Hi everyone! This sequel to Taming an Immortal is dedicated to you readers who have written to me asking for a pairing between a non-human female and a human male. It is indeed a challenge because of the balance of dominance but for a first, I'll give it my best!
I think it's safe to read this without reading the previous story but you'll have a better picture if you read from the start.
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Prologue
Fifteen months ago: Battle of Seurri
"Commander Titus, it's over. We have instructions to bring back our wounded."
Titus, village Chief of Eilean, looked up from the city blueprints spread out in front of him. Hadn't he ordered not to be disturbed? Minutes ago, hyena enemies had broken down an entire section of the city walls, their numbers spilling onto the streets. Titus needed to come up with a counterattack now. He didn't have time for -
This human messenger boy had the most determined stare he had ever seen.
"Under whose orders?"
"Lord Etienne, Commander!" The boy was bent in half at the waist, the bow of respect and desperation.
At the mention of the name, Titus studied the messenger carefully, knowing that the name of the Pureblood Vampire was not something to be used lightly. Whatever truce this was, there was no guarantee for it to last. The key was to still remain vigilant.
Folding his maps carefully, Titus walked out of his makeshift tent to search for his medics. "Move the triage indoors. Anything minor goes to the end of the hall. We have incoming."
To his officers, he commanded, "Saddle up and keep your eyes peeled. I don't like the feel of this."
Hoisting the young boy onto his horse, Titus rode out into the darkness, galloping over bodies of men, wolves and hyenas until they reached the edges of the city near the ocean.
"It's Princess Eulalie's and Lord Etienne's troops," gasped the messenger boy. One look at the extensive injuries of the soldiers and Titus went barking to the accompanying men.
"Treat what you can then take the wounded back immediately. Tell the kitchens to fire up the gruel and keep as many alive as you can." Turning to the young messenger, he ordered him to head down to the escape tunnels to gather as many women to double up as nurses.
Meanwhile, Titus continued walking past the fallen soldiers, noting that despite their injuries, most of them were sat in a protective ring around a wounded comrade in the middle. There was no question that they were wolves for in the centre lay a snowy pelt Changeling, its body limp and its breathing weak. The princess.
"I'm not going to hurt her. I am Titus with the city's army and I am here to help," he announced to the growling men and wolves.
The white wolf lifted its head slightly to look at him but made no move to attack and instead rested its head back onto the ground with a gentle whine.
Titus had never patched up a Changeling before but if their physiology was anything like the dogs he kept back in his village, then it shouldn't be that much different. Lifting the wolf's head onto his lap, he turned its body slightly and took a sharp breath at the sight of the open wound. Part of the wolf's skin flapped back, revealing a crater that looked like someone had taken a chunk out of the flesh.
"I thought you non-humans were excellent healers," he murmured, taking out his surgical needle and thread. "I'm going to have to stitch you up quickly or this will get infected."
The wolf looked at him cautiously with its gold-rimmed blue eyes, keeping absolutely still even when he pressed an alcohol soaked pad over the wound. That would have made even the strongest of men swear to disembowel him but the princess didn't even whimper.
"Alright beautiful, this might hurt... but it seems you're really strong, so it might not." He tried to distract the wolf as best by chatting about random things; all the while running the thread through the skin and pelt as efficiently as he could.
The moment he snipped off the last bit of thread, the wolf began to growl, baring its teeth - not at him but at the group of Changeling men approaching them.
"I didn't hurt her, I promise. Now we have to move her onto the wagon back to the castle." Titus lifted the wolf's head gently from his lap and was about to rest it on the grass when one of the men stopped him.
"No Princess of ours is going on top of that contraption. We will carry her back to the castle."
Titus looked over at the men - most of whom were also nursing major injuries of their own. Despite their aggression, Titus knew they were merely anxious about their princess, especially since her Alpha status was evident in their deference.
With a sigh, he lifted the wolf into his arms instead and got to his feet. "Not in your condition. I will take her back myself." Turning to the Changeling men, he gave a small smile as he mounted his horse. "You may rip my throat out later. For now, let my healers help you."
