.
"You're nearly home now." I murmured to her as I squeezed her hand.
She simply nodded and rubbed her eyes and guided her slowly as Grigore set off again, dangerous and alert. While one hand remained on Ursus' hilt, the other was clenched with wards littered around his skin. It made me scared as to what we were going to find at the smithy. Everything should've been safe there, No-Tongue had locked the place up himself.
I paused when someone came out of the house and turned madly to look up and down the street. When they saw us, they waved us madly over to him. It was Wilson.
Nanat perked up at the sight of her father but she could only mumble, not jump about with joy as she wanted to. "Papa."
Grigore started up again, urging me to follow with a sharp wave of his hand. Wilson oddly refused to move from the house though. He kept glancing at it and then at Nanat, torn between leaving the doorway and going to his daughter. Once we were in earshot, he knelt down and called to Nanat. It was only then I noticed the blood covering his hands and shirt. My gut twisted with worry.
"Come here." He called thickly with tears in his eyes, smiling widely when Nanat waddled over to him as quickly as she could. "You're safe now." He whispered as he held her tightly and checked her face for wounds.
"What's happened?" I asked softly.
Wilson turned his old eyes up at us and what little joy that was there was now gone. "Grigore, do you know healing wards?"
"My partner was the healer out of us." He said a little stiffly with his eyes darkening at having to mention Sorin. "But I know the basics."
"Come with me." He demanded as he hauled Nanat up, nearly toppling over when his leg gave way slightly. When Grigore offered to take his daughter, he shook his head madly and thudded inside. It was when he turned I noticed a cut to his head.
I followed closely and quickly covered my nose when the stink of blood filled the air. I glanced about the kitchen. It was a mess. Chairs lay littered around and several pots were broken into several pieces. Long black smears of blood covered the wooden floor. My heart dropped at the sight. I wasn't sure if someone could survive from that amount of blood loss.
"Jen!" Wilson bellowed.
His eldest responded instantly and the faint tapping of feet could be heard upstairs. Soon Jen was sweeping down the crooked steps. She too was red eyed from tears, her face bruised purple and blood spattered her dress.
Jen was about to speak until she saw Nanat in Wilson's arms. Tears welled up and she rushed to her father.
"Nanat!" She wailed with relief.
"Take her upstairs. Get her clean, fed and warm." Wilson ordered stiffly.
Jen nodded eagerly and she helped Wilson put Nanat on the floor. Taking her sister's hand, she guided her slowly around the stains of blood and up the stairs, whispering soft comforting words constantly.
"This way." Wilson said gruffly and dragged Grigore up the stairs, taking him into his bedroom.
I shadowed them both, wringing my hands in worry and uncertainty of what to do. I stayed by the doorway, gazing inside. In the large bed and beside the room's fire lay Lynda with an elderly narrow faced man looking over her, trying to get her to swallow the contents of a wooden cup.
My heart instantly sunk with dread at the sight of her. Her normal vibrant skin was ashen and white and the blanket covering her was stain with blood. I quickly realised whose blood had been smeared over the kitchen floor.
"I can't get her to sallow much." The doctor said to Wilson sadly. "She's very weak." He looked down at Lynda. "There's not much I can do. Her stomach has been punctured in several places."
Wilson turned to Grigore with desperation in his eyes. "Can you heal her?"
I watched Grigore warily, aware he was more a warrior than a healer, often just relying on his magic to heal him. I didn't want this burden on him. If he failed, the guilt he would feel would be intense. But, with No-Tongue and Remus gone, Grigore was the only one who could.
"I can't promise I can save her. I've told you, my old partner was the healer, not me." Grigore said warily.
"I know but either we do nothing and she dies or we at least try." Wilson begged. "Please."
Grigore looked down at Lynda. Her chest barely moved and her eyes remained closed, not even opening once.
Without a word, he knelt down beside the doctor and pulled the blanket away. She was naked beneath it apart from a thick layer of bloodied bandages over her stomach. He cut it away and I couldn't help but stare at seven ugly gaping wounds in her belly. They had been cleaned and sewed but they continued to weap blood.
