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  Violet Heart Bitten Too 6

  New Dawning International Bookfair

  presents

  A Paranormal Erotic Romance

  By

  Violet Heart

  Copyright © 2012 Violet Heart

  BITTEN TOO

  by

  Chapter One

  Death. Jorge Grauwolf urged his horse faster. My bite will deal death to those who killed my brother. He stifled a growl to avoid spooking his horse. He had no wish to be thrown, especially at this speed.

  King Malveaux and his new bride would pay the price for Youel's murder. Jorge only wished he'd been able to extricate himself from his family obligations and come sooner. Why didn't his family grieve? Why didn't they support his need to avenge his brother? Their own blood relative! He bared his teeth, clenching them in sheer effort to prevent yelling his frustration.

  He neared the Rift River Valley at a full run, his horse laboring for breath. The sound of his animal's heavy, rhythmic puffs drowned out birdsong and added a musical element to the rumble of the river where it flowed at the base of the roadway's sheer drop-off. He left rocky outcroppings behind. As grassy fields came into view, he reined his horse slower.

  The sunlit valley removed the Alpine Mountains' chill, and he slowed his horse to a walk to prevent ruining the magnificent beast. An idyllic village spread on the other side of the river. He narrowed his eyes and headed for a wooden bridge that crossed a fast-moving span of water. His horse's hooves clopped over its sturdy boards.

  Happy chatter met his entrance on the village's main thoroughfare. People moved from shop to shop, easy and comfortable in their conversations. Some smiled at him, but he didn't return their unspoken greetings. He searched faces, hoping to recognize someone. Anyone.

  He had enough anger in him to leap from his horse and attack in bright daylight if he spotted Ebenoral Malveaux. The pact of secrecy be damned. The scent of humans had his hunting instincts on full alert. Everywhere, humans roamed this place. Half would faint at the sight of a werewolf, and the others would pissing their pants and run. Weaklings.

  Nobody looked familiar, however. He continued through town and emerged onto a country highway. Forest lined both sides. An occasional estate broke into tree line where expansive lawn and gardens formed large breaks in the trees. He understood his aunt, Lady Grauwolf, kept an estate along this road. Youel had come two months earlier, and it had cost him his life. Jorge would practice more care.

  Fifteen minutes later, he passed under a stone arch marked Grauwolf Haus and marched his mount down a tree-lined drive. In the distance, his aunt's gray stone mansion sat like a jewel atop a sprawl of green lawn. At the center of a circle turnaround, a fountain sprayed water.

  A servant in blue livery met him at a broad stone stairway leading to the main entrance. "Welcome, my lord."

  The scent of wolf in the man allowed Jorge to relax for a moment. He knows me as werewolf. He knows me as Grauwolf. "Where is she?"

  "Your aunt is at the back with her guests, my lord."

  "Thank you." He dismounted and handed the servant his reins. He removed his black hat and greatcoat and handed them over, too. Then he headed around the mansion.

  Laughter and sounds of multiple conversations carried on a breeze past the back corner of the west wing. He stepped onto the rear lawn.

  Gentlemen in tan trousers, white and pastel striped jackets, pristine linen shirts and neat neckties mingled with ladies in flouncy day dresses. Some lounged on blankets under a spreading shade tree. Others played crocket, lawn tennis, or lawn bowling. More stood or sat in lounge chairs near a bank of glass windows. At the far end of the sitting area, Lady Grauwolf laughed at the top of her lungs at something said by a gentleman next to her.

  More than half of the assembly emitted werewolf pheromones. The rest were human. How do these superior werewolves deign to associate with such frail creatures? He resisted an urge to curl his lip in disgust. Tugging his shirt cuffs past the edge of his jacket, he strode toward Lady Grauwolf.

  She spotted him as he approached the seating area. "Jorge, what a pleasure to see you." Her eyes held a sadness he despised.

  How dare she feel sorry for him? "Aunt Charlotta. Forgive me for intruding."

  "It's no intrusion, dear. You're always welcome in my home." She offered him a broad smile and extended her hand.