The moment his back was turned from the Changelings, the white wolf squirmed in his hold, gnashing its teeth at him.
"You're burning up," he concluded, rearing his horse into a gallop. The wolf only let out a low howl before bursting into a ball of light in his arms, causing him to momentarily lose control of his horse as the shimmering brightness blinded him.
Titus felt himself flung off the beast and onto the hardened ground; the sound of panicked hooves stomping the ground beside him.
"Easy, easy there boy..." A feminine voice. Hoarse.
Forcing himself to open his eyes, Titus caught sight of defiant blue eyes and a view that nearly knocked all the air from his lungs.
Naked. She was naked.
Apart from the strips of leather woven waist down to mid-thigh, every inch of creamy skin was bared for his appreciation. Not that he was looking.
Especially since she had the most stubborn tilt to her chin as she stared at him from beside his horse. Dear gods above! The stories revering her looks paled in comparison to the fierce beauty before him. Hair so blonde, it was almost white, fell in waves down her starkly tanned body -one that had been honed as a warrior from her sculpted shoulders down to her flat belly and lower...
Her curved hips were a sensuous invite. Made a man think about putting his hands over them and -
A warning growl.
Ah yes. This was no ordinary woman. Beneath the veneer of sexuality lay the primal instinct of a wolf that would attack without hesitation. In the wild, males have been known to willingly mate with such vicious females even at the risk of their own deaths - black widow spiders, praying mantises -but Titus was not about to court death, even if it promised unbound pleasures, ever.
Cursing to himself, Titus got to his feet, bringing his fingers to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. Rather them both be half naked than her entering Seurri in a state of tantalising undress.
But when she turned away from him, that was when he noticed her wound.
"Princess, your back..." Whatever stitching had come undone, requiring his immediate attention. She might be holding back her screams but Titus wasn't fooled.
"I'll be fine," she insisted, simply crossing her arms across her chest and ignoring his offer of decency. "Do not presume that I will simply submit to having your scent all over me."
For a moment, Titus almost caught himself lifting his arms to take a whiff. Yes, he had been running and fighting for most part of the day but to be accused of being a stinker...
"I assure you Princess that my shirt is made of the finest cotton from my village. Nothing like silk for your precious skin but it'll suffice. Now put it on..." He shoved the shirt at her. "Please."
Narrowing her eyes at him, the wolf princess snatched his shirt but made no move to put it on. Instead, she merely clutched it to her chest as she hoisted herself with as much grace as she could afford up his horse before turning to give him dagger-like stares.
"Keep your hands to yourself human," she hissed when he slipped behind her.
"Trust me Princess, that will never happen. Ever."
***
Chapter 1
Eulalie was dressed for mourning.
And that was the only thing compelling her not to tug at the wraps of white around her body or the constricting strap around her neck. Modesty was the highest respect a wolf Changeling could offer, especially in a situation like this -even if it meant being vulnerable under all that layers of cloth. Eulalie rather favoured her usual garb of pleated leathers and her unbridled blonde hair. Made it all the more easier to shift and attack.
Not that she was regretting it. No. This was the single most important moment in her life.
After weeks of scouring through the labyrinth of caves beneath the central mountains, they had finally collected most - if not all - of the dead children. She had personally prepared their bodies for the burial rituals; bathing them in scented water and wrapping their minute bodies in the finest cloth she could spare from her own treasury.
"Princess, whenever you are ready." One of her beta wolves pressed the torch into her palms, bowing low as he retreated to the circle surrounding the ritual platform.
Nodding -more for her benefit than theirs - she touched the tip of the flame to the pile of wood beneath the platform and watched as the embers spread, consuming all organic matter in its path. She supposed, this was cathartic -a cleansing for the dead and also a closure for the living.
A very Vampire concept.
And yet, here she was, honouring the half of the blood making up these innocents by partaking in this ritual. Her way of returning to them some semblance of humaneness after the crimes committed against them by the Pureblood masquerading as their father and sire. She would have hunted him down and ripped his living flesh from his bones if Lord Etienne of the West had clearly forbid her to do so.