The doctor stepped aside, his face a picture of disapproval and concern as Grigore touched the ragged wounds.
"Who did this?" He asked as he place his palm over Lynda's stomach and closed his eyes as if he were listening.
Wilson didn't say anything at first. His gaze grew thick with panic and he sat himself in the chair he stood beside.
"It was Rhye."
"Rhye?" I echoed with shock, whirling about to the smaller bed and finding it empty.
"Jen made a mistake. She hated Rhye being chained up and sat with her often. When Rhye woke up, she spoke normally, acted normally and seemed terribly confused about why she was locked up in my bedroom." Wilson paused. "Jen unlocked Rhye's chains, thinking she was better. Rhye then tried to flee, shoving Jen aside but found herself trapped by No-Tongue's ward. Rhye became furious. She shoved me aside easily and I smashed my head against the table." He tapped his wooden leg regretfully. "Lynda desperately tried to calm her but Rhye...she attacked her. She didn't stop until No-Tongue's ward failed."
I was hugging myself. Rhye was gone now. I had brought Nanat back but another sister had been lost, worse No-Tongue's ward had failed. It made me worry for the safety of the Weaver.
"How long ago was this?"
"An hour or so."
"She would be gone by now." Grigore said calmly. "I'll focus on Lynda."
Wilson nodded wearily and wept gently as Grigore began to work. I never moved from my place in the doorway and watched over Wilson and Grigore. The Doctor never left. He sat silently in the corner, watching my Weaver cautiously, full of distrust and dislike. Grigore never said a word. His brow remained furrowed in concentration as he weaved numerous expensive wards, pulling them apart and putting them back together again. He balled some of them up and turned some of them into string, pushing them into the gaping wounds and feeding them down Lynda's mouth. With every ward he made, my magic slowly calmed and eventually began purring for him. Eventually the bleeding stopped and Grigore sat back with a wave of exhaustion coming over him, forcing his broad shoulders to sag.
"I have helped her stomach heal, banished infections and helped her body regain most of the blood she's lost." He rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've done all I can."
The doctor and Grigore switched places, allowing my Weaver to approach Wilson.
"No-Tongue ran into some trouble and Remus went to go help." He uttered. "I'm not sure when they'll be back so I'll keep watch."
Wilson nodded wearily. "Thank you."
"I'd get some sleep Wilson." The doctor said firmly as he slowly encouraged Lynda to drink whatever medicine it was he offered. "If the Weaver has done enough, Lynda should get through the night. If she does I would say she's through the worst of it and may survive."
Wilson looked up at Grigore with exhaustion and fearful eyes. Grigore simply patted his shoulder again and moved away, bustling me out of the room without a word and closed the door firmly behind him.
"I need to patrol and see if Rhye is nearby." Grigore told me stiffly as we entered the bloody kitchen. "For now, I'll lock the house down."
"I can go with you." I suggested, testing his reserves and finding them lacking now. I was so used to him being full that it was odd to feel such a large dip. I didn't like it.
Grigore's features darkened however, rage flashing over his stormy eyes and his muscles tightened with frustration. "You stay put. I've had enough scares from you." He warned, his tone low and thick with annoyance, clearly showing he was upset with me.
My throat closed and I frowned softly, hurt he was rejecting me but finding I couldn't disagree with him. "I'm sorry." I stammered.
He sighed sharply and roughly tugged me into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly about my small body as he inhaled my scent. "I expect to return to find you sleeping in my space."
I nodded shyly and he parted from me reluctantly, his gaze flickering over my worried face and lingering on my mouth heatedly. I felt his hunger, his lowered reserves, and quietly stepped forward. He needed to be full if he was going to leave. I couldn't have him at risk.
I lightly placed my hands against his chest, pressing myself up against him as my magic began to sing, filling my mouth and calling to him urgently. I could feel his reaction to it almost instantly. The rage subsided and lust rushed in, luring him to me. He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against mine, his hands slipping about my waist and pulling me into his large frame. I felt his hunger for me clawing at him hotly, his gaze becoming hooded with need but he refused to break and refused to take my mouth fiercely as he always did.