  He took it and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you." If you knew my purpose, you wouldn't be so accommodating.

  "I haven't seen you since you were a wee boy. You've grown so handsome and tall. Are you in need of rest?" she asked. "I can have Steiner show you to a guestroom."

  "I'm fine. I won't be staying."

  She frowned. "Just passing through? It's getting late. Have you even had luncheon? Why don't you plan to stay the night? Join my party and have some refreshment."

  He hesitated. Staying with her would lend him credibility and be far more comfortable than hunting his enemies from the woods. Especially if he took longer than a day to get close to the werewolf king. Also, taking a room at an inn might appear suspicious with family so close.

  "Fine," he said. How close was her estate to the Malveaux castle?

  A servant handed him a glass of punch with a bit of slush floating on top. He took a sip, glad for the iciness to cut through the heat building from sun on his black jacket and slacks.

  "Let me introduce you. We have some delightful nobles here in Rift." She waved.

  He didn't bother to look. A body moved, stirring a human scent on the breeze. He had no interest in meeting anyone of the lesser order. Then a mixture of orchid and Queen Anne's lace swirled in the moving air. Their perfume wrapped about his head and filled his senses. Breathing deeply, he faced the source.

  Large brown eyes surrounded by long, black lashes and set against porcelain skin blinked beguilingly. A lush, reddish-pink mouth smiled without artifice. Black curls piled atop her head shined in the sunlight, and a few tendrils escaped to brush delicate cheeks and a long, slender throat.

  He followed the line of her neck to a swell of ample breasts covered by a gathered bodice of lavender organza trimmed in white lace. A broad white ribbon hugged her ribs beneath the low-cut squared bodice, emphasizing the perfect, high mounds. Organza continued to her slipper-clad toes and sprouted a tiny bit of lace at the hem.

  Lady Grauwolf offered a kind smile. "Jorge, please let me introduce you to our lovely Lady Yasmine Hanswald, daughter of Viscount Walden. Yasmine, this is my nephew, Lord Jorge Grauwolf, Marquis of Austral. Youel was his younger brother."

  Her smiled faded. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lord Grauwolf. I'm truly sorry for your loss." Her dark eyes held concern.

  He swallowed. Why didn't her consolation bother him? Her words actually comforted, which astounded him. She was a mere human. Hardly worth his notice.

  "Thank you," he managed after too long a pause, equally astounded that he actually meant it. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Hanswald."

  Lady Grauwolf gave a satisfied nod and moved to rejoin the gentleman she'd left standing.

  Jorge paid her no mind. He couldn't take his eyes from Yasmine Hanswald. Sunlight danced in her dark curls and shining eyes. It kissed her skin, bringing out a tinge of pink. She licked her lips, and light glinted in the momentary sheen.

  "I know you from somewhere," she said quietly, her lids forming slits. "Have we met?"

  He shook his head. "Perhaps you met Youel?"

  "Yes." Her gaze turned soulful.

  "Perhaps the family resemblance stirs a familiarity. He and I were only a year apart and similar in appearance." He let his eyes travel from her face to her throat. Her collarbone took his gaze to her shoulders where cap sleeves provided practically no cover. As if he slipped into a dream, thos
e sleeves slid down her arms. Her bodice lowered, baring gorgeous breasts with hard nipples. The ribbon untied itself, and her gown slid lower over a cinched but slightly rounded waist and off flaring hips. Silk pooled at her feet, leaving her in short bloomers, stockings, and her shoes.

  She tipped her head. "I did meet your brother, though briefly." Her gaze slipped.

  You're hiding something.

  "I don't think you look anything like him, other than your coloring."

  His dream-state resumed, releasing her hair from its coif to tumble curls about her shoulders and down her back. Her lips parted slightly and her lids lowered in seductive laziness as her bloomers slid down her long, shapely legs. The stockings followed. Her shoes came off.

  He cleared his throat. I'm losing my mind. I can't blame the punch. I've only had a swallow.

  "Lord Grauwolf? Are you okay?"

  She levitated off her feet, tipped into a supine position midair, and then settled to the grass. Everyone around them disappeared. The sun became a moon. She lifted a hand, beckoning him.