"I'll be back soon." He growled huskily then parted from me roughly and left me without feeding.
I stared at the door, stunned at first before I felt sadness and confusion settling. Why had he refused me? Had I upset him that much? I bit my lip in worry before I glanced about the kitchen and swallowed thickly. I couldn't mope or fret stupidly, not with Lynda potentially dying, No-Tongue and Remus fighting out there and Rhye now missing. With a sharp sigh, I turned into the lounge, snatched out my old kirtle, changed and bundle my hair atop my head. With determination, I began to clean away the blood, scrubbing hard with hot water and soap, desperate to do something useful.
By the time I gave up, I was exhausted and covered in blood with barely any real cleaning done. At most I had mopped up the worst of the blood but it had seeped into the flooring and just refused to come out. I decided then it was time to keep my promise to Grigore and ensured he found me waiting for him in bed.
I bathed briefly, cleaning myself and feeling vaguely better for it, and slipped back to the lounge, intending to bundle myself amongst the blankets and sleep, but my intentions fled when I found Grigore there. I closed the door slowly behind me, watching him and trying to keep my heart calm. He sat across the room from me, lightly dressed and leaning forward with his dark eyes watching me, his jaw tight and his magic curling so thickly his song was swimming through me sensually. He was irritated.
"This isn't sleeping, Lyra."
"I wanted to try clean the kitchen first." I stepped forward lightly, releasing my hair from the tangled bun, and sang to him softly, trying to soothe him. "Did you find Rhye?"
"No." He said tightly and his gaze flickered over me possessively. "Why were you out there?"
"I had a dream of Nanat and my magic pulled me to her. No-Tongue took me to find her." I explained calmly. "I was safe."
He said nothing, just flexed his hands irritably, before he rose sharply and crossed the small gap between us. He gathered me up in his arms, pulling me against the wall of his chest roughly and pressed his nose against my hair.
"You were not safe." He growled irritably.
"No-Tongue was with me."
"Not when I found you."
"He stayed behind, protected us." I replied firmly. "He couldn't be in two places at once."
His temper worsened, darkening like a storm. "Which I fully understand, but you were alone with a child you'd just taken from the coven." He said lowly and dangerously. "If I wasn't as close and if the wolf hadn't deemed No-Tongue worth the fight, he would've hunted you both down...he would've slain you." His jaw tightened and his magic blackened with fear and fury.
I strengthened my song and pressed myself against him, smiling softly at him in an attempt to reassure him. I could feel a shift in him, the dark mood being broken down by hunger. His eyes began to glitter with it, full of longing, but his body remained stiff with fury and resilience, his muscles locked into place and making me feel like I was being embraced by a statue.
"I was safe, Grigore." I said softly.
"Lyra."
"You were nearby and nothing can hurt me when you're near." I said confidently as I reached up to tangled my fingers in his hair, singing warmly to him as I pulled him towards me and kissed him lightly, filling my mouth with magic and swelling it over my tongue, ensuring he could taste me. "I was safe, so don't be upset." I repeated gently.
His magic growled, his temper burning away with the surge of lust that broke free from him stubbornness, and his mouth was on mine roughly, hot and fierce, his taste heady and addictive. I submitted to him instantly, the magic burning through me and fanning my desire for him into a fire that skimmed over my skin. He fed from me greedily, his tongue stroking and teeth nipping as his strong fingers slipped about the nape of my neck possessively, pulling me closer. I felt his magic swell, his song strengthening with renewed vigour and growing louder and stronger, filling me up until my mind was full of him and only him.
I could feel what was happening. Hunger was ruling him, his need for my magic and song and it was spilling over into me, pouring oil on my own roaring fire and demands for him. I was going to swept up by him. I had to stop. Gently I pulled away, breaking the kiss and finding my lips swollen and breath frantic as I stumbled from him, trying desperately to calm myself and finding it terribly difficult by how Grigore looked at me. His gaze was hooded as he swept over me almost wolfishly, his eyes stormy and smouldering with hot embers, his muscles rippling with every flex of his fingers. What stirred me up most though was the focus in his gaze; he wasn't swallowed up, his mind gone into my magic's song, he was completely in control.
He stepped forward lithely, his body fluid and dangerous and his gaze fixed entirely on me, as if I was all he could see. I found my pulse quickening at the sight, my skin flushing and blood roaring with excitement even as my mind groped to keep holding into sanity, on my vow to keep my heart safe.
"You're full, Grigore." I stated timidly, stepping back but not quick enough to get out of his reach. He strong fingers gripped my wrist and he tugged me forward roughly, forcing me to tumble into his chest.
With little resistance from me, he found my mouth again, kissing me so deeply and full of such raw need I found myself moaning beneath him, my breath frantic and body shivering with sensual electricity, growing obedient when his hand slipped over my bottom and pushed me into him, ensuring I could feel his strength and thickening lust. His song strengthened with his rising lust, filling me up so powerfully my magic hummed with pleasure and wrapping with his as my mind melted and my body grew hot with liquid need. He was so rough, taking what he wanted without any resistance from me, his male dominance making my entire being sing for him.
Then I tasted that now familiar ward and found myself naked, my hot body kissed by cold air, and swiftly realised he hadn't just removed my clothes but his. I could feel him, his strength and masculinity pressing against me, his frame surrounding me, scarred and taut with muscle. I parted my mouth from him and placed my thumb against his lips, my palm pressed along his strong jaw as his hands explored my naked skin, rough and assertive. I gazed at him, my eyes pink and red, a mixture of shyness and sexual need ripping through me as I observed him; his rough features, his dark hooded gaze full of need, his mouth that was giving me such pleasure.
"You're full." I repeated with whisper.
Grigore's magic thickened, his song stroking through me so thickly I gasped, my eyes shifting red and my body shivering with pleasure. He smiled wolfishly then slowly dipped his head, brushing his mouth against my cheek before toying with my ear, teasing me with gentle nips. I melted into him, clinging to him as my body pulsed sensitively with his sweet masculine song and my skin shivered with every tease of his teeth, my harsh breathing shifting into soft moans when he drifted lower, his tongue swirling over the pulse of my throat.
"What're you doing?" I asked breathlessly.
"Seducing you, Lyra." He murmured huskily, his accent thick with lust.
My cheeks burned and heart thudded, my mind momentarily coming free from my lust. "Why?" I stammered nervously.
His mouth was on mine again, his kiss deep and greedy. "Because I want you." He growled lowly against my parted lips. "I've wanted you since you fed me back at the crooked house. I've wanted to taste you, to have you beneath me, to hear you moan for me."
I couldn't think. At first joy swelled until doubt whispered. "You want my magic, not me." I said before I could stop the words.
Rage bit him instantly and danger rumbled through him as his mouth took mine hard, his hands pulling my body into him as frustration and lust roared in his song. He took my mind, snatching my breath away, parting from me roughly and leaving me breathless and my skin flushed with excitement.
"I love your song, Lyra, because it's a part of you. I love feeding from you and tasting you because it's you. My Source. My beautiful, stubborn, shy, stupidly brave woman." He growled furiously.
I couldn't say anything. My mind reeled, overwhelmed by his statement. That I was his woman. His.
Then I was kissing him with unbridled need and love, filling myself with us much magic as I could muster, making myself sensitive to every stroke of his hands and taste of his tongue. I sang for him, filling him with him with my song and fuelling his deep need for me until it was ruling him and spilling into me.
"I love you." I murmured urgently between kisses.
"I know." He responded raggedly before his song swallowed me up again, his hand cradling my head with his mouth at my throat, sucking softly as his hand drifted from my hips and slipped between my thighs. I whimpered with need when he cupped me, possessive and assertive, his whole being screaming I was his when he raised his head to watch me, gazing at my face with dangerous hunger as his finger slipped into the velvet heat. A lustful gasp escape my lips, sealed away by his demanding mouth, his kiss swallowing my pleasure as I clung to him. My body sang with aching bliss at the slow circles that he burned over my sensitive bud, sending wave after wave of aching pleasure to surge through me. It felt wonderful, both hot and sweet, and I needed more. I needed him inside me.