  He gave his head a vigorous shake.

  "Jorge?"

  His name on her lips jerked him to awareness. He blinked. "I'm sorry. My journey must've tired me more than I thought."

  She stood before him, her hair up and her gown in place. "Perhaps you'd prefer to go inside? It's warm today."

  The sun felt scorching after the cold of the mountain pass, and the idea of getting her alone appealed to him in a way he couldn't resist. "That might be best. Keep me company? I'd like to talk with you."

  He headed for a pair of glass doors at the back of the mansion.

  "Of course." She stayed at his side, a worried frown furrowing her brow. She waved at an older, well turned out couple he took to be her parents. The woman offered a kind smile then returned to her conversation.

  Jorge opened a door and ushered her inside a morning room with a garden view. "Are you familiar with Grauwolf Haus?"

  "Yes. My parents are old friends of Lady Grauwolf. We're here no less than twice a month. I've been visiting since I was a child."

  And you're still human. Interesting. "Then you know where we can talk in private?"

  She took a halting step then stopped. "Private?"

  He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets to fight an almost irresistible urge to touch her. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent. Though unmistakably human, her fragrance tempted him like no human he'd ever encountered. Sweet. Delectable.

  Chapter Two

  Why did she trust him? His brother had made Yasmine nervous. No, Youel had scared her. Jorge shared his brother’s menacing energy, so why had she agreed to come inside with him?

  His slanted, silver eyes stared at her. They contained intelligence and a hint of mischief and cunning. Did he hope to see something in her? Was that why he studied her so intently?

  "I need to hear about what happened to my brother from someone who was here the night he died. Your family enjoys a close friendship with my aunt. Surely you attended the party. Would you deny me this request?"

  She shook her head. "Of course not. I don't have much to say, though. I came to the party but I wasn't there…where he died. I'm told he fell down a long flight of stairs."

  His features went tight. He took her hand and headed toward a doorway.

  Heat from his hand traveled up her arm. Goosebumps sent fine hairs on end. I have no idea where you're taking me. What you intend. I should resist. Why don't I?

  He went into the front hallway, opened a door and found a closet.

  "Wait," she said, her voice shaky. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribcage.

  He tried the next door and pulled her into the library. He closed the door behind them but didn't let go of her hand.

  She stared at where his skin burned against hers. Something stirred in her. Something she'd felt before, but in a dream…maybe. Yes, a dream. She gasped. Many dreams. Night after night. Oh, God. Are you…?

  She boldly reached up and pulled a tie keeping his black hair bound at the back of his head. His hair fell, straight and sexy, to his shoulders.

  "I know your face," she whispered.

  "You mean Youel's?" He took the cord from her fingers.

  I've been dreaming of you. "No. Yours." I've been dreaming of your face above me. Your lips on mine. Your hands upon me. Excitement started as a jolt in her stomach, then went lower and sent fingers of tingling sensation into the folds between her thighs. She gasped and yanked her hand from his.

  His gaze narrowed. His expression hardened into something wanting. Something needy. Hungry. "Miss Hanswald?"

  "I have to go." Because if I tell you you've been visiting me in my dreams, you'll think me insane.

  "Don't." He reached for her. "I need to know."

  She evaded him, skidding backward on slick hardwood. "I have to go. I'm so terribly sorry. Really, I am." She turned on her heel and ran behind a far bookcase to a hidden door that led directly outside. When her feet hit grass, she didn't stop. She raced toward the rear lawn. When she came to the east wing's corner, she stopped and pressed a palm to the upward sweep of her hair to make sure it hadn't toppled.

  "We're not finished." Jorge's deep voice came from right behind her.

  She startled but refused to face him. "Don't talk to me, Lord Grauwolf."

  "Why?"

  She chanced a glance over her shoulder and immediately paid the price. A shock of awareness wetted her throbbing slit. "This isn't real," she whispered. "It's just a dream, and I'm going to wake up. Now."

  With that, she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and tried for some semblance of calm as she made her way to the gathering.