My hand slipped down his chest as he held me, his strong fingers still pleasuring me sweetly and his mouth still devouring me, drinking the magic from my tongue. I didn't stop as I explored his stomach, the rough scarred skin and hair there, not until I found what I sought.
My fingers danced over him, making him stiffen and earning myself a low moan from him as I felt his lust for me, masculine and throbbing slightly with desire. I gripped him gently, letting my palm slip up to the tip as I explored him quietly, watching as his eyes darkened dangerously with the hunger I felt clawing inside him and rumbling about in his song. He let me remove his hand from between my legs and press myself up against his chest, my breasts budded and soft, my song coaxing him, drifting over his skin enticingly. His body was so stiff now, his whole being demanding he have me savagely, his song roaring with lust.
"I need you, Grigore." I murmured as burned my magic into my hand, slipping it along his masculine length.
He broke instantly. With a guttural growl of raw frustration, he swept me up swiftly and bundled onto his makeshift bed, tangling myself about him as he broke our frantic kiss to burn down my throat, leaving a trail of white fire that slipped to my breasts. He teased my nipple softly, his tongue swirling and teeth nipping gently, laughing deeply when I moaned lustfully and arched my back, urging him to continue quietly. He slipped a hand beneath my back, making my body shiver with pleasure as his palm drifted to my bottom, lifting me up to press his thick lust against the velvet heat between my legs. I bit back the gasp that tried to escape my lips, my skin flushing and body trembling with hot need, but he coaxed it free when his mouth swallowed the pink bud of my breast, his velvet mouth sending a bolt of hot electricity to surge through me, leaving a path of liquid fire over my skin. I parted my lips as I moaned softly and tangled my fingers in his hair, my body growing hotter with every languid swirl of his tongue and throb of his song.
Then he abruptly left my breast, pulling himself away to grip my thighs and spread my legs roughly, casting my pink face a dark hungry glance before he dipped his head and slipped his tongue into the velvet heat without hesitation. I cried out, loud and lustful as his mouth roamed me, tasting me, devouring me without an ounce of mercy. My body burned, swelling with a terrible ache and roaring fire, trembling with each wave of pleasure he sent crashing through me with every hungry swirl of his tongue and suck of his mouth. It was too much, like pouring oil over my white hot fire for him. I needed him inside me. I needed him so much.
"Grigore!" I cried out urgently, my tone pleading with him.
Then he was covering me with his body, his mouth kissing me roughly and his song sweet on my tongue. "Do you want me, Lyra?" He demanded huskily against my lips.
I slipped my hands over his neck, feeling his strength bundled in his shoulders as my body shuddered achingly. My whole being was crying out for him, my magic, my song.
"I want you, Grigore." I whispered thickly.
His eyes flashed darkly and hunger growled in him as he kissed me, his tongue stroking mine as he positioned himself, pressing against my wet heat.
"You tell me to stop the moment I hurt you." He warned, making me smile at his sudden worry.
"You won't hurt me." I promised him and pulled him into a kiss, deep, loving and slow, singing to him loudly as he slipped a hand beneath my bottom, lifting me slightly as he pushed into me.
At first pain bit me, my virgin body trying to resist him desperately, making me whimper softly against Grigore's mouth, but the magic stirred, surging through me and pushing aside the pain, ensuring my body welcomed him with only hot need. I squirmed beneath him, sighing with pleasure as I pressed my head into the pillows and arched my back, loving how he filled me slowly, how thick he was inside me. He dipped his head, sucking at my throat lovingly as he pulled back to thrust again, a little deeper and harder. My body welcomed him, sending a burst of pure pleasure to rip through me and coaxing a soft whimper from my mouth. Then he thrust into me deeper the next time, harder and swifter, filling me sweetly and causing an explosion of hot bliss to swell up through me, spilling out of my mouth as a hot moan.
"Harder, Grigore." I begged of him urgently. I wanted him and the rough love I knew he was capable of giving, that he wanted. His whole body was roaring with the need to devour me, I knew he was holding back, trying to be careful with me.
Grigore pulled away from my throat and kissed my mouth lightly, his teeth tugging at my lower lip, then he gripped my thigh and surged into me hard, burying himself so deeply I cried out for him shamelessly at the aching pleasure that burned through me, arching my back and slipping my fingers into his hair. His magic growled with excitement and his body hesitated for only a moment before thrust into me, slow and deep, sending shudders of pure pleasure through me, fire and electricity that melted through me achingly sweet.
Our songs purred together, our tastes filling each other with pleasure as he surged into me, his thrusts getting harder and less forgiving, his mouth on mine greedily as he swallowed my keening moans for him as white hot fire burned me, licking over my skin and melting my mind. I clung to him, my kiss just as fierce as his, breathless and hot as he built me up with every rough stroke. I was full of ravenous fire and carnal bliss, made worse with every thrust and kiss, making me want more from him, begging him to go deeper, to go harder and faster. Grigore always complied and sent thick hot waves of breathtaking bliss through me every time, forcing little mindless keening cries for him to slip from my swollen lips.
Suddenly I felt my pleasure peak, fever hot and burningly sweet. It came rapidly, sweeping me up in an overwhelming wave full of fierce erotic pleasure. I mewled Grigore's name mindlessly as I trembled beneath him and arched my back, kissing him hard to anchor myself as he growled with pleasure, his thrusts slowing and deepening until he spilled himself into me with a deep grunt.
We lay for a moment, breathless and tangled in one another, our songs still heavy with lust and love as our minds woke up, no longer ruled by each other. I suddenly found myself blushing, hyper aware how he filled me sweetly, how his body covered mine, that he said I was his woman and had wanted me for so long. That he'd just made love to me so roughly. That I told him I loved him. I didn't know what to do; to cry with joy or hide from embarrassment.
Grigore stiffened sharply and pushed himself up onto his knees, slipping from me so quickly I whimpered with pleasure, my body flushing from the sweet aftershock. For a moment he remained between my legs, his attention focused on the window, his eyes black and muscles taut with danger, then he stood, making me blush deeply. I hadn't had the opportunity to really gaze at him naked and I found my body singing for him again as my eyes slipped over his powerful masculine frame, the sensual lines of muscles, the scars that cut through the hair covering his chest and stomach, and the thick lust for me still full of need.
"Lyra, I need to go." He said lowly as he quickly gathered up his clothes, dressing himself swiftly.
I sat up, shivering from the sweet pain that slipped through my body, and poked my magic, finding it useless and sleepy. "Is something wrong? My magic's quiet."
"Yes." He growled.
Worry stirred. "I can go with you."
"No." Grigore said firmly as he swept to hunker down next to me, tilting my face up to face him. "Rest, Lyra." He kissed me deeply, his tongue taking his fill of my taste. "I may need you when I get back. The ward on this house is strong and it'll chew through my reserves."
My cheeks burned, suddenly feeling timid of his hunger and my own. "I'll rest." I promised.
"Good. Stay put and stay safe." He ordered firmly then frowned. "I'm sorry I can't lay with you and have you sleep in my arms."
My heart thumped, loving that he wanted that from me. I kissed him lightly and brushed my mouth against his. "Be safe. I'll wait for you."
His song growled in pleasure before he pulled himself away reluctantly, snatching up his cloak and Ursus, casting one last dark hungry glance at me naked in the blankets before he left.
I felt his song fade as he went into the city, leaving me to suddenly feel very tired, very worried and very shy. My muscles ached and there was a sweet pain between my legs, aching and hot; pain left behind by Grigore when he took me and made me his. I blushed madly and quickly bundled myself within the blankets, curling up as I felt the ghost of Grigore's mouth and hands over my body and my mind worried about what he'd felt and where he'd gone. I hoped everything would be fine, that he'd be safe, but doubt flickered.
With my mind a hive of thoughts both hot and fearful, sleep came fleetingly, dipping in and out, until finally Grigore came back to me, not with love and kisses, but the worst news possible.