  * * * *

  At Malveaux Castle that night, Amelia took Yasmine's hand and headed out of the dining room. "Will you accompany me to my bedchamber? I need a wardrobe adjustment before we continue with this evening's entertainments, and I'd like a word with you."

  "Of course." Yasmine waved to her mother who offered an acknowledging nod. She followed her friend, weaving their way through guests and tray-bearing servants.

  Upstairs, her friend led the way to the end of the front hallway and ushered her through a large double door. A maid inside curtseyed.

  "I won't need you until the end of the party," Amelia told the servant. "I believe the kitchen staff is preparing to eat their dinner. Go join them. I know you haven't had a chance to eat yet."

  "Yes, Lady Malveaux." The maid dipped again. "Thank you, my lady." She quietly left.

  Amelia moved to a tall mirror and smoothed a hand over her blond curls. "Are you aware of Lady Grauwolf's visitor?"

  Yasmine stepped behind and brought her friend's sleeve higher to better cover her bite scar. "Yes. Lord Jorge Grauwolf, Marquis of Austral. I was attending Lady Grauwolf's lawn party when he arrived."

  "And what's your impression?"

  She lowered her gaze, hoping Amelia didn't see too much with her new, sharper perception. Yasmine didn't dare admit to dreaming of the handsome nobleman. "He seems angry. Lost, maybe. He asked me about what happened to his brother."

  Her friend reached behind and pointed at her button fastenings. "Undo me, please. Honestly, I can't breathe after that lamb. It's like a rock in my stomach."

  She retrieved a buttonhook from Amelia's dressing table and began working on the damask. "I told him what I knew, but it wasn't much. I don't think he's satisfied."

  "He's not. He won't leave until he knows, though I sense his time's short."

  "Why?"

  "Jorge Grauwolf has family relying on him. He'll need to return home soon. Are you aware he's a danger?"

  "Well, no. He's not—"

  "I know he's not like Youel. I'm glad you recognize that. He's not a danger to you. He's seeking revenge on the people who destroyed his monster of a brother."

  "Isn't that your husband?"

  Her friend met her gaze in the mirror's reflection. "You know more than you let on." A smile so
ftened Amelia's beautiful face. "I've suspected as much, especially lately. Yes, Ebenoral was responsible, but there are others, as well. Lord Grauwolf doesn't realize how close to him this all is."

  Yasmine untied her friend's stays then tied them right back, only looser. Making the ribbons even along the corset's eyes, she asked, "Do you think he'll come here, try to hurt Ebenoral or you?"

  "Sure, he will." She put a hand to her chest and inhaled as far as her corset would allow. "Thank you so much. That's much better. Listen, you need to know what happened. He won't hear the truth from us, but he might from you. I think, ultimately, it may have to come from his aunt, but you can help prepare him for what he's currently unwilling to accept."

  "Why me?" Yasmine employed the buttonhook to begin closing her friend's gown.

  Amelia stared at her in the mirror for an awkward few seconds. "It'll become clear when the time's right, so please listen carefully."

  Her friend told her about what happened when Lady Grauwolf called Youel, Ebenoral, and some of the party guests below stairs the night Youel died. She wasn’t surprised, however. For years, Yasmine had suspected werewolves ran the Rift River Valley. Amelia's words confirmed her suspicion, and lent credence to the strange dreams she'd had of Jorge.

  What she had to figure out now, however, was whether those dreams were a warning of what to avoid, or a foreshadowing of what she couldn't avoid.

  * * * *

  Sinking into deeper shadow, Jorge settled his spine against the trunk of a thick tree. Every window in Malveaux Castle's first floor glowed. People moved from room to room, their elegant eveningwear gracing the night as they stood in small groups before the windows.

  Servants in pale livery stood at attention at every door and along the U-shaped drive outlining an elongated courtyard. They all smelled of wolf. He'd never get past so many.

  Pine and flower pollen combined with wolf pheromones, and should've calmed his nerves. Cricket chirps and amphibian gulps created a night symphony but didn’t put him at ease. Instead, a pervasive restlessness had him tapping his thighs.